Raw Justice

by Martyn J. Pass

  “Ever cracked a nut?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well imagine if the nut was made of triton-steel and protected by a planet full of machines and enhanced soldiers and your nutcracker was made of play-dough.”

  “Nice illustration,” I said. “Do we stand a chance?”

  “We're going to need bigger guns.”

  “I'm ready,” said Columbine and I called for everyone to take a seat, noticing Jo sat near Thor, looking at me and smiling. I went to the front of the room before the display wall and brought up the images made by Sam. They were good, I had to admit. He'd remembered nearly everything about the layout.

  “Before I begin, it’s worth going over the events of the last few weeks for you all. Even if you don’t benefit, I think it’ll help me put the pieces into a coherent picture.” There were a few sniggers, but as I began debriefing them all, their faces turned very serious. The truth was, the whole mess was very serious and by the time I’d finished, they were all keen to get started.

  “Thanks for your patience.” I called up Sam’s images once more. “So, here's what we're looking at,” I said, gesturing to the first building, the factory that acted as cover for the vault. “The plan is still in its early stages, but the first part of the assault is this. Two people will infiltrate the city and move towards the target building. Once inside, they must locate and neutralise the shield generator that will allow us to launch equipment pods and personnel from low orbit.”

  “We saw the control panel,” said Mason.

  “Okay,” I nodded. “Once this happens, the rest of the force including our engineer will deploy. Exo-shells and other defence equipment will also be launched for the two infiltrators. We expect that by this time the first wave of Corano's security will have arrived. A force headed by Mason will keep them off us while we begin cutting our way into the vault.” I pointed to the map at intervals, building up a mental picture of what this would look like.

  “Who will be left on the ship?” asked Grant.

  “We can't afford to leave anyone on board,” I replied. “We're going to need everyone down on the planet. This is the weakest part of the plan; we're going to be relying on a remote terminal to pilot the Hikane from the ground. Both Baz and myself will have access to the FARGO drives and one of us will monitor the ship and coordinate the pod launchers from within the vault.

  “Once we've penetrated down into the first levels, the force will split. Grant and I will continue to cover Jo as she begins cutting while Fara and Columbine will move towards Security and disable the internal defences.”

  “From what we saw it's a pretty heavily defended room but the doors looked like thermite would take them out,” said Sam.

  “Good. While that's going on, Mason, Mozzy and Thor will be topside, holding back the attacking force. Baz – you'll be on standby to help whoever needs backup as the mission progresses, okay?”

  “Got it,” he said.

  “We're going to drill straight down,” said Jo. “Create a shaft through every floor right down to the vault. From there we can fit a fast-line rig to pull each bag of data up to the ground floor.”

  “What did the inside of the vault look like?” I asked. “How much physical data are we talking?”

  “Honestly?” said Sam. “More than we could carry. It's wall to wall in there, maybe the size of a football field. Not just data either, gold, silver, molanium ingots. It looks like it's not just a vault for data but for Corano's entire wealth, or a fair part of it.”

  “So how do we pinpoint what we're looking for?” asked Baz.

  “We'll need a data sniffer,” said Mason. “One that can plug into the storage mainframe inside the vault and locate what we need. That will take time.”

  “So we get what we're looking for and then what?” chipped in Fara. “Bag the rest and bug out?”

  “We get what Argo needs and we destroy the rest,” I said. “We're not risking our lives more than we have to.”

  “And the metal?”

  “It's dirty,” I said. “But if we've got time, bag some of the molanium and the gold. It can be left above ground for the colonists to use. Maybe it'll do some good if it survives what comes next.”

  “Which is?”

  “Thermo-nuke charges,” said Mason. “Planted at intervals to destroy the data. We arm them, go topside and fly out.”

  “What's our exfil?” asked Grant.

  “The data will be collected by a drone piloted by either Baz or myself which will be able to move fast enough to avoid anti-air defences. It'll grab the loot and head straight back to the Hikane. Our own escape will be a little trickier.”

  “I don't like the sound of that,” said Grant.

  “Mason?” I said. He nodded.

  “Anyone ever ridden the lightning before?” Columbine began laughing and shaking his head whilst Grant and Fara gave each other a knowing look.

  “You can't be serious,” said Mozzy.

  “Very. If we bring the Hikane in there's a good chance it'll be shot down. We can't call a drop-ship either because that too risks being blown out of the sky. We need something fast, something that can outrun anti-air. Banshee launchers are our best chance off the planet.”

  “And risk being spaced instead of blown up?” said Fara.

  “Once in orbit the Hikane will fly in and scoop us up. Each launcher can be retro-fitted to the pods. They drop the gear, we shoot straight back up. Simple.”

  “But that will leave the last pair vulnerable,” said Baz. “Those things take two people at a time. Those left until last will have to hold off the entire force until-”

  “I'll be there,” said Thor, speaking for the first time. “I'll hold the buggers off whilst you escape. Least I can do for ya.”

  “What, and leave you behind?” said Baz. “No way, buddy. We don't leave any of the team behind.”

  “We won't be,” I said. “We'll clone his CPU. Thor on the planet won't be the Thor on the ship. When the last pair exfil, Thor will self-destruct using another thermo-nuke inside his frame. That'll bring the facility down on top of itself, destroying any direct evidence that links us to the attack.”

  “You're happy with that?” asked Baz, looking at the bot.

  “No,” he replied. “But if we're gonna save Angel then I fink it's a risk worf takin', sir.”

  “So the real Thor will be on the ship, right?” asked Columbine. I shook my head.

  “A cloned CPU cannot co-exist with its copy on the same neural network; both would try to destroy the other, like a virus attacking a computer. By doing this, the original Thor would have to be taken offline.” Along with Jimmy, I thought to myself. What I didn't mention was that there was no real way of making sure they were entirely off the network, it'd never been done before. Most systems continued to remain linked even in shut-down mode. The risks to Thor and Jimmy were high but Mason and I had discussed this with him first. He wanted a chance to try and I couldn't stop him, not if I was willing to recognise him as a teammate only a few days earlier. We were all risking something on this trip, most of us either death or capture.

  “Can I say something?” asked Columbine. I nodded. “Your plan sucks, but I'm in.”

  “I agree, pal. But it's all we've got. Any other questions?” Heads shook. “Okay. We're 12 hours from Madam Sill's. I want combat prep and suit acclimatisation by zero-eight-thirty. Grant and Fara pull loading duty with Thor. Mozzy, Baz and Jo, oversee the adaptation of the FARGO drives into the suits. Mason, you're with me on weapon detail. Good luck, folks. Dismissed.”

  It felt like the clocks were turning faster than they should have been. It was like rolling downhill in a go-kart, out of control, heading straight for the bottom. It was too late to get off now. We had to ride it down and wait for the impact.

  No sooner had the work been carried out than I saw the floating fortress of Madam Sill's on the viewscreen with over twenty weapon platforms training lancer cannons directly at us. Built into the fixed orb
it of an abandoned battle cruiser, the entire facility glistened in the darkness with a myriad of lights and exhaust plumes. Spires and salvaged pieces of other ships had been grafted onto the hull, expanding the monstrosity like cancerous growths. Situated over a desert planet, the famous Emporium reminded me how far from our path we'd come and how deep into the rabbit hole we'd gone.

  “Welcome to Madam Sill's weapon and armour emporium,” sung the artificial voice over the comms. “You have thirty seconds to identify yourselves before our state-of-the-art defence matrix becomes active.”

  “Mark Nando,” said Mason. “We have an appointment with Madam.”

  “Nando?” I said to him. He grinned.

  “Welcome, Mr. Nando. Please enter through docking arm 4 and follow directions to landing platform Theta. Enjoy your visit to Madam Sill's Emporium.”

  With our hearts in our throats, we guided our ship into the belly of the cruiser and watched the doors seal shut behind us. Internal lighting blinked into life, forming a long tunnel of winking white globes set into the wall on all sides. As we ambled through, platforms armed with plasma cannons trained on us like waiting dogs, ears pricked and staring at us until we passed them by.

  “Very welcoming,” said Mason. “As a customer, I feel we're getting the 5-star treatment.”

  “You think?” I laughed. The collision alarms continued to flash long after I'd muted them. This passageway had originally been designed to allow access to the massive engine drivers deep in the heart of the cruiser, not as a means to dock a ship. We barely fit inside the pipe and only the FARGO drives stopped us from scraping the paintwork all the way down.

  When we reached the vast open space where the drivers would have been, we found a brightly lit array of docking arms spread out on all sides topped with many more automated turrets that swung back and forth. Above each was a stencilled number and the Hikane slid alongside the massive number four.

  “Baz, you have the bridge,” I said, getting up out of the chair. “Mason and I will go. Any requests?”

  “Ask her if she's got any Coke,” he grinned. “I'm gasping here.”

  “Sure.”

  We stepped out onto the docking arm and felt the artificial gravity drives weigh us down a little too much. Mason gave me a knowing look and adjusted his stance.

  “Not very trusting,” I said. “Where would we run to anyway?”

  “Can you feel that?” He asked, sniffing. I nodded.

  “She's reduced the O2 in the air by a fraction. This'll be fun.”

  “Don't get too excited, you're liable to pass out buddy.”

  We waited. Beyond us, maybe 300 metres down the arm, two massive steel doors began to part and two security bots came stomping towards us, weapons raised. Between them in a long flowing dress of black and red silk topped by long waves of silver hair, was Madam Sill.

  “It can't be,” said Mason. I looked harder at the woman striding with confident steps towards me.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. He didn't reply. In a moment they were upon us and standing at a safe distance away from where we stood. The two bots trained their cycling autocannons at us and growled.

  “Madam Sill?” said Mason. “Is that what you're calling yourself now? Very exotic.” The woman looked gracefully aged with high cheekbones, thin lips and what had to be the darkest ebony coloured eyes I'd ever seen on a woman from Tokyo's elite class. She bore a wicked smile for Mason who she obviously knew and as she put her hands on her hips she blew him a playful kiss.

  “I had a feeling it was you on the comms,” she said, her native accent just beginning to show around the edges of her words. “It's a small universe, isn't it?”

  “Getting smaller by the hour,” he replied. Then, gesturing to me, he said, “This is Carter, an old friend from the Martian days. Carter, this is Madam Sill, formerly known as Princess Himari of Akishino of the Imperial royal family.”

  Madam Sill smiled warmly at me and tilted her head in a gentle bow.

  “A pleasure. Now that we're acquainted perhaps I will make my home a little more inviting.” She lifted her arm as if the move was a choreographed performance and pressed a delicate nail onto a control button on her wrist. I winced as the gravity was altered and the air suddenly became oxygen rich. My head swam a little.

  “A security consideration,” she explained. “You understand of course.” We nodded. “Tea?”

  She turned on heels I'd only just noticed and began striding back down the arm. The security bots didn't follow. Instead, they waited for Mason and me to follow then, rotating on their waist axis with grinding metal, they watched us go. I had a feeling they were going to stay there, watching the ship instead of us.

  “So you survived?” asked Madam Sill as she led us through the doors that closed behind us.

  “Just,” replied Mason. We continued on, the structure of the corridor shifting from bare industrial to a more pleasant functional décor. The bare conduits were now hidden behind painted sheets and the floor turned from grid plates to coated decking. The change was not so much subtle but obliging, like the nod of the head from Sill earlier; a concession to politeness and good manners.

  “I managed to escape the madness before Prime fell,” she said. “Sometimes turning a profit at the expense of a planet's independence gets stuck in one's throat.”

  “I thought you'd remained neutral?” he laughed.

  “I had. But when the war tilted in favour of Earth and the body count had reached many zeroes I felt it was time to move on.”

  “You mean when it looked like an investigation might be launched into certain outside bodies involving themselves in under-the-counter arms deals?”

  “That too. My father would not have appreciated the reputation of the Imperial family being mentioned in criminal proceedings when the soldiers finally came home.”

  “What does he think about it now?”

  “Not much. He is dead. My sister, Mako, now sits on the proverbial throne. That is no longer any of my concern, however.”

  We turned left into a narrower hallway lit with softer lamps and carpeted with intricately designed patterns on a red and black background, similar to the dress Madam Sill wore. Then two wooden doors swung open on their own, allowing access to her personal chambers. They were richly furnished with deep leather couches, drapes of expensive silk and hand-painted images of Japanese history and culture suspended on grav hooks. The air was thick with scent, of burning oils that made my lungs tingle and filled my mind with thoughts of history and age and honour.

  “Please, take a seat,” she said and pressed her wrist control once more. A gong chimed somewhere far off and in moments a young woman in a tightly-fitting smock of black silk hurried in bearing a tray. It bore a kettle and three cups made of fired clay and painted in purple enamel with silver filigree designs. The woman set the tray down on a low table beside three couches and retreated back the way she came. We sat and Mason leaned over to pour the tea.

  “You remembered,” said Sill with a wry grin. Watching Mason pour tea was priceless. I'd seen that man storm the trenches on Mars, take down a gigantic mutated rat and single-handedly engage an exo-shell in mortal combat and here he was, his enormous hands delicately tipping the spout of a tiny kettle so that a small stream of hot tea would fill an even smaller cup for a Princess of Japan. Why had I not thought to record it?

  “It remains one of the fondest memories of my time during the war,” he said. “Shore leave spent in Tokyo with this same pot and this same cup.”

  “You only wanted me for my guns,” she grinned, enjoying the banter. I was still stunned that this was actually happening before my eyes.

  “Your guns. Your grenades. Your tungsten-tipped 25.4mm caseless rounds.”

  “Stop it,” she laughed. “You're making me blush.”

  “When I pulled my trigger, I thought of you.” She covered her mouth with her hand and even I found myself smiling. Was this what passed for Mason's charm with the ladies?
Discussing the finer points of munitions?

  “Is that why you're here now?” She took the cup from his hands, bowed again, and sat back in her chair, crossing her long, slender legs at the knee. Mason passed me the next cup and I held it under my lips, breathing in the rich scent of chamomile.

  “Yes, though had I known that 'Madam Sill' was, in fact, a Princess, I'd have come sooner.”

  She blew gently at the cup and sipped. I found myself doing the same, relaxing into the flavour as much as the cushions of the couch. The entire room seemed designed to break down a person's defences the way a masseuse would work knots out of tired shoulders. I found my eyes heavy and my legs turning to mush and I could imagine myself accepting any price for anything this exotic Princess wanted to sell me.

  “What's the occasion or dare I not ask the liberators of the Hades-class vessel Aurelius?”

  “Still got the connections then?” he grinned.

  “As you say, the universe is smaller than you think,” she said and sipped again. “TRIDENT is doing very well I hear and pretending that your actions were somehow 'secret' isn't fooling anyone. That kind of prestige isn't just bought off a shelf. When it comes, the wise person rules it like wind in a turbine, managing, manipulating, making it work for them. Your sister,” Here she turned to look at me with those pitch-black irises. “Is a very wise woman.”

  I nodded but said nothing. This elaborate game was between Mason and Sill and I refused to get involved. I could already hear Alice cautioning me to step back and let them do their dance.

  “Very wise and very... wealthy,” said Mason.

  “Hmm.”

  “But now that I know who Madam Sill really is,” he said. “It seems only courteous to offer information as well as credits.”

  “Facts as well as guns?” she chuckled softly. “You have hidden depths, Mason. But what do you think I need to know that I don't know already?”

  He gestured to his comms unit and she gave a slight nod, a permission almost unsaid. He tapped at the display and activated the holographic projector. An image hovered over his wrist and I saw her eyes begin to sparkle, like stars inside two black holes.