At Circle's End

by Ian J. Malone

  “He was born that way,” Doc said. “As to why or how, no one knows for certain. Perryman’s has long since been associated with genetics, but a lot of the newer science is pointing to environmental triggers as well. Sadly, we can’t know of the former since Remy has no family history.”

  “Why not?” Mac asked.

  “Because he has no family,” Doc said. “He’s been an orphan since he was three and a ward of mine since he was ten. I found him sleeping in a trash bin near my home in Detron City.”

  “Like I said.” Link frowned. “Token asshole.”

  “And there’s no cure?” Mac asked.

  “Not at this time, no.” Doc clasped his hands.

  Lee scratched his head in search of a polite way to ask his next question. None really came. “At the risk of offendin’, Danny…why do you have someone with those kinds of needs on your crew?”

  “Easy.” Danny shrugged. “He’s my chief engineer.”

  “I’m sorry, he’s what?” Hamish’s jaw hung open.

  “He’s my chief engineer. Listen, I get it. Remy’s a total spaz in social settings. But so what? He’s not an idiot. Put him in a technical setting where he’s got to fix something, and the kid’s money. Seriously, Hamish, we’re talking Mardolla School money.”

  “It’s true,” Doc added. “He is, quote, brilliant in matters of technology. Always has been.”

  Danny turned to Mac. “Who do you think cracked the Kurgorian operating system that gave us full access to Mr. Black’s abilities?”

  Her eyes widened. “We’ve been on that code for months. He cracked it?”

  Danny nodded. “He retuned my translator chip, too. That’s how I can read the HUD.”

  A loud gurgle moaned from the big man’s stomach.

  “Hungry much?” Danny threw him a smirk.

  “What?” Shotz put a paw to his gut. “I work up an appetite when I’m on the job.”

  Danny waved the others inside. “Come on. We can pick this up in the galley.”

  “Not just yet.” Lee caught Danny’s arm. “First, I want to see it.”

  Danny bellowed a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda thought you’d say that. Fine, follow me.”

  Starting up the ramp behind Overlook’s crew, Lee did a double take when his eyes found their way to a small, circular port the size of a pinhead at the base of Danny’s skull.

  Mac must’ve seen it, too, for she looked equally taken aback.

  “You coming or what?” Danny called from inside.

  Link and Hamish looked equally unnerved, but no one broached the subject. They just kept moving. Once up the ramp, Lee found Overlook’s cargo bay to be anything but extraordinary. To his left, docked in charging stations on the port wall were two mobile trash rollers—par for the course on a trash barge—while to his right rested a standard-issue disposal compactor of industrial size. There were also several stacks of crates and storage bins around the room but, again, all very routine.

  The only thing that struck Lee was the size of the bay itself. It seemed smaller than he would’ve expected, more confined, as if it’d been built for something else then repurposed for sanitations.

  Danny led the group through the center of the bay, past a row of neon-yellow coveralls hanging on hooks, and stopped at the compactor next to Remy, who was running a diagnostic.

  “You mean to tell me you keep your big, bad alien armor in the trash?” Link snickered. “Nice. Nothing like waking up in the morning to a used prophylactic in your helmet.”

  Everyone in the room grimaced.

  “What’s a pruh-prophylactic?”

  “Don’t…worry about it, Remy.” Danny showed the kid a palm. “He’s just a sick, sick little man is all.”

  Link made a cranking motion with his thumb then beamed with astonishment when his middle finger shot out.

  “Okay, moving on.” Danny typed a series of commands into the control panel, culminating with the Execute key. Lines of compressed air streamed from the compactor’s hydraulic stacks as a low, thumping whomp reverberated through the clam-shaped tank between them.

  Gears and motors spun into action, and Lee waited for the chamber to split open at its center—standard protocol for waste acceptance—only it didn’t. Instead, the entire device ascended toward the ceiling on a quad of pedestals, and a second chamber emerged from under the floor. Tall and wide at about five by three meters, the box was solid steel with a locking mechanism on its face, whose complexity dwarfed that of the compactor.

  Danny keyed in his code then stepped away from the doors, which splayed open from the center.

  “Holy shite,” Hamish murmured. Mac and Link looked just awestruck.

  “Everybody?” Danny gestured toward the armored hulk inside. “Meet Mr. Black.”

  Lee stepped forward and studied the piece from head to toe. The helmet looked completely different. Whereas before, its outer shell had been predominately round and solid, now it featured a rugged mosaic of smaller pieces that were fused together by rivets to form a broad, sloping cowl that ended at the shoulders. It was also more ornate than Lee had recalled, boasting a prominent ridge down its center crown and textured fluting along the edges. It was elegant in a weird, gothic sort of way.

  The mask, however, was every bit the nightmare Lee had remembered from the Praetorian’s flight deck at Coralin 3. Sleek and black with dead, globular eyes and a down-slit breather port resembling a scowl, it was the exact same face Lee had jolted awake to on many a sleepless night over the last year. He caught himself and took a breath.

  The rest of Mr. Black was equally gladiatorial in appearance—broad shoulders capped with plating, a full-surface breastplate, and heavy, protective gauntlets that pointed at the wrists. The legs were armored front to back with a layer of polymer mesh above knee-high boots.

  “What’s up with the patchwork finish?” Mac pointed to the rivets. “Every other centurion I’ve seen has a helmet made of a solid piece.”

  “The plates were a nuh-necessity,” Remy said. “When me and Doc found bossman, both he and the suit were in pretty bad shape—the helmet and tuh-torso especially. I cannibalized as much as I could from his pod before we sold it, but ruh-recreating the solid helmet was out. I had to improvise.”

  “Why not use conventional steel?” Link asked. “You could’ve molded that any way you wanted.”

  Remy clicked his tongue. “Too vulnerable. By staying with metasteel, even with the rivets, this still gives the operator ten times the protection.”

  “And the flair?” Mac noted the fluting and ridge work. “Were you guys just channeling your inner Samurai that day or what?”

  Remy blushed. “I…I like pretty things.”

  “By the look of it, lad, ye like a wee bit of firepower, too.” Hamish leaned in for a closer inspection of the railgun on the right gauntlet. “Is that…?”

  “A supersized version of the Harbinger?” Danny folded his arms. “Yep. Remy here took the old 212 specs and souped them up a bit. We call it the Harbinger-XL. It’s got twenty percent more range, a forty percent bump in ordnance capacity, and throws a thousand extra rounds per minute on average.”

  Hamish’s envy was palpable.

  “How about operations?” Lee asked. “Per the report I read from the Axius, you shouldn’t have had the kind of maneuverability I saw out on the straits tonight. What changed?”

  “Once Remy cracked the OS and gave me control of the HUD, a lot of stuff opened up,” Danny said. “Multiple visual views, onboard fire controls, an ordnance inventory, even a diagnostics feature that allows me to monitor battle damage. I can access all of it now with a thought, thanks to some stuff Doc cooked up in his lab.”

  Something about that statement in conjunction with Danny’s appearance didn’t sit right with Lee. “Sounds pretty invasive. And you can do all of that without any problems or side effects?”

  Doc cleared his throat. “Well, I wouldn’t say—”

  “More or less, yeah.” Danny shot the o
ld man a glare. “Listen, guys, it’s all a bit technical, and we’ll have plenty of time to discuss it later. Right now, I just want to get settled and find something to eat. Are you with me or not?”

  Everyone started for the bay exit in back save for Lee. He stayed behind, catching Reegan by the arm. “Shoot me straight, Reeg,” he said once the others had gone. “How’s he doin’?”

  Reegan shied away before answering. “Sergeant Tucker’s always been tough, sir. You know that as well as anybody. But…he’s not entirely that guy anymore.”

  Lee nodded. “Yeah, I caught that once he took off his coat. He looks like crap.”

  “It’s not just how he looks. Ms. Reynolds’ death changed him, sir, a lot more than he’ll ever let on. He’s all about the mission now.”

  “To get Masterson.” Lee had suspected as much.

  “That’s right. That’s all he cares about. If he’s not out on a case, running intel on the chancellor, Sarge is either holed up in his quarters studying that crazy wall of his or off somewhere on his own with a bottle of zanerack.”

  “How about when he’s on the job?” Lee asked. “Danny always liked field work. He said it put him at ease.”

  Reegan exhaled. “When Sarge is on the job, he’s every bit the machine that Mr. Black is. Gods help anybody who gets in his way, too.”

  Lee didn’t like the sound of that at all. He’d helped Danny through the loss of his mother to ALS years ago, and he knew better than most how bad his friend could get. Still, Lee couldn’t fathom what the loss of Madisyn had done to Danny’s psyche. She’d been his entire world. She’d also been helpless when the man now in control of an empire had slit her throat before all of creation while Danny watched from a prison cell.

  Lee shivered and thought of Mac.

  “Listen, Captain Summerston?” Reegan ran a jittery palm through his hair. “If it’s all the same with you, I’m gonna head on inside. I’ve got stuff to do in Ops.”

  Lee snapped out of it and patted Reegan’s shoulder. “Sure. Thanks for the chat, Reegan. I owe ya one.”

  “Don’t mention it, sir. Oh, and Captain?”

  “Yeah?”

  Reegan’s expression turned earnest. “I know he hasn’t shown it, but Sarge is happy you’re here. Just give him some time.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 6: Reconciled

  After a quick stop past Overlook’s galley, Lee followed Danny down the midlevel crew deck to Junction C, halfway between the bow and stern, where personal quarters were located. Hanging a left into a cramped steel alcove, Danny halted at the last of three metal doors on the left and placed his right thumb to the panel beside the door. It slid open.

  “Make yourself at home.” Danny gestured Lee inside.

  As expected given Overlook’s smallish size—only three decks: Cargo, Crew, and Operations, or “Ops”—the ship’s living quarters offered little in the way of luxury. A modest space, roughly four by five meters, the dank, metal room housed a single twin bunk with rumpled sheets, a water closet the size of a phone booth, and a scarred wooden nightstand that doubled as a dresser. All and all, the place was spartan at best, though the litany of trash, dirty clothes, and gun parts strewn about the room certainly didn’t help its cause.

  Lee kicked an empty can out of the doorway. “You really oughta consider firin’ your maid.”

  Danny made a face. “My apologies if it’s not the Ritz Carlton you lived in back in Jacksonville.”

  Lee winced. His old place really had been a dump. “Point taken.”

  Danny navigated the maze of trash to the dresser, where he stripped off his shirt and tossed it onto a random pile of dirties.

  Lee gasped. His friend’s back looked like dried hamburger meat. Worse yet, the scars weren’t even the most disturbing part.

  “Don’t suppose you care to explain those?” Lee gestured toward the plug in back of Danny’s skull then toward four dozen others running double-file down his spinal column.

  Danny paused. “Oh, right. The plugs.” He pulled a fresh T-shirt from the dresser and slipped into it. “Suffice it to say Mr. Black wasn’t the only one who required a few…modifications in order for us to work together. The ports are how I interface with the system.”

  Lee grimaced when fifty imaginary needles plunged into his flesh. “Do they hurt?”

  “A little at first, yeah. It’s nothing compared to the pain of doing it raw with the native chemicals, though. I had to go that route on the Axius, and believe me, man, I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

  Lee had read about that in the Axius report. He’d cringed then, too.

  Danny brushed a pile of papers from a nearby chair and slid it over. “So.” He grabbed one. “You make it home to Tally lately?”

  Lee sat down. “Nah, not since the wedding. Between Masterson’s goons and the matter of this little manhunt for you I’ve been on the last year, I ain’t exactly had much time for road trips.”

  “Yeah, well.” Danny’s gaze hit the floor. “I’ve been keeping tabs on the first one, anyhow. Doesn’t seem to be going so well for the ASC. I saw in the news where Thaylon fell last week. That’s—what, three systems this month?”

  “Four. The grays took the Korballa system two weeks ago.” Lee rubbed his face. “It’s those new hybrid ships that are killing us. Were we dealing with Masterson’s old stock, we’d have been plantin’ a flag in Eurial Square by now. But those ships in his arsenal are every bit as fast as our C-100’s with five times the ordnance and hull integrity.”

  “You got a count on the hybrids?”

  Lee nodded. “As of last week, Auran intelligence counts thirty-four actives in the field with sixteen more set for launch by year’s end. Still no carriers or fighters, though, so they can’t hit us much beyond the rim without supplies getting tapped out.”

  Danny’s mouth opened, as if he were about to speak, but he opted not to.

  “Here’s what I don’t get,” Lee said. “Powerful as the hybrids are, they pale in comparison to that of purebred Kurgorian ships. They could hit Aura tomorrow if they wanted to, and yet, they seldom join the fight. They’ll run support for the grays like they did at Kyma, sure, but rarely do they go on the offensive.”

  Danny arched an eyebrow. “You got any theories on that?”

  Lee brushed a mystery crumb from his trousers. Gross. “Nah, not really. Although they wouldn’t be the first military force in history to arm one side of a conflict only to sit back and watch it all play out from afar.”

  “So, you think they’ve got an agenda, then.”

  “I think I don’t have nearly enough information to know anything for sure. What I do know is this: nobody in the ASC—me included—is lookin’ that gift horse in the mouth. If the Kurgorians want to stay on the sideline and let Masterson fight his own war, then that’s fine and peachy-keen-dandy by us. We’ve got our hands full as it is with his hybrids.”

  Danny crossed his legs. “Back on the Praetorian, I gave you guys as much time as I could to scan my armor and pod without tipping you off that it was me inside. You make any progress with that?”

  Lee tilted a palm side to side. “A little here and there. The engineerin’ corps has made some strides with armor reinforcement but not so much in the way of weaponry. We’ve got some variable-yield stuff that’s showin’ promises, but that’s a ways out yet.” Lee sat up straight. “You could help with that, ya know…if you came back with us.”

  That drew a healthy guffaw from Danny. “And land in cuffs for desertion? No, I think not.”

  “Hard to cuff a dead man.”

  Danny regarded him.

  “News flash, partner. Staff Sergeant Daniel R. Tucker died last year at Coralin 3. KIA went official six months ago.”

  “So what?” Danny huffed. “The minute I step foot on Auran soil alive, you’ve gotta know all of that changes.”

  Lee shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. What exactly is the statute of limitations on charges directed at a corpse?”
>
  Danny didn’t answer.

  “Yeah, me neither.” Lee shifted in his seat. “Regardless, I highly doubt they’d come after you.”

  “Oh yeah?” Danny scoffed. “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’ve got something they need, Danny.” Lee pointed to his friend’s head. “They need your knowledge, specifically what you and your people know about Kurgorian tech.”

  Danny leaned back. “Ah, the sound of the other shoe. So, you think if I give them Mr. Black, they’ll let me walk.”

  “I do.”

  “And what’s to stop them from simply taking him the minute we dock with Praetorian? You think of that?”

  Lee shook his head. “I still don’t think it would go down that way. For one, Katahl knows you, he knows your history, and there’s no way he’d treat you with anything but fairness. And even if he did intend to screw you, the mass population of the ASC would never forgive him for it.”

  Danny raised an eyebrow. “How do you come by that assessment?”

  “Because you’re a war hero, Danny.” Lee sat up. “What you did at Coralin 3, takin’ that ship the way you did and usin’ it to save our skins—that saved a lot of lives.”

  Danny’s lips formed a line. “I didn’t want to die out there anymore than anyone else. I did what I had to.”

  “Maybe.” Lee crossed his legs. “But a lot of folks are grateful to you nonetheless. Add it all together, and I have a hard time seein’ you landing in chains if you opt to come back with us.”

  Danny shook his head. “Good old Lee. Always thinking things through to the nth degree.”

  “It’s what I do, Sport.” Lee clasped his hands. “It’s what I do.”

  Danny looked pensive as he stared at the wall, and Lee took that as a cue to hammer home his point.

  “Everybody on my team saw what you can do tonight, Danny. You moved like one of them, fought like one of them. If we could take that back to Aura, there’s no tellin’ what our people could do with it. Worst-case scenario, we get a leg up on imperial intel. Best-case scenario, we use Mr. Black to crack the Kurgorian battle network. Any way you slice it, it’s a win.”