by Jason Hutt
Hannah met Ironheart’s gaze; tears drying on her face.
“Do you know why I let Max take two of my best with him?”
“I am not a pawn,” Hannah said.
“Of course not. To trivialize your abilities in such a way would be an insult to both of us. You offer a unique skillset, Miss Cabot. You were not born with a circuit grafted into your skin. A circuit that regrows when your skin is cut; a circuit that is so intertwined with your cellular structure that it is near impossible to remove. You are not a walking transmitter. You can walk in and out of Republic worlds like a ghost, disappearing whenever you see fit. I could use someone like you.”
“No,” she said.
“Oh, come now, let’s not thumb our nose at opportunity too quickly. You want to strike out against the Republic, make them pay for their crimes against you and your family. I can give you that opportunity. I can turn you into the most dangerous weapon in the Republic. I’ve heard you can fight, Miss Cabot. Let me sharpen that blade and you’ll do more than just fight. You’ll destroy them. They will tremble at the sound of your footsteps.”
Hannah folded her arms across her chest. “Is that why the ship is still coded to me?”
“It’s why the ship is still in one piece. I could’ve torn it apart as soon as Max handed it over to you. But you and it could prove far more valuable to me that the ship alone ever would.”
“What do you want from me?”
Ironheart stared at her. “I want you to kill Senator Maria Cahill.”
Hannah shook her head. “I’m not an assassin.”
“You could be,” Ironheart said, “Do you know who Senator Cahill is?”
“Should I?”
“The good Senator is the woman who championed the creation of the task force that routed you from your home. She has funneled money into the enforcement of regulations throughout the outer colonies.”
Hannah sat and stared at Ironheart impassively.
“She championed the creation of the task force that killed everyone you know.”
Hannah felt a spark of anger deep down in her stomach.
Ironheart tapped a spot on his desk and an image of Maria’s face projected above the desktop.
“She has pushed for the capture of your father as the number one enemy of the Republic and is the reason you sit here alone.”
Her right hand clenched into a fist.
“She is the one who pulled the first lever in the chain of events that ended with the death of your mother.”
Hannah’s jaw trembled. Her heart raced. She stared at the Senator’s face. Her teeth ground together.
“So now you have a choice. Hand over the ship to me, walk away, and I drop you on some remote world where you can scrounge out your existence the way your father wanted – safe and isolated,” Ironheart said, holding her gaze, “Or join me and fight back against the very people who have taken everything from you.”
She sat, coiled and ready to lash out. She held a ball of white-hot fire in her mind. This was her chance. She would let that fire loose on the person who most deserved it.
“I’ll do it.”
***
Max piloted the small, gray Republic transport on its final approach to Ceres. He rubbed his sweaty palms on the itchy, ill-fitting Republic uniform that Ironheart had provided. Max sniffed, hoping that the odor of dead animal was coming from the shuttle and not the uniform. With the tap of a spot on the console he notified Gauntlet and the rest of the crew that they were on final approach. The shuttle was third in the cue for entering the complex.
The running lights of several other ships could be seen against the mottled background of stars, asteroids, and empty space. The Ceres installation loomed ahead, a giant silver structure on Ceres’ pock-marked face. The base was enormous, the largest Max had ever seen. A shimmering sheen encased the entire facility in a curtain of gold. Beyond the environmental field, Max could just make out some of the large structures that comprised the base, as well as the silhouettes of several Republic cruisers moored to the surface.
Somewhere in that monstrous installation, Eleanor was lying in a state of suspended animation. Max’s hands trembled slightly as he nudged the shuttle into its position in line.
“Is that from excitement or from the lack of alcohol?” Gauntlet asked as she poked her head into the cockpit.
Max frowned and ignored her.
“You can still wave off, Max,” she said.
“Why would I do that?”
“Because your actual daughter is waiting for you back on the Phantom. Because this is a suicide run and the only reason you want to throw your life away is because you’re afraid to fight by her side.”
“I don’t need this, Gauntlet,” Max said, “I earned your support, remember?”
“Yes, you did. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your actions,” Gauntlet said, “And neither would she.”
“And neither would Eleanor.”
“You don’t know that. She chose her path.”
“What the hell do you care? You’re getting paid, right? Just shut up and do what you’re paid to do. You sound like my ex-wife.”
Max didn’t need to turn to know she was standing just behind him, her fist probably clenched into a giant silver sledgehammer of pain that could easily break a few vertebrae in a single blow. He wouldn’t look back. The only path was forward.
“Transport Shuttle Gamma Tango Romeo Foxtrot, prepare for processing,” an automated voice reported over the comm.
Gauntlet sighed. “If we do get through this, we’re not done with this conversation.”
Max could hear her footsteps walking away as the console chimed indicating that the base had initiated its scan. Max held his breath, going through the check sequence in his head. First the scan would verify the ship’s transponder code, then if it checked out, they would check personnel ID scans. After that, they would review the manifest and check for trace elements not identified as being on the ship. Ironheart would have had plenty of opportunities to hand him over to the Republic part and parcel.
When the base sentries started speaking again, Max almost jumped out of his chair.
“Transport shuttle Gamma Tango Romeo Foxtrot, please proceed to the highlighted route.”
A course popped up on Max’s command console. He accepted and a countdown timer appeared on the display. Twenty minutes until they were docked. Another countdown timer was on the top right of his display. This one showed one hour remaining, one hour until Reggie jumped in to pick them up.
Max went into the mostly empty passenger hold, save for a couple of cargo sleds with some crates bearing medical seals and biohazard warnings. The crates looked from the outside like they were filled with donated tissues that could be used to grow brains, hearts, lungs and all manner of other organs. Crank had opened the top of one of the crates and was pulling out pistols for the team.
Gauntlet sat on a crate cleaning and checking her rifle. Her oversized metal hands had been replaced with normal-sized hands that were covered in a layer of overly pink synthetic flesh. She had kept her pink hair, even after Max’s urging. After all, her uniform indicated she was just a supply clerk, not an officer, and that color wasn’t regulation.
Three other members of the team, all volunteers from the crews Max had saved at the battle of The Cove as the others had started to call it. Max had only hazy memories at the number of toasts that had been made in his name in the Phantom’s bar that night.
“Max,” Gauntlet said, interrupting his thoughts, “When the shit hits the fan in there, you do realize that anything goes, right?”
Max nodded. “You need to get out of my head.”
She shrugged. “I appreciate where you’re coming from, but if we have any hope of pulling this off, there can’t be any restrictions. I’m not going to hold the trigger if someone jumps in the line of fire, even you.”
“I’m not going to,” Max said, “Just do me a favor and try not to aim for bystan
ders.”
“This is a Republic Naval Base, Max. No bystanders here.”
Max nodded and didn’t argue. Crank walked up to him and held out the butt of a pistol. Max waved him off.
“I’m pushing the sled,” Max said, “My hands will be full.”
“If you need to fire off one shot to clear the path between you and the shuttle, you’re going to wish you had this.”
Max chewed the inside of his lip, then took the pistol. Back in the cockpit, he saw that they were on final approach. An immense landing field loomed just beyond the window. A dozen new Republic Interceptors were prominently arrayed on the edge of the field, ready for immediate deployment. Three large Republic Cruisers cast a shadow over them all.
Max placed a contact in his right eye. He blinked and could see the countdown timer for Reggie’s arrival. He took another small patch and applied it behind his right ear. He could hear Gauntlet doing comm checks with the rest of the team. Max went through the hold to the aft hatch. He looked at each person in turn and they gave him a nod. Max let out a long, slow breath, wiped his hands on his coveralls, and opened the hatch.
***
Akimbe listened to the footsteps of Admiral Dorn echo through the corridor as she approached her office. The rhythmic click-clack of boots sounded the same in every ship, space station, or base throughout the Republic. If he closed his eyes, the sound made him momentarily forget the aching in his chest, the burning of his skin, or the constant itch at the connection point for his new left foot.
Admiral Dorn came in and sat behind her desk, ramrod straight, and glared at him with the intensity of a white-hot supernova. She tapped a few spots on the top of her desk and a report appeared on the screen. “So here we are again, Commander,” she said, lacing her fingers in front of her, “You seem to be healing up fairly well.”
“I am,” Akimbe said.
“It’s a shame the same can’t be said for the three hundred and forty-seven soldiers who lost their lives under your command.”
“We live in a dangerous galaxy, Admiral. We must be ever vigilant against the enemy.”
“We are not at war, Commander.”
“My experience in the field tells me otherwise. Those men and women gave their lives in service of this Republic. A soldier could not wish for a more honorable death.”
“This is not a debate over valor or sacrifice. These men and women did not need to die. They died because of your willful disobedience and your reckless crusade.” The Admiral practically snarled at him.
“The core of this Republic is rotten, Admiral. Surely, you must see it. We are at war…at war with those who would subvert everything that we have established. We are at war with those who oppose order, law, and justice.”
“You self-righteous prick. If you had followed orders several hundred people would still be alive today. Yes, that band of pirates would still be out there, plundering Republic property and yes, killing a few of our citizens, but we could have put a sane plan of action together. We could have collected intelligence and done everything we could to maximize the success of the operation. Instead, you charge in blind.”
“I was pursuing those who have done the most harm to us, those whose very existence is a threat to our way of life. Max Cabot is a terrorist. A murderer. A smuggler. A breeder. How could I conscionably turn a blind eye when I knew how to find him. Too many of us are content to let the worst elements of our society do their bidding, while we go through the motions pretending to vigilantly protect the well-being of our people.
“You need to learn that rot is pervasive in your fleet. Your command is littered with the complacent, the undisciplined, and the subversive. Information has been leaked to these pirates of our orders, of our whereabouts, and you have done nothing to prevent it.”
Dorn just stared at him. Akimbe could feel the fire burning in his cheeks.
“That’s the only reason this is a conversation and not a dismissal. I’ve seen your report, Commander. We are all at fault in this.”
Akimbe smiled.
“Regardless,” she said, “You are still suspended, pending an official inquiry of the events of the past two weeks. You are to report Earthside…as am I. We will both answer for what we’ve done. The shuttle leaves tonight.”
“You’re dis-” Dorn started but was interrupted by two beeps from her console. “What is it?”
“We’ve had an incursion, ma’am, in the Stasis Unit,” a young man reported, “Looks like a team of six has Eleanor Shaw.”
“I assume Captain Xi has been notified?”
“Yes, ma’am, he told me to contact you.”
Before the young man finished speaking, Dorn connected to Captain Xi and called up several views of the area. The corridor was filled with thick smoke. Flashes of light erupted from within the billowing cloud. Several teams took cover behind some overturned sleds and crates as fire erupted over their heads.
“Captain, I trust you have this under control?”
“We will, Admiral. I have to admit this is a spirited bunch.”
“Do we have IDs on them?”
“A couple of drifters who went off the grid a few months ago, a couple of wanted felons, a woman who was presumed dead when she went missing twenty years ago, and one Max Cabot.”
Akimbe watched the situation unfold, tendons on his bulging as his muscles clenched. When Cabot’s name was mentioned, he was up in a heartbeat and spun on his heels, ready to dash down the corridor.
“Hold steady, Commander,” Admiral Dorn said, “You are officially on suspension, remember? Base personnel will handle this just fine without you.”
Akimbe whirled and faced her. His hands shook with rage.
Dorn was smiling. “Follow your orders, Commander. You do remember how to do that don’t you? You’ll remain here until the skirmish has ended. Once the all clear has been given, you may proceed to your quarters.”
He straightened and pulled his uniform taut. He inhaled slowly, his eyes darting toward the scene on the monitors. “Yes, ma’am.”
***
Max crouched behind the sled as a laser sliced into the wall to his left. He tried to peer over the sled but couldn’t see who fired the shot. He dove to his left, behind the crumpled, smoking carcasses of several disabled drones that had piled up. He glanced over at Eleanor, exposed to fire, lying unconscious as chaos erupted around her. He lunged forward and grabbed under her arms pulling her to the relative safety of his position.
Gauntlet’s shadow passed over him. She was screaming, nothing coherent, just a guttural yell that manifested all the anger that ate away at her. She threw a grenade into the smoke. Seconds later, it detonated and something ruptured in the utility lines. Power started flickering in the corridor and water pooled on the floor.
An arc of electricity struck Gauntlet in the hand, flaying the artificial skin from the synthetic limb, but otherwise absorbing the charge. She fed the absorbed power into her rifle and fired bolts back that felled two more Republic soldiers.
Max recoiled as a bright flash lit the corridor, followed by a wet thud to his right. The smoking corpse of one of their team members, a man whose name Max couldn’t remember, lay just inches from his feet. Max pulled Eleanor close, hugging her amidst the chaos, tears rolling down his face.
Max didn’t look up when a heat ray melted the elements that comprised Crank’s mechanical shoulders and the young man screamed in blinding pain. He didn’t look up when Gauntlet threw a gobbler grenade into the midst of a squad of soldiers that was trying to creep up on them from behind. The sounds they made as the nannites ate through them would echo through Max’s head for the rest of his life.
Max laid there, hugging Eleanor close, eyes closed. He laid there as wave after wave of Republic drones and soldiers relentlessly pressed in on them. He laid there as Gauntlet fell, her screams finally silenced. He couldn’t tell if she was dead or disabled, nor did he dare reach out to check. He only whispered in Eleanor’s ear, over and over ag
ain, “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I’m sorry I got you into this. I’m sorry.”
He whispered into her ear right up until the moment when a guard hit him in the temple with the butt end of a rifle. As the world went black, Max had just one thought.
Hannah, what have I done?
***
“Humanity sits on the cusp of a new tomorrow,” Hunter Graham said, his voice booming across the packed ballroom. Dozens of men and women dressed in the best formal attire the Republic had to offer sat staring at him, smiling and applauding. “Much of that hope for tomorrow is due to the tireless efforts of President Johanssen over the last seven years.”
Hunter led the audience in giving the President a round of applause. Maria dutifully stood from her seat in the very back of the room and applauded along with everyone else. She sat alone as it seemed all of those slated to be seated at her table suddenly had other last-minute obligations that demanded their attention.
Samir Effren had even had the gall to suggest that maybe Maria should skip the event altogether and stay out of the public eye. So she sat perfectly poised, wearing an ever-present smile, waving at some of the sidelong glances she received just to remind them that she wasn’t going to wilt to pressure from anyone.
The applause finally died down and Hunter continued. “Ninety-nine percent of all birth defects can be identified and corrected before a fetus reaches the end of the first trimester. Vaccines have been developed for every major communicable disease that has plagued humanity throughout the ages. We can grow replacement organs that can be seamlessly transplanted in any patient at any time. We have conquered disease.
“Starting from a small cup of nanomachines, we can build a colony on an uncharted world within a week. We can recycle ninety percent of all consumed materials down to their base components and then re-use those same materials to build the replacement part.
“We have a data network that spans and connects all of explored space and allows for the greatest repository of shared knowledge that has ever existed in this universe. We have conquered technology.