Blade of the Reaper: An Intergalactic Space Opera Adventure (The Last Reaper Book 3)

by J. N. Chaney

  Recovering my senses took mere seconds but it felt like an eternity. I had to calm my animal instincts, control my thoughts, and act intentionally to remain the master of my own fate—if that had ever been more than an illusion. The first thing I did was take a neutral stance, feet shoulder width apart and hands relaxed. Breathing deeply, focusing on nothing, peace came to me a little more each time I exhaled. Meditation was a skill I could definitely improve upon, but I wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the practice.

  Belting on my sidearm, I went hunting for Henshaw.

  It wasn’t long before I located him on the observation deck, sipping alcohol I hadn’t realized Jelly could produce. Even the glass was different. Most beverages on the ship came out of tubes or easily sealed cups. This fluted glass was full of dark red liquid that he swirled in the cup before sipping.

  "I shared the recipe with your ship’s AI," Henshaw explained before I had a chance to ask the question.

  "Is that wine?" I asked.

  "It might be an insult to wine, but yes, essentially,” Henshaw answered. "Are we going to have the talk? Shall we decide my fate?”

  “That’s no mystery. I’ll kick you off my ship as soon as I know you’re worthless,” I said.

  "I can still help you," Henshaw said. “I’m far from worthless.”

  I could've responded but didn't. It was better not to reveal too much. He was playing games, unaware of his own transparency.

  "If you can get me to my yacht, I’ve got an offer you seriously can’t afford to miss," Henshaw said. “Hard money, unlimited credit lines, resources great enough to keep you and your ship going for years. But that’s not why you will help me.”

  He wanted me to ask for an explanation for that last part. I remained silent, forcing him to keep talking.

  “We shouldn’t be enemies. I have things you need—including answers about a number of things—and you have…skills. Path might be able to get me to my yacht, but I know you can get me there. At this late stage in the game, I need a guaranteed win.”

  “Path is an actual sword saint. I saw what he did when we were trying to get onto the lift,” I said, pointing out a flaw in Henshaw’s logic.

  “I’m aware of what he can and cannot do,” Henshaw said, waving one hand dismissively. “He doesn’t suit my needs. The man has served his purpose.”

  Henshaw was holding something back. I filed the deception for later analysis. He wanted me for something more specific than a simple escort job.

  "You really want to get on your ship, don't you?" I studied his posture and body language. He was nervous, but not in the way I was accustomed to. I didn't think he was concerned about physical danger, despite what Tom claimed. There was something on the yacht that he wanted or needed, and the prospect of not being able to have it bothered him deeply.

  "I can make it worth your while," he said. "And not just with a lame promise to improve your functionality. I have something you want."

  "I'm listening," I said, pinning him with my gaze.

  “My specialty is in ocular engineering, but I worked for Vice Admiral Hugo Nebs,” he said, waiting for my reaction.

  “Good for you,” I said flatly.

  “How can you not know who that is?” he asked.

  “I know who he is, I just don’t give a fuck. The man never came closer than a hundred meters unless there was slug-proof glass between us,” I said. "If you can convince me he was responsible for my prison sentence, then we'll talk."

  Vice Admiral Hugo Nebs was the creator and commanding officer of the Reaper Corps. Strange and grim, the consensus among my peers was that he hated and resented the entire program for some reason. Byron claimed the vice admiral was just a figurehead who didn’t want anything to do with the RC program. Most of us agreed with him, but I thought there was something darker about the man’s reticence to speak to us in person.

  There had been a lot of speculation about his disappearance, but that was before I fell out of favor with the Union. No one knew the truth of it all, and I wasn’t one to speculate.

  Even though I'd only seen him from a distance despite his affiliation with the program, he gave off a very heavy self-destructive vibe—something that was hard to describe, something sensed rather than observed.

  “The fact that you worked for the vice admiral is enough reason for me to kick you off the ship right now, maybe as a corpse. So, start talking. I don't think this conversation is going the way you intended,” I said gruffly.

  He put down his wine and started using his hands when he talked, selling his earnestness with more and more expansive gestures. "Don't jump ahead in this story. You have to know why I'm here and why it matters. Other scientists worked on the project, experts in nerve-ware and limited AIs,” Henshaw said, eyes bright.

  “Get to the point.” I wanted to shake the man. Dishonest people often talked a lot about nothing. It was easier to hide the deception that way.

  “I learned from them. Our work overlapped on one or two occasions, though it wasn’t often.” He probably sensed that I’d reached the end of my patience, because now he was speaking quickly to avoid getting slammed on the deck. “I spent a lot of time with the X-37 team.”

  “Don't mess with X,” I warned, surprised my limited AI hadn’t chimed in already.

  Henshaw dropped his bombshell with a look of satisfaction. “Your limited AI is nearing the end of its shelf life. He’s probably panicking now because he can’t hear us talking about his death. AIs or LAIs that truly fear their own demise have a tendency to go rogue. Not good. Not good at all. One moment they are doing their jobs, and the next they are inventing ways to transfer themselves to new hosts and hide in the gal-net.”

  “I didn’t hear that last part,” X-37 said. “What did he say? Are you blocking me from listening in?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded, hoping Henshaw’s statement was a ruse but knowing otherwise. He’d found one of my deepest fears and confirmed it. What made it worse was the way X-37 kept trying to break into the conversation like a kid who was being ignored by older siblings.

  "X is solid,” I said, wishing I could be sure. “None of my nerve-ware problems have anything to do with him.”

  “Are you hearing me, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked. “Your conversation is encrypted. If it’s not due to a safety override, then we need to have a private discussion. I can’t do my job if you put me in isolation.”

  Henshaw couldn’t hear X-37’s voice. “You refer to your LAI as a ‘him.’ Interesting choice of pronoun for a machine. It has a male voice, doesn’t it?”

  “Get to the point, Henshaw,” I said, still worried about X-37’s last statement. I wasn’t aware communication between me and my LAI could be encrypted. “He can’t hear us because we’re talking about topics he isn’t allowed to process. You know that, and I think you’re enjoying it. So, stop enjoying it or you’re going to enjoy getting your balls stomped.”

  “No need for that! I’m getting to it. This isn’t easy for me,” he said, totally full of crap. “The Reaper program, and others like it, had a lot of failsafes. You can’t make weapons that can’t be turned off,” Henshaw said. “If you don’t upgrade X-37 at a real Reaper laboratory, he’s going off line, probably sooner rather than later. And you’re correct, he won’t be able to understand what I’m saying. Limited artificial intelligences aren’t allowed to understand their mortality. Early models became unreliable when they sensed their own demise, and they tried to take over their hosts or kill them for new hosts."

  I'd never really believed the stories, but whatever. I was going to have to start slapping Henshaw around to get him to talk straight. Everything was a shell game in our conversations.

  "Can you stop X-37 from shutting down?” I asked, processing all the different pieces of information he was throwing at me. I knew it was a tactic to set me off balance before the real negotiation began.

  “What do you think happens to you if your X unit goes down?”
he asked, then continued rapidly flinching away from my anger. “I have adequate tools on the Lady Faith to turn-off the failsafe. X-37 won’t be the wiser.”

  “You really want me to take you to your yacht," I asked sarcastically, already knowing the answer. “How long did it take you to make this story up?”

  “It’s the truth, Reaper Cain,” he said.

  “I take you to the ship, you fix me and my LAI, then you transfer all this money you’re so proud of,” I said.

  “That part was a lie. I don’t have that much money. But it’s still a win-win," he said, spreading his hands wide. "And probably a walk in the park for someone like you."

  "That type of assumption gets people killed," I said. "Of course I can get you there. I just have to decide how many people I’m willing to kill to make it happen and whether or not you're worth my time. If you waste it, I'll show you what type of mission I was made for.”

  My threat finally cracked his calm exterior. His hands trembled slightly and he started to sweat on his upper lip. No matter how aloof he acted, the man wanted to survive and escape this place.

  "Well, whatever happens, I'd like to point out that we have to do things we don't want to do sometimes," he said a bit defensively and almost ashamed for a split second.

  "That's actually bullshit. The only thing that makes us different from artificial intelligences is free will. We make our choices and live with the consequences," I said.

  "We're going with you," Elise announced.

  Tom and Path watched for my reaction.

  "Think about it, kid," I said.

  She bristled at the way I addressed her. “I’m not a kid,” she grumbled.

  "There are people out there who still want you for their research or to turn you into a weapon," I said. "If we both go, it could be a trap where they get everything they want in one snatch and grab."

  "As opposed to getting you now and the rest of us later," Elise said. "Splitting up is dumb. Everybody knows that."

  "We're not splitting up, I'm just leaving you behind," I said.

  "You're such an asshole," she snapped, clenching her fist, overwhelmed by frustration. "You are, just, not a nice person! Not nice!”

  I wanted to laugh but didn't. Maybe I should have, but I wasn't actually trying to upset her. "Nice guys don't do well in this galaxy."

  She started pacing angrily.

  "X, do you want to explain it to her?” I asked.

  "It would be my pleasure," X-37 said. "In military parlance, you'd be leading the quick reaction force, Elise. Reaper Cain is trusting you to save his ass when he messes up. Which you will. In case you haven't noticed, Reaper Cain often makes bad decisions."

  "Thanks, X. I think," I muttered.

  "Really?" she asked challengingly. "Because if you're serious, then I have a better idea. Path and I will follow you at a distance. We can watch your back and look for an ambush. If something does happen, we will be close enough to actually help." She looked at Path, who was standing quietly off to one side. "Isn't that right?"

  Path nodded once, calm and inscrutable as always.

  "She has an intuitive instinct for tactics," X-37 said, "and she did survive several abduction attempts before you arrived on Greendale."

  "Thank you, X, that's very helpful. That's exactly what I wanted, a complete analysis that I didn't ask for. Whose side are you on?” I muttered under my breath.

  "It was my understanding that we were all on the same side," X-37 said, his tone so flat it was almost sarcastic.

  I decided to look for help from the ship. "Jelly, can you guarantee a solid communications link?”

  “Absolutely, Captain. I have completed all system checks and upgrades required of me at this port,” Jelly promised. "Would that be sufficient for Elise and Path to accompany you?"

  "Yeah, that's perfect. Out freaking standing," I said, gathering up my gear for a mission too important not to attempt but with a low probability of success—kind of like every mission I had been on since completing my Reaper training.

  "Would you like me to come?" Tom asked.

  I stared at the ceiling and exhaled, my frustration evident as I showed remarkable restraint. What I wanted to do was break something and curse.

  "I think it would be best to leave one member of the crew on the ship," X-37 said, sliding neatly back into the conversation.

  "I can do that," Tom said obligingly. "My strengths are here anyway. The ship is in good shape, but I can inventory tools and weapons that you might want me to bring to you if things go really bad," he added.

  "All right, it's settled. Everybody's part of the mission! Why the hell not? We're leaving in ten minutes. But until then, no one talk to me."

  "Touchy, touchy," Elise said, laughing slightly. She was having way too much fun with her victory.

  I thought about how Grady had violated my pregame ritual before I jumped onto Dreadmax. Nothing went right when I was forced to endure useless nattering and inane banter right before deployment. I missed Grady. He had been a solid friend who hadn’t deserved to die on that mission.

  11

  We moved along the concourse, keeping a brisk pace. Henshaw hadn't bothered to conceal his appearance much, choosing to dress slightly less flamboyantly and forgo the trench coat. He wore athletic shoes that Tom had found in the Jellybird’s storeroom.

  Elise and Path followed a hundred meters behind us, almost out of view. They were easy for me to pick out because I knew them. All I had to do was glance back and X-37 would capture the scene. He'd analyze it and give me a summary. It was one way to avoid appearing conspicuous when checking for a tail, though I’d have to be mindful not to do it too often. I didn’t want to appear paranoid, even if I was.

  This time when we took the train, we got off near the landing platform where the Lady Faith was docked.

  There weren't any guards.

  "What do you think that means?" I asked, gesturing to the absence of guards on the landing pad.

  "It seems that Arnold made his play and has withdrawn," Henshaw said.

  “Arnold the governor of Roxo III?” I asked.

  “The same. He probably needs his best troops with him to ride out the disorder. As for the normal guards, they seem to be AWOL."

  "Looks like a trap," I said at about the same time X-37 warned me of the dangerous possibility.

  "Anything could be a trap," Henshaw said. "In my experience, the less it looks like a trap, the more likely it is to be a trap.”

  "You may be right. Or you might be paranoid," I said. "Let's get my upgrades and leave.”

  "The absence of guards may not be such a great thing," Henshaw said. "It probably means that Nightmare and his champion are up to something."

  I studied the landing area again, thinking that his casual mention of his gambling adversary was important. Who the hell was Nightmare? There was no place for an enemy to set up an ambush unless they were inside the ship. Which meant there was more here than I was seeing. "I guess I should be worried this character has a champion. Does he think he's a king?"

  "Something like that. A real highroller. Not a bad gambler, but he's most interested in gladiatorial contests," Henshaw said.

  "I see where this is going," X-37 said.

  I didn't respond to my limited AI. We were on the same page. The reason James Henshaw had been so hot to get me here was that he was setting up a fight. "Gladiatorial contests? If I didn't know you better, I would think you planned this all along."

  "There is a gathering room on my yacht," he said. "I think the prior owner used it for Pilates or something."

  "Is Pilates dangerous?” I asked, having never heard of the fighting style.

  "Not so much," he said. "I'm not lying about your LAI. Mess this up and you're going to wish you’d never heard of the Reaper Corps."

  "Henshaw, you have no idea." I wanted to confront him about the game he was playing, but this wasn't the time or place. And strange as it seemed, I was invigorated by our semi-a
dversarial relationship. This man who had obviously learned his trade from the best Union spies presented a challenge that didn't involve direct violence.

  It was a strange thought. Who would've known I was missing mental stimulation? Too bad it was going to end in a fight like always.

  Henshaw hesitated, almost like he was going to turn back and head to the Jellybird. “Whatever happens, I promise you I'll fix X-37."

  "I'm starting to think nothing you say is true," I said. As clever as Henshaw was, he sucked at concealing guilt about whatever was about to happen. He suppressed the tell quickly, lowering his hand from where he had been touching his right temple.

  "I don't live in a black-and-white world of easy decisions, and neither do you," he said. "If we're going to try this, we should get going."

  I made my decision and started for the loading ramp of the ship. Docking clamps kept the ship from being stolen, but Roxo authorities demanded the right of inspection at a moment’s notice. As a result, the main door to ships were left open and monitored by each ship’s AI. If an unauthorized intruder approached, the ship could be locked down. This rarely happened. The shadows inside were deep and I couldn't see much.

  Drawing my pistol, I also synchronized my optics to better penetrate the gloomy interior. Henshaw approached and the Lady Faith greeted him.

  "Welcome back, James," the ship AI said. Her voice was deep and rich. "Your guests are waiting in the dining room."

  I stopped him from entering. "Your guests are waiting, Jimmy," I said. "I hope they’re enjoying themselves."

  "We're slightly behind schedule—fashionably late," he said.

  After one step inside the yacht, I realized Elise had been right. Going alone would've been a mistake. I contemplated calling them up to my position but decided it wasn't time.

  From the outside, the Lady Faith appeared long and sleek but not so huge that it looked intimidating. "X, look sharp. I want you to bring your A game. No side projects."

  "Sure, Reaper Cain. I'm dropping everything,” X-37 said. “I was onto something important, but I guess I'll just get back to it later."