by Mark Wandrey
He hadn’t used the armor’s built in code-breaking ability yet. There had been no need, with someone of Sato’s ability nearby. This time he did it himself. He logged into the house’s Wi-Fi—she hadn’t changed the password. Accessing the Aethernet, he located his mom’s account via his old Yack account code, and turned the armor’s autonomous data systems loose on it. A second later, he was in his mom’s account. Scrolling back, he found the transaction, 50,000 credits paid from the Winged Hussars’ death bond on Earth.
All mercs who signed with a unit got a life insurance policy, paid for by the mercenary unit. It was Merc Guild law. The minimum for his rank was only 5,000 credits, though. The Hussars were quite generous with their benefits. All the Horsemen probably were, he guessed.
Looking through her transaction records since the money was paid, he could see she’d left it alone for quite a while. Then she began using small amounts, very frugally. She’d paid off credit debt, then the house. She purchased a new/used car. The total she’d used was less than 5,000 credits, leaving a substantial balance. There were still regular deposits from her job. Even though the money his death paid her would let her quit and live comfortably, she’d kept working.
“Yeah, that’s my mom.” He looked at the medal lying in his metallic hand. There were no tears. He couldn’t mourn for someone who hadn’t died. Who would he mourn for? Himself? He was past that point, if he’d ever reached it. His mother was well enough off, but still he felt he needed to do something.
Rick almost kept the medal, but in the end, it felt wrong. Instead, he put it on the mantel next to his picture, so she’d notice it had been moved. On top of the medal, he placed a 50,000-credit chit. Lastly, he walked to his old room and looked inside. It was as he’d suspected: unchanged. He went to the end table and opened the bottom drawer. Hidden in a flap in the top of the drawer, he recovered the only item he wanted. It was a Cartwright’s Cavaliers challenge coin, given to him by Jim when they were 11. He’d forgotten it when he left for cadre training and had always meant to retrieve it.
He’d hidden it there when Jim had given it to him, afraid if his mom found it, she’d throw it away or something. She wouldn’t have understood. It was gunmetal gray, not the kind of coin mercs gave out at a bar. This was made from a fallen CASPer, one his ancestors had piloted. It was a token of honor and respect among mercs. They’d only been kids, but it meant a lot to him. He stashed it in a compartment and turned to go.
The last thing he did was use the armor’s code-breaking ability to wipe all evidence of his visit. As he reached for the back door, he heard a car come into the driveway. Just in time, he thought as he pulled the door closed behind him.
Through the door’s small window, he watched his mother come in the front door. She looked older, and tired. “Good to see you again, mom,” he said inside the armor, then left the way he’d come. The threatened rain started to fall.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
Sato tucked into his autochef sushi with a grunt. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t good, either. He was hungry, so the food was suitable fuel. He ate it without complaint.
As he consumed the fake sushi, he went over train and shuttle schedules. He knew where he needed to go now and was hoping the next stop would open up some memories, help him reconnect with who he’d been, or at least give him some closure. He wasn’t too picky. He was, however, a little jealous of Rick managing to reconnect his own regrown neurons.
The feelings of jealousy were an artifact of who he’d been before the new pinplants were installed by Nemo. A selfish, self-centered jerk, as he’d been reminded by Kleena after Sato’s doomsday device incident. While Sato now understood his older self, he wasn’t proud of it. Back during his time with the Hussars, he’d had no personal friends. He hadn’t really thought about it back then. In retrospect, it made sense.
These thoughts brought him around to Rick. When he’d ‘recruited’ the former marine, Sato had thought he was doing the man a favor. As part of his introspective phase, he wondered if Rick was grateful or resentful of being resurrected as an Æsir? He remembered a line from an old 20th century movie. “The dead only know one thing; it is better to be alive.”
The little autochef-operated café where he’d gotten his food had a long glass frontage next to the taxi and auto-pickup. The area was quiet within minutes of the train dropping them off. So, when a flyer swooped in for a landing, it immediately caught Sato’s eye. Rick climbed out, obvious in his long, flowing dark robe, the hood pulled up high.
He’d only been gone 72 minutes. Had he even gone to visit his mother as he’d said he was going to? Sato had gotten a glimpse of the flyer Rick had left in, and it was different than the one he’d returned in. The former marine had gone somewhere.
Rick spotted Sato and came into the terminal, then the diner. “Ready to go?” he asked as he sat at the booth.
“There’s a train heading out in 20 minutes,” Sato said, cocking his head. “Are you sure—”
“Yes,” Rick cut in. “Positive. I’m done here.”
“Okay,” Sato said and got up. “Let’s go, then.”
Just like he said, 20 minutes later, they watched Dakkar’s module being moved onto a train by bots after they’d bought their own tickets. The new train was almost indistinguishable from the last one, except it appeared to have more freight cars. Just like the previous train, it also departed exactly on time, and accelerated to 450kph on their northward trip.
This leg was short with two more stops, the first in Fort Wayne, then in Toledo, Ohio. Then they were in Michigan and approaching Romulus, the end of their trip. The trip was over only an hour after boarding again.
“I have our tickets from the skyport,” Sato told Rick after using a kiosk just off the train. Detroit had possessed a starport, briefly. Internal politics in the USA had caused squabbling over the ownership of starports. The other two operating starports were in Florida and Washington DC. Another was under construction in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Since Detroit’s former starport had orbital infrastructure, it was relabeled skyport, more or less one step above an airport.
“How soon before we leave?”
“We have four hours here in Ann Arbor; should be long enough.”
“So you still want to go through with it?” Rick asked.
“I think we should,” Sato said. Rick nodded as the bot came up with Dakkar’s module. “Grab a flyer and let’s get this done.”
Because of the module, they had to get an extra-large flyer, which took a few minutes. Rick and Sato both agreed, they didn’t want to leave Dakkar behind at this point. The flyer took them to an address in Ann Harbor that Sato had gotten from the Aethernet. It was a modest house in a nice neighborhood.
They’d left the rain in Indiana behind, though the weather was cooler. When the flyer deposited them in front of the residence, Sato could see his breath in the evening air. He checked his chronometer; the time was just after 20:00 local. Not too late. Rick picked up the module and their well-traveled duffel bag and followed him up the sidewalk to the front door.
On the cab ride, Sato had changed back into a Winged Hussars uniform, including his unit patch for the Geek Squad. He’d left the name off, though. At the door, he pressed the notification bell. The sound of it was barely audible through the door. He wasn’t sure whether he hoped she was there or not.
“Just a minute!” a feminine voice answered. Sato gave a little sigh. A second later, the door opened to reveal a woman dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, with a baby on her hip. “Hello?” she asked, looking at Sato with a confused expression. Then she focused on his uniform. “Oh!”
“Mrs. Lea O’Connell?”
“Yes,” she said tentatively.
“I served in the Winged Hussars, ma’am,” he said.
“I don’t want to do this,” she said, and reached to close the door.
Sato took the picture with her writing out of his pocket and held it up. She stopped with
the door halfway closed. “I wanted to give this to you.”
“Where did you get that?” she whispered.
“It was in the secure safe aboard Citation.” He took out the torn ticket. “Along with this. It survived the ship’s destruction.”
She looked at the ticket, shook her head once, and began to collapse. Sato was caught completely off guard. Luckily Rick’s enhanced reflexes and speed kicked in. He deftly slid around Sato and caught the grief-stricken woman and her now-screaming child just before they hit the tiled entryway floor.
Sato pushed the door open and looked back at Rick. “Take her inside,” he said. Rick nodded and carried the pair to the nearby living room before returning to bring Dakkar’s module and their baggage inside. It wouldn’t do for a passing cop to stop and ask questions of the strangers carrying around an unconscious woman.
Sato got her settled on the couch, then found a crib in an adjacent sitting room, and took the screaming baby there. In the kitchen was a specialized autochef called a BabyChef. The mother had it preprogrammed for formula, so Sato pressed the button, and it produced a bottle in less than a minute.
“Good thing she wasn’t breastfeeding,” he mumbled as he brought the infant the bottle, situated the child on its side, and gave it the bottle. The baby was old enough to do the rest. “You good?” he asked the child, who had calmed down and was drinking happily, watching him with deep hazel-colored eyes. “Okay.” He went back into the living room.
Rick had Dakkar’s container open, and the Wrogul was perched on the edge, examining the room with its bright blue eyes.
“Has the situation deteriorated?” it asked with pulses of light.
“No,” Sato said. “We’re just…helping someone.”
The alien looked at the unconscious Mrs. O’Connell. “Help?”
“She fainted,” Rick offered, then explained why they were there.
“I see. So the female was unaware her mate had perished in battle?”
“It would appear so,” Sato said.
“Weird, since my mother knew about me,” Rick said.
“There were several months between your death and Captain O’Connell’s,” Sato reminded him. Just then, the woman began to wake. She looked at Sato and the armored form of Rick in alarm. “It’s okay,” Sato assured her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make this such a shock. We thought you had already been informed.”
She slowly sat up on her couch, wiping her eyes and sighing. “No, I haven’t gotten any notification. I’ve been reading all I could on the failed battle. Some bloggers have logged every Winged Hussars ship that was in the battle, including the ones destroyed. There were no sightings of Citation.” She sighed again and shook her head. “All the people who seemed to know tactics said Cromwell wouldn’t leave any of her cruisers behind unless they were damaged or…destroyed.” She looked down at her hands in her lap with the last.
“A logical assessment, I’m sad to say,” Sato said.
“Are you a captain, too?” She glanced from him to Rick for a second, standing stoically in the corner closer to the door.
“No, I’m a scientist.” He tapped the logo. “I actually designed the Crown-class, of which Citation was one.”
“I see,” she said. She finally noticed Dakkar’s support module and blinked in amazement. “Is that an alien?”
“Yes, his name is Dakkar; he’s a Wrogul and a friend of mind.” Dakkar flashed colors. “He says hello.”
She stared at the alien for a long moment, perhaps unable to add everything together into a complete picture. Finally she shook her head and addressed Sato again. “Can I see what you have?”
“Sure,” Sato said and handed her the picture and the ticket.
She gave a sad smile at the picture and turned the ticket over and over. “It’s funny he kept this,” she said. She held it up for Sato to see.
“What was it from?”
“Our senior prom. I only went with James because my friend wanted to go with his friend.” She chuckled. “I knew James, of course; we were in the same class and all. Thought he was a bit of an ass. The irony is, Janet never hit it off with Ted, James’ friend, while James and I fell in love. He kissed me while we danced.” She held up the ticket again. “This is from the prom. Our first kiss.”
She tucked the ticket fragment between the frame and the glass, taking the picture and placing it on the fireplace mantel. “Thank you for bringing this,” she said. “Where did he die?”
“The battle of Golara, the mission that allowed the Hussars to plan their offensive to retake the colonies,” Sato said. “Citation was destroyed in the battle while screening for a squadron led by a battlecruiser. His steadfastness in battle leading his crew helped us win the day.”
She moved a statue of a horse on the mantel, putting the picture in its place, fiddling with it a couple times.
“We should go,” Sato said, repeating what Rick had sent to him privately. “I am sorry for coming unannounced, what with the alien occupation, and all.”
“Perfectly understandable.” She’d walked over to the adjoining room and checked her child, smiling as she returned. “You have a father’s touch; little James doesn’t take to many people. Do you have kids?”
“No,” Sato said. “It wasn’t in the cards for me.”
She looked at Rick who, to her, had remained silent. Her eyes narrowed with unasked questions, though she left them that way. As she walked past Dakkar, the Wrogul began to reach for her.
“Don’t you dare,” Sato said through his pinplant translator, producing a cascade of colorful lights. The tentacles retracted. Lea looked from Sato to the Wrogul curiously, then to the door.
“Thank you for coming,” she said. “At least I know.”
“That’s what I hoped to give you,” Sato said. Rick shooed Dakkar back into his module and closed the lid, picking it up with ease. Lea’s eyes went wide at the display of power.
“Your friend is quite strong.”
“It pays to have strong friends,” Sato said as he stepped outside and turned back to her. “Oh, I almost forgot!” He reached into a pocket and withdrew something, holding his hand out. She held her own hand out, and he dropped a credit chit into hers. “With the war, the usual means to pay benefits wasn’t available.”
“It wasn’t really…” her voice tapered off as she looked in her hand at the one-million-credit chit. “Oh my god,” she said. “B-but his merc guild benefit was only 100,000 credits!”
“There’s a special clause for this war,” he said. Rick passed with the support module, nodding to her as we went. “Good life to you, ma’am.”
Out on the street, Rick put down the module as Sato summoned another flyer. “That was a very generous thing to do,” he said to Sato.
“It seemed like the right thing.”
“That was a lot of our credits, though.”
“We’ll find more if we need them. We have a shuttle to catch.”
* * * * *
Chapter Seven
The robotic handling system moved the shuttle onto a cradle, which then moved it to a debarkation port. Rick was the second out, right behind Sato. The shuttle had been half empty on its hop from Detroit to Tokyo.
One of the few advantages of alien occupation was not having to explain Dakkar. Earth had once been a difficult place for aliens to visit, especially unusual ones like the Wrogul. Now, however, one of the first things General Peepo had done was to remove any and all restrictions against the movement of alien species on Earth. The reason was to take a blowtorch to any Republic regulations that might give legitimacy to someone wanting to stop her mercs from moving around. However, it benefited Rick and his group by allowing them to take Dakkar anywhere with impunity. The local customs literally couldn’t say a thing.
At the Tokyo Starport, they saw a pair of Besquith sitting at a sushi bar eating their way through the befuddled chef’s repertoire. If the sushi ch
ef hoped to chase the werewolf-like aliens off by using the hottest sauces he could find, the man was in for a surprise. Besquith could digest steel. It was unlikely a ghost pepper would even cause them to raise an eyebrow.
Since they’d had to declare Dakkar, the Wrogul had ridden with them. The cost of three seats wasn’t that much anyway. The suborbital shuttle routes around the planet were largely still operational, with thousands of ships zipping back and forth. It was cheaper to keep them flying than to ground them and disrupt the schedules.
“It’s a good thing we weren’t coming through the starport,” Rick said as he carried the module down the ramp. Behind them, a Japanese customs agent glared at their backs. Sato speaking his language and looking like him hadn’t helped in the least. Luckily they’d studied the current laws and simply refused to answer any of the questions. Their Yacks checked out, leaving customs no choice but to allow them in. “These fake Yacks are going to bite us in the butt sooner or later.”
“Says the glowing octopus,” Rick whispered to Sato with a chuckle.
“They’re exotic, remember?” Sato said. “Any resemblance their mental processes have to ours is purely learned patterns.”
Rick nodded in understanding. After they’d left Lea O’Connell’s house, Sato had wanted to know what Dakkar had been planning to do when he reached for her.
“She appeared to be in mental anguish over her mate’s death.”
“She was,” Sato confirmed.
“I was going to remove all memory of him.”
“My god!” Rick stammered as they rode their flyer. “How would that help?”
