Echoes of Avarice

by Brendan O'Neill

  Connor opened his mouth to speak, but Krieger waved him silent. Instead of their traditional Black Watch uniforms, both Krieger and Nataliya were dressed in civilian clothes. Even Krieger’s Black Watch plaque was removed from the wall.

  “When we first met, you asked why I was on a Ka’Rathi ship,” Krieger said.

  “They don’t take prisoners.”

  “No,” agreed Krieger, “but they do take passengers.” Connor’s eyes widened, but before any questions could be raised, Krieger continued. “The Black Watch and certain elements of the Ka’Rathi seek peace. To that end, I was one of three people sent as a diplomatic envoy. The Ka’Rathi insisted upon using their warships as transport. I thought it to be a mistake, considering their standing orders to attack any human ship they think they can destroy, but it turned out to be a blessing when I met you.”

  “Ok, so we’re negotiating for peace. Sounds good. But who is that guy?” Connor asked his thumb motioning toward the door. His mind had once again shifted to Rhondak. “And why is he so bent on destroying my life?” Krieger took his arm and Connor allowed himself to be guided by the old man to his old, dark couch. They both sat and Krieger looked him hard in the eye.

  “Because you’re a threat, Mr. Harper.”

  Connor’s mouth dropped open. No words came as his mind was racing through all possible reasons he may be a threat to this man… this admiral. Someone who had the lives of thousands, maybe millions in his hands. How could Connor possibly be a threat to him? Krieger seemed to understand his confusion.

  “Some time back I explained how greed and avarice led to the betrayal of our former Ka’Rathi allies. When the human race finally rose from the ashes of the apocalypse, both the Ka’Rathi and our fledgling government decided to keep the Ka’Rathi involvement a secret. Far too many elements of the human race at the time were unstable. But after the establishment of the Empire, there was no need. Humanity was expanding in all directions and encountering new life was not only expected, it was anticipated.”

  “However, a small, but powerful group of both governmental and military officials insisted the secret be kept. They eliminated anyone who knew of the Ka’Rathi involvement and couldn’t be trusted. Further, this element used its influence to guide legislation and popular opinion. Within just a few years the people were clamoring for militaristic expansion.”

  Connor crossed his arms over his chest and stared hard at Krieger. “I have a hard time believing Senator Blevins had anything to do with that,” he said. He caught sight of Nataliya Petrenko staring at him and deflated a bit. He still felt intensely guilty for his actions toward her.

  “She didn’t.” Krieger wore a sad smile at the mention of her name. “Senator Blevins was still serving in the regional government of Beijing at the time. By the time she’d achieved the position of Imperial Senator, that secret group had begun referring to themselves as The Initiative. At that point, the Initiative comprised key positions in the senate, military, and intelligence fields, along with extremely influential members of society. With that level of control over propaganda and information, they were able to rewrite history and raise a fleet of unprecedented magnitude. All without the other members of the senate finding out. When the Initiative finally allowed outsiders to discover the Ka’Rathi, the people had been groomed to see them as a threat. The conquest of the Ka’Rathi came soon after.”

  “So… Rhondak works for the Initiative,” Connor surmised.

  “No, Mr. Harper. Admiral Rhondak is a senior member of the Initiative. And any peace between humanity and the Ka’Rathi will compromise the Initiative’s power base. As will a rogue civilian government.”

  “Rogue?”

  “Any government they can’t control, is a threat to them,” said the old man. He leaned back and stared off into space as he continued. “With the collapse of the Empire, the Initiative was able to maneuver their own people into positions of power. Before the Council of Civilian Oversight was founded, the Initiative had unchallenged power. But people grow tired of a war they believe we are losing. The Initiative was forced to hold elections. The new Council may be transitional, but it was voted on by the people. And from what I’ve read of the member files, I doubt very much the Initiative will enjoy much success influencing the Council.”

  “I can’t speak for all of them,” Connor said, “but I know a few members of the Council that can’t be bought.”

  Krieger nodded his agreement. “The previous Senate’s corruption made manipulation and control easy for the Initiative. But control over the Office appears out of reach, so it has to be eliminated. Along with any other possible threat to their power.”

  Connor’s face suddenly went pale with understanding. “Like someone the people are starting to look up to.”

  “Exactly, Mr. Harper.”

  Krieger looked toward Nataliya, who nodded at him. He stood and motioned Connor to join him. The pair walked to the table and Nataliya turned the screen toward them. On it was Rhondak’s Fleet file on Connor. His transfer order glared on the screen.

  “I’ve never heard of Zlotoff IV,” Connor said.

  “It was supposed to be paradise,” Petrenko said. “Every effort and expenditure was made to create the perfect planet as a retreat for the Initiative. But no amount of terraforming can compensate when a meteor the diameter of Sri Lanka strikes the planet’s surface.”

  “So, it’s a frozen wasteland?”

  “Where temperatures never get above zero Celsius,” Krieger confirmed. “In a climate like that, it will be easy for the admiral to arrange an accident. You will have to be very careful, Mr. Harper. All of you will.”

  “Who else is he sending?”

  “Officially, Sergeant Lavi, Lieutenant Tejeda, Mr. Van Dorn, and Mr. Ghale.” Krieger could read Connor’s face and answered the question before Connor could even ask. “Unofficially, Ms. Adams.”

  “Charisma? Is Rhondak’s splitting up the Council?”

  “Except Ms. Adams, the admiral will keep them together to conserve his resources. They’ll be safe until he’s sure he won’t need them. The admiral’s not one to waste a potential asset. But he considers the two of you far too much of a risk.”

  Connor’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why Rana and Danielle?”

  “That I don’t know. Perhaps it’s just a simple transfer. All the CPF soldiers you have gotten to know are being transferred to different posts.” Krieger looked to the clock display on the wall’s view screen. “Time is running short, Mr. Harper. You must begin preparing for your departure soon. But you won’t be abandoned. I’ll put Ms. Petrenko’s hacking skills to good use to find where Admiral Rhondak is planning to stash the other members of the Office. Also, I’ll make sure you don’t leave without a detailed map of the planet. Perhaps it will prove useful. Until then, trust only those who you leave with.”

  Conner wasn’t sure what to say. There wasn’t much to say. For a few moments, he and Krieger just stared at each other. Then the old man placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder and walked him to the door. “Take care, Mr. Harper, and be careful.”

  The door hissed open and before Krieger could turn away, Connor caught his arm.

  “One thing before I go,” Connor said. His eyes jumped to Nataliya. Her attention was intently focused on the computer before her. “There’s something weird… I mean between…”

  “You feel you have an unexpected and unusually close bond with Ms. Petrenko.”

  “Well… yeah,” Connor said.

  “By entering Ms. Petrenko’s mind the first time, you quite accidentally performed a very advanced deep scan called a ‘full immersion’. It’s a technique used to extract deeply buried information. Without the proper psychic defenses, all individuals involved suffer a sever risk of cross-psychic contamination. In essence, it forms an instant bond between the subjects.”

  Connor looked at glanced at Nataliya in amazement as the man continued.

  “The two of you have, in your own minds, forme
d some type of intensely familiar bond. Those bonds can take the form of a family dynamic, an obsession, paranoid hatred, or even hypersexuality. It generally affects both people the same way and, from my conversations with Ms. Petrenko, I suspect the bond you two share may be familial in nature.”

  “So that’s why I don’t stare at her…” Connor only barely caught himself before saying chest. “…stare at her?”

  The old man smiled a seemingly far more knowing smile than Connor had expected. “In just seconds, you formed the kind of bond that generally takes a lifetime to develop. As far as your mind is concerned, she’s your family now. You’ll find it impossible to think of her in any other way, no matter how ample her physical characteristics may be.”

  It was a curious way of phrasing it, almost as if the old man knew what Connor was originally going to say. He opened his mouth to ask the old German what exactly he meant, but Krieger closed the door in his face.

  Connor stared at the door for a moment. The man was an intelligence specialist, and a telepath. There were any number of ways he could know what Connor had meant to say. Or maybe it was just coincidence. Either way, he didn’t have time to dwell on it now.

  Chapter 23:

  Connor shivered as he woke. He hadn’t got a decent night’s sleep since landing on Zlotoff IV three months ago. Even in their heated warrens, the temperature had a 45-degree average. The barrack rooms where most of the populace slept hovered around 40.

  Other than the personal quarters of high-ranking officers, there were only three areas where the temperature got 65 degrees or above. The gyms, where exercising bodies and heated shower pipes were a deciding factor, the attached showers, and the medical bay. Like everybody else, Connor spent as much time as possible in one of those three areas.

  He spent a few more moments hiding under his blankets trying to deny the obvious cold, as though willpower alone would chase it away. Connor’s usual ritual of denial had the usual effect… absolutely none.

  He looked around the barrack room. It was dark, with only a handful of dim lights running during sleep hours. It was hard to make out in the gloom, but one of the many old circular wall clocks read 4:43 AM.

  This barrack room, like the three others, was exactly thirty feet wide and three hundred five feet long. He’d paced the room out of boredom often enough to know for sure. Cots lined the two long walls, populated by the men and women alike. One hundred and twenty people per barrack room. Connor was in the last room, the deepest in their tunnel system, barrak four.

  Shit! Connor thought. May as well get up.

  He jumped out of his cot, the frigid air pricking at his skin through his flannel sleep-clothes. His teeth were almost chattering by the time he’d changed into his layers of sweats and thick coat. Looking around, he could see most of his friends. Charisma, Jackie, Akshay, and Danielle all slept in their bunks. Of the one hundred twenty CPF bunks in that barrack room, Rana’s was the only one empty. No surprise. He knew where she’d be.

  He stopped at Charisma’s cot and spent a moment watching her sleep. Even in this miserable chill, she was gorgeous. Connor almost gave in to the impulse of trying to crawl under the blankets with her, but there was barely enough room for one. The cots were only 24 inches wide and the logistics of fitting two people were almost impossible. His mind still spent a handful of seconds trying to figure out how to get two bodies onto one tiny cot but, in the end, he was forced to give up his fantasy.

  Connor stomped out into the hall blue-balled, frustrated, and very pissed off. All feelings that seemed to dog his every step these days. He knew where to go to clear that shit out of his head. And, the best thing was, it was warm.

  This early in the morning, the gym was all but abandoned. It was far smaller on Zlotoff IV than what Connor had gotten used to on Pegasus. Or even on Prometheus. But it was large enough for him. Especially when there was only one other person in the room.

  Rana Lavi practiced on the mats in the far corner. Plastic knives, pistols, and assault rifles littered the edge of the mat as she flowed through her various defense forms and techniques. She used a staff at the moment, working it so fast that it wasn’t much more than a moving, tan wall that spun around her.

  If Connor hadn’t known her as well as he did, he might have missed her nod of greeting. It wasn’t much more than a flick of her eyes to him and the slightest head bob. She didn’t bother to say anything to him and he was fine with that. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation. In fact, he hadn’t been in the mood for conversation since they’d arrived on this frozen rock.

  Rana continued to her staff work while Connor stripped out of his cold weather gear. He wasn’t in any kind of hurry. Eventually, he stood at the edge of the mat, waiting on Rana to end her form.

  “Looking for a partner, huh?” Rana asked when finished. She stood at the edge of the mat, resting on her staff like a giant walking stick.

  Connor just nodded and walked past her to the mat’s center.

  She glared over her shoulder at Connor a moment longer, then grabbed a rubber pistol and took a position opposite him.

  For twenty minutes, they followed the same, almost robotic methods. Advance, disarm, retreat and pull the trigger of the weapon they’d just aquired. Then the other would advance, disarm, retreat and pull the trigger. Over and over the pair practiced. To almost anyone else it almost would have looked like a dance, sped up to a blur.

  Then something changed. Not so slowly, their practice changed from technical forms to free-style sparring and the rubber pistol ended up on the side of the mat. Each person used whatever technique gave them the best chance to score a ‘touch’ on their opponent. It lasted for several minutes before Rana drove a fist hard into Connor’s chest. She didn’t even try to pull her punch. Connor staggered back, but instead of shock, rage took over. For a moment he just stared at Rana.

  Then he charged.

  He became savage. All his frustrations, all his aggravations, all his paranoia fueled his desperate attacks. Normally, Connor wouldn’t want to hurt the woman who was steadily becoming his best friend. But the demons in his head were at full roar and he was out of control. Connor swung, rolled, ducked, kicked, grabbed, trapped, and all-out flailed against Rana. He even pinched and bit at her. Whatever it took to gain an advantage over the infuriating woman.

  Over the past few months, he’d finally managed to get past his hang-ups. He no longer worried about the focus of his eyes in combat. There, women ceased to be sacrosanct. They were his opponent, just like any man. If he had to watch a woman’s chest so his peripheral vision could see her arms and legs, so be it. If he grabbed her breasts while trying to grab her shirt, he no longer cared. Whatever he had to do to gain the advantage, he did. There was no part of his opponent that was off limits.

  He’d accepted that genitals, eyes, throat, and breasts were targets that often drew more of a reaction than his opponent intended. Male or female, he would use the most underhanded, sneaky, and intrusive attacks against any part of his opponent’s anatomy to gain the slightest advantage. And each time he targeted one of those four points, his opponent invariably overprotected, giving him a plethora easy openings.

  Except when dealing with Rana. With the proper amount of training, anyone can tame those overprotective instincts. And Rana had a shit-load of training. Even eye strikes barely drew a flinch from her and, in her case, the term ‘barely’ means it was a flinch only someone at her own level could take advantage of. It was far too fleeting for Connor to work with.

  He worked his way close, feigning a kick at her groin. As one of her knees came up to block the attack, Connor’s fist flew at her face. But Rana was far too fast, her hand moving up to block his strike.

  On a sudden whim, Connor changed the direction of his strike at the last possible instant. His fingers took a claw like form and he whipped his hand downward. There was a tearing sound as his fingers found the front of her tank top.

  Her top didn’t completely tear away,
but the ripping sound had the desired effect. Instinctively, both her hands flinched toward her chest and, at the same time, Connor brought his opposite hand in hard and low.

  Rana’s breath exploded out of her as his fist connected solidly with her stomach. The woman staggered back a couple steps and dropped to a knee. Connor followed up by grabbing her ponytail and firing a knee toward her face, but the woman rolled backwards. Her legs shot out and wrapped around Connor’s planted leg. A twist sent him sprawling.

  The woman rolled, her legs creating a lock that flooded his knee with searing pain. Connor drove his other foot into the back of Rana’s knee, weakening her hold just enough that he could slip free. They both rolled, on their feet in a second, but each with pronounced limp.

  Connor threw punch after punch. Most Rana was able to block, but a few got through. One shot to her head caused her to stagger back. When she turned her head back around, her right eye was red from a ruptured blood vessel. Her eyes narrowed and she stalked forward slowly.

  He threw a couple feints, drawing Rana in. She came in hard, but Connor had been expecting that. As she charged, his fingers spread and flew toward her eyes. Unfortunately, she’d been a step ahead of him. Faster than he could have expected, she changed direction and brought her hand up. Three of his fingers ended up in her grasp. Rana twisted and several loud pops accompanied Connor’s scream.

  She twisted his fingers again, this time in a different direction. Pain staggered him into her, and Rana’s other hand grabbed the back of Connor’s neck. A slim but powerful knee found a home in his lower ribs. Connor gagged as the air was driven from him.

  Rana still had his fingers, and the rage controlling Connor was becoming desperate. His good hand struck the side of her other knee, dropping her to the ground and freeing his broken fingers. Blindly, he reached out for her, fingers like claws. She rolled away, but his fingernails tore bright red gouges into her skin as she did. Those fingers found her waistband and seized it, in the desperate hope to stop her. The thin material tore away as Rana continued her roll.