by Drew Cordell
She nodded, pulling out the same small drone from her hoodie that she’d used to guide us through the Hollows of the station. “Yeah, we’re clear. Just a minor declaration violation. I didn’t declare all my cargo and that’s what set this off. All that nonsense for one hundred credits’ worth of bills.” Gwen shook her head, letting the drone fly from her hand and down toward Ether Rogue where it began circling and scanning the exterior.
“What are you doing with that?” Brandon asked.
“Making sure no one put a tracker on my ship. I really don’t want to run into that bounty hunter again.”
“Good thinking,” Brandon agreed.
Satisfied, Gwen led us into Ether Rogue, planning on giving us a tour of the ship while we waited for our new cargo to arrive.
20 - Interlude
[Roughly Three Years Ago. 08:13:18 UXT, August 30th, 3143. Salgon Slums]
Two weeks of stale food, bad coffee, and uncomfortable conditions in a cramped cell had almost been too much to bear. No matter how scalding the water had been in the numerous showers I’d taken since my arrest, I couldn’t scour the cruel smell of the abandoned building mixed with Stacy’s perfume out of my skin, though I was now convinced it was imagined.
When the news came that I was being transferred to a federal detention facility, I didn’t know what to think. Salgon law meant that until the Feds could piece together the compelling, judge-approved documentation to pull my case over to big-league jurisdiction, I was trapped in precinct jail. The arrest still hadn’t been made public, and it probably wouldn’t until I was safely transferred to FedDet for security purposes.
Despite having all the time in the world, all I had time to do was think about Stacy and what she had done. I felt rage, indignation, betrayal, and crippling emptiness. I pulled on the drawstring on the coarse orange pants I wore, tightening the ever-loosening pants to the best of my ability so they wouldn’t fall when I stood up. I wasn’t being fed enough, but complaining wouldn’t do anything to fix it.
Today was the day things changed and progressed, and maybe that was for the best. I would be tried under federal law for a brutal crime I didn’t commit—the murder of someone I never knew. Worse, I couldn’t convince myself that Stacy hadn’t pulled the trigger herself. If she would do this to me, then what was she capable of doing to a stranger?
“Hands out please, Mr. Buchanan,” Anthony, the officer who had been responsible for most of my post-arrest logistics, instructed after the door to my cell clicked open. I complied, holding my arms out with tired resignation. At least I wasn’t going to be cuffed with my arms behind my back again. The officer released the cuffs, and they surged through the air, clamping around my wrists without being too constricting. At this point, we more or less had the routine and cuff settings dialed into perfection. “That all right for ya’? Not too tight?”
“It’s fine, thanks,” I said, thankful that he was friendly unlike a lot of the officers that worked the Salgon Slums, but what choice did most of them have if they wanted to make it home alive each day?
“Okay. The good news is FedDet is a lot more comfortable than precinct, the bad news is that you won’t have your own suite anymore. You’re going to have a couple weeks to speak with your defense attorney before your official arraignment where the State will declare the charges against you.”
I mustered a weak nod, once again thinking of everything I’d lost. Could any defense attorney in the system get me out of this mess? My fingerprints were all over the murder weapon. I was the only one found at the crime scene. There was no relevant security footage to be found from any of the neighboring buildings. There were no witnesses. “Do you know who he was—the man who died?” I asked.
“I can’t talk about it, you know that. You’ll be able to review the preliminary charges with your attorney during FedDet visiting hours. Come on, let’s get a move on so we can transfer you. Thanks for behaving during your stay, makes my job a hell of a lot easier, and I can guarantee my wife appreciates that.”
I mustered another one of those absent nods, smiling without any trace of happiness. “Sure. Ready when you are, boss.”
The peace officer led me through the building to the back door where a large armored van was parked. The armed guards inside opened the doors, cradling compact energy-rifles across their chests as they escorted me inside, clamping my wrist restraints to a chain in front of my seat before buckling me in. The driver got out to sign a transfer document for Anthony before climbing back in. There was someone sitting next to him in the passenger seat, but I couldn’t make out most of his features through the scuffed-up partition.
It was only when the back doors closed and the armed guards climbed back in that I realized who the man in the front passenger seat was. Cadan Graves.
“Hello, Kyle,” he said, turning to face me. “I’m sure these past two weeks have been awful for you. That’s all going to change now.”
“You son of a bitch,” I spat. “You turned her against me. You did this.” My words were venomous, and I ground my teeth together as I spoke them. It was his fault this happened to me; he was the one who convinced Stacy to ruin our lives.
Cadan looked at me with amusement, or maybe it was pity. “Stacy didn’t want this for you. Really, you have to believe that. She was just serving the Alliance, you have to understand.”
I shook my head, glaring at the man I hated so much and wishing my eyes could shoot bullets. “Oh no. I don’t understand anything anymore. It was all a lie. All of it.” My voice was unhinged, and so was I. “Why are you here? To kill me and erase your mess? I’m surprised she isn’t here to do it herself.”
Cadan looked bemused, but also wounded at the remark. He kept a level, conversational voice when he replied. “No. I’m here to save you. You didn’t talk with precinct jail staff, that’s good. If you had, this situation would be complicated. As of this moment, Kyle Buchanan is dead. However, the Dalthaxian Alliance just got a new outstanding citizen named Kyle Gennan. That’s you. I’m sad to say Kyle Buchanan died in transit to FedDet. His arraignment is never going to happen, and the case will default—like it never even happened. You might never understand why these things had to happen, but your country is grateful for your role and service.”
I was shocked at the words coming from his mouth. “And if I refuse?” I had less than nothing left in my life.
Cadan sighed. “Kyle… please don’t refuse. You’re going to be living with a pension from Dalthaxia. You and Stacy will have a happy life together. You have no idea how much guilt she feels, how much she wants to make this right. This was the hardest thing she’s ever had to do, and she’s going to have to live with it for the rest of her life.”
His words ignited more fury within me, burning hot and frantic. “You don’t get to tell me how she feels. Shut up. Shut up!” Tears were tugging on the corners of my eyes, but my anger was burning out, becoming replaced with a cold, empty void that revealed just how hollowed out I’d become.
“We’ll go over the finer details when we’re heading out on the transport cruise to Dalthaxia. All inclusive, you’re going to love it,” he said, his voice taking on a gentler tone after he was sure I wasn’t going to respond. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you had to go through this, but I think you’re going to find your life a lot better and easier once we arrive on Dalthaxia. You’ll never have to work another day in your life if you don’t want to. No more repair job in a factory that doesn't give a damn about you.”
I sat in silence, staring at the floor of the van.
“You'll see her soon, you know. She's been asking about you non-stop.”
I looked up at that, pulled out of my trance and feeling a cold detachment wash over me. “And if I refuse to see her?”
Cadan shrugged, and the van’s engine hummed to life. The vehicle started moving, pulling out of the alleyway behind the precinct jail and merging with traffic on one of the city streets. “Your case is… unique,” he said, appare
ntly choosing the word with care, “but this is also your relationship, not mine. I'm going to do what the Alliance has authorized me to in order to help you both through this situation, but I imagine you'll have a lot that needs to be worked out on your own. I wish nothing but the best for both of you.”
I smirked at that. “You know what? I’m having a really hard time believing anything you say.”
Cadan sighed, turning to face the front again. It seemed the conversation was over.
21
I checked the clock on my AIVO, leaning on the main loading ramp of Ether Rogue. Our cargo hadn’t arrived, and we were closing in on the 50-minute mark. I wasn’t going to be happy if we weren’t able to leave the station soon. The more I thought about it, the more likely it was that the bounty hunter decided 22k credits wasn’t enough pay for one day. Despite an extensive search on the Bounty Net, we weren’t able to find the contract on Gwen the bounty hunter had mentioned. If it wasn’t classified as an open bounty, then it would be reserved for experienced bounty hunters with successful contracts under their belt.
The tour of Ether Rogue was short, and most of the interior that wasn’t devoted to hauling cargo or housing the ship’s interior modules was simplistic and easy to navigate. Aside from four small sleeping cabins with their own lavatories, there was a shared living space, shower, and a lot of room in the flight cabin. As I expected, Ether Rogue lacked a lot of the combat prowess Exowurm had, but it still had two deployable quad blaster turrets, a couple Omnidrones, and a good shield generator stacked on top of an impressive power grid. Gwen assured us she’d get us set up and integrated with the ship’s AI once we departed Vrenn.
After the quick tour of Gwen’s ship, I used the downtime to explain what had happened to me on Salgon three years ago and why I despised Cadan Graves, telling them what I could without risking my real-world identity. It wasn’t anything Brandon didn’t already know, but that was all right. I’d tell him more in real life when we were back on Tiyvan IV.
It was strange to tell two people I had just met about the events that changed my life, but I was intent on not letting the past continue to consume me. Gwen was right, if this was going to work well, then we needed to establish more trust both ways, and this was one hell of a way to get the trust ball rolling.
“Good Gesh,” Gwen said in awe, placing a hand on my shoulder that I could barely feel through my EVA suit. “If that’s all true, then I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine what that’s like. And you’re sure it’s the same guy trying to rope you back in?”
“It has to be. But I haven’t heard of this Dark Eternity guild until just now. Do you know anything about it?”
Gwen shook her head. “No, but if they’re working with Dalthaxia in any capacity than I need to give them wide berth, even if you have a conversation with Graves. We’ll listen in if you want us to, but it might be best to leave us out and just see what he wants.”
I didn’t know exactly what to expect from my conversation with Graves if it was going to happen at all, but I expected he wanted to recruit me for the task force Stacy had mentioned on her messages sent to me through the Rollings Mining systems. It was probably more of a consolation prize than anything else, something she wanted to do to try to make amends for the past. Maybe it was more—but I also didn’t want Gwen and the others to get roped into Graves’s schemes, especially if he started offering us ridiculous piles of credits for whatever work he had in mind.
Shouting caught my attention, pulling me out of my thoughts. The noise was coming from the connector tunnels that attached our docking bay to the rest of the B wing and eventually the other terminals. “I’m going to see what that is,” I said to the others, striding off toward the elevator platform that would take me back to the observation deck. I checked to make sure my blaster was in place and confirmed its charge pack wasn’t depleted.
“Wait! As soon as the cargo gets here, we’re leaving,” Gwen called after me.
“That sounds like a shipping delay to me,” I said, walking onto the elevator platform but waiting to punch the button in case any of them wanted to join me. Best case, there was a minor incident or disagreement between two pilots. Worst case, more of that bad luck had found us and we wouldn’t be leaving Vrenn anytime soon.
Gwen seemed to agree with my thinking and issued a quick mental command to raise the loading ramp on Ether Rogue and lock up the ship, jogging with the others to catch up to me. The shouting was getting louder, but I couldn't make out any individual voices or deduce what was happening from this distance.
The elevator brought us up the observation deck and we were jogging through a string of worried-looking NPCs who seemed to be trying to make it either to ships or out of Vrenn’s docking bays. I stopped a wide-eyed man wearing a greasy flight suit. “Sir, what’s happening?”
“A Dalthaxian capital-class ship just jumped into orbit. They're setting up a blockade around Vrenn!” He didn’t want to stick around to talk more, stepping away from me and breaking into a jog.
“Dammit!” Gwen shouted, turning back toward the docking bay where her ship was parked. “We have to leave, now. Screw the supplies.”
“Gwen, we will not make it to our destination with what we have on hand, and we cannot outrun a Dalthaxian blockade,” Fen advised, her gentle voice almost drowned out by the cacophony.
“This can't be a coincidence. If they're looking for me, then it's only a matter of time until that bounty hunter connects the pieces and comes back. If he does, he’ll be out for my blood. I’ve seen this happen before, they’ll be sending drop pods with armed forces to take control of station command any minute if they haven’t done it already.”
“You can't know they're here for you, it could be for anything,” I said, feeling the first twangs of panic rip at my composure. This was a real problem and it would be almost impossible to escape a blockade, even if it was in the process of setting up. At least for now, they weren’t shooting at the station.
We jogged until we reached one of the viewports looking out of the station and onto the massive super capital-class ship only a few kilometers out. Gwen recoiled when the massive lettering on the side became visible to us. Anchorhead was passing around Vrenn in a wide arc, powerful burners leaving blue trails in their wake as they propelled the Dalthaxian behemoth through space. Smaller ships: battlecruisers, corvettes, and destroyers dispersed around the rest of the station, creating an inner perimeter of defense. Swarms of fighters trailed behind any foreign ships that were trying to leave and ripped into them with blaster and laser fire.
Blips of small explosions and laser beams slicing across space flashed, illuminating our faces in brilliant reds, blues, and greens as we watched the distant scene from several kilometers out. The Dalthaxian ships didn’t look like they were shooting to kill, but they were disabling any starcraft trying to leave Vrenn that didn’t comply with instructions and turn back toward their docking bays. One ship that appeared to be firing back at the small snubnose fighters pursuing it erupted into an explosion that left no question about the possibility of survivors. The message was clear.
Almost on cue, a courtly male voice crackled over the intercom system, and the people beside us went silent, listening intently while we watched the spectacle unfold outside with disbelief. “Residents of Vrenn, this is your governor, Damon Briggs, speaking. The Dalthaxian Supreme is here in response to intelligence that a defector named Gwen Delarine is taking refuge on our station. Please visit the nearest holoterminal to view a picture of her. The sooner they can find her, the sooner Dalthaxia will depart and we can resume normal operations.” He said it like this was all some mundane routine.
Governor Briggs continued with his announcement. “Local station police and militia will be joined by Dalthaxian forces to search the station for this fugitive. Please comply with all their instructions. Any non-compliance may be met with appropriate force. Gwen Delarine is expected to be armed and extremely dangerous. Please do not confront her
; instead, alert Dalthaxian military forces or Vrenn police of her whereabouts.
“Until this search is complete, I am issuing a mandatory no-fly lockdown on all docking bays. Any ships attempting to bypass this lockdown and the Dalthaxian blockade will be disabled or destroyed and survivors will be persecuted under the full extent of Vrennian and Dalthaxian law. Please comply peacefully and remain calm while we complete this temporary sweep of the station. Thank you.”
Governor Briggs’s voice cut out, and the clamor of nervous conversation from the onlookers resumed. Most of them wore stunned relief at the revelation this wasn’t some full-scale invasion from Dalthaxia. But our problems were only just beginning. Gwen’s face would be plastered all over the station on every holoterminal. I looked at her and saw the fear in her eyes—and it couldn’t all have been from the fear of dying in Eternity Online. Capital-class ships like Anchorhead were a prized possession of Dalthaxia for use in the Eternity War. They didn’t come out to remote neutral stations to search for one person unless the map Gwen found was really worth that much or she hadn’t told me and Brandon the full truth.
Gwen pulled her hood over her head, and I had another idea to help her mask her identity. I materialized the helmet for my EVA suit, deploying the golden solar shield and twisting the helmet off the rest of my armor. I passed it to Gwen, who put it on before returning the oversized hood over the helmet. The nanotech automatically resized itself to fit properly on her head and not slope off to an awkward angle at the slightest movement of her body.
We walked away from the viewport’s overlook and into a quiet nook of the hallway, isolated from the remaining onlookers of the well-organized invasion as they began crowding around the nearest holoterminal for more information.
