23


“I have a further recommendation, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.
“I’m sure you do.” I rummaged through my locker until I found my backup repair kit, checked to be sure I still had Glandarian silicon beads, and tucked the slim case into my new-to-me jacket.
I strode toward the deployment ramp, wishing I had armor like the mysterious Reaper. All I had at this point was the handgun Frank had given me. It was a large caliber weapon, .45 inches, one of the more archaic measurement systems nobody really understood, and held seven rounds—eight if I added one in the chamber after racking up the first time and flipping on the safety.
“What’s your recommendation, and don't tell me to get some sleep,” I said.
“Please disregard, then,” X-37 said.
The jacket only reached my mid thighs, leaving less options for weapons concealment. It also had a stale odor from being in storage. I didn't know who the prior owner had been, but we had the same love of cigars.
I fished in the pockets and was pleased to find a prize in the front. The tobacco inside the dark brown paper was dry, crumbly, and falling apart. Rolling it between my palms compacted it a bit. I examined my work and shrugged. The paper smoked too much—actually throwing sparks for a second—when I finally lit it, but it was something.
Without a proper holster, I had limited options for carrying the .45. The weapon was a bit flashy, the chrome slide covered in scrollwork. Pearl inlays decorated the grips.
It was a show gun, a family heirloom most likely. But it had its good points. There was a distinct grip that fit well with my hand and the sights were beefed up to make it easier to acquire a target in a close fight. The trigger had also been worked on and felt smooth.
I tucked it through my belt, then slid it to my back. Before I left the ship, I practiced sweeping open the jacket and drawing it a few times.
For this type of weapon, I preferred to use my right hand. Sensitivity was greater with my organic parts and I wanted to make every shot count if I had to fight.
Was I prepared to face a strange Reaper wearing KFA?
Not even close, but I'd make it work.
“Do you have updates on Elise or her captor?” I said aloud, sitting on a bench despite wanting to rush back into the city and begin searching.
“We are still monitoring police radios and media releases,” X-37 said. “It seems they have no leads. Their public information office is also promising a thorough investigation and inevitable apprehension of the suspect, but my analysis suggests this is just meant to appease the public.”
“What about the Union?” I asked.
“They have one lightly armed transport freighter in the system,” Jelly said. “X-37 has informed me that this is a standard operating procedure for special missions. I've done a larger analysis of the system, however, and found no military support craft should they fall victim to pirates or renegades. We've agreed that this means their mission is more secretive than normal.”
“Could be useful information when we leave the system,” I acknowledged.
“As for locating Elise, we have no further clues except for one. There is a dead zone near section 32 of the First Intergalactic Spaceport Corporation. The FISC handles all industrial transportation. While not the ideal departure point from Greendale, it is possible that someone tried to avoid Union scrutiny and attempted to stowaway on one of the larger vessels.”
“If I were Briggs, the FISC hub would probably be my base of operations on Greendale,” I said. “Have you identified the unidentified soldier?”
“Based on compressed photo archives from your own Reaper nerve-ware, that is Byron Thane—believed to have been killed in action five years ago,” X-37 said.
I hadn't expected there to be an identification database for the Reapers. Until recently, I thought my nerve-ware was the sole remaining record that existed. Identification matrixes, however, had been very important to the Reaper Corps. A significant amount of my data storage was taken up by compressed mugshots.
“That confirms what I saw, but is there other evidence?” I asked.
“It will take several weeks for a detailed analysis, but my initial opinion of the way this individual moves and operates is that this is not Byron Thane. He could be a close relation, most likely a son, or a clone,” X-37 explained.
“Reapers don't have kids. The background checks were extensive and I never met any member of the RC who thought bringing more kids into this galaxy was a good idea,” I said.
“That suggests a clone is more likely, despite no known cloning facility in operation,” X-37 said.
“I'm heading to the FISC. Keep me updated,” I said, then left the Jellybird.
* * *
Fighting through the galaxy as the last surviving Reaper with the entire Union and most of humanity out to get me wasn't all exciting close quarter combat and gun battles. Most of it was tedious legwork, like keeping surveillance on an industrial launch pad and hoping for a lead. If this didn't work, I was going to have to start over and that meant violating my promise to Frank and his family.
My position was good but not perfect. I'd chosen to remain at street level to avoid being silhouetted against the city lights. Like the residential area Frank lived in, this part of Zag City had the minimum amount of illumination. If I went across the rooftops, I could be seen silhouetted against the sparkling downtown in the distance.
I was getting used to the big city nights, even if I could never participate in the festivities. Partying had never been my style. I didn't miss it. For now, I was content to watch other people live normal lives if that was what they were doing, drinking and drugging themselves to death while in search of high-risk sexual partners.
Maintaining the high ground did have advantages in many situations. Before long, I felt someone watching me and understood my nemesis had also chosen that option. Though I wasn't sure how he could carry Elise and navigate the upper levels of the city, which would sometimes require him to jump from building to building.
“Perhaps you should have overcome your fear of heights, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.
A memory of crossing one of the maintenance trenches on Dreadmax caused me to shudder. “I'm not afraid of heights, I'm just smart.”
“Was that sarcasm or denial?” X-37 asked.
“Whatever,” I said, distracted. I could feel eyes on me and cast a casual glance around looking for whoever was watching me. I'd known the mysterious Reaper, especially if he was Byron Thane, would take the high ground because Byron knew of my aversion to high places. So I'd been watching for just such a tactic.
Surprising me, even in this environment, should've been impossible. “What's the chance this guy has switched out his KFA for one of the stealth armor prototypes?”
I saw the blur of his silhouette on a fire escape above me as the words left my mouth.
“It's about time you saw me,” the Reaper said, his voice more natural but still muffled by his gear. “I was told you always did have your head in the clouds, Cain.”
“Where is Elise?” I asked.
“She's okay,” the man said. “I wouldn’t do anything to her.”
I noticed something about his voice, the rhythm of his words. Talking about the young woman made him uncomfortable.
“Why shouldn't I have engaged that sniper? I was always the best marksman in the Reaper Corps,” he said.
His voice was low and probing with an intensity that suggested he really wanted to know my opinion. That wasn't like the Byron Thane I remembered. The man had been the most arrogant person I knew and that was saying a lot.
A thought occurred to me. X-37 and Jelly believed the imposter could be an illegitimate son posing to be the father or a clone, but I had a different theory. Elise’s father, Doctor Hastings, had been conducting Lex-tech experiments.
Byron Thane might've been healed and had his second arm replaced by combining Reaper technology and Lex-tech. There were several gaps in the theory, but I didn't know the research and discovery timeline or what they had found before the girl went missing.
“I told you why. It was an obvious trap. The sniper had likely been there for days, with perfect shots lined up for every contingency. You were reacting out of instinct and only drew fire,” I said, watching him carefully.
The stealth cloak made it tricky to evaluate his nonverbal language. The pauses between questions were informative. Whoever this imposter was, he was thinking deeply and was troubled by what he was discovering.
“Where is the girl?” I asked. “You know they'll never pay the bounty, right? The minute you turn her over, they will kill you or throw you in prison.”
“You're lying, but don't worry. I’ve decided not to give her to the Union,” he said. “I heard Fratley Oxanos pays well and is reasonably trustworthy, so far as it goes with his kind.”
“I heard he’s an asshole,” I said.
“He is, but he pays well,” the stranger said. “Better yet, Oxanos says he just needs information from her. I can keep her for myself when he’s done, if she’s still alive.”
His words caused my Reaper nerve-ware to tingle.
“That doesn't work for me,” I said.
“I don't care if it works for you!” he growled at me almost petulantly. With visible effort, he calmed himself, the blurred outline of his image shifting from foot to foot where he squatted on the ledge above me. “You don't want to fight me. I've got fully functioning gear and better armor. I've been training the entire time you were in prison. Come after me, and you'll die. This is your only warning.”
With that, he was gone.
“It would've been useful for you to inquire where he was keeping Elise hidden,” X-37 said.
“Piss off, X,” I muttered, then carefully left the area. “He thinks he has the upper hand.”
“I see,” X-37 said. “He probably assumes that because he is un-injured, possesses better armor and weapons, and knows everything about you while you know nothing about him, it gives him the advantage.”
“Sometimes I hate you, X,” I said.
“You've said this many times, but I don't believe you,” X-37 said.