Rath's Redemption (The Janus Group Book 6)

by Piers Platt

  “My men tell me you’re the detective that brought down the Guild,” Yo-Tsai said, eyeing him. “You’re quite the crusader. The Federacy’s knight in shining armor.”

  Rath stayed silent.

  “Well, they’ll soon see that your armor has chinks in it,” Yo-Tsai promised him. “I spent a long time planning the campaign you just ruined. Your death will be just as long … and far more painful. And I’ll be broadcasting it, so all of the galaxy can see their crusader suffer.”

  When Rath didn’t respond, Yo-Tsai crossed his arms across his chest. “Nothing to say for yourself? So be it. We’ll be on Jokuan in a few hours. Spend that time thinking about what remains of your life.”

  He turned to leave, and then faced Rath again, frowning. Yo-Tsai crossed the room in two quick strides, and grabbed Rath’s left arm first, then his right, inspecting them hurriedly.

  “You were injured. What happened to the bandage?” Yo-Tsai demanded.

  Rath heard the ship’s engines whine, and the deck rattled below their feet.

  We just made the jump to FTL.

  “Where is it?” Yo-Tsai repeated, frowning.

  Rath smiled, and let his face shift back into its natural configuration.

  “No …,” Yo-Tsai breathed, in disbelief. “Ikeda killed you.”

  “He tried,” Rath said. “Twice.”

  Yo-Tsai’s nostrils flared wide. “My flagship,” he said. “The fuel leak. That was no accident.”

  “Nope,” Rath agreed.

  The general stepped back, and Rath saw him struggling to regain his composure. “I’m glad it’s you, and not the detective,” he said, finally. “I think I’ll enjoy killing you even more.”

  Rath shrugged. “I’m a convicted man, anyway. And it was worth it, if only to see the look on your face just now.”

  Yo-Tsai lashed out, landing a hard right hook on Rath’s chin. Rath fell over onto the cabin’s bunk.

  “You think you’ve won a victory here,” Yo-Tsai spat, “but Beauceron or you – it makes no difference to me.” He reached into his uniform shirt, and pulled out a simple rope necklace, from which dangled a data drive. Rath recognized it from their last meeting, back on the Rampart Guardian. “Don’t forget that I stole all of your money, too.”

  “It’s a small price to pay. You’ve given me the one thing I’ve been searching for my whole life.”

  “And what would that be?” Yo-Tsai asked.

  “A clear conscience,” Rath told him. “I’ll die happy, knowing I stopped your invasion, and saved my friend.”

  Yo-Tsai snorted. “You’ll die writhing in pain, with the galaxy watching you beg for mercy.”

  “I’m ready,” Rath said evenly, meeting the older man’s gaze.

  “We’ll see,” Yo-Tsai replied.

  * * *

  The cabin door opened, and the light from the corridor spilled into the dark room. Lying on the bunk, Rath turned over and saw a guard place a tray of food on the metal deck, then kick it through the door. It slid across the floor and crashed into the bunk, spilling most of the food. Then the door slid shut again, and locked him inside.

  Rath smiled and yawned, stretching in the darkened cabin. He had slept for nearly eight hours according to his internal clock, and he felt marvelously refreshed. Sitting up on the bed, he activated his thermal vision and leaned over to collect what remained of the food. He lifted a bread roll to his mouth, and then paused, frowning.

  I didn’t have any nightmares, he realized. I didn’t have any dreams at all. I just … slept.

  Rath laughed out loud.

  The fucking irony. Best night of sleep of my life: as a prisoner, surrounded by enemy soldiers that want me dead.

  He took a bite of the bread, and chewed, and the smile slowly disappeared from his face.

  The real irony is that I’ll only have a couple more nights to enjoy it.

  * * *

  The transport descended through a thin layer of cloud in Jokuan’s upper atmosphere. As it neared the ground, it banked and leveled off, heading for the headquarters complex. It set down on a landing pad outside the main buildings, and the ramp dropped. Yo-Tsai, with several of his command staff, stepped out onto the tarmac of the pad.

  He stood in silence for a time, staring at the wreckage of the headquarters buildings. One of them was still burning: a pair of fire trucks parked near a massive hole in the side of the building were directing the water from their hoses into the smoking interior. The two buildings beside it had collapsed – he saw rescue workers clambering over the smoldering debris piles, searching for survivors. Yo-Tsai watched as a car pulled away from the burning building. It drove straight for the landing pad, and a colonel climbed out, hurrying over to him.

  “Sir!” The colonel saluted smartly.

  “Report, Colonel,” Yo-Tsai said, ignoring the man’s salute.

  “We were attacked, sir.”

  “By whom?”

  “The guildsmen, sir. They escaped just before the fleet deployed. We had units looking for them ….” He stopped, shaking his head.

  “I take it you didn’t find them,” Yo-Tsai observed, coldly.

  “No, sir. They stole one of the reserve battalion transports, and crashed it into the headquarters building.”

  “And what was my reserve commander doing while they stole his ship?” Yo-Tsai asked. “His entire battalion just stood by and watched while this happened?”

  “No, sir. They’re dead, too. They – they were ambushed at their staging area. They counter-attacked, but it was a trap.”

  “There were only seven of them,” Yo-Tsai pointed out.

  “The guildsmen, sir?” the colonel asked, licking his lips nervously. “We believe there were eleven, counting the ones who assisted in their escape.”

  “Eleven,” Yo-Tsai said, flatly. “Eleven men wiped out an entire battalion, and captured one of my transports.”

  “Two transports, sir. They crashed the first one here, and escaped on the second one.”

  Yo-Tsai clenched his jaw tight, and then turned to a battle captain. “Take me to the prisoner. His punishment commences immediately.”

  33

  Rath pulled against the restraints again, testing them experimentally. The leather cuffs at his ankles moved slightly, but the ones around his wrists kept his arms pinned securely to the hospital gurney. The belt across his chest was so tight that he was forced to take short, shallow breaths. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay calm.

  He heard the lock in the cell door click, and then the door swung open, admitting a man in a white lab coat. Rath watched the man set a metal carrying case on a table and flick the buckles open. He withdrew a metal collar and then turned and placed it around Rath’s neck, clipping it shut.

  “You guys are worried I’m going to change my appearance?” Rath asked.

  The doctor shook his head. “This device doesn’t interfere with your facial implants,” he said.

  “What is it, then?” Rath asked.

  “It’s a hemobot compiler,” the doctor said. “It gives us direct control over the nanomachines in your bloodstream.”

  “So I can’t kill myself before you’ve had your fun,” Rath guessed.

  “Yes,” the doctor agreed. “And it will enable us to do … other things, too.”

  The doctor took a datascroll out of the carrying case, and entered several commands into it.

  >>>Warning, Rath’s internal computer displayed. Hemobot connection lost.

  “Guards,” the doctor called. He picked up the carrying case and left the room.

  Two soldiers entered, and while one covered him with a stun pistol, the other set to work unstrapping Rath. When the guard was finished, he stood Rath up, and attached a pair of handcuffs to Rath’s wrists. Then they marched Rath down the hall, and outside.

  The day was overcast and gray, and Rath, stripped down to just a pair of thin briefs and the metal collar, shivered in the cool wind. The guards led him down the camp’s cen
tral roadway, his bare feet kicking up dust. Gaunt, frail camp inmates glanced furtively at him as he passed them by, then cast their eyes downward.

  They look like skeletons, Rath thought. Living skeletons.

  Rath and his guards passed a final set of buildings, and emerged onto a large, open plaza in the middle of the camp, ringed on all sides with barracks buildings. Rath noted a row of thick wooden stakes in the middle of the plaza, and several hundred armed Jokuan soldiers formed up in ranks, facing the stakes. He saw other soldiers manning the plaza’s perimeter, including sand-bagged machine gun positions on the roofs of several of the buildings. An armored truck sat parked at each corner of the square, and Rath’s enhanced hearing picked up the sound of a drone hovering high overhead.

  That’s an awful lot of firepower just to make sure I die.

  They drew near the wooden stakes, and Rath saw General Yo-Tsai, talking with a group of senior officers, including the doctor who had attached Rath’s collar. His guards brought him to the center stake, and one of them grabbed a length of chain from the top of the stake, attaching it to Rath’s handcuffs. Then he pulled the chain taut, yanking Rath’s arms up above his head, until most of his weight was hanging from the chain, his feet barely touching the packed earth. Rath winced, but stayed silent.

  Yo-Tsai broke away from the group and walked over to Rath.

  “I’m flattered you brought so many spectators,” Rath said, nodding toward the soldiers in formation.

  “They’re here to ensure your friends don’t come back, and try to pull another of their stunts,” Yo-Tsai said. “Though my men will undoubtedly be entertained by all of this, too. But the real spectators are the people of the galaxy. Your death will show them all what happens when you resist the might of Jokuan.”

  Over Yo-Tsai’s shoulder, Rath saw a soldier set a video camera on a tripod, and adjust it momentarily. He stepped back, and saluted Yo-Tsai.

  “We’re ready to stream the video, sir.”

  “Very good,” Yo-Tsai said.

  “I don’t get a trial?” Rath asked.

  “You want another trial?” Yo-Tsai replied, chuckling.

  “No,” Rath decided. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Yo-Tsai smiled. “Turn the video on.” He faced the camera. “People of the Federacy: Rath Kaldirim has been found guilty of crimes against the Jokuan people.” Yo-Tsai turned. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I’m guilty,” Rath said.

  A surprised look flickered across Yo-Tsai’s face.

  “I’m guilty,” Rath continued, “of murdering fifty innocent people as a contractor in the Janus Group. One of those people was Pono leGris, a native of Jokuan. A freedom fighter who stood up against the injustices of the Jokuan regime.”

  “Pono leGris was a terrorist and a criminal,” Yo-Tsai said, arching an eyebrow. “You’re being punished for your actions on Tarkis.”

  “I was defending my home planet against an illegal invasion,” Rath said.

  “You used deceit to ambush nearly a dozen brave soldiers of Jokuan as they attempted to bring peace and prosperity to the planet of Tarkis,” Yo-Tsai corrected him.

  “‘Peace and prosperity’? Tarkis was peaceful before you arrived, and you were trying to steal its prosperity.” Rath turned his head to the side and spat. “And I killed way more than a dozen of your shitbag soldiers. Give me some credit.”

  “For your crimes,” Yo-Tsai continued, unfazed, “you are sentenced to death. In your bloodstream are thousands of hemobots. Normally they help you heal when you are sick or wounded. Some of them will continue to do so, to keep you alive as long as possible.” Yo-Tsai walked over to Rath, and pointed at the metal hemobot compiler around his neck. “But with this device, we will reprogram the rest of your hemobots to attack your cells, and systematically destroy you, from the inside out. My medical experts have devised a course of treatment that will result in maximum, prolonged suffering. They will ensure your vital organs are kept intact while you lose your extremities, slowly, piece by piece. You’ll remain awake, without food or medication, and tied to this stake the entire time. Each day, a new battalion of troops will rotate in to observe your punishment. I promised my men you would suffer for what you did. And I keep my promises.”

  The general raised an eyebrow. “The doctor assures me that he’ll be able to keep you alive for at least a month. He believes you should still be conscious and functioning after losing more than seventy percent of your body. I’m looking forward to finding out.”

  Yo-Tsai stepped back and gestured to the doctor. The man touched a button on the screen of his datascroll. Rath felt a twinge in his gut. A tickle at first, like the brush of a feather. Then, with a suddenness and intensity that took his breath away, the pain washed over him, spreading throughout his body. Rath’s whole body tensed, contorting as it dangled from the stake, his mouth stretched wide in a rictus of shock and agony. Then he screamed.

  * * *

  The minutes stretched into hours, each one an agonizing eternity. Rath tried to distract himself, but every time he found something to occupy his mind, a fresh attack struck him in a new location, and the different pain sensation grabbed his full attention.

  At one point, hours after he had lost his voice, he realized that night had fallen. A series of floodlights illuminated the plaza. Rath saw that a new batch of troops had been marched into the square, replacing the old battalion – he had not been aware of them changing places. Yo-Tsai was gone, but the doctor remained nearby, checking his datascroll from time to time, monitoring Rath’s progress closely. Rath wasn’t sure if it was the same doctor from the morning or not. But the video camera was still on, its black lens focused on him, unblinking.

  His gut churned, and he dry-heaved, but his stomach had emptied itself hours ago. He decided to focus on the dull ache from his wrists, where he hung from the handcuffs chained to the stake – that, at least, was constant. And then a new spike of pain stabbed him in the back, and he shut his eyes, writhing.

  * * *

  They dumped a bucket of cold water on him near dawn. Rath realized they were cleaning him – he had soiled himself at some point. He was bleeding from several open wounds at different points on his body – the hemobot damage had pierced his skin in some locations. He watched, in gruesome fascination, as one of the wounds on his chest slowly enlarged, the flesh at the edges being eaten away by the invisible machines. Blood trickled down his chest, mingling with the watery mud at his feet.

  Yo-Tsai came back, hours later, and lifted Rath’s chin off his chest. Rath’s eyes rolled in their sockets.

  “Are you ready to repent your crimes against Jokuan, Guildsman?” he asked.

  Rath shook his head, weakly.

  Yo-Tsai said something else, but Rath couldn’t focus on the words. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

  “Is he passing out?” he heard Yo-Tsai ask.

  “No, sir,” he heard another man reply. “Just delirious. I can keep him awake and conscious, but there’s no way to keep him mentally sound.”

  Yo-Tsai grunted, and turned back to Rath.

  “What does it feel like, 621?”

  Rath mumbled a response.

  “What did you say?” Yo-Tsai asked. The general leaned in close.

  “Absolution,” Rath whispered.

  When Rath looked up again, night had fallen, and Yo-Tsai was gone.

  34

  Dasi settled herself back into the helmsman’s seat on the bridge of the Rampart Guardian, and scanned the controls.

  >>>Two minutes until arrival at Anchorpoint, Six told her.

  Got it, she replied. Six, I’ve been thinking about something.

  >>>What is it, Dasi?

  We were a pretty good team back on Tarkis, she thought. But I think we can be better.

  >>>In what way?

  Before, I told you not to hack anything unless I specifically asked you to, right?

  >>>That was your guidance, Six agreed. T
he sole exception was in cases of emergency, when I could prevent harm coming to you.

  Right. But it’s a little slow if I have to ask you to hack something, and then you do it, and then you tell me when you’re ready. And we’re going to need to move fast when we get to Anchorpoint. IP’s going to be looking for this ship, and if Foss sees us coming, he could send the entire station after us.

  >>>Are you suggesting we optimize the process somehow?

  Yeah, Dasi told him. I want you to have already hacked the systems I need, before I need them. We’re going to put that predictive algorithm of yours to work.

  >>>To be clear, which systems should I hack?

  All of them, Dasi thought. Anything you can get access to that we might need.

  >>>Very well. I have started by asserting control over the Rampart Guardian’s systems. You should be able to fly the ship with thought alone. I will interpret your thoughts into the correct commands for the flight system.

  The viewscreen at the front of the bridge lit up, and a starfield appeared, with a massive asteroid in the center, and the two old battleships anchored to it. She could see repair ships tethered over the gaping hole from Yo-Tsai’s attack, their running lights blinking.

  >>>Now that we have left FTL travel, I have reconnected to the internet, Six told her. I am accessing Anchorpoint systems now.

  The communicator on Dasi’s console flashed red a moment later. She reached for it instinctively, then stopped herself.

  Answer communicator, she thought. The light turned to green. She smiled.

  “Rampart Guardian,” the communicator’s speaker barked. “Your ship has been randomly selected for customs inspection by Anchorpoint IP. Heave to and prepare to be boarded.”

  ‘Randomly selected,’ my ass, Dasi thought. IP has been on the lookout for this ship ever since it busted Rath out of jail back on Scapa.

  She frowned in thought for a moment, and then pressed the Talk button. “Can you check your records again, Anchorpoint?” she asked.