"Yes, Commander," replied the soldier.
"Then move!" she ordered, taking a final turn and arriving at the cell holding Karter.
The inventor was currently in full lock down mode, with both prosthetic limbs removed. The floor of the cell was littered with plastic wrappers from energy bars of various sorts. A bar was sticking out of the corner of his mouth like a cigar as he attempted to flip through a stack of printouts featuring a carefully selected portion of the designs for the transporter. A black dry erase marker was perched behind his ear and schematics, equations, and diagrams were littering the metal walls of the cell.
"Karter!" she bellowed.
He looked up.
"Boss lady," he mumbled, tucking the papers under his single intact arm and awkwardly reaching up to tear off the external portion of the energy bar. "You need to teach your men the subtle distinctions between candy bars and energy bars. Here's a good starting point: Candy bars do not contain cranberries."
"That antimatter warhead you made... how quickly can you produce them?" she demanded.
"In usable form?"
"Yes."
"Do you want to launch them, drop them, or deliver them?"
"Does it matter?"
"Launching will require a sturdier support frame and a propulsion system, dropping won't require a very hardy power source, and delivering will need a remote trigger of some kind."
"Evenly split between the three."
"You give me the parts and two days, I'll give you two dozen, eight of each. That assumes you've got a ready supply of antimatter."
"We use it to fuel the ship's reactor."
"Oh, too good for fusion, eh? Okay, then. Let me out and I'll load up the appropriate design modifications and teach you how to use it... for a price."
"You are already being paid."
"I'm being paid for the CME Activators, not a whole arsenal of mass destruction. I don't work for free."
"You want more money, I presume?"
"Considering the fact that I continue to be a prisoner, I'm beginning to care a bit less about what's in my bank account. Something a bit more immediate and tangible is called for."
"You won't be getting the rest of the plans for the transporter until we're through with you."
"So I'd gathered. That's not what I had in mind."
"What, then?" she growled.
"I give you the designs and the training for that stuff, I keep my arm full time."
Purcell closed her eyes and weighed the options. The last time he'd been left in his cell with all of his limbs attached, it had cost the lives of several personnel... but there was no doubt that he could deliver the weapons she was requesting, and with them, things would change.
"I don't know what all of the thinking is about, lady. You get WMDs, I get the ability to scratch my ass without putting down my crappy granola bar. That's not the kind of deal you sit around considering."
After a moment, Commander Purcell pulled out her communicator.
"Get me engineering."
Another moment passed and a voice answered.
"Engineering here."
"Have you completed testing on the prosthesis?"
"The arm or the leg?"
"Both."
"The new one uses standard mechanics with a multi-contact connector for control and communication. Looks proprietary."
"Any secondary functions?"
"Negative. Normal range of motion, with the exception of full wrist rotation. Strength level is above human thresholds, but not by much. Power system is a high density battery, current limited. The battery would run down to nothing fairly quickly if the actuators in the arm were pushed too hard for too long."
"There, see? Harmless," Karter said.
"I hesitate to call anything harmless when you are involved, Karter. I'm quite certain that when they coined the phrase 'Idle hands are the devil's workshop,' they specifically had you in mind," Purcell said.
"That is an idiotic phrase. Idle hands are definitively nonthreatening. It is when they start getting busy that things get dangerous. So what'll it be, boss lady?"
"Fine. You'll have your arm. But I'm doubling the guards."
"If that helps you sleep at night," he said with a shrug, "What do you suddenly need the big guns for?"
"That does not concern you."
"I figure you're probably going to use them to get your hands on the Esche alloy."
Purcell turned to him, face blank.
"I'm calling that a yes. Which means you'll be bringing enough firepower to level a city to a college campus."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"You need to work on that poker face, boss lady. So, man-portable weapons of war targeting civilian population centers. Tell me again how you aren't a terrorist?"
"We are revolutionaries! We are going to show society that it has allowed itself to become weak!" she declared.
"Great. I triggered the manifesto..." he grumbled.
The commander dug out her communicator, a hefty slidepad derivative.
"Do you know what this is?"
"Yeah. It's an ancient mil-spec data radio. That thing must be ten years old."
"Ancient indeed. And still standard issue to half of the galaxy's military. Look around you! This space station, this equipment, and the infrastructure of every city on every planet in colonized space is decrepit and static. Even the newest models are rehashed versions of the old. We have ceased to innovate, Karter. We've ceased to push the horizons. You of all people should appreciate that. We've become comfortable, complacent. Society is a living thing. And when living things cease to adapt, adjust, and improve, they die off. Weaponry has hardly advanced in the last three hundred years. Travel has barely advanced in the last fifty. Even the expansion of colonization and terraformation has slowed to a crawl."
"And?"
"And that is unacceptable! Read your history! An industry, a civilization, built fresh and new from the ground up, surges in development, leaving the old guard to wither. A young, nimble, protean society survives things that would kill a rigid and established one. I believe in the human race, Karter. I see what we were, and what we are, and I dream of what we will be. But that cannot happen in the face of stagnation. So I mean to force the great minds of this world to adapt. I intend to strip from them the constant and comfortable technologies that are restraining us, binding us to the past. I intend to usher in a new age of innovation and progress by making it necessary, by wiping out the remnants of the previous age. We will burn technology to the ground, so that its next glorious evolution can rise from the ashes."
Karter released a low whistle. "So let me get this straight. You intend, through acts of violence and threats of violence, to inflict upon an unwilling populace your personal ideals."
"I would not use those precise words..."
"Of course you wouldn't, because that is the precise definition of a terrorist, lady, and you've gotten much too good at lying to yourself to fall for that little trick. Doesn't change anything, though. The label still applies. If you're not comfortable with the terminology you should get out of the business. Some people can't stand the blood on their hands," he said, cramming the rest of the energy bar in his mouth and wiping his hand on his jumpsuit before muttering amid a spray of crumbs, "Me? I came to terms with that a long time ago. I was a defense contractor for years. These babies are drenched. That said, make with the arm, and let's get this devil's workshop a-rollin'."
After a moment more of consideration, Purcell gave a nod and one of the guards set off down the hallway toward Engineering to fetch Karter's arm. She then began to pace back toward her quarters. Halfway down the hallway, Marx returned with updates.
"Squads are being prepared. Do you have the coordinates?" he asked.
"Follow," she ordered, leading him to the data screen in her quarters.
They stepped inside and she opened the secure attachment containing the coordinates from her benefactor.
&nbs
p; "Surveillance to these three places. Stationed until further notice," she decreed. She then brought up the list of potential sources of Esche alloy. After a moment of hesitation, she jabbed one with her finger. "Assault squads there."
"Weston University... that is on-"
"I am aware of its location, soldier."
"It will be well defended... and there are civilians."
"I am aware of the risks as well, soldier. When the assault teams are finalized we will convene and I will deliver the mission briefing. We will soon have the ordinance necessary to make such an operation a success, and a successful operation at that institution will send a clear and definite message. It is time for us to step out of the shadows."
The soldier recorded the necessary data and hurried off to deliver the orders. Purcell took a seat and began to gather information for the coming mission.
#
"Up and at them, my boy," declared Garotte, waking the sleeping Lex.
The groggy pilot opened his eyes to find that his associate was now dressed in civilian clothes, a crisp white dress shirt, dark slacks, and a pair of polished dress shoes. He was completely clean shaven. The man even had cufflinks on. Infuriatingly, he had also managed to completely avoid a brush with gang violence. Glancing back from Garotte to the bed, Lex noted that at some point during his nap Ma had curled up on top of him. At the sound of Garotte's voice, her head perked up and she looked about for a moment, disoriented. After getting her bearings, she stepped off of Lex and sat attentively at the edge of the bed. Lex stared at her, trying for a moment to decide how he felt about her perching on top of him while he slept. He quickly decided to set it aside for future contemplation.
"What's next?" he yawned.
"I've packed some essentials. Five concealable weapons, credentials proving my lawful and exclusive status as a citizen of three different planets, and the access codes to the bank account containing the payment for my last four collaborations with Karter. I presume that the account is still valid?"
Ma tugged her slidepad on the bed forward with her teeth and swiped a simple gesture.
"Yes," the device played.
"Oh, lovely. She's learned a new trick. Now might also be a good time to make it clear that I expect to be reimbursed for any expenditure that comes as a result of this mission."
"Any expenses you may have will be paid out of one of Karter's secondary accounts," came the scripted reply.
"Splendid. Now, I'd stashed a few of Karter's more useful toys from our past associations here. I'll be bringing along the more useful of those. I also-"
Suddenly a bleeping alert on both Ma's and Lex's slidepads interrupted him.
After a glance, Lex sprang from the bed and snatched his bag from the floor, Ma dropping quickly down after him.
"Something wrong?" Garotte asked.
"Someone's messing with the SOB!" he growled.
Chapter 11
"Perhaps you should take a few moments to consider your actions!" Garotte suggested, hurrying after Lex as he raced down the completely deserted hallway.
"That ship is my livelihood and the nicest thing I own. My course of action is to find out what is happening to it and put a stop to it!"
"Lex, as a pair we have spit in the face of a group of fiercely territorial, albeit hilariously undersized gang members. Respect and intimidation are forms of currency for them. One does not survive in an ecosystem such as this by allowing slights of this sort to stand unanswered."
"I don't care if they are tearing up my ship to save face or just for the hell of it. That's our only way off of this rock," Lex declared, sliding to a stop briefly to figure out which way to turn to find the docking bay that held his ship.
"The relevant point here is that they are very likely luring you into an ambush," Garotte pointed out.
Lex paused. The delay was enough time for Ma, who was still struggling with the process of moving about in reduced gravity, to catch up. The slidepad was still dangling from her teeth. It tweeted a second warning about unauthorized access.
"Well we've got to do something!" Lex urged.
"Indeed. You once asked me what it is that I do, my boy."
"Yeah, and you skirted the subject."
"Well, given the details of our thus far brief but notable association, I feel as though I can part with some of that information now. Whereas your primary skill seems to be the piloting of spacecraft, my own is the inception and escalation of instability. I am typically deployed to foster socio-economic decline, which is achievable through any number of methodologies. Entropy on demand, so to speak."
"Okay, great, and that helps me how?" Lex asked.
"Watch and learn," he said, pacing steadily toward the docking bay. When they reached the door, Garotte turned to him, pulling out the stolen pistol from the guard on the transport. "When chaos ensues, and it will, I trust you'll be able to get the ship up and running quickly? Or at least get us safely inside?"
"Locked into the cockpit in a few seconds, in the air in a little under a minute."
"That will suffice. Won't be a moment," he said, tapping at the door's controls. When they responded, he grinned, "Unlocked? Definitely an ambush, then. I would suggest you pick up our little computer. Now would be an inconvenient time for her lubberly antics."
"Lubberly?" Lex questioned.
Before the linguistic curiosity could be addressed, Garotte opened the door. The interior of the bay was utterly filled with people, likely every representative of whatever gang it was that had assaulted Lex in the showers. Scattered among them were a few bruised and battered representatives from that very brawl. Everyone appeared to be armed. Along with the standard issue stun devices and switchblades that had been present at the last rumble, there were all sorts of additional bits of weaponry. Most had a decidedly homemade look to them, overwhelmingly falling under the umbrella of "sharp/blunt object attached to long stick." Others were sporting plasma cutters, hydraulic hammers, and various other pieces of apparatus with the obvious intention of cracking open the SOB. Judging from the scorch mark and pair of scrapes on the fuselage, there had already been an attempt. Judging from the man laying in a twitching heap on the floor, the ridiculously over-powered security system Karter had installed had made sure that he was unsuccessful. Standing prominently on a stack of crates near the edge of the landing pad was Darla. At the sound of the opening door, all eyes had turned to them with the exact same gaze as a pack of wolves spotting a wounded deer.
"Take them out!" proclaimed Darla.
The mob of gangly gang members rushed forward for a few steps before Garotte thrust the pistol skyward, bringing them to a sudden halt.
"Short memories, I suppose, to go along with poor hospitality," Garotte remarked, "Please recall that I have a gun, the misuse of which could have disastrous consequences for us all. Please note also that my finger is on the trigger, something which could make any attempts to seize the weapon equally disastrous."
For a moment, the crowd held its ground. Lex glanced down to Ma, who had focused her attentions on Darla before lowering her slidepad to the ground and beginning to work at the screen.
"It is a bluff. The heavy thinks he can scare us. He is not foolish enough to fire that weapon in here. He could kill himself as well."
The riot waiting to happen turned back to Garotte. With a sigh, he lowered the weapon and fired. His target, the unfortunate Chong, fell to the ground, screaming as a wound in his foot sizzled and filled the air with a sickening smell. The rest of the mob of people pulled back, leaving him to writhe on the ground in pain.
"Satisfied?" Garotte asked.
"Take them! He cannot kill all of us!" she ordered.
"Are you so sure?" Garotte interjected before the mass of humanity could act, "I only ask because your previous assumption has left your man with a smoking hole in his foot. You may not have the proper intuition for your position, my dear. New to the job?"
"Don't listen to-"
"It is
just that I last came here some five years ago and, as I recall, at that time this little organization was a bit more formidable. At the very least, they weren't taking orders from a woman."
The statement plucked the crowd like a guitar string. The faces of men and women alike hardened, the men at the assault on their masculinity, and the woman at the slight against their gender.
"You cannot say such-" she began to object.
"And you weren't getting pushed around by strangers who had only just arrived. I don't think that this gang has been very well served by your leadership."
Eyes were slowly turning to Darla as Garotte's observations began to take root.
"Are you going to stand there while he insults me? While he insults us!? Kill him!" she sputtered.
Garotte clucked his tongue. "Awfully eager to send your people against the man with the gun while you linger safely behind. A coward, on top of all of that? Someone really ought to do something before this little girl gets someone killed."
A murmur was starting to roll through the crowd. Clusters of gangsters began to sift apart, visibly choosing sides.
"Get ready to board the ship," Garotte advised quietly.
Lex already had his slidepad out, the deactivation code for the security entered and ready to submit. Ma had picked up the slidepad again, the screen reading 'Tap to speak text aloud.' He slowly leaned down to pick her up, but she stepped away, shaking her head, eyes locked on Darla. Garotte grinned as one of the men in the crowd made a sudden move. Whether or not he'd intended it as the beginning of an attack against Garotte or Darla didn't matter in the slightest. Like a ping-pong ball dropped into a bed of loaded mousetraps, it sparked utter anarchy. Part of the gang wanted to overthrow their leader. Another part wanted to defend her. Still others just wanted to defend themselves. Weapons were swinging, people were yelling, and no one had the presence of mind to keep an eye on the people they had minutes before been united against.
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