Lucifer's Nebula

by Phipps, C. T.

  I closed my eyes. “Recover from what? My world being destroyed? Losing my friends and family? Being only good at killing and fucking? Drinking is a way of coping. It’s—”

  “An addiction?” Isla said. “You’re hardly the first person to need help getting over booze.”

  “I was designed better,” I said, knowing I was pushing the limits of my health with the amount of booze I was consuming.

  “You’re designed to be human,” Isla said, softening her tone. “We can work through this, but you need to want to stop. I’ll look for the right medicine to purge your system of the physical effects.”

  That would just leave me coping with the memories and pain of what I’d been through on my own. “I’ll think about it.”

  Isla frowned. “Cassius, I will get a knife, cut your liver out and replace it with a cybernetic replacement if I have to. Then you won’t be able to get drunk drinking—”

  “Reactor fuel?” I suggested, smirking. It was what Munin called her special brand.

  “Not funny,” Isla said.

  I thought it was hilarious. “Come on, we still have to make our meeting with Fade.”

  “Fade?” Isla said, shaking her head. “His name is Fade?”

  “Fade works for the Dragon and to get to him, I had to beat up an alien called Scartooth and bribe a man called the Wraith.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking,” Isla said. “I hope we haven’t come all the way to the Ring just to meet with rejects from a bad holo-sim.”

  I shrugged. “It’s the border planets. There’s a lot more alien and human interaction here than just about anywhere else. People don’t understand names like Jacob, Derek, or Gary. They do understand concepts, though.”

  “Huh,” Isla said. “That almost makes sense.”

  “Really? Because I just made that up.”

  Isla punched me in the arm as we approached the location where we were going to have our meeting. Krawl’s Tavern was a seedy bar because of course it was. It was one of the few traits that seemed universal among sentient races that races got drunk. Krawl’s Tavern was a white, two-story, domed supercrete white building with numerous holographic displays around it flashing in various languages. It scanned your personal vid-link and then gave you a personal listing of beverages and food available suitable for your form in your home language. Mine didn’t work very well since it listed food designed for my false identity and, apparently, they ate nothing but bugs on their homeland. Either that or the place’s advertisement system was busted.

  The entrance was a long, circular hallway that resembled the entrance to an igloo. Lights flickered all around us as we were scanned and screened for things like intestinal parasites, communicable diseases, or whether or not we had money. Isla looked around nervously, perhaps worried the implant that passed her off as a human cyborg rather than a bioroid was malfunctioning, but there was no sign that it registered that.

  “Funny, they don’t scan for weapons,” Isla said.

  “Easier to clean up bodies than try to disarm customers and get yourself dead,” I said. “There’s always more customers in a port like this after all.”

  “Ha-ha,” Isla said.

  “Not joking.”

  An airlock at the end of the short tunnel opened up and we entered into a circular chamber that was full of a mixed clientele of humans and oxygen- (or nitrogen- for that matter) breathing species. The light was dim and the air smelled bizarre from the various scents given off even as the interior was composed of three layers of cubicles arranged in stadium-style seating for maximum privacy as well as a limited amount of environmental control.

  If you were willing to eschew that there was also the bar that was a lot more traditional. A row of seats around a kiosk full of tube-covered machines designed to assemble chemical compositions for just about anything that imbibed a beverage. The bartender was a human mutant that was either grossly obese or from a branch of humanity that as built like a brick wall but dressed in baggy clothes. He wore a harness that operated half-dozen metal tentacles that allowed him to serve multiple clients at once. Cheaper than hiring additional help, I guess.

  I recognized some of the species in the bar: the scaled ape Kolahn, the horned grasshopper-like Llrowlthra, the incommunicado Ants (obviously not their real name, but we couldn’t pronounce it), some lemur-like Notha in fascist uniforms, and a few others, but most were a mystery. For all my knowledge about everything from Earth’s destruction to present-day history and implants that made me able to calculate mathematical possibilities others had to spend months on, I was a babe in the woods regarding xenology. Humanity had long been the “poor cousins” to the Community and it was only now our technology was reaching Galactic Standard. All of us were rock-banging primitives to the Elder Races, though, that made this particular deal all the more dangerous.

  “Do you even know what species this Fade is?” Isla asked.

  “I think that’s part of the test.”

  “Test?” Isla asked. “What test? What have you gotten us into?”

  I grimaced and reached in my pocket to hold the strange serpent-shaped device in my pocket that I’d risked our crew and ship to get. It was difficult to believe we’d come halfway across the Spiral in part to get this item, only to be here to trade it away but such was the nature of commerce. “I’m securing the future for the Melampus and its crew. I owe them that much.”

  “I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?”

  I paused. “Yes, you are.”

  “How much am I going to hate this?” Isla asked.

  “Remember that black eye I got from Clarice?”

  “I thought that was rough sex.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Keep your mind off that.”

  “Can’t. Sexbot. It’s the way I’m programmed.”

  She had a point there. “Well, Clarice had a better reaction to it than Judith. She locked me in my quarters for a day in the dark trying to talk me out of it.”

  “I was wondering what that was about.”

  “It’s a good idea, though.”

  “Despite two of the three most important women in your life telling you it’s a horrible one.”

  “Not three?” I asked.

  “I don’t know the idea yet.” Isla’s voice turned dangerous.

  A thick Iberian-accented voice then spoke behind us as a pair of arms went over our shoulders. “Your friend, Captain Cassius Mass, late of the Archduchy of Crius Navy, is bringing us an Elder Race artifact as his buy-in fee to become part of the Consortium.”

  The Consortium was the largest crime syndicate in the Spiral. If anyone could protect my crew and loved ones from my enemies, it was them. I just had to convince them we were worth more as allies than as bounties to turn over. Our chances of that had gone down considerably since I hadn’t told them our real identities and yet they’d figured that out on their own.

  “That’s about the size of it, yes,” I said, not turning around.

  The man continued to speak. “So now you can tell me what one of the most wanted men humans alive is doing trying to join a group that would turn him over in a second?”

  Chapter Three

  Turning around, I saw the face of a handsome man with strong Iberian features. He had a black bowl-shaped haircut, light-brown skin, a pair of dueling scars on the sides of his face that indicated he’d offended someone badly, and a strong aquiline nose. Any ancestry from other worlds was drowned out and I wondered if he’d had surgery since so few people showed that level of racial ancestry.

  His clothes were a good shade richer than was common in the spaceports of the Ring, being a synth-weave electronic war coat over a shimmersilk ascot and self-cleaning business suit. It was the kind of attire more commonly found on Albion or the transtellars’ headquarter worlds than out here in the border planets. I noted he was visibly armed with his fingernails on my throat containing liquid-metal nails that could morph into poisoned claws as well as a disintegrator pistol hidden in a s
pring-loaded holster in his left sleeve.

  “So you recognize me as Cassius Mass. You’re well informed, sir,” I said, my voice low and calm.

  “I would be a very poor lieutenant if I wasn’t,” Fade said, his voice chuckling. “The Consortium doesn’t employ fools.”

  “If you’re hiring my captain that may be in question,” Isla said, her voice low and accusatory.

  I couldn’t blame her, as the Consortium was infamous even in Sector 7. It was primarily an organization of smugglers but involved itself in everything from technology theft, piracy, murder-for-hire, information broking, and worse. The only thing it didn’t dabble in was slavery, the one moral line I refused to cross. As much because I imagined women like Isla and men like William every time I thought of those tortured by the trade as any inherent decency.

  Fade let out a thick Spanish laugh as he let go of Isla’s shoulder. “Oh, she is a little supernova, isn’t she?”

  “So I’ve been told,” Isla said, stepping back. “So this is what we’re up to?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “There are few powers outside of the transtellars and planetary governments which can keep a ship like the Melampus running. I have a responsibility to the thousands of passengers and crew onboard.”

  “Because this is so much safer,” Isla said.

  “You’d be surprised,” Fade said, chuckling. “The space lanes are full of pirates and deserters these days. The Free Systems Alliance is waging commerce warfare on every planet that supports the Commonwealth while they’re attempting to use starvation tactics in return. Merchantmen of all stripes are turning to smugglers or neutral worlds to get their cargos through.”

  “More moral then,” Isla said.

  Fade chuckled. “One side is a bunch of terrorists rallied around arrogant landless aristocrats and the other is a bunch of imperialists struggling not to lose their possessions. Did you know the Commonwealth recently legalized bioroid slavery across its territories? Ares Electronics forced the hands of their parliament to keep the credits flowing. Billions more bioroids are in production and for sale with human-level intelligence.”

  Isla stared at him, knowing he was baiting her. “It seems you are well informed.”

  Fade shrugged. “It’s a poor move on their part. Hundreds of systems are already readying to revolt over it.”

  “I’m surprised the opposition to bioroid slavery is so fierce,” I said. “Sympathy for the plight of droids always been tepid on the worlds I frequented nearer to the Spiral’s heart.”

  “They hate A.I. and the idea of machines taking their jobs,” Fade said, correcting me. “Not because they care what happens to the machine people. Pyres full of seized machines are already being burned in opposition.”

  Isla sucked in her breath then closed her eyes, undoubtedly imagining the holocaust being described. Then she opened her eyes and blinked rapidly. “Having experienced what it was like to be a slave, there might be some mercy to that.”

  “Having been a slave myself, I will say that is incorrect. Death is very final while life always holds the possibility of freedom.” Fade pulled out a small metal flask from his jacket and took a sip from it before offering me some. “As well as revenge.”

  “You a slave?” I asked, surprised. I waved away the bottle, more interested in his story and not interested in pissing off Isla further. Despite how badly I could use a drink right now.

  Fade gave a bitter smile. “The old-fashioned kind, I’m afraid. I was taken by pirates, sold to asteroid miners, doped up on White Dust, and then worked for fourteen-hour days until my hands started to rot off my broken back.”

  His story was not so uncommon out here in the border planets or even closer to the Spiral’s heart. More efficient as it was to use machines to mine asteroids, the simple fact was there was an amazing number of substandard jury-rigged facilities where people used equipment not designed for mining and cheap human resources instead.

  The difference in cost was miniscule given the upkeep humans required but somehow continued despite it. I suspected it was due to the replacement fees. It took a large amount of time and money to get spare parts for machines while humans were the one thing the Spiral had in abundance. A hundred new humans to replace the dead was easier to get than a new mining bot.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I was bought,” Fade shrugged. “My next master was the Consortium and found ex-slaves were very good at killing. My siblings and I were all keenly aware of how cheap life was. Now we are on the same footing, knowing who each other are.”

  “Assuming any of that was true,” I said dryly.

  Fade just smiled. “Come with me to my booth and let us discuss business.”

  The three of us headed back to Fade’s booth near the far end of the building in a corner that had two empty tables beside it. His table was, notably, far nicer than the rest and there were built-in stillers as well as a privacy-field generator. It made me wonder if he or the Consortium was owner of the tavern. The table seats were also surprisingly comfortable with the holovid generator functional, a fact untrue for more than half of the tables present. Sitting down with Isla beside me, I couldn’t help but notice the table had a complete view of the rest of the tavern as well as a position of sight for two other tables across the chamber that had armed men present. I also saw a disguised turret in one of the tavern’s lights. If any of Fade’s “guests” tried anything, they’d almost certainly be cut down before they drew their weapons.

  “Nice set-up,” I said, genuinely impressed.

  “We try,” Fade said, gesturing to a nearby human female who was, at best, scantily clad in something akin to dental floss around strategic regions. A man in similar attire came up behind her.

  They laid down three rocket-shaped brown bottles before us. They were filled with a sweet-smelling dark carbonated beverage that seemed more like a children’s drink than proper alcohol.

  I didn’t take it to drink. “So you know who we are. Do you want to do business or not?”

  “Perhaps,” Fade said. “I haven’t completely taken your measure. I’m not sure the Consortium should associate with your like.”

  I glared at him. “My like?”

  “Your doppelganger, though you don’t look like him anymore, has plunged the galaxy into a war, after all. I’m sure he might pay a great deal for your return.”

  “I think you’d be surprised,” I said.

  “And why is that?” Fade said.

  “Because he’s not just an imposter,” I said. “He’s me. What I would do in his place would be to wipe you out.”

  “For a favor?” Fade said, taking a sip of his drink.

  “He’s me as I was,” I said, shrugging. “He’d observe the proprieties of avenging his family. It’s taken six years to beat reality into my head. It’s a moot point, though.”

  “Why?” Fade said.

  I stared at him. “I’d blow the detonator in my tooth and take out this entire bar before I let myself be offered up to the terrorists using my name.”

  “Do you have a detonator in your tooth?” Fade said. “Because I don’t think you’d harm your pretty lady friend.”

  “I put it in for this meeting,” Isla said, narrowing her eyes. “I made Cassius promise he’d kill me before I ever was taken by slavers again. I would have done my own tooth, but Cassius insisted he would die before he let me taken and wanted to prove it.”

  “We’re not slavers,” Fade said quickly. “Bad for business. Many worlds will turn a blind eye to slavery for the right price or find some reason to justify it. Many more worlds will look the other way for less dramatic businesses.”

  I took a deep breath and rose. “I’m sorry for taking you here, Isla. Clearly this was a waste of our time.”

  Fade blinked, clearly not sure how to respond. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

  “You’re clearly used to dealing with people easily intimidated, but the simple fact is that I put my life on the lin
e every day for two years fighting the Commonwealth and have done many times since after going on the run. I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to give my life for my crew and I doubt very much they’ll have much to fear once this place is ashes with you in it.”

  Fade stared then burst out laughing. “All right. It’s good to see I was right about you.”

  “Excuse me?” Isla asked, not standing up beside me. Instead, she just kept her gaze on Fade.

  “The Consortium has a need for…special people,” Fade said. “We’re very particular about who we hire. I, in particular, have been recruiting the Dragon’s lieutenants for ten years. My offer was extended to you as a sort of test. You have the item so you’ve passed the first of three trials. The second is simple.”

  “I don’t like tests,” I said simply. I didn’t like admitting I was wrong, but it seemed the Consortium had little interest in dealing with us fairly. “My father put me through many over the years and they’re less for the person doing them than the person giving them.”

  “Very true,” Fade said. “But all I want to do is ask you five questions.”

  “I won’t betray any of my crew’s confidence.”

  Isla took a drink of her soda.

  “My, you are protective for a captain,” Fade said. “You remind me of my father in that respect. He ran an old Olympian hauler like your Melampus. Ruled it like a small kingdom with a harem quarters and six wives. I was born on that ship. He said he’d die for them every day and then he finally did. How I ended up enslaved.”

  I sat down. “What do you want to know?”

  “Fun facts,” Fade said, taking a sip of Isla’s soda rather than his own. A petty power play. “I’ve never met a real legend.”

  “I’m not a legend,” I said.

  “But you’ve killed hundreds of men, haven’t you?” Fade asked.

  “Thousands, most by bombing places,” I said. “A man isn’t measured by killing.”

  “Then you measure it very differently than I do. How many did you kill in battle?” Fade asked.

  I frowned. “A lot.”