Retribution_Downfall of the Republic

by T. C. Shrader

  Chapter 22

  "C'mon Rach, the walk'll do you good,” Alistair said as he helped her keep her footing on the trek back to the ship. “We're almost there.”

  “I have to admit, I'm – urp – I'm feeling a lot better. I think I got the worst of it out back at the bar,” she said, very clearly trying to keep her stomach's contents where they were at.

  Stewart handed her a bottle of water and smiled, “Gotta keep hydrated. Root cause of all hangovers.”

  As the group of six approached the ship, Alistair was thinking to himself how he should spend some more time talking to Mel. She'd downed her whiskey like a champ, but spent a fair bit of time in the tavern silent and brooding. He knew she was hurting and he was doing his best to include her. She was, after all, a member of the crew now. Exactly what her position was he couldn't be sure, but he was trying to come up with some legitimate responsibilities for her.

  “This is definitely not an SB-450x,” Cairenn said as the walked toward the ramp. The dust storm had died down and the sky was mostly clear. The later afternoon sun burned hot overhead, a beautiful contrast of red against the bright blue sky that seemed to envelop it.

  Garcia greeted them from the opening ramp, and seemed to stop in his tracks when he saw Cairenn.

  “I see you've picked up another wayward soul,” his voice significantly more suave and smooth than normal.

  Cairenn laughed, “You didn't tell me you had jarheads on board. Maybe I'll reconsider my asking to tag along.”

  Garcia blushed and waited for them all to be on board before shutting the ramp for the night. The hatch hissed as it reestablished air pressure and the crew and guests of The Ubik made their way to their quarters.

  Chapter 23

  Rachel awoke with a furious hangover, specifically remembering Stewart's advice that would have helped stave it off.

  “Oh god,” she said. “Oh... oh god!” She leaped from her bunk to the small washroom of her quarters. Alistair had essentially turned her into the ship's executive officer, and as acting XO she was entitled to a personal room complete with shower, toilet, and sink.

  She let loose a pathetic stream of stomach acid and not much else, then grabbed her PCD from her pocket and asked Achilles to send her water. The thought of moving from the toilet to the sink seemed far too Sisyphean in her current condition.

  “Ms. Sahlinz, while I would love to oblige your request, I lack any semblance of corporeal form outside the ship and its systems.”

  “I meant to ask somebody to bring it to me, you ass!”

  She wasn't sure if the ever increasingly snarky AI was teasing her, or if he genuinely couldn't find a solution to her problem. It would help if he would at least laugh.

  Moments later, Specialist Stewart entered with a bottle of water and a warm, damp towel. That sneaky shit she thought of Achilles. He knew what he was doing. Rachel and Richard Stewart had been playing an emotional tango since they first met, but both seemed eager to deny their feelings for as long as possible.

  “Ugh, it just HAD to be you,” she said, taking a deep breath and trying to gain some form of composure. “What time is it?” She barely managed to get the question out before having to take a deep breath in an effort to stifle another wave of nausea.

  “Hah, it's alright. I've had a lot of embarrassing moments in the corps, not to mention before. We all get sick. Here, drink this.” He handed her the bottle of water first, then the warm towel. “It's almost 21:00 hours, still not quite bedtime.”

  “I'll be right outside if you need anything. And everybody is in the mess hall to talk about the planet, they've been waiting for you, but even Alistair was afraid to wake you up. He said he wanted you to be 100% before any decisions were made, but I could see a spark of fear in his eyes when he said your name.” He winked, then headed back to the hall to wait for her to clean up.

  “Great start to a meeting,” Rachel said as she toweled off the stomach acid from her mouth and chin, then leaned against the wall and sighed. “Greeeat start.”

  Chapter 24

  After taking a brief shower and dry heaving over the toilet a few more times, Rachel got dressed and joined the rest of the waiting crew.

  “Sorry about that-” she started, but Alistair stopped her.

  “I've been sick like that more times than I can count. Comes with the territory.”

  She flashed him a sickly smile then found the nearest chair and plopped herself in it. She relished the enormous comfort of simply not being on her feet, and Stewart took a seat to her right and handed her another bottle of water, accompanied with another wink.

  “So we've all talked it over and everybody agrees that Burmea is a good place to settle. We'll be staying here to set up the shelters, then heading out of the system to plot our next.. adventure.” Alistair briefly glanced at Cairenn and was careful not to divulge too much information too quickly. “We'll have to use powered armor to get the majority of the prefab parts into town, since this ship doesn't have any portable mag lifts.”

  He waited for any interjection, then continued. “It should take less than a week to get everyone settled. Cairenn was kind enough to give us a good bit of detail on the best plots around town. She also helped Hitomi and the others apply for water vendor licenses. Rachel, we wanted to wait until you were here to give us any input you have.”

  She sighed, and said “I just want to make sure you're all safe and happy here. If you don't want to stay, please speak up. None of us want you to think we're offloading you as a burden. We came this far to bring our friends to a place where they'll be safe.”

  That was all she had in her, and nobody objected. They just smiled and reassured her that this is what they want.

  “Well, if everybody is in agreement, let's get started. We'll get the equipment prepped tonight, then start lugging it to the plots Cairenn marked for us first thing in the morning. Garcia and Stewart, can I talk to you real quick?”

  After the rest of the group took off to their respective tasks, Alistair addressed the two marines.

  “We got off to a rocky start, but I want you two to know that if you want to stay, you should be relatively safe. Achilles can get you outfitted with new ID badges and your secret is safe with us. You're good men, and although having you around will help keep me sane on a ship full of women, I don't want you to feel like prisoners on The Ubik.”

  Stewart took a deep breath, then looked at Garcia. They've clearly talked this over Alistair thought, and briefly considered the merits of interrogating Achilles to determine what he'd heard. He brushed the thought aside almost as quickly as it came. It wouldn't serve to invade anybody's privacy so heavily.

  “We know why you came across so heavy handed when you let us out of the tanks and we've both been feeling like shit over what happened on the Kris. Once a marine, always a marine – and even though they're pukes, we still fired on that navy crew. Sure, they started it, but we escalated it. And I can't speak for Garcia, but I'll never be able to forgive myself for that. I enlisted in the corps to protect our citizens and I keep trying to justify my actions by telling myself we were put into a position where we had no choice. I can't just come live a quiet life, not after what I've done. I don't care if it kills me, I have to atone for it.” Stewart looked like he was about to explode with rage.

  “It's bullshit that they ordered us to kill innocent people... and it was bullshit that we had to kill them to keep it from happening. But we still killed them and I'll never be able to undo that.”

  Garcia nodded in solemn agreement and the issue was settled – at least for now.

  “I won't bring it up again, then. I won't presume to understand how either of you feel, but know that there's a hefty stash of booze in the captain's quarters. Help yourselves to it.”

  Alistair stood, smiled at the men, and said “We've got some prep to do before we head out in the morning. The three of us can suit up and move the heavy stuff, then when we're done, we can start discussing long term s
trategy. Having a few actual soldiers here is going to make things a hell of a lot easier.”

  The marines both nodded, then pondered what he meant. Neither of the men knew much of Alistair's history and both were determined to learn more before permanently resigning themselves to a life aboard The Ubik with him.

  Chapter 25

  The past several weeks had given Alistair a lot to think about. His several years spent with Achilles aboard The Ubik were mostly simple operations that involved hunting down lone corsairs or taking out back alley thugs on various stations and colonies. Several times he had infiltrated organizations only to learn that they were involved in unlicensed mining operations or fuel pulls. He'd even been able to free a few slaves from holding pens, only to immediately summon station security to help them find their way home.

  It wasn't until his mission aboard Alceti Hub did he truly invest himself into an operation. He had freed four people from a life of slavery and rescued a score more to bring to Burmea. On the way, he'd freed the roughly 60 souls aboard The Omarra Kahn from slaughter or worse, and rescued two marines immediately after.

  Even with the successes of the last two weeks he still felt like a failure. The torturous regimen he was put through aboard The Ubik scarred him, although wandering the hallways and facing his demons every waking moment of the day helped strengthen his resolve.

  But it wasn't enough. Seeing Hitomi reunited with her daughter wasn't enough. Seeing the bonds grow between people he brought together wasn't enough.

  All he could think about were those he wasn't able to save. He knew there were more missing persons in the Alceti system, and not just young women – there was a heavy initiative by local criminal elements to abduct teenage boys to turn into child soldiers. People treated like mongrels and tossed aside the second they doubt their purpose, all to enable the increasingly opulent lifestyles of warlords and politicians.

  He was on his second glass of … something. He wasn't a connoisseur, although he knew it was whiskey. His palette wasn't advanced enough to tell if it was any good, though. But that's not why he drank it.

  Before his self loathing could reach critical mass, his door chimed. He let out an overly exasperated groan before saying “Come in.”

  The door didn't budge and he heard a muffled thud. He lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, then stood up to get the door. His blood alcohol level and emotions were running high and he wasn't in the mood for any bullshit.

  As the door slid open, it revealed Mel's tiny form slowly skulking down the hallway.

  “Mel? What's wrong?”

  She froze, then dropped to her knees, choking back tears. Alistair rushed over, temporarily shrugging off his inebriation the way only an expert drunk could.

  She didn't say a word, but instead did her damndest to fight back the tears and regain her composure.

  “Just.. nothing. Don't worry about it,” she said, through watery eyes that refused to connect with Alistair's.

  “C'mon, let's go sit down,” he said, as he led her back to his room. She sat across his table, which had come to be known colloquially as 'the drinking table'.

  Melanie stared at the bottle while taking in heavy and unbalanced breaths with Alistair standing beside her. She was still fighting her tears back, doing everything she could to stay strong. Alistair had admired Melanie ever since they'd first met.

  “You don't have to talk, but I'm willing to listen if you need to.”

  At that, the dam had burst. She stood up quickly and buried her face in his chest.

  “I miss my mom and dad so much,” she said through the sobbing fits. “Why did they have to die?! Why did somebody have to take them?! They never hurt anybody!”

  Alistair just sighed, and internally chastised himself. You prick. She's suffering this much and you sit in your room wallowing in self pity. He shook it off - now wasn't the time.

  After a bit more sobbing, he sat her back down and pulled up a chair beside her.

  “Mel, I know you miss them. They raised such a strong, amazing young woman. And I know you're smart enough to realize that they won't come back.” He felt like an ass for saying it, but he could see her nodding in agreement with her thousand yard stare - she may as well have been boring a hole through the deck with her eyes. Heart to heart talks were never Alistair's strong suit, but he wanted this girl to know he cared.

  “I can't ever replace your father. From what you've told me, he was an amazing, brave man. And nobody could replace your mother, not in terms of beauty or strength. I can't speak for anybody else on this ship, but know that I will always be here to help you get through it, okay? One day at a time.”

  Her eyes slowly lurched upward until they met his and she nodded. She was a thousand light years from any smile, but he could tell she at least appreciated having a friend. Her head hung low again and the two sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “Why were you drinking?” she asked.

  “I.. we all have our skeletons, Mel.” He didn't want to further burden her. She was already hurting.

  “Friendships go both ways, jerk. Don't wimp out on me,” she said. He could almost detect the faintest smile... not to mention the humbling she just gave his tough-guy attitude.

  “I've been on this ship for a long time. In this room,” he stuck his arms out and gestured to the room around him. “When I was first here, there was no captain. It was a special forces ship, and the troops stationed here had almost no semblance of command structure. They were all specialists and they all respected one another's jobs. The sergeant in charge of the squad didn't want to sleep in a room that put him above his men, so this room was their ad hoc interrogation chamber. Its proximity to the med bay made the decision easy.”

  Alistair fumbled for a cigar in his pocket. What is it about you that makes me open up, Mel? He asked himself. He didn't even bother finding his cigar cutter and instead just bit the butt off, spit it on the floor, and lit the other end.

  “At the time it felt like years, but it was only about six months. Their interrogation specialists would carve me up for a few days, let me go septic, then stick me in the regen tanks across the hall in medical.” He took an enormous drag and let the smoke permeate his lungs. He could almost feel them blacken while is nerves calmed ever so slightly.

  “Regen would take three to four weeks, depending on the severity of their butchering.” He absent mindedly ran his left hand over the scars on his face and went on. “Regrowing tissue takes a long time, you know. And they'd take quite a bit, more and more each time.”

  Melanie's face was stone. She knew he had been through a rough time and the scars on his face always drew attention. He had the equipment available to fix them - why he never did so was a perplexing mystery to her. They looked extremely painful.

  “I think it was my fifth time being strapped back into the chair. They did their usual startup routine, butchering to wake me up and stimulants to keep me that way. But as they worked their way from the flesh on my legs to my face, something inside me snapped. I was screaming as hard as I could... all I could hear in my head were screams. My screams and the screams of others. I didn't understand it, but when I pried my eyes open, I realized the strap on my right wrist wasn't fastened. I knew it was my only chance to escape this living hell and I ran with it.”

  His eyes were clenched shut now, his right hand trembling with his liquor and cigar shaking. Mel noticed this and placed her hand on his wrist. The contact made him jump as his eyes shot open.

  “I'm sorry,” was all she could say. Their eyes never broke contact and he knew at that moment that whatever strength he was trying to lend to her when she needed it, she would return without hesitation.

  “Don't be. I am who I am today because of the good and bad things that have happened to me. We're the sum of all of our parts, not just the ones we choose to acknowledge.”

  She squeezed tighter as their watery locked eyes, behind swollen and puffy eyelids, force on
e another to smile. There was a connection between the two of them that neither understood.

  They sat in silent comradery for a few minutes, each one enduring their own pain as well as that of their newfound friend.

  “It's amazing how strong and mature you are, Mel,” Alistair finally said. “Not just because you're young. Most people break when their lives spiral the drain. You've stood up and fought. I've seen so many terrible things, many of which I've inflicted. But .. your strength inspires me.”

  She blushed, but accepted the compliment. “And you're not the dopey giant I thought you were when we first met.”

  “I'm serious, Mel. If you stay here with me, your life will be a tough one. But you will go on to accomplish great things someday. You can save countless lives and go on to inspire countless more.”

  Her expression changed from a playful teary mess to stone again. She was trying to understand what he meant, but the ominous tone gave her pause.

  “Just make sure we can do it together, okay?”

  Alistair nodded, and they went back to contemplative silence.

  Chapter 26

  Melanie woke the next morning on the bed in the captain's quarters. She remembered getting tired at one point, but saying she couldn't stand her own quarters.

  “Take the bed, then. I've never slept in it anyway,” Alistair responded. Although she felt like she was truly getting to know him, there were still so many peculiarities that bugged her. She looked over and saw him sitting upright in a padded recliner, against the wall opposite the door. She couldn't remember the last time she slept so well, or felt so safe.

  “Wake up, grumpy,” she said with a gentle kick to his boot. Alistair jumped as his eyes immediately widened, then immediately went from utter shock to utter confusion.

  “Time to help our friends move, I guess.” He checked his watch, saw that it was only five o'clock in the morning, and glared at Mel. “What are you doing up so early?”