“Yes,” Ashla said, her voice dark. “All the footage of him takes place in my father’s office, here.”
“Right behind a sawking huge window?” one of the crew said. “Jin. One good shot and we could take him out without setting foot in the palace.”
“Not likely,” Ashla said. “The windows are made of ALON, and buttressed by a constant military-grade energy shield. So, you could shoot him through it, with a station-busting torpedo but that would kind of ruin the whole operation, now wouldn’t it?”
Nix smiled, seeing Ashla’s imperious grin in his imagination. It had been a longstanding stereotype that beautiful girls were stupid. A genetic compensation, his friend Vin had said. That wasn’t true for Ashla. She had the best of both worlds.
“Our best bet is we grab hold of Anatheret,” Salazar said, “force him to order a full surrender and then, well, you know.”
The men in the room chuckled. The sound sent ice down Nix’s spine. They were laughing about killing a man. Dothin didn’t laugh. Nix knew he wouldn’t. Neither did Gan.
“In the meantime,” Naboris said, “I’ll get Remnant and Ashla’s friends to the Jessamine’s landing zone for extraction. I hope we won’t need your emergency services, Doctor, but I expect we will. I don’t know what they’re doing to Remnant, but it won’t be good. And if Ashla’s friends have been incarcerated as well...” He didn’t finish the thought.
“I’ll be ready,” Dr. Jens said, speaking for the first time.
“I will help as needed,” Dothin said. Someone must have given him a confused look because he felt the need to explain. “I’m not a medic but I am first-aid certified and if nothing else I can be an extra set of hands.”
“That’s a generous offer,” Dr. Jens said. “What about your boy?”
Nix clamped down on his mouth before saying the usual objection.
“That’s a good question,” the Captain said. “I’m a little surprised you’re both still on my ship.”
“I don’t want him having any involvement in this,” Dothin said. “I considered keeping him behind on Gazi Sho but I wanted to help and I couldn’t leave him behind without someone to look after him. So, I’d like to get him off the ship before the shooting starts. Maybe you, Captain, could arrange transfer of him when you take on the insurrectionist platoon or maybe you, Ashla could fly him to a safe place on the surface. If not, maybe I can send him to the surface in an escape pod. I have some money. I can pay for the loss of the pod if we don’t manage to recover it.”
Nix felt a crushing pain in his chest at the sound of Dothin calmly begging for his safety. His eyes burned, and he realized tears were falling down his face. He wanted to sniff but held it back, unwilling to make the sound, so instead he wiped his eyes and nose and tried to keep his lungs from sobbing.
After the meeting, Nix dodged away to his room before anyone could find him. He was less worried about getting into trouble as having one of them see him crying. When he was calm and when he was sure the group had dispersed Nix left the room he shared with Dothin and sought out the Captain’s protégé.
He looked around the galley, hoping to find him still around but also alone. That was a wash, so he found his room and tapped the buzzer. Nix was ready to ring it one more time and then search the rest of the ship for Vance. To his surprise, the door opened, and Vance stood inside.
Vance Gosen seemed to be a man in constant, smug relaxation. Even as he stood in the doorway he leaned against the frame. For the first time Nix saw his eyes. The shades were gone. Vance furrowed his brow.
“What’re you doin’ here, kid?” he asked. “You buzz the wrong guy’s door?”
“Um, no,” Nix said. He looked back and forth, but the corridor was empty. “I was wondering if we could speak in private.”
The confused, suspicious glare didn’t leave Vance’s face, but he stepped out of the way, so Nix could enter.
“Thanks,” Nix said. Vance’s quarters were large compared to Nix’s. They reminded Nix of his room in Dothin’s flat. A proper bedroom with a bed that was only a bed, a desk that was only a desk, etc.
“Alright,” Vance said, “spill.”
“Dothin gave that pistol back to you, right?” Nix said.
Vance sat down at the little desk. A compact repeater of some kind sat on the desk, laying in pieces. There wasn’t a second seat, so Nix continued standing.
“Yeah,” Vance said, drawing the word out.
“I need it back,” Nix said.
Nix could see the data spooling behind Vance’s eyes as the man tried to figure what Nix’s game was.
“For what?”
Nix blinked. “If I tell you I need your discretion.”
“I’m a smuggler,” Vance said raising his hands in a ‘here I am’ gesture. “Discretion is my middle name.”
Nix wasn’t convinced, but he went on anyway. What choice did he have?
“Okay,” he said, “Ashla is going to the palace.” When Vance opened his mouth to argue, Nix spoke over him. “I know she was all coy about that and didn’t bring it up during your little meeting, but she’s going to go. And I am going to go with her, so I need a weapon.”
“What is this,” Vance asked, “some kind of teenaged romance thing?”
“She doesn’t trust Gan,” Nix said. “Not yet at least. She was attacked by a Shaumri and because Gan used to be one of them, she doesn’t trust him, so she’s planning to get her friends out herself. And her father if he’s still alive.”
“So even if she did,” Vance said, flourishing his palm at Nix, “what could you do except take up one out of one remaining seats in her little ship? You gonna grab a wing and hang on?”
“Of course not,” Nix said, frowning. “I’m going to help her guide her friends to the LZ, but I’m going to be there one way or the other.”
“Your old man might have a thing or two to say about that.”
“He’s not my...are you going to help me or not?”
“You need a weapon,” Vance said.
“I need a weapon,” Nix repeated.
Vance stood up and pulled a big drawer out from beneath the bed. Both were carved into the wall. Nix peered his eyes over and saw a layer of gray foam with little cutouts in it to make room for the matte black weapons inside. Vance pulled a layer of foam out with a pair of handholds and a second beneath it, and a third.
It was mostly handguns of various sizes, configurations and types. But there were a few bigger weapons, sub- and assault repeaters by the look of them, and one big weapon Nix didn’t recognize. There were even a few grenades.
“So, what strikes your fancy?” Vance asked, his eyes taking in his collection with pride. One look at that expression and Nix thought he might have made a mistake. Dothin didn’t see a need to own even one weapon. Vance had over twenty.
Vance lifted a sub-repeater from the foam indenture, dropped the foregrip, pulled the sliding stock and couched the weapon to a firing position.
“This,” he said, “is the L-14 laser sub-repeater. Light, quick, no recoil of any kind.” He pulled the weapon from his shoulder and displayed it to Nix.
Nix frowned and shook his head.
“Not quite your speed, eh?” Vance said, chuckling. “Get it? Speed? Because it fires light and light’s really...fast...never mind.”
He lowered the weapon back into its slot.
“Aha,” he said, pulling the biggest weapon from the foam. With it he pulled a thick cylinder with a handle on it from a nearby cutout. He seated the cylinder to a series of metal fingers at the base of the gun then slotted it into place. He drew the handle over the cylinder, the weapon lit up and Nix realized Vance now had a loaded weapon in his hands. He felt a thrill of terror as he realized Vance could kill him almost faster than he would realize he was dying.
Vance failed to aim the huge weapon at Nix’s head and pull the trigger.
“This,” he said instead, “is the PS-12.” He held it for a while, his eyes clouding over wi
th memory. “My grandfather owned the original low-tech version of this gun. It used a chemical explosion to fire a bundle of steel pellets. As the pellets left the muzzle, they would separate, creating a scatter of super-fast projectiles. This one fires a spray of plasma instead. Variable angle of scatter so you can modify fire for medium or short range. Big damage, with a lot of stopping power. What do you think?”
Vance looked at Nix and his expression went a little crestfallen at Nix’s disapproving stare.
“Um,” Nix said, “I think I’d just like the pistol you gave me back on Lodebar. It was silent, and I feel like I could fire it with a good amount of accuracy.”
Vance pulled a release on the big shotgun and the weapon powered down. Then he pulled the bottle from under it and put both things back.
“Okay,” he said, “I get you.” He pulled the pistol in question out from its cutout. Nix would have never known that was the one before Vance handed it to him, but when he held it in his hands again, he remembered the feel of it and its unusual look.
Nix nodded. “This will do nicely.”
Vance snapped it out of his hand and sat back down. “It will if the price is right.”
“Price?” Nix asked, feeling the anger shoot through him. “You were willing to loan it to me for free at the station.”
Vance swiveled his head. “Back then an extra weapon in a firefight was a worthwhile investment. Now...” He didn’t finish the thought.
“Okay,” Nix said. “What do you want for it?”
“Are we discussing a sale or a loan?”
Nix considered. “Would you consider a rental with an option to buy?”
“Sure.”
“Remember, I don’t have a whole lot. I don’t have a job or anything, but I did come into a little money before we left the station.”
“The old man seems like he’s got lots of cash.”
“He has quite a bit,” Nix said, “but there’s a big difference between what he has and what I have, and he doesn’t know what I’m planning.”
“Fair enough,” Vance said. “You need magazines? Ammunition?”
“Of course,” Nix said.
“A holster?”
Nix narrowed his eyes and considered. Hiding the big pistol in the waistband of his pants like they did in the vids didn’t work out for him.
“Yeah, probably,” he said.
Vance did some mental calculations, staring at the ceiling for a moment and moving his lips without saying anything.
“Okay,” Vance said, “For the pistol, three loaded mags and a good holster, two hundred credits.”
“Two hundred?”
“That,” Vance said sticking up a finger, “includes a security fee. If you get back and you decide not to keep it, I’ll give you half your money back, minus a sum for any damages that might be done to it.”
Nix sighed. He gritted his teeth and furrowed his brow. “I can’t do that,” he said.
“This is pathetic,” Vance said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes.
“If I could work together the hundred credits,” Nix said, filling his words with desperation, “would you be willing to waive the security fee?”
“Fine,” Vance said.
Nix widened his eyes. “Really?” he said, “Deal?” He struck out his hand and Vance shook it.
“Deal.”
“Great,” Nix said. He pulled the wad of twenty credit bills out of his pocket, counted five of them out and handed them to Vance. The look on the man’s face was equal parts horror, anger and hilarity.
“You sawking little—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Nix said, waggling a finger at Vance. “Language in front of youngsters. Besides,” and Nix affected a gravely imitation, “I thought you were a player, kid? Letting someone puppy dog-eye you like that?”
Vance’s expression shifted over to annoyance. He was a good sport about the whole thing. Either that or he was hiding his anger in preparation for vengeance.
Vance showed him the ins and outs of the magnetic holster. Nix tried it on under his shirt, put the shirt back on, and then hooked the pistol up to the magnetic plate. The holster had a similar plate on the other side whereby Nix could stick his two extra magazines.
“It’s a lot like the one Sal wears when he goes into battle,” Vance said.
This made Nix think. “So,” he said, “is he going into the palace with those militia guys?”
Vance’s expression went seriousness. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”
“Are you?”
Vance shrugged. “Where he goes, I go.”
“Did he ask you to?”
“No,” Vance said, “it’s just how it is. I can’t let the old man put his neck on the line without mine bared beside his.”
Nix nodded. For all Vance’s smug bravado, he was loyal. And, Nix thought, scared and not for himself. Nix threw his jacket on and took a peak at a mirror. He noticed the slight bulge in the jacket, but he was pretty sure no one else would.
“Thanks,” Nix said.
“What if you get captured?” Vance asked.
“Hmm?”
Vance shrugged. “Come on,” he said. “You’re a couple of kids. MPs aren’t going to shoot at you, at least not on sight. They’re more likely to capture you. What do you do if they slap the cuffs on you?”
Nix shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “I never thought of that.”
Vance lifted his eyebrows and smiled. He pulled a small cylindrical device out of a drawer beside his desk.
“This,” he said, “is a get out of jail key, but it ain’t for free.”
“How much you want?” Nix said.
“Another hundred,” Vance said, “and don’t pull that little poor kid scuff. A hundred and I want it back when you return.”
“Deal.”
Nix paid Vance, thanked him and wished him good luck. Nix would see him again before the mission, but it seemed like a good idea, just in case. He stepped out of the room feeling powerful just from the loaded weapon laying snuggly at his side. He took two steps and nearly ran into Dothin.
“Hey,” Dothin said. The way Dothin’s gray eyes scanned him over filled his guts with acid.
“Hey,” Nix said.
“I spoke to the Captain,” Dothin said, scratching his head. “He’s going to put you in a lifepod and jettison you into Eltar’s orbit. The pod will be boring but safe. If everything goes well, we’ll come pick you up. If not, you have a choice. My recommendation would be for you to send out an SOS.”
“Why?” Nix asked.
Dothin furrowed his eyebrows. “There are going to be tons of ships in the area, local navy, Alliance. If you decide to call for help, don’t hold anything back. Tell them everything. No use in incriminating yourself. I’ll make sure you have plenty of money and—”
“No,” Nix said. “Why are you trying to protect me?”
“What?” Dothin said, his eyes narrowed. “Isn’t it obvious? Why would you ask that, son?”
A charge of anger coursed through Nix’s veins and he yelled, “I’m not your—” he stopped mid-sentence, clamped his jaw shut.
Dothin’s expression didn’t change. There was a flash of anger in the set of his jaw, then it softened as quickly as it had come.
“I know how you talk about me,” Dothin said. “‘He’s not my father,’ you say. Well, that doesn’t change things for me. You may not want to be my son but that doesn’t mean you’re not still my responsibility.”
“You don’t understand,” Nix said. He turned to walk away and hoped Dothin would let him. He felt heat fill his face so fast he thought it might explode.
“Don’t understand what?” Dothin asked, following. “That you’ve had a difficult life? That it’s hard for you to trust me?”
“No,” Nix said. “Please.”
“What, Niko? What?”
Nix turned and hated the tears that filled his eyes. He shouted.
“It’s not that I don’t want
you to be my father. It’s that I don’t deserve to be your son.”
Dothin’s eyes were wide with shock. There was anger there, but not aimed at Nix. “Who told you that?” he asked.
“Nobody,” Nix said, unable to keep his voice raised. His voice was ragged and his throat felt dry and thick. “It’s just the truth. You’re a good man, Dothin, you shouldn’t be burdened by some jagbrood—”
Dothin wrapped his arms around Nix. He ran his fingers through Nix’s hair and held his head to his shoulder and Nix cried.
Dothin didn’t cry. He talked.
“You are not where you came from. You hear me?” Nix nodded. “You’re not. In the time since I adopted you I’ve seen you grow and mature. You’re becoming a good man. Brave. Compassionate. Honest. And I would only be proud to call you my son.”
“And I would only be proud to call you my father,” Nix said, and was glad that it was true.
Chapter Forty-Seven:
Chains Came Loose
Cel lay in her cell freezing to death. She was shivering now so hard she expected to hear the floor rattling underneath her. Her breath came out in ragged gasps. The cold had gotten a hold of her lungs and was squeezing the breath out of her and not letting her get much in. It was dark, blacker than the blackest nights she’d ever seen.
She remembered the day a power transformer blew near her family’s hole in Berican Station. She was seven. The station had once been a temporary mining camp while its inhabitants bored into the big planetoid for its deposits of platinum and gold. It had been put together, as her father had said, with a lick and a stick. When the mining operation finished, the company that owned the station, ExcelCorp, decided to use it as a base of operations to mine the other nearby asteroids. But of course, everything had been made to be temporary which meant, among other things, the power grid wasn’t robust.
In that particular incident, the power backsplash had shorted out the backup batteries as well. Cel had been alone in her room, watching a cartoon on her wall screen when the lights went out and the emergency backups didn’t come on. Cel had never before known true darkness. Even at night her room was adorned by the soft, yellow glow of a nightlight. She remembered feeling like her eyes were closed and wishing she could open them. She had screamed.
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