Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
EDDIE
As the Shibuya settled into cruising speed, Eddie felt himself lacking. He’d made no rousing speech, nor had a catchphrase like Augustus. The Command Deck was too cramped and crowded for his tastes. Eight people filled a space for twenty, and Eddie wished it were just him in the room.
He set up his tab panels, organized his data, and introduced himself to the command crew, but it took up only so much time.
He was captain of a ship in distress, caught somewhere in the Void with Astral-Gods-know-what happening within its hulls.
Captain of a ship he’d never really wanted, that he’d been pushed to accept, and he wasn’t certain if he even wanted to find the Golden Lion in one piece.
Though he worried about the crew members onboard.
It would be easier to deny a second commission offer, easier to slip away from Quasar to follow Jett wherever went. Eddie knew that he shouldn’t have to justify his decisions, but it was hard to break through forty-five years of conditioning and trauma.
Eddie hadn’t had time to really process the potential loss of the Golden Lion yet. He’d been busy working on plans, coordinating preparations, and taking those first, tentative steps to reconciling with Jett.
And beneath everything else, the Song thumped and cracked and sparkled.
He heard it in the distance, in dreams that chased him while he slept.
It danced around him, fluttering like a bird, shining like a beacon in the dark.
It was persistent, a relentless noise that kept Eddie from any kind of peace, that almost made him forget what silence felt like.
“Sir?”
Eddie turned from the panel he’d been idly tapping on, grateful for another voice to fill the Void in his head. “Yes, Nickle?”
“We are approaching the last known location of the Golden Lion, Sir.”
“Thank you, Nickle.” Eddie turned to the communications officer, an older woman named Saint. “Please announce that we are about to arrive.”
“Aye, sir,” she all but yelled. Her voice had depth and reach and it echoed around the room. “Attention Shibuya—prepare for arrival.”
At that moment the door opened and Jett stepped through. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark, his hair disheveled. He stood, looking lost and beautiful and heartbroken.
“We’re about to drop speed.” Nickle announced.
“Five,” the navigator counted down, “four, three, two, one.”
“Brace.” There was a jolt as the ship slowed to a crawl.
Four heartbeats passed before Eddie spoke. “Show me the local area.”
The tab panels flickered on, and the view knocked Eddie off his axis of reality.
“It’s beautiful,” someone whispered into the quiet of the Command Deck. And they were right. Everything about the Golden Lion spoke to aesthetic and exuberant excess.
It was a sleek ship of burnished gold with superfluous wings each sporting an immense crimson Q. It was large enough to comfortably accommodate ten thousand crew, staff, and passengers, but small enough that it could have flown through the Neo-Tokyo without touching either star-scrapers or hull.
Eddie knew that the interior was outfitted in the finest materials: Terran wood tables in sweeping, artistic shapes; marble floor tiles in public and private spaces; one-of-a-kind chairs, chaises, and couches decorating the public lounges and restaurants.
All that crafted to appeal to the elite, those who had wealth beyond comprehension, those whose opinions of the common people were twisted and obscene.
With distance and hindsight, Eddie was disgusted with himself for picking them.
He’d placed the well-being of these people—people like his abusive family—above his own desires, his love for Jett.
He’d placed their comfort above the lives of his friends, colleagues, and subordinates.
Even so, Eddie didn’t expect that the sight of the Golden Lion would elicit such intense feelings within his usually calm heart.
Now that grotesque bastion of luxury listed at an angle to the Solar Plane, a kind of fluorescent glow clinging to the ship, to the angles and swooping lettering, to the darkened windows across its belly.
There was no obvious source, but Eddie recalled the “storm” mentioned in Adonis Mox’s distress signal.
Perhaps this preternatural glow was the source—or remnant—of that storm.
Eddie cleared his throat and ran through the commands drilled into his memory over the last three days. He knew what to do. “Saint, open comms to the Golden Lion.”
Speaking aloud had the effect of breaking everyone from some mute paralysis brought on by their arrival. A flurry of activity followed as people tapped on consoles, spoke to others in hushed voices, and gave commands to subordinates.
Eddie overlooked Saint from his spot on the podium, watched as the woman pulled up the hailing signals.
“This is Quasar Shuttle Shibuya answering the Golden Lion’s distress signal.
Please come in, Golden Lion.” Her voice had the calm neutrality of many comms officers, all accent and tics forced from her during training.
On the console at his left, Eddie watched as the signal transmitted to the Golden Lion. But when he flicked the audio to his headset, static was the only reply.
“Once more, Saint,” he commanded.
“Golden Lion, this is Shuttle Shibuya, please respond.”
Again, there was only static.
“Are there any automated signals coming from the ship?”
Fingers flew over Saint’s console, flipping through different screens at a measured, but hurried, pace.
“Nothing, sir. Not even the distress signal.”
Eddie tapped the console, thinking. Jett told him that this might happen, that they wouldn’t get anything from the ship. But the lack of automated messages in a time of crisis was concerning.
Martin, the Tech Lead on this trip, stepped into his periphery. They knew each other well from Eddie’s many years as Head of Tech. Martin knew his job inside and out, and he knew what was coming next.
Eddie nodded to him. “Send out drones One through Four to scan the Golden Lion. I want preliminary data and a clear path onboard the ship.” He paused in thought. “And I want something to tell me what is causing the ship to glow.”
“Eddie?” Jett’s voice was barely a whisper at his side.
“Yes?”
Jett looked around the room, at the ship that filled the screens. “Do you have a few moments to talk?”
Eddie nodded. “We have an hour before the drones will return.”
“Saint,” Jett said, drawing the woman’s attention. “In thirty minutes, announce that the boarding teams need to report to the armory.”
“Aye, Lieutenant,” was the response as Jett turned on his heels and left the command deck. Eddie followed close behind.