The Shattered Empire (The Shadow Space Chronicles Book 2)

by Kal Spriggs

  “Yes, sir,” Garret said. He frowned in thought. When he'd left, he hadn't stayed in touch with anyone, for good reason. My father was vindictive enough, Garret thought darkly, that he would have used my old friends against me. Of course, he could always try to to talk to Jessica...

  “I'll figure something out, sir,” Garret said. Yet he felt a spike of unease. If there was some mysterious leverage, then he didn't doubt that his father was involved up to his neatly trimmed beard. Spencer Penwaithe lived off of wealth and power like food and drink... and his plots were always labyrinthine. For that matter, the new President was one of his father's old cronies, which basically ensured that his father was running things, or thought he was, from behind the scenes. Getting involved in this would almost definitely draw him into his father's schemes yet again. On the other hand, with the fate of the War Dogs on the line, there wasn't really much choice. Garret let out a deep breath, “After all, I remember where my loyalty lies.”

  “Good,” Commodore Pierce gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Oh, and when Mannetti's people call you back on the missiles, tell them there was an accounting error and that we're hiking the price by ten percent.”

  ***

  Eldorado, Garris Major System

  Colonial Republic

  May 3, 2403

  Mason and Lauren followed the ornately dressed monk towards the pillars of the monastery. After his initial announcement, he had deflected Mason's other questions. Lauren found him irritating. She didn't hold with holy men, not of any stripe. In her mind, any kind of higher power would have gotten itself involved already if it cared. What that meant was that either God didn't exist or he didn't care, in Lauren's book.

  What that left holy men, in her regard, was either dupes or charlatans. The obvious intelligence of the monk suggested that he was the latter. They stepped under the awning of the monastery. The large stone pillars that upheld the ornate roof also divided the structure into separate areas. Up close, Lauren could see that there were a number of glass display cases, which had held what looked like scrolls, stone tablets, and other odd artifacts. Had being the operative word, Lauren thought dryly.

  Someone had smashed the glass cases and torn bits of ancient parchment, smashed stone tablets, and broken glass littered the floors. Overturned tables marked a swath of destruction. The damage was complete and utterly thorough.

  Mason turned to Lan, “I'm so sorry. This is my fault...”

  “This is the fault of the men who did it,” Lan said, his voice calm. “I did not show you this to make you feel guilt, I showed you it so that you can see the determination of those who hunt you.”

  “What else did they do?” Mason asked. There was a detached tone to his voice, almost as if he were tapping into some part of him that did not involve emotion.

  “When I initially refused to divulge your location, they first threatened the collection of items we had here. I refused, so they destroyed them. They then threatened my people. However, I made it clear that not only would we not cooperate, but that I would kill myself rather than capitulate,” Lan said.

  Mason winced. Lauren gave the old man a skeptical look. Passive resistance in that form only went so far, in her mind. Granted, the mercenaries needed him alive, but she didn't see how the man could prove his determination short of acting on it. Lan caught her look and gave her a small smile, he raised his wrists. She saw, with shock, that he had two bandages, one over each of his wrists.

  “The mercenaries moved quickly to have a doctor save my life. After that, they did not further threaten my people, they merely made a recording, threatening the monastery, which they said they posted.”

  Mason sighed, “I'm sorry, Lan. I've been out of contact for the past few months with no way to find their message. Otherwise, I would have come sooner.”

  “Then I am disappointed in you,” Lan said, his voice calm. “I had assumed you realized that showing up would further endanger us, so you stayed away. The mercenaries would have left, eventually. Perhaps, then, they would have lived.” Lan turned, “I see that you have returned to violence.” The way he said it, Lauren could tell it wasn't a question.

  Mason looked away. “Some things happened.”

  “As I expected,” Lan said. “As happened here, the last time my people were under threat.” The monk sighed. “This, Mason, is why you had to leave before.”

  “Because he defends the people he cares about?” Lauren snapped. She was tired of seeing Mason lectured. Yes, he had done terrible things. Yes, he had a core of violence. If he used that in the right way, she didn't see the issue.

  “No, because his path, as always, is a different one,” Lan said. “I would not take a wolf pup, shear it, force it to eat grain, and run with the flock. To do so is to wrong the wolf and threatens the flock.” Lan cocked his head, “I might, instead, raise the wolf pup to protect the flock, feed it meat, and tame it... but again, this would be to wrong the wolf. This is not the path of the wolf.” Lan's gaze was calm as he met Lauren's eyes. “The wolf is a predator. He is not a sheep dog. He is not a sheep. He must hunt, must kill, it is in his nature.”

  Mason sighed, “So, what, you want me to return to what I was?”

  “The wolf who kills for no reason is not along his path either,” Lan said. “The wolf that hunts alone, without a pack, is less than himself.” The old man shrugged. “Truly, I merely wish for you to find the path that is right for you... and in that, I think you will finally find peace.”

  Mason turned away. He took a deep breath as he stared down at the ruins of the artifacts. “I'm sorry about what happened here.”

  “Do not be,” Lan said. “They are just objects, of little importance.” He smiled slightly, “Besides, we keep the actual ones hidden away, this is just what we show the tourists.” Despite herself, Lauren gave a snort. Perhaps Lan wasn't so bad after all.

  Mason said, “I need to find out where they came from and what they wanted with... Tommy King.”

  “They spoke of their employer several times,” Lan said. He pulled a slip of paper from inside his robes. “One of my younger monks followed them and found that this was the contact code they used at the planetary ansible.”

  Mason took the slip of paper. “Whatever you feel about this, I know it is my fault.” Lauren hated the tone of defeat in his voice.

  “Fault is inconsequential,” Lan answered. “To use terms of blame and fault is to imply causality, to suggest that man is stripped of choice, that we act only in response to others.” He cocked his head, “All men have free will... you have a choice, now, just as these other men did. What you do with it is up to you.”

  Lauren shivered at his words. They were outwardly calm, yet there was a sense of warning and knowledge there... as well as resignation. Lan knew what choice Mason would take, yet he warned him anyway. If he really wanted to stop Mason, he wouldn't have given him the paper, Lauren thought. She watched Mason as he walked away with slumped shoulders.

  Almost as if he had read her mind, Lan spoke, “To deny him the information would be to deny him free will, you know.”

  Lauren looked sharply at the old monk. “Free will is overrated. I'd rather have a happy, ignorant life. Since I can't have that, I just want revenge.”

  “How can one be happy without freedom?” Lan asked.

  Lauren shook her head, “I don't have time for your riddles, old man.” She looked him in the eyes, “And if you really gave a damn about Mason, you'd have protected him from the only choice he could make. He spent a decade or more burying Tommy King.”

  “A wolf could never be happy living as a sheep,” Lan said, his voice sad. “Nor, despite what it tells itself, would it find happiness in denial and isolation.”

  All of the parables and similes and his odd behavior just became too much. Lauren wasn't certain if Lan wanted Mason to return to being the pirate Tommy King or if he didn't. For that matter, half of what he said sounded almost as if he said Tommy King wasn't a bad man. She stared
at the old monk for a long moment as she searched for the right words. Eventually, she settled on the truth.

  She glared at him suspiciously. “You are weird,” Lauren finally said.

  ***

  Eldorado, Garris Major System

  Colonial Republic

  May 3, 2403

  Mason McGann stalked through the streets, his head ranged in a predatory sweep as he led the way to the ansible building. His long legs drove him down the street at a pace just short of a jog, yet his hands remained close to his holstered pistols.

  Lauren hurried to keep up. She felt almost winded as she trotted next to him. For a moment, she felt ridiculous as she glanced up at him. She barely stood as high as his shoulder, and his lean frame compared to her made her look like a pudgy duckling trying to keep up with a wolf as it stalked through a farmyard.

  She shook off the mental image as they rounded the corner. Down the street she could see the billboard for the ansible building. It looked to be a corporate building, though on a Colonial Republic world like this, that could mean it was run by a government monopoly, freelance corporation, or conglomerate which owned the planet outright. Lauren didn't know enough about the planet or system to guess.

  Mason paused and she saw his eyes range the street. “Worried about anyone seeing us?” Lauren asked. She kept her voice low and level, in the crowded streets, she didn't want to draw further attention to them. As it was, the people who passed them seemed to catch some sense of danger, they parted around them and left a couple meters of space to spare.

  Mason answered after a moment, “There's been a team that kept us under watch since we left the monastery. I think they're just there to observe, but they might try to snipe us as we come out of the ansible building, if the meet doesn't go to plan.”

  Lauren didn't allow herself to look behind. “How far back?”

  “Two teams,” Mason said, matter-of-factly. “One just took up position in the hotel across the street. The other one is in an aircar, keeping a distance, but they're the ones that have followed us. Don't worry about tipping them off... they already know I've seen them.” Mason glanced up at the hotel across the street and gave a wave. Lauren's gaze went that way and she made out two men who sat on the third floor balcony. One of the men looked away sharply, the other spoke into his communications gear.

  “What's the plan?” Lauren asked. She didn't like these kinds of odds. The enemy had their every move observed. They could attack from the air or ground, set up ambushes... or if they were really ruthless, call in a strike from space.

  Mason gave a feral grin, “Well, I'm going to walk right in there and make a phone call. You'll watch my back.” There was an edge to his voice, one that made Lauren's back stiffen and made her fingers itch in anticipation.

  “And if they decide that they're willing to waste the building to kill us?” Lauren asked, more from curiosity than anything else. She wasn't worried about dying. She would like the opportunity to fight back, though. Lauren had lost fear of death when the rest of her family died under Chxor occupation as a child. She didn't want to die, but she had no fear of death or the oblivion that she felt would come afterward. Death was just the cost of doing business.

  “They'll probably tell their teams to pull back, unless they're some kind of fanatics,” Mason said. “This ansible station is over the colony's old utility tunnel network. If we see them pull back, we head for the tunnels and hope we make it out. Mason paused, “Oh and we pull the fire alarm on the way out, it might save some people in the building.”

  Lauren shook her head. She had seen the aftermath of when the Baron fired on an abandoned hospital on Faraday to destroy a hidden Balor base. It had leveled ten city blocks and killed over a thousand civilians between the shot itself and the secondary explosion from their ship's reactor. If their enemy had serious firepower, pulling the fire alarm wouldn't help. For that matter, neither would the tunnels.

  Mason strode forward. “If things really go south and we get separated, head back to the ship. They didn't pick us up until we approached the monastery so it may not be under observation.” He didn't speak for a moment as they approached their destination. “Odds are, with how they're behaving, they want me alive. So, I'd say take off as soon as you can. Either I'll be free to call you or they'll have taken me. Either way, I'd like you free to maneuver.”

  “I'm not a very good pilot, in case you've forgotten,” Lauren said. She was actually a terrible pilot, she well knew. She had a little bit of training from Mason and even less practice from the Baron's special forces trainers, who had taught her basically enough to make a controlled crash.

  They made it to the front of the building and Mason paused outside and gave her a smirk, “Yeah, how could I forget, that? Just don't ding up the Second Chance, okay?”

  He stepped up to the counter before she could respond. “Got a call to make.”

  The clerk looked bored, “Credit check?”

  Mason scowled. They hadn't had time to do more than register their cargo, which meant any charge would come from their docking fees. That meant there would be a lien against his ship, Lauren knew. Mason had already lost his ship once, to a corrupt scheme back in the Anvil system. He hesitated and then slipped the paper across the counter, with the ansible code. “It's to this address.”

  The clerk scanned the code and frowned, “Oh, a call is already authorized to that address and for you, Mr. McGann.” He stood a little straighter and Lauren could all but see the dollar signs light up in his eyes. “Step right this way, sir.”

  Mason cocked an eye at her, “Big spender?”

  She nodded. The whole situation stunk to her, even more. Either someone had setup the mercenaries or they had expected them to bring Mason here. Either way, he was clearly expected. They followed the clerk behind the counter and then down the hall. He led them past several check points, each time he flashed the code. Finally they stopped outside a large wooden door. The clerk spoke with a smug, friendly voice, “Sir, the suite comes equipped with the best privacy screens and if any refreshment is requested, be certain to just pull it up on the menu and we'll deliver it up by dumbwaiter.” The clerk paused, “Of course, tips are appreciated.”

  Lauren frowned at that. She didn't like the slimy look the man had. Nor, in a way, did his service make her feel he'd earned anything. She glanced at Mason who had adopted a slight smirk of his own. “Give yourself a nice tip... from the account being charged, of course,” Mason said.

  “Thank you, sir.” The clerk scurried away. Mason pulled the door open and stepped into the cool, dim room beyond. Lauren saw it was set up like a suite, with a couch and chairs, even a bed. She didn't know why someone would want a bed to talk on an ansible, but she didn't waste much time thinking about it. Mason walked over to the automated menu and stared at it. She saw him wince at the prices. “People really have got fat here, if they can afford these prices.”

  “Oh?” Lauren asked.

  Mason shrugged, “Tommy King raided the city thirty years ago. Took everything of worth that wasn't nailed down. Only thing he didn't loot was the monastery.”

  “Oh?” Lauren asked, surprised at the reveal about his past. “Was that when...” she hesitated and glanced around the room. Just because she didn't see any obvious bugs didn't mean someone hadn't put the effort to install them. “Was that when he started to change?”

  Mason looked up with a smirk, “Him, change? No, the monks didn't have anything he wanted. The monks were kind enough to put anything of worth out in the street.” He cocked his head, “Though, I suspect they hid their real wealth, canny bunch of fellows they are.”

  He selected a set of icons, “Porterhouse steak for me, you?”

  Lauren shook her head, “Isn't this wasting time?”

  Mason snorted, “It's on the bill of whoever wanted me here. Might as well tweak their noses a bit first. They'll get the bill after we finish our conversation.”

  Lauren just shook her head. “Any wa
y to order up a response team or some heavy weapons, maybe an anti-air weapon system of some kind? Something light and portable?” She couldn't help the bite in her tone. She didn't care about insults or small wounds. Her motto was to stomp on an enemy, not to piss in their face.

  Mason just nodded, “Steakburger, fries and a margarita it is, then.” He selected the order and then took a seat at the desk and put his feet up. “I haven't had a good steak in a few months.”

  Lauren just sighed. She went to stand across from the suite's door and rested her hand on her pistol. She just hoped someone would come through the door, she suddenly wanted to kill someone.

  ***

  Mason set his beer down and pushed his plate to the side. “Oh, that really hit the spot.” He glanced up at Lauren, “You're not eating? It's great food, way better than the stuff the Baron had.”

  Lauren pursed her lips disapprovingly.

  He shook his head, “Hey, it's true. I mean, I'm sure he would have fed everyone this well, if he could. But...” He trailed off as he leaned back and patted his belly. “There's just something added to the flavor knowing it comes out of the pocket of someone who's being pain.”

  “Revenge is a dish best served cold,” Lauren said, her voice flat. She couldn't help it. Sometimes Mason's irreverence just got under her skin.

  “Yes, but steak tastes so much better hot, juicy, and with that little bit of garnish,” Mason responded. He tapped on the menu and typed in the code. “But best to work, I agree.” Just before he typed in the last digit, he adjusted the empty plate to be certain it would be in the view of the camera.

  Lauren rolled her eyes.

  The holounit hummed to life and a waiting signal appeared. “Well, that's not nice,” Mason said. “At the least, I would assume our benefactor would be ready and waiting.”

  “You took over an hour to eat,” Lauren said.

  He smirked, “And waiting and waiting and waiting...”