by Chris Fox
Aren't you all supposed to be helping the people?"
Brishti led the way up toward the hangar, clanking up the iron steps. "Well, we do help people. But it's not always a straight line," she said, talking with her hands. "I've had to make chemicals that burn holes through buildings; I've made mixtures that taint water supplies and make people sick, and inks that blacken solar panels to make them useless. Nonviolent, but still harmful to some people. I've also had to make bombs that destroy trains and spaceports, too. And yeah, sometimes we've had to shoot people.
“But we try not to kill people," Bri insisted as they reached the top of the staircase, approaching the entrance to the Hayagriva which sat silently in the hangar next to Najima’s parked raft. "Otto has shot a few civilians in the past, but only to injure them. Usually they were trying to grab him, and hold him down or something."
"This woman was on her hands and knees. She was helpless."
"Was Otto aiming at her head? Shoulder? Leg?" Bri asked. Najima thought back, but couldn't place a clear image. It was clouded by her dream, and all she saw was the dark barrel of the rifle. She told Bri that she couldn't remember. "Then he probably wasn't trying to kill her. You don't know Otto like I do. We don't kill people. It's a rule. We can, but we don't. Remember, he didn’t shoot anyone when we went to save you after you got arrested. He could have, but he just shot around to get attention. And even last night, he spared the life of that soldier who had you pinned. He had every right to shoot that guard in the head, but he didn’t. Why would he shoot at some stranger in the alley?”
Najima found it hard to argue Bri’s logic. Bri continued, “I'm sorry, Najima, but I've really got to go," she said, pointing to the Hayagriva as they walked through the hangar.
"One last question: What's in the boxes?"
"Just chemicals and stuff. Science stuff.” She said this at hyperspeed, the words barely taking shape long enough to leave her lips. “Otto told me to get straight to work, and that he'd explain to you later."
"He told you to tell me that?"
Bri took Najima's hand. "Yeah, before bed last night. Sorry. I don't mean to be secretive. But really, I've got to get to work. See you at dinner?" She let Najima go, and hurried up the entryway to the spaceship.
Najima returned to the central room where she had passed Priya, who was working at his terminal. "What's up, Najima?" he asked, happy to take a break from his tasks. She explained the same situation in the alley to Priya, who listened diligently. His eyebrows danced when she told him about the gunshot. "Why would he try to shoot her like that?" she asked.
"That doesn't make sense. Otto wouldn't shoot someone like that. That sounds like something Brat would do. Otto and Brat have been talking a lot lately... Maybe he knows something I don't. Either way, I can tell you a few facts." Priya turned to his terminal and guided Najima's gaze as he opened several different tabs on the screen.
One tab was a map, another was an empty graph, and another seemed to be a list of calls. He clicked a play button, and the map, graph, and list of calls all began to fill with data. "This is what happened as soon as that alarm sounded last night. I was guiding Brat on the best way into town after he told me he'd be late. See how quickly all this information is compiling? Those marks on the map are CP members activating, these are calls by civilians to CP, and these are the locations of the active CP units responding to you two.” The entire map was becoming cluttered with red dots, and countless calls were being made by civilians. “It was chaos."
Priya paused the terminal and turned back to Najima. "We've pulled heists like this before. But this was one of the biggest, riskiest, and the closest we've ever come to getting caught. It was dumb luck you were able to get out when you did, bad luck that those crates were so heavy, worse luck that Brat wasn’t on time, and the worst luck that the alarms woke up every CP in the town. Otto knew that, even without hearing it from me.
“Maybe he was just a little loopy from stress or something. Caught up in the moment, you know? Maybe that's why he was so violent with the lady."
Najima huffed at the rationale. "It still doesn't explain why he'd try to kill her though."
"You're right. It's weird," Priya agreed. "But you know, he's the boss, and I trust his judgment. This was a guy who was veteran in the Imperial Army, and a high ranking commander when the Republic of Rangpur when they became an independent nation. You don't keep prominent places in a military by just saying you're a cool guy. He knows what he's doing, and he's always been able to do it without causing harm. I trust his judgment."
"What was in the boxes, Priya?"
"It was... well, I mean..." Priya hesitated. "It was military supplies. But that's all I can say."
"Did Otto tell you not to tell me?"
The entryway to the hangar opened and a doyel - not the trogan - floated in and parked itself along the wall. Brat climbed out of the vehicle and eyed the two of them before going to the nearby workbench. Priya looked warily at him, before looking back at Najima. "Yeah. It's for our mission tomorrow. He said he'd tell you more about it when he gets back. He took the Trogan out for scouting."
“Who’s doyel is that?”
“Part of the mission too. Otto will tell you later.”
Najima thanked Priya, and let him get back to his work before crossing the room to Brat. "Mind if I ask you a question?"
Brat was at a workbench, reassembling an assault rifle much like Otto's. "I’ve got to finish this and then work with this hunk of junk doyel. What do you want?"
Najima explained the situation and asked her question to Brat. He continued to work on the rifle as he talked. "When I got there, all I saw were you two fighting with each other while the entire bleedin' city wanted to arrest us, alright? I wasn't exactly paying attention to details."
"But why would he threaten to attack her like that?"
"Maybe for the same reason as me wanting to leave you two in that alley and save my own arse," Brat said. "Look, that woman got in the way, right? And she recognized him, yeah? As far as I'm concerned, that's one more person who wants us all rotting in a cell like the 'terrorists' we are."
"You are supposed to be helping these people, aren't you?" Najima asked, growing increasingly frustrated.
"My job is drive fast things. Whether it's flying the Hayagriva, driving my Trogan, stealing this Doyel, or driving your sorry arse around, I do the job I'm given. If some sorry sod gets in the way, then they better move." While assembling the rifle, a piece didn't fit correctly, and when Brat attempted to jam the piece in, it fumbled off the table to the ground.
He slammed the rifle on the table in a fit of rage, but took a deep breath, before finally turning to Najima. He tried to dull the tone of his unhappiness as much as he could as he spoke. "Otto's the man, alright? He knows what he wants, and he'll get what he wants. And what we want is to teach some Imperial scum that they have to pay for their crimes. If he killed that woman, maybe she shouldn't have been in the way. That's me."
Brat resumed his weapon maintenance as Najima continued. "What's in the boxes we stole?"
He leered at her. "Stuff. And by the way, don't get too close to Bri. I don't know you, so I don't trust you like Otto does. So just back off." He resumed ignoring Najima.
Fruitless in her efforts, Najima went to her raft in the hangar. She took time to read pages of her journal, attempting to think of something to write. Before she realized it, she had curled up in her thermal blanket and fell asleep. She was only awoken from her nap much later by Bri, who had finished her mysterious tasks. “I’m off to dinner. Come with me!”
Najima and Bri entered the kitchen to a full table, and Otto was midway through a speech. The group was jovial, although there was a lingering tension in the air. This mission that Najima had helped Otto prepare for was drawing near. This would likely be the last meal the group would have together before the event. She took her seat and listened to Otto speak in his magnetic fashion.
His voice trotted and swerved. The
passion in his voice was remarkable, and you might assume him to be a famous orator. He spoke of duty, of freedom, and of life. But Najima made a keen attempt to guide herself away from his rhetoric. She had questions for this magnetic man.
After dinner, she pulled Otto aside. "We have to talk."
"We do," he responded, to Najima's surprise. "I've been busy all day and haven't had the chance to see you." She felt it again. His smooth voice and casual attitude was dripping onto her. She felt it blinding her, and had to force herself to keep from smiling. A slight part of her, however, told her that maybe she was getting carried away, and her instincts were wrong about Otto.
Otto led her to his private room, and unlocked the door with the keypad, the metal door sliding aside. His room was slightly larger than the two other bunk rooms. It featured a larger cot, and a desk with a personal terminal accompanied with a screen on the wall. He sat down in the chair at his desk, “You can sit on the bed. Sorry we don’t have another chair.”
Otto produced a pipe from a box on his desk. “Do you smoke any dhang?” Dhang was a type of weed that grew widely, and when smoked, would induce an intense mellowness. It was legal in the Empire, although banned in the Commonwealth. Najima told him she was not interested as he lit his pipe, and blew out the smoke.
A very powerful aroma filling the room and clouded the