11

I stared at expanding clouds of debris. It was like Nebs had stirred the entire system, sending pieces of old ships on journeys that would last hundreds of years. Chaos like I’d never seen blossomed as we watched.

Stunned into silence, Elise summarized our entire situation with one of her amazingly juvenile—but poignantly accurate—observations. “This guy is such an asshole.”

“News of this will cause all of Wallach to mourn, even though these people are strangers to us,” Locke said softly.

“Jelly, X, search for survivors and distress calls. We’ve got work to do,” I ordered.

“Rescue attempts will be difficult with the Union hunting you and killing people indiscriminately,” X-37 said.

I was too tired and heartbroken to say something shitty. “I know, X, but we’ll do what we can.”

“There are twenty-seven distinct crises we might affect positively,” X-37 said.

“Pick one,” I grunted, swiping through data that made me angrier and angrier. The scavengers had hidden themselves well and there were a lot more of them than I would’ve guessed. I saw a destroyed greenhouse, a broken shipyard, and modular habits gone dark.

“Would you like me to mute the distress calls?” X-37 addressed me privately. “Your biometrics indicate you are quite disturbed. I wouldn’t ask, but your heart rate and blood pressure are reaching a level that will affect your performance and possibly your health.”

I looked at my companions and saw they were also disturbed by the screams for help of men, women, and children. The worst were the ones that cut off suddenly when their ships or life pods violently decompressed from accumulated damage.

A small piece of a ship that was moving very fast from one of the explosions zipped through a larger container. I had assumed the dark hulk was without power but it now appeared to be the home for hundreds of people in some sort of secret, long-term life module. Debris and bodies streamed out of a hole caused by the collision.

“Just lower the volume and try to filter the most relevant information,” I said. “Elise, I want you monitoring Union search and destroy efforts. Locke, keep your eye on the big picture and strategy issues.”

“Did you miss the part of my title that indicates I am a squad leader and not a strategist?” Locke asked, a trace of grim battlefield humor lightening the mood just enough to keep us all going.

“Right, Locke. You’re just a simple soldier and not one of the premier professionals of Wallach,” I said.

A few minutes later, we were all busy trying to keep ourselves alive and save others.

“We are approaching the first distress call,” Jelly said. “A small ship identifying itself as the Badger, whatever that is, as a hull breach that can only be fixed from the outside. They don’t have EVA capabilities.”

I addressed my entire team, not just those on the bridge of the Jellybird with me. “Horvath and Carrie, you’re up. Time to take care of business.”

Carrie responded, sounding like she was suited up and ready to go. “We’re in the airlock and just need the vector and closing speed calculations. Horvath and I have been monitoring this one and think it should be a straightforward fix as long as we don’t take a rocket to the face.”

“I’m sending the information to your HUD displays now,” Jelly said.

I watched and listened, but also scanned for Union ships and other distress beacons.

“There is something else,” Horvath said, his voice husky.

I thought he sounded like a man bringing up something personal before battle knowing it wasn’t the time and place but unable to resist the impulse.

“I located Gunner’s beacon,” he said. “It’s easy to pick out from all the rest. It shows up as a yellow dot on my HUD when everything else is red, green, or orange.”

“Focus on the living, Horvath. We’ll do what we can for him when we can,” Locke instructed.

The Chief Squad Leader of Wallach had just taken the words right out of my mouth. I looked for the next crisis and a solution, hoping Horvath would be okay on the spacewalk and that he would eventually get the body of his friend back for Gunner’s family.

It wasn’t long before Horvath and Carrie were gliding toward the exterior of the damaged vessel, each of them carrying a large backpack of tools. They didn’t talk any more than they needed to, going directly to the problem and beginning repairs like they had worked together for years.

“Hells,” Horvath grunted.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Gunner’s beacon just went dark. It was floating through a cluster of small ships that weren’t sending distress signals. These damned scavengers picked up his body,” Horvath said.

“Concentrate on your mission,” Locke interjected. “We’ll investigate later. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

I pulled Locke into a private channel. “What’s the problem?”

“I caught Horvath and some others in a chat room speculating that all the scavengers had to be cannibals. That’s what is really bothering him. Losing Gunner to the void is one thing. The thought of his body being eaten is another.”

“That’s a lot of assuming on not much information,” I said.

“Is it? What do they eat in these debris fields?” Locke asked. “I’ll handle Horvath. Just be aware of where his head is pointed.”

“Where his head is at,” I corrected, then regretted it. Our languages were very similar but didn’t always match up.

“How are you doing, Horvath?” Locke asked.

“Almost done with the repairs,” Carrie Decker answered for him.

“Good,” Locke said.

“Yes, we are almost done sealing the hull,” Horvath muttered, his voice affected by the labor he was performing. “No cannibals will die today.”

I watched as Carrie screamed when an air leak blasted between her hands, knocking her free of the surface. Horvath jumped after her, his safety line spooling out behind him. My heart pounded as I watched him grab hold of the Specialist, 4th Level. Soon they were towing themselves back to the surface to finish repairing the hull breach, both of them laughing nervously.

“Do you need more hands?” I asked. “Elise looks like she’s dying to help with your little space walk.”

Elise shot me a look. “I’m searching for Union ships trying to kill us. No time for that nonsense.”

“We don’t need her,” Horvath said, oblivious to our banter. “Someone is coming from one of the scavenger light vessels. Please shoot him if he tries to eat my face.”

Jelly and X continued to locate and organize other calls for help. I watched the scene unfolding with the newcomer.

“He’s not even using a safety line,” Elise breathed. “That’s crazy.”

“Focus on your job,” I said.

“For once, I’ll be glad to do what you tell me,” Elise responded.

I watched and listened for about three seconds before I stood and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Locke asked.

“I’m gearing up in case something goes wrong. This scavenger is more than he, or she, seems,” I explained. “X, keep me in the audio feed.”

“Certainly, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

“How can you know that?” Locke asked.

“I don’t know anything. I just want to be ready. The scavenger looks too confident. Can’t explain it. Instinct,” I said.

“Would you like to communicate with this person?” Jelly said. “I have been able to monitor some of their radio communications and believe you can speak with them if you are patient and use simple words.”

“Let me get my EVA gear on, then patch me through. I want to be ready to kick some ass if needed,” I said.

“Violence isn’t always the answer, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.

“But it is sometimes,” I countered.

Before long, I was in the airlock wearing everything but my EVA helmet. “All right, Jelly. Let me have a word with this hero character.”

Static hissed and popped in my ear.

“Damn, Jelly, I said patch me through, not blow out my eardrums.” I put a hand to my ears like that would help, or maybe like I thought I would need to hold my brains in.

“That is the best connection we are able to make. Their technology is more advanced than ours in many ways, but shows signs of excessive repair and modification. Not the best communication gear, I’m afraid.”

“I pretend… uh, imagine… you are another of the angelic saviors,” the scavenger said. “If you are not, I will kill you for my people.”

“No need to pretend. I’m one of the good guys. Who the hell are you?” I demanded.

“I am number one,” the man said, his voice an interesting amalgamation of dignified and—for lack of a better term—street savvy. “Or maybe you would say I am The Number One.”

“You’re an officer, a leader?” I asked.

“Yes,” the man said. “The name of my parents is Rejon. My friends call me Brion Rejon, The Number One.”

“Your friends need to work on a nickname for you, maybe something that suggests you’re too stupid to use a safety line or work with a team,” I said. “Let’s get this ship fixed and get on with helping everyone else.”

He ignored my casual, completely inappropriate banter and focused on the last part of my statement. His body language was the first clue—two starts and stops as though he was reconsidering coming here, then his voice confirmed his indecision, his words sounding skeptical. “You think you can help everyone?”

“No, but I’m going to try,” I said.

A pause followed.

Horvath and Carrie Decker reported they were making progress and would soon be en route to the ship, but there was a problem.

“Is the scavenger giving you trouble?” I asked, still watching from the airlock viewscreen but ready to rush to their aid. “What’s he saying? I can’t hear your conversation.”

“He insists on meeting you in person,” Carrie said.

* * *

Brion Rejon ducked through the airlock door, unclasping his helmet the second it was safe. This was a man accustomed to operating in the void.

“Complacency kills,” I said.

He held my gaze, swaggering toward me without fear. “Is that how you greet everyone or are you disrespecting me in particular?”

“I’m a Reaper,” I said.

“I don’t know what that means,” he answered.

I clipped my EVA helmet to my belt, deciding I probably wouldn’t need it and it would be better to have my hands free. “It means I kill people.”

“Am I supposed to be afraid?” he asked.

“Either you are or you aren’t,” I said. “It doesn’t matter to me. The Union is trying to eliminate both of us. So maybe we should at least act like we’re on the same side for now.”

“I appreciate your help,” Rejon said. “The strange warships are murderous void monsters.”

The way he spoke, that sounded like a serious insult.

“You must understand,” he continued. “My people have been here a long time and have been raided many times. You are as likely to be pirates as saviors.”

“What do you think, X?” I asked.

Again, I was forced to scrutinize the man’s body language and behavior. He wasn’t forthcoming with explanations, but it was clear that a man talking to himself made him cautious. Meanwhile, my limited artificial intelligence answered me.

“I have insufficient data,” X-37 responded. “I’ve taken the liberty of contacting Max Slipdriver-Slandonsky of the Bold Freedom. He is quite concerned with your situation.”

“What can you tell me about the scavengers? Does Rejon know who their leader is?” I asked.

“We have many leaders,” Rejon commented. “Are you consulting with a neural implant?”

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

Rejon shrugged. “No problem.”

“I resent being called an implant,” X-37 declared.

“Forget about it, X. He doesn’t even know what an LAI is. We’re wasting time with small talk. I just need to confirm that Rejon is a decision maker I can negotiate with.”

Slipdriver joined the conversation, but his voice was scratchy and out of sync. The delay was distracting.

“I don’t know if you caught everything I said, but the man you are speaking with is their leader or at least a primary leader,” Slipdriver said. “If that’s all you need, I need to get back to my own rescue operations.”

Rejon crossed his arms and stared at me, unable to hear half of my conversation. “Who are you talking to and what are they saying?”

“I’m being told that you are the leader of the scavengers, more or less, and that we need to work together to defeat our common enemy,” I said.

“We are not mere scavengers,” Rejon said. “This is not the first time we have faced annihilation. We will work with you for now and possibly kill you in the morning.”

I took a cigar from inside my gear but held it in my right hand, not sure if I had anything to light it with. Staring at him, I wasn’t sure if he was screwing up the language, threatening me, or making a joke.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“I don’t understand the question,” Rejon said, not backing down despite my significant size advantage.

“You’re going to kill me in the morning?”

He frowned. “You did not find this comforting?”

“No, Rejon, I didn’t,” I said.

“It is a very common phrase among my people, but no one really knows why,” he admitted.

“Okay, fine. What the fuck ever. Maybe I will kill you in the morning,” I said.

“When you say it, the words sound much more threatening,” he said.

“That’s because I’m a Reaper. When I talk about death, it means something,” I said. X-37 chattered in my ear telling me to drop it, so I did. “Let’s save some lives.”

“This is something I would also like to do,” Rejon said.

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