by M. R. Forbes
“I’m not saying that. What criminals who were sentenced to life in Hell don’t have is anything to lose. No ties. No families.”
“I have a family. A daughter.”
“Technically. The moment you were sent to Hell you were as good as dead to her, and she’s as good as dead to you.” He paused while her face changed, growing more angry and tense. “I’m sorry to put it like that, Lieutenant, but we both know it’s true. Reason three: I can give you the best motivation possible to get those results. For soldiers like Bastion and Pik, freedom is enough. For you? I can dangle your daughter in front of you like a carrot. You want to get out? You want to see her again? You do what I ask.”
“I’m nobody’s slave,” she said. “I’d rather die.”
“I want you to help stop a growing threat against the Republic, which might also lead you to some answers regarding what you went through on Hell. If that’s slavery then I would suggest it might be the best form of it.”
She looked like she wanted to choke him. He didn’t blame her.
“This has to be a better situation than what you would have had before,” he said.
She laughed sardonically. “Are you kidding? I’m not a traitor, Captain Mann. I didn’t do what they said I did. Packard worked for Davis, or at least for the same people as Davis. The same people who were trying to take me out of Hell so that I could be their slave instead. They set me up. They sent me away without a trial because the evidence was circumstantial at best. I shouldn’t have been there, and I shouldn’t be here. I’m certainly not going to be thanking you for giving me half a life.”
“I’m not asking you to thank me. I’m asking you to follow my orders. If our mission is successful, you have a chance to be back with your daughter within weeks.”
She didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame her for that, either.
“No bullshit?” she asked.
“No bullshit,” he replied.
She was silent, staring out the viewport into space. He gave her a few seconds before speaking again.
“Tell me what happened on Hell,” he said. “All of it, from the beginning.”
“Why?”
“So I can help you.”
“You just said you didn’t care about helping me.”
“I care about protecting the Republic. Do you?”
She looked over at him. “I used to. Now? I’m not so sure. I’m starting to feel like there are two Republics, Captain. The one that’s visible to the majority of us, and the one that’s really in control.”
“You’re talking about corruption?”
“The last person who used that word got up again after I shot him twice in the head, and didn’t stop moving until Airi decapitated him. We’ve already gone way past corruption, Captain. We’re moving headlong towards full-on chaos. In what form? I don’t know. That depends on how deep this goes, but my instinct and my observations suggest it’s pretty damn deep.”
“All the more reason for you to tell me what happened.”
“So you can bring it back to who? I don’t trust you all that much, Captain. I’m not about to trust anyone else. Besides, when it comes to leverage, it’s the only thing I have. When this mission is finished, I go free, and then you get your intel. You already said recovering the Fire and the Brimstone is your priority.”
“What about the fate of the Republic?”
“The Republic that I’ve seen the last few weeks isn’t a Republic I want to be part of. When this is done, I’m going to take Hayley, and I’m going to disappear as best I can. The Republic can go frag itself. Got it?”
Olus stared at her for a moment. She reminded him of a much younger version of himself.
“Fine. Have it your way, Lieutenant.”
“I will.” She paused. “I don’t suppose there’s a toilet on this thing?”
He laughed. “There is. Let me show you around. I know it doesn’t look like much, but she’ll get you into the Outworlds, and she does have a few tricks.”
“Nothing but the best for us cons, Captain?”
“At least it isn’t forty degrees in the shade,” he said
The comment finally earned him a slight smile and a partial reduction in tensions.
“Finally, something I can’t argue with you about.”
34
Ursan didn’t make the mistake of being casual again, entering his quarters on the Brimstone with his head up and shoulders squared, posture stiff and at attention while General Thraven looked him over.
“General,” Ursan said.
He had been expecting a communication from the General for the last three days, ever since he delivered the message that the Republic border patrol had been destroyed. He didn’t know what had caused the delay in the General’s response, but he was thankful the wait was finally over.
“Captain Gall,” Thraven said. “Congratulations on your victory against the Republic. You’ve successfully delivered the first blows in what I am certain will be a glorious campaign. You should be proud.”
Ursan bowed his head in response. “Thank you, General. It’s an honor to serve the Outworlds in this time of transition. If you don’t mind me asking, how are the efforts with the Fire coming along?”
Thraven smiled. “Better than we had hoped. She is a masterpiece of modern engineering, and will certainly become part of an unstoppable force in the days to come.”
“Do you have new orders for me, sir? I’m eager to get back to Kell. To get back to my wife.”
“Yes, Captain. I know. I admire your devotion. It is all too rare these days. I do have new orders for you.”
Ursan leaned forward eagerly. He had enjoyed destroying the Republic patrol, but he would have enjoyed it much more with Trin at his side. He hated being away from her, and he was certain she felt the same.
“Yes, General?”
“You are to return the Brimstone to Kell. We are hoping to have unlocked the secrets of the Fire’s torpedoes by the time you’ve arrived. I imagine the Brimstone could stand to be re-armed before its next encounter?”
“There are nine torpedoes remaining, General,” Ursan said. “Though it typically only takes one to destroy most Republic ships. Two at most for a battleship.”
“That’s good to know, Captain.” General Thraven began to turn away as though he was going to end the conversation. He paused halfway, facing Ursan once more. “Oh. You should know, Captain. Trin won’t be here when you arrive.”
“What do you mean?” Ursan asked, feeling a sudden wrenching in his gut.
“You have new orders, and so does she.”
“Sir, what about once I’ve reached Kell? We’re better together than we are separate, whatever the job is.”
“I will consider the request, Captain. If it is in the best interests of the Outworlds, it will be honored.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s all I can hope for.”
“Indeed,” Thraven said.
Now he did turn away from the projection, the comm link disconnecting a moment later. Ursan didn’t waste any time fleeing the quarters for the bridge.
“Dak, set a course for Kell,” he said.
“New orders, Boss?” Dak said.
“To bring the Brimstone in.”
“What about Trin?”
He shook his head. “Reassigned. He did it on purpose, the son of a bitch. You should have seen the smug smirk on his wrinkled mug when he told me she wouldn’t be there.”
“Starting to regret signing up for this?” Dak asked.
“I regretted it right after I did it,” Ursan replied. “But Trin was convinced it was the best thing for us. Anyway, what’s done is done. We follow orders; we ride this thing out. It’ll be worthwhile in the end, especially when the Republic topples.”
“I hope so. General Thraven scares the shit out of me. Especially when he does that magic bullshit.”
“It isn’t magic.”
“Then what is it?”
Ursan shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You have some of it in you, and you don’t know what it is?”
Ursan tried not to think about it. There was a price to pay for the gift he had accepted. In servitude mainly, but not solely. He clenched his eyes tight, his mind returning him to that bad place where the fire was raining down, and he was covered in blood.
“Boss,” Dak said, putting a big hand on his shoulder. “Sorry for asking.”
Ursan shook off the flashback. “It’s okay, my friend. Just get us to Kell.”
“Yes, sir.”
35
It took two hours for the rest of the crew to wake up from the sedative. Pik was the last to revive, sitting up slowly and rubbing his bald head, his mouth hanging open and a glaze over his eyes.
“It’s about damn time,” Bastion said. “I thought I was going to die of boredom waiting for you.”
“What?” Pik replied. “Where am I?”
“Deep space,” Benhil said. “Middle of nowhere on an Outworld star hopper.”
“That wasn’t a dream?”
“Nope.”
Pik smiled. “Good. I was afraid to wake up.”
Abbey was standing in the corner of the small hangar with Gant, next to an orbital transport that had come with the starship. Like the Faust, it was an old thing, worn and tired looking. It was probably just big enough to carry them planetside, and though it appeared to be armed with a couple of small plasma cannons, she doubted it would be of much use for combat drops. It looked about as maneuverable as a terraformer.
She had toured the Faust with the Captain while the others had been sleeping. It was an interesting, eclectic design. Three levels in total accessed by one contiguous, large ladder clearly built with both Trovers and Rudin in mind. Level One was living space. Four separate sets of quarters branching off from a central sanitary station, which included the toilet. Considering there were six of them, it meant some of them would have to share. While Gant had suggested they bunk together, she had rejected the idea. She had gotten a glimpse of Airi’s record when she deactivated her bracelet. She knew why the former RIA Master Chief had been sent to Hell. It was better for all of them if they joined forces.
Level Two was the main operational hub of the ship. The cockpit sat at the front, while most of the electronics - gravity generators, shield generators, communications equipment, and CPUs - were arranged along the center, leading back toward the hangar and the main engines, both sublight and FTL, in the rear.
Level Three was storage. In addition to a small armory that was decidedly higher-tech than anything else on the Faust, the Captain had also been savvy enough to provide less warlike equipment, such as a range of Outworld standard dress and various devices to help disguise their appearance, from basic headdress to follicaps. The time on Hell had left Abbey permanently bald, unless or until she could visit a medical facility to have it restored. It would have to be black market medicine, thanks to the prison branding she had received. No legitimate doctor would go near her as long as she bore that scar.
Level Three was also hiding a pair of additional cargo holds, both large enough to store a decent haul of black market goods, each invisible behind false walls along the hull, doubly shielded against scanning to prevent discovery of the goods within. Once Ruby had finished implanting them with their control chips, she had moved on to transferring the four disterium containers over to one of the holds. Each one of them was worth a fortune. “Operating capital,” Captain Mann had said.
Abbey still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the Director of the OSI. One part of her was in awe of him. His position, his reputation, and the reputation of the department. Another part of her was afraid of him. Not because he had the power to kill her, but because he had gone through so much effort to get them out in the first place. While his reasons were logical, she wasn’t convinced that letting the lunatics out of the asylum was the best way to stop a war.
Were they really lunatics? She felt like one, especially now. Something was happening to her. Something she couldn’t place or describe, but that she could feel at the edge of her mind and body in those brief moments when she wasn’t thinking about anything else. It was as though she had hundreds of worms squirming just beneath her skin, creating a feeling of gross discomfort that she couldn’t quite ignore.
She broke out of her head when Captain Mann moved to the center of the hangar.
“Attention,” he snapped, as good as any Marine Drill Sergeant.
She reacted almost by instinct, coming up straight and stiff, her arms at her sides. The others did the same to various degrees of formality.
“I’m going to keep this short and simple,” he said. “I spoke to most of you individually while you were still a bunch of incarcerated, pathetic remains of formerly promising soldiers.” He paused, making eye contact with each of them wherever they were arranged in the hangar. “Right now, the only thing that’s changed is that you aren’t incarcerated anymore. You’re on the outside now, and you have a second chance to atone for the mistakes you made and uphold your original oath to protect the Republic.”
“Can we skip the bullshit speech?” Bastion asked. “I’m not here to protect the Republic. I’m here because here isn’t Hell.”
“Me too,” Pik said.
Captain Mann glared at the pilot for a few seconds. “Okay, Worm. Here’s the way it is. While you were all sleeping, my assistant Ruby was busy implanting a very nasty bug in your brains. You try to break orders; you try to run, you try to do anything that I don’t like, I can drop you where you stand and leave you wishing you were back in prison.” He looked at each of them again, one by one. “Before I continue, do any of you want to test me?”
None of them moved.
“Good. I’ve already briefed Lieutenant Cage on the parameters of your mission. It’s the one and only reason I risked my own ass to get you off of Hell. She’ll fill you in on the details, but the most important thing for you to know is this: when you finish the mission, you’ll be released from duty. The implant will be removed, and you can do whatever frag-all you want with your lives from that point forward. That’s your incentive to get the job done. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they replied in ragged succession.
“Good. Ruby is my conduit to you, and your conduit to me. You can consider her your babysitter, your mommy, or whatever the frag else helps you comprehend that whatever you do, I’ll know about it. With that being said, I picked you all because you’re the best available at what you do. Maybe the best the Republic has in or out of incarceration. I expect you to do anything, and I mean anything, you have to in order to complete this mission. I don’t care who you have to kill, torture, maim or otherwise put to harm. I don’t care how many innocents die. I don’t care what you have to destroy, as long as it’s in line with mission parameters. Step over that line, and you’re as good as dead. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they said, more synchronized this time.
“Good. If you get in trouble, attract too much attention, or are caught in the act, the Republic doesn’t know a fragging thing about you, and won’t be coming to bail you out. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they said, almost as one.
“Good. Does anyone have any questions?”
“Sir,” Airi said. “Does this mean you aren’t staying with us?”
“That’s right,” Mann replied. “Your mission is my mission, too, but I don’t have the luxury of working anonymously. I’ll be following up from my office, as well as working on determining if and how the mess at the prison is related to the stolen ships.”
“Stolen ships?” Bastion said.
“Like I said, Lieutenant Cage will fill you in.”
“Sir, what about our families?” Benhil said. “Are we allowed to contact them?”
“I can’t stop you,” Mann replied. “But keep in mind that they think you’re gone for good. What would you be putting them through to turn up again, only to disappear if th
ings go bad? Completing the mission means freedom, but that doesn’t mean the mission is going to be easy. If it were, I wouldn’t need individuals who are otherwise disposable.”
Abbey flinched at the word, and at the response to the question. She had been considering trying to contact Hayley, to tell her what had happened. Now she was having second thoughts. It was obvious Captain Mann didn’t have high expectations, or he wouldn’t have come to Hell in the first place, and she couldn’t adjust to the thought of getting Hayley’s hopes up that she might be coming home and then dying on her. It was better to let her be crushed once and surprise her later than to risk crushing her twice. Of course, she would do anything to ensure she made it back to her.
Anything.
“Disposable?” Pik said angrily. “Who the hell are you calling disposable?”
“You need to manage your opinion of yourself, Pik,” Mann replied. “You were all in Hell for one reason or another. You all broke the law. You were all court-martialed. That hasn’t changed. Like I was trying to say before, being here doesn’t make you any less of a frag-up. Not until you prove your worth.”
“I’ll prove something, you constipate,” Pik muttered, Abbey’s translator picking an interesting word for the Trover epithet.
“Any other questions?” Mann asked, looking at each of them again.
“Yeah,” Bastion said. “If you’re leaving, who’s in charge?”
“I believe Lieutenant Cage is the ranking officer,” Airi said.
“That may be so, but we aren’t soldiers anymore. We can play at it as much as we want, but our ranks were stripped the moment we were shipped to Hell, and they sure as shit won’t translate beyond the Fringe. Captain?”
“You’re right about ranks,” Mann replied. “They don’t mean anything in the Outworlds, and you won’t be doing yourselves any favors to use them. Republic military isn’t well tolerated beyond Republic space. You’re fugitives now. Dark ops. As far as chain of command goes, I trust you’ll work out the details on your own.”
Bastion smiled. “Yes, sir.”