Project Destiny

by Justin Sloan

  “Like this,” the man called down, then ran and pushed off with the support of his exoskeleton, thrusters giving him an extra push. He landed on one of the far pillars, disappearing from sight. Then he was back, motioning for Stealth to join him. “Hurry now, we don’t have all day.”

  Stealth glanced around, confused. “I’m a bit stuck down here.”

  “Bull. If you were getting shot at by the guilds… or if that creature you saw was coming at you, you’d find a way. Now do it.”

  Another moment passed as Stealth racked his brain for how to get out of this, but Tropical was impatient.

  “You need extra motivation? Done.” A click of Tropical’s fingers, and the lights were off again, space back. Stealth had the eerie feeling that he was standing on nothingness.

  A shifting in the air, a movement below him… and then the red eyes were coming, growing closer. Every instinct told Stealth to run for his life, even though he knew it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be, and he’d just been told it wasn’t. Still, that beast was scary as hell.

  Legs moved on their own, mind going into fight or flight mode, and soon Stealth was leaping to push off of the nearest pillar with a kick, then reaching for the next one over as climbing hooks emerged from the wrist-guard portion of his exoskeleton.

  He hit with a thump but held on, then began to work his way up the pillar.

  “That’s what I’m talking about, boy!” Tropical said as he landed on the same pillar and leaned over to watch. He reached out a hand when Stealth was close enough, pulling him up to stand together on the top. The simulation had the beast appear—a brief moment of visibility, its wings spread out and its massive teeth gleaming in the dim light, and then it was gone.

  “Please tell me that’s not a real thing out here,” Stealth said, catching his breath.

  “You mean, have we discovered a secret alien race that somewhat resembles dragons?” Tropical laughed. “Boy, you’re hilarious. Nah, just something I cooked up in my spare time. I’m what they like to call the training design genius around here. Okay, I’m the one who started the title, but it fits and you’re free to call me by it.”

  “Deal, as long as you promise to tell me if we ever do come across aliens like that, because that’s the day I’m calling it quits.”

  “Me too! Dragons in space? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard… but it’s damn fun in a training simulation.”

  Now that Stealth was out of the fake danger, he had to agree. It was pretty amazingly well done.

  “Ready for more, then?” Tropical asked, then laughed. “Hell, why am I asking? Ready or not, here they come!”

  “Here what come?” Stealth asked, but the words were wasted. His answer came as the lights flashed and a fake thunderstorm kicked in.

  The whole room transformed into what looked like a scene from some alien planet, space all around them and fighter jets sweeping past as they engaged each other above. The pillars and ropes became mounds of rocks and vines, the other side lit with a welcoming orange glow and the look of a cave.

  “Go into the light,” Tropical said, and then bounded off to the first pillar. Shots went past him, narrowly missing and appearing to explode on the nearby pillar. “Oh, and try not to get shot, right?”

  Before Stealth could reply, the other man was off again, leaping with his enhanced strength and mobility, using his thrusters at times. The whole experience was like watching a dancer at play, and as Stealth was about to follow, he paused, a memory hitting him.

  A woman, dancing. She leaped, spun, spread her arms out like she was giving an invisible person an embrace, and then twirled gracefully away to repeat the steps. The dance was the most emotional, beautiful glimpse of his past Stealth had recalled yet, and it hit him in the gut as if part of him were torn away. In fact, he realized it was.

  There was a whole part of him that wasn’t there anymore, and he wanted answers. He stood still, trying to pull this memory forward, to get a glimpse of her face… but failing. And as he did so, he became more and more committed to going to look for answers, that he was—“ACK!”

  A shot hit him, causing his suit to seize up and vibrate in a simulated hit, and he went flying back and off the pillar. He fell and again hit the spot where the air kept him afloat.

  “That’s a new record, Tropical,” a woman’s voice came over the speakers as the fighting ships continued around Stealth. He pushed himself to standing, hovering on fake air, and then began his climb back up. “Not even a jump before getting hit. Is this newb going to even try?”

  “Not a newb, exactly,” Tropical called out from the other side of the room. “But… he’s not doing the best job of showing that. Stealth, boy, you going to keep screwing me like this, or are you going to get your head in the game?”

  “Watch this,” Stealth shouted, leaping up the last few feet to grab the top of the pillar and pull himself over. This sudden nostalgia and craving to understand a past that he had lost had taken over, and it was sending a revived excitement through him. But he knew that the best way to get answers was to not be questioned, to rise to the top and show them he was the best—those on top always got away with more, had access to more.

  This was his way to find answers, if there were any to be had, so he committed to it. The shots came again and he was ready, already running and leaping over them. He landed two pillars over, rolling to avoid new shots, and then running across one of the ropes, as the next pillar was too far off. Halfway there, he pushed with his thrusters, reaching for the next ledge… and a shot hit him.

  Again he shook, falling, and landing on the fluff of air. Dammit.

  This went on twice more before he found himself leaping through the air, pushing off of the last pillar with barely a toe-tap, and then hurtling toward the orange light where Tropical waited. Shots came, but narrowly missed, and then Stealth had landed at Tropical’s feet and promptly tore off his helmet to dry heave. His muscles, as strong and enhanced as they were, ached like they hadn’t in a long time.

  “The armor demands more of you,” Tropical said with a grin, his own helmet off too. He reached down and helped Stealth to his feet. “Arms up, behind your head. It opens the lungs, lets you breathe.”

  “This isn’t my first time with the exoskeleton and armor,” Stealth replied.

  “Ah, but you’re playing with the big boys now. This equipment here? Top of the line, but no one can operate it if they don’t have what it takes. You put a non-mod in one of these, they’ll likely fall down dead from exhaustion within the hour.”

  Stealth nodded, focused on his breathing and the tingling he’d come to know that accompanied his body’s healing process. He couldn’t imagine a time before the modifications. When he had been a non-mod, had he been the same man? He wondered how such changes to one’s physical self affected the mental self, and what that meant for the person as a whole.

  There was no denying that people changed when their bodies did. Even from youth to adult, some people found themselves unable to relate to who they had once been. He vaguely remembered a quote about adults being the ghosts of their childhood selves, and chuckled.

  “Something funny?” Tropical said, nodding toward the far wall and the door that was now visible on it.

  “Just can’t believe I made it,” Stealth lied. “I’m pumped up, ready for my first mission.”

  A glance showed Tropical was skeptical, but then he laughed and clapped Stealth on the shoulder. “Boy, you’re going to love it here.”

  Outside the chamber, a young woman waited with a stats screen in her hand. She had her hair shaved in a buzzcut, with stark blue eyes under thin eyebrows that arched up toward her temples. The blue eyes especially stood out against her dark skin. Her uniform was the same style as Tropical’s—black with green lines, but she didn’t wear the armor or exoskeleton. At least, not at the moment.

  “Our boy brought it at the end, eh, Trish?” Tropical said, then turned to Stealth and nodded toward the woman. “She
’ll be your best friend when in training. You want to know how you’re improving, she keeps all the data.”

  “Let me guess,” Stealth said to her, “your call sign’s Data?”

  She frowned. “Just call me Trish. And no, Trop, our boy has a long way to go.”

  “But at the end,” Tropical protested, “did you see—”

  She waved him off, turning to Stealth with a glare. “Where was your head?”

  “You’re saying everyone who enters that place gets into it right away?” Stealth shrugged. “First time… caught me off guard. Apologies.”

  “Don’t bring us excuses. Bring us your full focus, your dedication every step of the way. You lose yourself like that in the field, people die. Trop here dies. You want Trop dead? Is that what this is, some vendetta against us all, so you come out here and slack while everyone around you gets their damn heads blown off?”

  “Trish…” Tropical pursed his lips, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. “Maybe you just say he has a long way to go at the end. Next time, I mean.”

  She scoffed, still staring at Stealth. “I heard what happened to Red.”

  “News travels fast,” he replied, annoyed that she’d bring that up so soon after it had happened, hating the insinuation that it was somehow his fault.

  With a deep breath, she glanced over to Tropical, nodded, and walked off. At the doorway, she paused and said, “Yeah, at the end he was off the charts. Tell him to keep that part of it up and he’ll do fine.”

  She exited, and finally Stealth took a moment to glance around at the room they were now in. Quite different from the other metallic rooms and halls, this one was white, with white couches and a bar along the wall. Tropical was already pouring them each a drink—single malt scotch. Not easily obtained up here.

  He held one out for Stealth. “Welcome to the team.”

  “Is everyone… like her?”

  Tropical laughed. “God, no. And you get used to her. Might even start to like her, if you’re not careful.”

  They clinked glasses and Stealth took a sip, savoring the scotch and swishing it around in his mouth for a moment. It had been too long.

  “Or are you one of them?” Tropical asked. “Too busy for relationships, focused on the job and all that.”

  “Close enough,” Stealth replied after swallowing. He held the glass up to his nose and breathed it in.

  “Yo, Trop,” Trish said, appearing back at the doorway, a frantic look in her eyes. “Your men are out there already, just got the call. They need you two, now.”

  “This is for real?” Stealth asked, eyeing the glass of scotch with regret as he set it down on the counter.

  Tropical, however, downed his and then nodded. He eyed the other glass, took it and downed that, too. “Hell yeah, it’s for real. And never waste this stuff. It’s fuel for the fight, in the type of fights we get into.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Stealth replied, picking up his helmet and catching the rifle Trish tossed his way.

  “Come on,” Tropical said, waving Stealth along. “Strap on some balls if you need ‘em, it’s time to meet the rest of the team.”

  “And this might be related to the guys who got Red,” Trish added with a nod at Stealth. “Go get ‘em, cowboy.”

  “If there’s a chance this is the same group, they’ll pay.” Stealth slammed on his helmet, glad for the opportunity to hide his broad smile. He looked forward to getting some justice.

  Tropical grinned, slamming his helmet’s faceplate down. The two made for it, Stealth eager to teach the lowlifes of this station that nobody messes with them. Almost as exciting was the prospect of finally getting to fight alongside Nightshade. He hoped that, when given the opportunity, he would show them what he was made of.

  6

  Alice: Lower Chambers - The Thieves Guild

  Damn these chambers and halls. They were causing Alice too much delay in reaching Intrepid. She paused to confer on the maps with Scorpio, assessing their surroundings to be sure it was the right place, then grabbed him by the chest and slammed him against the wall.

  “What the…?”

  “Shut up and laugh,” she said, leaning in close to him and smiling as she said, “And that’s when it fell in the toilet. You wouldn’t believe it if you were there yourself.”

  His eyes narrowed, then went wide and he laughed, wrapping his arm around her just in time as a group of PD soldiers ran past. One glanced their way, but didn’t give them a second look.

  When they had passed, Alice pulled free and swatted Scorpio’s hand away as he tried to pull her back close to him, jokingly—she hoped. That sort of group incest wasn’t going to help anyone, especially not right now.

  “It works for Norwal and—”

  “No,” she interrupted, hating when he guessed what she was thinking. “It doesn’t. They’re constantly putting us at risk with that adolescent B.S.”

  He shrugged, but the look in his eyes showed he clearly wasn’t done with this topic. She would have to find a time to sit down and have a discussion with him, but not now.

  Now they needed to focus. Intrepid’s quarters couldn’t be far off. The real issue here was a lack of time spent in this part of the space station. Fortunately, their map showed the way and Scorpio knew the signs for secret passages—often a barely noticeable carving left behind by a squad-affiliated engineer. At one point they noticed a small triangle with a circle at its top, which led to a long, narrow tunnel that twisted and turned. After travelling a distance down the dark corridor, Scorpio pointed out three circles with a wavy line through the middle. It led to an empty space behind the walls. Nothing fancy, but enough to get them where they were going, and fast.

  A sound came from nearby and a flashing light, dim. Barely noticeable.

  Scorpio, following closely behind Alice, grabbed her by the arm and nodded toward the light.

  “An intrusion detector?” Alice asked, having figured that’s what it was. If so, they needed to keep moving before some hacker squad or local gang came looking for them.

  “I don’t think so,” he replied. Motioning her toward the light, he took hold of a metal hinge next to it. He followed it around to the other side of the metal plating beside it, and then opened, slowly.

  Peering through the dark mesh, they could see feet moving. Heavily armored feet, at that. And low whispered conversation like that of soldiers looking for someone.

  “It’s a spy hole,” Scorpio whispered. “The light is triggered by the floor panels. Something we used to set up when I was part of Squad Thirty-Two.”

  “Sometimes I forget you’ve been at this much longer than I have.”

  He shrugged, watching them go, then turned with a realization. “They’re already here. Which means…”

  “We might be too late.” Alice cursed under her breath and then continued on, motioning to his wrist to check the maps.

  “This way,” he said at a fork in the walkway, then paused at a doorway. “According to this—”

  “Open up!” a voice shouted from the other side of the doorway, and for a moment Alice was sure they’d been found out.

  Scorpio shook his head. “That’s Intrepid’s guild hall, not more than ten paces past this door. Apparently, someone’s giving them trouble.”

  “Glad to see more than just the Heel standing up to these bastards.”

  “Bastards you used to work for,” Scorpio replied with a taunting smile.

  Was he trying to get her worked up? She held up a fist in warning, careful to keep her voice down. “Lesson learned. I saw the evil in their ways.”

  He nodded, then started moving his hands along the wall. “There’s got to be another viewing port around here. We need to see what we’re dealing with.”

  Alice joined him, listening intently to the muffled arguing. At a gunshot, she froze, then noticed her hand had just grazed a hinge. She had found the spy hole. Pulling it open, she hissed at Scorpio to join her.

&nbs
p; The team of PD soldiers were taking up position, one of them kneeling right next to the peephole, others aimed to Alice’s left and a woman shouting for someone to stop.

  “It’s her,” Scorpio said, voice full of awe.

  “We’re looking for Intrepid,” Alice hissed. “What her?”

  “There,” he said, pointing.

  Alice had to lower her head to look up at the angle he indicated. They were still near ground level, but higher than they had been. Through the black mesh that helped to conceal them, she was able to make out a tall woman in black body armor with purple lines at the seams and running down her arms and legs. She wore a half-helmet, an eye shield that lit up purple, likely feeding her information.

  At the sight of her, Alice had no doubts who this was. Nightshade herself.

  If they were sending Nightshade after her team, this was reaching all new heights.

  A shot rang out, followed by several four-round bursts. The first shot must have come from someone else. Intrepid, perhaps?

  “Run!” a voice called. Young, by the sound of it. “I’ll hold them—”

  More shots, cutting the voice off, then a shout of agony and anger, loud and growling almost. Alice knew it had to be Intrepid before she saw him. He plowed into one of the soldiers, tearing through him with a taser baton, sparks flying, then turning to use the man’s assault rifle against the next soldier.

  Nightshade was moving in for him, though, which meant Alice and Scorpio had to move.

  “The other passage,” Alice said, darting back the way they had come. Footsteps behind told her that Scorpio was hot on her trail. A pipe hung down at the turn and nearly caught Alice in the head. She ducked and slid around to find two teens peeping out of a half-opened door. Guild initiates, she figured, cursing as she pushed past them and burst out through the door.

  A flood of lights hit her as two soldiers turned, caught by surprise. Thud, thud… both hit the ground, their lights zigzagging around the dark corridor. Intrepid stepped forward, baton in hand, and Alice clutched her heart.