The Fifth Column Boxed Set

by J. N. Chaney

  “More than I can say for most of my clients,” he laughed before ordering the trial program to run.

  A holo materialized at the back wall in the shape of a Union soldier. It flickered a few times before smoothing out, then held steady.

  Already in my shooting stance, I got comfortable with the unfamiliar weapon, making minute adjustments to my grip and body. It felt good and I had the target in my sights a few seconds later.

  My mind went calm and I breathed out then squeezed the trigger five times until the magazine was spent. I set the rifle on the table and removed the ear protection.

  The holo image disappeared from view then reappeared in front of me. I allowed myself a teeny smile when I saw that all of my shots had gone exactly where I’d wanted them. One in the head, three at center mass, and one at the knee. Just for fun.

  I didn’t take long to make my decision. The rifle cost a little more than I’d planned on spending, but I decided to splurge this one time.

  We loaded up on more ammunition, a few handguns, blades, and some illegal military-grade charges. I even discovered a stockpile of MREs. I’d started checking out, when Farah saw something in the corner of the room.

  She lifted a bow from the wall that looked unlike any weaponry we’d ever trained with and turned it over in her hands. A minute later, she was carrying it up to the counter the same way I had with the rifle. The shopkeeper produced a few practice arrows and hit his little button again.

  “This is a fine weapon,” he remarked as we went to the back room again. “Very special. It was stolen from a Sarkonian research facility, according to the person I relieved it from.”

  Something about his smile told me it hadn’t been a credit-based transaction.

  “The technology is supposedly ancient, giving it that unique look. So far no one has appreciated its origin story, so it has been sitting there for quite some time. Maybe you like it enough to buy it, eh?”

  I snorted. “That’s a fancy way to say it’s an antique and no one will buy it.”

  The man gave me an offended look.

  “Of course not, I stand by my merchandise. If she buys it, I’ll even give her a deal,” he claimed.

  “I’ll decide after I’ve tried it out,” Farah told him before walking to the stall.

  This time, he didn’t hand out the protection when Farah stepped up to the firing line. Like me, she inspected the bow and made a few adjustments before nocking one of the arrows. A brilliant blue glow lit the bow from end to end when she picked it up. It seemed to hum with power, and a few heartbeats later she loosed the first practice arrow, then the rest in quick succession.

  I watched as they lanced into the holo target before embedding into the wall, each hitting a vital piece of real estate. She was good. It was standard for Sarkonians to train on a variety of weapons, but I’d never liked archery myself.

  Out of ammunition to fire, Farah touched the tip of her index finger to a near invisible biopad above her fist. The bow collapsed into itself and retracted into the grip.

  “I’ll take it,” she said with a satisfied smile.

  True to his word, he offered her a deal by throwing in extra arrows for free when we returned to the counter to finish the transaction.

  It became apparent before the clerk finished ringing everything up that we wouldn’t be able to carry all of it.

  “Is there somewhere to rent a hover cart?” I asked.

  “No.” He shook his head and kept tallying. “But delivery is included.”

  He continued before I could decline again. “I’ve never seen you around, so I don’t think you’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting the Leah station before.”

  I arched an eyebrow at his use of the word “pleasure” in the same sentence as the station but didn’t interrupt.

  “No disrespect, you both seem like you can handle yourselves, but not if one of the gangs jumps you. And if you walk out that door carrying any of this”—he gestured at the loaded counter—“they will. But no one messes with my shipments when my men are transporting them.”

  “Does that come with a guarantee?” I asked.

  He nodded. “A full refund or replacement of undelivered goods. Within reason, of course.” He started ticking off reasons on his fingers. “If you hijack your own shipment, asteroids, war breaks out. Stuff like that. Name’s Clint, by the way. Clint Russell.”

  I considered that, and the man, for a moment. Now that he’d spoken more than a few words, I could tell he was educated. It made me wonder how he’d ended up on this blight of a station.

  “Alyss,” I said, shaking his offered hand. “That’s quite a deal. Tell me, Clint, how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  Clint shrugged. “You don’t. My reputation speaks for itself. Then there’s the fact that it’s not generally a good idea to piss off the clientele I cater to. Besides, if you’re happy with my products and service, maybe you two will come back and buy more.” He winked.

  “What do you think?” I asked Sophie. I had to admit, the guy made excellent points.

  “I don’t feel like fighting tonight,” she replied, then aimed a pointed look at Clint. “Or killing anyone.”

  “Okay, I guess it’s settled,” I said. “But, Clint, if we don’t get our shit, I’ll come back and burn this place to the ground.”

  He barked out a laugh. “You know what? I believe you would.”

  My stomach growled then, and I was suddenly starving. “Is there anywhere safe to get some food around here?” I asked, not feeling very optimistic.

  “There’s a place that serves halfway edible food if you squint really hard and don’t mind a little skin,” he said. “Tell you what, why don’t you go see if you can stomach it. I’ll get this packed up for you and delivered in about two hours.”

  We shook on it, then Farah and I followed his directions to the establishment known as “The Space Between,” which I found funny.

  Sophie didn’t quite share my humor and groaned when we stepped inside the skin bar that was part brothel. Music bumped and lights flashed as dancers performed onstage in a colorful group number.

  Their only clothing, such as it was, came in the form of sparkly tassels and long neon bright hair that occasionally blocked the audience’s view of their less than private parts.

  “We are so going to regret this,” Sophie grumbled as a scantily clad hostess sashayed over to us.

  “Club side or bar side?” she asked, flashing a bright smile and revealing a full set of teeth.

  “Bar side, please,” my friend said quickly.

  The young woman almost looked disappointed but led us to a table through a set of doors that took us out of the main room and into a slightly tamer bar setting. It still had naked girls dancing in brightly lit glass displays but boasted some regular lighting in an area clearly meant for dining and was mercifully quieter.

  “Look, the table isn’t even that dirty,” I said cheerfully. An order pad sat on one side and I picked it up to scroll through the menu choices.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to eat here,” Farah said, scanning the dingy room.

  Most of the patrons on this side were women or couples. This was probably one of the only choices for dining, I guessed.

  Settling on a burger and thinly sliced soy potato substitute, I pushed the pad over to her, which she immediately declined.

  “No thanks, I’d prefer not to throw up tonight.” She made a face and I chuckled.

  “Funny,” I said. “Suit yourself. Hey, I didn’t realize how talented you were with a bow.”

  Her expression brightened considerably at that. “I was into archery before the academy. Mom and Dad told me not to show how good I was, so I always aimed off center a little.” Something like regret showed on her face for just an instant, then it was gone again.

  “And you still killed it after all this time,” I said, giving her exaggerated applause.

  She rolled her eyes. “I still practiced, my target ju
st wasn’t what the instructors told me to aim for.”

  I missed what she said next because I noticed a figure standing at the bar behind her. Something about their profile drew my eye. The person, a man, turned just enough that I could see the outline of his jaw. It couldn’t be—

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” Farah snapped her fingers at me, trying to get my attention. “Did you see something?”

  She swiveled in her seat, but the man was gone.

  “For a second, I thought I saw…” I hesitated.

  “What?” she prompted, staring at me.

  “Nothing, just some guy at the bar looked like someone I recognized.”

  Farah looked again, scanning the length of the bar counter and the rest of the room this time. “Who did you think it was?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I lied. “I only saw the outline of his face for a second.”

  “Weird. Seems unlikely anyone we know would be here of all places,” she replied. “Are you sure?”

  I hesitated. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “Try me,” she said.

  A busty woman well past her prime delivered my order before I had to answer.

  “You want som’n else, just put it in the pad, love.” The woman pointed at the pad Farah had returned to the slot after refusing to order, then left to see to other customers.

  At first glance, there wasn’t anything obviously wrong with the burger. I picked it up gingerly and gave it a once over, then took a cautious bite.

  “I wonder if the pad has a barf bag option,” she joked.

  I swallowed and washed it down with the beer I’d ordered. “Clint was right. It’s half edible and doesn’t look too bad. If I squint.”

  She laughed. “Great, now polish off the rest of it so we can get back to the ship. I’m going to need a few decontamination showers to feel clean again. So, you were about to say why you were crazy?”

  Waving a hand, I bit into my burger. “Nothing,” I said around a mouthful of dry meat. “I was wrong.”

  I was anxious to get back too, and less than fifteen minutes later, we were headed for the door. I scanned the bar again, looking for the man I’d seen, but he was gone.

  The image of his familiar frame wouldn’t leave my mind, though I knew it to be impossible. People don’t just happen to show up on a planet in a system you’ve never even heard of before.

  Especially dead people.

  17

  “Any issues while we were gone?” I asked Vega when Farah and I got back to the Second Genesis.

  “Nothing my anti-theft measures could not handle,” said Vega. “A vagrant attempted to gain entry but was… discouraged by an electric current.”

  I chuckled.

  As Clint had promised, all of our haul made it into the delivery compartment, so we didn’t have to make good on our word. I sent him a message thanking him. He sent one back saying to make sure we remembered him when we returned. I told him that was highly unlikely, but if he ever went somewhere like Neblinar to let us know.

  Sophie and I didn’t waste any time, loading everything into the cargo bay’s storage units and the armory, then returned to the bridge. We both wanted to get out of orbit and leave the Leah station behind for good.

  “Captain, I have plotted several courses based on the ranking system you and Miss Shahi designed,” Vega said when we reached orbit.

  The star map lit up with half a dozen charted routes, each one linked to a mission, which I found incredibly useful.

  “Taking into account urgency, location, and estimated success percentage, I believe this”—one of the dots brightened, then grew when Vega focused on it—“would make an excellent next choice.”

  The display split so that the map was on one side and the data on the other. I recognized the details immediately from the failed mission on Harah. They depicted plans for testing a new weapon that was made up of microscopic replication tech.

  Neither Sophie nor I had ranked the weapon considerably high, so it surprised me that Vega wanted to go there first.

  “What’s so special about this tech, V?” I asked.

  “It seems a little lackluster and less lethal than some of the others,” added Farah, beating me to it.

  “It did appear that way at first, Miss Shahi,” Vega agreed. “However, after further analysis I have come to believe that should this technology be unleashed, it could very well mark the demise of human life in the known universe.”

  I wrinkled a brow at that, still skeptical. “How would that work? The weapon is stored in an Imperial lab right now. It doesn’t seem to be an immediate cause for concern,” I pointed out.

  Vega didn’t respond right away, almost like she was hesitating.

  “Is there something you aren’t saying Vega?” I asked.

  Another beat of silence, then she answered. “After cross examining all available information, there is a ninety-nine point seven percent chance that the Imperial scientists will discover how to weaponize this technology without understanding how to control it. Once deployed, this self-replicating technology will be capable of consuming all manner of matter and recomposing it into pre-specified elements.”

  “Meaning what?” asked Farah, sounding just as confused as I felt.

  Vega tried again. “While the intended function was a more efficient method of terraforming, the government realized that the technology could easily be weaponized if applied to an enemy city or ship with the replication limit disabled”

  “Holy shit,” I said, finally getting the implications such a weapon could have. “It could be a planet destroyer. No wonder they sent us to Harah to retrieve it. Whoever has this could control all of the known systems.”

  “So, Sarkon sent another team after we failed,” Farah said softly.

  “I’m not surprised. Sarkon would know it was important enough to risk a second attack on the Union in that short amount of time,” I said, then focused on the weapon again. “The Union created this?”

  “It would appear that the origin is unknown at this time,” Vega replied, surprising me. “However, it is not novel. Both sides have been attempting to create something similar for quite some time. It is unclear how they achieved success.”

  I mulled that over in my head.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said abruptly. “These tiny robots can suck up anything, strip it down to nothing, then what, create whatever? It sounds highly improbable. I mean it sounds about as plausible as magic.”

  “The data suggests that the microrobots are able to break down matter at the molecular level, then recompose it into something else so long as they have the required elements.”

  “You said they might not be able to control them,” said Farah. “What could happen then?”

  I hadn’t even considered that possibility. The ramifications from such a weapon in the hands of either the Union or the Empire made me feel queasy. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if they decided to test such a thing without fully understanding it or taking precautions. All either side could see was their own greed.

  “In theory, anything,” answered the AI, sounding grave. “Entire civilizations could be destroyed as fast as the weapon could consume them. There exists a limitation, however. They are a single purpose technology, built to perform one process. For example, once they finish consuming a planet there would be nothing left for them to do. They would be unable to leave, but if a ship were to land on the surface, they would destroy it if proper defenses were not in place.”

  Farah nodded. “That’s what I thought. It’s not like they could create a ship and take off or something.”

  “That is correct,” Vega agreed.

  “I’m convinced,” I announced, then tossed a glance at my friend. “What about you, any objections?”

  She shook her head. “No. We need to get this out of their hands. Though I’m not sure what we’re going to do with it. If we’re successful, I mean.”

  My friend had a point. A we
apon this powerful could end wars, in the right hands. In the wrong hands, however…

  “You heard her, Vega. I guess we’re going to steal some unknown tech from Mom and Dad. Let’s hope it goes better than last time,” I said dryly.

  The Sarkonian Empire didn’t have borders so much as they had sporadic pockets of claimed territory. The Anquila Belt was one of those pockets, home to the Chaundra facility where the weapon was supposedly held.

  As luck would have it, both Farah and I were familiar with the station. During slow periods or when the Sarkon government felt they needed a little extra muscle for protection, our unit was called upon for guard duty. Boring, but at least we got to leave the Ambiana for a few days of easy work.

  Fortunately for us, we weren’t too far, only a few systems away. Unfortunately, that meant we were also close to Sarkon. A little too close for my liking, but we didn’t exactly have a choice.

  “The military is probably going to be on the lookout for two soldiers,” Farah said later when we’d begun to plan the finer aspects of the op.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, nodding my head. “They probably won’t fall for that one again, although they never did see our faces. Still, our best bet is to go covert. We’re going to have to do it the old-fashioned way. Under the cover of darkness.”

  Doing it during the day had made sense on Sobek; nobody there expected us to show up on Sarkonian turf. Now they would, and because of the importance of the weapon there was bound to be heightened security.

  “Pardon me,” said Vega, politely. “But I should be able to assist you. Miss Woods—”

  “Miss who?” I interrupted, confused.

  I scoured my brain but couldn’t remember anyone by that name.

  “Mack,” Farah clarified. “Her full name is Mackenna Woods.”

  “Oh right,” I said, remembering. “What about her now?”

  “Miss Woods was able to remove the military controls on my systems,” Vega continued. “The process did not remove my access to their systems. I can possibly gain ingress into their cameras feeds.”

  “Possibly?” I asked, picking up the subtext.