Into the Light by Jane Wallace

The mess was unusually subdued at dinner that night. Serving three meals in every twenty-four hour period to the thousand servicemen and women onboard, the Level 5 dining hall on the top deck of the ship was constantly in operation and, apart from the quiet hours of the late shift, alive with conversation and laughter. Today, both the Ground Force passengers and the Vehement flight crew were so subdued as they ate their evening meal that the normally inaudible tink of cutlery against polypro dishes was all that could be heard.

Sergeant Jes Lauden felt the gloom settle on his broad shoulders as he took his tray to the serving hatch and filled his plate with what the galley referred to as Shepherd’s Pie. The potato was reconstituted and the meat was protein derived from fungus grown in tanks in the belly of the ship. But it tasted alright to him and at this time of day he was more interested in quantity than quality.

He grabbed some dried ham starters, an unidentified dessert and a fistful of energy drinks and lumbered over to the tables reserved for junior officers. Plonking down his tray, he eased himself carefully on to the slender bench, a little concerned that it might not support him as it, like all the facilities on Vehement, seemed to have been made for someone half his size. He picked up his fork, it too seemed ludicrously small for his meaty, dark-skinned hand, and began to shovel food into his mouth with his customary speed.

Smacking his lips after one enormous swallow, he noticed the diner opposite staring at him in disgust. ‘What’s up, Corporal?’ he asked. ‘Did I get sauce on my schnozzle again?’

Leann Zendra’s velvety eyes were troubled. They were deep blue, almost violet, and the only soft thing about her. The rest was 182 cm of toned muscle topped with a swathe of flaxen hair usually worn, like today, in a pony tail jutting through the back of her uniform cap. Lauden had a few centimetres on her in height but any resemblance ended there: she was as pale in complexion as he was dark, as honed as he was padded. She watched Lauden feed, the thin lines of her eyebrows curving down.

‘How can you eat at a time like this?’ she said.

‘It’s as good a time as any. Hey, if you don’t want your snap, pass it over!’ Lauden made a lunge for her portion.

‘For the gods’ sakes, Lauden! We’re on the verge of defeat and all you can think about is your stomach?’

‘Defeat? No way buddy, we just lost another planet, that’s all. It ain’t over yet, not by any length, no sirree. All that’s different is Sevin’s gonna have us on red drill five times a day.’

‘Just another planet? These are your homeworlds, aren’t you worried?’

’Aw, not so much. The whole family moved out to Zudan five years ago, just before the Gharst got Gridon. Best thing they ever did because, you know what? That place sucks. No more than an outback town where it rains all the day and there ain’t nothing to do ’cept drinking and gambling.’ Lauden paused to refill his mouth. ‘Oh yeah, there ain’t no jobs either, unless you wanna do mining - no thank-you! I spent years climbing the greasy pole outta there, the gribs are welcome to it.’

‘You can’t mean that, specially not about Delta Nine. Didn’t you live there for a bit? Wait a minute, weren’t you some hot shot at the national bank?’

Lauden looked down modestly. ‘Yeah, well… something like that. But you know, it’s just an old rock and a bunch of stuck-ups and money men. It ain’t the friendliest place in the universe. Again, no great loss. We don’t need to worry till the gribs hit your roost and they’re a long way from Thalia right now.’

‘This is the beginning of the end, Lauden. I mean it.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Now they’ve got Borredan, Zudan will be a cinch. Then the Gharst’ll control the entire Altan system and be at our front door! They’ve got the advantage and our leaders know it. And what are we doing? Risking our lives every day for jack-all pay and crap rations. Sometimes, Lauden, I feel we backed the wrong side.’

‘This is downer talk, I’ll not listen.’ Lauden scraped the last smears of food from his plate and licked them off the knife. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and smoothed the crumbs out of the neat line of his moustache.

‘C’mon, let’s get a quick brew and forget about it, huh? There’s nothing more we can do tonight,’ he said.

‘Alright, but quick, okay? My kind of quick, not yours.’

Lauden gave a deep-throated chuckle. ‘Yeah, yeah. C’mon.’

They returned their trays to the galley and walked past the rows of tables to the back of the mess, passing the entrance to the mammoth public bar attached to its port side. Nicknamed the Trough, its facilities were basic enough to be hosed down after use but that never deterred the ship’s crew from drinking and gaming away as much of their money as their free time allowed.

Where they were headed, the Officers’ Common Room, was barely more salubrious. The saloon was a poky, slovenly rectangle with one redeeming feature: a line of portholes giving a prized view over Vehement’s bow. Proper tables and chairs flanked the windows, culminating in the bar itself on the port side and a group of battered couches and reading screens to starboard. Old-fashioned sconces on the scuffed beige walls cast an amber glow. From the amplifiers that did work, Auxo-pop hummed at a medium level.

The four card tables nestled in the corner to the left of the bar were already busy as they collected their drinks, kava for Zendra, drenna and lime with a bowl of grada nuts for Lauden. They stood with their backs to the wraparound counter, beakers in hand, watching the players hunched over their hands.

Lauden stiffened like a dog pointing at its quarry. ‘Looks to me like they need a third for touquet,’ he said.

Zendra frowned when she recognised the contenders. They were all warrant officers from Colonel Evan Reverre’s personal staff, NCOs but higher ranking than themselves. ‘That’s Reverre’s men,’ she said.

‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’ A white crescent of a smile split his face. ‘So it won’t do no harm to relieve them of a few munits, huh?’ He pushed off from the bar and approached the table. He was invited to sit down.

Zendra shook her head and turned away. She had come for a drink with Lauden, not to spectate a card game. She was considering drinking up and leaving when someone tweaked her elbow.

‘Zendra! Long time no see!’ Zendra turned to see a wild-haired Virago with an easy smile.

’Chuchi! I thought you were on Valiant!’

‘I am, but they just shuttled me over for a few days of comms training. How are you? Special Ops treating you alright?’

The women caught up on each other’s news. Two hours passed convivially enough until the crowd around the bar began to thin out and Chuchi decided to call it a day. The kava, a mildly narcotic drink, was having its effect so Zendra returned to the card tables and tapped Lauden on the shoulder. He ignored her, focused on the fan of cards in his paw.

‘See you later, I’m bunking down,’ she told his left ear.

He covered the top of his cards with his hand. ‘Hold up a second. I’ll finish this round and come down with you.’

‘Alright.’ Zendra stepped back to wait, looking around the table. On Lauden’s left, she recognised Macroy, a red-haired Escovar in his late twenties with freckled skin and a protuberant wart on the tip of his nose. On his left, and across from Lauden, Videl, an Auxian, mulled over his hand, fondling the rag of skin that furled out from the side of his perfectly bald head, all that remained of the original ear. The central pot overflowed with coins and more kept being added. Lauden had lined up several stacks of silver and gold in front of him but Macroy and Videl were nearly out and playing with a desperation that spoke of further losses.

Lauden won one hand and then another. Macroy swept his final munits into the pot. ‘That’s it for me after this. Damn you Lauden, you’ve the luck of the devil, you have. I’ve never seen a winning streak like it.’

‘Make this my last hand too,’ said Videl. ‘You’d better deal me a good one.’ He threw Lauden an ominous stare.

‘It’s all in the luck of the draw, gents, all in the luck of the draw,’ said Lauden, nudging his own stake into the kitty. He shuffled the pack and dealt. All three picked up their hands and sorted them.

‘Alley or retty?’ Lauden asked Macroy.

Macroy scowled at his cards. ‘Hit me,’ he said.

Lauden turned over a two and Macroy’s face fell. He scrunched up the cards and hurled them on to the table. Lauden left him to sulk and offered a draw to Videl who pulled a ten. ‘Not bad, not bad,’ he muttered. ‘Alley again.’ A seven. ‘Alley again.’ This time he got a three.

Videl glared at Lauden. ‘I don’t believe this. Let’s see yours.’

’Yeah, put ’em down,’ said Macroy.

‘If you say so.’ Lauden spread three kings, a queen and a knave in the centre of the table.

Macroy and Videl looked at each other. ‘Draw then,’ Macroy ordered.

‘Alright.’ Lauden turned over a ten.

‘Again.’

Lauden shrugged and turned over a knave.

‘Bah!’ Macroy slung himself back in his chair. ‘This can’t be right.’

‘It’s not right. It’s not right at all,’ said Videl slowly, his single eyebrow creasing in the centre. ‘Take another card, fat man. I want to see you go bust.’

‘But I’ve already won!’ Lauden looked at the pot longingly.

‘You were set up to win all along, you grutting cheat!’ Videl bent over the table, his fists pressed into its surface. ‘Now draw, before I make you.’

‘But that ain’t fair. If I don’t get a two or less, I’ll lose.’

‘That’s the point, fat man. Just do it.’ Macroy stared him down.

Lauden expelled a long-suffering sigh. ‘Okay then, if I must.’ He shaded his eyes, plucked the top card from the pack and placed it face up with a hesitant hand.

‘Faugh!’ shouted Videl. There was a crash as he overturned his chair before stalking out in a fury.

Lauden peeked through his fingers. ‘An ace?’ he said. ‘Hmm, ace’s high and low. Well, whaddya know? That makes touquet. Guess I win after all.’ He stood up casually and started to fill his pockets with coins.

Macroy watched him with resentment. ‘I don’t know how you did that, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

‘Hey buddy, take it easy, huh? There’s no funny business, I’m telling you.’

As Macroy flushed a deeper shade of red, Zendra decided the situation had deteriorated far enough. ‘Lauden,’ she called. ‘Time to go.’

‘Okay, coming.’ He turned to Macroy and stuck out his hand. ‘Shake on it, mister? No hard feelings?’

Macroy gave him a hard stare.

‘Suit yourself.’ Lauden looked at Zendra. ‘Let’s go.’

They walked smartly across the emptying bar. The music had been switched off and the serving morphs were wiping down tables and collecting beakers. The coins clinked in Lauden’s trousers.

‘Did you have to take so much money off them?’ Zendra said.

‘It just worked out like that!’

‘It was going to turn nasty, and you’re not making it any better. You may as well have bells on your legs! The whole ship’ll be tailing us, the noise you’re making.’

‘That’s why you’re here - close protection detail!’

‘Great.’

They retraced their steps through the mess and jangled down the short corridor to the central stairwell. There were two service lifts here but most of the crew used the wide flights of stairs which connected the ship’s five levels. The bridge and the senior officers’ quarters were on the storey directly below them. Underneath that were three floors of crew berths and a few facilities such as the sick bay and the gym. The main operations of the ship were contained in Vehement’s sickle-shaped wings which hooked out either side of the main hull. The shuttles and provisions were stored there, as well as the huge fission reactors which powered the craft and its weapons system.

Zendra and Lauden hurried down the steps to Level 3 and took the port gangway towards the junior officers’ quarters where Special Ops had staked out a small enclave. It was late and there was no-one about. Most Vehement personnel would be asleep by now. Only the skeleton crew of the night shift would be up and they would be confined to their stations. Their footsteps made a quiet rasping on the grey noise absorber as they strode past each cabin.

‘One day you are really going to get yourself into trouble,’ Zendra said as they chinked past the washrooms. ‘Nobody likes being wiped out. You’ve got to give them a fighting chance.’

‘Whaddaya mean, give them chance? There’s no tricks, it’s the way the cards fall. And maybe I get a call from Lady Luck, now and again.’

‘A call? You’ve got her on speed dial.’ A movement from behind the corner of the right-hand turn ahead caught her eye. Instinctively she stopped, sticking out her right hand to halt Lauden. They froze by the entrance to the male toilets as three figures materialised in the gangway, blocking their path. It was Macroy, accompanied by Videl, who held a chair leg which he beat against his free hand. Behind them stood Chancel, one of Videl’s Auxian cronies, a scrawny, acne-scarred man with lank rat-brown hair.

‘I hear there’s been cheatin’,’ Chancel said. ‘My mates say you’ve done them for a big one, Sergeant.’

‘I ain’t cheated no-one,’ said Lauden. ‘I won that money fair and square.’

‘You grutting liar!’ said Macroy, stepping up to Lauden’s great bulk. His face was swollen with rage like a whitehead ready to burst. ‘Hand it back!’

Lauden looked down at him, unconcerned. ‘You’re a sore loser, Macroy.’

‘That’s Warrant Officer Macroy to you!’ He reached up to grab Lauden’s collar. ‘Now give us our cash or we’ll take it back ourselves.’

‘Hey, cool down, man! We can talk this through.’

Macroy started to pummel Lauden’s chest. ‘Give it back.’

‘No, it’s mine and I’m gonna hold on to it,’ said Lauden. He brought his knee up sharply into Macroy’s groin then pushed him backwards. Macroy careered into Videl, slamming them both into the wall. Watching from a safe distance, Chancel started to laugh. ‘C’mon mate, you can do better than that!’

Infuriated by the taunt, Macroy righted himself and rushed at Lauden, fists flailing. Videl took on Zendra, trying to swat her with the chair leg and inflicting a painful crack on her shoulder. She scored a punch to his stomach and a chop to the neck with some fast footwork before a sharp poke in the rib cage winded her. Videl pressed his advantage and clipped her around the head, flooring her.

Zendra lay where she fell, anticipating more blows. When they didn’t come, she turned her head and saw Lauden trading punches with Macroy in front of the washroom doors. He hadn’t noticed Videl had finished with Zendra and was sneaking up behind him. ‘Look out!’ she croaked as Videl swung the chair leg over his head like an axe then buried it firmly in the top of Lauden’s skull. Lauden paused mid-jab, shook his head briefly and toppled over.

‘Nice one, nice one!’ said Chancel, clapping his hands as Videl and Macroy stooped to empty Lauden’s pockets.

‘Hey, stop that! That’s his money,’ Zendra said weakly. She tried to sit up, putting a hand to her throbbing head.

The men stared at her.

‘Pussy’s out,’ said Chancel.

‘I’ll get her,’ said Macroy, standing up, coins rolling off his legs. Zendra willed herself upright but she was unsteady on her legs and couldn’t keep her balance. Macroy’s cuff sent her spinning and in a second she was trapped, pinned against the wall with Macroy’s hand around her throat.

‘Darkie lover, this one,’ he said, grinning as she struggled against his hold. ‘Like to try white meat, sweetheart?’

He flinched as she spat in his face. ‘Give us a hand, Videl, I got a live one here,’ he complained.

Videl reluctantly left the spoils and joined Macroy, pushing Zendra’s right shoulder and arm against the wall. Macroy kept up the pressure around her throat, fingering the orange piping down the fastening of her jacket with his free hand.

‘Special Ops, eh? I can see a special operation coming your way. Unzip her, Videl. Let’s see what our Coalition partners really have to offer.’

Trying to pull Macroy’s fingers from her windpipe, Zendra watched in a stupor of disbelief as Videl fumbled for the opening of her jacket. Sexual assault was a risk they ran always on the battlefield, she was used to that, but she never expected it from her own side. She caught sight of Chancel over Videl’s shoulder, lounging against the wall. ‘Hey, Chancel, stop them!’ she called. But Chancel appeared not to hear, crossing his arms and observing the scene with the kind of scorn reserved for slow games with too few goals.

Videl found the zipper and drew it open, exposing a white vest. He paused to savour the prospect of what lay underneath, his eyes glinting. Given a second’s grace, Zendra found her legs were free and stamped on Videl’s foot. She pulled back, ready to smash her forehead into Macroy’s face, when there was a loud bang, a rush of air in the space between them and liquid splattering on to her face. Macroy dropped her, his hand pressed against his nose. Blood seeped through the fingers.

‘That’s enough!’

They all looked to the right where Tem Sevin stood several metres away in the middle of the corridor, a pre-colonial crabclaw in his left hand. The ancient weapon could take only six pellets in its magazine but that was a sufficient deterrent.

‘He cheated us! We were only trying to get our money back,’ Videl said, pointing at Lauden.

Sevin took in his prostrate sergeant briefly. ‘Then the argument was with him, not her. You know the penalties for assault on female crew.’

‘I’ll have you for personal injury,’ hissed Macroy, dabbing his nose with his sleeve.

‘You’ll be court-martialled for attempted rape first!’

‘Your juniors were out of line. If you can’t control them, someone else should,’ said Chancel.

‘That’s no excuse for what I just saw.’

Chancel smiled nastily. ‘How’d you know? An ex-cop with a marked card, seems they let anyone in these days.’

Riled, Sevin clicked the pincers of the crabclaw. ‘Get the hell out of here.’

‘You haven’t heard the last of this.’ Chancel shook his fist at Sevin and the trio slunk off down the corridor.

Sevin stared after them then stuck the crabclaw in his belt and walked over to Zendra.

‘You alright?’ he asked.

‘Perfectly, sir. I was caught off guard, that’s all,’ Zendra said, embarrassed. Sevin had a habit of making her feel about two centimetres tall. She straightened up so she could at least physically tower over him.

He didn’t seem to notice. ‘How did it start?’

‘Lauden beat them at cards. They didn’t like it.’

‘Bloody fool.’ The whale of a body on the floor moaned. Sevin went to help him up. ‘Won again, sergeant?’

‘It just worked out that way, sir, I couldn’t stop it, honestly I couldn’t!’ said Lauden, rubbing his head.

‘Did you tell them?’

‘No,’ said Lauden sheepishly.

‘Well, what do you expect? Do you ever listen to me?’

‘Tell them what?’ Zendra asked.

‘You know why he’s never been promoted to the rank he should be?’

‘No.’

‘He suffers from Savant syndrome. He can barely read his name but he’s got an unbelievable memory for numbers. He remembers which patterns the cards fall in.’

‘It’s a gift and a curse,’ Lauden opined from behind closed eyes. ‘Like my mamma always told me…’

‘You’re a bloody fool, Jes, I expect better from you. The regulars don’t like us at the best of times. They think Special Ops get special treatment and now we’re travelling with them we’ve got to keep our heads down.’

‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.’

‘Help me get him to bed,’ he told Zendra. Together they dragged Lauden to his cabin. His room mate was already asleep and did not wake up as they heaved him on to the vacant bottom bunk. Zendra yanked off his boots and put them in the corner.

‘Thanks Zen, whaddabout a goodnight kiss?’

‘Jack off,’ she said amiably, closing the cabin door.

Sevin was waiting for her outside. ‘I’ll walk you to yours,’ he said.

‘No need, I’m only round the corner.’

‘I’m not being courteous, I’m being practical. Reverre’s protégés don’t play by the rules. There could easily be someone waiting for you. I can’t afford another agent being taken out.’ He gestured they should move forward.

‘You really don’t like Reverre, do you?’ she said, falling into step with him.

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘You know his reputation.’

‘That he’s a bully and a back-stabber and all that?’

‘That’s his reputation, the reality is worse.’

‘What did Chancel mean about you having a marked card?’

As they stopped by her cabin, she saw she had grazed a raw spot. The colour faded further from his face and the hollows below his eyes seemed more pronounced than usual.

‘I beat someone half to death, I had good reason,’ he said flatly. ‘It was a while ago.’

‘Sorry to hear that,’ she said, reading his eyes for more information. They gave nothing away, the vivid brown irises impenetrable.

‘Well, goodnight then,’ she said, opening the cabin door, ‘and thank you’.

‘Welcome.’

She went in and he waited until the door had closed and safely locked behind her before setting off to his own cabin.