Jupiter's Halo Book One: The Lies

Chapter Twelve "The Passenger"

Itona stood on the command dais of the main disembarkation deck and watched as the marines of First Company boarded the waiting Peregrine drop-ships. The cavernous space echoed with the clomp of armoured boots on metal floors and the shouts of deck crews, engineers and mechanics.

She loved this moment; savoured it at the start of every mission. The symphony of trained bodies marching in step, the gleam of light reflecting from polished carapace, the mingling smells of oil and grease and perspiration, it all mixed together in her mind fueling her pride and sparking the fire inside her.

As Captain, it was her honour to board the drop-ships last, watching the whole spectacle from a position of power. When they arrived at their destination it would be her to step off first. Her feet to touch the ground of their combat zone before any others.

It was a habit she took pride in, a requirement she had requested Admiral DeMarchek make of the other company captains. It showed her marines she was a leader, more so than any words or rank insignia could. It showed them she would go where they went, tread dangerous ground first and not send them in as fodder to protect her. It showed she was worthy of their respect.

She had followed, figuratively, many a captain who felt differently about the subject. They used their rank and worse, their marines, as a shield. Sending men and women to die where they would not go. That wasn’t a leader in Itona’s mind. That was a coward who deserved neither respect nor fealty.

She would not be that to her marines.

She turned to look up at the long mezzanine gallery behind and above her. Beyond it’s reinforced glass, through the flashing reflections of lights from the deck, her eyes picked out the face of Admiral DeMarchek.

He was looking down on the deck, his eyes too distant for her to see exactly where his focus rested. It was a habit of his to oversee each new operation unfold from a place of distance.

Admiral. That was the goal. There were other steps to take, other ranks between here and there that needed to be sought, reached and mastered. Each one was simply a step. Each one was an allotment of time she had to spend to get where she wanted to go.

DeMarchek had made his way to Admiral young, at least young for the rank. He’d taken his promotion in only his fifth decade, a record in the annals of the Deorum military.

His rise had been meteoric, fantastic. She’d read about him at the Academy, when he was promoted to commodore, younger than she was now and already more successful.

But at the height of admiral, he’d stopped. Admittedly his place as Fleet Admiral was a lofty height to reach, but she knew he could have moved further. He could even now be an admiral of the Board, seated in luxury, commanding from the towers of Luna. He could have been the face on the viewing screen laying out the mission objectives in imperious, dictatorial manner.

‘Too much flap and not enough fly!’ That’s what he’d said when she’d asked him once. He said the Board were too far from the people, too high in their towers and too caught up in their own importance to see the real value in the military they commanded.

He called the Board Admirals stuffy and rigid and on one occasion, ‘a bunch of snooty bastards who think they piss wine and s**t diamonds.’

She’d laughed as he said it, relishing the closeness of their bond, the fatherly way he attended to her despite there being no family connection. He had grown serious at her reaction, chided her for it and cautioned her against speaking out in such a way if she genuinely wanted to make the career trajectory she’d told him of.

His rebuke grated on her now she thought back on it. Too impulsive, too rash, too rebellious. That had been his appraisal of her as a young lieutenant when first she’d put herself forward for captaincy. The words had hurt. She’d known even then she should take them without emotion; see the value in the criticism and use it to better herself. She’d known it, but the traits were too strong, too ingrained, too enjoyable.

That had been before.

Before it came to her. Before the Sharing that opened her eyes and changed the shape of her mind. She remembered the very first time she had begun to understand something else was with her. It was difficult to put into words. She’d had no opportunity to seek guidance or ask questions. The man who had Shared with her was long dead by the time she realised she had a passenger.

The first time it had coloured her emotions she’d been left speechless. Breathless. Panicked. The sudden knowledge something entirely other was within her was almost too much to comprehend. She feared for her mind, for her life. But the tide of emotion had been smoothed. She’d been giving an understanding, no, a feeling that this life was to be shared, not taken. That’s why she always thought of the transfer now as Sharing; an energy source unlike any other, willing spread between bodies and minds. From the moment she understood it had done nothing to harm or change her, although the mirror talk was more than a little disconcerting.

Itona had discovered it by accident, or maybe she hadn’t. She’d still been a lieutenant then, standing in her private quarters, staring into the old glass mirror that her mother had left as the entirety of her inheritance.

It was a pretty thing; elaborately decorated around the edges, with metalwork wrought delicately into the shapes of angels and flowers. The glass inside was dirtied and chipped from its ages of use, but still held a clear enough reflection when polished to a shine.

She’d had it brought from storage when her promotion was confirmed and gazing into it brought back early memories of her mother, their time together before she left for the Navy before she was forced to mature and had truly been a child. It seemed like such a short time and so very long ago now she looked back.

As she studied her reflection something strange had happened. Her face was the same, the one she’d always known, but without apparently changing it had somehow become different. It was like she looked on the image of a twin sister; the structure and details the identical, but the whole made subtly different by the experiences of another life.

When Itona spoke the face she looked on seemed to listen. The first time it replied she nearly broke the mirror. Once over the shock of talking to herself without really talking to herself, Itona had found comfort in the strange communication. Finally, she had someone to ask her questions of. It didn’t seem to make a difference that the someone was her.

She’d often considered Sharing with DeMarchek. He would be a useful ally, a strong mind to have on side and a powerful friend. His influence would open doors otherwise closed to her.

It was not the right choice though. For all the benefits she foresaw the emotions she felt when she started to voice the words were all wrong. The thought alone brought dizzying nausea and the stink of decay to her mind. He was too old. Too set in his thinking. Too intractable, inflexible, unbending.

To Share with a mind like that could fracture it. She wouldn’t risk him that way.

Aitkin was a better choice. She’d felt it immediately. Without even considering it, while thinking of him with the hunger of her animal desires the understanding had blossomed in her mind.

He was young, malleable, but still a believer. His choice of faith seeing him as an outsider within the strict confines of their society. He had learned how to conform, but he was built for non-conformity. That made him rare. That made him perfect.

Itona felt a wave of emotion; too many feelings mixed together to distinguish, but the overall impression was pleasant. Joyous even.

The feeling wasn’t hers, but she was learning to listen to the messages hidden within such occurrences. They had guided her; tempered her anger when she knew she should hold it but couldn’t do so alone. Met excitement with stoicism, crushing disappointment with the optimism of happiness yet to come and given her focus when every conscious thought she had was blinded with panic.

Without them, she wouldn’t be captain. Without them, she might not still be alive.

She was learning. Still learning and she’d felt in Aitkin the joy of a mind open enough to learn with her. She examined the emotions thoughts of him brought. They were strong, stronger than she expected and she’d discovered enough to understand they were a reflection of the things she kept from herself.

Her head turned without thought and her eyes settled on the contrasting colours on a bared head among the lines of helmeted figures.

Aitkin.

The rhythm of her heart changed; it beat faster as she watched him and the curious sensation of their connection turned her body cold for a moment. It was his pulse in her veins, his nervous energy she mirrored.

She eased into it, concentrating and letting herself feel what he was feeling. She separated herself as she’d been learning to do and felt her heart rate slow again as it returned to her own rhythm.

It was odd, like an out of body experience she was having for someone else. Being given the understanding of how it happened was not how this worked. She had Shared with him and now they were connected. She knew that much and everything else she would have to figure out over time.

Somehow she knew he could not feel her, not yet at least. She let herself sink deeper into him, feeling his anticipation, his pride for the marines he commanded. Beneath though, another current ran. She delved again and suddenly the waves of trepidation, the dark sense of foreboding and the fear of failure engulfed her.

Itona drew a sharp breath and pulled herself back. His exterior was calm, professional, but within he was a torrent of distress.

She wanted to reach out to him with her arms. Embrace him and whisper reassurance that his fears were unfounded. She wanted to wipe them from his mind and the thought rose within her that maybe she could do just that.

Itona hesitated, wondering if it would be a step too far. Wondering if the hesitation was hers or simply being fed to override the compulsive nature that would have seen her take the action without pause to think on the consequences.

He believed in the Painted Maid, the Deorum, in her. He believed in so many other things, but she could see now he didn’t believe in the one thing that really mattered.

“Believe in yourself.” She whispered the words, barely making a sound as her lips moved.

Across the great deck, Aitkin’s head jerked up. She saw his movements; confused, unsure, unbelieving. As she watched his face turned slowly, inexorably until his eyes raised to meet hers. Her breath shortened, the pace of her height quickening again and she saw the crease of his brows, his open mouth and knew the question in his mind.

Itona concentrated on her breathing, slowing it as best she could without outward sign. She swallowed to clear her throat and raised her eyebrows to set her face with a sardonic questioning expression.

Across the deck Aitkin gave a little shake of his head, clearly trying to dislodge a thought he knew could not be real and visibly gathered himself. He threw up his right hand in salute and she stopped herself from smiling as she felt his brief panic at her scrutiny.

She returned his salute and motioned toward the waiting Peregrine with a slight incline of her head. He nodded and turned back to his marines, the line of bodies having moved on to leave him standing alone in empty space.

She turned her face away and looked at him from the corner of her eye, confident the distance would keep him from seeing the line of her gaze. He glanced back briefly before moving forward and she waited for him to step onto the Peregrine’s open ramp before she let herself smile.

The connection was getting stronger. He didn’t know it yet, he was far from understanding it as she did, but it was there. He was starting to feel it.

Itona knew it wouldn’t be long before it was too much for him to ignore before it was her emotions he was feeling. Before he began to understand.

Another wave hit her; anxiety, disquiet, but also excitement at the end of a lonely isolation she hadn’t realised had been there all along. Above it all was joy. Shining, exuberant, unadulterated joy, so strong Itona could do nothing to keep it hidden inside.

She looked at the emptying deck, the marines in their Peregrines, the waiting officers and deck crew and techs. They were all looking back at her, all waiting for her to take her place.

Itona felt her cheeks rise and her eyes mist with tears as the joy filled every part of her body and she beamed at them all.