by Matt Verish
Jude’s office, or what Chrys assumed was his office, was little more than four walls, a ceiling that projected poor lighting, and a desk and chair in the center of the room. There was no view of the ongoing operation, no visible amenities, and no immediate means of escape, aside from one door. It was an office only by definition, though she wondered if an abandoned room had been sparsely furnished for the sole purpose of establishing an alibi for Jude’s supposed role as one of Astercor’s partners.
The door behind her closed, leaving her alone with the crime lord’s empty chair. She had been told Jude would join her presently, but she anticipated a lengthy wait all the same. She could only imagine what obligations a high-profile gangster entertained in order to maintain his front. Witnessing Cole’s body stored in a crate on the dock was probably his first concern. Dealing with her would be a distant afterthought by comparison.
It was then she wondered if she would ever see or meet with Jude. Why would someone so important go out of his way to personally discuss a disastrous mission with a traitorous co-pilot? Cole was the crew’s only lifeline in the face of universal retaliation, and he was presently being prepped to be jettisoned into space. Rig and Lin had been escorted from the Icarus, their exact whereabouts unknown. The significance of the slapdash office was coming into focus, and she could clearly see that everything was about to fall to pieces.
Instinct spun her around to face the lone door. She would have no chance to evade the fate of which Yeats had spoken, but she would be damned if she didn’t at least try and do something. Her hand reached for the door, fully expecting it to be locked. But it wasn’t. It slid open before she made contact with it.
And in walked a mildly surprised Jude. His hulking frame filled the width of the door frame. A smirk replaced his surprise, and he waited for Chrys to back away before he entered his office. Behind him was his calculating lapdog, Yeats.
“Eager to use the restroom?” he asked, once inside.
Chrys summoned her fleeting courage and stood up straight, chin up while keeping Jude’s imposing gaze. “I’m eager to put things to rest.”
The door closed and both men stepped past her toward the desk. Jude’s broad shoulders were slumped, and as she appraised Cole’s imposing brother, she noticed just how haggard he looked. Several new lines deepened the shadows of his dark face. The air of arrogance and authority was missing, replaced by a gentler, more businesslike mien. Had seeing brother’s body affected him so much?
Jude sat heavily in his chair, the frame and casters groaning from his weight. He cleared his throat, his focus upon the glass tabletop. “My brother chose a particularly poor time to deceive me.” His thick fingertips heavily drummed the surface.
Chrys remained silent, waiting, arms behind her back. She had quickly learned not to provoke Jude with questions or conversation. He talked, and you listened. Only Cole had managed any form of reciprocal dialog. Now her captain was not there to bridge the verbal gap, and the eyes of his brother were turned to her.
“I never should have brought him into the fold,” Jude said. “Heh. Even in death he’s a pain in my ass.” He flicked his wrist upward, and a holographic image of the Icarus appeared above the glass tabletop. It was coupled by a news broadcast video which showcased the ship leaving the facility from which the crew had so recently ransacked. “Seems in your haste to evacuate, no one—not even the System’s most revered AI—remembered to activate the so-called mimetic learning cloak.”
Chrys frowned at the looping security footage beside the talking head. She’d been too wrapped up in contending with the Sentinel to consider such a monumental mistake. If it was indeed a mistake.
“It’s clear he’d always intended for this mission to fail,” Jude said, finally meeting her gaze. “How fortunate for me that I have the likes of Mr. Solomon and one Chrysanthemum Emmerich to intervene on my behalf. Who knows what fresh hell Cole would’ve brought down on me had either of you not taken him out when you did.”
Chrys tensed at the mention of Cole’s death. Fortunately, the silent video switched over to the security footage recorded on the Icarus, distracting her from any troubling thoughts. She looked on as a spectator at the events she’d experienced first-hand. It was all there, the confrontation, the shouting—muted, of course—Lin’s predictable look of panic, the first punch thrown by Rig, the ensuing brawl, and of course, Cole’s drawn sidearm....
The video switched views when the melee progressed out of range of the first camera. There was a bright flash as the next camera angle recorded Cole dropping to the bridge floor, unmoving. That was where Jude paused the video.
The light of the frozen holographic image cast Jude’s conflicted face in a sickly bluish-white pall. He was staring directly at Cole’s fallen body. “You should be dead.”
Chrys clenched her jaw.
Jude popped a knuckle, shaking his head. “But it’s clear the pressure of Cole’s...predicament left him rattled.” He rubbed his smooth-shaven jaw. “One against the whole of humanity. Like me, my brother was always one to play the odds. But his luck seems to have finally run out.” He waved his hand down and the video disappeared. “It was for the best. Wouldn’t you say so, Chrys?”
For the briefest of moments, Chrys could’ve sworn she heard Cole’s voice emit from Jude. “Regardless of Musgrave’s actions, I wouldn’t consider this outcome to be ‘for the best.’ Necessary, perhaps.”
Jude interlocked his fingers and tilted his head left and right before nodding. “Yeah, you’re right; it was for the best.”
Chrys arched her brow.
“Yeats informed me that CAIN encountered an unexpected hack by another AI system,” Jude said, switching conversational gears once more. “And that the Icarus was not only severely damaged, but is possibly being tracked by UniSys. You were wise to abandon the ship where you did.” He fiddled with a gaudy ring on his finger. “What do you believe are the chances trouble will find its way to me despite your pit stop?”
Chrys shrugged. “I can’t provide you with an adequate answer. From what I gathered, only the AI was affected, and it is currently offline. I would imagine the possibility of us being tracked is dependent upon the trustworthiness of those who are working the transport hub at USCT. That we were ordered to dock there tells me you have little or no concern of our ship linking back to you.”
“Howerton can handle the heat if a fire is lit,” Jude said. “It’s why I left him in charge of the lunar docks. Smooth operator. He’s the one who alerted me to your presence back on the Aitken Basin the first go-around with you people.” His smile seemed forced. “Though I’m beginning to wish he’d urged you all to turn and leave.”
Chrys was not sure how, nor did she think it wise, to respond to that last comment. Considering her increasingly tenuous role with the Ravens, she decided to make a case for the remaining crew members’ stock. “Musgrave’s death will only benefit you. Even if he had remained true to your cause, his increasingly erratic behavior would have eventually brought this operation to its knees. I won’t speak on Solomon’s behalf, but I have no regrets in killing your brother.”
Jude’s tired eyes widened slightly, and he reclined deep into his straining chair. “You’re a straight shooter, Chrys. A no fuss, no nonsense, bitch of a soldier.” He pointed at her. “I like that about you. I’m well aware the feeling is not mutual. But like your indifference with killing my brother, I care nothing about what you think of me. Only that you carry out the job tasked you.
“And despite Cole majorly fucking up my shit, you did manage to complete the job. I haven’t overlooked that little achievement.” His fingers were drumming again. “There’s another bit of information I haven’t overlooked. What else did Cole take besides my cargo?”
Chrys frowned. “Something high-tech for Dartmouth. Neither she nor Musgrave elaborated on its details. I only know that it was the reason the Sentinel was alerted.”
“Yeats tells me you have no opinion one way or the other
regarding Dr. Dartmouth’s involvement in the mutiny. I’m not so sure I believe that stance.” Jude sat upright, fingers interlocked. “Whether or not you have definitive evidence, I know you have an opinion. I want to hear it.”
“Opinions only muddy the waters,” Chrys said, knowing where this line of questioning was going. “I have no love for Lin Dartmouth, nor did I approve of her relationship with Musgrave. That being said, she has never shown any outward signs of collusion. Could she have been in league with him? It’s possible—even likely—but I have no proof.”
Jude grinned. “I have no time for proof. The law and morality have a way of circumventing my logic. This business thrives on my being able to make snap decisions regardless of whether or not my actions are just. What I do works, and my instincts are telling me that I should tie her still-living body to my brother’s corpse and shoot them both out into that frozen hell.”
Chrys blinked, waiting for him to continue. She realized that it was he who was waiting for her to speak next. “Are you looking to me for advice on whether or not to murder a member of my crew?”
“Nope. I’ve already made up my mind with her. I’m just trying to figure what makes you tick.” Jude inclined his slightly toward Yeats, silent communication made between them. The scowling henchman nodded and left the room, leaving her alone with the System’s most wanted gangster.
“There’s rumor of a coming war.”
Chrys was unable to keep herself from scoffing. “I fail to see what war has to do with anything.”
Jude cast her a curious stare. “You of all people should know about war and its effect on everything. The Carbon War, for example, nearly brought our way of life back to the Stone Age. What if something equally as devastating was on the horizon?”
Chrys narrowed her eyes. “You believe the current tension between the United System and Terracom is escalating toward collapse?”
Jude nodded. “I have it on good authority that it’s about to begin.”
“How...?” Chrys was temporarily at a loss for words. “Regardless of whether or not this is true, I still fail to make a connection between war and murdering an engineer.”
“Nothing. It has everything to do with you and your hatred for Terracom.”
Chrys’s fists clenched. “I’ve since abandoned my radical ways.”
Jude chuckled. “You’re a terrible liar. Too many years of taking orders and abiding by Military codes makes you obvious. You’ve forgiven Terracom like I yearn for an honest life.”
“What could you possibly know about my past with Terracom?”
Jude spread wide his hands. “Everything!” A familiar holographic image appeared in between them. “Remember when I had you deliver the Smasher to that magnificent dish connected to Galactic Information Systems? I kinda use that to collect the information I want.”
Chrys swallowed, realizing her life—her disgrace—and all that she had done was at Jude’s beck and call. She only had herself to blame.
“I’m looking to convince my Astercor partners to break away from Terracom in the very near future,” Jude continued. “It looks bad for our business being connected to the enemy of all mankind. And that’s where you come in.”
Chrys stared in response.
“I need someone reliable, like you, to carry out a very special mission for me. Someone I can trust to wield their hate in a manner that will help bring the System’s largest company to its knees before this war can fully commence. Interested?”
Thoughts of rage flooded Chrys’s mind. She had not the slightest idea what Jude had in mind for her, but it wasn’t often one was offered the chance to exact revenge. Terracom was evil, a poison in the bloodstream of humanity. Was it not expected to sever the limb before the toxin had a chance to work its way toward the heart?
With barely a thought or consideration, she nodded.
Jude clapped his hands, the sound echoing in the nearly empty chamber. “Good!” He stood, the chair groaning. “We’ll talk details as we watch my brother’s corpse rocket into space.”
7
BROADCAST
Like a shooting star, the wrapped remains of Cole Musgrave fired into the endless dark and vanished from sight. His was a quiet ending, bereft of the chaos that had been following him since first boarding the ICV-71 on the SolEx Space Station. Word of his death would eventually spread throughout the System, and the sad fate of the iconic Icarus would never be learned outside the shadows of the underworld. It would be a great disappointment for the hungry media and their voracious audience, though Chrys felt it all a fitting and necessary end.
The former inspector gazed out one of the mining facility’s few windows along an empty corridor, standing beside her new immediate superior. Her recent discussion with Jude was still buzzing inside her head, pushing aside all other imminent thoughts. Not only had she been given another chance to continue her complicated existence, but she had been offered an opportunity to right a wrong—even if she utilized the services of a feared criminal.
Jude had allowed Lin to live, though Chrys had a sneaking suspicion it had more to do with her looks than her brain. Her current whereabouts were unknown. Nothing was mentioned of Rig, and so she could only assume that the mechanic had returned to whatever duties he had been given prior to joining the crew of the Icarus. As for the infamous ship that had launched its crew into stardom, it was to be cannibalized for parts and made sure that no evidence was left.
Jude had turned away from the window long before she did, his attention on whatever business he was conducting via Ocunet. She ignored him, too intent on making sense of her new position and how easily it had come to her. Perhaps joining the ranks of Darkstar’s elite had been done as a way of keeping his valuable enemy close. More likely it was a polite gesture done on his behalf to cover up the fact that he was sending her off to die on an impossible errand: bringing down Terracom. Regardless, the prospect of striking the critical blow to her nemesis was irresistible.
And a major conflict.
“Where the hell is Yeats?” Jude demanded.
Chrys’s shoulders slumped. The question had not been meant for her, but she felt the need to answer. “Was he not overseeing Musgrave’s burial?”
Jude looked at her as though she was trespassing but then the hardness in his eyes softened. “That farce ended the moment my brother joined the rest of the Astercor space debris. He should be here, not ignoring my...” He looked out the window and froze.
“Do you want me to locate him for you?”
Jude slowly turned, a veil of uncertainty passing over his face. His eyes narrowed. “No. You have your own mission.” His eyes flitted from left to right, then at her waist. “Though, before you embark on your vengeful journey, answer me one question: why didn’t you reclaim Cole’s sidearm after you and Rig killed him?”
Chrys frowned. “Yeats confiscated it, though the weapon is rightfully mine.”
“Huh. He made no mention of finding a plastol.” Jude cocked his head to one side. “Remember when I said that you’re an obvious liar?”
“What could I possibly be lying about?”
“I was wrong,” Jude said, ignoring her question. He began to stroll about the hallway, one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing. “You’re much better than I gave you credit for.”
Chrys tensed and scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you think you would outsmart me? Hope my brother’s death would leave me vulnerable? Maybe even try and take advantage of my recent corporate distractions? Perhaps attempt another ill-conceived coup?”
Chrys shook her head, anger making her bold. “To what end? To clear my name by bringing you to justice? Too late for that. My chance at redemption died a long time ago. Taking you down would only further complicate my life.” She placed her hands on her hips and stared hard.
Jude slowed, looking her up and down. “Your words sound nice, but something isn’t right about them...or you.”
“What�
��s right about any goings on here at Astercor?”
In two long strides, Jude had closed in, and his barrel chest grazed her breasts. There was madness lurking in his eyes. “Don’t try and deflect the conversation back to me. Do I look stupid to you? I didn’t ascend the ranks by overlooking the finer details. I built this empire by stepping on the necks of sycophants like you. Don’t think I won’t crush your pretty little throat because I’m currently on location at my legal job. Everyone here knows better than to interfere with my practices. They’ll look the other way when I rip the flesh from your bone and grind you into powder. You’ll be nothing more than particles of dust drifting away with the rest of this facility’s waste.”
Chrys never budged. She casually raised her hand to wipe the spittle on her face. “Are you done with your little tantrum?”
Jude’s eyes grew impossibly large, but before he could react, she was speaking again.
“No, I don’t think you’re stupid.” She leaned closer, pressing her bust against him. “Crazy and paranoid, however...” She let the sentence hang, her hand inches from his crotch, ready to crush.
A quick humph emanated from Jude, the wildness gone. A hint of a smirk crept into the corner of his mouth. His focus shifted from Chrys’s forehead to the scar on her temple. With a gentleness she did not know a hulking crime lord could possess, he lightly brushed the tip of his index finger across the healing wound and sighed.
“Cole chose the wrong woman.”
Now it was Chrys’s turn to ogle. Had she heard him correctly? What was more, why had she not grabbed and snapped off his finger before he could violate her?
“Ha!” Jude uttered, clapping his beefy hands together. He was looking over top of her head. “There’s that sinister sonofabitch. What took him so long?”
