by Max Jager
After the Great Civil War, the Unified Republic had collapsed, leaving lots of empty shoes to fill and plenty of space to claim. Out of the ashes of war, two primary factions rose to prominence: Gibraltar in the Orion Arm and Draconia in the Perseus Arm. At first, both sides seemed uninterested in each other, focusing on bringing order to their star systems newly liberated from the old, corrupt regime. But only a few years after the dust settled, Gibraltar had tried to rein Draconia back in, bringing humanity once more under a single banner. It might have ended there if Draconia had simply said no, so the history books speculated. But they started small fire fights with any Gibraltar ships crossing the Expanse. Weakened from the Great Civil War, the Expanse grew to become a buffer between the two nations.
Then both nations began construction on the Strategic Cannons; immensely powerful weapons that beamed energy instantaneously across hundreds of lightyears, and capable of terrible obliteration to any planet in their crosshairs. It was Gibraltar Fleet Intelligence that had discovered Draconia's secret arms race against them. Suddenly neither side could in good conscience fire their Strategic Cannons without causing Mutually Assured Destruction. Whoever started blasting planets first would lose theirs in the process. It was no different than an ancient cold war fought on Earth during the first advent of nuclear weaponry.
Intelligence had discovered this horrible dilemma. And now they wanted direct control of the Peacemaker Fleet in breaking the MAD situation.
Jameson was jolted from his thoughts when two pressurized double doors at the back of the waiting room opened loudly. Jameson was unsurprised to see that it wasn't Axus. The individual before them was about his height, but much thinner and scrawny looking. His black Intelligence uniform stood in stark contrast to the traditional maroon color scheme the rest of the Fleet. It also bore the four gold bars that signified the rank of Captain. In the Peacemaker Fleet, Captains were essentially just ship jockeys who followed orders from the Flotilla Commanders.
This guy was Axus's little messenger boy.
He didn't bother shaking hands. "Commander Gray; Commander Sokras. Follow me."
The Captain turned on his heels, marching back towards the double doors. Jameson and Jester exchanged a look of annoyance, following quickly in his wake.
"I didn't catch your name, Captain," Jameson muttered as he led them into a side conference room.
"Jiles Macormak. You will refer to me as Captain Macormak."
"Yes, Captain," Jester replied, only a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
The three of them were seated around the small table, the central holo-projector on standby mode; it displayed a generic graphic of lazily swirling colors. Captain Macormak steepled his hands, looking very disinterested with them.
"I was instructed to give the two of you a hearing, but honestly I think this whole meeting is pointless. So what do you want?"
Jester spoke first. "We were hoping to speak with Commander Uniz specifically. He cast a vote of opposition against our strategies with Command."
"That vote was cast by everyone in our Flotilla," Macormak snapped. "Myself included. None of us approve the Kraven Approach."
Jameson guessed as much. He figured if Axus was in this for more than just himself, then they would have to win over the whole Flotilla. He had come prepared for just that.
"Captain," Jameson began, "I think we can both agree that Intelligence has always held a firm upper hand on actionable information regarding Draconia. My Flotilla has worked hard to incorporate as much of that Intel as possible into our strategies. But it is clear that neither of us alone can succeed. I propose that we unite our Flotillas. As one, we can play off each other's strengths. Plan together a perfect offensive campaign strategy."
Macormak held up a hand, massaging the bridge of his nose with the other. "Please, I've heard enough. None of us want anything to do with your so called union of Flotillas. We won't be bribed into accepting your plan just because we work together."
"Then what do you want?" Jester asked point blank.
Macormak glanced up to meet them both with a fixed stare. "We want nothing short of you all to step aside." He then turned his gaze upon Jameson. "You in particular, Commander Gray. Give up your position in the runnings for Fleet Commander and disband your entire Flotilla. If my superior, Commander Uniz, sees fit, we may incorporate some of your officers in our Flotilla."
Jameson shifted his jaw, feeling his face begin to turn red. He felt himself fuming, knowing full well that if they didn't leave now he'd probably say something he would regret.
"I think we'll show ourselves out." He got to his feet, Jester following suit.
"See that you do," Macormak sneered.
Later, out in the corridors of November Section, Jameson growled angrily. He punched one of the metal wall panels for good measure.
"What a douche," Jester muttered. "This is all about power plays."
"And he had the gall to tell us to roll over and die," Jameson replied.
The two walked in silence for a moment. There was nothing to be done about it right now. Axus and his cronies had made up their mind. About the only thing Jameson wanted to do was take a break from it all.
"Well, now what?" Jester finally ventured.
"I'm going to find Lizzy. You can go tell the others about our joyful little meeting with Macormak."
Jester smirked. "Right. See you later, Jameson."
Jester left him at a corridor junction, headed for a tram ride back to their operations in Bravo Section. Jameson tapped into the Station's mainframe to locate Lizzy. He was surprised to find that she had logged in at the grav-suite here in November Section. The timing couldn't have been more perfect.
He found the suite down in the lower sections where most of the Intel officers were housed in quarters with their associated amenities. It was tucked away behind a traditional orbital rec-center, hidden down a short flight of stairs between two station braces.
Definitely exclusive.
He palmed the door and it responded to his security clearance. At least the Intel officers weren't keeping everyone locked out. Inside, he was greeted by a brief changing room, where he spotted Lizzy's uniform hung up on the holding racks. There was another uniform hung up there, too.
Jameson quickly shed his uniform down to his kadvair. Then he stepped through the pressurized doorway into a strange room. It was a mixture of lime green and white tile textures and patterns, stretching and twisting seemingly endlessly in all directions. All an illusion, he knew. The room was probably no more than ten or twenty meters across, the holographics messing with his depth perception.
As soon as he stepped in, he felt a strangely soothing blend of gravitational forces wash over his body. It massaged at knotted muscles he didn't even know he had, leaving him floating with a breathless sigh of relief into the center of the room.
Lost for a moment in the soothing sensations, Jameson wandered aimlessly into the strange room, briefly floating up into the air towards one warped section of the ceiling that seemed like a hole into another chamber. He floated up through it.
And found Lizzy making out furiously with another officer.
The euphoria of the room drained out of Jameson like icy water. He recognized Lizzy's bright blue hair, but her arms and legs were so entwined with whoever she was kissing that he couldn't tell who was who.
"Lizzy!" he exclaimed out of surprise.
The two immediately froze up, Lizzy's eyes flashing open with shock at Jameson's appearance.
"Jameson," she breathed. "You...you made it."
The other officer, still wrapped up in Lizzy's embrace, finally flipped around in the zero-g to face Jameson.
It was Axus.
"Hey, Jameson," he replied, his tone cruelly giddy. "I trust Jiles delivered my terms at your little meeting."
Jameson remained frozen, shock quickly mixing with fury. Lizzy had been cheating on him. The last person he wanted to see in the world was here.
Lizzy wa
s cheating on him with Axus.
Jameson growled, leaping out. He didn't really know what he was doing. Only that he wanted to pummel Axus.
Of course, he realized too late that Axus had probably planned for this moment. A few swift hits later and Jameson was floating limp and dazed somewhere in the room.
Axus floated around in his periphery vision, cackling the way he had back in the fight ring. Only now he had one arm draped around Lizzy's shoulder, pulling her close to his body.
"It's good to see you again, Jameson. You should spend some more time in here. It really works out the sore spots."
Macormak
Chapter 4
Macormak
* * *
Draconia space
En Route to Lucan Star System
* * *
Present Day
The bridge aboard the Crimson Night was nothing remotely luxurious or spacious.
Not like the newer, larger command ships Jameson had seen in the Peacemaker Fleet. It was very much along the lines of pragmatic, fitting just about every other design detail the original builders of the Crimson had in mind. The little Orem-class corvette was a relic of the old Republic, a small ship designed for deep space patrol and surprising speed. In fact, the new Republic of Gibraltar had gone to great lengths to salvage any Orem-class ships they came across. Utilizing unconventional power plants that amplified the faster-than-light Lauritzen drive, they were considered by most the fastest ship in the galaxy.
Still, the spaces were cramped, the layout austere in design, and there was little to show for teeth. It served Jameson's purposes because bounty hunters never needed to engage in showy dog fights or pitch battles.
Sitting cramped in the tight captain's chair at the front console, Jameson ran a gentle hand across the exposed brace that ran the length of the square room. It was a sturdy little ship. It was home.
"Five minutes to the Lucan system," a disembodied voice chimed over the bridge stereo. "I'm dropping us out a little farther back than we planned."
Jameson smirked, making no effort to pin point the source of the voice. "You're still afraid we look too aggressive."
The disembodied voice snorted. "I'm an artificial intelligence. I'm incapable of fear."
"Just like you're incapable of sarcasm and other pesky human emotions, eh Mathison?"
Mathison—although properly known as MATHISON—was the AI the Fleet had outfitted Jameson with when they gave him the ship. Even when he had once held the highest clearance for classified Fleet data, Jameson had never realized just how human the AIs were that they employed. Or that there were more than one of them. As far as Jameson had grown up believing, MATHISONs were nothing more than advanced user interfaces with ship and station computers.
When the Fleet gave him the Crimson to pursue his solo mission, they told him they were giving him a retired MATHISON to help run the systems. Jameson had learned in the last few years working with Mathison that eventually the AIs developed their own sort of personality in old age. While it was fine and dandy for the theorists and computer engineers to study, it was highly impractical for the Fleet to have their computer software forming opinions of its own. Most of them they shut down and didn't bother any more with it. In this case, low on resources to throw at Jameson, they gave him Mathison, who seemed proud that he had operated at complete capacity now for upwards of three hundred eighty years.
"Mechanical Intelligence Technical Computational Humanoid," Jameson said aloud, repeating the acronym. "Mathison, you are afraid, aren't you?"
"Cautiously concerned is the phrase I would use," the AI replied. "And I don't know why everyone acts so surprised. The old Republic engineered us to be the emotional equivalent. Why do you think they gave us that ridiculously long acronym? It just took a few centuries of use and abuse to get us feeling like we were people."
Jameson liked to taunt Mathison about it every so often. They had discussed the subject more than once over the last four years of bounty hunting. As far as retired AIs went, Mathison was probably the youngest. He had heard of preserved AIs with developed personalities upwards of over a thousand years old. Yet no one seemed too interested in developing those personalities further or exploring the possibilities of real human like artificial intelligences.
It just wasn't a priority with the current political state of things. Jameson didn't know if it ever would be. Since leaving the Fleet four years ago, not much had changed between Gibraltar and Draconia. Everyone was waiting for that day tensions would erupt into full out war.
Jameson heard the door behind him hiss open, followed by the sound of paws padding up to his seat; two of them furry, the other two metallic. Grade soon sat closely by Jameson's chair, staring patiently at the view screen. He always seemed to sense just before they were about to arrive somewhere new. Yet another reason Jameson trusted him on any bounty hunt.
A moment later, the image of dancing colors coalesced into stars and planets, the Lucan system taking shape as they dropped out of the Lauritzen field into regular speeds. Lucan, the planet namesake for the system, had three moons that were visible from the Crimson's position, their dark sides lit up with various forms of civilization. Being one of the many border worlds of Draconia space, it was also one of their most developed.
And this is where the traitor Macormak had decided to hide. Right with their enemies.
A small cluster of patrol ships were fast approaching their position.
"Oh boy," said Mathison. "They tried half a dozen insurgent programs to hack the Crimson's mainframe."
Jameson stiffened. "Are we under attack?"
"No," Mathison replied flatly. "Now that they know they can't string us up like puppets, they're requesting that we follow them to a designated docking station for inspection."
Jameson huffed. So they were suspicious, as much so as the Gibraltarians were with any Expanse registered starship. But there was nothing incriminating aboard this ship.
"Let's get this over with," Jameson grunted, flexing his shoulders.
It didn't take long to dock in high orbit over Lucan's vast, blue and green marble surface below. Jameson waited patiently by the airlock as armed Draconian personnel moved awkwardly through his ship, waving scanners around in search of any secret materials or Gibraltar espionage tech.
"Where did you get this ship?" the Commanding Officer asked.
Jameson rolled his eyes. "At a Gibraltarian surplus auction. Do you know how many of these things are registered in the Interstellar Registry?"
Another guard quickly joined them. He flashed his tablet for his Commanding Officer to read. "Says here the ship's registered to Expanse databases as a freighter."
The tablet also showed that it was attached to a database of known bounty hunters. Of course, that was of little concern to anyone in Draconia. There were plenty of bounty hunters even deeper within Draconia controlled space. No, these tough looking patrol jockeys were just interested in making sure all of this wasn't an elaborate cover for him being a Gibraltarian spy.
It wasn't. Jameson had no interest being an Intelligence Officer for the Fleet. That was one of his first stipulations when they gave him the ship. He only had one purpose to fulfill, and his registration as a bounty hunter was enough to accomplish that task.
The CO raised the visor on his ridiculous looking helmet, giving Jameson a good once over. "It says here you have no registered citizenship for Gibraltar or Draconia."
Jameson shrugged. "Don't need one out in the Expanse."
The CO rolled his eyes, nodding to the rest of his men. "Pack up. I've seen enough. This bounty hunter's just another nobody. He certainly isn't here from Gibraltar."
The rest of the guards gathered up their things and shuffled back through the airlock. The CO lingered behind, transferring the point of entry clearance from his tablet needed for Jameson to dock legally at Lucan.
"Don't overstay your clearance, bounty hunter," he grunted. "And do not cause wonton destruction while
you're chasing whatever lawless creep you were hired to bag here."
"Yes, sir," Jameson replied coolly.
Anytime before the last four years, it might have appalled Jameson at the idea of losing his citizenship with Gibraltar. In a lot of ways that was at the core of his identity; especially as a tried and true patriot of the Gibraltar Fleet. Today, it was simply a liability. A past he had nothing to gain from. It was best to have no allegiances.
As for the title of bounty hunter, the Draconians were more than willing to open a few doors for them. Draconia was still young, with only two hundred years since the end of the Great Civil War. They had too many worlds and were too far out in new space to have a cohesive law keeping systems established. Especially when they needed every available patrol ship to keep watch against a potential Gibraltar invasion. Jameson had even seen a few offers from the Draconians for work. They also employed them on their own dime from time to time.