by C. T. Phipps
The star galleon moved to dock with the Rhea and we didn’t have much time to talk, but I wanted some answers. Hiro was in the medical bay getting psychological treatment for having made his first kill upon an associate. Holtz was dead but that wasn’t something I was going to mourn. However, there were a lot of things about my first battle in three years to which I wanted answers.
Ida sat on her couch the same way she had earlier, putting lumps of sugar into her tea but looking decidedly less than comfortable. I knew better than to assume it was the result of guilt and suspected it was, instead, the realization I was on to something.
“I don’t know what you mean, Cassius.”
“Those weren’t Chel.”
“Oh? How do you figure?”
“The way they flew,” I said, simply. “I studied Chel as a potential threat in the Ducal Academy. They fly in space the way fish swim in water. Those individuals flew like Commonwealth-trained pilots and weren’t making use of their ships’ full capacities.”
“Maybe they were just bad at their job.”
“Ida, please.”
Ida closed her eyes. “No, those weren’t Chel. They were Commonwealth-sponsored partisans operating in this sector.”
“Partisans.” I had never said a word with more skepticism.
“Sounds better than pirate. Sixty years ago, we may not have been able to defeat the Chel in our war against them, but we managed to do some damage to the bastards. That included getting lots of samples of their ships and how they worked. Those bastards out there are flying replicas we deploy for these sorts of missions.”
“To frame the Chel for massacres you committed.” I was disgusted.
“That wasn’t the plan,” Ida said, balling her fists. “The request I sent up to the Grand Watcher was for aid to disable the ship and take everyone alive. The faux-Chel are used to do dirty work and composed of the absolute worst of the Commonwealth military. Washouts, dregs, and psychopaths who still have their uses.”
“How many people are still alive on the Rhea?”
“There are no life signs,” Ida said, her voice low. “It doesn’t mean there aren’t any survivors but whoever is left is hiding close to the engines.”
I stared at her. “I was a fool for ever thinking I could work with the Commonwealth.”
“We didn’t do it,” Ida corrected. “As stupid and half-assed as most of the decisions that get sent down from command are, they weren’t ordered to kill everyone on board. In fact, everything indicates they didn’t get on board before we arrived. I will also remind you, they took shots at us.”
“Why is that?” I asked. “On the outs with your superiors?”
“No,” Ida said, confidently. “I am most certainly not.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Let’s table that for now. If these faux-Chel aren’t responsible, then who was? Are you suggesting the Crius on board killed themselves?”
“Or each other,” Ida said, taking a sip of her tea. “Would your people do that to avoid being taken captive?”
“Just what did you expect to find on board this ship?” I asked, not interested in answering. My people believed in their cause fanatically and would do anything to protect their secrets. I used to believe that was a sign of our moral superiority. Now I just viewed it as a massive waste in the name of a dead cause.
Ida seemed to read my answer in my face. “We expect to find something that could allow the Crius Reborn to kill billions. Also, the spy who knows about it. Dead or alive, we need to know what she knows. If it’s the former, we have ways of extracting the information from her skull.”
I needed a second to process that. “I see.”
“You know these fanatics. Would they kill themselves to prevent us from finding out what they had?”
“No.”
“Huh,” Ida said, not quite believing it.
“Their leaders, the true believers, would their have mechs and personal guard do it. They wouldn’t trust killing everyone to the group. We’re not big on collective decision-making in Crius.”
Ida gave a bitter, mirthless chuckle. “Yet, you’re the one who looks down on the Commonwealth for barbarism.”
“Evil is evil. Big. Small. Grand. Petty. Well-justified or just because. There’s no lesser or greater of it. Choosing between them does not make your soul any less blackened. The trick is avoiding it altogether or acknowledging its truth.”
“Pithy saying. You should put it on the back of a snack box.”
I sighed, acknowledging her point. “I’m a cynic now. I don’t care if Crius wins and the genetically-engineered nobility returns to oppress the natural-born. I don’t care if the Commonwealth wins and a veneer of democracy is installed with votes belonging only to those who can afford to buy citizenship. Hell, maybe the transtellar megacorps would do a decent job by comparison.”
“Says a man who has never been to a factory world.”
“Admittedly not.” I took a deep breath. “Can you give me one decent reason why I should do that, and don’t give me that ‘I’m preventing a war.’ Because, from where I’m standing, it looks like it’s already begun.”
Ida’s voice lowered. “I’m getting a little tired of your attitude, son. You’re not actually needed for all this. I could just shoot you and present your body to the public as proof the other you is not the real deal.”
“Except, perception is nine-tenths of the law. The Commonwealth will lose credibility every time he appears on one of his videos.”
Ida stirred her tea and sat back, silent. “I’m not in the habit of making deals with people to do the right thing—”
“I suspect that’s a crock of shit.”
“All right, you have a point there.” Ida smiled and took a sip of her tea. “I’ve tried idealism. I’ve pointed out the fact they’re using your name to promote terrorism, I’ve offered a pardon, and leaned on your loyalty to the crew. Apparently, none of that is enough. I’ve usually got a read on people so I’m going to ask you a new question: what do you want?”
I opened my mouth then closed it.
“Seriously?” Ida asked, shaking his head. “You were being contrary for the sake of being contrary?”
I threw my arms out. “I’ve been running a long time, Ida. You get in the habit of stopping to think where you have to run. A pardon isn’t going to mean much if it means I’m just going to be chased by someone different. The Crius Reborn is going to exist for generations, even if you defeat them here, so I have a pressing need to avoid becoming their enemy. I might be willing to in order to stop a war, but every step I take is a reminder I hate your side.”
“So do I,” Ida said. “It’s why I work for them.”
“You’ll have to explain the logic there.”
“If you can’t be with the side you want, work to fix the side you’re with.”
“That actually makes sense.”
“Really?”
“No,” I said. “But it’s as good an answer I’ve heard today. All right, I have an answer for you. Money.”
Ida snorted. “Money?”
I crossed my arms. “Why the hell not? If I’m going to sell my honor, I might as well sell it at a fair price. Unfreeze my accounts. They’re registered at the Galactic Bank on Shogun, or were. A one-to-one exchange of Crius yen for Commonwealth credits or Corporate Hegemony dollars. I want enough to change my name and identity again, as well as purchase my own ship. One as big as this one, plus the ability to live well for the rest of my life.”
“So your dream in life is to become me? I never knew you cared.”
“You, with my own satellite-mansion. With its own lake and beach. Maybe something tropical.”
“With enough room for a couple of crewmembers?”
“Maybe one or two.” Clarice actually believed in Ida’s cause or at least needed one to come with her. I was fond of her but there was no doubt she needed a cause to devote herself to. Isla, by contrast, seemed to be someone who needed a place
to belong. I’d have very much liked her to be that with me. Though, given what she was designed for, it was possible that might not be possible in a monogamous relationship.
Something to discuss.
Ida was silent for a moment. “Son, if you’re able to deliver your doppelganger and his folk to the Commonwealth, then you can have your money and lots more. We expect bang for our buck, though.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“Infer it.”
“We have a deal.” I was surprisingly okay with selling out like this. Then again, honor had gotten me nothing but dead loved ones and a guilty conscience. Maybe a dogged pursuit of selfishness would do the world better.
It couldn’t do the world worse.
“Splendid,” Ida said, finishing her tea. “You better watch yourself; you may just find yourself becoming an asset.”
“God forbid. So what now?”
“I need you to go with First Mate Baldur, Clarice, Munin, and Isla to investigate the Rhea. See if there’s anything worth salvaging from the ship’s databanks and if any of the dead crew members can be revived.”
“That’s extremely unlikely after this long.”
“Depends on how long it took them to die. Besides, long shots sometimes pay dividends.”
I imagined the kind of abattoir we were likely to find. “It’s going to be ugly. Not the kind of thing a delicate constitution should see.”
“Then I’m glad we’ve got none of those aboard the ship.”
She had a point there. Many of the nobility on Crius surrounded themselves with fops and fancy-frees who couldn’t stand the sight of blood.
There was none of that here.
“I have to go see Hiro first,” I said, remembering what my first kill had been like. There had been elation, followed by horror and recrimination, as well as the relief of survival. I doubted Hiro was feeling precisely the same emotions, but they were probably close enough for government work.
“We’re on a bit of a time schedule, Cassius.”
“It won’t take long.”
Ida glared at me. “Then go. I want you on that ship, though, if you ever expect to see a credit.”
I bowed my head.
Money made things easier. It was more tangible than ideals.
At least since I’d lost all mine.
I walked down the hallways of the ship, passing by numerous members of the bridge crew that looked far different from the cargo bay’s workers. There was Lara, the Masterson twins, Lyta, U’chuck the Gorro, and even Brick wearing their white Commonwealth Merchant’s Guilds uniforms. All of them passed without saying a word, a few of them looking like they were going to but stopping halfway. Before, I could have called them friends as well as co-workers, but I had no idea what they thought of me now.
They had no idea of Ida’s role as a Watcher or, if they did, they kept it close to their chest. As far as they knew, their alcoholic navigator had just been revealed as a near-legendary (if I was modest) enemy fighter pilot. One who had, until recently, been wanted for crimes against the Commonwealth after refusing to accept his nation’s surrender.
Now they were on their way to the middle of nowhere, even by Sector 7 standards, to visit a ship that had just been attacked by pirates. Pirates who had been outfitted by the very government we were supposedly working for. Oh, and one of their starfighter crew was dead after trying to kill me. By the hands of a kid. Damn, the crew had a lot of loyalty to Ida. I would have been banging on Ida’s door until I got some answers.
Or maybe I’d just hope for a good payday.
I got my answer seconds later when I heard Ida’s voice over the ship intercom. “Howdy, folks, this is your Captain speaking. Some of y’all have been wondering why we’re here and what the whole situation with the navigator is. Well, here’s the skinny, Cassius Mass is an ex-Crius pilot and was famous for a while but he’s not anymore. Nor does the Commonwealth want anything to do with him due to a cushy deal he took. He has been keeping his identity secret but decided to bring it to me. He’s also agreed to help us find some stuff and make some deals which will make us rich, or at least richer than we already are. Current events aren’t related to him, but the result of us getting a distress call from the ship we’re now docking with. Funeral arrangements will be made for Ensign Holtz—the title of the eulogy being ‘why you shouldn’t be hopped up on Blitz and alcohol in combat.’ That is all.”
I stopped to look up at the speakers above my head. I was both appalled and impressed at the skill with which Ida lied to her crew. I imagined most of them would be so blinded by the prospect of imaginary riches they’d never question my presence again. Well, as long as I didn’t get any more of them killed. Which wasn’t necessarily likely.
Heading down a service ladder, I ended up two doors down from the medical bay, which I promptly walked through. Inside was Isla in her blue surgical dress with a little white cap covered in a red star on top of it. Isla was beautiful either way, but I couldn’t help but feel there was something natural about the way she was when treating the injured.
The Melampus didn’t have a large medical bay, just eight beds in two rows with a treatment tank in the back, but it served the needs of the star galleon well. The place was dolled up in blues and whites with soothing music playing in the background. Three of the beds were full, with the first containing a sleeping blue-haired female crew member I didn’t recognize lying in bed with an IV drip as well as a cast around her arm. The second was David Albernathy, the Ex-Commonwealth military pilot who should have been leading the squadron against the Chel, going through a detox treatment. He was shaking all over and his eyes were wide with a glimmer hallucination.
The third was Hiro.
Hiro Thompson was sitting over the side of the first bed in the medical bay, still wearing his spacesuit with a blank expression on his face. That changed when he looked up at me and I was expecting some form of accusation or remorse at saving my life. Instead, he brightened up a bit. “Oh, hello, sir.”
“You can call me Cassius,” I said, shaking my head. “I owe you my life.”
“Does that mean I own you in Crius culture?” Hiro asked, smiling.
“No,” I said. “How is he, Isla?”
“Surprisingly durable,” Isla said, smiling. “I see no likelihood of long-term mental or physical effects.”
“I’m sorry I had to kill Holtz, but I owed you my life out there, too, Cassius, so I guess that makes us even.” Hiro closed his eyes. “I was never friends with him, but we spent a lot of time together and I’m going to mourn his death in my own way.”
“Some people can’t let go of revenge,” I said, wondering how many other people I’d damaged the families of.
“Holtz’s brother didn’t die on Kolthas station,” Isla said, picking up a handheld medical scanner.
“What?”
“I looked it up once I heard about your fight with him. His brother served a few months on board Kolthas Station before transferring out. He was eventually court-martialed for possession of illicit substances—including blood pornography. The man took his life after it came to light. Holtz identified the body.”
“Then why blame me?” I asked, genuinely baffled “He died for something I had nothing to do with.”
“Maybe he wanted to believe his brother died honorably even if he knew better.” Isla put her hand on my shoulder. “I’ve seen people convince themselves of worse.”
“My parents on Albion consider me to be dead since I got kicked out of Crius’ military,” Hiro said, hoping to add his own condolences. “Well, semi-dead, undead really. They send me the occasional message but it’s usually: here’s some credits, don’t come back.”
“Why were you kicked out of the military?” I asked. “If it’s not too personal.”
“I was a transport pilot rather than a fighter pilot. I tried to pick up some troopers who were left behind during the Skellige campaign that I was ordered not to.”
�
�What happened?” Isla asked.
“They died,” Hiro said. “So I guess it was my fault.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “I’d like you both to come with me to the Rhea.”
Isla and Hiro nodded.
It was strange knowing there were genuinely good people left in this world. I prayed whatever we found on that ship didn’t hurt them.
But I had an ominous feeling it would.
Chapter Ten
The team awaiting the three of us at the primary airlock was a small one, but more than capable of dealing with a vessel showing no life signs. There was Clarice, first of all, wearing an armored spacesuit and holding a P-7 repeating fusion-rifle. Beside her, wearing a similar outfit, was William Baldur, the ship’s First Mate.
William was a tall man with brown skin, a shaved head, a thick goatee, and deep-penetrating eyes. He had a nose that had been broken repeatedly and was a good deal bulkier than most individuals on board but still moved like a cat.
I didn’t know much about him other than he was a former Commonwealth Navy officer and had served some time in their Marines. Apparently, that sort of inter-service crossover wasn’t uncommon where he was from. Despite both being bridge officers, we hadn’t spoken much, and I doubted that was going to change now that he knew we’d fought on different sides of the war.
Munin was the odd woman out, not wearing a spacesuit at all but a simple grease-splattered jumpsuit and carrying a toolbox at her side. She gave me and Hiro a dirty look the moment the two of us walked through the door. I had promised to bring the starfighters back without a scratch and had failed to do so. It was possible she was also upset about Holtz, but given she’d filed several harassment suits against him, I doubted it.
“You should get suited up,” William said, looking over at us. “We don’t know what sort of environment we’ll be encountering there.”
“The life-support systems are all running,” Munin said. “A spacesuit isn’t going to make much difference.”
“It might,” William said, looking down at her. “I’ve had Crius bastards all suited up in spacesuits before they pumped nerve-toxins into the atmosphere. They’re tricky bastards that way.”
