by J. N. Chaney
Path stood in the center of the room much like he had during our first lesson. The lighting was low, an environmental condition he had often manipulated during our training sessions during the slip tunnel transit. Like many of his lessons, he never explained his reasons for the gloomy ambience. It was set just at the edge of where I needed to activate my enhanced optics.
There was a difference in his current appearance, however. He held his real sword in his right hand, tip nearly touching the ground at a slightly forward angle.
I paused, looking for anything else I'd missed. “You could've just challenged me to a death match. You didn't have to bring Elise into it."
"That was an option I considered," Path said.
I extended my left arm and twisted my fist sharply, snapping out the blade. "You're not the person I thought you were. Why didn’t you tell me we were playing games? This would've been easier on Roxo III or during our time in the slip tunnel.”
He smiled almost sadly. "On Roxo, you knew nothing. Your defeat of Uriah was luck. During our travel through the tunnel, you have learned little. The Union seeks to destroy you and enslave Elise. Your Reaper training is nothing. If you truly wish to defy them, you must be better than you are."
"I know a few things about killing people who betray me," I said.
"You know less than you think," he replied.
"There are a lot of dead people who would disagree with you if they could,” I said.
He raised his sword into the high guard position, his grip slightly forward and slightly higher than his eye level with the tip pointed backward. It reminded me of my fight with Uriah, a man he’d said was many times more skilled than he was.
The blade looked sharp and dangerous in the gloom. I knew how much force he could generate with a downward slash and I hadn’t forgotten how fast he could move.
When he made the cut, I wouldn’t see it coming.
We circled each other, quiet tension filling the air. Adrenaline flowed into my system. I controlled it with breathing and tried not to get tunnel vision. This was no time to think that because I defeated Uriah, I could beat Path. Overconfidence got people killed.
“I’m transitioning to combat mode,” X-37 said, signaling me that he would be more concise and to the point for the duration of the engagement.
Path stopped, taking in a breath that he held in his core right before he attacked.
I saw the slash coming, yet I was still caught off guard by its speed. Retreating, parrying the blow, and nearly falling over my own feet, I managed to stay alive. Fighting was rarely as dignified as it looked in training, but I felt especially clumsy now.
He came on faster and faster, like nothing we’d done in training. X-37 gave me several warnings that this was a mortal contest.
I regained my footing, sidestepping and slashing a horizontal counterattack.
Path dropped beneath the arc of the blade and lunged forward without losing momentum or seeming off balance. His thrusts took me on the right side of my ribs. I instinctively slapped the spine of the blade away—avoiding the sharp edge.
The defensive reaction annoyed me because it wasn’t necessary. The damage had already been done and all I did was jam one of my fingers.
What kept me alive was footwork. I moved like I never had, not even during the fight with Uriah. Additional natural stimulants flowed to my body, a product of X-37’s central nervous system boost as my LAI regulated my hormones—epinephrine first and foremost but also cortisol to increase blood pressure and blood sugar levels. X also capped my flight or fight responses when they became too extreme. It was a desperate measure that didn’t last long but had gotten me out of tough spots before.
I didn’t remember becoming distracted, but suddenly I realized Path was flying through the air, aiming a kick at my head. I dodged and twisted but still took a glancing blow to the side of my head.
Spots that had nothing to do with my Reaper nerve-ware filled my vision.
Path attacked again and again, never stopping to lecture me or indulge in monologue.
My lungs needed more oxygen, causing my chest to heave as I pulled in more air than I could use. The transfer of oxygen was becoming less efficient with every passing second. My legs, my organic arm, and my shoulder were all on fire. Sweat ran down my face.
My back hit the wall. I pushed off hard with my right hand, lunging the tip of my Reaper blade at Path’s throat when I realized something that wasn’t helping me win.
I was mad at the strange mystic, but I didn’t hate him. Killing him would hurt. Regret over our unexplainable conflict was interfering with how I fought.
Path slid out of my vision. Not because there was a place to hide in the combatives room but because he was moving faster than I could turn. I dove and rolled, selecting the direction at random. Maybe it saved my life. There was no way to tell if a blade had been coming at the back of my neck.
When I came to my feet, Path was in the air, flying at me with his left heel thrust forward. He struck me hard in the face, smashing me backward. Lights out.
I regained consciousness almost immediately, but it was more than enough to get me killed on almost any battlefield.
Path straddled my chest, his knees pinning my arms and the tip of his sword lifting up my chin. “I apologize for this, and for Elise’s suffering in the void. Both were necessary elements of our journey together.”
What happened next stunned me. Rage caused me to tremble all over, but I held it in check with heroic effort.
The sword saint reached behind his back and grabbed an auxiliary air canister matching the versions we’d used on the EVA mission. “I wouldn’t have allowed Elise to die. What’s done is done. Someday, all of this will save your lives.”
I thrust my hips up, attempting to throw him off. Fluid as a wave, he adjusted his balance and was not thrown. “There will be no more lessons of this sort. The test was necessary. Now I may begin to train you in earnest.”
It was the middle of the night shift when Henshaw made his move. Everyone was asleep except for Reapers and AIs.
“Permission to come aboard?” Henshaw said.
I checked with X-37 to make sure we were alone. “Is everyone sleeping?”
“Except for you and Henshaw. Lady tells me her captain doesn’t sleep much. He’s moodier than you are,” X-37 said.
“That was more information than I asked for,” I said, then reopened the comm link to Henshaw. “You want to leave your ship unattended? Tom is on the Jellybird right now.”
“My ship will be fine without me. She is more than capable of following your grungy smuggler’s craft,” Henshaw said. “I don’t love using the EVA suits. Perhaps you can come across and we can have some real wine.”
“Make it whisky and cigars and it’s a deal,” I said.
“Done. I’m missing a couple of my Starbrand Premiums. Do you know anything about that?”
“It’s one of those mysteries that will never be solved,” I said. “Jelly, how close can you maneuver the ships? If I’m going to do another crossing, I’d like to minimize the risk.”
“I can get very close,” Jelly said. “Tom has been working on my shuttle. It won’t fit in the yacht’s hangar. Conversely, the yacht shuttle will easily fit in my hangar. Perhaps that is a better option than to constantly risk yourself with these extra vehicle activity suits.”
“What do you think, Henshaw?” I asked.
“Fine,” he said, waving one hand in annoyance. “The shuttles are such a bother. I’ll send it to fetch you so that we can still enjoy the luxury afforded on the Lady Faith. It hasn’t been cleaned out since we used it to rescue you and the child. I apologize for that.”
“You seem really broken up about it. Why haven’t you cleaned out the shuttle?” I asked, knowing the answer.
“You want me to clean it myself?” he asked.
“The man has no work ethic,” X-37 commented.
“I’ll be in the shuttle bay,” I told Jelly. O
nce I disconnected with Henshaw, I examined my gear thoroughly. Instinct told me to bring the HDK, but I decided against it. My side arm, my Reaper blade, and my personality would have to be enough if the man decided to get froggy.
The shuttle arrived. Jelly sealed the bay doors and normalized the environment before I crossed the deck to board the small vessel. The ship AI was one of the best I’d worked with. Finding her on Dreadmax had been a boon.
Inside, the yacht shuttle was a mess, just as Henshaw had said. Emergency oxygen masks and miscellaneous equipment we had discarded when Tom and Henshaw pulled us from the debris field lay where I’d last seen them.
The trip to the other ship was brief, taking more time with the sealing and unsealing of airlocks than the actual transit.
I cleaned up as best I could during that time, stowing the trash in a receptacle and locking it down. Loose items could be dangerous if a ship lost gravity or suffered a collision.
Henshaw greeted me once the shuttle bay on his yacht, very small but very modern, was closed and sealed. He handed me an open glass of whisky and a cigar. Both were luxuries. Most ships required tubes and sealed cups for consuming liquids. Apparently, the man wasn’t worried about gravity failing.
We took our time strolling to the observation deck, which was worth the trip. The furniture was new and full of comfort features, like active massage and heated seating. The holo-screen that displayed the star fields all around us was the highest resolution possible in two dimensions. It felt like we would fall out of the ship.
I sat then leaned back in my chair, inhaling from one of the Starbrand Premiums as I held a tumbler of old scotch with my other hand. “I still don’t trust you.”
“I didn’t think you would. But at least I didn’t try to get you killed in the middle of a debris field,” Henshaw said.
“Is that what we’re here to talk about? The guide you hired?” I asked.
“He’s good at what he does. I needed him for several reasons, first and foremost to get you where you needed to go. But his skills would’ve also protected me from you if you would turn on me, and he would have helped me escape from the chaos of the gladiator contest had things gone badly,” he said.
“It sounds very tidy when you explain it that way. Tell me what you want,” I said bluntly.
He took a sip, then sloshed the small amount of alcohol that remained around the bottom of the glass and stared at it. “Grigori ‘Path’ Paavo has a checkered past, nearly as dark and twisted as yours.”
“Tell me about it. Leave nothing out,” I said.
He laughed. “I don’t have every detail. Suffice to say, he was a Pathfinder that went to worlds the Union had little control over or had just discovered. On one of these un-talked-about missions, he spent several months with people who changed him—not AWOL mind you, but on extended assignment. He returned and began his new life, a total devotion to the Order of the Sword saints, which caused him problems, since the Union still expected him to train with and use firearms.”
I didn’t like this story, but I mostly believed it. “Who were these people who fundamentally changed his ideals?”
“I wish I knew. There is little data on that point, only that he came back with a new view of life and his place within the galaxy,” Henshaw said.
“How do you know all of this?” I asked.
“I told you who I worked for during my time in the Union,” Henshaw said.
I nodded, then pointed the lit cigar at him as I continued. “Vice Admiral Nebs, founder of the Reaper Corps. Was he the man in the cloak who was recruiting talent during the gladiator fight?”
Henshaw refused to answer or meet my gaze.
“Nothing during my active career indicated the man had any direct control or influence over the Reapers, despite his title and his reputation,” I said. “More importantly, he might be dead.”
“That’s just a rumor,” Henshaw corrected.
I smiled. “Tell me what you know, Jimmy. Stop wasting my time with your concerns over my sword saint and spill it.”
“I hate it when you call me that,” he said. “And he’s not your sword saint.”
“You’ll get used to it,” I promised. “Tell me about Nebs, or Nightmare, or whatever you call him.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. I don’t like your tone,” he said, but relented, probably remembering we were alone and far from any chance of being rescued. “I’ve never seen the man who calls himself Nightmare. The last time I saw the general was several years ago. I’m a scientist, Hal. I refuse to make an imprecise statement based on conjecture.”
“So, you just brought me over to your ship to trash-talk Path?” I said.
“You can’t trust him. He will probably tell you lies about me,” Henshaw said.
“You crack me up, Jimmy. Path rarely says anything and I’ve yet to hear him talk behind someone’s back, like we’re doing now,” I said, sensing his desperation. There was a reason he was turning against his own man. I just needed to learn what it was and why he brought Path into my world in the first place.
“Please, he’s not a real saint. They call themselves sword saints because they think murdering people with blades is more just than murdering people with guns,” he said. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. I also have another software packet for your nerve-ware. You can have X-37 examine it and run it in quarantine to be sure it’s safe.”
I took the chip he handed me and slid it into my interior jacket pocket, along with two more of his Starbrand Premiums and a new lighter. He didn’t flinch at my sleight of hand. He could out talk me, but I had my own skills that helped level the playing field.
“Thanks,” I said. “And for the record, I don’t trust Path any more than I trust you. Explain to me why you switched sides. It would have been safer for you to give me up to your boss, whoever that really is.”
“I don’t have a boss, not anymore, not out here,” he said. “You’re a bad person, Hal, but I see something in the way you take care of the girl and that old mechanic. He says a lot of good things about you. Most importantly, I believe you will let me choose my own destiny. It might seem a small thing to someone like you, but for the rest of us, that’s something special.”
I wanted to smack him and drill holes in his statement, find where he was lying, and punish him for his error. The thing was, he seemed more earnest right now than I had believed possible.
“We don’t have to be enemies now that I’m free of Nightmare and you have the full functionality of your Reaper gear. It’s old and out of date, but still deadly,” he said.
“Agreed. I’m heading back to my ship. How about you spot me a couple of those cigars as compensation for my time,” I said.
“I can do that,” he promised, then opened his humidor. A strange expression crossed his face—like he thought he had more Starbrand Premiums than it appeared. A short time later, he handed me two excellent cigars. “There. I hope that makes us friends.”
“It’s a start,” I said.
Elise recovered quickly from her ordeal in the debris field. I slept in the morning after visiting Henshaw. It’d been a while since I drank that many strong whiskies in a row.
“X,” I said.
“You called?” he answered.
“Count my drinks next time I have a meeting with Henshaw,” I said.
“You’re the boss,” X-37 said. “While we’re on the topic, I examined the code Henshaw sent with you through every possible filter. It seems legit and will improve your nerve-ware synchronization immensely. At this point, I’d say it would be unrealistic to seek further enhancements to your gear.”
“I’m hoping he can also help a limited artificial intelligence I know,” I said.
“Your statement is cryptic. Could you be referring to me, perhaps about a topic my hard wiring prevents me from detecting?” X-37 asked.
“You’re getting warmer,” I said, setting out to find Elise and the rest of the crew.
“My
temperature isn’t a useful metric to evaluate my performance,” X-37 said.
“What am I going to do with you, X? How long have we been exchanging witty banter? You still have no idea of how to properly use a metaphor or simile or whatever,” I said.
“Your own confidence in the speech patterns is inspiring,” X-37 said.
I caught up to Elise and Path in the training room, which was right where I thought they would be. The sound of practice swords smacking together filled the small space.
Path looked as serene as ever. He was not only calm in a fight but detached. There might come a time when this came back to bite him, but I’d been wrong before. Just because I liked to get mad when the chips were down didn’t mean that would work for everyone.
“You tried to kill me,” Elise said when they took a break. She radiated danger.
“I tried, and am still trying, to save you from yourself,” Path said.
Elise groaned angrily. “You’re as bad as Cain! I can take care of myself!”
“Break it up, kids,” I said. “We’re heading for the second facility… where we won’t try to kill each other during the salvage operation.”
“Why not just leave this system? If one base was destroyed and the others aren’t responding, what makes you think it won’t be more of the same? Nothing but dust and space junk,” Elise said.
I wanted to argue, but a wound through her forearm caught my attention. It was pink like a new scar but the entry and exit points alarmed me.
“What the hell are you doing, Elise? You can’t train with that kind of injury. Where’d you get that? It didn’t happen during the salvage operation,” I said.
“Path let me train with live swords yesterday, then stabbed me through the forearm,” Elise admitted.
I took her wrist and turned her arm so I could see the entry and exit points of the wound. Even with her exposure to Lex-tech, I didn’t like the look of it. “This is bad, Elise. You should have said something.”
“I heal quickly,” she said, withdrawing when I expected her to verbally attack.
