22

We were turning away from the gas giant and its ice rings when the Jellybird’s holo display showed a slip tunnel barfing out a Union ship on the other side of the system.

“Jelly, what the hell is that?” I asked.

"That is a Union vessel, unknown class, possible a small carrier ship," Jelly informed me. “The basic shape and power signature are the same, but I have never seen one like this.”

The image was grainy as though something was interfering with the holo projection. I thought the shape resembled a carrier, but it was too small, according to the metrics Jelly was putting on the screen. There were no other ships around it like there would be if this were an entire battle group.

Tom stared in wonderment. "I've never seen anything like that, but the concept is brilliant."

"Tell me what I'm missing," I said.

"You can't just look at the images. Try correlating what you see with the statistical information Jelly has displayed," Tom explained, guiding me in his way to the answer.

I reviewed the numbers and made some inferences. "That carrier has smaller ships lamprey-ed all over its surface. That must reduce its necessary size significantly," I said.

Something wasn't right. I manipulated the images on my holo-screen, turning them this way and that. "How big are the fighters this new design is carrying on its back?" I asked.

This time, X-37 answered. "Actually, Reaper Cain, the smaller ships are not just on the carrier’s back. The entire surface of the mothership has mooring clamps. The fighters are one-third the size of a normal direct combat craft, which gives them almost no range and very little firepower.”

"That is my analysis as well," Jelly stated. "She'll have no range and very little ability to affect more than a small cross-section of this system."

"The strength of a force is relative. This isn't a battle carrier, it's a spec ops carrier. They're here to do commando missions. And compared to what we deployed with in my day, they are going to be like an eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room."

"Am I the only one that thinks we should be freaking out right now? You know, making a run for it," Elise ventured. "There has to be another slip tunnel in the system. I haven't stayed ahead of the Union for this long by fighting against impossible odds."

I shook my head. "Let's get an estimate on how fast it is before we start running. It won't do us any good to bolt if we’re just going to get run down. Whatever this thing is, it's new and that probably means it has the best of everything. All the latest and greatest tech."

"What are your orders, Captain?" Jelly asked.

"Head for the third facility. It's closer to an intercept course with the newcomers than I would like, but I don't see a better option. Elise did bring up a good point,” I admitted. “Are there other slip tunnel openings in the system?" I asked.

Jelly answered promptly. "There are two, but they are several weeks’ travel at our best speed. If the Union warship is even slightly faster than us, this could present a problem."

"Maintain an up-to-date course to each of the available slip tunnels, including the one the Union just came through. We might have to change course at a moment’s notice," I said, convinced we were finally on the right track. If the Union was showing up to stop us from going to the third station, there was a pretty good chance that was where we needed to be.

Elise looked unhappy but didn't argue. Tom didn't seem to have an opinion and was busily working through data and making notes. Path was on the observation deck meditating, and Henshaw was doing whatever he did by himself in his yacht.

My mind drifted. I had picked up two unreliable characters. They had a lot to offer, but I didn't trust them any more than I trusted anyone. For now, they’d better hope they didn't endanger Elise or Tom.

"I recommend you get some rest. There will be several hours of downtime as we begin our travel," X-37 said.

"Good call," I said, remembering the old soldier’s mantra about sleeping whenever possible. “But I’m pretty wound up. Might be awhile before I can shut down.”

"I can take the bridge," Tom offered, responding to what X-37 had said on the bridge comms.

"Then she's all yours," I said to Tom. The sight of the Union ship had my blood up. I was full of energy and wanted to exercise. I looked at Elise. "Are you up for a workout?"

"Why don't you just let your sword saint bonk you on the head some more?" she joked, then doubled down on her sarcasm. "Or have you forgiven him?"

"You don't know that much about Reapers," I said. "I don't hold needless vendettas because they take too much energy. Or I try not to.”

“Could have fooled me,” she shot back.

I crossed my arms, staring down at her ready for a discussion. “I’m a professional.”

“Clearly,” she said, not sounding like that was what she meant. “A professional at holding vendettas.”

“I just remember who needs to die and why. And then I make that happen. There’s a difference," I said as though I’d won the argument.

"Why can't I be a Reaper?" she asked, suddenly looking serious.

"I'm not even going to answer that. Even if the technology was available, I wouldn't let you do it," I said, just as serious. "Be something else. Be something better than that."

"I will," she asserted, standing ready for action, everything about her tone and her posture seeming like a challenge to my challenge.

"Let's get to the gym and warm up, then we can go over some firearms basics and hand-to-hand stuff. You need to be able to hold on to your weapon and still hit people with the other hand," I asserted.

For once, she didn’t have a snappy comeback and we strode to the gym in high spirits. I wasn't sure why, but I knew better than to take it for granted.

"You should try the mask again," she said, probably just making conversation.

"We'll see," I said.

* * *

When we were done with our training session, I sought Path but couldn't find him. Jelly eventually advised me that he had gone to his quarters to sleep.

"Any progress on the speed of the Union ship?" I asked.

"Unknown, but they are slowing for the first debris field,” remarked X. “It shouldn't take them as long to process the available data."

"Agreed. Will they catch us before we reach the third facility?" I asked.

"We have some time,” X-37 said.

"Great. I'm going to sleep and then grabbing some breakfast," I said.

"An excellent choice, Reaper Cain," X-37 said. "The rest of us will just continue to work."

I laughed and went to my room. It was small and plain, not a place I’d spent a lot of time when I wasn’t sleeping or grooming. Once the lights were off, I went right out, spiraling down into the land of dreams like an out-of-control void fighter.

Remembering the dark places my mind went during sleep was difficult, and for that, I was thankful. Choosing to focus on one memory or another could be controlled or at least managed. Dreams and nightmares, by contrast, always started the same.

I was always prowling the lowest level of Night City with my crew. We were like our own small gang, except the crimes we committed were laughable — underage drinking, loitering, and petty larceny if there was something we just had to have and couldn't pay for.

None of us ever said our comparatively upstanding moral code was to respect the hard-working people in our neighborhood. We were tough enough to steal from whomever we wanted, but I could never look at a shop owner in the eyes once I’d robbed him.

Not back then, before I became a Reaper.

The landscape changed as I slept more deeply, picking up traits from current events and mixing them into my old life. Then the buildings became cliffs, or nebulas, or black holes that sucked in light and souls in the way only a dream mind could see.

I separated from my friends, wandering alleys, and finishing off one last bottle of cheap brew. It was late, I was tired, and the only people still out were either up to no good or had no choice but to live on the street.

This was a sad place, but it was also warm. I'd been at peace—or close enough to it—during those rambling walkabouts, not ready to go home but without any place to be.

The dream changed and I tried to wake up. Sand blew in from beyond the city barriers, stinging my eyes and fingertips at first but then flowing like an unstoppable river. Vehicles and portable kiosks that had been stowed near the alleyways were swept away and destroyed.

Not long after that, it seemed as though the city had never been there and only part of me cared to remember it.

"They say you should never look back, but that's a lie," a familiar voice in my head whispered.

I could see the speaker, even though I knew this was impossible. X-37 appeared as a younger professional, perhaps in his late twenties. He wore a meticulously pressed civilian uniform with a wide vertical stripe.

"We're going to have to agree to disagree on that one," I said. "If I look back, I might as well quit now."

"There are some things you should remember, like your mother. She's still out there,” he said, gesturing to the ever-changing landscape around us. “I'm just a limited artificial intelligence, but even I can infer that she needs you."

"Well, where is she? Let's go," my dream self spat out, even more of a jerk than normal.

The extraordinarily helpful dream assistant disappeared as though he'd never been there. Because he hadn't. I wasn't even there. These were just random brain waves and my guilt from too many missions gone horribly wrong.

I woke up in the exact same position I had lain down in. Bracing myself for a flash of pain from my left arm and a wave of static from my eye, I realized neither of those things were happening.

"Progress," I said.

"Problem?" X-37 asked.

I climbed out of bed and started getting cleaned up. "Yeah. You're a shitty dream guide. Next time, why don’t you actually do something useful like show me some magic secrets or something."

"What exactly are you talking about, Reaper Cain?" X-37 asked.

"Nothing. Forget it," I said, looking at the time. "Did you wake me up?"

"I did," X-37 said. "There has been a development."

"Station three?" I asked, trying to remember the estimated time of arrival calculations we made before I'd racked out.

"No, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. "Elise and Path are in the training room."

I threw on my clothes and headed into the hallway, cursing under my breath. "What the actual fuck? Why didn't you wake me up before they killed each other?"

"They haven't killed each other," X-37 said.

"You know what I mean. We're still in the middle of a mission. I can't let them go at each other and have someone get hurt," I said.

Jelly either couldn't or wouldn't give me any updates, so I ran down the narrow hallway until I reached the room we had converted to a sparring and exercise room. "Jelly, I've had just about enough of your shit. Open the door."

"Elise and Mr. Paavo requested that they not be interrupted," Jelly said.

"To hell with that!" I pounded my fist on the door. "Open up right now! I swear I'll kill both of you if you killed each other! We're still on a mission.”

"Please calm down, Captain. I'm opening the door now," Jelly promised.

The door slid sideways and I rushed in—stopping when I saw which way the action was going.

Elise drove Path backward with a flurry of slashing lunges. She had a wild look in her eyes, color filling her cheeks, and sweat dripping from her hair. When she spun to dodge one of his counterattacks, she sprayed me with droplets.

Path sidestepped her, parrying her latest attack and shoving her toward the wall.

Elise caught herself before the collision and turned, pushing off the wall with one foot to launch herself at the psychedelic sword saint.

I crossed my arms as she chased him round and round the room. Finally, they stopped. She leaned on her knees and panted, which I knew was a big deal, because I had tried to match strides with her on the treadmill and had never been able to do it. They'd been at this for a while.

"Feel better?" I asked.

"Sure," she said, probably meaning anything but what she said.

"Learn to compartmentalize it. Put it away. Save it until you need it. There will be a time and a place for a reckoning, and this isn't it. I don't trust Path, but I also understand his claim," I said. “He believes you need to learn to fight.”

The man in question approached, tucking his practice weapon behind him, locking eyes with me. "It's been a while since you and I crossed practice swords."

"Don't push your luck, mystic," I said. "We're getting close to the third station. It needs to be a hit-and-run mission. Grab whatever we can and get out before the Union gets here. Both of you get cleaned up and meet me on the bridge."

"Yes, Captain," Elise said haughtily, twisting the words so it sounded like I was doing her a favor rather than her obeying an order. Because, teenager.

“X, have we made any progress on what we recovered from the second station?” I asked once I was away from Elise and Path.

“We’re working on it, Reaper Cain,” X-37 promised.

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