Silent Order: Iron Hand

by Jonathan Moeller

  “He probably does now,” said March.

  “Why are you helping us?” said Roanna. “You said my father hired you to get me off the station…but why?”

  “What happened to your brother?” said March.

  “Before I answer that question,” said Roanna, “you need to answer a question of mine, Captain March. You and Mr. Bishop both.”

  “What question is that?” said March.

  “Why have you invested so much effort into helping me?” said Roanna.

  “Because I was hired to do it,” said March.

  “No,” said Roanna. “There is more to it than that. You’re a privateer, and Mr. Bishop is a…”

  “I like to think of myself as an entrepreneur,” said Bishop with a wide smile. “I own a restaurant and bar near the station’s spaceport complex, and have several other interests, both on Rustbelt Station and out-system.”

  “My point,” said Roanna, “is that both privateers and entrepreneurs are motivated by money. My father might have hired you to get me to Antioch Station, but he certainly did not hire you to deal with my other problems or to handle assassination attempts. No. Something more is motivating you, I think.” She folded her hands on the metal table. “Is it money? Favors?”

  “Neither,” said March.

  “My lady,” said Heath. “I think…they might be Silent Order.”

  Roanna flinched as if he had jabbed her in the side. “Is this true?”

  March and Bishop shared a look, and finally, Bishop inclined his head.

  “If we take you into our confidence,” said Bishop, “then we will be burdening you with secrets that you will have to take to your graves.”

  “Then you are Silent Order,” said Heath.

  Roanna closed her eyes for a moment. “I had hoped the account of my brother’s…foolishness would not become general knowledge.”

  “We’re not in the business of sharing knowledge,” said March.

  Heath snorted. “No, just collecting it.”

  March considered them for a moment. Roanna only seemed resigned, while Heath remained distrustful. Perhaps it was time to extend a little trust.

  “Mr. Bishop looks after the Silent Order’s interests on Rustbelt Station,” said March. “My job is more of a troubleshooter. On Antioch Station, I received instructions to head out here, pick up Roanna Vindex and Thomas Vindex, and fly you both back to Antioch Station.”

  Roanna sighed. “What did your instructions say about us?”

  “That Thomas had fallen in with a Machinist cell,” said March. “You found him, convinced him to repent of his folly, and then escaped aboard the Fisher, heading for Rustbelt Station. My superiors thought your funds had run out, so I was sent to bring you back to a Calaskaran outpost.”

  “Then you aren’t to take…direction action against Thomas?” said Roanna. “You aren’t going to execute him?”

  “My orders are to take him back with me to Antioch Station,” said March. “If he has gotten into trouble, he’ll have to deal with it then. Otherwise, no, I won’t do anything to him. Unless he has actually betrayed the Kingdom to the Machinists, or if he has become a Machinist agent. Then I will shoot him on the spot…”

  “No!” said Roanna, color flaring in her cheeks. “No, he has not!”

  “Sure of that?” said March.

  “I am entirely certain of that, Captain March,” said Roanna, biting off every word. “I have known my brother my entire life. There is not a malicious bone in his body. He would never hurt anyone. He was just…excessively enthusiastic. And bored. He got caught up in something he did not understand.”

  “All right,” said March. “Where is he, then?”

  Roanna hesitated. “It…seems that we come to the point where I must trust you, sir.”

  March waited, letting her sort through her thoughts. Heath scowled at March and at Bishop. For his part, Bishop set the pleasant, bland expression of a charming businessman upon his bearded face.

  “I don’t recommend that,” said Heath. “The things I’ve heard about the Silent Order…”

  “What have you heard about us, Lieutenant?” said Bishop with genial calm.

  Heath grimaced and met his eyes. “That you execute anyone even suspected of associating with the Machinists without trial. That you kill corrupt officials without warning…”

  “Well, corrupt officials do need killing from time to time,” said Bishop.

  “And I suspect that you are here to kill Lady Roanna and her brother,” said Heath.

  “You’re not wrong,” said March.

  All three of the others gaped at him.

  March looked at Roanna. “If you’ve joined the Machinists, my lady, I will shoot you in the head and drop you out the nearest airlock. And I’ll do it without losing a wink of sleep.” He looked at the wary Heath. “Same goes for you, lieutenant. No threats, just promises. That’s just what I’ll do. And if you knew the Machinists the way I do, you would understand. But if you haven’t gone over to the Machinists, then I’ll do my best to take you and Lord Thomas back to Antioch Station.”

  No one spoke for a while.

  “As ever, Jack,” said Bishop with a snort, “your eloquence never ceases to amaze.”

  “No,” said Roanna. “I believe you.” She took a deep breath. “Very well. It seems I must once again place myself in your hands, Captain March.”

  Heath looked ready to protest. March supposed Heath would rather put his hands on Roanna Vindex, but he pushed the thought of his mind. He would deal with that complication later, and only if it threatened the mission.

  “So,” said March. “Lady Roanna. Tell me what happened.”

  “Well,” she said, “my brother and I are twins, as you undoubtedly know, and we have always been close. Thomas has always been…restless. Yes, that is the word. Restless. Myself, I have been content with the role of a noblewoman of the Kingdom of Calaskar, even happy with it. Thomas has never been content. By now he should be a junior officer in the Royal Calaskaran Navy or have a post in one of the colonial administrations, but he…rather sabotaged his chances. Father used to let him explore his passions, do whatever he wanted, but Thomas was drummed out of the Naval Academy over some misunderstanding, and the Ministry of Colonies took a dislike to him.”

  March nodded, saying nothing. He could fill in the details well enough. Undoubtedly Thomas Vindex had been the spoiled youngest son of an old man. No doubt Thomas had found the discipline of life in the Navy or the Colonial Service unpalatable and had offended his potential superiors and any social connections from his father’s friends.

  And if Roanna had found the life of a Calaskaran noblewoman congenial, what was she doing here? March didn’t care, but her motives might jeopardize his mission.

  “Because he was discontented, he found friends who were also discontented,” said March.

  “You guess correctly,” said Roanna. “Not everyone among the nobility is happy how Calaskar is dominated by the Royal Church, the Royal Navy, and the King. Others are less content how the Congress of Commons, the Congress of Lords, and the Congress of Admirals determine legislation and policy.”

  “They ought to be content,” said Heath with some heat. “Calaskar is the oldest and most stable of mankind’s starfaring nations. Others have collapsed into chaos and anarchy, or have been enslaved by AIs and alien races, or devoured by the Final Consciousness. Other worlds and nations have collapsed, but not Calaskar.”

  “No,” said March. He had traveled farther than Heath, and he knew that Calaskaran society tended towards puritanical social stratification. Yet the system mostly worked. Calaskar had stood defiant against the Final Consciousness for two centuries, and the Kingdom had not been conquered by an alien race, nor had it fallen into the social chaos that often engulfed human worlds.

  “Your patriotism is commendable,” said Bishop, “but we wander afield from the point. Lady Roanna, if you could continue your narrative?”

  “Thomas fell
in with some dissidents,” said Roanna. “They were all afire with enthusiasm and plans for reform. He was invited to a meeting on Tamlin’s World. Do you know it?”

  “I do,” said March. It was an unclaimed planet with a harsh desert climate. Various races and powers had attempted to found colonies there, and all had failed. Consequently, those with shady business often conducted it in the ruins upon Tamlin’s World.

  “Thomas was invited to a meeting there,” said Roanna. “In retrospect, it seems naïve, of course. He left, convinced he had found his purpose in life. I tried to talk him out of it, but his mind was made up. For six weeks, we heard nothing from him. Then I received a message from him. He realized that the dissidents were a front group for the Machinists, and he wanted out. But he had no money left, and he needed someone to come get him quietly, without risk of scandal…”

  “Hence, you,” said March.

  Roanna kept talking as if he had not spoken. “You see why we had to keep this quiet, yes? If there is even the slightest word that Thomas was involved with the Machinists, he’ll be ruined. Recovering from youthful follies is one thing. But if word gets out that he was involved with Machinist sympathizers, even unintentionally, he’ll be ruined.”

  “Then you came out here to give him a ride home,” said March.

  “Yes,” said Roanna. “We hired a ship to Tamlin’s World.”

  “Must have been expensive,” said March. “It’s something like a hundred and fifty jumps from Calaskar to Tamlin’s World.”

  “One hundred and fifty-six,” said Heath with a grimace.

  “We arrived at Tamlin’s World…but found that Thomas had been taken captive,” said Roanna, sighing. “It had all been a trick. The entire thing had been a false front to capture a Calaskaran nobleman, and Thomas had fallen for it.”

  “How did you know it was a ransom?” said Bishop.

  “A letter was left for me with detailed instructions,” said Roanna. “Thomas had left his coordinates on Tamlin’s World in his message to me, in one of the ruined human colonies there. The ransom letter was waiting for me. The instructions said I was to proceed to Rustbelt Station and meet Thomas’s captors. We would then make the exchange. I could cover the cost of the ransom myself, but it would take everything I had, and there would be no funds left to arrange transit home. I had no choice but to send a message to my father, and hoped he could send someone to help us.”

  “I see,” said March. “How did you send the message?”

  “Courier,” said Roanna.

  March shared a glance with Bishop. That explained how the Silent Order had learned of the situation. March was sure there were honest couriers somewhere among the civilized systems, but he had yet to meet one. It also explained how the Machinists had learned of Lady Roanna’s problems, and how they had known March would be the one sent to her assistance.

  “We will, of course, need to review the ransom letter and its instructions,” said Bishop. “If you will forgive my bluntness, the Machinists are quite capable of killing both you and Lord Thomas and taking the ransom money.”

  “Yes,” said Roanna. “Yes, that was one of my fears.”

  “When is the exchange to take place?” said March.

  “In three days’ time, in one of the old ore processing facilities,” said Roanna.

  “Good,” said March. “That will give us time to prepare. Perhaps we can yet turn the tables on the Machinists.”

  “There is one point that I am curious about,” said Bishop, “and I’m sure that Captain March is as well.”

  “Which point is that, Mr. Bishop?” said Roanna.

  “Lieutenant Heath,” said March. “How did you get mixed up in this? Junior naval officers generally aren’t given leave for this kind of thing.”

  Roanna flushed, and opened her mouth and closed it. For once, Heath looked at a loss for words.

  “Ah,” said March. “You’re AWOL.”

  “It is not like that at all,” said Heath. “I would never betray Calaskar and the King.”

  “Then you received leave from your commanding officer to escort Lady Roanna to her destination,” said March.

  “Not…precisely,” said Heath. “I was stationed on the RCS Raymond, a destroyer. Lady Roanna came aboard to inspect the vessel before we set out. I saw her weeping in the corridors, and I was moved to help her. No true Calaskaran man could refuse a lady in her hour of need.”

  That was a polite way of saying he had fallen for her and decide to abandon his post to run after her on this fool’s errand. March’s gaze turned towards Roanna, and he caught the flicker of shame before she controlled herself. She knew full what she had done, and she had encouraged Heath to do it, letting the chivalrous fool destroy his career and expose himself to a military court to help save her brother.

  “How gallant,” said Bishop, the sarcasm carefully hidden.

  “But before we accept your help,” said Heath, “there is something we need to know about you.”

  “What’s that?” said Bishop.

  Heath pointed at March. “What is under the glove?”

  March glanced at his left hand. He was wearing his jumpsuit and his coat, but over his left wrist and arm he wore a leather bracer and a black glove. Sometimes the leather creaked when he made a fist.

  “Sam, that’s rude,” said Roanna.

  “No,” said March. “I demanded the truth of you, so it’s only fair that you ask it in return.”

  Bishop sighed, rolled his eyes, and settled back into his booth, though March saw him shift his weight to move his hand closer to his gun.

  March unlocked the bracer on his left arm and pulled away the glove, revealing his left hand. It almost looked as if he wore a glove of overlapping and interlocking metal plates. The metal was dull gray, almost like pewter, though it was infinitely stronger and far more resilient than any natural metal.

  Heath’s eyes widened, and March saw his hand twitch towards his gun.

  “Don’t do that please, Lieutenant,” said Bishop. “If you shoot someone in here, we’ll be thrown out, and the drinks are passable.”

  “It’s a cybernetic prosthesis, obviously,” said Roanna with exasperation. “There’s occasionally social stigma attached to them, so of course he wears a glove…”

  “That’s not just a cybernetic arm,” said Heath. “It’s a Machinist cybernetic implant.”

  Roanna’s eyes widened, and she sucked in a startled breath.

  “And it’s only his left arm,” Heath said.

  Roanna’s eyes widened further. “That means…”

  “He’s an Iron Hand,” said Heath. “All this time we’ve been sitting here talking to a damned Iron Hand.”

  “An Iron Hand,” said Roanna, staring at March.

  “The Machinists’ elite death commandos,” said Heath. “Fighters and assassins without peer.”

  “I know what an Iron Hand is,” said Roanna, her fear obvious.

  “They never leave the Final Consciousness,” said Heath. “They are fanatically loyal. They fight to the death.”

  “Not always,” said March. He retrieved his glove. Both Heath and Roanna flinched, but March donned the glove and his bracer without hurry. “If you like, you could cut my right arm and test the blood. If you cut an Iron Hand, he bleeds black, because his blood has been replaced with nanobots. Though I suppose that would be obvious on my face.” He reached with his right hand and opened the collar of his jumpsuit, showing the top of his chest and the hints of the scars there. “No armor plating, either. Or hive implant, if you want to scan my brain and spinal column.”

  “Then you were an Iron Hand,” said Roanna.

  “Yes,” said March. “Now I’m not.”

  “Why?” said Roanna. “Why did you leave the Final Consciousness?”

  March shrugged. “Which reason would you like? Revenge? I’m from the Calixtus system, and they ruined the planet. Revulsion? I saw what they did on Martel’s World, and I left the Final Consciousness an
d Silent Order soon after that. Survival? You know how the Machinists deal with traitors. You can pick any one of those reasons you like. I suppose they’re all true. But I want to hurt the Final Consciousness and the Machinists however I can, and saving you and your brother will do that.”

  No one spoke for a while.

  “Good speech,” said Bishop at last.

  “Thanks,” said March.

  “I believe you, Captain March,” said Roanna. “How should we proceed?”

  “Very well,” said March. “This is what I have in mind…”

  Chapter 5: Planning

  They slipped away from the bar and headed towards Bishop’s restaurant.

  The alert from the explosion in Bay 207 had died down, and the main corridors and lifts were open again, but at March’s insistence, they headed back into the service corridors, walking single file through the maintenance areas of the station. By now, March knew, Lorre would have realized that his attempt in the cargo corridor had failed and would be making plans for another attack.

  Except that didn’t make sense.

  If the Machinists were planning to ransom Thomas back to Roanna, why would they send Lorre and his goons to kill her? It was hard to obtain a ransom from a dead woman. March supposed that different factions within the Machinists’ agents might be working to different purposes, but that was unlikely. Though it was possible that Lorre might have his own agenda, or that the Machinist agents holding Thomas Vindex captive might be planning to turn a personal profit before liquidating the Vindex twins. The Final Consciousness cared less about methods and more about results.

  March would worry about it later. Right now, he needed to make sure both Roanna and Heath got to a safe location.

  They only encountered two maintenance techs in the service corridors, and a quick bribe from Bishop ensured their silence. A short time later they opened a door into the concourse near the restaurant, and they returned to Bishop’s establishment.

  “Why, Captain March,” said Anne, grinning at him from behind the bar. “Looks like you and Bishop found some new friends.”