Titan Cross: The Discovery of the Hammer

Humanity lies with the humans we create, not on some planet that can be destroyed. We will make a new Earth.

-Captain Jason Addley, inscription on the Heroes of Earth Memorial, Upon his bestowment of the Hammer.

With a ship of such a large size, it was no surprise Captain Jason Addley had such a confident and cocky view of the world. The ship sailed smoothly, glided, through the vast sea of the sky as easily as did the whiskey down his throat. He poured himself another shot, letting the burn from the liquid quiet his mind. He pushed the bottle away, left the bar, and returned to his quarters.

He pressed a button on a small panel next to his door and heard a resounding WHOOSH as his door shut softly. A welcome CLICK from an impenetrable steel lock secured his chambers and he threw himself on his bed with relief.

He smiled, letting the fog from the whiskey ease his worries.

Still, he couldn’t quite erase the picture in his mind of the last hour’s events, especially of one beautiful scowling face.

He was the best damn captain in space and he didn’t give a damn what General Vega thought of him. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

General Vega was a woman of great beauty and of even greater ruthlessness. She had worked her way up to the top of the United Galactic Federation Airship Fleet (UGFA for short) in merely a decade. The previous general had taken forty years to get to the rank of General; the admiral had taken twenty more.

Knowing the General’s background only made her feat more believable.

General Rachel Vega was found orphaned on the streets of Vexal Run, a slum district on the planet Vexal-D. The United Galactic Federation, founded by the leading rulers of the United Nations, had vowed from the formation of the alliance that they would ensure every citizen the basic amenities of life: food, water, shelter, and comfort. It was an idealistic ideology, one that they could never hope to fulfill, but one that kept them on the seat of alliance. Rachel certainly didn’t receive any help from them, not until she threatened the security of one of their biggest patrons.

How an eleven-year-old girl had managed to both frighten and charm the Speaking Representative of Vexal was beyond imagining.

Channel Vega had been sipping Chardonnay, Siphon year 2050 to be precise when she had been alarmed by a rattling in her kitchen. She snapped her fingers, calling forth her video log, when she heard the CRASH of a glass bottle. Pulling her taser rod out of her belt, where it always sat comfortably against her hips, she charged into the kitchen.

“Arms Up!” she bellowed, as she cornered a dark figure which was pressing itself up against her fridge.

The lights were dim in the kitchen; she could barely make out the faint outline of a figure.

“Do not move.” Channel kept her eyes trained on the figure as she muttered a faint word. Suddenly a gentle glow lit the room.

Stainless steel sparkled like jewels next to the ragged, filthy child that stood before her. She could not see a face underneath the long, wild mop of curls, but the slightness of the figure’s musculature appeared feminine.

“A child?” Channel muttered, still keeping her weapon aimed at the stray.

There was no way a child should have been able to enter the home of Channel Vega. Locked gates, armed guards, and motion sensor cameras prevented even the most daring criminals from stepping onto her property. She even had two robot dogs, bio-engineered canine hybrids built and bred for home security. Somehow, this child had gotten past her entire home security setup.

The child had slid down to her knees, its head shooting back and forth between the woman and the nearest exit.

Channel grinned. An idea had sprung to her mind.

“Dearest child, an escape would be improbable, even impossible at this point. I’ve already notified all my guards of your presence. They have been placed at every possible exit.”

The child jumped as an audible click was heard; Channel’s taser rod retracted and she placed it back in its holster.

The child stopped moving and as it looked up at Channel, she saw her initial analysis had been correct.

“A little girl. Tell me, how did you ever get through my defenses?”

A pale narrow face, smudged with dirt, stared resolutely at her with dark brown eyes.

“I’ll never tell.”

The girl was fearless to stare down a woman adorned in such a clear display of wealth. Not only was Channel’s home a state-of-the-art technological exhibit, Channel’s very apparel exhibited her status.

She wore a body mesh jumpsuit made entirely of liquid silver fused onto light kevlar pads. Studded with priceless rare gems both on the suit and black steel-toed boots, Channel shone with a blinding light that was both awesome and terrifying.

Yet the girl showed no fear in her eyes.

“Do you have a family?” Channel asked.

The girl shook her head.

“So, you’re an orphan.”

The girl nodded.

Channel sighed and opened her fridge.

“Here, eat this”, she said, handing the girl a protein meal-tab.

The girl took the little pill into her hand. She hesitated and looked up at Channel.

“You haven’t seen a protein tab before? Geez, what do they feed you guys in the wards?” Channel lifted her hand and mimicked chewing the tablet.

“Eat it. Like this.”

The girl slowly put the pill into her mouth and chomped down. A burst of flavors hit her tongue; she would have described them if she could. Instead, she focused on enjoying each new taste.

Channel watched as the girl’s eyes lit up. The girl rubbed her belly. She looked at Channel, reaching out for more.

“Still not full, huh? You must be starving. I’ll call a M.D. and have them examine you. In the meantime, you are limited to one more. Any more and you will have an excruciating stomach ache.”

Channel flipped her black dreads and walked back into the living room.

A smile spread across her face as she lounged on her leather couch.

She turned back to the girl.

“Do you have a name?”

“No.”

The girl’s voice was raspy from thirst.

“Rachel Vega.”

“What?”

“That’s to be your name. M.D.’s ETA is five minutes. Feel free to get a glass from the cabinet and get yourself some water.”

Suddenly, Channel’s idea was no longer just an idea. It was now a reality.

“Oh, and since you’ll be living here from now on,” Channel grinned, “don’t break a glass. They cost more than you could ever hope to earn.”

So General Rachel Vega had been adopted by Channel Vega, and adopted into her lascivious and prestigious lifestyle. Hoping to further her graces with the UGF, she enrolled Rachel into the Best and Brightest Academy for Girls, an academy that only those with government connections could successfully enroll.

Channel Vega’s money was well spent as Rachel proved to be a superb student. Her fervor for success coexisted pleasantly with her desire to please, shaping her into a more than capable academic.

Whether it was her dream or Channel’s persuasion that caused her to enroll in the UGFA, Captain Addley did not know. Nor did he care to know, especially after the public thrashing she had given him just hours ago.

She had stood in the middle of his deck, with her dark hair swept back into a severe ponytail and her decorated UGFA uniform with its pristine angles, and berated him for a decision that had cost the life of one of his crew.

A private summons would have done just as well; even a private video chat on the Swatchpad would have been up to code. But no, the annoyingly shrill woman had decided to personally scold him like a child in front of his men.

He knew what they were thinking now behind their closed doors, in the cafeteria, even as they took their very posts alongside him on The Hammer. He knew because he was thinking the very same thing.

Incompetent. Failure. Murderer.

He shook his head, instantly regretting the motion as a migraine flared up.

“Shit,” he said, reaching for a bottle of water on his nearby desk and digging in his nightstand with his other hand.

Migraines were not an uncommon occurrence for the Captain, and he had learned how to manage them quite well, but today he doubted his ability to recover from it in time for the landing on Verglase.

“Yes!” He cheered, finding his packet of migraine tablets. Chucking two of them in his mouth and swallowing some water, he laid back down and closed his eyes.

I’m not a bad Captain.

Someone has to make the bad calls. Someone has to think of the safety of all over the safety of one.

Captain Addley fell into a restless sleep, the heavy words of General Vega weighing on his mind.