by Kal Spriggs
“You know,” Bob said, “that sounds like a good list. I know a great place for dinner, would you care to join me?”
***
“You aren't drinking?” a woman's voice asked from next to Johnny Woodard.
For just a moment he felt his heart beat a little faster... until he turned to see Lace standing next to him at the bar. At least, he thought it was Lace, they probably needed to get her to wear a nametag or something just to be certain.
“No,” Johnny said, “not tonight.”
“Well,” Lace said, “I'm having something. You should too, otherwise you'll just mope all night and feel sorry for yourself in the morning.”
Johnny snorted, “I don't get hungover, but that pretty much describes getting drunk, doesn't it?”
“Depends on why you're drinking and what brings you here,” Lace said with a wave around the bar. “I've got to admit, I didn't take you for a fan of Periphery culture.” Johnny snorted at that, but he didn't argue.
In truth, there was little that appealed to him in the rustic-style bar here on Hanet. The twangy musician cheerfully bemoaned the loss of his wife and skimmer, while waitresses in broad hats, tall boots, and not much else brought pitchers of cheap beer for the various patrons. Then again, he hadn't come here for himself, he had hoped that he would find someone else here... quite by accident.
Now I feel more than a little foolish, he thought. He felt himself flush as Lace cocked an eyebrow at him. “I, uh, heard their food here is really good.”
“Oh?” Lace asked, “I just figured you came here like me, on the off chance that Mel felt homesick and might be here... not that I think this is her kind of place.”
Johnny gave a laugh as a muscular waiter wearing a thong, tall boots, a smile, and a broad-brimmed hat strutted past. “You know, I think you're right about that, at least.”
His smile died though as he realized that he had as much as admitted that he was here to see Mel, someplace off the ship where she might see him as something other than a crewmate.
“Don't worry, big fella,” Lace said, “your secret is safe with me. Though I've got to admit, you're more likely to succeed in that department than I am. I even got to first base with her... but that was probably because she was too surprised to stop me.”
Johnny coughed at that, “Wait... you like Mel?”
The idea shocked him, not because Lace swung that way, but because from everything he had heard about her suggested that Lace was a hundred-percent mercenary, through and through. The idea that she had fallen for someone as good and decent as Mel...
Lace gave him a level look, “I'm still human, Tank. Just like you. And what can I say, she's one hell of a woman, isn't she?” She took a somber swig of her drink.
Johnny nodded in reply, “She is that.” He looked down at the woman, “You know, maybe I will have that drink.” The spy didn't look very big, yet he knew she was fierce and deadly. He waved for one of the waiters and then ordered a drink.
“Don't get your hopes up,” Lace said. “You're... not my type.”
“Well,” Johnny said with a slight smile, “How about I get you liquored up a bit and then ask some pointed questions?”
“Like what?” Lace cocked her head.
Johnny picked up the drink and knocked it back. The harsh burn of the alcohol seemed to steady his nerves a bit. “Like... what's it like to kiss Mel?”
***
Scadden took a seat at the bar and gave a slight smirk, “I see you're keeping the blond hair, sir.”
His former mentor just shrugged, “It reminds me of who I used to be.” Scadden raised his eyebrows at that. As far as he knew, that wasn't a good thing, but he just filed the information away to think about later. “You weren't followed?” He asked.
Scadden snorted, “Jean Paul–”
“That's not my name anymore,” he said. “I was Marcus, now I am Nigel... it's a fresh start.”
“Fine,” Scadden said. He didn't want to argue semantics. Whatever he called himself, whatever he told himself, he was still the same man. “Nigel, then, you know I'm good enough to avoid being followed. So why don't we stop playing games that neither of us have time for. Are you prepared to do what you told me you wanted to do ten years go?”
Jean Paul leaned forward, his gaze on his drink. “You mean to bring it all down, then?”
Scadden didn't bother to hide his distaste, “No, but someone has already pushed the dominoes. If the house of cards is going to come tumbling down, we have to control that chaos... or else it's going to go rather poorly for everyone involved.”
The figures he and his allies had put together suggested death tolls in the tens of billions or more, just from the general disruption of infrastructure and trade. If things went very badly, the death tolls could climb to hundreds of billions as humans threw around weapons that could destroy planets and star systems while their enemies picked over the pieces.
“What makes you think I care about anyone involved in this business?” Jean Paul asked.
“I don't figure you do,” Scadden said, “other than one person in particular. Century is guaranteed to be in the line of fire. Do you really think your girlfriend is going to stand by and let it be destroyed?” He chose those words carefully and he saw that they had the intended effect. Whatever else had or had not changed about Jean Paul Leon, he still retained his defining characteristic: absolute loyalty. That made Arthur Scadden happy, at least he knew how to keep his former mentor between the lines.
Jean Paul looked away. After a moment he just gave a nod, “Fine, then. You'll have my help.”
“I've got to wonder,” Scadden asked, “if you didn't want me involved, why did you call me to Foster, why did you kill Claude Cordenau?” The action had puzzled him, since he had expected Jean Paul to stay in the shadows rather than reaching out in such an obvious fashion.
Then again, despite his protestations of being out of the game, Jean Paul Leon was still a very devious, very manipulative man... and Arthur Scadden didn't doubt that this game of manipulation went both ways.
“He deserved it,” Jean Paul said with a shrug. “More than that, I know that Mel will be going after Guard Free Now, sooner or later, to rescue her brother. I wanted you to have the information about him.”
“Why is that?” Scadden asked. The data that Rawn Armstrong worked with Guard Free Now had not struck him as particularly important. Even with a bit of research, Scadden had seen that the boy probably had potential with the organization... but Guard Free Now would probably use him for political connections with his grandmother and cousin rather than as a direct action or commander. He would be far more valuable as a trusted voice, especially with the weight that the Armstrong family name carried back across a century.
Granted, that didn't mean that Guard Free Now wouldn't have him prove his loyalty, probably in bombings or attacks on Guard Military Forces. Still, they would try to keep him relatively safe and clean, they wouldn't want to turn him into some kind of monstrous example and discredit themselves further.
“Mel can't get involved with them,” Jean Paul said. “She doesn't realize what her brother has done, how far he's willing to go. I helped you so that you would help me.” Jean Paul looked over and met Scadden's eyes. “I want you to kill Rawn Armstrong.”
***
“Well, that's done.” Mel sat back in her chair and considered the flask on the shelf in close reach. No, she thought, I don't want to give them more reasons to tweak me for my singing voice. She sighed then and stretched.
“Having fun considering your upgrades, Fenris?” Mel asked.
“I am,” he responded. “If I'm able to judge this correctly, I'll be almost the equal of a dreadnought in firepower. We can afford to replace my secondary armament with antimatter projectors, which will be far more effective than the mass drivers. Even better, we can utilize the same mounting systems, which means I can mount sixteen of them. We'll also be able to afford a full defensive suite, particul
arly if I go with some of their experimental fielding options. They'll give us a substantial discount on some of them just for being the test bed for their new jamming, decoy, and countermeasures systems. It seems they don't have many ships my size with which to test them on.”
Mel gave a low whistle at that. “I think that will help when we go looking for contracts.” That reminded her of the question she had wanted to ask since they left Danzig. And since the entire rest of the crew had gone down to Hanet to spend some of their new wealth and enjoy their new-found freedom, this was probably the best time to bring it up. “Any luck looking for what I asked you about?” She tried to ask it as nonchalantly as she could.
Fenris hesitated, “Mel, are you certain about this?”
Mel bit her lip. She had asked Fenris from the beginning to utilize Doctor Farber's algorithm to search for any signs of her brother. More than that, she had asked him to keep it a secret. Furthermore, her goal was that if he did find information on Rawn's whereabouts, she would take a contract, almost any contract, in that area.
It bothered her that she had lied to Marcus, but then again, it was better that he didn't know. The man was unlikely to let her get anywhere near Guard Free Now, mostly because he knew she would be emotionally compromised in regards to her brother.
Yet she didn't have a choice, Rawn, for all his faults, was her little brother. He didn't understand what he had got himself involved with... and she was willing to bet that if anyone could talk him out of it, it would be her. She leaned forward in her chair, “Fenris, I am certain about this.”
“I believe I've located him. He was operating in the Triad system, but I believe he's since relocated to the Harmony Protectorate. But Mel, I've tied him to an explosion at a Guard Army Barracks, and while he wasn't the one who detonated the bomb, I'm reasonably certain that he is the one who built it.”
Mel closed her eyes. Her brother, it seemed, had blood on his hands. Still, maybe it wasn't too late for him. At least he had restricted his attacks to a mostly legitimate military target. “Fine, we'll start looking for jobs in the Harmony Protectorate.”
“That shouldn't be hard,” Fenris said. “While we were gone, the Guard moved in and deposed Harmony's government, right after a coup by one of their Admirals. Guard Sector Command has instituted a Mercenary Guild contract to keep the peace, to support the interim government, and to oversee a general election. There are a half-dozen sub-contracts related to that task, including a few in the areas I think Guard Free Now might be based.”
Mel nodded slowly, “Excellent. As soon as your upgrades are complete, we'll look into it.” She took a deep breath, “Thank you, Fenris, for helping me.” She choked up a bit as she said that. It didn't cease to amaze her how human the warship had become. He was more than a companion, he was her best friend.
'Of course, Mel,” Fenris said. “Thank you for being the person you are. It has been my pleasure to see you in action.”
Mel flushed at that, “Thanks, Fenris,” she said. She didn't think of herself as particularly special, she just tried to do what she thought was right. “Well,” she said, “anything else you want to bring up, without the others around?”
Fenris didn't speak for a long moment. When he did, his voice was somewhat subdued. “Mel, we have been operating under the assumption that I am unique, an artificial intelligence capable of self-will and awareness.”
“Well, yeah,” Mel said. “After all, there are laws against this kind of thing.” Artificial Intelligences were known to be unreliable and unstable. Most such were heavily monitored and used only for tasks in which humans were completely unsuitable. Even then, they were often scrubbed and rewritten on a regular basis to ensure they didn't develop self-awareness.
“Well, I think that assumption was incorrect,” Fenris said. “With access to Odin Interstellar's files, I was able to ascertain that someone, probably several parties, are making use of Artificial Intelligences in order to manipulate portions of human space.”
“What?!” Mel demanded as she sat up quickly, “Are you sure?” She didn't want to believe that. It probably meant corruption at the highest levels. Who else would have the resources to violate the law, if not the senior Guard officials?
“I am positive. Given the evidence, I was able to confirm the algorithm's conclusions. These intelligences would have to be significantly more powerful than my own data core, capable of billions of actions per second. They are manipulating entire systems... and the worst part, Mel, is that I can take only one assumption from their actions.”
“What is that?” Mel asked.
“They want a war, Mel,” Fenris said, his voice grave. “They're manipulating the core systems in a number of measures to ensure it. Media and news outlets information as well as financial transactions are being very subtly influenced in order to marginalize the influence of the Periphery... and to make the wealthy of the Parisian Sector look for sources of cheap raw materials. Military orders are vague or with contradictory missions, in ways that cause military atrocities on an increasing number of worlds, meant to provoke further support for independence movements like Guard Free Now.”
Mel felt her stomach sink, “You're saying that someone is provoking this?” She could well imagine those events happening on their own and causing enough problems... but if someone wanted a war. “To what end?”
“I can't say,” Fenris said. “Which in itself tells me that their end goals are well hidden. Yet they are using... or being used by... at least one extremely sophisticated and powerful artificial intelligence. Nothing else could make as many decisions and actions in such a coordinated and organized fashion.”
Mel sat back as she considered that. Either way, the fact that their goal seemed to be to provoke a war was scary enough. That they didn't know the reason for those efforts didn't change the fact that the efforts should be opposed. War on the scale that Fenris suggested would cost millions, possibly billions of lives. For that matter, her homeworld was on the Periphery and she somehow doubted that it would go unscathed if general war broke out.
Century had a sizable Planetary Militia, but still, it might not be enough against a Guard Fleet Task Force... or one of the Drakkus Empire's fleets of conquest. Either way, her homeworld could easily find itself outnumbered and outgunned. Her grandmother was an Admiral in Century's militia, one of her cousins was a cadet at the Century Military Academy. They would likely try to defend their home... and like every other time their world had been attacked, many of their defenders would die in their home's defense, whether they succeeded or failed.
“What can we do?” Mel asked.
“I would say that supporting efforts to contain violence, opposing terrorist groups like Guard Free Now and supporting local governments would be a good start,” Fenris said. “But I'm not certain that we can stop this, Mel. For that matter, I'm not certain that the forces instigating this war could stop it or even control it once it begins.
“They didn't have access to Odin Interstellar's files, they can't see just how dangerous this war will be. There is every possibility that significant portions of Guard Fleet will mutiny and go pirate. Polities such as the Drakkus Empire have built up significant forces while patriotism and dedication to the Guard has decreased since the War of Persecution.”
Mel considered that for a moment, “You're talking civil war... or worse, the collapse of any kind of civil governance.”
She felt a cold void open up in her stomach as she thought that through. The utter collapse of central authority meant uncontrolled war, war without any limitations. Weapons that humanity had hesitated to use even against their alien foes would be used against inhabited worlds by men and women seeking to establish empires.
“Yes,” Fenris said. “And since I was built by humanity to defend humanity, I feel compelled to try to prevent the deaths of billions of humans. I am not certain that the powers manipulating us all towards war feel that same concern.”
Why, Mel thought absently
, does it always seem like these things keep falling on my shoulders? Guard Intelligence had sent her to trigger Fenris to attack an inhabited world, to kill millions in the Vagyr system. She had freed the warship and prevented that attack, but sometimes she wondered if she would have done the same thing given what it had cost her.
It had stripped away all her illusions, laid bare all the things that she almost wished she didn't know. She had very nearly died multiple times, had seen people killed at close range, she had lost her brother, lost many of her beliefs, and she wasn't entirely certain if she had any faith in anything anymore.
What would it cost her to save all of humanity?
###
The End
The Cost of Valor
Kal Spriggs
The Cost of Valor is a short story set in the past of the Star Portal universe and takes place from the perspective of Melanie Armstrong’s grandparents. It is written to give a bit of perspective on where Mel comes from, both culturally and from her family heritage.
The cramped confines of the destroyer's bridge stank of sweat and desperation.
"Skipper, we have confirmation on the loss of Century's Pride and the Freedom," Ensign Bobby Johanson said. The pain in his voice could have been for the loss of his uncle, captain of the Freedom, just as easily as for the loss of over a thousand men and women serving aboard both light cruisers.
For Commander Victoria Armstrong, the pain lay in the knowledge that while her own squadron had emerged bloody but victorious, her homeworld lay open to the remaining attackers from the Dalite Confederacy. My energy weapons are still up, Vicky thought, but we've fired all of our warp missiles, so we've only short range engagement as an option.
She grimaced, "What about Century Station?"
"They've got their warp field up, and they report multiple enemy ships maintaining constant fire on them," Ensign Johanson answered. The station couldn't drop its own field to return fire, not that the civilian station had much in the way of offense. As if to punctuate that thought, Johanson spoke, "The Dalite cruisers just broadcast an immediate demand for surrender. They've given a thirty minute deadline before they begin bombardment of planetary targets."
