Vanguard Rising: A Space Opera Adventure

by A. C. Hadfield

  They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity until, finally, Leanne spoke.

  “You weren’t my first option as a target,” she said. “But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You couldn’t leave it alone. Hell, I even left you clues, but you are so intent on justice you couldn’t see them.”

  “Would it have killed you to have told me you were Vallan?” Harlan said.

  “Yes, it would have. You do not understand what is happening in the solar system right now. There are things way beyond us. Like you, I’m just a pawn in the game. My killing you would have been a mercy compared to what is coming.”

  Harlan stood and slapped his hands against the glass barrier.

  Leanne flinched and stepped back.

  “That’s bullshit,” Harlan said. “Stop hiding behind cryptic claims. If you wish to live and avoid execution, talk. I will never stop hating you, but a tiny, withered part of me never stopped loving you. Take this opportunity. Tell me what you know—and maybe that’ll keep you alive.”

  Leanne took a half-step forward, raised a hand to the glass screen, but then dropped it to her side and sat back on the bench, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “You don’t understand what you’re asking. I can’t.”

  “Damn it, Leanne. You leave me with no alternative.”

  Harlan turned his back on the glass screen and left the cell compartment, taking his seat within the commuter carriage.

  They were less than a quarter of an hour away from docking at Atlas Station. The feed showed their approach. A familiar tourist video played, quoting the facts to newcomers, although there were few these days who hadn’t either been born on Atlas or visited it from one of the many colonies or the other six stations.

  An abbot with long blond hair spoke with all the plastic charm in the world. “Welcome to Atlas Station. Atlas is home to five million humans and abbots. It is forty-five kilometers in diameter and ten torus-levels high. Each ring has ten levels within it to make over one hundred comfortable habitable areas.

  “In old ‘money’ it cost well over one hundred trillion, but shortly after its initial build, the abbot and space-based construction technology rapidly reduced the cost to where a financial economy wasn’t necessary; everything humanity and abbotkind needed was already out there in space. They mined most of the material from the moon and asteroids within the Belt. Using mass drivers and construction docks, the automated abbots made quick work of the manufacturing, securing a new home for the descendants of the now-ruined Earth.”

  Harlan couldn’t help but think this all sounded like abbot propaganda: the machine entities promoting themselves as the savior of humanity.

  They seemed to forget who had designed and built them.

  A small tug-like shuttle flanked them and escorted their ship to the dock on level three. The old transport ship altered its arc, plumes of thrust ejecta blooming in space like miniature versions of the geysers from Saturn’s moon Enceladus.

  The transport ship docked without incident this time, and the port authority checked the ship’s manifest. Fifteen standard minutes of administrative procedures later, Harlan had given them his identification and authority to transport a criminal.

  Leanne remained silent during the journey throughs the silicon runners’ HQ on level five of Atlas Station. As Harlan escorted her through the office, a dozen of his colleagues, busy at work at their terminals, turned to face him and applaud.

  Some cheered the fact Harlan had brought Santos Vallan to justice, while others chatted amongst each other, casting furtive glances.

  It was clear some of them had recognized Leanne as his ex-wife.

  Some veterans in the office had been there when Harlan had had his breakdown. Those looked at him with a mix of surprise and pity, no doubt confused about how to react. Harlan didn’t blame them; he had mixed emotions about the situation, too.

  Harlan placed Leanne into a holding cell and returned to his cubicle, ready to write up his report and present his charges to the Sol-Fed justice system.

  His boss, Hugo Raul, was waiting for Harlan and indicated that he should join him in his private office. Harlan followed and closed the door behind him. Hugo sat at the ornate desk in the bright room. A window overlooked level five of the station, showing a scene of busy citizens going about their business, trading and moving to and from their places of work.

  To them, this was just another day.

  To Harlan, it was a turning point in his life. But instead of closure for an old wound, it had become a complete reversal.

  Hugo eased his elbows onto the desk and leaned forward. His thick black eyebrows met in the middle as his forehead creased. His bald head shone beneath the overhead LED lights. A contemporary suit fitted him like a glove, showing his still-fit form despite him having hit his centenary.

  “Well, Harlan, this is an unusual situation,” he said, his deep voice resonating.

  “Yeah, you can imagine my surprise. Turns out I was the target after all that chasing around.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Hugo said. “I’m talking about the fact that Santos Vallan is your ex. I find it difficult to believe you wouldn’t have had any idea after all these years that it was her.”

  Most times, Harlan appreciated Hugo’s bluntness. It meant he could manage his silicon runners with no bullshit, but this insinuation just pissed Harlan off.

  After everything he had been through, it wouldn’t have been too much to expect Hugo to show some sympathy for his situation or perhaps congratulate him on a job well done.

  “Look, boss, this is as much of a surprise to me as it is to you. Do you really think if I knew Leanne was an assassin, I would have stayed quiet all these years? You know how much that bitch hurt me.”

  Hugo leaned back in his chair and arched his fingers. “I guess so,” he said. “I trust you. It’s just the governors are riding my ass these days for results. Leanne has caused untold collateral damage over the last few months. Her killing an abbot has caused a major diplomatic crisis with Asimovia, and they’re pointing the figure of blame at you.”

  “I did my best. I’m not sure what else was expected of me. We should be thankful that it was only an abbot she killed. She was with me on the transport ship for two weeks and had the opportunity to kill any number of the few hundred people there. That this was all a setup to get to me meant that we actually reduced any collateral damage if her controllers had other ideas for her.”

  Hugo got out of his chair, turned his back, and looked out the window. He paced back and forth. There was something else on his mind. He wasn’t usually this distant.

  “Boss, listen, I’m not stupid. I can tell something’s going on. You wouldn’t bring me in here to tear a strip off me for a job I did well. Why don’t you just come out with it?”

  “I want you to drop this case. Leanne is involved in something much larger. I don’t know what yet, but I just got off the phone with the governor of Asimovia, and he’s escalating this to the House of Messengers for debate.”

  Harlan stood and leaned against the table. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s my ex. Who better to follow this case than me? I know her. I can get the information from her. We can find out who she’s working for and what this other business is about. Damn it, Hugo, let me do my job.”

  Hugo turned to face him and placed his hands in his trouser pockets. “I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands. Besides, I’ve got another task for you.”

  “I don’t want another job. I haven’t finished this one yet. Don’t treat me like some newbie. I’m one of the most experienced runners you have. Let me do this.”

  Hugo sighed and ran a hand over his head. He sat down and gestured to Harlan to also sit. “If I could, I would, Harlan, trust me. But you’ll be interested in this other case; it’s something that can put your considerable skills to use while all this business with Asimovia blows over.”

  Realizing he was getting nowhere, Harlan sat back in h
is chair and resigned himself. If Hugo was being pushed from someone above, that was way beyond Harlan’s privilege level.

  That didn’t mean he couldn’t check in with Leanne and see how the case was going. Harlan had a few more tricks up his sleeve than Hugo knew.

  “What is the case?” Harlan asked, accepting his reassignment.

  “An abbot has disappeared. But not just any abbot. We’re talking about one of the first ever V3s. One of the QCA founders. Fizon.”

  “Holy shit. That’s huge. When did Fizon go missing?”

  “A few days ago. I knew I’d get your attention with that one. It’ll be good for you to take your mind off Leanne. We don’t want a repeat of what happened before.”

  Harlan controlled an outburst. He didn’t appreciate being reminded about that time of his life, and it was unfair of Hugo to use it as a way of manipulating him.

  “Fine. I’ll take the case. Send me the brief, and I’ll get on it right away.”

  “You’ll be starting this afternoon. We’ve got a meeting with the governor of Asimovia first and then disciplinary action for the death of the abbot. I will do all I can to make sure this doesn’t end up on your record. And if you do this new case, well, that will go a long way to improving your current standing. But hear me when I say this, Harlan, this is likely your last chance. Your previous three cases have all ended up with considerable collateral damage and the deaths of civilians. If it wasn’t for me, they’d have fired you even before this case. So please, for the sake of your career, do as I say and find this missing abbot with no more death and destruction.”

  “Sounds like I have no other option.”

  “No, you don’t. Go home, get some sleep, and be back here by 1500 hours. And don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you later.”

  Harlan turned and approached the door, but Hugo stopped him. “I’m serious, Harlan. Don’t screw up this last opportunity.”

  Harlan said nothing, opened the door, and headed home, contemplating his future if he failed and wondering what degrading task they would assign him.

  If they kicked him out of the silicon runners, there was no way he would accept some terrible job with an even lower access status. There were plenty of organizations out there who would be glad for his skills, but they all existed in the gray area of what was legal. So gray they were as dark as the void of space.

  Before joining the silicon runners, he’d spent the previous fifteen years working as a rogue trader. If it came to it, he’d resume that career path, even if it was a life that wouldn’t welcome him back given his status as a silicon runner. It’d be like the circus tamer moving to the veldt to become a lion.

  7

  Irena checked her watch for the third time. Or was it the fourth? The surrounding forest was quiet, and she’d not heard anything run past her position for nearly two hours now. Like a fox, she’d found a small hole and burrowed into it, using leaves and sticks as cover. The coldness of the dirt had seeped into her bones. She wasn’t shivering through panic now; just the chill of the earth.

  Using a piece of fabric she had ripped from her T-shirt, she bandaged her hand. Most of the bleeding had stopped now, and upon closer inspection she found that the wound was only a graze.

  Having had time to recover from the panic and the horror of seeing her friends murdered, she felt more in control of herself. She eased her body up through the hole and pulled the leaves aside so she could get a view of her surroundings.

  Her breath plumed in the frigid air. The sun had set and cast the woods into an inky blackness. Silver light reflected off the gray birch bark, giving her a few spots of light with which to navigate. With no sign of movement around her and no sounds of screaming or other calls from the earthers, she pulled herself free from her foxhole, identified North using the stars spotted through the tree line, and headed south.

  Although it was a long shot, she had to at least head towards the project facility. Station Nord offered no shelter, and she couldn’t be sure that another rogue abbot wasn’t waiting, concealed in the ruin.

  Irena crawled from her burrow and took tentative steps across the cold ground, looking at her watch as she moved. She’d barely travelled over five minutes before she heard movement on her flanks. Shadows and shapes flickered in the moonlight around the trees. She knew she was being stalked again. Two of the earthers in ragged clothes jumped out from a thicket of trees in front of her and swung their arms towards her.

  She jumped back.

  They lurched forward again. This time, one of them grabbed her leg and brought her crashing to the ground. It grunted, spittle flew from its mouth. It lunged at her, trying to snap its teeth around her arm.

  Irena screamed and kicked out, driving her foot as hard as she could into the creature’s groin. It roared and rolled over, freeing her from her pinned position. She kicked out again, knocking it to the side, giving her the chance to stand and run.

  Low-hanging branches struck her in the face as she ran into the woods. She was unsure of where her pursuers were.

  The howls of more earthers echoed from behind her—they were getting close.

  Part of her wished she had been shot back at the station; it would have been a lot quicker and pain-free. She couldn’t face being attacked and eaten by these devolved humans.

  Irena leapt over a fallen log and stumbled into a clearing. When she regained her balance, she made to sprint forward, but booming gunfire pulled her up short. A barrage of bullets struck into the trees all around her. Splinters of wood and leaves tumbled down around her shoulders.

  Ahead of her on either side of the clearing were two automatic gun sentries. Their tripodal chrome metallic casings were lit by two bright spotlights placed on the outside of a ruined single-story building that Irena supposed was another, abandoned, station.

  Behind and to one side of the building, she saw the corner of a ship. It looked like a light freighter. It was painted black with white stripes. A mix of relief and fear filled Irena’s guts as she realized she’d found a crew of contraband salvagers.

  The sentry guns retrained their aim.

  Irena looked down and saw she had passed through a laser beam. She stepped back from the laser. The gun sentries stopped tracking.

  The gang of earthers had ceased their howling. When Irena turned around, she saw they were backing away. After the ringing in her ears from the gunfire had dissipated, she noticed a voice calling out to her. This was no earther howl but actual, clear English.

  “Who’s there?” Irena shouted, panic tearing at her words.

  “I could ask the same question,” a woman’s voice replied.

  Irena saw a tall elegant woman step out from an abandoned building, its walls half tumbled, the roof fallen in. The woman was dressed in leather overalls and combat boots. Her long gray hair was plaited and rested over her left shoulder.

  A man, tiny compared to the woman, with close-cropped hair was carrying items out of the building and into the back of the freighter. Irena had to resist stepping forward again toward safety, not wishing to trip the laser beam.

  “Please help me,” she begged. “I’m a scientist from Station Nord. All my team have been killed. You must help me.”

  The woman cocked her head as if deciding whether Irena was telling the truth. Then, after a few moments of pondering, she tapped something on her forearm terminal and gestured Irena forward after the laser beam switched off.

  As soon as Irena crossed the threshold, the laser beam returned, and the sentry guns opened fire on the two earthers who had tried to follow her into the clearing.

  Irena closed her eyes, but she could still hear their hideous screams of pain.

  “Call me Bella,” the woman said, as though nothing had happened. She strode over to Irena and held her right hand out. In her left, she held a pistol.

  Irena shook her hand and introduced herself.

  “You look like you’ve been through hell. Let’s g
et you inside. That hand looks nasty.”

  The woman took Irena inside the cargo hold of the freighter and sat her down on a metal chest. The ship’s hold was full of contraband salvaged from Earth. Boxes and crates of books filled the space. The salvagers had collected computers, furniture, toys, and anything else deemed valuable to those on the colonies and the stations.

  Irena closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks to anything or anyone who was listening. “Thank you. I thought I would die out there.”

  Bella had her back to Irena, searching through different boxes until she had found what she was looking for. She turned and held out a white plastic bottle.

  “Here, take one of these; it’ll help with the pain.”

  Bella handed her the painkillers. Irena took them with a shaking hand, and then accepted a bottle of water. She took a mouthful of water and swallowed three pills.

  The two other members of the contraband crew joined Bella in the hold. They stood around Irena, regarding her with curiosity. To Irena, the man looked like a mole. Small beady eyes blinked behind round spectacles. He wore them perched on his pointy nose as he stared at her.

  The other woman lightly smacked the back of her hand against his face. “Don’t glare at her like that, Wilbur. She looks like she’s been through Hades and back.”

  “I’m curious. She’s not an abbot, is she?”

  “Of course not. When was the last time you saw an abbot bleed?”

  Bella shook her head. “Ignore these two. They don’t get out much, and they don’t see many people. Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

  Irena filled them in on the attack on the station by the rogue abbot. “If you can just get me back to the project facility, I can inform the others. Let them know what’s happened.”

  Wilbur shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, we don’t have time to take you there.”