“Sounds weird, but it was all we had. Little gangs of hellions rampaging throughout the Holding Homes with no supervision except for a single Sister. She was usually overworked and did the best she could, but we were just Imperfects, you know? She could only do so much. She was practically a saint for dealing with us.
“Well, one day I was cleaning the upstairs, since that was usually the chores of the younger kids. I don’t remember why I was the only one up there cleaning, but there I was, broom in hand, when that older boy just appeared. I don’t remember being scared as much as being surprised. My schild had told this boy to stay away from the younger kids, but my schild was out in the fields working. There was nobody there but us. There was nobody to stop him.
“It hurt,” Markus’ voice was barely above a whisper. “I cried, I screamed, I tried to make him stop. But he didn’t listen. Eventually I just stopped crying, stopped fighting. All I could hear was this weird sound, like a leaky faucet or something, and his shoes on the floor. They squeaked every time he...he moved. But you know what the worst part about it was?”
“What?” Gabriel coughed slightly, throat dry.
“I thought for the longest time I liked what he did,” Markus said. “I thought being loved was something all Holding Home kids wanted, and he told me he did. I managed to convince myself I liked it. And I never told anyone until I joined my first gang at sixteen.”
Gabriel was silent. Markus rolled over on his side and stared at Gabriel.
“Your girl, she’s not one of us,” Markus said. “Esau’s right about that. But he’s also wrong about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Sometimes, being loved is enough to make the pain leave,” Markus said. He smiled slightly. “Tell me the truth. Do you think she’s still alive?”
Gabriel thought for a moment, his emotions in turmoil. He wanted to say yes, to shout his answer to the heavens and proclaim this was different, that his situation was far different. He couldn’t, though. He knew real life was nothing like the stories he had read as a child, with the happy ending. He was a realist, and while he had always believed he would have his vengeance, the sudden surge of hope at discovering the prisoners had pushed the need for revenge aside.
“The truth?” Gabriel finally admitted. “I don’t think she is. But I need to know. Do you understand?”
Markus nodded. “I do.”
“Thanks,” Gabriel said.
“For what? Giving you my life story?”
“For surviving.”
“I’m too stubborn to quit,” Markus admitted. He rolled over and extinguished the light in his bunk.
Gabriel turned and left the berthing area, his mind clear for the first time in weeks. He knew what he had to do, and the penalties for his decision would mean certain death. There was no way around it.
The choice would be his, however. Nobody could ever take that away.
He stopped at the armory, surprising the petty officer on duty. After informing the man he wanted a pulser for target practice on the range to “vent some anger at those blue-skinned alien fucks”, he was given a pulser with a knowing nod. Gabriel tucked the small electromagnetic pistol into the pocket of his coveralls and quickly walked to the bridge, where Captain Reukauf, was seated in his command chair. Gabriel walked to the captain and whipped out his pulser before anyone was even aware of his presence on the bridge.
“What the hell are you doing, Wraith?” Reukauf demanded, his voice angry and frightened. “Put that gun away and get the hell off my bridge!”
“I’m declaring casus primus dux, Captain,” Gabriel announced, pressing the gun against Reukauf’s head. He pulled back the thumb charger. “Under the auspices of the law, you are required to relinquish command of your vessel to the ranking Wraith in the fleet, being me, upon declaration of casus primus dux. I command you to direct this ship on a new mission, which is the search and rescue of colonists currently held on the colony world Ptolemy. Do you deny me this command? Do you refute the letter of the law, by word of the Emperor Himself?”
“No,” the captain of the Eye of Solomon said through gritted teeth. Gabriel resisted the urge to pull the trigger. Not punishing the captain for doing his job would ensure the rest of the Wraiths would survive and not face the judgment Gabriel would.
“Very well, then. Get everything in order. This ship needs to be at Ptolemy within four days.”
“They’ll hang you for this,” Reukauf said, his tone flat and cold.
“I know. Set course for Ptolemy, Captain.”
Reukauf sighed. “You heard the commander. Helm, set a course for Ptolemy.”
“In the meantime, Captain, I need to be down in the cargo hold,” Gabriel said as he holstered the pulser. “I’m sorry for the gun, by the way.”
“You made your point, Wraith,” Reukauf said with a jerky nod of his head. “Now let me make mine. Is it worth it? Whatever you’re planning, is it really worth it? To see thousands aboard this ship die, to see the last of your command dead?”
“Yes,” Gabriel replied without hesitation.
“So what are you going to do about the aliens then?” the captain asked. “The ones protecting the planet, not letting my ship pull into orbit?”
“The Eye is not going anywhere near the planet, so don’t worry about that, sir,” Gabriel assured him. “That’s why I’m going to be in your cargo hold. Oh, and I need to borrow six missiles.”
“Six...what for?”
“Well, I need a ride to the planet.”
“Are you insane?”
“Captain, I just commandeered your ship,” Gabriel reminded him. “Do you think a Wraith willing to do that is anything but insane?”
“Point,” Reukauf conceded. “I’m assuming you want those missiles to be nuclear-tipped?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Gabriel nodded.
#
“Gabriel, you think this is a good idea?” Joshua asked as he looked up from his welding, the torch still glowing from the tremendous heat. The thin Avalonian glanced around at the other five Wraiths in the cargo hold, each holding a torch and welding away. He leaned closer to his former rival and dropped his voice to a whisper. “This is bug-shit nuts!”
Gabriel shrugged his massive shoulders and looked at his fellow Wraith, his gaze cold. Joshua raised his hands in an attempt to placate his muscular rival. He had gotten it handed to him once before by the large Suttilian and did not want to face his wrath again.
“Just saying...” Joshua commented, his voice trailing off. He looked at the others scattered throughout the empty cargo hold. “Has anyone done anything like this before?”
“Couple hundred years ago,” Gabriel muttered in a low voice as he finished his welding. “On Mecca Prime, back when it was called Earth, there was some old, elite military unit called seal or something. Some kind of aquatic mammal, I think. What a stupid name. I’d name myself after something a little more dangerous, like a sharksquid or something. Anyways, they supposedly did an insertion this way while the Caliph was taking control of Earth. They had an atmosphere to deal with, though, so our job a little easier.”
“Did it work?” Joshua asked curiously as he glanced across the hangar at Esau. Gabriel’s closest friend was not paying the two any attention whatsoever. Beeker and Twist had stopped their welding to listen to the two men, while Markus was resting against his missile, sound asleep, his welding complete.
“Well,” Gabriel paused and looked around. Aware of the extra attention but deciding it might be important for them to hear, he continued. “I think it almost worked.”
“Almost?” Joshua squeaked.
“Their plan was good,” Gabriel tried to reassure him. “But the Caliph had technology they didn’t know about, and they got squished while doing the insertion.”
“Squished?” Joshua’s eyes were opened wide, terrified.
“Well, it wasn’t as if they were as good as us or anything,” Gabriel tried to backpedal a
s he watched all color drain from Joshua’s face. “I’m sure they were just beheaded after being caught, not squished. I think the insertion worked, but they got stranded.” The Avalonian made a few small, strangled noises in his throat before he managed to speak again.
“So let me get this straight,” Joshua whispered as he clicked off his torch. He set the welding device down onto the deck carefully. “We’re going to use a failed technique to do an insertion – something, by the way, Wraiths were never designed to do – based on the assumption their technology wasn’t as good as ours and not get squished?”
Gabriel thought for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Joshua paled even further. Gabriel smiled thinly.
“Think of it this way,” Gabriel suggested as Beeker and Twist moved closer to their commander. “You get to do something no Wraith has ever done before. Or, for that matter, any human being. There’ll be training vids on this.”
“If I survive this,” Joshua said as he looked at the metal bulkhead of the cargo bay, his eyes wide. “I’m going to hate you forever.”
“You already hate me,” Gabriel reminded him, what little humor he had before now gone. “But our lives are meaningless at this point. We’re Imperfects. We’re Wraiths. Never forget. We got lucky at Ibliss. Esau’s mistake during the drop saved our worthless lives. We live and die at the Emperor’s command. We fight for him. We die.”
“Damn inbred fringer...” Joshua muttered as he moved away. Esau came over and lightly touched Gabriel’s shoulder.
“I’m normally all about making that little asshole pissy,” Esau said calmly as he looked into Gabriel’s eyes. “But I actually agree with him on this. We’re seriously outnumbered and outgunned, dead if we get spotted. I don’t care if I die for the Emperor, it’s our job. But there’s a difference between dying in battle and suicide, Omelet.”
Gabriel closed his eyes and sighed. He knew it was almost certain suicide, but there really was no other way the Eye of Solomon could get closer to the planet without getting detected and blown up. The only way was through an insertion technique dreamed up by a military commander hundreds of years before, which had ended in death for the entire unit. It was suicide, he knew. Or rather, seemed like it.
“Don’t worry,” Gabriel said with confidence he did not feel. “We won’t be seen.”
“You sure?” Esau asked him, voice filled with worry.
Gabriel swallowed and nodded.
“Oh yeah.”
“Put some money on that?” Esau asked, his usual smile back upon his rotund face. His eyes, though, were scared. Dark circles had long since formed under them. Gabriel thought for a moment before he nodded.
“Ten,” Gabriel said and paused, thinking. “Yeah, ten says we make it.”
“Sucker bet,” Esau grinned sickly, the smile stopping just shy of his bloodshot eyes. “You know if you lose, I can’t collect?”
“Thought never crossed my mind.”
“You’re a horrible liar, Gabriel Espinoza.”
“Prove it.”
Chapter Seventeen
“A Wraith did what?” Laird McCarroll asked, bolting to his feet. The Justice of the Service paled at the fury in the eyes of the Senator.
The office was secure. The Laird’s staff, used to private meetings between him and random persons, had ensured the walls were sound-proofed and that there were no bugs or recorders hidden anywhere. Darius was glad of that little fact.
The diminutive Justice, thin and reedy in his service black uniform, pressed himself further into the chair. Vijay Rankapurta had been dealing with his friend’s explosive temper for twenty years; it was never easy, however.
“The Division Commander of the remnants of the Wraiths, someone named Espinoza, invoked casus primus dux and has declared himself commander of the fleet – or in this case, captain of the Eye of Solomon – until ordered to stand down by the Emperor Himself,” Vijay said. McCarroll’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Espinoza? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Any relation to that little shit in Parliament?”
“Representative Espinoza? From Belleza Sutil?”
“The very same.”
“I have no idea,” the Justice said, shaking his head. McCarroll shifted his gaze to Darius, standing quietly in the corner.
“Darius, do you know?”
“I believe this is the younger brother you previously talked about who was a recently-outed Imperfect, milord,” Darius reminded him. “During a brief conversation with the Senior Senator from Corus months ago.”
McCarroll nodded. “Right. I’d forgotten about that. Thank you, Darius.” He looked back at the Justice of the Service. “Is there any way we can turn this to our favor?”
“Well, no,” the Justice shook his head. “Casus primus dux is specifically written for events such as this. While I’m not certain what gave the Commander reason to declare it, he is legally allowed to do such unless otherwise ordered by the Emperor – who, for the record, has been unavailable for comment on the matter. This is why I absolutely hate Wraiths; they operate outside the normal chain of command.”
“Maybe we can score some points politically, then?” McCarroll suggested.
“Other than some minor embarrassment, I think Representative Espinoza will be just fine after this,” the Justice stated. “He’s extremely popular on his home planet, and his family is very well-connected there. No, if you want to hurt him, Laird, it needs to be in the political backrooms, where the power brokers really live. You need to squash his allies, make him untouchable.”
“That’s more difficult than you would presume,” the Laird grumbled. “That little bastard has made a lot of friends lately, especially after his little stunt with the taxation vote. Plus, I pushed for his approval early on. Damn Duncan for not warning me about his ideals! If the taxation referendum hadn’t made him unpopular, nothing will.”
“Well, the Wraith will hang when the casus is over,” Vijay said with a subtle nod. “Regardless of how the Emperor feels about it. That’s the price for invoking it, and the reason no Wraith has ever used it in the first place. Thank God we got that inserted into the bylaws.”
“Any idea why he used the casus?” the Laird queried.
“None at this time.”
“That’s damn strange. So, what else is on the agenda?” McCarroll asked, his anger fading as quickly as it had come. The Justice tapped his chin twice and smiled.
“The Boxley Act is a go,” Vijay announced. “We have a two-thirds majority in the Upper, and we’re split in the Lower, which means the vote will be decided by the Custodian, who is definitely on our side.”
“He better be,” McCarroll grunted as he paced behind his desk. “I paid for two vacation homes for that bastard.”
“Christophe, I must ask...why did you call it the ‘Boxley Act’?”
“Because calling it ‘The Act of Curtailing the Emperor’s Authoritative and Tyrannical Rule’ would have been too obvious,” the Laird said. “As would calling it the ‘Magna Carta’. No, ‘Boxley Act’ is just subtle enough.”
“This will bring about a new era in the Dominion,” Vijay proclaimed. “It’s been over a hundred years since the powers of the Emperor have been checked. Perhaps this can put an end to the partisan bickering.”
“That’s the goal, my friend,” Christophe said as he moved towards the door. “That’s why we’re doing this in the first place.”
The Justice stood and followed the Laird out of the office, leaving Darius behind. As soon as the two men left, the aide immediately slid over to the Laird’s desk. Grabbing the datapad from beneath a few sheets of paper, he began to work through the passcodes. In seconds he had access to the Laird’s private files.
He pulled out a digital thumb drive and held it against the back of the datapad. Activating the drive, he quickly copied everything he could then wiped the datapad. Darius knew this would briefly frustrate the L
aird, who would be forced to do a full recovery program. Recovering the lost files would also erase all evidence of the last time someone logged on, which was the only reason he wiped the pad in the first place. It would cover Darius’ tracks nicely, and nobody would be the wiser.
“Wait a second,” Darius’ voice trailed off as his mind began to fully process the information he had briefly seen while copying. The problem now was the thumb drive had uploaded everything onto his secure server at his apartment, which would then relay the information to his other boss, Chief Gan. He needed to see the information before then, and potentially change a few things.
He felt his cover personae slip. He was losing control at the worst possible time. He grimaced and hurried from the office, nearly bowling over a newly-hired aide. He gave her a dirty look, then looked back as he recognized her. His eyes widened.
“You’re new,” he said, trying to keep the Darius personae in charge.
“I was hired last week,” the woman said. “Christine Wittelsbach.”
“Uh, okay, fine,” he said and brushed past her. “I’m late. Sorry.”
“Darius, isn’t it?” she asked, following him closely as he tried to separate from her. “You’re the Laird’s senior aide, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am, and I’m a very busy man,” Darius said. Jesus Christ woman, go away! he wanted to scream. Keeping his cover was growing harder by the moment, but seeing the Jericho woman who had help train him how to build electronic devices from scratch was driving him to distraction.
“Oh, I know, sir,” she replied, her tone chipper. “Can I tell you just how thrilled I am to meet you? It always makes my day a sunny one, even when it’s cloudy.”
Darius stopped dead. He looked at Christine anew. “Really?”
“Oh yes, sir,” she said. “I always like to go out on days like this.”
Holy shit, Darius blinked. He knew what the code phrase meant, understood it perfectly in fact, but had never expected to hear it from her in the midst of something serious going down within the halls of Parliament. “Would you like to have lunch, Miss...Wittelsbach?”
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