Barak slid into his seat at the briefing room table, Leoben taking the chair at his right. “Colonel. Mr. Calydon. What do you have for us?”
Rosh cleared his throat and spoke. “We’ve finished the sweep of the pirate ship. All the databanks have been wiped. No sign of the crew, but we found all of the stolen cargo.” He keyed in a sequence to his holo-terminal, and a schematic of the craft appeared above the table. “Whenever they left, they weren’t in too much of a hurry to stop and destroy evidence.”
“No bodies?”
“None.” Rosh scowled and killed the image. “And I have to say, my boys are mighty disappointed.”
Barak steepled his fingers and frowned as he digested the information. “Mr. Calydon?”
The NavInt officer keyed his terminal. “Same on the Centauri ship. Completely empty, no sign of the crew. But we did find some intact databanks.” An image of the star cruiser materialized above the table, a large, menacing shape surrounded in glowing numeric streams.
“The ship is the Dominion Star Vessel Semiramis, commanded by a Captain Nabu.” Another image appeared beside the ship, showing a dark, middle-aged man with a trimmed beard and uniform. “The Centauri Higher Command has it listed as missing for the past 10 years. Republic Intelligence says their Navy’s been keeping watch for it as a possible renegade.”
Barak leaned forward in his seat. “What do we know about this Nabu?”
“The intelligence profile just has the basics. Graduated from the Dominion Academy with a reasonable score but not the top of his class. His service record isn’t remarkable either. But there are a few interesting details in his background—he’s from the Pyramus Line.” Several eyebrows shot up as Calydon continued. “His family has Directorate privileges—that’s just a step down from the Dominion Chancellery Circle. And they may yet obtain membership given his father’s political ambitions.”
Barak stroked his chin. “Is he the eldest son or the youngest?”
“The youngest.”
Barak nodded slowly. “Have you found anything else from the databanks?”
“The captain kept a complete log from the time the ship entered the system. My analysts are combing through it as we speak, but it will take time to organize and translate. I expect a report at my terminal by 0100 hours.”
“Then we will reconvene here at that time. You are dismissed, gentlemen.”
—-
It was strange, hearing nothing at dusk. Romano glanced at the violet sky above the encampment and reminded himself it was only an illusion. He had no idea what actual twilight looked like on this world, if it even experienced it in the true sense. He thought back to the ones he’d known on his native Tibera. Those had been wine-colored displays painted in the rays of a scarlet sun on its journey past the horizon, the forests alive with the chorus of nightbirds, moon-seekers, and other singers of the night. Here there was only silence, sun and stars locked away beyond solid atmosphere. You could call it peaceful, if that word applied to death.
Romano seated himself against one of the equipment containers and propped up his blaster beside him. From this vantage point, he had a clear view of the city. He ran his eyes across the spires and domes, taking in the flowing shapes that curled one into the other like the waves of a frozen sea, painted in blue light from the luminous plants. He still couldn’t think of it as a ruin. That term belonged to what Shelley had seen in Egypt as he composed his ode to the fallen Ozymandias. This place bore no scars of time, rendered dead only by the absence of its builders. Like some kingdom under a spell in the tales he’d read as a child, waiting for a warrior-prince who would raise it to life again.
Romano checked his chronometer—half an hour until guard duty. He could put it to good use.
He pulled a book from the packet on his belt and opened it, flipping until he found the page he wanted. Then he took out a notepad and stylus, scribbling as he recited the passage under his breath:
“Now came still evening on, and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad;
Silence accompany'd; for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale;
She all night long her amorous descant sung;
Silence was pleas'd. Now glow'd the firmament
With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length
Apparent queen unveil'd her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.”
“What are you doing, Soldier?”
Romano halted mid-stroke and looked up. A man stood just a few feet away from him, frozen in an awkward stance as if he’d just been on his way somewhere else. One of the scientists. Tal had called him Corran. Romano set down his stylus.
“Composing verse.”
The man made a strangled noise under his helmet. “You’re what?”
Romano held up the book so the other man could see the title. “Paradise Lost is my favorite. I’m trying to see if I can adapt Milton’s style.”
“You… read that Old Earth rubbish?”
“I have most of Milton memorized, but there’s still something about holding the book in your hands and feeling the pages. It feeds the muse.”
“Why would a soldier write poetry?”
“Lots of us have done it. Eschenbach, Spenser, Macdonald, Byron, even Richard the Lionheart. Old Earth was full of warrior-poets.”
Corran stared at him, unmoving. Then slowly began to shake his head back and forth, muttering under his breath. Romano caught a word that sounded like ‘unbelievable.’ “Is this what the Navy pays your kind for?”
He’s doing this deliberately. Just like Tal in the docking bay. Romano let the barb pass and shrugged. “I’m alone, I’m off duty, and this place has a lot of material for poetry. My father did the same thing when he was on tour. My mom still has the last sonnets he ever wrote—before Proxima 9.”
There were several seconds of silence. Then the scientist spoke again. “Was that where he died?”
“Yes. His squad held off a hive charge while they were evacuating the colony. There wasn’t enough room for both them and the civilians. So they stayed behind.” Romano kept his voice dry, neutral. “That was all before I was born. I know him through the things he wrote. If I ever have kids of my own… I’d like to leave something behind for them. Just in case.”
Now the other man stayed silent. But he didn’t move. His helmet stayed locked on Romano, hiding whatever expression lay behind it. Several seconds passed. More. Nothing.
“So what about you?” Romano put down his stylus, looked to where he thought the scientist’s eyes would be. “You have family?”
“No.” Corran’s voice was cold.
“How’d you join the Navy?”
Romano saw the other man’s entire body tense, his hands squeezing into fists at his sides. “I joined the Collegium” — the word hissed through his teeth— “in the top percentile of my graduating class.”
“Good for you. That’s where I joined the Marines.”
He really wished he could see the scientist’s face right now. Corran made several indecipherable noises in his helmet that finally formed into words. “You were in…? How… why?”
Romano shrugged. “Why not? It was what I wanted.”
“You could have been an officer, a lieutenant—“
“And miss out on half the journey. My dad worked his way through the ranks. I can do it too.”
“That makes no sense whatsoever.”
“Depends on what your reasons are. Mine was to experience the vocation of arms—what it means to be a warrior. And this” —he held up the book— “is the story of why my job exists.”
Corran said nothing.
“Think about it.” Romano indicated their surroundings with his arms. “Why did my Dad do what he did? Why was it worth doing? What’s the reason we’re here right now? Why are we exploring? What was their reason for building that?” He pointed across the bridge toward the city scape. “Why do we want to know that reason?”
“We don’t.” Corran took a step toward him. His helmet looked down on Romano from above, the faceplate glowering. “What we have over there is a cache of advanced tech by an alien civilization likely centuries old. A culture with its own understanding of physics, mathematics, chemistry, engineering. Tools of progress, things we can use, ways we can surpass the Centauri. You’re a soldier. You should care about that.”
“Oh, I do. Believe me. But once we do, then what? What are we progressing towards? Is it something worth having for its own sake? Will life still be worth living once we do have it?”
Corran went silent again. For a moment, Romano thought he might have reached the man.
The scientist shook his head. Vigorously, as if to rid himself of something foul. Then he turned and walked away.
“Keep memorizing dead poets, Private.”
