by J. N. Chaney
“In answer to your question, sir,” Lars said, “no, I have not developed scruples. My system does not calculate moral values but logical assumptions and mathematically accurate probabilities. As such, I am simply abiding by the precedent set by the ship’s captain. Were the ship’s commanding officer to be Rachel, however, I would—”
Suddenly, flashes of light flickered in Rachel’s holo of the two shuttles. They were shooting at us! I watched the shield display as it noted the impacts and responded with a revised shield strength value of eighty-eighty percent.
“Shoot the damn ships!” I said to Lars. The Horizon banked left and then right, weaving between buildings at breakneck speed.
“Which brings up your second aversion to public displays of violence,” Lars continued.
“My aver— Have you been studying me again, Lars? I thought we went over this.”
“Of course, sir. One of my primary—”
“Get to the point!”
The Horizon glided between two buildings and then executed a power loop that took us up and over a suspension bridge bustling with bumper-to-bumper traffic. I looked at the pursuing shuttles as they, too, executed the maneuver.
“The collateral damage resulting from weapons fire,” Lars said, continuing as if this entire conversation was nothing more casual banter, “constitutes a civilian casualty risk of seventy-one percent.”
“But what about our casualty rate?”
“Given my efficiency rating with the Horizon, I place our likelihood of surviving the current engagement without resorting to use of weapons systems, assuming all variables are maintained, at ninety-four percent.”
“Ninety-four percent,” Rachel echoed, eyebrows up and lips curled down as if she was really impressed. “Not bad.”
“Gods,” I said, rocking back and forth in my chair from the ship’s movements. “Are we really having a discussion of ethics while evading hostile enemy forces?”
“It would appear so,” Lars replied. “Yes.”
“If the variables change,” I said, “I want you to shoot those ships down. Understood?”
“Understood, sir.”
Lars ran the Horizon a few meters off the ground, buzzing the tops of every car for a kilometer. Our speed continued to increase as Lars pushed the Horizon to what I was sure was its in-atmosphere threshold. He was getting close to the buildings too. I shot a look at Rachel—she seemed as concerned as I was, hands gripping the nav console, trying to stay steady.
Lars continued to weave in and out of several buildings, doing so at speeds that I never would have been able to match even if I worked for it every day of my life. Such was the benefit of having an AI helm your ship and not some drunk-ass pilot like Victor.
Headlights passed beneath us in long fluid white lines, while office windows shimmered with the reflections of our thrusters and the muzzle flashes of the shuttles behind us.
“They’re shooting again,” I said to Lars.
“You are correct, sir,” he replied. “However, they are falling behind.”
“So your plan of outrunning them is working,” I concluded.
“Indeed,” Lars replied, still maneuvering the ship through the cityscape in a death-defying manner. Had I not been so worried about dying from my leg wound, or how many times I’d been shot at in the last half hour, I probably would have enjoyed it.
“Now,” said Lars in his calmest voice yet, “if you will kindly brace yourselves, we are about to accelerate in an attempt to break the planet’s gravitational pull.”
“You mean, we’re launching,” said Rachel.
“Considering we are already under way, no. But the rest of your premise is essentially correct.”
“Take us up, Lars,” I said, grabbing the seat’s armrests. “We’re ready.”
6
The Distant Horizon’s thrusters fired at full throttle. Our nose pitched skyward in a high-speed ascent so steep that I couldn’t lift my head or arms out of my chair. I was pretty sure the skin on my face was pressed back towards my ears, and I had trouble swallowing the saliva in my mouth. I managed to see Rachel out of the corner of my eye, pressed into her crash couch.
The Horizon shuddered as we climbed higher and higher. I watch the altimeter’s digits pass ten thousand kilometers, then twenty thousand, then thirty thousand, all in a matter of moments. I had yet to really put Oragga’s gift to me through its paces since leaving Sellion City, but Lars was seeing to that just fine. There would be no way those enemy shuttles could keep up with us now.
“How… much… longer?” I managed to ask. My chest was tight, and I was having trouble keeping conscious.
“We will be exiting Altan Four’s stratosphere in twenty-seven seconds.”
“Can’t you hurry it up a little?” I asked, teeth clattering together.
“Sir, our thrusters are—”
“I was kidding.”
“Ah, very good, sir.”
I tried to focus on the main holo screen to keep my mind off the unbearable pain in my thigh—it felt as though the flesh around my leg was trying to peel itself away. I watched as the sky overhead grew less pink and more black, eventually giving way to the stark star-covered landscape of space.
“The shuttles have abandoned their pursuit,” Rachel confirmed, her voice quivering. I glanced at the rear-facing holo and saw only the distant glow of Veradia amongst the clouds.
“You see?” Lars asked. “Weapons systems unused, no civilian casualties reported.”
“Someone give the AI a medal,” I said to no one in particular. Tiny barked in answer, which I thought was comedic. He was still bound in his makeshift dog-style crash couch. “Thanks, Tiny.”
“Main thruster burn sequence complete,” Lars noted. A second later, the Horizon’s constant forward push subsided and a wave of relief washed over my body.
“Orbit achieved, all systems nominal,” Lars said.
“I still think you could have shot them.” I unbuckled my harness and attempted to stand. But now that the adrenaline was finally ebbing, the pain was excruciating. Likewise, I knew that the tourniquet had been cinched around my limb for far too long—any more and I might lose it.
“Sir,” Lars said, “I advise we admit you to sick bay as soon as possible.”
“I second that,” said Rachel. She bent down and released the harness from around Tiny.
Tiny thirded it by running up beside me and leaning into my good leg with his body.
“Alright, alright, let’s do this thing. Gods know I like both my legs.”
Rachel helped me through the bridge doors and then directed me toward sickbay, which was at the end of the curved corridor that ran along the port side of the ship. Once there, Lars brought the facility’s systems online. Sterile white lighting illuminated three medical suites. Aside from a bed, each unit was filled with odd looking multitools on the end of articulated arms not unlike the chair I’d seen in Oragga’s office.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to probe you now, sir,” Lars said.
I cocked my head sideways. “Lars, did you just make an inside joke?”
“Yes, sir. Was I successful?”
I chuckled. “Yup. You sure were, pal.”
“But, seriously, sir. Please lay yourself on the bed in suite one, and then I will probe you.”
Rachel moved me forward into the suite and then helped me onto the table.
“Hey,” I said, wincing as she swung my legs up. “Back there with Falco. Where’d you get the poison?”
Rachel smiled. “It was just salt.”
I laughed. “And the pill?”
“A headache med.”
“Son of a bitch,” I said, gasping as I lay down. “Lars, can you hurry this up?”
“As soon as Miss Fontaine steps aside, I will commence an initial analysis.”
“That’s just the problem,” I replied. “Miss Fontaine has this crazy look in her eyes, and I’m worried she’s going to drug me and then rip my pa
nts off before you do.”
“Nice try,” Rachel said, backing away.
“Beginning initial scan,” Lars said.
I watched as two arms began removing my pant leg using small counter-rotary saws, while a third scanned my skin with some sort of yellow light bar. A larger light bar descended from the ceiling and moved from head to toe about half a meter above my body.
When the scan was complete, Lars said, “The stab wound in your leg is substantial, and you’ve developed a bacterial infection that is spreading rapidly. However, the tourniquet not only restricted blood loss but also kept the infection isolated to your leg. You’ve suffered several minor lacerations and contusions, as has Miss Fontaine—”
“When did you scan me?” she asked, covering her chest with her arms.
But Lars didn’t abate in his review. “Which will require her to seek medical attention later. You, however, Mr. Reed, are the priority. The medical procedure will include removing the tourniquet, mending material damage, and administering antibiotics, among other things. I would highly recommend full sedation, but that is your decision.”
“It’s going to hurt?”
“Yes, sir. To put it in your parlance, it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”
I swallowed. “I’ve had enough pain for one day, pal. Put me under.”
“Very well, sir.”
“And I’ll be right here,” Rachel said, a reassuring look forming on her face. I felt genuinely touched.
“Thanks, Rachel,” I said, leaning my head back.
“No, not for you. For me. I’m next, remember?”
I gave a crooked smile. “Sure you are.”
When I awoke, Rachel was sitting beside me under soft lights reading something on a data pad. Strands of black hair cascaded around her face, framing her delicate features. For a second, she looked almost normal—not like the calculated killing machine that I’d become accustomed to, but more like the office worker I first encountered on the night we met. This moment betrayed a little more of whoever she was before her military-style combat training, before learning how to kill, than I bet she intended to show me.
“Hey,” I said. My voice sounded groggy and hoarse.
Rachel looked up, startled, and put the data pad down. “Hey.”
“What’cha reading?”
“It’s nothing.”
“The hells it is. Probably some throwing knife masters manual.”
She blushed. “Actually its…”
“What?”
“A Florence Redbreast novel.” I saw her cheeks flush a shade of pink as she stashed the data pad under her seat.
“Florence Redbreast? As in the romance novelist?”
Rachel nodded.
“Gods, Rachel. Never figured you for one of those.”
“It’s my one guilty pleasure,” she said. “Why? You got a problem with that?”
I held my hands up in mock protest. “No, nope. I’m just interested by the information. Nothing more.”
“Good,” she said, settling herself back into the chair beside my bed. “So, how are you feeling?”
“Pretty damn great right now.”
“You should be.” She grinned. “I saw those probes dose you with enough painkillers to make a starship go limp.”
“Limp?” For some reason I looked down at my groin. Call it instinct.
“You’ll make a full recovery,” Rachel continued. “Don’t worry. Everything will be operational again in a few hours.”
I took a deep breath. “Well, that’s good to hear, because it’s never been more than a few hours between—”
“I don’t need you to finish that sentence. Thanks.”
I smiled, then rested my head back down. “Suit yourself.”
Silence filled the space between us for a few moments as I enjoyed not being chased or shot at. It was a good feeling, especially knowing we’d gotten away. But there were bad feelings too.
“Have you asked yourself what we’ve gotten ourselves into?” I caught Rachel’s eyes as she searched my face before answering.
“How do you mean?”
There you go, keeping your cards close to your chest, I thought to myself, not for the first time.
“I mean, Oragga commissioned us to find ancient artifacts that are extremely rare and unquestionably valuable. To that end, he’s willing to gift an ex-cop and a freelance bounty hunter—”
“Acquisitions curator,” Rachel said, correcting me.
“Whatever—he’s gifted us a state-of-the-art starship and an unlimited budget. Plus, we’re operating off the Union’s radar. His own people don’t even know about us. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Bother me? I’ve always liked anonymity.”
“But you haven’t wondered why? Why he wants these artifacts so badly?”
“He’s a billionaire,” Rachel replied with a brief wave of her hand. “They’re super weird. Eccentric would be the right word.”
I stared at her for a second without commenting.
“What?” she asked.
“Really? That’s all?”
“Sure. I’ve worked for plenty of guys like him. They want something bad enough, and they have the budget to make it happen. End of story.”
“And you never ask why?”
“Nope. Not if the payout is large enough. And guys like Oragga know that the more they pay, the quieter their secrets stay. That’s because people like me don’t want to miss out on a payday like Oragga’s just because we can’t keep our lips tight.”
“People like you…” I said.
Rachel just stared at me, then said, “Yeah,” as if that was supposed to mean something.
“And who, exactly, are people like you? You still know far more about me than I know about you.”
“And I know that’s hard for your detective brain to let rest, but you’re going to have to live with it for a while.”
“Until when?”
“Until I want to tell you more.”
I could tell from the hard look in her eyes that I wasn’t going to get more out of her. Don’t push her, Flint, I could hear my brain say. I had a good thing going with Rachel—at least as much as two high-end bounty hunters could claim to have. I wasn’t going to ruin it now.
“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath and folding my arms behind my head, “I want to know.”
“Know…?”
“Why these artifacts are so damn important to Oragga,” I replied. “And why a rival organization, or whatever it is, is willing to kill us for them.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow but said nothing more.
“Come on, you’re saying that doesn’t bother you?” I asked. “We shot and killed people back there.”
“Who were trying to shoot and kill us,” she said.
“A dead person is a dead person, and we killed them. There’s no way these artifacts are worth killing over, unless they are more than just artifacts.”
“I’m telling you, Flint.” Rachel sat forward. “These are exactly the kinds of questions you don’t want to ask.”
“Don’t want to ask?” I repeated, sitting up a little. “These are exactly the kinds of questions I’m going to ask if I’m going to keep getting shot at!”
“Easy, Flint. Don’t give yourself a—”
“I’m not going to take it easy, Rachel. If I’m going to risk my life, your life, and innocent lives in every city we make port in, I want to know why. Or else I’m out.”
“Sounds like you should have thought of that before you signed on Oragga’s bottom line.”
“Well, maybe that’s true. But he bears some of the responsibility too.”
“How so?”
“If he knew our lives were going to be in jeopardy, then he was obligated to say as much.”
“I’m pretty sure he did, Flint.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, he said it’d be dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I echoed. “Rachel, dangerous is doing
things in the adventure holos. Walking over rope suspension bridges. Swinging across canyons. You know. But that, back there? On Veradia? That was not dangerous. That was insane.”
“And you didn’t think what you did in the towers back on Sellion City was insane?”
I glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Flint, need I remind you that the mayor of your city gave you a medal. You took out more guys in sixty minutes than I do in a weekend.”
I popped my head up. “Wait, you kill that many people in a weekend?”
“Never mind. My point is, you are the one who showed Oragga that you could handle yourself in situations most people couldn’t dream of… that you weren’t afraid to pull the trigger, to make the hard calls. I mean, you did so with not only your life on the line, but dozens of hostages too. With mine. With Heather’s. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as culpable as Oragga, if not more.”
“That’s a cheap shot, Rachel.”
“Isn’t it?” She didn’t look like she was going to budge. “Trust me when I say that I’ve seen my share of daredevils. Either you were born to do this stuff, or you were just showing off… and you don’t seem like the kind of guy who has something to prove. If anything, you’re a bona fide knight.”
“A what?” I asked.
“A knight. A type of legendary warrior from the old mythologies.”
“You mean, from your romance novels?”
“Something like that,” she said, waving the comment off. “They rode some giant mammals and carried swords. But they lived according to virtues instead of just for themselves, and they did heroic things because of it. That’s what Oragga sees in you, I think. And that’s what I see too.”
“Damn, you didn’t have to get all sentimental just because I got probed.”
She laughed. I liked it.
“Hold on just a sec,” I added, realizing she’d played me. “You just said I was culpable for all this, and then you paid me a compliment to smooth it over, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” she said with a coy little grin.
