Frontier's Reach: A Space Opera Adventure (Frontiers Book 1) Robert James (mind reading books txt) 📖

“We don’t have much of a choice. Out here alone for fifteen years in the unknown is hardly something the Argo is up for. Replenishing food, supplies, and fuel will be difficult if not downright impossible. Not to mention if we don’t get Doctor Tai to the proper facilities, she’s going to die.”

Petit steepled his fingers. “While I’m a long way from figuring out how to use the Iota particles to generate a trans-space vortex, there may be a means to force open the corridor we came through.”

“I’m listening.”

Petit brought up a series of scans on the console before them. “At the point the vortex closed, there’s still a slight concentration of Iota particles. The study I’ve done on them suggests if we bombard that area with the particles we’ve captured, it might reignite the vortex and hopefully the trans-space corridor.”

“Which would return us to Orion V, where we entered?”

“Theoretically.”

“It’s better than nothing.” Jason turned to Aly. “How long until the necessary systems are up and running to make an attempt?”

“Three hours. Give or take.”

“Good, let’s do it.”

Jason walked into the Argo’s communal bathroom and stopped in his tracks at Althaus hunched over one of the washbasins. The mirror in front of him was shattered and his fist was bleeding.

Jesus.

He sidled up beside his uncle and twisted the faucet. A cold spray of water burst out, and he wiped his hands and face. He and Althaus caught a glimpse of each other before turning back to their separate basins.

Jason finished up and grabbed a wash towel and proceeded toward the exit.

“I came to think of him as my own son.”

Althaus spun around—a drip of blood trickled onto the deck beneath him.

“I knew he was always your favorite.” Jason looked away, ashamed. Now wasn’t time for their usual back-and-forth.

“I’ve never had much in this life,” he said bitterly, stepping toward him. “And now, because of you, what I had left is gone.”

Jason didn’t argue. Althaus had a fair point. And he couldn’t be bothered fighting about it. Tyler was just as much Althaus’s relative as he was his.

“You’re right.” Jason had seen him pissed off before, but he’d never seen him broken. “You should get your hand checked.”

With that, he turned and walked out.

Forty-Seven

Kevin’s words melded together into one giant jumble. While Jason knew Tyler’s eulogy would be beautifully spoken, he couldn’t quite bring himself to listen to it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he just couldn’t.

He stared at the empty cargo containers representing Tyler, Marquez, Nash, and the Marines, feeling as hollow as the boxes that sat in front of him.

Soon after Kevin’s tribute, Corporal Higgs spoke of his men, and then Professor Petit read some words put together by Doctor Tai, for Captain Marquez. Jason was surprised, considering her condition, how well she’d been able to convey her feelings.

It was his turn to say something about Nash. He’d already been to his memorial four years ago and thought it’d be easier the second time around. But it wasn’t. When he finished speaking, he couldn’t even remember what he’d said.

After the solemn service, they launched the containers into space and everyone stood on the bridge to watch them float away into the abyss.

It was like any funeral. Lousy. Jason never understood them. They were supposed to represent closure. But to him, they were just another reminder of what had been lost.

There was a wake in the mess. It folded up early. No one seemed in the mood. Kevin and Kione returned to the infirmary to keep Tai company, Petit and Aly proceeded to the engine room, and Althaus and the Marines went back to their quarters.

Jason stepped onto the bridge to find solitude. Instead, sitting at the systems station, staring into oblivion, he found Aly. She hadn’t left for the engine room after all. Her eyes and cheeks were as red as Barnard’s Star.

“Keeping yourself busy?”

“Professor Petit is making final preparations.” She wiped some tears from her face. “I didn’t want to get in his way.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, I figured I’d check over some data during the battle with the weapon ship. I noticed something strange before the Seeker vessel exploded, but with everything that happened, I haven’t had time to check it.”

“Strange in what way?”

“We’ll see in a moment. The computer’s still checking.”

Jason sat at the helm and stared into her bloodshot eyes. “Have you taken any stims?”

She smiled, no doubt remembering their conversation a few days earlier. “No. Have you had a drink?”

Even at the wake, Jason hadn’t so much as reached for the bottle of whiskey doing the rounds. “Not yet.”

He preferred drinking alone anyway.

“Well, I’ll make you a deal,” Aly said. “You don’t drink, and I won’t take any stims.”

Jason wasn’t sure it was a promise he’d be able to keep, but he humored her regardless. “Done.”

The systems console beeped, and Aly examined the readings.

“Something?” Jason put a hand on the back of her chair.

“The Seeker ship transmitted a message, just before it was destroyed.”

“Where?”

“Two hundred and eighty-three light-years from here. That direction.” She pointed at the star chart which was mostly incomplete.

“Long-range telescopes have barely scratched the surface of that region of space.”

“It’s a long way.”

“For us.” The hairs on the back of Jason’s neck stood up. “But not with trans-space technology.”

“Maybe it’s the Seeker homeworld,” Aly pondered.

“Or a base perhaps. There’s obviously a reason they’ve sent the message in that direction.”

Yes, there is...

Jason had put off the inevitable ever since returning to the Argo from their mission to the weapon ship. He’d have put it off longer but owed it to Tyler to get it over with.

He, Althaus, Kevin, and Aly stood around the wall monitor in the rec room in anticipation. “Activate,” Jason said. “Open last will and testament of Tyler James Cassidy.”

Tyler appeared, sitting in his quarters, staring down the barrel of the camera. Jason darted his eyes away for a moment, not yet used to the idea of seeing his deceased