by C. T. Phipps
“I’m more concerned about them having a bunch of stealth-equipped Void Marines ready to kill us,” Munin said. “Mass suicide is not a normal reaction to Chel attacks.”
Clarice looked over her shoulder. “However sensible that is.”
“You ever encounter the Chel?” Munin asked.
“Yes,” Clarice said, her voice soft. “Once.”
Isla, who was beside me in a work jumpsuit and a medic’s backpack, said, “The Chel are gone and never got to the ship, Clarice. You won’t encounter any of your triggers there.”
“Triggers?” Munin asked.
“Never you mind!” Clarice snapped.
“Could I have a rifle, William?” Isla asked. “I don’t want to be unarmed in there.”
“Wouldn’t that be against your Hippocratic Oath or something?” William asked, reluctantly going to the nearby armory closet and getting her one.
“I’m not a Commonwealth medic and Crius don’t recognize the noncombatant status of medics anyway. I’ve killed more than my fair share of individuals trying to get my freedom and I’m happy to continue doing so.”
Isla took the rifle in hand and powered up its generator before adjusting the ammo clip. “Are you all right, Hiro?”
Hiro nodded. “I had ship-boarding training in the military. I’m looking forward to it, really.”
“Don’t,” William said. “The only kind of mission any soldier should be looking forward to is the last one.”
“Which can be any mission he goes on,” I pointed out. “Or even when he’s sitting down for lunch.”
William frowned, then shrugged. “Whatever the case is, we’re supposed to search for survivors. One specific survivor who is a friend of Ida’s in fact. We’ll also slice into the computer systems and get whatever data we can from them. After all that, we’re going to see if the ship can be autopiloted to the nearest facility for salvage. There’s a hefty price for functional vessels this size and we’re all bound to get a share.”
Munin said, “This doesn’t at all sound like a salvage operation. This sounds a lot more like spying.”
“Spying pays well, too,” William said, annoyed. I was starting to wonder if I had been the only person on the ship who hadn’t known about it.
“Spying also gets you decapitated on the infonet,” Munin said, “which is why I generally avoid it.”
Apparently not.
Isla slid her rifle over one shoulder next to her backpack before walking up and putting her arms on Munin’s shoulders, giving her a backrub. “Is it not enough that the captain wishes you to do it? It’s a good thing to put aside your worries and go with the flow. I think—”
“Please stop with the pheromone crap,” Munin said, looking up. “I grew up on this ship and you’re not the first person I’ve met with a bioroid pheromone package. I’m also only into humanoid men so please stop confusing that.”
Isla removed her hands. “As you wish.”
No one commented on Munin’s statement regarding bioroids.
“So, Your Excellency,” William said in the most condescending manner possible. “If there are any survivors, is it possible they’ll stand down if you tell them to?”
“Given I look, sound, and dress differently, no,” I said, shaking my head. “If I was to somehow prove my identity to them, then maybe, but they’re just as likely to think I’m a traitor for not taking over after the Archduchy’s collapse.”
“Were you in line for taking over?” Munin asked. “Like a hidden prince or something?”
“I was a distant-distant branch on a tree that has since been cut down and set on fire,” I said. “So, no, but I could have been involved in the process of rebuilding. I should have been involved.”
“So why aren’t you?” Hiro said.
“Hate,” I answered. “Shame. Despair. Alcohol. Suicidal impulses. Also, the simple fact I only know how to blow things up and lead men to their deaths. Not really a good combination for what Crius needs right now.”
There was a silence among the group.
“On that cheery note, let’s go over to the terrorist ghost ship,” William said. “Let’s hope everyone is either dead or friendly.”
“What happens if they’re friendly?” Munin asked.
“We figure a way to rob them of their information and extract Ida’s friend,” William said, avoiding using the word “spy” since neither Munin, Isla, nor Hiro knew about the Melampus’ status as a Watcher vessel. “The Commonwealth way.”
“I’m starting to think the Commonwealth way didn’t mean what I thought it meant,” Hiro muttered.
“What did you think it meant?” William said.
“Honor. Justice. Bringing peace to a disordered galaxy so that every human and near-human culture could come together in peace.”
“What, like in Star Voyages?” William said.
“Yeah, maybe.” Hiro suggested. “I loved that show.”
“Wow, kid,” William said. “Just wow.”
“I liked Star Voyages, too,” Munin muttered.
Clarice, meanwhile, looked troubled. Walking over, I saw Isla was already at her side and the two of us accidentally crowded her. Reaching out with my hand, Clarice gave me a gentle push and walked away from us.
“I’m not a fragile dove,” Clarice said, reloading her weapon despite it having a fresh ammo pack. “Let’s get going.”
“As you wish.”
Isla surprised me by pulling out my proton sword from her backpack. The weapon was still sheathed but had fit snugly despite its size. She also pulled out my fusion pistol and I wondered if she’d robbed me while I was asleep. “I thought you might like these two things, Cassius. They could also potentially dissuade anyone from opening fire first. That is, if they notice you’re carrying Crius weapons.”
I looked at Isla, still stunned she was a bioroid. She was perfect in a way geneticists and surgeons on my world had struggled for centuries to replicate. “Is there any likelihood of survivors?”
Isla blinked her big beautiful eyes, distracting me from the seriousness of my request. “It’s possible. There’s a lot of stealth and sensor jamming technology left over from the war. Crius engines tend to put out—”
I looked at her.
“Possible but not likely,” Isla corrected herself. “I’m sorry.”
“Okay,” Munin said. “William called this a terrorist ghost ship. Just what am I getting into here?”
“Well—” William started to say.
“Ida is an agent of the Watchers,” I said. “The Melampus is just her tool for spying on enemies of the Commonwealth. The Rhea is some sort of Free Systems Alliance vessel. The Chel weren’t the Chel and we’re trying to find something the FSA’s scientists were working on, which could possibly kill billions.”
Everyone stared at me.
“You may have just wrecked your pardon, Count von Count,” William said, staring at me.
“Yet, I’m surprisingly okay with it,” I said.
Munin blinked. “Okay, that makes sense of a lot of things.”
“The same,” Hiro said, taking a deep breath. He had gone and armed himself with an M68 energy-casing repeater. “Shall we go?”
William looked between everyone. “I swear it’s like being in the Marines again. That’s where they stick all the assholes too useful to kill.”
“I thought that was the Watchers,” Clarice said.
William didn’t respond and went to the airlock, preparing the bridge between the Melampus and the Rhea. There was a loud clanging noise followed by a hissing of gas as the doorways between the two starships opened. I was never fond of traveling through ships this way, but reluctantly, followed William as our small group headed over.
We emerged into one of the upper-level cafeterias moments later. The lights were on low throughout the ship even as the interior was a dirty shade of gray. There were a dozen tables spread around the room with built-in benches and folding chairs. During the heyday of the Arch
duchy, this place would have been kept spotless, but it seemed standards of discipline had fallen downwards a bit.
There was also greechen mold along certain parts of the bulkheads, a substance from Sector 8, popular on many spaceships as it only required the moisture in the air to grow, didn’t grow very much beyond the parts it was spread, and processed air much better than many modern-day filters. It wasn’t going to be replacing them any time soon, but it was a novelty item many people enjoyed purchasing. There was a bit of graffiti on one of the walls, which said, “Welcome to Hell.”
Food was still out on the tables. There was synthmilk, potatoes, fruit, ration-meals, and other staples of the spacer’s diet. There were no signs of corpses or survivors, which made the obvious appearance of recent inhabitation all the more unsettling. The Rhea certainly didn’t look like a Crius military vessel and, honestly, didn’t look like a Free Systems Alliance vessel either. I’d been on enough guerilla warships to know they tended to have a lot more paraphernalia lying around.
I wonder if Ida had been wrong.
Munin broke the eerie silence afflicting us. “It’s quiet…too quiet.”
Clarice kept her rifle up, scanning the area. “Really, you had to go with that?”
“I am who I am,” Munin said, going over to a nearby computer terminal. “Keep things from shooting me in the meantime, would you?”
“Bring back any memories?” Isla asked, pulling out a personal scanner from her backpack and moving it around.
“I never served on a ship like this,” I said. “I was always a battlecruiser attaché.”
“Ah, yes, Crius officers don’t mix divisions, do they?”
“No,” I said, thinking. “It was the first time I’d ever had an argument with my father when I wanted to pursue a career in the Starfighter Corps versus a desk job with the Navy. The Count had wanted me to follow an identical career path to become Lord Privy Seal. Hopefully replacing Germanicus.”
That hadn’t happened, obviously.
Isla nodded. “A man who clones himself tends to want something specific from his legacy.”
I gave a half-smile. “This is true. You can clone a man, but you can’t clone a soul. Truth be told, I doubt I could have ever lived up to his expectations. My father was a born and bred politician. I always found the distrust and lies that characterized the ruling class…disgusting.”
“I know that more than you do.”
Isla had me there. “Any luck on the computer, Munin?”
“Yes and no,” Munin said. “Artificial gravity and the systems are all working just fine. So is the ship’s drive system. We could just move this thing to Shogun’s space dock if not for the fact I can’t access any of the logs or commands. That requires a genetic lock.”
“A genetic lock?” William said, looking around for any sign of survivors or bodies. So far, he and Clarice had found none.
“A Crius thing. The genetic markers of the nobility are needed to activate devices so commoners can’t seize control over ships,” I said.
William gave me a sideways glance. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want the riff-raff dirtying up the place, now would we?”
“I didn’t do it!” I snapped, irritated I was still taking flack for my peoples’ decisions.
Then again, I did fight for them for a decade. Perhaps it was just karma that I was finally called to task for all of the evils done by the organization I pretended was the right side just because it was my own.
As if there was such a thing as a right side in war.
Evil was evil after all.
“Would Cassius’ DNA work to unlock it?” Isla suggested.
“What?” I asked.
Munin paused. “Well, theoretically, yeah. The machine responds to the genetic markers the nobility put inside their bodies. I’m not sure if it would specifically recognize him, though. That’s assuming he hasn’t clouded it too much.”
“He hasn’t,” Isla said. “Honestly, whoever he hired to alter his DNA did a shitty job.”
“I had some restrictions for her,” I said, grimacing. “This is a bad idea, but we can try to log me in.”
“You’re still part of this crew and I’m a superior officer so do it, Navigator,” William said, gesturing with the side of his head. “I’m not leaving this cafeteria until I know exactly what the hell happened here.”
“Everyone was poisoned,” Isla said, looking up from her scanner. “The system has removed all of the toxins from the air but there’s still trace particles on the walls and floor. Chlorine gas, very old-school.”
“Suddenly, I want to return to the ship and get my spacesuit,” Munin said.
“Belay that,” William said. “Everyone has breath masks. Just put them on.”
I did so.
So did everyone else.
Except Isla.
“If everyone was poisoned, where are the bodies?” Hiro said.
At that moment there was a whooshing sound beside us. The door to the cafeteria opened and I saw a quartet of painted-white humanoid figures with faceless metal plates where their mouths, eyes, and nose should have been. Their bodies were hideous messes of circuitry and wires with no skin and thick, reinforced armor chest-plates. Single red lasers shot forth from the side of their heads, moving across our chests, faces, and bodies one by one.
Mechs.
Chapter Eleven
Everyone in the group raised their weapons, watching the automatons move into the cafeteria with a jerky and unnatural gait. No one wanted to fire first, though, because the mechs might have been programmed to attack only if fired upon. Also, there was something instinctually terrifying about the soulless constructs, which seemed to cause hesitation in even the strongest soul.
One of the mechs lifted up its right arm, a long metal tube extending out of it, then it aimed at the ground.
Before starting to vacuum.
The other mechs started moving around the room, cleaning as well. They weren’t security mechs but labor units.
Housekeeping.
Clarice breathed out a sigh of relief and lowered her gun. “I hate those fucking things so much. No one should make—”
Isla stared at her.
“Ugly thinking machines,” Clarice said, realizing her error. “Robots should be pretty, Buddha damn it.”
“Buddha doesn’t damn people,” Hiro pointed out.
“He does on my world,” Clarice said.
“Crius usually use things that unsettling as their household servants?” William said, looking over at one of the machines.
“No,” I said, simply. “Usually, we employed people as servants. That’s mostly come to an end, though, so I suspect this group had to make do.”
It also meant the casualties on board our starships were far greater than the Commonwealth’s ones. Whenever one of them went up, it went up with the maids, bondsmen, butlers, batmen, and other individuals whose only sin had been to be born in a world where they were meant to care for the needs of the nobility. They were stupid luxuries for a spoiled caste system’s elite.
“You know, we’d be winning this war if you’d let the common people fight,” Judith said, lifting her gravball grip.
“We do let the common people fight,” I said, huffing as I tried to figure out how she was kicking my ass so badly.
“No, you make them fight. There’s a difference. Regular people don’t have a stake in this war.”
“You’re fighting for us.”
“I was a conscript before I married you.”
“And now?”
“And now I’m fighting for us. Now suck it up and try to play better than my twelve-year-old niece!”
I took a deep breath. “Are you cheating?”
“Cass, how dare you!” Judith said, looking offended. “Of course, I’m cheating! I gave myself a mulligan by turning up the gravity on your side. You’re a frigging cyborg supersoldier.”
I burst out laughing.
“Ares Electronics makes its mach
ines comforting and marketable,” Isla said, looking at the robots. “These look like they were repurposed from combat units. They’re unarmed, though, which is a point in our favor. I wouldn’t agitate them, though. They’re dummy units but might be linked to the ship’s security system.”
“Well, then let’s shut it down,” William said, gesturing again with his rifle. “See if your magic blood does the trick, Cassius.”
“I do not have magic blood,” I said, growling. Walking over to Munin, I saw the console where she was sitting had a finger-sized scanner pad to take a DNA sample. Pressing my thumb against it, reluctantly, I turned my head to William. “Do you have a problem with Crius?”
William kept his gun pointed away from me but I could feel his arms tense. “With Crius? No. Crius nobility? Hells yes.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“I was born on Xerxes,” William said as if it explained everything.
And it did.
I was honestly surprised he hadn’t come after me the moment he’d found out my true identity.
“I’m sorry,” I said, simply.
“Why?” William shrugged. “You didn’t rape my world of all its natural resources, enslave my race, and torch the place when the Commonwealth took it.”
“I benefited from the system.”
“Yeah, but a lot of people did,” William said. “Besides, what goes around comes around.”
Xerxes had been a victim of the Eighth Archduchy War. It was the rallying cry of the Commonwealth to bring the benefits of its economy and technology to primitive, suffering worlds, and that had been a similar justification for the invasion of Xerxes. The nomads there had been enslaved and the resource-rich world had been plundered of orichalcum ore despite the fact it was abundantly available in space.
It was just cheaper that way.
Decades before their invasion, Xerxes partisans had driven Crius soldiers off the planet through a sustained campaign of terrorism and insurgency. Xerxes’ people, who my race called Sanddiggers when they were being polite, had joined the Commonwealth soon after. It was rumored the Watchers had supplied them with the weapons they’d needed to drive Crius off.
