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.”

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