Lucifer's Nebula

by Phipps, C. T.

If I kept telling myself that, maybe I’d believe it someday.

  The interior of the infopad was mostly the usual collection of programs, datafeeds, pictures, and hyperletters. It didn’t take long for me to find out they were licensed bounty hunters as well as mercenaries. Bounty hunting was a disgusting profession, considered kidnapping on the majority of civilized worlds, but still was common enough to be worth millions to the right hunters. After all, when criminals could cross across the galaxy to get away from the law, those sufficiently determined to get justice or revenge to chase them had few options.

  Except, in this case, the holographic image projected out from the infopad’s surface was one of Isla. It didn’t list her under that name, however, just a serial number. Instead, it listed Isla’s name among a variety of aliases and crimes. There was a seven million-Albion credit reward for her return to Octavian Plantagenet. A name that made my blood run cold.

  “It’s him, isn’t it?” Isla said.

  “Friend of yours?” Fade said, typing a message into his infopad. “Sorry, I’m telling the authorities this is a private matter and to stay out.”

  “I see,” I said, shaking my head. “Yes, you could say that.”

  “He’s a serial killer,” Isla replied. “One who tried to control his urges with bioroids. He wanted us with as lifelike a set of programming and responses as possible, though. Terror, fear, and horror. It allowed me to escape. That and the fact his abuses were far beyond anything I had a warranty for.”

  I really wanted to take an asteroid and drop it on Ares Electronics’s home planet. Which, given that the same had been done to my home planet, said something. “Someone must have told him you were still alive.”

  Isla almost pulled the trigger on her rifle then and there.

  Fade, however, raised his hands. “I had nothing to do with this, I swear. Like I said, slavery is the one line we draw. We would never turn over a free bioroid back to their former owner.”

  I didn’t think that was true, especially for the money involved. “Would you be willing to protect Isla from this bounty if were a part of the Consortium?”

  “Cassius!” Isla said.

  Fade closed his eyes. “Yes.”

  I closed mine too. “Then we have an accord. One other thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “What’s a rabbit?”

  Chapter Five

  By the time I was back onboard the Melampus, back in the present, I felt the need to talk to Isla about my choices.

  My stupid, stupid choices.

  “So you said yes to becoming an arms dealer,” Isla said, sitting across from me in her quarters. She was wearing a white jumpsuit and a pair of micro-glasses. They were more a fashion statement than a prosthetic, but certainly helped sort digital information and make sure the brain retained it. I’d just finished reciting the events I’d reminisced on in my starfighter and it was now hours after we’d dealt with our pirate friends.

  “You were there,” I said, staring up at the ceiling and crossing my arms. “Why are we going over this again?”

  Isla’s quarters were a pleasant eggshell-blue color and covered in holos of herself, Clarice, me, and other members of the crew. There seemed to be a pressing need within her to record as much of her life as possible despite the fact it was all recorded perfectly within her brain’s CPU. As the ship’s doctor, her quarters were larger than most and had enough room for a small couch she’d managed to bring aboard that I was currently sitting on as well as her chair. We could have used the bed nearby, but I suspect that would have gotten awkward given our already complicated relationship.

  “Two reasons,” Isla said, picking up a databook in her hands and tapping away at its screens. “First, we need to figure out the pure practical matter of when the Consortium decided to betray us and second, what in God’s name convinced you this was a good idea in the first place.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I don’t suppose money is a sufficient answer.”

  Isla shrugged. “It’s no more than I expected but I was hoping for better from you.”

  “In terms of not taking the deal to sell weapons on the black market or having a better motive for doing so?” I asked, only half joking.

  “Either, both,” Isla said. “There’s a difference between being smugglers and arms traffickers. We left Sector 7 to avoid getting involved in the war. Now we’re neck deep in it.”

  Isla had a point there. In the hold of the Melampus was a cargo of five hundred thousand of the barrier-crushing missiles. It wasn’t a game changer in terms of the war, but they would make shredded fruitmeat out of most Commonwealth capital ships. How the Consortium had managed for these to fall off the back of the proverbial freighter was anyone’s guess. Ironically, though, it had been an easy voyage to the pickup site and only on our return had we been ambushed. By the Dragon’s men, at least if their communications transmissions had been accurate. Judith had a remarkable way of sorting through data and had picked up early that they were communicating with my supposed new partners.

  I took a deep breath. “You really don’t want to know the answer.”

  “Try me. I just want to know it wasn’t because you were trying to protect me.”

  I was silent.

  Isla threw her databook at me.

  “Ow!” I said, blocking it with my arm. “What the hells?”

  “I expect an answer,” Isla said.

  “I’m not going to let you be hunted down like a dog by Octavian,” I said, frowning. “I’d kill the whole of the Commonwealth to protect you.”

  “I don’t need your protection, Cassius, least of all from Octavian,” Isla said. “Also, spare me your hyperbole. I’d rather no one die to save me. I’ve killed to protect my life. Even so-called innocents, but I’m a doctor now. I want to save lives, not take them.”

  Man, was she on the wrong ship.

  I looked at her. “You have my protection anyway. Where I’m from, you have your wingman’s back and you can trust that they have yours.”

  “I’m not your wingman.”

  “You’re right, you’re something…” I trailed off, not sure what to say. “More.”

  “What, exactly?” Isla asked, crossing her legs across one another. “Because I’m not sure exactly where we stand as a couple. Trio. Whatever.”

  I grimaced, knowing this had been coming. “Is that really relevant right now?”

  “Would you prefer we talk about your psychotic breaks and alcoholism?”

  I thought about that. “I’m not sure which is worse.”

  Isla stared at me. “Really, Cassius?”

  I took a deep breath. “I love you, Isla. It’s just uncomfortable saying it.”

  Very uncomfortable.

  “You told Judith you didn’t feel that way for me,” Isla said. “Back on Shogun.”

  I closed my eyes. “I lied.”

  “Why?” Isla said, her tone cold.

  “I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head before sitting up. “Maybe I wanted to turn back the clock but I can’t and what is broken can’t be fixed. Maybe I don’t want it to be fixed. Sorry, Judith.”

  “It’s okay,” Judith said, her voice coming from the room’s interior speakers. She was omnipresent as the ship’s A.I. “I’d rather you be with someone who can return your feelings.”

  That was like a stab in the gut but I persevered. “I know I do want to be with you now, at my side.”

  “And Clarice,” Isla said. “And Judith.”

  Not Judith. That confused me and horrified me but there was something absent from our relationship now. I didn’t mean sex or a physical body to hold or communicate with physically. No, it was something deeper. I couldn’t put it into words but it was as if she was faking caring for others and that was the quality I’d admired most about her.

  “I don’t want to be anyone’s second choice,” Isla said. “Neither does Clarice.”

  “You’re not,” I said softly. “Though, honestly, I don�
��t know if I’m good enough for anyone.”

  “It’s not you, it’s me?” Isla asked.

  “Am I capable of loving anyone? Am I worthy of love?” I asked.

  Isla paused. “I think your problems may run a bit deeper than my programming is capable of dealing with.”

  “Mine too,” I said, realizing perhaps I did need therapy. “Am I your second choice?”

  “No,” Isla said. “Because there’s no such thing in that with love. Real love. You either love someone or you don’t. I love you and Clarice. I also love the people aboard this ship as a whole. You are my family and I’d fight and kill for each of you. The sex is just a bonus. It’s the only family I’ve ever had. Will ever have if I have my way. Can you say the same?”

  What did one say to that? I was spared the necessity of responding by the sound of a rapping on Isla’s door.

  “We should probably get that,” I said, looking away.

  “It’s not important,” Isla said. “We’ve put this off long enough.”

  “It’s Clarice, William, and Munin here to talk about your incredibly stupid plan to continue delivering our cargo to the Consortium,” Judith said cheerfully.

  Isla looked up at the ceiling. “Et tu, Judith?”

  “Shall I let them in?” Judith asked.

  “Yes,” Isla said, looking down at me. “I don’t think we’re going to be getting anywhere else today.”

  “I have a lot to think about,” I said seriously then gave a fake smile. “Am I cleared for duty?”

  Isla looked back at me. “You’ve lost your planet, you lost your wife before she was resurrected as a program, you were forced to kill your sister, you’ve had your life stolen by a deranged bioroid, and if you ever see your brother again he’ll try to kill you too. That’s in addition to that trauma you had for fighting continuously for a decade. Frankly, Cassius, you’re a mental mess and the only reason you’re probably not in a ball quivering in a corner somewhere is because you’re a cyborg and self-medicating. My advice is stop getting into situations where people are trying to kill you or you’re having to kill them. Can you do that?”

  “I don’t think that’s in the cards any time soon,” I admitted. “I can try to love you and Clarice along with everyone else as best I can, though. As much love as a person made in a test tube as a monument to my father’s ego can love.”

  “That’s all I ask.” Isla walked over to her desk and pulled out a bottle of pills before tossing them my way. “Then take these instead and come back to me for some weekly sessions. Maybe at some point we’ll make some progress. Either that or get you a real doctor.”

  “I have a real doctor,” I said, opening the pill bottle. “What are these?”

  “Memory drugs,” Isla said. “A stronger variety than the kind you’ve been taking. They’ll also make you violently vomit if you drink any form of alcohol or take any form of stimulant more powerful than coffeeine.”

  “Oh joy,” I said, taking two. “Were they designed this way or am I just lucky?”

  “I’m not in the mood for jokes,” Isla said, going to the door and opening it up. “I’m not wired that way.”

  I grimaced. “Neither am I.”

  The door opened to reveal Clarice O’Harra still wearing her black-and-white flight suit with atmosphere processor on the front. Clarice was a woman of mixed Commonwealther and Shogun ancestry, her hair having been spliced to be a natural red despite the latter. She was tall, almost as tall as me, with a statuesque form designed more for combat than attractiveness but still managed to turn the heads of those attracted to human females on occasion.

  I had a strong friendship with her, sexual in nature, that was untroubled by the problems I had with Isla despite being fundamentally different. She’d also been with Isla for almost two years now, off and on. That was in addition to William, a space patrol lieutenant named Odin, and whatever other attractive humans she could charm in whatever port we visited. Yet, recently, I started to realized she was falling in love with me and Isla both. She wanted a permanent relationship between the three of us—perhaps even marriage. I wasn’t sure I capable of being a decent husband to one woman, let alone two.

  Behind Clarice were two other figures. The first was William Baldur, a tall obsidian-skinned man from Xerxes wearing a custom-tailored purple uniform that was one of the mild reforms I’d introduced to the Melampus crew. He was built like a brick wall but with a charming face, marred only by a nose that had been broken repeatedly. He was clean shaven now, having gotten rid of his trademark goatee since having taken up with Kanya Takashi, the ship’s quartermaster. A small tuft of curly hair had grown in on his previously bald head that I felt made him less threatening. It was a good look for a man who now carried a proton ax on his back as a matter of course.

  The other figure was a petite raven-haired woman with mixed Commonwealth-Crius ancestry that showed signs of numerous genetic markers of our labor class but changed by the randomness of natural birth. Munin, real name Maria Anne Gomez, was barely five feet but curvaceous and could lift the weight of a power lifter despite growing up in space. She, too, was wearing the official crew uniform but it was almost unrecognizable under a layer of grease, oil, and orihalcum fuel splotches. It was also not her uniform, but belonged to someone much taller named Hideo by the name sewn into her lapel.

  “So are we locking him up and throwing away the key?” William said cheerfully. “I know some wonderful hospitals on Xerxes where they keep you doped up on dremorin and plug you in virtual reality until you die of old age or your fluid pipes break.”

  “It’s good to know your family is in good hands,” I said dryly.

  William narrowed his eyes at me. That was a sensitive subject with him since most of them had died horribly in the civil war on his planet against the Crius nobility. It was ungentlemanly to say such a thing but, well, William was a dick.

  “Cassius is fine,” Isla said. “He’s a drunken wreck of a human being, but his enhanced intelligence and military training still makes him better qualified than anyone but me, Clarice, or Munin to command the ship.”

  William raised his hand. “I vote Clarice.”

  “I vote anyone but me,” Clarice said, raising her hand.

  “I vote Cassius because he smells nice,” Munin said.

  Everyone stared at her.

  “I have an enhanced sense of smell from my labor caste ancestry,” Munin said. “Seriously, have you ever noticed Crius nobles don’t really stink when they sweat? They just exude this pleasant woodsy musk.”

  Everyone continued to stare at her.

  “Apparently it’s just me,” Munin said.

  “I vote this is not a democracy,” I said dryly. “Albeit, I would vote for Clarice too. However, since she doesn’t want the job and we’re all in agreement William would be a disaster—”

  “Agreed,” the three women replied simultaneously, much to his annoyance.

  “We’re stuck with me,” I said. “How long until we arrive back at the Ring?”

  “About seven hours,” Clarice said. “The Dragon has sent a message indicating he wants to meet with us personally.”

  “Excellent,” I said, thinking this was the first good news I’d heard all week.

  “Yes, about that,” Isla said, shaking her databook. “I have a question.”

  “Why no one voted for you?” Munin said. “It’s because you’re also the ship’s dentist and thus everyone views you as evil.”

  Isla glared. “The machine doesn’t even hurt!”

  “Clearly the person with plastisteel teeth is the one to decide that,” Munin said.

  “I do not have plastisteel teeth!” Isla said, sensitive about her bioroid status.

  “I think her question is why the hell we’re going back to the Ring if the Dragon is trying to kill us,” Clarice said, crossing her arms. “Cutting us out of our deal with pirates is a pretty sure sign we should take these weapons and sell them to someone else.”

&n
bsp; “Or dump them into space,” Isla said.

  No one dignified that with a response but I, at least, looked sideways.

  “I have a plan,” I explained.

  Everyone looked at me.

  “That’s so reassuring,” William said.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “That was sarcasm!” William snapped.

  “I couldn’t guess,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s simple, though. We need money and the Consortium’s contacts to continue to survive out here. We can’t just default on our first job for them and expect to get away.”

  “This is a dumb plan,” Isla said.

  “So we’re going to rob them of everything instead,” I replied.

  Silence reigned.

  “I like this plan!” Munin said cheerfully.

  William looked like he wanted to yell at me, opened his mouth, then sighed. “Against my better judgment: how exactly do you plan to rob the galaxy’s largest crime syndicate and get away with it?”

  “Judith,” I said, simply. “We’re going to meet with the Dragon when we pass over the missiles, record his biometrics as well as voice patterns, then use our Cognition A.I. to steal his fortune as well as those of his closest allies. Judith is capable of opening and closing security walls like they don’t exist.”

  “This sounds dangerously close to a good idea,” Clarice said, smiling. “Especially as I’m sick of being poor.”

  I’d managed to keep running the Melampus in the red based on my own personal fortune but that was almost depleted now, the result of running a town-sized star galleon being more expensive than holonovels indicated.

  “We all are,” I said, nodding. “I hesitate to use the archaic term big score, but this could be it.”

  Isla looked between us. “No one thinks it’s going to be troublesome when the Dragon finds out we’ve ripped him off? You know, the man who has already shown he can send a small army after us?”

  “He’ll have his own problems,” I said softly. “Munin, have you sabotaged the missiles yet?”

  “Just some of them,” Munin said, smiling. “But I only have to do a few.”

  Isla’s mouth fell open. “Wait, what?”