by J. N. Chaney
“Yes, sir,” responded Lieutenant Clark. She tapped her pad, taking only a few seconds to look over it before continuing. “Also, as you requested, we’ve dispatched squads to each of the twelve POI’s. That’s every city on the continent as well as the outposts.”
“Assuming that’s what they are,” said the general.
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The old man finally looked at the rest of the room, his eyes snapping between each of us. “Alright. What’s this? I was told you four had an appointment. I don’t remember making one, but the logs show it, so I must have forgotten. Did it have anything to do with the investigation?”
“Investigation?” I asked.
“I’ll take that as a negative,” he remarked. “Well, out with it. What’s this whole thing about? Let’s make this quick. I’m a little busy at the moment.”
“Busy?” I asked.
He raised his eye at me. “Did you miss the planet outside when you boarded?”
I let the question sit there between us for longer than I probably should have, but there were thoughts crossing me and it took everything I had to shut them out. Thoughts of pulling out my pistol and burying a bullet in the man who’d followed me across a galaxy.
A man who tried to take my girls from me.
But I stayed my hand, all the same. “Oh,” I said, crossing my arms as I leaned against the wall. “You’re talking about Earth.”
He paused, and for a brief second I saw his expression change before settling. He stepped closer to me and eyed my nametag. “Constable Hughes, is it?”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Only a handful of individuals have been briefed on the identity of that planet,” he explained. “I don’t remember seeing you in the room.”
“I’m a Constable,” I said, matter-of-factly. “Do I really need to explain how I stay informed?”
“I suppose not,” he said, plainly.
We stared at each other as a thick silence filled the room.
“That’s an interesting name you have,” commented Brigham, after a bit. His eyes stayed on mine, never swaying.
“Thanks. I got it from my father.”
Clark looked at both of us, but said nothing, probably sensing the tension. I wondered what she must be thinking. The same went for poor Sergeant Billins. These two fools had no idea what they’d accidentally walked into.
“Are you aware it’s the same surname as the man we’re after?” asked Brigham, after a moment.
“You mean the Renegade captain you’ve had such a hard time catching?” I asked. “Yeah, I’m aware.”
His lip curled, almost like a smile, but faded immediately. “You’re a little brash, Hughes, even for a Constable.”
“You think so? People always say I’m charming.”
He smirked, then took a step back.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“Which ship did you say you were from?” he asked.
I said nothing.
Brigham looked at the nearby lieutenant. “What ship?”
The woman grabbed at her pad, almost frantically, trying to get the information. “I-It looks like the…UFS Peaceful Resolute, sir.”
“Contact Captain Vice. I want him on that screen—” He pointed to the woman’s pad. “—in thirty seconds to verify this man’s identity.”
The Lieutenant tapped the pad again, then paused. “Sir, it doesn’t appear to be working.”
“What?” he asked, raising his voice a little.
“The network is down, I think,” she muttered. “I could try a different device.”
“You just told me his name. How can the network be down?”
“It must have dropped right after I called up the information, I apologize. Should I try the viewscreen on the bridge? It might be able to—”
“That’s enough,” I snapped, cutting her off. “Let me save you the trouble, Marcus.”
I tapped my shoulder, deactivating the shield, revealing my true appearance. Abigail and Lucia followed suit immediately by doing the same.
Brigham looked on in shock as three of the most wanted criminals in the galaxy revealed ourselves directly in front of him, only a few meters away.
I already had my pistol drawn at him.
The old man’s eyes widened, and he took another step back, towards the door, his hand slowly easing down to his sidearm.
“Easy,” I cautioned, turning my weapon in the air to draw his attention. “Let’s not make this messy.”
Lucia raised her staff from her back, aiming the dangerous end at our two new friends.
“You,” said Brigham, his voice slightly above a whisper.
“Me,” I answered.
He stared at me, but not the weapon. “If you think you can just walk in here and put a bullet in me, you should know that any unauthorized weapons fire will trigger an immediately lockdown. You’ll be stuck in this room with an army on the other side.”
I could tell by the look on his face that he was speaking the truth, or at least what he believed to be the truth. Either way, it didn’t matter. He might have an army behind him, but I had the plan.
And the Cognitive.
“Siggy,” I called, loud enough for Brigham to hear me. The name caused him to shift where he stood. “Why don’t you tell the man about his so-called alarm.”
I reached in my pocket and brought out the little emitter, then tossed it on the nearby table.
Brigham and Clark stared at it, probably wondering what the hell I’d just done. Before either of them could ask, a flash of light appeared in front of the table and Sigmond phased into existence. The two officers stepped back in surprise.
“Internal sensors have been adjusted. All safety protocols have been removed,” informed the Cognitive. He looked at Brigham and smiled. “Hello.”
“What is this?!” the general demanded to know.
“That’s Siggy. He’s got control of your ship,” I explained. “Well, some of it. He’s not omnipotent, but hell, close enough.”
Brigham shot a quick glance at the nearby lieutenant, but she only shook her head.
“Before you ask,” said Abigail, “he’s real, and you’d better mind your next move.”
“Don’t just stand there!” barked Brigham to Clark. “Do something!”
“I wouldn’t,” warned Lucia, aiming her staff at the woman in uniform.
Clark raised her hands, noticeably shaken, and said nothing.
Lucia smiled. “Good girl.”
“Clark, take your weapon and place it on the floor,” I ordered.
She said nothing, but did as I told her, finally kicking the sidearm to Abigail’s feet.
“Now, do the same for your boss,” I instructed.
Clark reached for the general’s pistol. “I’m sorry, sir,” she muttered, leaning close to him and withdrawing the gun. Once again, she kicked the weapon to Abigail, who slid it behind her.
“See there? Now we can all relax,” I said, walking to the rear of the table. I reached to the center and took a piece of fruit from the tray. “Marcus, the only reason we’re standing here right now is that you—”
Brigham made a sudden break for the door, probably expecting it to open, but instead rammed into the center with his shoulder.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, but the exit door is currently locked down,” informed Sigmond.
Brigham groaned, holding his arm. He cursed under his breath.
“As I was saying,” I continued, propping my feet up on the table and taking a bite out of the fruit. “Marcus, the only reason we’re standing here right now is because you and your friends went and kidnapped a little girl. If you would’ve left her where you found her, none of this would’ve happened.” I glanced at Abigail. “The nun would’ve never stolen her. I never would’ve given them a ride to their church. Lucia over there would’ve stayed on her frosty little planet and none of us would’ve been the wiser.”
Lucia waved he
r staff and smiled at Brigham.
“You blew up her home, by the way,” remarked Abigail.
I took another bite of the fruit. “In fairness, we blew up half his ship.”
“Quite exquisitely, sir,” said Sigmond.
I nodded at the Cognitive. “Thanks, Siggy.”
Brigham took a slow breath. “Is there a point to this?”
“Oh, sure,” I replied, leaping up from the chair. I walked over to where he was standing, getting so close I could smell his cologne. “You started all of this, and I was content to let you sit freely, but you pressed me, Marcus.” I narrowed my brow, pausing half a meter from his face, and unholstered my pistol. “And I ain’t a man who ought to be pressed.”
I brought the barrel to his forehead in one, swift motion, letting it push into him with enough strength to leave a mark.
“So, you’re going to kill me,” he said, seemingly unafraid. This was a man who’d faced death many times, according to his records, and right now it showed.
“That depends on how you play the next few minutes, Marcus,” I answered.
Abigail reached into her pocket and retrieved another personal shield. She handed it to the general. He hesitated to take it, but I nudged him with my pistol, incentivizing him.
“Put that on your shoulder,” I ordered.
He studied the device, but it wouldn’t do him much good. “What does this do?” he asked, slapping it on his shoulder.
Rather than answer, I decided to show him by reaching over and tapping the activation button. In a quick flash, Brigham’s appearance changed to a boy in his early twenties. His hair shifted to auburn red, and his eyes faded to a soft, emerald green. Gone was the old, authoritative soldier, replaced by a clueless, unimposing child.
“Step 1,” I said.
Brigham looked down at his hands, examining his pale complexion and freckles. “What the hell did you just do to me?”
“We’re going to walk you out of this ship,” I explained.
“If you think a pointed gun and a costume change will be enough to get me off this ship, you’ve—”
A sudden shock emitted from the shield, coursing through Brigham’s entire body, instantly paralyzing him. He fell straight to the floor with a heavy thud.
“And there’s step 2,” I said.
Clark gasped at the sight of her boss on the floor. “G-General?!”
“He’ll be fine,” I assured her.
“Only if you do what we say,” added Abigail.
The woman gulped. “I won’t say anything!”
“There’s no way we can trust that,” I said. “You’re coming with us.”
“S-Stop!” shouted a voice from behind me.
I turned to see Billins standing there with a gun in his hand, aimed right at me.
“I’ll shoot!” he warned.
“Godsdammit, Billins,” I muttered. “Don’t be stupid, man. Put the gun down and—”
There was a loud explosion as the bullet hit me in the chest, deflecting off the shield and into the nearby wall. “Shield at 92%,” said an automated voice in my ear.
The sergeant widened his eyes. “U-Um, I—” He was shaking, unable to keep his composure, and quickly dropped the gun. He took a step back and took several sharp breaths.
A loud banging sound filled the room as someone beat their fist against the door. “General Brigham! Sir, is everything alright in there?!” called someone from the outside.
I sighed, staring at Billins. “Now you’ve really done it.”
He licked his lips and swallowed. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t! It was all a bluff!” Poor guy looked like he was about to have a panic attack. “I’ve never shot anyone. I—”
“Shut up, Billins!” I snapped, walking up beside him and snatching the gun from the floor. “I need a second to think.”
“I’m afraid you won’t have long, sir,” informed Sigmond, pointing to the door, which was slowly being pried open.
“Hey!” shouted a man from the other side. “What’s going on in there?!”
There was a loud pop as the soldiers tazed the door, depolarizing the glass and forcing it to fade from dark to clear, allowing them to see us. “Who’s that in there?” asked one of the men. “Where’s the general?!”
“He’s indisposed,” I answered.
“We have a security team here! Place your hands above your head and lay down on your stomach!”
Lucia pointed her staff at the glass door. “Shall I clear the path?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I said, swiping up the holo emitter, causing Sigmond to flicker and disappear. I stowed it in my pocket. “Siggy, make sure they can’t sound that alarm. Once we’re off this floor, I don’t want anyone following us.”
“Understood, sir,” he answered in my ear.
“As for the rest of you,” I went on, looking at Abigail and Lucia. “Don’t put on your new faces until we’ve dealt with this.”
They both nodded.
“And you two,” I said, glancing at Billins and Clark. “Just try to keep your heads down.”
The door slid open a little more, so much that I could see the other soldiers waiting behind the first few.
“Lucia,” I said, taking both my pistols in my hands and cocking them. “Time to clear a path.”
She gave me a devilish smile. “Right, then.”
The door snapped open at last, revealing a small squad of soldiers, armed to the teeth. The man in the front opened his mouth, ready to shout his orders, when the end of Lucia’s staff sparked to life, almost like a roar, and she fired.
A blast of blue energy tore through the crowd, sending them all on their backs. The rear half were still moving, squirming and disorientated, while the first half stayed down.
“Oh my gods!” cried Clark. “Are they—are they dead?”
“Only stunned,” declared Lucia. “A full blast would tear a hole in your ship.”
One of the soldier went for his rifle, trying to stand.
I leaped across the table, pistols in my hand, and fired a shot before my feet touched the floor.
The bullet hit the soldier in his leg, followed by another to his forearm, causing him to drop the weapon. At the same time, the two guards standing outside the bridge door entered the bridge, probably responding to all the noise.
I stepped back, allowing Lucia to take my place. She released a single shot at the two of them. The men went flying into a computer terminal, probably breaking a few bones in the process.
Abigail took Brigham by the arm. “Should we go?”
“That’s a good idea!” I leapt through the doorway and kicked one of the soldiers in the head as he attempted to stand. He didn’t try again.
Lucia came storming out of the room, swinging her staff and going for another nearby soldier who had, before now, been dutifully attending his workstation. She hit him twice—once in the shin and then in the chest, causing him to collapse on his knees. Quickly, she snagged his rifle and tossed it to me, and since I had no interest in it, I let it fall to the floor, then shoved it beneath another workstation.
“Is that all of them?” asked Abigail, poking her head out of the room, the general in tow.
“I’d expect more soon,” I answered. “Best we get our skin on.”
The three of us tapped our shoulders and activated our fake personas. In seconds, we were back to being Union officers. “Hello, Constable. Goodbye, Jace,” I said, holstering one of my pistols.
“We’d better go,” said Lucia, her staff returned to her back, hidden by the shield.
I leaned inside the room to see Lieutenant Clark and Sergeant Billins, both staring at me with terrified, frozen expressions. “Waiting for something?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” asked Clark.
“I mean you’re both coming with us.”
“But you have what you want!” she exclaimed.
“Still need a way out. Billins is our ticket,
but I can’t have you here to sound any alarms,” I explained, waving her closer.
She frowned as she slowly walked towards me.
“Hey, cheer up,” I said. “You can help carry your boss.”
* * *
We left the bridge, sealing the doors behind us. The hall was loud and full of activity, but no one seemed to have noticed the commotion. Not yet, anyway. It would only be a matter of time before someone ran to check on things or one of the incapacitated soldiers woke up.
For now, we’d simply have to hurry.
Clark and Billins carried Brigham, an arm wrapped around each of their shoulders. Abigail’s shield wouldn’t hold if she did it, so it was lucky we found these two when we did.
We boarded the elevator, gathering inside and letting the doors close. I sat there for a few seconds before glancing at Billins.
He was hunched over with the general’s arm around him, staring at the floor.
I cleared my throat, prompting him to blink. “Billins, you mind?”
“Oh! R-Right,” he stuttered, then reached for his card and swiped it.
“What are you going to do with us?” asked Clark, holding her boss while Billins entered his security code.
“Depends how good a job you do carrying the luggage,” I said.
She didn’t say anything.
“You know who we are, don’t you?” I asked as the elevator began its descent.
She hesitated a few seconds before finally nodding.
“What else do you know?” asked Abigail.
No answer.
“That much, huh?” I asked. “That means you know what you’re chasing, right?”
“Fugitives and outlaws,” replied Clark.
“That’s one way of looking at it,” I admitted. “The other is that you’re stalking a little girl and hoping to dissect her.”
Again, Clark said nothing.
I scoffed. “Wow, lady. Not even so much as a shocked look, huh? I guess we know where you stand.”
The elevator doors opened and we all stepped off and into the open floor, still filled with soldiers standing around, waiting for their orders.
Of course, all of that was about to change.
I reached for my pad, checking the timer on those incoming drones. Twenty seconds remaining. “Talk about good timing,” I muttered.