The Reaper Diaries #14: Redemption, Part 5
11 Nov 2015Michael Wolfe
Hospitality: noun 1. The friendly and generous reception and entertainment of guests, visitors, or strangers.There's bubble hospitality, and then there's Kumo Crew hospitality.
It turns out that it takes a hell of a lot more than half a hold full of gold to get in with the Kumo Crew. Strictly speaking, the Kumo pilot who gave me safe passage to their base upheld his part of the bargain. I did land safely, and he did take the rest of my gold.
Then, I was thrown into a jail cell while the Crew decided what to do with me.
Like I said: hospitality, Kumo Crew-style.
I must have been in there for four or five hours before the door opened, with a large, imposing man standing on the other side. From the looks of him, he spent half his time smoking cut-rate Onionhead, and the other half injecting himself with bovine-based steroids. He threw a small container at my feet; inside
were all the things that had been confiscated from me- my (fake) pilot’s ID, my credit chips, and my leather jacket.
The enormous man grinned, revealing gold-plated teeth. “Been treated alright?”
I looked him in his blood-shot eyes and tried to smile back. “The room service I ordered never showed up.”
The monstrosity before me just grinned even wider and nodded. “The maids around here always were a bit dodgy. Now get up. The boss wants to see you.”
He jerked his head for me to follow him, and we walked down a long, twisting series of corridors. He gestured to a closed door, and hit the button to open it. It slid open with a grinding metal noise, and Huge Steroid Man gave me a shove inside.
The door closed behind me, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the low light in the new room.
A man’s voice cut through the dark. “Sit down, pilot.”
Ok, where?
I felt around, and my hands grasped a chair not far from where I had been standing. Grabbing it, I sat towards where the voice was coming from.
As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could make out a man sitting behind a desk. I saw the brief flash of flame as he lit up a cigarette, and the smell of its smoke filled the room. He was older, with lines on his face and burn marks on his tanned skin. One of his eyes was a cybernetic prosthesis. Neither of us said anything, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to get anywhere by just sitting here.
“You know, it’s a real pain in the ass to get cigarette smell out a leather jacket.”
He laughed- a slow, grumbling noise- like it didn’t come naturally.
“When they tossed you in that cell, I had half a mind to just take your ship and throw you out of the airlock. A few of the boys wanted to do it, but there just ain’t no glory in offing some new jack named Virgil Goddamned Titmouse.”
I shrugged. “Named after my great-grandfather. Whatcha gonna do?”
More slow, guttural laughing. “You’re a goddamn idiot, meat. But it might be your saving grace, too. The ‘verse needs more idiots who just show up with free gold for me and my boys. So, Virgil wants in the gang, huh?”
He took a long drag. “You’ll excuse how dark it is in here. It’s because of this.”- he pointed to his cybernetic eye- “black market, both the piece and the doc who put it in. Gives me a headache if I’m in normal light for too long. Something to do with the artificial nerve not bonding with the natural one quite right. Hell of a thing to integrate with a ship, though.”
I shrugged. “Think nothing of it.”
He sat up. “So, Titmouse. What’s your game? What do you do?”
Ok, here we go. Just like you’ve rehearsed in your head.
“The gold was just to get me here. I’m in the cattle business. People want talking meat, I get it for them. I’m a bit of a specialist, though.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. A lot of my clients like the little ones. Pay extra for them, too. It’s good business for me. They can’t fight back, and I can fit more of ‘em in my hold. So it’s what I do.”
Cyber-eye man took a drag while chuckling and shaking his head.
“Business good? And what do you want all the way here in Pegasi?”
I nodded. “It’s got its ups and downs. It’s been getting a little hot for me in the bubble, so I thought maybe I could give you folks a bit of a discount in exchange for safe passage. I buy, I sell- and there ain’t no shortage of demand.”
He flicked his cigarette. “Where’s your stock come from?”
I shrugged. “Here and there. Some parents out in the border colonies sell their extra or their incorrigible. Some I just have rounded up from orphanages. Some are specific little ones I find. Sometimes I come across a ‘missing child’ poster and see pay dirt.”
“Pay dirt?”
“Yeah. Find the missing child, contact their loved ones, and let ‘em know that either they or the nearest gang of slavers are going to pay me handsomely for their little one. I usually get triple the market rate after the whole family pools their credits together.”
That brought out a fresh rhythm of laughter from the man. “Hostages are the best kind of meat, ain’t they, Titmouse?”
I smiled. “That they are, friend. Low risk, high rewards. So- where can a man get a drink around here?”
“Time for that later. I think I have a job for you.”
Shit. I didn’t come here to punch a clock.
“Oh yeah? What kind of job?”
The man leaned back, cigarette dangling from his lips. “We do guns here, boy. We make them, liberate them, and turn them into our own little custom jobs. The boys have a batch of assault rifles and food bars ready to go. It’s all being shipped to the Meat Locker. That’s the main depot where all of our slaves end up. A man like you could find some pretty good stock there, I imagine. You unload there, and you’ll need a bigger ship to fly out all the meat you find.”
Hell yeah I’ll run some guns to get to the main slave rig.
“And what’s in it for me?”
One-Eye narrowed his natural eye and leaned forward.
“Aside from access to the biggest stash of cattle in all of Pegasi? Twenty grand for delivering a full hold.”
I tried my best to look disinterested.
“For a full hold? That ain’t much, even with access to the Meat Locker.”
He eyed me for a minute or so. “Well, how about some new toys, then? Head down to the armory and give them this”- he reached in his pocket and gave me a shotgun shell with a hand-drawn shell on the side- “and grab whatever you can carry. But don’t take too long, and don’t ask me to sweeten the deal again.”
“Well, I ain’t really a gun nut, except what gets mounted on my Cobra- but I appreciate it.”
One-eye grunted. “Get going, then. If any of them gives you trouble, you tell them Squigly sent you. And give 'em the shell.”
Squigly? And he was making fun of Virgil?
*******************************************************
Finding the armory wasn’t too difficult, since Squigly assigned the same monster of a man who had returned my things to me to take me there. Besides, the place was huge.
Rows and rows of work benches, weapons as far as the eye could see- it was a regular manufacturing facility. The steroided-up man must have noticed me gawking at the whole thing, because he grabbed my shoulder and pointed towards the far end of the room.
“The finished pieces are that way. Just grab what you want. No one’ll question you, since you’re with me.”
Is it wrong to admit that I felt just a bit excited to be there?
What the hell do I pick?
There were pistols, of course. But I already had a few back on the Hand of Blue that I liked.
Carbines were the next step up. I had one already, a bolter-type- the only illegal weapon I owned at that point. Bolters were just straight-up brutal weapons. They fired solid slugs, and hurt to fire after awhile from the recoil, even with armor. Of course, they hurt much more to be hit with, and were absolutely devastating in zero-G combat, since they could send a man in a space suit reeling.
Rifles were the most varied of the lot. Sniper, assault, hunting- the Kumos had them all, and they had all been modified from their original design to some degree.
After that, things just got ridiculous. Tripod-mounted laser repeaters, gattling cannons meant to be mounted on small vehicles, and grenade launchers all certainly looked cool, but were too damn impractical for personal use.
I settled on a plasma rifle, the A-321 model made by Harkness Arms. I had never owned one before, and according to my companion, it could actually melt a person who got hit with it. It had been stripped of its protective casing so that larger capacitors could be fitted, leaving only a crude cage covering the new parts. “Don’t miss” was the advice that my companion had offered when I settled on it. He grabbed a couple plasma cells and handed them to me.
Well, if nothing else, I got a sweet new gun out of the deal.
Too bad that’s not why I’m here.
“Well, let’s get my ship loaded up. I ain’t being paid to stand around.”
“Right.” We walked towards the nearest turbolift and made our way to the flight deck.
The Kumos didn’t have the auto-loader machines that most modern docks do. Instead, they relied on good ol’ human labor to hand-pack the cargo crates into my Cobra. Forced human labor, that is. The poor unfortunates who were struggling to get the cargo crates moved looked like they hadn’t eaten in a week, wore old, filthy jumpsuits, and didn't dare make eye contact with anyone.
Jesus. Is Katie in a situation like this?
How many slaves are just on this station? On the one I’m going to?
These guys make Denton and Zemina look like amateurs.
Squigly had been waiting for me at my ship’s hanger, and must have seen me eyeing the slaves.
“Every once in awhile, one of them is stupid enough to try to stow away in a ship’s cargo bay. Or in the landing gear.”
I nodded, understanding.
“And they never think to bring a blanket, do they?”
He laughed, the same slow, guttural noise as before.
“Or an oxygen tank. Or a knife to cut out their beacon. Most don’t make it out of atmo. What the depressurization doesn’t do, the cold and lack of air finishes.”
He lit up another cigarette.
“Almost makes you want to just let ‘em die off, eh? But then, who would load the goods?”
Time to change the subject. “So, is this it, then? Got any little ones you need off-loaded? I’ve always got room for a few extra.”
Squigly shook his head. “No, we don’t have any use for them here. The little ones go to private buyers or garment factories. Mines too, sometimes. We used to have them around to clean gun barrels, but-” He took a drag- “There were just too many accidents, no matter how careful we were to keep the ammo separate.
Bad for business. Pain in the arse anyway.”
He gazed for a moment at the slaves still loading my ship. “All the families that come here get the little ones separated and sent to the depot. Ain’t no concern of mine what happens to ‘em after that.”
I looked again at the emaciated slaves loading my ship. “Right. Thanks for the goods. I’ll be seeing you around.”
Squigly looked at the new rifle hung over my shoulder. “Mind you don’t sling that gun too soon after using it. Those new capacitors heat it right up. After we get done tinkering with those Harkness rifles, they'll melt right into a flight suit if they’ve been firing awhile. Seen it happen with my own two eyes.”
I nodded. The hell did they do to this thing?
Well, even if I didn’t find Katie right away, at least I couldn’t say that I was leaving the station empty handed.
**********************************************************
From the outside, the Meat Locker didn’t look much different than any other Coriolis station I had ever been to. A little rough on the outside, and the Kumo Crew sure hadn’t bothered with a paint job- but it was right where Squigly said it would be.
From what I had been told, the slave depot had started off as a secret Federation prison. Most of the interior of the place was just rows and rows of prisoner cells. The station itself was old- having been built in the 31st century and decommissioned soon after a scandalous news media leak had revealed its existence to the public.
It had sat vacant until the Kumo Crew started expanding in Pegasi, and- resourceful types that they were- just couldn’t pass on a fully built space station built to house prisoners. It took them years and a lot of money to get the thing halfway operational again, but the prospect of having a ready-made slave depot was well worth the investment for an organization such as theirs.
So there it was, slowly rotating, mostly hidden by the rocky planet’s shadow that it was orbiting.
And here I was, hailing the station to deliver some food cartridges and new guns. My comm lit up. It was the Meat Locker.
“Cobra-class vessel Last Chance. State your business here.”
I hailed back. “This is the Last Chance. I’m carrying guns and foodstuffs. Requesting permission to dock.”
Static for a few moments. “Copy that, commander. Clearance is granted to land on pad fourteen. All hail the Archon!”
“All hail the Archon! Be there in a jiff.”
Jesus, did I really just say that?
Inside was as run-down as you’d expect. It wasn’t well-lit, not all the docks worked, and everywhere I went, there were crew members working on fixing systems. It wasn’t tip-top by any means, but the constant maintenance had allowed the centuries-old starbase to hobble on as a functioning space station.
Finding anything like a dock manager was a nightmare. The closest I got was an older man who ordered a gang of slaves to unload my ship and take everything to where it belonged. Well, the cargo isn’t my concern any longer.
Now, it was time to- buy some slaves? Inquire after a specific little girl?
How the hell do I do this?
I had no idea how the Kumos tracked their prisoners. Did they have any kind of records? Did they go by name? By native system? By some ID number?
They had to have some kind of way to track their captives, right? Hostages and ransoms were a big part of the Crew’s income. So I grabbed the closest roughneck by the arm. Gently.
“I’m looking to buy some slaves. Who do I talk to?”
He looked at me like I had just boasted of using the bathroom by myself. “Any slave master. Any deck. Just make sure your credits are good. And check their teeth before you commit to buying.”
Check their teeth. Right.
This was going to be an interesting afternoon.
*******************************************************************
Even if Katie was on this junkpile of a station, I was never going to find her. Not by going door-to-door, at any rate. This place was huge.
Looking around, it hit me- really hit me- that this wasn’t just about Katie anymore. This was about the Kumo Crew, and the barbarism behind what they did. About what people like Denton Patreus and Zemina Torval would do if they were just a little less constrained by Imperial society. But there was more to it than that.
Even if I found Katie, reunited her with her father, and emerged from this whole thing a big damn hero, this place would still be here. These people would still be suffering. And Archon Delaine would still be in power as the terrorist that he is. I could spend the next twenty years of my life turning Kumo ships into slag, and not even make a dent in their overall power.
Is this what hopelessness feel like?
The odd part? There wasn’t a single sound anywhere. Not a peep. No one spoke. The place was like a damn tomb. The echo of my boots hitting the deck was the loudest noise in the cell block.
I don’t think you get to dwell on hopelessness right now, Matt. Not on this side of the cell door.
An old man with a prosthetic leg hobbled up to me. He smiled, revealing rotten teeth. He gestured towards the cells.
“Needing some companions for your long voyages? I can get you fixed up.”
I looked him in his sunken, yellow eyes. “Yeah. I’m looking to buy.”
He nodded eagerly. “Who are you with? Mining company? I’ve got a lot of cattle here, plenty of life left in them.”
I shook my head. “I work for myself, but my clients like the little ones. Girls.”
He smiled knowingly. “Yes, yes! Always demand for young girls out here in Pegasi- very profitable if you can find a good source! Even the Plain Janes sell at a premium. The name’s Walt. Pleased to meet a fellow cattle rancher.“
He shook my hand (with a clammy, hold grip), took my arm, and started leading me around. “The children’s cell is a ways away, but we can sit down over a drink and have a look. We’ve got pictures of them all, and there’s no sense walking up and down the rooms, eh?”
Hesitantly, I let the disgusting little man pull me towards a lift.
We made our way to a dingy little bar. He ordered straight moonshine, while I decided to risk a synthburger. It was outrageously priced, but it wasn’t like this station exactly got regular shipments of food.
The little man produced a tablet with the children already pulled up. “Here, take a look at the selection. Photographed them myself… best part of my day… among other things-” he took a shot of rotgut- “Most of them are nice and docile, too; they’ll do anything your clients need. The rest- well, a few good blows usually calms the crying.” Eagerly, he handed the tablet over to me. “Take a look, young man.”
Jesus Goddamn Christ.
Flipping through the tablet’s contents churned my stomach. It was a struggle to keep my face impassive. The way these kids had been photographed… this Walt guy would look really good keelhauled through the comm antennae of my Viper.
My thoughts drifted towards Kyndi. Did she know it would be like this? Are sick fucks like this guy the reason she bugged out?
I looked through picture after picture. None were of Katie; all nauseated me.
I don’t know anything about her past before she was sixteen. What about her life made her ditch the job?
Jesus, did she come from a place like this?
Looking through these pictures was getting me nowhere. Next to each of them was a name and home system, so the Kumos at least tracked that. Fortunately, there was a search function.
<Taylor, Katherine>
C’mon.
<187 total entries>
Damn.
<Search by system: Durius>
<1 match found>
“Sweet Jesus”, I whispered, half-smiling. I couldn’t believe it. My heart was almost beating out of my ribcage.
Walt just nodded and smiled his greasy, rotten smile. “Aye, there’s some pretty ones, ain’t there? Want to take a look?”
<Subject detail: Sold. Former owner: Luther Benedict. Location: Level 3 access needed>
God DAMMIT!
I was nauseated all over again. She had been here. Now she was… somewhere else.
Do I ask this slimeball about access?
Walt was looking at me expectantly, still grinning.
Better not. This guy is an old, sick pervert, but he can’t be a total idiot to have made it as long as he has in this business.
So- what, then?
It won’t hurt to ask, right?
I slid the tablet over with the picture of Katie. “This one will do nicely.”
He squinted, and then nodded. “Yes, I remember that one. Didn’t say three words the whole time she was here. But as you can see, she’s been sold.”
I learned forward. “I know what my clients like, and she’s it. Can you tell me where she’s gone? I’ll make it worth your while.” I slid a credit chip his way.
His smile disappeared. “You new at this, boy? I don’t sell and tell. Neither does anyone else here. I’ve got a lot more like her, let me just show you…”
Jesus.
I smiled. “Sorry. Of course I’m happy to take a look at your stock. I just hate to see a good one like that get away. You know how it is.”
His greasy smile returned. “But there’s always more to replace them! Right this way!”
I ate the last bite of my burger and paid for us both. I let him cajole me back to the holding cells. As before, they were cold, dark places. But they were something else: deserted. There were prisoners, of course. But guards, techs- no one went there. There was no need for guards- where the hell were the prisoners going to go? And there was no need for techs- all the doors were simple mechanical setups. No keycards, no combos.
We walked up to one of the highest gantryways. “This is where I keep the really special ones. Feed ‘em twice a day, too. Boys, girls- they should sell very well.”
He turned around. “Ready to see a few?”
I smiled savagely. “I’ve seen enough.”
In one sudden motion, I had the old man in a chokehold, forcing him down to the ground. I covered his mouth with my hand, and fished out his tablet with the other. I wheeled around his body so that it was facing the tablet.
“Now, we’re going to do this nice and easy. I’m here for her. You’re going to input your access code, and everything is going to go real smooth. Got it?”
He nodded. I let one of his hands free, but still kept him securely in my grip. Trembling, he input his code. When that was in, I looked at the tablet:
<Access code accepted>
<Subject: Katherine Taylor>
<Current location: Snodgrass Freeport, Bagaiteru System>
Jackpot.
I looked down at Walt, still struggling pathetically against my grip.
“Well, pal, you’ve been a great help. But after all we’ve been through-“ I slammed his head against the cold, steel wall, smearing blood along it- “I’m afraid I was just looking.”
I picked up the tablet and stuffed it inside my jacket. I took a look at Walt- he was just laying there, blood dripping through the gantry onto the floor. He ain’t going anywhere. I looked again. Did he just move a little?
Better safe than sorry.
I picked up Walt’s limp body, and threw him over the railing. He fell for a few seconds, and then-
Fump!
I could hear gasps all around me. All of the children had been watching through the food-slots on their cell doors. It seemed like I should give some noble speech about how Walt wasn’t going to hurt them anymore, and promise them a way out- but I didn’t. I couldn't.
What the hell do I tell these kids? I couldn’t save them all if I had showed up in a damn Type-9.
You didn’t think this over too well, did you Matt?
So I did nothing. I wiped the blood off of my hands, and walked out. I needed to get the hell off-station.
Some hero you are. Going after one little girl whom you wronged and leaving all these other kids locked up.
I got in the turbolift, and punched the button to get me to the hanger level
Well, I ain’t much use to anyone if I get caught and enslaved myself, now am I?
The doors slid open. It was busy… Kumo Crew personnel coming and going down the corridors. All I needed to do was make it to my ship.
Yeah. Tell yourself that. You’re about to fly away to safety, while all those kids are staying put.
I walked briskly, neutral expression on my face, heart beating wildly, sweating under my flight suit. I had never killed anyone face-to-face before. It had been… different, even if the victim was some old pedophile who had it coming.
There it is. Hanger fourteen.
I ducked into the hanger and started looking around the Cobra. No signs of tampering, intakes looked ok-
“Pilot, halt!”
I spun around. A man had followed me, accompanied by two armed guards. He walked up and eyed me suspiciously.
“This your ship?”
Damnit.
I sighed. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”
“We’re looking for Virgil Titmouse. Let’s see some ID.”
Shit.
I looked at him, and looked at the guards. If it was just him and me, I could take him- probably. But him and two armed men- impossible. Silently, I reached in my pocket and handed him my ID.
He looked at it, then me, and an angry look crossed his face.
“We’ve been looking all over for you. You’ve been a very poor guest here.”
Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT!
The man reached in his pocket…
How fast could I get to that new plasma gun in my ship?
… and brought out some credit chips.
What the hell…?
“Twenty grand for the delivery of the guns and food. As promised. Next time, don’t just leave the hanger. It’s a real pain in the ass to track pilots down on this tub.”
Are you kidding me right now?
He handed the chips to me, along with my ID. I felt like I was about to throw up.
“Thanks.”
He shook his head and walked away. I could hear him down the corridor.“That’s the problem with people these days. There’s no consideration for the needs of others anymore.”
**********************************************
I had never been happier to be in space.
Still, I was in the unknown, heading towards something even more unknown. There was every possibility that I wasn’t making it back. I needed to contact someone from the bubble, someone I could trust. I had lost Kyndi and Gideon had no clue that I was out here, and would blown a fuse if I told him.
Who, then?
Sitting in the Last Chance’s cockpit and considering my options, it began to dawn on me that in a galaxy of billions and billions of people, I really only knew a handful.
Matt, you are going to have to work on your networking after all this.
So, my closest two professional contacts were a no-go. Who to check in with? Who could I trust? Who had the kind of expertise and muscle to rescue my ass if things went sour?
Rax?
I considered for a moment, and decided against it. Rax and I went back a little ways, but wasn’t exactly what I would call a friend. I smuggled, he paid me, and sometimes we would a have a drink together. But he wasn’t the rescue-mission type, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to abandon his operation to go into Kumo space on account of my ass.
Who, then?
I had met a handful of other inquisitors… but I had no way of contacting them, since I needed my real ID to do so. Same with Authority, same with the Imperial fleet.
Well, you always did like to lone-wolf it. Way to go.
Who had I worked with? Who owed me a favor?
Shit. Wait a minute.
Fox. Cassius Alexander Fox.
Ol’ Cassius was the agent for Lavignly’s Legion with whom I had worked shortly after joining. Nasty business, that job. Corrupt admiral, compromised sector- we had both needed a stiff drink after that one was wrapped up. But that was just the one time, and-
Well, I didn’t have any other options. He was something of a public figure, since he was both a combat pilot and spokesman for the Legion. How exactly that worked, I never knew. It’s rare to fly a ship and talk pretty, but Lavignly’s Legion was as much about propaganda is it was about protecting Arissa’s interests.
There was no harm in asking.
The non-classified contact information had transferred over to my fake Virgil Titmouse ID, so I input his contact code, and waited. Hopefully he wasn’t asleep.
For about a minute, I stared at the comm. Screen as “please stand by” flashed at me. No luck. So I tried again. Same result.
Ok, he’s probably asleep, or working, or flying, or practicing a speech, or… does he have a girlfriend?
Thought of interrupting that made me chuckle.
Well, I’m in the ass-end of Kumo space with nothing better to do. Time to run up the phone bill.
I repeated this pattern for a few hours, calling every fifteen minutes, catching up on GalNet, and munching on one some deep-space rations. So, there was still the big hoopla back home over who would be the next emperor, huh? I didn’t pay much attention to politics, but even I had been shocked when Hengist Duval had been murdered by his own man at his wedding. Now, his body wasn’t even cold, and the maelstrom of Imperial politics was already at work to decide the next emperor.
If it were up to me, I would have chosen Arissa as the next empress in a heartbeat. Not because I worked for her anyway, and no because I’m one of those liberal types who endlessly chant that it’s time for a woman to sit on the throne, but because she was the best choice by far.
Denton Patreus? Even if working for him hadn’t left a sour taste in my mouth- he was, after all, the reason I was out here- there was no way. He had the worst case of little-man syndrome I had ever seen, and when the little man is obscenely wealthy, all but above the law, and in command of one the largest private militaries in the bubble, well- he’s just not the type you want in charge, you know?
Zemina Torvall? No thanks. That woman lived to do two things: line her pockets, and keep a boot on people’s throats. She had a fetish for slaves that was considered unusual even for an Imperial senator. Her weapon of choice was economic exploitation, but without the violent, ham-fisted way that Patreus typically went about it- but if needed, she could be just as brutal. She would have been a better choice than Patreus, but she had her eye on the bottom line just a little too much.
Aisling Duvall? Don’t get me started. “People Princess”, my paid-to-kill ass. Half of her supporters back her because they share her delusion that the Empire can be a slave-free playground of puppies and rainbows and sing-alongs, and the other half just can’t say no to a pretty face. Too few brains, way too little experience, and way too much money and free time for that one. No thanks.
That pretty much left Anders Blaine and Arissa Lavignly-Duvall. Anders was an old and respected statesman, but he didn’t have the royal pedigree to really make a claim for the throne. Arissa, on the other hand- illegitimate heirs are still heirs, and even if Hengist was dead, she could still rightly claim that he had intended her for the throne. Plus, she poured her fortune and resources into purging corruption from the Empire- her systems were renowned as being places of safety and integrity. In my view, that made her the obvious choice.
Well, it’s not like I was going to influence anything way the hell out here. I broke open another ration bar and kept calling Cassius. This one’s flavor was….yellow. Not bad. A little spongy on the texture, but it had a nice, nutty aftertaste that offset the-
“Who the fuck is this?”
I was almost startled out of my seat. My ration almost flew out of my hand.
There on the screen was Cassius, looking like someone had just keyed his ship.
I leaned forward and waved.
“Hey, it’s me, Matt! Remember, the inquisitor? We did the thing with the admiral! How you been, buddy?”
He looked offscreen, and then back at me. “Matt? Matt who? Lehman? Why the hell are you registered as 'Titmouse?'”
I took a bite of my ration bar. “Don’t worry about it, man- long story. Listen, I’m in the ass end of nowhere and I needed to contact someone to let them know what’s what.”
A concerned look crossed his face. “We haven't spoken in months, and now- according to this, you’re”- his face darkened- “in the Pegasi sector? What the hell are you-” He pauses, eyes narrowing. "What do you want?"
Chewing thoughtfully, I gestured out the canopy of my Cobra. “Nothing much. I’m fine, by the way, but it might not stay that way. Nobody except you knows that I’m even out here.”
Cassius raised his eyebrows. “Not even Gideon?”
I shrugged. “As the far as the inquisition is concerned, I’m on vacation. If they tracked down my pilot’s ID, they would see that I’m on one of Eravate’s famous pristine beach resorts.”
“Eravate doesn’t have any pristine beaches.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Now you tell me?”
Cassius shook his head. “Lehman, what do you want? It's not like I have a lot of free time here.”
I nodded my head. “Well, it’s going to have to wait, because I’ve got a hell of a story you need caught up on.”
For the next twenty minutes, I filled Cassius in on why I was out there- my history with Patreus, the guilt I felt, and the damn fool quest to find a little girl I had wronged. I transmitted the coordinates of both the Meat Locker and the Baigateru system.
“So? What do you want me to do about it?”
I was almost done with my ration bar. “Hell if I know. Jot down where I’m at, update your files on the Kumo Crew- whatever it is that PR people do when handed some bit of golden intel. But if Arissa’s at war with the Crew, and you want to really make a difference, you’ll find a way to help these folks. I’m just here for the girl.”
He sighed and looked down. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking. These systems are on the other side of inhabited space, and even if we all took off right now, it would still take days to get to these locations- especially if we’re going to have chance of not being noticed. We'd have to requisition carriers for the fighters, gather supplies, stockpile fuel, plot routes… I’m getting a headache just thinking of the logistics. And its not like I can do all this by myself; the rest of the Praetors would have to sign off on the op, then we'd have to bring it up to High Command, and you know how they operate. ”
He put his head in his hands. “Yeah, it would be great propaganda... but it's not like I can get this done overnight.”
I shrugged. “Well, don’t sweat it. I ain’t asking you to ask Imperius to drop everything and send the entire damn Legion out here. I just needed to let someone know what I’m doing, in case, you know-“
He looked up. “In case you don’t come back?”
I nodded, slowly. “Yeah.”
We stared at each other for a moment.
“You’re going soft, you know that?”
I smiled. “I know.“
“Look, I can’t promise anything. The Legion is spread thin as it is, and”- Cassius shook his head- “and you’re a long way from home.”
“So are these people, Cassius.”
He nodded. “I know. But no promises, remember? I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“That’s all I can ask for, buddy. I’ve got to get going.”
“You do that. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.“
I laughed. “But here I am, right?”
He smiled. “But there you are. Stay safe, Titmouse.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
<transmission ended>
Well, I called home, just like mom and pop raised me to do.
By now, someone would have discovered Walt’s (hopefully) lifeless body, so it seemed likely that my warm welcome with the Kumo Crew was at an end. Still, I had the next piece of the puzzle- Katie had been here, and I knew where she was now.
Pulling up the information from Walt’s still-logged-in tablet, it was even possible to track Katie’s exact location. That would make this whole thing relatively easy. All I had to do was set down next to the signal, use the tablet to home in on her, and- what, exactly?
Tell her I was a good guy? That she can trust me? Just like that?
Yeah. Because strangers have been absolutely trustworthy this whole past year, right?
Kidnap her?
That would be… ironic.
And what about all the other people around her?
‘Tough luck everyone, my feel-better-about-my-past journey only involves this one little girl. Good luck with your situations!’
Well, what would that make me? The most selective hero in the ‘verse, probably.
Ok. One thing at a time. Let’s just find her first. Gaining her trust would just have to be improvised.
Bagaiteru was a long ways away, so I plotted my course according what was best for my fuel scoop. I didn’t want to dock anywhere between now and then, not so close to Kumo space.
So, it would be living off of the ship’s water supply and deep-space food bars for awhile. That was do-able. Red and brown were always my favorite flavors anyway. Couldn’t tell you what real food they were supposed to taste like, but they weren’t bad.
I let the nav computer plot the course to Bagaiteru as I started warming up the frameshift drive. As the FTL tunnel began to form, I tried to steel myself for whatever was ahead.
I’m coming for you. You don’t know it, but someone out there in the black cares about you.
The stars stretched out into witchspace, propelling me faster than the speed of light. I was heading once again towards the unknown. But I was also heading towards Katie.
It won’t be long now.
Just hold on, Katie.
