by Jason Hutt
He heard the door cycle and someone walked in. After a few footsteps, the loud echo of the footfalls mercifully stopped. Max was tempted to crack his eyes, but just the thought sent a spike through his skull. He could tell by the sound that it wasn’t a drone.
“Max,” said a woman’s voice. Nick’s mom, Maria Cahill, he thought. She continued, “I read in your file that you’re an alcoholic. I figure it’s been at least a week since you had a drink, if not longer. I thought I’d bring you something to help you through…a show of good faith if you will.”
“I’m not opening my eyes unless it’s a bottle of scotch,” Max said.
“Despite my gifts to the warden, I wouldn’t be able to get that through,” she said. Max heard her footfalls get closer, then she slapped something on his arm.
“Worst invention ever,” Max said, but he immediately started to feel relief. What had been head-pounding throbs slowed to just a dull ache and when he opened his eyes, the brightness of the light had gone down a couple of suns, and the megaphone was removed from his ear. He blinked as the world around him became tolerable. He rubbed at his eyes with his palms and then deliberately swung his legs to the floor. Sudden motion made the pain in his head pulse, but he pushed through it. He frowned and wriggled to loosen his sweat-drenched clothes from his back.
“Thank you, I suppose,” Max said, “I didn’t really think you’d return. I was wondering if I’d imagined what you said when you left.”
“I wish that were true,” Maria said. She stared at him and he could feel the storm clouds churning behind her eyes. “If politics has taught me nothing, it’s that you don’t have to like the person on the other side of the table in order to get a deal done. I don’t need to be friends with you; I just need your help.”
Max laughed involuntarily. “Why would I want to help you? If you think I’m going to sell out any of my friends and family, well, I’ve got good news for you. You got them all. Congratulations.”
Maria clenched her jaw. “You’ve spent the majority of your life thumbing your nose at the Republic. Now is your chance to do it on a much grander scale.”
Max laughed. “I don’t thumb my nose at anyone; I just do whatever someone pays me to do. I’m not in this for revolution, Senator.”
“You’ve done more over the last two decades to subvert the Republic than any person alive and you’re not in this for revolution?”
“You think I knew what was on my ship that day? You think I wanted that attack at Nexus?” Max asked.
“I don’t know what to think.”
“My friends piloted those other freighters. Do you know what I would give to sit around a table and share a drink with them? I didn’t know.”
Maria glared at him. “This is beside the point.”
“Those were families on Dust. Those were families on Maisha. I just wanted them to live their lives. I just wanted them to live…I didn’t want your son to die. I tried to save him.”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” Maria said.
“You want my help. You think I’m in this for revolution. I’m not. Nick was in it for the revolution.”
“Don’t talk about him!” Maria yelled. “Don’t bring him into this.”
“You know, I lost my daughter, too.”
“Don’t,” Maria said, “I don’t want to go down this path. I will hate you to the end of days for what happened to my son, but that doesn’t he-”
“I tried to save him,” Max said.
“I know! I’ve seen the damn memories! I’ve watched my son die in your arms! Your arms! Not mine! Not mine…I hate you for that more than anything.”
Max said nothing as tears started rolling down Maria’s cheeks. Max could spar like this all day, but in his head, he heard the voice of his wife calling him an asshole. “My daughter died in my arms, too,” Max said, “I held her in those final moments. That’s pain that I will never forget and that I would never wish on anyone. It took some time after that, but I decided I would help whatever families came my way. At first, I did it because I had to, because I had to pay that madman for the gift he gave my wife, but then I did it because it was the only thing that felt right. It wasn’t about politics or laws. I did what I had to do for those families, those kids.
“That was then, though. Now my wife, my ex-wife, is dead. Then, Victor, the last person I considered a friend. The only thing I want to do now is drink, drink until I can’t see any more, drink until I can’t think, drink until I can’t feel or remember a goddamn thing. And if I can’t drink, well, you might as well just walk me to the gallows, because I’m tired of everything else.”
A moment of silence passed between them. Maria looked at him through tear-stained eyes and said, “Your daughter is still out there.”
“She’s not my daughter,” Max said, but the words rang hollow as he cast his gaze to the floor. Even he didn’t believe them anymore.
“I thought you were in it for the kids, Max? Isn’t that what you just said a moment ago? I guess you’re in it for all the kids except for one.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Max said, “I can’t help her anymore. All she wants to do is fight. All she’ll do is die!” Now tears streamed down Max’s face.
“Would you rather she die alone? Or would you rather she die with you at her side?”
“How about a no death option? Huh? Can’t we just go somewhere where half the Republic isn’t trying to kill us?” Max asked. “Can’t I just take her way?”
The look of scorn that Maria had been looking at him with broke and her eyes filled with compassion. She took a step toward Max and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not your choice, Max. She’s made her decision; the rest is up to you.”
“I don’t want this,” Max said.
“Neither of us do,” Maria said, “There is no way you can give her the life you want her to have, Max. All you can do is help her through the life she’s chosen.”
“And when that’s not enough?” Max asked, searching for an answer that wasn’t there.
“Then at least you’ve given her a chance.”
The room was silent as they both stared at the floor. A father without his daughter and a mother without her son stared into the void of lives unfulfilled. Their eyes were red-rimmed. Max knew how Maria’s heart felt and she his. He knew the rage she carried inside her. He knew that Maria would give anything to have her son back. That was a gift she would never get, unlike Max.
“What do you want from me?” Max asked.
“I need your ship.”
“I know,” Max said, “You’ve been trying to get it for years.”
Maria sighed and had a seat on the bunk opposite Max. She leaned in close, her lips uncomfortably close to his ear, and whispered, “We’re going to secede, Max, but I need your ship to do it.”
“This is a joke, right?”
Maria shook her head. “Inspection teams are on their way to Demeter. They’ll leave in a few days for other colonies – Taraq, Shire, Koenigswald – a few others. When they get there, they’ll discover various violations of Republic law and new sanctions will be imposed on the offending colonies. The colonists will be relocated; the colonies shut down. More people will be ground under the boot heel of the Republic, all so a few people that roam the halls of the Capitol can continue to gain power and pad their bottomline.”
“I can’t fight a war.”
“You don’t need to. I’m not asking you to. All you need to do is hand over your ship. I’ve already got an Admiral and a fleet.”
“Why should I?” Max asked, but he already knew.
“Because you’re in it for the people, Max. Just like me.”
Max shook his head and then rubbed at the scruff on his cheeks. “I don’t have it. I gave it to Hannah.”
“Can you get ahold of her?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Where is she?”
“Last I left her, she was with a band of pirates being led by a
man named Ironheart. They were routed from their base by your war dogs, led by that Akimbe guy. I don’t know where she is now.”
“But you can reach her?” Maria asked.
“Sort of,” Max said, “But I have one condition…well, make that two conditions.”
***
Akimbe stood on a rocky outcropping at the scenic overlook for the sprawling, heavily-wooded valley below. Nightfall was rapidly approaching and the reddish-purple hues bathed the valley in a breathtaking display of beauty. Akimbe kept his focus on the gleaming white monolith that dominated the top of the next hillside, Waverly Federal Prison.
Someone exited the visitor’s entrance. Akimbe zoomed in on Senator Cahill as she marched purposefully toward her aircar. She pulled her jacket closed as a stiff breeze blew over the hills. Akimbe smiled; he could appreciate her need to see him, to lay her own eyes on him to make sure they really had him. Were Akimbe in her shoes, he would visit Max at every opportunity, just to twist the knife a little further.
You lost, you scumbag, Akimbe thought. Akimbe scanned the perimeter cataloging every sentry, sensor node, and spotlight that covered the building. There was no entrance gate for someone to sneak through, only the landing pad which lay inside the perimeter fence. The building was impenetrable on foot.
To extricate someone from the prison by force would take an army. One would have to blast through the security locks, past the drones, find the individual cell in its labyrinthine interior, fight your way back out, and do it all before Sector Security or Republic military forces were alerted. It was impossible.
“Take a note,” Akimbe said to his wrist computer. “Roland, she is here, somewhere. I’m certain of it. I’ve spent the day scouting around Waverly. If she’s here to free Max, I don’t see how she’ll do it. A direct assault on the prison would be futile and require more firepower than her new band of friends had at full strength. No, it must be something else.”
He called up the sewer system schematics; it was the only way in that suited her abilities. Even drainage entrance and exit points were secured though, as they were lined with biometric sensors designed to detect fleeing living beings.
“I don’t know what her play is yet, but please send me anything the filters turn up. I may be stuck here, but I can’t give up pursuit at this point. I have to find her; then I think I’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep.”
He ended the message and sent it off before taking one last look at the prison. During the trip back to his temporary apartment, he continued to pour through public records on the prison security systems.
The apartment’s food systems made him a meal that smelled like warmed-over rat, felt like it was boot leather injected with cactus needles and engine oil, and tasted not nearly as bad as it looked and smelled. He ate the food without much care as he researched past escape attempts at the prison.
When finished, he decided to take a long hot shower, then a short walk, and then read a book, all in the hopes that distracting himself would offer a moment of clarity and allow him to discern her plan. The forced distractions didn’t hold and he remained stumped on the problem. Just past midnight, he finally lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The need to sleep wasn’t strong enough.
His wrist computer buzzed. Transfer orders had just been filed for Max Cabot and Roger Shaw. They were to be sent to Ceres for memory extraction. They would depart at 0700 GMT. They would shepherd the two men onto a shuttle at Fort Washington. The transfer would be the weakest link, when they would be most vulnerable. If she was going to make a move, it would be then.
***
Maria’s office chair groaned as she sat in it heavily. It was quarter ‘til one in the morning and she’d just come home. She rubbed at her temples, staring vacantly at the ceiling as she leaned back in the chair. She dialed up Hiram Wingate.
He answered immediately. His appearance and expression suggested that he had put in a long day as well.
“Everything’s in place,” Maria said, “Tomorrow morning.”
“Cabot?” Hiram asked.
“He’ll be on the shuttle. Dorn had one of her people file the paperwork and it’s already been approved. We’re bound for Ceres bright and early. What about you?”
“Yesu, John, and I are leaving on an inspection tour within the hour. I’ll be leaving for the spaceport in just a couple minutes.”
“This is really it,” Maria said.
“Second thoughts?”
“There are always second thoughts. People’s lives hang in the balance, Hiram. If this goes badly…”
“And if we do nothing? If we stay on the path set out for us?”
“Like I said, there are always second thoughts. How is John doing?”
“Struggling, fretting, just like you…except more ornery.”
“He’ll be a good control for us,” she said and then paused. “Seven colonies. This is going to get rough…and bloody.”
“Nothing worthwhile comes easy.”
“We should lay off the platitudes when real lives are on the line. We don’t have much that unites us.”
“We have a common enemy.”
“It’s not going to be enough to stand against something. At some point, we’ll have to stand for something.”
“It’ll be enough for now. Tomorrow we take the first step, the biggest step, and we’ll sort out the rest later,” he said.
Maria nodded. “You have a safe trip. I’ll see you in a few days if everything goes as planned.”
“Good luck,” Hiram said and the call ended.
Hannah watched the entire exchange from her wrist computer. She had done a quick walkthrough two hours ago and placed a repeater on the Senator’s desk. Once she was on the right floor, gaining access to the apartment had proven surprisingly simple.
“The easiest way in,” Ironheart had said, “Will be to take advantage of the cleaning services. Cleaning bots are designed to be neither seen nor heard; they wouldn’t be good help otherwise. The bots come at regular intervals, suck up every last dust mite, cleanup any little spill, all while staying out of sight and out of mind. How do you think they know when the master of the house is not in the room?”
“The ID chip,” Hannah had answered.
“Good. You’re catching on. You won’t have that problem. They won’t scurry to get out of your way or always clean one room away from you. The same jacker that’ll override the lift controls should also get you in the maintenance service room. From there, just follow it on a regular run through the Senator’s place and you shouldn’t have any trouble.”
Ironheart’s words rang true and Hannah had been able to walk on the mechanical heels of a trashcan-sized cleaning bot as it began its regular rounds. She did a quick sweep, getting a better feel for the layout of the apartment, planted the repeater, and then crawled back into the maintenance grate once the bot finished its rounds.
Hannah peered through that grate. She was ten feet behind the Senator; this was her chance, her moment to catch the Senator unawares and to get this job finished. Hannah activated the manual release for the grate and it slid noiselessly into the floor. She palmed a small pistol.
Maria Cahill sat there, doing nothing. Hannah stayed low, crawling forward in complete silence, her stealth suit rendering her almost completely invisible.
Then Maria leaned forward and tapped a spot on her desktop. A projection appeared on the far half of the room. Hannah tried not to be distracted by the image. The sound of sparking electricity and crackling flame filled the room.
“Eleanor, the kit!”
Hannah stopped. That was Max’s voice. The image in the projection spun in dizzying fashion and then rested on Max. He was kneeling over the prone body of a young man, someone Hannah didn’t recognize. She stood behind Maria to get a better view.
Max frantically dug through the medical kit, finally found some defib patches, and slapped them on the young man’s chest. The young man’s body arched as electricity jolted th
rough it, but otherwise didn’t respond. Max started crying.
Hannah watched as Max dug through the medical kit looking for something, anything that would help the young man. Her father’s face was a picture of anguish as he tenderly embraced the dead body of the young man. The projection froze on that moment when Max hugged the dead body of a boy he had met just weeks before. Hannah could hear Maria sniffling and she could feel tears running down her own face.
“Obstruction,” the cleaning bot blared as it rammed into Hannah’s invisible heel. Maria jumped in her seat. As she turned her head, Hannah spun and dove for the open grate, knocking the cleaning bot on its side. She scrambled down the chute.
Hannah only stopped when she was at the turn into the central maintenance room. She listened, waiting for the sound of Senator Cahill calling security. In that moment, she remembered the repeater and switched on her wrist computer display. A connection had been made to the building’s maintenance chief.
“Hello,” Maria said, “It looks like I’ve got a malfunctioning cleaning bot here. Came in, started blaring something, and then fell over on its own.”
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll send another bot to collect it. Sorry for the trouble, ma’am.”
“Not a problem,” Maria said, “Almost gave me a heart attack, but I’m good now.”
Hannah exhaled. Her hands shook as she fought to regain her composure. She crawled into a corner of the central maintenance room and sat, pulling her knees close to her chest. Max had held that kid in a way that he had never held her, looked at him in a way he never could her. She sat there, a crying, transparent, would-be assassin, tucked in among the housekeeping drones and ignored by everything around her. The Senator would wait until tomorrow.
