Empire's End: Episode 4: The Real Sin

by JP Raymond

  B ullies love to humiliate you. They kick you when you’re down. They go after every perceivable weakness. They strip you of your dignity, making you something less than a person – an object for derision.

  Thing is, though, a person can only be humiliated for so long. Personhood will endure being reduced only so far.

  And when the victim retaliates, when they say, “Fuck this; I’ve had enough,” then there is true hell to pay. Because they don’t care about doing things the right way anymore. They only want to hurt the bully and everyone who laughed, everyone who didn’t do anything to help. Everyone.

  A humiliated person like that tells themselves they’re out for justice. But it’s not true. At that point, all they want is revenge.

  You can’t reason with people like that. You can only hope to stay out of their way.

  Episode 4:

  The Real Sin

  G wen wasn’t sure if she was awake or dead. She couldn’t see anything. Her whole body hurt, especially her left shoulder. It burned and throbbed as though it were being squeezed by a white-hot vice grip. Dull pain, deep in her muscles, traveled down her arm and her back. The rest of her body was cramped. She couldn’t seem to move.

  She tried to raise a hand to her head, but she struck something hard and winced as her knuckles complained. She cursed and then groaned. What happened?

  And where the hell was she? She still couldn’t see anything, but her eyes were open. They were open, right? She blinked twice.

  Digging in her utility belt, she found her flashlight, pulled it from its pocket, and keyed it on. The sudden illumination temporarily dazzled her. She blinked several more times, trying to force her eyes to adjust.

  She had little room to move. She lay on the floor of a cubicle of some sort. The floor and the walls were metal and hard, and her body was crammed into a semi-fetal position to fit.

  Gwen ran the beam of her flashlight over the walls. Maintenance equipment hung from hooks. Her brain struggled to process that information. Why would there be equipment on the walls?

  Then it hit her like a thunderbolt: She was in a closet.

  How had she gotten here? She tried to remember what she had been doing.

  Following a hunch, she’d come to Sigba Station, hunting terrorists who had kidnapped Senator Idrib Mol’s daughter. And she’d found them, right? Yes. Two Graur and two humans. And one of them was . . .

  JaQuan.

  Suddenly, the gates of her mind opened. The memory of everything that had happened since she’d arrived at the Horari Belt came flooding back to her. The massacre of the Elohim. The confrontation with the terrorists. JaQuan being one of them.

  How could he? He’d been opposed to her enlisting in the Space Rangers, believing they would be better off just trying to make a living. He was a principled man, but he’d never been a radical. So far as she knew, he had no ambition to engage in galactic politics in any way.

  So what was he doing with Manifest Destiny? Why would he side with a bunch of assholes trying to get every single human in the Empire killed?

  Clearly, he’d changed. He wasn’t the same man she’d dated three years ago.

  And it didn’t matter if he was. She was a cop. He was a criminal. No, it was worse than that. He was a terrorist. She would bring him in.

  Given that, why was she alive? Somehow, they’d incapacitated her. Why hadn’t they killed her? Why lock her in a closet instead?

  She supposed that was a problem for later. In the interim, she had no idea how long she had been out or where the terrorists were now. If she didn’t hurry, they would escape.

  Gwen pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her body screamed in protest.

  “God damn it, JaQuan,” she said aloud. “You’re going to pay for this.”

  She tried to stand, and something fell off her lap and clattered to the floor. She aimed the flashlight in its direction and saw her pistol.

  The situation got stranger. After incapacitating her, they’d locked her in a closet instead of just killing her. Additionally, they’d left her a weapon instead of making sure she was disarmed. Were they morons? They couldn’t be that dumb, could they?

  They’d kidnapped the daughter of an Imperial Senator in some mad bid to force the question of human citizenship. That was pretty fucking stupid, so there was definitely a precedent.

  It still didn’t make sense, though.

  Unless JaQuan was taunting her. He could have killed her. He could have left her locked away, unable to escape. But he provided the means to get out. He seemed to be baiting her, telling her he was so much better than she was. He wanted her to know she couldn’t catch him. Did he really hate her that much? What happened to him in the last three years?

  Once again, it didn’t matter. Fuck JaQuan Jones. He was working for the bad guys now. Her job was to get the hell out of here and find him before it was too late.

  She scanned the wall adjacent to the door and was unsurprised to find no keypad. This was a closet. Why would there be a keypad inside.

  No problem. Gwen snatched up her beamer, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. The closet lit up with emerald light as the ray stretched from the muzzle to the doorframe. She held it steady and squinted as the focused plasma slowly burned through the metal.

  It took three minutes for her to reach the electronic locking mechanism. There was a shower of sparks and a quiet explosion when she hit it.

  Hoping she’d disabled it, she pushed herself to her feet. She holstered the pistol and then leaned on the door. Summoning what strength she could find, she heaved on the cold metal, trying to push it open.

  The door resisted. The thing was heavy and designed to be pulled aside by gears and pulleys, not people. But she got it open a crack, and then slid her hand between it and the frame. Grunting with the exertion, Gwen shoved it aside far enough that she could slip out.

  She spent several seconds panting in relief. Then she stretched, her muscles roaring with complaint. She had a burn on her left shoulder. She must have been hit with an energy beam. That son of a bitch.

  Pulling her gun from its holster, she checked it. Burning through the lock had drained most if its charge. She had enough for two, maybe three shots. Damn. There were four terrorists. She was going to have to improvise.

  Assuming she wasn’t already too late. Ignoring the pain coursing through her, Gwen Carter raced off in the direction of the landing bay.

  I’m going to get you, JaQuan, she thought. And you are going to be so sorry when I do.

  JaQuan twisted uncomfortably in the access tube. The Myollnar Crystal still wasn’t seated correctly in its housing, and it was in an awkward location that he struggled to reach.

  “How the hell is anyone supposed to do this?” he called down to Lanaliel. “It’s at an impossible angle.”

  “This was an Elohiman ship before Kitekh came into possession of it,” the Mandran engineer replied, his voice booming off the metal walls of the tube. “It was likely designed with their slighter frames in mind.”

  “Then why the hell don’t we get Cooressa down here to do this?”

  “She’s a comms specialist, not an engineer.”

  “So? We’re just talking about fitting the crystal into the housing. How hard can that be?”

  “I would think you would know the answer to that question perfectly well, my friend,” Lanaliel said with a chuckle.

  “Yeah,” JaQuan muttered.

  He stretched towards the crystal again. His fingers reached it, but he couldn’t get a very good grip. As carefully as he could, he rotated the thing, hoping it would drop into place. Pain throbbed through his hand. Shinzaa had treated it for the burns from Alan’s
electroray gun, but it was still sore. She’d scolded Alan severely for injuring a shipmate and ordered him to work on some obscure repair that required EVA before Rischa reminded her he had a concussion. He was sent to his quarters to rest instead.

  JaQuan didn’t feel sorry for him. He was still pissed at Alan for shooting Gwen.

  Gwen. Jesus, why did she have to show up? It was bad enough that her bulldog police instincts had led to an ugly confrontation and left her thinking he was a terrorist. Seeing her brought back feelings he’d wanted to forget. As she stood there pointing a beamer at him, it was like no time had passed. It was three years ago, and they were arguing – both of them aware that their relationship was disintegrating; both of them wishing they could stop it from happening.

  “Have you got it?” Lanaliel asked.

  “Not yet.”

  JaQuan put Gwen out of his mind and focused. He pushed the crystal an inch to the right. It dropped into place without warning.

  With a loud hum, it lit up with purple light, frightening JaQuan with its sudden brightness. He jumped back, hit his head on the bulkhead, and nearly fell.

  “Are you all right?” Lanaliel said, when he heard JaQuan swear.

  “Yes,” he groaned. “I got it into place.”

  “Excellent! Now you just need to attach the couplings.”

  JaQuan cursed again. He wanted out of this tube. He was sore and tired and more than a little stressed out. Between the harrowing experience of delivering Mutakh Kairee’s bomb and running into Gwen after all these years, not to mention the difficulty of piloting the lander through the asteroid belt, he was near the end of his emotional strength. And of course, there was the small detail of everyone aboard being wanted as terrorists and kidnappers. Even if he got the hyperdrive working again, where could they go?

  Damn Brody anyway. He got them into this with his Manifest Destiny bullshit. The hyperdrive wouldn’t be broken if it weren’t for his assholery, and even if it were, he should be down here fixing it. He was the engineer’s mate.

  With a sigh JaQuan reached for the first coupling, pulled a screwdriver from a pocket on his ship suit, and set to work securing it to the crystal.

  “So,” Lanaliel called up, trying to sound casual. “Tell me about this Space Ranger.”

  JaQuan winced. He was not interested in discussing his failed love life with a giant cow in outer space.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” he said.

  “That does not seem possible, my friend,” Lanaliel replied. “You recognized her when she tried to apprehend you. You called her by name. And Rorgun’s brief report indicated there was clearly some history between the two of you. There must be something to tell.”

  “Nothing interesting,” JaQuan said as he tightened down the first coupling.

  “Also impossible,” Lanaliel said. “If you had no interest in her, if there were nothing interesting to say about her, you would have allowed Alan to kill her. Or you wouldn’t have insisted on placing her somewhere safe after she had been incapacitated.

  “Additionally, your continued evasions only serve to heighten my curiosity.”

  JaQuan finished with the first coupling and leaned his head on the metal wall. Why couldn’t the Mandran take a hint?

  “Fine,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

  “How do you know her?”

  JaQuan reached for the second coupling.

  “We served aboard the Santa Maria together,” he answered as he started tightening. “She was on the security team. I worked in engineering. We had parallel shifts, so we saw each other a lot.”

  “And did you like each other much?”

  JaQuan stopped working for a moment. Painful memories flooded his mind.

  “Yeah,” he said. “We liked each other.

  “And then the mishap occurred, and we ended up here in the Empire. Gwen and I were assigned to different Acclimation classes. I didn’t see her again for another five years.”

  “Were you lovers?”

  JaQuan choked and nearly dropped his screwdriver.

  “Damn, Lanaliel. That’s pretty forward.”

  “Why? It seems a logical and pertinent question.”

  JaQuan shook his head. Ten years in, he still wasn’t used to the direct nature of Mandran culture. They might be philosophical and even ascetic, but they would talk about anything. They discussed details of last night’s sexual encounter with the same detached curiosity as the color of the sky. They had no boundaries.

  “Not at the time,” he answered. “We didn’t get the chance to get together before Acclimation. After arriving in the Empire, everything happened so fast. We were only in Imperial space for twenty-three hours before the Elohim found us.”

  “That must have been very exciting,” Lanaliel commented.

  “That’s not the word I’d use. It was terrifying. We were on our way to Mars. Suddenly, we’re billions of lightyears from Earth with no way to get back. Before we can come up with a real plan, we had first contact with an alien race. It was obvious they were vastly more technologically advanced than we were and could blow us out of the stars if they chose.”

  “Ah, yes. Humans have adapted so well to life in the Empire, I forget how primitive your technology was when you first arrived.”

  JaQuan snorted. Humanity hadn’t developed faster-than-light travel or many of the other things the Empire had, but they weren’t primitive. The Santa Maria was en route to Mars to terraform it, for Christ’s sake. That wasn’t exactly stone tools and living in caves. Lanaliel was cool, but he was every bit as arrogant and condescending as the rest of the Empire.

  “Please continue your story,” Lanaliel said.

  JaQuan sighed. He resumed tightening the coupling.

  “Anyway, we ran into each other four years ago. I was stuck working on ships at Nimia Station in the Terrion system.”

  “Where we found you,” Lanaliel said.

  “Yes. Gwen was third in command of station security. She’d just been promoted, which changed her shift. Prior to that, I hadn’t realized she was there. It’s a big station.

  “Anyway, we had a drink after our shifts ended.” He paused briefly in his story. Memories of that night flooded his mind. “It was like none of the time in between had passed. We spent hours talking. Then we went back to her place. We were pretty much together after that.”

  “What happened?” Lanaliel asked. “If you were perfect for each other, what went wrong?”

  A sarcastic smile slid up JaQuan’s face. Perfect for each other. That was a good one.

  He finished tightening down the coupling. The Myollnar Crystal hummed and throbbed quietly. He didn’t see what it had to be content about.

  Climbing down the tube, JaQuan dropped back into the main engineering chamber. He crossed to the console where his water bottle sat, unscrewed the top, and took a long drink.

  “What happened was she was a total pain in the ass,” he said without looking at Lanaliel.

  “I don’t understand,” the chief engineer said. “How did she hurt your posterior?”

  JaQuan smiled and shook his head. Between Rorgun’s malapropisms and Lanaliel’s inability to perceive colloquialisms when he heard them for the first time, speaking with his friends aboard Cataan’s Claw was both challenging and amusing.

  “It’s an expression,” he said. “It means the other person is difficult to get along with.”

  Lanaliel frowned.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” he said. “Why would personality have anything to do with pain in your buttocks?”

  “Just go with it, okay?”

  “Okay. How was she a pain in your ass?”

  JaQuan sighed again. He hated reliving this.

  “Gwen’s a crusader,” he said. “She’s always had this do-the-right-thing streak in her. Back on Earth, she was a Marine. They’re all about duty and honor and courage. All the military branches teach that, but for the Marines, it’s like religion. Their motto is Semper
Fidelis – Latin for ‘Always Faithful.’

  “Anyway, Gwen served in the Marines in a rough theater. When she got out, she became a cop.”

  “A cop?”

  “A police officer. First she served her country with the Marines, then she became a cop to serve her community.

  “The mission to Mars was pure desperation. Earth was doomed, so we were moving to another planet to survive. Gwen enlisted in the security service because she figured someone would have to provide law and order in the new world. Most people were aboard because they figured their chances of survival were better on Mars than on Earth, but not Gwen. She was there for the greater good.”

  “Forgive me, my friend, but I don’t understand what this has to do with her being a pain in your ass. It seems to me her aspirations to serve a greater good are noble and admirable.”

  JaQuan had another long sip of water. It was cool and pleasing, but it didn’t quench the fires of frustration and regret that memories of Gwen raised.

  “Gwen wanted to join the Space Rangers,” he said. “They had recently opened the academy to humans, and she was obsessed with enrolling. Wanted to serve again, make a difference in the galaxy.”

  “And you were opposed to this?”

  JaQuan paused. How did he put this is a way his philosophical friend would understand?

  “I tried to tell her it was a bad idea,” he said. “You know what it’s like. No one trusts humans. Some think we’re the Fourth Race here to burn the galaxy into darkness. Some think we’re here to lead the people of the Empire into a new age of light. A lot of people think we’re a backwater race of children who shouldn’t be allowed to act like we’re citizens.

  “Regardless, I didn’t think the Space Rangers were going to be very accepting of a human. Worse, I didn’t think they – or the Empire for that matter – deserved her service. We were treated like shit. Why should they get the benefits of Gwen’s experience and dedication?

  “She didn’t see it that way. Talked about duty and courage again. Said she could make a difference for all of us, that she could enforce the law and help the other races accept and respect us.”