Captain Raynes.
Kylie sucked her breath in at the revelation, watching as Raynes drew his weapon and aimed it at one of the men who had collapsed on the ground.
“No, please,” the man pleaded for his life as he raised his arms, “I’ll be good. I’ll get—”
Raynes fired his weapon, the shot piercing the man’s forehead. In the background the other workers kept their heads bent and performed their duties. The following silence was deafening. The vid cut out after that and Kylie fell into pensive silence.
<What are you thinking?> Marge asked.
<You know what I’m thinking.>
<Not really,> Marge replied. <Your vitals show your blood pressure rising. So, I know you’re angry and I’m pretty sure you want to rescue these people.>
How could she not?
“They risked a lot to make this video…to get it to us,” Ricket said.
Kylie nodded. “Let’s make sure this video is authentic before we do anything crazy. Marge, hack into the CSF’s records and pull their roster. Let’s see who these guys really are.”
<Will do.>
“You think a group took out the CSF and somehow seized control of this operation?” Ricket asked.
“I think anything is possible at this point,” Kylie said. “Let’s be sure before…let’s just be sure.”
“Before what, Captain?” Rogers asked.
“Before we do something crazy…like help all these people.”
RE-SEARCH
STELLAR DATE: 11.04.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Barbaric Queen, Platform 9, North Docks
REGION: Chimin-1, Hanoi System (independent)
While Marge and Laura scoured the station networks, Kylie took a quick rest on her bed to recharge her energy levels. She hadn’t slept in almost two days, and the last few weeks hadn’t exactly been restful.
She looked around at the lavish quarters, wondering if they had been like this when the ship was a luxury liner, or if her surroundings represented Kingfisher’s tastes.
Either way, she had to admit that the bed was a thousand times more comfortable than any she’d slept on in years. There was even a crystal chandelier hanging overhead. It was a bit gaudy for Kylie’s liking, but it fit what she knew of the previous captain and his eclectic tastes.
Sleep wouldn’t come, and so Kylie scrolled through old pictures on her HUD. Old memories of her marriage to Grayson were brought to the fore and they left her feeling heartbroken and alone. Kylie had tried not to think of him much, tried to pretend they hadn’t parted on such bittersweet terms. Even when looking at the pictures, Kylie tried to steel her heart against any deep emotion.
But when she looked back on family photos of her childhood, pictures with her father and her two brothers beside her, Kylie felt a rush of urgency to do the right thing. Find Paul, fix things. If they could even be fixed.
Kylie swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and sat up. She gazed at the floor, trying to galvanize herself into action.
<Video is authentic,> Rogers’ voice came into her mind. <Marge and Laura have gone through it with a fine-toothed comb.>
Just as Kylie feared.
<Any word from the CSF or the dockmaster?> Kylie asked.
<I’ve sent them system reports and my progress. They’ve updated our departure window to tomorrow morning at 10:00. Not much time to do whatever crazy thing you have in mind,> Rogers said.
Kylie rose from her bed and strode across the room, glancing down at the flow armor that had covered her body since they had first disembarked for Chimin-1.
She picked up her leather jacket from where it lay on the floor and slipped it on, suspecting she’d be putting the armor to use again soon.
<And the location?> she asked Rogers. <Were you able to confirm that it’s one of the grain farms?>
<Yeah,> Rogers replied. <Still working on which one though.>
<You expecting a love letter, Marge?> Rogers asked.
<Funny,> Marge replied dryly. <Ten men left the freighter. They were packing heat—projectile weapons, railguns. Heavy powered armor, too. However, so far as I can tell, their ship is unguarded now. If you want to get a bead on who these guys are….>
<Got it. Good work as usual, Marge. Ricket?> Kylie asked. <You check this out. Take Rogers with you.>
<I love a good field trip,> Ricket said.
Kylie walked into the cargo bay that held the secret armory. Though the CSF had gone through most of the ship, and grabbed the weapons lying about, they hadn’t uncovered the ISF’s special present.
Kylie passed the coded signal and two panels slid aside, revealing what Winter had described as a dream come true.
<And what are you up to?> Rogers asked.
Kylie grabbed a pair of grenades, a pistol, and a multifunction rifle. She activated the rifle and tested out its targeting system, then checked the charge under load
<I need to know what is going on here. Maybe I can uncover something back at the apartments, or at least create a distraction.>
<Captain,> Rogers paused as if he was considering his options, <…good luck.>
Kylie was glad Rogers didn’t tell her she was nuts, or that she needed to settle down, or to stop being so impulsive. She was cycling the airlock when Marge piped up with a question. <Do you remember Katie?>
Kylie thought it over. <Well, my mom is Kate. I’m guessing you’re not talking about her.>
<No,> Marge replied simply. <The NSAI bot we met earlier in the housing level. She had a problem and went out of service.>
Kylie remembered, but thought it was strange Marge was bringing her up now. <I remember. Everything all right?>
<The bot’s gone. No trace of her. What’s more, all of the human assistance NSAIs that should be on a station like this are gone. No traces, either. Like they never were here.>
So Marge was checking up on random NSAI now? Kylie swallowed hard, unsure if this had to do with the operation at hand or something to do with Marge’s old mission. <You think it has to do with us being there?>
<Possibly. I’ll dig further.>
<Good, you keep digging, just in case. We need to know what we’re up against, even if we don’t like what it means.>
Kylie examined her rifle before slinging it over her shoulder, then opened the exterior airlock door and strolled down the ramp as though she hadn’t a care in the world.
The platform outside the ‘Queen’s berth was narrow, just large enough for some cargo and a security booth, out of which a man came running as Kylie angled for the lift on the far side of the platform.
“Hey! You can’t leave the docking bay! Chief Raynes’ orders.”
She turned to face him as he rushed toward her. “Why not? Our ship is under repair and we can’t leave until tomorrow morning. I was hoping to grab a meal, maybe some entertainment, something to help pass the time.”
“Because the Chief said you couldn’t leave that’s why. We do what he says, not scum like you. You’re not your father, get me? You can’t order everyone around.” The security guard said the words with so much venom in his voice that Kylie wondered if he’d met her father at some point. It wouldn’t surprise her, Peter Rhoads had always liked to mingle with the masses.
“You met my old man, didn’t you?” Kylie asked the guard, then addressed Marge. <While I stall him, I need you to whip up orders from Raynes giving us permission to leave the docking bay.>
<That’ll take time,> Marge said.
<It doesn’t have to pass a cross-check. Just enough to get me onto the lift.>
<Got it,> Marge replied. <Slicing and dicing some security footage and access tokens to piece together what you’re looking for.>
He nodded. “Damn straight, I did. Liked the man and fell for everything he said. Thought he was good and honorable. Right up unt
il he destroyed Hubei.” The guard scowled, his shoulders rounding up as his eyes locked on Kylie’s. “I had friends and family there. What’s to stop me from extracting my pound of flesh from you?”
He took a step closer, his jaw tense, hand reaching for his weapon.
“Nothing,” Kylie answered simply. “If I were you, I’d want the same thing, but I’m out here doing the best I can. Trying to make it right.”
“You’ll never be able to make it right,” the security guard whispered, malice thickening his voice.
“The thing is, I know that. I know.” Kylie blew out a long breath, trying to settle her nerves. “Nothing I do will restore Hubei or bring the people back. All I can do is try to stop any people who are trying to take advantage of the situation we’re left in. It’s all any of us can do.”
The security guard glanced at Kylie’s rifle and back at the lift. “Is that why you want to get through?”
“Yes,” Kylie said softly.
He backed up. “OK…I never saw you come by here, but if you hurt or kill any of the locals…. No one will be able to help you. Raynes gave his orders.”
“I’ll keep my head down. Thanks, really. I appreciate what you’re doing.”
The man looked like he was already regretting his decision as he mumbled, “Your words struck a chord. Don’t make me regret this.” He turned and walked back into his booth without another word.
How was I lucky enough to encounter the one reasonable CSF officer on this rock?
She decided that it was best not to second guess it and walked to the lift, boarding it without further incident.
<Best to keep working on that authorization from Raynes,> Kylie said to Marge. <Not everyone is going to be so reasonable.>
<Maybe not. Or maybe they’ll see what that guy saw in your eyes and be easily swayed.>
Kylie didn’t want to discuss her emotions, or what her father had done. Instead, she pushed the button inside the lift to return her to Level 52 and the housing block where they’d found the dead. Five minutes later, she’d passed through the rotating airlock and into the now-dim atrium.
No one was present, not even the amputee in the back. Kylie walked to the secondary lift and saw yellow ‘Out of Order’ tape stretched across the doors.
She pushed the button anyway and nothing happened. Just then a sound startled her, and Kylie spun to see a young boy and girl rush past toward a series of squares drawn in chalk on the plascrete walkway.
Kylie smiled on her way up. “Careful, kids.”
The boy blew her a raspberry, and the little girl smiled at her.
She turned back to the lift and considered hacking it, but decided that someone might have left a surprise in the lift. A quick search revealed a staircase, and after bypassing its lock, Kylie was on her way to the level she and Bubbs had previously investigated.
Once there, Kylie walked down to the hall, wondering what she had missed. There had to be a reason the signal was sent here, and that a jammer had been set up on the level. It was more than just some assassin carrying out sick fantasies.
Kylie broke into the apartments again, searching each one over once more, flooding her nanocloud into the rooms and setting it to scour every nook and cranny.
Nothing turned up, but as she reached the end of the hall, it occurred to Kylie that apartments weren’t the only things on the level.
Near the elevator were several supply closets. She walked to the first one, opened it up and nearly jumped out of her skin when someone screamed.
Inside, a pair of teenagers were making out like a pair of love sick, well…teenagers.
The girl was dressed in only a tiny red halter top and her shorts were cut high across her ass so half her cheeks hung out. Kylie rapped her knuckles onto the door jam. “If you guys are janitors, then I’m Aunt Mabel.”
The boy was the one who had screamed, and the girl took a step back, her eyes wide behind the long blonde hair half covering her face. She wiped her lips nervously. “So…sorry…”
“I don’t have an Aunt Mabel.” The teen boy’s brow furrowed, eyes confused. The girl slapped his shoulder, grabbed his hand, and pulled him out of the closet, casting Kylie and her rifle a worried glance.
Kylie smiled to herself as she poked around inside the closet, through supplies and cabinets. It was reassuring to see that, despite everything going on, some aspects of life carried on unchanged.
Her search didn’t reveal anything suspicious, but her augmented olfactory senses were picking up an unusual smell. She drew in a deep breath.
<It smells like more bodies,> Marge said. <Though that’s odd because the rest of the apartments had been cleaned up—more or less>
Kylie tapped her finger on the back wall and noticed a vent partially covered up with tape, though a few strips blew in a soft breeze.
<There didn’t used to be a wall here,> Marge said. <This closet’s bigger in the plans.>
Kylie picked up a utility knife from inside a red tool box. <Let’s find out what they’re hiding behind this plaster.> She slammed her knife into the wall, sawed it back and forth, and made her own doorway.
The moment she lifted the piece of drywall away, the smell of decay hit her hard, nearly making her gag. Covering her mouth and nose, Kylie stepped into the enlarged space.
There were no lights, but her augmented vision could make out the source of the smell. A stack of naked bodies against the back wall. They’d been sealed up in plastic wrap, but something had chewed a hole in one corner and a vile liquid had seeped out.
<I make out twenty-eight,> Marge supplied
Kylie approached the bodies with trepidation. <How can we identify them? They’re…I don’t want to take the wrap off.>
<No need,> Marge replied. <I’m getting used to what I can do with the nanocloud tech you have. Sending in the probes to get DNA samples. I can match that up with the station records.>
Kylie looked around the room for any other clues, but it was completely empty. Nothing to see but the stack of corpses.
<These bodies have been dead a lot longer than the families in the apartments. The rate of decomposition puts them at three weeks to a month,> Marge said.
Kylie steeled herself so she wouldn’t feel the gripping sense of loss. <Maybe the families in the units were killed to keep this under wraps.>
<Perhaps,> Marge said. <Matches made. These people were CSF officers.>
Marge fed her the records, and Kylie realized that the faces of the dead were familiar. She recognized one of the cops who had arrested them on the southern docks just yesterday, and another was the desk sergeant that hadn’t known how to smile.
But one record stood out more than the rest.
“Damn…” Kylie whispered.
<Chief Raynes,> Marge confirmed. <He’s down there at the bottom. But if he’s here—decidedly dead—then we are dealing with someone with some seriously high-level tech. Enough to replicate his face very, very convincingly. He and his crew took out the CSF and assumed their places. Maybe killing people in this apartment complex who would suspect something was wrong. Though why they hid them here is beyond me.>
Kylie considered Marge’s words with a heavy heart. <I wonder if maybe we interrupted something already in play. One thing’s for sure, someone wants to get rid of us and frame Winter and Bubbs. Sweep this all under the rug so they can keep doing what it is he’s doing,> Kylie said.
<And what do you think that might be?>
Kylie didn’t know. She turned and left the hidden room. Once in the outer portion of the closet, she moved a cabinet over to hide the hole she’d created. <I think it’s time we ask the chief what he’s up to.>
GELATIN
STELLAR DATE: 11.04.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Holding cells, CSF Precinct 3
REGION: Chimin-1, Hanoi System (independent)
“Dinner.” The voice from behind the rear wall of Winter’s cell called out. A slot in the wall opened and a tray of food slipped t
hrough. The small door slammed shut with a bang, and Winter eyed the food hungrily.
Not a moment too soon. He was starving.
He hopped on down from his bunk and picked up the tray to inspect the contents. A small roll, some sort of chicken soup that smelled kind of good, and a small container of a red gelatinous substance.
Damn, how come they give us red gelatin in every prison I’ve ever been in?
Winter hated the stuff, but food was food and he did like to round out a meal with something sweet.
Tearing into the roll, his teeth met more resistance than he’d expected. Seemed it was on the stale side, so he dunked it into his soup. Probably why it was served together.
“You’re not really eating that filth, are you?” Bubbs’ voice came through from the adjacent wall beside him.
“Damn straight I’m eating. I’m starving. What about you?” Winter slurped some soup off the rim of the bowl. He sat down on the floor, crossed his legs and hunkered over his bowl so he wouldn’t spill more than necessary onto his tank top. If he had to do laundry more than once a month, he got grouchy.
“The food could be poisoned. I wouldn’t eat it.”
“Oh, c’mon, Bubbs. They aren’t going to poison our food.”
“Why not?” Bubbs asked. “You did it to the former crew of the BQ.”
Oh yeah. Winter had forgotten about that. “I guess because they’re not me. So far, I’ve had half a bowl of soup and I’m not feeling anything out of the ordinary.”
Bubbs sighed and Winter could practically see her rolling her eyes. “If you’re not dead in five minutes, I might reconsider.”
Winter laughed and scooped some gelatin out with his fingers, then tossed it into his mouth. Was cold, sweet, but the back of his throat tingled as he swallowed. “Aww, shit, I think there’s something wrong with this gelatin. I think it might be…”
“Told you,” Bubbs said, but didn’t sound happy about it. “Someone’s coming. Actually, two someones from the sounds of it.”