Flight of the Reaper

by J. N. Chaney

  "Fair enough," I said, then moved closer to Elise and Novasdaughter. "Thoughts?"

  Elise went first, she was the youngest member of our crew but didn’t take crap from anyone and had serious skills. Apparently, everyone understood her value to our team and her place in our informal hierarchy.

  "While you were screwing around talking to Max Slipdriver—what a dumb name, by the way—I've been reviewing our sensor readings. There is a lot of movement in the debris field if you know what to look for."

  "And you know what to look for?" I asked.

  Novasdaughter interrupted. "I showed her which anomalies are relevant and which are more benign. There are lots of different mysteries in the galaxy, but I can tell when a ship is moving intentionally, even if it's trying to pretend like it is another piece of debris."

  "The two of you are talking about the scavengers Slipdriver mentioned," I stated.

  They both nodded, then Elise continued. "I pointed X-37 toward what we are working on and he said he should have a detailed analysis completed soon. He also relayed the raw data to Jelly and the Lady Faith. For some reason, ship-to-ship communications in the system are difficult."

  "Why is that?" I asked.

  This time, Locke answered, seeming energized by a sudden realization. "It may be why this place was so dangerous for our exploration fleets. I'd like to know if this disruption of communications is something natural to the system or an artifact of some ancient technology. There was definitely a battle here, or several battles, but I can’t tell if our ships turned on each other or there was an outside threat—maybe the Alon space navy. They’ve always been treacherous. An ambush is just their style."

  I wanted to punch him. Nothing was more frustrating than discovering ancient technology. Even when I had been working for the Union, the discovery of an ancient civilization caused more problems than it ever solved.

  "Can you get more information on the non-Wallach ships?" I asked all of them.

  Locke was engaged in the question now, working on the computer as intently as Elise and Novasdaughter had been for the last several hours. "When you call them ships, that's a bit of a misnomer. Most of what we have is wreckage. If we retrieved a few debris samples, it would be easier to unravel the mystery of their origin," Locke said.

  "Yeah, great. That would mean more spacewalks." Elise’s posture went rigid. "No thanks."

  No one on the bridge disagreed with her. Going into the void wearing nothing but an extravehicular activity suit had never been good to us. It made me think of Novasdaughter and her fellow fighter pilots who flew ships that were little more than a cockpit, wings, engines, and a few weapons. Her statement about getting abandoned in the void in one of the micro-fighters horrified me, and I was fearless. It seemed like something that could drive even a Reaper crazy.

  "Let's get the fuel transferred to the Bold Freedom and learn as much as we can about the scavengers and this debris field," I said.

  "There are distinct debris fields, " X-37 said. "Where would you like to start?"

  "You’re killing me, X," I muttered.

  "Unlikely," X-37 responded. "Unless you are speaking in strained colloquialisms and weak metaphors again."

  "Just analyze all the debris fields and tell me their secrets," I responded.

  "Now you’re killing me, Reaper Cain," X-37 said.

  "You like it," I said.

  "I am programmed to serve you," X-37 explained. "Since I have no capacity for true emotion, your assertion is irrelevant and inaccurate."

  Elise leaned closer to Novasdaughter. "They can go on like this for hours."

  "Great," Novasdaughter replied, eyeing me critically as she replied to Elise. "I’ll try to ignore him… them… whatever."

  "X, can you partition their work from another hail to the Bold Freedom? I don’t want Slipdriver watching over our shoulders as we work."

  "Of course, Reaper Cain," X-37 said.

  A small beep filled my ear.

  "You are now connected," X-37 advised.

  Captain Slipdriver came on the holo, looking tired and less personable than he had during our first encounter. Apparently, he had been turning on the charm to make a good first impression.

  "What can I do for you, Mr. Cain?"

  "I just wanted to let you know that we are en route with fuel. Is there anything else you need? Food? Medical supplies?" These were test questions. I wanted to know how they were acquiring these things without access to Deadlands or Union spaceports. They hadn’t been to Wallach yet, so there had to be another source of life-sustaining essentials.

  "All of those things would be appreciated. You know our history, and that we didn't start off with everything we needed, including a workable ship," Slipdriver said. "But fuel is our main problem right now. The scavengers can't process raw materials and have very little of their own fuel, even for their short-range shuttles. Some are restricted to solar power, cheap but hardly effective."

  I stared hard at Slipdriver. "I want you to tell me more about the scavengers. Are they a threat to my ships or my crew?"

  "I can't see how they would threaten ships like yours," Slipdriver said. "They trade with us when they can, bringing us food that I assume they grow in a greenhouse. The water they bring tastes metallic, but it keeps us alive. They’re rough around the edges but no more dangerous than anyone else I've bartered with since getting dumped onto that hellhole the Union called Dreadmax."

  "Do you have any of these scavengers on your ship?" I asked. "I'd like to interrogate them, learn what I can about the system and what happened here."

  He shook his head. "We don't have any of them on the ship. The only way to do that would be to capture one of them, and that would be more work than it’s worth. None of my people are fond of locking people in cells. You understand why. The scavengers are both free-spirited and disciplined—like they know their lives and the lives of their families are on the line every day. All of my efforts to learn what happened here have ended in frustration."

  I hesitated, pretending to consider his words, but I was actually waiting for X-37 to chime in with his ever-present analysis.

  "We will need to talk to one of the scavengers," X-37 said to me privately. "For now, we should keep things simple. Rescue the Bold Freedom and then leave the system as soon as we can. The resources available here are not worth the danger of remaining long."

  "I agree, X," I said.

  Max Slipdriver, not the character out of semi-fictional tales of daring pirate raids and blockade running, but a man burdened with saving thousands of refugees, raised an eyebrow. "Are you talking to your limited artificial intelligence? I admit I've always been skeptical that Reapers were real, and even more skeptical that you were one of them."

  "Says the man named after an action holo hero," I replied.

  "I told you my real name is Max Slandonsky. I’m screwed either way. One name is impossible to spell, and the other is a joke." The Bold Freedom’s captain shook his head. "I’m not trying to make this personal. You have to admit, the probability that a Reaper saved us from total destruction and has come back to do it again seems a bit fantastical."

  "Could anyone other than a Reaper have gone to the core of Dreadmax and brought back your slip drive regulator? Some stories about the Reaper Corps are sensational, but only because we’re about a hundred times more dangerous than the holo dramas make us out to be," I said.

  "I'll keep that in mind," Slipdriver said, seeming cautious but not overly worried. "I never was much for fiction in any case. Give me a good flight manual or a biography any day."

  "You would like my chief engineer," I said. "We're headed your way with fuel and what resources we have to offer."

  "We will alert you of any dangers we detect," Captain Slipdriver-Slandonsky promised. "Time is of the essence. The comet is getting close enough to interfere with our systems."

  7

  I inventoried my gear, weapons, and ammunition before I left the Nightmare for the Jellyb
ird. I wanted to be hands-on for the fuel transfer to the Bold Freedom. It seemed like a straightforward mission, but I knew something would go wrong. That was the way the galaxy worked for a Reaper and his renegade friends.

  "What am I missing, X."

  Two seconds passed as X-37 reviewed my work. "You seem to possess everything needed for your assignment."

  "What’s going on, X? I know when you’re cooking something up in that devious little AI brain of yours."

  "Unlikely, Reaper Cain. But since you asked, I may have found a way into the Archangel armory. More importantly, I am putting together a workable plan to deal with Nebs’s elite soldiers."

  "You mean the spec ops shock troopers who think they’re my replacement?" I asked. "You’ve got my attention, but something is off. Your responses to my queries seem distracted and slower than usual."

  All my Reaper nerve-ware gave me was a series of nearly inaudible clicks.

  "Are you okay, X? You’re slower than normal. Don’t get fancy and strain yourself."

  "I am defending myself from Necron. The Nightmare’s artificial intelligence is persistent. I'm only fortunate that Nebs kept him stunted because of his own paranoia. My analysis of this ship’s artificial intelligence shows a considerable amount of unused potential."

  Imagining what a state-of-the-art Union stealth carrier could do to me and my people didn’t give me a warm fuzzy feeling inside. I worried about how long it would be before Nebs caught up with us. His personal vendetta toward me would be bad, but there was also Elise, the Union crew who had switched sides, and the people of Wallach I needed to protect.

  There was no way I could do this without X.

  "I have fended off several new probes from Necron," X-37 said. "We put a restraint collar on a part of the infrastructure he never thought was vulnerable. There are two additional hubs we need to control if we’re going to force the ship AI to our will. When I locate them, I will request that you deal with them."

  "Anything for you, X," I said. "How long will it take us to use the Archangel armor?"

  "A… precise… estimate… is… difficult," X-37 said, a slight pause between each word. A casual observer might not notice the difference in the cadence of X-37's words, but I was finely tuned to every nuance of my limited artificial intelligence’s communication habits.

  "We'll find Necron’s signal relays," I promised. "I just can't do it right now. There's this whole thing that we need to do about the Bold Freedom."

  "Are you insinuating that I forgot about the ship full of refugees?" X-37 asked.

  "Would it hurt your feelings if I was?"

  "We've discussed this at length, Reaper Cain. I do not have emotions," X-37 said. "However, I find your propensity to reopen old arguments that have already been concluded to be a waste of time. Perhaps you might interpret this as a negative emotional response by me when I call attention to your human nature."

  "Human nature is not all bad," I argued.

  "Interesting," X-37 said. "I've heard you complain about human nature many times. I will continue to work on access to the Archangel armor, but you won’t use them as simple instruments of war."

  "Are you telling me how to use armor and weapons?" I asked.

  "I’m working on something, Reaper Cain," X-37 said. "My analysis suggests it is the only way you can defeat the Archangels. They are the elite of the elite and outnumber you, in case you forgot."

  "I didn’t forget," I grumbled. "If you’ve got a plan, I’m all ears."

  "That would be amusing if true, Reaper Cain. Fortunately, I understand the senseless things you say. Let’s just say my plan doesn’t involve a direct fight with the Archangels."

  "At least let me kill a few of them," I joked.

  "I will accommodate your request," X-37 promised. "Would you like to proceed to the Archangel armory now or disembark for the Jellybird?"

  I considered my options for a moment, then stalled. "Let's find Elise and see if she's ready."

  By the time I found her, I sensed the urgency of the Bold Freedom down into my cells. X-37 provided frequent updates on my heads up display, that portion of my vision where my cybernetics displayed digital information. The view-field actually projected out from my face to increase its size but was invisible to others—a neurological trick, an illusion I took for granted every time I looked at a message from my LAI.

  At first glance, the display looked like we had plenty of time before the comet overtook their ship. What were twelve to eighteen hours in an emergency?

  Perhaps I'd been on more desperate missions, but the consequences of making a mistake would cost thousands of lives this time.

  "X, did you ever get a count on how many people are aboard the Bold Freedom?"

  X-37 paused a second. "An exact measurement is impossible. They are working with a modified ship and a mismatched crew. They didn't conduct a roll call before everybody fled Dreadmax, nor did they establish a proper ship’s roster."

  "Just give me an estimate, X," I said.

  "If they've converted most of their cargo bays into living quarters, there may be a thousand people on board," X-37 advised. "This would explain why they are short of many types of supplies and tools. People are undoubtedly living in temporary shelters everywhere there is open space, including flight decks and storage bays."

  I stalked the hallway, deciding the Archangel armor had to wait. My combat instincts told me this was a mistake. If I ran into Nebs or some other hostile force, like scavengers, I would need the best weapons possible, or some way to put my enemies at a disadvantage.

  The odds of our survival were getting worse and worse. I had more friends and allies than ever, but my enemies seemed to increase at an alarming rate.

  I told X-37 as much.

  "Be patient, Reaper Cain. Your assumptions are correct, but they are not the most important reason you must acquire access to the Archangel armor before your confrontation with Nebs," X-37 said.

  "You don’t know what you’re doing, X. Be honest with me." The more cryptic he got, the less I liked it.

  "When you need to know my plan, I will explain it in detail," X-37 said.

  "Promises, promises." This wasn’t the time to push X, despite how distracted he seemed and how disjointed his strategies to defeat the vice admiral and his dark ops fleet appeared at the moment.

  It was only a matter of time before Nebs and all the other people I had kicked off the Nightmare caught up and wanted payback. Upgraded armor would help me no matter what X-37’s super-secret plan was. I just needed time to steal it, equip it, learn how it worked, and teach my crew to use it.

  "Cain for Elise, where are you?" I asked on the public channel.

  "I'm waiting for you," she said with her normal attitude.

  "It would be helpful if I knew where that was." I really wished I had time to smoke a Starbrand and throw back a couple glasses of whiskey.

  "We agreed that figuring out the Archangel armor was important," Elise began.

  "Listen, kid," I started to say.

  "X-37 knows I’m right," she interrupted.

  "We all agree that in a perfect world we would be decked out in the Union’s finest killing regalia—but the Archangel armor won’t be like throwing on a tactical vest and test-firing some new guns. Trust me on this one."

  "Reaper Cain is correct. I should mention, however, that the armor is capable of extravehicular activity, while still being true combat armor," X-37 said. "Adding that feature to your equipment would be beneficial in almost all circumstances. Additionally, once I manage to manipulate certain subroutines of the Nightmare and other stealth carriers, the armor will provide substantial infiltration options."

  "Thanks, X," I said. "But I'm trying to save a thousand people. They don’t have time for me to wait on stuff that nearly killed me the last time I tried to even look at it."

  "You made this prior attempt without my assistance," X-37 pointed out.

  "X is right," Elise agreed.

  I
stopped in the middle of the hallway, wishing I could face either of them directly. "I promise you I want to use the Archangel armor as much as anyone. But right now, we need to get to the Bold Freedom and fuel it up. Twelve to eighteen hours may seem like a long time, but we don’t know how efficient the fuel transport mechanisms are or how long it will take to get their engines up and running."

  "Whatever," Elise snorted, sounding like she didn't want to admit I was right.

  "Reaper Cain is probably correct," X-37 said.

  "Finally," I said.

  "As unlikely as that seems," X-37 finished on top of my words.

  Elise laughed, reminding me how young she was.

  I started walking but heard something on the line that made me brace for another of Elise’s underhanded arguments.

  "All right, Reaper," she said. "But you know I'm standing right outside of the Archangel armory and you have to pass this way to get to the shuttle bay."

  I expelled a series of choice words and swore X-37 was laughing at me. Maybe I was projecting emotions onto my LAI again, but maybe not. Our relationship was complicated.

  "Locke, can you take Horvath to the shuttle bay and make sure it's ready for us?"

  "Right away, Reaper Cain," Locke said. "We're on it. The transfer shuttle will be ready and waiting when you arrive."

  I stomped toward the entrance to the Archangel armory. I wasn't excited about trying to force my way in again. The last time, I had done it without X-37's help and been shocked until I wanted to puke all over myself. When I replayed the memory, I still saw stars.

  "You know our gear is the best we've ever fought with," I said to Elise as I approached her. She was at the far end of the hallway and still listening to me through comms rather than face-to-face.

  I saw her touch the side of her earpiece to transmit. "Yeah, it's good stuff. But I want the best."

  I crossed the distance between us and stopped to stare at the door. "We don’t have time for this."