Retribution_Downfall of the Republic

by T. C. Shrader

  “But now, I have a target. We have a target. We can't raise the dead, but we can make sure those who took their lives soon join their ranks. I'm going after this evil and I will exact retribution. If any of you can't stomach what's ahead, I welcome you to let me know now. Otherwise, we're heading to a known Python haunt in two hours. We'll get the location of their hideout.”

  Alistair waited briefly for any arguments or counter points, but only saw a crew united. His crew united. He lit a cigar and headed for his quarters. His armor and weapons needed cleaning.

  Chapter 30

  Before Alistair could even reach his room, Achilles alerted him to some surprising news.

  “Mr. Crowe, it would seem Ms. Ito awoke shortly after you awoke this morning. Her recovery has been remarkable and I patched her in to the camera feeds of the mess hall during your little speech. Perhaps you should meet with her?”

  Alistair quickened his pace and kept moving, then stopped to the door of the med bay and took a deep breath. He mentally barricaded himself for the chastising and hate he was expecting.

  The doors slid open and it was nothing like he expected. His first impression of Captain Liliana Ito, a woman so strong and graceful, was nothing like what he saw before him. Her skin was mended and wounds healed – she was just as beautiful as she was the day he first saw her – but she was defeated.

  She sat on the floor of the med bay, having gotten half dressed before collapsing. Alistair approached her, cautiously.

  “Captain Ito, I don't know if you remember me, but-”

  “I'm not a captain. I have no ship. No crew. My passengers are dead.” Her voice was hollow and monotone. Alistair could feel her pain emanating through him. “I.. they trusted me.”

  She looked up at him as he knelt in front of her, then grabbed his shirt and screamed, “THEY TRUSTED ME!”

  Only minutes ago he was seething with rage for what happened to her ship, but now all he could feel was her pain. He gently placed his hands on hers as she gripped his shirt, and didn't say a word. Nothing he could say right now would help, and he knew it.

  Her grip loosened as she looked down and realized she was wearing BDU pants and an unbuttoned shirt. She fumbled for the buttons and managed to at least cover herself.

  “I'm sorry. I don't even know where I am. And.. aren't you the marshal?” she asked after a great deal of forcing some self composure.

  “Something like that. You're on my ship, The Ubik. We managed to pull all of the survivors from your ship, but you were the most wounded by quite a bit. I rushed you here to the med bay where my friend worked his magic. Before we could help anybody else, we were forced to leave by a Republic search and rescue convoy.”

  She immediately had questions, but didn't have the strength to care. At least not now.

  “Come on, let's get you dressed and fed. Then you can rest and we'll answer whatever questions you have.”

  She nodded and stood up, although her thoughts were elsewhere. Alistair knew the feeling and helped her get some shoes on, then lead her to the mess hall. The entire time he was considering how he would want to be treated after going through a traumatic event and decided quiet understanding was the best way to go.

  In the mess hall, Rachel was sitting down with some food. Achilles must have let her know they were coming.

  “Come on in, have a seat. Whatever you need, just ask,” Rachel said.

  Her ability to care for the needy never ceased to amaze Alistair. The rest of the crew had made themselves scarce - they all understood the need for Captain Ito to have some space. Mel was the exception, as she was cleaning up in the galley when they entered.

  The three of them sat quietly for a few minutes, before Mel decided to join them. She understood pain and wanted to help in any way she could.

  Captain Ito tried to eat a few times, but felt sick to her stomach. After about five minutes Rachel slid her plate away and said, “Maybe it would help to lay down? I think you're in shock.”

  She shook her head, and clenched her fists.

  “I don't blame you,” she said as she stared straight ahead. Alistair knew what she meant.

  “You didn't fire on us. You saved us from a fate worse than death. And in response, those bastards decided to make an example out of us.”

  Her sorrow and shock were transforming into anger, a feeling the rest of the crew understood all too well.

  “They sent us a comm before they opened fire. Their captain said, 'We were just going to take you, but now it's too late. If we can't have you, no one can.' They didn't respond to any other hails, just targeted our engines and warped away. There was nothing we could do.”

  She slammed her fists down and shouted, “And now they're all dead! What kind of fucking logic is that?!”

  “It's the mindset of the entitled. These people feel like you somehow disrespect them when you don't capitulate,” Alistair replied. “I know you're angry... and you have all the reason to be. I am too. I won't compare our grief, that's not fair. But I will tell you that we're all here for you. And wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do – we, as a crew, have already decided to go after them.”

  “Sign me up,” she said. Ice ran through her veins and her voice was as cold as death itself.

  Chapter 31

  Captain Ito slept for a day and a half after meeting up with Alistair, Rachel, and Mel in the mess hall. When she awoke, she was dazed and stiff. Her body was healed, but had still suffered a shock. She was in a small officer cabin and saw that she had access to an even smaller washroom. She could tell from the drab gray color scheme and the conservative layout that she was on a navy ship, which invoked her memory of the brief conversation in the mess hall. She decided she needed a shower before anything else.

  After freshening up and changing into some clean naval BDUs she found in the drawer under her bed, she straightened her back and opened the door to her quarters. Her memory of the last several days was hazy, but she pieced together memories of speaking with the ship's captain and his oddly young XO. She could have sworn there was a teenager there as well, but that didn't make sense.

  She stepped out expecting a flurry of activity, but was shocked to find nobody. Then she remembered the PCD sitting on her desk and used it to ping the marshal she remembered to be in charge.

  Meet me in the med bay, he responded.

  She used the PCD to navigate her way and entered the med bay to find the marshal reading over a chart on the wall.

  “Achilles says you're going to feel a little disoriented, but it'll all come back. For better or worse.”

  His outfit wasn't that of a naval captain, or a federal marshal. Everything about this was thoroughly confusing.

  “Uh, yes sir. I'm still trying to wrap my head around what happened. Is the Republic going after the gang that attacked my ship?”

  “Oh, probably not. They don't seem to do much without major provocation these days,” he responded.

  “They? I'm sorry sir, I don't quite understand.”

  “First off, no more sir garbage. I'm not a naval officer. I'm not even a marshal anymore. I'm more of a vigilante, I guess you could say.”

  “So... the navy ship?”

  “Commandeered.” Alistair smiled every time he used that word to describe The Ubik.

  “I see.” Captain Ito wasn't sure what to do now. Had she landed on another pirate ship? Why would pirates render aid to a damaged civilian freighter?

  “I know it's not what you expected,” Alistair offered up. Her confusion was obvious. “But we're on the same team here. We all saw what happened and did our best to help after the crash. And now we're all eager to hit back. It's our turn to send a message. And that message will be that innocent people are off limits in Burmea.”

  “And how do you plan to send such a strong message, Captain?”

  “A scorched Earth policy, obviously,” Alistair said with a devilish grin.

  “With only one ship?”

  “Don't
underestimate her. The Ubik is very unique. Just like her crew.”

  Captain Ito pondered for a moment. She didn't care what happened to her, she just wanted justice.

  “And is there still room for me on your crew, Captain?” she asked.

  “Under one condition. Quit calling me captain. My name is Alistair.”

  A sly smile made its way across her lips.

  “Fine. My name is Liliana, but you can call me Lili.”

  They shook hands and Achilles took over for a brief medical examination before she was cleared for duty.

  Chapter 32

  After her medical treatment, Lili met with Alistair, Rachel, and Stewart in the mess hall, which had by this point become the de facto meeting place for the crew of The Ubik. Alistair outlined the crew's brief history with each other and Lili was stunned that they had all been together for a such a short time. It didn't seem to bother her that they essentially operated outside of the law and she understood their hasty retreat at the site of the Republic search and rescue team over The Omarra Kahn: it was a lose-lose situation and they had done what they could to improve it.

  Toward the aft section of The Ubik, Garcia and Cairenn were working at customizing some of the spare suits of powered armor they had found in the armory. The suits themselves were powerful tools, but they were only as effective as the person piloting them and it typically took months of training to feel comfortable. They interfaced with a metallic data port that ran up the spine of the pilot's 'body glove', a skin tight emergency compression suit similar to those used with environmental suits.

  The body glove wirelessly communicated with neurological implants placed within the pilot during basic training which allowed both the glove and the armor to react instantly to movement. When the pilot lifted their right arm, their brain would send neurological impulses to the area to instruct the limb. The body glove intercepted these impulses and relayed them to the powered armor, giving the suit a very natural feel when the pilot had been properly trained.

  Cairenn recommended that they begin resizing the spare suits for other crew members, and Garcia agreed. Alistair and the two marines were outfitted with the proper neurological implants, but Achilles would have to implant new chips into any other crew members willing to train with the armor. Garcia was working the 3D printers, inputting the various materials to create new implants.

  “We're running low on silicon, gold, and copper. I can make these chips and we'll have a bit left over – but we'll have to find a way to stock up soon. Going to war with a pirate cartel won't work if we're scrounging for equipment. Achilles, can you notify the captain?” he said.

  “Acknowledged.”

  “What about the heavier materials? I had an idea, but it would require a fair bit of ceramic, tungsten, and steel,” Cairenn replied.

  “I think we're good on those. If not, we can always get more. Our stores can't hold much to begin with, so we'll have to get creative for any larger projects.”

  “Well, I've always wanted to tinker with military projects. As a girl, I dreamt of the marine corps in their powered armor, helping wrestle control of worlds from evil terrorists. In my mind, it was less about firepower and more about valor and strength. You know, like knights on old Earth centuries ago.”

  Garcia laughed and nodded. “Yeah, we're a brave bunch.”

  “Hah. I don't doubt that... I saw how you all charged into The Kahn. I realize now all of the news feeds we saw were propaganda, but my original ideas have always stuck with me. And I also noticed how even though Alistair has helped every one on this ship in one way or another, not much has been done to say thanks. So I decided it might just be the perfect time to bring my old ideas to life.”

  Garcia's curiosity got the better of him and he headed over to the bench Cairenn was working on. Her PCD had some in-the-works schematics and he immediately smiled.

  “Knowing our recklessly fearless captain, I think that's just perfect. I'll make sure we have what we need to get started and we can try to harvest or buy whatever we don't have. The 'up close and personal' idea you've got going is a smart one. In ship boarding actions, or aboard space stations, we're always relegated to using our mag rifles on low power. A lot of it turns into trying to get close enough to punch a hole through the armor of your enemy without ruining the ship you're on. I've got a few ideas that may make this doubly effective.”

  “Does the Republic not do any R&D on ship boarding weaponry?” Cairenn asked. She was genuinely surprised that her simple ideas received such a positive reception from him. Lorenzo Garcia was, after all, a veteran of the corps.

  “They don't typically need to – we've been at peace for two hundred years. Modern boarding troops have no experience against powered armor, especially as it's built today. Our targets were always pirates in enviro suits, not hardened soldiers with state of the art equipment.”

  “I know you have a connection to the Corps and the Republic military as a whole. Are you okay with us trying to develop new ways to kill Republic forces?”

  Her question cut deep, and changed the tone of the conversation entirely.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.. I just wanted to be sure we thought this through. I didn't realize I was signing on for a fight here when I joined. I knew this ship wasn't exactly legal when I boarded, but you were moving colonists. I figured you weren't pirates, but maybe just an illicit cargo freighter. I wanted an adventure. But after hearing your stories, watching the video recordings, and seeing local news feeds for what they really are – I've opened my eyes. Things are bad out here for so many people. It's just the tip of the iceberg and I feel like things are doomed to get much worse before they get better. People won't stand up and fight for themselves until a certain threshold has been crossed. And right now the middle class of the Republic is comfortably ignorant. If we keep down this road, the chance that we'll have to fight Republic soldiers is really high.”

  Garcia was deep in thought, trying to consider her words while wanting so bad for them to be wrong. He looked up at Cairenn and her vivid green eyes were boring into him. Her beauty was unmistakable and her rebellious spirit seemed to reach in and tug his heart strings.

  “It comes down to this,” he started. “I signed up to protect civilians. It's what marines do. We fight and die so that others don't have to. We rely on each other for support and the corps is a family. But if we have to fight the Republic to save civilians, I'll pick the civilians every time. I'm already a traitor to the nation I love and I'll never be able to shake that.”

  “Lorenzo, you took a stand on what you believed even in the face of death. You stood for what you were taught to stand for, didn't you? Does the marine corps teach you to protect the weak until it's inconvenient?”

  “Fuck no. It's drilled into us, just like everything else.”

  “So you did what your family taught you to do. Deep down, you know that you aren't a traitor. You're a true patriot. You were willing to die instead of going against what the Republic initially stood for. I've seen you and Stewart struggle with this. But from where I sit, you're both heroes. There's no glory or honor in gunning down innocent people just because they question the establishment.”

  Lorenzo took a deep breath. He knew she was right. And how succinctly she helped him come to terms with being a traitor, a man of principle, a soldier without his army, a person to be shot on sight – it alarmed him. She was right about the Republic, though – it was dying. Democracy and personal liberties were what made the Republic strong in its early days and the suppression of these rights would only lead to more bloodshed, misery, and even all-out war. He had met thousands of brave men and women through his career in the military and none of them would be willing to go against the values instilled in them since basic training.

  “Thank you, Cairenn,” he said weakly. He had a long journey of thought and self reflection ahead, but at least now he had somebody to help him follow the right path.

  They both sat on tall stools in fro
nt of Cairenn's desk in the workshop, facing one another. She put her hand on his and smiled. Her brown duster, which she seemed to always have, was covered in various pouches and wireless hand tools. She always had a set of bright green goggles resting above her forehead, just in front of the ponytail she seemed to effortlessly keep perfectly bound. Heavy boots, fingerless gloves, denim jeans, and a brown button-up shirt gave her the look of a true colonist, a settler of an alien world. Her petite frame betrayed her tough nature, but even more than that it gave Garcia pause when he realized just how insightful and intelligent she really was.

  “I'll admit, you're a lot more relatable without all the bravado and pitifully suave attitude,” she said. Garcia scoffed.

  “I am who I am. Under it all, I'm still a person. But for now, I'm a person with a long fight ahead, just like you.”

  She squeezed his hand and let go. “You're absolutely right. Let's finish up this schematic I've got, then you can show me some of your ideas for improvement.”

  Chapter 33

  Since boarding The Ubik, Rachel Sahlinz spent most of her time researching potential new homes for the families under her care. Now that they had been safely transplanted to Burmea, she had to find new ways to occupy her time.

  One such way was studying the navigation software and the ship's internal logs of different colonies and stations. She did this by routinely launching a battery of questions at Achilles, then trying to absorb all of the information he presented her with.

  She had always considered herself to be charitable and when asked about her profession she would typically respond with 'caregiver'. But on a highly advanced stealth warship preparing itself for battle against a ruthless pirate cartel, she had to put her talents to new use. Besides studying navigation charts and learning about the ship's methods of finding ways from points A to B, she had begun busying herself with studying everything she could related to the Burmean Pythons.