Renegades: Origins

by Kal Spriggs

  Simon shook his head, “That’s just what you would say if you were involved-”

  “I’m not involved. This has gone from an investigation to a witch hunt. What do we gain by digging up people’s pasts? Nothing… this information should have died with Crowe, as far as I’m concerned,” Mike said. “We all have our pasts and as far as I’m concerned, our past is just that: the past. It’s what we do from now on that matters.”

  Simon shook his head, “Crowe is dead, dead because either he knew something about someone here or he did something to threaten someone aboard this ship. Whoever killed him has concealed that fact, that makes them a danger to us all!”

  “Unfortunately, I am required to interrupt this fascinating display of human research techniques,” Run stated. “I must correct you on one fact which I have confirmed this morning.”

  Simon sighed, “What fact would that be, that Crowe somehow cut himself open and it wasn’t murder?”

  “That would be very unlikely,” Run stated, his voice flat.

  “Oh really?” Mike growled.

  “Yes,” Run said, oblivious to the sarcasm. He looked around the room with his pale yellow, alien eyes, almost as if he wanted to predict their reactions to his next statement. “Crowe is not dead.”

  * * *

  ”Huh, he could have fooled me,” Eric said with a grunt.

  “He did,” Run said. “He fooled all of us. But when I compared the corpse to Crowe’s genetic material I had already procured, I learned that the body we found is not Crowe.”

  “Wait, you already had some of Crowe’s genetic material?” Mike asked sharply. “I thought I told you that you weren’t allowed to take genetic samples from the crew.”

  “Uh, bigger issue here,” Ariadne said. “Someone else who looked like Crowe was on-board the ship and murdered.” She frowned, and Simon could see something like panic go across her face, “We could have something like that purple ooze that was in Krann, some kind of doppelganger or… something.”

  “Oh,” Rastar said eagerly, “Like in Space Doppelgangers, when the entire crew is killed and eaten. That was a great holovid.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Eric said. “The whole space doppelganger thing was a bad movie. Clearly Run just got his info wrong. I mean, how would he do a genetic test? He doesn’t even have any lab equipment. Besides, I think we would have noticed if he went around taking samples from us, right?”

  “I am not mistaken,” Run said. “In theory, if I took the genetic samples from you as you slept, you would not have noticed when I swabbed each of you, especially with sedatives added to your evening meals.” The Chxor looked around at the suddenly quiet room. “My genetic research is highly advanced, I assure you, and I am not mistaken. I used what humans call DNA Fingerprinting and the Northern Blot methodologies, in order to be doubly certain. Clearly, I can see that you are emotionally impacted by my thoroughness.”

  “There’s no way you drugged my food, I was there the whole time, I cooked it. You…” Eric broke off. When he spoke again, his voice was shocked. “I have been sleeping very well,” Eric noted. Simon saw a look of anger flash over the soldier’s face. Something else lurked in his eyes, though, something almost like fear. For that matter, Simon felt extremely uneasy at how the Chxor had violated all of them. Though, if it helps the case, I suppose I can’t complain, he thought.

  “This Chxor, he scares me,” Elena said, her accent thick. She had moved away from the door, Simon noticed, to take a seat in one of the oversized Ghornath couches. Then again, with how his confrontation had gone, he didn’t think he needed her to watch the door anymore.

  “Fear is a primitive emotion often invoked in inferior species who do not understand scientific thought,” Run said, his flat voice calm. Run continued, “Once I had realized through genetic comparison that the corpse was not Crowe, I postulated that he would be someone else. A detailed examination of the blood allowed me to discover tiny nanomachines, which had already begun to decay. The machines, I theorize, were injected into the subject in order to alter the facial features and some higher level brain functions.”

  “Wait, brain functions?” Pixel asked, “The facial features reconstruction I can guess at, but how would you guess at the brain alterations?”

  “I located remnants of the nanomachines in the subject’s brain tissue along with a sedative which would have been injected with the nanomachines.” Run answered. “It is an interesting application of nanotechnology, to rewrite the subjects higher level thought functions. Of course, the long term effect would be quite debilitating with these machines, they made only superficial changes to the brain chemistry and the subject would probably suffer mental regression, followed by dementia, insanity, and loss of higher cognitive functions. I would have enjoyed the opportunity to observe these effects. Unfortunately, someone terminated him before this onset.”

  “Wait, so this poor bastard would have thought he was Crowe right up until he went insane?” Mike asked. He frowned, “That’s really cold.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Illario said. The ganger had moved to the back of the room, a look of unease on his face.

  “Yeah,” Simon said, “And there’s only one person I can think of who would have that kind of tech… and would need someone to look like Crowe.”

  “And now he’s our missing person,” Mike nodded. “So, if Crowe did this, who is the body?”

  “I had not yet begun my genetic sampling of the passengers,” Run said. “Therefore I could not determine that with any significant reliability.” Run shrugged, “The subject was male and of approximately equal height and body structure to Crowe. The nanomachines altered facial structure, skin tone and distinguishing features, hair and eye color, and brain functions.”

  Ariadne spoke, “So why wouldn’t we notice Crowe walking around still alive?”

  There was a long silence. None of them could imagine Crowe injecting himself with nanomachines that might drive him insane. Eric finally spoke, his voice reluctant, “There’s a body modification, a particular type of cybernetics. It alters facial features, changes them so that the person can pass as someone else. It’s used by some assassins back in the Centauri Confederation.”

  Simon nodded slowly, “And our friend here seems to have a lot of skills and equipment that an assassin or professional thief might have… or might have stolen.”

  “This changes everything,” Mike put his head in his hands. “Why does Crowe always make things so difficult?”

  “This doesn’t change one thing,” Simon said. “We know that Crowe is still alive and that he effectively put this other poor man in position to be murdered… but we don’t know who murdered him. This is still a murder investigation.”

  “Perhaps it was Crowe?” Elena asked.

  Mike snorted, “That’s a pretty nasty thing for him to do, I’d agree. ‘Kill’ himself and make us chase his killer around in circles…”

  Simon shook his head, “No, that would imply that he needed to disappear… but none of us knew he was up to this. Besides, he can’t have too many supplies of his nanomachines, they must have been smuggled with him somewhere. And then there’s Jascinthe’s murder. Someone killed him for what he had, but that doesn’t fit Crowe’s profile. He likes to steal, I mean, he stole from Anubus and nearly didn’t get caught. No, I think this was Crowe faking his own death with the intention of avoiding whoever is after him.”

  “This partner of his that you made up?” Eric asked. “I don’t believe it. And lets not forget that you painted all of us to look like the murderer, so that would put you in a great position to be Crowe.”

  “Okay, enough,” Mike said and rubbed at his forehead. From his expression, he had a terrible headache. Simon could empathize. “Let’s look at this logically. He looked over at Run, “How can we identify Crowe, if he’s using some kind of implant to alter his appearance?”

  “Genetic sampling would be ideal,” Run said.

  “No,” Er
ic, Mike, Ariadne, Elena, Anubus, and Rastar all said at the same time.

  “I can conduct a sample of all the likely candidates in only a few days…”

  “No,” Mike said. He gave a sigh, “What are our other options?”

  Run stared at him with calm eyes, “This is an illogical fear, you should allow me to…”

  Pixel spoke up, “Run, from a scientific perspective, what would our other options be if genetic sampling would not work?”

  Run looked over at Pixel, “This is an odd query, but if the subject could somehow alter or conceal his genetic code, then we would have to go off of body structure, height, mass, and general body shape configuration. I have already done a preliminary analysis in order to lower the candidate field and have selected five possibilities.”

  “Thank you, Pixel,” Mike said as he massaged his forehead, “Who would those five candidates be?”

  Run pulled out his datapad, “Based off of height and features those candidates are: Eric Striker, Simon, Michael Santangel, Illario Urbano, and Matvei Singolav. Of course, this is subject to some variance, due to limited observation and study.”

  “Okay,” Mike said, “Michael, Simon, Eric and Illario, you all will stay here. Matvei is one of the space hands we’ve already interviewed, we’ll get him up here. Until we identify the killer, you all are at risk…” He trailed off. “Where is Illario?”

  Simon turned around. “He was just here.”

  Elena jumped up from where she’d sat, “Crowe. The bastard played us… it must be him.”

  Michael Santangel toggled open the hatch to the stairs and glanced down, “No sign of him.” His accent made the declaration sound that much more impressive.

  “He said he felt sick,” Ariadne said, “Maybe he just…”

  “Ran downstairs to hide?” Eric asked. His tone of sarcasm made it abundantly clear what he thought of that.

  “No,” Simon shook his head, “He played us… he left before we thought through the implications, before we could tag him. That makes too much sense.” How could I have missed this, he wondered. He had assumed that Illario had avoided him because of their earlier conversation. But what if he’d avoided Simon because he wasn’t Illario, he was Crowe?

  “Or before his would-be murderer could finish him off,” Rastar said. “We have to protect him.”

  “Protect him?” Eric said. “He basically killed someone else.”

  “Yes…” Rastar nodded. “And he should pay for that. But someone else did kill this other person.” The big, eight-limbed alien’s hide held tones of red and orange.

  “Come to think of it,” Anubus grinned, “Why don’t we let Crowe and his partner settle their differences and just kill the victor?”

  “That’s kind of cold,” Simon said.

  “One or both of them tried to frame me for this…” Anubus growled. “That does not enamor me of them. This is why I don’t like partners, sooner or later you must fight for dominance.” His deep voice held both sarcasm and anger. Still, Simon had to wonder if the alien felt at least some regret about how lonely an existence he lived. Then again, Simon thought, he killed his entire crew.

  “No, we need to find both of them. The best way to do that is to have one of them and force the other to come to us and expose him or herself,” Mike said. “Then we can talk about killing, imprisoning or whatever.”

  “They both need to be turned over to the authorities when we hit human space,” Simon said. He felt slightly nauseated at the thought of what Crowe had done to Illario. While he hadn’t liked the ganger, to erase the other man’s memories and replace them with a crude version of someone else seemed horrific. If I have my way, Crowe will go to jail for a very long time, he thought.

  Mike turned to Rastar, “First, we get to the arms room. Crowe had access, so we have to secure it, then-”

  “Uh, we locked it down,” Simon said. “No one is getting in there without the pass-code.”

  “What?” Mike said.

  Simon cleared his throat and glanced over at Elena, “We thought some of the crew were part of the conspiracy to kill Crowe… so we locked it down.”

  “We’ll discuss this later,” Mike said. “When I have a chance to get over the fact that you didn’t ask me.” Mike grimaced, “Much later.”

  “This actually worked out well, you know,” Simon said. “He can’t get access to any guns.”

  “He has a point,” Rastar said. “Though I wish he had asked me.”

  “You were a suspect,” Simon said. He frowned, “Technically, you still are.”

  Mike closed his eyes, “While you two are talking this over, you might want to realize two things. One: Crowe is a hacker and you are giving him more time to get access to the armory and then lock us out. Two: usurping control over the armory on any vessel is a specific qualification for mutiny, which is punishable in most star systems by death.”

  Simon felt his jaw drop, “You know, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  * * *

  The panel to the armory was open and wires dangled from it, but Simon saw the telltales still showed it as locked down. Pixel grimaced at the mess. “He couldn’t get in so he trashed the panel, none of us can get in.” He peered at it, “This will take hours to fix.”

  Mike grimaced, “Fix it. Mandy, Miranda, stay with him, you too Ariadne. Crowe might come back.”

  “My friends, we have an unknown killer aboard, do not forget,” Michael Santangel said. “For that matter, it could be any one of us.”

  Mike massaged his forehead, “A fact I’m well aware of, which is why there are three of them and one is a powerful psychic.”

  “What if it’s her?” Elena asked, her voice harsh. “She could control them all and then take over the vessel.”

  “If it’s her, then we’re screwed anyway,” Mike said. “Elena, you, Eric, and Anubus return to the bridge and make sure it is secure. Pixel, you locked down the computers so he cant get access?”

  “I cut power to all the consoles,” Pixel said. “He’d need to be on the bridge.”

  “Simon, Santangel, you’re with me,” Mike said. His eyes narrowed, “I would assume that since you planned that confrontation that you’re armed?”

  Simon drew his pistol. “Yeah.”

  Mike grunted, “So, Rastar, Anubus, and you are the only ones armed while we have not just one but two dangerous killers on the loose.”

  “Elena has a weapon, as well,” Simon said. “And I believe that Eric sleeps with a weapon.”

  “You and I really need to have a talk after all of this is over…” Mike said. He closed his eyes in thought for a moment. “Crowe is a sneaky type… but when he’s confronted he tends to panic. Where do you think he’ll go?”

  “He will need to either change his appearance once again or find some kind of leverage which will force us to work with him, at least until he can gain the upper hand and betray us,” Michael Santangel answered.

  “Good points,” Mike nodded. “Did Simon offer you a position on the crew?”

  “No, just to vouch for me,” Michael said.

  “Well, I like the way you think,” Mike said. “So you’re hired.”

  Santangel gave him a polite smile. Simon could almost hear the other man’s thoughts. He’s thinking ‘excellent, this common born criminal wants to hire me as crew, what a splendid compliment.’

  “Well, all the other likely candidates are here,” Mike said, “That leaves Matvei, who would be in the lounge, with the other passengers.” He shook his head, “Too difficult for him to get him out of there and we know his playbook. He’ll need leverage…”

  “Perhaps a hostage?” Michael asked.

  “One of the crew or passengers, it would have to be someone off on their own,” Simon said.

  “The only passenger that valuable would be the ambassador,” Mike swore. “We’d better hurry.” They arrived outside the passenger quarters to find both Nova Roma Marines out in the hallway with raised arms. This is not good,
Simon thought.

  Mike led the way, “What’s happening?”

  Sergeant Santander answered, his voice thick with anger, “Bastard showed up and said he had important information for the Ambassador. Then he drew a knife. He said we wait out here or he kills her.”

  Mike grimaced. He looked over at Simon, “You’ll have to take the shot, you know?”

  Simon frowned, “Maybe we can talk him down.”

  “This seems unlikely, my friend,” Michael said.

  “If he kills the Ambassador… we’re screwed,” Mike said softly. “And worse, her blood will be on your hands.” The other man’s dark eyes met Simon’s and Simon felt a surge of ice go through his veins. He had never had to take another human’s life before.

  Mike keyed the hatch to open. Illario or Crowe or whoever he was stood only a few meters away, behind Ambassador Vibius. He had a long knife pressed into her side. He gave a smile as they stepped into the room. “Look who it is, the good policeman, the man with no past, and a man with no future.” His voice was that of Crowe, from the smirk on his face to his tone of condescension. It gave Simon an odd feeling, the juxtaposition of Illario with Crowe’s mannerisms. He absently wondered how long it took Crowe’s implants to alter his appearance.

  “Please,” Ambassador Vibius said, her voice faint, “Don’t let him hurt me!”

  “Crowe, let her go,” Mike said. His voice sounded calm, but Simon could see the smaller man was coiled like a spring.

  “No… I don’t think so,” Crowe said. His smirk turned into something uglier, “This is, unfortunately, the only bargaining chip I have left.”

  “You have no bargaining chip,” Mike said with a flat voice.

  Crowe gave a giggle, “How do you think the Nova Roma Empire would react when some escaped fugitives show up in an enemy ship, with a dead ambassador, and murdered crew?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Simon said. He kept his voice calm and met the other man’s gaze levelly. He knew that most hostage situations ended best when both sides stayed calm. If Crowe got angry, if he stopped thinking… He had to get the other man to think. “You won’t kill her because if you do, you know we won’t protect you.”