Fenris Unchained

by Kal Spriggs

  “Should we be?” he responded. Mel saw the look of calculation in his eyes again. “Vagyr is all but an outlaw system. Pirates kill thousands in the Harlequin Sector every year. This ship is headed to destroy the shipyards and shipping in the system. Is that a bad thing?”

  “It is for the innocent people in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Mel answered sharply. It didn't matter if it was a 'pirate' world to the bakers, clerks, and mechanics. They were just people trying to make a living.

  “Someone’s always in the wrong place at the wrong time.” A voice said from the doorway. “Feeling depressed again, Brian?”

  They both turned to face the old man, Strak.

  Brian smiled. “Always. How you holding up back in the engine room?”

  “Good enough. Wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat, I’ve some down time, wanted some company.” He looked over at Mel, “You can come too if you want.” Strak made the offer without much enthusiasm. Strak kept to himself, with the exception of Brian.

  Mel gave him a polite smile, even as she cursed his presence. She wasn't sure where the conversation with Brian Liu had been headed, but it at least had held her interest. “No, thanks. I’m going to finish up here and then probably get some sleep.”

  ***

  Mel stopped in the mess room later that night.

  Unfortunately, she found she had company. “Marcus.” She gave Stasia a friendlier nod, which the mousy woman returned.

  Marcus started, looking up from his food. He looked tired, unshaven, and depressed. “Hello, Melanie.”

  She took a seat across the table from him, not really knowing why. “You still have three hours before you’re on duty.”

  He shrugged, “Thinking about things, trying to figure people out.”

  “People are easy enough to figure out.” Mel responded.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Here’s one for you. You’re all set up at the Academy, you found out your parents were murdered by terrorists. Why didn’t you stay? You could have had a chance at justice, maybe even finding the bastards yourself. Instead, you left, you took up your parents’ career.”

  Mel gritted her teeth, all appetite forgotten as rage boiled up inside her. “How dare you ask me that question? You seem to think I ran, like you did, from responsibility. I never ran away. Some things are more important than vengeance.”

  He recoiled from her anger. “Sorry.” He shook his head. “Something I had no right to ask about.” He dropped the remainder of his food in the disposer and moved to the sink to wash his dishes.

  She stared into her food for a time before a timid voice intruded: “What was he talking about?” Stasia’s thick accent made her w’s sound like v’s.

  Mel looked over, and for a second, she wanted to strangle the woman. She let out a harsh breath to shake the irrational anger off; her decision to answer was more from guilt at the homicidal urge than any desire to talk.

  “I went to the Fleet Academy at Harlequin Station. My parents were killed by a Guard Free Now bombing in a restaurant at the Veleca system.” She shrugged. “I was… pretty angry. I still am, about that and a lot of things,” she shot a glare over to where Marcus still washed his dishes. “I couldn’t continue what I was doing. If I went to the Fleet, I might have found the people who did it, or even the people responsible. I didn’t want that to happen.”

  “You didn’t want to catch them?” Stasia’s voice was incredulous.

  “She didn’t trust herself to get past the anger, to seek justice and not revenge,” Marcus said from the galley. His tone was resigned, as if he had heard her statement so often that he recited it from memory. Well, Mel admitted to herself, it was a topic that came up a few times before.

  Mel shot another glare over at him and then turned back to Stasia, “I would have done something violent and bloody. It wouldn’t even have mattered to me if the people were really the ones who had killed my parents, or if it just looked that way. People would have died. I would have become little more than a weapon. I would have been no better than the ones I was after.”

  Stasia leaned back in her chair. “That is a lot braver than I think I could be.”

  Mel snorted, “It wasn’t all that. My brother decided to go after the people himself, at the ripe old age of fourteen. I had to go and sit on him to prevent him from getting himself killed. We didn’t have anyone else but each other, I think we kept each other sane. He still looks. Every planet we hit, he disappears, questioning people, looking for information.”

  “The people were never caught?” Stasia asked, puzzled.

  “They caught a few dupes. The man who built the bomb, another who actually put the bomb in place. The man who planned it, his superiors, there were no leads.”

  Mel pushed the food around her plate, her interest in eating gone. In her mind, she saw again the recordings and pictures that she had reviewed countless times: the shattered building, the bodies, and the ragged crater only a few meters away from where her parents had sat down for dinner.

  “But your brother still hunts, you still anger.” Stasia shook her head. “A tragedy.”

  Mel heard Marcus leave the compartment behind her.

  “How does he know so much about you?”

  Mel shook her head, “A mistake on my part. I needed someone to help with the ship, another pilot and someone to lend a hand. My brother didn’t have everything together at the time. I needed a partner. He showed up at the dock in the Foster system, looking for work. His background seemed to be perfect.”

  “From the anger you bear, I guess he was not, da?”

  “He knows shipboard work backwards and forwards. He’s a good pilot, and a cool head in a fight,” Mel answered. “Within a year I considered him a good friend.” He’d been more than a friend to her, but she wasn’t about to discuss that with Stasia. I don't want to think about it myself, she thought. “Then a year and a half after I took him on, he skipped off the ship, took ten thousand Guard dollars out of the safe.” She shrugged. “I still don’t know why he did it. It doesn’t matter. I’ll never trust that man again.”

  ***

  Rawn pulled her aside as she headed back towards the cockpit. “Mel, watch yourself around those two.”

  “What?” She asked.

  “That woman cracked software networks when she was five. You can’t trust her any more than you can Marcus.” He shook his head, “I’ve found little additions to the coding she’s given us. I can’t figure it out, but I don’t like it.”

  Mel stared at him in shock. “You think she’s trying to hack the AI, maybe slip something in?” It seemed bizarre, especially given how dangerous the ship was.

  Rawn’s eyes narrowed, “Maybe, I don’t know. But keep your distance. You’re too trusting. If she’s up to something, the last thing we want is to be caught up in it along with her.”

  “If she’s up to something she might let something slip. This is bigger than us, you know. There’s a whole system depending on this working,” Mel said angrily. Messing around with the lives of millions, if not billions, of lives was not something she took lightly.

  Rawn waved a hand. “She’s not going to slip anything in that Giran and I won’t notice. Vagyr may be a wretched place to live, but that ship isn’t going to blast anything in that system.” He sighed, “I can think of some other systems that I wouldn’t mind letting it slip away to, though.”

  “What, you know of some mysterious Guard Free Now headquarters world?” Mel asked, jokingly. Her voice went somber and she saw, again, the images of the explosion that had killed her parents. “No-one deserves to have death delivered upon them without warning or reason. That’s what this ship is. Letting that happen to anyone is as random as our parents’ deaths were.”

  “That’s saying our parents’ deaths were random.” Rawn snapped. “Not everyone fears the things they may do to others. Some people use innocent lives as bargaining chips, view civilian lives as pawns in a chess game.” His voice was ti
ght, his eyes filled with hate.

  Mel frowned. She didn’t like where his words headed. He’d gone off and gotten himself in trouble before. She wasn't about to let him do that again, “All right, Rawn. Cool it.”

  “Just stay away from those two. Especially Marcus, he can’t be trusted at all. I don’t want you hurt when something happens.” Rawn turned away.

  ***

  Time: 1900 Zulu, 12 June 291 G.D.

  Location: Crossroads System

  There were many star systems which could be classed as high value. Harlequin Station was one such, with two life-bearing worlds, three metal rich asteroid belts, and gas giants to provide hydrogen for power generation.

  If Harlequin Station was high value, then Crossroads was definitely low value. Its only value was to serve as a way-point for ships on their way to bigger and better places.

  A number of small, icy rocks orbited the cold, tiny star... along with one large starship that emerged from warp exactly where the Guard Intelligence Agent had said it would be.

  Mel felt a tingling along her spine. Reading about all the firepower that ship had was one thing. Knowing it might be aimed at her was quite another.

  “It’s Fenris,” Marcus stated. “Right on time.”

  “Unidentified craft, transmit identification codes or be fired upon.”

  Everyone started at the voice. It was the voice of a man, gruff and gravelly. It didn’t sound like the soulless machine they’d all expected. The sound was dangerous and slightly sinister, but somehow also carried the overtones of irritation at the interruption and perhaps even a sense of boredom.

  Agent Mueller nodded at Mel, “Transmit the codes, prepare the upload.”

  Mel did so and then waited for what seemed to be an eternity.

  “Identification codes accepted, John Kelly.” Perhaps it was Mel’s fears talking, but the voice of the AI sounded slightly disappointed that it couldn’t open fire. “Transmit your data upload when ready.”

  “Do it.” Mueller said. He had a smile of triumph on his face.

  “Transmitting.” Mel said.

  She watched as the laser transmitter made connection with the receiver on the other ship. As it began downloading the program, she released a sigh of relief.

  “Orders have been updated. Receiving programming update.” The voice modulated, changed. There was no boredom in its next transmission, only pure hostility: “Security protocols have been engaged. Primary programming cannot be compromised. This vessel will not be hijacked.”

  “Detecting the warp drive powering up.” Marcus yelped. “We’re being hit by targeting sensors.”

  Agent Mueller looked around frantically, “Did the upload go through? What happened?”

  Mel brought up the communications system on her screen. Her eyes widened as she realized someone else had also accessed the program from the engine room. The other user began to delete the upload as she watched.

  She saved the file to a drive on her console, then opened the intercom to the engine console. “Rawn, someone’s trying to delete the program, stop whoever it is!”

  “What?” he answered. “What’s going on up there?”

  “Just stop them, lock the console.”

  She brought up the security camera for the engine room, caught a sight of Rawn yelling something to Giran, and then Agent Mueller stepped in front of her view. “Was the upload complete?” he demanded.

  “It wasn’t. I can’t tell how complete it was either, because whoever tried deleting the file wiped the record of the transmission from the computer first.” Marcus said angrily. “It got the opening packet for certain, but I’m not sure beyond that.” He looked up from his console. “The Fenris just went into warp.”

  Mel pushed Agent Mueller out of the way of the screen. She felt her stomach sink and her throat seemed to constrict as she forced the words out of her mouth, “We’ve got a bigger problem. Does anyone know where Giran got a gun and why he has it aimed at my brother?”

  Chapter III

  Time: 1930 Zulu, 12 June 291 G.D.

  Location: Crossroads System

  In under five minutes, Brian, Stasia, and Strak had joined Mel, Marcus and Agent Mueller in the cramped confines of the cockpit. Mel explained quickly what had happened. She didn’t mention to anyone that she’d initiated a security lock-down on the engine room access doors and consoles. Giran wasn’t going anywhere.

  Agent Mueller began to speak, “Look. There is nothing to worry about, the upload may well be complete. It may require a short time for the program to take effect—”

  “We don’t have a copy of the program that vas sent, then?” Stasia interrupted. “Giran deleted it, da?” Her accent thickened under the stress of the situation, Mel noted.

  “We have this,” Mel said. She held up the drive on which she’d saved the program.

  Agent Mueller reached out, “I should hold onto that—”

  “No, maybe you shouldn’t,” Marcus said in a flat voice. “Maybe we should try and figure out how Giran got a gun on board without you knowing.”

  “Who cares? For all we know, her brother was the one who was messing with the connection and Giran tried to stop him.” Mueller snapped back. “Now, you will return to your duties—”

  “No. We are going figure out what is going on,” Mel snapped. “There’s no reason for my brother to have messed with the program. Giran is an unknown. Stasia, you’re the only one we have who can look at this—”

  “I know something about hacking, I’ll help.” Marcus said.

  Mel scowled. “I don’t trust you.”

  “You don’t have to trust me, you can watch Stasia and I do it in here,” Marcus answered. He took the drive out of her hand and inserted it into his console.

  “There’s no need to look at the program. As I said, get back to your stations,” Agent Mueller said. “Whatever went wrong, I will handle it. Nothing any of you did was wrong. I looked over the program myself right before the transmission.”

  Everyone looked at him for a long moment. “That’s right. You looked it over before we transmitted it. You could have made any additions you wanted to right before we sent it.” Strak said. The older man's voice was thoughtful.

  “And if you wanted Giran to have a pistol, you could have given him one.” Mel said. She felt her stomach drop as she started to think through some of the implications.

  “You’re accusing an Agent of Guard Intelligence of something that sounds like treason,” Mueller snarled. “More than that, you’re accusing the man who holds your pardons.”

  “No one mentioned treason besides you.” Marcus answered slowly.

  Mel wasn’t sure where the pistol came from; it seemed to magically appear in the Agent’s hand.

  “Now, let’s all just calm down a bit.” His cold gaze fixed on Marcus, and his weapon pointed in the same direction. Agent Mueller didn’t see Brian until it was too late.

  Mel barely saw Brian move. The next instant, Brian had the Agent pinned to the floor. His pistol skidded across the floor to stop at Mel’s feet, and an icy feeling passed through her gut as she picked it up. Brian patted him down for any other weapons. No-one else moved.

  “Let’s look at that program.” Mel said. She tucked the pistol into her waistband.

  Stasia shook her head as she began. “He’s changed the formatting, added a copy of the orders we were given. And there are additional things here, like layers of code within the program I wrote.”

  “Can you figure it out?” Mel asked.

  “Maybe... if we pull it apart, sort through the additions. We don’t know what was added or who added it.” Marcus said. “It looks like at least two separate people put in their own codes.”

  Mel pulled the drive out and tucked it in her pocket. “Save your copy and get to work.” She didn’t want to leave Marcus and Stasia alone. She especially didn’t want Marcus out of her sight, but there was something more pressing.

  Mel looked down at their former capt
or. She felt slightly sick to her stomach. No matter what happened, she felt there would be no going back now. “Agent Mueller, you Brian, Strak and I are going to get that gun away from Giran.” Brian pulled the agent to his feet. “Now are you going to cooperate?”

  His narrow eyes held only calculation. “There’s nothing you can do now. If you cooperate with me, you’ll still get your pardons and your money.”

  Brian shook his head. “Strak, get something to tie him up. We’ll lock him in the galley for now.”

  ***

  “You move pretty fast,” Mel said to Brian. She watched Strak drag the trussed up Agent down the corridor.

  Brian shrugged; “Good reflexes.”

  Mel frowned. “Combat reflexes, it looked like. Do you know how to handle guns?” It would be convenient if the man knew how to handle himself in a fight.

  Brian didn’t turn his head to look at her, “I have, once or twice.”

  “Marcus said that those crates in Mueller’s room are guns.” Mel began.

  “MP-11s, an MG-144, and a crate of ammunition.” Brian answered quickly.

  “Am I the only one on-board who can’t read military inventory codes?” Mel asked.

  “This is an exercise in futility. His room is locked, and we have no access code for his door.” Brian answered. He waved at the locked door that Strak had just passed

  Mel sighed. She stopped before the door in question. “Observe.” She pulled out a red key and inserted it into the slot above the keypad. The door clicked open. “Emergency key, kept on the bridge at all times. Unlocks any door on the ship; built into the hardware.”

  Brian snorted, “Safety standards are kept even on spook ships.”

  Mel recognized the three crates stacked against the far bulkhead. Someone had assembled two MP-11 submachineguns. Both lay on the table near the bed. Next to them were seven equal stacks of money.

  “The agreed-upon payment.” Brian said, moving up to pick up a stack. “Hard cash, non-consecutive bills, hard to trace.”