End of the Beginning

Extented summery:



When the Captain’s brother is killed, he leaves him with nothing but a single request: pick up a series of shipments at three different ports and deliver them to a rural planet out beyond the known system. Taking on cargo was part of the plan, but this shipment puts him and his pilot a bit in over their heads when the first package contains twenty five refugees. Laws will be broken, lives will be lost, and a once forgotten race of man will be reborn




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                                    "To see what is right, and not to do it, is want of courage or of principle."
                                                                                                      -Confucius




Chapter One:  The Nydia Maris






         Torque was a massive city fueled by the commerce and politics of the entire union. It was the hub for all levels of society. The impoverished came to seek fortune, the unfortunate came to seek independence and the inferior came to seek glory, while the well-heeled flocked to climb the ever lengthening social ladder.  It was a city built on the ruins on the first major colony outside of the ancestral system, Domus Solar System, and still plows the way in the advancements of science, art, technology, and fashion. It was a bitter city with a brutal past that had to learn to flourish in a sea of political turmoil, economic crisis, civil uprising, and the fall of many a great man over the centuries.

         Today was busy as ever with natives moving along on their daily routine, foreign merchants hustling to make a few bills on their imports, and tourists falling into the trap of their schemes. The sky was swamped with millions of aerial vehicles and nearly every level of traffic was backed up several blocks. The docks, despite the vastness of the city and the spaceports itself, were incredibly efficient. Incoming ships from other planets could be given clearance, docking pads, and the green light for unloading in half the time it takes other, smaller ports from rival cities. The freight ship, Nydia Maris, was a cargo hauler docked, for a short visit, on the highest level in the orange sector. Though it could hold about eight people comfortably, she was only outfitted with enough food, water, and human necessities for the two people who operated her. Jozen “Riot” Defeist, part time mechanic-full time pilot, and Helden M. Kelley, Captain, were the only two people the Maris had accommodated in the entire 5 years of her existence. Capt. Kelley had her commissioned as the flagship for his shipping business little more than half a decade before. He was a moral, dependable, and honorable man that always played by the books. He spent his life working on a spotless reputation as one of the best transporters in the solar system and for it he and his ship were in high demand. He was a timely man, who’s five-hour docking visa was about to expire and at the moment he was no where to be found.

         A woman peered around the belly of the Nydia Maris as she approached it. She had half expected a tall, broad shouldered captain glaring down at her from an engine hot perch but instead the Maris was completely sealed up and cold as a fish. The Maris was due to push off in less than an hour, but all she could see was her stardusted reflection off the metallic belly of the ship. She wore dark brown trousers tucked into tall leather boots and a black shawl that wrapped around her entire upper body for the purpose of a sun barrier and veil. She was plain and hardly stood out from the rest of the common star-travelers and moon-jumpers that crowded the docked ships all around her. She stood for a moment staring at her distorted self in the reflection, then strode towards the drunken bellows of the marina tavern, Aingeal Brewery, just down the way. If there was one place in all of Torque to find a true moon-jumper or Nydia Maris’ captain, it was Aingeal’s.

         The dark eyed woman slipped in through the swinging doors and gave a glance around at the local hooligans mixed together with the star-crossers, freight men, and out of place tourists. Sure enough, there was a dark haired man sitting at the bar with a set of shoulders she’d recognize anywhere. Making her way through the crown, she found a sliver of bar space, putting her elbow to elbow with the man she’d worked with for the last five years. She did not turn to look at him, but twiddled her thumbs and waited for the inevitable.

“I had no idea that ‘I’ll be back in an hour’ meant you’d disappear for half the day.” He was seriously upset; there must have been a bad load of new freight or some sketchy black matter cargo. “Riot, you do this every time we touch down in Torque. It’s getting to the point where I’m considering skipping it all together the next few months.”

Her heart sank with regret, but this was the one place she could ever feel comfortable in. The one place in the known galaxy she could walk the streets freely without a care or a need to speak to anyone, the only place in fact. Her head sank, her shoulders dropped, and her thumbs slowly stilled. Helden let out a slight sigh then ordered up another drink and passed it to her. She sipped on it while they both sat in silent thought. If they violated their docking visa there would be stiff fines and a detention penalty to deal with, but Riot dared not make a sound. There was no reasoning with a captain. As she silently punched a guess at his next move, a burly red haired man plopped himself up against the bar next to her, knocking another patron out of the way.


“Hey there, little stella, tell me… what do you got to hide under that black tarp? Cus’ from the back you look like you got a mighty fine little step-up going on under there!” He blurted with a raised eyebrow and a drunken swagger in his hips.

“Leave the lady alone, sir, go back to your liquor.” Helden droned without so much as a glance upward.


         The man pulled up a bar stool next to her and had himself a seat as he leaned in close to whisper something in her ear, putting him and the tall chair slightly off balance. Without letting him on, Riot slid her calf under the leg of the man’s stool and just as his foul breath reached her nose she twisted her hip and swung back her leg. The man bottomed out lacking any sort of grace, hitting his chin on the bar top, as the stool skidded out from under him. With her face still hidden by the shawl wrapped around her, she took a calm sip from her pint glass as if nothing had happened. Helden chuckled silently into his amber colored beer at the bottom of his glass, but did not physically acknowledge her actions. The man rocketed to his feet and took one good swing at Riot, just as Helden hauled her back out of the red-head’s reach. More stools hit the floor as everyone within knowing range scattered and Helden, with Riot pinned between the bar and his backside, faced the man. A rush of tense silence rippled through the tavern just before the barkeep grabbed a black wooden bat and cracked in on the bar top, gathering everyone’s attention.


“You gentlemen better find a civil way of settle’n this or you’re gonna find faces on the wrong side of your skulls!” the massive barkeep growled with bat in hand.

“Very well, a drinking match? One bill on the winner.” Helden declared and the whole pub eased into a loud roar of agreement and relief.

“Nye! Yellow liver! Two bills for the winner and I play her! Not you!” The red head gargled as a bit of blood dribbled down his lower lip.


Riot stepped out around from behind Helden and dropped the hood of her shawl to her neck. Her hair was jet black, as long and straight as her back, with an almost blue gleam to it. Her bangs were full and came to just below her brow line. Her skin was clear, soft, and fair as a child’s though she was well at twenty two years of age. Her eyes were as dark as her hair with a light ring of color right around her pupils. Every man within eye shot of her was taken a back. Helden took a good swig from his pint and slammed it down on the bar.

“Fine, but since you made the pot, she makes the rules.” Helden stated with glance toward the back of his pilot’s head as she stood in font of him.

Riot turned around to face Helden then moved in close to his ear and began to whisper. As she did the burly man leaned in slightly, amazed at what he was witnessing, with bewilderment in his expression. After a moment Helden straightened up as Riot finished her statement. Helden cleared his throat before he began.


“She will bet you your two bills, that she can finish five pints before you can finish five shots.”

“Are you shitting me?” the man chuckled loudly for all to hear. “Your little whore can’t even speak for herself!”


Riot glared at the man as every eye in the entire bar, awkwardly silent once more, glided from him over to her. She bowed her head as she unwound the shawl from her neck and watched it fall from her shoulders to the floor. Her eyes were complacent and void of life for a moment, then were flooded with a determined and calm rage.
The man was chilled to the bone and felt it race through his spine up to his neck. The woman’s throat was laced with the pearl white markings of laceration scars. It became quite apparent to all that she physically could not speak for herself. The man was certainly far from any sort of doctor or physician, but he could tell just from sight of it that at some point in her past, her vocal chords had to be damaged beyond repair or maybe even cut out completely. Riot turned back at Helden and gave him an open hand gesture of all five fingers.


“Better make it five bills, mister, unless you feel you aren’t up it.” Helden stated matter-or-fact like as Riot walked to the bar top. The man simply nodded and followed her.


         Half the crowd went back to their own tables to drink as the rest gathered around the two competitors as they settled into their seats. Helden pulled his stool off the floor and propped himself on it, just next to Riot. The barkeep poured five pints of cold beer and five shots of straight liquor, and then placed it in front of its respective drinker. Riot leaned back into Helden’s ear and a few moments later, Helden was back on his feet.

         “Ok, she says there is only one real rule. You can not touch any of her pint glasses and she can not lay so much as a finger on your shot glasses. The first one to consume every last drop and slam their last empty glass on the bar top wins. No exceptions to any of these… got it mister?” The man nodded as Helden took his seat again.

         The crowd gathered closely and seemed to tremor with anticipation. After all, this girl must be crazy. The idea that a tiny little thing could consume 80 ounces of beer faster than a slobbering alcoholic, local bar rocker could drink ten ounces of liquor was beyond them. A tourist in a blue, yellow, and red “I Love Torque” t-shirt snapped a photo and the bright flash cracked the tension in the air like a knife. The barkeep hollered the go signal and the two were off. Riot methodically guzzled her first pint and by the time she made half way, her competitor was slamming down his first shot glass. The crowed roared, jumped, and cheered on their pick-to-win as more onlookers from the docking bay outside shuffled in to examine the ruckus. The second slam of a shot glass hit the bar as Riot reached the last couple mouthfuls of her first beer. She took a ragged breath as she looked over to see his third shot slide down his throat. She looked at her one empty glass, then at her four full pints, and let out a sigh. Just as the man reached for his fourth shot, Riot took her pint glass and turned it over on top of the man’s fifth and final shot. The man slammed down his fourth shot then paused as he reached for his last one. Confusion consumed him, then realization over came him, and finally shock overpowered him. In order to get to his final drink, he would have to lift Riot’s pint glass off of it, which would violate the one and only rule. He’s bee stooped by a girl and he never saw it coming. The crowd quieted for a second and then the moment they caught on, laughter and cheering erupted. Riot’s shoulders where graced with countless slaps of praise, recognition, and adoration from the swarm behind her before it finally dispersed.

         The burly man just sat there, boiling internally, as Riot took her time finishing her other four pints. The man finally fished out 200 federal credits, equal to 2 bills, and slammed it down on the bar. The bartender, chuckling all the while, gave Riot respectful handshake, which was not all that common between men and women within a tavern. Her defeated competitor took his leave from the bar, mortified he was out witted by a woman, and made his way out the door. The bar returned to normal as Riot made on her agreement and finished every last drop of her beer. Helden stood, placing the forgotten black shawl back across her shoulders, and checked his watch. They had a little less then 30 minutes to fire up and set off the Maris. Riot used her winnings to pay for the remainder of their bill and then took her leave after her captain.
         
         They were careful to watch their backs as they snaked through the sea of travelers and dock men toward the orange sector. The last thing the needed was to be mugged and shot by a band of fat, red-headed hooligans. The Nydia Maris was just as they left her. Helden entered his information to the dock terminal, announcing their intended departure to the sky marshals and Riot unlocked the ship’s loading doors from a hidden panel on the Maris’ dusty belly. The side of the Maris opened smoothly with heavy sounds of hydraulic pistons and well greased hinges. Riot hopped up into the ship as Helden sent in the last few commands through the terminal to unlock his ship. As he stepped onto the ramp, he watched to make sure the docking clamps both aft and fore had unlocked and cleared completely, leaving only the Maris’ own clamps to secure her to port. Helden saw Riot climb up the metal stairway towards the bridge from his peripheral vision. He raised the ramp and sealed it tight, then turned to look down into the bilge hold at his cargo one last time before take off. All was secure and seemed to be accounted for.

         While his pilot had been off on her little inner city adventure, he had off loaded his old cargo and taken on a full load of new shipments, all bound for an industrial company on a planet eight days away. He planned on making a straight trip there to offload then surprise Riot with a four week vacation, on the tropical planet Arboreus, which he had arranged in secret a few months ago. They had been going nonstop for the last ten months and it was not too difficult to see that it was starting to wear them both down considerably. Riot had worked long hours and even, at times, under extreme conditions for a hefty salary she had no time to enjoy. While Helden was thinking on it, it crossed his mind that he wasn’t sure if she’d ever seen a planet like Arboreus with its lush forests, untouched shorelines, and turquoise seas. From its initial discovery scholars had claimed it had the closest existing environment to the one of the Origin planet. Whether that was true or not, the Union still saw something precious in the “Emerald One” as it was sometimes called and declared the entire planet a Galactic Reserve. Now only a select number of people are allowed to visit a year on closely monitor vacation activities like ocean cruises and mainland hiking. They only allow enough people in so create enough profit to sustain the planet’s forest rangers and a government run anti-poaching association. Despite the heavy security, a trip to Arboreus is the once in a life time dream for most people. Helden had been smart enough to put his name in the pot a few years back and lucky enough to win a draw just six months ago.
         
         He smiled at his good fortune as he climbed the metal staircase into the heart of the ship. He walked through the common room, with its red couches and leather sitting chairs, and then passed through the mess hall. A rare oak dining table was in the center of the room and was surrounded by numerous wall cupboards and pantries stocked with canned and dried foods. As he walked down the fore hallway to the bridge he could just barely see out the top of the skylight. He hopped up the steps out of the dark hallway and into the brightness of the bridge. Out the massive bridge window was the docking bay and a cloudless faint purple-blue sky. Helden took his seat at the Copilots chair and started up his station. Down a couple steps in front of him was the true helm and pilot’s seat with a front and center view. Riot popped out from under the helm board with a pair of sunglasses in on hand and a candy in the other. She smiled at Helden then settled into her seat as she slid on the glasses and popped the candy into her mouth.
         
         The Nydia Maris was already warming up with more and more lights flashing on and the faint sound of heavy machinery powering up. Riot sat back and let the ship take care of her self while chewing on her candy. The helm board in front of Riot was nothing more than a clear sheet of thick glass at first, but slowly the glass revealed itself as a massive seven foot long touch screen. Images of the ship, live video of rear and side external views, as well as operational check lists started to appear before her. Riot scanned the lists and then tapped a flashing green square on the upper left side of the touch board to release final clamps holding the Maris down. Riot watched the live camera feed to make sure the clamp had full retracted then hailed the sky marshal. While Riot continued her check, Helden went through the internal check lists on his own nearly identical touch screen. The oxygen, water, pressure, and gravity systems were all green so Helden sat back and waited for his pilot to take her up out of the atmosphere.

         Riot looked down at her vest pocket, and then fished out a small shiny square object. She stared at it, almost mesmerized but its clean lines and straightforward design. Helden leaned forward over his board, down as Riot, to see what it was she was playing with.

“What is that?” he asked her, but she shrugged her shoulders without looking back at him. “Did you find that in town? …don’t tell me you paid money for something that doesn’t even have a purpose.”

         In an instant her trip into town flashed back to her. She did not know what this metal square was for or what it could do, but something about it called out to her. She knew the moment she touched it that it would mean something to her. As she waited for clearance from the sky marshal she thought back to the moment she found it…




         A slim hand covered with a worn black leather glove floated across a table filled with useless trinkets. The smorgasbord of broken gadgets, nameless parts, and cheap heirlooms from decades ago were covered in dust and jumbled in a heap together. As the hand gently sifted through the junk, it came across some thing shiny and small. It was square shaped, about as big as a saltine cracker and nearly as thin. On the one side it showed a hint of once being as shiny as a mirror, while the other was decorated with two shapes: a light circle and a dark square. It did not look as though it was meant to be opened and it did not rattle when it was shook. It was peculiar and excited the imagination with its simplicity and unknown purpose. 

“That’s pretty old ma’am. Don’t know what it was for, but I’ve had it a few years. Never been able to figure it out,” the aging teller hollered from the counter.

The merchant teller looked over the woman holding the shiny cracker shaped object. She was covered from head to toe in everyday garb, but wore a black shawl that covered her face and head. Her dark eyes flickered over to him and through the black material across her face she asked how old it was.

“Not too terribly sure, Miss Riot, but I’d say a couple hundred years at least. The man I bought it from said it goes way back to Origin Days. It doesn’t look 400 year old, but who knows. I’ll sell it to you for 50.”  He slated in a generous tone.

Riot’s youthful eyes crinkled, giving away a smile underneath her veil. She placed three large copper coins and five small coins dulled to a dark grey on to the teller’s counter. The old man chuckled as he gave a nod and scooped up the 35 federal notes. She tucked her shiny square up under her shawl then walked to the door. Just as she was about to give the sturdy front door a push, she noticed a half burned candled shoved back behind a row of metal boxes. She trotted over to the shelf and reached for the wax filled jar. As the teller noticed her, he shuffled over to the back side of the shelf, and grabbed the candle. He handed it to the woman after gently wrapping it in a couple sheets of butcher paper.

“Oh, my stars; I nearly forgot! I came across it a couple months ago and knew you’d love it. It hasn’t seen a flame in near a century. The wax smells of sweet food or like those trees in Marmonth, near the capital. I know you’ve seen those, Miss Riot.” The man gleamed with satisfaction as the woman handed him a pair of copper coins, twice the amount of the candle’s worth.

She bowed her head slightly as she shoved the door open with her shoulder. Riot instantly disappeared into the blazing sun and howling noise of the city she knew all too well. She hardly looked up as she traveled along the narrow sidewalk. Her feet knew where she was headed to as her eyes squinted to a near close against her will. Her pupils, tight and pained, recoiled against the bright glow of the mid afternoon. The walkway beneath her was nothing more than a metal grate, attached to the side of a massive building, and below were countless floors and countless other grated walkways leading down into a blur of traffic and misty clouds. Taxis, shuttles, and UAV’s zoomed by as the wind from the updraft and the aerial traffic caused a vortex of directionless wind which tossed her shawl up around her face. The people shoved passed as horns and sirens rippled through the air, distorted by the echo caused from so many building structures in so small an area.

The woman ignored the world around her and focused on her new possessions. It was difficult to find real wax candles and even harder to find the phosphorous matches that once accompanied them. The metal object was even more thought provoking. What was it created for? Who created it? Who, with two ancient hands, built the very object she now held in her vest pocket under her shawl? So many questions with zero answers left her flustered a bit and desperately wanting to ask Helden every one. She passed by the Level 20 Food Market, Mortimer’s Butcher Shop, salons, airauto repair shops, travel agencies, and even her favorite restaurant, Ithiuway’s Tavern and Grill. She walked by them all in a content trance, like a socialite strolling through the mall with her girl’s, but she was not with anyone. Riot was alone and silent in every way she enjoyed it. To walk Torque’s famously jammed city sidewalks was to be anonymous and in the spotlight at the same time. Riot continued her content stroll until she reached the doorway of the infamous Aingeal’s Brewery. There she scanned the tavern’s patrons until her eyes fell on the one person she trusted, the one person she could feel safe with. A tall, dark haired man with broad shoulders and perfect…


“RIOT! What the hell!? Are you dead down there!” Helden barked from the copilot’s seat behind her.


Riot snapped out of her daydream and back into the helm that was her reality. The board in front of her was screaming with colors and flashing screens. She had been given clearance and the sky marshals were becoming uncomfortable with their delay. Riot immediately accepted the flight patterns and took hold of the manual stirring handles from underneath the helm, as it rose up to meet her. The Nydia Maris glided up and out as Riot located the bright red Tug Ship in front of her taxied her out of the docking bay and into the open sky. With in ten minutes Riot was firing up the thrusters and maneuvering out of atmo, completely clear of the city. As the soft violet sky faded into the deep and endless black of space they both settled and charted a course for Toberine, the industrial city of their next destination. They now had eight days to relax and go back into their normal routines.