Freedom
It was a bright night; the sky hung close to the ground, lit up in purple. It was light enough Khad could see clearly; he stood barefoot on a bronze hill, a few stones and patches of cedars decorated the area. Ambient waves and a distant breeze gave him a sense of peace; as if he could stay here for eternity.
He walked down to the water and dipped his feet in. Whatever bitterness he had been struggling with for the past few years had left him; the beauty of this place moved him. He had wanted to lose that numbness that comes with age and fatigue, to feel inspired again, to be someone who could be inspired again. At some point, he just wanted to feel comfortable, untroubled. Beauty and beliefs had taken a backseat, he felt like he had lost them forever.
Suddenly, a feeling of displacement hit him. Where was he?
The sky lit up even brighter, red and white rotating siren lights. Klaxons were blaring; there was an attack on the fleet! He pulled on his uniform and ran for the bridge. Gladly, even when taken by surprise his men were ready.
They had dispatched the pirates already from a few thousand miles out. There was a muffled roar as the Condor’s flak guns brought down the remaining inbound missiles. Khad gave orders to gather the hulls.
The red, white, and blue colors and various slogans carved in made it obvious where they had come from. The ships were from Freedom, a cold and mountainous chain of worlds on the fringe of colonized space. They were impossible to dominate militarily, hence the name. Initially founded on high-minded ideals, their culture had collapsed significantly leading to a massive up-tick in piracy. Interestingly to some, Freedomers had also become infamous sex pests.
Dr. Pax was permitted onto the bridge. He was Khad’s client, contracted to take him and his team to Far-Spring, a planet well outside human space. It was pleasant there, very similar to Earth, known to be habitable although it was not known to have been visited by men; the only data on it came from automated probes and telescopes.
Dr. Pax was an aged but regal man. He was always very happy to lecture anyone he could about his work; he really felt it was that interesting. Khad had never seen him so nervous before.
“Captain Sekere, what planet did those ships come from? Do you have the data ready?” Pax had seen them deal with raids and he had listened with interest to the analysis, he even directed some of his own men to learn the process and assist. He had never been this antsy about it before and he did not like the answer, nor that it was an unusually large and organized fleet.
Pax put on his reading glasses and removed a printout from his pocket. “I received a threatening message from an Earth officer not five minutes ago. He said that entering this area was illegal due to the threat posed by Freedom. I fear this raid was not a coincidence.”
A communications officer looked nervously towards Khad. Khad nodded at him before looking back to Pax. “Where would you like us to take you instead then? No charge, of course; you can’t help Earth getting in the way.”
Pax turned argumentative. “I worry for the lives of our crew, not my own. To end this expedition would mean the loss of a significant portion of what I’ve been working towards most of my life. I would rather expire in space than lose my heart and soul. Can’t you relate?”
“What are you talking about?” It was slight, short slip of the tongue from Khad. Pax did not handle shortness well.
Khad looked up at the professor. No matter the age, a six-foot-eight man who was red in the face was very intimidating. He instinctively began to go to attention, years of training resurfacing.
Pax pointed down at the little man. “You believe in death before dishonor, do you not?”
“Yes, sir, I would rather die than be dishonored.”
“Great, then you do understand me. It’s a loss of purpose.”
Khad relaxed, catching his hands before they folded behind his back but failing to prevent his feet from forming a sharp divide of one foot. He took out a cigarette and lighter and took a quick puff. Pax eyed this strangely, wondering if he had forgotten about the fire prevention system, but chose not to say anything.
Khad felt calm enough to field a question. “What even makes Far-Spring that important? Seems like a nice place but not any different from Earth. Can’t you do your research anywhere else?”
“It is because it’s so similar to Earth that makes it important. Nearly every planet other than Earth, no matter how hospitable or teeming with life, starts its life as an almost-lifeless rock. It is critical to know what makes this one so welcoming, especially so far from Earth, in a cluster of dying stars much more luminous than the sun. Hell, we may even discover more about the origin of life itself here!”
“So, why did those anarchists settle on Freedom, not Far-Spring? All in all it’s not that much farther away, right? It’s not a frozen hell like those two either.”
Pax shrugged. “I’m a scientist, not a historian. Maybe they were running out of fuel. I do believe though that passing up on such a beautiful planet even now can only be an indication that they have lost their way.” At that, he turned and left.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Khad’s thoughts turned to the most polite way to throw these people off his ship. This was not about ideals, purpose, or whatever else; it was about not starting a shooting war with Earth.
Khad turned to his sweaty communications officer. The officer indicated that whomever he was holding on the line wanted to communicate directly.
A voice roared out of the handset. “I am Lt. Colonel Mason, Earth Republic liaison to Freedom and head of the local consulate and garrison; I have already verified myself to your officer. Bring those researchers past our planet and I will hold you in contempt of the military sovereignty of Earth and act accordingly.”
Why was he so hostile? Khad pushed in. “I am Captain Sekere of the Condor, though I gather you already knew that. I’m already trying to convince our doctor to return peacefully, however I will leave him and his crew in evac pods if it comes down to it. It’s my damned ship, not his.”
“Make sure you do; hell, humor him all the way to Freedom and I’ll pay you to take him off your hands. Just don’t make a stupid decision because you want to be a big damned hero, it’ll be the last stupid decision of your career.”
It felt like Mason should have hung up there but the line stayed live. Khad asked a question.
“So, you’re the liaison, right? Do you know why the people on Freedom never settled Far-Spring?”
Someone started panting over the line for about five seconds. Before he could ask about it, Mason blurted out an answer.
“Freedom and the outlying worlds are more defensible, better for production. They’re very ascetic, good people, they know what matters and it’s not the shade of green the grass is.”
“But everyone still moves to Earth or a paradise planet if they get rich enough.”
There was more panting.
“They’re very rational indeed, not compelled by spectacle like that.”
Khad shrugged to himself. Somehow, the idea of settling down on a planet like that, living in a bunker and eating whatever they could make grow on a rocky hellscape or stuff in a hydroponic garden, made him profoundly uncomfortable. Maybe he just was not as good a person as they were.
-
Mason’s hands were shaking; his heart was throbbing. He looked over his lines again, he had written them down in case he got too nervous to think of what to say. They were all masterfully crafted half-truths, ideal so that you would never think of yourself as lying when you spoke.
Earth had more-or-less taken control of Freedom from the inside; the anarchists cared more about profit and pleasure than their espoused ideologies. It was very easy for Earth to spread its tendrils once it had a foothold. Mason had pulled some strings to have a local warlord intercept and destroy the Condor but that oaf had not even scratched it.
He reached down for his intercom button, his hands shaking so bad he missed twice. He mumbled, “bring a girl in” over the line. He had to distract himself and this was the only way left, he was numb to everything else. He undid his belt and stepped out of his slacks, looking out the window as he undressed. It was gray out, another blizzard crossed with dust. Many Freedomers would be hiding out inside, taking advantages of the very same services he was, or cheaper alternatives if they could not afford it (or if they were too diseased).
Pax would find some way to get people interested in Far Spring – ancient artifacts, gravity-defying vistas, something like that. Then they would see the beauty of that planet, they would care about beauty again. Once a man cares about one thing, he starts to care about many things, he stops caring about porn, drugs, binge drinking, daytime TV, etcetera. One of the greatest advances of social control was making art and science dull, taking away the beauty of the natural world and human spirit. People care about space, not solar panels, so all the attention was directed to solar panels.
Earth wanted to stop Pax from reaching Far-Spring because it would jeopardize the government’s power. Mason needed to stop Pax because he knew he would take Freedom away from him.
The door rushed open; Mason jumped before realizing it was just the girl.
Either he would rule over this square or he would swing over it. Khad and Pax had to go.
-
Khad wandered through the halls of his precious Condor. It was a modified heavy freighter, already designed with dense armor to deter raids during the darker ages of space travel. All he had to do was adjust it over time with guns and fighter bays and it eventually became a formidable vessel. Time had tested it well; however, a heavy freighter, no matter how much you butchered it, would never be fast enough for the lucrative bounties and manhunt contracts most fleets went for. That was an intentional decision; Khad had always been more attracted to escort and defense missions. He could hardly remember why though.
He plodded down the corridor, listening to the ambient hums and creaks of machinery; he always found it soothing. Hardly anyone enjoyed the racket of a spaceship, Dr. Pax thought it made it hard to sleep but he understood Khad’s enjoyment of them; he mentioned he used to take audio recordings of birdsongs himself. Maybe that was why he liked discussing his work with Khad so much, he felt like they were kindred spirits deep down or something. Maybe that was why he contracted him to begin with.
Khad slid back into his room, the adrenalin had worn off and he had not eaten anything so, it was time to crash and fall asleep.
Of course, he wound up having insomnia.
After about an hour of trying, Khad gave up. He poured himself a little whiskey, lit another cig, and started searching around his bookshelf. Eventually he pulled out a copy of the Iliad he had bought at a port somewhere. He had started reading it but soon forgot about it. He quickly remembered why he had fallen off to begin with, it was an ancient book in every sense of the term. The exploits of old heroes spoke to him though.
Khad began to remember, that was why he had first taken up arms. As he turned the pages, the stories gradually became more familiar, like a sketch outline slowly having details drawn in. He had read this book ten times as a kid; he wanted to be a hero like Odysseus or Aeneas. At some point down the line though, he had forgotten.
Everyone is born with a certain sense of idealism; they want great things and feel they should have them. At some point in the drudgery of life though, that awareness dies to make it easier to get through life, to commit the little sins and evils it takes to make a living, to forget the pains of actually trying to go out and achieve those things you thought were so amazing as a kid. To forget that you are slowly killing yourself with what you eat, see, hear, and think. Khad had tried to forget that nagging feeling that he had forgotten something very important, now what he had forgotten was staring him in the face again, convicting him.
Could he get that idealism back?
Another alert went out over the speakers, sirens blaring. Khad rushed into the hallway and was blasted with water. It was the fire suppression system. He really needed to stop smoking anyway.
-
A major fleet from Freedom was inbound; far too large to handle this time. Men were scrambling to their battle stations and readying defenses.
Khad marched up to his navigation officer, dressed in his full assault suit, ruddy plate armor with his name and rank stenciled down the side. He gave his orders. “Take us directly to Freedom.” The officer thought he was joking but Khad moved on to a personnel officer.
“Get Pax up here.”
The inbound fleet turned back to defend Freedom ahead of their arrival. Mason greeted Khad as soon as he came into range, relieved. “Have you come to turn over the doctor?”
Both Pax and the communications officer were sweating, looking up at Khad for a response. Khad grinned. “He’s not for sale.” They both breathed a sigh of relief.
Khad motioned to the bridge. “Prepare a broadcast; tell the engineers and Pax’s men to make it as wide and far-reaching as possible.”
He turned next to Pax. “Explain your mission to Freedom.”
Pax, for the first time, was speechless. Khad, taking at least a little mean-spirited pleasure in that, patted him on the back and went on. “You wanted to convince me there were better things in life, didn’t you? Well, I’m not too bright but I’m sure there’s much sharper people than me down there. This is your shot.”
Pax rubbed the back of his neck. “I hoped I would have something to show them.”
Khad smiled. “You’ve spent your whole life figuring that out.”
The broadcast went up and Pax began his speech. It was initially awkward but it never took long for the fire in Pax’s heart to take hold of him. It was a fine speech, but Khad was a contractor, he had work to do. He ordered his men to open a line to Mason. Troublingly, Mason did not reply. Khad rubbed his chin, looking back to the impassioned doctor and the silenced fleet, then back to the communicator. He suspected Mason was preparing his own attack with whatever small garrison Earth had down there.
Khad took the microphone from Pax and edged him out of the way. “This is Captain Sekere of the Condor. You have heard the doctor, now you’ll hear me. From the size of our fleet, you can tell that we are not any threat to Freedom and we never were. It’s all just a game conjured up by a very irritating Earth liaison.”
Another broadcast came roaring in, interrupting Khad. “You stand to lose everything you’ve come to rely on, access to trade, access to pornography, access to chemicals, access to the latest media. I’ve given you everything you could possibly want and all I ask back is that you take care of this rump fleet for me. Could you not even do that? Must the blood be on Earth’s hands?”
Mason was approaching at the helm of a Republic Dreadnought, the heaviest warship Earth fielded and with a battlegroup to match. It identified itself as the Cowbird. That dense, mossy green and dark gray hulk struck fear into the heart of any pilot who saw it come on scope. Khad was different though.
“If that’s Freedom wants then so be it. I for one would rather die.” Khad cut the broadcast there. The Condor dropped fighters and prepared its tracker pods.
Khad ordered six lightweight warships armed with high-velocity launchers forward. His plan was to scatter and eliminate as much of Mason’s escort as possible, limiting his tactics. The Condor’s primary strategy was to outlast its opponent using its dense armor. Forcing the opponent into a slug-out was ideal for a defensive powerhouse like the Condor but against a Dreadnought, it would be too close for comfort. He needed an advantage in firepower for the plan to work now, and the plan had to work, there were no alternatives for a ship this heavy. The first tracker volley sped off into the darkness.
Mason opted to charge the Condor as fast as possible, allowing his lightweights to handle Khad’s cavalry; the Cowbird had more guns than Khad and nearly as much armor. He simply dumped ammunition on his opponent, hoping to get the upper leg over the opposing behemoth.
The ships were so close to each other you could see them without magnification. The rarely used close-range guns – a relic of a darker age - came into play. Khad anxiously watched his panels as components went offline. The whole ship rattled and whined from the density of fire. Tracker launchers moaned as heat forced the plating out of joint. Special close range guns made for boring through armor were planted on the Dreadnought’s hull. Khad had to give the devil his due; Mason came prepared.
Khad got on the broadcast lines one last time. “It looks like this is the end for us. If anything we said resonated, please live for something greater. I’m satisfied because now I’ve spent my life on something meaningful, this little flash of life is greater than an entire lifetime wasted.” He put the microphone down and prepared for the inevitable.
An explosion rocked the belly of the Dreadnought. Three red white and blue lightweights came screaming from underneath, returning to their carrier, a Freedomer battleship identifying itself as the Bearded. Its captain hailed Khad.
“I always thought it was a ridiculous how hateful my parents were towards the Earth. Turns out, I was wrong. You can never trust tyrants.” It opened fire on the Dreadnought.
A message from Mason reached the communication console. “I surrender. Return me to Earth for questioning or make arrangements at the consulate on Freedom. This is a legal notice of surrender equivalent to a white flag.” A small pod appeared on radar.
Khad bumped a few keys on the weapons console, accidentally lighting the object up with tracker fire. The Bearded’s **captain reached out again. “Hey, you wouldn’t mind if I collected these wrecks, would you? I know a good scrap guy. He doesn’t leave much behind. You feel me?”
The Dreadnought finally went up in a massive ball of flame. Its ammunition and weapon batteries shot off in all directions like fireworks, bold greens, blues, and purples. Khad breathed a sigh of relief and gave his thanks to his counterpart. Thinking for a moment, he asked him a question as well.
“Why did your ancestors settle Freedom and not Far-Spring?”
The Goth’s captain thought for a moment. “Back in those days they were still terrified Earth was going to mount an invasion, Freedom was much more defensible. I guess they were right to worry; we were the ones who let our guard down. Clearly, hiding out on a rock won’t help us any longer though.”
Khad looked back at Dr Pax gleefully, then turned to navigation. “Resume our course to Far-Spring.”
-
Khad stepped through the tall grass. From his overlook he could see Pax and his researchers toiling away, setting up equipment, taking notes, writing theories, taking photos. Khad had opted for a backpack of camping supplies, a hunting rifle, and a set of pencils instead.
It was sunset by the time he got away from the ship and he was about fifteen miles out by the time the stars really hit their peak, dressing the whole world in purple. There was no other soul for miles around.
Khad listened to the rustling of the wind and the lapping of the waves. He kicked off his boots, taking a few steps barefoot through the bronze grass.