J. N. Chaney

Copyrighted Material

Wings of the Reaper Copyright © 2019 by Variant Publications

Book design and layout copyright © 2019 by JN Chaney

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from JN Chaney.

www.jnchaney.com

http://www.scottmoonwriter.com

1st Edition

CONTENTS

Don’t Miss Out

List of Acronyms

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Epilogue

Renegade Star Universe

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Acknowledgments

About The Authors

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LIST OF ACRONYMS

- AI—Artificial intelligence

- AWOL—Absent without leave

- BMSP—Bluesphere Maximum Security Prison—Ultramax IX

- CD—Climbdown Day

- CIM—Computerized Inmate Monitor

- CV—Curriculum Vitae

- DM—Dreadmax Marines (inmates on Dreadmax, often falsely imprisoned, who have prior military experience and protect people from gangs and cannibals)

- Feg—Fredrick Eugene Grady

- HDK—Highly Destructive Kinetic (weapon / rifle)

- HDK 4—Shortened (11 inch barrel--from the trigger assembly) HDK commonly used by spec ops and law enforcement

- HDK 4 Dominator—Full length (16 inch barrel--from the trigger assembly) HDK with double high capacity magazines and a grenade launcher under the barrel)

- HUD—Heads up display

- LAI—Limited artificial intelligence

- LED—Light Emitting Diode

- LZ—Landing zone

- MRE—Meals Ready to Eat

- NG—Nightfall Gangsters

- QRF—Quick reaction force

- RC—Reaper Corps

- RSG—Red Skull Gangsters

- SD Regulator—Slip drive regulator

- UFS—Union Fleet Ship

- UPG—Union Prison Guard

- X-37—Halek Cain's Reaper AI (limited)

- YT—Galdiz 49 rifle, sniper model. (YT is a randomly generated model number)

1

I understood the nightmare wasn’t real. The uprising on Carson’s World had been settled after an intense six-month battle against Sarkonian trained insurgents and regular military troops—most of which I’d missed after losing my arm on a bridge to Jeppa, a mining center where the unrest had started.

Surviving the physical wounds had been hard enough. Facing what I had done, or more importantly, what I had failed to do, made the days long and lonely. My convalescent time was occupied by regret but also hope, because a tough, well respected lieutenant named Briggs had visited me and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

The sound of the Union artillery hammering the bridge haunted me at night. Worrying about the future tortured me all the godsdamned days.

I knew this wasn’t real because X-37 was with me, and the battle for Jeppa had been before the Reaper Corps. Jeppa had led me—or pushed me—into the program.

“It’s time to wake up,” X-37 advised.

“I can’t let her go,” I argued. “She has two little girls. They need her. We caused this. Jeppa is our fault.”

“My analysis gives her children a very reasonable chance for survival given the dynamics of this situation. Well over twenty-eight percent,” X-37 advised. “Let the woman go. You lack the strength to hold her for much longer and neither of you can survive the fall. Make a decision, Halek Cain.”

Artillery shells screamed down, slamming into the Jeppa side of the bridge. The woman from Jeppa stared at me without saying a word or begging for help. She was just there, seeming unreal and insubstantial.

Like my conscience.

“We are going to emerge from the slip tunnel without you on the bridge, Reaper Cain. Please rouse yourself or I will do it for you,” X-37 demanded.

“Get off my ass, X. I’m up,” I said, rolling out of bed and scanning my surroundings for threats until my brain caught up with my body.

“Very good, Reaper Cain. When you are done being a paranoid slacker, I will send a message to Jelly that you are on the way to the bridge,” X-37 said.

* * *

Emerging from the slip tunnel amazed me and filled me with hope every time. Even when I was being hunted by the most dangerous, most powerful psychopath in the Union.

Given the people I had associated with before getting betrayed and sentenced to death, that was saying a lot. Vice Admiral Nebs wasn’t going to quit until I was dead and all of my friends were captured for some dark Union purpose.

“I’m an asshole, X,” I muttered as I searched the navigation console for the next slip tunnel.

“Are you expecting me to argue?” X-37 asked. “It will take some time for me to gather evidence to contradict that statement. Unless of course you expect me to agree with you. If that’s what you want, I can gather plenty of data in a surprisingly short amount of time. Three or four seconds should be sufficient.”

“I see two slip tunnels within reach,” I said, ignoring my limited artificial intelligence and concentrating on the holographic readout. In Union space, and most of the Deadlands, the entrances to slip tunnels were well documented. Out here, we had to detect them through sensor readings.

X-37 had been with me for most of my adult life, since I’d left Union special operations, dark ops to be specific, and volunteered for the Reaper Corps. I’d been required to make sacrifices and do things that still haunted me.

“You should leave astro-navigation to Jelly and me,” X-37 advised. “If you do the math, the slip tunnel at location Delta-079-000-982 is nearly twenty-four hours farther away than Delta-079-000-979. They are also in different directions from our current location, forcing us to choose now rather than later.”

“Whatever,” I said. Our recent adventures had exhausted me physically and emotionally. I’d been spending far too much time on the bridge, barely allowing Tom to take a shift. He argued that Elise could take a turn. There wasn’t much during this part of the trip that couldn’t be handled by Jelly and only required a human as a safety check, someone to come wake me up if the wings started to come off or we were attacked.

Tom was right. X-37 was right. Everyone was right. This part of our escape was nothing but grinding it out and staying ahead. We should all be training for the next fight and resting as much as possible. But sleep wasn’t my friend.

About a week ago, I had introduced each member of Team Cain to ship-to-ship battle. We were still testing for aptitude, rotating through the assignments. Everyone needed to be multifaceted in the event I was no longer on the ship.

Nebs and his stealth carrier group were never far behind. A small mistake would result in our capture or destruction. Going head to head with squadrons of fighter jocks would get us killed quickly, despite how easy the holo movies made it look. But we would have to fight some— hopefully not much, like for thirty or forty seconds at most if I got to choose.

It was quiet on the bridge now and I enjoyed watching the walls of slip tunnels. The holo view was smaller than on the observation deck, but equally high resolution. There was time to think, which was a good thing and a bad thing for a man who had been the Union’s ultimate assassin and enforcer.

It was hard not to regret some of the decisions I’d made. Youth, pride, and angry frustration at the state of the galaxy had provided me with a false sense of immortality. Believing I could make a difference was perhaps the most disappointing thing I’d ever done. Because that led me to becoming who and what I was.

“Unreasonable moodiness detected,” X-37 said.

“Now you’re just making shit up,” I countered.

“I dare you to prove me wrong,” X-37 said.

“Come on, X, we talked about this. You don’t understand what a dare is or how to use them,” I said.

“On the contrary, I have looked up the word and documented references to it in every known language. It is entirely reasonable that I understand its meaning and historic examples of its usage far better than you could if you dedicated your entire life to it,” X-37 said a bit pompously.

“How long did that take?” I said, suspecting what the answer would be.

“Eight minutes and two seconds, if you want to be exact,” X-37 said.

“And you’re still a dumb machine,” I said, closing out my workstation and sending a query requesting Tom and Elise report to the bridge.

“Are you attempting to hurt my feelings?” X-37 said. “Analysis of your tone and word choice indicates you are an offensive jerk-wad, but I should remind you that I am incapable of feeling emotions.”

“By that logic, there’s no need for me to apologize,” I said.

“And yet you have done that very thing three times since I was installed in your nerve-ware.” X-37 made a sound that was like someone leaving a mic open—one of his quirks I interpreted as an expectant pause, him waiting stubbornly for me to answer.

“Has to be more than three times,” I muttered.

“You are an asshole,” X-37 said like he was diagnosing a personality disorder or reading an instruction manual.

“Did I hurt your feelings, X?” I said, mentally shifting away from a conversation that was going nowhere.

“Of course not. I was merely reminding you of information you need to remember,” X-37 explained.

“Well, good job. Mission accomplished,” I said, stretching the kinks out of my back.

“The mechanic and your protégée are approaching the bridge,” X-37 advised. “I’ve been spying on them through Jelly’s internal surveillance system and they clearly agree with my assessment of your personality.”

“Does Jelly know you’re doing that?” For some reason, the thought of my people talking candidly about my asshole-ishness hurt more than it should.

“She does not. I would appreciate it very much if you didn’t tell her,” X-37 admitted.

The door to the small, cockpit-like bridge opened. Elise and Tom entered looking clean and refreshed.

Elise plopped down into the copilot chair. “I don’t know, Tom. With the Reaper hogging the bridge, I’m starting to enjoy all of my free time.”

She had started calling me Reaper instead of using my name. I wasn’t sure how long it would last, because she had tried several other nicknames during the last week and a half of evading Union stealth carriers.

“I can’t disagree with you, Elise. I’ve completed almost all of my side projects and feel more rested and well fed than I ever have in my life,” Tom said as he reviewed our flight logs. He turned to me. “We should head for the slip tunnel at Delta-079-000-982. We’ve been able to increase our lead slightly with each jump. The ship specs don’t show it, but the Jellybird is slightly faster than these carriers. Our lead will build up over time.”

“And get wasted the first time the Reaper makes one of his stupid mistakes,” Elise said. “Because he is a stubborn jerk who knows everything, apparently.”

I turned my captain’s chair to face them and crossed my arms, staring at them until neither of them looked like they were going to interrupt me with one of their increasingly annoying comments. “I can take a hint. And this bridge is starting to feel like a prison cell. One of you can have it for a while, as long as you keep us headed deeper into the area beyond the Deadlands.

Elise stared back at me, her tough girl act as good as ever. Tom looked worried but didn’t say anything. He’d already made his concerns about heading so far into unknown and uncharted regions of space clear. While there were raw materials aplenty, we didn’t have the ability to process many of them. In his opinion, which he had articulated very reasonably many times, we needed to find an outpost in the Deadlands where we could resupply and refuel without being betrayed to the Union.

I didn’t take the bait. Instead, I watched them without showing any emotion. X-37 had frequently advised me what kind of effect my dead-eyed stare had on most people.

Elise wasn’t just any teenage girl, but a runaway test subject who had survived more dangerous situations than many soldiers faced in a full career. She was average height for a young woman her age and was going through a short hairstyle phase with a lot of spikes and random colors. I thought Path might be having an effect on her fashion standards.

The sword saint was perhaps the oldest member of my associates. He was calm as a warrior monk on the inside and a psychedelic punk rocker on the outside. He had more piercings above the neck and glow strips in his hair than I’d ever seen before encountering him on Roxo III, a tube world station that was probably falling apart by now.

At the moment, it was just me, Elise, and Tom on the cockpit-style bridge of the Jellybird. Tom was infinitely more clean-cut than when we’d first met. He kept a conservative hairstyle and well-pressed jumpsuits normally issued to ship engineers. The only thing unusual today was that he didn’t have his tool belt.

Without any of his normal distractions, he began to fiddle with his hands and look away from me. Elise resisted longer, staring me down like she could do this all day.

When she finally broke, it was with all the teenage theatrics I’d come to expect from the girl.

“Oh, you’re so annoying! None of what I just said even bothered you? Did you learn that in the Reaper school or are you just normally that difficult?” Elise complained.

“For the record, we are in total agreement on the best tactic to escape Nebs and his stealth carriers. If something serious happens, you know I’ll listen to reasonable suggestions,” I said, stretching my arms above my head before letting out a long sigh. Then I dropped my hands abruptly into my lap. “Now that you mention it, I could use some time in the gym and then some sleep.”

“I’d be more than happy to take a shift,” Tom said, like the entire encounter had been preplanned. He took a seat, logged into one of the workstations, and immediately pulled up several view screens and holos that I was familiar with.

“The bridge computer is far more powerful than what I can access in my quarters,” Tom said. “If you have just a moment, I can update you on our progress with retrofitting a stealth cloak to the Jellybird.”

I faced Elise while Tom was getting set up. “Do you think I’m an asshole?”

Elise laughed and it warmed my Reaper heart. “Of course. But you’re our asshole.”

I had no idea what that meant but felt everything was okay between us—as okay as it ever would be.

Elise plopped down in a seat where Tom couldn’t see what she was doing, then rolled her eyes several times and jerked them toward Tom like I was supposed to get some sort of message.

“What?” I mouthed the word quietly.

She nodded her head more insistently toward Tom, then put on her angel face and quiet demeanor when he turned to look at her.

“Are you two up to something?” Tom asked, a half smile on his face, like he almost got the joke but wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

“I think Elise is going through second puberty,” I said.

She grabbed a datapad from one of the workstations and hurled it at me. I caught it easily and set it down.

Tom pulled up the schematics for the ship stealth mode interface and started to explain each detail. Elise pointed under my jacket where I kept the stealth cloak concealed. I knew what she wanted and it had nothing to do with Tom’s discussion. The stealth cloak and the stealth mode of the ship were totally different technology.

She was up to no good, hatching pranks and plots to keep life on the ship interesting. Because it could get pretty dull traveling slip tunnel after slip tunnel.

I drew my hand horizontally through the air and mouthed the word, Enough.

Elise crossed her arms and sat back like only a teenager could.

Tom continued to talk, noticing none of the interplay. “Henshaw’s design is surprisingly simple despite its brilliance,” he said. “Even so, I’m just a mechanical engineer with a reading habit and the compulsion to tinker with things. Look here. This graph you’re seeing right here displays the probability of success on a first trial.”

I watched the holo and listened carefully. Tom was a lot smarter than he would admit.

“That doesn’t look promising,” I observed.

He shrugged awkwardly. “But there is a chance. When we first started experimenting with this, it seemed impossible with what we had to work with. I’m telling you, the man is truly brilliant. When this goes live, it will be one-of-a-kind. Like I said, his design is complex in its simplicity.”

“Great,” I said.

“You don’t understand,” Tom said emphatically. “The more unique it is, the less likely the Union will be able to figure it out. They won’t be able to see through it.”

“Now that’s something we can use,” I said.

Tom almost blushed at the praise. “Well, that’s if we can get it online. Go on, get out of here. I’ve got the bridge. I can just review some notes and make a few sketches while Jelly does most of the hard work navigating the ship.”

I patted Tom on the shoulder as I stood to head for the door. “Let me know if you need me.”

Elise fell in beside me, swaggering with her usual overconfidence. The moment the door closed behind us, she spun to confront me, laughing as she pointed a finger and leaned forward slightly. “You chickened out. I thought you were going to do the prank.”

“Whatever,” I said waving her comments away.

“I would’ve thought a Reaper could pull off something like this easily,” she said. “Maybe you’re scared to fail, afraid to look like a dummy.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Terrifying. Absolutely shaking in my boots that have left more bloody footprints than you can count,” I said, holding forward my right hand, which was as level as any sniper could want in such an appendage. My cybernetic left hand was an even steadier shooting platform.

“I still say you wimped out.” She walked slightly ahead of me, something she did often when she didn’t think I could keep up with her. “If we’re going to train, let’s train.”

I didn’t respond to her comments. She’d see what it was like when I pulled the prank.

2

The more Elise rushed, the slower I moved. I was actually in a good mood, despite her attempts to antagonize me. Nebs hadn’t caught us yet, and I knew more about my mother and sister than seemed possible only weeks ago. I didn’t know when I would see them again or if they were still alive, but I knew more of the story and could feel a plan growing in my subconscious mind.

Maybe it was a lie just like everything else I’d been told about her situation, but the truth was out there and I was going to find my mother and my sister and protect them from the Union no matter the cost.

The door to our training room slid open. We’d been improving the place ever since taking possession of the Jellybird. There were still only two treadmills, but I had supplemented the basic resistance machines with some extra ship parts I’d converted into a decent weight set. None of it was pretty, but I was now able to push my muscles to their limits on a regular basis.

Accepting the fact that I was fighting a one-man war against the Union was very motivating. I didn’t have allies, I had people I needed to protect.

X-37 had nearly convinced me this was a flawed assumption. His analysis suggested I was defaulting to habits and training that were now irrelevant—but what did he know?

Maybe it was her youth, but Elise was even more fanatical about training than I was. She didn’t seem to fear anything. Full contact sparring matches with Path, heavy weightlifting or grappling lessons with me, or even riddle contests with Tom or Henshaw—Elise would accept any challenge or dare. Sometimes I wrongly assumed she had no fear.

I went to the small locker room and changed into workout gear—something I could run or fight in comfortably while still resembling our tactical equipment—and thought about some of our more dangerous scrapes. Assuming Elise was fearless in all situations was a mistake. We had nearly died several times since we’d met, and I knew what terror looked like on her face.

She probably recognized what I looked like when I was ready to piss my pants—an expression not many people witnessed and lived to tell about. I tried not to think about fear during a mission, but I was still human, even if parts of me didn’t look it.

It was time to get busy, so I focused on what needed to be done. Returning to the training area, I directed Elise toward the virtual shooting range on the starboard wall.

“Let’s start with a sidearm, then an HDK, and then practice transitioning between the two weapons,” I said, laying my jacket, Reaper mask, and rolled up stealth cloak on a table for later in the session.

She nodded seriously and went to the gun locker. After typing in the combination with practiced efficiency, she reverently removed two of the handguns we used on the virtual range. I had drilled her in safety from our very first lesson. She treated these weapons as though they were real. Wanting to learn and in love with shooting, the girl didn’t joke around or argue with me when we were handling weapons.

“What are the five principles of marksmanship?” I asked.

The weapons were on the equipment bench now, slides locked back to show they were unloaded. She stood attentively, but not at attention like a soldier would stand.

“Stance, sight alignment, grip, trigger pull, and follow through,” she said.

“Good. And what’s follow through?” I tested her.

“Not jerking the gun toward the next target prematurely. Holding it on the target until the shot has actually been fired,” she said, chin held high. “The time needed for this is almost imperceptible but very important for accuracy.”

I picked up the first weapon and examined it carefully, checking the slide function, trigger mechanism, and the magazine feed. That done, I made sure the slide was locked back so that it was obvious to anybody even vaguely familiar with firearms that it was unloaded and there was no bullet in the chamber. Placing it on the table felt good—a routine I had followed for all of my adult life.

Elise nodded crisply, then stepped forward to check her own weapon. She moved with the precision of a professional soldier. When she was done, I held out a hand and she placed it in my palm. I checked it again.

She had been impatient with these procedures when we first started practicing with guns. Now she respected them and I could imagine her teaching somebody else in the same manner. She would never be as big or strong as I was, despite her impressive athleticism, but with the right training and application, weapons helped her level the playing field.

I gave her permission to fire on the virtual range and observed her technique. I noticed bruises on her forearms and one on her temple from her sword practice with Path. The man was slightly under average height and very lean but could do a lot of damage with a practice sword.

She fired two rounds, checked her accuracy, then repeated the procedure until I told her to move on to the next drill. With the marksmanship fundamentals well established, she performed tactical exercises—double taps, head shots, and precision shooting to the hip area—shooting the pockets we called it. The fastest way to incapacitate a soldier, no matter what kind of armor they were wearing, was striking them in the hips with a supersonic projectile. The victim of such an attack might not die but definitely wouldn’t be walking or running anywhere soon. There were a lot of arteries in that area as well, so it was often more deadly than a torso wound.

Elise was a tough kid. I hated that she had to be that way. This was a young person who had never known a real childhood. Her father had subjected her to experiments, claiming it was needed to cure a childhood illness, but I had my doubts. One thing my insomnia-driven pondering had convinced me of was that Doctor Hastings would have put her in the program with or without an illness to necessitate it.

The man had wanted his daughter to be stronger, faster, and smarter than anyone in the Union. What I couldn’t decide was whether or not he wanted this to satisfy his ego or make her bulletproof in a harsh galaxy that gobbled people up like they were nothing.

She finished with the handgun, disassembled it for cleaning, then looked at me curiously. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you are definitely improving,” I said, then waited for her to finish cleaning and reassembling the handgun.

When she was done, I took my turn on the virtual range while she watched me and coached my mistakes. She was surprisingly mature about this. Outside of the training area, she was constantly busting my chops. In here, she was serious and professional—not childlike in any way.

“I know your shots are right on target, but it looks like you’re milking the trigger and squeezing too hard with your grip like you’re always telling Tom not to do,” Elise said.

“Thanks,” I muttered, then worked earnestly to improve my technique. I was a damn good shot, but that didn’t mean I could afford to get sloppy in training or in real life.

We finished with handguns, did the same thing with HDK rifles, then worked on transitioning between the two and performing speed reloads.

“That’s enough for today,” I finally said. “We need to stow these guns and do some conditioning.”

“What about the mask and the stealth cloak?” Elise asked. “Maybe if you practice putting them on more smoothly, you’ll be able to do the prank.”

“You’re obsessed with pranks,” I said.

“You started it.” She was already laughing in anticipation of the prank. She seemed to be far more into it than I was. Sure, I loved a good laugh, but I didn’t think ghosting around Tom and moving things was going to be that funny.

I had started it. I’d snuck up behind Path and startled him, something no one had believed possible. It was one of the few times I’d seen him unbalanced. He’d laughed afterward, and that was worth it.

The sword saint was always relaxed and easy to be around but seeing him belly laugh was a rare treat.

“Fine,” I said, putting on the jacket to practice drawing the mask from inside of it with my right hand and the tightly rolled stealth cloak with my left. I slipped the mask over my face and spun out the cloak at nearly the same time, disappearing with almost flawless precision as my vision turned blue and a half-dozen tactical readouts enhanced what I could see.

“Not bad,” Elise said. “You’re getting better. Now give me ten more reps.”

“Anything for you, kid,” I said, smiling stupidly as I repeated the procedure over and over—draw the mask and cloak, activate it, put it away, and start again.

She wouldn’t let it go at that. Before we were done, I had to demonstrate the amazing accuracy and speed of shooting while wearing the mask. The interface between my mask, Reaper eye, and the weapon was thrilling, even for someone like me.

“Heart rate elevated,” X-37 advised.

I squinted my left eye slightly, paused, then blinked, practicing a new non-verbal communication X was supposed to interpret as “no shit.”

“Are you winking at your LAI again?” Elise asked.

“No,” I lied.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s weird. Like you have a twitch or something,” she said.

“It’s not a twitch,” I said.

“So, you are talking to X,” she asserted. “Maybe you should stick to the hand movements to covertly talk to X.”

I slaughtered several targets as they popped up on the virtual range.

Elise clapped her hands enthusiastically after I mowed down two, three, and four waves of digital enemies in one of the more advanced training scenarios.

“I wish I had a mask like that,” Elise said. “And some cybernetic enhancements.”

“No, you don’t, kid,” I said.

“Stop calling me a kid.”

She was right. I needed to break the habit sooner rather than later, but I wasn’t going to admit she was right—not yet anyway.

3

“At least you didn’t lose your eye,” Lieutenant Briggs said, leaning to one side to examine the fresh vertical scar down the left side of my face.

“What do you care? You’re not even fucking real,” I grumbled. “X, make him leave.”

“This is your nightmare, not mine,” X-37 responded. “I have attempted to regulate your sleep eleven times already, but your body has adjusted to even my most aggressive methods. I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

“All right, then,” Briggs said, standing abruptly from the cheap hospital chair and drawing a combat knife from his belt. “I’ll have that eye now.”

“Not until you tell me what happened to the woman.” It was a stupid thing to say. I couldn’t move or resist him and this had already happened years ago. Dreams were screwed up like that.

“Doesn’t matter,” Briggs said, pushing on my forehead to hold my head against the hospital bed pillow. “You’re mine now.”

“She had two little girls!” I shouted as light drained from the nightmare room.

“Your heart rate is increasing, Reaper Cain. It won’t be long before you wake up,” X-37 promised.

“Yeah, right after he stabs me!” I couldn’t move because this was a dreamscape spiraling into imaginary violence.

“He never stabbed you in the eye in reality. You signed on the dotted line, Reaper Cain. Doctors removed your eye, not Briggs and not shrapnel,” X-37 said, his voice calm and distant through the veil of the nightmare.

The blade lashed toward my face as I cursed at Briggs to just fucking stop.

* * *

I had spent a lot of time in solitary confinement in the Bluesphere Maximum Security Prison. It was the worst kind of punishment—complete isolation with thoughts of my death sentence to keep me company. Training and experience had prepared me for the ordeal. During my years in the BSMP, I’d constructed a fantasy existence with very strict rules to prevent insanity.

There had to be rules to keep things from getting too crazy. Back then, I had my real routine that the guards forced on me, but also my own inner life. Some of the staples of this existence had been reading an imaginary book—actually holding up my hands and pretending I was flipping from screen to screen while my mind invented fictional stories or nonfiction articles—pretending to eat regular meals that didn’t taste like paste excreted from the prison wall dispensers, and every evening I sipped imaginary whiskey and smoked cigars.

I wasn’t crazy at all.

After Dreadmax, I had found cigars on Gronic, Roxo III, and various Deadlands shitholes the residents claimed were frontier towns or cities. The Gronic Fats had become a favorite of mine, better than many Starbrand fakes. Then, sadly, I experienced my first real Starbrand cigar courtesy of James Henshaw.

This ruined me forever. Now I lived to find something as good.

Henshaw had been an unwitting provider, not realizing how many Starbrand Premiums I had stolen from him until much later.

We were far beyond even the Deadlands now. Once or twice we had descended to the surface of unexplored planets and gathered raw resources, including more than one plant that resembled tobacco. X-37 and Jelly scanned all of the organics we harvested down to a molecular level. There was a lot of variety in what humans could consume, but that didn’t mean the options were unlimited. Maybe there wasn’t good tobacco on every world suitable for human habitation, but there was usually something close.

Which was interesting.

I snatched up a few plants whenever I could. As a novice tobacconist, I had a lot to learn. Making my own cigars, I now realized, was a lot harder than finding good paper or manufacturing a suitable substitute. Tom had been instrumental in that process, which had taken weeks to learn.

Long story short, making a single cigar in the middle of an uncharted region of space was a ridiculous amount of work. But that was what I did with my free time in slip space. Training and mission planning first, then cigars.

“Are you paying attention, X?” I said, not looking away from the synths-paper I was rolling around the tobacco I had dried during our last slip tunnel jump.

“I’m always paying attention, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “If you want my advice, I think you should move your fingers closer to the end of the paper and pinch more tightly before beginning the rolling action.”

I tried what he said and it actually helped. We fell into a rhythm and I relaxed. That was the real reason I went through all this trouble. I needed to quiet the primitive part of my brain. Path had meditation, I had cigar production.

Thoughts came and went without my interference. I found myself wondering about Bug, the kid who had been on the other end of the speaker boxes on Dreadmax. He’d been in a surveillance tower and had access to cameras. Probably saved my life more than once.

I still wasn’t sure exactly what Bug looked like. He’d once told me he was fifteen years old, but he sounded younger. Not long ago, during one of my low periods, I spent several days with X-37 reviewing my memories and his compressed files of our time on Dreadmax. We came to the conclusion that Bug and some of the other children from the security towers had made it onto the Bold Freedom.

It didn’t matter. He was probably running with street gangs on some Deadlands planet like Gronic by now.

“How are you doing, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked. “Your biometrics indicate I should check on you.”

“I was just thinking about Bug while I roll these cigars,” I said. “You have a problem with that?”

“I have no problems, as you well know. I am here to serve, to monitor your welfare, and to maximize your performance and recovery through hormone manipulation,” X-37 said.

“Sure, but I like to pretend I can kick your ass when I’m annoyed with you,” I admitted, finishing off the last cigar of the day.

“Foul language and violence do seem to be your go-to solution for most problems,” X-37 pointed out.

Putting away my project, I left the workshop. “I can’t remember the name of the captain of the Bold Freedom. Do you think he kept the ship in one piece long enough to find a new home for innocents of Dreadmax?” I asked.

X-37 paused for an usually long time, several seconds at least. “It seems unlikely they found sanctuary. Even if they were innocent of any crime, they are a black mark against the Union. They would be rounded up and eliminated.”

X was right, I knew he was. It was naïve to think differently. The Deadlands were technically outside of the Union’s control, but there were bounty hunters and special teams to handle that sort of eventuality. The captain of the Bold Freedom wouldn’t be able to go to any known settlement.

It didn’t matter. I had my own problems to deal with.

* * *

“Jelly is asking if Tom can take a break and get some sleep,” X-37 advised me through our private channel. “She assures me that there are no actions or navigation problems requiring a human pilot to evaluate.”

“That’s fine, X. I don’t really want anyone but me changing our course anyway. The only reason I assigned Tom or Elise to the bridge was so they would learn what to do if something happens to me in the future.”

“A wise policy, Reaper Cain,” X-37 agreed.

“Cain for Jelly, can you tell me where Elise and Tom are now without violating your privacy protocols?” I asked.

“Certainly, Captain,” Jelly said. “Elise has been sleeping for almost two hours and Tom is on his way to his quarters, presumably to do the same thing. He keeps yawning. I don’t have access to his biometrics as X-37 does to yours, but evidence suggests he will be in dreamland soon.”

“Good,” I said, heading toward my new destination. “I’ll be on the observation deck. X, I want to go over the data from the storage unit we recovered from the tech shrine.”

“Of course, Reaper Cain. I have continued to decrypt the data as you requested. If you would sleep more, I would have more uninterrupted time to work on this project,” X-37 said.

“Yeah, I know. When we’re done, I’ll let you take another crack at putting me to sleep for a full six hours.” Once I was on the observation deck, I went to the small cabinet on the stern side wall and brought out a box of cigars, a bottle of whiskey, and two glasses.

I poured two fingers worth of the whiskey into one glass and put the other on the table just in case I had company. It made me feel less like an alcoholic.

Jelly, without my asking, displayed the star fields of this system. While X-37 was decrypting the data box my mother had left for us as the ultimate collection of clues, Jelly was constantly scanning the stars and trying to find reference points. We were mapping a new system far beyond the Union-controlled space, the Sarkonians’ sphere of influence, or even the Deadlands. In other circumstances, it would feel like quite an adventure.

No one was meant to come out this far.

I smoked one of the last Starbrand fakes, not really in the mood to deal with my poorly wrapped and often crumbling attempts at a homemade cigar. My inventory was dwindling. I had a few Gronic Fats I’d acquired between Greendale and Roxo III and three Starbrand Premiums.

Whiskey was easier to store and synthesize. I sipped slowly, not wanting to get too drunk or run out of booze. Private time on the observation deck was meant to be relaxing. Getting hammered wasn’t what I had in mind.

“What do we know?” I asked, confident that X-37 understood exactly what I was asking.

“In review, your mother works or worked for the Union, probably as a scientist or project leader. I conducted a side query and believe I now understand why you were unaware of your mother’s true importance at the time,” X-37 said.

“I joined the military as a teenager,” I said defensively. A sip of whiskey, a pause, and a long draw on the cigar helped me keep control of my temper.

“Of course, Reaper Cain. Cluelessness is apparently very common to teenagers. This was an obvious fact once I analyzed something tagged as social media in the archives. Nevertheless, I was challenged to find out exactly what she did for the Union. The only mistake they made in hiding her activities was erasing them completely. That in and of itself is suspicious,” X-37 said.

“It wouldn’t be noticed unless somebody with your processing power and hacking techniques was looking at the data,” I said.

“Compliment detected,” X-37 said.

“Don’t get a big head, X. Tell me more,” I demanded. The star field on the holo viewer never moved, but it was still spectacular to watch. It felt like the entire universe was looking back at me.

I tapped a few controls on my chair and moved the holo so that I was in the middle of it all.

“She left us some very formidable tools, access codes to facilities that don’t appear to exist in any record I have access to, and dossiers on people we’ve never met. There is a considerable amount of information on how to weaponize the mask and use it for a variety of missions,” X-37 said.

I thought back to the first time I had used the mask and how it nearly killed me. We had argued about why it had been designed that way and finally concluded that anyone without a limited artificial intelligence to assist them, and nerves of steel, would die if they attempted to operate it.

Byron Thane II had been an exception, because apparently my mother had contacted the angry young man and used him like a tool. He had thought he was going to kill me, but all he’d really been was a delivery tool for my mother. She’d been playing chess while the young man, the son of one of my rivals, had been playing checkers.

There had been subroutines in the operational programming significantly dumbing down control mechanisms for the mask accessible to Thane II.

The reason the mask had nearly caused me to jump into the void was that I had of course refused to read the instructions, a point that I argued, but that X-37 claimed he could prove with measurements of my eye movement at the time.

“None of this tells me what I should be doing now,” I complained. “The sooner I can rescue her, the sooner she can tell me the rest of her grand plan to thwart the Union.”

“You are assuming she is still alive,” X-37 said.

I didn’t respond, deciding that sipping what was in my glass and finishing the cigar was a better use of my time and less likely to cause me to say something I would regret.

“The first thing we need to do is avoid capture by Vice Admiral Nebs. I would advise gathering resources, establishing a safehold where we can rest and repair ourselves between engagements, and then finding where they are holding your mother and sister if either of them are in fact still alive,” X-37 said.

I stood up, cleaned the whiskey glass and the ashtray, and put them away. “I was hoping we would come up with something new.”

“It does feel like we’ve had this conversation approximately twenty-seven times,” X-37 said.

“I’m going to take a shift on the bridge,” I said.

“Perhaps you should sleep like the rest of the crew,” X-37 said.

“I’ve slept enough today.” I took my time moving to the hallway, neither looking forward to a shift on the bridge nor dreading it. The routine was easy. Travel in the slip tunnel almost never lasted longer than two or three days, but each of those jumps added up and felt like a lifetime.

Even when I was a regular soldier, life had been mostly boredom. One day after the next, there should be more than enough time to rest and figure out riddles. I was more than a bit frustrated that we hadn’t lost Nebs yet.

4

Jelly played music that she informed me previous captains had enjoyed during long stretches in slip tunnels. Some of the melodies sounded familiar, synthetic instruments and syncopated bass lines. Others seemed to be performed by musicians blowing into reed pipes and stomping their feet.

“Give me something new or turn it off,” I said. Tom and Elise had both slept in, apparently. I shouldn’t be angry, because I’d chosen to take a double shift on the bridge. They probably didn’t even know I was here.

The sound of a large orchestra warming up came from the sound system. After a few moments, I realized this was actually part of the performance and that the melodies were merging to form a more and more powerful piece. The experience was intriguing and kept me occupied for longer than I realized. Before long, the music was thrillingly martial—it made me want to wade into battle and crush my enemies.

“Jelly, can you mark that as a preferred soundtrack?” I said. “It’s very inspiring once it gets going.”

“Of course, Captain,” Jelly said.

“Thanks,” I replied, then took off my jacket. I examined the two pockets that I had sewn on the inside, one for the mask and one for the stealth cloak.

“That is fine work,” Jelly said. “If this Reaper business doesn’t work out, you might find work as a seamstress or a tailor.”

“Did you just make a joke?” I asked.

“It was an attempt. Captain. X-37 has been instructing me,” Jelly admitted, sounding more embarrassed than I thought a ship AI could sound.

“That wasn’t bad, but between you and me, X-37’s humor could use some work. You might look for a better mentor,” I said, standing and putting on the jacket then inserting the mask and the rolled-up stealth cloak into the concealed pockets.

“Truly? That was my assessment, but I didn’t want to be rude,” Jelly said.

“Ahem, you know I can hear both of you,” X-37 said.

“Chill, X. I’m just pulling your chain,” I said, knowing what would come next.

“I will add chain-pulling to your list of human colloquialisms that make absolutely zero sense given the context of this conversation,” X-37 said.

I laughed. The familiarity of our banter was soothing and I didn’t know what I would do without X.

For the next several minutes, I practiced taking the mask out of my jacket with either hand. I did the same with the stealth cloak, unrolling it and re-rolling it several times. Then I moved about the room, practicing shoplifting various items that were magnetized to the workstations.

My old friend Grady had thought my adeptness at thievery was disgusting, but he didn’t know how much practice it took to be good at pilfering. Jelly could tease me about being a seamstress or a tailor, but if I really had to earn a living without violence, I would probably be a pickpocket.

It was a useful skill. More than half of the cigars I had smoked in my lifetime had been acquired in this way.

“You seem to be improving, Captain,” Jelly said as she watched me move about the cockpit. “Even though my sensors are more acute than the human eye, and my processing power many times faster in most cases, all three of your covert item acquisitions were undetectable until I reviewed my short-term memory.”

“Four,” I said.

“Excuse me?” Jelly said. “Are you attempting to convince me that you have pocketed a fourth item that I didn’t observe?”

“He has one of the smaller data slates tucked into his side trouser pocket,” X-37 tattled. “If you look behind work terminal four-nine-bravo, you will see one of the micro devices is missing from its charging station.”

“Ah,” Jelly said almost forlornly. “You are a master thief, Captain.”

“That’s not really a compliment, and I was going to put it back. Technically, it’s not stealing if I don’t intend to permanently deprive you of it. And this is my ship, so I can take whatever I want.”

“That is a rather thorny legal question, considering I have been stolen multiple times and used against my own creators,” Jelly said.

“You could still be in the service of the Union, just waiting for some piece of Trojan computer code to turn you against me,” I said, almost feeling guilty for the accusation.

“I can assure you that will not happen,” Jelly said, and if I was interpreting her tone correctly, she sounded more than a bit put out by my words.

“I can vouch for the Jellybird,” X-37 said. “I have not only made a detailed study of every line of her code, but also reviewed key points on a regular basis to make sure she is not compromised by Union malware.”

“Good to know.” I wasn’t convinced. X-37, after all, was also a product of Union scientists.

“Paranoia detected,” X-37 said like it was some sort of public service announcement.

“Piss off, both of you,” I said, then immediately had a powerful revelation. It was me against the Union.

I probably shouldn’t have relied on X-37 or Jelly, but I did. As X-37 had pointed out many times when he was in psychologist mode, doubting him in particular was just going to make me crazy.

In truth, I had enormous faith in Elise and Tom and even the other members of my team—Henshaw and Path. The latter two had given me reason to suspect them, but that was mostly in the past. With them, I was in a “trust but verify” mood.

It was something I had to move beyond. The Union was unstoppable. I couldn’t stand against them by myself. I couldn’t resist the Union’s might, even with my friends and the two ships we had access to, to help me.

I needed to build an army and a fleet. The idea wasn’t as crazy as it sounded, because I had not only been trained to do exactly that but had done it on more than one occasion. There had been three missions in which I had been sent in to destabilize governments so that the Union could establish control after local rebellions.

“You seem to be calmer now,” X-37 observed. “Should I be worried? That normally means you’re going to kill someone or blow something up.”

“Nope. I just had a moment of clarity. We’re going to need a bigger ship—several bigger ships to be specific.” I didn’t have a plan yet. It was more like I had updated my private mission statement.

My short-term goal was to get away from Nebs. My five-year plan, for lack of a better term, was to rescue my mother and sister and see what they could tell me about the Union. But in the end, my long-term plan, my life’s mission, had to be total war against the Union.

“I hate to interrupt your delightful mood, but Tom and Elise are asking if you will join them for dinner,” X-37 said.

“What? Okay, sure,” I said. “Jelly, is there any reason you need me to stay on the bridge at this moment?”

“James Henshaw is attempting to hail you from the Lady Faith,” Jelly advised.

“In that case, advise Elise and Tom that I will be joining them for dinner and will get back with Henshaw later,” I said.

“The hail is marked as mildly urgent,” Jelly explained.

“Yeah, well, I’m mildly uninterested. Whatever he has to say, it will wait,” I said and went to the galley. All of a sudden, I was very hungry.

Conspiring to destabilize the Union by building an army to engage in guerrilla warfare worked up an appetite.

5

The Jellybird emerged from the slip tunnel. Several tense intervals passed before Henshaw piloted the Lady Faith out of the shimmering aperture behind us, immediately accelerating and veering away as we had planned.

“Jelly,” I said, “deploy the sensor relays. Make sure they are concealed.”

“Concealed, in this circumstance, is not a precise term, Captain,” Jelly said. “What we are actually doing is operating them on an ultra-low power mode.”

“That’s what I meant, Jelly,” I said, smiling because the ship’s AI was always so respectful and polite. Maybe being a captain of a ship wasn’t that bad.

I was impatient to get going but let them finish scanning the area for debris or ambush. It had not taken me long to convince the others this was necessary as part of our standard operating procedure. Since I had already performed this maneuver and knew it was unnecessary for Henshaw, watching him go through the steps was tedious.

But no one would learn anything if I just told them it was clear every time. Because I always went first, just like when we cleared rooms or searched a new world or went through slip tunnels. Going first into the breach was my right.

No one understood how to take these risks better than me and I couldn’t let them go ahead of me to get themselves killed.

Some people claimed all slip tunnels had the same appearance, but I thought they were unique, each a bit more miraculous in their own way.

Maybe I was a romantic, an artist trapped in a killer’s body.

“Hail the LF,” I said.

“Right away, Captain,” Jelly responded.

“Henshaw here. Are you receiving my transmission?” the ocular engineer and owner of the Lady Faith asked.

“I hear you clearly. You don’t have to raise your voice,” I said. “We are only detecting one slip tunnel anywhere near enough to reach before the Union catches up.”

“If the Union can find us this far out,” Henshaw said.

“We discussed this. Just because we didn’t see them as we neared the last slip tunnel entrance, doesn’t mean they weren’t right behind us,” I said. “Plot parallel courses two hours to the next slip tunnel. Let’s call it a race.”

“The Lady Faith is one of the fastest yachts in its class. I believe that this contest is undignified,” Henshaw said, moderating his voice to a more reasonable level now. He’d owned the ship for a long time but rarely piloted it himself. “You can just advise us to accelerate to our best speed. It doesn’t have to be a competition.”

“Whatever works,” I said. “Speed is our only option right now. There’s one slip tunnel. And when, not if, the Union shows up, you’ll wish that you’d started accelerating the moment you left the tunnel.”

“Now that is a rational argument. I don’t understand why you must call it a race,” Henshaw pouted.

“He doesn’t want to lose,” Elise said, sitting up from the copilot seat where I thought she had been asleep.

“That is not true,” Henshaw said. “But if I did desire to participate in a race, it would be a sanctioned event with rules and referees.”

I listened to Elise and Henshaw go back and forth but watched the holo display and checked the Jellybird’s instruments. There were dozens of things that the ship did automatically, but I still needed to know about.

My early training, long before I became a Reaper, emphasized being prepared for the worst-case scenario. Few ships were piloted without help from an artificial intelligence, but there were scenarios when it became necessary. It was good to keep up my skills.

I went so far as to make calculations by hand. Not my strongest skill set by any stretch of the imagination, but it could be done.

After a time, I realized the conversation between Elise and Henshaw had ended and she was looking at me expectantly.

“Well, shouldn’t the Union carriers be through the tunnel by now? I think we’re in the clear. He’s trying to convince me that they can operate inside the tunnels with their cloaking devices on,” Elise said.

I knew a lot more about the darker aspects of the Union fleet and their technology than they did, and I didn’t want to talk about it.

There were, however, some things my friends needed to know. “It’s possible to operate a ship inside the slip tunnel, but the technology is very rare.”

“In that case,” Elise admitted, “it may be wise to be paranoid.”

“Paranoia is never wrong,” I said, only half joking.

“If you’ll allow me to finish,” Henshaw said. “I will admit that we should be cautious, but it still seems a good deal of time has passed since we entered the system. If we did manage to lose the Union carriers on that last tunnel choice, then we should be in the clear for months at least.”

“Do you have any tricks to detect them while they are in stealth mode?” I asked.

“You know I’m working on several theories,” Henshaw said in a lecturing tone. “But the only one I know would work right now would require us to slow down.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“It’s extremely complicated. I can send you over the algorithm code for your review,” Henshaw said.

“Do that. I’m sure X-37 and Jelly would love to take a look at them, and Tom,” I said.

Henshaw smirked somewhat condescendingly. “Tom is very good at what he does. But these calculations are complex.”

“Fine,” I said, considering whether or not I had any other options. “Tell me when you have something that works at full speed. In the meantime, the last person to the slip tunnel entrance buys everyone else Starbrand cigars.”

“When you put it that way,” Henshaw said, but didn’t finish the statement.

“Captain, it appears the Lady Faith has been holding out on us. Her speed is increasing dramatically,” Jelly said.

“Can you beat her?” I asked.

“Of course, Captain,” Jelly said.

“Then get to it,” I said, and watched the readouts change. It was tempting to take manual control just for grins, but I didn’t. After several tense moments, I grew accustomed to the acceleration and leaned back in my captain’s chair, interlocking my hands behind my head.

Eventually, Elise grew bored and started playing a puzzle game on a tablet Tom had given her. She seemed determined to unlock each level of the game faster than he had. Henshaw was wrong to underestimate Tom, I thought.

Surprisingly, I found my thoughts clear. There was no compulsion to remember my dark past or worry about the future. Such moments were a gift and I valued them.

It couldn’t last forever, of course. The trip to the next slip tunnel was long, but we were going as fast as possible.

We took turns on the bridge, Tom spending his time communicating with Henshaw about the stealth mode, then reporting to me through detailed reports. They had decided that the Jellybird was the better option for testing stealth mode. The Lady Faith wasn’t as durable and had a smaller power plant.

We kept busy. I even let Elise have a solo shift. Everything was fine until I relieved her.

The door slid open and I entered the bridge area. Elise sat up, pretending she hadn’t been about to doze off.

“I see you managed not to fly us into a black hole or get us caught in a Union ambush,” I said.

Her expression changed at my flippant remark. I had to give her credit for not flying off the handle. I had sounded like a dick.

“I’m glad you have so much confidence in my ability,” she said sarcastically, clearly not meaning a word of it. “To be honest, I thought manning the helm would be hard. What do you even do when we’re not here?”

“Important ship piloting stuff,” I shot back, pretending to be annoyed. I wasn’t.

She hesitated. “Now you’re just messing with me.”

“Yeah, something like that,” I said.

“I made a log entry. Nothing seen or detected. After the Jellybird completed her scans, I checked them manually as well. You made it sound like the calculations would be difficult,” she said, not actually seeming to be talking trash this time. She’d switched into her “take me seriously” mode.

“Okay, show me,” I said, then looked over her work. It was top-notch, detail-oriented, and recorded in chronological order.

When we were done, she turned her chair so she could face me and held my gaze. “You’re going to have to trust me more. You and I, we’re in this to the end. You know what I’m saying.”

I understood her statement. Neither of us could escape the Union, not really. Tom, Henshaw, and Path might fade away with hopes of hiding from Union operatives. The Dreadmax mission had shown me how far they were willing to go to take out Elise, and I’d only made things worse.

“We’re liabilities to the Union,” I said.

“So, what are we going to do about that?” she asked, sounding confident but looking slightly more vulnerable than normal. It was an odd combination, but I understood it; she was trying to appear braver than she felt.

“I’m working on it,” I said, and was surprised when she didn’t argue.

* * *

We arrived at the next slip tunnel with no sign of Union pursuit. “Jelly, broadcast an all hands to the bridge, please.”

“I have made the broadcast,” Jelly said seconds later. “Omitting the message to you, of course.”

“Thanks, Jelly. You’re the best,” I said, continuing to study holographic displays and sensor readings. My unscientific gut instinct told me we had not lost the Union. Nebs was a vice admiral in charge of a handpicked special operations group. Or at least I thought it was safe to make that assumption given my prior experience with him and his people. It was possible we’d lost him during our ever more frequent slip tunnel jumps, but I just didn’t feel like we’d escaped.

“Bring Henshaw and Path online as well,” I said.

A moment later, the ocular engineer and the sword saint appeared on a holo representing the bridge of the Jellybird, which was extremely comfortable-looking, I thought.

“I assume you’ve made a decision,” Henshaw said. He looked tired but not in a way that was hungover or unhappy.

If what Tom told me was correct, that both of them were spending a lot of time working on design, implementation, and small improvements to stealth mode for first the Jellybird and then the Lady Faith.

I was glad they were so committed to the project because we needed every advantage we could get.

Tom and Elise arrived, both of them in fresh jumpsuits and looking like they had taken the time to get squared away. I had everyone on a strict water rationing for showers, but by alternating those with sonic cleansing, we were able to look and feel presentable most of the time.

That might not always be the case this far beyond the Deadlands.

“Everyone was part of this decision,” I said. “When it comes to the Union, we can’t take chances. That means we have to know where they are.”

Elise shook her head. “But all we will do if we wait is confirm to them that they are still behind us. Why not just make the leap and keep them guessing?”

She wasn’t wrong. But like my other observations, I felt like instinct was guiding me. I needed to know if Nebs was behind me and how much of his carrier group he still had with him.

“There are only so many slip tunnels, even this far out in uncharted space. What happens if they somehow got ahead of us to another part of the network? What if they have technology we don’t know that allows them to get ahead of us and we emerge into a trap?” I asked.

Elise had a quick answer. “That’s why we do the evasive maneuvers and take the precautions you taught us. I don’t see how waiting now does us any good.”

It was hard to answer because she wasn’t wrong and my instincts shouldn’t be allowed to override logic. I took a second to formulate my response. “Now that we are at the entrance to the slip tunnel, we can disappear almost instantly. What I want to see is all three of Nebs’s carriers and related ships emerge from the tunnel. Then I will know where they are. It will influence my decision the next time we arrive at a nexus.”

No one said anything. I could see each of them considering my logic.

“And yet we had to participate in your unnecessary race,” Henshaw said. “I am not normally one to advocate rushing forward blindly, but I think we should leave the system now.”

I looked at Tom and then Path, the only two who had not voiced an opinion. Tom seemed embarrassed and shrugged, indicating he agreed with Elise and Henshaw. Path held my stare for a long time.

“There is no reason for us to stay,” Path said.

“What about you, X?” I asked, knowing that my limited artificial intelligence would reply on the open channel for this question.

“We can’t strike a target we cannot see. I advocate we wait. There is no Union ship on record fast enough to catch us with the lead we have established in the system. How that will translate after the next slip tunnel jump remains to be seen. I’m with you, Reaper Cain.”

“Well thanks, X,” I said, but then doubted myself. There had to be a reason I was so set on watching the sensors we had deployed around the slip tunnel exit. Maybe I thought they would come with ten ships instead of just three. Maybe I hoped they would never come. Maybe I was hoping we were done with running from the Union.

“I thought we agreed you were going to share some of these responsibilities with us,” Elise said, having become the spokesperson for the others.

“I said I’d think about it,” I said.

“You promised. Now you’re going back on your word,” she insisted.

“Would you like me to review the conversation?” X-37 offered.

“No,” Elise and I said at the same time.

I stood and used the small amount of available space on the bridge of the Jellybird to pace. I wasn’t normally this indecisive. Having to consider the input and feelings of others was a lot harder than it should be.

Facing my friends and allies here on the bridge and in the small holo view from the Lady Faith, I put my fists on my hips and gave them a hard look. “Let me shuck it down,” I said. “I’m struggling with this decision, but it isn’t a debate I can win with logic. If you trust me, then go with me on this. We wait until we see who comes through that slip tunnel, then we get out of here.”

One by one, they nodded.

“What do you need us to do?” Elise asked.

“Everybody monitors one of the concealed sensor relays we left behind. It’s going to be a long shift, but I think we all agree it demands our utmost attention,” I said, feeling like I was giving a debrief to actual soldiers.

I wasn’t, of course. I had a runaway girl, a mechanic, an ocular engineer with a gambling problem, and a sword saint who acted like a monk and dressed like a punk rock star.

Not exactly the crew I would pick to fight someone like Vice Admiral Nebs and his special operations group, but they were all I had.

* * *

The UFS Nightmare came first, blasting straight out of the tunnel and stopping abruptly to deploy its small ships. The micro fighters, which lacked the range of true void combat vessels, spread out to form a sphere around the carrier.

Just when I was starting to get a feel for their formation, the UFS Darklance and UFS Black Wing emerged almost simultaneously and took positions on the right and left flank of the Nightmare. Their own ultra-small fighters deployed, turning their ship of the line type deployment into a three-dimensional formation with defensive spheres of the little fighters.

“Jelly, we’ll follow behind the Lady Faith. It’s time to go,” I said, already having seen most of what I needed. Before the words left my mouth, the small ships were returning to their carriers.

With no imminent battle, they would land on the respective ships, and then the carriers would go into stealth mode. If the small ships had stealth capability, we wouldn’t have seen much of this deployment.

That was information I would need in the future.

“X, I need you to log everything about their movements and deployment abilities,” I said.

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 promised. “I will add it to our tactical database for future encounters with Vice Admiral Nebs and his special operations group.”

Henshaw looked at me as things quieted down, his face flickering slightly in the holographic image. “Was the risk worth it?”

“I think it was,” I said, knowing that Henshaw would not answer me because the Lady Faith was entering the next slip tunnel now.

In a surprisingly short amount of time, all of the micro fighters docked on their Union carriers, which then disappeared.

“I do not believe they detected our sensor relays,” Jelly said.

I nodded. “That’s really good news. Let’s activate our stealth cloak and see what happens.”

“Is now really the best time for a test?” Jelly asked.

I looked at Tom. “What do you think?”

He shrugged, barely moving his shoulders and looking away in a manner that was more humble than doubtful. “I think it will work. We put a lot of effort into upgrading the algorithms. It should take them multiple exposures to our technology for them to break it.”

“Then let’s see what we can do,” I said. My only regret was that I hadn’t put Elise and Tom on the Lady Faith before sending her through the slip tunnel. Promising myself that I would manufacture some reason for both of them to be on the other ship in this type of situation in the future, I took manual control of the Jellybird and piloted away from the slip tunnel.

“I’m as curious as you are, Reaper,” Elise said. “But I don’t like this.”

“We’re not going far,” I promised.

“There is good news and bad news,” Jelly said. “It does not seem they detected the Lady Faith before she jumped. The bad news is that they are bombarding this area with sensor inquiries, suggesting they may be looking for us despite the stealth cloak.”

“Let’s make our way to the tunnel entrance. I want to drop our cloak and slip through with as little exposure to Union scans as possible. Maybe we can have the best of both worlds,” I said, feeling slightly like my decision had been vindicated. All three of the Union stealth carriers were here, which meant I didn’t have to worry about flying into an ambush when we exited the next tunnel.

6

On the second day of our most recent evasion of Vice Admiral Nebs, I met Elise in the training room. The room felt small after such frequent use. We needed to get onto a planet or even a space station to stretch our legs. I was seriously getting cabin fever.

“Is something on your mind?” X-37 asked privately.

“I’m feeling restless. Ready for a mission, any mission. Nothing against the Jellybird, but I’m feeling boxed in,” I said.

“I would’ve thought this would not be a problem for you after so much time in solitary confinement within the Bluesphere Maximum Security Prison,” X-37 said.

“That’s different,” I said

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 agreed.

I switched into my workout gear. It wasn’t the same as what a civilian would wear, because we also needed to perform tactical drills, then hit the range.

The fabric was tough, breathable, and easy to work with. I was able to sew on pockets to replicate our tactical gear and reinforce places that we destroyed during our hand-to-hand combat training—knees, elbows, and collars mostly. My outfit was dark gray, almost black. Elise had a closet full of these modified uniforms that she’d tailored once I showed her how to do it.

Today, she wore a blue variation to match streaks she had put in her hair. I didn’t have her fashion sense, nor did I care about such things. There wasn’t much I could do about my hard face with its vertical scar traversing one eye. In a crowd, with the right clothing, I could hide my augmentations for a time.

Union wars had scarred a lot of people over the years. My mangled face didn’t draw attention unless someone was looking closely.

“Are you ready?” Elise challenged when we met next to the treadmills and weight machines.

“I’m always ready,” I reminded her.

“Except when it comes to pulling the prank on Tom,” she disagreed as she did some warm-up exercises.

I stretched, trying not to feel old. Age wasn’t a problem; it was the mileage. “I’d completely forgotten about that. You need to be patient. Good pranks can’t be rushed.”

“Whatever,” she said. “You should’ve just let me do it. It would have been hilarious. Maybe I would’ve surprised even you.”

“Doubtful,” I said, thinking she was getting cocky. “Let’s do a run and then work on your strength. After that, I have some surprises.”

“Surprises?” she asked, looking slightly nervous. We’d been training together long enough that she understood my gut-check workouts were always brutal.

“Marksmanship first,” I said, giving her very little instruction at this point. We’d been doing this every day and I expected her to know the drill like the back of her hand, which she did.

She nodded curtly, then went straight to the gun locker. I watched her observe every safety procedure and noted her meticulous attention to detail. She was a teenager, still a kid to me. Her professionalism when we trained like this, however, warmed even the darkest parts of me.

At the same time, I was sad that this was her childhood. She was preparing for war, I thought, but then realized that wasn’t exactly right. She’d been at war since her father put her in Union experiments.

She’d been at war, but she’d been unarmed and alone. Now she had one Reaper with a bad attitude and some friends to watch her back.

I steered my thoughts away from that topic. It wasn’t a good idea to train angry.

Elise finished checking the handgun then put it on the table with the slide locked back to show me it was empty. I gave her the briefest nod and she continued.

One of the things we’d been working on was our nonverbal communication. Just as I was developing new and improved methods for communicating silently with X-37, I was also doing this with Elise. As much as I resisted, there seemed no way we wouldn’t be working as a team in the future. I needed to stop worrying about ruining her life.

Even if I had an army at my command, Elise and I would be the tip of the spear—because we were the ones the Union really wanted.

I wanted to curse or maybe burn down a cigar or two.

Elise finished with the HDK rifle and tactical gear, laying it all out for my examination. I noticed she had included the stealth cloak.

“Are you sure about the cloak?” I said, watching for her reaction. “It’s difficult to use. You’ll have to go slow so you don’t shoot yourself while trying to make it function.”

“I know, and I know to treat the range like we’re using real bullets,” she said. “But you always tell me training is where we learn. I’d like to try this now rather than in the middle of a real operation when our lives are on the line.”

I let the moment draw out then motioned for her to continue.

“Jelly, can you time this?” she asked. “If I can measure it, I can improve it.”

“I am currently engaged in a difficult computation for Henshaw and Tom. Please ask X-37 if he’s able to do this,” Jelly said.

“That is no problem,” X-37 said. “Anytime you have your earbud in, I can perform many of the functions I do for Reaper Cain, except directly modify your biometrics.”

Elise laughed nervously. “I just need a timer this time, X. Thanks.”

“On my mark,” X-37 said.

“Hold on,” I interjected, pointing at Elise. “Go to the other side of the room and lie down like you’re sleeping. X will give you an alert, and then you can start the clock.”

Elise went to the other side of the training room, sprawled out on her back, and closed her eyes.

“X, give her enough time you can surprise her,” I ordered.

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said, then flooded relaxing music through a public address channel that nearly put me to sleep.

A minute or two later, X-37 blared an alert tone through Elise’s earbud. “Alert! Alert! Scenario on!”

Elise sprang to her feet and sprinted to the equipment table. She geared up in the exact order that I had taught her: lightweight body armor, gun belt and tactical vest, and weapons.

Even without X-37 telling me her time as it progressed, I was impressed. She was quick and agile, also benefiting from an unusual amount of confidence for someone her age. She seemed to know she had trained hard and what she could do.

My job was becoming more and more to warn her what she couldn’t do. I’d learned the hard way to respect my own limitations and she needed to learn the same lesson before overconfidence got her killed.

“The drill is weapons transitions, starting with handgun and switching to the HDK,” I said. “Accuracy still matters, so don’t go faster than you can make the shots count.”

Pistol holstered and the HDK firmly attached to its tactical sling, Elise stepped onto the firing lane and waited for the command. There were three possible targets in the simple scenario. X-37 would activate them at random. Some would have holographic bad guys armed with a variety of weapons. Others would be innocent civilians.

Elise hadn’t appreciated my emphasis on target selection until I explained that we worked like the Union. We didn’t want to mow down innocent civilians during a gun battle in a public place.

The first target, an armed man in generic tactical gear, flashed to life. It brought up its weapon to aim at Elise.

She moved faster than the holo. “Threat left!” she shouted, firing three rounds a fraction of a second later. “Threat down,” she reported as the antagonist fell.

I watched with my arms crossed, evaluating her overall performance but also small details like her stance, her grip of the weapons, and how smooth the transitions were when she ran out of ammunition or had a malfunction.

On the range, I would put her up against any well-trained Union soldier, maybe even a spec ops commando. Real life was different. I hoped her new skills would never be tested, but I knew it was inevitable.

As soon as the firearms portion of our session was done, I directed her to disassemble the weapons and leave them on the table to be cleaned later. We went immediately to the treadmills and ran hard for three kilometers.

We hit the weight machines and the modified free weights I’d created from ship parts. She was smiling and enjoying the hard work when I threw in today’s surprise. Between each set, we ran wind sprints on the treadmills.

“I love it!” Elise exclaimed, sweating profusely but smiling like she was racing a hovercraft instead of getting her butt kicked in the gym.

“Bullshit!” I grunted.

Her response was unintelligible, but I thought she was having a blast—which was solid evidence she was nearly as crazy as I was.

An hour later, her expression was less flippant and her trash-talking less frequent. No matter how bad it became, she never complained and I never doubted she would finish the workout.

* * *

I limped away from the harsh training session, trying not to show how banged up I felt. It was nothing I wasn’t used to. Even when I was young, I didn’t stop until I pushed myself about two steps too far.

Maybe Elise was suffering, but she didn’t show it. She was young and had some genetic boosts from her exposure to the Union’s experiments. I’d seen her heal from wounds in a day that should’ve taken her weeks. It only made sense that her workout recovery would be above par.

X-37 did a good job monitoring my biometrics and tweaking things as best as possible. So, I really didn’t have much to complain about.

I took a sonic shower then headed for the observation deck for whiskey and cigar time with Tom. The moment I stepped onto the deck and observed the spectacular three-dimensional view of the uncharted star field, I knew that Tom had also experienced a challenging but fulfilling day.

He loved to learn new skills and tinker with things. The slightly unequal friendship he had with James Henshaw was a big deal to the man. If he resented the ocular engineer’s condescending attitude, he didn’t show it. Tom was probably used to this type of treatment.

I told myself not to worry. If Tom was okay with it, I was okay with it.

Henshaw and I would never be fast friends, but something had changed since our last mission. I discussed what I had observed with X-37 and we conditionally agreed that Henshaw could be trusted. He had turned against the Union as completely as I had and put all of his intellectual and creative energies into developing technology that would help me defeat my enemies.

“You look like you’ve been busy,” Tom said as he handed me a glass of whiskey and a cigar.

I put the glass on a small table next to the chair I preferred for our station time and then nursed the cigar to life. I breathed it in, in no hurry to answer Tom’s observation. We spent a lot of evenings here and our routine was very relaxed.

“We had a gut-check today,” I said.

“Ahh, that makes sense.” Tom paused, stepping back toward his chair but not taking his seat. We were both still standing. “I’m glad I’m not part of that brutishness.”

“What’s on your mind, Tom?” I asked.

He smiled. “I was just thinking about how my training supervisors would’ve never guessed I’d be working on stealth cloak technology with one of the best minds in the Union—formerly in the Union, I guess.”

“Do you think he’s as smart as he acts?” I asked.

“And then some,” Tom said.

“I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Tom,” I said.

“Fire away,” he responded easily.

“I’ve told you about the Bold Freedom and how it escaped Dreadmax,” I said.

He nodded and waited for more.

“With your expertise in mechanical engineering, do you think they have a chance of keeping a retrofitted, decades out-of-production freighter running long enough to get them to safety?” I asked.

“That depends on how far they have to travel to reach safety,” Tom said. “I can’t imagine they’ll find any place in the Union, or even the Deadlands, that will accept them. What would be the bounty on thousands of escaped fugitives?”

“I doubt the Union will admit publicly they even exist, but they will have teams to move in and handle their mistake,” I said without telling him exactly what that meant. He understood enough not to ask for details.

“Well, the fact that they were able to build a freighter from parts and leave the system speaks volumes of their ability and dedication,” Tom said. “I’d give them better chances if I was with them.”

“Look at you, Tom, all modest and self-effacing,” I said like I was talking to one of my buddies from basic training. In truth, he was probably the best friend I had or ever would have despite our differences.

“You caught me bragging,” he said, and laughed. “Why don’t we see if Jelly can connect Henshaw and Path to the observation deck. It’s about time we had some guests for whiskey and cigar time.”

I raised an eyebrow, studying Tom but eventually deciding there was no harm in expanding our group on a conditional basis. “I guess we could try it. Can’t hurt. Although I imagine they’ll be having better cigar and whiskeys than we are throwing back.”

Tom laughed, seeming slightly too nervous. “That’s true.”

His behavior intrigued me, but I didn’t feel there was anything malicious behind whatever he was holding back.

A voice came over our general communications channel at about the same time I saw a holographic representation of the Lady Faith’s bridge with Henshaw and Path sitting in oversized chairs. Henshaw was already drinking and smoking. Path sat there with his hands in his lap, seeming peaceful and content as always.

“Nice of you to join us,” I said magnanimously.

“Of course,” Henshaw said. “Maybe next time we can do this in person, and I will share some real cigars with you.”

“Now that’s an excellent idea,” I said as my mind registered a whip cream pie floating between us. It was so out of place that I was having a hard time processing exactly what it was.

“What the hell?” I asked as the pie nailed me in the face. My lightning fast Reaper reflexes allowed me to move my cigar clear of the creamy arc of destruction.

I bounded to my feet and jumped away as I heard Elise and the others laughing hysterically.

“Ha, ha, ha. That’s really fucking funny,” I said, wiping pie from my face.

Elise looked like a disembodied head, with the stealth cloak still shimmering around the rest of her body. She pointed at me. “Now that’s a prank!”

I looked at Tom. “I’m so glad everyone could be here to see this.”

Tom laughed so hard, he nearly spit out the sip of whiskey he had been taking when I confronted him for his part in the joke.

“And you, X, why didn’t you warn me?” I demanded. “Has she been practicing with that cloak without me?”

“Oh yes, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “Elise has been practicing with the stealth cloak every day, like you should be doing.”

“Thanks a lot, X. Very nice,” I said.

“Would you like me to instruct you on prank resistance?” X-37 said for everyone to hear.

Elise and the others had a second big laugh.

“That depends on whose side you’re on, X,” I said, then pointed at the others. “You know what goes around comes around, right?”

They continued to laugh, but it seemed a bit more cautious.

7

The bridge, only supported on one side of the river, twisted as the far end fell. Insurgents and noncombatants fleeing the bombardment of Jeppa screamed as they plummeted to their deaths. Rocks and rapids awaited them on the half-kilometer wide river through the four-hundred-meter-deep canyon.

Carson’s World, and that of the people of Jeppa, was a hard and violent place, but nothing compared to the might of the Union’s wrath.

This time, the bridge incident would be different. This time, I wouldn’t let go no matter what. The woman had a family—little girls I’d tossed to Grady myself before trying to save the woman.

“You’re not even trying to help me, X,” I complained.

“What do you want me to do? I wasn’t there and I can’t see your mind, only posit based on your reactions and mumblings. None of this is real,” X-37 said clinically. “You’re asleep.”

Captain Clark shouted at me from safety only a dozen meters away. The woman stared into my eyes, her demeanor serene and dreamlike as her hair floated on a spring breeze. Because this was a dream, I was able to watch her, but also watch Clark standing behind me with his rifle.

He opened fire, sending slugs through every part of my body.

“Now you’re exaggerating,” X-37 scoffed. “He didn’t shoot you everywhere.”

* * *

The farther we travelled into uncharted space, the less S.G. point data was available. I wasn’t sure how much longer we had in the slip tunnel or how much time it would take us to reach the next, or where it might take us.

I knew slip tunnels didn’t normally last more than a few days, so we had to be getting close to the exit point. If that was the case, I had at least five or six hours.

More than enough time for a solo workout, shower, and a nap. I needed some alone time and told X-37 as much.

“Strange,” X-37 said.

“What are you talking about, strange?” I asked my limited artificial intelligence.

“You’ve been complaining about cabin fever. It would make sense that you want more people around you for the stimulation and variety rather than fewer people around you. What are you going to do, stare at the wall while you exercise?”

“I have an imagination,” I said, not really knowing what I was trying to say but figuring it would give X-37 something to chew on.

“Of course, Reaper Cain. That must be nice,” X-37 said dryly.

I was heading for the gym when X-37 changed the subject. “I have uncovered new information about James Henshaw.”

My limited artificial intelligence was constantly digging for information. That was one of a LAI’s main jobs. I needed to know everything I could about not only my enemies, but also my allies. Attention to detail had kept me alive on many previous missions.

“Give it to me,” I said, stopping in the middle of the hallway to listen to X on our private, encrypted link.

“I’m hesitant to provide you this information because you have finally assimilated him into your circle of friends,” X-37 said. “I’ll remind you that no one is perfect and that if you insist upon this requirement, you will have no friends at all.”

I waited.

“James Henshaw would have you believe that he is only a scientist who once worked for Vice Admiral Nebs under duress. A mission debrief, classified and marked for deletion, that I recovered due to my extraordinary abilities, leads me to conclude he has actual blood on his hands,” X-37 said.

“Details,” I demanded. “I thought we had vetted him well enough to be trusted.”

X-37 told me an extremely interesting tale as I stood there in the hallway barely aware of my surroundings because of what I was hearing. For someone like me, that meant the story might be reason enough for someone to die.

“I’ll be crossing over to the Lady Faith to confront Henshaw the moment we are out of slip space,” I said.

“I cannot recommend this course of action,” X-37 said. “Nebs and his spec ops group are still hard after us. We can’t afford this type of drama.”

“Drama? Is that a technical term for confronting a murderous liar?” I asked.

“It’s not my favorite description of the circumstances, but I’ve been forced to lower the precision of my communication skills to accommodate your rudimentary vocabulary,” X-37 said.

“Are you giving me attitude?” I asked.

“Of course not, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “That would be your emotional response causing you to believe this. That is largely outside of my control. I could cause your nervous system to sedate you, but that seems a bit extreme.”

“I’m doing this face-to-face. Talk to Jelly and make sure she’s ready. Path will come over to the Lady Faith so that I can talk to Henshaw alone,” I said. “I prefer we think of a good reason for it rather than trying to order him to do it.”

“I’m sure that Elise is due for a lesson in swordsmanship and close quarters battle,” X-37 suggested.

“That’s perfect. They both love CQB,” I said, already mentally preparing myself for the showdown with Henshaw. This time, it was different. It wasn’t that I didn’t think I could trust him, I just needed to figure out why he hadn’t told me he was an assassin.

“I must emphasize it was a one-time event. I do not believe he is a danger to you or the crew in a physical sense,” X-37 said.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I started planning several ways to kill Henshaw if the need arose.

Instead of going to the gym, I paced the hallways of the Jellybird until she advised me the slip tunnel was opening.

“Now?” I demanded.

“Apologies, Captain.” Jelly said.

“Execute our standard security measures. Scan for mines or other dangers, then get us away from the opening,” I said.

“Standard evasion protocols have begun,” Jelly said. “Will you be attending the bridge?”

I thought about it.

“Jelly is sharing data with me regarding the slip tunnel opening. You’re not needed on the bridge for this particular instance,” X-37 said.

“You see, X, that was actually helpful. I’m heading to the shuttle,” I said. “Make sure Path and Elise are scheduled for training. He can take the shuttle back while I have my talk with Henshaw.”

“Of course, Captain,” Jelly said.

My crossing to the Lady Faith was a blur. I had bigger things to think about. Before I knew it, Path was giving me a slight bow and taking the shuttle back to the Jellybird for a training session with Elise.

Henshaw stood almost regally at the edge of the docking area for the shuttles despite his sloppy wardrobe. He had the manner of a university professor who let his hair grow long and wore ceramic beads to contrast with his silk shirts and perfectly tailored shorts. He liked to wear flip-flops when he wore shoes at all.

I found the entire presentation kind of forced, like he was pretending he didn’t care when he was actually uptight and full of elitist pretensions.

“You must agree that crossing by shuttle is quicker and safer than jumping across in a spacesuit,” Henshaw said, referring to some of my less successful incidents in the past.

I shrugged. “Maybe. It’s situational. And in my experience, most people don’t have enough training on their extra vehicle activity suits. Elise and Path both needed the practice.”

“So, you must be in a hurry to confront me this time,” Henshaw said. “Or you feel you have sufficient experience in the EVA gear.”

I was curious to know how he had come to the conclusion we would be at odds, even though it was a correct conclusion. “You think we’re going to have a confrontation?”

“It seems fairly obvious that you wanted Path back on your own ship. That should worry me more than it worries you. You’re a notorious assassin who has me at your mercy with little chance of rescue,” he said.

“It’s funny that you mention assassinations,” I said.

Henshaw didn’t react. He was either very good at concealing his emotions or didn’t know what I was talking about. X-37 told me the man had only murdered one person. The situation suggested it had been ordered by Vice Admiral Nebs, who wasn’t a Vice Admiral at the time, but who had been in charge of an intelligence gathering initiative.

“Why don’t we relocate to my den,” Henshaw said, still appearing to be mildly perplexed at my hostility. “I’m no angel, Mr. Cain, but I can tell you with confidence that I’m no assassin.”

I walked beside him, letting the moment draw out in silence. With most people, this would cause him to wonder what I was getting at or to struggle with making up a good cover story, only to feel more and more guilty and become more and more transparent.

Henshaw, for all of his faults, was above all of that. He had a keen mind and confidence in his decisions. Who else would have the arrogance to replace both of his natural eyes with cybernetics and risk blindness if something went wrong? I had to remember who I was dealing with.

8

X-37’s discovery was damning to the ocular engineer, but I knew it wasn’t the complete story. I knew the basic facts but not the man’s motivation.

Soft music played in the hallways of the Lady Faith, making the place feel like a luxury resort rather than a yacht built for luxury. It was the most expensive civilian craft I’d ever been on, and that included my missions against senators and corporate executives. For a brief moment, I wondered how the Jellybird defeated it so easily in our race to the last slip tunnel entrance.

It didn’t matter. I needed to focus on unraveling Henshaw’s past.

We arrived at his den, which was similar to my observation deck but more extravagantly furnished. He offered me a cigar and a glass of whiskey, which I accepted. Because… why not.

“You have a way of making people uneasy, Mr. Cain,” Henshaw said. “All I’ve done since you arrived is think about the word assassination. It would be enlightening to know where you came to the conclusion I’m capable of such a thing. No offense, of course. I’m not judging your vocation.”

This statement told me several things. One, he hadn’t forgot my opening salvo. The accusation had been just subtle enough for somebody to have to be paying attention to pick up on it. A less sophisticated, less experienced person might have convinced himself he’d heard me wrong.

It also showed that he didn’t consider whatever he had done to be an assassination. That left several possibilities, including privately motivated, intentional murder, or a killing in self-defense.

X-37 had explained to me that Henshaw, when he was still with the Union, had volunteered to assist a relatively obscure politician with a personal project. The Union had given him professional leave and paid for transport to the rather remote planet.

He spent several weeks there, frequently dining with the politician until they were best friends. By the end, no one else attended their dinners. They ate in private, with only automated servants to deliver the food and drink and discussed esoteric theories of artificial intelligence.

The politician, it turned out, was a much better scientist than a statesman and had only followed his career path in response to family pressure. The details about exactly what they had worked on were unavailable to X-37.

What I knew, however, from medical records and the review of news articles from the time, was that the politician had died unexpectedly after Henshaw returned to his regular duties in the next star system.

The politician had been relatively young and healthy, with no family history of heart disease. So, the sudden heart attack had been suspicious.

A medical examiner’s report showed that a buildup of certain toxins had contributed to the myocardial infarction.

Henshaw became the focus of an investigation, which drew a lot of public scrutiny, and then ended abruptly.

I took a seat in one of the extraordinarily comfortable lounge chairs and leaned back with a cigar and a glass of whiskey. It took a moment to get situated. I didn’t want to spill anything or drop an ember from the cigar into my lap.

“You’re an expert at ocular engineering and several other scientific fields,” I said.

“I am. Thanks for noticing,” Henshaw said.

“I’m an expert in eliminating political problems,” I stated.

“Your necessity. You know about assassinations and what assassins do,” Henshaw said, emphasizing what he thought to be my vocation several times.

“I’m more than that,” I said. “I’m an enforcer. Some of my missions were meant to be quiet and covert, others messy and public. They made me to send messages to their enemies. I’m the archangel of death. The Grim Reaper. The bogeyman everyone fears and sees when they close their eyes with a guilty conscience.”

Henshaw went pale. I thought he might’ve been preparing a rejoinder to my statement, but he swallowed it when he realized his life could end in a second.

“But you’re right, I know all about assassination. Governor John Miguel Cortona was healthy when you met him but developed a fatal heart condition by the time you left his estate.” I pulled smoke through my cigar, then slowly let it out. “During your private dinners, the food service was handled by automatons.”

Henshaw shifted in his comfortable chair, holding a glass of untouched whiskey. “That’s all true.”

“Did you ever work on the bots? Perhaps to show Cortona some of your skill set? Showing off a bit? Being helpful? Something else?”

“His passion was limited artificial intelligences and larger programs like the artificial intelligence that control ships and manufacturing plants,” Henshaw said. “It was only natural that we tinkered with things, as Tom would say.”

I didn’t miss Henshaw’s reference to our mutual friend. If he was smart, and I knew he was, he would remind me of our human connection. If he had been trained as an assassin, he would know it was important to dehumanize targets so that the agent wouldn’t hesitate when it became time to make the kill.

If he thought reminding me of mutual friends would stop me from doing what had to be done, he was wrong. But it was a good try. What he didn’t understand was that if I spaced him, it would be to protect Tom and the others.

“These machines that you guys played with delivered your meals. I’m sure they did a great job. I’m also certain they could have introduced toxins into Cortona’s meals, maybe small amounts that built-up just in time to kill him after you were gone,” I said.

A tear leaked from each of Henshaw’s eyes. He tried to speak but couldn’t. His effort to remain dignified was easy to see. His face reddened and I thought he might start blubbering.

I’d seen this before, of course, when people begged for mercy, but this was different.

“John Cortona could’ve been a brother to me in other circumstances,” Henshaw said, voice rough.

I waited for his next response, but not because I was trying to unbalance him as I had been doing previously. What I saw now made me sympathetic of the ocular engineer’s situation. I had a feeling I knew what was coming next.

Henshaw let out a long breath as he spoke his next words. “He was a truly brilliant and caring man. But he’d stepped down a dark path that even he couldn’t see. If I’d followed in that way, the galaxy would be a much different place, and not for the better.”

“He was seeking true artificial intelligence in his machines, wasn’t he?” I asked.

Henshaw nodded, still having trouble forming words. He took a breath, calming himself in delivering the rest of it with more control over his emotions. “He’d come to believe that a well programmed artificial intelligence could make superior moral decisions to humans. It was an enticing argument, as flawed as the Union was. I was young, still in the early stages of my Union career, but had already started to see problems.”

“Be careful, Reaper Cain,” X-37 warned me. “Your biometrics indicate that you may be feeling sympathetic for the focus of this interview.”

I found it interesting that X-37 was already dehumanizing Henshaw. I also knew that he was correct to advise caution.

It was possible that Henshaw had been recruited to commit a single murder to save the Union, but if he was a master of espionage and killing, he would also be good at verbal manipulation.

I had training in this area but normally relied on physical action to escape tight spots where I might be taken into custody by local authorities during a mission. That was all part of the Reaper legend. It was almost better that I get detained and then shoot my way out of the police station.

Union officials denied the existence of Reapers, but their denials only made my existence more terrifying.

“You’re not what I expected,” Henshaw said.

“Warning, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “The focus of this interview is trying to change the subject.”

I acknowledged X-37 with one of my very subtle hand movements we had been perfecting.

“What do you mean?” I asked Henshaw, expecting him to give me some line about how I was fair and impartial when making judgments about who should die and who shouldn’t, or that I had other heroic qualities. He would want to prime me for mercy if he could.

“People are drawn to you,” Henshaw said.

“I’m not sure where he is going with this,” X-37 whispered privately.

I smoked my cigar and sipped my whiskey, never looking away from Henshaw.

“You don’t see it, but Elise looks up to you and Tom seems to think you are brothers. I doubt it began this way. Path has practically adopted Elise as his protégée and would, without a doubt, die for you without a second thought,” Henshaw said.

“Path is a sword saint. Dying in battle without flinching from danger is part of their ethos,” I said.

Henshaw smiled and shook his head, expressing that I wasn’t getting it, or that was what it looked like he was trying to do. “Someday you’ll understand, I think. I had never thought to come this far with you and your crew. Any rational human being would advise against affiliation with the last Reaper, a man the entire Union is trying to destroy and a person that might kill me as soon as look at me. You wouldn’t even need a reason, I imagine.”

I shrugged. “True.”

Henshaw leaned forward and put his palms together almost like he was praying or just trying to express his earnestness about what he was going to say next. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Cain. I worked for Vice Admiral Nebs several different times. On one occasion, I upgraded his nerve-ware to the point he can broadcast certain signals. One of the things he was most interested in, as the head of the Reaper Corps, was the ability to control or neutralize their LAIs. I also believe he may have one of the dual or even quad LAI experiments.”

X-37 made a noise, half clicking and half whistling. I’d never heard it before and had the idea that it meant the LAI was surprised. “I can’t believe he admitted that.”

I was also surprised but understood it was a good tactic to admit to an accusation before the accusation actually came. It gave his denial more credibility. At the same time, I was having a hard time doubting his earnestness. I just didn’t think he was that good of an actor, but I’d been wrong before. Not often, but more than once.

“Was that what you came to confront me about?” Henshaw asked.

“No,” I lied. “But it makes sense that you assassinated Cortona. When exactly were you going to tell me about Vice Admiral Nebs’ ability to shut off X-37 if I get too close to the man?”

“I planned to tell you sometime before it became necessary to confront the vice admiral,” Henshaw said. “I’m still hoping we can avoid that.”

“If we work together, and you stop holding back critical information, we might be able to steer clear of the man indefinitely, unless he gets in the way of me finding my mother and sister,” I said.

“Perhaps we could steal them away without going head-to-head with Nebs and his soldiers,” Henshaw said.

I agreed with him. Taking on somebody like Nebs was foolish. I didn’t mind a fight, but I wasn’t trying to commit suicide by spec ops soldiers. “Can you program a workaround that will allow X-37 to resist Nebs’s shutdown procedure?”

“I can try. In fact, I have already installed the basis for this algorithm when we first met,” Henshaw said.

“And yet you didn’t tell me about it,” I said, not exactly pleased with this revelation.

“The problem is, I installed that programming into Nebs’ LAI years ago. I must remind you that his limited artificial intelligence is not that limited—it may be cluster of LAIs instead of a single unit, something much closer to a true AI. The real reason he had me eliminate Cortona was that Cortona had already done some significant work for him. He was, in effect, removing any competition to his own efficacy as a master Reaper,” Henshaw said.

“It doesn’t matter how many gadgets he installed in himself, he doesn’t have the training or the experience to do what I do,” I said.

“You don’t know what he has or doesn’t have,” Henshaw pointed out.

I felt like ice water had been poured down my spine when Henshaw spoke this time.

“He is correct,” X-37 warned me. “My analysis is that we should avoid a direct confrontation with Vice Admiral Nebs or any of his best soldiers.”

A long moment of silence passed between Henshaw and me. After finishing my whiskey and pocketing the half-finished cigar once I had extinguished it, I stood to go.

Henshaw handed me three of the Starbrand Premium cigars. “You’re just going to steal them anyway.”

“Thanks, Jimmy. I’m heading back to my ship. I will most likely kill you in the morning.”

He laughed. “I didn’t think that men like you read the classics.”

“I had a lot of time in the Blue Sphere Maximum-security Prison. X-37 was able to access their library. His reading voice is shit, but it passes the time.”

9

I returned to the Jellybird with a lot on my mind. Life was more complicated now. People depended on me, and if Henshaw was to be believed, they were looking to me for leadership.

I had friends, and that made me vulnerable. Losing my family to my violent enemies had taught me how devastating the weakness was to a man at war with a power as formidable as the Union.

Gone were the days when I could drop into the middle of my adversaries, shoot and slash to my heart’s content, and then disappear into the shadows without any real consequence. When they came after me, they would be coming after Elise and the others.

I still wasn’t sure about Henshaw, but I wanted to believe his story. “X, have you been able to analyze Henshaw’s behavior during our interview?”

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “I would prefer to tell you with certainty that he is, how would you say it, a lying jack hole, but to do so would be to fabricate a report. That isn’t something I’m programmed to do to my host.”

“You know it creeps me out when you refer to me as your host,” I said offhandedly.

“I will endeavor to find a more suitable description of our relationship,” X-37 promised. “You have work to do. Jelly is requesting your presence on the bridge.”

“I’m tired, X,” I said. “Why doesn’t Jelly just asked me herself?”

“It seems she is trying to establish a communication link with the Bold Freedom,” X-37 advised without emotion. My LAI was neither excited nor bored with this news.

“What?” I exclaimed, stopping dead in my tracks.

“There was a distress call of some sort and a garbled plea for help. Something about the alarming approach of a comet on their location,” X-37 explained.

I headed for the bridge. “What the hell are they doing this far into uncharted space?”

“I imagine they’re doing the same thing we are doing, running from the Union,” X-37 said.

“I know they’re on the run, but we’re only here because our situation is extreme,” I said, immediately scolding myself for underestimating the desperate nature of the Bold Freedom and its passengers. The Union wouldn’t allow them to survive, or if it did, it would be by putting them in a place worse than Dreadmax.

When I arrived on the bridge, several holo displays were active, searching quadrants in the nearby systems. “How can you not know where they are? I thought you said something about a comet. Just look for the comet and find the ship.”

“Perhaps now is the time for me to explain, Reaper Cain, that comets are not as rare as you might have come to believe with your limited human senses,” X-37 said. “Jelly lacks the power to see much of the star systems around the one we are currently residing in. She’s attempting to backtrack the distress signal, but there is some nebula interference we’re still trying to figure out. My point, however, is that there are comets around every star. Some are larger and more dangerous than others.”

“I never said I was an astronomer,” I muttered.

“Clearly not,” X-37 said.

“Don’t get nasty with me, X. The last thing I need is an intellectually superior and judgmental LAI chiming in with his opinion every five minutes,” I said.

“Would you like me to keep a log of our conversations and the frequency at which I evaluate your mental prowess?” X-37 asked.

“Not only no, but hell no,” I said, pulling up information on a workstation and trying to see where this distress signal had come from. “Get Tom up here and make sure Henshaw and the Lady Faith are working on this as well.”

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

“Jelly, can you give me an update?” I asked. “What type of nebula are we dealing with and how big is it?”

Several seconds passed, which was a long time for a ship AI to hesitate. “I believe we are dealing with a highly ionized emission nebula, but little is known about the star systems in this region. As for the Bold Freedom and its distress call, I’ve not been able to respond other than by a simple acknowledgment that we received the distress call. They’ve asked for an ETA several times, stating that they are low on food and water, and completely out of fuel. This is the main problem. They are unable to steer out of the way of the comet.”

“Unlucky bastards,” I said without thinking.

“They are unfortunate,” Jelly agreed. “My analysis suggests they are less than ninety-six standard hours from destruction. After that time, they won’t be able to evade the debris caused by outgassing when it neared this system’s star. Even if they have fuel, no one will be able to get close enough to rescue them while maintaining enough speed to still escape their doom.”

“Can you at least tell me exactly where they are?” I asked.

“I’ve narrowed it down considerably since we first detected the distress call. There are two possible comets as large as they are reporting. They are in different systems, neither of which are close to our current position,” Jelly said.

* * *

By the time we finished our calculations, I was more mentally and emotionally exhausted than after a gut-check workout with Elise. It had been a long time since I’d bent over a workstation and wrestled with numbers and astro-navigation charts like this.

It was all hands on deck for this one. Even Path worked on the problem in his own peculiar way. He spent a lot more time looking at the numbers than actually manipulating them, only making a computation after meditating on the charts for some time.

I’d expected Elise wouldn’t like this type of boring mind work. But she went at it like she went at all challenges, determined to beat us to the answer. Every time I watched her do something like this, I reminded myself that I didn’t really know that much about her or how she had grown up. Despite her rough teenage years, she had undoubtedly been educated in the most expensive schools the Union had to offer until she made her break.

None of us had a chance of beating X-37 and Jelly to the location of the Bold Freedom, but my limited artificial intelligence and two ship AIs insisted we were helping. Occasionally, one of them would ask the humans questions and we would speculate on various hypotheses.

Because that was what we could do that Jelly and X-37 couldn’t, imagine things.

“I believe that we have a good location on the freighter,” X-37 finally announced. “It is two systems away and cannot be confirmed until we get much closer for our sensors to take direct observations. This region of space is dirty with nebulas.”

“But we’re pretty sure where it’s at,” I said.

“That means something different to Jelly and me,” X-37 pointed out.

“Of course it does,” I said. “Let’s assume this location is accurate enough to be actionable. What can we do now to help them?”

Everyone stared at me with defeated expressions. Elise looked angry, like she wanted to give the universe the finger. Tom’s downcast stare made him look heartbroken. He toyed with his well-pressed jumpsuit to avoid meeting my eyes.

On the holo view, Path was calm and contemplative as always, but he looked straight ahead as though he had accepted the deaths of everyone on board the Bold Freedom.

Henshaw was the only one to face me directly, as though he understood the hard realities we were facing. “Sorry, Mr. Cain, even if we could get there in time, we don’t have any fuel to get the Bold Freedom moving again.”

“I must add that there are numerous slip tunnels in this galactic region,” X-37 dropped in like information would be important to our discussion. “We avoid problematic systems once we have a better map of the area.”

“We are getting better at determining their locations,” Jelly added, in what ship AI probably assumed was an encouraging tone. “I hope that is helpful, Captain, but I still haven’t located a fuel source for the lost freighter.”

“Thanks, Jelly, but this isn’t that complicated,” I said, frustrated that none of my friends saw where we needed to go.

Henshaw became indignant. “Well, why don’t you tell us where your superior mind and reasoned intellect says we should go.”

“My analysis suggests that Mr. Henshaw believes he is superior to you in areas of intelligence,” X-37 advised privately.

I didn’t answer. X-37 probably knew where I thought we should go, but I wanted Elise and the others to figure it out. Sometimes my LAI could be intuitive. It was like we were a team or something.

Elise crossed her arms, chewing her lower lip like she really didn’t like me right now. After a moment, she spoke. “You want us to do what the Union is doing to chase us.”

“I’m sorry, how does that have anything to do with getting hit by a comet?” Henshaw asked. His opinion of Elise’s theory, even though she was holding back, was pretty plain. Henshaw was used to being the smartest man in the room and the first to know the answer to a problem.

“Take it a bit further,” I said.

“We’ve been scanning areas of space we have no intention of going with the intent of misdirecting Nebs and his ship captains. You want us to figure out where the Bold Freedom wants to go and then go there,” Elise said, seeming more confident now.

“How does that help the Bold Freedom?” Tom asked, respectfully interested.

“The Bold Freedom needs fuel. That’s where they were going, to find the natural resources or some other way of powering their ship,” Elise said.

“I should’ve thought of that,” Tom admitted.

Henshaw took a moment longer but lost some of his attitude. “Very good, Mr. Cain. We will need to project their destination, figure out how long it will take to get there, and then have a plan for delivering the fuel to the Bold Freedom in time to escape the path of the comet.”

I clapped my hands together and smiled broadly. “Well then, let’s do this. There are three slip tunnels in this system. We are still in a place no one from the Union has ever been. Let’s pick one and jump. I prefer we move toward the system the Bold Freedom was trying to reach if possible.”

“Our map of the area is increasing as we explore, but we have a long way to go before we have a complete understanding of this region. It doesn’t matter which slip tunnel we use. We are taking a risk every time we make a blind jump. The more data we gather, the stronger our conclusions will be,” Tom said. “But there is more debris than any of us could’ve expected. Most of it is so diffused, none of us will even notice it, but it’s a good reminder not to become overconfident. Everything we are encountering is new.”

Henshaw nodded agreement.

I had expected him to make a snide comment about the mechanic giving navigation advice, but he didn’t. Maybe I shouldn’t be making assumptions. Maybe I needed to stick with what I knew, like the fact that the Union was after us and wouldn’t quit, and that Henshaw had killed a man for Nebs.

There was a frenzy of activity once we decided which tunnel to take. I caught Henshaw staring at me in the middle of it. It was almost private for a moment because everyone was focusing on their work as intensely as possible.

“What do I have to do to prove myself?” Henshaw asked, the holo view flickering slightly as he finished his words.

I had thought about that a lot. He had warned me about Nebs and how the vice admiral could control or interfere with X-37 next time we met. That was something. If he worked for Nebs, this revelation was treasonous.

“Trust but verify, that’s always been a good policy,” I said. “At this point, we are stuck with each other. Unless you’re part of an extremely complicated and far-reaching plot to become a sleeper agent on my ship, I’d bet money that your life’s worth less than mine to the Union. So I may not trust you, but we have to work together or we both die.”

Henshaw looked sad, like he had expected real friendship or at least something more than an uneasy truce.

“I bet you feel like a jerk now,” X-37 said.

“I’m good, X,” I said, not looking away from Henshaw.

“Uncertainty detected,” X-37 said.

I ignored X. “Let’s start by proving your upgrades can withstand any cyber-attack launched by Vice Admiral Nebs.”

“I think that’s an excellent place to start. I will build some scenarios in which one of the AIs attempts to penetrate X-37’s defenses. And while we’re at it, you should devise a way to test the Jellybird’s stealth cloak, a game of hide and seek perhaps,” Henshaw suggested. “I should also start working on the Bold Freedom’s destination planet before Tom figures it out and takes all the glory.”

10

“Just let me fall,” she begged. “Protect my girls.”

Angry tears spilled down my face. Pain screamed through every joint and muscle fiber in my left arm. “I don’t know where they are.”

* * *

It was amazing how far slip tunnels could move ships. We had picked the nearest tunnel and jumped, not wanting to leave any clues for the Union that we had been in the last system, much less which direction we had chosen to travel.

Last time, I had wanted to mark their position relative to us, determine if they were gaining on us, and count their numbers. It seemed Nebs was keeping his group together and that we still had a slight speed advantage when moving from slip tunnel to slip tunnel at relativistic speeds. All of that was good information, but now I wanted to make them guess without risking they catch a glimpse of us before we could clear this strange system.

What amazed me, when we scanned for slip tunnels and also postulated the location of the Bold Freedom and its probable destination from where we currently were located, was the enormous distances we were dealing with in this flight from the Union.

At the moment, we found ourselves with a particularly troublesome nebula between where we were and where we wanted to be. The planet the Bold Freedom had been trying to reach was simple to reach from this system, but it was going to take a lot of hopping about to get where the Bold Freedom was stranded.

Basically, we were coming from the opposite direction with a whole lot of scary stuff between us.

“I thought we had established enough data from the stars we have seen since leaving the Deadlands to fix a location on the freighter,” I complained.

“That’s true, but not many of the stars are visible from where we jumped to this time. We need to triangulate those we have identified by their light spectrums and neighboring celestial objects,” X-37 said.

“But there are some we recognize, right?” I asked.

“The more points we have, the surer we can be of our navigation, but what we have should be enough,” Jelly said.

“Set a course for planet… what shall we call it?” I asked.

“I have it designated on my work terminal as the fuel source,” Tom said, barely looking up from what he was doing.

“That works,” I said. “Let’s go to the fuel planet. Jelly, please calculate a course around the nebula.”

“I’m working on it now,” Jelly advised. “I made some rough calculations on our chance of moving through that nebula but decided the odds are distinctly negative. It is massive. Even if we could detect slip tunnels while inside of it, there are just too many unknown variables. I can’t scan much through the dust cloud due to the ionization.”

“Agreed. I’d rather jump through a dozen slip tunnels than try to take a shortcut through that mess,” I said, marveling at the view on the holo display. It was mostly a computer-generated image based on what Jelly thought the nebula looked like up close, but it was amazing nonetheless. “Nothing can be easy,” I muttered.

“Of course not,” Jelly said. “All of my previous captains have shared this sentiment.”

“X, have our sensors broadcast any information indicating the Union carriers followed us through the last tunnel?” I asked.

“All seems to be quiet. I will alert you the moment the relays report anything useful,” X-37 promised.

I looked at Elise and Tom. “We need to get some rest, but from here on out, someone has to man the bridge at all times.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Elise said, standing and stretching. “I nominate you to go first.”

Tom seemed embarrassed by her snarky attitude. “I can take the first shift. It’s not a big deal.”

“Get some sleep, Tom. I’m trained to go for long periods of time without rest and I have X-37 to give me an adrenaline boost if I start to nod off,” I said in a tone that was firm but not too authoritative. That was what Tom responded to best.

“Okay, you’re right,” he agreed.

Tom and Elise disappeared to their separate cabins.

“Jelly, can you see if Henshaw and Path are getting enough rest and recuperation?” I asked.

“Lady advises me that they are taking appropriate care of themselves,” Jelly said after a moment. “Henshaw has swallowed two sleeping pills. Path is meditating in the den with a view of star fields all around him.”

“Good to know,” I said, still adapting to being responsible for more than just myself.

“Would you like to review the music selection for your shift on the bridge?” Jelly asked.

“I feel like reading,” I said, surprised at the compulsion after so much mental effort working on the various navigation problems we’d been faced with. “X, can you pull up everything you have on Nebs? His early career, at least, should be public record and that should have been downloaded the last time the Jellybird was in Union space.”

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

“Work on the Bold Freedom problem with Jelly,” I said as I opened the first of many documents concerning the early career of Vice Admiral Nebs.

The introductory synopsis told me a lot. The man had performed well but not brilliantly, scoring high in his class at one of the Union’s mid-level academies but not at the top. He performed well in his assignments and earned several commendatory performance reports and a few medals.

By the time he was the captain of his own ship, things became interesting. He was almost court-martialed twice for “budgetary over-reach” and had been missing in action with one of the ships for several years. When he returned, a thorough investigation of the mission convinced powerful people that Nebs had performed extraordinarily under pressure and had been able to hold together his crew even in the worst circumstances. Not only had he gone out on an impossible mission, but he came back with new technology and brought home most of his crew alive.

I settled into the captain’s chair to read on. What I expected was an abrupt end to his official career, probably some sort of honorable discharge and a footnote about how he became a farmer someplace and retired from public life.

That was the sort of thing that happened when a person left the regular service to enter dark ops.

“Jelly, I changed my mind. Can you play something orchestral? A big holo movie score maybe?”

“At once, Captain,” Jelly said, then filled the bridge with sound.

* * *

With the Jellybird making her best speed toward our objective, I left Tom at the helm and headed for the galley. The two-a-day physical training sessions with Elise had sent my appetite into overdrive. I was ready to eat my own hand if I didn’t wolf down some calories soon.

And I needed coffee.

My earbud beeped.

“Hal, this is Tom. Jelly is working on a new development.”

“I just left the bridge,” I said. “Can it wait until after breakfast? Jelly is obviously still working on whatever it is, or she would have called me herself.”

“There may be technology on the planet the Bold Freedom was heading toward,” Tom said.

“What kind of technology?” I asked.

“Radio signals,” Tom answered.

“Is someone sending a message, maybe another distress call?” I asked, wondering if the BF had already set up some sort of colony there. “Or could it be some kind of survey marker?”

“She says it’s faint and does not have a decryption key worked out. It’s a series of tones and pauses,” Tom said.

I thought about it for a second, then answered, “I’ll get back to the bridge after breakfast.”

“Probably a good decision,” Tom said. “Jelly or I will keep you updated on any changes.”

Elise was halfway through her breakfast when I entered the galley. She watched intently as I loaded my plate with reconstituted scrambled eggs, imitation bacon, and something orange to drink. I glanced at her once or twice, confirming she had neither stopped eating nor looked away.

I joined her at the small table. “Is this seat taken?”

She motioned toward it with a fork then took another bite.

“Somebody’s hungry,” I said as I sat down and dug into the food like a ravenous animal.

“I’m still growing. What’s your excuse?” she asked, looking at the mounds of food I had gathered.

“Jelly may be picking up a signal from the mystery planet,” I said, ignoring the jab. “If there’s a colony or military base there, this could get complicated.”

“There’s no way the Union has another secret base this far out,” she said.

“Agreed.” I dug into my food like I’d never eaten before.

Elise finished her meal and then started cracking jokes, trying to make me laugh hard enough to choke. She nearly got me once when my mouth was full of orange juice, but I managed not to spray it across the room.

I cleaned up my meal and checked in with Tom and Jelly. “What’s the news?”

“The signal stopped,” Tom advised. “My working theory is that there is, or was, some sort of colony that is trying to communicate with a long-range satellite. Whoever it is, the technology is too primitive to be Union made.”

I didn’t speak, and neither did Elise. We looked at each other. The implications of this news were hard to unpack.

“Are you telling me we’re about to make alien contact?” I asked.

“Unlikely,” Tom said. “Jelly hasn’t unraveled the code completely but says it has humanistic qualities.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

“It’s like she recognizes a language she can’t understand yet. I doubt you speak Rugornian, but would you recognize it if someone was coughing it out? That is what I’m saying,” Tom explained. “With enough exposure, she should acquire a sufficient vocabulary to respond to whoever sent it, or what sent it, rather. It’s probably a beacon or a primitive relay like ones we have left at slip tunnel openings to spy on Union ships.”

“Make sure she contacts me before she initiates any communications with the source of the signal,” I said.

Several moments passed after the conversation was over. Elise could barely sit still. “Now we have to go to this planet. There could be people there!”

“There aren’t going to be any people,” I said, heading for the door and waving her to follow.

“There could be,” she argued, letting a long pause break her thought. “I’m tired of training.”

“You said you would never get tired of training.” In truth, I was bored with the constant repetitions it took to achieve mastery of any skill.

“Fine,” Elise said. “I’ll clear my calendar.”

Normally, at this point in such a conversation, we would be heading for the gym and the range. I stayed where I was, longingly looking at my plate like it might produce more food.

“What are you thinking about, Reaper? Can’t remember where the gym is?” Elise asked.

I thought about what we needed. “What’s a skill we haven’t trained that might save your life?”

Elise leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling as she pondered the question. “I’m not very good at brain surgery.”

Snorting a laugh, I stood up and waved her toward the door. “That’s an excellent observation. Let’s work on some battlefield first aid. Jelly, power up the infirmary.”

“Right away, Captain,” Jelly said.

11

The bridge to Jeppa was empty when I finally went to sleep, which somehow made the nightmare worse. All I could hear was the occasional gust of wind and the creaking of the support beams that hung toward the river far below.

No artillery. No orders from Captain Clark. Not a single plea for help from the woman.

My mouth tasted like bad whiskey. Jeppa smelled like a two-day-old cigar despite the gusts of wind whipping past my ears.

* * *

I slipped out of my bunk the moment I woke up. Moving as quietly and quickly as possible, I dropped low and crossed to the other side of the dark room. Kneeling on one knee with the other foot slightly forward, I could’ve been a sniper scanning the night.

But this was only my room and there were no enemies. “X, how’s my resting heart rate?”

Getting out of bed like this was an immediate action drill that I didn’t think about. I’d used the routine on several missions. It kept me alive. I’d been places where it was never too early in the day to start fighting for survival. The nice thing about my cabin on the Jellybird was that no one was here to judge me.

So what if I came out of bed ready for a fight to the death? I wasn’t paranoid or burdened with post-traumatic stress. I was all right.

I was alert and ready to throw down, but that didn’t mean I felt full of youthful energy and excitement. It took effort to control my breathing while X-37 evaluated my biometrics.

“Good news, Reaper Cain, you’re still alive,” X-37 said.

“Did I upgrade you with smartass software? Never mind. What’s the status of the crew?” I asked.

“Elise and Path are warming up for a sparring session with practice swords,” X-37 said. “Tom is reading historical fiction out loud to Jelly on the bridge.”

“Fantastic,” I said, then took a quick shower. Minutes later, I was dressed, ready for anything, and on my way to the bridge.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the training room?” X-37 asked. “It looks like Elise and Path are beginning to train in earnest. You might want to be there to keep them from hurting each other.”

“They’ll survive,” I said.

“What is the basis of that conclusion?” X-37 asked. “They are hitting each other with carbon fiber practice swords. My analysis of the speed of the strikes, combined with the mass of the weapons—as slight as they are—suggests a significant amount of force transfer that is likely to result in serious injuries of both participants.”

“I’ll watch from the bridge. I need to contact Henshaw and set up our hide and seek match. He claims the stealth cloak is ready for a trial,” I said.

“Very good, Reaper Cain,” X-37 replied.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Jelly said as I dropped into my captain’s chair.

As usual, getting Henshaw to answer a hail from the Jellybird was slow and painful. I was starting to think the man was doing this on purpose just to annoy me.

I flicked on the holo feed from the training room and smiled cautiously. For two people who didn’t like or trust each other, Path and Elise now acted like kindred spirits. Maybe a better way to describe them would be as reflections of one another—opposite sides of the same credit chip.

Path had a mixture of long and short hair. In places, it was spiky, and in other places, it was braided into elaborate ropes that hung down his back. Glowing beads and other jewelry were woven into the tangle of dark and light colored hair. He had three piercings on his right eyebrow that flashed a tiny amount of light from time to time and made me think of an antenna for boosting limited artificial intelligence signals.

He had a similar ring through his bottom lip, slightly off-center, and wore rings on his left and right hand with similar blinking lights.

X-37 and I were still working on exactly what these did, if anything. When we first met, it seemed obvious they were just for show, but now I wasn’t so sure. My companions were more than they seemed.

Elise had shortened her hair and spiked it while also increasing the color variation. It was still fairly long and dark in the back when she untangled it from the braids she used to imitate or mock Path. She lacked piercings or tattoos, but she covered most of her skin with a service jumpsuit or tactical gear anyway, so it didn’t matter.

They circled each other with the practice swords raised, watching each other and looking for opportunities to strike.

“They have been significantly more cautious during this match than previously,” X-37 observed. “At the moment, they are fourteen seconds beyond the moment Elise attempted a first strike during their last engagement.”

“I’m assuming that Elise always strikes first or attempts to,” I said.

“That was my initial assumption as well, but it turns out to be incorrect. Statistically, Elise is only two percent more likely to strike first than Path,” X-37 said.

They exchanged a flurry of strikes and backed away from each other. Elise moved with as much skill as anyone I knew, except for Path or Uriah, the sword saint I had been lucky to defeat on Roxo III. The expression on her face suggested she wasn’t anywhere close to satisfied with her performance.

“Are you there, Mr. Cain?” came through the speaker.

“I’m here, Jimmy,” I said, watching his reaction. He tried to play it cool, but I knew that it rankled him when I didn’t return the same level of formal courtesy as he was presenting.

I sighed. “I can hear you well, Mr. Henshaw,” I managed.

“Are we ready to begin our drill?” Henshaw asked.

“Sure,” I said, resisting the compulsion to call him Jimmy. I liked him better as Jimmy. And I wished he would stop being so pretentious. It seemed like an act most of the time, like he had practiced with a voice coach, but it still rang false in my ears.

My attention was drawn away by a violent clash in the training room. Elise drove Path back with a furious onslaught of slashes, stabs, and kicks. She was practically growling and spitting. Her face reddened and her technique deteriorated.

“I don’t believe she can maintain that pace,” X-37 observed.

I shook my head, totally disagreeing with my limited artificial intelligence’s assessment. “She has more physical endurance and mental willpower than most spec ops soldiers. I’ve pushed her as hard as I was ever pushed in my Reaper training and she never quits.”

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “She may continue to fight, but her technique and her choices are becoming less and less effective.”

“I can’t argue with you, X,” I said. “Jelly, move us away from the Lady Faith and initiate Operation Middle Finger.”

“Right away, Captain,” Jelly said.

“Are you already starting?” Henshaw complained. “I wasn’t sure we had even agreed to do this drill much less decided to begin.”

“Oh, we’re doing it,” I said, giving a hand signal to Jelly’s bridge sensors to begin. On the bridge where she had most of her internal camera and sensor clusters, Jelly could interpret my body language well. We had been working on it, playing little games and doing impromptu tests of her ability to accurately interpret my hand and body signals. I was sure she understood the significance of Operation Middle Finger—although I had never presented one to her, only explained what it meant.

Henshaw, Jelly, and X-37 hadn’t been able to reassure me that speed didn’t affect our current stealth configuration, so I had mandated that we cut engines and coast for a bit during the first stages of our stealth cloak initiation procedure.

I tensed, waiting for something spectacular to occur. It had been a while since I was on a Union stealth ship. Before they betrayed me and sentenced me to death in the Blue Sphere Maximum-security Prison, traveling unnoticed had been routine. Contrary to what I’d been told by my instructors, traveling in a ship that was in stealth mode felt different to me.

Once, I attempted to explain this to X-37. He assured me it was my imagination or that I was some type of hypersensitive freak.

The primary holo display showed Jelly as a small icon moving away from the Lady Faith in a curving vector that would eventually put us in the smaller ship’s wake. Readings from our power core were steady. Our small assortment of ship to ship weapons—light rockets and auto-cannons that barely deserved the name—were online.

“We seriously need to upgrade our offensive capabilities on the ship,” I said.

“Agreed,” X-37 said.

Jelly didn’t respond but I doubted she disagreed.

On the display, Henshaw’s ship searched in a three-dimensional grid pattern. At the same time, he continued moving, practicing several of the evasive maneuvers I had explained were necessary, even when we thought we were alone.

In time, our well-reasoned and tactical paranoia would pay off.

“Cain for Tom, can you come to the bridge?” I asked.

He responded a second later. “I’m on the way. I just need to close out this project.”

“He means finish the chapter he’s reading,” X-37 said.

“You’re missing the inaugural launch of the stealth cloak,” I said to Tom.

There was excitement and urgency in his voice when he responded this time. “I’m on my way. I didn’t realize we had decided to go forward with the trials. Have I missed anything?”

“We’re undetected so far,” I said, then turned my attention back to monitoring the progress of the Lady Faith.

Both ships continued to move while I waited for the well-read mechanic. He arrived out of breath and quickly leaned toward the copilot’s holo monitor. “This is good stuff.”

He typed furiously on one of the datapads and swiped his left hand several times at the three-dimensional controls of the dataflow. “I just don’t see any problems with our performance. I hadn’t dared hope it would be this smooth on the first try.”

“These are ideal conditions,” I warned. “No one is trying to kill us.”

Tom laughed. “That’s good. However, if anyone is going to be able to detect our presence, it will be Henshaw. He wrote the software.”

“You helped,” Jelly said. “Your input has been invaluable.”

“Thanks, Jelly,” Tom said. “It’s not every day a guy like me receives such praise from an artificial intelligence flying the most notorious ship in the galaxy.”

The dance through the void of space didn’t take long to become boring. We continued to try new things and gather data. After a while, even Tom was looking less enthusiastic.

I reactivated the view of the training room and saw that Elise and Path were still at it. Both of them were drenched in sweat, their funky neon hairstyles and clothing in disarray.

“It looks like they’ve been mixing ground fighting with sword fighting this time,” I said.

Tom’s expression went pale. “Path gave me a few lessons on basic self-defense. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. The worst part was how he never seemed to exert himself or become angry.”

“He’s exerting himself now. Unless he’s just sweating at random. Watch closely and you’ll see him dry one of his hands on his jacket from time to time. Holding those practice swords becomes surprisingly difficult after a while,” I said.

Elise spun in a tight circle and smashed her weapon into Path’s shoulder, scoring one of the few hits I’d seen against the sword saint.

Tom and I gasped at the same time.

“That had to hurt,” I commented.

Elise and Path separated briefly, then charged, their weapons clacking louder and louder as they fought. Before long, Tom and I were both ducking and leaning to avoid strikes, even though we were only spectators. Once or twice we laughed, but other times we cursed, as we imagined what the strikes had to feel like.

“You don’t flinch like that when you get hit during training,” X-37 said.

“That’s different. Ouch! She’s got to defend against that downward diagonal,” I said, imagining the pain of the glancing blow to her head.

“Perhaps you should pay more attention to your own training assignment,” X-37 said. “My analysis suggests that Henshaw may catch you this time. He’s coming around fast with a full sensor sweep.”

“What the hell?” I asked, spinning my chair back to my primary duties. “He acts like he has us, but there’s no way he does.”

“My analysis suggests you are correct. It should be impossible,” X-37 assured me.

“What are you two talking about?” Tom asked. “It was only a matter of time before Henshaw found us, even if he didn’t cheat. He wrote the code and helped install the hardware.”

“I had X-37 slip in a little something extra just to keep him off our back. I don’t want him changing sides and giving us up to Nebs when things get tough.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Tom said defensively.

I agreed, but old habits were hard to break, even with friends. Long ago, I’d been taught to trust but verify and to always have a plan to kill everyone I met just in case. Grim? Yes. Effective at staying alive? Absolutely.

“That is…” Tom said, struggling for words. “… probably smart. Henshaw isn’t someone I would want as an enemy.”

“What are your orders, Captain?” Jelly asked. “If you pull up the subsection of the secondary display terminal, I have listed several maneuvering options.”

“I know, Jelly. I already looked at them,” I said.

“You spent two point three seconds on that task,” X-37 chimed in.

“Tactics are simple,” I said, annoyed with my tattle-telling LAI. “Your preprogrammed options are pretty standard.”

“You may add to the selections if you wish, Captain,” Jelly offered.

“Later,” I said, typing on my screen to check my assumption. “Full stop, Jelly.”

The displays indicated we had become a fixed object as much as was possible in a galaxy that was constantly changing. The Lady Faith’s icon spiraled away from us by comparison. It was more than a bit disorienting.

“That should throw Henshaw off,” I said, crossing my arms.

“It did indeed,” X-37 said, “for nearly five seconds.”

“We are being pinged by the Lady Faith. She has located our presence in the system,” Jelly said.

Henshaw hailed us a second later. “That was tricky, Mr. Cain. The Lady Faith tells me that you delayed discovery by four seconds.”

“Five seconds,” I said defensively.

“Near enough,” Henshaw admitted.

“How did you do that, Jimmy?” I demanded.

“My latest detection algorithm is far more advanced than anything I did for the Union,” Henshaw said. “They never gave me free rein for my more creative solutions to this particular tactical problem.”

I considered his response and was reasonably sure he was telling the truth. There wasn’t a way to confront him on whether or not he had detected X-37’s code snippet without giving away what we had done to cheat.

“Give me details, Jimmy,” I said, noticing that he didn’t mind his nickname when he was gloating about his victory.

He smiled and lit one of his Starbrand Premium cigars.

“Stop gloating,” I muttered.

“I’ve found it necessary to have a hidden stash when my guests are notorious for their sticky fingers,” Henshaw said. “You’ll have to forgive me. This is a moment of vindication. I wasn’t crazy all these years. True freedom from the Union is going to be good for me and my creative energies.”

“We still have a vice admiral and his fleet of trained killers tracking us. Don’t start celebrating just yet,” I said.

“Would you like a head start this time?” Henshaw asked.

“Why not? Let’s put this stealth cloak to the test. I’d like to try it in all conditions if possible, including at speed,” I said.

“It will be good for gathering data,” Henshaw agreed, “but I’m going to catch you every time.”

“Care to bet on it?” I asked before I thought about who I was talking to.

“I’d love nothing better than a good wager, but what exactly do you have to offer if you lose?” Henshaw asked.

“I’ll stop stealing your cigars for one standard month,” I said.

“Nice improvisation,” X-37 commented privately.

“Not much of a bet,” Henshaw muttered. “And I imagine you want one of my Premiums if I lose?”

“A box of Premiums,” I said.

He laughed. “Well, that’s probably fair since you’re not going to win.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said, then signaled Jelly to make us disappear.

12

We had been playing hide and seek four hours before everything went horribly wrong.

“Jelly advises that we are closer to the slip tunnel we came through than is ideal given the circumstances,” X-37 said.

“Relax, X,” I said as I considered an unlit cigar and pondered my inevitable victory over Henshaw and the Lady Faith.

“If we came through it, so could someone else. Someone dangerous,” X said far too seriously.

“Wait.” I sat up and began flipping through tactical holos—still no detection by Henshaw, and he was the reason we were this close to the slip tunnel, because he had been hard to get away from with his seemingly random as hell search vectors and sensors too powerful for a pleasure yacht.

It aggravated me that I wasn’t seeing the danger that had X worked up, then on impulse, I flipped to the navigation holo.

“Fuck me in a circle!” I shouted.

“She asked me to tell you because she’s busy with countermeasures,” X-37 said. “It seems we have company.”

“No shit, X. Warn the Lady immediately.” There had been no sign of slip tunnel activity since we arrived, and I had begun using more and more of the system to evade Henshaw and the Lady Faith. “How many ships?”

If I was being completely honest, I was hoping that only one of the carriers had come through, or better yet just a scouting drone.

“All three of the stealth carriers, The UFS Nightmare, UFS Dark Lance, and UFS Black Wing emerged in a standard Union tactical formation then disappeared,” X-37 reported. “We have approximate locations using Henshaw’s improved detection algorithms. The problem is that their stealth cloaks are a much newer design, developed and perfected long after Henshaw parted ways with the Union.”

“Is Henshaw seeing this?” I asked, not liking the vector the Lady Faith was currently pursuing.

“I’ve just sent a warning,” Jelly said. “Her attention must have been on finding us. Simple mistake. He’s smart and his ship has the surprisingly good tech for this kind of thing, but they haven’t been blooded in combat.”

“It’s too late,” X-37 told me privately.

I agreed but decided to keep my mouth shut. Tom and Jelly were working furiously to penetrate the Union stealth cloaks.

Elise and Path rushed onto the bridge, responding to the all-hands alert. They were sweaty and still holding their practice weapons.

“What’s happening? Is it the Union?” Elise asked.

“All three ships. They went invisible almost immediately. We’re doing sensor sweeps to find them,” I explained.

Elise took one of the auxiliary chairs on the bridge and wiped her face off with a small towel. She tucked the practice weapon through her utility belt and began typing on her screen, glancing between the readouts on her workstation and the holo display front and center on the Jellybird’s small bridge area. Path, by contrast, stepped near the door and stood quietly. He watched and listened but didn’t interrupt anyone’s work.

“They are going to catch her,” Tom said, distraught.

Three Union stealth carriers came into view with the Lady Faith caught in their three-dimensional trap. I hoped Henshaw didn’t make a wrong move. There was no way his ship could get away at this point. Nebs had dozens of options that would result in the destruction of the yacht.

“All three Union carriers are launching their ultra-small fighters,” Jelly advised.

“What a bunch of assholes. Fucking great. How smart are you now, Henshaw? Way to get caught!” Losing Henshaw and the Lady Faith wasn’t good news, but I had been right about one thing, Vice Admiral Nebs and his people were predictable. There was only a slight variation from the last time in the way they deployed the micro fighters.

“We expected this,” I said, holding my breath as I imagined flying a ship barely bigger than I was. The pilots of the micro fighters were definitely brave. “Let’s move in for the prize.”

“What about Henshaw?” Elise demanded.

I didn’t have a good answer. The ocular engineer and his yacht were beyond saving. Elise had to know that. We couldn’t fight our way in to save him and his ship and expect to survive. She should know this from our ship warfare training—everyone had improved, but I felt a little pee come out just thinking about doing it for real with such a green crew.

“One thing at a time,” I muttered, knowing Elise was getting tuned up second by second. “We need to play the long game if we’re going to beat Nebs.”

“That’s bullshit!” Elise shouted. “We have a chance to get Henshaw out of there before they lock on to the Lady Faith.”

“You like Henshaw now?” I asked.

“He’s one of us,” she said, fists clenched. “Doesn’t matter if I like him.”

Sidestepping the argument, I presented facts. “Even if we can create a distraction forceful enough to give Henshaw a chance to make a run for it, they’ll just catch him again. The Union has him from three points of navigation. His ship is faster, but not that much faster. And if they think they’re going to lose him, they’ll just blast him out of the galaxy,” I said. “In the meantime, we’re going to get something we can use and make them pay a toll for entering the system. Maybe that will be a distraction Henshaw can use to make a run for it.”

Elise continued to grumble and mutter arguments, but I ignored her. The Jellybird cruised through the system, picking up speed, even though she was in stealth mode. I wasn’t comfortable with it, but we were rolling the dice and winning so far. Risks had to be taken. I wasn’t sure if what I was after was worth it, but it was too late to turn back.

“Are you worried, Reaper Cain? Should I boost your oxytocin and restrict adrenaline?” X-37 asked with too much snark in his synthetic voice, I thought.

“I’m not going on a date, X.”

“Well? Do we want a calm and rational Reaper Cain or one about to rip someone’s arms off?” X asked.

“I’m not scared, X. Get over yourself,” I barked. “I’m calm!”

“I think I know what this means,” X-37 said. “One moment. Consulting my list of idiotic phrases used this month. There it is, get over yourself, an ancient colloquialism meaning to calm down and back off.”

“Give me an update, Jelly,” I said.

“I believe we can isolate two, possibly three, of the small ships,” Jelly advised. “Since we are carrying very little cargo, I believe we have room for one in the cargo hold and maybe one additional prize, but it will be tight and limit the amount of other resources we can haul.”

“Let’s grab one if we can,” I said. “No need to get greedy. We’ll disable those three right there. They’re the smallest group in our sector of this system.”

“Why are we trying to capture them?” Elise demanded. “We should be doing something useful, like helping our friend.”

“Technically, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said, “James Henshaw does in fact fit the definition of a friend who requires our assistance.”

“I’m not leaving him with the Union, so you can all relax. When one of you becomes a hostage rescue expert, let me know. I know how far I can push the odds and now is the time to be smart,” I said. “Be reckless on your own time.”

The Jellybird emerged from stealth mode so near the small ships, she was in range to fire a magnetic tow cable at two of them.

“Targets acquired. Cables are ready to launch at the nearest two. Rockets are ready to fire at any of them you would like to destroy or disable first,” Jelly advised.

Standing so that I could move around the small area, I put a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Tom, you’re now our weapons officer. Congratulations on the promotion.”

Elise glared at my blatant violation of the combat safety standards I had been beating into their heads for weeks. Suddenly self-conscious, I checked the seal of my helmet to my jumpsuit.

“I wasn’t even certain I had a rank, but thanks,” Tom said, studying the targeting screens we had all practiced with after improving the ship’s weapons. He activated the safety harness on his chair.

“Give it to ‘em, Tom, but try to disable the one nearest us,” I said.

“Yes, sir,” he said, sitting straight in his chair and focusing all of his attention on his work.

“I’m not calling you sir,” Elise said. Her attitude was as sharp as ever, but I noticed she had also activated her combat harness.

“Don’t care.” My response was short because I was now feeling the full stress of ship-to-ship combat. It was worse when I was directly involved and not just a passenger on the way to a mission.

“Firing rockets,” Tom said, rapidly punching three sections of his work screen with his finger.

“Might I suggest you strap in?” X-37 asked.

Without answering or looking away from the action, I lowered myself into my captain’s chair and hit a button. A five-point harness snapped into place as I again checked my helmet and sealed it with my jumpsuit. Losing atmosphere was a real possibility in a space battle. “Put on your helmets. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“We’re not the one walking around the bridge,” Elise muttered, then complied. She seemed both embarrassed that she had forgotten the helmet and angry at me for violating my own rules.

Teenagers, what a pain in the ass. With her, my Reaper LAI, and Henshaw, I was going to lose my mind one of these days. I longed for the old days when I was a lone assassin surrounded by enemies who never saw me coming until it was too late.

13

Tom continued to track the missiles, acknowledging that he heard me with a flick of his hand but taking no action to helmet up and seal his suit. Elise released her harness and strode toward him, grabbed his helmet, and slid it into place. She took the time to check the clamps, then patted the top of his helmet.

“You good, Tom?” she asked.

“Yes, thanks. Impact on the first target in fifteen seconds. They are attempting evasive maneuvers, but all three missiles are tracking and accelerating many times faster than even the ultra-small fighters can manage,” Tom said.

“Good call, Elise,” I said as she returned to her chair.

“Whatever,” she said, her voice resonating through the helmet comms. “Now I guess you’re going to make us do more drills, since we messed this up.”

“If we live, sure, we’ll practice the hell out of ship-to-ship combat…and putting on helmets,” I said, not looking forward to it any more than she seemed to be.

The first missile struck, ripping its target in half. Debris, secondary explosions, and air flashed briefly into the void. The second Union fighter exploded and went dark, now invisible in the void without a sensor sweep to show us where all the tiny pieces were expanding.

The third ship spiraled neatly out of harm’s way and rounded on us for a counterattack.

“Jelly, is there a survivor of the first one we hit?” I asked.

“I am detecting a distress beacon consistent with an ejected pilot,” Jelly replied.

“Mark the lucky bastard for pick-up.” I turned my attention to the micro fighter that was about to attack. Barely larger than the person flying them, these little spacecrafts intrigued and horrified me. Apparently, this one had notified the rest of the carrier group because several squadrons of the feisty bastards were racing toward us.

“Shields up,” I ordered.

Jelly complied instantly, but I also saw that Elise monitored our defenses. She had complained about the assignment during our training but was totally focused on what she needed to do to keep the shields up. Her job was to look for things that an artificial intelligence might miss and then increase power to things that Jelly would justifiably but incorrectly deem unwise. Because sometimes humans could rely on their instincts, or more importantly, understand when the limitations of technology needed to be pushed harder than was delineated in the operator’s manual.

“I’m curious what type of ordnance these things carry,” I commented.

“We’re about to find out,” Elise promised. “The Union fighter is firing kinetic weapons.”

“Jelly, analyze the ship’s firepower,” I ordered.

“It’s difficult to get a good reading on the attack,” Jelly said after a short pause. “Ah, there we go. The projectiles are impacting the shields and I am gathering information. One second.  It seems the micro fighter is using extremely small, extremely high velocity rounds. My analysis suggests that their intent is merely to pierce our hull and cause us to vent atmosphere. It’s a good choice of weaponry for such a small ship without energy weapons. They don’t have room for rockets or the power sources for more advanced systems.”

Elise let out a nervous laugh. “They almost look funny. Like toys in space.”

“I will endeavor to improve my digital representation of the attackers,” Jelly said, “for the sake of realism.”

“It won’t be funny when we’re losing air,” I said. “Tom, can you wing this one? I’d like to have one relatively undamaged.”

“Deploying a single rocket now,” Tom said, then touched his control screen.

I noticed that his fine motor control was much improved from when he launched the first attack. He had jabbed the screen with confident taps. The initial rush of adrenaline must have affected him. He didn’t have a limited artificial intelligence to help regulate his hormones and subsequent emotions. Now he reminded me of a professional weapons officer—calm, cool, and collected.

I normally told X-37 to stay out of it as much as he could, but there had been times when my limited artificial intelligence had pulled me back from the brink of self-destruction. There were times to fight in a murderous rage and times to be smart.

“How are you doing, Tom?” I asked.

“I think I was holding my breath there for a minute, but I’m better now,” Tom answered.

My plan wasn’t unfolding perfectly, but I thought we were going to get at least one ship and a pilot, not from the same ship, probably, and that was all I was after. I needed to study their technology and form an interrogation plan.

Right when I was starting to brainstorm my next step, the remaining pilot did something reckless to avoid being disabled.

As I watched, the icon came to a full relative stop, twisted violently on its own axis, then blasted sideways. The maneuver would have been impossible in atmosphere, but the void things were a teeny bit different during a dog fight.

I grimaced, imagining the beating the pilot was taking even with inertial dampeners. Union fighters had high-tech and low-tech ways of keeping the pilots from being smashed by the G forces of their maneuvers—state of the art inertial dampeners, flight chairs custom fitted to individual pilots, and pressure suits nearly as smart as an LAI.  But since void-capable fighters were so small, they were limited in comparison to larger ships. In one of these ultra-small combat vessels, it had to be worse.

“Use the…” I started to say, but Tom was already taking action.

With his left hand, he grabbed a control stick and fired the Jellybird’s kinetic weapons, cutting off the path of the ship and punching several holes through one of its wings. He held his finger on the trigger until he’d marched rounds across its engines and disabled them.

“Go after it, Jelly!” I shouted. “Don’t let it get away or blow up before we salvage it!”

“I’ll do what I can, Captain,” Jelly promised. “You also might want to know that I am detecting life signs. We can capture the ship and the pilot. Would you like me to disregard my tracking of the other Union fighter pilot?”

“No, we’ll try to pick him up too. Floating in a void with little real chance of rescue sucks,” I said, glancing at Elise. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy and I’m a Reaper.”

“No doubt,” she said, then shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward the door where Path still stood quietly watching the battle. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

A secondary explosion blew off one of the wings of the little fighter ship. I was guessing they had wings because they were atmosphere capable, designed for a multi-purpose vehicle used by a special operations group.

Jelly adjusted her course, opening the cargo bay and sliding the Jellybird sideways in attempt to pick it up. “This is going to be ugly, Captain.”

I winced as we slammed against the little ship. The other wing was shorn in half by the edge of our cargo bay and the nose of the ship was bent backward like a giant had punched it. This caused the pilot’s canopy to crack and vent atmosphere. There was little chance that such an extremely talented pilot wasn’t sealed up in his flight suit—so he would probably live until I got down there to punch his lights out.

“Not bad, Jelly,” I said, unstrapping from my captain’s chair. “Path, come with me. We have a guest.”

Not waiting for Jelly’s reply, we sprinted through the narrow hallways with low ceilings until we reached the bay. Both of us had our helmets and jumpsuits sealed to operate on internal air. Unlike our unfortunate episode in the void when our bottles ran out, this time, we could stop at each bulkhead and replenish our air supply if needed. That didn’t mean it was convenient, but it was better than dying.

Even though I knew I could plug a hose into the back of my helmet, I kept my respiration under control without X-37’s help. If this turned into a fight, I wanted to have enough air left in my jumpsuit to get it done.

Path and I emerged into the bay, immediately separating and approaching the damaged ship from two angles. If the pilot came out with some sort of survival weapon and opened fire, he would only be able to hit one of us.

Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion. I wished I was wearing my mask. Not long ago, I had been afraid to use it and felt uncomfortable with it most of the time. Now, since Elise had pushed me so hard to integrate it into my fighting style, I felt naked without it.

“I’ll approach,” I said to Path. “Stay close enough to help but out of reach. We don’t know what kind of hand-to-hand combat skills or weapons this guy is going to have.”

The pilot shoved against the canopy several times, forcing the hinge against its broken gears. When I was about two steps away, the pilot tumbled out, falling all the way to the deck without a ladder to slow his descent.

I snatched him up by the front of his flight suit and slammed him back against his own ship, then realized he was a she. “Surrender before you get killed!”

She grabbed my hands with her hands and held them in place while she attempted to knee me in the groin. My arms were longer than hers, so I responded by holding her away as I thrust back my hips to make room between us and twisted to one side to avoid getting ball-kicked.

She shouted at me, but I couldn’t hear her. Our helmets’ comms weren’t on the same frequency and all I could see was her mouth working through a series of threats and curse words.

We struggled for almost a full minute. Path hung back, serene as a person could imagine in a lonely space quadrant far beyond a planetary system. If he had been Grady, he might have cracked a joke at my expense or rushed in prematurely to help. But Path was Path, hard to read and harder to upset.

The Union pilot started kicking me like some sort of desperate animal, eventually resorting to dozens of angry attacks instead of the skilled options I knew she had in her repertoire. When this didn’t work, she returned to her training. Still holding my hands in place, she threw up both legs to try and catch my left arm in flying armbar—a gutsy move, very high-level jiu-jitsu.

I pulled her toward me and head-butted her hard. A crack formed on her visor—and mine, unfortunately. She went still, realizing the bay still didn’t have atmosphere.

“X, find her radio frequency and link to her communications module, then tell Jelly to close the bay door,” I said, lifting the woman off her feet, hip tossing her into the air, and then slamming her onto her back. She was small, even in her gear, and easy to manhandle.

“That was ungallant,” X-37 observed.

“Whatever,” I grunted.

“She’s the enemy, but you don’t have to be a dick, as Elise would say.” X-37 paused. “Jelly advises she is shutting the door, but there may be some imperfections in the seal due to the rough acquisition of the Union vessel.”

“Good enough,” I said, staring imaginary blades into the woman’s eyes.  She had quit struggling but that didn’t mean she liked me.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded when X-37 patched our comms together.

“Don’t worry about who I am, worry about what I am,” I answered.

She hesitated, realization hitting her like a hammer. “You’re the last Reaper.”

“Yeah, and he’s a sword saint,” I said with a nod toward Path.

“The admiral’s people know him,” the woman said. “They know all of you. You’re all on his shit list.”

“Don’t try anything stupid,” I warned. “You have zero chances of escape. Every member of my crew is deadly.”

“If I was still flying, you would have a real problem,” the woman pilot spat, fogging the inside of her visor for a second. “Your shields are weak and your crew flies like a crew still in the academy.”

“What’s your name?” I demanded—changing the subject that was all too true.

“First Lieutenant Amii Novasdaughter, UFS Nightmare,” she said. “I’m a Union citizen and a military officer participating in a lawful mission. You are detaining me illegally. I demand you release me immediately.”

“I could do that,” I said, turning her so that she could get a good look at her wrecked ship and the bay door beyond it.

“You’re not going to throw me into the void,” she said, sounding less than confident now.

“I might,” I said, turning her to face me, then giving her a smile that normally rendered my victim speechless.

“I dare you,” she said, her stare hard as ice.

I felt her twist against my grip. She wasn’t resisting—wasn’t fighting again—but she was getting ready to do something stupid, I thought.

“Do you want to know what your mistake is?” I asked.

“Getting shot down by a traitor is the only mistake I’ve made,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s a pretty big fuck-up on your part. But right now, you’re thinking I’m a Reaper, when I’m really an ex-Reaper. Without the Union to control me, I’ve got my own set of rules and may or may not be insane from what they did to me,” I said.

Color drained from her face.

I allowed her to imagine her fate for a few seconds, then gave her something new to consider. “I only wanted your ship. You’re just another mouth to feed and we’re not exactly close to a resupply port.”

Lifting her into the air as I stood up, I faced her toward the bay door, which was still closed, thanks to Jelly’s prompt response to X’s request.

“I always knew Reapers were honorless,” she said, voice tight.

“Relax, Novasdaughter,” I said. “You’re going in the brig.”

“This class of ship doesn’t have a brig,” she countered.

“We’ve rigged something up just for you. It’s real nice.” I handed her off to Path, who bound her hands behind her back with slip ties.

14

Path escorted the prisoner to a storage locker we had converted into a brig. Tom had installed plumbing for a toilet and rerouted some of the environmental controls to keep it reasonably comfortable for a human to reside within. The tricky part would be to deliver food without opening the door each time, but that was a problem for later.

I went to the bridge and found Elise in my chair.

“Are you the captain now? Is this a mutiny?” I joked.

“Very funny,” Elise said, moving out of the chair and resuming her previous position.

“Please, Captain. Do not make mutiny references, not even in jest.  I’ve been through several and can tell you that the countermeasures are quite barbaric,” Jelly said.

“Sorry about that, Jelly. I’ll make a note,” I promised.

“Thank you, Captain. I will now attempt to restore Elise’s access to the ship. Presently, there isn’t a door that will open or food dispenser that will serve her. The armory will apply counter measures if she approaches it. The list of restrictions that were automatically placed on her when you made the comment about mutiny are extensive,” Jelly explained.

“Interesting,” I said, filing the information for future reference. I wasn’t sure how it might be useful, but it was serious business and something to remember. “Give me an update.”

“We have returned to stealth mode and are on course to pick up the remaining pilot approximately a minute ahead of when the first Union vessels will arrive to the coordinates of his distress beacon,” Jelly said.

“Are you sure it’s a he?” I asked.

“That is a strange and irrelevant inquiry, Captain. There is no way to determine gender in this instance,” Jelly said.

“Forget about it. Just snatch the pilot and get us out of here before Nebs tries a saturation attack of this area,” I said.

“I was meaning to warn you of this very real possibility,” Jelly said. “The moment the pilot disappears from their sensors, they may launch an attack by assuming we are right where the signal disappeared. Vice Admiral Nebs has proved to be a cunning and ruthless opponent.”

“Agreed. Grab the pilot and then get the hell out of the way of whatever he sends at us,” I said.

The Jellybird slowed as we approached the digital speck on the tactical holo representing the pilot.  Elise, Tom, and I watched in breathless anticipation.

“I’ve slowed the ship as much as possible. Mathematically, our closing speed is within safety limits. My experience, however, has been that humans are not as durable as ships. There is no time to deploy a shuttle or EVA rescue team. Shall I proceed with a direct rescue?” Jelly asked.

“Just do your best, Jelly. If he didn’t want to get rammed, he should have avoided getting his ship shot,” I said, already tired of this guy I hadn’t met.

“Ready to open the cargo bay now,” Jelly advised. “This will be a rough pickup.  Would you like a camera view of the bay?”

“Why not?” I asked, wishing I could smoke a cigar inside of my helmet. The sooner we were done with the ship-to-ship combat stuff, the better. It was really cramping my style. “X, can we integrate the Reaper mask with this helmet?”

“No, Reaper Cain. It would take a new helmet designed for that purpose,” X-37 said.

“I can start working on a design,” Tom said, seeming drained from his stint as weapons officer in his first real battle but always up for a new project. Fancy fixing things was his truest vocation. “Manufacturing it will be tricky, as always. I need to upgrade my workshop.”

“Sounds good.” I watched the holo view of the docking bay.

The damaged fighter looked like a bird that had fallen on its side.

“I have overridden safety protocols,” Jelly informed us. “The bay doors will open and the venting should soften his landing.”

I really needed a cigar.

“And… now,” Jelly said.

I almost missed the pilot shooting in through the open bay doors. He hit the back wall, bounced, and then fell as the Jellybird’s artificial gravity took hold of him.

“How fast was his relative speed?” I asked as I watched the man stagger to his feet and stumble around with both hands holding his helmet.

“Approximately forty kilometers per hour,” Jelly said. “Very survivable for a physically fit human in a flight suit and helmet. I expected much worse.”

“Remind me to never request a hard pickup,” I muttered.

The pilot was taller than normal, especially for someone who had been operating such a small craft. He fell backward, landed on his butt, and sat there with his hands between his legs and his head down toward his chest.

“I wonder if he’ll try to stand up again,” Elise said. “He looks like I feel after Path bonks me on the head with a practice sword.”

I released my safety harness and headed for the door, waiting for the sword saint to join me. “You know the drill, Path. We’ll do this just like the first time.”

“Of course,” Path said.

We strode down the narrow hallway at a less urgent pace than before. “You’re not very talkative today. Make a joke or something.”

He smiled slyly. “A Reaper, a runaway, and a mechanic walk into a bar.”

Laughing in anticipation, I took the bait. “Yeah, then what?”

“That’s as far as I’ve gotten,” Path said.

For some reason, that was the funniest damn thing I’d heard in weeks. We laughed like brothers—awkward brothers—but definitely family. I patted his shoulder as we entered the landing bay to meet our new friend.

“What the hell is happening to me, X?” I asked, not caring that Path could hear our conversation through his earbud. I hadn’t bothered to give X the signal that I wanted privacy.

“Your biometrics indicate that you are approaching the median cognitive and emotional level of human comparison groups,” X-37 explained.

“Oh, sure. Of course.” I laughed, still in a good mood.

“I think X-37 means you are experiencing what normal adult humans feel,” Path said, his manner easy and accepting.

“It’s not bad,” I said, unsure if that was true. Change sucked and I still had a lot of work to get done. “Work on that joke. It sucks.”

“True,” Path agreed.

We entered the bay. The pilot was still sitting there, hands in his lap, head lolling around in vague circles.

“Get his attention,” I said.

Without a word, Path squatted before the Union pilot, staring into his helmet visor until he looked up.

“Are you the last Reaper?” the pilot asked, sounding defeated.

“I am not,” Path said. “Would you like to meet him?”

“No!” The pilot scooted backward, looking around and seeing me for the first time.

Path stayed where he was, but I knew he was close enough to take control of our guest.

“Jelly, how’s the atmosphere in here right now?” I asked.

“It’s a bit chilly, but you can take your helmet off and smoke a cigar if that’s what you’re wanting. I closed the bay door and adjusted pressurization while you were on your way down,” Jelly said.

“Thanks.” I removed the helmet, tapped the button that caused it to collapse as much as was possible, and hung it on the back of my belt. I pulled a cigar from one utility pocket and my lighter from another.

The Union pilot watched me nurse the homemade cigar to life. His gaze flicked to the vertical scar near my cybernetic eye. “That smells horrible.”

“Smells like victory to me. Maybe I’ll call this monstrosity a Reaper Victory Cigar,” I said, clenching it between my teeth. Enjoying the raunchy, unsophisticated taste of the smoke, I held it in front of me. “It’s not half bad.”

The pilot was more than a bit disoriented from slamming into the Jellybird’s bulkhead.

“Why the hell won’t Nebs leave us alone?” I asked, puffing on the cigar.

“If you have to ask that, you don’t know the man at all,” the pilot said.

“I know he’s cruising for a bruising. I should send you back to tell him it’s not going to end well for any of you,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Captain Eric Randolph, Spector Squadron, Wing Commander,” he said.

“Well, aren’t you important,” I said. “Which carrier is your wing attached to?”

“The UFS Nightmare. I’m not required to tell you more,” he said, seeming to finally realize the gravity of being captured.

“Everyone says that until they meet a Reaper,” I stated.

He had seemed dazed and terrified, but now he was also wrestling with the inherent humiliation of his failure. “Vice Admiral Nebs is going to catch all of you, and we’ll see how tough you are.”

15

“Give me an update,” I requested, worried that Jelly hadn’t said much since we took Randolph into custody.

“Henshaw has made truly heroic efforts to escape from the Union. Twice while you were talking to Captain Randolph, I thought Henshaw had doomed the Lady Faith with his creative attempts to evade them,” Jelly said. “He nearly convinced their scanners he was a random asteroid.”

“That’d be a neat trick if it worked.” I filed the idea for future development. “Why was that risky?”

“It exposed his ship’s AI to being counter hacked,” Jelly explained.

“Is there anything we can do? Has Elise had any bright ideas?” I asked, knowing the answer but trying to sound reasonable. Maintaining friends and allies was a lot of work.

“You’re such a jerk,” Elise chimed in.

“Unfortunately, Captain, there is nothing we can do to improve Henshaw’s situation,” Jelly said. “He did, however, send a message that I nearly deleted due to its inherent uselessness.”

“It’s probably a code, some sort of catchword,” I suggested.

“Replaying the message now,” Jelly said.

The ocular engineer’s voice sounded thin and metallic. He’d sent the message out on some sort of maintenance subroutine, a channel never meant to broadcast actual words. It was a binary signal that only someone like him could have converted into an audio broadcast a human could understand.

“…I apologize for recording the inside of your ship when we met…” Henshaw’s apology struggled through static. There were several gaps I couldn’t make out.

“There has to be more,” I said. “That sounds like filler meant to distract anybody who is listening in.”

I allowed Path and his prisoner to get farther ahead of me. I knew I should go to the bridge. I wasn’t needed here. Randolph wasn’t the type to fight, even if he had any real chance of escaping. Path could dominate him in personal combat with his eyes closed and his right hand tied to his left ankle.

This made me think of Lieutenant Amii Novasdaughter—someone I suspected could fight. Path could handle her as well, but she would definitely resist if given the chance. The woman was trouble and I was probably going to regret not sending her out in a life pod.

“What do you think about Henshaw’s message, X?” I asked. “Exclude our prisoners from the conversation.”

“The Union pilots have already been blocked from all communication with us or each other without your express permission,” X-37 said. “I confirmed this with Jelly.”

“Good. Tell me what you think of the message,” I instructed.

“I’m going with the simplest explanation, Reaper Cain. James Henshaw is breaking ties with us. He’s clearly been a Union spy the entire time and now regrets handing this information over to Vice Admiral Nebs,” X-37 said.

“Doesn’t feel right,” I said, watching Path guide Randolph into a very small room and lock the door. “My trust levels are up and down with Henshaw, but I don’t think he has been spying for Nebs.”

“We first encountered Nebs during a gladiatorial match he set up,” X-37 argued.

I interrupted. “He bet on me, remember?”

“That is irrelevant. If he is in the employ of the Union, his mission will come first and he doesn’t need money,” X-37 said.

“You’re assuming that once a Union spy always a Union spy,” I said, changing course and heading for the bridge. Before I left, I pointed at the prisoner doors. Path nodded understanding. “And someone like Henshaw never has enough money.”

“A statistical analysis suggests this is a correct assumption,” X-37 said. “There are less than five examples of high-level spies or operatives leaving the Union and surviving. Four if you don’t count yourself.”

“Maybe I’m still working for the Union?”

“Please, Reaper Cain, you’re fouling my logic systems,” X-37 said.

“Sorry, X. Won’t happen again,” I said, nearing the door to the bridge.

“Updating our interaction log. You have now apologized to me four times,” X-37 said. “As for the lie, the number is significantly larger.”

“Whatever, X. What are you accusing me of lying about now?” I asked.

“That your reckless abuse of my logic systems won’t happen again,” X said.

“You’re probably right.” I entered the bridge and took my chair. “For the record, I think Henshaw is going to spy on Nebs, not for Nebs. His limited artificial intelligence isn’t as robust as you are, X, but if we can rescue him it would be a big win for us. Not only would we get a view of the interior, but a chance to evaluate at least a few of the officers and enlisted personnel—how they operate, morale, equipment, and all the good stuff.”

After a pause, X-37 agreed with me. “Your hypothesis checks out on several levels. Most convincing, however, is that this would give you an additional reason to rescue him.”

“Jelly, I want you to go anywhere but near a slip tunnel,” I ordered, checking my own readouts and navigation screens. “Nebs will assume we’re fleeing as fast as we can. He has his prisoners and we have ours. I’m guessing that he sees them as chess pieces, not friends to be rescued.”

“Right away, Captain,” Jelly said. “All of the micro fighters have returned to their mother ships. The carrier fleet is in position to take the slip tunnel nearest our last known position, but it seems to be in a holding pattern.”

“They’re going to run a new scan of the system. That son-of-a-bitch has to make everything difficult. Find a place to hide, Jelly,” I said.  “I really don’t like this guy.”

Elise looked up from her workstation. “There are two gas giants in the system. Can we move close to one of those?”

“That is one of the better options,” Jelly said. “There’s also an asteroid belt farther out.”

“We’ll need more than one hiding place,” I told them. “If Nebs is taking the time for this, he’ll do it right. He has three capital ships. They’ll spread out and triangulate their scans, hoping to catch us in the middle for instant verification.”

“We will arrive at the sixth planet from the system’s star in one hour and forty-seven minutes standard,” Jelly advised. “That will be eighteen seconds ahead of the Union scans. Factoring in my assumption may have made a nine percent improvement in their technology since I last received an update from a Union shipyard.”

“Perfect. I have some prisoners to interrogate.” Space travel was more interesting when I had useful work to do. I was ready to get back into a fight, but I wanted to be prepared first.

“I won’t know how deep we will be able to hide in the rings of planet six until we get closer,” Jelly said.

“Keep me updated,” I said.

* * *

I went after the hard target first. Interviewing someone like Amii Novasdaughter would take a lot of energy. I’d needed to focus and watch for traps.

My first impression of the woman was that she was fanatically loyal to the Union, did things by the book, and wasn’t afraid of much. She’d gone pale when she realized I was a Reaper, but that wouldn’t last long.

Once she had her wits about her, she’d utilize her interrogation resistance training. All pilots received this in addition to escape and evasion instruction.

My problem was twofold. First of all, I wanted accurate information. I could break her with torture and mind games, but hard experience had taught me such information was often tainted. There would come a point when she would tell me anything to make the pain stop.

Second of all, my heart wasn’t in it. Looking back at the things I’d done for the Union filled me with horror. In those dark moments of self-reflection, I wasn’t sure why I was fighting so hard to stay alive—I certainly didn’t deserve to live.

“I don’t deserve mercy,” I said to X-37.

“Please explain this random, irrelevant thought,” X-37 requested.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just getting my head straight for the interrogation,” I said, wishing I hadn’t confided in anyone or anything.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re getting your head straight. My analysis suggests you are having a crisis of conscience.” X-37 paused just long enough that I listened but couldn’t interrupt. “I’m incapable of judging you.”

“You judge me all the time.”

“That’s incorrect, Reaper Cain. I’m here to improve your efficiency. Any moral judgments I make on your actions are reflections of your own thoughts. I have no software to do this on my own,” X-37 said. “My sole purpose is to keep you alive and serve the REDACTED.”

A chill went up my spine. “Good to know, X.”

My worst fear—other than my LAI betraying me—was that if I’d done those things before, I would do them again. How was killing any better if it was for my own purposes and not for the Union’s dark agenda?

Elise, Tom, and the others were leading me out of the emotional darkness that I hadn’t realized was all around me. I was going to fight like hell not to be dragged back down. I couldn’t go back to the way I was. Death first.

“Would you like some advice, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked.

“Sure thing, X,” I muttered, slowly shaking off my mood. “Why the hell not, since you’re going to give it to me anyway.” I rubbed the vertical scar from above my left eyebrow across my cheek.

Novasdaughter’s cell door waited for me to open it.

“Take a break, smoke a cigar, do some of Path’s advanced meditation exercises if that’s what it takes, but don’t go in there in your current state of mind,” X-37 advised. “Eat some cookie paste if you have to but alter the direction of your thoughts.”

“Are you reading my mind, X?” This was a touchy subject with the limited artificial intelligence. Suspicion of going rogue could cause internal safeguards in his program to shut him down. Or wipe him clean, which wouldn’t be good for me because I didn’t want to start over. He had a lot of knowledge of my personality and my missions that was useful.

“No, Reaper Cain. Your mood, however, is easy to detect. You are in a deeply depressed state. This will cause you to make poor decisions and be vulnerable to a counter interrogation by your target.”

“You’re not wrong, X.” Time was important, so I only took part of my LAI’s advice. Leaning against the wall, I smoked one of my best cigars and just let my mind wander.

That was dangerous, considering my starting point. Fortunately, I went blank and just breathed in the moment.

When I faced the cell again, I felt clear headed—almost like I was a different person. I told myself to ignore everything but the task at hand. When I focused on one thing, I was unstoppable. Rarely did I have a chance to operate in such a controlled environment—it was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

This was my ship. This was my mission. Amii Novasdaughter, Union fighter pilot for Vice Admiral Nebs, was my prisoner.

I went inside and locked the door behind me.

“Cocky bastard,” she said, leaning against the back wall with her arms closed. This maximized the distance between us and told me a lot about her attitude.

I didn’t say anything. Remaining near the door, I looked her up and down like whatever she might know wasn’t even worth my time.

“Do you always lock yourself in a room with your prisoner? What if I’m desperate? What if I spent all of my time planning a way to kill you?” she asked.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“Go ahead what?” Away from the wall now, she lowered her hands into a neutral position—switching to a ready position that could be a fighting stance for someone trained in high-level martial arts.

“If you have a plan to kill me, then go ahead. See what happens,” I said, relaxing even further and moving around the small room to put her at a disadvantageous angle. I had my own version of her non-obvious fighting stance. She was good, but I could do the same thing on the move—remaining ready even when I wanted to remain unnoticed and appear careless.

She watched me and seemed to realize what her chances were.

“You’re too good for the Union,” I said. “Even though you know how a fight between the two of us in this small room would end, you made a conscious decision to set the tone—and the one you set was that you’re not weak, you’re not going to play games, and you’re not afraid to do your duty.”

“I will do my duty,” she said, her respiration becoming visible as she worked herself up for a fight, breathing a little too hard but trying to control it.

“Your duty is to die for the Union,” I said.

That was like a punch to her face. Because she knew the truth of it. Her demeanor changed. She started listening to me, even though she didn’t want to.

“Vice Admiral Nebs was in charge of the Reaper Corps,” I said. “So, I don’t have to ask you about that. He’s had illegal, off-the-books work done to him that he thinks will make him better than a Reaper in one-on-one combat. I’m not going to ask you about that either.”

With each of my statements, she seemed to shrink. She had been staring me in the eyes, but now she focused on the wall, clearly trying to recalibrate her understanding of the situation.

“I ran into a spec ops soldier named Marley Callus a while back. He acted like he was my replacement, the next generation of Reapers.”

She laughed shortly. “For a second, I thought you knew everything. Callus might’ve been part of a transitional phase. You have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I’m in it and there’s no going back. I’ll probably die, but not for the Union.”

“Then what will you die for, Reaper? You have no cause, nothing to fight for,” she said.

“I’ve got everything to fight for, including friends. I’m going to find out what Nebs did to my mother and my sister, and he’s going to pay full price. If you can help me find my family and rescue them, I’ll keep you alive. I’ll even send you back to the Union when we’re done if that’s what you want.”

“What if I can’t help you or won’t?” she asked.

I indicated the room with an open hand. “Then enjoy the stay.”

When I left, she watched me critically but didn’t say anything as I hoped she would.

“She’s going to be difficult,” X-37 said.

“Yes, she is,” I agreed as I left.

* * *

I went to Randolph’s cell and found him surprisingly well composed. His calm demeanor wouldn’t last. Back straight, he sat like a young officer fresh out of officer candidate’s school.

“Before you say anything, I’ll have you understand I have certain rights as a Union officer,” Randolph said, rising to his feet like confident politician.

I strode across the room, grabbed the front of his flight suit, and slammed him against the back wall.

He made some sort of squealing sound that was cut off when I knocked the breath out of him. “The Union took everything that ever mattered to me. Maybe you shouldn’t mention your close association with the sons-of-bitches who killed my father and took my family,” I said, keeping my voice low and menacing.

He tried to say something, but his words came out in a jumble. I held him for a second longer, then dropped him, stepping away so that he wouldn’t bump into me as he collapsed.

“I’ll also have you know I’m resistant to torture and other types of physical abuse,” Randolph claimed unconvincingly.

“Don’t care.” The man was weak and probably a coward. I was honestly disappointed he was part of Nebs’s special operations group. It reminded me of the corrupt bureaucracy that was rampant in the Union military.

“I think he will break easily,” X-37 commented. “I’m not sure how much information he will have, but even learning about their day to day operations could be useful.”

I gave X one of the subtle nonverbal cues we had agreed upon to indicate I heard him and agreed. Intimidation could be an important part of an interrogation. Being nice could work, but with my reputation, that would be harder to pull off. I wasn’t that good of an actor.

“I demand that you notify Vice Admiral Nebs of my capture and make arrangements for my release to him,” Randolph said.

“Listen, Eric,” I said. “We both know you’ve probably pissed your pants three times since I came in here. There’s only so much air on the ship. I don’t want to recycle yours any more than I have to. So, I’ll ask questions, you’ll answer them, then we’ll all live happily ever after.”

He took a seat and shifted uncomfortably, unable to find something productive to do with his hands. Seconds after he planted his butt in the chair, he seemed to realize he’d placed himself in a disadvantageous position but was reluctant to reverse his decision and appear even weaker than he already did.

“Why is Vice Admiral Nebs after me?” I asked.

Randolph stalled for several seconds, then answered, “Uh, he doesn’t want to hunt you. He’s acting on orders.”

“Lie,” X-37 advised privately.

“Why doesn’t he send a Reaper after me?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

Randolph laughed, then realized I might slam him against the wall again, and quickly altered whatever he had been about to say next. “You’re the last Reaper. The Archangels are rising and you cannot stand against them. Keep me a prisoner if you want, but they will liberate me and bring you to justice.”

“He believes that,” X-37 said. “And it appears that saying it has given him confidence.”

“Vice Admiral Nebs is powerful. He’ll be the grand admiral soon and anyone who is loyal to him will be rewarded,” Eric Randolph said. “And before you decide to hurt me, I’ve been loyal to him from the beginning. He’ll give me any reward I want for finding you.”

“Unless somebody gouges out your eyes first and tosses you into the void of space,” I replied.

“You can’t do that!” Randolph came to his feet and retreated so quickly he knocked his chair over. “And why would you gouge my eyes if you’re going to throw me into space anyway? You’re a void-cursed monster!”

“It’s what I do to everybody who pisses me off,” I said. “I don’t want to be accused of playing favorites.”

16

“If you are nearly finished with the interviews, Captain, I would appreciate your assistance on the bridge,” Jelly said.

I considered my options, wanting to get back in the pilot’s chair, but I knew it wasn’t quite time for that. Jelly had done an outstanding job evading the Union. She and her previous captains had been dodging them for years before we met, and even smuggled supplies that kept people alive on Dreadmax before it fell apart. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t use a little Reaper know-how when it came to screwing with Nebs and his spec ops group.

“Randolph is a spineless idiot,” I replied. “I need to have another crack at Novasdaughter, then I’ll head to the bridge to relieve Tom. There is something about the woman that I can’t put a finger on.”

“Very good, Captain,” Jelly said. “I should warn you, Captain, that Elise decided to speak to the prisoner. Her stated reason was that girl talk might be more effective than your brutish methods.”

I swore under my breath.

“Can you repeat that, Captain. I can’t decipher your meaning. Was that a request for me to do something to myself?” Jelly asked.

X-37 answered for me. “I quit trying to decipher his muttering in these types of situations. I’ll let you know if he actually says something worthwhile.”

“Much appreciated, X-37,” Jelly replied.

I burst into Novasdaughter’s cell, not caring if I interrupted Elise’s girl talk. The scene wasn’t what I expected.

The girl had brought her own chair and was sitting close to the woman at a slight angle that suggested they were confidants rather than two people engaged in a debate. I wondered if she knew what she was doing was just lucky. In the type of interrogation she was attempting, regulating her proximity to the target of the interview was important.

If she had done it the way advanced interviewers were trained, she probably started out of arm’s reach, then slowly worked her way closer and closer to Novasdaughter until she could touch her.

It was hard to lie when someone had a compassionate hand on your shoulder. Reapers rarely used the technique. My orders were normally to get the information and leave my victim trembling in fear if they were allowed to survive the encounter.

“You should have let her finish,” X-37 observed.

I knew my LAI was right. I’d acted before I thought this through.

“Hello, Mr. Cain,” Elise said pleasantly. “How are you?”

“I’d be better if you weren’t fraternizing with our prisoner,” I said before I could stop the words. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name in weeks.”

“I can gladly step out of the room if you two want to have a private argument,” Novasdaughter suggested.

Ignoring the pilot, I improvised. I’d read about a good interrogator/bad interrogator technique that our instructors hadn’t even bothered to drill us on. The concept was more of a footnote than anything that actually worked in the real world. Or that was what we’d been taught.

“Not a chance, Novasdaughter,” I said, stepping close and towering over her where she sat. “I talked to Randolph. And after what he revealed, you’re worthless to me.”

The woman swallowed hard, holding my gaze with effort. She was tough, but I was convincing. Everything she’d been taught about Reapers backed up my threat.

Elise stood abruptly, taking a position between us. She stood with her head held high and her shoulders back, one hand held up at me. “Now just stop. We were having a nice talk before you got here.”

“I told her nothing,” Novasdaughter asserted.

“Not everything has to be in interrogation,” Elise said to me, angling her face away from our prisoner and allowing it to convey things she wasn’t saying—something like “what the hell are you doing! I had this, you asshole!”

“You’re just a kid. Prisoners are my job. Stay out of my way,” I barked loudly.

“That’s BS.  You don’t take or keep prisoners. And I’ll be really honest, I’m tired of being around men and computers. Can’t you just not kill one person? Show a little compassion for once?” Elise asked, crossing her arms a lot like a belligerent teenager.

“She’s not your mother, your sister, or your friend. I don’t trust her, so she needs to die. Sooner rather than later,” I said, pushing Elise out of the way—just firmly enough to set her off balance.

The scene was either going to work or fail. There was something about Lieutenant Amii Novasdaughter that disturbed me—a nagging familiarity I couldn’t pin down. I’d begun this dialogue by acting, but anger boiled up from my subconscious and made it real.

Elise recovered her balance and rushed to get between me and the pilot. She pushed against me with both hands, barely slowing me down.

“Please, Mr. Cain. Don’t do this! You don’t have to do this! Just leave and shut the door. I need someone to talk to,” she begged.

I didn’t believe her act for a second, but maybe Novasdaughter did.

The pilot stumbled when she retreated. There wasn’t far to go, but she clearly decided a few feet was better than nothing. The look in her eyes was of alarm and desperation. Today had been a day of backing my enemies up against walls.

This was the first time I’d seen Novasdaughter truly unbalanced since I reminded her of what I was during our first encounter.

Elise faked a sob. “Please!”

I stopped, balling my hands into fists.

“You’re overacting,” X-37 advised dispassionately.

I ignored my LAI. “You’re not playing fair, kid. I can’t stand it when you cry.”

“And the award for best actor goes to Reaper Cain for the part of the totally unbelievable bully who has second thoughts,” X-37 said.

I gave him one of my concealed hand movements that meant “piss off.” If he interpreted it correctly, he didn’t respond.

“Listen to the girl,” Novasdaughter said, hiding behind Elise now that all three of us were near the wall in a crowd of bad acting and potential violence.

“Don’t talk about the ship,” I said, pointing at Elise with my cybernetic left hand. “She might try to escape or sabotage something.”

I backed away from them but stopped near the door.

“That was pathetic, Elise,” I whispered over our private link. If she heard the words through her earbud, she didn’t answer.

Hopefully, she was drawing secrets out of the Union officer.

Novasdaughter’s face was too familiar. Memories that caused phantom pain in my cybernetic arm haunted me as I finally retrieved the memory.

“Your biometrics are a mess, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “What is it about this woman that bothers you?”

“She looks like someone I dropped off a bridge,” I murmured, while Elise distracted the woman with compassion and questions.

“Inaccuracy detected,” X-37 warned. “I was not present at the incident you are referencing. But according to your pre-Reaper Corps mental evaluations, you didn’t actually drop the woman.”

“You’re not helping, X. Put a sock in it,” I said.

“Processing one colloquialism before it locks up my logic systems,” X-37 replied.

* * *

An explosion shook the bridge. Captain Clark shouted until I wished I could mute his voice from my helmet speaker.

“I said fall back! Leave the civilians! They are not part of the Union,” Clark ordered. “Their leadership should have taken our offer.”

I couldn’t block his voice, but I was able to stall and yell at the woman before me. “Just do what I say! You can’t stay on this bridge.”

“My family! I have girls!” the small woman that looked like an older version of Lieutenant Amii Novasdaughter said.

She twisted away from me and ran back into a maelstrom of flying debris and dust. Artillery rounds were marching across the half-kilometer bridge. It was already sagging, and if I didn’t obey the captain soon, I was going to slide into the river already choked with dead bodies and debris.

I followed after her, slipping twice and twisting my knee both times.

She grabbed two young girls and led them out of the chaos. The bridge was sinking lower and lower on the broken end. Now that the children could see which way to go, they were doing better than either I or the woman was. The little girls didn’t have as much weight to pull them backward.

Their eyes were wide with fear. At the time, I hadn’t thought I would ever get their soot and blood smeared faces out of my mind. Their mother pushed them forward when they fell, but it wasn’t enough.

I grabbed the terrified girls, one in each hand, and threw them to Grady, higher up and closer to safety than I’d ever be able to reach now. He caught them, I thought. More artillery hit the bridge, far too close for comfort now.

Tumbling, I saw the woman falling away from a twisted piece of the infrastructure at the same time I grabbed a beam with my right hand to keep from following her down.

Without thinking, I caught her wrist with my left hand.

“Corporal Cain, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Captain Clark shouted through my helmet’s speaker.

I didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. I was going to die about five seconds after the woman dangling from my grip was going to die.

“Please! My girls!” the woman begged.

“Drop her! That’s a direct order!” Clark shouted, his voice breaking up with indignant fury. “You’re a valuable asset to the Union. We trained you and now you’re going to do your duty or get shot.”

Some decisions were easy.

“I can’t let go, sir!” I shouted, causing feedback in my radio.

“Can’t or won’t?” Clark growled.

I didn’t answer. Tears of frustration and rage ran down my face. I was losing my grip of the bridge and of the woman. Regardless of what the captain wanted, I had to make a decision. Save myself or die with a stranger.

There was so much noise that I had forgotten it was there, yet I heard the shot that took my arm. I looked up and saw Grady reaching for me. Behind him was the captain, rifle in hand and a strange look on his face.

The last thing I remembered about the scene was my shattered left arm tearing away from my body and the woman holding it like it was her only hope.

She’d almost hit the turbulent water before she realized I’d failed her.

* * *

“Reaper,” Elise said sharply.

I snapped out of my reverie.

Elise and Novasdaughter were staring at me and I didn’t remember how I got here. The memory of losing my arm normally remained in my nightmares.

“I thought you were leaving,” Elise said.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Reaper?” Novasdaughter demanded, mimicking Elise’s tone.

I leaned very close and knew she was seeing a demon in her imagination.

“I dropped a woman from a bridge on Carson’s World during the resistance there,” I said, my words so low that they made my voice scratchy.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Elise giving me a confused look, but Novasdaughter stared at me wide-eyed for several seconds, then threw up a wall of defenses.

“I remember Carson’s World,” she said, face blank as a professional gambler.

I leaned even closer. “Are you an orphan, Lieutenant?”

“You go to hell,” she cursed, struggling not to look away from my intense gaze. “I don’t owe you anything.”

“The Union took your mother,” I said.  “How can you be willing to die for them? How can you work for someone like Nebs?”

The memory of this woman’s mother falling into the debris-clogged river wouldn’t leave my mind. Phantom pain flared through my cybernetic left arm. The sound of Captain Clark firing his rifle was more of an idea than an actual sound. It was like being in a dream where physics didn’t matter and nothing made sense even when it did.

“You’ve been looking for me your entire life,” I guessed. “The question is, are you going to kill me?”

17

“Give us a minute, Elise,” I said.

I didn’t see her leave, but I heard the door open and shut.

Novasdaughter watched me as though Elise had never been here. “He’ll catch you and destroy you.”

“Nebs is going to wish you had never heard of me if he hurts one of my people,” I said. “I tried to save your mother.”

“Don’t talk about her! Just don’t,” she said.

“I need to know which side you’re on,” I stated.

Novasdaughter took a long time to answer. “Nebs will never quit. He has his Archangels. Take my advice, Reaper, run away and don’t look back.”

I didn’t understand this woman. When I finally recognized who she was, I suspected that her by-the-book attitude in her decisiveness spoke of a deeply held personal agenda. I’d seen more than one person victimized by the Union only to become a fanatical member of the Union. It was a form of denial.

“What do you think, X?” I asked.

“I imagine she has either suppressed memories of her mother’s death or has been serving the Union only to betray them,” X-37 said.

“Why are you working for them?” I asked Novasdaughter.

“Who should I work for?” she asked, her tone defensive. “You worked for them. When I found out that you’d become a Reaper, I didn’t want to believe it. I told you I remembered that day. I was just a kid and I didn’t know your name or Captain Clark’s name, but I learned both. He’s dead, you know?”

“How did he die?” I asked, already knowing the answer. This is a test question to see if she was inventing this story on the spot or was telling the truth as she remembered it.

“I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not the assassin. Once I graduated basic training, I had access to the gal-net that I didn’t have as a civilian. I flagged my computer to alert me if there was an obituary for Captain Clark,” she said. “He died in his sleep, which is too good for him, but at least he’s gone.”

I didn’t respond. I had done something similar, keeping track of the man who had shot my arm off. He’d risen higher than I expected due to his political affiliations but ran afoul with a senator when he was on the list to become a Lieutenant Colonel. The rest of his career was a tedious list of crap assignments and alcoholism.

I wondered how much Lieutenant Amii Novasdaughter really knew about the man we both blamed for the death of her mother.

“You had a sister,” I said.

“We don’t get along,” she said. “I’m not here to be your friend. And I’ll still turn you over to Vice Admiral Nebs if I get a chance.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my job. Moral dilemmas are easier to solve if you just follow the rules and do what you’re told,” she said, clearly unhappy with her own answer.

She didn’t seem like someone who would submit easily to authority. It was like she was paying penance for a sin real or imagined.

“Your mother’s name was Nova?” I asked.

Amii Novasdaughter looked down when she nodded.

I thought about her reaction and everything I had learned during the second interview with the woman.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked.

“I haven’t decided,” I said. It seemed like our conversation was over, so I left and went to the bridge.

* * *

It was time for a meeting. I had tough decisions to make and felt like I owed it to my crew to include them. Elise and Tom joined me on the bridge while Path stood guard in the hallway outside of the prisoners’ rooms.

“Update us on the Union fleet,” I said.

Jelly answered promptly, “All three of the Union carriers are continuing their search, both with scans and by sending out the micro fighters in shuttles to check debris fields where scanners might not find us if we were hiding there. They haven’t given up finding us, but I do believe they are working away toward the primary slip tunnel leaving the system.”

“All right, thanks. Next item. What are we doing with the prisoners?” I asked.

“I don’t see we have a lot of options,” Tom said. “We keep them locked up until we find a planet to leave them on. One suitable for their survival if not retrieval by the Union.”

“Is anyone opposed to that plan?” I asked.

Elise shrugged. X-37 and Jelly concurred.

“I’ll assume that Path will be good with whatever decision we make regarding the prisoners,” I said.

“Nice of you to include him,” Elise said. “But I’m annoyed with him right now. I think he ruptured my liver with the side kick the last time we were sparring.”

“I’ll try to remember to avoid his side kick,” I said.

“The Union ships have gathered their smaller vessels and are heading toward a slip tunnel at their best possible speed,” Jelly advised.

“Okay, remain cloaked.” I had my suspicions about the seemingly abrupt acceleration. “Can you predict if the slip tunnel they’ve chosen will leave them anywhere near the Bold Freedom’s distress call?” I asked.

“I don’t believe they are heading toward that particular system,” Jelly reported. “I should also advise you that X-37 and I have been working on the available data referencing the Bold Freedom.”

“The freighter’s situation has become more urgent,” X-37 said. “It seems they now have seventy-two hours before they will be destroyed by the approaching comet.”

“What are your orders, Captain?” Jelly asked.

Neither Elise nor Tom made any suggestions. I could see they were struggling with the choice at least as much as I was. Henshaw and the Lady Faith or locate fuel for the Bold Freedom.

“How long before we confirm that Nebs and his ships have left the system?” I asked.

“Not long,” Jelly said. “They are moving at the best possible speed. May I suggest that your decision has been made for you? We cannot catch up to the carrier group in the system. Since slip tunnel speeds are constant, they will have the same lead when they emerge from the tunnel.”

“We can catch them eventually,” Elise said. “By then, we should have a plan to rescue Henshaw and his ship.”

“What about the Bold Freedom, Elise? You were on Dreadmax. Don’t you want to help Bug and the others who were illegally detained there by the Union?” I asked. She seemed unsure of herself and a bit guilty perhaps.

“You know we’re not going to find fuel in time to help them,” she said. “Bug and everyone on the Bold Freedom are already gone. We can’t worry about them now.”

“You may be right, but I don’t think it will be as hard as you think to catch up with the Union ships,” I said. “It won’t be long before we’re running from them again, with or without Henshaw. If they think we left the system, they’ll search for us after the next slip tunnel.”

“Maybe they will split up to cover more star systems,” Tom suggested hopefully.

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But I don’t think they are quite done in this system. Call it Reaper instinct.”

18

All three of the Union carriers went into stealth mode at the same time. Jelly alerted the rest of the crew, rousing them from sleep. In minutes, they were all back on the bridge.

“What happened?” Elise demanded. “I just barely nodded off.”

“You’ve been in your quarters for three hours,” I said.

She looked surprised. “Really?”

Tom and Path looked tired, but neither said anything. The long cat and mouse game with the Union was wearing on all of us.

“Yeah, really,” I said. “I knew Nebs wouldn’t give up so easily. Jelly, take us as close to the next slip tunnel as you can without crossing near the last point we detected the Union carriers.”

“Yes, Captain,” Jelly said.

“Could they be trying to hide which tunnel they are taking?” Tom asked.

“They would only do that if they thought we were still looking for them, in which case they would stay here and look for us,” I said. “Their run for the tunnel was a ruse to draw us out. Nebs probably figured out that I don’t like running at speed in stealth mode. He has a hostage and a valuable ship and probably thinks I’m stupid enough to show myself.”

“There is a possibility, Reaper Cain, that they may detect us if they get close enough,” X-37 warned me.

“That’s what I’m worried about. I didn’t think they were actually going to leave the system. There is no need for them to go into stealth mode since they just have to come out of it when they make their jump,” I said. “They may have developed a new protocol requiring them to stay concealed for as long as possible to minimize the chance they are observed, but it’s unlikely.”

Tom took his position at the weapons terminal, while Elise took over sensors and communications. I stayed in the captain’s chair and made a decision. There was no way I was going to risk my friends trying to rescue Henshaw unless the opportunity was too good to pass up.

Ship-to-ship conflict was not my area of expertise. The only way I could help Henshaw was to be patient and go after him when Nebs had his ships in drydock or something similar.

“Jelly, it’s time to apply Henshaw’s detection program to this tactical problem and find those stealth carriers,” I said.

“We will begin immediately,” Jelly promised.

“I will help,” X-37 said.

“It will be a challenge.” Jelly flashed several search grips on the main holo view. “Asking James Henshaw for the rest of his detection software will be the first thing I do if we manage to rescue him.”

Finding the three carriers was like searching an asteroid belt by hand.

“Keep us in stealth mode,” I said.

“Yes, Captain,” Jelly acknowledged.

“This is going to get serious,” I said, drawing the travel vectors I believed the three stealth carriers would follow. If I was right, it wouldn’t be long before Nebs’s ships had us from three points of navigation, just like he had taken Henshaw’s yacht.

No one spoke as my predictions slowly resolved themselves. Three icons appeared on the holographic map of the system. Smaller icons swarmed out to form a defensive sphere around each carrier. The larger ships immediately began new scans. Shuttles zipped away to explore a large asteroid that even I thought looked suspicious—just large enough for a smuggler’s vessel like the Jelly to land in one of its craters.

“I suppose now is a good time for you to gloat, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said publicly.

Elise snorted a laugh.

“If Henshaw had switched sides, they would’ve found us already. We’re not far enough away from them to escape if he went turncoat and gave us up,” I said.

“By that logic, we could attempt to rescue him. We’re close, we’re invisible, why not help out a friend who has remained loyal to us,” Elise argued. “Then we can all go to help the Bold Freedom.”

I thought about it, I really did. X-37 remained silent, which was interesting. He normally had advice to offer on any tactical problem and was programmed to hedge my emotional decisions when necessary.

“X, I need some information. What resources do we have? Give me an assessment,” I said, seriously considering acting on Elise’s argument. A nearly suicidal rescue attempt of Henshaw might actually be the safest thing we could do right now, but I wanted to be sure before I got everyone killed.

“The system is robust with opportunities,” X-37 said. “Starting with the most obvious avenue of escape is the slip tunnel only hours from our position. The next closest of the tunnels is several days away and would take us far beyond the deadline to help the Bold Freedom.”

“What about planets? Is there anything worth exploring?” I asked, an idea forming in my head that I already knew would work—as soon as I smoothed out a few wrinkles.

“Really?” Elise asked, her voice full of disgust and bewilderment.

“I’d love to explore the planet in the green zone,” Tom chimed in, “but our initial assessment suggests it does not have resources that can be easily converted into the fuel for a modern starship, or a retrofitted hunk of junk like the Bold Freedom.”

“So, what you’re saying,” I said, smiling, “is that if we took a shuttle down there, it would look like an act of desperation. Anyone pursuing us would know we were out of options and attempting some sort of last-ditch solution. X, do you think Nebs’s crew knows about the Bold Freedom’s distress call?”

“I don’t see how they can not be aware of the signal. They were looking for us at the same time we detected the distress call, and would pick up anything like that,” X-37 said.

“I agree,” Jelly added.

“Head for the planet, Jelly. Prep a shuttle,” I said, pointing at Tom.

“Aren’t you going?” Elise asked, not seeming convinced I could be so cold-blooded. The expression on her face told me that she was thinking hard and had probably figured out what I’d intended but wasn’t going to say so and risk my sarcastic response.

Tom also remained quiet.

From near the door, Path spoke for the first time in quite a while. “You are going to sacrifice a shuttle on autopilot.”

I pointed one finger at the sword saint and pretended to pull an invisible trigger. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. We need to make it convincing.”

* * *

“Everyone knows their part,” I said. “We don’t have time to go through it again.”

By the time we reached the single planet in the green zone of the system, we had developed a basic script and worked out radio signals between the shuttle we were going to send down to the surface and the Jellybird.

Tom had come up with a way to send my half of the dialogue to the shuttle in a maintenance routine that was then converted into a broadcast message back to the Jellybird. The Union communication experts would probably figure that out, but hopefully not before the ruse had accomplished its purpose.

“I’m launching the shuttle now,” Elise said from the docking bay.

“You’re on,” Tom said.

“Wish me luck. We’ll conduct our survey the moment we put boots on the ground,” I said, then waited for the delay. My voice came back to the bridge sounding distorted.

“You should have brought me on the mission,” Tom replied.

I started talking into my mic before he was done with this line because I had to compensate for the delay caused by the signal bouncing back and forth between the ships. “You’re just a mechanic. Elise and I can handle it. Path will watch our back.”

“I still think I should be on the away team,” Tom said.

Again, I started talking when he was about halfway through his statement. “That’s an order, mechanic. We can handle it,” I muttered under my breath and turned away from the mic to sound like I was distracted. “I hate dealing with amateurs. Makes me almost want to go back to the Union.”

“I’m never going back! I’d rather die on the stupid planet trying to get fuel,” Elise said, using her helmet comm. She was on her way back to the bridge and sounded out of breath.

I hoped no one on the UFS Nightmare or other ships saw through our hastily thrown together drama.

The shuttle arced away from the Jellybird. Seconds later, she activated her cloak—not moving until after she disappeared, hopefully convincing the Union that Tom was untrained in fleet tactics and lacked the initiative to go anywhere without me on the ship to tell him what to do.

“We really can’t afford to lose that shuttle,” Jelly said. “We have no way to replace it.”

“We’ll figure something out,” I said, watching the little ship disappear beneath cloud cover as we headed away from the planet at best speed.

“It appears the UFS Black Wing was much closer to catching us than we anticipated,” Jelly said as the Black Wing’s icon appeared in orbit around the cloud-covered planet. The UFS Darklance joined her moments later.

“Watch out for the Nightmare,” I warned. “I bet Nebs is just waiting for us to show ourselves.”

I counted to ten in my head, then twenty, and finally glanced at the mission clock.

Union micro-fighters zipped away from their mother ships, plunging into the atmosphere of the planet.

“Shall we continue to accelerate?” Jelly asked. “We have never traveled at this speed while under the stealth cloak.”

Jelly, X, Tom, and Henshaw had all told me to stop worrying about moving at speed while under the cloak. My apprehension was irrational, more of an old soldier’s superstition than anything based on science.

“Continue at speed. The Bold Freedom is running out of time,” I said. “Take the most direct route to the objective they were trying to reach when they became stranded.”

“We are now en route at our best possible speed,” Jelly advised.

“I’ll stay on the bridge,” Tom volunteered.

“Thanks, Tom. Elise and Path, get some rest,” I ordered.

Elise gave me the middle finger, but I could tell she was playing it up. “Good job, Reaper. I hope you can still rescue Henshaw. He was counting on us.”

“Be patient, kid,” I said.

* * *

A medic squatted beside Grady, staring down at me in fascination rather than horror. “He lost his godsdamn arm. I can’t believe he hasn’t bled out.”

“I used my tourniquet,” Grady said. “Don’t know what happened to him. And he’s too mean and stubborn to die.”

“Maybe. Between blood loss and shock, he’s in trouble. The evacuation shuttles aren’t coming around to this sector for another twenty minutes. I’m going to have to seal it,” the medic said, removing a cauterizing tool from his kit. “It’s not meant to treat amputations and this wound is ragged as hell. Turn away if you have to, Grady. It’s going to stink.”

I wanted to talk but couldn’t. Grady and the medic were ghostlike in my memory, half imagined. The man burned the wound shut and loaded me with pain medication.

The mere mention of Carson’s World made me smell burning flesh for years afterward.

* * *

It was the third day back on the UFS Gigantic when my life changed. Grady came to visit every day, but this time, he had news. Some officer named Nebs had offered him a chance to try out for the Spector Corps, or the Reaper Corps. Apparently, there had been some arguments about the name of this new special operations group.

“Doesn’t sound very organized,” I said, focusing on Grady. Sometimes I could forget I was ruined and my career was over.

“It’s a chance to be the best of the best, the top one percent of one percent of the Union military.”

“Sounds great,” I said. “I’m happy for you, Grady.”

My friend didn’t look happy. He stared at his feet, leaning his elbows on his knees and rocking his weight forward from the cheap chair several times. I knew this meant he was really agitated.

“I’d have to let them cut off my arm and jack with my nervous system,” he whispered, staring me directly in my eyes. “I don’t think I can do that, Cain. I’m not a crazy fucker like you.”

“That sounds messed up,” I said, hating how doped up I sounded. “What are they, a bunch of sadistic dicks? Most units settle for a tattoo.”

“You weren’t listening. They are going to replace the arm.” He hesitated. “I suggested they recruit you, since…”

“Since I’m missing an arm,” I said. “Relax, Grady. I know it’s gone. You can talk about it. At least the shrapnel didn’t take my eye. Just half my face.”

“They take your eyes too, or maybe it’s just one eye,” Grady said. “You’re right, Cain. They are sadistic.”

“But they could replace my arm? What if I lost my eye? Could they fix that too?” I asked.

“I wasn’t allowed to ask a lot of questions, but Crank from second platoon told me he knows a guy who worked on a project who had to encrypt some top-secret files. He said the arms are top secret tech, but it’s their missions and purpose that the brass really doesn’t want to talk about.”

“Dark ops shit, probably,” I said, feeling way too hot to stay in this bed. The meds had my body temperature all over the place.

“Darker than dark.” Grady sat back, something he always did a few minutes before he left me here to stare at the ceiling. “Anyway, I guess the same guy says they only want the best soldiers in the Union, guys in their prime that are willing to make the ultimate sacrifices.”

“Well, good luck. Tell me what you decide, if you can. They’ll probably put you on a ship with a communications blackout the moment you sign on the dotted line,” I said.

“I just decided,” Grady said after he stood from the cheap medical bay chair. “I’m telling them no. Spec ops is enough for me. We have a good team, and with Clark gone, things are looking up.”

“What happened to Clark?” I asked. Maybe he’d fallen into the river.

“He got promoted,” Grady said.

“Of course.” I wanted to sleep for a long time. On the one hand, I lived for Grady’s visits, on the other, I wished he would get sent on a mission someplace far away from me. My friend was in his prime and I didn’t like feeling envious.

* * *

“There’s something showing up on the scans,” I said, examining the data from the slip tunnel.  “Can you understand this?”

“I cannot, Captain,” Jelly advised.

“I’ve consulted my database as well,” X-37 said. “My information is only as good as my last update with Union servers, approximately ninety days before you were incarcerated. There is no evidence anyone has been this far from civilization, but it appears to be a marker or message.”

I leaned back in my chair, contemplating the information. Several slip tunnels beyond the Deadlands had been marked this way, but this one contained an additional message we couldn’t decipher. Our exploration was giving us a greater understanding of the network in uncharted space, and we were near our objective, the same objective the Bold Freedom had been trying to reach—probably a fuel source of some sort.

“What do you think, Tom?” I asked.

“Someone has been here,” he said. “Entrances to slip space don’t mark themselves.”

“This is not a Union marking, no matter how old or encrypted the messages,” X-37 said. “I might not be able to decipher it or be able to determine its origin.”

“What about you, Elise?” I asked. “What do you think?”

“Somebody took the time to mark an S.G point. Which means they had to map them. If we follow the marked tunnels instead of just the ones we detect, we’ll eventually arrive someplace. We might even run into someone. Hopefully, they’re not as bad as the Union or the Sarkonians.”

I spun the captain’s chair to face Path. “Give us some of that sword saint wisdom. What do you think?”

“It’s a long message, so it must be important. It’s either a warning or a promise,” he said. “Or maybe a prayer.”

I reviewed the data again, not ready to give my opinion, although I essentially agreed with all of them, but mostly with Path. I thought it was a warning.

Even without the assistance of X-37’s decryption protocols, it was recognizable as a worded message. It could be the border of a new empire, a rival to the Union, or even aliens we were prepared to understand.

“In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter what it says. We all agree this is the fastest way to the objective of the Bold Freedom. We have to go or risk failing everyone who survived Dreadmax,” I said, thinking about Bug and his friends. “Nebs won’t stop chasing us, so no matter which way we go, we will eventually have an opportunity to help Henshaw. Unless new information proves he’s a traitor.”

“He’s not a traitor,” Elise said.

“How can you know that?” I asked.

“Why are you so paranoid?” she countered.

My reasons for caution were so numerous, it was ridiculous to even answer the question. And I thought she should know better, but she was still a teenager who couldn’t resist arguing with authority.

“I’ve met Novasdaughter before,” I said, surprising myself.

Elise, Tom, and even Path stared at me in surprise.

“And you didn’t kill her?” Elise asked. “That’s impressive.”

“She was a kid on Carson’s World. I don’t kill children,” I said, regretting my lack of control. This wasn’t the time for full disclosure, no matter how cathartic it might be. How long had it been since I had anyone I trusted to talk to?

“I’m not sure why you’re bringing this up now,” X-37 said privately.

“Neither am I, X.” The thought had popped into my head and I’d spoken without thinking. That in and of itself was a red flag.

Elise and the others waited expectantly. The situation was awkward, and I wanted out of it as quickly as possible.

“We’re a long way from the Union. This slip tunnel will take us even farther,” I said.

“You want to leave them here?” Elise asked. “In what, a life pod? We’re fresh out of shuttles in case you forgot.”

“I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy,” I said. “Well, maybe I would, but that isn’t the point. We’re stuck with Randolph and Novasdaughter. The message on this marker made me think. Don’t worry about it.”

“There’s more to it and you know it,” Elise said, confronting me as only she could. “You were going to tell us how you know Novasdaughter and why it’s important.”

“I can’t talk about it and you don’t want to know. Carson’s World was the reason I became a Reaper. Leave it at that.”

“Does she remember you?” Elise asked.

I nodded.

“So, she’s probably going to kill you if she gets the chance,” Elise said.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. “I need to get off the bridge. There’s a glass of whiskey and a cigar with my name on them. You coming, Tom?”

“I probably better not leave you alone. Whiskey and cigar time is a hard duty, but I’ll rise to the occasion. Never leave your wingman, right?” Tom said.

“Jelly, take us into the slip tunnel,” I ordered.

Everyone took their places. Once we were safely inside the tunnel, Elise took the first watch.

“Reaper,” Elise said as I was about to leave. “Should I be worried about pursuit in here?”

“No,” I answered. “There is technology that allows ships to remain cloaked in a tunnel, but it is extremely rare.”

“Nebs would have it if anyone did,” Elise said.

The moment stretched out.

“Then stay alert. We’ll come back if needed. From now on, no one does double shifts. We need to stay sharp,” I said.

That seemed to reassure the young woman.

* * *

Tom met me on the observation deck for whiskey and cigars. We didn’t talk much, but I knew he had navigation problems and stealth cloak theories on his mind.

Elise was on the bridge. Path was wherever Path was when he wasn’t standing guard or beating one of us with a practice sword.

“Have you talked to Path recently?” I asked.

“Of course,” Tom said, looking up from something he had been reading. “The man is a pleasant conversationalist. Very attentive.”

“Sure,” I said, then blew a ragged smoke ring. “Like talking to a wall, I imagine.”

“He has some interesting stories,” Tom countered.

“Really? Like what?”

“Stuff about Henshaw. Crazy things he saw while working security at parties. Metaphysical theorizing,” Tom said.

“Interesting.” The sword saint had become almost unreal to me, a creature made from nothing but mental discipline and deadly skills. “He’s actually a real person. Who knew?”

“Do you want to talk about Carson’s World and Novasdaughter?” Tom asked.

“Not everyone in the Reaper Corps thought I was a good candidate for the job,” I said, then raised my cybernetic left arm. “You had to volunteer to have your arm replaced, but mine was already gone.”

“What kind of psychopath would let the Union cut off a limb?” Tom asked, then seemed embarrassed. “Sorry. That sounded bad.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I scowled.

“Why did they accept you if that was a requirement?” Tom asked in a quieter voice. It was like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer.

“They would never admit it, but I’m sure they only wanted people with a death wish. A man who craves death has no problem taking a life. And they took my eye while I was sedated for the nerve-ware surgery. That took eleven days. When I woke up, I was a different person,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I thought about these things.”

“Elise would be in Union custody if you weren’t…what you are, and I’d be dead from trying to stop them from taking her on Greendale,” Tom said.

“All true,” I said, then sipped my whiskey. “But I’m still just an asshole with a death wish who did a lot of bad things for the Union—and might still be doing those things if they hadn’t turned on me.”

“Don’t give me that,” Tom argued. “You saved Novasdaughter’s mother. I know you did, even if you won’t tell us how or why. You protect Elise and the rest of us like we’re your family. And you won’t stop until you find your mother and sister. You don’t have a death wish. You’re trying to save the galaxy and everyone in it.”

“Why would I want to save anything in the galaxy after all I’ve seen?” I squeezed my whiskey tumbler so hard, I almost spilled it. “Let’s agree to disagree.”

“Sure, Hal,” Tom said, “but you know I’m right.”

I didn’t respond or look at him for a long time. The holo view and the galaxy it represented soaked up my attention as I tried to ignore the mechanic.

He went back to his book and I finished my cigar. When it was done, I watched the holo view and attempted to empty my mind. We were in an uncharted slip tunnel racing toward a destination we knew nothing about—other than the assumption the Bold Freedom had been attempting to get there to refuel.

“X, can you ask Jelly to play some epic music on the observation deck?” I asked.

X-37 answered at once. “Right away, Reaper Cain.”

19

“What is it, Path?” I asked, pausing in the middle of reassembling my HDK Dominator carbine.

“Can you come to the bridge?” he asked.

There was no explanation, nothing in the tone of his voice to suggest what was wrong.

But something was wrong, there had to be. This was the first time the sword saint had requested my presence on the bridge.

“I’m on my way,” I said, then quickly finished with the HDK to be stored in the armory.

“Fill me in, X,” I said.

“Of course, Reaper Cain. Path believes there is something following us in the slip tunnel. Neither I nor Jelly have been able to confirm his suspicion,” X-37 explained.

“I’m assuming Jelly has continued to unravel Henshaw’s stealth field detection methodologies,” I said.

“With little progress. I’m afraid that line of research is closed to us without Henshaw’s direct assistance,” X-37 said.

“Why can’t anything be easy?” I asked, nearing the door to the bridge.

“Define easy.” X-37’s short response sounded judgmental in my ears, which was unlikely, but I was only human.

Something else occurred to me. “Do you think Path could get information out of Novasdaughter or Randolph?”

“My analysis suggests he would definitely win a staring contest with either pilot,” X-37 said.

“I want one or both of them on our side. We need skilled pilots,” I said.

“We also need ships for them to fly,” X-37 countered.

“One thing at a time.” I entered the bridge and moved to Path’s side. “What do you have?”

“I was meditating,” he said.

“Of course you were.” My eyes methodically scanned the holo Path had pulled up.

“Don’t search it section by section as though it is on a grid,” Path suggested.

“The holo view is a grid, in three dimensions,” I argued. “Jelly, shade in the areas my vision has scanned so that I don’t miss anything.”

Path waited patiently as I followed the standard Union protocol for evaluating a sensor reading. One by one, the cubes of the three-dimensional grid were shaded in.

“I don’t see anything, Path,” I said, hiding my annoyance with effort—because I was that kind of guy, very considerate of people’s feelings.

He studied me for a few seconds, then resumed his observation of the holo view. A moment later, he pointed at one of the quadrants I had already examined. “That’s a ship, one of the spec ops carriers.”

“I don’t see it,” I said. “You’re imagining things. It happens when you’ve been on watch for too long.”

“You’re trying too hard, Reaper. Relax your mind,” Path said.

“It’s worth a try,” X-37 said to me privately.

And then I saw it. “Balls. You’re right, Path. It’s a stealth carrier, probably the Nightmare. The others were too far behind to catch us at the entrance to this tunnel.”

“Will it attack?” Path asked.

“No. Fighting in a slip tunnel is dangerous,” I said.

“I’m calling Tom to the bridge to help you monitor it. Don’t lose sight of it,” I ordered. “We need to know exactly where it is when we leave the tunnel. That is when Nebs will attack unless we can disappear first.”

“Of course. I look forward to Tom’s assistance,” Path said.

“Tom, Path needs you on the bridge. Help him track the Nightmare,” I said, broadcasting through Tom’s earbud but also the speakers in his workshop.

“On my way, Hal,” Tom answered.

“Elise, stop whatever you’re doing and get some sleep. I want you to be alert when we take the next shift. There needs to be two sets of eyes on Nebs’s ship at all times. I doubt he will launch an attack in the slip tunnel, but I’ve been wrong before,” I said.

“Isn’t that the truth,” Elise quipped. “I need to finish my run.”

“You need to follow orders,” I said, keeping my tone as reasonable as possible while remaining authoritative.

“Only a mile left on the treadmill. I’ll get plenty of sleep,” she said. The kid wasn’t even breathing hard.

“I tell you we’re being tracked through slip space by a deadly group of spec ops soldiers and you’re just worried about finishing your run?” I asked.

“Are they attacking the ship?” she asked, but didn’t wait for my answer. “If the situation allows for me to sleep, it allows for me to finish my workout. I’ll go straight to my quarters after that. That’s the best deal you’re getting from me. I’m not a soldier and you’re not my dad.”

“Fine,” I said.

“I’ll just sleep a little faster,” she added.

“You’re killing me, kid.”

“Not a kid.”

“Are.”

“Aren’t.”

I let it go, determined to take my own advice. The last thing I wanted was to sleep and have another nightmare, but I knew there wouldn’t be much rest for any of us once Nebs moved on us.

* * *

The slip tunnel opened. The Jellybird flew into the uncharted section of the galaxy the Bold Freedom seemed to have been trying to reach.

“Now, Jelly,” I barked. “Activate the cloak and prepare to accelerate at full speed.”

“Why don’t we just go now?” Elise asked impatiently.

“Wait and see,” I said. “Aim us toward the nearest cluster of asteroids—anyplace we can disappear with or without the cloak.”

“Right away, Captain,” Jelly responded.

Tom manned the weapons station. Elise monitored sensors and communications. Path observed, ready to offer what help he could or point out details he saw that we often missed.

I prepared to take manual control of the ship if Nebs sent his micro-fighters after us.

“The Nightmare has launched a pair of small fighters. Looks like a probe,” Elise warned. “We should have accelerated away from the slip tunnel opening immediately.”

“Go now, Jelly. They will have to retrieve the ships before they can pursue us far,” I said.

“We are accelerating, Captain,” Jelly advised. “The fighters are gaining on us but won’t be able to maintain capture speeds for long.”

“Shields up,” I ordered.

Tom raised the shields, causing the stealth cloak to flicker.

The fighters fired streams of kinetic projectiles, each round that struck the shield rendering us visible for half a second.

“More speed, Jelly,” I said.

“Of course, Captain. Do you wish to push the engines beyond redline?” Jelly asked.

“How far do we need to push?”

“A dangerous amount,” Jelly answered.

“Leave us some room. Balance the danger of getting caught with exploding. When apprehension is inevitable, we’ll gamble on pushing our speed to the next level.”

“Of course, Captain. I understand,” Jelly said.

“The Nightmare is launching additional fighters,” Elise reported, focusing her attention on her battle station.

"Are you ready, Tom?" I asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be." The mechanic turned weapons officer appeared tense.

"One target at a time, Tom. That should get it done," I said.

Two dozen micro fighters accelerated after the Jellybird at full burn. They closed the distance rapidly.

"Give me an update, Jelly." My hands itched to take the controls, but I waited. Jelly was better at everything but actual combat when instinct and combat experience could make a difference.

"Union fighters will overtake us in approximately six minutes,” Jelly said.

"That's cutting it pretty close," I said. “Accelerate another one hundred units and hold. The farther we can draw them from their mothership, the longer it will take for them to recover the fighters. We will have a better lead if we survive."

"And how exactly are we going to do that?" Elise asked.

"Tom is going to give them hell with our point defense weapons, and I'm going to fly the ship like I stole it,” I said.

Elise laughed. "Let's do it!”

The micro fighters put on a final burst of speed to catch us.

“That’s the best I can do without risking the engines," Jelly advised.

“Everyone strap in. This is about to get stupid,” I said, taking my own advice. “Jelly, give me the flight controls.”

“Of course, Captain,” Jelly said.

The moment I had control, I flipped the ship one hundred and eighty degrees and cut the engines. We continued at speed.

“Open fire, Tom!” I shouted.

Rockets zipped away from the Jellybird. They lacked the destructive power to damage even the most lightly armored battleship but would take out a micro fighter if they scored a hit.

The closing speed was hard to calculate.

“No hits,” Elise reported.

Tom cursed.

“Brace yourselves!” I hit the thrusters, which were now facing the opposite direction, causing a braking effect.

The fighters shot past us, spiraling to avoid the rockets, strafing our shields with their light weapons, then spinning around just as I had with the Jellybird.

“Jelly, get ready to reset the cloak. Turn it off. But be ready to turn it back on."

I changed course, arcing away from the dogfight and trying to maintain as much distance as I could from the pursuing Nightmare. It was invisible, but I could guess its basic course.

“With our cloak suddenly gone, they’ll assume we took damage,” I explained as I steered for the gravity well of a planet still millions of kilometers away.

"Union micro fighters approaching in four groups of three, two groups in the center, and one on each flank,” Elise advised. “Sensors indicate they put all of their shield energy forward."

"Their shields can't be very powerful in ships that small," I said. "But they know we have nobody to attack them from any other vector. Tom, fire another barrage of rockets with time-delayed detonations. Aim one meter past them, do you understand?”

"I'll do my best," Tom said, typing calculations as quickly as he could.

"Fire!" I ordered.

"Rockets away," Tom said.

"Incoming enemy fire," Elise announced, her voice stern and loud enough to be heard but not panicked.

I twisted the controls, aggressively changing to a new vector. "Jelly, activate the stealth cloak right now!"

"Stealth cloak activated," Jelly advised.

I reversed course, pushing the engines as hard as I could without damaging them. Two of the Union micro fighters pursued me, but I wasn't sure if their pursuit vectors were intentional.

These pilots had seen action. If the Union has spec ops for pilots, that's these guys. They moved into aggressive and well-coordinated search formations the instant we disappeared. I was thinking that Nebs must have significant influence in the Union to have built such a truly elite carrier group.

"It's like they expected it," Elise observed. "Our sensors indicate they are still weapons hot. Ready to fire the moment they spot us."

"Keep those point defense turrets ready," I said.

Tom almost seemed embarrassed. We all knew that the Jellybird's defensive guns barely deserved the name turrets.

"May I make a suggestion, Captain?" Jelly asked.

"Go ahead," I said, gently altering my course to slide away from micro fighters in my wake. Second by second, I changed course until it was clear they hadn't detected my presence but had been following a predetermined search route.

"It won't take long for them to see through your tricks, Captain. You've done well, but this isn't your forte," Jelly said.

"Agreed," I said. "If you're going to tell me it's time to get clear of this sector, I'm way ahead of you."

"Way ahead of me may be an exaggeration,” Jelly said. “Shall I take the controls and head for a particular destination?”

“Slingshot around the next planetary gravity well. I want to hide in the asteroid belt and power down," I said.

"Great," Elise muttered. "I hate no-power drills. And this time, we have to deal with prisoners. Who's going to suit them up?"

"They're still in their flight suits," I said. "We just need to give them their helmets and guard them to make sure they don't try anything. X, can you jam their suits’ distress beacons?"

"I'll work on it," X-37 promised.

* * *

Several hours later, Jelly steered us into an asteroid field. It was so far from the system’s sun that the giant rocks were invisible to the naked eye. Only the ship sensors and enhanced optics allowed me to see them.

"Suits on," I ordered and watched Tom and Elise lock on their helmets and run to their system checks. Once we were all on bottled air, I checked on Path and the prisoners. "What’s your status, Path?”

"I've moved Captain Randolph into Lieutenant Novasdaughter’s cell. They will give me no problems. We are ready for the powerdown," the sword saint said.

"Do you have your blade?" I asked.

"Yes, Reaper. I showed it to them and made myself understood," Path said.

"Jelly, make us disappear," I ordered.

"Powering down," Jelly advised.

We couldn't see the Nightmare on any of our sensor boards, which only meant she hadn't deployed any of her ships. Cutting power and hiding in a field of asteroids was an old smuggler’s trick, predictable but still hard to defeat. There were millions of inert substances in this asteroid belt.

Finding us would be time consuming. Nebs knew me as an aggressive and impatient operator. He'd be forced to consider the very real possibility that I was already gone, increasing my lead hour by hour.

We floated in complete darkness, each of us thinking our own thoughts. Tom started talking and I told him to be quiet. Internal ship comms was the one thing I decided we would keep, but that didn't mean I wanted everyone to chatting like nervous rookies.

Our suits regulated temperature and we each had bottled air for an hour. This wouldn’t become necessary for several hours, but it was easier for X-37 and Jelly to monitor. I didn’t need a member of my crew hallucinating or slipping into hypothermia.

“I chose an organized debris field. Most of the objects in this area are following a similar path established over millions of years. I will need to activate steering jets from time to time to avoid collisions. The asteroids in this area are slightly larger than the Jellybird and are approximately five thousand meters apart, on average,” Jelly said.

“How long are we going to do this?” Elise said, her voice sounding tightly controlled.

“Could we have music?” Tom asked, the effect of isolation easy to hear in his voice. “I didn’t realize it would be this dark.”

A shiver went through me. I told myself it wasn’t that cold yet, that the ship’s insulation would keep out the coldness of the void for hours. The sensation was mostly psychological, but I understood each temperature change, no matter how slight, would feel like the hand of death.

“Play something calming,” I said. “Minimum volume and only through helmet speakers. Try visuals as well.”

“That might not be advisable. My analysis suggests the view would be alarming to organics,” X-37 said.

“I hate it when you call us organics,” I muttered. “Put visuals on my HUD before you share them with the rest of the crew.”

“How long has it been?” Elise asked.

“Four minutes and fifteen seconds,” X-37 answered via helmet radios. “I’ve consulted with Jelly and we agree that the chance of our enemies detecting communications internal to the ship is minimal.”

“What about lights?” Elise asked, her voice still rigidly controlled. “Why can’t we have lights?”

“My advice is to save battery power for a true emergency,” Jelly said.

“Like when we start to freak out?” Elise asked.

“Yes, Elise. That has been my experience. My previous captains have used this technique many times. They were all rebels and smugglers, very skilled at evading the Union,” Jelly said.

My chest felt constricted. The images Jelly put on my HUD weren’t reassuring. The resolution was poor and all I could see around the ship were dark shapes moving through darkness. Distant star fields were too bright to look at by contrast.

“The HUD visuals hurt my eyes. I can’t recommend them, but give everyone on the ship, including the prisoners, access if they request it,” I said.

“Right away, Captain.”

“That’s amazing,” Elise breathed, her reaction not what I expected.

Tom and Path remained silent. The prisoners didn’t have access to the communications channel. I couldn’t hear their reactions.

“Path, how are the prisoners?” I asked.

“Agitated,” Path answered.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“I feel like someone slipped a hallucinogenic tab into my drink,” he answered. “It’s not terrible.”

“Jelly, can you run a passive scan now?” I asked.

“I can see or hear what the Nightmare puts out, but cannot actively look for them,” Jelly answered.

“Do it.”

“Vice Admiral Nebs is broadcasting a message demanding our surrender. He’s rather long-winded, talking about the illegality of holding Union pilots hostage and what will happen if we don’t show ourselves immediately,” Jelly said.

“My analysis suggests he is bluffing,” X-37 added. “He sounds bored, like he is going through the motions.”

“Elise, Tom, get some sleep. It will make the wait easier,” I said.

Elise laughed a bit crazily. “Yeah, right. I’m totally not freaking out right now. A nap is just what I’m wanting, or better yet, powering up the ship and getting the hell out of here.”

“That wasn’t an order,” I clarified. “Just a suggestion.”

We waited and occupied ourselves with reports from Jelly and X. Time dragged, each minute feeling like ten.

“The Nightmare has come out of stealth mode. I believe she is going to fire missiles into the asteroid field,” Jelly warned. “Power signatures indicate she is preparing to fire.”

“Activate our stealth cloak and power up. We may need to move quickly,” I said.

“Right away, Captain,” Jelly said.

Interior lights came on slowly, giving our eyes a chance to adjust.

“The Nightmare is firing rockets,” Jelly announced. “I suggest we co-pilot this, Captain. I’m much faster and precise but lack human instincts and risk taking.”

I took the controls. It felt weird at first, feeling the steering yoke move on its own.

Rockets exploded against two large asteroids and it was immediately apparent we couldn’t stay here. We moved downward and away.

Debris shot past us, peppering our shields, which ruined the stealth cloak for a fraction of a second each time.

“I’m taking us around that large asteroid,” I said.

“Of course, Captain,” Jelly said.

“I’m tracking vectors of asteroid fragments and putting them on your holo view in orange. Red is restricted to enemy attacks, apparently,” Elise said.

“Standing by with point defense guns,” Tom said.

“We may need them, Tom, but hold fire for as long as possible,” I said, banking around an asteroid that blocked our view of the Nightmare at the edge of the asteroid field.

“The Nightmare is continuing her systematic firing into the field,” Jelly advised. “I don’t believe she has detected us.”

“She will,” I said, planning our next move. “Let’s traverse the asteroid field and exit on the opposite side from the Nightmare, then we need to make for the slip tunnel. It’s time to get those resources for the Bold Freedom.”

“Correct, Captain. We have less than twenty-eight hours. Under ideal conditions, we can make it in eight,” Jelly said.

“That’s plenty of time,” Elise said.

“Depending on what we find on this planet that the Bold Freedom was heading for and whether or not Nebs is able to block our return trip,” I said.

“You’re such a downer, Reaper,” Elise said.

“We’re clearing the field. Moving toward the slip tunnel. If the Nightmare has detected us, she’s showing no signs of pursuit. This is almost too easy,” Jelly said.

“Thanks for jinxing us, Jelly,” I said.

“What is a jinx?” Jelly asked.

“It’s one of Reaper Cain’s many irrational superstitions,” X-37 explained.

“You’re not helping, X,” I said, then focused on our escape.

20

The slip tunnel, fortunately, was short. Jelly’s estimation of the time remaining on the mission clock gave me butterflies. I had no idea how difficult it would be to gather raw materials, nor did I know for sure the Bold Freedom had the ability to process them.

Our plan was based on the assumption that the ship’s crew was heading here for a reason. If they were just running blind, then we were in trouble and had sacrificed Henshaw and the Lady Faith for no reason.

“Post slip tunnel evasive maneuvers complete. Initiating primary scan of the system,” Jelly advised.

Normally, I went about my business or smoked a cigar as Jelly and X-37 mapped out the system and searched for slip tunnels. With time running out, I stayed on the bridge and devoured each piece of information as it came in.

The first thing Jelly was able to find, other than the basic distances and mass calculations of the planets, were several slip tunnels that seemed to have the same warning messages we couldn’t yet read.

A short time later, Jelly delivered news that changed everything. Elise and Tom also waited in anticipation. This was a make it or break it moment. In the next few seconds, we would know whether or not we had even the slightest chance of saving the Bold Freedom.

I studied the readings carefully. “Are those cities?”

“I believe they are,” Jelly said. “There are distinct signs of technology on the only planet in the green zone, one hundred and fifty million kilometers from the star in this system.”

“Can you determine whether or not the Bold Freedom has been here? Do they know these people?” I asked.

“Unknown,” Jelly said. “Continuing a deep scan and analysis of radio communications from the planet.”

“What about you, X?” I asked.

“I find it unlikely the Bold Freedom has ever been to the system,” X-37 said. “It’s more likely they encountered someone from the system or perhaps intercepted a long-range communication that has been floating through the galaxy for decades.”

“Those are cities!” Elise exclaimed, then put an image from her long-range scanners on the main holo display. One part of the planet was covered with lights that could only be cities. They weren’t as large as others I’d seen in the Union or even Sarkonian Empire, but they represented a hell of a lot more than some random colony or outpost.

“I’ve always wondered what a first-contact scenario would feel like,” Tom said. “I was reading a series of novels last month that explored the possibilities. Things could get interesting for us if we continue.”

“Sure,” I said. “Of course. Getting captured and killed by aliens sounds like fun.”

“I have no records of alien contact,” X-37 said. “And neither does Jelly. We’ve discussed this possibility at length.”

“I’m not sure if I’m more worried that you two have private conversations or that there might be aliens out here,” I said.

“We’ve concluded there must be non-human life forms someplace. It’s a statistical certainty,” X-37 said.

“Just nowhere near Union, Sarkonian, or Deadland space,” I said. “Keep us in stealth mode. I’d like to learn as much as I can about these people before attempting contact. The clock is ticking.”

The Jellybird cut across the system as quickly as we dared. Time was running short.  We gathered information as we approached the mysterious civilization. There were satellites and work platforms not unfamiliar to designs we knew, which indicated they were probably human or at least humanoid.

One of the uninhabitable worlds supported a mining colony with several freight haulers and a space station in orbit of the frozen planet.

“I don’t think they have detected us,” Elise said. She sipped nutrient paste from a tube then pulled water from another container.

Everyone on the ship looked rough—sleep-deprived and exhausted from remaining on high alert for too long. I’d quit telling them to go to their quarters for sleep and hygiene maintenance. We all took short naps in our chairs and drank mediocre coffee at room temperature.

“Jelly, help Elise run a full scan of the facility and the ships. Do they have fuel we could acquire for the Bold Freedom? Do their ships have weapons?” I asked.

“We’re on it,” Elise said. “I think I’m getting good at this.”

“Consider it a crash course,” I said, thinking of how much better trained Nebs’s crews had to be.

“Those ships seem to be ice haulers,” Jelly advised. “They don’t have significant fuel stores—just enough for their own operations. Conclusion, we can’t get what we need from them.”

“Continue to their home planet,” I said, desperate for information I needed to make first contact with these people.

“Would you like to hear their language?” Elise asked. “X-37 might correct me if I’m wrong, but I think they’re human. Maybe a lost colony or something. It’s like something out of an Earth fairy-tale. We are so far beyond Union space.”

“There will be disadvantages,” I promised. “They’ll see us as raiders.”

We slowed to a relative rest far beyond the planet’s defensive systems.  They had automated satellites with primitive rockets and projectile weapons that were easily avoided in our stealth mode. There were also space docks, where they worked on rows of ships of a vaguely familiar but bulky design.

“I’d like to know what type of engines are on those things,” I said.

“I’m on it,” Tom said. “I’d like to have actual schematics, but I can make certain inferences from visuals.”

“Good. Let me know what you figure out,” I said. “Jelly, take us closer to the planet and start working on a translation matrix for their language. Can you pick up any image transmissions?”

“I can,” she said. “Would you like me to put one on the main holo view?”

“Absolutely,” I said, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms.

A man appeared standing in the middle of our bridge, talking to someone we couldn’t see. His words didn’t make sense, but neither were they threatening. It looked like some sort of administrative meeting, possibly with the ice haulers we had passed on our way in.

“Ahhg,” Elise complained. “It’s like their language is on the tip of my tongue. It feels like I should understand them, but I can’t.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Tom said. “I believe the order of their sentence structure is the same as ours, or at least close enough I think we could work it out with a little help from Jelly and X.”

Both of them typed notes and did screen captures of the man we were spying on in the holo.

I watched him for a while, taking note of his almost formal uniform.

Jelly started to display words she’d learned so far.  Some of it sounded hilarious until more of the context was figured out.

“I should have a reasonable translation program established soon,” Jelly advised. “X-37 has helped immensely.”

“Languages are one of his auxiliary functions,” I said. “I’m going to get an hour of sleep.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Elise said. “Jelly said it would take us several hours under ideal conditions. If my calculations are correct, we’re already behind schedule.”

“I know exactly how much time we have,” I said. X-37 had been giving me updates every quarter hour. “I also want to be fresh when we begin negotiations. It’s not every day we meet people who have never heard of the Union.”

“That’s a wise decision,” X-37 said. “No need to rush to failure.”

Elise was listening but seemed distracted by information coming into her sensor terminal. “Yeah, that’s really smart. Do you want me to tell you about what looks like a major evacuation in progress, or wait until you have your beauty rest?”

I didn’t take the bait. “Check your information. Be prepared to debrief me when I get back. X, make sure I wake up in one hour.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Elise muttered as she worked frantically to gather information.

I went to sleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

* * *

Grady was waiting for me in the realm of sleep. He sat by my hospital bed in full combat gear, holding his helmet in his hands. That had never really happened. He never told the truth in the dreams or behaved as he should.

“What happened to the girls?” I asked.

“They lived,” Grady said. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Captain Clark wanted you court-martialed. If you haven’t been served papers yet, then someone put a kibosh on it.”

I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t received notification of court-martial proceedings, but I didn’t want Grady to be involved in any way, including speculation of what had or hadn’t happened to my career.

“You’re pretty hard on civilians,” Grady said.

I thought he was being unfair but wasn’t able to argue, because this was a dream and the rules were as unfair as hell.

“I’m not talking about Carson’s World,” he said.

I realized the helmet he was holding in his hand was the same one he’d been wearing when he died on Dreadmax.

“I’m talking about Wallach,” he said, flipping the battered helmet over in his hands to look inside of it, and flipping it again so that the top of it showed. The nervous habit had been real, at least. I’d seen him do that hundreds of times.

“They’ve never heard of the Union. More importantly, they won’t submit. Wouldn’t be a problem if they had even a slight chance of escaping the Union’s wrath. You brought predators to their door.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I argued.

“I heard X-37 attempting to wake you up. You overslept. You’re such a lazy asshole,” Grady said. “Everyone on the Bold Freedom is going to die, because you couldn’t get them killed on Dreadmax like you did me.”

I sat up, wide awake, looking around my room for threats. After two seconds—it felt like a lifetime—I rolled out of the narrow bed and cleared the room—because the habit had saved my life, not because I was freaked out by a dream featuring my best friend’s ghost.

“Oh, good. You’re awake. I thought you might’ve died,” X-37 said sarcastically.

“You would have known if I died,” I said. “And why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I have been trying to wake you up for six minutes and fourteen seconds,” X-37 said.

“What’s the name of this planet?”

“They call it Wallach,” X-37 said. “Jelly and I have constructed translation software. You will only sound like an idiot eleven percent of the time you speak with them.”

“Great. Wait for me to make contact,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I was shaken. Grady had just used the name in my dream. Was I going crazy?

“Elise has already begun dialogue with their head of system security,” X-37 said. “My calculations indicate she is a superior linguist to you. Perhaps you should allow her to do all the talking.”

“What?” I shouted.

“You were asleep and the Wallach security chief threatened to fire on us if we didn’t respond,” X-37 said.

Already dressed, I grabbed my helmet and ran to the bridge.

21

“Catch me up,” I ordered, dropping into the captain’s chair and typing frantically on the key screen of my workstation.

“I have detected a significant amount of fuel already loaded and ready for interstellar transport. There are, in fact, several fuel, water, food, and other raw material haulers prepped for departure,” Jelly said. “As Elise informed you, there is a large-scale evacuation underway. My analysis has concluded there is no possible way everyone on the planet can be evacuated, despite the impressive size of their fleet.”

“How did they see through our stealth cloak?” I asked, knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.

“Elise ordered me to lower it,” Jelly said.

“Elise…” I growled. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“We detected chatter on one of their public communications channels,” Elise explained. “There are conspiracy theorists discussing anomalies detected by civilian astronomy facilities. They have been talking about alien invasions and the end of the world. I decided to make contact with the planet through official channels before things got out of control.”

“You should’ve woken me up,” I said.

“We tried,” she answered shortly.

“Why are they evacuating the planet?” I asked.

“Now that is interesting,” X-37 said. “Some claimed monsters were going to kill them all, but others argued aliens would get them first. There is a twenty-three percent chance there has been a translation error regarding their meaning of aliens.”

“We couldn’t get a straight answer,” Elise interrupted. “The actual word they are using is Alons, which could be a race or an ethnic group—or even something else—but Tom and Jelly think they’re having problems with a nuclear reactor. It’s a very primitive power source and filthy with barely contained radiation. That’s the most likely reason they are making a run for it.”

“It’s unclear if the reactor is fission or fusion, but either way, it seems they believe their entire civilization is in danger,” Tom explained. “A total meltdown could punch a hole through their atmosphere, but also cut deep into the planet’s surface.”

“Have we had any indication that the Bold Freedom has made contact with these people?” I asked.

“No,” Elise said. “Their security chief, General Karn, referred to us as the first new contact in human history.”

“Great, now we’re aliens,” I muttered, rubbing my temples to clear my head. “Jelly, get Karn on the line.”

“Hailing their defense platform now,” Jelly said. “His official title is the Grand Warden of Wallach, Defender of the People, their Freedom, and their Liberty.”

“Wallach, huh,” I said, formulating what I would say to this man with the big title.

“It means homeworld as best as I can translate, or perhaps second homeworld,” X-37 explained.

“Good to know,” I said.

A man appeared in the holo display. His uniform was similar to the administrator we’d first spied on. The fabric was better tailored and adorned with badges and patches I suspected denoted high rank. The fabric was dark blue, the high collar and sleeve cuffs striped in wide bands of gold embroidery.

He wore a slug thrower on his hip that looked brand new and unused despite its ancient design—or he was a fantastic about cleaning, oiling, and generally maintaining the weapon. The bridge of his space station was crammed with officers, most seemingly in their prime and similarly armed.

“My name is General Karn, Warden of Wallach,” he stated, his hard face unmoved by the surprise of our appearance. “Protocol prescribes that I inform you that you are operating an unlicensed vessel in restricted space, but from what I can see, this is a senseless and irrational dialogue.”

“I think you’re going to like this guy,” X-37 said.

“I’m Halek Cain, Captain of the Jellybird. This is my crew,” I said.

“Jellybird?” he asked. “Interesting. I should warn you that our scientific community is alarmed that you exist, much less that you are here.”

“I wasn’t expecting civilization this far out,” I said.

“Out from what?” Karn asked.

X-37 whispered several suggestions in my ear, each rated on a scale of one to ten for believability. I decided to wing it. “There are two political forces where I come from, the Union and the Sarkonian Empire.”

“Are you an outlaw, Cain? Should I take you into custody?” he asked.

“I am. And I wouldn’t recommend it,” I said despite Elise glaring at me and X-37 giving me three or four better options.

“Which of these Empires has branded you persona non grata?” he asked.

“No one actually likes him,” Elise said.

I shot her a look.

“Maybe I should talk to her, Cain,” Karn probed.

“I wouldn’t recommend it. She’s a teenager,” I said, not sure why I was provoking Elise at this particular moment.

“I have three,” Karn said. “They keep me honest.”

“I bet,” I said, wishing X-37 would suggest where the guy was going with this. One thing was certain, he was confident and relaxed—stern as any general I’d ever met, but unconcerned with the consequences of this first-contact scenario.

He considered me for several moments. His crew remained silent and attentive in the background. The man didn’t fidget or look away. I recognized the look of a soldier in his eyes.

“You’re honest and cocky,” he said. “There are worse characteristics. Let me ask you an unrelated question.”

“You’re the boss,” I said. “I won’t bullshit you. There’s a reason I came here, and I’m on a tight schedule.”

“I wouldn’t trust anybody who said they came through the galaxy without a reason,” he said. “How do we speak the same language? There’s the delay that shouldn’t be there when we talk and your accent is strange. Do you have a language computer?”

The word “computer” took some time to translate, but X-37 figured it out and whispered in my ear.

“You guessed it. We have a translator. If we met face-to-face, I’d be the only one who could talk to you in real time,” I said, purposely limiting contact to myself. Elise would ruin it, but if we could keep them focused on one person, this would go faster. “I’m not the most diplomatic person. Sometimes that’s a problem.”

“I’ve already determined that by looking at you,” Karn said. “Tell me, Cain, will I regret trusting you?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Outstanding. An honest answer from a dangerous man. Let’s not play word games. We are conducting the largest evacuation in history. It’s hard to convince people to leave everything behind. Our president has promised we try one last time to stop the meltdown,” Karn said. “You won’t be allowed to hinder my mission or endanger my people.”

“It looks like you don’t have enough ships for a complete evacuation,” I said, studying what looked like cities, transportation networks, and industrial complexes.

“Look closer and you’ll see many of those are without power,” Karn advised. “Negotiating with aliens and other first-contact scenarios are part of my training, although we all laughed about it in the academy. My job is to make sure you don’t harm my people. If you make me nervous, I have authorization to blow you out of the void. My mission is everything.”

“How about we skip the part where you shoot at us? We’re here because we received a distress call from a ship full of people. They’re out of fuel and stranded in a quadrant of space directly in the path of a comet. We need fuel and we need it fast,” I said. “I don’t know what we have to trade, especially given the fact that your entire planet is going to hell right now, but if you name a price, I’ll pay it.”

“I have to say, Cain, your directness is refreshing,” Karn said. “But I still have a job to do. Are you a scout vessel? Did you come alone? Be careful how you answer, because we already know your ship has some serious firepower.”

I suppressed a laugh. “I need to check our translation software. I thought you just described our weapons as dangerous,” I said.

“Your nonchalance on this subject is alarming. I know you’re not a simple explorer, so don’t jerk me around. The only reason I might believe that you’re not a military scout is that you already admitted to being an outlaw,” Karn said.

“I like you, General. So, I’ll tell you that the people coming after us can probably take out your entire fleet and system defenses in a day,” I warned. “And that’s not even an invasion force.”

“I don’t understand that last part,” Karn said. “Are your people conquerors?”

“Not my people,” I said.

He frowned. “You know what I mean.”

“The first fleet you will see from the Union is a fraction of what they will send later. A man named Vice Admiral Nebs is after me and my crew. He has three small carriers full of ships designed for insurgency type missions,” I said, realizing he basically understood what I was talking about. “I have some problems with the way they operate, and they’re going to silence me.”

“They sent a fleet after you? That doesn’t make it sound like welcoming you would be a good idea. How can one man be that dangerous?” he asked.

“I suggest caution,” X-37 said. “The only explanation he is likely to believe is that you have information a large military organization can’t allow to go public. Once you tell him this, it will become important for him to learn this information. That will likely lead to your incarceration and torture—which will delay us far beyond the expiration of our own mission clock.”

“Is there a problem, Cain?” the general asked.

“There are lots of problems,” I said, then stalled.

“It’s a personal vendetta of some sort, I gather. My superior won’t be satisfied, but I think we’re at a reasonable starting point for discussion. As it happens, my superior may have an offer for you,” Karn said. “Regardless of who wants you dead. If she grants you asylum, we will keep you and your people safe.”

“He’s going to ask you to do something impossible that will likely get you killed,” X-37 said. “My analysis suggests that infiltrating and stealing one of their fuel tankers already in orbit would be a superior choice to further negotiation.”

“One moment,” I said to the holo view of General Karn, then muted the conversation as I turned away. “What are the odds that your ship-stealing plan could work, X?”

“Nearly three percent,” X-37 said.

“That’s it?” X-37 had given me a lot of ridiculously bad odds in the past, but this was just insulting. This was like my limited artificial intelligence was telling me to go fuck myself. “That doesn’t even give me a real choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” X-37 said. “Some are better than others. The other option is that they want you to perform a task so daunting that they have prepared to evacuate as many people as possible from their planet in case it fails.”

I turned back to the holo view of General Karn. “I’ll take your boss’s offer as long as I can do it in six hours and be on my way with enough fuel to power a freighter in less than an additional two hours. Can I contact your boss remotely? That might speed things up.”

“Solving our nuclear problem will require your presence on the surface of Wallach,” Karn said. “I’ll prepare a shuttle, but that will take some time.”

“I’m really wishing we hadn’t ditched our shuttle,” I said to my crew. “All right, general, we better get cracking, then.”

He made a confused expression. “I’ll assume you’re trying to tell me you want to hurry. I’m sending you my chief squad leader, a man named Locke. He’s good at his job, so try not to get him killed.”

“Fingers crossed, no one dies,” I said.

This caused a lot of confusion amongst Karn’s people.

“I suggest you avoid metaphors and euphemisms in the future,” X-37 said. “I can tell you from my own experience, they are not helpful.”

22

Chief Squad Leader Locke must’ve been squared away, because he arrived in his shuttle minutes later. We greeted him in the airlock, and I realized he had to be a relative of Karn.

I also suspected that chief squad leader was a significantly higher rank than I had assumed. His uniform was far more utilitarian than the general’s outfit, but he had stripes on his arms and his collar. He also carried himself like he deserved respect.

The man was shorter than Karn, and very thick through the shoulders. It was difficult to tell much else about him because he wore an environment suit, a clear-faced helmet, and the gloves this type of equipment required.

“I’m CSL Locke. I’m to take you to the planet for a meeting with the president,” he said.

“The president?” As a professional assassin, I was amazed we would be taken straight to the leader of this planet.

“General Karn explained that you would be talking to his boss,” Locke stated. “He also said you are on a tight schedule, so let’s get moving.”

I introduced Elise and he introduced ten of his men who were armed and wearing non-powered armor.

“They won’t be coming on the mission with us,” he said. “They are to secure your ship for the duration.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” I said.

CSL Locke stiffened but said nothing.

“We need that fuel,” Elise said, shifting her stance like she was ready to fight but would wait for my signal.

The soldiers watched her. They were pros and had to know she was getting ready for combat. What they thought of this was hard to guess.

“Path, are you watching the airlock?” I asked.

“I am, Reaper,” he said.

“Can you take them?” I was hopeful but not sure.

“One at a time or all at once?” Path asked.

“Who are you talking to?” Locke demanded.

“The head of my own security element,” I answered. “We’re linked by my computer.” The word didn’t describe X-37 well, but I wasn’t about to share all of our secrets to these people.

“Nice improvisation,” X-37 commented.

Locke seemed thoughtful, his eyes narrowing as he considered me again. “You won’t be able to maintain contact with your computer on the surface, or especially after you embark upon the president’s mission.”

I wasn’t about to explain how wrong he was. “Let me worry about that. This doesn’t sound like a very secret mission.”

“Everyone knows about the crisis,” Locke said. “Now if you’ll allow my squad access to your ship, I can get you down to the planet. The clock is ticking, sir.”

“Their gear is simplistic, but they appear to be professionals,” X-37 said. “Their uniforms contain more ornamentation than the tactical gear common to Union troops on deployment.”

“Thanks, X,” I murmured.

“Are we going to have a problem, sir?” Locke asked.

His men shifted uneasily. They were professionals, but two of them were green replacements, which suggested this was a society at war with someone, or each other.

“Path, make arrangements for our visitors,” I ordered.

“Already done, Reaper. I’ve set up the lounge to resemble a bridge,” Path said.

“There is a forty-seven percent chance they will see through this ruse and become violent,” X-37 said without including our guests on the conversation.

“I’m always prepared for that,” Path said calmly.

The interior door opened. Path stepped through, looking Locke and his men up and down. “Come with me.”

“Go,” Locke said to his squad.

When they were gone, Locke moved closer. “I don’t want trouble, sir.”

“I’m sure we’ll be best friends,” I said. “As long as your people don’t turn out to be another version of the Union.”

Locke nodded. Short, stocky, and all business, I already wished he was part of my crew. Hopefully, nothing that happened in the next several hours changed my opinion of the soldier.

“You work directly for Karn?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

“You’ll have to explain your chain of command sometime,” I said.

“Of course,” Locke said, then waved us inside the shuttle.

We strapped in and held on as the chief squad leader flew us to the surface—obviously believing he was a hot-shot fighter jock.

Elise laughed loudly during the hardest turns, which made Locke smile—something I hadn’t expected the man to do.

“We’re landing in the presidential palace. Don’t stare at her bodyguards. If they tell you to do something, comply immediately,” Locke warned.

The shuttle touched down on a landing pad amidst the sprawling gardens of the Wallach presidential palace. The guards, as it turned out, wore mechanized exoskeletons that made them nearly seven feet tall.

“There are more guards in the garden than you realize,” X-37 said. “Look closely and you will see several standing along the wall that have vines growing out of their gear—living camouflage. Just remember they are there and consider they are both more clever and dangerous than we initially assumed.”

“Sure thing, X,” I replied almost inaudibly.

I couldn’t see through the darkened helmet visors of the non-camouflaged soldiers. They watched us without issuing orders through their voice boxes. The only part of their gear that was powered was the exoskeleton—which I assumed made them stronger, faster, and more intimidating than anyone else on Wallach. The armor they wore on their body, however, was unpowered just like Locke’s men wore.

“Stay close to me,” Locke said. “I’ll try to keep you out of trouble. Please remember my warnings. The Presidential Guards are authorized to shoot anyone who steps out of line—and I mean even one step in a direction they don’t like.”

“Noted,” I said. “You hear the man, Elise? Is X translating fast enough for you to keep up with the conversation?”

“Not stepping out of line. Got it. X is doing a great job,” she answered, swaggering like a gunslinger with her pistol on her hip and a sword Path had recently given her strapped across her back. “Their language is easy to pick up if you pay attention.”

“Your young charge has an affinity for languages,” Locke observed.

“She’s not my charge. Do we need to check our weapons before we meet the president?” I asked.

“No. Is that how they do things where you are from? Is there no honor among your assassins that they would approach a target under a flag of truce and then violate their host’s trust?” Locke asked.

“Well, things are different in the Union. Let’s just leave it at that,” I said.

“Keep your weapons. I hope you are not false. An incident now would dishonor me, my family, and my superior—and result in an extreme amount of violence by the Presidential Guards,” Locke said.

“Is there anything else I should know?” I asked.

“Actually, sir, there is one thing you might want to prepare yourself for,” he said. “Her appearance can… affect someone who has never seen her.”

“Just come out and say it, Chief,” I said, seeing something in his expression that made me think he wasn’t warning me she was a horribly disfigured freak like me.

“She’s quite stunning, sir,” he said. “She’s also very popular and very competent. No one else could’ve achieved the things she’s achieved since the crisis began.”

“Good to know. I’ll be on my best behavior,” I assured him.

We entered the palace with CSL Locke a step ahead of me and to my left. There were already guards inside the audience room, so the others didn’t follow in their powerful exoskeleton gear. I heard them stomping to their new positions near the entrance to the chamber.

The woman who strode toward us was breathtaking. Tall and confident, she wore a green version of General Karn’s uniform, but with almost no adornment. The high collar was ringed in platinum embroidered bands, as were the cuffs of her formal coat.

Her hair...was amazing—thick, luxurious, and red. She’d had it braided into a rope that looked magical.

“Reaper Cain, your heart rate is significantly elevated. Is that because there is a powerful antenna woven through her hair braid?” X-37 advised. “I assure you this is not inherently dangerous, but a communication boost of some sort.”

I inconspicuously made a series of hand movements to tell X-37 that I was busy and couldn’t talk.

“I’m also detecting several indicators that she has nerve-ware,” X-37 said helpfully.

I really wanted to ask for clarification. Instead, I received the handshake of the President of Wallach.

“Greetings,” she said, firmly shaking my hand. “I’m told your name’s Halek Cain. I’m Amanda Coronas, President of Wallach.”

“Good to meet you,” I said, holding her gaze. “I’ve met presidents before, and they usually had somebody announce them.”

“Is that a criticism of my lack security or a compliment?” she asked with a confidential smile that undid me.

“No, of course not. I mean, you have your Presidential Guards. I mean, it’s a compliment. The handshake is very welcoming,” I stuttered.

“Very smooth, Reaper Cain,” X-37 commented unhelpfully.

Amanda Coronas, president of an entire planet, leaned near enough to breathe on me and spoke softly. “You’re augmented. Are you a world leader among your people?”

“No,” I managed.

“No? Are your people so wealthy that they augment everyone?” she asked, pulling back, then darting her eyes briefly toward Elise. “She’s not augmented. The swordsman on your ship wasn’t augmented despite his confidence.”

Her statement revealed a lot, including the fact that Karn’s team had briefed her thoroughly.

“I’m an outlaw,” I said.

“That is what my warden tells me,” said. “There must be more to your story. Perhaps your family fell from favor, or maybe you are an exiled prince.”

Elise burst into laughter.

“The young woman has excellent hearing and understands me, apparently,” she said. “I thought I was being discreet.”

“She’s one of a kind,” I muttered as I gave Elise a signal to shut it.

Amanda Coronas stepped back, her demeanor businesslike now. “Your arm is cybernetic. To what purpose? Is it a tool or a weapon?”

“A little of both,” I said.

“You’re a soldier?”

“I’m a specialist.” There was nothing I could say to minimize more accurate descriptors like assassin or enforcer.

“I see.” She consulted with her advisors. The men and women she summoned to her side watched me like I was dangerous.

“You give off that vibe,” Elise said.

“What vibe?” I felt my cigar pouch and decided, why the hell not?

“Like you’re going to kill everyone in the room,” Elise clarified.

I nursed the Gronic Fats to life.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” Elise said, turning red with embarrassment.

“What do you think you’re doing?” a presidential aide said. The guards around the edge of the room shifted weapons just enough to remind me how totally outgunned I was.

The President of Wallach pushed past the enraged advisor. “Yes, Mr. Cain, what do you think you’re doing not sharing?”

Maybe Elise was more surprised than I was at what happened next, but it was hard to say.

The president took my cigar, put it to her very sultry lips, and inhaled.

I waited for her to gag, but she merely held it away from her and considered it. “Interesting. Are you a connoisseur?”

“Yeah, I guess I am. You?” I responded.

“Hardly, but I thought I might save you from the scorn of my people. My predecessor was a big fan of cigars—very well known for sharing them with trusted friends.”

“Is that what we are now?” I asked.

“Perhaps we are,” she answered.

“Who was your predecessor? Some ass-kicking war hero or something?” I asked, chatting her up like we were going to be friends.

“He was my father,” she said. “A good man, but simple and shortsighted. Walk with me, Mr. Cain. I’ve convinced them you’re worth a shot. Whoever you are, and wherever you’re from, we can make a deal if you can do something for us.”

I followed her to a holo table in the next room. Her guards, presidential aides, and other politicians surrounded us as we moved and watched me like I was rabid predator.

Which I was, of course.

“There is a creature hunting our maintenance crews and damaging the lower levels of our power plant. If the reactor melts down, we won’t be able to evacuate fast enough,” she said, then pointed to several key areas on the power plant schematics as she explained details.

“What percentage of Wallach’s population can realistically escape this planet before there is a massive nuclear incident?” I asked, noting the power plant was bigger than any I’d ever seen or heard of. It was like an entire town of reactors.

“Five percent will survive,” she said. “For how long, there is no way to tell. The void is not bristling with habitable planets.”

I knew she was wrong, sort of, but didn’t interrupt. X-37 advised me the locals knew about slip tunnels but believed they were nearly as dangerous as a nuclear meltdown with the potential to crack their planet and ruin the atmosphere forever.

“What can you tell me about the creature?” I asked.

“Less than I would like, but I can have my neural computer send information to yours,” she said, holding my gaze. “If you can keep a confidence.”

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” I said without thinking. “It comes with the job.”

“I bet it does,” she said too quietly for anyone but me to hear. “Very few people on Wallach have neural-comps; your unit is telling mine he is called a nerve-ware limited artificial intelligence.”

“X, are you talking to her LAI without telling me?” I demanded.

“I was going to tell you later, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

“I bet you were,” I snorted. “We’re going to have a serious talk after this.”

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

I squared off with Amanda Coronas. “We need some ground rules.”

“I agree,” she said. “Please calm yourself before you upset my guards. They’re very protective.”

“Your heart rate and blood pressure are not improving, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

“I know that, X. It’s not every day I get betrayed by my digital best friend,” I said.

“You’re being dramatic,” X said.

Elise, who had been watching with unconcealed interest, crossed her arms almost like she had heard my LAI.

“Are you talking to everyone?” I asked.

“I am keeping Elise in the loop via her earbud since we are on a dangerous mission among strangers we can’t trust,” X-37 explained.

“Well, yeah. Sure,” I said, noticing that Amanda was watching me carefully as she waited with surprising patience. Ignoring my backstabbing, promiscuous LAI, I focused on the amazingly attractive redhead who was the most powerful person on Wallach.

“Will you help us?” she asked.

“Sure,” I answered with foolhardy confidence. “Just get the fuel ready for my friends on the Bold Freedom and point where I need to go. One nuclear power plant vandalizing monster pelt coming up.”

“He means he will take the job,” X-37 said to the president’s LAI, or neural-comp as she called it. I could only hear one side of the conversation but assumed X wasn’t embarrassing us.

23

Locke offered to bring more men, but I told him no. Without knowing how they worked or their command structure, it seemed like it would be an unnecessary encumbrance. The three of us could move fast, strike hard, and take out this monster quickly.

I hoped. Because that was what I needed to happen. Neither the people on the Bold Freedom nor the citizens of Wallach could afford for us to fail.

The lift plummeted downward.

“How far below the surface is the heatsink transfer area?” I asked, thinking of the diagram we had studied before beginning the mission.

“Five hundred meters,” Locke said. “The place goes down another thousand meters, and several levels. Not all of them are accessible to people. Bots have to do a lot of the work down that deep. And we don’t know what’s been ruined, so even if we could crawl into some of the levels, it would be dangerous.”

“So, there’s lots of little hidey-holes this monster could crawl into?” Elise asked.

“There’s a maze of ventilation, conduit pipes, and other places a small creature could go, but this thing is huge and deadly,” Locke said.

“But there are hundreds of small crawlspaces?” she prompted.

“I don’t know why you’re pressing this issue, young lady, but you are correct. There are lots of places too small for the monster or for humans to travel,” Locke said.

“I was just thinking that where there’s a big monster, there’s probably some little ones bouncing about,” Elise said.

“Let’s hope not,” Locke said.

When the door to the lift opened, there was no one to greet us. Locke looked surprised and concerned.

“I assume that isn’t a good sign,” I said. “X, get to work.”

My limited AI quickly tapped into their computer network, scanning monitors of hallways and rooms.

“What just happened?” Locke said with some alarm.

“My limited artificial intelligence hacked into the surveillance network down here,” I explained.

He stared at me, his professional demeanor threatening to abandon him for the first time. “Only the highest-ranking leaders have anything like that among our people. It’s a mark of honor in very high station.”

“Yeah? I can live with that,” I said.

“It makes me uncomfortable that you do not appreciate your own status,” Locke said.

“Well, when we’re done with this, we can throw back a couple of beers or something and you can explain it to me,” I said. Without waiting for him to respond, I moved into a hallway and cleared it with my weapon ready.

“Why would you throw bears?” he mumbled before shaking his head like it didn’t matter.

There wasn’t any sign of work crews, guards, or the creature.

“Something has taken out a lot of the lights,” Elise observed, a pistol held in two hands as she helped me clear some of the technical rooms that served the lift and maintenance areas.

“At the end of this hallway is a room where I had anticipated checking the camera feeds,” Locke said. “Unless you just want your neural-comp to do that for you.”

“Let’s have a look at those monitors,” I said. “But let’s keep our heads on swivels.”

Locke gave me a strange look, clearly trying to figure out what I meant.

“Really?” Elise said. “You always tell me to use precise language during a mission.”

“Whatever,” I said to Elise. “I just mean let’s keep our eyes open and not let anything sneak up on us,” I explained to Locke.

“Of course,” he said, moving to clear a zone that I couldn’t see when we entered the viewing room. “My translation gave me something very strange, which doesn’t help when I’m starting to pick up your language of my own. I may have to just turn it off.” He tapped the side of his helmet, where there was some sort of earpiece that helped him communicate with us.

“How did you become the chief squad leader for General Karn?” I asked once we had secured the room.

He typed on the controls to the viewscreen and pulled up images of several key points of the structure on this level. “There were...trials.”

“What kind of trials?” I asked, turning on another computer monitor and attempting to hack into it without X-37’s assistance just to see if I could do it.

“I was dumped on an island with nothing but a survival knife and a swimsuit. They came back to pick me up after a month and I was still alive, so that was good. Same thing in an arctic environment—except I had insulated coveralls instead of swimwear. Jungles, deserts, subterranean mazes. Once I’d proved my worth at keeping myself alive, there were death matches with bots and more schooling. When all that was done, I interviewed for the position and did well,” he said.

I laughed. “Nice. Sounds like you are pretty motivated.”

“It is a great honor to be the chief squad leader for a general. I only have three peers, one of those being the chief squad leader for the president,” Locke said.

“A squad leader controls eight to twelve soldiers where I’m from,” I said.

“It is much the same here; however, as the chief squad leader, I can demand the support of all squads if I believe there is a threat to my boss or if I feel my boss is derelict of duty and needs to be deposed,” Locke said.

“Damn,” I muttered. “I’m pretty sure the Union would never go for something like that.”

“It’s an ancient tradition,” Locke said, shifting his attention back to the view screen. “I’ve pulled up what I can, but a lot of the hallways are dark and many of the video feeds are damaged.”

* * *

We found bodies long before we found the creature. Downed maintenance workers lay in the hallway, faces contorted, bodies frozen in a painful death. Both were men and they had numerous circles of blood where they had been stung by something.

“Did they get shot in the back?” Elise asked, crouching to examine the fallen forms. Her complexion was pale, and I thought she might be sick, but she didn’t back away or avoid looking at the corpses.

“Looks like they were stung by something,” I said, sweeping my eyes into the shadows to search for the creature or more victims.

“The creature is extremely poisonous. Its venom paralyzes victims and seems to kill them with the sheer pain it induces,” Locke said. He moved to the end of the hallway and took a guard position.

That allowed me to take a closer look at the downed maintenance workers without compromising our security. I was already getting used to the man’s professionalism.

“What you think, X?” I asked.

“Your initial assessment is correct,” X-37 said. “I’m measuring the diameter and apparent depth of the wound. The latter will be hard to determine without an autopsy. We can conclude from the posture of the man that he was in considerable pain when he expired.”

“So you’re saying that Locke knows what he’s talking about,” I said, then moved to the next body. Both men still had sidearms, which was interesting for maintenance workers but also told me whoever killed them, or whatever killed them, wasn’t interested in their guns.

“Cain,” Locke said. The hard urgency in his voice told me everything I needed to know.

I was running to his position before he spoke again.

“It’s coming,” he said, taking a shooting stance and raising his rifle to his shoulder. He aimed down the sights like a professional and controlled his breathing like an expert marksman.

“Elise, get online,” I said. “There’s no place for anything fancy in this hallway.”

Seconds later, she was standing on my left with her pistol in both hands. “Just so we’re on the same page, I assume we’re shooting first and asking questions whenever.”

“Your apprentice has a keen understanding of the situation,” Locke said, his gruff voice low but strong.

I saw the creature first, of course. It appeared at the end of the long hallway from a corner or an intersection, it was hard to tell exactly. The lights were out and where they did still function, they flickered between us and the monster. My optics gave me a better rendering of the fast moving—and alarmingly large—thing.

It was like nature couldn’t decide whether or not it was a centipede or humanoid. I knew it had a long tail, or perhaps that was part of its body, and I knew it had arms in something that was probably a head or face. I wasn’t sure about some other things in the two seconds I had to observe it before Elise and Locke saw it.

“Are those wings?” I asked.

“I do not believe so,” X-37 said, but without the normal clarification he offered when there was time to do so.

“Open fire!” I aimed carefully and fired one well-placed shot after another toward the accelerating beast. When it was closer, I’d switched to full auto and was ready to clip the HDK Dominator to my gear so I could deploy my arm blade.

Which would be like attacking an armored car with melee weapons.

Elise emptied her pistol and shouted at me as she reloaded. “That thing is huge! Why didn’t you warn us!”

It came roiling down the hallway, the body more tailed and humanoid now. It had dozens or perhaps hundreds of arms and legs that gave it its speed.

“It is unlikely that your warning would have made much of a difference,” X-37 provided needlessly.

I switched magazines and took a step forward, not enough to get shot in the back by my friends, but enough to be the first victim of this hellish creature.

“I’m throwing a grenade! Don’t move any closer or the overpressure will damage you,” Locke shouted, then hurled a device ahead of us that promptly exploded.

It was less than twenty meters from us now, but the floor disappeared, and it tumbled downward. Without hesitation, Locke sprinted to the edge of the new crevasse and fired everything he had into the hole.

I joined him, and a second later, Elise was there doing her part with her pistols—aiming and firing with bloodthirsty determination. She sidestepped after every two or three shots, never staying in one place for too long—just like I’d trained her.

There was smoke and debris in the air as well as the smoldering after-effects of the explosion confounding my Reaper optics. Its heat signature was confused as it twisted and roiled in some sort of complicated pattern, forming a kind of monster. The creature hissed and screamed as it struggled to get back to its hundreds of clawed feet. At least, I thought they were feet. I couldn’t be entirely certain.

Locke dropped another grenade and stepped back. I pulled Elise back and turned away, sheltering her with my body. There wasn’t much danger of shrapnel where we were, but overpressure moved around corners and could do a lot of damage to eardrums, eyes, and even lungs.

I hope that Locke knew what he was doing and didn’t throw something too big. The first charge had blown a massive hole in the floor.

We heard the creature scurrying away and shrieking something that almost sounded like words.

We were all panting, leaning on our knees and breathing hard after the short encounter. Elise started laughing nervously, which I expected. She always was one to laugh in the face of danger—not because she wasn’t afraid, but because that was how she dealt with so much adrenaline.

“Good choice with the grenades,” I said.

Locke responded with a nod, still catching his breath despite his superb physical conditioning. “It would’ve done more damage if I could have put more incendiaries and shrapnel in it, but I didn’t want to blow us up too.”

“I hope there’s only one of those things,” I said.

Locke laughed grimly. “Don’t jinx us. That’s the best sighting we’ve had of the thing. Normally, the attacks are so sudden and violent that cameras barely get anything useful, and we haven’t had any surviving victims.”

“Lucky us,” I said.

“That thing was horrible,” Elise said. “How can we kill something like that?”

It was Locke who answered, confirming we were on the same page and that I could trust the man’s tactical judgment. “We just have to export enough violence to put it down without taking more damage than we can withstand.”

“And how are we going to do that?” I asked.

“I was hoping the grenades would do the trick. We need to get to a position where it can’t maul us and where we can sustain gunfire until we’re out of ammunition or it dies,” Locke said.

It took several moments for each of us to process what had just happened. Without further discussion, I dropped down into the hole and looked at the debris caused by the grenade and the thrashing of the creature. The hallway went into directions with a four-way intersection at each end that I could see. The lighting was even worse down here and there was a haze in the air that concerned me.

“X, can you tell me what that is?”

“I advise leaving this area immediately or donning a self-contained breathing apparatus,” X-37 said. “I don’t believe the current levels are dangerous, but it seems that this thing puts out a mist of neurotoxins when wounded badly enough.”

“Great. Why can’t anything be easy?” I asked, looking for a way to climb back up to Elise and Locke.

“Do you actually wish for me to answer that question?” X-37 inquired.

“That depends on how good your answer is,” I grumbled as I stepped on a broken section of wall and worked my way up to the hole Locke had created with his first grenade.

“I’m glad you didn’t want us to come down there with you,” Elise said. “Not that I’m scared.”

“Of course not,” I said, dusting myself off and checking my weapons. “None of us are scared. We just saw the most vicious killing machine ever created by nature, shot the hell out of it, and didn’t kill it. What’s there to be scared about?”

“It took out dozens of security guards and work crews in the short time it took for us to realize there was a problem. After that, we sent soldiers to hunt it,” Locke said. “But we haven’t been able to understand why there is so much vandalism to the equipment. That is what is endangering the reactor. Most of the complex is self-regulating, but if it starts to overheat or loses integrity, this planet will be uninhabitable in a matter of days. The area around the plant complex will be gone in hours.”

“Do you think it’s intentionally damaging your equipment or just smashing into it by accident because of its size?” I asked, knowing that X-37 was still gathering data for his own conclusion. The better questions I asked, the better my limited artificial intelligence could do his job.

“It’s probably both, but some of the damage is in very small areas, places we normally send bots in to conduct repairs. I don’t see how this monster, especially after having seen it so close, could reach into the more delicate sections of our infrastructure,” Locke said.

“Let’s move out,” I said, selecting a direction that should parallel the creature’s movements but from a level above it—assuming it didn’t climb up and slaughter us in retaliation for our effort to fill it with bullets.

“I need more information,” X-37 said. “President Coronas’s LAI, who calls itself Buttons after her favorite pet from childhood, shared a good deal of information, but I would like to hear what CSL Locke has to say.”

“Buttons?” I asked. There was no way I had heard that correctly.

“Excuse me?” Locke asked as Elise also looked at me strangely.

“That’s what her limited AI told me; however, the president addresses her as Computer Ninety-nine, or just Comp Ninety-nine,” X-37 explained.

“Maybe we’ll get into that later,” I said, “or maybe not.” I addressed Locke. “My limited artificial intelligence wants your assessment of this creature so we can make a plan that has a chance of working.”

“Understood,” he said, then paused as he swung around the corner and cleared it to the left as I cleared it to the right. Elise kept her attention focused down the hall of this four-way intersection. So far, none of us saw any evidence of the creature retaking its place on this level.

“Our information is limited, and I almost believed that it was intentionally damaging our sensors to keep us in the dark. Have a look at the mindless rage of the beast. I think that has to be coincidental. Something like that with a true intellect or capacity for deception would be too horrible to face,” Locke said. “We know the creature is extremely poisonous and paralyzes its victims. It takes some of them to its lair.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask how you know that,” I commented.

“We found two abandoned lairs during some of our initial searching,” Locke said. “There were a lot of bones—human, animal, and something else that had to be sloughed off exoskeleton or something similar.”

“Why did you stop searching for it?” Elise asked.

“We had to start preparing for another mission,” Locke admitted.

“The evacuation,” I said.

He nodded. “If we fail today, that will be our only chance. But not a chance for everyone. People with critical skills and strong genetics will take priority over the rest. Everyone else will be left to deal with the nuclear fallout and this creature if it survives the power plant complex going down.”

“I can’t even describe how bad that sucks,” Elise said. “That shouldn’t even be an option. You should be putting all of your resources into stopping this creature.”

Locke looked at her as we took a short rest before the next intersection. “There are people who argue as you do.”

“Like you?” she asked.

“You are amazingly direct for a young woman,” he said. “Are all teenagers from the Union like you?”

“Gods, I hope not,” I said before I considered my words.

Fortunately, Elise laughed at my reaction. “He’s probably right. This galaxy doesn’t have room for too many people like me.”

Locke didn’t join in on our humorous assessment. He considered each of us, then checked his weapons. “Perhaps. But if there are more people like the two of you, this would be a much larger search party.”

“I thought you could command the obedience of all the squad leaders in General Karn’s army,” I said.

“I must also balance my assessment of the situation with the will and intent of my superior,” Locke said. “I was not able to offer proof that more soldiers searching the lower areas would be more successful. At the peak of our operation, I had dozens of squads with the best gear looking for this thing. Many of them are dead. None of them were successful.”

“What makes you think we’re going to do better?” Elise asked.

“That’s the exact question I would like to have answered,” X-37 said to me privately.

“It was a last shot in the dark. Karn had very strong words with me for volunteering for a final suicide mission in hopes of saving our people,” Locke said.

I patted him on the shoulder. “Fortunately, we’re experts at suicide-not-suicide missions.”

24

Communications with the Jellybird were sporadic at best. X-37 updated me when he could.

“That is affirmative. Jelly has confirmed at least one of the Union spec ops carriers has arrived in the system,” X-37 finished.

Elise and Locke waited, listening to me and casting furtive glances my way as they pointed their weapons down each section of the hallway. We’d been hearing scratching through the walls and the occasional groan of metal as though something was about to break through. The first five times it had been alarming. Now it was just pissing us off.

“If you’re done communicating with your neural-comp, we should continue. Unless there’s something you need to tell us,” Locke said.

“Our pursuers have found the system,” I said. “There were three carrier ships—not large, but dangerous. One of them is in the system. We can hope that the others went to other slip tunnels in search of us and won’t arrive here anytime soon.”

“I still find it hard to believe how cavalier your attitude is about the slip tunnels,” Locke said. “Everyone on Wallach has been raised to fear them.”

“There are pros and cons,” I said, moving toward his position so I could take the lead in the direction we were planning to head. “Right now, they mostly feel like cons. I like the slip tunnels better when we’re able to escape to them and stay alive.”

“Perhaps you can show my people how to do this if we are forced to flee Wallach,” Locke said.

I moved forward, scanning the area and wondering if the smoke was a product of recent damage to the equipment or a cloud of neurotoxins that would kill us before he realized what was happening. It smelled like smoke and burnt wiring, but that wasn’t necessarily a great thing either.

“I hear something,” I said. “X, are you picking it up?”

“I believe it has to be one of the engineers,” X-37 said. “He has repeated several technical instructions for somebody to use to shut down the power to this area, which I believe means he is an engineer rather than a soldier or support worker.”

“Good to know,” I said as I moved forward, weapon just low enough that I could see over it but high enough I could utilize the sights in a microsecond. It was a search-carry that I had learned long before I joined dark ops. Elise and Locke used a similar method of keeping their weapons ready but not getting too tired during the long mission. The weapon never felt heavy at first, but that changed quickly. Especially when there was lots of adrenaline dump from our previous encounter.

I moved into the control room and searched it quickly. Elise and Locke came in right behind me and checked their areas, then stood guard. None of us spoke.

I pointed to the downed engineer. “Locke, talk to him. My translation software is getting better by the minute and I think Elise is right, our languages aren’t that much different, but now isn’t the time to guess.”

Locke knelt over the man and checked his wounds. He looked up, his eyes telling me what I needed to know. The engineer had suffered at least one mortal injury.

“Tell us what happened,” Locke said as compassionately as the situation allowed.

“It came after us, so much bigger than the others,” the engineer wheezed, clearly in pain. Parts of his body looked paralyzed and I realized that he was missing several fingers.

“Others?” Locke asked. “We’ve only been able to detect one through seismic graphic data.”

“There are swarms of the smaller ones, maybe its offspring or its worker drones,” the engineer said. “There’s no time for that. Let me tell you something. It dragged me to its lair and the little ones chewed off my fingers and dug out my eye.”

Elise and I both looked when he said that, catching a view of him right as he turned his face. The right side of his head was mangled, most of the flesh chewed off and the eye definitely gone.

Locke didn’t flinch and neither did I. As for Elise, I wasn’t sure because I quickly returned my attention to my security zone.

“Hand me a tablet and I will show you where the lair is on the map,” the engineer said. “Tell my family I love them and that I died honorably for the president and the people.”

“I will make sure it is known and you and your family are honored,” Locke said. He studied the schematics and asked the engineer several questions in a low, compassionate voice. When he stood up, it didn’t seem like he had good news.

“Spill it, Locke. What’s our situation?” I asked.

“We’ll need to cut a tunnel to reach the lair. He came another way that has collapsed, according to his notes. I know how to operate the machinery needed and Engineer McRyanous says it is functional and fully charged,” Locke explained.

* * *

I looked back frequently and saw that Elise mostly walked backward to cover what was behind us. Ahead of me, Locke pushed the tunnel-cutter as hard as he could. It was loud and slow and threw lots of dust into the very small tunnel we were creating. I didn’t want to be caught by the creature or its minions in such a confined space.

“There’s nothing to be done for it,” X-37 said. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t believe the large creature can reach you this deep into this very small passage. It could, however, disgorge its neurotoxins into the passage to flush you out or kill you.”

“What is your neural-comp telling you?” Locke shouted over his shoulder as he took a very brief rest.

“He says to go faster or we’re going to die,” I said.

Locke went back to work. The tunnel cutter broke apart rock and made sounds that didn’t give me confidence that it could continue to work for much longer. But I wasn’t a miner, so what did I know.

Locke shouted something I couldn’t make out, then he pushed the machine into a much larger tunnel. Rocks spilled away from us. I stepped past Locke, and swept my HDK around the new passage, relying on my enhanced optics to see anything that was about to murder us and eat our faces.

“Oh shit!” Elise and Locke shouted at the same time.

Red and black centipedes, for lack of a better term, swarmed past my feet after my companions. Several of them also climbed my legs. On instinct, without thinking for a second, I snapped out my Reaper blade and sliced them apart as I move deeper into the opening. There was no going back.

Elise fired her pistol twice, then drew her sword and began slashing the small things apart. By small, I meant somewhere between five and fifteen kilos in weight. They chattered and stabbed with stingers that were situated near their heads but also on their tails, which thrashed energetically to find a target.

I stopped, slashed, and fired my HDK one-handed. I kicked one so hard that it flew into the ceiling and broke in half.

It wasn’t long before we found a rhythm and began to slaughter the small creatures in earnest. I felt several pricks to my skin and hoped they weren’t poisoning me.

“Talk to me, X,” I ordered. There wasn’t time to be incapacitated by these things, and I didn’t want to lose my other eye.

“The creatures are in fact poisoning you, which I find intriguing. Most younglings of this type would have far more concentrated venom to make up for their small size. Be thankful none of these have released anything that will kill you immediately.”

“Great,” I said. “Elise, try not to get bitten! They’re poisonous but only if they get you a lot of times.”

“Thanks. For. That!” Elise responded, punctuating each word with a stomp on one of the smaller things.

An anguished cry cut through the rock tunnel, which now that I thought about it, could only have been made by the larger creature we had failed to kill during our first encounter. The walls vibrated from the force of it.

“This thing has to be enormous,” I commented as I tried to recall images from what I had seen earlier.

“I was unable to take a precise measurement while you were shooting at it and Locke was throwing grenades,” X-37 said. “I can, however, measure this tunnel, which should be an indicator of its full size. The ceiling is nearly four meters high. This means...”

I pushed past Elise and Locke as a swarm of the larger worker drones emerged from a hole in the ceiling I hadn’t realized was there. Firing on full auto, I reloaded three times before they stopped coming at us.

“We’re not going to have bullets left when we finally find their mother,” Locke complained.

I looked them over. “Do you have anything better for melee combat than that knife?”

“No.” His response was succinct and ominous.

“If you would let me finish,” X-37 interrupted. “The partial view of the creature from your first encounter was likely skewed. Your perspective was off. I estimate that when this thing stands on its more humanoid front legs, it will be nearly as high as the ceiling. My analysis of wear patterns on the rock and what we saw briefly suggest that it belly crawls much of the time but will expand itself to do battle with a determined foe.”

Elise winced, because this had been on our shared communications link. I was glad her earbud was still in place after all of the chaos.

“Care to fill me in?” Locke asked.

“My limited artificial intelligence isn’t full of good news right now. A quick translation—we’re gonna die,” I said.

25

The lair of the beast was enormous, hundreds of meters to the ceiling, which almost looked like it opened up to the surface of the planet. There was a small light that was either from an opening or some luminous mineral. Maybe a speck of something exotic and nuclear that mimicked as a sun. It was hard to say.

“Please scan the entire area,” X-37 said.

“I’m working on it. Pay attention, because I’m not doing this twice,” I said, moving deeper into the huge cave and trying to look everywhere in a systematic manner.

“I always do, and you rarely repeat yourself,” X-37 said. “Except for your constant nattering about Starbrand cigars and requests for me to give you a break.”

“Thanks for bringing that up, X. Now I need a cigar,” I said.

Locke laughed, which seemed more than a little out of place given our situation. “I still can’t believe the incident with the president. There will be dozens of stories from that encounter.”

“All I did was fire one up,” I said, finishing my survey of the macabre lair. There were bones stuck to the walls in nests made of wires and torn-up insulation. “She’s the one who grabbed my cigar and made a big deal out of smoking it.”

“You have a lot to learn about our culture. You can’t do something like that without offering to share,” Locke said.

“I think we found the reason for the vandalism to your circuitry,” I said, aiming my weapon toward a nest of wires and insulation—that had something wiggling inside of it, of course.

“Makes sense,” Locke said. “I’d put that in my report, but I don’t think I’ll get a chance to share it.”

I heard the approach of the monster before he did but understood what he was saying. Elise moved away from me, either by instinct or by what I had taught her. We didn’t need to be grouped up to be slaughtered side-by-side.

The monster emerged from an opposing tunnel, throwing bones and clusters of wire nests full of its offspring in every direction. If it had been mad before, it was in a full rage that didn’t bode well for our chances at survival.

“At least we don’t have to look for it now,” Elise said, her voice surprisingly dry and devoid of emotion.

The bones of its previous victims splintered under its hundreds of clawed feet. I moved to the right while Elise and Locke moved to the left. The thing tracked me and charged in for the kill.

“Split up and make your shots count!” I said, shuffling backward and aiming several bursts of HDK Dominator fire at its eyes—or what I thought were its eyes. I had to reload a lot quicker than I expected. Apparent time distortion was a predictable psychological phenomenon in a fight, as was auditory exclusion and other illusions.

Usually, time seemed to slow for me during a hard fight. That was a part of my experience and also my Reaper LAI. This time, everything seemed out of control as though the underground world was closing in on me second by second.

“I’m out of ammo!” Elise shouted, her broadcast only audible because we had a shared link. It sounded like the entire subterranean structure was coming down around us. Bits of rock rained from the ceiling, as did dozens, or hundreds, or thousands of the monster’s offspring. Some were the size of cockroaches. The others were almost as big as Elise.

I put several rounds into the smaller things to keep from being overwhelmed, then ran around the edge of the cave to stay ahead of the titanic centipede that wanted to eat me.

“You are accumulating numerous injuries and bites from its little minions,” X-37 said. “My advice is to stop allowing this.”

I didn’t bother to respond. X-37, normally well attuned to my welfare, wasn’t exactly helping me right now.

“One of us needs to get behind it,” I said, broadcasting to my companions in this sideways adventure.

“I think I can arrange that,” Elise said, her voice fierce and dangerous.

“I don’t think either of us will like what she’s about to attempt,” X-37 said.

Ignoring my limited AI, I moved away from the wall and make sure I had a fresh magazine in my rifle. “I think I know what she’s going to do, X. Elise, don’t be stupid.”

Elise emerged from the smoke, sword held in both hands as she screamed at the gigantic monster. It didn’t seem to notice her. She moved closer and slashed several of its drones in half. They hissed and screamed, drawing the attention of their hive queen or whatever this monster was.

“Elise!” I aimed, searching for a weak spot in its armor. The back looked to be even more heavily armored than the front of it.

“Come and get me, you son-of-a-bitch!” Elise slashed her sword at the monster towering above her and advancing far too quickly.

“I advise you do something quickly, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

I charged at the back of the creature, stepping on its tail, then grabbing its back with my left hand. I’d intended to shoot it with the HDK but still didn’t see a chink in its armor. Clipping the weapon magnetically to my gear, I scrambled higher up the back plates looking for an old wound, a piece of its exoskeleton that had worn away, or any gap that might allow me to do real damage.

“Um, Reaper Cain, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but there are nests on the hive mother,” X-37 advised just a few seconds too late to be really useful.

Dozens of the small creatures swarmed over me, stinging and biting me wherever they could.

I climbed higher, desperate now, my breathing coming in ragged gasps.

“I’m boosting your epinephrine levels to counteract the paralyzing effects of the poison,” X-37 said.

The monster twisted, realizing I was on its back and looking for a way to kill me. It slammed into the wall, nearly dislodging me. I extended my Reaper blade and thrust it deep into its shell.

“I’m not sure if that did any real damage,” X-37 stated.

“Just. Trying. To hold on,” I grunted, the joints in my shoulder and upper back twisting under the strain of the wild ride.

Elise jumped from a pile of bones and landed on the monster’s back, her sword in one hand and her other hand holding on as she looked for a killing strike.

“Watch out for the little ones,” I warned. “There are a bunch of them living on this thing, maybe feeding off of it until they get bigger.”

“Do you remember what I said about their venom not being as strong as it should be,” X-37 said. “I believe these have administered significantly more potent neurotoxins into your system. You may feel paralysis, extreme pain, and hallucinations.”

My vision exploded in colors, some of which were soothing and others that were out of a nightmare. It felt like a very bad drug trip. There wasn’t anything I wanted more than to just let go and fall away from this hive queen that was going to cause a nuclear meltdown by ripping out wires and circuit boards to make nests for its young.

“Over here!” Locke shouted, holding a grenade in one hand. “Remember me, you big bastard?”

“I hope he doesn’t throw that at us,” Elise said, sounding worried and in pain. Toxins were disabling parts of her face. Her expression would be kind of hilarious if we weren’t about to die.

With no time to care for Elise, or Locke, or anyone else, I continued to climb. My desperation caused me to take too many chances and I nearly fell twice. Only a desperate thrust of my blade into the carapace saved me from going over the edge. The room was a blur. Even without the hallucinogenic effects of whatever the little worker drone centipedes had put into my bloodstream, this was chaos. I saw one confused image after another. There was smoke and clouds of poisonous gas that obscured our vision and threatened to kill us if we breathed too much.

“It’s now or never,” X-37 said. “I’m assuming you understand this.”

“Yeah, X. I figured that out,” I grunted, rushing toward the junction of the oversized head and the heavily armored neck. It slammed its head into the wall, launching me upward but also causing me to lose my grip.

I weaved my legs through its spiny ridges and held on the best I could. A heartbeat later, I was able to find handholds as well.

“That was a close one,” X-37 observed.

Locke was still shouting and finally decided to throw the grenade. It exploded, causing the centipede-like monster to rear up and slam its head against the cavern wall. When that happened, I saw a gap caused by the force of the impact.

I lunged, risking everything, nearly falling, and thrust my Reaper blade with all of my strength.

And missed, mostly.

The blade didn’t go as deep as I’d hoped, but a black ichor spurted out and streamed all down the front of my armor. I couldn’t tell if it was acid because I couldn’t feel it yet, but that fun moment was probably coming sooner than I would like.

“Stop biting me!” Elise said, her grip slipping as she began to fall away from the monster. Scores of little centipede vermin clung to her.

“Get away from the hive mother,” I said, stealing a descriptive phrase from X-37.

Elise knew what I meant, so she rolled away and sprinted behind a pile of bones where I lost sight of her.

I climbed two additional feet and found the best point of weakness I was likely to discover. I stabbed it with my Reaper blade, then twisted it savagely. When I made a rather gory hole in the creature’s neck, I grabbed my HDK with one hand and shoved the barrel deep into the wound. When I pulled the trigger, I thought the weapon would malfunction, but was soon rewarded with a truly horrible roar from the creature.

It reared up, then fell hard on the ground.

“Get clear!” Locke shouted, waving frantically.

I was stunned from the impact, delirious from the neurotoxins, and about ready to murder someone for a Starbrand cigar. I jumped away from my perch, hitting the ground too hard before limping into the maze of bones and other detritus. The centipede creature thrashed and hissed. Dust came from the ceiling when it impacted the walls. Its death throes seemed to take hours but eventually ended.

Silence was a strange thing. I had noticed the chattering and clicking of the worker drones, but now it grew in volume as everything else stopped making sounds.

“Help me!” Elise said, trying to twist one of the younglings off of her arm.

I drew my pistol and approached. This could get tricky, but I thought shooting them would be faster than trying to just pull them off.

“Don’t move,” I warned, then grabbed her arm as I pressed the barrel of my pistol against a juicy little freak.

I pulled the trigger, blowing it apart.

“Interesting,” X-37 said to both of us. “I hypothesize that the venom you were feeling from most of these was merely a form of anesthetic as they started to feed. They weren’t trying to kill you, but feed on you without you noticing.”

“Fuck you, X,” Elise said, freeing herself from the last of the centipede babies. “They were totally trying to kill me.”

“Of course, Elise,” X-37 said in his best pacification tone. “How foolish of me to think differently. It was only a hypothesis. I will withdraw it immediately.”

Locke approached us with a med kit, stopping occasionally to kick one of the little things away. He stopped when he came close enough to get a good look at us. “I can’t believe either of you survived that. You should have broken both your legs after your first fall.”

“I have carbon sheeting melded to my bones,” I said. “And we’re both more resistant to poison than most people.”

“I’d love to hear why,” Locke said.

“Maybe later,” I said. “What do we need to do to get the power plant back in order?”

“Once I give the all-clear, repair teams can move into the lower levels,” Locke said.

“Then do that,” I said, “And let’s get to a hospital.”

“Right away, Cain.” He turned away and started communicating with his people.

26

Our journey back to the surface and their mobile first-aid facility was a blur. X-37 kept me going by spiking my adrenaline and other hormones beyond what was safe. He also suppressed certain elements of my nervous system that should’ve forced me to quit before I injured myself.

But since I’d been getting eaten alive by the spawn of a giant humanoid centipede with an affinity for building nests out of wiring and circuit boards, we’d agreed it was all or nothing. I wasn’t sure how Elise had kept up, but attributed it to the side effects of the experiments her father in the Union had performed on her while she was growing up.

Locke was just tough, and he hadn’t drawn as much attention from the little monsters. Scurrying up the back of their mother had pissed them off, apparently.

We left the medic truck, which was large enough to treat a squad of soldiers and seemed to be a fully functioning all-terrain vehicle if necessary, and headed for the palace.

“We have to walk?” I was getting frustrated. Fatigue and pain put me in a bad mood and we were on a very tight schedule.

“Just the last few hundred meters,” Locke said, seeming more proud than embarrassed as I thought he should be. “The ambulance treated you on the move, by order of the president, who said you had a place to be and things to do.”

“She’s got that right,” Elise said. “Maybe she could show her appreciation by getting those fuel stores ready for us? Can you hear me, X?” she asked, changing the course of her conversation smoothly.

“I can, Elise. What can I do for you?” X-37 asked.

“Have you calculated the load capacity of the Jellybird? It’s something I couldn’t stop thinking about on the ride back to the surface. I’m worried we can’t move enough fuel to really help the Bold Freedom,” Elise said.

I winced inwardly, having completely forgotten about our primary mission. That was a good way for a Reaper to fail. I’d been distracted, but X-37 should have kept me on task. I strode toward the boulevard the president’s people wanted us to march down to the palace.

“That’s a good question,” I said.

“I would have informed you if there was a problem in this regard,” X-37 said. “The Jellybird was retrofitted as a smuggler long before you stole her.”

“I didn’t steal her,” I said defensively. X-37 could be offensively direct sometimes.

“You did, Reaper Cain, but that doesn’t matter right now. I advise you to stand up straight and look your heroic best for the people of Wallach,” X-37 said.

“What are you talking about, X?” Elise asked, looking at Locke and seeming to hear the noise from the boulevard for the first time.

“The people of Wallach are very formal, and very grateful,” X-37 said.

“You think?” I asked as we turned onto the presidential boulevard.

Locke smiled, seeming like an entirely different person. It was like he was a kid about to be part of his first victory parade. “I give you the people of Wallach!”

An honor guard fell in behind us as we strode forward with people lining the streets.

A marching band soon followed the honor guard and someone started shooting fireworks. People tossed confetti and cheered. The noise was deafening and my novice understanding of their language was foiled by the clamor. They were shouting something, then singing, and then shouting and throwing confetti and flowers again. At one point, they began to stomp and clap in unison.

“Have you ever experienced anything like this? Elise said, utilizing the communication network X-37 provided to her earbud and my nerve-ware.

“Not even once,” I said somberly.

There was a significant amount of pomp and ceremony when we crossed under the archway to the presidential palace courtyard. Locke ushered us through the crowds, many of whom wanted to touch us and bless us with some sort of religious phrase I didn’t understand but appreciated. There gratefulness seemed heartfelt and genuine.

“X, this is the strangest experience I’ve ever had,” I said.

“It’s commonly referred to as a hero’s welcome,” X-37 said like a history professor.

Locke took us into the waiting room outside of President Amanda Coronas’s office. He took his two pistols, flipped them around to grab them by the barrels, then offered one to me and one to Elise. “These are my favorite guns, and they’ve been in my family since my great-grandfather’s time. They’ve been through several wars and countless smaller actions. What the two of you did down there was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen or imagined. I want you to have these.”

“Be careful, Reaper Cain,” X-37 warned. “This is a very important moment to him. My suggestion is to avoid a smart-ass comment.”

I accepted the weapon with genuine reverence. It struck me as a symbol of what I had hoped service to the Union would be: meaningful, effective, and above all, honorable. The weight of the pistol felt good in my hand. The design was different, simpler than most firearms I’d used over the years—but in a good way. The cleanest of the lines reminded me of Path and his purity of purpose.

Elise accepted her pistol with the serious attention to gun safety that made me proud. She checked to see if it was loaded and that the safety was engaged—all without inadvertently pointing the weapon at someone in the room as an untrained person might do.

“This is a very generous gift, Locke,” Elise said, securing it to her tactical vest and giving the thick-shouldered soldier a hug.

He didn’t seem to know what a hug was but took it in stride.

Elise laughed as she pulled back. “It’s called a hug, Locke, something we do where I’m from if we are good friends or family.”

“Then I’m honored to be your friend,” Locke said, turning toward me with his arms spread as he stepped into my personal space.

“Give the man a hug, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said with way more sass in his voice than I would normally tolerate.

The one-armed bro-hug seemed more than good enough for the Wallach CSL, who hadn’t known what a hug was five seconds ago.

I patted him on the back with my Reaper arm. “That’s good. Hold a hug too long and it gets weird.”

“Right, of course,” Locke said, standing back and straightening his gear. “Let’s see the president.”

We entered. The Presidential Guards watched us, completely unimpressed that we had just saved their entire civilization.

“Reaper Cain, Elise,” the president said, standing back too far to be hugged, thankfully. “You have done us a great service. All of Wallach is in your debt. We’ve already begun transporting the necessary fuel stores to your ship and have removed our guard from it as well. My advisors are in quite a tizzy about the inequity of this exchange. One cargo hold of fuel is not adequate. For once, I agree with them.”

“You don’t happen to have any Starbrand cigars?” I said, earning a nasty look from Elise, who was behaving more formally than I had ever seen her.

“I don’t,” the president said. “And contrary to our first meeting, I’m not a regular smoker. However, my father supported several artisans who were the best at what they did and we keep a humidor stocked with Wallach Presidentials. You’re not familiar with them, of course, but each of the cigars is a national treasure.”

“I’m willing to become familiar,” I said, not quite sure why I was smiling so much. Happiness and relief were strange emotions to me. I liked President Amanda Coronas. She seemed to have her act together.

“I will send a note to the corporation manager, who will put together a gift box and make sure you don’t go without while you’re here with us,” she said. “My father was well-known for his affinity for cigars. As such, what may be a relaxing pastime among your people has many important social overtones here.”

“Any tips?”

“Little things, like how you should never throw one away in public. Even if it is burnt down to next to nothing,” she said. “But we have important things to discuss. General Karn and my admirals have advised me that there are now three of your Union vessels in the system. We assume they are after you. Apparently, your people have the ability to make the ships invisible.”

“They’re not my people,” I said. “There aren’t many ships that size that utilize stealth technology, but Vice Admiral Nebs is part of a special operations group,” I said.

“Your ship has stealth technology,” she said, holding my gaze very directly.

“She does,” I said just loud enough to hear. This conversation was getting serious.

“Would you share it with us?” she asked.

“That’s a different discussion, but I’m not saying no,” I said.

She nodded. “Good enough. Let’s prepare to address these interlopers into our system.”

* * *

The people of Wallach provided us with a new shuttle, fast and powerful in a primitive way. The controls took some getting used to, but X-37 expressed no problems when interfacing with its controls.

“I’ve rewritten several subroutines that will allow proper coordination between the shuttle and the Jellybird,” X-37 said as we broke free of the gravity well and headed for our ship.

“Good work, X,” I said. “I’ll put you in for a presidential medal or something.”

“As long as you will wear it for me, as I have no corporal form to pin it on,” X-37 said, not missing a beat.

Once we docked, we didn’t waste time getting to the bridge. Jelly filled us in on the details of the Union encroachment as we hurried to our battle stations.

“All three of the stealth carriers are in the system,” Jelly advised, noting the time and locations on our holo view. “I have estimated positions based on their last known trajectory and probable intent given a situation of this nature. During my brief glimpse of their actions before they went into full stealth mode, they are far too interested in the people of Wallach.”

“Welcome to the Union,” Tom muttered.

“Can you put me in touch with General Karn?” I asked.

Several moments passed. “You are connected.”

Karn appeared in the holo. “Greetings, Hero Cain.”

“With all due respect, General, I prefer you not call me hero,” I said.

“Of course, Cain,” he said. “I was about to contact the president. Do you have a problem with a group communication?”

“Nope,” I said, holding an unlit Presidential in one hand.

“Your informal manner is inappropriate, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

I gave him a discreet hand signal indicating we could talk about that later. X-37 didn’t have to actually see my movement, only sense even the most minute change in the position of any part of my body. We had been refining these communication methods since I got out of the Bluesphere Maximum-security Prison.

The president appeared in the holo view. “Greetings, Cain. It seems your predictions of Union aggression have come true. My defense network has detected an alarming number of scans to all of our ships and the planet itself.”

“You should probably keep evacuation as an option,” I said. “This is a small Union force. It will only get worse once they know you’re here.”

The president’s thoughtful gaze gave me a chill. I hadn’t seen many leaders of this caliber and hoped that her resolve could withstand what was coming. Wallach was little more than an oversized colony by Union standards. That didn’t mean the Union would give it a pass.

“Wallach is sovereign,” she said, her voice level and strong. There was not a trace of the false bravado I’d seen in Union politicians. “We will resist any interference to remain so. I appreciate your warning of the Union’s might, but we are no strangers to war.”

I lowered my gaze, not sure how to emphasize my point without sounding disrespectful. She picked up on it and continued.

“We might not be a match for them with our current army, but we have time to repair. You could be a leader among us, a great guarding against the evil Unioners.”

“I wouldn’t be a good general, but thanks for the offer,” I said. “We need to get the fuel to the Bold Freedom.”

“Of course,” the president said. “We will provide any assistance you need. General Karn, see to it.”

“Yes, my president,” he said.

27

“Which ship do you think has the Lady Faith?” I asked.

“I believe it must be the Nightmare,” Jelly answered. “The raw data suggest as much, but I will defer to X-37 on all matters of political intrigue and espionage.”

“I believe you are correct,” X-37 said. “While you were gallivanting below the surface of Wallach, Jelly and I discussed many theories about the location of Henshaw and his ship. I put forward a hypothesis that Nebs might keep his prisoners on a different carrier to prevent complications or mutiny.”

“You’re overthinking it, X,” I said.

“I always do. It’s my programming,” X-37 said not a bit defensively. “However, you might be interested that our discussion led to a further analysis of what we know about the Union stealth carriers. The UFS Nightmare is slightly bigger than the other two carriers.”

I snorted a laugh. “Does our vice admiral have an ego complex?”

“Most assuredly,” X-37 said.

Tom reported in, advising me that the fuel stores were more than adequate for our needs and secured in our cargo hold. “For a primitive society, the fuel they use is similar to ours and even more efficient. A little will go a long way. Are you sure they haven’t had contact with any other advanced civilizations?”

“Well, Tom, that didn’t come up in the course of our conversation,” I said.

“It might be something we should look into,” Tom said. “I’ll sign off now. There are a thousand little things I need to do befor we begin this journey.”

“I’ve logged Tom’s question for future study,” X-37 said.

“Thanks. But to be honest, I’d rather not stumble into any more lost civilizations,” I said.

“Where is your sense of adventure, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked a bit snarkily.

“I’m a simple man,” I said.

Elise, who had been drinking from a ship bottle, snorted liquid out of her nose.

“Do you require medical assistance, Elise?” Jelly asked.

“I’m fine,” Elise said, tears still in her eyes from laughing and choking at the same time.

“Very well,” Jelly said. “I am detecting a strange snippet of maintenance code from the probable location of the Nightmare.”

“Tell me more, Jelly. X, get in on this. Sounds like we need some code hacking,” I said.

“It would be my pleasure, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

Several minutes passed. I lit my homemade cigar, gagged briefly, and took a sip of water from my own ship bottle, wishing it were liquor.

“Don’t die on me now, Reaper,” Elise said.

“The transmission is a simple maintenance code, meant for internal components to monitor and improve the ship’s functioning. Someone has managed to boost it and direct a portion of the binary code outward. Essentially, two repair bots are talking about things we would be more interested in than they would. Since they are mindless machines, it makes no difference to them what the messages say when not directing them to function one way or another,” X-37 explained.

“Sounds like Henshaw is reaching out,” I said and attempted to blow a smoke ring.

“We are unpacking the full message now,” Jelly advised.

“It appears to be a schematic rendering of the Nightmare,” X-37 said. He paused a bit too long. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought he was being dramatic. “There is a rather dire message included as well. It seems that Henshaw is advising us to leave the system immediately and that this is not a good place to attempt a rescue.”

I lowered my cigar, staring at the ceiling, since there wasn’t a holo display to look at. “I can’t say I disagree with him. We need to get the Nightmare alone. And we’re pretty banged up from the power plant mission on Wallach.”

X-37, Elise, and the ship AI discussed several variations of the decision. No one liked it, but we were running out of time.

I enjoyed the rest of my cigar in all of its raw raunchiness, saving the Wallach Presidentials in a humidor next to my dwindling collection of Starbrands. Despite my recent acquisitions, I was growing fond of my creations.

My memories were also coming more frequently and weren’t bad. Maybe this was how a normal man looked back on his life.

By contrast, dreams and nightmares had always been a plague. Thinking of the woman I had dropped from the bridge to Jeppa on Carson’s World haunted me always. It usually came with a flare of phantom pain through my cybernetic left arm.

But after Wallach, my memory of the incident was different. It seemed like a dark blessing if such a thing were possible. Hundreds of thousands of people, if not a million, would be suffering a post-apocalyptic nuclear holocaust right now if not for Elise and me.

“We did good, X,” I said.

“Of course, Reaper Cain.” X-37’s tone was hard to read, but I pretended he wasn’t busting my chops this time.

My imagination wandered, taking me back to the tunnels of the power plant, then to Roxo III, Greendale, and finally Dreadmax. Which brought me back to our desperate need to get fuel to the Bold Freedom before Bug and all the others died horribly.

I thought about the schematics to the Nightmare—imagining scenario after scenario. Rescuing Henshaw grew more impossible with every delay. Was I doing the right thing? Could I do both?

“You cannot, in fact, save everyone, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

“That was really creepy, X. How did you know what I was thinking?” I muttered, not really caring at this point. Exhaustion stalked me like an assassin.

“Your body language and biometrics are very informative,” X-37 explained. “The last time you were a mess like this, you had stated several times that saving the people of Dreadmax was impossible. You went after the slip drive regulator even though there was no chance of finding it and the mission clock had expired hours prior. The world was ending, and you were in one of your moods.”

“I wasn’t in a mood,” I snapped, sitting up and putting out my cigar.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on this point,” X-37 said.

“Whatever, X. I’m going to the observation deck.” Clearly, I deserved some R&R, even if it was only for a few minutes.

“I cannot advise that,” X-37 said. “Jelly is receiving a transmission from the UFS Nightmare. Vice Admiral Nebs is hailing us.”

28

The Nightmare appeared larger and more ominous than I remembered on the holo view.

“Reaper,” Nebs growled without showing himself, broadcasting his ship’s icon instead of his own image. “Where the hell did you lead us this time? This is an unauthorized colony.”

“It’s not a colony,” I said, pointing to the navigation panel and making several hand motions that neither Elise nor anyone else understood—which was annoying because we should all be on the same page by now. It was time to get the hell out of here.

“Are you leading me away from your new friends?” Nebs asked sarcastically. “You’ve got to know the Union won’t stand for this. When I’m done with you, I’ll mop them up, or call in someone else to do it.”

“You’re bluffing,” I argued. “As big and powerful as the Union thinks it is, we are a very long way from Union space, and I doubt they have the resources for something like this. It would probably take two years of arguing in the Congress to even publicly admit this place exists.”

“You do remember how the Union works,” he said, then he appeared on the holo view at last. “Don’t piss me off, Reaper.”

“What is it with everyone calling me Reaper? I have a name,” I said.

“I still call you Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “Would you like me to join them in this method of address for consistency?”

I ignored X, not wanting to look distracted or weak in front of Nebs.

“My intelligence specialists…” he began.

“Using the term lightly,” I interrupted.

“…are telling me you went to the surface for some reason and got a hero’s welcome, so I guess you’re friends with these people. If you value them, and I know you think you’re some kind of hero, then surrender immediately. I’ll go easy on them if you do,” Nebs said.

“You haven’t met their president,” I said. “She won’t go for that. My advice to you, asswipe, is to be respectful when you try to contact her or her people. Or better yet, just go someplace far away and die.”

His laugh rattled the communications link. “So, I have to teach them a lesson. That’s what you’re telling me.”

“Good luck with that. They are tough fighters,” I said. A knot of dread twisted my insides.

Elise whispered to me privately, “We can’t find one of the ships.”

“Are you telling me we have cracked their stealth cloaks? That’s great news,” I said, careful to mute my link to the holo comm.

“Basically, but we can’t find one of them!” Elise hissed like this was terrible news.

I thought seeing even one of the Union stealth carriers was a huge improvement. “X, can you teach Elise how to look on the bright side?”

“Bright side of what, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked. “I am attempting humor. Did I get you?”

“Sure, X. You’re brilliant,” I said, turning my attention back to Nebs.

“I don’t like that shitty look on your face, Reaper,” Nebs growled. “What the hell are you up to now?”

“Maybe I’m stalling,” I said.

“That is a dangerous game,” X-37 advised. “He knows our escape window is rapidly closing.”

“What are we doing, Reaper?” Elise demanded. “You know what I want to do, but I’ll back whatever you decide as long as you decide soon.”

Holding up an unlit cigar, I considered it as though no one else existed.

“You’re not even ready to give the order,” Elise hissed at me privately. “Are you trying to make me crazy? If we’re not going after Henshaw, we need to get out of this system five minutes ago!”

“Patience, my young apprentice,” I said. “Never rush a Reaper. And for the record, I’m always ready.”

“You’re always a jerk,” Elise commented, as though I hadn’t heard her express her feelings hundreds of time since we’d met.

With the flick of my hand, I pulled up a view only I could see. It was small and I had divided it into view blocks for each of Jelly’s system scans. It didn’t take long for me to find what I was looking for.

The UFS Nightmare was significantly nearer to Wallach than when we started the conversation. I might have been stalling, but Nebs was definitely stalling with sleight of hand worthy of a street magician.

Dropships left the Nightmare and headed for the planet.

“That is quite alarming,” X-37 admitted. “How did you know he would make a planetary assault?”

I didn’t answer immediately, glad that X-37 wasn’t able to read my mind after all. “I was hoping he didn’t attack Coronas’s people. Unfortunately, he knows me. Damned psych profile.”

“Ah, I see. The vice admiral understands you can’t watch innocent civilians die. Just like the way you lost your arm on Carson’s World,” X-37 said. “Your quasi-heroic vigilantism will be the death of you, Reaper Cain.”

“I see what you’re doing, Nebs,” I warned.

“What are you going to do about it, Reaper?” he snarled, then laughed under his breath. “You’re so easy. It’s like playing galaxy boards with a kid.”

“Leave them alone,” I demanded, standing from my captain’s chair and making a decision.

“Why would I waste my nukes to end this rebellion when I can cause their primitive fission reactor to do it for me?” he asked.

“They’re not rebels,” I insisted.

“Impossible,” he said, as though the existence of anything outside of Union control personally offended him. “But if you’re telling the truth, that is all the more reason to eliminate them. Surrender now and I will be lenient on your new friends. Defy me, and everything that happens afterward is your fault.”

29

“Shall I ask Jelly to prepare the new shuttle for a surface landing?” X-37 asked.

I touched my fingertips in our “yes” signal, never looking away from the vice admiral or letting on that I was distracted. Something occurred to me, something I should have remembered from my conversations with Henshaw. The man had his own LAI, possibly more advanced than mine or even one of the double or quadruple LAIs rumored to exist.

I laughed, wondering how crazy I would be if I had multiple X-37 units giving me advice.

“I don’t know why I even talk to you, Reaper,” Nebs said with exaggerated tiredness. “All you do is bust my balls and make bad decisions. This can be over right now. Surrender and I’ll go easy on everyone, even you and your X unit.”

“It’s me you want. Take me and leave everyone else out of this,” I said.

“Stalling tactic detected,” X-37 said approvingly. “But please promise me you are not serious about this course of action.”

Nebs laughed at my offer as though it were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. There were actual tears in the corners of his eyes when he caught his breath.

“I need the girl more than you,” he said. “Load her up on that fancy new shuttle they gave you and bring her across to the Nightmare. Then we’ll talk,” he said.

“I need assurances,” I said.

“Need? I need you to surrender or die,” he shot back.

“Listen you son-of-a-bitch.” I moved close enough to the holo view to block his view of the rest of the Jellybird’s bridge. “One on one, you wouldn’t have a chance. Stop sending your lackies and face me like a man.”

Elise and Path quietly slipped out of the bridge and headed for the shuttle bay. X-37 kept me informed on their progress as I exchanged insults with Nebs.

“This has been fun,” I said several minutes later. “We should do it again some time. Until then, take your offer and shove it up your…”

“Connection lost,” Jelly advised as Nebs disappeared from the holo viewer.

“Jelly, activate the stealth cloak and turn around. We’re going back to Wallach.” I headed for the shuttle bay. When I got there, I found Elise wearing the stealth cloak. This told me two things: she’d graduated to a new level of pickpocketing and was thinking strategically.

I didn’t want her going head-to-head in combat. She was fierce enough, but we needed to fight smarter not harder—especially against the Union. With all of her recent training, she’d be deadly with the cloak hiding her.

“You got a problem?” she asked.

I adjusted the way the cloak fell over her tactical vest and stepped back. “Nope, I’m good with it.”

“I’m glad you approve,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re glad,” I said.

“Can I fly the shuttle?” she asked.

“Don’t press your luck, kid,” I responded, taking the pilot seat and strapping in.

Path and Elise took their places. Jelly gave me the all clear to launch. The bay doors opened, and I steered us into the void. The moment we were away from the ship, I hurled us toward the planet.

“Your descent vector is, how shall I say, rather steep,” X-37 said.

“Why don’t you do something useful like give me an update on the micro fighters pursuing us,” I said, making adjustments before we entered the planet’s atmosphere.

“How did you know we are being pursued by micro fighters?” X-37 asked. “I did not believe you had that type of sensory ability, or was that a random-ass guess?”

“It wasn’t exactly random. Of course they’re going to chase us,” I said as the atmosphere battered the shuttle, shaking us like dice in a gambler’s hand at a craps table.

“There are twelve Union micro fighters rapidly closing on our position,” X-37 said.

“X, tell me why they only sent half of their available fighters,” I ordered.

X-37’s response was immediate. “I suspect the others will approach from a different vector. It is equally likely they are being held for some type of trap that will kill all of us.”

“I knew it,” I said without much enthusiasm. The Wallach shuttle was harder to control than I had anticipated. On one hand, it was a very durable vehicle, but on the other, the controls were sluggish and hard to manage.

“What the hell are you doing?” Elise demanded. “You’re practically flying a straight line and those fighters are coming right at us.”

“You want to try?” I asked before I thought the rejoinder through.

“Yes!” Elise answered, grabbing onto control stick.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” I said, then banked hard to the left. Any comment Elise was about to make was cut off by the force of the maneuver. I checked on Path and saw him struggling stoically.

“Your heart rate and blood pressure are higher than average,” X-37 said.

“Forget about that. I want you to focus on our ship and our pursuers,” I said, feeling lightheaded and seeing stars. I’d been through planetary assaults before and this wasn’t normal. Every injury I had sustained during the fight with the creature began to complain at once. Residue of the poison put my pinky finger to sleep and sent a spasm up my spine.

I wondered how Elise felt and hoped that the physical manifestations of her father’s experiments were healing her faster than I was healing.

That made me briefly think of Path. I was pretty busy avoiding our pursuers. My thoughts were coming fast, like I was clearing space in my head.

Path had been hammering away at Elise for much of our journey, and she recovered from her bruises well. Maybe that was a good thing. That knot of dread in my stomach wouldn’t go away no matter how I assured myself Elise was ready for this.

I couldn’t just rely on my Reaper augmentations and the pain-in-the-butt runaway. I had an entire crew of uniquely skilled individuals.

“Path, do you have flight training?” I asked.

“I do not,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re going to let him fly?” Elise shouted, amazement and betrayal giving her words the force of profanity.

“Just a thought that occurred to me. Someday, if we don’t die, we’ll all need to fly,” I said as the shift shook violently.

“Perhaps Novasdaughter could teach us,” Path said.

“What about Randolph? He’s senior and probably has more flight time,” I said, cutting hard to my left to avoid a stream of micro fighter bullets.

“I doubt he is a better pilot,” Path said, then grunted as my maneuvering slammed him sideways in his seat. “I believe he is a political creature—promoted according to who he knows rather than what he can do.”

Focusing on my tactical readouts, I put the shuttle into a spin.

We slid sideways, unable to turn all the way over. Elise scrolled through screens frantically. “There has to be a way to pull this off.”

“Incoming fire detected,” X-37 said for all of us to hear.

“All right, it’s about to get real,” I said, then increased the violence of my evasive maneuvers. The small but very powerful projectiles the micro fighters used as weaponry peppered our wing.

“That was a very ineffective maneuver,” X-37 said.

“Why don’t you stop wasting time judging me and figure out a way for the shields to work!”

“All of the shield power has to go to the front during atmospheric reentry,” Elise explained, still searching her screens for an answer to our problem. She’d learned to speak basic Wallach with continuing assistance from X-37, but reading technical instructions was different.

Icons and diagrams helped. I started laughing. The front of our ship glowed from atmospheric friction.

“What do you find so humorous, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked. “Perhaps I could integrate it into my rapidly growing humor algorithm.”

“We’re getting the crash course for this shuttle,” I managed to say.

“Not helpful!” Elise snapped.

“My suggestion, Reaper Cain, is to fly more effectively,” X-37 said.

“Fine,” I said, then aimed straight for the surface of the planet. We shot downward like a bullet, our shields glowing with dangerous new levels of heat. Another volley of gunfire pinged along our hull.

“Would you like the bad news or the good news?” X-37 asked.

“Just say it,” I grunted through my clenched teeth.

“The good news is that the shuttle has three main thrusters,” X-37 said, unaffected by gravity or the very real chance of our impending death. “The bad news is that two of them are now ineffective.”

“What you’re trying to tell me is that this thing isn’t going to be able to take off again,” I said, spinning the ship neatly.

“Exactly, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “We can, however, continue to fall toward the surface.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Elise demanded.

“It’s better than being shot to pieces,” I argued. “And since we’re going straight down, it’s a whole different set of rules.”

I came out of the triple roll and veered to the left as hard as I could make the ship fly. The fighters came after me like a swarm of intergalactic insects with micro auto cannons blazing.

“X, find me a place to land,” I ordered.

Elise was faster, almost like she had been anticipating the exact moment I would need this information.

She read off the coordinates like a pro and I followed them.

“Brace for landing,” X-37 announced. Now wasn’t the time to resent the fact that my limited artificial intelligence didn’t sound the least bit stressed or out of breath, but I thought it anyway.

Pieces peeled away from the ship as we neared the surface. The dashboard flashed dozens of warnings. A loud buzzer tortured my hearing. A quick glance at the screen showed me a language I still couldn’t read. My best guess was that it was some sort of impact warning.

“Landing struts are deployed,” Elise advised.

I pulled back on the steering mechanism, bringing up the nose and flaring our wings at the last second. The landing struts touched the surface and we slid for hundreds of meters, plowing up dirt. The path of destruction we left was impressive, dirt flinging into the air on each side of us.

“We’re down,” X-37 said as we stopped moving. “That was a perfect landing.”

“Really?” Elise and I asked at the same time.

“No, Reaper Cain, I was attempting to boost your morale by lying to you,” X-37 said. “In reality, you nearly killed us.”

“Elise, Path, it’s time to go. Now,” I said, ripping off my restraint harness and hustling to the door. Which didn’t open.

“Running a systems diagnostic now,” X-37 said. “It appears the door is nonfunctional. You’ll have to operate it manually by using the dog wheel. This will require an enormous amount of force due to the damage you have caused this ship.”

I grabbed the oversized wheel on the door and twisted with all my strength. “I’ve always wondered why they call it a dog wheel,” I grunted.

“Irrelevant!” Elise said, finding a place for her hands and then pushing up on one side of the wheel as I pulled down on the other. She drove upward with her legs, face contorted with effort.

The door slowly cranked open. Path brushed past us and drew his sword. His defensive stance was fluid and mobile as he turned to check in every direction for an attack.

I was about to step out when the micro fighters strafed our position. I ducked back and lost sight of Path.

The brief but intense assault on our position was over as soon as it began, but I knew they would be coming around for another pass, and not far behind them would be more assault shuttles with Union troops.

I’d acted fast to get here before the ground troops and hoped it was the right choice.

Grabbing Elise, I guided her toward the exit that was now full of bullet holes. “Go!”

It was night on the surface of Wallach. Local wildlife had gone silent after our crash landing. The capital city loomed over the horizon. Near it on the outskirts of its industrial zone was the power plant complex alive with the activity of hundreds of repair crews and other workers.

Elise sprinted across the clearing overgrown with waist-high flowering plants. In the moonlight, they appeared a silvery purple color. I followed, scanning the area as I went, and saw that we weren’t as close to the power plant as I had hoped.

“Could we have landed a bit farther from our objective?” I asked X-37.

“Given your rate of descent, it was the only option,” X-37 explained. “But thank you for your ill-timed sarcasm.”

“Elise, Path, check in,” I ordered as I moved.

“We’re okay,” Elise advised. “Keep coming the direction you’re heading, and you’ll find us in the tree line. Path is scouting a way to the power plant. If you hadn’t been flying like such a maniac, we could’ve landed at one of the city airports and taken a ground vehicle to the power plant.”

“I’m not arguing with you, kid,” I said. “It’s been a long day, all right?”

She didn’t respond. I began running and soon caught up to them.

“There are animal trails that will lead us through this forest,” Path said. “We can move very fast, but it is not a direct route. If we go straight to our objective, we will be required to fight the forest and may run into additional obstacles we cannot foresee because we do not know this planet.”

“Thanks, Path” I said, visually checking the gear of my companions to make sure they were ready for what was coming. I wanted to go first and set the pace but wasn’t sure they could keep up with me at night. My optics and my general willingness to take abuse in all forms would make me much faster than either of them, even Elise in this environment.

“Check your gear and let’s go,” I ordered.

“We already did that,” Elise said with none of her juvenile attitude. She was in her serious professional mode.

“Good. Path, take the lead. I’ll bring up the rear,” I said.

We headed toward the power plant complex at an aggressive pace. The sound of night animals slowly returned to the forest. I could hear the city in the distance, machines and vehicles but also the almost musical sounds of a thriving city.

“Check your comm links. We need to stay spread out and it’s too dark for hand signals,” I said.

“I read you, Cain,” Path acknowledged.

“Present,” Elise said.

“It’s not too dark for you to use hand signals,” X-37 advised.

“I’m not sure that’s helpful, X,” I said, slightly winded from running after my two friends and allies. “They’re faster than I thought they would be.”

“You’re still on the main channel,” Elise said. “And thanks for the compliment.”

We came to the perimeter fence of the power plant a short time later. The wall made it look like a fortress with guard towers and security lighting at full power. It appeared formidable, but I knew a determined Union assault, even a small one, would breach the place easily.

“I am attempting to communicate with their security supervisor now,” X-37 said.

“That won’t freak them out?” I said.

“Actually, it’s surprisingly straightforward,” X-37 said. “I was able to contact them with something called an immediate correspondence protocol, in effect, a text message directly to the duty chief’s personal account. I’m getting a response now.”

“Hold up for a second,” I instructed Path and Elise. We gathered to watch the main road leading into the power plant from the countryside.

“The security chief’s name is David Howard Barnard,” X-37 said.

I groaned.

“How is that helpful, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked. “What is the purpose of such a distressing noise?”

“I had a bad experience with a guy who had three first names. Don’t worry about it. Tell this guy who we are and that we came to help and that they are in danger,” I said.

“David is very excited and asks you to show yourself so that he can admit us into the facility,” X-37 advised. “You’re welcome.”

“That’s it? Never mind. Thanks, X.” I strode forward with my hands up. The nighttime security guards probably didn’t know this was a meaningless gesture. I could snatch my HDK Dominator or my pistol from my tactical gear before they realized what was happening.

“We see you, Mr. Cain,” a guard shouted enthusiastically. “I’m David Howard Barnard, supervisor tonight. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to meet you and your friends. Was that your ship that got shot down?”

“Yeah, but I was actually evading their attacks and landed that way on purpose,” I said, moving forward and motioning for Elise and Path to follow.

“Ouch,” David said over his loudspeaker.

“It’s the precursor of a Union attack,” I said. “We need to hurry. They’re targeting the power plant. They know it’s vulnerable.”

“I’m alerting command now,” David said. “Once you’re inside, I’ll give you a tour of the defenses.”

His promise didn’t hold up. By the time we were inside the power plant, one of the security teams was scrambling for all available personnel. Soldiers with sturdy rifles climbed up the guard towers, which were inside the walls rather than on the walls. There were no heavy guns or reinforced positions set up to maintain interlocking fields of fire against a determined foe.

The gate was sturdy, but made to handle heavy equipment basic security, not repel invaders. At best, the place was designed to keep out thieves, spies, or possibly terrorists. I doubted anyone had considered an attack like I knew was coming.

Vice Admiral Nebs didn’t have the numbers to overwhelm the place. Unfortunately, he didn’t have to hold anything he took. All he had to do was get below the surface and damage any part of the cooling system. Already on the brink, it wouldn’t take much to cause a meltdown.

“I think I see the dropships,” Elise said, pointing toward the trees. We had been to that area on our track from our landing zone. There were several good places to put down ships. I’d made my hasty selection under fire.

“I see them. I’m zooming in with my optics for a better look,” I said.

Elise and Path stood on either side of me, nervous but ready.

Some of the Wallach soldiers had seen them as well. I heard hopeful arguments. They didn’t think there were enough ships to be a threat.

“They could drop inside the walls once they realize how light our defenses are,” I said, “so be ready for that. It’s more likely to happen than not.”

“I will go to the maintenance yard,” Path said. “It is the largest open area within the power plant complex.”

A Wallach soldier rushed toward me, then stood at attention. “I’m Corporal Beale. Duty Chief David Howard Barnard sent me. I’m to get you whatever you need and lead you to the power plant complex or anywhere else you need to go.”

“Get down, Corporal,” I said, taking my own advice as the micro fighters returned for a strafing run. There were more of them this time.

“It seems that the vice admiral has sent all twenty-four of the Nightmare’s ships micro fighters on this mission,” X-37 advised. “I would expect the other carriers and their assault teams to join the fight sooner rather than later.”

Bullets zipped through concrete and steel, sometimes ricocheting, depending on the angle. Most Union chain guns utilized a tracer every tenth round. Wallach’s atmosphere provided oxygen for the pyrotechnics that hadn’t existed when they attacked us in the void. The rate of fire was so fast that their attack looked like some sort of energy weapon stitching the night with death.

What came next was worse.

“I don’t like that,” Elise said.

With Elise and Path by my side, I watched the tree line as several squads of Union shock troopers ran toward our position.

Shouts rose up from the Wallach defensive positions. Some were almost giddy with excitement, but others cursed.

“I’m going to take a wild bet that these are the Archangels our captured pilots warned us about,” I said. “Two seven-man squads, definitely commandos in heavy armor.”

“And we are about to see another surprise,” X-37 said, urging me to look toward the sky. “I have been operating on the assumption they have twenty-four micro fighters, but it appears that all three carriers have launched against us and that each must support thirty-six of the small atmospheric capable attack ships.”

I turned toward the wall of defenders and shouted, “Concentrate your fire on the ground troops. The ships will be too hard to hit. And use cover. We’re about to get strafed by several waves of micro fighters!”

The first wave of fighters blasted our position moments before the heavily armored Archangels reached us. Crouching behind the edge of the wall, I kept my eyes on the ground assaulters.

Each Archangel had a different weapons load out on their upgraded heavy armor. There were variations with shotguns mounted to their left forearms and shock batons that crackled with electricity on their right arms. Others had adorable little chain guns on shoulder mounts. Some were ready for close fighting, others for long-range combat, and some for specialized tasks like cutting holes in our walls.

These jerkoffs were ready for anything.

30

“Cain for Locke,” I said through the local communication network.

“Go for Locke,” he responded.

“Are you on the wall? I don’t see you,” I asked.

“It’s a long wall. I’m en route to your location by air ship,” he said. “We’re spread thin. I started your way as soon as Barnard reported contact.”

“If your people have any of those grenades, now is the time to use them. You can’t allow the Archangels inside the walls. They’ll be unstoppable,” I said.

“I’m calling everything we have from other parts of the city, but for now we’ll have to make do. They’re called Archangels?” he asked but didn’t wait for an answer. “All teams, deploy grenades, mortars, and whatever else we have in position. Fire at will!”

The charging Archangels spread out to avoid the worst of the defensive measures, barely slowing as the ground exploded all around them.

Then Locke’s airship swooped low. His door gunner opened fire with a chain gun that vibrated the entire ship. The noise was deafening. The craft was a helicopter with short wings where clusters of rockets hung. The pilot fired these at the Archangel assault force, possibly taking one out of the fight.

I aimed, looking for the best shot possible. One of the Union jerks pulled a slim tube from his back and aimed it at the airship hovering over his companions.

I shot him in the knee, causing him to fall and send his surface to air missile wide.

“Excellent shot, Reaper Cain,” X-37 acknowledged. “I will log it.”

“Yeah, great. What can you tell me about their armor?” I asked, moving along the wall looking for another way to help Locke, whose ship was getting hammered by the Archangels.

“My analysis suggests you can penetrate their armor with eighteen to twenty direct hits on the same spot,” X-37 said. “No armor is perfect.”

“That sounds easy,” I snorted. “Make sure Elise and the others know to just keep slamming rounds into them.”

Locke’s ship wheeled away from the fight, smoke pouring from its engines and listing badly to one side. His door gunner slouched over his now silent weapon. I thought Locke’s pilot would be able to land the brutishly ugly airship, but nothing was guaranteed. It disappeared inside the complex without crashing and exploding.

“The Archangels are falling back, possibly to regroup with reinforcements from the other Union carriers,” X-37 advised.

“Log that as a win for us,” I said. “Round one complete.”

“I’m way ahead of you, Reaper Cain. I have also included footnotes regarding your excessive use of profanity during this engagement,” X-37 said.

“I don’t remember that,” I said, looking for the next attack.

“You wouldn’t, Reaper Cain. That’s what I am here for,” X said.

I checked with Elise, Path, and Locke. The first two were uninjured and attempting to acquire ammunition from our new allies. Locke was dazed. He sounded distracted and seemed to be consoling one of his soldiers over the death of the door gunner.

“It is time to prepare for the second wave,” X-37 advised us.

“Understood, X,” Elise said. “Path is with me and he also heard you.”

“Make sure Locke and the other defenders know,” I said, looking for double the number of Archangels. I hadn’t seen the other shuttle put down, but I assumed they would bring as many friends as possible.

“CSL Locke and his companions are moving crew served machine guns from the armory to this position. They weren’t prepared for this attack, Reaper Cain, but they are very efficient once they choose a course of action,” X-37 said.

“I hope it’s enough,” I said as I saw an Archangel team moving toward us. “Listen, X, they’ve tried to rush us once—probably as a test. Now they’re creeping. Check with the locals and see if they have any night vision or infrared.”

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

Locke’s voice came through my earpiece. “Thanks for the heads up. We’re going to give them a surprise.”

“Make it a good one,” I suggested.

In the last hours before dawn, it was especially dark. The Archangels moved slowly. They were professionals and trusted the superiority of their equipment. I watch them stalk closer and closer.

“Locke and his people are gutsy,” I said.

“Agreed,” X-37 said.

“Locke for all gun teams,” the CSL for General Karn broadcast. “On my mark. Three, two, one, mark!”

Mortar tubes thumped. Seconds later, flares descended slowly to the surface, lighting up no man’s land. A half dozen belt-fed machine guns opened fire, sending our own tracers into the approaching Archangels. Bright green, the Wallach streams crossed incoming lines of red Union tracers.

“Give them everything we’ve got!” Locke ordered.

Security David Howard Barnard repeated the commands for other units. The night glowed with gun fire, mortars, and shoulder-fired grenades. Smoke clouded the battlefield. When it all ended, the Archangels had either fled or been destroyed.

“Locke for Reaper Cain, do you read me? Do you think they’re gone?” the CSL asked. The tone of his voice suggested he didn’t believe his new enemies were defeated.

“They’re still out there. Make sure they don’t have another unit sneaking around the back or trying something else devious,” I warned.

“Good call, Cain. I’ll get my people on it at once,” he said.

“X, I think we owned round two. Log it. Someday I’ll rub it in the vice admiral’s face,” I said.

“Done,” X-37 responded.

Locke, David, and several other front-line commanders met with me near the main gate. Locke took the lead. I sensed that this wasn’t actually his command, but they respected him enough to let him call the shots. I thought this was something different from the formal activation of all of the army’s squad leaders to follow him.

“You need to continue strengthening the entire perimeter of the power plant complex,” I advised. “Vice Admiral Nebs wants to finish what the centipede monster started.”

“Why would he do that?” one of the men asked.

“I recommend you do not tell them the exact truth,” X-37 advised. “If I were them, I would forcibly encourage you to turn yourself in given the circumstances.”

I thought about my answer. These people deserved honesty, but it was also a very complex and dynamic situation. Having a clear enemy might be more important than having full transparency of my motives.

Locke stepped in and saved me from the moral dilemma. “It doesn’t matter. We all know what Cain and Elise did for us.”

“And you,” said the man. “They wouldn’t have been able to find that creature without your help.”

“Don’t embarrass me, Chans,” Locke said. “Let’s just keep it simple and kill the people who are trying to kill us.”

Locke pulled me aside from the others.

“Good answer,” I said.

“I’m not an idiot, Cain. I know they want you to surrender. I also doubt they will treat us gently even if you do give yourself up,” he said. “There have been two Alon invasions during my lifetime. They’re not as technologically advanced as your enemies, but I know what war is like.”

“Who or what are the Alons?” I asked.

“Two systems over,” he said, eyes glazing over at the thought of his people’s enemies. “Some people think we were all one civilization back before anyone can remember, but I don’t see how that’s possible. I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, I think we should take one crisis at a time.”

“Agreed,” I said.

* * *

The next attack came from the air, just as I had expected. The micro fighters strafed us as the Union ground forces consolidated with their reinforcements and planned their next move. The air attacks kept us busy. We were only able to disable a few of their ships. They didn’t have a lot of firepower but were also hard to hit as fast and small as they were.

The Union ground troops made another run at the gate. I scanned the sky for what I knew was coming.

“You’re making me nervous,” Elise said.

“Phase three is going to be a high-altitude, low opening assault,” I said. “I’m not sure how many Archangels they have, but I think they’ve saved something nasty for us.”

Locke and his defenders maintained a steady stream of fire at the ground troops. He even managed to find vehicles with surface-to-air rockets that were keeping the micro fighters honest.

I sensed the frustration of the gun crews. What they didn’t understand was the level of technology and the skill of these pilots. The men and women of Wallach were actually doing a decent job, even though they hadn’t shot one of the ships down yet—only winged them and driven them out of the fight.

Something came out of the sky. I counted the seconds before the parachute deployed and noticed with satisfaction that my estimation had been correct. What surprised me was the size of the parachute.

“What the hell is that?” Elise demanded.

“Could be an armored vehicle,” I said, but I was distracted because three of the dropships that had landed in the forest rose into the air and raced forward. Archangels and other Union soldiers hung from the rails, ready to hit the ground running.

This was the big offensive. They were determined to win and were pulling out all the stops.

“I blame you,” Elise said, pointing at me, then she raced to intercept the war machine about to touch down inside the walls. The closer it came to landing, the easier it was to see it was a lot like the Presidential Guards, except that it was more than just an exoskeleton. The fully functional battle mech smashed a small crater in the ground when it landed.

The Union death machine was five meters tall and supported twin chain guns on its shoulders. In one hand was a hammer that looked more than capable of smashing apart the front gate, and in the other hand was a double-edged blade.

“That looks a lot like your Reaper blade but bigger,” X-37 said. “My recommendation is to go for the soft kill.”

“That would be fantastic if I had anything capable of sinking it or blowing the ground out from underneath it,” I said, looking around for one of the surface-to-air rockets and trying to calculate whether or not it had enough blast power to get the job done.

Three of the crew-served machine-gun crews turned their weapons toward the new threat, which allowed one of the assaulting dropships to slip through the perimeter untouched.

Wallach tracer rounds screamed into the Union mech as it sent a glowing red barrage back in return. On another part of the wall, a pair of the Archangels climbed up and began battling the outgunned defenders. The defense of the Wallach power complex was coming apart.

Elise, Path, and I spread out, but all headed toward the same objective—stopping the five-meter-tall war machine that was wreaking havoc.

I stopped for a downed Wallach soldier and dragged him behind cover. He groaned in pain and held his wound, but that was the best I could do for him. He’d have to self-triage.

I lost track of Elise and Path in the smoke and flying debris. The occasional tracer round flashed near me, illuminating the dust all around its path. Near the Union mech, I found two more Wallach soldiers who needed help and carried them one at a time to their medics.

“We need to bomb that thing!” one of the medics shouted as he applied a pressure bandage to a badly injured soldier.

“We have a strike bomber inbound,” Locke replied, his voice steady over the radio. “But I’d rather not use that much ordnance danger close.”

Danger close was a term I remembered well from my time in the Union infantry. It meant firing on your own position, basically.

I moved among the wounded, stealing their grenades. Elise arrived a second later from another gap between buildings. I tossed her two grenades. “You know what to do.”

“Centipede,” she said.

“Something like that. At least this one won’t have poisonous critters all over it,” I said, already jogging toward the enemy.

“Yeah, it just has chain guns and a big-ass sword,” she answered, then moved away from me.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be the one that tried to jump on its back or the one to lure it away. Both jobs were dangerous, and I thought Elise was pushing her luck. She had the spirit and natural talent to augment her experimental biology, but this was war and she wasn’t actually a soldier. She could spar with Path for a thousand years and not be ready for this.

We tracked the advance of the mech without actually seeing it.

“The mech is clearing the way to the main lifts,” I broadcast. “If Union troops gain access to the lower levels, it’s game over.”

“Understood,” Locke responded.

Elise and Path also acknowledged my radio traffic.

The explosions and constant gunfire of the metal monster were hard to miss even if it was a street or two over. I thought I was going to get a crack at it, but when I turned the corner, I ran into a squad of Union soldiers. They weren’t the Archangels, but they had heavy gear and seemed fresh.

“It’s the Reaper!” the squad leader shouted.

I tried to shoot him in the throat but missed as he shifted positions and returned fire. His squad reacted quickly, taking good positions of cover and catching me in a deadly triangulation of fire.

After dropping and rolling, I scrambled behind a destroyed vehicle and sprinted. I jumped, pushed up the wall near the vehicle, and landed near the top of the vehicle’s cargo compartment. From there, I went up and over and jumped down into the middle of the Union squad. Pistol in one hand and my Reaper blade extended from the other, I started killing.

One fired at me. I dropped and rolled. His rounds caromed off one of his squad mates. I spun in a tight circle and sliced off one of his feet, ignoring him when he fell screaming. The other one quickly fixed a weapons malfunction and aimed.

I was a half second faster, shooting him several times center mass. His armor stopped the rounds, but he was knocked back, taken out of the fight for at least a few moments. He’d survive but be in a lot of pain. If he kept coming, I’d have to kill the man and I had better things to do right now.

I moved on, looking for the mech and Elise. The squad leader was screaming at his men and pulling them back together. Before long, I would be fighting the survivors and probably the reinforcements.

“My analysis of combat radio traffic suggests that Elise has located the Union mech,” X-37 said. “My recommendation is to hurry. She will need your help.”

When I came around the corner, I saw the mech but no Elise.

“I believe her stealth cloak is fully functional,” X-37 reminded me.

The mech saw me and opened fire with its chain guns. Even though the tracers were every ten or twenty bullets, the stream of glowing red ordnance looked like a continuous laser beam. The deadly stream slashed through the building next to me. I ran, and chain gun fire chased me, throwing chunks of concrete everywhere.

“I’m up,” Elise grunted over our comm link. “One grenade jammed into this thing’s gears. Take that, you asshole!”

An explosion knocked the giant killing machine off its feet.

“I really hope Elise jumped before that happened,” I said.

“I’m glad you care,” Elise said, but she sounded hurt and breathless.

“Locke, call off your strike bomber. The mech is down. Like a turtle on its back,” I shouted.

“Copy that,” Locke said. “I didn’t want to start saturation bombing the power plant we’re trying to repair.”

“It’s getting up!” Elise shouted.

I watched it face her, finally able to see where she was. The dirt and smoke hampered the cloak’s effectiveness. Limping forward on a damaged leg, it twisted its metal torso to get its sole remaining gun to aim at Elise.

“Legs,” X-37 suggested.

I charged, my blade arcing through the air as I built momentum. The legs were too thick to sever, but there were hydraulic cables exposed from the explosion Elise had caused. I slashed madly until the mech went down and didn’t get up.

“You should open the cockpit and kill the pilot,” X-37 suggested.

“Maybe later,” I said. “There are a lot of other enemies who need attention.”

Military troop transports, commercial trucks, and taxi cabs flooded the area, distorting regular troops, militia, and armed civilians.

“Elise, I’m coming to you. Are you injured?” I said, weaving my way through an increasingly chaotic battle.

“I’m a little banged up, Reaper,” she said.

“Path, report,” I demanded.

“I’m with Locke. We’re rolling back the last of the Union troops,” Path answered.

“Are you wounded?” I asked.

“Yes.”

The sword saint admitted to feeling pain. As soon as I checked Elise, we went looking for him, only to find him gluing a wound shut with no outward emotion whatsoever.

“X,” I said, “Log round three as a win for us.”

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said, calm as ever.

31

We stood near the reinforced front gate watching the skies with binoculars.

“I thought you said the ships this assault came from were small carriers,” Locke said. “That looks like another wave heading for the surface.”

“They are, but they are packed assholes to elbows,” I said.

“Karn for Cain, can you read me?” General Karn asked.

“Sure thing, General. What’s on your mind?” I asked.

“We’re attempting to engage the Union carriers. I hope to draw back their fighters,” Karn said.

“Be careful, General. I don’t know the capabilities of your warships, but I know Nebs is a ruthless son-of-a-bitch,” I said.

“Thanks for the warning,” Karn replied. “Good luck and try not to get Locke killed. I’ve invested a lot in his career.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Thoughts of Carson’s World came back. Protecting people wasn’t something I was good at no matter how hard I tried. “X, how’s the Jellybird?”

“She’s staying out of it and waiting for a pick-up request,” X-37 said.

“Good.” I glanced at Elise and Path, who apparently had some kind of contest going—who could require the most bandages, stitches, and glue packs to stay alive.

But they were alive. And that was enough for now.

“Locke,” I said. “I need one of the downed Union assault shuttles. It’s time to go on the offensive.”

Locke put one hand to his ear as he gave orders and received updates, then nodded. “You got it, Cain. Whatever you’re planning, you better do it now.”

“Elise, Path, stop screwing around, we’ve got a ship to catch,” I said, pointing the way we needed to go.

Locke led us to the Union ship. “There is one problem. We can’t make it work without a code.”

“Is the pilot alive?” I asked.

“He is,” Locke answered.

“I’ll need a moment alone with him,” I said.

“That can be arranged,” Locke said, then grimly made it happen.

Guards took the pilot into the ship and left. I stood over the man while Path guarded the entrance and Elise started tinkering with the controls.

“I have to admit, Union pilots have guts,” I said.

“Thanks,” the pilot responded. “I think.”

“Unfortunately, your guts are going to spread all over the deployment ramp if I don’t get the code to start this ship,” I said.

“I think I’m going to vomit,” he said, swaying on the bench, the knuckles on his bound hands clenching until they turned white.

“It will be the last time,” I said. “Give me the code and I’ll leave you here for the Wallach authorities.”

“I could fly you to the UFS Nightmare,” he said weakly.

“Why would you do that?” I asked.

“Maybe Nebs would reward me for bringing you to him,” he said. “That’s what you’re trying to do, right. Get on the ship and try to assassinate him.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Apparently, you don’t think I can do it.”

“You haven’t met Nebs,” the pilot said.

* * *

The pilot’s name was Chuck or something less memorable. I couldn’t care less who he was or what type of game he was playing. There was a better option, nearly as desperate, but one that felt right.

Chuck got us off the planet and began to punch in a vector that would lead us to the Nightmare. Once that was done, I knew exactly where the capital ship was hiding itself regardless of its stealth cloak.

I put my gun to Chuck and said, “That will be all, you spineless traitor.”

He lifted his hands from the controls then froze. “Don’t kill me. I have to obey the vice admiral. You don’t understand what he’s like.”

“Path, put restraints on this man,” I said.

“Consider it done,” Path said, moving a bit slower from his wounds.

“Elise, get a hold of the Jellybird. I want to talk to Novasdaughter,” I said.

Elise smiled. “Good call, Reaper. I’ll have Tom get her ready.”

The wait was interminable, but I resisted all of my normal vices. This was my endgame and Nebs wasn’t going to win this time.

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when we docked with the Jellybird. The airlock opened and I saw a version of Lieutenant Amii Novasdaughter I hadn’t expected. She seemed relaxed but also full of determined energy.

“Did Tom explain what I wanted?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Are you in?” If she said no, I was going to have difficulty getting onto the Nightmare without falling into Nebs’s trap. That was always the problem with a counter trap. There was a serious risk of getting caught in the trap you were trying to beat.

“I’m in it to win it,” Novasdaughter said. “You’ve given me a lot of time to think. I’ve relived that day on the bridge thousands of times, but after meeting you face-to-face, things are different. I know the Union even better than you do, Reaper. I’ll help you get Nebs so he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Good. Let’s do this,” I said. “Tom, put Chuck in the brig.”

“My name isn’t Chuck,” the shuttle pilot said. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“At least one more,” I said shortly. “Tom, get him out of my sight. He bothers me.”

“Of course, Hal,” Tom said, aiming his sidearm at the new prisoner. “Let’s go. I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.”

When the airlock closed, Amii Novasdaughter took the shuttle controls and headed for the Nightmare.

“What is that guy’s name?” I asked her.

“No idea,” she said, then typed in the clearance code to land in the Nightmare’s hangar. Micro fighters docked on the outside of the ship, but each assault shuttle had a place on the internal flight line. “Don’t care. Some of the Nightmare’s crew will make the same decision I’ve made, but people like Randolph and... Chuck...will require other arrangements.”

“Great,” I said, my eyes on the UFS Nightmare.

We were all giddy with excitement by the time Novasdaughter landed perfectly. There was only one ship left in the hangar, the Lady Faith. The elegant ship looked dark and lonely at the end of the flight line.

“There are only two guards,” Elise observed, sounding surprised.

“Nebs threw everything he had at the power plant on Wallach,” I said. “He thought we would be unconscious when the shuttle landed.”

“What?” Elise asked. Even Path seem surprised at this news.

I looked at Novasdaughter. “Care to explain?”

“He would have gassed everyone in the chamber, including himself, then the remaining ship security could have taken everyone into custody, even the last Reaper.” She smiled dangerously. “I’m glad you remembered, Reaper. It makes me think I made the right choice switching sides.”

“What’s the plan?” Elise asked. “Take out these guards and rush the bridge to get Nebs?”

“No,” I said. “Let them open the door. It will be a rude surprise for them when they realize we’re awake and ready.”

* * *

Path and Elise stood on each side of the doorway, weapons ready. I waited with a cigar in one hand and my Reaper blade extended from the other.

The two soldiers entered and froze when they saw me. Path and Elise subdued them before they knew what had happened. There was a slight difference in their style. Path moved so smoothly into a restraint hold that I wasn’t sure his victim even knew he’d been captured.

Elise kicked her target in the back of one knee, then slammed him into the ground. A second later, she was kneeling on his stomach and pointing her sword at the vulnerable connection between the man’s neck armor and chest armor. “Don’t move. I just cleaned this sword and would rather not get blood on it.”

Novasdaughter joined me. “Sorry, guys, you’ll thank me later.”

“Go to hell, traitor,” one of the men said.

My new pilot flinched. She probably knew these men. Her childhood trauma had led her to where she was now, but she’d spent years working hard for the Union. Her dilemma made me think of Grady, my friend who died on Dreadmax while struggling with an equally difficult decision—betray a friend or betray the Union.

“We’ll need your uniforms and armor,” Novasdaughter finally said. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

I was impressed that they complied so quickly.

“It seems our new pilot has a reputation,” X-37 said. “It could be useful.”

“Elise and Novasdaughter will escort me to the bridge. Path, stay with the shuttle and be ready to come if I call for you,” I said. “We need to surprise him.”

“He’ll figure it out,” Novasdaughter said. “Elise and I are too small to pose as these guards.”

“It will work for a while. You’re the same size. If we use Elise and Path, he will see two guards escorting me who are suddenly different heights,” I said. “It’s time to roll the dice.”

Before long, Elise and Novasdaughter were escorting me toward a confrontation with Nebs. X-37 ran scenarios of how he would use his own LAI to kill us both. I was ready for anything, or so I thought.

We reached the bridge, and I expected him to gloat over my capture or possibly kill me outright. The door refused to open.

“What’s the problem, X?” I muttered, staring at my feet to hide the fact that I was talking to myself.

“It seems to General Karn and his CSL have taken matters into their own hands. They’ve requisitioned several assault ships and they are headed this way in force,” X-37 said. “Other Union assault ships have abandoned their attack on the power plant and are pursuing the stolen dropships toward the Nightmare.

“Damn,” I cursed. “Talk to me, Novasdaughter.”

“They won’t have the codes. Nebs will know they’re trying to board the Nightmare and kill him,” she said.

“X, get this door open,” I demanded.

“I’m doing my best, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said slowly. My LAI was focusing all of his processing power to cracking the door code.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Elise said. “We have him and his ship. You said it yourself, most of his soldiers went to the surface. Locke and his people will get here first. We’ve got this. We win.”

“He can leave anytime he wants,” Novasdaughter explained. “There is an escape pod built into the bridge.”

“X, get the door open!” I shouted.

“I am doing my best, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said shortly. “Locke and his attempt to infiltrate the Nightmare has been detected. They are shooting their way into the landing bay, which I must remind everyone is extremely dangerous.”

I punched the talk button. “Nebs, come out here and fight me like a man!”

The voice that answered sounded tired. “I should, Reaper. I’ve got some surprises for you that you won’t like. You’re clever. Smarter than I thought, but this won’t happen a second time. And you’ve doomed all of your friends. From this day forward, I’ll show no mercy.”

“Just get your ass out here. Let’s settle this,” I said.

“Lieutenant Novasdaughter, I order you to kill the last Reaper,” Nebs demanded.

“Go to hell, sir. And take the rest of the Union with you,” she answered.

I expected a response from Nebs but heard James Henshaw instead. “It’s about time you showed up, Mr. Cain. Would you like for me to open the door?”

“What the actual hell,” growled Nebs. “Henshaw, you better stop whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“Did you actually think you could hold me against my will? I don’t do confinement. We discussed this. I said I’d never be your prisoner again,” Henshaw said, his voice sounding strange through the intercom—like he was hijacking the ship’s maintenance programs again.

“Open the door, Jimmy. I’ve got a boss to kill,” I said.

“Right away, Mr. Cain,” Henshaw said. “Please stop calling me Jimmy.”

The door slid open.

I rushed through, but Novasdaughter grabbed the back of my armor, trying to pull me back.

“He’s launching his escape pod! Seal your helmet!” she ordered, then grabbed a safety tether from the wall and hooked us to it.

Elise, always quick to react, sealed her helmet and hooked herself to the wall as the escape pod blasted away, leaving an opening that vented atmosphere from the bridge. The entire back wall was gone.

Path flew past me. I grabbed him with my Reaper arm and dragged him back. “Where do you think you’re going, sword saint?”

Path’s answer was more breathless than I’d ever heard. “To my death, I imagine.”

Atmosphere continued to vent. The escape pod was intended to be used only if the ship was literally coming apart. We fought our way into the hallway and closed the door.

“That went well,” Elise said.

“I’m not in the mood, kid,” I said, pacing the hallway as I planned my next move.

“Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “There is a very short window of opportunity to steal the UFS Nightmare, save your friends, and rush fuel to the Bold Freedom.”

“I wanted Nebs,” I said.

“So you could torture the location of your mother and sister from him. I agree this would have been very helpful, but let’s not cry over spilled eggs.”

“Milk,” I corrected.

“Pardon?” X-37 asked.

“It’s cry over spilled milk, not eggs,” I said, distracted by about fifty decisions I had to make in the next three seconds.

“Of course, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “I shall update my vocabulary. In the meantime, I suggest you greet Locke and his commandos in the docking bay and prepare to defend the Nightmare from Archangels intent on retaking it.”

EPILOGUE

“Elise and Novasdaughter,” I ordered, “deal with the bridge. Hold it no matter what and try to get it sealed. Path, get Henshaw from the brig and take him to the bridge to help.”

“We’re on it,” Elise said.

Path hurried away from us without a word.

I ran to the landing bay where Locke and his troops were preparing their defenses. I’d expected to see his most elite troops but found a hodgepodge of soldiers, civilians, and technical workers from the power plant.

Locke greeted me with a soldier’s hand clasp. “I’m glad you made it, Cain. Sorry we’re late.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that his impromptu raid had spooked Vice Admiral Nebs and now we were going to have to hunt him across half the galaxy.

“You’re here now,” I said. “How much ship fighting have your people done?”

“Some more than others. I’m surprised there is gravity,” he said. “This should be easy compared to what we normally deal with during ship assaults. Not that we have done many against the Alon. We’re usually defending against their boarding parties.”

“X, did you get that?” I asked.

“I did, however, I doubt cutting the gravity would adversely affect soldiers of the Archangels’ caliber. It may not be their ideal fighting condition, but they will adapt quickly. As for the rest of the Union soldiers, that may be a different story,” X-37 answered.

“Okay, let’s keep this simple,” I said. “Locke, I need a team of your men to clear the ship. Make sure we don’t have any lurkers that weren’t sent down to the surface. Have the rest of your team start hardening our defenses in the landing bay. Be ready to repel boarders.”

“Right away, Cain. My people are on it,” Locke said.

“He’s deferring to your leadership,” X-37 said privately. “I had expected him to take control.”

“He must like my winning personality,” I said. “Henshaw, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Mr. Cain,” Henshaw said. “Would you like me to prevent the remaining Union shuttles from boarding?”

“How would you do that?” I asked. “They have the landing codes.”

“Novasdaughter assures me that if we head for the slip tunnel, the shuttles lack the speed or the range to follow,” Henshaw said.

“Are we stealing the Nightmare?” I asked.

“It seems that we are, Mr. Cain,” Henshaw said.

“I like it. Contact the Jellybird and have them meet us there. We need to get the fuel to the Bold Freedom as soon as possible,” I said.

“You may feel the engines engage,” Novasdaughter warned. “I am using the Nightmare’s point defense system to slow the Archangels’ ship assault. It will be close, but we’re going to slip away from them.”

“Perfect, Novasdaughter,” I said. “Glad to have you aboard. Elise, fill her in on what we’re doing for the Bold Freedom. She should appreciate the chance to help innocent people the Union tried to kill by the thousands.”

“She already explained the situation,” said Novasdaughter. “We’re leaving the Archangel assault ships behind. They will get picked up by the other carriers, as will Nebs. I wish we could go after him while he is vulnerable, but the Darklance and the Black Wing are already headed our way.”

Thoughts raced through my mind. Pain throbbed in places I didn’t know could register pain. “I’m disappointed Nebs is such a coward.”

“He’s not a coward,” Novasdaughter warned. “He’s smart. You won’t surprise him again and he will unleash hell on you and all of your friends.”

“Are you regretting your decision to join us?” I asked, wondering if Locke and the people of Wallach might be feeling the same doubts.

“Listen, Reaper, I wouldn’t have switched sides without a good reason,” she said.

“Revenge isn’t a good reason, trust me,” I said.

“That isn’t what convinced me to leave my friends and my career behind. You convinced me,” she said. “I see how far you will go to protect your friends. That matters. I’m with you and your weird little crew until the end.”

“Are you speechless, Reaper Cain?” X-37 answered when I didn’t respond.

“Let’s save the Bold Freedom,” I said. “Plot a course to the slip tunnel and let’s do this. Someone send Nebs a message to ponder while he waits to get picked up.”

“Please compose the message carefully, Reaper Cain. My advice is to craft an informative manifesto stating your intent to elude him indefinitely,” X-37 lectured. “Once you have the right words, I will deliver them to the vice admiral.”

“Mention he’s an asshole,” I said. “And if there’s time, tell him I have his ship.”

* * *

Amazon won’t always tell you about the next release. To stay updated on this series, be sure to sign up for our spam-free email list at jnchaney.com.

CAIN, LISE, and X-37 return in FLIGHT OF THE REAPER, available now on Amazon.

RENEGADE STAR UNIVERSE

The Renegade Star Universe

Click the titles below to reach the book’s Amazon page

The Renegade Star Series

They say the Earth is just a myth. Something to tell your children when you put them to sleep, the lost homeworld of humanity. Everyone knows it isn't real, though. It can't be.

But when Captain Jace Hughes encounters a nun with a mysterious piece of cargo and a bold secret, he soon discovers that everything he thought he knew about Earth is wrong. So very, very wrong.

Climb aboard The Renegade Star and assemble a crew, follow the clues, uncover the truth, and most importantly, try to stay alive.

The Last Reaper Series

When a high value scientist is taken hostage inside the galaxy's most dangerous prison, Halek Cain is the only man for the job.

The last remaining survivor of the Reaper program, Hal is an unstoppable force of fuel and madness. A veteran amputee-turned-cyborg, he has a history of violence and a talent for killing that is unmatched by any soldier.

With the promise of freedom as his only incentive, he’ll stop at nothing to earn back his life from the people who made him, imprisoned him, and were too afraid to let him die.

The Orion Colony Series

Humanity’s Exodus is about to begin.

When half of mankind revolts and demands more opportunity, those at the top decide on a compromise: they will build the first colony ships and allow those who are willing to discover new worlds to leave and start over.

Twelve ships are built, the first of which is called Orion. Many are eager to go, but only one hundred thousand are chosen for each vessel. Far from Earth, a new life awaits, and it promises the prosperity they’ve always wanted.

But still, resistance stirs, eager to sabotage this new expansion effort, threatening the promise of a new life. As Orion moves through the void of space, towards a distant world, its passengers must fight for survival in an unprecedented conflict.

Win or lose, their future will be forever changed.

The Fifth Column Series

After a soldier is left for dead, Eva Delgado's life begins to unravel.

The truth of what happened remains a mystery, and the government will stop at nothing to keep it buried.

Together with the unit's medic, Eva finds herself branded a terrorist and enemy of the State, hunted by two opposing governments.

When the pair uncover a plot that could have ramifications for the whole galaxy, they know they have to act, but it will take all of their training, cunning and just a bit of luck to do what no one else has achieved.

But what do you do when every secret begets another? And how far will you go to find the truth?

Nameless (Abigail’s Story)

Abigail and Clementine were just a couple of orphans looking for a home.

But when the two girls witness something terrible, they have no choice but to leave their orphanage and go into hiding. The only person willing to take them in is a man named Mulberry, but his home isn't the safest place for two innocent children.

Abigail and Clementine quickly discover that their new caretaker is the head of a guild of assassins, and the two are thrown into a whole new world of danger. To survive, they'll need to adapt, focus, and learn how to survive in a world of killers.

The Constable (Alphonse’s Story)

My name is Alphonse Malloy, and I see everything.

From a simple glance, I know your hobbies, what you ate for breakfast, how well you slept, and whether or not your wife is secretly seeing the high school biology teacher when you're not around.

I can't explain how or why I get these feelings, only that I know they're true.

All the little secrets you're too afraid to tell.

Sometimes, that means helping people. Other times, it means staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.

I wish I could tell you I was using this ability for good.

I wish I could tell you a lot of things.

* * *

The Constable Returns

Alphonse Malloy may just be the smartest man alive.

A year has passed since Alphonse joined the Constables, but his work is only just beginning. In order to graduate and achieve full Constable status, Alphonse will need to complete one final mission.

When new information about an old enemy arises, Al and his mentor Dorian must head deep into the Deadlands in search of answers.

But in a galaxy of secrets, the truth is often more elusive than it seems.

As the search continues, Alphonse's talents will be pushed to their absolute limit, and he'll need everything he's learned to make it out of this one alive.

Warrior Queen (Lucia’s Story)

On a lost world, far removed from Earth, a group of humans struggle to survive.

Two thousand years after their ancestors lost control of a hidden genetics research facility, the descendants of mankind have been reduced to a tribe of two hundred survivors. They fight, kill, and die in an endless cycle, all in the hope that things will get better.

Lucia is one of these colonists and the daughter of the tribe's leader, the Director. Together with several other candidates, she must soon undergo a trial to decide her father's replacement. The winner will shape the future of the entire colony.

But the trial is dangerous, meant to test each candidate's wits and strengths to see who is truly worthy. To claim victory, Lucia will need to venture out into the tunnels near the city to search for lost artifacts known as Cores--small but powerful devices capable of harnessing endless energy.

But there are monsters here, waiting in the dark, and they are always hungry. Beware the Boneclaw, Lucia's father use to tell her, for it lives only to kill and to feed.

Lucia must do whatever it takes, learn as much as she can, and fight with every ounce of strength if she hopes to make it through the day.

Forget winning the trial. The real challenge is staying alive.

Resonant Son Series

30 floors of nightmare fueled action. An ex-cop with nothing left to lose.

After losing his job and family, Flint Reed finds himself in the middle of a terrorist attack. With nothing but his wits and experience as a former Union police officer, he must do everything he can to stay alive.

As he soon discovers, however, there are also hostages, and no one is coming to save them.

All hope falls to Flint.

But as he fights to navigate the building, the real answers begin to unravel. What are the terrorists really after, and why are they so intent on getting into the vault?

Experience the beginning of the Resonant Son series. If you're a fan of Die Hard, Renegade Star, or the Last Reaper, you'll love this epic scifi thrill ride.

Galactic Law Series

Lethal force is authorized.

In the wild space of the Deadlands, Taurus Station is where miners and tourists come to play, and the ravager gangs follow close behind. Out here, far from the civilized world, the Law has a name.

Gage Walker is the son of hard-nosed asteroid miners. Brash, rough, and crude, he's one of the few deputies working the station.

Still a rookie, Walker is tasked with the security of a mining magnate's daughter, an easy job that quickly takes a turn for the worst.

The ravager gangs want her, and it falls to Walker to find out why.

In a chase across Taurus Station, Deputy Walker must prove he's fit to wear the badge and issue his own form of justice...one body at a time.

Deadland Drifter Series

When a dental appointment goes sideways, former Union Operative Jack Burner wakes to find himself drugged, and imprisoned.

And he's given a choice: assassinate an Admiral... or allow himself to be killed.

With no other option, Jack reluctantly accepts the mission, only to find himself being trailed by a mysterious blonde woman... and she may or may not want him dead.

As if dealing with a terrorist group wasn't enough.

With the fate of the Admiral and thousands of lives on hanging in the balance, Jack stands in the middle of an event that could ignite a war on the edge of the Deadlands and Union Space.

Despite his exceptional abilities, training, and tenancy, even Jack has little to no chance of preventing this particular powder keg from exploding.

He's going to need a miracle.

Join the conversation and get updates on new and upcoming releases in the awesomely active Facebook group, “JN Chaney’s Renegade Readers.”

This is a hotspot where readers come together and share their lives and interests, discuss the series, and speak directly to J.N. Chaney and his co-authors.

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Scott Moon

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THANK YOU TO OUR AWESOME BETA READERS.

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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

J. N. Chaney is a USA Today Bestselling author and has a Master's of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. He fancies himself quite the Super Mario Bros. fan. When he isn’t writing or gaming, you can find him online at www.jnchaney.com.

He migrates often, but was last seen in Las Vegas, NV. Any sightings should be reported, as they are rare.

* * *

Scott Moon has been writing fantasy, science fiction, and urban fantasy since he was a kid. When not reading, writing, or spending time with his awesome family, he enjoys playing the guitar or learning Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. He loves dogs and plans to have a ranch full of them when he makes it big. One will be a Rottweiler named Frodo. He is also a co-host of the popular Keystroke Medium show. You can find him online at http://www.scottmoonwriter.com