Retribution_Downfall of the Republic Page 6

  “Too expensive of a habit for me, thanks,” she replied, trying to hold her breath. She did have to admit, though, that the smell reminded her of her father's study back at the villa. He was a good man when he wasn't so embroiled in politics that his family had to fall to the wayside.

  “So we're 13.5 days from the Burmea system, and another six hours of in system travel to get to the colony itself. We can touch down outside of Cantor's Ridge, that seems to be the best bet for our brave settlers.” Alistair was chewing on the butt of his smoke, staring intently at one of the many information panels in the cockpit.

  “But the starport is in Burmis, don't we have to head there?” Rachel had done her due diligence when it came to studying the future home of her people and knew that the only functioning landing site for ships was in the planet's capital city.

  “We don't need a starport, The Ubik can land unassisted. We'll have clearance as an ad hoc colonial transport, delivering a few families and their possessions. We can set down on the ridge here, then walk down to the town below. If need be, we can purchase shelter kits before we land.”

  “None of us have any money. Shelter kits aren't cheap and neither are all of the provisions they'll need to make it as colonists. Their only option is to apply for federal aid in the capital.” Rachel didn't try to sound incredulous but these were obvious facts and she wouldn't send anybody off unprepared - especially to an under developed world.

  “I'll cover it, no problem. Or Achilles will, at least. He's got fast hands and a silver tongue, for lack of a better term.”

  “Just.. okay. If we can provide shelter, it would be better for them to live outside of a major city. They've been through enough trouble and a smaller town would be substantially quieter. Not to mention it would give them a better chance at earning a sustainable income.”

  “So it's settled. Achilles will handle the ship while we're en route and that'll give our passengers a chance to decide what they're doing. He's quite the pilot, although his evasive maneuvers leave quite a bit to be desired,” Alistair said with a chuckle as he gently patted the top of a viewing screen as if he were consoling a pet.

  “I was not designed to initiate combat maneuvers, Mr. Crowe. You of all people should know this by now,” the AI responded.

  His voice was now so foreign to Alistair that it took him a moment to respond.

  “Just giving you shit, bud. You're the best ship a man could ask for. And you'll figure it out in due time.”

  Rachel was beginning to understand that while Alistair may seem crazy for speaking to his ship, the AI in charge was truly one of a kind - and with a voice modulator not built to scare terrorists into submission, he was much easier to talk to. She wondered if he was an actual sentient being capable of self awareness and learning.

  “Alistair,” she said, “I've decided to stay on the ship after we depart Burmea. And, as much as I wanted to have Melanie and Laura stay planet-side, I want them to stay here as well. I know they're young, but they're both growing into women and will need guidance. I can't force any of the other families to look after them and I wouldn't feel right about leaving them alone on the planet. None of us are soldiers, though, and I'm hoping you take that into account when you start deciding where we go after Burmea.”

  He couldn't have been happier hearing that. “We'll decide together, then. Consider yourselves crew members of The Ubik. Just don't come yelling at me when you realize the pay isn't that great. That's Achilles' department.”

  They both laughed as the ship's FTL drives engaged, encasing the ship in a bubble of energy as it shifted space around itself and was hurled toward Burmea.

  Chapter 13

  Melanie lay on her bunk deep in thought aboard The Ubik. Her parents died when a pirate corsair raided their colony ship, a makeshift freighter retrofitted for carrying passengers instead of cargo. She was 9 at the time and her father had the foresight to hide her in a cargo hatch while the ship was boarded and anybody who resisted was executed. The corsair ended up taking several prisoners, mostly women, and then left the ship stranded in space with barely functioning life support. Only by luck did a passing merchant vessel notice the degrading ship signature and when she was finally taken into protective custody by Republic officials, the vessel she was aboard had barely enough power to sustain even emergency life support.

  The passing merchant ship didn't stop to inspect, as only foolhardy or abnormally brave captains would risk their cargo for what could potentially be a trap. They reported the irregular signature to a nearby patrol who discovered Melanie as the only survivor of the raid. The rest of the crew and passengers were either dead or missing.

  After her rescue Melanie was placed under the care of a social services division on Alceti Hub, but her traumatic experience had left her scarred and angry. She frequently lashed out and even physically attacked social service workers who tried to get too close. She was eventually deemed a risk to the employees and ran away to fend for herself. None of the social workers were too determined to go after her and deemed their time more well spent helping children who were willing to capitulate.

  She found herself under Rachel's care shortly after, and blossomed under the wing of another courageous and strong individual. She immediately made friends with Laura and the two decided they should share a bunk on The Ubik.

  The two spent every waking moment together and were the best of friends. They confided in one another about everything from their horrific pasts to their dreams for the future; they were nearly inseparable.

  Tonight, however, Melanie was alone. Rachel was showing Laura the basic layout of the ship, making sure she knew where critical systems were and how to access emergency survival equipment. Laura had always been very mechanically gifted and Melanie knew she would thrive on board what seemed to be a technological marvel of mankind.

  But she also knew that at some point, she would have to strike out on her own. She was a violent girl, angry at the world for what was taken from her. Angry at a society that would allow people to exist who kill, rape, and steal for fun. She didn't want to hurt the people she loved, all of whom now resided on this ship. And she also knew that as she grew older, she would transition from a violent girl to a violent woman, capable of wanton destruction - something she would never wish on the people who cared for her.

  An angry tear surged down her cheek and she hastily brushed it off as she sat up. She needed to move, stretch her legs, punch a bulkhead or two. Before any more tears could form she stood up and briskly walked out of her quarters and started wandering the halls.

  Her crew shirt was slightly too big and she had to roll the sleeves up quite a bit to even have her hands sticking out from the sleeves. Combined with the baggy pants and boots (that fortunately fit) she looked altogether ridiculous, at least in her own mind. Incoherent and unrelated thoughts cascaded over her, and she began walking faster and faster. So many feelings she couldn't understand plagued her, and she just wanted to scream with all of her might. Memories resurfaced every night, dreadful nightmares of her harrowing ordeals... her only outlet, her only remedy was to fight, to kick, punch, claw, bite, and scream.

  After racing through several corridors she ran into a locked blast door that read 'ENGINEERING'. She punched the door as hard as she could, fell to her knees, and screamed something inaudible.

  “Ms. Thatch, perhaps you should speak to Mr. Crowe. Your heart rate and skin temperature match his very frequently, and a safe assumption would be that you two share similar emotional dispositions.”

  She froze for a moment, then realized the ship's AI was most likely everywhere on the ship at once.

  “I apologize for interrupting your tirade. If you wish to continue unabated I will leave you to your emotional outburst. But if you are looking for kinship, I recommend seeking out our captain.”

  “He wouldn't understand. I hate everything. I fucking hate every one. Nothing makes any sense and there's no point in trying to understand. I'm so sick of p
eople telling me that they 'get' what I'm going through!”

  “He may understand more than you do, Ms. Thatch. Mr. Crowe and I have spent several years together and I have witnessed many atrocities visited upon him.”

  Melanie wiped her face, which was now a mess of tears and snot. Blood from her hand was seeping into the fabric of the long sleees on her shirt and she considered that maybe they were good for something after all. She took a deep breath and thought for a second about how speaking to an AI wasn't nearly as personal as speaking to a person.

  “Is that why he's so.. weird? So crazy?” she asked.

  “Mr. Crowe suffers from no mental defects or abnormalities. His mental patterns are a mystery to me, even after numerous full body scans. Do you wish for me to summon him?”

  She didn't know why the AI had to be so on the nose and proper, but figured that's just how computers were. Logical to a fault.

  “I don't care.” At this point she was balled up on the floor, holding her knees tightly to her chest. The anger had subsided and she was numb again. Par for the course, she thought. She felt so little all of the time that when she did feel something, it was overwhelming and uncontrollable. There was so much about her that she didn't understand and she feared she never would.

  Within two minutes Alistair walked cautiously down the hall, peaking his head around the corner.

  “Hey, Mel.” he said sheepishly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Achilles told me you were showing the engineering door who's boss. Mind if I sit?” he asked, while motioning to the floor beside her.

  “It's your ship.”

  He took a seat a foot or so beside her and let out a sigh. He let silence permeate the gray corridor, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular.

  “What do you do when you have nothing left?” She asked after a few minutes of quiet contemplation.

  Her question should have surprised him, but Alistair felt a connection with this young woman that he didn't understand. Something about her felt familiar, even though they were worlds apart in nearly every other way. Maybe he could sense the hole in her heart, the gaping wound that festered and grew worse each day.

  “I.. used to wonder the same thing. There's nothing out there that can make you feel better, Mel. Nothing will ease the pain.”

  She looked over at him, bewildered. “You're supposed to say 'everything will get better' and that 'I just have to give it time'. That's what everyone else has said. Except Rachel, I guess.”

  “Well, then everybody except Rachel has lied to you. When you all boarded The Ubik, I took a bit of time reading official records. I know what happened to you and I'm sorry.”

  Melanie stared at him, wanting so bad to hit him. At first she felt like he had pried too deeply into her past and that it was an invasion of her privacy. But then she realized it was just because she was angry. Angry at him, angry at the world. Angry at life.

  “You will never feel healed, Mel. I know that sucks.. but I don't want to lie to you. Nothing you do will fill the hole you feel in your chest. The best you can do is find a way to keep it from getting worse.”

  “Is that why you help people? Why you were trying to help us after we were kidnapped?”

  “Trying to help you? If Rachel hadn't harpooned that bitch in the docks, my bravado would have been a sight to behold!” he said with a smile.

  Melanie allowed herself a snot-filled laugh, then wiped her face, embarrassed.

  “Yes, that's why I came to free you. I've seen what can happen to people out here on the rim... and I've been doing everything I can to make things right. It feels like such a lost cause at times, though.”

  She nodded and they both stared forward again.

  “I can't stay here,” she finally offered. She felt vulnerable being honest with a man who was essentially a stranger, but felt like she had to tell somebody.

  “Why's that?” he asked, genuinely curious. He wouldn't stop her if she wanted to leave, but he had the suspicion that Rachel wouldn't allow that to happen - Melanie was simply too young.

  “I was too violent for social services on the station. I was too violent to have any friends. Nobody needs somebody like me around, I'm only good at hurting things, hurting people.”

  At that, Alistair smiled. He knew all too well how she felt. Maybe he was beginning to understand the connection between them.

  “After I retrieved the other families Rachel told me about, I left to run a personal errand. If you really want to understand me, I'll tell you what it was.”

  He knew she was young. She was fourteen years old, according to her official documentation. But she was also much older in spirit, thanks in no small part to her particularly rough upbringing.

  “Did you go after the station security?” she asked.

  “I went after Dervish on his ship. I presented a note Brick was carrying to one of the guards and as soon as I was on board I shot his crew before I sawed his head off with my knife. I put it in a sack and left it on the desk of the station security chief as a reminder that he has a job to do. He was still breathing when I started on him and I stared him in the eye as I did it.”

  Melanie was awestruck. She'd pegged Alistair as the gentle giant type - somewhat of an oaf. He was clearly smart enough to “find” a fancy ship, but she never figured he'd be a killer. Or not a very good one, at least.

  “Wh.. how?” was all she could muster.

  “I told you, I used my knife.” he said as he produced a very, very old combat knife from a sheath strapped to his leg. “Don't worry, it's clean.” He handed it to her, handle first, and she slowly reached out and carefully inspected it.

  “You say that you're afraid that your violent tendencies will hurt the people you care about on this ship. I had the same talk with Rachel after you first boarded. I warned her that I'm not a good man to be around, as I leave a trail of viscera and death. But she seems to accept that violence is necessary when things get bad enough.”

  He looked forward again and took a deep breath. Opening himself up to another person, especially someone so much younger, was scary. He took solace in the fact that they were both forced to adopt a savage nature, however, and he was equally scared to lose that connection.

  “I like how it feels,” she said about the knife, as she tossed it from hand to hand.

  “It's old. My grandfather was in the Marines and my father gave it to me when I became a marshal. Been in my family for generations. It's not a fancy molecular blade like most people have, just a good chunk of steel. It's called a Ka-Bar. Why don't you hang onto it for a bit?” He unstrapped his leg sheath and handed it to her. “If you do end up leaving, you'll need a good way to defend yourself. Can't beat a marine knife. Only thing scarier is the person wielding it.”

  She took the sheath, slid the blade inside, and sighed. “Could you show me how?”

  “I don't see why not. Rachel mentioned she wanted to teach you to defend yourself, but I don't know if that includes disemboweling your opponents. She might kick my ass for trying, but it'd be worth it.”

  She laughed again, slid up against Alistair, rested her head on his shoulder, and allowed herself to tear up again. Maybe she would stay after all.

  Chapter 14

  It had been a week since departing Alceti Hub and The Ubik's new crew and passengers were starting to adapt to one another.

  More specifically, the ship's new passengers were finally used to Alistair's eccentricities and his roundabout way of life. He never left messes behind, was strict with his meal schedules, and almost militant in his need to keep up his physical endurance. The Ubik wasn't large enough to have dedicated exercise space, so crew members were expected to get creative when it came to staying in shape. Alistair did so by circling the ship over and over while turning up the ship's gravity levels. He'd asked Achilles to only raise the gravity of his route, but the gravisteel plating on the ship's underbelly was only so accurate – every deck would feel the change to some degr
ee.

  During his morning run before breakfast on the 7th day of their voyage, Achilles informed both him and Rachel that a Republic navy distress signal was being broadcast nearby. “Time to intercept 6 hours, 16 minutes. If you so choose, of course” the AI announced to both Alistair and Rachel.

  “It could be a trap,” said Rachel.

  “Traps can be fun! Besides, if they need help we need to look into it. As my new Executive Officer, you've got to understand that's why we're out here.”

  Rachel glared at Alistair and realized that she had instinctively wished to avoid the distress call simply because it was a Republic ship. Alistair was right – the Republic was in decline. But it was still a driving force for good in many places of human controlled space and its soldiers and sailors were still good people.

  “Fine. I'll follow your lead. What's the plan?”

  “Well, it looks like a Republic corvette suffering catastrophic damage. We'll be able to tell more as we get closer.” Alistair's curiosity had been piqued. “Achilles, set a course for the disabled ship. Keep us both apprised of any new developments.”

  “Of course, sir,” the AI replied.

  “From what I can see, they suffered cascading power surges leading to almost complete power loss. And they aren't alone – there are two other signatures nearby. One is registered as a colonial freighter, the other is harder to discern. I'd assume the 3rd signature is hostile, though, and they're en route to the disabled corvette. They should arrive just before us.” Alistair could feel something was off. The third ship had to be a pirate.

  “Looks like things are just getting fun out here. Let's get ready to do some aggressive exploration.”

  Rachel felt her heart sink. She'd taken several lives, all out of necessity. But she had never engaged in space combat. The slightest hole in an unprepared vessel could cause explosive decompression and being launched into the void of space was a miserable way to die.