2
Tia began the next day with the mild headache of a slight hangover. She was grateful that they had a connection to the Allentown Station water reservoirs, allowing her the comfort of a quick shower in the ship's washroom as part of her daily routine when allowed.
Her commlink beeped while she dried herself off. She pulled on the lower half of her jumpsuit before reaching over to tap the receive key. "Tia here," she said.
"Tia." The female voice on the other end was full of relief. "I was worried about you."
Tia finished pulling the jumpsuit on and turned toward the link. A holographic projection showed a screen. Her old comrade Linh Khánh filled the screen. Now a senior engineer and dockmaster of the Trinidad Station Dockworkers' Guild, they remained fellow exiles committed to overthrowing the megacorp-ruled oligarchy that oppressed their homeworld.
In response to Linh's worry, Tia asked, "What's wrong? What's happened?"
"Comrade Viên is dead."
Tia plopped down on the nearby changing bench. Her eyes lowered. Disbelief quickly gave way to grief. "What happened? Wasn't he on New Aragon serving in the Interstellar Association of Trade Unions' Planning Committee?"
Linh nodded. "The local authorities found him in Balaguer after responding to a call about a mugging. From what I've learned, they're treating it as a local crime that got out of hand."
Tia shook her head. "Viên wouldn't have been killed so easily by a street mugger."
"Now you know why I'm worried. Viên, Sandra, Camille, Michel. All dead in the last six months. You and I are the only ones from the senior cadre left who haven't signed that damn amnesty."
Tia heard the suspicion in Linh's voice. "You think it's a plot?"
"It can't be coincidence."
"I fear you're right." Tia drew in a breath and tried to think about what it all could mean. Over the past decade, the mega-corporations of the Hestian Business Council mostly ignored the exiles. Those who signed the amnesty—and the attendant loyalty oath to the HBC-run republic—were let back onto Hestia without difficulties. Those who refused to sign were only pursued if they ventured where the HBC's members held sway.
If that had changed… why?
Remembering her old friend and her worry, Tia tried to reassure her. "You're in more danger than I, Linh. I'm a moving target for them; you're not."
"I understand that. And I've taken precautions. But I wanted to make sure you were too. Be careful at your ports of call."
"I will," Tia promised. "Check in daily?"
"Yes, and we'll use the new code words. Just in case."
"Agreed. Stay safe, Comrade Linh."
"Stay safe, Comrade Tia."
Tia reached over and tapped the holographic icon to end the call. She watched her old friend's image disappear with a heavy heart. Her mind kept flashing back to Viên Huỳnh. He'd been among the fighters who gave cover fire to her and Linh when she was carrying Linh to the evacuation ship after the Uprising failed. He'd helped to save their lives.
And now he was gone. Another comrade dead. And her people still so far from the liberation she longed to see. Will we ever be free? she wondered to herself, trying to fight back the despairing thought that they were doomed to be the slaves of the megacorps from now until the end of time.
A glance at her link made her push those thoughts away. They'd know soon about having another load and she needed to be ready if the call came.
* * *
While the rest of the crew waited for word on their next load, Miri returned to her quarters upon receipt of a GalNet-relayed message. She activated her personal comp unit and sat beside it, waiting for it to display the message.
The header was from some minor GalNet site. It was a code to cover for her contact, Colonel Abdul Rahman al-Lahim of the Coalition Intelligence Service, who kept in touch even as he was now chief of station for Gilead. It was a regular communication to keep her up to speed on a certain subject.
The message brought disappointment. No sightings or reports concerning Subject Kepper. RUMINT hints that he's found a full-time client, but we've yet to find any clue of who that might be. League External Security still offering a bounty on his head. Will inform you if any changes learned.—Al-Lahim
Miri shut the screen down. Kepper's name brought to mind her own sense of guilt. He'd hunted her on Harron two years ago, during the lead-up to the Lusitanian Crisis. Not only had he nearly caught her, he'd murdered an innocent being in the effort.
Thinking of Vasily brought to mind the Harr'al, a freed slave who converted to the Russian Old-Rite Church of his liberators. She remembered the rubbery face, the green eyes set so widely apart on a round face, and the kindness that always showed. A kindness that resulted in his murder at Kepper's hands.
I will find him one day. Adonai knows I will see justice done for Vasily.
* * *
The dome protecting Allentown Station's residents from the airless void beyond was a construct of great size, square kilometers worth of specialized alloys and ceramics to maintain a solid atmospheric seal. Barely visible from the ground, if at all, were the catwalks and structures that allowed for dome workers to check for atmospheric leaks, damage, or any other issue.
An anti-grav skimmer marked as station property pulled up to one such area. Its occupant, clad in the jumpsuit of a dome worker for the station, stepped off the skimmer and reached back in for the spherical device he'd brought with him. The top and bottom of the sphere had flat surfaces for easier grips, allowing him to carry the device right up to the dome wall itself.
Once at his destination, Kepper set up the device. It was methodical work that inspired an uptick in his heart rate at the prospect of a mistake or being found out.
Piece by piece, everything was readied. The anti-tampering mechanisms went last. Within twenty minutes, he had a fully-functional device in place.
Satisfied by his work, Kepper returned to the skimmer and set it to return to the pool. With everything in place, it was time to begin.
* * *
The Shadow Wolf medbay was as well-stocked as it'd ever been. The materials "borrowed" from a Coalition "Masada" fallback base joined the medical supplies more easily purchased inside of Coalition space to give Oskar more options than he'd known in his prior years of serving aboard the Shadow Wolf.
Brigitte, his fellow escapee, slid off the bed with a grin. A head of hair once shaved down to nothing instead had a purple-dyed mohawk along the center, sticking upward, joined by arranged cornrows of the same color. It was a colorful and fiercely individual display that spoke to Brigitte's character.
Of greater importance to Oskar was her health, where the readings were welcome. A few old wounds and injuries from gunfights were long healed and she was internally healthy.
"So clean bill of health, Doctor?" Brigitte asked, although it was clear from the grin she knew the answer.
"Yes, a 'clean bill'," he answered.
"Good. Now I'd better see to that ore loading. We're supposed to get a big load today."
He nodded in acknowledgement and watched her leave. Once the door was shut, he turned to his other patient.
Yanik waited on another bed. Oskar got to work, using a variety of scans and visual examinations to judge the Saurian's health. Nearly five years of practice with Saurian physiology went into the examination.
"There is still damage," Yanik said in a low hiss. "I can feel it."
Oskar nodded quietly while checking his scans. "Your tail is still recovering the lost tissue from getting shot at the Exodus Station. And your body continues healing several other wounds." He made a note in his log. "Your species physiology surprises me. Normally, you heal faster than humans, but now your body's natural healing process is actually a little slower in several cases. From exhaustion, I would guess."
A low hiss came from Yanik's mouth. His tongue flicked the air. "It will mend with time."
"I expect so. But you should remember, you're not as young as you once
were, my friend. Take it easy while you heal, and you'll be as good as ever." He let a reassuring smile cross his lips as a means to reassure the Saurian.
Yanik's yellow reptilian eyes became distant. "We shall see," he remarked. "Regardless, I will continue to do my duties and fulfill my obligations to the crew. Is your examination complete?'
Oskar shook his head while running a couple of scans. "Now it is," he said.
"Then I must see to the ore." Yanik's tongue flicked the air, as if to taste it. "Thank you for your attention, Doctor. Your efforts are welcome."
"Thank you." Oskar watched Yanik depart with a tinge of sadness. He could see the pain in the Saurian and thought he understood it.
A few more months of peace and quiet will help, Oskar thought to himself. Let his body finish healing, and his spirit will heal with it.
* * *
The news from Doctor Kiderlein was not unexpected to Yanik, but neither was it welcome. It left him unsettled enough that he went to his quarters and sat on his cot. He started reciting prayers to settle his mind, the prayers promising to uphold his obligations, his krassha.
His prayers were interrupted by a knock at the door. Out of curiosity more than anything, Yanik ordered the door to open.
Vidia Andrews walked in. He was fairly-sized, for a human male, with long dark hair and a forming beard. His skin tone was similar to Captain Henry's, though the men came from different planets and even spoke differently. "I wanted ta see how ya did with the checkup."
"It was as expected." Yanik turned his head toward Vidia, establishing eye contact as humans preferred. "My injuries are still healing. My body has exhausted itself in the effort, delaying my healing."
"Ya usually heal faster. Is everythin' okay?"
"It is as it is," Yanik hissed slowly. "I am gaining in years, Vidia. My body is more easily exhausted and overtaxed by my efforts. The day will come soon when I can no longer fight, and for that, I am sorry."
"I understand ya feel obligated ta fight for us so often, but certainly ya don't think God demands ya do nothin' but fight?"
"There are other means to uphold krassha, yes. But they involve certain duties. Many of them would require me to return home."
"Ah." Vidia nodded. "I understand."
"No, you do not." Yanik said those words calmly, not intending to give offense. He appreciated Vidia as a compatriot. But he found, all too often, that few non-Saurians understood what it was like for him to be the exile he was. To never see the home he knew as a child, to be denied the communal rites of the Krasshash. All to uphold the principles of his faith and to deny his service to a government that denied those principles.
Oh, the Saurian Empire tolerated the Krasshash. Some of the best soldiers in the Empire's regiments were his co-religionists. But the Emperor and his advisors broke their obligations to the Terrans when they failed to come to the Coalition's aid upon the first League attack. Indeed, some sought to use the war to leverage desired star systems for the Empire. It was gross ingratitude that spat on Krasshash principles, and he could not in good faith serve the Empire when it was betraying everything he believed. Even if it meant either exile or the death given to a convicted deserter or draft dodger.
"Maybe not everythin', but I understand enough. I understand a man standin' for his beliefs, even if he stands against the world." Vidia folded his arms. "Just as I understand not wantin' ta be a burden. That's what ya fear, isn't it?"
This time, Yanik hissed, "Yes." His clawed hands came together. "I have an obligation to Captain Henry and this crew, an obligation to protect. If I cannot protect, then I am a burden. I would rather go to the Divine than continue to live as an old cripple and burden those I am obligated towards."
"Obligation, it goes both ways. We have obligations ta care for ya, Yanik, an' ya shouldn't worry about that. Ya've earned it many times over."
Yanik said nothing in reply. He understood Vidia was trying to be kind, but it showed what he did not understand. A life of docility like he described, requiring others to meet his needs… he couldn't stomach the idea. He was Krasshash. To be Krasshash was to fulfill obligation, to uphold krassha. If he could not, he was unworthy of his faith and his people.
The conversation did at least perform the task of working Yanik through the issue. He stood from his cot. "There is ore to load," he said. "We should assist the others."
Vidia nodded. Without a word, he went for the door, with Yanik following.
* * *
Kepper walked to the side of the hangar building, as if quietly inspecting the ore crates that were to be loaded onto the ship within. He glanced back to his aircar before taking a final check of his weapons. His rifle was loaded with the right rounds and the grenades were in place on his belt. He knew from careful checking that the facemask hanging from his neck would provide the clean air he needed.
Yes, everything was ready. Time to get his mark.
He raised his link to his mouth. "Go in," he ordered. "Time to earn your pay."
"Goin' in," an accented voice replied.
Across the hangar, the armed gang appeared in the dock opening. Kepper got down on a knee and raised the rifle, waiting for his moment.
3
Crates of packed ores from the Allentown mines remained stacked around the hold ramps for the Shadow Wolf. Miri took a moment to double-check one of the stacks and compare the crate numbers with the manifest displayed on her link. The ore was a rich lump of titanium-47 that any number of resource refineries across Sagittarius could refine for the mineral.
She was checking the seal when Piper and Brigitte stepped up to her. "I think we may have a problem," Piper said warily.
Miri followed Piper's eyes toward a group of men entering the hangar. Given the weapons they wore openly on their suits, it wasn't hard to guess their affiliation or their purpose. Miri patted her hip to reassure herself of the presence of the new Burleigh & Armstrong charged particle pistol in her holster. Piper drew her own weapon, from the same manufacturer, and Brigitte reached for her plasma blaster. Miri motioned for them to stay behind the ore crates and call for backup before venturing out to face the interlopers.
The leader was a man with a thin mustache and goatee. On his forehead was an implant, a port for neural stims and other drugs meant to be fed directly into the brain, a piece of technology meant for certain medical conditions and repurposed to accommodate decidedly non-medical desires. She had to be careful, given the side effects of some of the drugs injected through such implants. "This is a privately-rented hangar," she said to them. "Can I ask your business?"
"Oh, it's a simple matter, little chick." The leader of the group chuckled. "My poor droogs are in need of an honest day's work, but they always get stiffed when offering their services. So we're being a little more assertive this time."
A shakedown, then. She wanted to sigh in exasperation. "We already have contracted loaders, so we have no work for you. Please leave."
"Now now, little chick, consider my droogs; they need to eat. Seeing as you didn't give us a shot at hirin' on, the least you can do is see to our bellies for the day, y'know what I'm saying?"
"I do," she said, although she felt like there was something off about it. She put ice in her words. "I know precisely what it is you want, and you're not getting it."
"You sure?" The look on one of the others turned into a leer. "Maybe company from you spacer chickies is what we really want."
The more they spoke, the more suspicious Miri felt. Gangs like this picked on people they could intimidate. Armed spacers under the very visible guns of their ship? That didn't fit. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "Why are you really hassling us?"
"Thought I made that clear."
Footsteps came from the ramp to the hold. Henry, Tia, and Yanik descended the ramp. Henry had the family rifle in hand, Tia's hand was on the pistol on her hip holster, and Yanik had the assault gun to round out the intimidating armament.
Fear and anger flickered thro
ugh the eyes of the gang. Miri noted it with interest. "Captain, I was just telling these gentlemen they should be leaving."
The gang leader's eyes focused on Henry. "I remember you." He chuckled. "The drunk spacer from last night. You came awfully close to some violence, friend."
"Get the hell away from my ship," Henry growled.
"Alright, alright," the leader said, motioning for the gang to back off. It was not hard to do so, given the eyes focusing on Yanik's weapon.
Miri watched their retreat with unease. Something was very wrong...
There was a crack in the air. Blood and flesh erupted from Yanik's right shoulder. The Saurian shrieked in agony and dropped his weapon.
Miri went for her gun. So did everyone else. Before anything else could be said, a firefight broke out in the hangar.
* * *
Through the scope of a sniper rifle, Kepper observed the result of his explosive round with satisfaction. In one shot, he'd eliminated the Shadow Wolf crew's strongest ground combat asset. The rest of his plan would be easier for it.
Now that the sound of gunfire filled the hangar, Kepper slipped his sniper rifle back into his aircar. He returned to the hangar and began his careful approach to the rear of the ship.
The pulses and beams of energy weapon fire lit up the hangar. Blasts scorched the crates of ore regularly while both sides searched for cover behind them. Henry and Miri were flanking the wounded Saurian, who was trying to tend to his mutilated shoulder.
The firefight had both sides' full attention. Smiling faintly at his success, Kepper decided to get up close. He used the ship's slanted landing legs as cover and reached for his belt. One by one, he lobbed the smoke and gas grenades above and around the assorted crates. The chemicals triggered and a gray haze coalesced in the air.
Breach of Trust: Breach of Faith Book Four Page 3
