by Kal Spriggs
She kept the pistol aligned with the terrorist’s head as he fell, squeezing the trigger with a clean, smooth and mechanical trigger pull. She didn’t know how many rounds the pistol held.
She did know that she didn’t miss once.
As the pistol clicked empty, she stood there for a long moment. She stared at the red ruin that had once been a face. She felt hollow and empty. She lowered the pistol. Mel ejected the empty magazine and set the pistol down on her vacated seat.
“What the hell was that?” The voice came from Marcus, who tried to push himself up from the floor.
Mel looked around the rest of the cabin. Evidently, Giran had pulled most of the others out of the room already. Only she and Marcus remained, probably because they’d been the ones furthest in. “I killed Giran.” Mel’s voice was flat, disconnected. Later she would be sick, would be angry. Right now, she felt at peace.
“Oh. Good.” Neither of them interrupted the deafening silence. “I don’t suppose he told you anything useful?”
“I was a little rushed,” Mel snapped. “He was about to shoot you out of convenience.”
Marcus pushed himself off the floor. He winced at the mess that the pistol had made of Giran. “Well in that case…” He looked over at Mel and hissed: “Damn, what did that bastard do to you!”
He wrenched open the first aid kit and pulled gauze and other supplies out, his movements almost frantic.
“Marcus.” Something in her voice stopped him. He looked up and for once he met her gaze without his normal barriers. His eyes seemed sad, almost haunted.
Mel spoke softly and slowly. It was very important that he understand what she had to say to him. “I don’t hate you.” Then she fainted.
***
“Mel, Mel, are you all right?”
Mel opened her eyes, “Rawn!” She sat up quickly, seizing her brother in a tight hug. “I thought that bastard had killed you!”
“What? Oh, I’m fine.” Her brother’s voice seemed almost bitter.
“Giran had him locked in a storage closet in the engine room,” Brian said. “We found him quickly enough.”
“Where’s Marcus?” Mel asked, looking around. Someone had set her on a chair in the galley. There was no sign of Mueller’s corpse. They'd also cleaned up the blood. She hoped they hadn’t cleaned and replaced the knife.
She felt Rawn stiffen, and he pulled away from the hug. “He’s with Stasia, going over the code.” His voice was cold.
“Strak’s making sure that there aren’t any surprises in the engine room left by our little saboteur,” Brian said. He stood, filled up a cup with water and brought it over to Mel. “How’s your head?”
“My head?” Mel asked, hand going to her temple. Probing fingers felt sealant in a line across her forehead, running into her scalp. She pushed herself off the table and swayed to her feet to look in the tiny mirror next to the door.
She winced. Someone had obviously done what they could to mop up the blood, but she still looked a mess. A crooked gash ran up from her left temple across her forehead and into her hairline. A lot of blood had run across her face, and her left eyebrow and eyelashes still had crusty flakes of dried blood. Streaks of blood still splotched the left side of her face.
“Scalp wounds always bleed a lot.” Brian said, pressing the cup into her hands.
Mel sighed; “Who patched me up?” Whoever it was had done an adequate job, though she would definitely have a scar.
“Marcus did.” Brian said.
“After he killed Giran,” her brother snarled.
“Marcus didn’t kill Giran.” Mel snapped back at him, irritated by his sullen attitude. He should be grateful, but it was just like him to be angry with Marcus for something he hadn't really done. They never got along, Mel thought sourly.
“Oh, sure, is that what he told you?” Rawn snorted. “He almost definitely fragged Mueller, and now he’s killed Giran. Don’t let your sympathetic nature get the best of you. Marcus is a killer, and we can’t trust anything he says.”
“Giran was working for Guard Free Now. He was a terrorist. He was probably going to kill us all.” Mel said. She kept her voice calm only by reminding herself that now was not the time to hash out some sibling issues.
“Oh, and did Marcus tell you that? Did he say that before or after he killed Giran? Did Giran even have a chance to defend himself?” Rawn’s face was drawn back in a sneer of derision.
Brian looked from brother to sister. His eyes flickered back and forth, an odd, fascinated expression on his face. Mel bit back an urge to tell him to get lost.
“Marcus didn’t kill Giran,” Mel repeated.
“How would you even know? You were unconscious; head wound, remember?” Rawn tapped his own temple in emphasis.
Mel’s hand slapped the table. “Because I killed Giran!”
“YOU WHAT???” Rawn stared at her in shock. “No, you couldn’t have. You’re just trying to cover for him.”
“Listen to me Rawn!” Mel snapped. “When we… restrained Mueller, he dropped his pistol. I picked it up, I tucked it into my belt. When I woke up in that cabin, Giran was about to kill Marcus. God only knows who he was going to kill after that. I drew the pistol and shot Giran.”
Rawn stared at her for a long time, his face filled with shock. “I don’t believe this. You have no idea, you really have no idea.” He shook his head, and strode past her, out the door.
Mel stared at the empty hatchway for a long moment, “That went poorly.”
“I’d heard that Guard Free Now terrorists killed your parents. I would think that your brother would applaud your actions.” Brian’s voice was puzzled.
“I think Rawn hates Marcus as much as he hates those terrorists. Giran’s dead, so he can focus his ire on Marcus now.”
Brian frowned, “If you say so.”
Mel shot him a dark look, “Yes, I say so. What’s this with no one trusting what I say? I know what I’m talking about, he’s my brother!”
Brian held up his hands, “All right.” He frowned, “I didn’t realize siblings would fight so much.”
Mel felt her face flush, “We don’t, not always.” She frowned at him, “You don’t have any brothers or sisters?”
Brian cleared his throat. He looked slightly dismayed, almost as if he felt he’d said too much. “I, uh... didn’t have a normal family life.”
“Adopted?” Mel asked. She wondered if she’d ever get a chance to find out why he’d worn a different personality.
Brian’s face went wooden. He spoke without emotion, “Something like that.”
Mel took a calming deep breath. No point in anger, not when she had other, more pressing issues than Brian Liu’s family troubles. “Let’s go see if Stasia has turned up anything worthwhile.”
***
“So what do we know?” Mel asked, a few minutes later. They all sat in Agent Mueller’s cabin, as it had a combination of the most space and the best equipment. Stasia had several portable computers linked together running various programs, positioned around the room, taking up most of the empty space.
Marcus took a seat near the desk. He began to assemble the MG-144. Mel hoped he was doing that just from a need to do something with his hands, rather than any particular foresight.
Stasia spoke hesitantly, “There were two, possibly three modifications to the code we sent.”
“Mueller, Giran and who?” Brian asked.
“Good question.” Marcus answered. “Maybe you could tell us? You moved pretty fast in taking down Mueller. You aren’t acting like the flamboyant kid any more, either. You even had me fooled back when I worked for you.”
“Says the man who smuggled and dealt rex.” Strak said, his voice gruff. He seemed to have regained some of his lost energy but even so, his skin still sagged and he had a grayish tone to his skin.
“I wasn’t going to sell the rex.” Marcus said, his voice calm.
“What else was it for?” Strak snarled. “You can’t have
that much and not be either a dealer or—” He stopped, his mouth wide.
“Or a user.” Mel said, her voice soft. “You’re a rex addict?”
Marcus looked away. “We all have our demons. Rex keeps mine at bay.”
“Uh, how are you coping without it, I mean, withdrawal’s supposed to be a real bitch.” Mel asked.
“Oh, shit.” Brian stared at Marcus for a moment. “You aren’t showing any signs of withdrawal.”
Marcus smiled slightly. “Implant. I stocked it before the pirates hit us. I’ve got some time left.”
Stasia stared at him for a long time. “What level?”
“Rex Tertius now. I was a Primus at first, but I kicked that habit six years ago.” Marcus spoke calmly, his voice steady despite any dismay at having such a secret outed. As it should be, Mel realized, if he was a rex junkie.
His confidence, his self assurance, was a lie, brought on by chemicals. Was everything about him a lie? “How long?”
Mel knew that over time, rex brought a procession of, paranoia, delusions, and psychosis in a self-replicating spiral. Mental deterioration of the simpler form of rex was mirrored in physical deterioration in the higher levels. Chemical imbalances and over-use of the body led to arthritis and muscle scavenging. Over-stimulation of the nervous system eventually burned out nerve centers, leaving areas of the body paralyzed
Marcus faced her, “I quit, completely after… well, before I met you.” He shrugged, “I started up again last year. I needed something… extra, something to keep myself going.”
Mel shook her head and looked away.
“Back to the subject at hand,” Strak said, “what did our late unlamented friends send to the potentially psychotic warship headed for an inhabited planet?”
“That is the thing. I think it wasn’t headed for Vagyr,” Stasia snarled.
“Wasn’t?” Mel asked. She her stomach sink. She really didn’t like the sound of that.
“No. I thought the order packet at the front vas a confirmation of previous orders.” Stasia typed quickly on the nearest computer and after a moment brought up a copy of the orders. “Instead, they are an update. Vagyr wasn’t the final target, but after that packet, now it is.”
“So, Guard Intelligence used us to send that ship to Vagyr to kill millions?” Brian’s voice was almost absurdly calm. “We are so dead.”
Stasia grimaced. “Da.”
“What about Giran’s code?” Mel asked, somewhat hopefully.
“We think Giran and Mueller were working together, at least initially, and that Mueller didn’t know that Giran had completely gone off the deep end.” Marcus scratched at one ear. “But Giran wanted to hijack the ship. He modified the orders packet, slightly, and then he started splicing the code that we thought was to shut the ship down. The stuff Mueller gave us as the base code never would have worked anyway. Giran didn’t know that, so he tried to piggyback his code into ours and jumbled the whole thing.”
“Wait, our code wouldn’t have worked?” Mel asked.
“Da. Mueller gave us wrong keys from start. Guard Intelligence never had key codes for Wulf-class ships. Those ships were made by the Preserve, and war or not, they didn’t give codes out to former enemies.” Stasia stood and paced nervously, “If we had correct codes Fenris would have powered down.”
“Well, actually, then Giran’s codes would have worked and the ship would have gone into warp and made rendezvous with Guard Free Now terrorists,” Mel said bitterly.
“Instead we don’t know where it went.” Brian said, impatiently, “And it’s still headed to kill a planet.”
“Well… that’s the thing. We have one chance to intercept it.” Marcus pushed the now-assembled MG-144 to the side . He began to type rapidly on a handy datapad. “The updated orders packet was modified by Giran. Mueller wanted the ship to go straight to Vagyr. Apparently, Giran wanted it to go to these coordinates and stop along the way.”
“Why would he want that?” Strak asked.
“Probably as a back up, in case he botched the code.” Brian mused. “He didn’t have anyone to check it and he wasn’t sure how much Mueller trusted him, so he modified the orders to send the ship through that star system. There’s got to be a force waiting there to seize the ship.”
“Right, because the order packet states a maintenance crew coming aboard.” Marcus confirmed. “The timing is such that we could get there around the same time as the warship, given the route it’ll be taking.”
“We can’t let those bastards have that ship.” Mel snarled. Her own energy startled herself. “We have to stop it from hitting Vagyr.” It seemed so clear to her now, even as she felt a grim resolve fall over her. She hadn't managed to do anything right as the captain of her parents’ ship. If she didn't change that trend, millions of people were going to die.
Brian looked over at her, “You understand what you’re saying? What that means for us?” She heard surprise in his voice to mirror her own.
Mel nodded. “We have to board Fenris.”
CHAPTER IV
Time: 0430 Zulu, 12 June 291 G.D.
Location: SS John Kelly, On Approach to Igen System
Humans couldn't watch the stars in faster than light warp. Instead, a sphere of flickering ghost fire surrounded the ship, cocooned by the warp shell from the rest of the universe. It was a beautiful sight, to Mel, one that showed both creation and destruction as the exotic energies wrapped the ship in it's own little pocket of space.
Marcus sat hunched in the pilots’ seat, staring out the window with eyes sunken from either stress or lack of sleep or both. He hadn't moved since she’d shown up, had ignored her pointed comments that his shift had ended. He finally spoke, “We don’t have to do this, you know.”
“Yes, we do.” Mel answered, her voice sharp.
“You know, if this goes wrong, no one will even know why we died.” Mel would almost describe his voice as insanely calm. It had to be a result of the drugs, she knew, but that knowledge didn't prevent his tone from unnerving her.
“Thanks, I really wanted to hear that.” Mel gritted her teeth. Why did the man have to make such statements? She felt nervous enough as it was.
“Coming out of warp in thirty seconds,” his robotic voice answered.
Mel let out her breath, and her hands caressed the ship controls, bringing it out of warp like a mother waking her child from sleep. She smiled slightly as she did so; despite her discomfort, she still took pleasure from the smoothly functioning ship.
They emerged from warp and Mel brought up the sensors. She performed a full sweep. They emerged from warp on the very edge of the Igen system, far outside of sensor range of the inhabited world.
The Fenris transmitted to them before it even registered on their sensors. “Courier vessel John Kelly, any further attempts to transfer viral attacks or corrupted data will classify you as hostile.” The grating voice came as no surprise this time.
The surprise lay in the AI controlled warship that waited only a scant thousand kilometers away from their emergence point. That kind of pinpoint accuracy bespoke either total coincidence or a very cold calculation.
“What is your mission?” The gravely voice made it plain that an incorrect answer would bring rapid destruction.
Mel scanned the sensors and picked up the second ship an instant before Marcus highlighted it. “Fenris, this is acting Captain Melanie Armstrong. You received falsified orders from a traitor on our crew at our last rendezvous. We are here to correct that.” She held her breath.
“What authorization?”
Mel tapped in the code and waited, still holding her breath..
There was a long pause, “Those are the same codes you sent last time. Your vessel has given two sets of conflicting orders with the same codes.” The warship's tone was one of sorely tested patience, Mel noted. She made mental note that Brian had been correct, the programming on this ship was a thing of art, in that an emotionless computer could imply so much emotio
n.
Mel spoke cautiously, “We have, but as I explained, the initial orders were modified by the trait—”
“Why would a human betray humanity to the Culmor?” Fenris interrupted.
“Some humans betray others for ambition. The Second Sweep ended a hundred years ago. Vagyr is a human world again.” Mel clenched her hands on the armrests till her knuckles turned white.
“Verification of that information is notably lacking.” The dry tone selected by the computer suggested that it had at least some grasp of irony.
“Look, in addition to all of that, the other ship is hostile. They belong to a terrorist organization known as Guard Free Now, and it was one of their agents aboard this ship that tried to hijack you.” Mel’s voice was desperate.
There was no hesitation from the AI, “Interesting... they said you’d say that.”
Red lights began flashing above the sensor panel. “He’s hitting us with targeting sensors,” Marcus cursed. “And his weapons are already online. I’m taking us on evasive—”
“NO!” Mel blurted, her hand snaking out to disable his pilot yoke, “That will prove our guilt to him. There’s no way we can dodge that kind of firepower at this range.” She took a deep breath, then opened com to the ship again, “That vessel and its crew are part of a terrorist group bent on hijacking your ship, to use it against innocent people.”
“The other vessel says it is a military maintenance crew, and you are the terrorists. Uniformed personnel state you are a threat,” the AI’s voice was cold, “Do you have any other evidence?”
Mel clenched her teeth, “I’m transmitting a condensed history backing up—”
“You cannot transmit any data. You tried to hack this vessel once; you will not get a second chance” came the ship's implacable voice.
“He’s firing!”
Mel’s hands went for the controls just as the ship shuddered under an impact. Alarms wailed lights flashed across the panels.