by Isaac Hooke
“Dude, you’re going to have to work on your video titles,” Will said. “I’d hardly call those viral.”
“We’ll see, Dirt Hair,” Targon said.
Will growled over the comm.
Targon turned to Rhea. “Who knows? If this pans out, maybe I’ll be able to get back into streaming full time.”
“You’d really sell your ship?” she said.
“In a heartbeat,” he replied.
“I thought you loved this life?” she pressed.
“Don’t mistake me, I do,” he told her. “But I love gaming, and streaming, more.”
“Good luck to you,” Rhea said, clasping his forearm with her palm.
The merchant returned the gesture. “And ye as well. I hope ye find what you’re looking for.”
She entered the hatch and clambered aboard the passenger shuttle. There were other people present, suited up, and she took one of the free seats. Horatio and Will joined her, and the hatch closed.
She eyed the people suspiciously behind their faceplates, but no one looked like a cyborg assassin.
“Interesting guy,” Will sent as the two craft separated.
“Who, Targon?” she asked.
“Uh huh,” he replied. “A bit eccentric.”
“Aren’t we all?” Rhea said.
The shuttle reentered the atmosphere, landed at the Aradne space terminal, and the passengers debarked.
She noticed the heavier gravity immediately. She had grown accustomed to the weightlessness of space, and the lighter gravity of Ganymede. There would be no bound walking here. The mind-machine interface automatically compensated and ramped up the power output of her servomotors. She could only imagine how bad it must feel for the humans, however. She glanced at Will. His legs seemed rubbery.
“I’m going to have to hit the gym at this rate,” Will said.
“Don’t worry,” Horatio told him. “A few hours walking in this will be more than enough of a workout to restore your strength.”
“If I’m not huffing and puffing in the first two minutes…” Will said. “This spacesuit feels like it weighs a ton.”
A man passed. He wore a spacesuit equipped with external servomotors that whirred loudly—obviously augmenting the occupant’s strength.
“Lucky bastard,” Will said.
“That one will merely take longer to adapt,” Horatio commented. “So ‘unlucky’ might be the more appropriate label.”
Rhea and the others walked into a processing tunnel and a conveyor belt carried them through a scanner that flashed different lights at them.
A voice told her she had passed the contagion check and could open her helmet. She did so and removed it entirely.
“Man, it’s good to breathe fresh air again,” Will said. “You get used to that recycled stuff, but the smell really builds up in your nostrils, you know? So that you smell it all the time.”
The air definitely had a fresher quality.
Doors opened at the end of the tunnel, and Rhea entered the receiving area of the terminal. She went to the counter to clear customs.
She filled out the digital form, listing all her belongings and their value. She wasn’t sure what to put for the Ban’Shar, so she listed it as a farming implement, with a value of twenty credits. She didn’t want to admit what it really was, worried that customs would seize it.
“Your weapons and drone will be conveyed to the city gates, Entrance C,” the customs robot explained. That was the southernmost entrance, which led directly into Rust Town. “They may be retrieved at your earliest convenience when you leave Aradne.”
A trolley-style robot conveyed a crate to the counter from a back hall. The main robot opened the crate and laid their belongings out on the table before it. Rhea grabbed her sack, while Horatio and Will retrieved their salvagers’ backpacks.
The other weapons and the drone had already been removed from the crate, but not the knuckles of the Ban’Shar.
The main robot lifted the pair from the case. “Farming implement?”
“Yes,” she lied. “It creates a plasma field I use to scythe wheat.”
The robot gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and then returned the knuckles to the crate. “It could be used as a weapon in the wrong hands. I will have it conveyed with your other belongings to Entrance C.”
She was relieved the robot hadn’t tried to confiscate it. That meant the device likely wasn’t in its database of prohibited items. Or perhaps it was, but the robot had failed to make an ID match.
Rhea watched the trolley carry the crate away and hoped her Ban’Shar made it safely to the gate.
They changed out of their spacesuit rentals and were given the usual treatment for radiation, then proceeded on their way. She raised the hood of her cloak, hiding much of her face.
As they left the customs area for the main terminal, they found Miles, Brinks and Renaldo waiting for them. Renaldo immediately made a show of scanning himself and the others for mind-jacking chips.
When they came up clean, the three Wardenites gave her hugs in turn.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” Miles said. “I was convinced you were going to stay on Ganymede.”
“I thought that too,” Rhea told the albino. “Until I realized, this is my home.”
“You’ll always be our Warden, no matter where you go,” Brinks said. The short, squat man seemed leaner than the last time she saw him. No doubt he’d been actively participating in the reconstruction efforts across Rust Town.
“Thank you,” Rhea said.
“So how was it, by the way?” Renaldo asked. “Everything you dreamed of?” The Wardenite’s skin was even darker than the last time she saw him, as if he had been spending ample time lounging in the sun. She thought he’d put on weight, too, which lent credence to that idea.
“Not really,” Rhea said. “I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve had a chance to… recover.”
Renaldo nodded, and led her into Aradne proper.
She walked beneath those shimmering, crystal towers, and as usual, couldn’t help the awe she felt. It was a truly beautiful city. But her heart belonged to Rust Town.
“The mayor has kept his word?” Rhea asked.
“We’ve had uninterrupted water service ever since you and the mayor had your little talk,” Renaldo said. “There have also been a few high-profile arrests. Councilors charged with collaborating with organized crime gangs to stage the bioweapon attack against Rust Town. Oh, and Sheriff Astor was jailed for his part in the attack.”
Astor had recalled the sentry robots from the outskirts of Rust Town ahead of the Hydra attack, which allowed the bioweapons to approach without resistance. The bastard definitely deserved to rot in a cell.
“Good,” Rhea said. “I don’t need to have another little talk with the mayor, then.”
“Not yet at least,” Renaldo agreed.
Ahead, past the towers, she could see the glistening sheen of the tall, metallic wall that enclosed Aradne. As she proceeded, she pulled her hood even lower, and kept a watchful eye on her surroundings, wary of assassins. Will and Horatio did the same; the Wardenites picked up on her caution, and they, too, surveyed the immediate area. They enveloped her, forming human shields, and regarded the approach of any passersby—man or machine—with suspicion.
Her small group wended between the buildings, and after only a few short minutes, reached that wall.
The sentry robots at Entrance C let her leave unmolested: the mayor had instructed them to let her pass without question, regardless of whether she was traveling in or out.
She emerged into the lean-tos and cargo containers of Rust Town. The settlement was very quiet. The last time she was here, the street was busy with construction. A month had passed, so she supposed it wasn’t entirely unexpected that the rebuilding had finished, at least in this particular neighborhood. However, at the very least she expected to find a few fans waiting to greet her, but there were only a couple of kids playing nea
rby. They looked at her without recognition, and quickly returned to their augmented reality game, playing hide and seek with friends only they could see.
She gave Renaldo a curious look. “No crowd of onlookers?”
Renaldo shrugged. “We thought you’d prefer a more low-key arrival.”
“Kind of you,” she said.
They retrieved their weapons immediately on the other side, courtesy of the waiting sentry robots. Ordinarily, armaments of any kind weren’t allowed among the denizens of Rust Town, but since the settlement was still rebuilding after the Hydra attack, and the security forces were severely lacking, open carry was tolerated. In fact, most security was handled by the Wardenites themselves these days. Or at least it had been, before she left.
She was relieved to find her Ban’Shar among the set.
“What’s that?” Miles asked as she slid the knuckles onto her hands.
“A new toy,” Will said.
Rhea raised her eyebrows twice in implication.
She grabbed her pistol from the mix, which Will had retrieved for her on Ganymede. She slid it home into the holster at her waist.
“I assume you want to proceed to headquarters?” Renaldo asked. “Or would you prefer a tour of the settlement? We can show you how the rebuilding has gone.”
“I’m going to have to take a rain check on that,” she replied. “I’m sure you can get me caught up via digital maps anyway.”
“Understood.” Renaldo warily studied the streets. “Probably safer to go direct to the HQ anyway.”
“Yes,” Rhea said. “And I’d like you to summon the Wardenites for a meeting as soon as we arrive. I have a new mission.”
13
That same day found Rhea headed north into the barren rocky plains of the Outlands. She sat in the passenger seat of an SUV. Will resided behind the wheel, though the vehicle was currently in self-driving mode. The vehicle had gimbaled shock absorbers installed, but they weren’t super-gimbaled, so while she was mostly prevented from being tossed about by every small bump in the terrain, she still felt the occasional impact as the vehicle drove over the bigger snags.
Horatio sat in the back seat with Miles and Brinks. Renaldo wasn’t with them—he had grown accustomed to his leadership role among the Wardenites, and he had stayed behind to manage the day to day operations of the headquarters. The group had become the biggest driving force behind the rebuilding of Rust Town.
Renaldo had suggested she take a few days off before embarking on a new mission so soon after arriving, but she explained to him that she’d just spent the last two weeks cooped up in a transport ship. Spending even a few more days locked away in the headquarters didn’t appeal to her in the least. She wanted to get out there and do something to feel useful again; and mostly, she just wanted to pulverize the guillotine of assassination that constantly hung over her head.
Then again, Veil was only one of many who hunted her, if the four-armed assassin who killed Chuck was to be believed. That particular assassin had claimed to be an independent, pursuing a bounty posted by some third party. While dealing with Veil would eliminate he who hunted her most arduously, it still meant others would remain at large, looking for her. This wouldn’t be over until she tracked down whoever posted the original bounty.
“You think you’ll be able to convince Veil into revealing the mystery person?” Will had asked when they were alone, earlier.
“I hope,” Rhea replied distractedly.
“You speak as if you already have an idea of who it is,” Will pressed.
She nodded. “Obviously someone rich, to afford the assassins of the caliber of Veil and Scorpion. Someone powerful.”
“Let me guess, you think it’s Khrusos himself…” Will said.
“He would be the most obvious choice,” she agreed. “The mayor claimed to have seen me at the table of Khrusos during a dinner. And the Scorpion called me the ‘Dagger of Khrusos’ once. It seems obvious I had a relationship with the most powerful man on Earth at some point, most likely as his slave.”
“So you’re an escaped slave who Khrusos decided to order assassinated?” Will said.
“Something like that,” she said.
“You must have really pissed him off,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied. “I do that to people, sometimes.”
Of course, she might have been way off the mark, and Khrusos wasn’t the one who ordered her assassination after all. There was so much she didn’t know. Who wiped her mind? Why? Who wanted her dead? She had so many unanswered questions. She didn’t think she’d ever learn the truth, especially not to the most important question of all:
Who am I?
If she had participated in the Great Calming, she could understand why there were some who wanted to assassinate her. More than understand.
But there was still a sliver of doubt in her mind on that front. This sliver was enough for her to want to fight back. She would know the truth. And if she really had helped kill half the world, then she would just have to find a way to live with herself. If that was possible.
She and the others wore the same camo fatigues they’d used for their previous mission into the Outlands, when they’d traveled to the pipeline that fed Aradne ocean water and cut into it to fill their tanks. During the day, the black and gray “rock digital” motif on the camos would blend them with the rocky terrain, and at night, the fabrics were equipped with thermal cooling and venting technology to mask their heat signatures.
Another SUV drove alongside, filled with more Wardenites in camos. The occupants of both vehicles had been scanned for mind-jacking chips before departing, of course, including Rhea herself.
Providing escort around the two vehicles were several autonomous pickup trucks equipped with plasma turrets in their beds—technicals. Meanwhile, ahead of the group, drones scouted from the air. Gizmo was among them. Their job was to determine whether or not the highlands were overrun with bioweapons. If so, Rhea and her team would probably turn back. If not, she intended to continue, even if it likely meant driving right into Veil’s trap. Which was why Rhea had ensured the convoy was armed to the teeth.
In addition to the technicals driving alongside, everyone had at least two weapons—a rifle strapped to the shoulder and a pistol at the hip. Rhea had a backup pistol at her hip as well, but in place of a rifle, she possessed the Ban’Shar…
She gazed at the bands of metal secured to her knuckles. So innocuous seeming. Yet so deadly.
Don’t fail me.
She had practiced for a few hours earlier, instructing the Wardenites to shoot at her with their plasma bolts at the lowest setting. They didn’t want to do it at first, but after she taunted them and insulted their manhood, a few began to oblige her, and others joined in when it became obvious how good she was at deflecting the bolts. It was going well, with none of their shots getting through, but she had to stop when she almost killed one of the Wardenites with a reflected plasma bolt.
That was the problem with training with a weapon like the Ban’Shar—you could only go so far until you risked hurting either yourself, or someone else. She wondered how she had ever learned to get good with it. She suspected that the weapon had been reserved for cyborg recruits such as herself, recruits who could be repaired after each practice bout. But even then, there was a risk of head injury, for which there could be no repairs.
“So, the Emerald Highlands,” Miles said from the backseat, rousing her from her thoughts. “Interesting that Veil should use the hills as his hiding place.”
“It’s the perfect spot for a hideout, if you think about it,” Brinks commented. “An abandoned mine. A labyrinthine system of tunnels already dug out and waiting to be occupied. Veil had to clear it of bioweapons I’m sure, but once that was done, Bob’s his uncle.”
Rhea cocked her head and looked at Brinks.
“What?” Brinks said.
“Nothing,” she told him. “That last phrase of yours reminded me of the merchant who took
me to Ganymede. Interesting fellow.”
“I’m sure he was,” Brinks agreed.
Miles spoke up. “What I meant, when I said it was interesting Veil chose the Emerald Hills, was that I find it fascinating. Here we have an Aradne crime lord, who doesn’t even live in Aradne. I suppose he doesn’t have to, given the network he’s built up. He can operate his entire organization remotely.”
“When you get powerful enough, you have minions who do everything for you,” Brinks agreed.
“That would be great if I could just hire someone to handle Veil,” Rhea said. “But there’s no one I trust enough to complete the job.”
“I could do it,” Miles said. “I’d do it all stealth wise. Infiltrate his Black Hands, then finish him when he let his guard down.”
“You?” Will said. “An albino known for being a dedicated Wardenite? I somehow doubt they’d let you into the Black Hands.”
“Hey, you might be surprised at how convincing I can be when I want to,” Miles countered. “I’d probably have to kill another Wardenite to prove my loyalty, but hey, I’d do it.”
“No you wouldn’t,” Brinks said.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Miles agreed. “I’m talking out of my arse, as usual.”
Brinks nodded. “Happens to the best of us.”
They were quiet for a time.
“Can you stop that?” Miles said.
Rhea glanced over her shoulder to see what the commotion was.
“He’s fidgeting his leg,” Miles explained.
“I always get nervous before any big battle,” Brinks said. “I can’t help it. Need an outlet for my nervous energy.”
“Don’t be nervous,” Rhea said.
“Why?” Brinks said. “Any one of us could die out there. We all know that. And we accepted that, before agreeing to come on the mission.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Rhea said. “I’m going to protect all of you. I’m your Warden, remember?”
Brinks smiled sadly. “But even you can make mistakes, Warden. We all know that now. I mean come on, though you’re a cyborg, you’re perhaps the most human of us all.”