3


I’d seen a fleet assemble before, but not like this. This wasn’t a Union armada on its way to destroy enemies and conquer new worlds, this was a ragtag collection of transports and out-of-date warships moving people toward hope.
The exceptions were the Nightmare and the Bright Lance. It was these state-of-the-art Union stealth ships, carrier-class vessels designed for long-range missions, that would give us a fighting chance if we were attacked.
I spent most of my time on the Bright Lance of Xad. That’s where my mother and sister were still in cryo-pods. The Jellybird and some of my best friends—people I didn’t deserve to know—stayed close and ready to take me where I needed to go within the fleet.
As a Reaper, I felt like I was semi-retired, not having a mission that involved violence, interrogation, or secrecy. That was best for everyone, but I was bored as hell. My intellectual dueling with Doctor Ayers only relieved part of my restlessness.
“You can’t smoke on the bridge,” said Cynthia Thomas Younger of Xad, the captain of the Bright Lance. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that, Reaper.”
I held the cigar ready but didn’t light it, while towering over her, shrugging. “Sorry. You’re right. Rules are rules.”
She was a small woman, and I was a big man. X-37 advised me many times not to think this meant anything in terms of absolute power.
She possessed a lot of it. Brion Rejon, the leader of Xad, appointed her with the approval of the Xad Council. She’d taken command of the Bright Lance and made sweeping changes. Everyone seemed to like her firm but fair style. Even some Union turncoats took oaths to follow her orders—and were paired with capable soldiers loyal to Younger until they were vetted.
The woman was the polar opposite of Vice Admiral Nebs, the man who led this fleet out here where we defeated him.
Captain Younger stepped away from me then faced the main holo display. “XO, are the fleets aligned?”
Commander Bernard Gile shifted uncomfortably in his uniform that lacked patches or rank insignia. The people of Xad, including their military, had been scavengers for hundreds of years. Repurposed items were commonplace. This uniform, by contrast, was fresh out of the ship’s fabric recycler and was stiff with newness.
Commander Gile was fit and very young for his rank. I was skeptical of him and many other Xad fleet officers. Rejon explained they were a special class—individuals dedicated to learning ship operations from simulators and the few functioning large vessels they cobbled together over the years. Basically, they grew up on holo games, rigorous schooling, and military discipline.
Xad Star was a dangerous system, a forgotten nexus of slip tunnels where hostile forces converged to gain resources and subjugate anyone who opposed them. It hadn’t just been the Union. There were other dangers in the galaxy, including the Alon—enemies to both the people of the Xad and Wallach systems.
Gile was a very serious, very professional young man. “Yes, Captain, the fleets are aligned perfectly. It took a great deal of negotiation with the Wallach ship drivers, but we managed.”
Captain Younger nodded with her arms crossed, aware of all that had transpired but wishing for her young protégé to articulate his report. “They do things differently, don’t they?”
“Yes, Captain,” Gile said. “In time, we can teach them all the secrets of surviving in space.”
I watched them and the other bridge crew officer discuss ship order, slip tunnel approach, and standard operating procedures.
“Are you bored, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked.
“Yeah. You can tell that?” I asked.
“You know that I can,” my LAI said. “It would be an insult to my very existence if I lacked the ability to monitor your moods, and if I could take offense I would. Would you like me to reactivate my hurt feelings simulator protocol?”
“No, unless it’s necessary for your overall functioning and interaction with humans,” I said, cringing at the memory of that LAI experiment.
The limited artificial intelligence was woven into my nerve-ware at a molecular level. He could communicate with me privately, or use various methods to speak to my friends on a public channel. I upgraded his software whenever possible, which these days meant the LAI constantly worked with Jelly or Henshaw to improve his efficiency. The AI of the Bright Lance, Mavis, was also proving to be more helpful than her counterpart on the Nightmare, Necron. The system resets that came after Nebs died affected each of the ships differently.
“Why are you standing here, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked.
I exhaled roughly, aware that this was something Elise and others often took as a warning sign I was in a mood. I hadn’t realized I was anything but bored. “For starters, I’m frustrated that we haven’t figured out the cryo-prisons yet. You’re the one that keeps telling me I can’t sleep on the floor of the medical bay where they are keeping my family.”
“Sleeping on the floor is bad for your back and the foldout cot is too short,” X-37 said. “I suggest you spend more time training with Elise and take better care of yourself.”
“All she does is attempt to integrate her Archangel armor with her micro-fighter,” I said.
“Or perhaps you might arrange a meeting with Tom on the observation deck for whiskey and cigar time,” X-37 suggested, ignoring my arguments.
“He hasn’t stopped working since we launched the Xad fleet,” I pointed out.
“Then spar with Path and improve your blade skills,” X-37 offered, as patient as a machine.
I looked at the ceiling with just my eyes, an expression I needed to stop doing around Elise, because she always called me out on it—usually with a sharp suggestion to act my age and stop stealing her teenage thunder. “I’m tired of getting hit on the head, X. Are you trying to get me knocked unconscious?”
“You have an 11.3% chance of rendering yourself unconscious despite the fact that we are not on a mission,” X-37 said. “I ran this figure several times to be sure. I suspect there may be an error in my calculation, as I did not account for inebriation, only blunt force trauma from training or fighting.”
The activity on the bridge of the Bright Lance focused to a single moment. Brion Rejon, Leader of Xad, entered and took his place near Captain Younger.
“We are ready to begin the slip tunnel transit,” she said. “This is a momentous day. What will be our destination?”
“Hail the Spirit of Wallach,” Rejon ordered.
“We have a connection, sir,” Commander Gile said.
President Amanda Coronas of Wallach came into view, looking as presidential as ever. It had been a while since I’d seen her in person. The memory made me smile. I had smoked a cigar in her palace, which tradition required her to reciprocate. This was a big deal on Wallach—exploding through their social networks like the scandal of the decade.
All the leaders made appropriate greetings, observing formalities necessary between the two leaders.
“It seems like it’s been a long time, Halek Cain,” Coronas said. “My advisors have informed me that you wish to go to a location identified as Macabre.”
All of this had already been discussed ad nauseum. Everyone knew where we were going. I was getting tired of the dog and pony show but liked Coronas too much to give her a hard time. “Going there will be the best thing for the fleet.”
Coronas consulted her officers and advisors before turning back to me. “Very well, Reaper. We’ll plot a course based on the minimal information we have in this region of the galaxy.”
“Thanks, Mrs. President,” I said, then gave them some space.
“I would feel much better about this if you were scouting the slip tunnel with the Jellybird,” X-37 said.
“They need to do it themselves,” I said. “That’s not my job.”
“Of course not,” X-37 said.
“Don’t start with me, X.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Reaper Cain. However, I must point out that many lives are at stake,” X-37 said.
I knew what my digital friend was getting at. The leaders of both peoples had offered me jobs, a combination of scout, guardian, and mentor role with full honor, pay, and benefits—something I hadn’t thought about for a very long time.
The situation was surreal. Not once did they imply that they might need me to fix a problem my actual training had prepared me for. They were treating me like a normal soldier, not a cybernetically enhanced freak that was only good at one thing.
Six corvette class cruisers of Wallach approached the slip tunnel opening. Over the last week, Xad ship soldiers had joined their crews as part of a joint operating agreement. After generations of living, fighting, and salvaging in space, the Xad fighters were uniquely qualified to serve in this capacity. They were tough and creative, and they valued teamwork during a crisis.
Their skill and bravery were what turned the tide against Nebs, who should have destroyed us with his superior technology and veteran warfighters.
I watched the half dozen ships disappear and wished I was with them. X-37 and I both knew the real reason I wasn’t going. My family might not wake up from whatever Nebs had ordered Doctor Ayers to do to them, and I needed to be here.
“Captain, if I’m not needed on the bridge, I would like to attend to other matters of importance,” I said, mimicking their formal way of speaking in the Xad fleet. For a civilization of scavengers, they maintained a lot of formalities.
“Of course,” Captain Younger said, dismissing me politely.
In the hallway, I let some of my frustration show—striding forward, clenching and unclenching my fists. “Let’s review the situation with Ayers. He needs to understand that if we don’t find the codes to awaken my mother and sister, he better magic up a better solution or get Reaped.”
“Would you like me to send a holo of some of your more creative kills?” X-37 said. “Perhaps that has been missing during our previous attempts to communicate with Ayers. He needs to fear the Reaper.”
“I like where your head is at, X, but that’s psychotic even for me,” I said. “Let’s try another round of directed conversation. I don’t want to scare the man too badly and risk losing the chance to get my family back.”
* * *
I called Henshaw on my way to the cell where we were holding Doctor Ayers. “Are you still on board Bright Lance?”
“I am, Reaper,” Henshaw said. “It’s the most interesting ship in the fleet right now, and Captain Younger has been kind enough to allow me to park the Lady Faith on her flight deck while we are in the slip tunnel.”
“Are you with the Lady now? I’m heading to talk to Doctor Ayers in his cell,” I said.
“I’m on my way,” Henshaw said. “To be honest, I can’t stop thinking about the man’s theories. Tom and I spent most of last night comparing notes from our research. As your LAI would say, proving the existence of aliens has been attempted over a dozen times since the Union was formed. I never realized humans were so obsessed with the existence of life in the galaxy.”
“Really?” I said. “If we’ve tried this DNA trick before, why hasn’t it worked?”
“None of the alien DNA samples were actually from alien races, which is a very interesting discovery in its own right,” Henshaw said, sounding a lot like Tom—his voice full of naive wonder.
The ocular engineer couldn’t resist a new challenge like this. He’d done things in his career to gain access to technology available nowhere else. I didn’t think he regretted working for people like Nebs, even if he eventually did the right thing.
I understood Henshaw. His world was an ordered place, so well ordered that his subconscious rebelled to keep a healthy balance—prompting him to gamble just to introduce a little chaos into his reasoned mind. X-37 had explained I did the same thing, but I vented my frustrations by nearly getting myself killed and taking on lost causes.
“Get Bug on the line,” I said.
A moment later, X-37 explained the kid was sleeping in front of his computer, cheese crackers spilled in his lap. “He seems to be taking his job to watch Ayers very seriously.”
“We can’t have him falling asleep,” I thought out loud. “Is there anyone he can split shifts with?”
“I have suggested this to him, but he is resistant to the idea,” X-37 said.
“Figure something out, X. This is going to bite us in the ass. For now, wake him up and put him to work,” I said.
“Right away, Reaper Cain.”
I arrived at the brig first, greeted the guard by name, and was admitted to the high-security area for this type of prisoner. When I had the place to myself, I dimmed the lights. There was a reason I waited hours or even days between my attempts to interrogate Doctor Ayers.
The man was as thoroughly insane as anyone I’d ever encountered, and in a completely unique way. There was no questioning his conviction in what he believed. It was almost like he saw humans, including himself, as a historical footnote to something far greater. As in empires of strange alien conquerors different.
He didn’t allude to that belief often, but when he did it filled my nightmares with dire possibilities. He provided detailed reports on DNA that X-37 didn’t locate in any database. No amount of questioning could get him to disclose where the Union had obtained the petrified samples.
Henshaw arrived, stepping into the darkened room and looking around. Both of his eyes were artificial. In the dimness, the lights that rotated around his pupils were more pronounced. One circled clockwise and the other counterclockwise. He’d never admitted to doing this on purpose, but I wondered if it wasn’t more for aesthetics than because it was actually necessary for proper functioning of his optical enhancements.
What did I know? I was just a Reaper with a heart of gold.
“What are you laughing at, Reaper Cain?” X-37 asked. “This seems to be an inappropriate time for humor. And if I may point out, you are keeping very unique company.”
“Don’t worry about it, X. Sometimes I crack myself up.” Explaining my funny bone to my LAI wasn’t worth the effort.
“Are you going to talk to your LAI the whole time we’re here?” Henshaw asked, annoyed.
“You have an LAI,” I countered.
Henshaw, who I had originally contacted to fix my left eye, was supported by his own limited artificial intelligence. It was a rudimentary unit that might or might not be some sort of high-level do-it-yourself job. Of course with Henshaw, that meant something entirely different from most people.
“I don’t talk to mine like you do, and I never uploaded a personality profile,” Henshaw said. “It is just a tool for me.”
“Well good for you,” I said. “Do you think that Doctor Ayers has an LAI?”
Henshaw considered this for a moment, crossing his arms so that he could hold his chin in the fingers of one hand. “I don’t think so. But now that you bring the subject up, that’s based on a hunch or even worse, an assumption.”
“Before you ask, Reaper Cain, I am not able to directly scan the prisoner,” X-37 said. “I am running an analysis of our past interactions with the doctor, looking for clues in his speech pattern or behaviors. Thus far, I have found nothing of interest on the subject.”
“Why not ask him?” Henshaw asked.
I went to the door without responding. Henshaw didn’t seem to take offense, possibly because I hadn’t meant anything and we had been working together for a while now. Did either of us trust each other? More than we used to, but he was a skeptic and I was a Reaper.
The two of us traversed the short hallway to Doctor Ayers’s cell. Neither of us spoke when we moved into the man’s living space—which was gloomier than the hospital room he’d been in prior to this.
He stood at the very back of the small cell practically bouncing with nervous energy. I’d seen this before. His moods and his energy levels were often erratic. I thought he looked like there were too many big ideas bouncing around inside his head.
“When can I resume my research?” he asked.
“Which research are you talking about this time?” I asked, somewhat annoyed he jumped ahead on the expected dialogue.
“I’ve explained to you many times that this galaxy wasn’t meant for humans,” he said. “The cryo-pod prisons are not research, just a tactic Nebs used.”
“That you helped him use,” I didn’t raise my voice or attempt to be menacing. We’d been through this dance dozens of times by now.
“I had no choice,” he said. “They will be fine once we get what we need from Macabre.”
“They better be more than fine,” I said.
“You are a very tedious man, Reaper,” Ayers said, ignoring Henshaw completely.
I stepped back, faced away from Ayers, and conferred with X-37.
“Doctor Ayers has made one hundred and ninety-two references to the existence of nonhuman aliens during your past interaction with him,” X-37 said. “Statistically, that is significantly higher than should be noted in any rational conversation. He has never seemed concerned for the welfare of your family or other individuals stuck in the cryo-pods. We need to see what is in the vault.”
Stepping past Henshaw, I leaned into my prisoner’s personal space. “Actually, Ayers, we’re just here to call your bluff.”
Doctor Ayers stopped jittering and locked his gaze on mine. “And what bluff would that be, Reaper?”
The distinct feeling the man was several steps ahead of me in this conversation was disturbing. “We’re on our way to the Macabre system. I’m just saying, it better not be empty when we get there.”
“That’s the only place to find the codes to open the cryo-pods,” he said, sounding relieved. “I want to do that as much as you do.”
“Warning, Reaper Cain. I have detected a variance of his voice modulation in this last statement,” X-37 warned.
“Way ahead of you, X,” I said, practically touching Ayers now I was so close to him. “I almost believe you, but that doesn’t make any sense. Why do you care about my mother and sister?”
“They are both fine individuals. I will not pretend to have any special care or concern for them,” Ayers said as though this type of honesty was intended to convince me of something. “It’s hard to explain.”
“You’re a scientist,” Henshaw said. “You should be good at explaining things.”
Doctor Ayers started fidgeting again, his nervous energy having no place to escape.
“You don’t have to be a prisoner,” I said. “But I can’t have you running about the ship if I don’t trust you.”
This brought Doctor Ayers back. He stared at me with naked hope in his eyes. “Could I continue my research?”
“Once you’ve told me what it is, no bullshit, nothing left out this time—maybe. If you remain closely supervised. Like under an armed guard and restricted from contact with the ship AI,” I said.
“My research is DNA matrixes and xenobiology—a harmless pursuit,” he said.
“Unless you’re trying to resurrect a potentially dangerous alien race through DNA splicing,” Henshaw said. “I have read all of your research.”
“I seriously doubt that,” Doctor Ayers said.
“I’m a fast reader,” Henshaw stated.
I moved back a step and let the two scientists go at it. Neither X nor I heard anything useful, but it was part of the process. We needed more observational data of the man to understand, as a gambler would put it, his tells.
“Did you get that, Bug?” I asked under my breath.
“Sure did, Mister Reaper,” Bug said in my ear. “That dude is strange. Watching him on the ship cameras has been entertaining.”
“Just don’t fall asleep, Bug,” I said. “You need an assistant.”
“Elise could help me,” Bug said.
“She’s busy,” I answered.
“Okay, that’s cool. I’ll handle it myself for now,” Bug said.
“Finding an appropriate assistant for Bug has been problematic. We can’t just ask Captain Younger for a communications tech. This type of spying on a prisoner is highly unethical,” X-37 said.
“So is building a super-secret alien out of thousands of years old DNA snippets,” I said, still trying to keep my voice low. “You know that is what Nebs had him working on.”
The argument between the scientists ceased. Ayers stared at me almost angrily. “You’re half wrong. The DNA we archived isn’t old, and that is exactly what Nebs wanted. He always demanded I make a weapon for him.”
“What do you mean it wasn’t old,” Henshaw asked. “Our entire conversation has been predicated on the fact that you are working on ancient civilizations that were located during archaeological missions.”
“I did pull a lot of evidence from archaeological digs on dozens of planets during my career,” Ayers said. “But Nebs ranged outside of Union control more than once and found things that are now lost to us since you killed him and destroyed one of his ships.”
“I don’t like where this is going, X,” I said.
Ayers, who apparently had very good hearing, directed his attention toward me. “I may have unintentionally been misleading you, or you may have jumped to the wrong conclusions. The aliens I’m interested in haven’t been in this part of the galaxy for eons, but that doesn’t mean they’re extinct.”
“So what’s the point of growing one from a DNA sample?” Henshaw asked.
“The crazy old dude wants an alien pet,” Bug whispered in my ear. I could hear him eating cheese crackers as he listened in on our conversation.
Ayers took his time answering. He seemed genuinely confused that we didn’t get it, that we didn’t want what he wanted. “I want them here with us, not in some distant corner of the galaxy. How can we learn from them if they are that far away?”
“There’s a serious flaw in your logic,” Henshaw said. “They won’t have any of the cultural knowledge, even if you can recreate them perfectly, which you can’t, because you don’t have a viable stem cell from their species.”
“I disagree. We can learn many things from them in the way they solve problems. Once we get a full examination of their biology, and how it actually works in a controlled setting, we can make valuable conclusions,” Ayers said.
“I’m sure the real aliens won’t mind us screwing around with their genetic offspring,” I said.
“They will never know, Reaper,” Ayers assured me. “We have never acquired a living specimen.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t reassure me,” I said.