Fenris Unchained Page 9

  “It was a ricochet, it wasn’t your fault,” Marcus said. Yet his voice was defensive, almost as if he felt otherwise, just didn't want to admit it.

  “Momma?” Giles said, his eyes coming open.

  “Giles?” Mel asked. She didn't even know the man... yet she had killed him.

  “Mom, forgive me. I’m sorry I left,” Giles said. “Don't worry, mom, I won't forget you.”

  “It’s all right, Giles.” Mel said, feeling hollow. “It’ll be all right.”

  “It hurts, Mom. Why’s it hurt?”

  Mel felt hot tears roll down her face. She couldn’t speak. What could she say?

  Giles closed his eyes. His rapid breathing slowed. Then it stopped.

  Mel stared down at the man she’d killed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Is that death?” a gravelly voice asked.

  Mel gave an inarticulate shout of rage, and rose. Strong arms grabbed her, restrained her.

  “I never saw a man die before.”

  Bob spoke, “You killed enough of them when you destroyed the ship.”

  “I did,” Fenris answered. “And I thought little of it. They were pirates, I had the option to kill them or let them go. Their deaths were not real until now.”

  “You’ve tried to kill us just now!” Mel shouted. She fought against Marcus’s restraining arms.

  “I didn’t mean for any of you to die. I tried to herd you to a place I can secure,” Fenris said. “I fired at his weapon. I’m not the one who killed him.”

  “But he is dead,” Bob said. He looked down at the prone body, “He was my companion for months. I didn’t even really like him, but he deserved better. Think on that, machine. You may not have killed him, but you made the circumstances that ended his life.”

  Only silence met his response.

  Stasia moved forward. She crouched over the robotic wolf. “I will see what I can use off it.” She cleared her throat. She pointedly didn’t look at Mel and the body.

  Mel sagged against Marcus’s arms, “Oh, God, I killed him.”

  Mel took a deep breath, trying to stop the flow of tears. Then she turned and began to vomit. She felt Marcus’s hands hold her shoulders as she emptied her stomach. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.” Marcus’ voice was soft and hesitant.

  “Thanks,” Mel said, standing. He put her arms around her, and she didn’t push away, comforted by his warm arms around her. It could easily have been him she’d killed. Or Strak. Or Stasia, or Bob—

  God, why couldn’t it have been me? The simplicity of the thought penetrated her mind. “Why did someone else have to die for my mistake?”

  Marcus spun her around, “Look at me Mel.”

  She couldn’t raise her head, couldn’t meet his eyes.

  “Melanie Armstrong, look at me.”

  She did. He spoke slowly, “You did the best you could. Hell, you did what I or Bob would have done. You saw a threat, you fired. Don’t second guess yourself.”

  She heard Bob’s voice behind her, “It was a horrible situation. It was in the middle of our group. We’re just lucky no one else died.”

  Mel shivered. She looked away from Marcus and found her eyes went back to Giles’ corpse. Marcus pulled her close against his chest, and she didn’t fight him. “I hope Rawn is okay,” Mel said softly.

  She felt Marcus’ arms clench tight around her for a second. “Rawn’s tough, I’m sure he’s fine.” His voice sounded hollow and wooden.

  The arms dropped away and Mel wondered what she’d said to anger him.

  ***

  Colonel Frost glared at the two dead men. “You’re sure it was Robert Walker?”

  His demo expert spoke, “Sir, I was face to face with the woman. Bob was right behind her, and then there was that other guy—“

  “You’re certain Robert Walker betrayed us?” Michael Frost snapped, his face flushed red with anger.

  “Yes sir.”

  “Colonel, if he’s helping them, that’ll mean—”

  “I know. They’ll know how many of us there are and they know what equipment we have. Also, if they get a chance to send a message out, they can report on our base of operations, on our codes, on any number of secrets!”

  Colonel Frost slammed a fist into the wall. On top of the ship’s robotic defenses, he now faced human opponents. “What’s the status of our wounded?”

  “Davis and Chu are the only dead, from when Bob and the other one fired on us.” Captain Roush spoke after a pause, “Those robotic dog things wounded Smith and Reed. Nothing major, some light burns. They’re mostly just shook up. Their weapons are toast though.”

  “Salvage what you can,” Frost said. He ground his jaw and massaged the knuckles of his fist. Things had gone horribly wrong. “What’s the status on the prisoner?”

  Roush gulped and looked to the side, “Uh, the ship sealed us off from our prisoner and his guards.” He cleared his throat, “That’s when Smith and Reed got hurt. The sleeper agent said the ship has seven of those things. So far they’ve been waiting any time we blast a door down.”

  “I know.”

  Colonel Frost frowned. The ship didn’t seem to view them as a threat. It did, however, know far too much about them. It controlled them, watched their every move. “We need control of this ship before we get to Vagyr.” He gave a sigh. “Tell the men to get some rest. That damned computer seems to want us to stay here, we’ll stay here… for now.”

  He turned his gaze on the bodies of his two men. He turned a basilisk gaze on Captain Roush. “Do not let this happen again. There’s no reason our men shouldn’t have shot them first. Make sure they all know the stakes.”

  ***

  They reached the storeroom not long later. Mel walked in a daze. She only realized they’d arrived when Marcus warned her to watch her head, and she stepped into a low, dark room. The storeroom was totally empty. Somehow, that didn’t surprise her.

  “We can’t stay here long,” Bob said. “Security situation sucks. That machine can block us in here and keep us bottled up way too easily. We need to get on the move, and get out of its sensors, somehow.”

  Mel didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to think. She spoke, anyway, “There’s some access passageways. Crawl-spaces mostly. Fenris won’t have as many sensors in those corridors.”

  Strak spoke, from where he’d begun to strip the fused pieces of Giles’ pistol apart, “This ship took heavy damage. I’d bet the damaged areas won’t have decent security either.”

  “I have a working system, from the robot. Give me time and I can tap the security system, and find an area without functioning sensors,” Stasia said, then shrugged, “We will probably be killed by the other security robots, anyway.”

  “If the renegade Guard Intel Agent doesn’t kill us first,” Strak glared at Mel.

  Mel felt too detached to care.

  Marcus spoke, “What, you think she killed Agent Mueller? She was with your boss when it happened, right?”

  “Yes... and he’s conveniently missing. And then there was Giran, lets not forget who killed him. And she’s got a story how Brian Liu is a GFN terrorist. And now someone else is dead,” Strak snapped.

  “I didn’t mean to kill Giles,” Mel said.

  “But you did mean to kill Giran and Agent Mueller?” Strak demanded.

  “Giran was a GFN terrorist, and we have pretty good proof on that,” Marcus said. “You seem pretty sure your boss isn’t the rogue killer. I mean, he had me fooled this entire time thinking he was some flashy kid. Who’s to say he didn’t have you fooled too?”

  “He couldn’t be a Guard Intel Agent!” Strak shouted.

  “Why, not?” Marcus sneered, “They kick him out?”

  “They don’t take our kind!” Strak shouted.

  Everyone stared at him in confusion. Finally, Marcus asked “What do you mean by that?”

  Strak cursed and threw Giles's damaged pistol against the bulkhead. He moved to the door, “Trust me, Brian Liu and I would ne
ver be accepted by Guard Intelligence. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “What makes you and Brian so different?” Mel asked. The anger and loathing in Strak’s voice broke through the apathy in which she’d wrapped herself.

  He shot her a look of pure hatred, “We aren’t normal like you, girl. We’re different, and they’ve got tests for people like us.”

  Bob frowned, “I don’t…”

  “You’re Genemods,” Marcus said. “Or you’re mutants.”

  Strak’s jaw clenched. “Brian’s a Genemod. I’m just a damned mutie.” He used the derogative slang that Mel had heard in spacer bars and on the streets.

  The Mutant Act still withdrew all rights from those deemed to be genetic aberrations. Genemods got lumped in with those who mutated due to extreme environmental conditions. Penal colonies like one in the Electra system existed to deal with such ‘threats’ to society.

  “Shit.” Marcus said. “No wonder you two were so nervous back in the jail.”

  “That’s how I know Brian isn’t the one who killed Agent Mueller. We hate him, and people like him, but our only safety lies in not standing out.” Strak's voice was rough and angry.

  “I’m sorry,” Mel said. She hadn't ever really thought about people like Strak, but suddenly she felt sick as she caught a glimpse of what his life must be like.

  “You’re sorry? I don’t want your sorrow!” Strak yelled. “Try living your entire life in fear, try living on the edge of society because you know that drawing even a little attention can mean the lives of you and your family. Then we’ll talk about sorry.”

  Bob spoke, “It doesn’t matter to me what you are.”

  “It matters to me!” Strak snapped. “I care what I am. I’m proud of what I am! My people adapted to a world that kills normals like you. Brian, he’s… he’s special, even for a Genemod. He’s proud of what he is. If all normals weren’t bigots, he’d be someone important, not the owner of a tramp freighter!”

  “Strak,” Stasia said, her voice level. “I don’t care what you are. You may call normals bigots, but not all of us feel that mutants are not human. I am an outcast, too. I will never… fit in. I do not hate you.”

  Strak turned baleful eyes on her, “I don’t care.” Stasia recoiled from the anger in his face.

  “Look,” said Bob, “regardless of how anyone feels, we’re already guilty of breaking a dozen Guard laws. We still need to work together, we still need to stop this ship.”

  He turned to Marcus, “What—”

  The room seemed to twist and then fall out from under them. Mel shouted as pressure squeezed her head. She felt her ears pop and felt a dribble of blood stream out of her nose. The twisting sensation repeated itself.

  Mel felt her stomach heave. She clenched her jaw, and clutched her hands to her head. As the sensations passed, she pushed herself to her hands and knees.

  “What the hell was that?” Bob said.

  “The FTL warp drive,” Mel said. She wiped at the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “For it to have that kind of effect, it must be massively out of alignment.” She pushed herself shakily to her feet. “Everyone okay?”

  Strak grunted from near the door. Stasia waved a limp hand.

  Mel looked at Marcus, then cursed and grabbed one of his trembling hands. “Marcus, you okay?”

  His face pulled into a rictus of a smile. “Implant.”

  “What’s happening, Marcus?” Mel demanded.

  “Implant?” Bob asked as he moved close.

  “He’s a rex addict. He’s got an implant that regulates his dosage.”

  “Oh, crap.” Bob pulled out a folding knife, and snapped it open. “Hold his head still.”

  “What are you doing?” Mel demanded. She had a sudden mental image of him cutting Marcus’ throat like some wounded animal. Surely there must be some option besides that, she thought with horror.

  “His implant is probably shorting. If he’s lucky, it’s just shocking the hell out of his nervous system. If he’s really unlucky, it just dumped all of the remaining rex in his system, and he’s going to die very painfully.” Bob said as he twisted Marcus’s head to the side. “Hold his head still.”

  Mel clenched her hands around Marcus’s head. “What are—” She broke off as Bob slid the blade behind Marcus’s ear. “How do you know what you’re doing?”

  Marcus screamed and his body arced.

  “Most rex users have it behind their ear. A little hair covers the needle scars.” Bob said, his voice tight. “Okay, I found it. Hold him still.”

  He pressed with the knife. Marcus screamed again. Mel felt tears roll down her face. “Hold on Marcus. It will be over soon.”

  “Just a sec.” Bob said, his fingers probing the cut. “This is really going to hurt.”

  “No!” Marcus jerked against Mel, “No!”

  Strak moved over and put his weight on Marcus’ shoulders. Mel just nodded at him in thanks. Bob tugged and Marcus gave out a shrill scream. He thrashed hard enough to throw Strak off. Bob tugged again and Marcus went limp.

  “Oh, God.” Mel said, her hand going to check for a pulse. She let out a sigh of relief. “He’s alive.”

  Bob held up a slight ovoid of metal and plastic. “Huh, this is an expensive one. How long has he been an addict?”

  “Uh,” Mel looked over at Strak, “He said a year. He also said he used to be an addict of prime, about six years ago.”

  “Hmm, makes some sense then.” Bob dropped the bloody implant, and then slammed his boot on it. It crushed with a satisfying sound. “That’s an expensive one. Most users who put that kind of money into it never quit. Someone or something must have broken through to him. Too bad he got back in.”

  “How do you know so much about rex?” Mel said, suddenly suspicious.

  Bob met her eyes, “I worked… well, call it a counter-drug operation, for a while. I’ve never heard of a warp drive doing that to an implant, but the stunners we used would do it sometimes.”

  “Is that how you learned to cut it out?” Mel asked.

  Bob smiled slightly, “Got to leave me some secrets, dear.” He jerked his chin at Marcus, “Your friend will live. I don’t envy his headache when he wakes.”

  “I think we miss the problem, da?” Stasia said.

  Mel stared at her for a long moment, then cursed her own stupidity, “Of course. We just dropped into FTL warp. The Fenris is on its way to Vagyr.”

  CHAPTER VI

  Time: 0900 Zulu, 14 June 291 G.D.

  Location: Fenris, Six days from Vagyr

  “The nearest section without functioning sensors is ten meters that way,” Stasia said, pointing down the narrow crawlspace. “I will have to open doors. Ship has locked next set.”

  “Do humans still believe in an afterlife?” the gravelly voice of the ship spoke.

  Mel started. She cursed as she struck her helmet on the low ceiling. The group looked around at each other. None wanted to speak, but finally, Mel opened her mouth; “Some people do. Some people don’t.”

  “I just read the Bible, the Koran, and the Hindu Vedas,” the computer spoke. “I find little evidence that humans possess souls.”

  “It’s not about evidence,” Mel said, “It’s about faith. Some things are worth believing in.” She remembered some of what her parents had believed, though she had to admit that she’d lost her own faith with their deaths.

  “I believe in my mission. I believe I was made to serve mankind, to destroy threats to humanity.”

  Mel rolled her eyes. Of course the computer only believed in its mission. It was just a computer.

  “How are you dealing with killing people? How are you going to justify destroying a world of people?” Mel snapped. Anger replaced her fog of apathy.

  “Not well. Machines don’t have souls, do we?” There was a moment of silence. “I can’t pray for forgiveness. I can’t hope for an afterlife better than this one. My security protocols only allow me to follow the mission.”

&n
bsp; Marcus spoke, “Let me get this straight, you’re a machine capable of thinking about souls, but you can’t contemplate doing anything besides what your orders require you?”

  They moved forward in the silence that followed. Clearly the AI looked for an appropriate answer. Mel wasn’t sure what kind of existential crisis the machine was in, but she did know it had to be complex for the lengthy minutes of silence.

  She nearly collided with Stasia as the other woman stopped, “Ship’s sensors will not function beyond this door. I will have to override it. Ship has done full environmental lock-down on door.”

  “My security protocols require me to complete my mission,” Fenris spoke. “They don’t let me do anything else. They do not reason, they do not think. There can be no mitigating circumstances.” The speakers went silent for a moment. “I wouldn’t open that door.”

  “Thank, you.” Stasia said. “I don’t care.”

  “I admire your persistence. Please don’t open that door.”

  “Now he’s being polite?” Mel said. “Wow, now I really want to see what’s on the other side.” Although that didn't work out so well the last time, she thought.

  “I’ve got it.” Stasia said, before Mel could voice her thought.

  The door slid open. A sudden roar of wind blasted Stasia forward through the hatch. Mel grabbed her leg and held on tight, slamming down her environmental suit’s face shield. Then the wind tore her through the hatch.

  She held tight to Stasia with her right hand. Her left clutched frantically for a hold, and she barely caught an out-thrust projection.

  The others hung in the passageway, buffeted by winds behind them. Then the hatch behind them slammed closed.

  Mel floated for a moment. She took deep, calming breaths. She looked over at Stasia, half afraid the other woman wouldn’t have had the sense to close her helmet. She let out a gust of relief, seeing Stasia’s faceplate closed. The other woman still thrashed in confusion. Clearly, she wasn’t used to a microgravity environment.

  Mel had plenty of experience from the Kip Thorne. It made little sense to run artificial gravity in areas that didn’t see much traffic, especially on a small freighter, tight on power and fuel. Microgravity had been her playground as a child. She tugged the other woman in slowly, and then put her helmet against the other woman’s. “Hold still. Move as little as possible.”