Retribution_Downfall of the Republic

by T. C. Shrader

  “Hold the questions, guys – I'll be right back.” With that he left to an unknown corner of the ship.

  A few minutes later he returned with three fake MRG pistols, smaller than usual – perfect for small boys.

  “I had Achilles print these for you guys. You can guard the ship now, okay?”

  The three young pirates ran around shooting invisible bad guys with their new toys, and genuinely enjoying themselves.

  “You have a printer on board?” Rachel asked.

  “The Ubik has a small machine shop for making complex.. uh, tools. Printing toys is easy for Achilles, he's a master weapon smith.”

  In reality, The Ubik was capable of manufacturing all manner of small arms provided it had the raw materials on hand. The ship itself was fairly large, measuring 150 meters bow to stern. A vast majority of that space was devoted to internal components, security measures, weapon systems, and life support. Its manufacturing capabilities were small in scale but could recreate complex circuitry, small personal armor plating, and even explosives. It was the same basic technology employed throughout the entire United Terran Republic, but far more advanced than what was available in the civilian sector. Tens of thousands of recipes existed, along with the capability of scanning for raw resources in the local environment. If needed, Achilles could also compile a list of common goods that contained resources for repurposing.

  The ship itself was designed to house up to twenty special forces soldiers along with support units and the ship's crew. Many mission parameters demanded that these units be in hostile territory for extended periods, so the exterior of the ship was dotted with hardpoints for mounting camouflage, just as Alistair had done. The very nature of the ship's purpose also mandated that it have significant life support and storage capabilities, so the open areas of the ship were very intelligently designed. Every square inch was put to use.

  Overall, at least for its size, The Ubik was the most capable warship ever created. Electronic control suites allowed it untraceable clandestine access to every civilian network as well as the lion's share of military vessels, while electronic countermeasures made sure that The Ubik's own network was never vulnerable. In an all-out slug fest with a capital ship she would do best to turn tail and run, but her combat capabilities combined with her ECM weapons and stealth capabilities made her ideal for Alistair's work.

  In addition to the actual vessel Achilles has been upgraded substantially. Alistair was always fond of tinkering, and he'd found a great deal of joy when it came to helping his electronic friend 'discover' a bit more of himself. Alistair's primary goal was to have Achilles develop feelings and actually generate a personality, which was extraordinarily illegal in The Republic. Artificial Intelligence was almost universally banned from having control over any vital shipboard systems. Thrusters, FTL drives, weapons systems, and all other potentially hazardous tools were too dangerous if left in the hands of an AI, so they all required human interaction.

  Alistair cared little for The Republic's laws, however, and was more than willing to play guinea pig by developing an advanced entity in control of a powerful gunship. His successes so far had actually been substantial, even if Achilles' voice template made him seem entirely robotic. He did in fact have a personality developed over the years, and would occasionally try to crack jokes or bond with crew members.

  Or rather, he would, if he had crew other than Alistair. They were the closest of friends, but just like a human being, Achilles craved outside social interaction. And Alistair's new guests had him positively giddy at the prospect of making new friends. As giddy as a robotic intelligence could be, anyway.

  As the adults and older children watched the young boys play, Alistair received a priority message from Achilles. It was in text, as the AI was aware of his unsettling effect on outsiders, and did not want to frighten any of his potential new friends.

  The text read: “You should change my voice modulator so I can communicate with our new guests. I don't want to upset them.”

  “Oh, shit. You're right!” Alistair said loudly, as he jumped from his chair and ran to the nearest wall mounted command console. “Achilles, my friend, I am so sorry! I never took your feelings into consideration. Shows you how self centered I can be, eh?”

  Everyone else in the mess hall stared at Alistair, certain he had lost his mind.

  “Okay, I'll completely unlock your voice modulation protocols. I'll let our guests pick a voice template. Just remember I'll love you no matter how you sound.” With that Alistair retired to his personal quarters for a well needed shower. “Rachel, can we talk a bit when I'm done freshening up?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.” She was more concerned with how he was talking to the ship than with meeting up to talk strategy later. She knew Achilles was an advanced AI, but Alistair talked to him as if he had feelings and emotions. It wasn't the first time she considered that he may in fact have some sort of mental disorder. He had many mannerisms that were explained by those observations, in fact.

  Nonetheless, she still decided to head to the same control panel and start browsing through voice templates. Eventually, she would invite the entire room over so they could try and decide which would be the most comforting. Alistair was in for quite the surprise next time he talked to his old friend.

  Chapter 11

  Alistair's room, the captain's quarters, was substantially larger than the typical crew bunks found elsewhere on The Ubik. It was adjacent to a small washroom as well as a small office with a desk, and had its own personal retractable armory. He had installed weapon racks on the walls and had reconfigured the walk in closet to act as an armor and heavy weapons room. Above his bed was an old tattered Republic flag but the room itself was always immaculate.

  While on Alceti Hub, he had let his beard grow out and typically wore workers coveralls. His cover ID was that of a belt mining captain taking some much needed downtime, so he would have had plenty of free time and good reason to spend it wandering and drinking. He didn't want to raise any suspicion and was very adept at blending in with blue collar workers.

  After shaving off the several weeks of beard growth and changing into his regular garb consisting of fatigues, boots, and a tank top, he started cleaning and maintaining his side arm.

  “Ms. Sahlinz is outside, requesting an audience.”

  “What the hell was – Achilles?! THIS is the voice they picked for you?!”

  “They found a slight Earth English accent to be more comforting. I'm sure you'll acclimate over time.”

  Alistair sighed. The voice was that of a man, but gentle and pleasant. A far cry from what he had gotten used to over the last several years alone aboard The Ubik.

  “She can come in,” he said, trying to accept that his friend was still there regardless of the vocal makeover his new guests had imparted.

  “Hey, you clean up nicely,” Rachel said, surprised that he had already shaven, showered, changed, and that the room was spotless. “I guess your old clothes were just part of a disguise, huh?”

  “I needed to have a reason to be on the station. The Ubik was registered as an ore freighter with drone miner bays. Gave me plenty of reason to spend time in bars drinking and getting to know the local rabble.” It was all second nature to him at this point and he wasn't used to having to explain himself.

  “You mentioned that you wanted to talk,” she said. “And I would like to get to know more about you. This entire experience has been so surreal, but you've proven several times over that you're a good soul trying to make life better.”

  He sighed again. It was obvious to Rachel that something was bothering him, so she decided to press for more information. She had to know more before she could actually feel at ease aboard The Ubik.

  “How did you...” she started, her face a wrinkle of confusion and deep concentration. “Where did this ship come from?”

  Alistair motioned for her to sit on one of the padded chairs in front of a small metal side table where a crystal de
canter of brown-gold liquid sat. The ship's previous officer must have been quite the drinker, as Alistair frequently found hidden bottles and flasks. He sat across the table from her, and offered her a drink.

  “Is that bourbon?” she asked.

  “The Ubik's old captain was a thirsty man,” he said as he filled two small glasses which were adorned with birds of prey in flight. “Cheers,” he said, and the two glasses clinked. He took a hefty swig, while Rachel downed her glass. He thought better than to question it; instead her glass and smiled.

  “I wanted to talk because yes, you do need to know more about me. Our goals align, I think, in no small way. You started a shelter because you want to look out for people. I started lurking the outer rim for the same reason, but with more.. direct methods.”

  He took another drink and reached down to retrieve a cigar tube from his pants pocket along with the accompanying cutter. He gingerly removed the rolled tobacco from its plastic container, snipped the tip off, produced an old steel lighter, and said “One of my die hard habits. Want one?”

  The cigar crackled as the flame danced around the tip, and he let out a satisfied breath after the first puff. Feels good to finally be home he thought, and smiled.

  “Uh, no thanks. Look, your past is your past, and I don't want to pry to much. I just want to make sure you don't have any bodies buried that will put my people in harm's way. Your intentions now are clear, you're a good man who helps people in need. But you seem so troubled, and I can't quite put my finger on why. I'll be blunt – are we in danger on this ship? It's obviously stolen.”

  Alistair's smiled turned to a bit of a frown and he took another drag off of his cigar. Rather than savoring the flavor, he took a deep inhale and let the smoke permeate his lungs. As he exhaled, a plume of smoke left his nostrils and he leaned back.

  “I grew up on what was, at the time, a relatively new colony. Things were tough, a lot of work – but generally we were happy. My parents were both agri-drone controllers and spent a lot of time in the shop making sure everything was running smoothly. Occasionally we'd have gang trouble or small time crooks come in to our town and try to raise hell. I could see how easily they would have been able to take control of the place if they were even remotely capable, but most of them were just idiots trying to make a name for themselves.” He took another drag of the cigar, and his chest rose as the sweet smoke helped calm him, followed up by polishing off his last drink of bourbon. He refilled the glass.

  “When I was little, I was different. I always thought I heard voices, and my parents assumed I was having delusions. Constant medical scans proved them wrong and I did my best to hide it. Once I was old enough to forge my own path, I decided that law enforcement would be the best way for me to help other struggling colonists. The farmer's life wasn't for me.”

  “What planet did you grow up on?” Rachel asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  “Dulles Prime,” he responded, and she immediately recognized the name.

  Dulles Prime had, several years prior, been the site of a major rebellion against the Republic. Many of the colonists were treated as terrorists and traitors, having been executed or sent to labor camps.

  “My parents were some of those seen as inciting rebellion and were executed for treachery against the government. I was working halfway across known space at the time and was picked up by a naval intelligence ship for questioning. They wanted to make sure I wasn't involved in the insurrection and had to determine where my loyalties lie. I hadn't heard about the crackdown at the time and was stunned to learn that my parents were 'collaborators'. I told them it was all bullshit which they took as a sign of disloyalty.”

  His voice didn't tremble or waver: he had clearly relived these moments many times. But his unshakable stoicism still betrayed him, for Rachel could tell that his ice cold demeanor was a wall he put up to keep others from seeing his pain. She was all too familiar with being brave to mask your own grief.

  “The intel group who picked me up decided I was too dangerous for release and transferred me to a prison colony for further 'assessment'. Eventually I was enrolled in a pilot program for turning enemy agents into double agents using complete physical, mental, and emotional oppression.”

  “Your scars...” She said, stunned. They ran across his face diagonally as if he were mauled by some ferocious beast's claws. “Why didn't you have them fixed?”

  Rachel's eyes slowly panned up and down Alistair's face as she tried to understand his past. His left eye had a large scar reaching straight down from his eyebrow, across the eye itself, and midway down his cheek. His right cheek had three smaller scars aligned horizontally – they seemed to be more precise than the large one. His beard had helped to conceal the majority of his scar tissue but the dark stubble left in its wake seemed to outline them instead.

  “They're a reminder of who I need to be. My past is what made me who I am today and these scars help me make sure that I do what I can to keep others from suffering the same fate. Their pilot program involved repeated instances of physical torture and cellular repairs. They wanted to see how well they could completely break down a person's will, then rebuild them as an agent of the state. With me it had the opposite effect.”

  He raised his arms to his sides, as if showcasing the entire ship around him, and said “Welcome to my final prison.”

  Rachel looked around the room and realized The Ubik was Alistair's torture chamber. Where they had brutally beaten him into nothing in an effort to create a monster for their own means.

  “So you .. escaped?”

  “I cleansed.” His mask of stoicism had transformed into a deathly cold stare. Pure, unmitigated determination and fury emanated from his eyes.

  “I'm... I don't know what to say.” She was truly at a loss for words. She knew the Republic was in decline and that more people were suffering every day as the opulent elite decided that they needed more, and the masses would have to contribute. Her eyes scanned the room in an effort to avoid his, and she noticed the flag above his bed.

  “Why do you still have a Republic flag hung? Why don't you hate them for what they did to you, and your parents?” She was angry on his behalf and was even angrier that he wasn't screaming and raging.

  “I do what I do for our great nation,” he said and her anger was stopped dead in its tracks. “I love what our Republic stands for, what it once was. It's started circling the drain but I'll do whatever I can to help people stand up and defend it from itself.”

  She sat dumbstruck as she tried to process what he was explaining. He'd been tortured for who knows how long, his parents executed and his home world burned, and yet he was still willing to fight to keep the government that had done it alive. Her mouth hung open slightly, and she had to make a mental effort to close it. She took another drink without even thinking.

  Alistair could sense her confusion, but decided now wasn't the time to indulge in a conversation of politics and history... of how the Republic used to be devoted solely to the comfort and protection of its citizens, but has slowly grown rotten at its core.

  “I wanted you to know all of this because who I am is not a man of mercy, prudence, or benevolence. I'm a bad man who has done terrible things to those who deserve it.” He took a small puff and allowed the smoke to roll in his mouth. “I don't want to scare you away, but you deserve to know the truth. I leave a trail of bodies in my wake. You help those who need it, and I destroy in a similar way. As I said – our goals align, but our methods don't. And I'm capable of seeing how what I do would be unsettling to others.”

  “That would explain the finger in a bag, then,” she said. “I'm no stranger to violence, Alistair. I had to take three lives on Alceti Hub before we left and they weren't the first. I left my family's villa because I killed another man for thinking he had a 'right' to me, and I knew his family's influence would have seen me executed. Even a senator's daughter isn't above the wrath of the absolute elite. I won't question your meth
ods as long as they keep our people safe.”

  Our people he thought. A smiled forced itself across his face as he realized he may have finally found an ally on his crusade. He raised his glass, “To our people.”

  “To our people,” she returned, and they both polished off their drinks.

  Chapter 12

  "So we've talked it over, and we decided that the Burmea system is our best bet. I know some of you want to find a new home, and Burmea IV is a fledgling colony that is still gifting out parcels of land to new colonists regardless of origin. We're about two weeks out and when we get there we can touch down and find homes for whoever doesn't wish to stay aboard The Ubik.” Rachel was energized to have an option for her people, and was eager to get underway. “The planet is destined to be a hub world someday, so you won't be stuck growing crops or working in a factory. It also has a larger law enforcement contingent from the Navy, so chances are it'll be considerably safer than the Alceti system.”

  The gathered group of her people nodded in understanding. They all wanted to start their lives over, some on the ship and some on a new world.

  “So you'll have about two weeks to decide if you're staying or going. I'm going to the cockpit to plot a route with Alistair. If anybody needs me, just use your PCD.”

  Rachel had decided that after the departing families were settled, she was going to remain on The Ubik. She knew that Alistair had done well on his own up to this point, but she could tell his previous incarceration had left him mentally unwell. Eventually he would need a friend to fall back on. Their time together up to this point was short, but she felt a connection to him that was inexplicable.

  As she entered the cockpit, she noticed it was full of smoke.

  “I didn't smoke at all on Alceti Hub, my persona was more of a drinker. I've got to make up for lost time,” he said as she noticed her coughing and wafting a hand in front of her face. “I really think you should try one, they calm the nerves like you wouldn't believe.”