by Isaac Hooke
“It would’ve been you,” Rade said.
“I don’t think so,” Bourbonjack said. “We had you outnumbered, and surrounded.”
“You would have lost the mission objective, though,” Rade said. “My men were prepared to blow up the Acceptor. Even if it meant their lives.”
“You would actually do that for this former client of yours?” Bourbonjack said. “The Green traitor?”
“We were definitely considering it,” Rade replied. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
“And yet you chose not to in the end,” Bourbonjack said. “That speaks volumes about your relationship with the traitor.”
“Does it?” Rade said. “That depends on your point of view.” He shook his head. “Your team got lucky, that’s all there is to it. We thought the Greens were still a day away from the station. We tracked three ships, a tanker and two Corsairs, changing course to intercept. But I guess I should have suspected the Greens had somehow placed a team on the station ahead of us.”
“It would have been wise to suspect that, on your part,” Bourbonjack said. “Because you’re right, the Greens already had an agent in this system. His name is Falon. My client. When it became clear you were headed for this system, Falon guessed you would come to this station, as it was the only free port in the area. Falon flew to the station ahead of your vessel and, supported by my team of mercenaries, assumed control of the security forces: there are no anti-Phant devices protecting the AI cores of Dakota stations.
“After taking over, we began subtly searching for the Acceptor, not wanting to alert any guardians your rogue Green might have placed. I suppose I should have suggested the storage facility earlier, but I’m paid to fight, not think. In any case, we ceased searching a few days before you arrived, again because we didn’t want to tip off any of your guardians.”
“I guess what threw me was Surus told us she couldn’t detect any Phant presence aboard,” Rade said. “That’s why I assumed the Greens hadn’t beat us here.”
“Surus?” Bourbonjack said. “That’s our traitor? The one who fought within your golden mech in the final battle of the First Alien War?”
“You mean you didn’t know all this time?” Rade said.
“No,” Bourbonjack said. “Falon didn’t tell us which Green we were hunting. All we knew was she was a traitor.”
“Does that change your opinion of the so-called traitor in any way?” Rade asked.
“No,” Bourbonjack said. “She’s wanted by some Green High Council for crimes committed against other Greens.”
“I’m surprised you even remember her,” Rade said.
“I remember every one of the Greens who fought with us that day,” Bourbonjack said. “Their names are graven into my memories, along with those of my own men, and those who died.” He was quiet for a time, staring downward. Then he looked up. “You shouldn’t have changed your ship’s registry information. I had no idea it was the Argonaut. I would have held my men back if I knew it was you. I would have tried to get you to surrender much earlier. And I certainly wouldn’t have allowed Falon to sic his robot spiders on you.”
“Well, what’s done is done,” Rade said. “No one died, thankfully.”
“Though if someone had, I’d never be able to forgive myself,” Bourbonjack said.
“Neither would I,” Rade said.
“Who, yourself, or me?” Bourbonjack asked.
“Both.” Rade paused. “You never did answer my implied question.”
“Which one?”
“Surus wasn’t able to sense the presence of any Phants aboard,” Rade said. “Why?”
“Ah.” Bourbonjack’s hologram nodded. “That. Shortly before your arrival, Falon departed in a shuttle, knowing that the traitor, your Surus, would detect him when she came aboard.”
“Damn,” Rade said. “Nice move.”
“Thanks,” Bourbonjack said. “Though I didn’t come up with the plan. I really have no idea what the capabilities of these Greens are, in regards to one another. Their ability to sense each other, the range of that ability, and so forth.”
“Neither do I, really,” Rade said. “So when are you going to tell me why you’re tapping in? And I assume the answer will explain why you’ve kept a guard posted outside the Argonaut’s airlock.”
“All right, down to business then,” Bourbonjack said. “I have a favor to ask of you. Or rather, more of a demand. Not made by me, mind you, but my client. Falon.”
“I thought you said we would be free to go once we surrendered?” Rade said. “So you lied, then.”
“Yup, I lied,” Bourbonjack agreed.
“Wasn’t it you who taught me that a man is only as good as his word?” Rade said.
Bourbonjack pursed his lips. “Nope. Wasn’t me. That man you thought you knew on the Teams? You never did. In fact, he’s long gone.”
Rade glanced at Shaw. She looked at him with an I-told-you-so expression.
“Fine, so what is it your client demands of me?” Rade said.
“Falon wants you to teleport to the conquered world via the Acceptor, and capture Surus,” Bourbonjack explained. “You’re the only one who can guarantee her ensnarement. If our team attempts the op, the odds of her escaping are very high. Also, apparently this conquered world is filled with strange creatures: who can say what alien allies she’d bring down on my men.”
“Why not just wait until Surus returns through the Acceptor on her own?” Rade said.
“She will likely send a scout ahead of her, first,” Bourbonjack said. “That Noctua robot you described.”
“That’s fine,” Rade said. “Just make everything look as innocuous as possible. Put the Acceptor back in the storage compartment. Then stun her when she appears after Noctua.”
“We considered that,” Bourbonjack said. “But Falon doesn’t want to risk waiting until her return. He worries that she will acquire certain technology from that conquered world, tech that will protect her from the stun devices of this universe.”
“That’s not what she told me she was seeking...” Rade said.
“Did you ever consider that she didn’t tell you everything?” Bourbonjack said.
“Good point,” Rade said. Surus did in fact have a bad habit of not telling him everything. “Though I’m not sure I can agree to help.”
“Is it because of the pay?” Bourbonjack said. “Your men will be fully compensated of course. Falon and the Greens have agreed to pay triple whatever stipend Surus is currently offering you.”
“No, it’s not that,” Rade said. “She is our client. It would be wrong to betray her like this. And she believes what she is doing is right. That she’s helping humanity. And I believe that, too.”
“Probably a false belief,” Bourbonjack said. “These Greens, I’ve learned they mostly only really look out for themselves, not humanity.”
“Not her,” Rade said. “She’s different. She cares.”
“That’s what they all say,” Bourbonjack commented. “So you won’t do it? Even for triple pay?”
“Not willingly,” Rade said.
Bourbonjack nodded slowly. “You asked why a guard was posted at your airlock...”
“Oh-oh,” Rade said. “Here it comes. The betrayal of my former master chief.”
Those words seemed to hurt Bourbonjack, because his expression crumpled slightly as if he was in actual physical pain. But his features became serene a moment later.
“I’m sure you’ve realized by now that your men, and your family, are still essentially hostages?” Bourbonjack said. “At our mercy? The security forces of this station are completely ours. If we don’t want your ship to go, you’re not going. In fact, we can cease repairs whenever we want. And your missile inventory is useless in dry dock.”
Rade forced a smile. He was wondering when Bourbonjack would play that card. The man was right, of course. The mercenaries hadn’t towed the ship back to the station and stuffed them into dry dock for repairs out of go
odwill alone: by doing so, they prevented the Argonaut from launching the missiles. If Rade did fire them in the closed quarters of the repair dock, sure he’d inflict major damage, but he’d blow up his own ship in the process.
Rade glanced at Shaw once again.
Bourbonjack picked up on the gesture immediately. “Shaw is listening in now, isn’t she?”
“She is,” Rade agreed. “As are a few members of my crew.”
“Good,” Bourbonjack said. “They need to hear this. Do this for her. For your kids.”
“So you’re going to use my kids against me,” Rade said. “Blackmail me.”
Bourbonjack sighed. “Look, it’s not me. I’m following the orders of my client here.”
“And yet you’re acting as his black hand,” Rade said.
Bourbonjack looked away.
“So much for following your own moral code now that you’re a civilian, huh?” Rade pressed.
Bourbonjack met his eyes angrily. “I am following my code. This Green of yours is a murderer. She kills her own kind. Falon told me she who we hunt already trapped a Green in the core of a star. And from what I know, once a Phant is stuck inside a star, it’s never getting out.”
“She did it because the Green you mentioned turned on us,” Rade said. “Creating a robot swarm weapon that nearly destroyed a Russian colony. If it wasn’t for Surus’ help, that colony, and the five million people living there, would be gone. Wiped from existence by a horde of micro robots.”
“While that may be the case, the Greens refuse to help humanity further until she is captured and pays for her crimes,” Bourbonjack said.
“Actually, their High Council has ordered them to hunt her down,” Rade said, “precisely because she is the only one still helping humanity in this region of space, by hunting the remaining Phants. The Greens have lied to you. They have no intention of helping us against the impending Phant threat. They’ve signed some sort of peace treaty with the other Phants, promising not to interfere. I suspect they plan to eventually abet them in some way, but that’s another story.”
“Even if any of that were true,” Bourbonjack said. “I still have to look out for my men. I’ve got a ship to pay for, and salaries to cover. I need the money. I’m sorry. If you won’t help Falon, I can’t guarantee the safety of your family. But if you do, I promise you, when you return with the rogue, you’ll be free to go. This will be the last thing we ever ask of you. You’ll never see me, or any other Greens, ever again. And as I mentioned, Falon is willing to pay triple what Surus is offering you.”
“I think you’re bluffing,” Rade said. “I can’t believe you’d actually harm Shaw, or my kids.”
“I certainly wouldn’t,” Bourbonjack said. “Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for the alien I work for. I’ll certainly try to dissuade him from doing anything nefarious, but I’ll repeat, in case you didn’t hear me the first time: if you won’t help, I can’t guarantee the safety of your family.”
Rade stared at Bourbonjack for several long moments. Then he glanced at Shaw. She shook her head subtly, as if telling him no, don’t do it. His gaze finally shifted to the twins.
He couldn’t risk anything happening to his family.
He felt his features harden.
Tahoe was right. Fatherhood has changed me.
Rade looked back at Bourbonjack. No, not looked. Glared. “I’ll do it. But I don’t want any of your blood money.”
“Fine by me,” Bourbonjack said. “I’ll keep the money for my own men.”
As Rade continued to glare at him, Bourbonjack slumped, seeming to feel the full weight of what he was doing for the first time. An anguished look flashed across his features, then faded.
“Man,” Bourbonjack said. “I could really use a cold glass of Bourbon right about now. I’m sorry Rade, I really am.”
In answer, Rade merely disconnected.
eleven
Rade chose Tahoe, TJ, Bender, Manic and Harlequin to accompany him on the betrayal mission, along with combat robots Algorithm and Brat. Fret, Shaw, and Lui would remain aboard the Argonaut with the rest of the Centurions, protecting the twins. Rade didn’t entirely trust the Greens, even if Bourbonjack swore that nothing would happen to his children while he was gone. Rade had ordered those who remained behind to use deadly force to repel any boarding parties.
Rade and his selected group were escorted by two of Bourbonjack’s mercenaries. The Argonauts were weaponless, and wore their strength-enhancing jumpsuits, absent any jetpacks. The mercs led them into the flight concourse and through a docking tube to one of the Corsairs. They entered the ship’s airlock and made their way through the tight passages. Every now and then the team passed a crew member, who flattened him or herself against the bulkheads to let the group pass.
“Look at these scrawny little bitches,” Bender commented loudly as they marched by two camo-wearing mercenaries. “They remind me of Fret.”
“Hey, I’m still on the comm,” Fret transmitted from the Argonaut.
“I know you are, bitchboy,” Bender said. “Why do you think I brought it up? But man, just look at them. The biceps on this one are miniscule. I’ll need a magnifying glass to see them. Bourbonjack must be hiring the cheapest help he can get. Either that, or the stock available at the get-your-bitch auction must have been exceedingly low this year. I’d be surprised if any of these mofos can even aim a rifle in manual mode. Bitches are probably like, manual mode? What’s dat?” His voice shifted upward in pitch as he continued. “I’m scared. I need an AI to babysit my shooting, because I suck so bad at it. Mommy, do I have to shoot the big strong man? I want his manliness inside me instead. He’s so big, he’s so strong, I think I’m in love with that afro!”
One of the mercenaries broke away from the bulkhead at those words and crashed into Bender. Punching away, the merc sent him plunging to the deck in a blur of fists.
Bender easily deflected the continual punches, as his assailant wasn’t wearing a strength-enhancing jumpsuit like him. He started laughing. “Bitch got some spunk!”
“Hey, you know, I think that really is a woman,” TJ said.
Bender stopped for a second to gaze at his short-haired attacker. “Well I’ll be a pussy-whipped giraffe! By Jove, Watson, I think you do be right!”
The woman’s fist found his open faceplate, smashing his left eye.
“Hey, damn it!” Bender caught her wrist.
Her other arm came flying in, but he stopped it, too.
He smiled, flashing that golden grille. “Hey baby. When this mission is over, we should continue this conversation in private.”
“Up yours,” the mercenary said.
“You want to, pretty thing?” Bender said. “Cuz I got time now. You got a crib where we can lay? Maybe a storage room?”
“Let her go, Bender,” Rade said.
“Aw, come on boss,” Bender said. “We were just starting to play.”
But he slid her off and stood.
The mercenary rose as well, and straightened her fatigues before angrily shoving past the others.
“I like her,” Bender said.
“I know you do,” TJ said.
“Once more we witness firsthand another of Bender’s failed pick up attempts,” Manic said. “As usual, you’re a master at showing us how it’s done.”
“Hey Manic, come here,” Bender said. “My fist wants to tell something to your teeth.”
“My teeth are going to have to pass on that,” Manic said.
The tender region around Bender’s left eye was starting to swell so that he could barely keep it open.
“Bender, do we have to stop so you can get that looked at?” Rade asked.
“No, it’s fine,” Bender said. “I use my right eye to shoot.”
“You got to stop trying to date our clients, or other mercs,” TJ said. “What you got to do is find yourself a nice stripper girl, like Manic did, and settle down.”
“We saw how well that worked out for M
anic,” Tahoe said.
“I was joking,” TJ said.
“Hey, I’m very happy with my stripper,” Manic said.
“Happy sending her monthly payments, you mean?” Bender said.
In a few moments the Argonauts stepped into the cargo hold of the Corsair. There were more mercenaries present, along with Centurions. They were guarding the Acceptor, which had been placed in the center of the room.
Bourbonjack stood patiently beside the metallic disk of the teleporter.
“The old team,” Bourbonjack said, grinning widely. “It’s good to see you all.”
“You too,” Manic said. “Except for the part about you blackmailing us to betray our own client.”
Bourbonjack’s smile faded; he opened his mouth as if he was going to say something more, but then simply shrugged instead.
“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue, Gramps?” Bender said. “Whoops. I meant Master Chief. Did I actually say that??” He acted all chagrined.
“Gramps suits me just fine,” Bourbonjack said. “I’m not your master chief anymore.”
“You can say that again,” Manic said. “We haven’t reported to you in, what, twelve years?”
“Something like that.” Bourbonjack turned to the armory that was open beside him. “Here, got some presents for you.” He reached inside and began tossing laser rifles to each member of the group.
When he reached Rade, he handed over an ordinary laser weapon, followed by another rifle that differed slightly from the others in that it had long strips of what looked like sound-dampening material affixed to the barrel.
“A stun rifle?” Rade asked.
“Our version of one, yes,” Bourbonjack said. “You can fire it from up to two hundred meters away. And upon impact, the Phant will be stunned for at least five minutes.”
“That’s better than what Surus came up with,” Rade said.
Bourbonjack shrugged. “Falon is good at taking existing tech and improving it.”
Rade strapped the stun rifle to his shoulder, and kept the other weapon in hand. He accepted two of the frag grenades that Bourbonjack handed out next, along with an M1120 demolition block wrapped in Mylar, and attached them to his harness.
