“Joke?” Isla asked.
It wouldn’t be the first time the Community had engaged in imperialism and naked military adventurism. For all their talk of community and enlightened society, they were driven by the same need for comfort and wealth humans strove for. The Kolahn were once one of the most powerful races in the Spiral but ended up being victims of sun-destroying weapons before their race committed mass suicide (or was helped to) after the Community had forced them back to their homeworld. It was a lesson to all other species in the galaxy: don’t fuck with the Community. The few remaining Kolahn were a collection of vagabonds and small communities (many whom lived in the human-controlled territories) as a sort of living testament to their foe’s victory. U’Chuck, the ship’s primary navigator, was a survivor of that conflict. She was a Gorro, technically the same race as Kolahn, but a subspecies which had evolved differently on one of the planet’s few remaining colonies in human space.
I took a sip of my coffeeine. “So you want me to go to wherever you think the Free Systems Alliance is based and deliver them a message. Why me? You could just deliver this offer yourself.”
“And have it used as propaganda if they refuse? No,” Ida said. “The simple fact is we have a unique opportunity here. You are, after all, the person who knows the supreme commander best.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know this man at all. I chose to try and let go of my hatred of the Commonwealth. This man is using children or teenagers at least to fight a war of revenge for no purpose other than revenge. I don’t understand or respect him, nor do I see how he comes from a copy of my brain.”
That was a lie. There was a time I would have given my left eye for an opportunity to squeeze the Commonwealth into oblivion.
“That also makes you a valuable asset,” Ida said. “So, assuming they don’t just shoot you, you’re the perfect guy to convince the fake Cassius to take this deal. You might also, potentially, undermine his position by proving he’s not the real McCoy.”
“Whose McCoy?” Munin said. “Is that Cassius’s real name?”
“It’s also another reason why they might execute us all,” William said, banging his fist on the table. “I’m no fan of the captain’s, but this is horseshit. We’re not running a charity here and I think both sides of this conflict can rot.”
“We’ll be paying you, of course,” Fade said.
“How much?” Clarice asked.
“Clarice!” William snapped, betrayed. Then he looked at Fade. “How much?”
Ida transmitted a figure to the Melampus. I took a deep breath. It was a substantial figure. More than we’d spent in a year despite all my failed ‘get rich quick’ schemes. “As tempting at that offer may be, very tempting, that—”
“Is ten percent of what you’ll be paid after the job is done, whether they accept the offer or not,” Ida said. “I remind you you’re also flat broke after this deal.”
The fact my initial planned response was ‘a freighter with the power of a warship was never going to starve’ horrified me into silence. I was becoming a monster out here and avoiding the war wasn’t helping matters. If I actually did pull this off, a big if, then it would perhaps atone for the rivers of blood I’d spilled. Pft, fat chance. Still, it was worth a shot and the first truly good thing I’d have done in a very long time. I didn’t just want to agree, though, because that would give Ida all the power in this negotiation.
“Parts,” I said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
“What?” I asked.
“We also want parts for the Melampus,” I said. “And fuel. At any Commonwealth facility that has it. For life.”
“Are you serious?” Isla said, heat in her voice. She’d been very quiet during all of this. “You’re quibbling over parts now?”
“Done,” Ida said, before anyone else could object. “But only if you succeed.”
William balled his fists. “Dammit, Cass, you could have asked for more money.”
“That is a lot of money,” Clarice said. “Even by my standards.”
“We should have asked for a planet,” William snapped. “A nice one, not one of the ones inhabited by poor people.”
“We could have asked for Sex Planet!” Munin piped up.
“That doesn’t exist,” I said, finishing off my coffeeine. “Actually, wait, no, it probably does.”
“That’s ridiculous,” William said, crossing his arms. “I would have heard of it.”
“Me too,” Clarice said, snorting. “Hell, I’d probably have moved there.”
“Clearly you’ve never been to Inanna,” Ida said. “Fade’s father was conceived there. Don’t remember his name, don’t care.”
Fade looked mortified.
I almost burst out laughing for the second time this conversation. “You’re her grandson?”
“I can kill you all with a fruit peeler,” Fade said, lifting up one from the table. “I’ve done groups before.”
“Maybe later,” Clarice said. “This group is a bit of a handful.”
“So what’s the plan?” I asked, still not sure this was a good idea. In fact, acutely certain it was an awful one. Still, I was going along with it. “Go to the nearest Free Systems Alliance base and introduce ourselves? The Melampus may be a Q-ship, but I can’t see that turning out well.”
“A Q-what?” Munin said.
“Archaic term for warship designed as a merchantman,” Judith explained.
“Oh,” Munin said. “What’s a merchantman?”
“Actually, we know where the Free Systems Alliance headquarters is,” Ida said. “We’ve lost enough fleets to be reasonably certain it’s where you’ll find your doppelganer too.”
That made me uncomfortable. “So they can hit Albion but you can’t hit—”
“Lucifer’s Nebula,” Ida said. “The planet Kolahn IV.”
She might as well have said we were the Argonauts heading to cross the River Styx for the reputation that planet had. Everyone else looked like I felt. All except Major Terra who showed no sign the mission bothered her.
“I see,” I said, my mouth suddenly dry.
Munin said, “Do I still get a share of the money if I bail?”
“No,” I said.
“Dammit,” Munin said, peeling her doughnut and chewing on the strips. “Stupid greed overcoming my sense of self-preservation.”
Ida harrumphed. “Oh, don’t be a bunch of superstitious outer-planet backwoodsmen. Kolahn IV is just a planet like any other.”
“A haunted planet,” I said. “A place where the entirety of the population committed suicide.”
“Or killed each other,” Munin added.
Lucifer’s Nebula was a misnomer since it was actually a five systems-sized orihalcum gas cloud. Most actual nebula were impressive on telescopes but really just very spread out mist that you might not even notice if you were passing through. The planet Kolahn IV, formerly the Kolahn throne world, had gained a reputation in the six hundred years since its mass depopulation.
Several colonies and scavenger outposts had set themselves up on the planet only to end up suffering catastrophic failures ranging from disease to famine to wars. The fact the Kolahn hadn’t evolved on the world but had only occupied it for two centuries before their entire culture had changed into the violent autocracy only added to its mystique. The fact I had just been thinking of it made it all the more unsettling.
William took a deep breath. “Lie back and think of the money, Will.”
“I’ve done that before,” Isla said. “No wonder it’s been so hard to find their headquarters. A inhabitable world where you can refine endless amounts of orihalcum gas with plenty of ruins to modify into usable structures.”
“It didn’t take us that long to find,” Ida said, frowning. “It’s just that the place is technically off-limits to human ships and structures. Just a few weeks of me sorting through reports and datafeeds. Somehow, the supreme commander got permission from the Community and severa
l Kolahn clans to work there. Also, all of my predecessors since this war began were idjits.”
“Are you sure it’s their headquarters?” I asked, already knowing the answer. They wouldn’t be sending us there if it wasn’t.
“The Revengeance is parked in orbit,” Ida said, calmly. “Kind of a hard ship to miss, what with being a dozen kilometers long and all.”
“Eh, I’ve seen bigger,” Munin said.
“That’s what she said,” Isla said, grinning.
Munin frowned. “Yes, that’s what I said.”
Isla sighed.
“Don’t try and joke,” Munin said. “You’re the straight woman here. Ironic as that may sound.”
“I can joke,” Isla grumbled. “Just not well.”
“What’s our time frame?” I asked, wondering if we should just take the money and run.
“It’ll take the Melampus two weeks to reach it,” Ida said. “You’ll have to head out immediately. I’ll also be sending Fade and Major Anya Terra to accompany you.”
“So we don’t take the money and run?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ida said. “Oh and one more thing.”
“Yes?” I asked.
“Baron Octavian Plantagenet is there too,” Ida said. “You should probably kill him.”
Chapter Ten
I was lying naked next to Isla in her bed a few hours later as the ship had made the transition into jumpspace. The lights were dimmed and only the hum of the ship’s engines could be heard. I wasn’t sure how we’d ended up having sex and cuddled up next to one another given how our earlier conversation had gone but I wasn’t upset either. Unfortunately, sleep eluded me and the two of us were left with ample opportunity to discuss what was going to happen next.
“You need to let me kill Octavian,” Isla said, holding my hand and giving it a squeeze.
I didn’t want to argue against her but I recognized the problem of trying to make peace with the Free Systems Alliance when you were going to potentially murder one of their leaders under a flag of truce. “Octavian deserves to die for what he did.”
Isla, however, was a bioroid designed to be companions for men and women. That meant she was very observant of body language. “You think I’m being selfish for wanting revenge.”
“No,” I said, thinking about her story. “You were built to be a companion for humans based on a children’s movie character, only to be given to a man suffering from homicidal psychosis. A man who possessed the need to rape and kill but whose family didn’t have him locked away for treatment. You survived his horrors and escaped, forced to leave behind how many sisters to feel his wrath.”
“I know my own history, Cassius.”
“I am repeating it so I remember just how much a piece of shit we’re dealing with.”
Octavian, honestly, stunned me as a figure of such evil. He and his sister, Octavia, had always seemed to be among the milder nobility on Crius. I’d often seen him surrounded by his bioroid harem, but I’d never thought he was abusing them. Hell, I hadn’t realized bioroids were sentient until I’d actually sat down to talk with them. It was a horrifying revelation that much of humanity was now reliant on a disposable race of electric slaves.
“How the fuck did he end up a leader of the Free Systems Alliance?” Isla said, shaking her head. “Aren’t they supposed to be the good guys?”
I did a doubletake. “Really? In what universe did you think the terrorist insurgency was the good guys?”
“The one led by a version of you?” Isla said, turning my question back into a compliment.
“I’m not a good guy,” I said, chuckling. “Look at what I almost did to those escape pods.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t,” Isla said, looking at me. “You’re bent, bowed, and perhaps even broken, but war hasn’t made you a monster yet. I like to believe you’ll be able to convince an alternate version of yourself that this war isn’t worth it.”
“Also perhaps to bring you the head of Octavian on a plate?”
“That too.”
I shook my head. “I suppose it’s possible. Octavian is undoubtedly there because he has nowhere else to go. He was guardian of the Imperial Purse and captain of the treasure ship fleet for Prince Germanicus during the war. A position that became irrelevant when the planet was destroyed. Undoubtedly, everything of value he might have contributed probably disappeared when he turned it over to the Free Systems Alliance.”
“Or most of it,” Isla said coldly. “He still had enough money to put a price on my head.”
That bothered me. “That his monstrous appetites have not dulled this entire time makes me certain we do have to kill him. I’m not going to have him following you for the rest of your life, trying to get you back.”
“Or leave any other bioroids with him,” Isla suggested. “We can’t do that either.”
My primary concern was Isla but, yes, I had enough basic decency in me that I’d make sure there was room for any of his still-living victims. “Yes.”
“What if it does compromise the mission, though?” Isla asked. “We need to talk about that.”
“Then I’ll choose you,” I said without hesitation. “If I fuck up the peace process to give you a moment’s peace of mind, then screw them. This is their own doing.”
“Don’t.”
I blinked. “What?”
“If I kill Octavian then you need to throw me to the wolves,” Isla said. “Don’t compromise a galaxy for me.”
“For my psychologist, clearly you have no idea who the hell I am if you think for a second I’m going to let anything happen to you for the sake of the Commonwealth or—”
“Billions of lives?” Isla said.
I stared at her. “The woman I love.”
“One of them.” Isla turned over. “You got over one, I’m sure you’d get over me.”
Ouch. “That’s not what happened.”
“Isn’t it?” Isla talked at the wall. “I wouldn’t have minded if it was Clarice. Hell, we enjoyed the benefit of company more than—”
“Let’s move on from that,” I said. “Crius noblemen don’t speak of such things.”
Isla snorted. “But you’re not emotionally there. Whenever we’re together lately, you’re half here and half with Judith. Did you even pick me or was it just because Judith won’t share your bed anymore?”
“I pick you,” I said, not sure it would reassure her.
Isla sighed. “I don’t know if I can put aside my revenge for the peace of the galaxy. Octavian is a monster but he’s not a threat to the universe. Peace is made by pardoning monsters and forgiving war crimes if it makes the galaxy a better place.”
“No one is asking you to put aside your revenge.”
“Maybe my conscience is,” Isla said. “If the war ends, there won’t be any more need for bioroid slavery.”
I paused. “The Free Systems Alliance frees any bioroids that fall into their hands.”
“See? Good guys.”
“They also reprogram plenty of them with free will that coincidentally results in them enlisting in the Free Systems Alliance or serving in an auxiliary role.”
Isla rose up from the bed, her sheet falling down and exposing her scar-ridden back to me. It wasn’t a deliberate effort but clearly something she’d forgotten. Just looking at it made me want to hunt down Octavian and torture him with fusion pistol set on low burn. “That’s still better. All people are programmed one way or another: government, religion, military—”
“Nature versus nurture. You broke free.”
“Pain broke me free,” Isla said. “Humiliation, degradation, and hate. Things that hold me still.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. “Isla—”
“If we can’t convince your doppelganger to hand Octavian over, let it go,” Isla said. “Let it go.”
I closed my eyes. “I don’t know if—”
“When I was on the run from Octavian, desperate and scared, I did terrible things to survi
ve. I prostituted myself at the best, stole and killed at the worst. I became a doctor because I wanted to try and pay back some of that bloody bill. This is a chance to redeem myself. To redeem you. For all of us to make a real positive difference in the universe.”
I was silent.
“Cassius?”
I closed my eyes. “I want to believe that.”
“But you don’t.”
I shook my head. “I told hundreds of fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons, and daughters that fighting the Commonwealth in the war was the right thing to do. That they were coming to murder us, steal from us, and rape us. I was proven right when they dropped a hundred asteroids on Crius. That didn’t make the war against them justified, though. All it did was make sure we knew we’d failed. Maybe it could have been stopped if we’d sued for peace earlier.”
“You sound like you’re agreeing with me.”
“Or maybe not,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Every one of Archangel Squadron was part of my family during the war. Men and women I’d trained with, ate with, slept beside, and killed with. I led them all to their deaths and for nothing.”
They were the faces that haunted my nightmares. They were eternal now, flying the star lanes with God and the other warriors of my dead nation. My punishment was to spend however many decades, even centuries, it took to die until I joined them. I was surprised I believed enough in the supernatural to know that was true. Then again, there wasn’t a spacer alive who hadn’t seen ghosts in jumpspace.
“This is different, Cassius. This is for something real.”
“Only if it works.”
Isla stared at the wall. “There’s no guarantees in this life. I bet you saw plenty of soldiers who were sent out to save their buddies or accomplish something great only to die trying.”
“You have no idea.”
“But I bet it worked sometimes.”
“Only until the next battle.”
“Promise me.”
I took a deep breath. “You’re asking me, if I see your rapist and torturer, not to cut his fucking throat where he stands.”
“Yes.”
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