The Bounty Hunter: Resurrection

by Joseph Anderson

Another wave of bullets crashed into Burke. They splattered themselves against the front of his armor. He reached for his rifle and quickly brought it in front of him. He loosened his grip on the weapon to shift it in his hands. A third series of shots came just as his fingers relaxed their grip. Two shots slammed into the stock of the rifle and knocked it cleanly out of his hands and onto the floor. He heard it clatter as it fell.

  He didn’t waste time looking for his rifle. He looked to Shaw instead. The man remembered how uselessly his bullets had been before and shifted on his feet. Burke anticipated his next move and slid his feet into a better position to meet the man’s attack. Shaw kicked off the floor and raced forward. Burke held his hands out and braced himself.

  “Are you ready?” he asked quickly.

  “Yes,” Cass answered.

  Shaw jumped from the floor and, like he had on the bridge, led with his feet into Burke’s chest. Burke latched his hands onto his legs as they made contact, leaning into the force of the double kick just as Cass locked the suit in place. Burke’s augmented leg and armor tensed in time with the release of Shaw’s legs, absorbing the blow enough that they only shuddered in place. The man began to fall and Cass released the armor’s legs. Burke held on as he swung the man in place, doing a full turn before he released the man’s legs and sent him hurtling wildly across the room.

  Burke moved quickly for his rifle. He had the weapon back in his hands before Shaw was back on his feet. Burke turned to see that Lumen was still seemingly incapacitated in the corner of the room. He turned away from her to face Shaw.

  “I’m keeping watch on her,” Cass said.

  Burke nodded once and then raised his rifle. He lined up a shot as Shaw surged forward at him for another attack. He fired one bullet as a warning: the armor piercing round blasted from the barrel of the rifle, spinning rapidly through the air between them and landing in Shaw’s right shoulder. The bullet bored through the outer portion of the augmented arm and then slashed through its inner circuitry. It broke through the other side of the man’s shoulder in a shower of shredded parts and fluid. Shaw stopped in place, clearly shocked that the bullet had dealt him damage.

  “Stop now!” Burke shouted through the helmet. His voice was loud through the helmet’s external speaker.

  “Broken,” the man said back and raced forward again.

  Burke gritted his teeth. He aimed the rifle again and then lowered it instead of taking another shot. He held the weapon in only his right hand as he twisted in place to meet Shaw’s attack, triggering the blade in his left forearm as he did so. The blade streaked across Shaw’s augmented arms in a flourish of sparks, denying the man’s attack. Burke twisted his arm again and then punched the man in the stomach, driving him back away from him. He raised the rifle again.

  “Stop!”

  Shaw took another step and Burke fired. The bullet punctured Shaw’s left leg and was quickly lost inside of it, tearing up the inner machinery as it lost its momentum. Shaw stumbled forward, nearly falling when he put his weight on the broken leg.

  “You’re not taking me back,” the man muttered as he fell forward, raising an arm in a punch that landed pathetically on Burke’s chest.

  Burke raised his right leg and set it against Shaw’s stomach. He triggered the leg and sent the man once more flying through the room. His back struck against the far wall and he fell down, slumped on the floor with the back of his head on the wall. He was twitching in place, moving what limbs he could while the others creaked, unable to work. Burke walked slowly toward him.

  “Not. Taking. Back,” it took effort for Shaw to say each word.

  His chest was heaving with each breath. More dark fluid was leaking from his wounded shoulder and leg. A whirling sound emitted from his shoulder as he raised the gun in his arm toward Burke. Then it fell to the floor and he lifted it with his other hand, twisting it in place like it was a tool rather than one of his own arms. He kept moving the barrel of the gun up, at Burke, then past him, and turned it at his own head.

  Burke narrowed his eyes. He knew the same protective plating had been installed on Shaw’s face. He saw the faint hexagonal scales under his eyes and around his nose. Still, the man turned the gun on himself, placing it against his cheek and then moving it up.

  “Wait!” Cass yelled suddenly. “No! Stop him!”

  The barrel of the gun passed over his left eye just as Burke understood her warning.

  “Not. Back. Broken,” Shaw breathed and the gun fired. Three bullets spurted into his eye and ripped into his head. The armor plating stopped the bullets from exiting his skull. They bounced inside of him, rending his brain and all of its implants, before they finally stopped. The man went limp against the wall, dead.

  Burke stared down at him. He felt the rifle go loose in his right hand. He trusted Cass to cover his back while he looked down at the dead man. He thought he had been prepared to kill the two fugitives if they gave him no other choice, but he felt only defeat as he stood over the dead body. The blood from the man’s ruptured eye fell and was lost in the dark liquid from his broken augments.

  “Burke,” Cass said softly. “The other one might still be alive.”

  He turned slowly and walked across the room. He walked through the artificial light from the window and ignored the sound of the water flowing outside. He looked over the woman, still on her back on the floor, and saw that her eyes were closed and that she wasn’t moving. Her stomach was exposed and he kneeled down to look at the small amount of blood that had leaked from where he had shot her.

  “She’s alive,” Cass said.

  Despite how he felt, he didn’t release his face plate. He knew all too well how quickly she could stab him through the gap in the helmet. He leaned closer instead, and spoke clearly through the external speaker.

  “Lumen Greer? Can you hear me?”

  The woman didn’t move or answer. He had to look closely to see that her chest was rising as she breathed. He placed a hand on her cheek and pushed her gently. Her head moved as he moved her. When he let go it fell back to rest on the floor again.

  “She can’t be asleep,” he said. “What should we do?”

  “We can’t leave her,” Cass said. “And we can’t give her back to Spectrum. Nor the police. We should help her.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she said. “But we should at least try, don’t you think?”

  A few moments passed before he nodded. Slowly, he put his hands under her: his left arm behind her knees and his right arm under her back. He tried to keep her head resting against him as much as possible as he walked out of the building. The rain fell on her as he carried her through the streets toward where Cass had called the ship. By the time they reached the Brisbane, Lumen’s hair was soaked. The blood and smear on her stomach was half washed away, the barest scratch remained as if she had never been shot at all.

  * * *

  Three days later, Burke was in the meeting room of his ship.

  The main screen displayed the weather reports for Liveria below them: varying degrees of rain for the heavier populated areas, and some dry patches for the less densely packed districts. Rylan sat across the table from Burke. They were silent as they ate.

  The screen changed as the news program transitioned from local weather back to galactic wide news. Daina Everwood appeared, smiling as the introduction to the show played out and faded away.

  “Our current guest has been the center of substantial controversy this week after his statements at the Jupiter summit over the future of the Earth. Senator Rinehart, welcome.”

  The camera cut to show Langley Rinehart instead of Everwood. He nodded once at the camera. His smile was comfortable and confident. The camera panned back to show the two at the same time, sitting across from each other at a large news desk. The news ticker that ran at the bottom of the screen was mirrored in the surface of the table.

  “Thank you for having me,” Rinehart said. “Now, right away, I w
ant to make it clear that I don’t think what I said should be considered radical or, ‘controversial’ as you said. How could defending your home ever be looked upon as something negative?”

  “Surely, Senator,” Everwood began, “you appreciate the position of Prime Minister Milish. You have to admit that the dross are a threat to everyone.”

  “Absolutely,” Rinehart replied, nodding one too many times. “And that is precisely why the most extensive and advanced network of satellites that has ever been created are currently blanketing Earth’s orbit. There are multiple battleships in the system of Sol that have the sole mission of shooting down any ship that attempts an unauthorized landing on the planet.”

  “Many races are still uncomfortable that the dross continue to live at all. What would you say to them?”

  “To have faith in us. Sol is a restricted system for a reason. There hasn’t been a single incident of dross escaping Earth or being a threat to anyone since the planet was abandoned. This new insistence to purge Earth is ludicrous. It’s offensive to every human and offensive to every member of every race who has love for their home planet. Furthermore, it shows a distinct lack of trust in our military to thwart any attempt to capture a dross. It makes me extremely uncomfortable.”

  “What of Mars, Senator?” Everwood asked, keeping her voice neutral. “The loss of Mars was a key topic during the summit. Some say it’s the clearest evidence that the dross need to be destroyed.”

  “The Martian disaster happened during the war, not after it,” Rinehart glared across the desk. “It’s disgusting how quickly people forget that fact. We didn’t know what we were dealing with in those early days. That ship was filled with dross for that very reason—to take them to a facility for study.”

  Everwood straightened her back. Burke gave the display his undivided attention. He had never seen Daina Everwood lose her composure.

  “That being said,” she began, “don’t we have a responsibility to the other members of the galaxy? This shouldn’t be a matter of faith or trust. Many feel that a danger such as the dross, one that verges close to apocalyptic levels, should be eradicated no matter what.”

  “We have some responsibility,” Rinehart replied. “We have a larger responsibility to ourselves and to our history. Earth created us. We were born from that planet. That sets us apart from other races, and them from us. We never shared a home world. We are separate.”

  “How is that any different from the antiquated prejudice from Earth’s past? Many people throughout history used your exact argument to describe people from other continents. Different races on Earth alone never interacted for centuries. How is that different?”

  “Please,” Rinehart gave a short laugh and smiled. “I refuse to lower myself to even answer that question. The difference is plain to anyone who bothers to look. Or think.”

  “So it’s not about racism for you, Senator?” Everwood said, her voice level. “You’re pleased about the recent marriages between humans and their vruan partners?

  “I may not understand it, but I’m very happy for them,” Rinehart answered, his smile too wide and his eyes too fixated on Everwood’s.

  “I’m glad to hear it. Thank you for joining us, Senator,” she replied, and turned to face the camera.

  Burke lowered the volume as the display changed to local news. He had heard the report from Liveria about the “string of murders coming to a mysterious end” too many times throughout the day. Worst of all was the representatives from Spectrum Industries publically mourning the murdered researchers.

  “It’s wrong that they’ll get away with it,” Rylan said suddenly.

  “Maybe,” Burke answered.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like Cass said,” Burke watched the pilot carefully as he mentioned her name. “They didn’t know Lumen and Shaw were still alive. They thought the implant had made them functionally brain dead. They weren’t experimenting on them for no reason. They signed waivers.”

  “It’s still wrong.”

  “I know that.”

  Burke cut through a piece of his steak and forked it into his mouth. He took a bite and was disappointed. The meat was too dry. It was a new meal he was trying and he was having trouble with it. Searing the meat wasn’t helping.

  “You fought on Earth, right?” Rylan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think about Milish’s proposal?”

  “I don’t,” Burke said simply and got out of his seat.

  He carried his plate to the kitchen and dumped the food. He put his plate in the dishwasher and left the room. In the corridor, he looked to the helm and then to the engine room. He walked to the rear of the ship. Cass’s voice emitted from the ceiling above him, following him smoothly as he continued to walk.

  “You’re being too hard on him,” she said.

  “I’m angry. And he deserves it.”

  “It’s not his fault that one of them died,” she replied.

  “His constant comments about the news aren’t helping that.”

  He walked down the stairs and around the engine. Close as he was, the thrum of the engine was loud enough that he could no longer hear Cass. He walked quickly to the back of the ship and entered the small room that they used for storage. With the door closed behind him, the engine sounded like a distant hum.

  Three days earlier, he had emptied two of the crates in the room and pushed them together. He had taken spare bedding from the unused bedroom and draped it over the top of the crates. Lumen now lay on top of them. Cass had directed him through the process of connecting Lumen’s augments to the ship. He had removed her arms and legs and then taken off a panel in the ceiling of the room. Close to the engine as they were, it was easier to find cables that they could reroute and connect to Lumen’s exposed shoulder and leg sockets.

  Burke looked at her and had trouble seeing a person through the forest of wires and cables that hung down from the ceiling.

  “Have you made any progress?”

  “A little,” Cass replied. “It’s difficult. I’m learning as I go from what I can take from Spectrum’s network. The link in her brain makes it seem like a computer sometimes, but parts of it baffle me.”

  “What do you mean a computer?”

  “The information was transported between Lumen and Shaw like I move files in my system. Maybe they did this experiment to improve memory transplants for robotics. If experiences could be copied from a person and refined for a robot, it would solve a lot of problems in automation.”

  “You’re too far ahead of me,” Burke said.

  “We fight slavers a lot. The reason slaves are still worth the trouble of capturing is because robot workers require too much micromanagement. If their programs could be supplemented with experience from a person, or an AI, that could change things. There’s a reason I’m so special, remember?” she said like she was grinning.

  “Enslaving an AI is just as bad,” Burke said slowly.

  “If this technology improves that won’t be necessary. Small, precise memories can be used and copied like files. The robot is now perfect at that task. There’s no need to make a consciousness. Everyone wins.”

  “What does that mean for Lumen?”

  “Right now, not enough,” Cass said. “From what I can gather, she’s hollow inside. It’s like her memories were dragged out of her when Shaw died. The link severed and took all of her experiences with it. She’s empty.”

  “Brain dead?”

  “No. Everything is functioning properly. She’s like a newborn again, except the maturity level of her body and brain is causing problems. I could rebuild her memories. Maybe.”

  “Maybe? Fake memories?”

  “I don’t know, Burke,” Cass stated. “Wouldn’t rebuilding her into a new person be better than just letting her die? Just because her memories are gone doesn’t mean the rest is. There’s still a consciousness in her. What would you do?”

  “I have no idea,” he said hon
estly. “No matter what you decide, you have my help. You know that.”

  “Of course.”

  He nodded and turned from the room. He closed the door behind him and climbed the stairs. He watched Rylan exit the kitchen and they exchanged a look before the pilot went down the corridor and into the command room. Burke turned at his bedroom and walked inside.

  He sat at his computer terminal and read through the series of messages he had received, skimming most of them. There was one of the regular messages from Natalie, a woman who worked at ACU. She had been the one that taught Burke how to use his aegis when he purchased it from them. He smiled when he read her message. The momentary peace he bought at reading her words made him stop. He flipped his contacts on the terminal and stopped at her name.

  “Burke?” her face appeared on the screen after a few moments.

  “That’s me.”

  “I wasn’t expecting a call,” she said, but smiled despite her words.

  “I was wondering if you’d be interested in more than that.”

  “Oh?” she angled her head back.

  “You mentioned you have some time off coming up. Do you feel like meeting my new ship?”

  “Tempting,” Natalie’s smile widened. “I need to speak with Cass, anyway.”

  “Cass? What about?”

  “Oh, you know. Tech stuff. Things you won’t understand.”

  Burke rolled his eyes. Natalie laughed. He leaned closer to the terminal and, at least for a little while, completely forgot about what he had done on the planet below them.

  The following is a preview for the next story in the Bounty Hunter series: Soldier’s Wrath.

  Adam Bancroft stood in the cargo hold of the ship and narrowed his eyes at his partner. Burke set the girl down on the floor. She was unresponsive—she stared blankly at the ceiling of the room and said nothing as the bounty hunters spoke.

  “We’ve done our job,” Adam said.

  “I’m not leaving all those people behind just because we weren’t hired to get them.”