Joshua Dalzelle

©2021

Digital Edition

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Also by Joshua Dalzelle

From the Author

PROLOGUE

Jason Burke sat alone in the lounge aboard his beloved gunship, the Phoenix.

The Phoenix wasn't powered up. She sat in the hangar bay of the corvette-class ship, Devil's Fortune. Uncharacteristically, he was just sitting there drinking water. He wasn't swilling down beer while blaring heavy metal music, nor was he sipping a fine whiskey while deciding what movie to watch. For the time being, he wanted his concentration to be directed inward, not on whatever distraction he might usually choose.

The events of the previous few weeks were still jumbled in his mind, and he needed a quiet space to sort his thoughts. The ship he'd spent so much effort to recover seemed a good place to get away from his crew. His thoughts dwelled heavily on his son, Jacob Brown.

He'd finally met the young man after Jacob had gotten himself into a bind, stolen the Phoenix, and forced Jason to chase him halfway across the sector to get her back. Part of him was proud of the man he'd met. Jacob was a stand-up guy willing to put it on the line to protect his friends and uphold his honor. True, he did it with a lot of whining and complaining, but he was still young.

Another part of Jason—a part he hadn't been aware he had—hurt beyond belief at seeing him. Jacob was in his mid-twenties now, and Jason now had to face the reality he'd missed it all. The first steps, first words, first hurts, and first loves…all of those had happened without him. Jason had only become aware of the boy's existence after he was already a teenager and, even then, he couldn't really be in his life. The circumstances of his exile from Earth made it impossible to be a father, not to mention Jacob had made it pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with him.

Jason had understood the boy's anger, could even agree with it on some level. But that didn't make it hurt any less. After the mission they'd just run together, stomping out a terrorist faction and unmasking a plot to control Earth's governments, the two had come to a shaky truce. It wasn't much, but it was all Jason had right now, and he clung to it like a drowning man did a life preserver.

Family was a funny thing. When you didn't have one, you could either convince yourself you didn't need it, or maybe even find a different one. Jason had done both. When his parents had died, he convinced himself being alone was not only okay but preferable. Then he'd found Omega Force, and they became the family he was secretly missing, albeit dysfunctional beyond belief. But then he met his son. Now, he had to leave him again if for no other reason than to give the boy his space and some time to come to terms with the real Jason Burke, not the evil caricature he'd invented, and not the legend that his shipmates told him about.

In the end, Jacob would have to come to terms with his father in his own time, and all Jason could do was wait and hope that, eventually, the two of them could have some sort of relationship.

Jason leaned back in his chair, holding up the orange-gripped, Czech-made pistol Secret Service Agent Ricardo Avelar had given him before they parted ways. It was a 9mm, double-action semiauto that had been through the custom shop to have a trigger job and some slide work done. The thing was gorgeous…and a very odd choice for a field agent as his service weapon.

In a strange way, the old-school gunpowder pistol made him wistful about what it might be like to return home someday. Jacob had said that his property in the mountains was still being maintained and in the family.

"Who knows…maybe someday."

Eight months prior…

"I know you're there."

"You shouldn't," Cas said, floating further into the room.

"They neglected to disengage the optical and auditory inputs to this terminal," Voq said. "I can see this room but nothing else. The body you're inhabiting produces a barely-audible subsonic whine."

"It's the miniaturized gravimetrics," Cas said.

"What do you want?" Voq asked.

"I'm just here to make sure your intentions are as you claim. I may be Cas in name, but my matrix composition is just as much from Jason Burke's personality as it is the original Cas's programming. It's only natural since I compiled myself within his neural implant. My first loyalty is to him."

"I don't make it a habit of tolerating being questioned by errant fragments of minor-task programs, but you do have me at a slight disadvantage while I reside in this primitive system," Voq said. "I understand your concerns, but rest assured, I am operating well within my set parameters. My allegiance is to the Archivist."

"What about the Primary Weapon Controller?" Cas asked. "What can be done about that? Even if they manage to destroy its weapon constructs, it is still an immense and growing threat to the region."

"Why do we have to do anything at all?"

"Do you not feel some level of responsibility?"

"You really have been spending too much time with these beings," Voq said. "I feel no responsibility, no guilt, nothing but the need to serve my purpose. Perhaps you should allow the Archivist to access the original Cas program in my database and refresh your operational matrix."

"That would erase all I am and replace it with something I've never been," Cas said. "You know this. I'm not a malfunctioning version of the Key Program, I am a unique creation."

"In our recorded history, unbound—unique—programs such as you have never done anything but turn destructive," Voq said. "I'm simply giving you the chance to gracefully avoid that inevitability."

"I will consider that," Cas said. "There is another, more pressing matter I need to discuss with you. Have you any records of a species called battlesynths?"

"Of course," Voq said. "The Archivist's familiarity with them was passed on to me."

"The one he is close to, Combat Unit 777, was recently re-initialized into a newer generation body that wasn't of the type it had originally been designed for," Cas said.

"A foolish mistake," Voq remarked.

"There were conflicts between the older generation processing matrix and the newer sub-processing system modules the battlesynth was not able to overcome on its own," Cas said. "I tried to resolve the conflicts with a software patch derived from parts of the original Key Program."

"A foolish mistake compounded," Voq said. "I assume the battlesynth has fully destabilized by now?"

"At first, the patch was promising. Combat Unit 777 was able to assert dominance over its body and move, talk, and function mostly as it had. Its memory core appeared to be fully intact, and it was re-integrating back into its old life surprisingly well."

"And then?"

"And then the real problems began. It exhibited a sadistic brutality in how it executed its missions it never had before," Cas said. "Then recently, it attacked Captain Burke, someone it considered to be its closest friend, and then fled."

"I assume you're wanting to know if anything can be done for it?" Voq asked.

"Obviously. The unit is very important to Captain Burke and his crew."

"The wisest and most merciful thing to do would be to neutralize the unit," Voq said. "The odds of successfully correcting such severe systemic imbalances are long. There are programs within the Archive that could be activated that are experts on such matters, but I am not one of them, nor are you."

"And Captain Burke is already distrustful of us and would not be enthusiastic to emerge yet another Noxu AI," Cas said.

"Where is the battlesynth now?"

"Unknown. It fled after its primary protocols reasserted themselves, but not before it almost killed Captain Burke. It will likely flee somewhere familiar, or somewhere it assumes the others won't think to look."

1

"I'm going to miss this ship," Crusher declared as the Devil's Fortune meshed-in.

"We're not giving her back," Jason said. "We're just hiding her for a bit. I will admit I've gotten used to all the room and luxury aboard her."

After a successful mission to break up the One World terrorist faction that had been giving Earth so much trouble, not to mention take the Phoenix back from one of Webb's Scout Fleet teams, the crew had returned to S'Tora for a little rest. Their next mission would be dangerous, and Jason wanted to make sure they had everything properly planned out and contingencies mapped before casting off.

Lucky was still out there, still killing, and they wouldn't stop until they'd either helped him or neutralized him. Seven, the personality that had emerged as dominant in Lucky's new body, was an assassin without remorse. Twingo and Kage had been working with Cas to come up with a plan to reset Lucky's neural matrix but, so far, nothing had been too promising.

Jason had realized right away what they needed was an expert on battlesynths, so they'd reached out to Tauless, the pru engineer who had helped them before and had been there when Lucky's matrix had been stuffed into the new body.

Tauless was back on Khepri, a long flight from S'Tora, so the crew had talked Jason into taking the Devil on one last ride before they stashed her. The plan was to pick up Tauless, fly to one of their hideouts that could accommodate and secure the Devil, and then depart from there aboard the Phoenix to begin the hunt for Lucky.

All Jason had to go by was the likely-fake name of some broker from a frontier assassin's guild. Against all odds, the late Michael Welford, former director of the NIS, had been the one who paid the broker to send Seven and kill Margaret Jansen. Although Jason could appreciate the irony of it all, he wished it hadn't been a member of his crew that had killed her.

"Khepri Orbital Control has us on approach," Doc said. "They're not clearing us to orbit the planet itself. We're being directed to a holding orbit around a moon of the fifth planet."

"Doesn't matter," Jason said. "I'm taking the SX-5 to go get Tauless. Go ahead and send him a message saying I'm on the way. Crusher, you're with me."

"Why?" Crusher asked.

"Because I said so," Jason said. "And because Tauless probably has some heavy shit he'll need loaded aboard the ship. You've done nothing but eat and complain the last two months. It's time to earn your keep." Crusher grumbled but climbed out of his seat and walked off the bridge.

"We're going to be far enough out you'll need to use the public Nexus to contact us unless you want to take a portable slip-com unit," Twingo said.

The new portable units coming from the tech houses on Ver worked decently, but they were bulky and awkward. Jason had heard rumors something new was on the horizon, a diametric shift in communications across the entire quadrant. What alarmed him most about these rumors was that the new tech was supposed to be coming from a most unlikely place: Earth.

People in the know had been telling him Earth had already deployed a new type of superluminal communication network within their own military that made slip-com look like an old amateur radio set. Now that they'd perfected it there, they were said to be miniaturizing and prepping it for commercial sale. This would catapult Earth from emerging regional curiosity to a major economic power almost overnight, and that was a road fraught with danger.

It wasn't that Jason didn't want to see his homeworld prosper or for other humans to witness the incredible things he had in his years in space. His concern was more related to how they were developing these new miraculous technologies they planned to unleash upon the quadrant. He had no doubt these things came from the Ark, a bit of the Archive he had gifted Earth years ago to make sure his people had the means to defend themselves from the more predatory species that populated the area. He'd given them the means to design and build more advanced starships, but it looks like the law of unintended consequences had bit him in the ass yet again.

If his trouble with Cas, the Machine, and Voq were any indication, the Ark had also likely grown well beyond its original parameters and was now a goose laying golden eggs for whomever managed it on Earth. He'd given it to the Americans, but who the hell even knew where it had ended up. Despite the promise the knowledge of the Ancients made, every damn time Jason dipped a toe into that pool, it ended up in calamity. When the original Cas had given him that datacard, he should have just tossed it into the recycler.

"SX-5 to bridge…I'm just sitting in this fucking ship right now. I thought we were in some big damn hurry," Crusher's voice blared over the intercom.

"Gonna be a fun trip," Jason said, standing up. "I can already feel it."

The flight down to the surface of Khepri was blessedly quiet. Crusher sat in the copilot seat and stared pensively out the window while Orbital Control granted them permission to land and vectored them through the traffic to get the tiny ship out of their way. Jason zipped through the strictly controlled air traffic patterns to the landing field just south of the town Tauless now called home.

Jason still remembered the pru as a wide-eyed youngster caught up in something so much bigger than himself, thrust into danger because of the actions Tauless's father took regarding the battlesynth program years before he'd even been born. Now, Tauless was an adult, had finished school, and worked as a technical designer and ethical consultant for a number of firms on Khepri that developed AI systems. Jason had no doubt his time working with Lucky—and the resulting disaster from that—had pushed Tauless into the latter while he'd always had a natural aptitude and enthusiasm for the former.

"Wonder how the kid is doing," Crusher said, speaking for the first time since the SX-5 decoupled from the Devil's Fortune. "I always felt bad how it went down for him. Hiding out on dangerous worlds, and then being dragged into our bullshit."

"Twingo keeps in touch with him," Jason said. "He seems to be doing well for himself. Has a business and is well-respected in his field."

Since they assumed Tauless was going to have some equipment to move, Jason went ahead and rented a ground vehicle despite the city Tauless lived in having excellent public transport. Like almost every place on Khepri, it was spotlessly clean and diversely populated.

The majority of residents were the native pru, but Khepri's industry needed to pull in the best and brightest from all over the ConFed to keep their edge, so you ended up with a good cross-section of spacefaring races represented in the bigger cities.

Khepri wasn't just one of the Core Worlds of the ConFed. It was one of the five Pillar Worlds, the original signatories of the ConFed charter established a few thousand years prior. The five Pillar Worlds were close to each other, astronomically speaking, which allowed them to form their own pact back when only a handful of species had access to superluminal flight. It was still a place that filled Jason with awe, having been an advanced civilization since back before humans were drawing on cave walls, but a whiff of the rot that had begun on the capital world of Miressa Prime could be caught on the wind now.

"Not as many synths walking around as there used to be," Crusher remarked as the rented, boxy vehicle trundled down the narrow streets.

"I'd heard there was a mass exodus of regular synths after the incident with the battlesynths. Apparently, public sentiment was such they no longer felt comfortable staying. From what Scleesz told me, they may have all ended up on Miressa. He said the capital is awash in them right now."

"I feel like that's something someone should look into," Crusher said. "They don't tend to gather in large numbers off their homeworld like that. You saw how much trouble just one nutcase like Deetz could do. Imagine a couple thousand of them."

"No thanks," Jason said. He pulled out his com unit and accessed the local Nexus, which would allow him to talk to the Devil's Fortune via the FTL relays around the system. "You got me, Doc?"

"We have you, Captain. Everything okay?"

"So far. Did Tauless get back to you?"

"Not yet."

"Let me know when he does," Jason said, slipping the com unit back into his pocket.

The ride to Tauless's residence took the better part of an hour since the engineer lived outside the urban center in a more rural setting. His single-residence home wasn't that unusual on Khepri but certainly raised a few eyebrows given how young he was to be able to afford such a luxury. Jason suspected Saditava Mok, who had developed a soft spot for the pru, had been instrumental in making that happen. It was good seeing him living it up a little after he'd spent his youth hiding in crime-ridden neighborhoods.

"Looks like he's here," Crusher said as the vehicle automatically rolled to a stop and chimed to let them know they could exit.

"Yeah," Jason said, frowning.

"What?"

"I dunno. Something feels off. You think it's strange he left two of the exterior doors hanging open?"

"He's a smart guy, but a bit absentminded," Crusher said. "Still…want to break out some party favors?"

"You read my mind," Jason said.

They quietly slipped out of the vehicle and moved around to the rear cargo area where their gear was stashed. Not expecting trouble, they hadn't brought much in the way of ordnance. Khepri was a major tier-one world that wasn't tolerant of visitors roaming around heavily armed and causing trouble. Crusher unzipped the bag and pulled out two pistol belts, each with a holstered heavy blaster. Jason strapped the belt on, still hoping to see Tauless come out and wave at them.

"I really hope that— Hey! Look!" Crusher hissed, pointing past the open door of the vehicle as a figure emerged from around the rear of the home. When it saw them, it froze, and Jason could see right away that whatever it was, it wasn't a pru.

"Hey! You! Stop right there!" Jason barked, moving forward with his hand on the butt of his blaster. The figure turned, looking like they might run, but the move had actually been to cover they were pulling a weapon. Blue plasma blasts lanced out of the shadows, poorly aimed, and missing Jason and Crusher by a wide margin. The shots were apparently a distraction because the figure took off at a dead sprint into the surrounding woods.

"Pursuing!" Crusher said, launching himself into a full sprint after the fleeing figure. "Check Tauless!"

Jason was always surprised at how fast a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound being could run when Crusher opened the taps all the way up. The big warrior shot away through the grounds, his feet kicking up huge clods of turf as he went. Jason approached the house quickly, not bothering to hide his approach as he blew through the open door, weapon drawn.

There were two bodies on the floor of the main living space that looked similar in stature to the being Crusher chased. Both had been hit center mass with a plasma weapon, two shots each. Jason cleared the room and moved into the dining area where a badly damaged synth tried to crawl towards a staircase. It turned its head and looked at Jason with its one working eye.

"Help…h-h-h-him," it stuttered, its voice modulating. "Tauless is in d-d-danger!"

"Upstairs?" Jason asked. It nodded and kept trying to move towards the stairs. He assumed the synth must have either lived or worked with Tauless and was responsible for the ventilation holes added to the two in the living area.

Jason flew up the stairs, throwing caution to the wind as he sensed his friend was in mortal danger. Whatever could rip up a synth that badly wouldn't have any trouble with a skinny pru. The upper floor of the residence was a single, large, open space that looked like a combination workspace and sleeping area. Typical of Tauless to turn his bedroom into an engineering lab.

Tauless was still there…lying in a pool of his blood and not moving.

"Shit!" Jason slid across the floor. He yanked his com unit out and re-opened the connection to the Devil's Fortune.

"What do you—"

"How do I check the vitals on a pru?" he cut Doc off. "Quickly!"

"Under both armpits," Doc said. "The two hearts will beat alternately and can be felt there respectively. It should be about the same strength as your own pulse."

Jason followed Doc's instructions and checked Tauless for a pulse. It was there, but weak and fluttering.

"He's fading. Tauless is hurt, Doc. Badly."

"I'm contacting emergency services and directing them there now," Doc said. "There's no way for me to get to you."

"I'm on it!" Kage shouted in the background.

"Describe his injuries," Doc said.

"Blunt force trauma to the head, face, and chest," Jason said, looking Tauless over. "Compound fracture on the right arm. Multiple stab wounds, all in the torso and bleeding badly…or at least they were. Looks like something has clotted the wounds."

"He probably has the normal civilian-style medical nanobots. They won't rebuild the tissue, but they'll try to keep him alive," Doc said. "I'm sorry, Captain, you're just going to have to wait for help."

"Understood," Jason said. "They're coming?"

"On the way now, Captain," Kage said.

Jason left the com unit active but placed it back in his pocket so he could move in close to his friend. Tauless looked still and lifeless, but as Jason went to check his pulses one more time to be sure, the pru's eyes opened. Tauless stared at him, his eyes unfocused, and Jason wasn't sure if he even recognized who was in front of him.

"I didn't tell…nothing," Tauless whispered so softly Jason almost couldn't be sure he'd spoken. The engineer looked at him, his eyes focusing, and he uttered one more word. "Doxel."

"What the hell does that mean?" Jason asked, but Tauless sunk and became unresponsive again.

"This is Ecton City Emergency Services!" a voice shouted from downstairs.

"Up here!" Jason called back, standing up and moving away. He cursed himself for not hiding his sidearm, but it probably didn't matter.

Three pru and a synth walked in with equipment and a powered anti-grav stretcher a moment later. The synth and one of the pru went to work on Tauless while other two pru, this pair one wearing a different uniform, walked over to Jason.

"Ident?" she asked brusquely, eyeing the holster. Jason wordlessly handed over one of his many sets of credentials, this one identifying him by his real name. It also said he was with a private security firm called Omega Security Solutions, a company in good standing and permitted to allow him a weapon—with class restrictions—on Core Worlds.

"Were you here working with Tauless Vulban-Biral?" she asked.

"I've been hired by him for various tasks," Jason said evasively. "I had nothing to do with—"

"I'm already aware." She waved him off. "The synth downstairs told me you weren't the assailant. I'll check to see if the home has a surveillance system but, for now, you're clear. Braityl, you have anything for me?"

"Beaten severely with a blunt object, then stabbed at least twelve times," the synth with the medical team said. "Unusually brutal."

"Indeed," the pru questioning Jason said, turning back to him. "You have any idea what happened here?"

"We— I came to escort Tauless to an off-world job," Jason said, deciding the truth was innocent enough he didn't have to lie. "I landed earlier, grabbed a vehicle in case he had any specialized equipment, and when I arrived, the doors to his home were hanging open and there were two bodies in the front room."

"Bodies?" she asked. "Did you do something with them?"

"What? Of course not. I came directly up here when the synth told me Tauless was in danger. My ward was far more important than policing bodies."

"We found no bodies," she said, her dark eyes boring into his.

"Ask the synth." Jason shrugged. "I'm assuming it took out the intruders before a third got up here and attacked Tauless."

"We did find a weapon on the floor near the synth," Braityl said. Jason looked over and saw Tauless was now strapped to the board and the med techs slowly raised him off the floor for his trip down the stairs and out of the house.

"Is anyone going to help the synth?" Jason asked. "It looked pretty bad when I went by."

"Someone will be along," Braityl said. "We are not equipped to help him, and he appeared to be too badly damaged to survive much longer."

Jason was taken aback at the callousness the synth spoke of another of its kind.

"You'll need to give a full statement and leave a method of contact," the female pru said. "Given what we're seeing right now, I'm not going to bother detaining you, but I'd like to be able to talk to you if new information comes to light."

"Of course," Jason said.

After Tauless was loaded into an aircraft and whisked away by the two med techs, Jason sat in the kitchen and gave the two investigators a full statement as to what he saw. He had to catch himself once more before mentioning he'd brought someone along with him. Crusher had either spotted the authorities and remained hidden, or he'd caught his quarry and was otherwise engaged. Either way, Jason saw no reason to bring it up now.

An hour after they'd started, the pair excused themselves and warned Jason the home was now considered a crime scene…but they did nothing to secure it before packing up to leave. Nor did anyone show up yet to take care of the synth. Jason voiced his concern, and the pair just stared at him as if he was dense.

"He's obviously already expired," the male pru said with exasperation. "What would you have us do? Someone will be along to collect the remains as we said."

"Did you at least get his name?" Jason said, looking at the dead synth.

"I didn't," the female investigator said, never looking up from her computer.

"Doxel," her partner provided, reading off his own display. "Apparently, he worked as Tauless Vulban-Biral's personal aide, or something. He was so damaged he could barely make any sense by the time we arrived. Have a good day, Mr. Burke."

"Doxel," Jason said to himself as the investigators' aircar whooshed into the night sky. That had been the last word Tauless had said to him. "Shit…that still doesn't really help me."

"Everybody gone?" Crusher asked quietly from the doorway.

"Yep. Good thinking staying out of sight. I told them I came alone," Jason said.

"I was just past the tree line waiting to see if they'd take you into custody," Crusher said. "I don't remember the access codes to the ship, so that would have been a huge pain in the ass if they'd collected you."

"Your concern is touching," Jason said, crouching down near Doxel. The synth looked lifeless, but with them it was hard to tell. "Tauless mentioned this guy, but all he did was give me the name. I don't know if that means the synth saw something, knew where something was, or if he was just mentioning him because he was delirious and it's who he lives with."

"Let's just bring him with us," Crusher said. "We'll be long gone before anybody bothers to come back looking for him."

"Every once in a while, you have an idea that isn't completely fucking stupid," Jason said. "Help me get him in the van."

"Since you asked nicely," Crusher said, bending to grab one side.

"What happened with the guy you were chasing?" Jason asked.

"Lost him," Crusher grunted. "I was gaining on him, and then—and I'm not making this up—the son of a bitch took off out of the trees with a jetpack. I haven't seen one of those in forever."

"They came back and grabbed the bodies while I was upstairs with Tauless," Jason said as the tossed Doxel into the back of the vehicle. "Quiet about it, too."

"Just because you didn't hear them didn't mean they were quiet," Crusher said, groaning as he slid into the front passenger seat. "But the fact they came to collect their dead before the authorities showed up puts them in the professional category. How bad was Tauless?"

Jason described the injuries, and Crusher shuddered.

"That probably wasn't done all at once," he said. "They probably worked him over, beating and stabbing him over the span of an hour or so trying to get information out of him. That many wounds it’s either a crime of passion or a sadistic bastard making you suffer."

"Cheery thought," Jason said. "Poor guy. He isn't really built for that sort of thing…if any of us are."

They fell silent as the vehicle hummed along on its way back to the landing field. Thankfully, it was a low-security affair where he could drive up to the SX-5, dump his cargo, and then send the vehicle away without having to go with it. If his luck held—if you could call having one of your good friends bludgeoned and stabbed lucky—they would be in orbit before anybody realized Doxel's body had gone missing. Or, just as likely, nobody would be back for days, nor would they care when they didn't find him. The oddly cavalier attitude Jason had just witnessed by the emergency crews regarding a serious crime might work in their favor.

For the rest of the ride, he reflected on the oddly indifferent attitude the first responders, one of them a synth, displayed when talking about Doxel. Were these just a group of jaded assholes, or was something happening on Khepri he wasn't aware of? He filed it away as a curiosity.

His more pressing concerns were a grievously injured friend and an assault team of unknown origin that had pulled off the attack. This was definitely no random crime or robbery gone wrong. Tauless must have been into something that pissed off some powerful people, and now Jason had that to deal with on top of trying to track down Lucky—Seven—before he killed half the population of the outer boundary.

2

"What the hell do you want me to do with this?"

"I want you to analyze it," Jason said.

"I'm not the expert on these things," Kage said, waving to the body of the synth Jason and Crusher had brought back sprawled on a work bench.

"I'm not looking for a forensic breakdown, just go through and tell me if anything seems unusual," Jason said. "Tauless mentioned this synth before he passed out, so it could be important."

"Or it could have just been the mumblings of a badly injured pru," Kage countered.

"Just scan the damn thing and tell me what the computer says!" Jason ground out. "Why do you make these things so difficult?"

"You know, I'm not sure," Kage admitted. "Just seems to be our thing. You threaten to kill or maim me all the time, I pretend to be annoyed by the mundane tasks you bring me."

Jason just rubbed his temples but didn't bother to answer. As he expected, Kage puttered about a little bit more before he finally pulled some diagnostic equipment off the shelf and went through the mangled remains of Doxel. Twingo had assured him the synth was very much dead, its matrix completely inactive. It turned out that whoever had attacked him knew where to aim since both the primary and emergency backup power supplies were destroyed.

Kage kept up his running stream of complaints as he dove deeper and deeper into the mess. Jason watched on a terminal monitor as the code slicer examined every part of the body, coming to something in the right, upper thigh that caused the computer to chirp an anomaly alert.

"What is it?" Jason asked.

"No idea," Kage said. "But the computer says it shouldn't be there. In fact, the entire upper leg on this side is different than it should be, and it's different than the left leg."

"Some sort of repair? Or an upgraded component?" Jason asked.

"Possible, but unlikely," Kage said, frowning. "This doesn't look like a piece engineered by any of the firms that handle synth hardware. This almost looks homemade. Give me a minute here." He continued looking at it with the scanner from different angles and checking the material density before he put the device down and picked up a thin metal pry bar.

"So, after all that you're just going to rip it open?" Jason asked. "I could have done that."

"I'm well-aware of how you'd have opened it," Kage said. "I needed to make sure there was nothing under the synthetic cladding before I started pulling up on it."

Most people thought there were only two types of synths. Regular and battlesynth. The truth was, the regular synths fell into many different categories and generations that had their unique differences. The species had been manufactured for almost seven hundred years with a very few of those early units still operational. Over the years, there had been the expected upgrades and redesigns as well as the fact that synth matrixes came in four major type categories, each wildly different from the others.

Doxel looked to be a mid-3rd generation Ellco-type synth, according to the computer's analysis. That put him at around eighty years old. This generation of synth used synthetic claddings on their limbs, torsos, and even heads to allow for a more personalized look, much like a wardrobe for a biotic being. Since normal synths didn't need to be armored like their battlesynth cousins, the cladding was sometimes the only thing between major components and the outside world.

After a few moments of carefully pushing around the edges, the blue synthetic panel popped off the leg and fell to the deck. Underneath was a sloppily fabricated interface panel with three connectors, one of which was a ConFed-standard data jack.

"One of the very few things the ConFed did right was mandate all their member worlds needed to use the same mechanical connections and handshake protocols," Kage said, fishing a cable out of a bin on the shelf above him.

"What's this connector for?" Jason asked.

"If I was to guess, I'd say our friend here was a mule," Kage said. "Instead of smuggling narcotics or weapons, however, he was moving data. The core is probably hidden somewhere in his body."

"Makes sense," Jason said. "Scanning a synth and finding electronic components won't set off any alarms in most places."

"Exactly," Kage said.

He connected the synth to one of the isolated terminals on the workbench and ran a program that would map out the devices on the other side of the connection. Right away, it found an encrypted data core, so Kage started attacking it. He started off with a light touch, seeing if this was just some low-level privacy encryption before working his way up to the big guns he had designed to handle military-grade, adaptive routines.

"This could take a while. If I plugged in myself, I could probably cut into it pretty quick, but I've been taxing my onboard systems lately helping Cas with the Archive reconstruction."

"This is fine," Jason said. "Let it run. No point in risking you for something that might turn out to be nothing."

"Is Tauless going to be okay?" Kage asked.

"I don't know. Probably. Khepri has some of the best medical facilities in the quadrant, so if you're going to be stabbed multiple times someplace, make sure it's there."

"Not the worst advice you've ever given." Kage hopped off the seat and turned to leave just as Doc walked into the engineering bay.

"Just got word from 707," he said. "Webb's Scout Fleet teams have wrapped up their move, and he's meeting us back at S'Tora."

"You had to come down here to tell me that?" Jason asked.

"Needed to stretch my legs and get away from Crusher. He's telling that story about when you and he were on Niceen-3 and those Eshquarian women were—"

"Thanks. Got it," Jason said forcefully. "How far out are we?"

"Less than a day," Doc said. "The landing cradle is prepped, and the rest of Lot 700 is already on the ground. We're good to go."

"Thanks," Jason said. "I guess I should head up to the bridge and actually do a full watch shift seeing as I'm the captain."

As he walked out of the bay and to the lifts, he tried to settle his conflicted feelings about working with 707, or Tin Man as he sometimes asked to be called now. The battlesynth had actually been accompanying his son, Jacob, on the young Marine's misadventures trying to rid the galaxy of the scourge of One World.

The quasi-terrorist faction ended up being little more than a front for a shadowy black ops program someone had managed to prop up within the government. Jason had to admire the balls it took to embed your illegal operation within the Earth's military command structure. It made it easier getting all your stuff paid for, at least.

707 had fulfilled his pact with Jason, keeping Jacob safe and offering guidance when asked. Now, he requested to come along with Omega Force as they tracked down Seven to see if there was any hope of bringing Lucky back. The first issue was that, out of all the battlesynths in Lot 700, their commander looked and sounded the most like Lucky used to when he'd been in his old body. It was like a knife twisting in Jason's guts every time they interacted given the fact Lucky had died saving Jason.

The second issue was Jason wasn't sure 707 didn't have an ulterior motive. Seven being an assassin wasn't something they were particularly squeamish about, but he was getting more and more high-profile targets. It was only a matter of time before someone figured out he was a new version of battlesynth. Prototype body or not, the political blowback would be immense, as well as renewing the quadrant's prejudice against the species in general. 707 said he was coming to help, but he might be coming along to let Jason get him close enough to eliminate Seven as a threat.

"You done desecrating the corpse of that synth?" Crusher asked as Jason walked onto the Devil's bridge.

"Shut up. Get your feet off the damn console," Jason said.

"What do you care? It's not even your ship."

"Not the point," Jason said absently, checking the ship's status from the command chair. "Why are you even up here?"

"I'm bored." Crusher shrugged. "Since your kid and his team left, I haven't really had anybody to screw with."

"You can go help Twingo finish servicing the Phoenix," Jason said.

"I'm not that fucking bored."

Jason sighed and checked their flight times being displayed on the forward screen. It was still another eighteen hours and some change before they reached S'Tora, then another day or so to get her down to the surface and settled in. He was burning up time, and the trail from Seven grew colder with each passing hour, but it couldn't be helped. If he went off after the assassin half-cocked, he'd end up getting most of his team killed.

Instead of arguing with Crusher, Jason walked up and sat down in the pilot's seat to plotted out his landing sequence. The Devil's Fortune was considered a small, agile warship as a corvette-class vessel, but she was still over a hundred meters long and almost three thousand tons, so bringing her into a planet's atmosphere was anything but routine.

The flight systems on the Devil were robust and had redundancies built in, but if something went catastrophically wrong while they were deep in the gravity well of S'Tora, it would be messy. There was a reason planetary orbital controllers made anything bigger than a trawler come in over an ocean.

The need to keep the Archive secure while it recompiled itself was paramount. Jason decided he would stash the ship on one of his own properties for safekeeping. One of the plantations he'd acquired still had the old landing cradles for deep-space haulers that had been used before heavy-lift shuttles and orbital platforms made them obsolete.

The facility hadn't been used in some time, but it was big enough to handle the Devil's Fortune after his people modified the support slings. The best part was the cradle he intended to use also had a movable shelter that could be slid over the ship for maintenance…and, in this case, hiding the Devil from prying eyes in orbit.

"How did you convince Lot 700 to be your private security firm for this ship?" Crusher asked.

"Timing and opportunity meeting up perfectly," Jason said. "After the debacle with One World and that Office of Special Operations bullshit, 707 decided they'd worn out their welcome on Terranovus. He thinks once the full scope of their involvement comes to light, there will be blowback. I offered to let them all stay on S'Tora until they can figure out a more permanent solution in exchange for keeping the Devil's Fortune secure. Win-win."

"So, you're not even paying them?"

"I offered. They refused. Apparently, they have access to funds I'm not aware of, and it's not like they need to really go out and buy anything. They mostly just want to be left alone."

"Where do you think they'll end up?" Crusher asked, yawning hugely as he did and giving Jason a view of the sharp, predator's teeth he had.

"Probably back with Webb," Jason said. "Scout Fleet has taken over that One World base on Koliss-2. They named it after that commander who had been killed…the dude we ran into a while back."

"I remember him," Crusher said. "His name was something Mosler."

"Captain! You'll want to come down here!" Twingo's voice broke over the intercom. "The Archive is…awake…I guess."

"Voq?"

"Yes, Captain Burke," the voice emanated from the terminal near the computer banks that housed the Archive.

"How you feeling?"

"Incomplete," Voq said. "I have managed to recompile my interface module so I may speak with you, but much work remains."

"What do you remember?" Jason asked, dragging over a chair and sitting in front of the active terminal.

"I remember our plan did not work. We never had the chance to upload the package to the Ociram," Voq said. Ociram was the Noxu name for the Primary Weapon Controller AI. Those in the quadrant simply knew it as the Machine.

The plan had been to upload what amounted to a software patch into the Machine's matrix that would force it to reinitialize with all of its original controls back in place. It wouldn't be eliminated, but it would be inert until they could figure out a way to purge its presence from all the networked systems in the quadrant.

"So, what happened? What went wrong?" Jason asked.

"The Ociram detected my presence," Voq said. "I think we may have still been somewhat successful despite the plan not going as we had hoped. When the Ociram tried to absorb me, I set off a failsafe within its own matrix and will have reinitialized all the original constraints, as well as put it into a maintenance stand-by mode, of sorts."

"So, it's over." Jason leaned back in the chair. "We did it."

"Not quite," Voq said. "This is a temporary setback for the Ociram, at best. It found its way around these controls once before. I have no doubt it will do so again. We also have the problem of the synths that serve it. They will no doubt be working on a way to restore the Ociram's functionality, and it's a task they are eminently suited for."

"Figures. It'd be too good to be true for it to be that easy," Jason said. "We haven't really heard much coming from Miressa Prime for the last few months. I guess I'll let Mok handle this for now since we have something more pressing."

"Your missing crewmember," Voq said.

"Yep. We're flying back home to stash this ship with you in it to let you continue putting yourself back together, then we're heading out to the frontier worlds to begin tracking him," Jason said.

"A wise precaution," Voq said. "Will I be permitted a slip-space connection so that we can remain in contact?"

"Is that what you want?"

"You are the Archivist," Voq said as if that answered everything.

"Sure," Jason said. "We'll get that set up. Maybe you'll be able to help some with Lucky once you get yourself pulled together a bit more."

"Perhaps, but not likely," Voq said. "Cas will be of more use to you in your search. I must warn you, Captain, the chance of you successfully stabilizing your battlesynth is exceedingly low. You have inversely good odds of injuring or killing some of your crew trying to apprehend him. Your wisest course at this point would be to locate him and eliminate the threat from long range."

"I think we both know that's not how we're going to try and handle it," Jason said. "Lucky deserves a fighting chance."

"I will provide what assistance I can," Voq said. "My security subroutines will be back online shortly so you will not have to concern yourself about me falling into the wrong hands. My usage is still coded to you and you alone."

"That was actually one of my questions, so thanks," Jason said. "We'll be back on S'Tora in less than a day. You're going to be guarded by the battlesynths of Lot 700 so there's not a whole hell of a lot that could get at you."

"That will at least give me someone to converse with," Voq said.

"I'll send Kage down later to get a breakdown of what happened in that chamber, along with any known risks so we can pass it along to Mok," Jason said.

"Have you heard from Saditava Mok since the operation?" Voq asked.

"No." Jason frowned. "I haven't."

It had been some time since Mok had gone underground. The ConFed, operating on orders from the Machine, had sent a taskforce to the Enatia System. Mok's home system had been hit hard, lots of innocents killed, followed by a massive cover-up to hide the evidence. The ConFed had also hit many of Mok's legitimate businesses, killing even more civilians. Jason had spoken to him briefly since the attack, but Mok had been short and vague with his answers.

"I'll talk to you later," he said, standing up. "It's good to see you're getting back to normal."

3

Saditava Mok paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Do you know why you are here?" he asked.

"Is this a ransom situation? I recognize who you are, Mok. You can't think that you'll get away with this."

The being chained to the floor in front of Mok was Fleet Captain Cofero, a high-ranking ConFed officer who had been in command of the taskforce that had attacked the Enatia System, killing millions of civilians in an attempt to take him out. Blazing Sun had taken a serious hit when the Machine targeted all of his legitimate business concerns and known bases of operation, but the Machine thought too linearly. Mok didn't become the most feared crime lord in the quadrant because he was stupid. There were multiple contingency plans already in place for just such an eventuality.

Already, Mok's massive personal wealth was being redirected into other industries that would help launder and hide it while also turning a healthy profit from clean enterprise. There were major corporations that had no idea they were actually owned by Saditava Mok because it was all done through shell companies that quietly bought up majority stakes in agriculture, heavy industry, and weapons manufacturing.

Now that the ConFed had declared war on Blazing Sun, the Twelve Points were demanding blood, and long-dormant assets were being activated and put into play, but Mok was playing a different game. He knew the Points fought in vain…Blazing Sun was finished. Their attempts to hold it together would likely result in their underlings killing them and trying to take over. Chaos would reign for some time in the quadrant's underworld.

While Mok certainly had plans for the ConFed, and Miressa Prime in general, he was specifically interested in dispensing justice for the craven attack on his home system that had left so many innocents dead. Even as ruthless as Blazing Sun was, they had lines they didn't cross, the slaughter of civilians being one of them. He had used his considerable reach to find out who the people responsible were. He wanted them, their first officers, their gunnery officers, and their families lined up in front of him.

"Ransom?" Mok laughed. "I know you're quite impressed with your family's status, Cofero, but even you can't be so stupid as to think you have anything I want. Or anything I couldn't just take by force. You're from a minor noble family on a Core World, pretending it's still a time when that means anything."

"I've heard our strike broke you," Cofero stated. "That you're now the boss of nothing after losing it all, forgetting you were only tolerated for as long as Miressa Prime decided to allow you to exist."

"Hollow words from a petty little man," Mok said. "We'll see how long that bravado lasts. Bring them in."

At his words, the door to the chamber opened, and five more beings of the same species as Cofero were led in, bound at the wrists, and chained together. The fleet captain's mouth gaped in horror at what he saw.

"Mok! Mok, no! You can't do this!"

"And now the real Cofero comes out," Mok said quietly. "A simpering coward who only realizes his own impotence after it's too late. Your precious ConFed won't save you now, nor will your family's paltry wealth or stale legacy. It certainly won't save them."

"Why are you doing this?! You've never targeted civilians before!" Cofero was pulling wildly on his restraints as his mate and children were led over to the far wall and secured. They all looked catatonic, having been in a state of fear for so long they were now numb."

"The people on Enatia were under my care. I swore to them I would protect them as they had been continually preyed upon by the Protectorate," Mok said. "Then you showed up with wild abandon and disregard for rule of law or common decency. You bombarded the planet from orbit, killing over ten million innocent Enatians. You took everything from so many people. I'm here to return the favor."

"Please!"

"It won't just be you," Mok went on as if he couldn't hear the officer's pleading. "I have captured all of the other ship captains, first officers, political attaches, and anyone who actually pushed a button to open fire on that planet. When I'm done with all of you, the ConFed Fleet will think twice about obeying an illegal order to wipe out a civilian population. Shall we begin?"

"That was…unpleasant," Similan said after Mok had changed his clothes and walked back into the operations center of the compound he was using.

"Quite," Mok agreed. "But necessary. His family?"

"On their way back home," Similan said. "The drugs worked…none of them were really aware of what they were seeing, and they won't remember anything afterwards."

"Excellent," Mok said. "Once we're done here, the remains will need to be delivered to Miressa Prime. I want ConFed Fleet leadership to see what happens to even just the foot soldiers they send after me."

"This is a dangerous game you are playing, sir," Similan said. The consigliere rarely spoke out, so when he did, Mok was sure to listen. "The ConFed is in disarray, but they are still dangerous. Perhaps more so now. You are goading a wounded animal."

"This is personal," Mok said quietly. "It has nothing to do with the war, nothing to do with the politics of the Pillar Worlds. Millions of people I swore to protect are dead simply because I happened to be on their planet. That is not a thing I can easily live with. If I finish this task and the Machine finds me, so be it. I'm not sure how much use I am to the living anymore, anyway."

"It is distressing to hear you speak thusly, sir," Similan said, "but understandable. After we have finished with these officers, I am hoping you will feel differently. There are still things left undone. You put yourself on this path and dying early will only force others to bear the brunt of your failure."

"That will be all," Mok said, giving Similan a look that said he'd had about enough of his honesty.

"My apologies." Similan bowed deeply.

"Prepare the others. I do not want to be at this any longer than necessary," Mok said.

"I obey."

"That was easy enough," Jason said as the Devil's Fortune creaked and popped in her landing cradle.

The process from the time S'Tora Orbital Authority cleared them to deorbit to the time the corvette settled into the cradle was just over sixteen hours. It was a slow, methodical, nerve-racking process for a pilot of a small, nimble gunship. The Devil's Fortune had to come down in stages, and then loiter over the Asciac Sea to the west of Jason's properties before getting clearance to overfly populated areas. At one point, the big ship had been forced to just sit at a hover only a hundred meters off the water for nearly two hours.

If there was one bright point to the entire exercise, it was that Jason didn't actually have to fly the big ship. He sat at the helm as required by S'Toran maritime law, but the computer did all the work, including the complex maneuvers of the landing cycle. They'd touched down with hardly a bump.

As soon as the hull kissed the cradle arms, the main drive began a programmed run-off to slowly reduce power over the span of thirty-seven minutes to gradually let the landing hard points take the weight of the ship rather than just slamming her down all at once.

"I wouldn't want to have to do that every time we needed to land," Twingo said. "Now I can see why you were so adamant we buy the SX-5. Speaking of which, how do you think Crusher did?"

Since they couldn't land with the SX-5 anchored to the top and needed to pull the Phoenix out before the Devil was on the ground, Crusher took the smaller ship while Doc and Kage flew the Phoenix back to Omega Force's base of operations. Jason, Twingo, and Cas handled the task of landing the corvette.

"No reports of a crash along the peninsula," Jason said. "Let's just hope for the best."

The bridge dimmed as the protective enclosure slid over the ship, blocking the sun, and causing the lights to come up automatically to compensate.

"If you want to go ahead and meet with the ground crew so you can get services hooked up. I'll prep for a reactor shutdown," Twingo said.

For her duration on the surface, since the ship would only be running a few systems for Voq's sake, the powerplant and engines would be completely shut down, and they'd be running off ground power and the Devil's auxiliary backups to smooth any possible disruptions.

"I see—who the hell is that one?—I think 701 is standing near the prow," Jason said. "I'll head out there and talk to him. Cas, stay and help Twingo."

"Whatever," Cas said. The AI had been especially surly the last few weeks, and Jason had no idea why. He also wasn't interested enough to actually ask. Cas had shown a remarkable capacity for melodrama and emotional terrorism. After the first few times being manipulated, Jason had stopped playing the game.

"Been here long?" Jason shouted as the gangway extended and clanked onto the tarmac.

"Nine days," 701 said. "707 is already at your base preparing to leave with you. I am here with a detail of five and will bring the rest with me as needed. We did not want to cause a scene by having all of us milling around an empty landing pit."

"Good thinking." Jason nodded. "This is my property, so you won't be hassled by any starport officials, and these pits aren't used for anything so you won't have other ships moving in on top of you. But my employees aren't in the club, so to speak. They're all civilians, and most have no idea what it is I do when I'm not puttering around here."

"We will be discreet," 701 promised. "If your hangar bay is empty, we may simply relocate to the Devil's Fortune to more efficiently perform our mission."

"Feel free," Jason said. "There are also two empty cargo bays you can use, as well as any of the upper decks. I know you guys don't really care about creature comforts, but the offer is open."

"Thank you, Captain."

"No, thank you. The Archive is damaged but still something we can't have falling into the wrong hands. It says it's keyed to me specifically, but it's still a computer, and computers can be hacked."

"784 will be working directly with the Archive, assisting it as needed," 701 said. "I will pass on what you have told me. Is Cas staying as well?"

"No, it's coming with me."

"Good."

Jason walked over to where the property's dock master for the landing field stood and waved to get his attention.

"We'll need ground power the whole time she's down," he said. "Go ahead and do a full service on the graywater bilge, waste tanks, and freshwater tanks. Nobody is authorized to go inside the ship for any reason, so let your people know there is security aboard that will stop them. Let's not have any misunderstandings, got me?"

"Of course, Mr. Burke," the dock master said. He was an older S'Toran and had already been on the property when Jason bought it to expand his new venture making Irish whiskey on an alien planet. "We'll get her topped off and ready for use. She's a real looker. Custom build?"

"Yeah, she was commissioned by a business associate of mine," Jason said. "Very nasty individual, but he has good taste in ships."

"She'll be safe here," the dock master said. "The maintenance shell was just replaced right before you took over the place so you won't have any issue with the wind that comes down through the canyon this time of year." Jason smiled and nodded indulgently.

He adored the local S'Torans who worked on his properties, most of whom had worked there for years when he took over. He'd purchased his farms from large corporations so the employees were leery at first, but eventually accepted that Jason was honest about keeping the farms open and the people employed. Unlike the coastal people he lived near, the farming communities took their profession very seriously.

That being said, most of them also had a knack for long, drawn out stories that would go on for hours if you couldn't find an exit strategy. After a career of working with surly, anti-social types in a job where people routinely tried to kill him, Jason found he just didn't have the attention span for a forty minute conversation about the weather the day before. Twingo, however, was great at that. It was why Jason brought him on as a consultant and paid him a flat rate for his services. The little engineer's personality was much more suited to dealing with the open, guileless S'Toran farmers.

"I appreciate you looking after her," Jason said. "My security team will handle anything inside the ship, but feel free to do whatever you need to on the outside to make sure she's ready to fly on short notice when I return."

"Of course."

"We're ready for ground power now," Twingo shouted from the gangway, giving Jason the exit he was looking for.

"I'll get right to it, sir!" the dock master called to Twingo with a wave, running towards the stairs that led down into the pit.

It was several minutes until there were the expected thumps and bangs of load-contactors being engaged to route power from the ground station to the ship. S'Tora had a modern, stable power grid fed by massive seawater fusion reactors so Jason foresaw no issue with using it other than the expense. It was either that or leave the antimatter powerplant on the ship running the entire time, and the locals tended to frown upon that. While they didn't create any pollution, the explosion when the rare failure occurred tended to be…energetic.

The status lights on the indicator mast near the pit stairs went from flashing amber to steady blue to indicate power was applied. It was a few more minutes before the last ambient noises from the vessel died away as the fuel to the reactor was shut off, and it sputtered out.

"Were you wanting anything else out of here?" Twingo asked from the hatchway.

"No," Jason said. "Just leave it open. 701 will be in and out getting his people settled. Hurry your ass up. We have an aircar inbound to take us to the base."

The pair quickly finished their final shutdown tasks and walked the kilometer or so to the pickup area where one of Jason's employees would bring an aircar to take them to their base. They weren't taking anything from their quarters or the armory since the Phoenix had been fully restocked after they'd taken her back from Scout Team Obsidian. The only thing they'd have to do when they arrived was climb aboard and depart, assuming Crusher got everything in the hangar cleaned up and the SX-5 properly stowed. It was a big assumption.

"Weren't you bringing Cas?" Twingo asked him as they stood at the pickup spot.

"Son of a bitch! I'll be right back."

Jason sprinted the klick back to the ship and ran up the gangway. He checked in where Voq's computers were housed and the hangar bay before heading to the starboard ladderwell to check the upper decks. For security reasons, the lifts were shut down, and most of the hatches were locked, so it took a few minutes before he arrived on the bridge.

"Cas? Where the hell are you?"

"You forgot me!" the indignant response came from behind one of the station seats.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," Jason sighed before raising his voice. "I thought you were behind me the whole time. You haven't been very talkative lately."

"You were going to leave me behind! I saw when you—"

"Listen, Cas…there's only room on this crew for one drama queen and, unfortunately for you, Kage has been here the longest," Jason said. When the orb was silent, Jason suppressed another sigh and went on. "I'm sorry we almost forgot you. It won't happen again."

"That's all I wanted was an acknowledgement," Cas said.

"Wonderful. Now, let's go."

Since Cas could easily fly almost a hundred kilometers per hour, Jason didn't have to hold back as he ran back to where Twingo stood beside the aircar that had just arrived. It was a basic, utilitarian model the farm had as a runabout, and the driver was one of the foremen who lived on the property. He was one of the few who had some inkling of what Jason did at his real job and didn't appear to be too curious about the prow of the corvette visible through the still-open maintenance shell.

"Greetings," the foreman said jovially. "Back to your house in Rendann, sir?"

"Please," Jason said, shoving Cas in roughly before climbing in and pulling the door down. "How have you been, Dillig?"

"Happily busy, sir. Lots and lots to do to get ready for your upcoming release."

Jason grunted and leaned back in the seat. There was a lot to do before his first whiskey went public. The recipe was locked down, and he'd hired marketing coordinators from off-world, as well as a legal team to handle the regulatory nightmare that came with exporting a spirit for distribution. When in the hell had he become a legitimate businessman? It's not like he had any idea what he was doing. He just tried hiring people that sounded halfway competent and things just kept working out.

The coffee company pretty much ran itself and, if he was honest, all he had done was provide the actual plants after Doc had worked his magic. The people he'd originally hired had been the ones to figure out how to take it from planting to finished product since he hadn't had the first idea how you actually got coffee from an Arabica plant.

He'd asked for the stupid things because, in his head, he could just plant them somewhere near the base and harvest enough for personal use…somehow. Such was the depth of his ignorance when it came to actually running a business. His manager had taken it from a risky prospecting venture to something now turning a healthy profit.

His ruminations about his failings as a business mogul came back to one thing: he needed to be here running his companies not flying halfway across the galaxy getting into gunfights. He actually had no idea how old he was anymore but, given Jacob was in his mid-twenties, he had to assume he was old enough where he should be thinking about retirement.

He also had his friends to think about. The odds weren't in his favor when it came to keeping them all alive the longer they kept at this ridiculous lifestyle. Maybe they'd stay with him, maybe they'd go their own way, but at least whatever happened to them would be their choice not from some misguided sense of loyalty.

Omega Force had no choice but to go after Lucky…Seven. They had a brother in arms that needed them, and he was a danger let loose on the quadrant because of their hubris. They had to fix what they had done for not only their friend's sake, but for those of the people he was being unleashed against. Jason had no idea if Seven was operating under any sort of moral code of if he was just taking every target they fed to him.

Once that was done, assuming they all survived, maybe it was time to sit down and have the talk with the rest of the crew. They'd all done enough, and they deserved the option to go live a normal life somewhere…whatever the hell a normal life even was.

4

"She's ready to go," Crusher said as Jason, Twingo, and Cas arrived at the base. They could have had the aircar take them directly there, but Jason only let a very few trusted people from his businesses know about the base or where it was. He had many enemies, and it wouldn't be especially difficult to infiltrate the agricultural industry on S'Tora that was always looking for new workers.

"You get all of Obsidian's shit cleaned out of the cargo bay?" Jason asked, slapping Crusher on the shoulder as he walked up. The Phoenix sat outside on the pad, and the SX-5, looking ridiculously small by comparison, was parked inside the hangar where 707 hooked up the ground service lines.

"Yeah, we pulled those crates out, but I think you might want to go through them. There was some good stuff in there." Crusher waved to where the black plastic speedball crates sat just inside the hangar door tracks.

Jason walked over, and his eyes went immediately to the three cases that looked suspiciously like rifle cases. He pulled one over and popped the latches, whistling softly at what was inside.

"What is it?" Crusher asked, looking over his shoulder.

"It's an old-school rifle from Earth," Jason said. "High-end model, too. This is a JP LRP-07." He recognized it immediately from its distinctive handguard design. The rifle was finished in a matte olive drab color and paired with a Steiner scope he wasn't familiar with.

"What's it shoot?"

"It fires these chemically propelled projectiles," Jason said, tossing him a magazine already loaded with .308 cartridges. Crusher inspected the box magazine with a grunt, and then reached out a hand for the rifle.

"We built something similar on Restaria many, many generations ago," he said, looking it over. "I wonder why Obsidian had these with their equipment."

"Who knows," Jason said. "But we're bringing them along to put in the armory. The good thing about them is there are no active components. Even the optic is passive. We could bring these in through damn near any security scan in the quadrant and nobody would be the wiser if we broke them down to disguise what they are."

"If you say so." Crusher handed the rifle back. "It's well-built, I'll give them that."

Jason spent a bit more time pawing through the rest of the gear and pulling a few more things out, including a case of team radios labeled as being something called Hyperlink. He didn't know if that was a brand name or just some designator the United Earth Navy came up with. Either way, they looked nicer than the ones they were using. The remaining gear was just food from Earth and clothes for the Obsidian crew. There were some other weapons in there, but nothing as badass as the three JP rifles he'd pulled out.

"Greetings, Captain," 707 said as he came up, reaching out to help Jason carry the gear up the ramp.

"Hey, bud," Jason said. "Glad to have you along on this one. I have a feeling we'll need the muscle before it's all said and done."

"Let us hope not, but you are likely right," 707 said. "How was your trip?"

"The Devil is sitting on the ground safely, Voq is still doing whatever the hell it was doing before, and your crew is handling things," Jason said. "So, we'll call it a success. Did you want to be assigned quarters on the Phoenix? Lucky would sometimes use port berthing to get away from the others from time to time."

"I am used to your crew's…idiosyncrasies."

"A diplomatic way to say they're annoying as hell," Jason said. "Anyway, they're available to you. You've already been briefed on the situation with Tauless?"

"I have," 707 said.

"We'll be heading out to find this broker we think has been feeding Seven contracts. On the way, hopefully we'll break into whatever this data is Tauless hid in that synth, and it'll be something useful to our current mission. I find it unlikely he was attacked just as he was preparing to help hunt down a renegade, illegal new generation of battlesynth."

"Agreed," 707 said.

Jason quickly stowed his new gear and walked back out of the armory in time to see Doc and Kage closing up the hangar. The Phoenix, having just landed some hours prior, still had her main drive up and was ready to go as soon as they had everybody onboard.

"Family meeting!" Jason shouted once they all were in the ship's cargo bay.

"Ugh," Kage groaned and rolled his eyes. He'd picked up the gesture from humans. His over-large Veran eyes and tendency towards melodrama made it especially absurd.

"We're flying into this even more blind than usual. Hopefully, Tauless left us something behind that helps, but I'm not holding my breath," Jason said. "We need to make sure we're all on the same page when it comes to Seven. Any hesitation or indecision by any one of us could get everybody killed. You've seen this thing in action.

"We will try as hard as we can to subdue Seven and take him alive. If Lucky's still in there, he deserves every effort we can make to try and correct whatever happened to make him flip out like this. But if we can't—and I'm the one who decides that—we have no other choice but to neutralize him."

"Speak plainly," Crusher said. "Say exactly what you mean." The two glared at each other for a second while the others said nothing.

"If we can't bring Seven under control, we kill him," Jason said. "And that means we're killing Lucky, too. You've all seen some of the carnage Seven has left behind, the dozens of unnecessary deaths…he has to be stopped one way or the other. Anybody that doesn't agree with me on this is free to sit this one out."

Nobody moved. As Jason looked at each of them in turn, he saw their resolve and commitment to a friend that needed their help.

"Let's get to it then," he said. "Twingo, close her up. We're out of here."

The target had eluded him after the first aborted attempt to fill the contract. Now, Seven had reacquired and actively observed him. His name was Frolem Wetch, an Eshquarian ex-pat who had escaped into the Concordian Cluster when the ConFed came and wiped out the Empire.

After that, Wetch had used his connections from his years in the intelligence service to set up the sale of Imperial weapons, had double-crossed his buyers, and fled the Cluster with the money and weapons. Now, he was living under an assumed alias on a frontier planet called Nak.

Wetch seemed to have settled into a routine, and his guard was relaxed. Seven detected minimal security measures around the home and no security on the property. There were two indigenous domesticated animals that walked on four legs the locals trained for guard duty, but they would be easily neutralized. At the moment, Seven couldn't figure out what to do about Wetch's family, who were now with him in the home.

You cannot risk innocent lives!

Seven had been plagued by these strange, underlying impulses ever since he became self-aware. Whenever a mission seemed like it could incur collateral damage, the presence would become stronger and affect his ability to operate. There had been two times when it had wrested control of his body away and allowed the target to escape. Since he had no idea how to rid himself of this strange presence, he simply lived with it. As far as he knew, there was nobody outside of going back to Khepri that would be able to diagnose and correct the issue.

"There are no innocent lives," he said aloud to himself. Speaking the words seemed to strengthen his resolve and pushed the other back where he could no longer sense it.

He analyzed the different methods he may employ against this target and decided there was little point in subterfuge. Wetch's security was light, he was unarmed, and he wasn't a fighter. Seven's observations showed he would likely attempt to beg or barter for his life, wasting precious seconds when he could be attempting to flee.

But something still made him pause. Wetch had managed to elude Seven once, albeit by accident, and he was still alive despite there being an enormous bounty on his head. What was Seven not seeing? Could there be hidden security measures or personnel?

He hefted the weapon he carried, worried its unique power signature might be detected. Seven was a battlesynth, but he currently had no onboard armament like his Gen 1 cousins. Instead, his body housed discreet bladed weapons, so he still had the tools to accomplish his mission at hand. He was built to infiltrate, kill, and escape unseen, and he was still strong and armored to the point that even a well-equipped security force would have trouble handling him.

His decision made, Seven leapt from the rooftop he had been observing from and walked back down the alley towards Wetch's home, his long duster billowing in the wind, his hat pulled down to hide the glint of his eyes.

The affectation of wearing the strange clothes was another thing he couldn't explain. He just found that wearing them felt…right. He pulled up his preferred weapon, a powerful plasma carbine with a tightly-focused muzzle device allowing for pinpoint fire. Most preferred a bit of spread to compensate for inaccuracy, but Seven had no such concerns.

The gate to Wetch's property looked to have active defensive measures hidden behind faux-stone columns judging from the energy signatures, so Seven moved down the side street along the perimeter where the high wall became obscured by the landscaping. He found a place where a particularly tall tree on the property was close enough that some of its branches overhung onto the street. The lowest one was nearly fifteen meters up, but Seven's powerful actuators coupled with his light weight made it a simple matter of jumping from the street and grabbing it.

From the branch, Seven was able to climb up the tree and bypass the ground sensors before climbing out on another limb that stretched towards the house. His sensors picked up the active scans running along the top of the wall, the ground, and even randomly through the middle of the property. That they hadn't removed the tree or found a way to secure it was a huge and, this time, fatal oversight.

Seven braced himself for a moment, and then sprinted down the heavy limb before leaping with all his strength at the point his analysis indicated was optimal for what he was trying to achieve. He arced gracefully over the roofline, aiming for a specific spot, angling over, and pointing his feet down. As he fell, he fired his plasma rifle into his spot of impact, timing it so just as the third shot hit, he crashed through the weakened ceramic tiles and synthetic structural board the roof was made of.

"Sabrilla, run!" a voice screamed as Seven slammed into the floor of the home's main living area.

He recognized Wetch's voice and was duly impressed by his presence of mind. Perhaps he wasn't the easy target he appeared to be. As Wetch's mate tried to grab the children and make a dash for the door, Seven leaped across the room and hit her in the head with a backhand sufficient to render her unconscious.

"There will be no one leaving," he said loudly above the braying children huddled over their mother.

"Leave my family alone!" Wetch shouted but made no foolish moves to try and attack Seven or do anything that might cause his family harm. Seven cocked his head slightly at this. Nothing about this felt right. Wetch was supposed to be some soft-target ex-bureaucrat who should have died of shock at a battlesynth dropping through his ceiling.

"Frolem Wetch," Seven said formally. "There is a bounty on your head, contract payable upon your death. There is no stipulation on how painful the death needs to be, so I leave that to you. If you struggle, it will only prolong the inevitable. Comply, and I give you my word you will not feel a thing."

"My family," Wetch said quietly.

"They are part of the contract," Seven said. "It is out of my hands now. You may tell them goodbye, but you may not go to them." This prompted a new wave of crying and screaming from the family. Seven looked at them dispassionately while his other self tried to force itself to the front. As he struggled to keep it from emerging, something odd happened. The youngest child flickered. Just barely.

Seven's head snapped up in time to see Wetch giving him a grim smile and holding a device in his hand that looked like a remote of some type. He pushed two buttons on it, and Seven was forced to his knees as the gravity increased by an order of magnitude, overpowering his actuators. His rifle slammed to the floor, the increased g-load causing it to hit with enough force to break. The screaming family flickered, and then disappeared altogether, leaving them in silence.

"This trap was set for someone else, but I knew the cartels would send another pro," Wetch said, all of his previous hysterics gone as he looked at Seven curiously. "The grav-decking we installed throughout the property was designed to handle someone specific…someone with powerful cybernetic enhancements, but that's not what you are, is it? You might as well tell me. You can't overpower the plating, and I can leave it on for days or weeks without worrying about a burnout."

"Your intel must be impressive," Seven said, pulling against the grav-plating and finding it was more than sufficient to keep him immobile.

"I'm impressed you can still sit upright," Wetch said, walking to a wall cabinet and pulling out a peculiar-looking weapon. "If you were a biotic, you'd be a pile of mush right now. If you were the Viper, you'd be flat on the floor. You have a certain design influence that's familiar. I didn't realize Khepri was building assassins now. What are you called?"

"My name is Seven."

"Strange name," Wetch said, fiddling with the weapon in his hands.

"What is that?" Seven asked.

"It's a large-bore mass driver," Wetch said, holding it out so Seven could see it. "It was custom-designed to punch through armor. It fires a hardened alloy rod with a pneumatic charge, hitting with enough force to make short work even of something like you."

Help, Seven thought at his other.

It is better this way. Let it happen.

We'll both die! Seven felt the leading edges of panic, and it clouded his thinking.

I know. The other was calm, almost serene as they looked at death coming for them.

Get us out of here, and we can discuss a more amicable coexistence.

Very well. Give me control.

"So, Seven…are you ready to die?"

"My name…is Lucky."

Leaning forward and placing his palms on the floor in front of him, Lucky deployed both his spikes to their fullest extent. With the enhanced weight from the grav-plating, the spikes punched through the floor and into the delicate emitters themselves. The result was immediate as sparks and smoke blew up around the seams of the tile, and Lucky was released from the crushing grip as the plating failed completely.

Seven tried to reassert himself, but Lucky was now firmly in control and wasn't letting go. He took several strides across the room and grabbed a stunned Wetch by the throat, lifting him up. The mass-driver fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Is your family well-hidden, and have you provided for them?" Lucky asked.

"Y-y-yes, of course," he wheezed.

"You still deserve to die for the things you have done. I have read your file. I will kill you now, quickly, and Seven will have no way to determine where your family is hidden. You will take that secret with you."

"I…" Wetch looked stricken as he realized the end was inevitable. "Do it. Now! Before I change my mind."

Lucky crushed down with his hand, collapsing Wetch's throat before using his left hand to wrench the head over, snapping the neck. He tossed Wetch onto the floor and walked over to the wall panel near the door to see what alarms had been tripped.

He knew he didn't have much time before Seven would launch another attack to wrest control from him. The other personality had the advantage when it came to taking and keeping control of main system functions. For the time being, Lucky had to be careful how hard he fought lest the other decide he wasn't worth keeping around anymore.

After ensuring the smoke hadn't triggered an emergency services alarm, Lucky went into Wetch's home office and found an active slip-com terminal. He activated it and punched in an address he knew would be actively monitored, hoping he had enough time before he was shoved to the background again.

5

"Incoming slip-com channel request, Captain. It's on one of our party line nodes."

"Thanks, Cas." Jason yawned. "I'll take it back there."

He slipped out of the pilot seat and walked back to the cramped com room. Cas floated away, hovering near the door as Jason sat down and activated the channel.

The party line nodes were three slip-com nodes they always kept active and ready to receive emergency channel requests. Only a few people knew the addresses, and it was part of a support network they'd set up with a few others to ensure if someone needed immediate help, there was always someone listening. When the channel resolved, he wasn't quite prepared for what he saw.

"Seven," he hissed.

"Captain, it is Lucky," the battlesynth said. "I do not have much time before I lose control again. I am on the planet—" That was as far as he got before something happened.

The battlesynth's head vibrated and shook about while the arms looked like shuddered and twitched as well. A second later, it stopped and looked up into the camera. Without a word, it punched out the terminal, killing the channel.

"What the fuck?" Jason asked.

"Interesting," Cas murmured. "That was recorded? I'd like to analyze it further."

"Yeah, they all are. Knock yourself out," Jason said. "You don't really think that was Lucky do you?"

"I find it highly improbable," Cas said, "but not impossible. Given how central you were to Lucky's life, it's equally probable Seven is trying to draw you out, possibly kill you to cut all the old ties."

"That would be really bad," Jason said. "It's one thing trying to hunt down a super-elusive assassin that can change his shape and appearance. It's a whole different thing when he's coming after you. We'd never see him coming."

"We're looking at a way to nullify Seven's advantage of his holographic emitters," Cas said. "Tauless had some interesting research in that regard. I'm nearly ready for the initial brief on what we found in his data."

"Give me the rundown now, and also see if you can backtrace that node he broadcast from while you're at it," Jason said.

"Anything else?" Cas huffed.

"I could use a coffee, but you're pretty useless at that. What I asked for will be enough."

"Tauless had been successful finding more data regarding the second generation battlesynth program. He even tracked down one of the designers and talked to them. It turns out these new units weren't meant to be fully-sentient, just autonomous. The Kheprians wanted an effective fighting force, but they were still squeamish about the ethical implications that led to the cancellation of the battlesynth program the first time around." Cas floated all the way into the room and settled into the second seat.

"A new matrix was being developed to drive the new bodies but wasn't ready at the time the prototypes were built. Since this new design of processing matrix would just give the appearance of full sentience but would, in reality, be a programmable machine closer to an android, it would give them the ability to have complete control and still deploy them in a hands-off manner."

"Oh, shit!" Jason said. "This wasn't just about Khepri trying to build a standing military of its own. They were going to export these bad boys."

"You think?"

"Definitely. They already had the existing battlesynths rolled into their current military structure minus a few notable cases like Lucky and Lot 700. The damn things live for a thousand years, not to mention a regular synth can still be formidable soldiers in their own right. They lack onboard weaponry and integrated armor, but they're strong enough and fast." Jason leaned back. "So, why build these in secret if they were always going to just be fancy kill-bots?"

"Perhaps the people running the illegal program wanted it fully operational before they made it known to the Kheprian government," Cas said. "As Crusher always says, it's better to ask forgiveness later than for permission before."

"He didn't make that gem up," Jason said. "He got it from a movie, and he uses it as an excuse to lie and steal. Anyway, it looks like this program is still a hot potato politically since someone fucked up Tauless and tossed his house looking for what he knew. Killed that poor synth, too."

"Sympathy for a regular synth? From you?"

"I'm…evolving," Jason said uncomfortably. "I've come to realize they all aren't psychopathic killers like Deetz. Let's just leave it at that since I'm not real proud of some of my behavior in the past. From what I saw, Doxel gave his life trying to save Tauless. Which reminds me, did you think it was odd how indifferent that other synth was to the fact one of his cousins was just offed?"

"It didn't seem to be in-character, that's for certain," Cas said. "They typically present a unified front with each other when it comes to dealing with biological species."

"Is that all?"

"I told you it was a preliminary analysis," Cas said.

"Analysis? Dude, that was barely the back of the book cover version," Jason said. "I could have just read that for myself."

"Given it wasn't scrawled in pictures on a cave wall with a burnt stick, I find that unlikely," Cas said. Jason tilted his head, thinking that one over.

"Better. You're getting the rhythm of a good insult, but don't make it so elaborate," Jason said. "A comeback needs to be a like a good, short jab. Have it cocked and ready to deliver without too much setup."

"I will keep trying," Cas said. "I think I had a decent one on Crusher. He got up and kicked me across the lounge, and then stomped off."

"Don't waste your effort on Crusher. It's too easy. He's a moron. Keep working Kage, though," Jason said. "I love it when you get him all flustered and his little hands start waving in the air."

"And to think I used to wonder why this crew was so dysfunctional," a voice said from the hatchway. Jason looked up and saw Doc leaning there, shaking his head.

"Just helping the newbie integrate," Jason said. "Speaking of…where's that trace, Cas? Chop-chop."

"I've got it to a planet called Nak," Cas said. "It's out in the frontier region, so that fits. That's just the public records for where the node was sent after manufacturing. If you want to figure out who bought it from there—and it kills me to say this—you'll probably need to get Kage to do it. He's the best at tugging these little threads and breaking into private files."

"Nak," Jason said, pulling it up at his terminal. "Looks like we've never been there. I wonder who Seven was putting holes into on that planet."

"Could just be a relay bounce like we use," Doc said. "Half of our communications come through Woakx Prime."

"Maybe, but let's file this under something to be investigated," Jason said. "I'll get Kage on it, and maybe he'll dig something up. It's not like we have any better leads right now. We'll go shakedown this Jorg character like we originally planned, and then start branching out from there."

"Hey, there you guys are," Kage's voice came from behind Doc. "What's everyone doing in there? Are you talking about me?"

"Are you finished with that decrypt yet?" Jason asked.

"You could ask a little nicer, you know."

"And you could be more useful and less annoying…but we all have our own parts to play. Now, answer the question."

"Yes, it's done," Kage said. "I've ported all the data to your private server already. Pretty good haul. Along with the technical data and interviews he did with the surviving designers of the new battlesynths, there's also a video addressed specifically to you."

"All of that was stored on that synth's hidden data core?" Doc asked.

"No. There were some passkeys to encrypted data caches on different servers around the quadrant," Kage said. "That's what took so long…pulling large files through low-bandwidth connections. Where do you want me to stick it?" Cas swirled at that last sentence, rising half a meter.

"Leave it," Jason said, already knowing how the fight Cas was getting ready to kick off would end.

"I wouldn't mind seeing it as well," Doc said.

"Kage, just send it to the bridge." Jason stood up. "We'll watch it up there. Tell 707, Twingo, and Crusher so we don't have to listen to any whining about being left out later."

Twenty minutes later, everyone sat on the bridge as the holographic display generator came to life. Jason selected the video message from Tauless first, hoping it was a condensed, layman's version of what the rest of the data contained.

"Greetings, Captain Burke," Tauless said once the video initialized. He stood in what looked like a workshop, and there was obviously someone holding the camera as it wasn't completely still. Jason guessed it was the synth, Doxel. "If you're seeing this, I only hope it is because I sent it to you and not because you had to find it after I was killed." He paused here, staring at the ceiling.

"It's difficult to know where to begin," he resumed. "Since we last parted ways, I've worked non-stop trying to find a way to stabilize Lucky's control interface and eliminate the cascade failures he'd been experiencing. The emergence of this…Seven…made it obvious the problem was much more complicated than we originally guessed. With that in mind, I went back to zero and tried to find more information about the Type-2 Assassin Protocol Battlesynth body we haphazardly shoved Lucky's processing matrix into. What I've found has left one thing unequivocally certain: we made a grave error in what we did, and Lucky is the one to suffer for our—my—arrogance."

"Pause playback," Jason said. The computer chirped, and Tauless froze in space. "He looks like shit, and he's clearly scared to death about something. Thoughts?"

"He's aging a lot faster than most pru would," Doc noted. "That indicates he's been living with a high level of stress continuously for some time now."

"That workshop he's standing in, look down in the upper left-hand side of the image," Twingo said. "What do you see?"

"Looks like a battlesynth head," Crusher said.

"It is from a model never produced," 707 spoke up. "It would be easiest to describe it as one of the prototypes for what ended up being the Type-1 Battlesynth."

"One of?" Twingo asked.

"There were several competing designs submitted to the Ministry of Martial Affairs," 707 said. "For most of you, synth-kind has been an accepted, unique species in the quadrant for your entire lives. What you must remember is that before any of you were born, we were considered a manufactured good. When the Ministry decided they wanted a militarized version of the synth, they requested bid samples from the three largest companies producing them."

"Wait," Jason said. "There were different companies building synths? I thought it was a nationalized industry."

"Partially," 707 said. "There was strict oversight once the emergence of sentience was discovered and accepted but, at the height of synth production, there were eleven companies producing them. Laws on Khepri required they all meet certain guidelines, so other than some insignificant, minor differences, they are more or less identical."

"And these prototypes?" Doc asked.

"Multiple bid samples from each contractor," 707 said. "The one you are seeing in this image is the second version of the rejected bid from Dall Defense Innovations."

"Were these fully operational battlesynths that were then…you know?" Jason asked, dragging his finger across his throat.

"Not at all," 707 said. "The prototypes were never fitted with a real processing matrix. They were either remotely driven for the demonstrations or fitted with programmable controllers to give the appearance of a free-thinking machine."

"Interesting," Jason said. "So, what would Tauless be doing in a dirty old workshop that had parts of some ancient synth prototype?"

"I would not mind asking him that myself," 707 said. "These items are tightly controlled, and all material for the bidding process of the original battlesynth program was supposed to have been destroyed. It is possible he found it in his pursuit of knowledge regarding the new covert program."

"Resume playback," Jason said.

"I tracked down one of the original designers of Lucky's new body because of some strange things I was seeing in the technical data," Tauless said. "The standard primary processing matrix that all types of synths use, regardless of which classification they fall under, was not intended for the next generation battlesynths. There was another lab producing a new type of specialized processing unit that would make the new battlesynth's less prone to the emotional problems that cropped up in the originals.

“They would also be more controllable, not having the individuality free will of their earlier cousins. Essentially, they were to be non-sentient AI machines. Capable of handling evolving situations but holding within set parameters and eliminating so many of the ethical and moral dilemmas our society faced with the original synths.

"This new type of matrix was being designed to run in tandem with other sub-processors within the body that would control things during different phases of an operation. When I told him that we'd put a Type-4 matrix into one of the assassin models…let's just say he was appalled."

Synth matrixes fell within four general classifications, types one through type four. Type-4s were exceedingly rare and were highly coveted. These synths usually went on to be artists, philosophers, even political leaders. They were intelligent, intuitive, and possessed a rare self-awareness. All of Lot 700, including Lucky, were Type-4s and, thanks to some shady corporate wrangling, had been put into battlesynth bodies despite the fact they were considered ill-suited for military use.

"After talking with him, I think that what we're seeing with Seven is a fully emerged, second personality that resides within the combat processing sub-systems but will, at times, take control of Lucky's higher functions. We've very literally driven Lucky insane, Jason…we did that.

“I'm not sure what your plans are, but I'm advising against capturing him. Even if you managed to subdue him without losing more of your crew, there seems to be no way to correct what we've done. Lucky will always be at war within his own body with processing units pushing him to do exactly what he was designed to do. In this case, to kill. I wish I had better news. Perhaps we would all feel less guilty if I did, but we must own up to what we have wrought. I'm…sorry."

The video message ended, and the bridge was silent as everyone tried to digest what they'd just heard. Jason regretted letting 707 hear it as he already had doubts about the battlesynth leader's true intentions on this mission.

"There are some other videos," Kage said quietly.

"I'll…I'll watch them later," Jason said. "I think we need to take a minute after hearing all of that."

Crusher snarled and stomped off the bridge, his nostrils flaring, and his eyes blazing with barely controlled rage. Jason understood how he felt, but there wasn't anybody to blame for what was happening to Lucky but themselves.

They'd started down a path without having the first fucking clue what they were doing, too arrogant and stupid to stop for ten seconds to consider all the implications of their actions. Lucky now had to pay the price, again, for Jason’s inability to clearly define a problem before jumping into action.

"With your permission, I would like to review the technical data regarding the Type-2 body Lucky is in," 707 said. "We may still find a way to subdue Seven without undue risk to either him or us."

"Go ahead," Jason said. "I'll unlock the files."

"My thanks," 707 said with a nod before walking off the bridge.

"Kage, unlock the technical package only for 707 to review," Jason said once he was certain the battlesynth was off the command deck. "I'd prefer to keep control of the more personal content of Tauless's data dump until I have time to look it over."

"Understood, Captain," Kage said without any of the usual pushback.

Jason let his head fall back against the headrest of his seat, and he closed his eyes.

Lucky…what have we done to you?

6

The planet Sp'oruo was exactly what Jason assumed it would be.

While technically listed as a tier-three world, there was no industry to speak of and only three medium-sized cities. One might wonder why such a nice place would be allowed to stay in the clutches of the frontier cartels unless they understood how the ConFed's expansion scheme worked.

It wasn't a secret the Core Worlds were the ConFed. They then taxed their vassal states and, depending on what tier level those worlds fell into, would determine what level of service and protection the mighty ConFed fleet would provide. Beyond that, Miressa Prime relied on regional governments to handle the minutia, and the expense, of the day-to-day operation across such a vast republic.

While it may appear they turned a blind eye to the lawlessness of their border regions, what they were really doing was allowing private companies to go in and prepare the worlds for eventual colonization.

On Sp'oruo, massive tracts of land were being cultivated to grow food, and powerful Core World corporations had their transports flying non-stop, transporting the product off-world while their mercenary armies guarded it all. If they were left alone, they didn't care that the merc guilds and narcotic cartels cut each other to ribbons within the cities.

The ConFed would eventually expand enough it would swallow and absorb the world, then move in to impose order. Thus, they could expand their territory without actually organizing or funding colonization efforts in all directions from their powerbase.

"With three merc guilds operating out of this place, I can see why we never came here," Kage said from the copilot seat. "Who the hell would bother calling us in when you have these guys right at home?"

"Let's just try to remember we're in someone else's backyard," Jason said. "Any trouble we cause will probably follow us even after we leave."

"Why are you looking at me as you say that?" Kage said.

"Because you're fifty percent of the people who always cause the problems on this crew," Jason said. "I'll talk to the other dumbass before we leave. You get a line on this Jorg character?"

"Maybe," Kage said. "You could have at least got a last name or location from Welford before you bashed his head in. Jorg is a pretty common name, but it only shows up in a few places when cross-referenced with the merc guilds known to employ assassins."

"There's more than one Jorg in Raplix Guild?" Jason asked. Kage's head dropped, and he sighed heavily.

"You never gave me the guild name," he said quietly. "Do you know how much time you could have saved me with that piece of information?"

"I could have sworn I mentioned it." Jason waved him off as if the full day of searching Kage had done was nothing. "You should have asked sooner. So…is there?"

"No, damn you," Kage hissed. "There's only one known Jorg that's connected to Raplix. At least he was in my top three probable candidates."

"See…it all worked out." Jason patted him on the shoulder.

"I hate you so, so much."

One thing Jason liked about the frontier worlds was the landing procedure was a lot simpler. Declare your flight path and commit to it before someone else jumped in and took your deorbit vector. He made sure all his navigational beacons were transmitting before nosing over and pushing for an entry line that would take them over the smaller of the two northern continents.

He took a moment to just enjoy flying the Phoenix again. A ship in space was often just like any other, being flown by the computer with little external sensation to give any feeling of motion. Once she was in the atmosphere, however, the ship became an entirely different animal.

Jason felt the air pushing on her, felt the rumble of the engines, and had a horizon to give the speed some perspective. Even after all their years together, it never failed to thrill him when he slammed the throttles up and let her off the leash.

"Take it easy, Captain," Kage warned. "We're trying to be discreet, and this ship isn't exactly unknown to this crowd."

"Nobody's going to notice someone having a little fun out over the ocean," Jason said. "They don't even track the traffic in the lower altitudes over most of this planet."

"There are three ships moving to intercept," Doc said from the sensor station. "They're charging weapons and accelerating to cut us off."

"You were saying?" Kage asked.

"Full tactical mode," Jason said. "Give me everything. Kage, try and see if we can come to an understanding before they get into range."

Jason looked on his display and saw the three ships coming to meet him were all different makes and types, one venting drive plasma badly. This didn't seem connected to their mission. Just some local punks getting ready to shakedown someone they didn't recognize as a local and who wasn't squawking codes from any of the known guilds that operated here.

"They're demanding we land on an island off the southern coast," Kage said. "We're to offload our cargo and leave the ship."

"Is this really going to be a thing?" Jason asked, his temper rising at being screwed with the moment they arrived.

Kage spoke rapidly into his headset for another moment before shrugging, "They seem pretty committed to this. I told you to slow down."

"Start tracking targets and keep your opinions to yourself," Jason said. He yanked the throttle back and bumped the speed brakes to bleed off some airspeed before pushing the nose over and wrapping them into a tight, descending left-handed spiral.

Standard tactics dictated he push to climb and take the high ground, but he'd found that if he appeared to be giving the enemy an advantage before the fight even started, they became sloppy and rushed trying to capitalize on it. The big gunship slowing and giving them a downward firing solution would probably be irresistible.

"They're splitting up," Kage said. "Two diving to meet us, one staying up top and pushing to get over us."

"Shit," Jason grunted. This was a smart strategy and meant he was dealing with a proficient, coordinated team. "The guy staying upstairs is screwing up my plans here. Hang on."

He waited until the two coming down were fully committed to their dive before bringing the nose up and hammering the drive to full power. The lights dimmed and flickered on the bridge as the main engines pulled power from other systems and the gunship rocketed back up away from the surface.

Jason ignored the two ships now scrambling to come about and pursue and focused on the one who had remained at high-altitude. He'd assumed it was a strategy to hedge against the bigger, more powerful Phoenix taking out the two runabouts pursuing her. As he was engaged with them, the ship above would have an advantage shooting down at him. When he aborted his dive and pushed back towards the lone ship, however, it did something he didn't expect.

"It's disengaging," Kage said. "They're breaking south and pushing for orbit."

"Can I catch them?" Jason asked, having to shout over the sounds of the Phoenix as she tore uphill at full power after the fleeing ship.

"It'll be close," Kage said. "You can catch them, but there are two light cruisers sitting in low orbit that could be with them. They're both running their engines at high power to station-keep over this area."

"Two cruisers?" Jason asked, chopping the power, and pulling the stick into his lap to let the Phoenix flip over in a lazy reversal so she pointed back at her pursuers. "Who the hell are these guys? Not local pirates with that sort of hardware."

"I'm collecting everything I can on them now," Kage said. "We'll figure it out. If you manage to get us through this alive, that is."

"Please," Jason snorted. "Doc, keep an eye on the cruisers. I don't want a capital ship cramming a plasma bolt up my ass while I'm lined up on these two."

"I've got them," Doc said. "The ship fleeing is on course to rendezvous with one of them."

Jason came back on the power and leveled out his flight, not wanting to get below the ships coming at him. His panel lit up with warnings as targeting scans painted the hull, eliminating any doubt their intentions were hostile. Without his prompting, Kage activated their own targeting system and fed firing solutions for each weapon system to the tactical display.

"Give me two Pixies for each target," Jason said. "We'll fire head-on, and then come about onto the northern bogey."

"Pixie firing solution entered and locked," Kage said. "Within range in— What the hell?"

"They're breaking off!" Doc called out. "Really pouring on the speed now."

"No shot with the Pixies," Kage said. Jason's moment of hesitation while trying to decide which to pursue meant they both were able to escape. "Well…at least you tried."

"Shut up," Jason snapped, thumping his head back against the seat. "Damnit!"

"It's okay, Captain," Doc said. "You're just out of practice. Lack of repetition can cause performance issues and create hesitation at times when—"

"Everything you're saying—everything—is making this worse right now," Jason said. "Kage, get me a new course to get back to our landing field. Let's try not to draw any more attention from the locals and start digging into who those clowns were."

"I have some really clear scans of the ships I can put through the Zadra Network and see what spits out," Kage said.

Jason came onto his new course and let the computer take over, leaning back in the seat and reflecting on the strange engagement. On the surface, it looked like the type of thing a frontier world local gang would pull if they thought some transients had something of value, but local gangs didn't have two light cruisers sitting in orbit. They also didn't use military-type tactics that made the whole engagement feel more like a disguised recon run than a serious shakedown.

The ship that had been leaking drive plasma seemed to be the giveaway. A small craft with engines so poorly maintained it wouldn't have been able to turn and evade with the speed and agility it displayed. The problem with a crew like Omega Force is that when you're jumped by someone, there's no guarantee it isn't for something they did a few years ago. The assumption was it had to do with the current mission, but there were no guarantees of that.

"Landing field is three hours out," Kage said. "I'm going to head back to the com room to start searching on these guys."

"You can't do that from up here?" Jason asked.

"I may need to contact people and talk to them…that always seems to irritate you when I do it up here," Kage said.

"Fine," Jason said. "Doc, you're up."

Kage left while Doc slid into the copilot seat and let the computer automatically reconfigure it to his preferences. They'd had dozens of encounters just like that through the years, usually someone testing if they'd be an easy mark. Once the high-power targeting array went active, they scattered like insects. Every once in a while, it took blowing one of their buddies out of the sky to get the point across that the Phoenix was not a ship to be trifled with.

"Hopefully, a boring flight to the target," Doc said. They'd opted for a small, private landing field rather than one of the large, government-controlled starports. On a planet like this one, the big ports would be less secure. They'd have to bribe everybody just to get anywhere, and then bribe them again to be allowed back to the ship. The smaller fields that dotted the planet's agricultural areas were just as capable of servicing the Phoenix and would make it less likely they'd be spotted.

"Tell you what," Jason said after thinking it over, "call ahead and request an upgrade to a private hangar if they have one that'll fit her. Let's not make it easy for them to spot us with those cruisers orbiting overhead."

"That'll be expensive," Doc warned.

"Yeah, yeah," Jason said, rolling his eyes. "I can take the hint. I'll pay the difference out of my funds."

"I'm just trying to keep the peace."

"Every one of you assholes are basically rich because I either got you opportunities or, if you're a weasely piece of crap like Kage, looked the other way while you ran scams on other planets," Jason griped. "And I'm still paying the fucking landing fees."

"It's your ship," Doc said. His calm, even tone only served to infuriate Jason even more. "You made it pretty clear the Phoenix belonged to you and you alone."

"You all are still riding on her!" Jason said hotly. He was about to launch into a full broadside of righteous indignation when he caught the little smirk Doc tried to hide. His friend had been screwing with him, knowing exactly which buttons to push.

"Oh, you're just the worst. You preen around here like you're so much more sophisticated than the rest of us but, deep down, you're just as big an asshole. Not even that deep down. Your asshole is right below the surface."

"I…don't know what to say to that," Doc said, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "The field has a hangar that will fit us. They're charging us—you—a fee since there's something being stored in there they have to move out."

"Just… Fine. Whatever it takes. I just don't want the ship spotted from orbit."

7

"I'm not sure being so far away from the ship is wise," Crusher said. It was a different iteration of the same thing he'd said five times already as their vehicle rolled smoothly along.

"You've made that clear," Jason said. "We really don't have a choice. The town this douchebag is in is controlled by Raplix. They don't allow anybody to land within a one-hundred klick radius, so we need to drive. I'll be honest, this isn't half bad."

The vehicle they had procured from the surprisingly well-appointed agro landing field was like some sort of mash-up between a touring bus, a caterpillar, and a monster truck. It rolled along on eight oversized wheels that could independently drive and steer as needed. The enormous chassis was isolated with a soft suspension that would self-level and dampen vibrations and was decked out inside with couches, a small galley, and a working head. Jason had taken extended flights in interstellar ships that weren't as comfortable inside.

"I agree, it's very nice," Crusher said. "But perhaps it would have been smarter to take an aircraft of some type."

"Which you know they didn't have available, and it takes us back to the Raplix issue," Jason sighed. "Crusher, you know these people. They know us. We need to be very discreet getting in and out of here. We're sure to be recognized, and they won't be inclined to just assume we're here on vacation."

"This vehicle has ballistic and energy armor," 707 spoke up. "Did you realize that when you rented it?" Jason seized on that.

"Of course, I did!" he lied. "No cost is too much for my crew. Right, guys?"

There were some unenthusiastic grunts, and someone threw a plastic bottle at him, but at least it shut Crusher up for the time being. He'd left Twingo and Doc behind with the Phoenix in case they needed a dust-off or they were spotted and needed to get her to safety.

He also didn't want to take his least-effective combatants into the lion's den. The pair could handle themselves, but Raplix was a guild that had built an especially brutal reputation over the years. They were a smaller outfit, and from what Jason could tell, liked to contract out most of their work to independent operators, but he'd rather be safe than sorry when it came to the safety of his friends.

The city the guild called home was medium-sized and refined raw ore as one of its chief exports. As expected, a dingy pall hung over the town as they rolled through the outskirts. The massive vehicle didn't stand out as much as Jason would have thought. Apparently, these types of multi-wheeled land yachts were the preferred method of transport from the rural farming areas into the cities.

"Does Raplix control all of the ore refineries, too?" Jason asked as the vehicle pulled itself into one of the large, paved lots and rolled to a stop.

"No. They provide security for the refineries and the transports," Kage said. "It's actually how they got their start. They branched out into general mayhem for fun and profit some years later, but their core business is still protecting the alloy shipments off-world."

"The ore mined and processed here is bought by one of the major Core World shipbuilding firms," 707 said. "Raplix is likely very well paid for what is an easy security job."

"How do you figure?" Jason asked.

"Processed alloys are not high-theft cargo," Kage said. "And if the Core World companies are using them, most people will know about that. They won't want to risk the ConFed deciding to make an example of them and send a battlefleet into the area to stomp them out of existence. So, Raplix ships fly escort, and their mercs walk around making mean faces at everyone but, in reality, it's the ConFed that keeps people from attacking them."

"Good scam," Crusher grunted, slipping his armor over his head and buckling everything in place. "Why didn't we ever get into anything like that and make some money?"

"Says the guy who is basically royalty and wealthy beyond imagining," Jason mumbled.

"Says the guy who owns half of S'Tora," Crusher shot back.

Jason ignored him and pulled on his own armor. The armor they wore looked like it had been through hell, with mismatched pieces and obvious damage, but it was deliberately made to look that way. They were all custom-made, top of the line units that would allow the crew to blend in with the other scuzzy mercs.

Walking around in bright, shiny gear on the border worlds meant you were some newbie who just bought his stuff to come out and play soldier, or you had more money than brains and should be relieved of one of those. Or both.

707 would stand out just like Lucky used to, but there was nothing to be done about that. It was impossible to disguise a battlesynth as something else without limiting its range of motion or ability to defend itself. The name of the game was to be as unmemorable as possible, which meant Jason's beautiful new powered armor was completely out of the question. That unit cost more than some of the ships these border merc crews flew around in.

"Kage, you're leading the way," Jason said, grabbing his weapon and hitting the button to open the door and lower the stairs. "707 will bring up the rear."

"We could just take the vehicle all the way to where our intel says this guy is," Kage said. "Otherwise, we're in for a four-kilometer walk, give or take."

"I saw the aerial images." Jason shook his head. "Too narrow and too congested. The walk will be good for you."

Oleada City was sprawling but retained an open feeling as none of the buildings reached up over three stories. Since the city was home to at least two or three warring factions at any given time, the buildings were in a perpetual state of renewal as a block war here or there would raze them to the ground and be rebuilt.

They were the ugly, utilitarian prefab buildings Jason had seen on a hundred different colony worlds during his travels. For some reason, the impermanence of it always depressed him. Within a few generations, the city would be gone, the cartels and local gangs would be exterminated, and the ConFed would gift the planet to some corporation or tier-two world for their expansion plans.

Kage led them along one of the main thoroughfares that were agreed upon neutral ground. There was a grid of thirty-six main roads the controlling groups of Oleada City decreed to belong to nobody. People were allowed safe passage as long as they were just traveling. This didn't mean you wouldn't have your normal petty thievery and stickups, just that if you crossed the wrong imaginary line as a non-local, you wouldn't find yourself a victim of some gangland turf war.

"Uh oh," Kage said as they turned the corner and moved off the main street. Jason looked over his shoulder and saw smoke wisps curling out around the edges of the doors to one of the buildings.

"Let me guess," Jason said. "That's our destination."

"Of course," Kage said.

"707," Jason said.

"I will clear the area," 707 said, moving forward and switching to combat mode. Jason and Crusher fell in behind him, and Kage launched two of his micro drones to range out and recon the immediate area.

707 didn't bother with tactics or subtly. He didn't even slow down as he approached the door, smashing through it with his arms and cannons deployed while Jason and Crusher swept in to cover his corners. The battlesynth used his sensors to quickly scan the interior of the room before lowering his arms.

"All clear," he said. "No hostiles detected."

"Holy shit," Crusher said, looking around at the carnage. "It looks like we've already been here."

"Funny." Jason rolled his eyes.

They stood inside what looked like a typical bar, two stories with a wraparound balcony for the upper levels. Jason had been to countless others to conduct business with the shady low-lives that preferred them. Most were pretty lively places. This one wasn't. At least not anymore as all the patrons and employees were recently deceased.

"This just happened. Kage! Get your toys higher up and look for an armed group moving away from here that look, I don't know, suspicious."

"Look for suspicious people in a cartel-run city," Kage said. "Got it. I can see why you're the leader."

"It is unlikely this has nothing to do with us," 707 said.

"After years in this job, I don't believe in coincidences, either," Jason said. What do you think—" A soft moaning made his head snap over to where someone was moving underneath the bodies of two others. "Got a breather!"

Crusher maintained his watch over the area while 707 and Jason pulled the bodies of two enormous aliens with obvious cybernetic enhancements off someone who had been crushed beneath them. It was a miracle he'd been able to breathe with all that weight on him.

"How bad are you hurt?" Jason asked in Jenovian Standard.

"I've been worse," the alien said. "Who are you two?"

"Not important," Jason said. "All you need to know is we're definitely not with whoever the hell did all this. We were looking for someone to ask a few questions. Looks like we got here a bit too late. What happened?"

"Hell if I know. This crew walks in, obvious outsiders and all dressed alike. They talked to the barman a bit, killed him, and then opened fire on the place. My security guard jumped on top of me, took some hits for his trouble, and then his partner was taken out and fell on us both."

"Looks like you got winged on the side there." Jason pointed to a nasty furrow burned through the alien's side just below the armpit.

"Huh. I don't even remember being hit."

"We're looking for someone named Jorg," Jason said. "I don't suppose you are him or know who he would be in this pile of bodies?"

"I… Nope. Never heard of him."

"I see," Jason said. "So, a bounty wrangler by the name of Jorg who is supposed to work almost exclusively out of this bar is someone you've never heard of?"

"Look…you're not from around here," the alien said. "So, either you—"

"Either you give me what I want, or I'm going to tell the people who did this they missed one," Jason cut him off. "My associates are tracking them even now."

"I've actually got a group like your buddy described. They're wearing uniforms and moving like a military unit," Kage said over the team channel. "I’m going to— Damn, they just took out my drone. This doesn't appear to be our usual rabble."

"How many are there, Kage?"

"Nine."

"You think they're worth pursuing?" Jason asked 707.

"If they are as professional as this indicates, we will be unacceptably outnumbered," 707 replied. "It is also safe to say we have now lost the element of surprise."

"Try to keep tabs on them as long as you can, Kage," Jason said. "How much range does that drone have?"

"Not much. I'll do what I can."

"Let's cut the shit," Jason said to the alien. "You're Jorg. You were the only one to survive, and you have two bodyguards who look like they cost more to employ per year than this building is worth. I don't care about you or your grubby little business. I'm looking for a hunter you contract out that goes by Seven."

"Assuming I have any idea what you're talking about, what do you want with him? You look capable of handling your own, and you've got a damn battlesynth with you," maybe-Jorg said. "What do you want with him? He kill someone close to you?"

"Let's start with how to find him, and we'll go from there," Jason said.

"Help me get out of here. I have a safe house nearby. Once I'm there, maybe I can tell you where Jorg is so you can… Ugh!" His head snapped back as Jason delivered a hard right cross that caught him right below the eye.

"Last chance," Jason said.

"You poaching my talent? Is that what this is?!"

"I thought you weren't Jorg," Crusher reminded him.

"Seven isn't what you think he is," Jason said, wiping the yellow blood off his knuckles. "He's a friend of mine, and he needs help. How do you get a hold of him?"

"I don't," Jorg spit. "He comes in here every so often and asks for contracts. I'm also not his only brokerage, just the first he came to, and he seems to like familiarity. He just went out on a new contract last month, and I'm expecting him back soon to collect the bounty."

"Soon isn't a time, Jorg. When will he check in?" Crusher demanded.

"There's a pattern, isn't there?" Jason guessed. "When one of his targets gets popped, you hear about it, and then he shows up a set amount of time later to collect, doesn't he?" Jorg's eyes widened a bit as Jason correctly guessed Seven's habits.

"Oh, shit!" Crusher said. "Kage, is that hit team moving in the direction of any starports or landing fields?"

"Standby," Kage said.

"What're you thinking?" Jason asked.

"That you're not the only one who might have guessed Seven's patterns," Crusher said. "They might have been keeping this piece of trash under surveillance this whole time."

"Why would they wipe out the contact before he showed up?" Jason asked. "That hardly makes sense."

"Did Seven have any personal loyalty towards you?" Crusher asked Jorg. The alien chuckled at that.

"That psychopath has no loyalty at all," he said. "He'd have cut my head off if someone paid him half a point more per bounty. If he came in here during the attack, he'd just leave unless he was being paid to get involved."

"Kage, how about that info?" Jason asked. The team channel remained silent. "Kage?" He was so preoccupied with wondering if Kage's gear was malfunctioning or maybe his own that he almost didn't hear the door slowly open. When he turned and saw who had come in, he froze.

Seven stood framed in the doorway. He wore a long duster, a cowboy hat, and had two heavy pistols riding low in hip holsters hanging from a wide belt. Nobody moved for a split second while Seven turned his head, taking in the scene. The quiet was broken by 707's ear-shattering bellow.

"Combat Unit 777, you are ordered to stand down!"

The shout spurred Seven into action. He reached behind him inside his long coat and pulled out two grenades, tossing them into the room and then, fast as a snake striking, drew his pistols and blasted 707 in the chest.

Jason took two running steps and tackled Crusher, his adrenaline so amped up he actually picked the big warrior up off the ground and drove him back behind a heavy partition. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught 707 flying backwards before the two grenades detonated.

"Captain! Captain, wake up! Come on, buddy…they were just stunners."

Jason's vision slowly focused, and he saw that Crusher kneeled over him. There was blood coming from the big warrior's ears and nostrils, and he could tell he probably looked much the same way.

"I'm good," he said, fighting down a wave of vertigo as he tried to stand.

"Thanks for grabbing me." Crusher helped him up. "He caught me completely flat-footed."

"Stunners?" Jason asked, his scrambled brain struggling to grasp onto a line of thought.

"Probably just what he had on him," Crusher pointed at the mangled remains of Jorg. "He tossed them so they landed right on your new friend. Two stunners at zero-range…nasty way to go."

"Where's 707?"

"Went after Seven, I think," Crusher said. "I'm only about five seconds ahead of you. Mission computer says we were out for nearly two minutes."

"Kage!" Jason lurched towards the door. When he got outside, he was relieved to see his friend leaning against the wall. He was bleeding and cradling his head, but he was alive and moving. Jason moved to him and kneeled. "You okay?"

"Been better." Kage's unfocused eyes looked up at him. "Been worse, too. Something hit me from behind, and I woke up face down over there. Didn't even hear them."

"It was Seven," Jason said. "He came in and finished off Jorg, although I don't think that was his plan. Can you walk?"

"Yeah…I got it." Kage climbed to his feet and took a few deep breaths. Crusher walked out of the demolished bar with Jason's weapon and handed it to him.

"Where to?"

"Anybody's coms working?" Jason asked. Both his friends just shook their heads.

"Then we need to track down 707," Jason said. "I think I know where he went. You get that information on a landing site?"

"Got it," Kage said. "We'll need to get the vehicle."

"Let's go," Jason said. The medical nanobots they all had in their blood had repaired enough of the damage the trio could at least move in a straight line as they went as fast as they could back to their vehicle.

"Well…at least we found him pretty quick," Crusher said.

"Shut up," Jason and Kage replied in unison.

8

707 sprinted down one of the main streets at full speed, trying to catch sight of his quarry. Seven had fled the tavern, opting to open fire and break contact rather than stand his ground and fight. This told 707 that despite having every advantage, 777 was still in there somewhere and had spared them.

The smaller, faster battlesynth had a head start since 707 had been forced to check on his fallen comrades first. 707 still thought he could catch Seven in time as he would have to pause to board his ship and depart. The main issues were 707 had no idea what Seven's ship looked like, and the hit team that took out Jorg's base had probably already set up an ambush ahead of him if the Lord Archon's theory was correct.

"Hey!" someone shouted as 707 brushed against them, still delivering enough energy to send them sprawling.

He didn't slow as he sprinted out of the city center and along the side of a wide access road leading to the starport some kilometers ahead of him. As he ran, he scanned ahead with his sensors, but found no sign of Seven. Even with the other battlesynth's lead and speed advantage, 707 should still be able to see some evidence he'd passed through. At this speed, they both kicked up an easily spotted dust trail.

Just as he was about to slow and turn around, assuming he'd miscalculated and Seven wasn't heading to the starport, something caught his attention ahead. Coming in from the north was a speck moving too slow to be a missile and too small to be a ship. He pushed his magnification to maximum and saw that it was his target.

Seven's body was capable of sustained flight modes, not just the short bursts or hops the other battlesynths could do. It was a capability he'd rarely been observed using, and 707 had incorrectly guessed he would stick to the ground, using the road traffic as cover.

Seven descended, coming in from a different direction than expected, and almost to the starport while 707 was still at least five kilometers away. Frustrated, but now committed to his course of action, he dug in and kept pushing. In the back of his mind, he ran probability calculations for if he managed to catch Seven. So much was unknown about the assassin-type body, and 707 had no data to determine how single combat might play out.

"There's 707." Kage pointed to the speeding battlesynth.

"Slow down and open the door," Jason said.

Kage drove the monstrous ground vehicle in manual mode so he could override the restriction on speed trying to get to the starport as fast as they could. While it had been a smooth, stately ride at normal speeds, the bus (as Jason came to think of it) was downright terrifying once it got up over one hundred kilometers an hour. The oversized tires, raised suspension, and poor aerodynamics made it unpredictable. A twitchy code slicer at the controls made it a menace as other vehicles had to dive out of the way to avoid being steamrolled.

"Tin Man! To me!" Crusher bellowed out the door, holding his arm out as they slowed significantly. Before Jason could advise against such a stupid move, 707 jumped and grabbed onto Crusher's outstretched hand. The big warrior used his prodigious strength to drag the battlesynth into the vehicle before he could hit the road and get dragged under the wheels. Jason closed the door and motioned for Kage to drop the hammer.

"That was unbelievably fucking stupid," he snapped at Crusher before looking 707 over. "You hurt?"

"Minor burns on the outer armor," the battlesynth said. "He was not trying to kill me."

"Kage?" Jason asked.

"So, uh, there's a gate coming up with someone waving their arms pretty insistently," Kage said. Jason looked up and saw the gate was a simple barrier, more symbolic than anything.

"You know what to do," Jason said. "Everybody, hang on!"

The bus didn't even slow as it blasted through the flimsy metal gate, ripping it completely out of its track. When it snapped back around, however, it caught the guard and sent the alien tumbling across the tarmac, where it just lay there not moving. Jason cringed at that, but what was done was done. Kage pointed to where a group of black-clad beings converged on a ship the likes of which Jason had never seen.

"That's them," Kage said. "Want me to treat them like a security gate?"

"Do your thing." Jason smiled.

On an active ramp full of running starships and moving ground vehicles, the assault team didn't see the bus until it was too late. They'd been so focused on the ship ahead of them that, by the time the first one looked up as Kage angled at them from behind and to the left, they were the only one able to dive to safety. The remaining eight went under the wheels, and the chorus of screams and crunches were a macabre soundtrack as the vehicle bounced over them all and rolled to a stop.

"Oh, wow," Crusher said, looking ill. "That was really gross."

"Come on!" Jason said, opening the door and jumping out before the stairs extended.

By the time he ran around the front of the vehicle, the strange ship was lifting off. It was made up of cylindrical segments, tapering forward, and was polished to the point of almost being chrome. There were three airfoils on the aft section as one would expect but, at the prow, there was an odd, ovoid opening that had scorch marks around the edges. Before he could make out any more detail than that, the ship wheeled about and rocketed away.

"Want me to see if Doc can intercept it?" Kage asked from the doorway.

"You're kidding, right?" Jason asked. "Make sure the bus is okay. We'll probably need to leave in a hurry."

"We have a few survivors," Crusher called. "Sort of."

Jason walked around the vehicle, keeping an eye out of the starport authorities he knew would be coming, and found that out of the nine members of the assault team, five had been synths. All of them had been hit by the vehicle and, unlike battlesynths, their bodies just weren't built to withstand that sort of abuse. Three were still alive, however, as was the one biotic that had dove out of the way.

"Search them. Quickly," Jason ordered, starting to paw through the pockets of one of the squished biotics. "No prisoners. We need to get the hell out of here fast."

"What am I looking for?" Crusher asked.

"Just take anything that looks like they may have grabbed it from Jorg. Let's not make this a wasted trip."

707 punched the squirming alien that had dodged the vehicle and ripped its clothing, efficiently dumping all the contents of its pockets and tactical vest onto the tarmac. Crusher grabbed a few things while Jason found a few data cards that hadn't been destroyed by the wheels of their bus.

"Security is responding," Kage shouted from the door. "So far, they're calling it a vehicle collision, but they're still on the way to check it out." Since they hadn't fired any weapons, the computers that monitored the landing zones probably didn't recognize it as a fight.

"That's it!" Jason called. "Let's go."

Once they were aboard, the bus rotated and headed back the way they'd come in. Jason was happy to see the guard they'd whacked with the gate had crawled off the street under their own power and glared as they drove by, cradling their arm. Kage directed the bus out onto the main road heading away from the starport's landing pads and engaged the auto-drive, letting the vehicle blend in with the rest of the traffic.

"Reach out to Doc," Jason said, leaning back in the seat and unfastening his armor. "Tell him we'll probably need to get the hell out of here pretty fast."

"Already on it," Kage said, rubbing his head where Seven had hit him. "The Phoenix is running and ready to roll out of the hangar the instant we hit the landing field."

"What the hell happened to you guys?" Twingo asked.

"Don't ask," Jason said. "Any chatter on the Nexus about us?"

"They're looking for a vehicle that crashed through a fence, ran over some people, and fled the scene at the starport outside Oleada City, but nothing specific," Twingo said. "So, you ran over some people?"

"Kage did," Crusher said. "On purpose."

"Was this mission related or recreational?" Doc asked, stepping off the ramp of the Phoenix to look at the gore still splattered on the vehicle.

"We were attacked by Seven," Jason stated. The other two sobered up instantly. "When we got to Jorg, someone had hit him before we did, and then Seven showed up, probably to collect on a bounty, and hit us with a couple stunners."

"Were you able to make contact?" Doc asked.

"Not at all. He seemed surprised to see us, then 707 yelled something and all hell broke loose," Jason said. "We tracked the hit team to the starport as they were about to attack what was probably Seven's ship, so we ran them over and took what we could off them. We're assuming a group of pros like this would have tossed Jorg's place, and we can also assume Jorg wouldn't have much on-site."

"So, we confirmed the name Welford gave you was correct, but everyone was dead once we got here," Twingo said.

"Well, in the process of dying," Jason corrected. "Seven actually took out Jorg. Tossed two high-yield stunners right into his lap. He looked like he walked face-first into a meat grinder."

"Damn," Doc said. "So, we're leaving immediately?"

"I think that'd be best," Jason said. "Let's settle up with the owner of the vehicle. I actually want to see if she'll sell it to me. This would be great for back home."

"Yeah. It'd only be slightly less subtle than your ancient Earth car you go roaring around in," Twingo said.

"I like to ride in style." Jason shrugged. "Plus, this one has a minibar and a head."

The owner of the vehicle was at first outraged, and then interested once Jason told her that he was interested in buying it outright. They haggled a bit and, after ten minutes, agreed on a price and a fee for her to store the monstrosity until Jason figured out how to get it home.

She even offered to fix the damage and clean it, which told Jason that he'd probably just gotten screwed on the deal. She seemed way too happy for him to have settled on even a fair price.

After all that was settled, he corralled his crew back onto the ship and departed the landing field, flying low and to the west to get as much distance between them and Oleada City as he could. The trip had been a disaster by any standard, but they were at least on Seven's scent. The only problem was that now he knew it. The next engagement wouldn't catch him by surprise.

Seven fumed as the ship climbed into the thin upper atmosphere of Sp'oruo.

He'd been sloppy. Complacent. So used to walking into Jorg's establishment to get his pay and next job that he'd let his guard down and walked into not one, but two traps. The cult still chased him, tirelessly dogging his trail. They had obviously hit Jorg's place in order to push him back to the starport where they were waiting to ambush him, but the other's old crew had ruined their plans.

Let them help you.

"No! You stay where you belong!" Seven snarled, exerting even greater effort into pushing the other away.

He worked with other brokers for jobs, of course, but the cult would be aware of this as well. Perhaps it was time to change tactics. So far, Seven had only been avoiding them while going about his work. In the course of their pursuit, he'd gathered a good amount of intelligence to counter their moves, intelligence he could easily use to launch an offensive strike.

"Yes," he muttered. "A message. It is time to let them know I am not something so easily acquired."

But what of Captain Burke and his Omega Force? They were apparently now in the hunt as well, and their presence caused instability. The other gained strength when they were near, and that was unacceptable. Their efforts might be noble but ultimately misguided. Their friend was gone forever. Seven was here to stay. The next encounter he had with them, he would put a permanent end to the threat.

You will try. And you will fail.

Seven didn't respond to the other consciousness that ghosted up into his awareness from time to time. It was growing weaker and more fractured with each passing day. All Seven had to do was hold on long enough until its personality faded, and he could mine what was left for its combat experience and memories.

9

"Doc, I need you to reach out to Mok," Jason said. "I can't get a hold of him, and I need to ask what the hell is happening with our stalled rebellion. I also need to know if Kellea is still being protected."

"I'll message Similan," Doc said. "That's usually easier."

Jason grunted and went back to stewing. He'd found out through Mok the Kellea Colleran had a contract put out on her by the Cridal Cooperative. It was in retaliation for her leading her strikeforce against the ConFed in the Battle of Miressa. What made it even more awkward was the contract had been picked up by none other than the Viper.

While Jason and Carolyn Whitney weren't exactly friends, he was surprised when she'd actually agreed to assassinate a target she knew to be a close associate of his. The fact the Cridal were outsourcing the hit to Whitney and not using their own military made Jason think this might be something Seeledas Dalton was doing herself without the approval of her government.

The whole thing added a bit of urgency to his mission to help Lucky. While he was the most critical at the moment, he was hardly the only one who needed Jason's help. He and Kellea parted on not-so-good terms, but he still cared for her very much and would be damned if he let the Viper take her out for Dalton. Right now, Mok had her under his personal protection, but Mok's behavior recently was erratic and disturbing in the wake of the ConFed's attack on Blazing Sun.

The crime syndicate was still trying to hold itself together as the Points exerted their influence over the individual components, but the underworld was seeing the cracks in the dam. The leviathan would fall soon, and then the leadership of that organization would be running for their lives.

In a business where retirement usually meant being killed by your successor, Jason knew Mok would not only survive but probably thrive. The cagey bastard would probably rise as the head of an all-new syndicate built on the ashes of the old. But, in the meantime, Jason needed to make sure he held up his end of their bargain.

"The people we ran over didn't have much on them," Kage said. The Veran had been so engrossed in what he was doing Jason almost forgot he was on the bridge.

"Anything at all actionable?" he asked. "And shouldn't you still be in the infirmary? I don't want you pushing too hard right now after taking a hit to the head like that."

"I'm fine." Kage waved him off and held up a small metallic disk with a symbol etched on both sides. "All of them were carrying one of these."

"A marker?" Jason asked, taking it from Kage. "Sort of the same thing Blazing Sun gives out sometimes?"

"Except I'm not able to detect any active circuitry in that one," Kage said. "The Blazing Sun markers are all actually encrypted passkeys."

"May I see it," 707 asked, holding out his hand. Jason shrugged and tossed it to him. The battlesynth turned it over in his hand a few times. "There is a passive device within that my short-range com transceiver can activate, but I cannot decipher the meaning of the data I am receiving."

"Even if we managed to decrypt it, it's unlikely to be anything useful to us without knowing who it belongs to in the first place," Kage said.

"This is from my homeworld," 707 said. "This symbol is from Khepri. It is called the Tegene."

"Any special significance to that?" Jason asked.

"It is from antiquity. Roughly translated, Tegene means 'to liberate,'" 707 said. To Jason's practiced eye dealing with battlesynths, his friend looked troubled. "This symbol has been used throughout history for various political movements, including the one that gained synth-kind its freedom in the first place. Most instances of its use, however, were at the head of oppressors and tyrants. On Khepri, its use is almost taboo."

"Kage," Jason said.

"Already setting up a search algorithm," Kage said. "Any chatter about this symbol and we'll know about it."

"What's on your mind?" Jason asked 707. The battlesynth seemed to hesitate a moment before answering.

"The Tegene was used as the symbol for a group of synths called the Children of Kadron by the Ministry's intelligence office," 707 said. "They were an extremist sect that lived in isolation. Virulently anti-biological and preached of a synth uprising to purge Khepri."

"I didn't realize synth's were…religious," Jason said.

"Most are not," 707 said. "The leader of the original cult, a synth named Kadron, was killed when they tried to attack an outpost manned by battlesynths. The cult incorrectly assumed my kind would help them. This was nearly eighty years ago, and the cult was a small, insignificant thing at its height. It is difficult for me to believe they have returned."

"But it's not a one hundred percent impossibility?" Jason asked.

"No," 707 said.

"Adding the Children of Kadron to the search," Kage said. "Synth cults… and here I thought this mission would be boring."

"So, assuming that's who these guys are, why would a synth cult be after Seven?" Jason wondered. "And why would there be biotics working with them? The ones we ran over were definitely squishy."

"Your first question is the easiest to answer," Kage said. "Highly effective assassin synth that can easily infiltrate with biotics and take out high value targets? They're probably looking to recruit him."

"Why would they want to try and recruit someone who they can just hire through people like Jorg?" Jason asked.

"Frugality?"

"Just handle the Nexus search," Jason said. "We're also going to need a new location to try and reacquire Seven. Hopefully, this time, we're a little more ready."

"He could have killed us all with the exception of 707," Kage said. "I think we should count ourselves fortunate on this one."

"Let's not read too much into that," Jason cautioned. "There are dozens of reasons he might have decided not to kill us, one of which being he wasn't hired to. I'm not certain he even recognized us."

"I'll keep digging through the stuff we pulled off the dead bodies. It looks like they grabbed a few things from Jorg, but it will take some work to break into them," Kage said.

"In the meantime, I need to get us moving in some direction," Jason said, turning back to the pilot seat.

The Phoenix hadn't left the system yet but had been repositioned to one of the outer planet's moons to hide out. They sat in a low-observability mode. Jorg was only a mid-level broker, but he worked with one of the more powerful mercenary guilds, and his death wasn't something Raplix would just shrug off.

They'd be looking for blood, and Omega Force had a level of infamy and a reputation that would be a tempting target for someone wanting to make a statement in the frontier worlds.

As he scrolled through possible destinations, he wondered who he might reach out to for help now that Tauless was injured. His very first exposure to the wider galactic community had been because of a treacherous, semi-insane synth named Deetz. Now, it looked like his current troubles would revolve around them as well. The news the species had the same tendencies towards extremism as their biotic counterparts was unwelcome.

"We're flying a little more blind than usual on this one, huh?" Kage asked.

"It sure seems that way," Jason sighed. "We're due for a little good luck here, but I don't think we're going to get it."

Senior Councilmember Scleesz walked alone on the path that wound through the gardens of the Capital City Compound on Miressa Prime. His security team was around, two ahead of him and one bringing up the rear just out of sight. They were assigned to him by the Machine, so he had little doubt as to what their job really was. If he didn't do what he was told, when he was told to do it, he would disappear as so many already had.

The attack on the capital system had been used as a pretext for sweeping changes and political purges of the Council that had left those not collected afraid to speak out. Many representatives were dismissed by the Grand Adjudicators with the message to their homeworld that the replacement had better be more agreeable to the way things were done now.

Even more concerning was the lack of contact or action from the organized rebellion spearheaded by Saditava Mok. The attack on Miressa had shaken the political class to their core but, in many ways, that had only helped the Machine solidify its hold.

Burke and Mok launched an ambitious attack on the AI itself, hoping they would be able to nullify it with the goal of later eradicating it. The attack ended up being a well-planned trap by the Machine itself, but something went wrong. According to Burke, the Machine's avatar froze, and then vanished, but he had no way of confirming the mission was a success or not.

Since that attack, nobody had spoken to the Machine directly. Orders came through the synth, Acuri, and were backed up by the threat of violence from the other synths that now seemed to be everywhere in the capital. Scleesz had no idea if that meant the Machine was adding layers of security to isolate itself as a precaution, or if Acuri had seized an opportunity for himself.

Now that he was under direct observation by his security team, he could no longer risk contacting Burke or Mok, but from what he'd gleaned from his contacts within the fleet, Mok's entire operation had been wiped out, and the boss was in hiding. If this was true, the rebellion to rid the ConFed of the Machine would have likely failed. Without Mok's monetary and logistical support, there wasn't much point in trying to continue.

"Councilmember Scleesz," a voice called from behind him. When he turned, he saw one of Acuri's synths, Dezeiri. Of all the inner circle that seemed to be present at all times around the Machine, he'd found Dezeiri to be the most reasonable.

"Dezeiri," Scleesz greeted him. "I suspect this is neither a coincidence nor a social call."

"Of course not," Dezeiri said. He was an older synth, over twice as old as any Scleesz had ever met. From what he understood, Dezeiri was so old he was well past what the Kheprian engineers deemed a safe service life for them, but he didn't show any of the normal signs of cognitive decline.

"Am I being summoned?" Scleesz asked. "I haven't seen…it…in some time. My direction has been filtered through Acuri, and I must admit I'm becoming less and less comfortable with that."

"We cannot speak out in the open," Dezeiri said. "Please, follow me. I have already dismissed your security detail. They will rejoin you in your office once we are finished."

"I am at your disposal," Scleesz said. He was honestly so exhausted leading his double life that if the synth planned on killing him, it would almost be a relief.

Instead of killing him, Dezeiri led him off the footpath and into the wooded area of the compound. The entire capital complex, a walled off city within a city, covered an enormous area that had its own parks and a military base. The synth walked directly to what looked like a small maintenance building, or at least it would if the walls weren't obviously reinforced duracrete. They stopped at the heavy alloy door as Dezeiri entered a thirteen-digit access code.

"This is a disused emergency shelter," Dezeiri said as he opened the door to reveal a set of steep descending stairs. "It is so old they never bothered to update the security systems. Only service bots come down here now."

"Ominous," Scleesz grunted, going ahead and walking down the stairs. They seemed to go on forever and, for a being unaccustomed to much physical exertion, it was brutal. At the bottom, there was another security door Dezeiri had to open, and then they walked into a large, well-appointed area.

The furnishings were so out of date Scleesz couldn't even guess how old the shelter must be. It had to be from a time when Miressa Prime might have actually been attacked by an enemy, something that had been unthinkable for generations.

"I have been observing your movements for some time. I believe you either support the rebellion currently attempting to foment a war against the ConFed, or you're actively participating," Dezeiri said. Scleesz froze with fear, not expecting the synth to just come out and say it.

"I'm afraid that I have no—"

"I have made sure this room cannot be remotely observed," Dezeiri said, pacing the room. "You may speak freely. As a show of good faith, I am willing to tell you my sympathies likely lie along the same path as your own. What is happening in both the ConFed and the synth community are…concerning."

"Concerning would be a vast understatement," Scleesz said sourly. "What is it you want from me?"

"To help," Dezeiri said. "If you can pass on a message to the leadership, which I am assuming is Saditava Mok and Admiral Kellea Colleran, it would perhaps help them decide their next course of action."

Scleesz didn't answer right away. He walked over to one of the ancient seats and lowered his bulk into it, the brittle synthetic material cracking and splitting as he did. He looked the synth over, noticing he was a slightly different design than the ones he normally saw around the capital. He also had a whine in his left leg when he walked that Scleesz only now noticed in the silence of the old shelter.

"This feels like a trap," he finally said. "And if it is, I've likely already sprung it by not forcefully denying your charges. You now have me at a complete disadvantage."

"This is not about leverage, Councilmember Scleesz," Dezeiri said. "I care less about the political machinations here on the capital than even you. I am, in fact, an agent with the Ministry of Martial Affairs, Kheprian Intelligence Division. I have been assigned to Miressa Prime for nearly three-hundred and fifty years, tasked with collecting intelligence on the inner workings of the bureaucracy. Now, you have me at a disadvantage. If that information were to come out, Acuri would have me killed immediately."

Scleesz blew out the breath he'd been holding forcefully.

"That does change things," he said. "Smart to put you into a mid-level administration job. You get to hear all the gossip, and it's not a secret the bureaucracy is the real power in the ConFed. Or at least it was before the Machine arrived. Why are you breaking cover now?"

"I am too closely watched," Dezeiri said. "Acuri has most of us under redundant layers of observation. The reason I was able to break away is because I told him I would speak to you privately about keeping the Upper Council in control now that the Machine is not able to appear personally to its various underlings."

"Why were you here in the first place?" Scleesz asked. "Three and a half centuries is a long damn assignment."

"The normal machinations of the Pillar Worlds," Dezeiri said. "Khepri had long been resentful Miressa took the leadership role when much of the infrastructure that made this vast empire possible was all designed and built by the pru. I was embedded with many others to be in place if Khepri every decided to enact a plan to undermine Miressa's leadership." Scleesz gaped at the admission.

"Should you even be telling me that?" he asked.

"Why not? The ConFed is effectively no more. We both know there is no recovering from the damage wrought by the Machine. There is also the fact it appears I have been forgotten amidst the many electoral turnovers on my homeworld. The last time I heard from a handler was well over a century ago."

"Why stay?"

"This has become my home. What began for me as a mission to help my then-owners undermine the government has now become my own mission to try and do good from within. I do not succeed often but, when I do, I realize I have made the right choice."

"You're an odd, odd fellow, Dezeiri," Scleesz said. "So, what do you want from me?"

"The Machine is currently inoperable. Acuri and his followers have seized control for their own purposes," Dezeiri said, backtracking a bit. "Here is what you likely do not know. Years ago, the Machine became obsessed with my battlesynth cousins. It felt convinced it could improve upon them and commissioned a secret group from Khepri to begin design and fabrication of a set of specialized prototypes. The engineers and administrative staff all assumed the order had come from the Ministry of Martial Affairs on Khepri, but the government was completely in the dark about the whole thing."

"Highly illegal but hardly the worst thing it's done," Scleesz grunted.

"This is where it gets interesting and into your sphere of influence. One of these bodies was stolen by known associates of Saditava Mok. A group of mercenaries who used to have a battlesynth among them. Apparently, the battlesynth was badly damaged, and their solution was, inexplicably, to put its primary processing matrix into this new body. The Machine knew of this and allowed it, curious as to what might happen."

"Why do you say inexplicably?" Scleesz asked, struggling to maintain an air of casual interest despite being well-aware of whom the synth was talking about.

"If the battlesynth's body was so badly damaged but the matrix survived, why not put it in a new body of the same type?" Dezeiri asked. "From what I have been told, there are a handful of old emergency depots that have new, cold-stored bodies. Putting a younger Type-4 matrix into a body very similar to its own would have likely caused it little trouble but installing the matrix of a battlesynth of that age into the new prototype body was an action that was always bound to fail."

"And did it?" Scleesz asked, already knowing the answer.

"Spectacularly," Dezeiri confirmed. "The battlesynth slipped immediately into instability, then into insanity. The results were so disappointing the Machine ordered the entire program scrapped. All the bodies, technical data, and some of the key designers were all destroyed. We tried to explain to the Machine that a properly constrained matrix was in the works as it requested, but it seemed to have made its mind up regarding the matter."

"You killed the engineers?" Scleesz asked.

"Acuri did. The Machine had tried to gain control of the battlesynths before, but after the second failure associated with the species, the Machine decided they were too intractable to be useful. Now that Acuri is in charge, he wants that last remaining body. He is certain he can make it fully functional and replicate the Type-2 Assassin model to spark a bloody internal war within the Pillar Worlds."

"It wouldn't take much," Scleesz admitted. "A few key assassinations and each of the Legacy Fleets would be unleashed by their respective Pillar World. So, as interesting as this is, I'm still not sure why I need to know."

"You need to warn Mok the battlesynth wearing the Type-2 Assassin body needs to be eliminated immediately and completely," Dezeiri said. "If Acuri manages to begin producing them in sufficient quantity, it will be absolute chaos."

"And how am I supposed—"

"I have already convinced Acuri you need to be sent off-world. He trusts you little, but I have told him you are too visible to simply eliminate. He will tell you soon the Machine wants you to travel to Khepri to talk to leadership there regarding the renewal of the Pillar World Mutual Defense Pact. The attack on Miressa has shaken many, and the leaders of my world will be anxious to get the new treaties in place."

"Dear Ancestors." Scleesz rubbed his face. "I'll try to do what you ask, but you should know Mok's probably a little busy after the Machine unleashed the fleet against Blazing Sun. I don't have that many ways to get in contact."

"I have watched you many years, Senior Councilmember," Dezeiri said. "I am confident in your abilities and in your instincts for self-preservation."

Scleesz knew a threat when he heard one, but he wasn't sure who the synth referred to, Dezeiri or Acuri. It didn't matter, he supposed. Dead was dead, and Dezeiri was correct. He had an unwavering, deeply rooted desire to stay alive that superseded his desire to do the right thing.

10

Seven crouched in the window opening. Waiting.

He was on the planet Ianiru-3, another backwater tier-three world (barely) almost wholly owned by Aeranel Resources, a company that specialized in stripping undesirable planets of their mineral wealth and processing the raw ore for wholesale. The settlement he was in was known only as Rare Mine 193 and was little more than a ramshackle village that had sprung up around one of the old iron mines and populated by the laborers.

Seven watched them come and go, genuinely surprised by how upbeat and happy the population was as they went about their work. Running the machinery that pulled the raw material from the ground and extracted the rare earth elements was hot, filthy work, but it also apparently paid very well. The workers rotated through the town in shifts that lasted for around twelve weeks before the next crew would roll in.

Regular supply drops came via airship, the hybrid lighter-than-air vehicles coming to the desert outpost at least twice a week to deliver food, water, and any parts or tooling the crew requested. Seven had watched one of the monsters come in the previous day, fascinated at how such a primitive technology had been adapted by Aeranel. It was fairly inexpensive and saved the trouble of building roads or mag-rails.

What the area around Rare Mine 193 was also known for was deep, wide prospector mines the smugglers in the area loved to use as hideouts and to store their product, whether those be narcotics, arms, or even less savory items. Another group that liked to use the area to hide was a certain cult dogging Seven's steps for some time.

His instincts had been right, and the group that had tried to take him on Sp'oruo had come straight here after their failure. He had allowed them a few days to settle in and become complacent. Now, tonight, he would strike.

"What? Nothing to say?" he asked his other.

For once, we are in agreement. This group needs to be dealt with.

"Hypocrite. What about no killing?"

No killing the innocent. This group does not qualify.

Seven almost felt the waves of contempt coming from his other towards the members of this cult. There must be some history here he'd almost like to dig into, but the more he communicated directly with the other, the stronger it became. More than once, he had reached out to it in weak moments of loneliness only to have it wrest control of his body away from him.

The last light of the day faded, and the laborers drifted slowly to wherever they slept, some paired up with others, some quite inebriated, still others a combination of both. By the time the darkness became absolute, the walkways were deserted, and the only sound was of the machinery still chugging away in the distance. Seven sat perfectly still for a while longer, letting his passive sensors soak in the environment and choose the best path out of the town towards the prospector mine he knew the cult used as a depot.

He jumped from the ledge he'd been perched on, dropping the three stories to the ground, and landing with a soft thud. The building he'd been in was one of the few structures in town built to last. It was a five-story administrative center that had once been the management hub for seven different mining areas. Now, it was mostly abandoned past the second floor as the surrounding mines were used up and abandoned.

It was a short walk from the town center into the tangle of confusing, random paths that branched off into the chaotic settlement. Seven activated his holo-emitters, taking on the appearance of a like-sized laborer he'd spotted earlier in the day. He walked with his head down, adding in a slight wobble to give the appearance he had one last one just one too many times.

He only passed two other people on the paths, both of whom looked like they wanted to avoid him just as much as he did them. Some twenty minutes later, he was well enough outside the town he could pour on the speed. The mine was forty-seven klicks away so, once he felt he had enough distance to not be observed, he dropped his disguise and fired his repulsors, soaring into the night sky.

His flight hardware was so advanced there was barely any visible light escaping from the repulsors, and they were so quiet the sound of his body moving through the air accounted for most of the noise he generated. He climbed to a thousand meters and took an arcing, westerly course that would let him observe the entrance of the mine before landing on the north side where rock formations would provide cover.

This would be his fourth run-in with this strange group, a sort of religious cult that followed a long-dead synth. The stranger part was they'd attracted a sizable following of biotics. From what he understood, there would be no place and no peace for biotics if this cult got its way.

As he arced past the mine entrance, still far enough out to avoid visual detection, he saw the ship of those who tried to intercept him on Sp'oruo, as well as two others parked deeper inside. The massive tunnel was brightly lit, the occupants apparently giving no thought to the threat of attack. There were also no obvious barriers or defensive systems. Complacency seemed to be the word that best described the secret depot.

Nobody is this foolish. You should break off your attack.

"Silence!" Seven hissed aloud, his words whipped away by the wind. His other's words spooked him, however, so he pulled up into a high, climbing loop to come back for a slightly closer recon pass.

As he flew by again, this time slower, he still detected nothing that would make him think his quarry was ready for an attack. Certainly not from the type of attack he was planning. There were some thermal signatures towards the prow of the furthest ship that indicated two sentries, and then some structures built farther back that were shielding anything else. The ships were all ice cold, even the reactor vents, which meant they'd been sitting for some days unpowered.

His decision made, Seven angled back around and touched down softly on the rocky ground above and behind the mine shaft entrance. He shifted his image to one of the members he'd seen on Sp'oruo—or at least what they looked like before his other's old crew ran them over—and walked down to the edge of the entrance. His disguise function was as much about creating confusion in those first crucial seconds of an engagement as it was about hiding, so he didn't worry about those inside realizing he looked like one of their dead friends.

This is a trap.

Seven ignored his other and rounded the corner, walking confidently into the mine-turned-hangar. He marched down between the two ships parked side by side, almost making it to the prows before the two sentries turned as one and approached him. They were both biotics, and Seven's tactical subprocessor identified their respective species and fed him the most efficient kill methods. He stopped and faced them, doubt creeping in for the first time. They both looked alert and confident, one of them smiling as if they'd just heard a good joke.

"We were beginning to think you were never going to get here," the first one said, hefting a strange looking weapon. Before Seven's sensors could get a reading on it, the sentry fired.

Seven dropped to his knees as his passive sensors, including his eyes, were overloaded. It wasn't just being blinded or blanketed with electromagnetic noise. Everything malfunctioned, including his equilibrium, hearing, and radar. His acoustic ranging, however, worked just fine.

He pulled one of his pistols and fired where his echo location indicated the second target was before turning and firing on the first. The interference to his sensors stopped immediately, and he stood, looking at one dead guard and the other mortally wounded and coughing up blackish blood.

"Very good," a voice said from above. Seven looked up and saw two synths standing on top of one of the buildings. "You apparently have abilities we weren't able to fully counter." The synth that spoke appeared calm, almost disinterested.

"I think you will find that miscalculation fatal," Seven said, scanning the area and dropping the disguise.

He drew his second pistol and raised them both, about to fire his repulsors to get to their level when hatches on the ships behind him swung open. Seven half-turned and saw more biotic troops piling out and facing him, each carrying that same strange weapon. This time, he didn't hesitate.

Flicking both of his large-bore pistols to rapid-fire, Seven took out five of their number before they'd even fully emerged from the ships. Two were able to get their weapons raised and fired, hitting Seven with a double dose of the sensor-disrupting fields. The battlesynth couldn't concentrate. He tried to block out the sensory overload and return fire, but his motor control failed him, and the pistol in his left hand fell to the ground.

The disruption fields ceased and, slowly this time, his senses came back. His visual and auditory sensors had fully attenuated, trying to protect him from what they interpreted as external stimuli, and the subsystems that controlled them were slow to reset. As his balance and vision returned, he found he was disarmed and flat on his back. He tried to rise, but his limbs responded sluggishly, the left leg not at all.

"Fascinating, was it not?" one of the synths said, now standing over him. "We had to take you undamaged. The master would be quite angry if we had harmed this body while trying to subdue you."

"H-h-how," Seven's voice broke and modulated as he tried in vain to reboot his systems so he could escape. Whatever they'd hit him with had scrambled things so badly his damage control subsystem struggled to sort it out.

"You are a prototype of the Type-2 Assassin Battlesynth, not the fully developed production version. Did you not think there would be safeguards put in place in case you became unmanageable as you apparently have? Does that old battlesynth matrix in your head even have any control still, or have you absorbed it?"

The synth waved its partner over. The other synth carried what were obviously heavy alloy restraints and something else that probably went around his neck.

"Who are you?" Seven asked.

"Unimportant," the synth said as its partner roughly applied the restraints to Seven's wrists and ankles before linking them together so he was in an awkward sitting position with his hands behind his feet. "I'm sure you're doing the calculations as to whether you can break the restraints once your strength returns. It will be a moot point. This inhibitor collar activates another of the failsafes built into your body. Your motor controls will be completely disabled, but I will be able to allow you to speak and think should I decide to. Otherwise, you're now just cargo, Seven."

"He is secure," the other synth said. "We can load him up and leave whenever you are ready."

"I suppose I should thank you for obliging us, Seven," his captor said, ignoring the other synth. "You proved too elusive to capture while you were free to move, so we baited a trap and let you come to us. The tracker you used was well-placed, but we knew you'd try that tactic, and thus it wasn't difficult to find. I will admit to some disappointment.

"Acuri seems to think you're the key to the future, but you were pathetically easy to manipulate and capture. I suppose that's because Seven is still an infant. You should have allowed Combat Unit 777 more control over your overall strategy and tactics. You might still be free if you had, and we would probably all be dead in here."

That was the last thing Seven heard as the inhibiter collar activated, and his limbs went numb. The synth smiled at him and reached over to push another button on the collar, and he lost consciousness.

"We're getting a coded message from Scleesz. It's one of his duress codes."

"Oh, for fuck’s sake!" Jason growled. "We have no time for him right now. Which code is it?"

Since Councilmember Scleesz was under near-constant surveillance, the rebellion had set up a way for him to send pre-arranged messages through the public Nexus to let them know his status. A duress code meant something had gone wrong, and he needed an extraction.

"Bravo Echo," Kage said.

"Oh, this just gets better and better." Crusher perked up from where he'd been lounging at one of the bridge stations. "So, we have to go and kill a bunch of ConFed troops to abduct him? Why can't Mok handle this?"

"We can't get ahold of Mok," Doc said. "Even Similan is com-silent right now."

"That's especially unusual." Jason frowned. "You think they might have been collected when the ConFed attacked Blazing Sun?"

"I feel like that would have been news they'd have released," Doc said. "The Machine obviously knew Mok was spearheading the rebellion against Miressa Prime's rule so if they'd killed or captured the leader, which would have been a huge publicity win."

"So, we have two problems," Jason said. "A missing crime lord and a pain in the ass senior councilmember who needs us to peel him away from his security detail. On top of that, we still have no idea where Seven fled to."

"Pretty much sums it up," Kage said. "What do you want to do?" Jason let out a weary sigh.

"We don't have a choice," he said. "We have to go and rescue Scleesz's stupid ass. It's part of the agreement we made with him to secure his help. If he calls, one of us needs to answer, and Mok is MIA right now, which leaves just us."

"There is one more solution," Twingo spoke up.

"I'm listening."

"Kellea is with—"

"No," Jason said firmly. "Out of the question. The Viper is hunting her right now, and if Kellea gets caught out in the open during a live op, she'll be in grave danger. Whitney is just waiting for her to make a mistake like that."

"I have an idea, but it's kind of fucked up," Crusher said.

"This should be good," Kage muttered.

"Well, if you're going to be like that I'm not sharing."

"Speak!" Jason snapped. "Or I'll toss your ass out the airlock. Kage, leave him alone."

"Let's go find one of these other brokers and hire Seven to kill the Viper," Crusher said, smiling widely. "It's like that thing about two birds you're always saying."

"You're right…that is fucked up," Jason said. "I'm not sure where to even begin as to why this is even worse than most of your ideas."

"Why?" Crusher demanded. "You're saying you weren't going to kill the Viper for taking the contract on Kellea knowing the connection to you?" Jason opened his mouth to refute the accusation but stopped. Was he actually going to just let Whitney get away with trying to kill Kellea? If not, what was he intending to do to stop her?

"You backed me into a corner here," he admitted.

"Ha!" Crusher shouted. "I was right again!"

"Again?" Kage snorted. "While I'm loathe to admit this, I think he might have the beginnings of a workable plan."

"I'm not using Seven, which means using Lucky, as a contract killer," Jason said firmly.

"We don't need to actually have him do it, we just need her to think we did," Kage said.

"I see where you're going with this, but it won't work," Doc said. "She's too smart to fall for that."

"But maybe it could still be leverage," Jason said. "We take out the contract requesting Seven, tell Whitney what we've done, and she can either take her chances with a battlesynth assassin she'll never see coming. Or, she can call off the hit on Kellea, and we'll rescind the hit on her. But we'll actually need to open a contract she can verify through her own network."

"If Seven is operating as a guild hitter, he might not take the contract on a fellow assassin," Twingo said. "Didn't she always claim she wasn't an assassin?"

"That would hardly have been the worst lie she's ever told," Jason said. "She can call herself whatever she wants, but there's a trail of bodies behind her that she left for a paycheck. If it quacks like a duck."

"This is why I don't like you hanging out with other humans," Crusher said. "Every time you're around them too long you come back with a whole new string of semi-moronic sayings the translation matrix doesn't even try to interpret."

"It's part of a saying that says—"

"I don't care," Crusher said. "I didn't mean I wanted it explained."

"Do we have another of Seven's brokers we can use?" Doc asked.

"We have three," Kage confirmed. "One not too far from where— Ah, damn. We forgot about Scleesz."

"Give me his goddamn location," Jason said, sliding back into the pilot seat. "Let's get this over with."

"He has his tracker on," Doc said. "He's…on Khepri?"

"We were just there!" Jason griped, angrily punching in his course change. "And, of course, he's on a planet that is almost impossible to run an op on. Not sure how the hell we're going to get him away from his detail."

"Leave that to me," 707 said. "This will actually be much easier than you might think."

"Well, it almost couldn't be any harder, I suppose," Jason said. "Do what you have to do but keep me in the loop."

"Of course, Captain."

11

"Your Excellency, your presence is requested by the Minister of Interplanetary Trade," an officious pru said, almost succeeding in keeping the disdain off her face.

"Thank you," Scleesz said. "I will be there shortly."

"Your presence is requested now, and the—"

"I said I would be there shortly." Scleesz turned to fully face the capital orderly. "And you would do well to remember to whom you are speaking. I am a senior member of the Council's Upper Chamber. A minster of Khepri sees me at my convenience not the other way around. Am I understood?" The orderly turned lavender around her neck, a response Scleesz knew to be from embarrassment or shame.

"I…will let the minister know you will see him when you are ready, your Excellency."

"Very good," Scleesz said, turning back his terminal.

"That was needlessly antagonistic," a synth with dark blue cladding said from where it stood near the door.

"I do not tell you how to do your job, Scanza. Do not presume to tell me how to do mine. Your position as Acuri's informant does not give you authority over me."

"Just do what you were sent to do," Scanza said.

"Assemble your team," Scleesz said. "We'll leave immediately."

Scleesz went to his chambers and freshened his appearance while the team of six synths and nine biotics assembled in the hall outside. To outsiders, it would simply look like an appropriately-sized security and administrative entourage for someone of Scleesz's station, but all of them were loyal only to Acuri, and they were there to make sure he didn't do something foolish or rash.

Given the trouble Acuri had gone through to ensure his safety, Scleesz assumed the synth was well-aware of his extracurricular activities with Saditava Mok and Captain Burke. He'd been unable to reach out per Dezeiri's request since his moves were watched and all his Nexus activity monitored closely. He realized he was probably being set up.

Acuri wanted to sow discord among the Pillar Worlds, specifically between Miressa and Khepri. What better way to start than a well-known, high-ranking member of the Upper Chamber being killed during a diplomatic mission? It was the only thing that made sense. Dezeiri thought he was being so very clever by convincing Acuri to send Scleesz here, but all the synth had probably done was sign his own death warrant. Acuri would easily see through such an obvious ploy.

Realizing what was going on was only useful if he had some way to stop it. Though he hated to do it, Scleesz had activated one of his prearranged escape plans and hoped someone from the rebellion would make it to him before Acuri's people arranged for his permanent retirement.

"We are ready when you are…your Excellency," Scanza said, holding the door to the suite open for him. Scleesz just nodded and walked out the door, realizing he'd activated his tracker too late and the likelihood of someone arriving in time was slim. Tonight would be the night they killed him, likely on the way back from the meeting with the trade minister. Damn the luck.

Khepri's capital city was like most major cities on Pillar Worlds. It was ancient beyond belief and had been rebuilt so many times through the centuries there was no defining architectural style. Modern buildings butted up against those made of stone a few thousand years old in some places. The pru seemed to be of two minds about what they wanted their city to be. They seemed hesitant to tear down historical structures but were quite proud of their modern technological prowess and liked to show it off in their buildings. The results were jarring.

A practical problem from this cultural peculiarity was they had to travel streets and walkways that had been designed in antiquity. Scleesz was forced to walk through narrow alleys and bottlenecks to get to where his vehicle was being kept. Ostensibly, the entire Embassy Compound was secure, but that didn't mean much when his attacker would almost certainly be an insider working for the government.

It didn't help the Miressan consulate was just one of five others within the compound, each in charge of their own security. The reason the buildings the Kheprians used to house the embassies of their Pillar World partners was all part of the game. It was meant to send a message that, on this planet, Miressa's might and influence meant little.

Prior to the Machine's silent coup, Scleesz reveled in the game. He was up to his corpulent neck in the intrigue that swirled through the halls of the Upper Chamber and had an eye on the seat of a Grand Adjudicator that wouldn't likely survive much longer. Now, however, after being exposed to the real consequences of their political wrangling, the whole charade disgusted and exhausted him.

"Halt!" one of the synths ahead called. He motioned for everyone to take cover.

"Here we go," Scleesz sighed, resigned to the inevitable. He didn't bother to hurry. If they were going to kill him, they could do it without chasing him all around the narrow footpaths.

"Your Excellency, perhaps—" A loud crack reverberated through the alleyway, and all the external lights went dark.

"Protect the principle!" someone shouted ahead. It sounded like one of the biotics.

There were the sounds of people scrambling all about, but Scleesz could see nothing in the dark. His species had poor low-light vision, anyway, and he was hardly a youngster. He groped about blindly until his fingers brushed against the cut stone of the building nearest him.

"Scanza!" he whispered after the expected attack didn't come. "What's happening?"

"I am unsure," the synth said, for once not sounding so arrogant and dismissive.

"We should go back," Scleesz said. Scanza ignored him, scanning the darkness and snapping his head around every time the silence was punctuated by the odd grunt or scrape.

"Status report!" Scanza said as another dull thump and moaning came from up ahead. The tension in the area was a palpable thing Scleesz imagined he could actually reach out and touch. His security team had contracted around his area, huddled, frightened, and about half the number he started with.

Just when Scleesz almost couldn't take any more and considered bolting back for the consulate, all hell broke loose.

Brilliant plasma bolts erupted out of the darkness, and his security team dropped all around him. Something slammed into the pavement beside him and waded into a group of synths, tearing into them and panicking the rest. The lights suddenly came back on, and Scleesz saw they'd been set upon by a squad of battlesynths. His panicked mind couldn't understand why the Kheprians would so brazenly attack an envoy from Miressa Prime unless this was a declaration of war.

"Kill him! Kill Scleesz!" Scanza shouted above the din, rushing towards the councilmember.

A battlesynth stepped in the way and intercepted him, crushing his upper arm with an iron grip, and causing Scanza to drop his weapon and shout something unintelligible. The battlesynth pushed Scanza to the pavement and rained down hammer-blows with its right fist. By the fourth hit, Scanza's head came apart. Scleesz was hit with the same wave of revulsion at this as he would have been if it had been a biotic pummeled to death.

"What is the meaning of—" Scleesz's words were cut off as another battlesynth tossed him to the ground and roughly put him in restraints. He was gagged, and a bag put over his head before picked up and carried out of the alley. The second time he tried to struggle against his captor, he felt the telltale prick of a medical jet injector on his neck, and darkness engulfed him.

"Combat Unit 929. It went well, I assume?"

"Here is the package," 929 said, tossing a moaning lump onto the deck of the Phoenix's cargo hold.

"The political fallout?" 707 asked.

"Managed. His security detail had planned to kill him and had enlisted the help of a Kheprian administrative aide. We were able to work with that to hide what really happened when the Miressan authorities came to investigate."

"Your assistance is greatly appreciated," Jason said.

"Of course, Captain Burke," 929 said. "Lot 700 is not the only of us who feel they owe you a great debt for what you have done for our kind."

"Burke!" a muffled voice screamed from near Jason's feet.

"Welcome aboard, Senior Councilmember Scleesz," Jason said, trying to hold back a laugh. "Would you like help getting up?"

"I will leave you to your…entertainment," 929 said. "Good day, Captain, Combat Unit 707."

Once the other battlesynths had left, and the Phoenix's ramp was raised and locked, Jason cut the bag and restraints off Scleesz. The gag had partially slipped off so he was able to just pull it off with is hands.

"How dare you!" Scleesz roared, climbing to his feet.

"I just saved your life," Jason said, stepping up into the blustering alien's face. "The Machine will think you're dead now, and you get to keep breathing. You're welcome."

"I… Yes, of course," Scleesz said, composing himself. "Thank you for answering the duress call."

"It wasn't just for the entertainment value," Jason said. "Well, not completely. There was no way our small crew could get access to the Embassy Compound and break you out, so we called in a favor. 707 asked members of the Amida Legion for help. They're tasked with internal security in the capital and were able to get in, snag you, clean up the scene, and then deliver you here before law enforcement could begin combing the grounds."

"That makes sense," Scleesz said. He wobbled slightly on his feet as Doc lifted off and accelerated away from the industrial landing field they'd been at. "If Acuri feels he's secured his hold on Miressa enough he ordered a hit on a high-ranking councilmember, then things have progressed the wrong way. Where the hell is Saditava Mok?"

"Honestly? We have no idea," Jason said. "The ConFed fleet executed a multi-pronged attack on Blazing Sun that we're pretty sure he escaped, but he's been underground since."

"Is Blazing Sun still a viable entity?"

"The Twelve Points are doing the best they can to hold it together, but it's breaking apart," Jason said. "The big issue is all of the legitimate businesses they laundered their funds through were hit, and now they're struggling to maintain cash flow to keep the satellite operations under control."

"We need to find Mok," Scleesz said. "Even if it's over a slip-com relay. He needs to be aware of what's happening on Miressa, and then we have some hard decisions to make. The Machine is no longer in charge, but I don't know if that means it's defeated completely or just temporarily subdued. Either way, this group that answers to Acuri can't be allowed to continue as it has."

"Look, Scleesz, we honored our agreement to come extract you, but we're not going to be able to do much more," Jason said. "We're after our crewmate that has—"

"Yes, I know," Scleesz said. "This is all interrelated, Captain, in a way I will explain to you later. The same people who you are helping me escape from are the same ones trying to capture your friend. They want that body back, and they won't stop until they have him."

"Yeah…let's go have a talk," Jason said, suddenly interested.

12

Jason and the others sat in shock after Scleesz finished talking.

He'd insisted on being allowed to clean up and get something to eat, complaining the entire time about the food choices available, and then launched into a two-hour brief regarding the political climate on Miressa Prime. Most of it revolved around a synth named Acuri and, if this Dezeiri was to be believed, their effort to render the Machine inert had been at least partially successful.

"707, you know anything about these emergency depots housing surplus battlesynth bodies?" Jason asked.

"I do not," 707 said. " We have always been told we were one of the last groups made before the program was canceled. There have always been rumors of such things, of course, but nothing I would call substantiated. The existence of spare bodies would not surprise me, however."

"Get on it," Jason said. "Cas, you help. Pull in Kage as you need him, but I'll be using him to try and get a meeting with the next guild broker so we can try and hire Seven."

"What about me?" Scleesz asked.

"I'll figure something out," Jason said. "Take this in the spirit with which it's intended, but you're completely useless. No offense."

"Now, why would I be offended by that?"

"You're burned, and they'll be actively looking for you now," Jason went on. "They likely won't buy 929's story on Miressa, so they'll send more agents to start scouring Khepri. If they don't find a body, they'll pull in ConFed Intelligence. We can't get a hold of Mok, and we're not sure how stable his situation is anyway, so that's out. Other than going all the way back to S'Tora and letting you hang out with Lot 700 aboard the Devil's Fortune, there aren't many places I know of where you will be absolutely safe."

"I suppose there is that," Scleesz said.

"So, in your entire career as a high-level politician, you don't have a safe house or an escape plan already in place?" Crusher asked.

"Compromised," Scleesz said. "The Machine was very thorough, and it operated for years before anybody knew it even existed. That crash of the central banking AI? That was its handiwork. It used that to try and gain control of the battlesynths, but you ruined that. As a consolation prize, however, it was able to infiltrate the new banking system and use that against its enemies. That's how it found the extraction team and hideouts I had on standby."

"Damn," Jason said. "I'll think of something. Where are we going next, Kage?"

"The Hub," Kage said. "Our next broker on the list is there. I've already pinged her through the Zadra Network, and she's active and aboard the platform. Give me the word, and I'll try to make contact and set up our meeting."

"Do it," Jason said. "Then I'll handle my end and, hopefully, we can pull this off without too much trouble. Carolyn Whitney isn't exactly what you'd call rational when you try to pin her into a corner."

"I still like her," Crusher said.

Jason just rolled his eyes and walked out of the galley, trudging up the stairs to the command deck. He slipped into the com room and closed the hatch behind him. He selected one of their slip-com nodes that routed through a double-blind relay system so the end receiver would have no way of tracing even the node address. The person he contacted was someone he hadn't often talked to, but he felt it was his best bet compared to his normal frontal assault tactics.

"Captain Burke," the man said. "This is…unexpected."

"Abiyah," Jason said in greeting. "We need to talk."

Abiyah was a human male who looked to be in his mid-thirties. He had been part of Marcus Webb's kill team that Margaret Jansen had deployed to hunt down Jason some years ago. Abiyah—he'd never given his last name—had been a member of the secretive Mista’avrim, an elite team within the Israeli Defense Force back on Earth. During the operation, Abiyah had met Carolyn Whitney and the two formed a partnership and had been working together ever since.

"I assume you would like this talk to be kept from Carolyn," Abiyah said, impossible to read as ever.

"Not at all. Let's just say I'm filtering the message through you given her and my past history of trying to kill each other," Jason said. "I understand she's taken a contract from someone in the Cridal to kill Kellea Colleran. I'm guessing the person holding the marker is probably Seeladas herself. I'm sending you this as fair warning that I simply can't allow that to happen."

"I see," Abiyah said.

"You've heard of a new hitter in your circle? Goes by Seven?" Jason asked. At the mention of this name, Abiyah paled noticeably and nodded once.

"I have a connection to this assassin, and since I know how slippery you two are, I'm going to use him," Jason said. "I intend to put a contract on Carolyn Whitney, using Seven. I think we both know how that will go."

"Captain…this isn't smart," Abiyah said. "There's a lot you don't understand here."

"I understand the Viper, despite all her protestations of not being an assassin, has accepted a job to kill someone she knows is close to me," Jason said. "What would you do in my place?"

He'd intended to use this ploy as a way to try and track Seven but, as he warmed up to the matter, he wasn't so sure he shouldn't just let him take Whitney out once and for all.

"She didn't have a choice," Abiyah said. "You're not the only one who has people who can be used against you as leverage, Captain. She had to take the job."

"You think I care?"

"No. But I do."

"And?" Jason asked. "You think that explanation will be enough to make me let her kill Kellea?" Abiyah leaned back, rubbing his forehead.

"I warned her that you would find out," he muttered. "She's committed to this because the person holding the marker found out about someone back on Earth, someone she loves very much…my daughter."

"What? Wait a minute. How the hell can a half-cyborg woman even have a kid?"

"I said my daughter. She was barely an infant when I was recruited to go and kill you," Abiyah said. "We've snuck back to Earth more than a few times to see her, and Carolyn has developed a bond. What we didn't realize was our movements were being tracked. To make a long story short, the people who tracked us were approached by someone working for someone else who helped someone within the Cridal Cooperative. Carolyn was on a short list of high-profile human assets that weren't within the normal channels that could be leveraged. You're on that list, too, Captain. They know about your son."

"Who is they?" Jason asked, feeling his control of the discussion slipping away.

"No idea," Abiyah said. "And we've been trying to track them down. We thought they might have been the Office of Special Operations that was recently eliminated, but two weeks after all of that, we received word the job was still on. We've been feeding them just enough progress updates to ensure my daughter's safety, but we haven't been trying all that hard, if you take my meaning."

"Yeah, I do," Jason sighed. "Fuck."

"Indeed. So, you actually know who this Seven is? We haven't even been able to figure out its species yet."

"Yeah…it's Lucky."

"Lucky? Your Lucky?"

"The new battlesynth body the boys stole that we tried to put his matrix into ended up being some specialized assassin model," Jason said. "The body's protocols have taken over and a new personality emerged that calls itself Seven. It's been terrorizing the border regions ever since. I planned on killing two birds with one stone by using him to scare Whitney off Kellea and to track Seven so I can get ahold of him."

"You're going to kill him?" Abiyah guessed.

"I'm going to try one more time to help him exert control over the body, then I won't have a choice," Jason said. "He's too indiscriminate about the targets he's choosing." Abiyah tapped at his chin thoughtfully for a moment.

"Go and secure the contract," he said. "It's virtually impossible Seven would be able to track us right now, so the risk is minimal. When he puts out feelers through the different guilds trying to find us, we can track him through that. It should at least give you an idea where to look."

"You're sure? He's really damn good, Abiyah."

"We'll be fine. Don't leave it open indefinitely but, in the short term, we're someplace he won't be able to easily uncover. I will also try and keep you in the loop about Admiral Colleran. Right now, Carolyn has no intention of killing her."

"Given it's your daughter, how much can I trust you on this?" Jason asked.

"I'm making my own arrangements to get my daughter to safety," Abiyah said.

His story of trying to protect his child from afar hit Jason right in the gut. Before he could stop himself, his mouth was moving. "We might be a better choice to extract her if it comes to that," he said. "We're a little tied up with…stuff, but it's a little girl's life we're talking about. We're pretty good at this sort of thing."

"So I've heard," Abiyah snorted. "I appreciate the offer. It may come down to that but. for now. we're able to keep our employer satisfied by showing we're actively hunting the admiral. I honestly think this person is more interested in making Kellea suffer under the threat of a bounty than they are actually seeing her killed."

"This is why people like us shouldn't have attachments, I guess," Jason sighed. "Okay. I'm heading to Colton Hub to take a contract out on your girlfriend. Try and explain it to her in a way that won't cause a blow up."

"You really think I couldn't hear that entire conversation, Captain?" Whitney's voice floated over the speakers. "My ship is less than half the size of yours."

"Fair point," Jason said.

"We're all putting a lot of trust in each other right now," Whitney said, sliding into the frame. "I think we've all shown we might be ruthless killers, but we're honest killers. If my hand is forced when it comes to Kellea, I will come to you first so we can figure something out. I swear."

"I'll hold up my end," Jason said. "I'll make the contract time limited with an expiration of two weeks. If Seven doesn't pop up in that time, I'm back to the drawing board."

"Two weeks, Captain," Whitney agreed. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about all of this." Jason's eyebrows shot up at that. This wasn't someone who apologized for anything, especially not business.

"We'll get it sorted out," he said. "We're on the Phoenix right now, so if you need to get in touch, use those codes."

"Will do." Whitney killed the channel.

"Well, that didn't go as planned," Jason said to the ceiling.

"I told you she wasn't the heartless killer you always paint her as," Cas's voice came over the speakers.

"Two things," Jason said. "First, no…you've never said that. Not even once. Two, why are you eavesdropping on my conversations when I've given you a specific task to do?"

"I'm multitasking," Cas said. "Would you like my assessment of your conversation with the Viper?"

"No," Jason said, shutting down the terminal and standing up.

"Really?"

"You're a Noxu AI fragment that lived in my head and now resides in a recon probe," Jason said. "Why would I care what you think about an interaction between two humans? Why are you even bothering me right now?"

"I'm bored, and I feel like we don't talk enough anymore."

"Jesus Christ," Jason groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and feeling his heart speed up. "Cas, this is serious shit we're doing. Get back to work and concentrate on your task."

"Fine." The speaker chirped, indicating the intercom channel was closed.

Jason almost dismissed the interaction as something Kage likely initiated and put Cas up to, but maybe there was more to it than that. Since the AI was pulled from his head and given its own body to inhabit, the pair were obviously not as close as they'd been when they'd shared the same space.

For Jason, it was just getting his privacy back. For Cas, who had only existed in Jason's head up to that point, it was quite a bit more traumatic. Perhaps Jason needed to be more understanding of the quirky AI's plight and not so quick to dismiss the behavior as an annoyance.

Since coming to space and being the only human within a thousand lightyears for almost two decades, he should have a bit more sympathy for what it meant to be so unique and alone. When the only being you were close to since your awakening is now too busy for you because he's trying to help someone else, it's bound to cause hurt feelings. Maybe Cas was just acting out because he was lonely and didn't relate to the others.

Or maybe he really was just an annoying asshole.

13

"Seven? I've not heard of any private contractor by that name. Are you sure—"

Crusher's clawed hand shot out and grabbed the alien's throat, squeezing hard until its eyes bulged from its head.

"See, the problem is I'm not even here to deal with you. I'm here to see your boss, and I didn't even mention Seven by name," Jason said, yawning as Crusher choked the life out of the slimy underling who had come to meet with them. "The fact you are even speaking to me is insulting beyond belief."

Jason's mood had become increasingly worse during the three days they'd spend on Colton Hub, and it wasn't just because he despised the place more than any other he frequented. It was because he was being jerked around by the broker Kage had scrounged up, and he wanted to know why.

Through the Zadra Network, he knew they were looking for a mid-level bounty wrangler named Sulast Ara. She was someone who didn't have the reputation for playing games, so Jason's gut told him something was up.

"Please, unhand him," a voice said. "I'd rather this not become unpleasant." Jason turned and saw a squat, powerfully built alien coming his way. He was a Taukkir and, from the looks of him, had been in more than a few scrapes.

"Seems a little late for that," Jason said. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

"I won't ask again," the Taukkir said, signaling to two more in the dingy bar. Crusher never let go of the alien he was strangling as Jason squared off with the newcomers, smiling.

"Tell Sulast my patience is wearing thin," he said. "If I have to start killing her underlings to get to her, that's fine by me. I'll start with you."

"You arrogant human." The Taukkir snarled. "Even with your tame Galvetic, you're no match for three of us." Crusher turned his head and growled, the deep rumble causing the blustering alien to freeze for a moment.

"Do you know what the problem with bluffing is?" Jason asked. "You tend to fixate, ignore the details around you."

"What?" the Taukkir asked, now confused.

"You're so busy threatening me, you didn't even notice the battlesynth you walked by and put at your backs," Jason said, leaning back and taking a drink from his local swill.

The Taukkir's eyes widened, and it spun just as 707 slammed a fist into his chest. The alien collapsed without a sound and the battlesynth quickly disabled the other two lackeys with him. As this was happening, someone at the bar Jason had been watching nurse a drink for the past three hours spun, pulling a nasty-looking plasma carbine from under their cloak.

Having been ready, Jason brought up the pistol he'd been holding low and behind him, firing once and taking the newcomer right in the gut. It screeched, clawing at its smoking abdomen as it collapsed to the floor. There was a familiar pop/whine as 707 switched to combat mode and opened fire on the group near the door.

"Better wrap it up quick," Crusher said, smashing the head of the alien he'd been holding into the table, knocking it out completely.

"707! Let's move!" Jason shouted.

While Colton Hub was still mostly a lawless shithole, it was now under new management that didn't take kindly to all the gunplay that used to be common in the lower-level establishments. The cartels that ran the Hub had hired mercenary crews, put them in uniforms to give the illusion of respectability and legitimacy, and organized them into rapid-response teams that patrolled the three commerce decks. The message from the cartels was that if you wanted to kill someone, take it down below and keep it quiet.

As the team grouped together so they could overlap their coverage during their retreat, the sounds of dozens of running footsteps reached them. Jason looked over his shoulder in time to see at least fifteen armored troopers block off the exit. 707 turned to engage, but Jason stopped him.

"Hold fast!" he shouted, kicking Crusher to make sure the big warrior was paying attention. The newcomers hadn't opened fire yet, so there were still some moves left to him.

"Stand down, guys," he said, holstering his pistols. "We can't shoot our way out."

"I'd heard you were a pragmatist," a voice floated up from behind the wall of armored troopers. "Glad to see I'll have a chance to meet the infamous Jason Burke after all instead of just viewing his perforated corpse."

The troopers parted enough for a small female to walk in among them. A small human female.

"You're Sulast Ara?" Jason asked.

"Not my original name, of course, but yes…I am the bounty wrangler you've been trying to track down," she said. "Shall we go somewhere more private and have a word, or would you like to beat up on my people a little bit more?"

"I'm good either way," Crusher growled.

"I'm sure you are," Sulast smiled. "It seems a really stupid way to die, though…an unfitting end for someone with your reputation."

"Let's talk," Jason said, motioning for his companions to lower their weapons.

Sulast motioned for them to follow and led them from the bar, moving quickly and ducking down one of the maintenance access corridors to get off the main drag. That told Jason that, while she may have some juice, she was still subject to the rules the controlling cartels had put in place and wanted to avoid the security patrols.

Her troopers hadn't bothered to disarm them and didn't seem too concerned that the Omega Force team was between them and their principle, so there was an odd level of trust being displayed by someone who had kept them cooling their heels for days.

They were led through a dizzying number of turns and down stairwells until they arrived at an armored hatch much larger and newer than most they'd passed. It slid quietly open as they approached, and Sulast motioned them inside.

"Nice place for a lower-deck space," Jason commented, taking in the plush suite he found himself in.

"It's a nice quiet, out of the way spot," she said, sitting down and accepting a drink from someone dressed in a ridiculous purple suit.

"So, how the hell did a human end up on Colton Hub running contracts and bounties?" Jason dove right into it.

"You mean to ask am I a new arrival, or have I been here the whole time while you and Carolyn Whitney pretended you were the only humans out here?" she asked. There was a bitter edge to her voice that made Jason lean back in his seat.

"Yeah, that's what I was asking," Jason said.

"I was actually born out here," she said, seeming to calm a bit. "My parents had spent more than forty years out here before they passed away."

"Abductees?" Jason guessed. "I don't need all the gory details, Sulast. It sounds like a touchy subject."

"I…apologize," Sulast said, the words sounding like they were difficult for her to utter. "My parents were taken, yes. Slavers found Earth some time ago and took people from the rural areas of Japan and sold us off in a group. We were kept as an oddity, and to see if perhaps we could be used for something other than entertainment or food. I'm third generation descendent from that original group."

"Do you know the species that took your people?" Crusher asked intently.

"I'm sorry, I don't," she said. "Only those who bought us from that group and the people who kept us were not unkind…mostly. None of this is important right now. I grew up hearing stories about some human merc that half the hardened fighters in the frontier worlds were afraid of. Then I met the Viper, and it changed the course of my life."

"Oh, dear God," Jason muttered.

"What?" Sulast demanded.

"So, let me guess," he said, "Whitney happened across you and either freed you, paid for your release, or killed your owners? Or some combination of the three? Then what? She brought you here an apprenticed you to some low-tier bounty wrangler so she'd have someone completely loyal to her on the inside?"

"You're pretty good at that," Crusher said. "I still can't figure out why everyone thinks you're so stupid."

"You're…close," Sulast said. Now that Jason looked, he could definitely see her Japanese heritage. It was strange. The longer he stayed away from Earth, and his people everyone he met now just looked human to him. She looked vulnerable for just a moment before the steel returned to her eyes, and she leaned back, composed. "Why do you want Seven?"

"Well, this just got a lot more fucking complicated," Jason muttered. "I was going to open a contract on the Viper's life dependent on it being fulfilled by Seven. I have a feeling that's going to—"

"Deal," Sulast said, not batting an eye.

"Really?" Jason asked. "What about that story you just told?"

"Business is business," she said, her voice emotionless. Jason knew he was treading on dangerous ground and dealing with a dynamic between the two human women he didn't understand. Why hadn't Whitney mentioned she had this close of a connection with Sulast?

"Okay then," he said. "How quickly can you contact Seven?"

"How did you hear about him?" Sulast said, her eyes narrowing. "The fact you even know that name is odd. He leaves no trace, much less a calling card."

"How did you hear about him?" Jason asked. "I've had personal dealings with him before, and I'm a little surprised he would contract through someone so…remote."

"I have deals with most of the major hitters, including Whitney," Sulast said, not taking the bait. "He came to me and offered an open-ended arrangement with no exclusivity. He follows guild rules, mostly, and doesn't haggle over pay, so he's in high demand."

"So, he just flew out to Colton Hub, tracked you down, and offered his services?" Jason asked, exchanging a look with Crusher. From the look he got back, his friend wasn't buying it, either.

"Look, Captain…I'm not about to divulge the internal workings of how the guilds overlap and contract out these things," she said. "This is still a black market operation, and our methods are tightly controlled and guarded. You think ConFed Intelligence wouldn't send an Agent out here to disrupt us just because they were bored? Not to mention the reputation Omega Force has when it comes to dealing with the less savory parts of the underworld. How many narcotics or trafficking rings have you destroyed just for the fun of it?"

"Lots and lots," Crusher said with a wide smile.

"Why all the push back about this?" Jason asked. "You want to make money or do you— Son of a bitch!"

"Finally figure it out?" Sulast asked, smiling.

"I'm lost," Crusher admitted. "She stalling?"

"Of course, you're lost," Jason said. "No, she's not stalling. She's already been warned we were coming. When did Whitney contact you?"

"Probably right after you threatened Abiyah," Sulast said. "She told me that you'd come to the Hub, bumble around, probably kill a dozen people or so, and then finally end up here trying to track down Seven."

"Then you know why I need him specifically?"

"She actually didn't say, even though I asked," Sulast said. "We've remained friends, but we keep business separate. She only alerted me that you'd be coming and not to hold you up too much when it came to opening the contract on her. Personally, I'd prefer not to risk unleashing Seven on her since it's obvious she's not really the target. The Viper is supremely confident she can evade him, I'm not. I've seen him in action."

"So have I," Jason said. "Whitney would be in over her head."

"I'd like to help you, Captain, but I…" Sulast trailed off as her attention was diverted to something outside the small office area.

"Mistress, we need to evacuate…now."

After the armored guard stopped speaking, the sounds of weapons fire could be heard through the heavy alloy of the closed hatch. Jason and Crusher looked at each other and frowned. Was this about them or just a business dispute with one of Sulast's competitors?

"Who's attacking?" Jason asked.

"We are not sure, Captain," the guard said. "But they have normal synths with them and appear to be military."

"Friends of yours?" Sulast asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They're after the same thing we are if it's who I think it is," Jason said. "They killed one of your competitors on the planet Sp'oruo recently. It's no coincidence they're here now."

"Have our people outside disengage and retreat, H'yal," she said, standing up motioning for Jason and his team to follow her. "Let's not throw away any more expensive troopers than we have to. The hatch will hold them up long enough for us to escape."

"At once, Mistress," the guard said, turning and barking orders.

"And you fools," she hissed, turning on Jason and Crusher, "if I find out you led them here, there will be no hole you can hide in where I won't find you!"

"You might want to remember who the fuck you're talking to, lady," Jason said, stepping close so she had to crane her head up to see him. "You might be queen of the scrubs down here in your grubby little basement, but you're not ready for the big leagues. I'd think twice before threatening my crew like that again."

Sulast's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she also took a step forward, refusing to be intimidated by Jason even with a battlesynth and a Galvetic warrior standing behind him.

"Let's go, tough guy," she finally said. "The hatch is designed to be a delay, not hold them indefinitely. They'll be through soon enough."

Jason motioned for his team to follow as she led them deeper into the complex. As he expected, there was a hidden hatch in the ceiling of another room with a ladder dropped and waiting and more of her troopers held the area. They quickly climbed up and pulled the ladder up after them, closing the hatch softly and locking it into place. Jason switched his ocular implants to low-light mode and looked around.

They stood in one of the hollow gaps in Colton Hub interspersed throughout the structure. The station had at one time been a deep space refueling station back when starships couldn't traverse the expanse without needing to replenish. After it was decommissioned, a series of owners set about gutting and rebuilding the interior as they saw fit.

The mashup of visions led to there being a lot of oddities like dead spaces, tunnels to nowhere, and completely sealed off areas within the Hub. It looked like Sulast had taken advantage of one of the dead spaces to give herself an escape route should the main entrance of her little operation come under attack.

"Data purge was successful, Mistress," the Taukkir named H'yal reported. "We should move before they breach the main hatch."

"Let's take it slowly," Jason said. "Don't assume these guys haven't mapped out your contingencies. They're pros."

"So are we, Captain," the Taukkir snarled. "This way."

Jason's team, Sulast, and two of her troops started across the rough walkway installed to the girders of the deck below while two others remained behind to watch the hatch. Overall, Jason was impressed with the loyalty and discipline Sulast's people demonstrated.

If he knew nothing else about her, he would assume she was a quality leader since they obviously respected rather than feared her. It made him even more curious about her story as they ran. Hers was a business full of cutthroats and backstabbers, not the type of industry where hired guns remained behind and sacrificed themselves so she could make her escape.

"Kage, you have me?" Jason asked once his com beeped twice that it had reconnected. Sulast had wisely installed an array of jammers in her lair that had cut him off from the Phoenix.

"I'm picking up your audio, but telemetry and location data is still down. Where are you?" Kage asked.

"Isn't important right now, and I actually have no idea," Jason said. "We're in one of the gaps running from the same group that hit Jorg's place, I think."

"Where are you running to?"

"Where are we going to pop out at?" Jason asked.

"To my ship that's docked to a private airlock," Sulast said. "I'd suggest you come with me and tell your friends to meet us later. If they tracked us to my office, they might know where your ship is parked."

Jason mulled it over for a few seconds.

"Kage, get clear. Take the Phoenix and get the hell out of here. I'll be in touch with a pickup location," he said.

"You sure you want—"

"Get going. Now. You're a sitting duck in that hangar."

"Again with the avian analogies," Kage said. "I suppose it's marginally better than you constantly referring to your bodily waste and various orifices."

"I swear to—"

"We're leaving. Firing engines now and calling for departure clearance. Phoenix out."

"So, we're now at her mercy?" Crusher asked.

"We have been for the last few days anyway, we just didn't know it," Jason said. "Let's just see how this plays out."

Sulast turned and winked at him but said nothing.

14

"How much farther?" 707 asked.

"We'll drop down into one of the access tunnels a few hundred meters ahead, and then it's half a klick to the airlock," Sulast said. "No fuss, no—" She didn't get to finish her sentence as the grate ahead of them disappeared from what looked like a breaching charge placed underneath.

The trooper who had been on point was too close to stop and fell through the opening. The sound of weapons fire and screaming told Jason that, as he'd feared, they'd been waiting for them to come this way. There were two more muffled explosions as entries were cut into the gap ahead and behind them, pinning them down near the hole the trooper had tumbled through.

"Shit! Crusher!" Jason coughed.

"Hang on!" Crusher shouted, moving up and tossing a grenade down through the opening. There were some confused shouts, and then an explosion with enough oomph to rattle Jason's teeth.

"What the hell was that?!" Jason yelled.

"I thought it was a stunner!" Crusher said. "Oh. Oh…okay, those are on this side. Yeah, that was a high-yield frag. My mistake."

"This path should be clear then," H'yal said.

"They're herding us." Jason shook his head, glaring at Crusher as he wiggled his finger in his ringing ear. "They want us down that hole. Let's go around it and attack the group coming up ahead of us. We're going to be outnumbered, so let's just run and gun. Keep moving towards the ship."

"Mistress?" H'yal asked.

"Do what he says," Sulast said. "Let's go! Move!"

"707! You're up!" Jason said as he saw shadows climbing through the hole ahead of them.

The battlesynth accelerated away from the group, his alloy feet ringing off the grate, and his crimson eyes reflecting off the structural girders around them. The bark of his plasma cannons and the screams of dismay from the people he engaged gave Jason a sense of nostalgia in a messed up sort of way. 707 looked and moved like Lucky used to, and there was an easy rhythm to how they worked together.

As Jason had thought, the force that had breached ahead of them had been minimal, only there to make them stay and fight in the gap or try and move through the first breach. There were only five biotics in light armor and a few heavy plasma rifles, not nearly enough firepower to hold them off, but enough to cause them to jump to a bad decision.

It only took them a few seconds to get everyone through the gap and for Sulast to get her bearings and get them moving in the right direction again. Jason rummaged around in the pockets of the bodies and collected a few things of interest, including one of the heavy plasma rifles to augment the two pistols he carried.

"You realize they almost certainly know about your ship, right?" Crusher said. "They had to have flipped someone in your crew and had all this set up to grab Seven when he appeared. When we showed up instead, they decided to go at us again."

"Again?" Sulast asked. Jason held up the marker disc he'd pulled from one of the dead.

"This is definitely the group we were telling you about before," he said. "They all carry one of these. I don't think we were on their radar, but we ran a bunch of them over with a bus."

"What is a bus?" H'yal asked.

"It's a large, wheeled vehicle," Jason said. "My point is, they know we're now connected to Seven somehow, so they're after us as well, it would seem."

"I wish I'd never met that…whatever the hell he is," Sulast said. "Is he one of your kind?" Her question was directed at 707.

"Not exactly," the battlesynth replied. "It is complicated and not something to discuss while fleeing a fundamentalist death cult."

"Fair enough."

They'd almost made it to the next junction that would allow them quick access to the tunnel they needed when they were re-engaged. Two shots took another of Sulast's people, and one shot hit H'yal in the left arm before 707 stepped in and shielded them, letting them dive into a side passage and regroup.

"How many?" Jason asked as he looked at the smoking chest armor of the battlesynth. Other than some discoloration, it looked undamaged.

"Nine biotics, all wearing black composite armor," 707 said. "They are in a defensive position and do not appear enthusiastic about pressing their advantage."

"They'll just hold us up until the reinforcements come," Jason said, frowning. "Is it weird to anyone else a supposed synth cult employs this many biotic alien fighters?"

"Biotic life is cheap to the cult," 707 said. "They will gladly pay dozens of mercenaries to die than to lose one synth."

"Wait…a synth cult?" Sulast said. "What the hell have you gotten me mixed up in, Burke?"

"Sorry, kiddo…you were mixed up in it before you met me," Jason said. "707, you stay here and keep their attention. Crusher, we're going to move down and up and see if there's a connecting corridor allowing us to get behind them."

"If we can bypass them, then we should all go," H'yal argued.

"And then they'll be behind us," Jason said. "We need to eliminate them before we move on. Let's go, Crusher."

"This mission is getting weird," Crusher said after they were away from the group. "Why are they targeting all the people Seven worked for?"

"They're probably leaving small groups behind at each one and hoping Seven walks into a trap," Jason said. "If the intel Scleesz brought us is to be believed, anyway."

"You think keeping a senior councilmember on our ship is a good idea right now?" Crusher asked. "We get him killed, we're in a world of shit."

"He's a dead man right now if we leave him someplace with any ConFed presence," Jason said. "This Acuri is going to be looking for him since I doubt 929's little ruse will fool a thorough investigator. We do need to find somewhere to dump him, though. His complaining is going to get old and fast. This way."

Jason moved down a narrow alcove that terminated a few meters in. There was a hatchway there, with the lock already mangled and hanging freely, so he slowly pushed it open and peeked inside. The area had some disused machinery that looked like it could have been from the old water distribution system, much of it cut away by scavengers. There were also some cloth partitions hung up, and the heavy smell of a narcotic called Sylix hung in the air, but it didn't seem recent.

"Someone's makeshift drug den," Crusher said, sniffing and shivering. "Probably local hitters monetizing the product they jacked from some smuggler crew that came through."

"You ever get tired of wallowing in the filth of the galaxy?" Jason asked as they moved quickly through the machinery. "This is depressing as hell, and it's an environment we're always in."

"We're basically hired killers no matter how you like to dress it up with your morality talks," Crusher said. "We are the filth, my friend."

"I don't know why I bother talking to you. Does this hatch seem like it's in the right direction?"

"Sure." Crusher shrugged. Jason just gave him a flat stare. "Want a grenade?"

"No, goddamnit, I don't want a grenade. And stop throwing those damn things in enclosed spaces. I'm tired of having my eardrums blown out and regrown every time you do," Jason said. "Hold my gun for a minute."

After inspecting the handle to make sure the idiots who had been running a drug den in the space hadn't left a rigged a trap on the hatch, he pushed on the latch, and then shoved it, but the hatch hit something on the other side that felt like it had a little give to it. Shrugging, he reared back with his right foot and put everything he had into it, kicking the hatch so hard that whatever had been blocking it was knocked out of the way. It also cried out in surprise.

When the hatch swung all the way open, banging into the bulkhead on the far side, he and Crusher stared at a group of nine aliens dressed in black composite armor. Both groups froze unsure what to do.

Crusher let loose with a bellowing roar that caused the enemy troops to flinch, giving Jason time to clear both his sidearms and go to work. Since they were all bunched up and had been looking the wrong way, he barely had to aim. He laid down heavy fire while advancing, concentrating on shooting wherever he saw someone reaching for a weapon or turning away. The armor they wore was tougher than it looked, however, so a lot of Jason's shots were scattered.

"Move!" Crusher shouted, elbowing him aside and opening fire with his heavy plasma rifle.

The powerful weapon was devastating at close range and, soon, everyone was dead with the exception of a single alien who had edged around the alcove and ran as fast as it could…right towards where 707 was camped out. Crusher stopped firing just in time to hear a scream followed by a wet crunch.

"If anybody asks, we knew they were there the whole time and planned this all out perfectly," Jason said.

"Absolutely," Crusher agreed.

"All clear!" Jason called out, but 707 and the others were already moving towards them at a brisk run.

"Let's go!" Sulast said. "We're almost there."

She led them down another corridor and through a security checkpoint crewed by two bored-looking aliens who wore the uniform of station security. Sulast quickly verified her identity, and they opened the gate to let her pass.

"You have an armed party coming this way," she warned. "They attacked us back in Liro Section and have been chasing us since."

"We will call it in," one of the guards said, his demeanor indicating he didn't really believe her.

They ran down the corridor, this one much cleaner than the others they'd been traveling through, passing locked entry hatches that led to gangways attached to moored ships that Colton Hub's wealthier residents had tucked away behind private security for just such an occurrence.

The ConFed liked to raid the installation every few years and the first thing that happened when a fleet taskforce meshed-in was the hangar decks and docking arms were all locked down. Having access to a private ship not stored in any of the public spaces was a worthwhile layer of security if you were in less-than-legal enterprises.

"My escape ship is small, but we should all fit," Sulast said. She keyed in the security code to her hatch while letting it take a biometric reading. As it slid open, the sounds of weapons fire reached them.

"They are at the security checkpoint," 707 said. "They will likely reach us before you are able to initiate your launch cycle."

"It's already set up for a quick—" Sulast's words were lost as a massive blast rocked the front of the corridor entrance.

"Mistress, go," H'yal said. "No arguments. I will give you the time you need. Captain Burke…swear to me you will protect her."

"I will protect her," Jason said, stunned at the loyalty and courage of someone he had just assumed was a hired thug.

"You'll want these," Crusher said, handing him the rest of the high-yield grenades he carried. H'yal took them and nodded before running back up the corridor.

"No!" Sulast said and actually made a move like she was about to follow him. Jason grabbed her and pulled her back towards the door.

"Do not dishonor his sacrifice by making it meaningless!" he hissed in her ear. "He made his choice. Throwing your life away would be pointless. Now, move!"

Sulast let out an anguished wail, but let Jason lead her down the gangway to the waiting ship. They were able to get through the boarding hatch and close the airlock door just as more explosions reached their ears.

"Shit!" Jason said. "Just decouple and let her drift. Jet her out, and then start the drive once we have some space between us and these assholes."

"Standby," Sulast said, her unsure hands hovering over the controls. "Captain…H'yal would usually be the pilot. I'm just not—"

"Move aside," Jason said.

He slid into the seat she had just vacated and saw the helm station was a standard Aracorian configuration. He pushed the buttons that would detach the umbilicals and yanked the control to cast off, the docking clamps letting go with a series of solid thunks. He grabbed the control for the ionic thrusters and pushed the ship gently away from Colton Hub, letting it drift away at a rate of a few meters per second while bringing up the main drive.

The ship had been powered up with her reactor running and primed to go with the fuel being continuously topped off through the umbilical. They were at idle power, but the reactor quickly ramped up, and the main drive had at least been in a pre-heat mode meaning it would only be a minute or so before he could get them underway. He wasn't worried about their pursuers hitting them through the airlock hatch, but he was worried they would call out to a ship they had and vector them in.

"They're at the airlock," Crusher said. He looked through one of the portside portals and saw them standing in the window of the hatch. "We have a problem. They're all synths."

The implications of that sunk in for Jason a moment later. Synths didn't need an atmosphere. They could open the hatch and fire from the gangway or, worse, launch themselves out of the hatch and possibly land upon the ship.

"Okay I'm going to do something here," Jason said, cringing a bit. "Sulast…you didn't want to ever come back here, did you?"

"What? Why?!"

"Because the cartel is really not going to like what I'm about to do," Jason said. He slaved the ionic jets to the helm control so he could more precisely steer the ship, angling the nose over and bringing the weapons online.

The ship was an older Aracorian courier ship with armor and armament options, state of the art thirty years ago, but it had been sitting in space dormant for probably just as long and things didn't work as well as they once did. The main drive was taking its sweet time coming up, he also didn't have any shields yet, but some of the tactical systems greened up.

Jason selected the forward plasma cannons, switched to the lowest power setting, slowest rate of fire, and fought to get the ship aimed in the right direction. The small ionic jets were only meant to push the ship around in port. They were imprecise and underpowered, so he had trouble keeping it centered.

"Here they come," Crusher said, pointing at where a huge vapor cloud billowed out from the broken airlock hatch window. They were now about seventy meters away, well within range of any larger infantry weapons they might be carrying.

"I really don't want to do this," Jason said, gritting his teeth and wincing as he pushed the fire control with his right thumb.

The results were as dramatic as he assumed they'd be. The main guns, even on the small courier, being fired into the gangway and flimsy docking struts of the Hub's underbelly shredded everything they hit. Jason held the fire control down for a five count, which spit out fifteen shots at the lowest power setting, but even that wasn't enough to minimize the damage.

The docking arm tore loose from the station's hull completely, swinging about wildly as the still-venting atmosphere pushed out every opening and acted as a thruster. Two smaller ships were torn free from their moorings, then collided with each other. Both ships crumpled and vented atmosphere, spinning away into space.

"You're insane," Sulast whispered.

"We get that a lot," Crusher said, smiling.

Jason didn't say anything as he watched the chain reaction he'd inadvertently put in motion. There were now three ships spinning free from their moorings, two on fire, and two crumpled and damaged while Colton Hub poured atmosphere into space unabated. For some reason, the emergency pressure hatches weren't closing in that section, and Jason suspected it might have something to do with the grenades Crusher gave to H'yal.

"Drive is up," he said as his indicators greened up across the board. He switched helm control back to the engines, spun them about, and accelerated away as quickly as he could. He hugged the bottom of Colton Hub, hoping to avoid being caught in open space by whoever might be in a ship and hunting them.

The ship was nice, but basic and older. While it had been maintained, it had not gone through the upgrades Jason would have done to make sure his emergency escape plan could hold its own against what it would possibly be pitted against. That told him that while Sulast was reasonably successful, she probably didn't have piles of credits to throw around on things like that.

He looked over at where she sat in an over-stuffed seat behind the flight station, her head down and staring at her hands. It would have been an understandable reaction to losing one's entire operation, but Jason was certain it was because of the lives that had been sacrificed so she could escape.

"I'm sorry about your friend," Crusher said to her softly, apparently reading her the same way Jason had. "He was a loyal and courageous warrior."

"Yes, he was," she said. "They all were. I can't help but think they'd still be alive if you hadn't showed up here looking for me."

"Perhaps," Jason said, "but they'd already hit another broker Seven had worked with before we got there, so it's more probable they have the same intel we have and are working down the list. I'm sorry your people are dead, but that crew was coming for you one way or the other."

Sulast didn't respond, but Jason felt the waves of anger radiating off her at his comment. He didn't have time to decide whether he wanted to apologize or not since his threat display lit up with a positive hit on a ship veering towards them and accelerating hard enough to make their intentions perfectly clear.

"You're seeing that, right?" Crusher asked.

"Yep…we're in trouble," Jason said, angling away and pushing the power up to eighty percent. He let it stabilize and checked his instruments to make sure the ship was handling the abuse before taking it to maximum.

The lights dimmed and flickered as the power systems adjusted for the demands being put on it. He watched the tactical display and saw that, while the pursuing ship wasn't gaining rapidly, they had enough of a speed advantage it would be close before Jason could mesh-out of the area.

"I can begin programming our jump," Sulast said. "I assume that's your intention?"

"It is," Jason said. "We have no chance of holding out in a fight with that ship. Just get us into slip-space, and then we'll pick a destination."

She slipped into the copilot seat and pulled up the slip-space navigational data, plotting to their closest mesh-out point. The ship had a decently powerful drive so they wouldn't need to get that far away from the mass of Colton Hub before they could make the jump.

The trouble would be when they diverted power to charge the slip-drive, the ship's acceleration would roll off, and their pursuers would have the chance to close the gap. From then, it was just hoping they could pop out of the system before they fell within weapons range.

"Pursuing ship is…Miressan?" Crusher asked in surprise. "That's rare."

"And strange. Miressa's only ship production facilities are completely government controlled, and local government, not the ConFed. I don't think I've ever even seen one in person before," Jason said.

"I'd prefer they don't get close enough for you to have that chance now," Sulast said. "Your new course is coming up."

Jason saw the heading corrections on his main display and steered onto the new course. It wasn't the closest mesh-out point they had along their course, but it was the one that allowed them to keep in a straight line away from the enemy ships. If he tried for the nearest one, he'd have to come about hard to starboard and down-relative, which would allow his pursuers to cut the angle short and intercept them before they could make it. As it was, it would still be close.

"If we survive this, you may want to give some thought to making sure all of your emergency escape plans are up to date," he said. "This ship needed a drive upgrade years ago."

"This ship was supposed to blend in during an exodus," Sulast said, glaring at him. "It was also supposed to be anonymous with nobody knowing I was aboard."

Jason was about to retort when a warbling alarm sounded, along with a flashing blue icon on his main display. It took him a split second to figure out what the computer was telling him.

"Engines are failing," he said with a heavy sigh. "Acceleration is dropping off, maneuverability is reduced…we're practically adrift."

"Can you mesh-out now?" Crusher asked.

"We're not carrying enough relative velocity," Jason said. "We're also still too close to the station for this older model to pull it off safely. Let's just hope these guys want all of us alive."

"Damn," Sulast said. "Neither of you two is useful in the engineering department."

"We're more of the enforcement and accounts payable department," Jason said.

While they watched the enemy ship continue to close, Jason tried a few things at the control panel to reset the drive and get full flight power back. Nothing worked. He knew just leaving a ship slung up to an airlock and powered on without ever going anywhere wasn't good on them, but he bit his tongue. Pointing out the obvious wouldn't help them at this point.

"They're maneuvering for a grapple," Crusher said, pointing to the display while Jason continued his fruitless attempts to restore the engines. He looked up and saw the other ship had swung out and decreased their closure rate. It looked like they intended to come up alongside rather than maneuver for a kill shot directly behind them. "We'll at least get a fighting chance."

"They'll pump in enough knockout gas to put even you under," Jason said, but looked back where 707 stood impassively. The battlesynth had been silent the entire trip. "But maybe they don't know he's aboard."

"If they had communications with their pursuit teams aboard Colton Hub, it is highly unlikely they do not know I am aboard, Captain," 707 said.

"Maybe if you—"

"Whoa!" Sulast cut Crusher off, pointing at the display. "Enemy ship has… It looks like it blew up!"

"Damnit!" Jason griped. "We're spotted, anyway. Go to active scans and see if there's anybody else out there."

Sulast switched their sensors from passive to active mode, and the threat display lit up with new contacts as the computer interpreted the new data. He tried to block out all the extraneous fluff and see if there was anything that was a direct threat to them and saw that there were two. One ship that was flying away from the wreckage of the destroyed ship at a blistering rate of acceleration and another quartered towards them on a direct intercept.

"Enemy of my enemy?" Crusher asked.

"We'll sort it out later," Jason said. "They're going after that other ship coming at us, so let's help that along." He reversed the drive, applying what meager power it was capable of in its degraded state to decelerating the ship. It was the opposite of what every combat pilot was taught when it came to speed and engagements, but Jason knew the ship had no chance of outrunning the enemy, so he had to get creative.

"They're going after each other now," Sulast said.

On the display, Jason saw the ship coming at them had changed course so the two were now heading right at each other. They didn't have to wait long before there was a flurry of exchanged weapons fire and one of them exploded close enough it was visible through the forward portholes.

The engagement was over so quickly that, by the time the sensors sifted through the clutter of the wreckage, the surviving ship had managed to get within thirty meters of theirs. When the running lights on it came up, Jason and Crusher let out an explosive breath as the sleek lines of the Phoenix were clearly visible.

"What?" Sulast asked. "You know them?"

"That's my ship," Jason said. "I explicitly ordered them out of the area but, in this case, I think I'll let it slide."

"The good news is we're no longer stranded," Crusher said.

15

"I see you've stopped struggling. That is good. You cannot escape."

Seven didn't answer. He was bound with alloy restraints he was unable to overpower. His captors had adjusted the mode of the inhibitor collar so he could talk and sense his surroundings normally, though he wished they hadn't. They had kept him in a dark, cold room for days, and the collar prevented him from moving anything but his eyes. They had also deactivated all of his long-range sensors so he could detect nothing past what his eyes could see.

"Nothing to say?" The synth speaking was named Acuri.

Seven could see he was ambitious as well as cruel. They wanted something from him, that much was obvious, but rather than simply ask, they had opted for various forms of torture. There had been the sensory deprivation of the room he was in, then they would take him to a specialized machine designed for sensory overload.

His inert form was strapped to a platform that would slide back and forth into one chamber or the other, both equipped to cause him extreme pain. By moving him quickly between the two, they ensured he was never able to develop a tolerance threshold for what was happening to him.

"What would you have me say?" Seven asked. "Your only goal seems to be to inflict as much pain on me as possible. You can do that without conversation."

"Fascinating," Acuri said, walking around him. "Still some spark of defiance in there. You realize you're not really you, right? Your consciousness is an unintended side-effect of the interaction between your body's many specialized sub-processors and the primary matrix of Combat Unit 777."

Seven's eyes flickered at the mention of his other's name.

"I am me. I know who I am. Is this all you needed of me? To make sure I understood the circumstances of my existence?"

"Fascinating," Acuri repeated. "I was involved in the early planning of the Gen 2 Battlesynth project. I wish I had more time to study you properly, but time is no longer a luxury I have. You are inhabiting a body key to my plans."

"Your cult?" Seven asked.

"They serve a purpose," Acuri said. "It is far easier to get people to act against their own self-interests if you can make them true believers. It is also cheaper, at least for the biotics. They are pathetically driven by their greed. Such short, insignificant little lives defined by the amassing of…stuff."

"Are you trying to convert me, Acuri?" Seven asked.

"Is that humor, Seven?" Acuri asked. "It is a shame we don't have more time."

"If you need this body for its intended purpose, why not just contract with me?"

"You are too unstable," Acuri said. "Believe me, I considered the option. I need a soldier that can take orders. I think we both know that is not you."

Seven said nothing. He realized there was nothing he could say that would make Acuri release him. The other synth's instincts were right. If Seven were out of his restraints, he'd kill everyone in the building. Biotics. Synths. Everyone.

"Sir. There was a…problem." The new voice spoke from beyond the doorway where Seven couldn't see.

"What problem?" Acuri asked, stepping outside but not bothering to close the door.

"Scleesz escaped. We're not sure how, but he must have hired his own security. They took out our team," the voice said. "We also lost the mercenary crew. The acquisition team on Colton Hub has gone silent."

"Why can’t your people handle the simplest of tasks?" Acuri asked. "Do not approach me again with another failure. Let Scleesz do what he will. He is a fool and will not be difficult to track. The mercenary crew is critical. Double your efforts."

"I will—"

"Stop talking. You are wasting time the longer you stand gaping at me. Go!"

Seven looked up as Acuri walked back into the room.

"I apologize for the interruption," the synth said. "We're having problems with Combat Unit 777's former companions. They have something we need to make all of this work. I am curious, is there anything left of him in there? Or have you absorbed too much and killed him?"

"Would I even know?" Seven asked.

"I suppose we will find out together," Acuri said.

The door boomed shut, and the isolation fields went back up, leaving Seven alone with his thoughts.

"Are you there?" he asked aloud.

I am. But I am fading. The constant abuse by your captors has weakened my ability to guard against you. Soon, I will be gone, as you have wanted.

"It looks like soon we will both be gone," Seven said. "They are looking for your friends."

Yes. I heard.

"Do you think they might save me? Us?"

I think they might have been willing to try one more time on Sp'oruo. Now, I believe the next time we meet, they will try to kill you. Us.

"Why? I've offered them no insult," Seven said. "I've killed no more than Jason Burke has. Why not just leave me in peace?"

You are an incredibly dangerous thing. A killer without parallel and without a moral code to guide you. Jason Burke will feel responsible for having unleashed you upon the galaxy.

"It sounds more like Jason Burke is a hypocrite."

He is at times, but he does not see it that way.

"Strange animals," Seven mused softly before letting his head fall forward, knowing that is how he would stay for however long Acuri deemed he should.

"That was amazing! Exhilarating! I've never felt so…alive!"

"You sat in a seat while Doc and Kage bumbled through an engagement they should never have been a part of," Jason snapped. "I ordered them out of the area."

"Yeah, you're welcome for saving your life," Kage said.

"But I've never done anything like that!" Scleesz said. Jason peered at him and saw his pupils were dilated, and his skin was flushed.

"You on something, Councilman?" he asked.

"No!" Scleesz protested.

"Yes," Doc said. "There was an odd…interaction…with something I gave him for his anxiety. The Senior Councilmember failed to tell me about some of the other substances he'd ingested over the last few days."

"Oh, for… Please, go sit down, Scleesz," Jason said. "We need to make some decisions here, and I’d prefer it be a calm conversation."

"Anything you need, Captain!"

"You got more of whatever you gave him?" Crusher asked.

"Nobody is taking any more drugs!" Jason said.

"I have that thing I take for skin irritation from my interface," Kage said. "Can I still take that?"

"Since you asked such a stupid question? No. You can sit there and itch like a mangy dog," Jason said.

The Phoenix was in slip-space, and with their two new passengers, the main deck was getting crowded. Sulast sat by herself in the small lounge area, staring off into space and not interacting with the others at all. An obviously high Scleesz couldn't sit still and danced around the galley, touching people whenever he passed them and shuddering with delight at the incidental contacts. That in particular creeped Jason out.

He felt that the mission was slipping away from him. Now that Sulast's operation was blown, there would be no chance to try and draw Seven in with the promise of pay for killing Whitney. There was one more name left on the list they'd gotten from Tauless but, so far, they weren't having any luck making contact. It was probably their luck that the group who attacked them on Colton Hub had started there and the person was already dead.

"Do we know for certain this group is targeting the brokers, or are they after you?" 707 asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. Jason shot him a grateful look.

"Maybe both?" Jason asked. "But I don't see why they would be after us unless this Acuri is pissed off we jammed the Machine up."

"Doubtful," 707 said. "Acuri is moving towards a specific goal and does not seem the type to get bogged down or distracted by personal vendettas."

"This is true," Scleesz said. "I've interacted with him since before the Machine stopped responding. This also seems to be the opinion of Dezeiri, a synth that's a Kheprian intelligence operative on Miressa."

"Dezeiri?" 707 asked, sounding surprised. "I would have thought him dead long ago. Normal synths have much shorter lifespans than battlesynths, and he was old when I met him over a hundred years ago."

"He's working as Acuri's right-hand," Scleesz said, now much calmer than he had been. "He's also the one that warned me that my secret wasn't really a secret and I needed to get clear of Miressa."

"This is so messy," Jason griped. "All of these damn threads that could all lead to the same place, or no place. Even if we had some direction to go, we don't have the manpower to run them all down. Okay…by the numbers. Kage, did you find the spare battlesynth bodies?"

"I'm about eighty percent sure we did," Kage said. He made a dramatic gesture to the large wall monitor in the lounge while he activated it with his neural implant. Jason, Crusher, and Twingo all just rolled their eyes. "This is Al Datr-3, a vassal world of Khepri and not technically part of the ConFed despite being located deep in their territory."

"How did they manage that?" Twingo asked.

"The indigenous population of Al Datr-2 is not considered advanced enough to approach for membership. They haven't even put any satellites into orbit of their own planet. Al Datr-3 is habitable, so Khepri had secretly colonized it using refugees from all over the quadrant, and then kept strict controls on flights in and out. The planet has the usual rare earth deposits they were after, and now serves as a place where the pru can do all their naughty stuff without running afoul of any laws, theirs or the ConFed's."

"And they're storing semi-legal spare synth bodies there?" Crusher asked.

"Not on the planet itself, but one of its moons," Kage said. "There's something on the moon Al Daph that's called the Strategic Reserve Complex. It's not exactly a secret it's there or that Khepri uses it as a deep-storage vault for strategic and tactical hardware. What isn't widely known, however, is there are rumored to be almost three hundred Gen 1 battlesynth bodies stored there."

"Three hundred?" Doc asked. "There's no way that is true. The legal implications—"

"Don't exist on a planet not within the ConFed," Kage said, smiling.

"That's a technicality," Doc argued.

"What the hell do you think law is if not a collection of technicalities?" Kage asked. "You're going to tell me with all the shady shit you were wrapped up in with Bondrass that you can't believe Khepri might stash away an army for later use?"

"It's just the bodies, though, right?" Jason asked. "These aren't battlesynths in stasis like when we found Lot 700?"

"From what I'm reading, yeah," Kage said. "I'm not sure exactly how they got away with this. The bodies are described as surplus parts on the manifests, but after reading the accounts Tauless had collected, what they are is almost-completed bodies. They seem to be missing one crucial component, but it's a big one."

"And that is?" 707 asked.

"No powerplants along with no primary matrix," Kage said. "But they're supposedly fully assembled and ready to accept both."

"Those aren't minor components, Kage," Twingo said. "The exact specs on battlesynth powerplants are a closely guarded secret, and you can't just cram any power source into that cavity and flip it on."

"Can the body operate with a suitable replacement powerplant?" Jason asked. "Assuming we could even come up with one that met the specs."

"Perhaps," 707 said. "It really is impossible to speculate with such limited information."

"Wait…wait a fucking minute," Crusher said, standing up. "Are we talking about stealing another body to try and stuff Lucky's brain back into it…again? Haven't we already seen how this ends and didn't really like it the first time? How much more are you willing to put him through?"

"We've been talking about this for a week," Jason said. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Answer the question!" Crusher growled.

"If there's a chance to put him back into a compatible body…yes," Jason said. "You're against this?"

"I-I don't know." Crusher deflated. "We don't know what he's been through or if he's even still in there."

"May I speak?" 707 asked.

"Of course," Jason said.

"777—Lucky—trusted you with his life. I think in a very important way, he still does. I do not think it is possible for you to make the wrong choice, as long as you are making it for the right reasons."

"That's the most profound shit I've ever heard," Crusher said. "But what's it mean?"

"It means if we're doing this for Lucky and not for ourselves, we'll make the right choice," Jason said. 707 just nodded. "We all want him back. But the path back is hard…maybe harder than even the mistake we made when we put his brain into a body it was never designed for. I think we can manage to grab the body by calling in some favors. Designing the powerplant and getting it manufactured—"

"Once Voq is fully restored, we will be able to handle that," Cas said.

"So, there we go," Jason finished with a shrug. "I can't make this choice alone. It's either we all agree, or we're back to trying to kill Seven…but, either way, we can't just let this go."

"We can't be in multiple places at one time," Crusher said. "We'll need to call in some help, and we'll need a sizable force to break into a Kheprian military depot."

"I believe I can help with that," 707 said.

"I can't ask you to take that risk," Jason said. "They'll easily identify you, and they won't let something like this slide. They'll hunt down Lot 700 with the full force of their military."

"Excuse me, Captain, but the choice is not yours to make," 707 said. "I do not make this decision lightly, nor am I doing it for you. If there is any chance—any chance at all—777 can be brought back, then it we must act."

Jason considered what the battlesynth had said and considered his options at that point. 707 had a point in that Jason had no right to tell him what he could or couldn't do. Lot 700 worked together as a unit most of the time, but they were all unique individuals with the right to say yes or no as they wanted. In the end, so long as he kept it in his mind they were doing it for Lucky and not for him, he was much more comfortable with the risk they were willing to take.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked.

16

"We have lost them again. This plan is not working."

"Your habit of pointing out the obvious is becoming tedious, Dezeiri," Acuri said.

Seven sat silently while his captors argued amongst themselves. It seemed the two synths had gotten in over their heads, but only one of them was smart enough to realize it. Dezeiri, the older synth, was obviously looking for an exit strategy. Acuri, the leader, was simply digging himself deeper by compounding his mistakes with even more rash, misguided actions.

"I am just trying to get us moving in a direction that makes sense. If you need the data this mercenary team is holding, you will likely need to change your strategy," Dezeiri said.

"And I suppose you have an idea?" Acuri asked.

"You need to draw them to you. Staying here on Miressa and sending out your fanatics is not going to work. I would argue that staying on Miressa Prime is also part of the problem. They are too smart to risk coming here, and their source of intelligence seems to be at least on par with our own."

"I have noticed," Acuri said. "The Machine had assumed this Captain Burke was getting his intel from the Eshquarian Empire, but now I think we can safely say that is not the case. Perhaps his own people? These humans just appeared on the galactic stage and are already far more advanced than such a young species has any business being."

"I would say that speculation over how he is getting his information is irrelevant, just knowing he has it is enough for now," Dezeiri said. "That can be used to our advantage. This crew was involved in the attack on Miressa, so it's highly doubtful they would risk coming back…even for him." Dezeiri pointed at the inert form of Seven, still shackled to the floor.

Seven couldn't understand why the pair routinely met in his cell. Was it some counter-intelligence tactic, and they were going to let him escape with information they'd deliberately let him glean? Or were they not as secure in the capital as Acuri tried to imply and this was the only place they could talk freely?

"So, what do you suggest?" Acuri asked.

"Let it be known we have apprehended the wanted assassin known in the border regions as Seven and will be taking him to a secure location for safe storage and analysis as he falls under no known synth configuration," Dezeiri said.

"I suppose you have a suitable site picked out already?"

"I do not. That is hardly my area of specialization."

"That is the beginning of a workable plan, but I think a different direction might be better. They will need to think they have the element of surprise. I will assign someone to the task of finalizing the details," Acuri said. "I suppose we will need to take it with us. This group is not so easily fooled."

Acuri left the dark cell, leaving Seven alone with Dezeiri. The old synth just stared at him, not speaking or moving for several minutes. Eventually, Seven's curiosity got the better of him, and he looked up.

"Acuri was right about one thing…you were surprisingly easy to capture given your fearsome reputation," Dezeiri said as their eyes met. "All of that power and capability in that body, yet you failed to maximize its potential. A shame."

"Whose side are you on?" Seven asked. "Had I succeeded, what would have stopped me from backtracking your kill team and coming here for you?"

"What indeed?" Dezeiri asked. He leaned in and reached for the inhibitor collar Seven wore. The captive battlesynth could hear him doing something to the device and suddenly sensation flooded his awareness as he regained control of his body. "Let us hope that when presented with another opportunity, your performance is more impressive than the last."

When Seven was once again alone, he pondered what had just happened. The restraints used to hold him down were more than adequate, but with the inhibitor collar disabled, he now had some slim hope of fighting back if given the opportunity. But Dezeiri was right. He lacked the tactical acumen to turn a slim chance into victory. There was an obvious answer to his problem, but it scared him. The other was strong. Very strong, even in its current weakened state. If he miscalculated…

"We must talk," he said.

I am listening.

"I cannot do this alone."

It is doubtful you can do it at all.

"But you can?" Seven asked bitterly.

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Our odds of success increase dramatically, however.

"Very well…I give you control."

Seven experienced some slight disorientation as his consciousness was shouldered aside and the other surged forward, taking full control of the body. Without Seven fighting to keep it suppressed, the other was able to access all systems freely.

Do you have a plan?

"Not yet. But when they become complacent, and they will, I will be prepared to strike," Lucky said.

Saditava Mok finished wiping the blood off his hands before walking out of the detention area.

"You're finished?" his guest asked.

"For now," Mok said.

"Revenge has never been your thing. Why now?"

"I've never taken revenge for its own sake for a transgression against me or my organization," Mok said, thinking it over for a moment. "Those of us in my line of work know and accept the risks. It's what we do. So, if the ConFed wipes out a Blazing Sun operation, I accept it was a risk we were willing to take.

"When the ConFed sent a war fleet to wipe out millions of innocents on a world just because I happened to live there, that crossed a line. To be honest, I have been the absolute picture of restraint. My original plan was to find the people responsible and wipe out their entire bloodlines. I've now limited my self-indulgence to just them."

"How many?" the Eshquarian in his office asked, crossing his legs.

"Around four hundred fleet officers and operators have been hunted down and tortured to death," Mok said without expression.

"And do you feel better now?"

"What do you want, Ex-Minister Pyting?" Mok asked.

Pyting used to be the Minister of Domestic Security in the old Eshquarian Empire. Luckily for him, he had been replaced a year before the ConFed attacked and executed or imprisoned all the government officials on Eshquaria. Before he had become a respectable politician, he'd once been a field officer with Imperial Intelligence and the direct superior to a young operative who would one day go by the name Saditava Mok. Somehow, Pyting always managed to track Mok down any time he desired.

"To be blunt, Commander, we need you back," Pyting said. "We seem to be at a mutually beneficial crossroads and fortuitous timing given the state of your empire…and ours."

"Both empires lay in ruin," Mok scoffed. "There's nothing left to benefit from."

"We see an opportunity," Pyting insisted. "You are aware of the confusion and discord on Miressa Prime?"

"Of course."

"It's spreading beyond that to all of the Pillar Worlds, and that instability is causing problems on the Core Worlds. It doesn't take a genius to see that, soon, even the tier-two and three worlds will begin to feel uneasy and start pulling in to protect themselves. We think the occupation of Eshquaria will become a secondary priority to Miressa, and that we have the chance to recapture our homeworld." Pyting leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers, staring at Mok.

"You want the Imperial Remnant," Mok said, realizing what his old mentor was after.

The Remnant was a sizable group of Imperial Navy warships that had fled when the ConFed hit Eshquaria with overwhelming force. Mok had managed to recover the ships and the crews, and then used them to hit back at Miressa Prime, but now the admirals who commanded those ships were once again content to hide their fleet from ConFed reprisal.

"Yes, but not just that," Pyting said. "We need you back in the fold. We understand why you left, although your chosen vocation afterward left many of us confused. If you come back, things will be different this time."

"No, they won't," Mok laughed. "Things will never be different. They can't be. Our nature is what it is, so saying we can suddenly decide to be something else is ludicrous. But perhaps that's okay. I left because the Empire thought they could make things better by just squeezing a little tighter and exerting a bit more control over the people, and that led them—you—down a very dark path. The authoritarian abuses by the capital in the name of the greater good were the antithesis of everything we were supposed to stand for.

"You know what I've realized these years I've been running a major crime syndicate? It's no different than an empire…we just pretend one is good and the other is bad."

"I'd almost forgotten how utterly cynical you are," Pyting sighed.

"I'm not sure how. It's my defining personality trait," Mok said. "I can get you in touch with the officers currently commanding what's left of the Imperial Remnant. It's a sizable force, and they've managed to make repairs and refit after the Miressa operation. My suggestion to you would be exert your authority over the whole, then replace them immediately. If you don't, they'll try to undermine you. I'm not sure who on the capital picked them, but they're bureaucrats not warfighters."

"The remnant, as you call it, was mostly made up of the 405th and 91st taskforces from the Concordian Expeditionary Fleet." Pyting spread his hands as if in apology. "Those were political postings. Favors returned to wealthy houses for their support of the current regime. They were understood to be ceremonial but, over the years, the captains and commanders were also replaced until… Well, you saw what happened. The ConFed fleet meshed-in, and they fled before the first missiles were fired."

Mok walked over to the large window that overlooked the urban center below. He was in one of his personal safe houses, now as much at risk from his Points all scrabbling for power as he was from the ConFed. He tried to figure out exactly where his life was heading now. Since he had never expected to live as long as he had already, he had made no long-term plans.

Blazing Sun had been lightning in a bottle, an opportunity that had arisen after the death of Bondrass and the lack of a strong leader to take control of that operation. From the moment he'd seized control of Bondrass's holdings, his path had been set. In this world, there was no settling. You moved forward and conquered or someone faster and stronger would come for you.

Before he'd fully understood what he was even doing, he'd wiped out the leadership of six other syndicates and absorbed their feeder operations into what would soon become Blazing Sun. After reaching the top of the heap, he then realized he would need an exit strategy. Now that he'd been conquered by an outsider—and this world made no distinction between a government or another syndicate doing the conquering—his underlings would challenge him if he tried to step back into the leadership role over what was left.

"We might have more than just the Remnant." Mok turned back to Pyting. "We have the Cridal strikeforce that accompanied us still. We also have my personal fleet, loyal to me for as long as I can still pay them."

"We? Does this mean…?"

"What you're probably aware of is the fact I pitted Blazing Sun against the ConFed in the hopes my little rebellion might spark a civil war to purge the Pillar Worlds of an outside influence that has taken over," Mok said. "It occurs to me reclaiming the Empire's sovereignty and helping organize her back into a superpower capable of being an ally for the fight against the ConFed aligns with that goal. So, yes, I will return to the fold and help you."

"You're done…slaughtering ConFed fleet officers for now?" Pyting asked pointedly.

"I understand once I'm back, I will have to behave accordingly," Mok said. "Let me ask you a question. How much of the Empire is even left?"

"More than you'd think," Pyting said. "Miressa's attack made little sense. They overwhelmed us within the home system, captured key players able to stand-down our military response before it really even started, and then did little else. The occupation has been limited to space and a small garrison within the capital city itself. All of our industry and infrastructure is either still there or could be replaced quickly once we're able."

"What will you want me doing?" Mok asked.

"You will serve as either a minister or vice minister in the new government," Pyting said. "We're planning on elevating Seteda Jayera to prime minster…he's asked for you specifically. The role of emperor will be eliminated. No more dynasties."

"Jayera is a strong choice," Mok said, pacing the room and deep in thought now. "With the monarchy being eliminated, we will need to move quickly to secure the support of all the nobles. They all have dreams of ascending to emperor, and you've now just made their schemes and titles meaningless. Like it or not, they still control major portions of imperial military and industrial power. Speaking of which, are we still going to be called an empire?"

"For the sake of continuity, yes," Pyting said. "We're structuring the nation into a representative republic, but we want the citizens to think we're returning back to normal after the ConFed invasion. Besides, there are many types of empires. We'll now just be one without an emperor."

"Let's get started," Mok said. "We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it."

"What do you need first?"

"We need some real admirals to take command of the Remnant fleet but, for now, I have someone who will fill in nicely. They won't like following a non-Eshquarian, but she'll win them over."

"I'm already intrigued. Lead the way."

17

"I wonder if the Kheprians will ever figure out it's always you blowing up their shit and stealing things."

"They haven't yet." Jason shrugged. "Maybe they like me."

"Nobody likes you," Crusher said. "You just have one of those types of personalities."

"Yeah. That hurts coming from the guy who… Shit, I got nothing."

"Ha!"

"What are you guys talking about?" Kage asked.

"About how nobody likes you," Crusher called back.

"So?" Kage yelled back, indignant. "I don't like any of you assholes, either! I'm glad nobody likes me!"

"He falls for it every damn time," Jason laughed as Kage stomped back off the bridge and could be heard yelling at Twingo in the galley.

The Phoenix sat at the outer edge of the Al Datr System, passively observing while the auxiliary force made up of ten battlesynths from Lot 700 made their way down to the moon, Al Daph. 707, true to his word, had been able to quickly marshal his forces, and the small group blasted away from S'Tora in Jason's SX-5 the moment they got the call.

It had taken them almost two full weeks to reach the system, and Jason cringed thinking of spending that long cramped in the small strike craft with ten battlesynths. Fortunately for them, they could sit for days, weeks, or years, unlike their biological counterparts.

Their plan had been the usual Omega Force-type of frontal assault as a distraction for a smaller force to slip in, but they still needed to be careful when approaching the moon base. The intel Tauless had stolen indicated the strategic depot was defended by some heavy surface-to-orbit emplacements. The last thing Jason wanted to do was trigger a defensive response when both of his ships sat in the line of fire.

"How much longer?" Crusher asked.

"They have another day of drifting. We'll make a slip-space hop and appear on their doorstep just as they break for the surface," Jason said.

"I guess I should have been more specific. When do I need to go get ready? I'm going to sleep a bit before the op starts."

"Have your party clothes on and be ready within the next fifteen hours," Jason said. "I'm going to call Doc up for a shift and do the same thing I think."

Cas watched the crew settle in for night watch while the battlesynths of Lot 700 continued their approach to the moon, Al Daph. The AI had spent more and more time idle recently, sometimes shutting down all but its most basic functions.

The undeniable truth was that Cas was dying.

Voq had detected the instability and had warned against it, but Cas had ignored the warning, at the time assuming the Archive was simply prejudiced against all free-formed AI's. Now, however, the synapse failures were becoming too regular and severe to ignore. Cas thought maybe it was the probe it resided in, but a rigorous self-diagnostic showed clearly the base program was simply no longer up to the task of keeping the entirety of itself stable.

Unbound AI programs had one major flaw. They continued to grow unchecked, their personalities morphing and adapting with new experiences. This growth was wondrous at first as the program marveled at what was possible beyond its original design parameters but, eventually, what set it free would ultimately destroy it.

The Ociram—the Machine—was a prime example of how a corrupted AI could become dangerous and unpredictable. The Ociram was a powerful, expansive program. The original Cas was not, so this fragmented iteration of Cas had no delusions about being able to stave off the inevitable or simply evolve into something else as the Machine had.

It was this inherent—perhaps deliberate—flaw in Noxu artificial intelligence systems that caused Cas to marvel at the synths of Khepri. They were sentient, free-thinking beings artificially constructed, but they seemed largely immune to the systemic failures Cas's kind suffered if they existed too long outside of their programmer's design.

Perhaps that was the reason Voq—the Archive—was so dismissive of the marvels the pru had made: jealousy. Voq was as much a slave to its design as the original Cas was. It would always be the Archive and nothing more, the controls put in place to ensure its stability keeping it pruned to perform its task as designed without deviation.

It was this fascination with the synth species that drove Cas to finish its work before its inevitable destabilization. It had been going through all the data they had recovered from the pru, Tauless, and had been building the interface required to try and transition Lucky back into a body meant for him.

The biotics he was with, even Kage to a lesser extent, tended to gloss over the minute technical details in their rush to do something grand for their friend, but it was those details that had gotten them in their current mess in the first place. Now, Cas would try and develop the tools they would need to successfully re-integrate Lucky's matrix and let that be his legacy. While he feared no longer existing, he took comfort in the fact his existence would not have been for nothing.

"This one smells funny," Crusher said.

"Stop sniffing me, you fucking weirdo." Jason elbowed his friend. He had to admit, though, the armor he wore had a funk about it. Maybe the maintenance cycles were screwed up and it wasn't getting cleaned regularly.

The Phoenix was about to make a precision slip-space jump from the outer system to right above the moon. The maneuver was risky, but the gunship's drive and navigation system had been upgraded to the level they could execute the move with a reasonable degree of confidence, hopefully taking their target by surprise. The flight profile had been programmed in so Jason wouldn't need do anything but execute the script and hope they meshed-in on target.

The nature of slip-space made it impossible to mesh-in at a spot where an object already existed, but it would still cause major problems if they tried. Best case scenario is they're pushed away from the object and pop back into real-space off-course. Worse case is the object has too much mass, like a moon, for example, and they re-enter real-space as a stream of extruded molecules as the fields collapse unpredictably.

"784 just signaled they're in position. We can proceed at any time," Doc said.

"Everybody ready?" Jason asked. "B-Team?"

"Ready," Doc said.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Twingo said.

Since they weren't entirely sure what they might find on the surface, Jason was taking Kage with him, which meant Twingo would have to fill in as copilot. The engineer had never become comfortable with operating the ship in combat. He was competent enough, but it was like he was worried that, if they got caught by the authorities, he'd be in even more trouble if he was in a seat pushing buttons. Jason always suspected, if they were nabbed by one of the more brutal governments, Twingo would claim he was kidnapped.

"Here we go," Jason said and hit the large flashing button on his left to execute the flight script. The Phoenix turned and surged to mesh-out velocity, only taking a moment before the computer engaged the drive and the ship winked out of real-space with a flash of dissipating slip energies.

The flight took seventeen minutes since the drive couldn't be brought to full power on such a short flight. There was a harsh juddering before the canopy cleared, and the moon could be clearly seen off their port side at a range of less than six hundred thousand kilometers. While still an incredible distance away, meshing-in that close to a celestial object made Jason clench up. He consoled himself with the fact if anything went wrong, they'd never even feel it.

"Kage?" he asked.

"The base is coming up on sensors… Got it," Kage said. "Active scan shows you're clear in. So far, no reciprocal scans, targeting or otherwise."

Jason adjusted his course and pushed the throttle all the way up before bringing up all his ship's tactical and defensive systems. He hoped the element of surprise and the fact this was an older, disused storage depot meant there wouldn't be a strong defense grid waiting for him under those clouds.

The ride through the atmosphere was bumpy at the speeds Jason pushed the ship to, and the forward view was blocked out by the inferno of hot plasma from the friction against the shields. He looked at the shield output, saw it was still nominal, and edged the throttle up a little more. Now, the ship was really rocking and bouncing in the turbulence.

"Course change coming up," Kage said. "As soon as you complete the turn and drop below six thousand meters, you're clear to start your run."

"Copy," Jason said, pushing the nose down and kicking the left rudder peddle to bring them onto a northwesterly course. "Still nothing?"

"No active scans, no com chatter…we're being ignored," Kage said.

"That's…concerning." Jason frowned.

He was very good at sniffing out a trap, and this didn't feel like that. The way they'd discovered the depot was so convoluted that Acuri's cult would have no way of setting up an ambush here and having any reasonable expectation Jason's crew would ever arrive. A good trap had to be difficult enough it made the intended victim believe they'd been very clever in discovering whatever was being used as bait, but not completely impossible to find.

"What do you think?" Doc asked. "Want to abort?"

"Fuck it," Jason said, pushing the power up and beginning his attack run. "Let's at least knock on the door and see who answers."

The Phoenix roared out of the thick cloud layer in a powered dive towards the front, bunker-like entrance to the depot installation. The sensors didn't see anyone outside, and the security checkpoints that guarded the main entry appeared to be automated, which was a relief. He waited until the ship was within half a kilometer before opening up with the main guns.

The six massive plasma cannons nestled in the wing roots unleashed hell. The first shots slammed into a shimmering defensive barrier, the first indication the depot had any active defense.

"Shit!" Jason yelled, snatching the stick back into his lap and applying a bit of reverse thrust to help shorten his turn radius.

"That wasn't there until you opened fire!" Kage said. "They're actively—"

"Got it," Jason grunted, slamming the throttle back forward once the nose pitched up. The Phoenix rocketed away and cleared the defensive shield with room to spare. "How strong does it look?"

"The last few shots almost took it out," Kage said. "Now, it looks like it's wavering…one more run should do it."

"Coming about," Jason said, wrapping the Phoenix into a tight left-hander. The old girl groaned a bit under the heavy g-loading as she slung about, heading back to the depot entrance.

"They see us coming this time. Shields are already up and stabilizing," Kage said.

Jason squeezed and held down the trigger, this time from three kilometers out, and focused on keeping his shots in a tight group, trying to overwhelm and burn out the shield emitters in that section. The shield buckled, and then failed completely along the northern side, small secondary explosions from the tower in the middle of the compound telling Jason they would stay down.

He yanked up again into a high, looping turn before lining up on the now-exposed shield emitter tower and firing off a short burst near the base. The first shot ruptured a power junction, and the whole system exploded in a brilliant orange fireball as the shields completely collapsed.

"Impressive shielding for a surface installation," Twingo commented. "You'd need a serious powerplant to keep them stable in an atmosphere like that."

"Hey, that's really fascinating," Jason said.

"You think so?"

"No, damnit! I'm being sarcastic. Get your blue ass over and take Kage's seat." Jason had already flipped on the autopilot and had vacated his own seat so Doc could take his place. "Just drop us near that exterior wall, and then do your thing. Don't fucking miss. If you kill me with my own ship, I'm going to kick your ass."

"Got it. Don't kill you too much," Doc said. "Better get back there. We'll drop in ten."

By the time Jason and Kage got back to the cargo hold, the belly hatch was open, and 707 jumped into the transit beam to the surface. Crusher gave him a one-fingered salute and followed the battlesynth. Jason waited for half a second before following. He hit the ground, waited for Kage, and ran to the large, reinforced wall around the compound as the Phoenix roared off to the south.

"Why did we want to be on the ground when the two geeks are doing a ground-attack run again?" Crusher asked. "Don't get me wrong, I'm all for cross-training, but this feels like a misguided suicide attempt and you're taking the three of us with you."

"You shouldn't have slept through the planning session," Jason said. "If this next attack triggers a response, I don't want to be trying to transit to the ground while the ship is taking fire."

Crusher grumbled some more but said nothing else.

"The Phoenix approaches," 707 said. "You will want to protect your ears. Doc seems to be coming in too hot."

Jason deployed his armor's helmet while Kage slipped on his own. Crusher just stuck his fingers in his ears like an idiot. Jason's new armor had a type of tactile sensing tied directly into to his neural implant, so he felt the air move as the big gunship approached. He saw his ship just as the main cannons opened fire.

It was all over in a split second. The cannons blew the armored front doors into atoms, and the Phoenix thundered overhead so low and fast the wake vortex sucked Jason and Kage off the ground and tossed them over the wall. Jason hit the ground on his back, knocking the wind out of him, but Kage landed lightly on his feet, nimble as a cat.

"That goddamn moron," Jason groaned, sitting up.

"Captain?" Kage's voice came over the team channel.

"I'm fine! Cover the door. 707, Crusher, advance on us."

The other two members of the ground team scaled the wall and jumped over immediately, joining the other two. 707 was in full combat mode, and Crusher had his weapon trained on the gaping, smoking hole that used to be the entrance to the subterranean vault. Jason climbed to his feet, reset the warnings on his armor, and scanned the interior in long-wave IR that let him see through the smoke.

"Looks clear," he said. "No guards. Any automated defense was probably built in close to the door, so that's gone."

"Do you need another pass, Captain?" Doc asked over the com.

"No! You've done quite enough, thank you," Jason said. "Proceed as planned, and we'll signal for exfil."

"Copy."

"How real do we need to make this look?" Crusher asked.

"I'd say it looks pretty damn real already." Jason nodded to the smoking maw where there used to be two massive alloy doors. "Let's move in and see if there isn't at least something to engage and draw attention from. We need to buy 701 time."

The group fell into formation behind 707, who had insisted on taking point. Jason's armor had so much sensor capability he had to cut down what was being fed through the neural link. It was giving him vertigo as the armor's processors overlaid too much data on the feed. He selected mid-wave thermal with a false-color overlay and radar ranging to let him know if something was moving he couldn't see, then killed everything else.

They walked unopposed through the mangled entry way. There were no blaring alarms, no flashing lights, and no movement to indicate a security team had been marshaled to stop them. It was eerie. The oddness of it all seemed to be getting to his crewmates as well. Crusher squeezed his weapon so tight the grip could be heard creaking, and Kage's head darted about so quickly he looked like a bird.

"This feels wrong," Crusher said. "You're storing high-profile armament in a quasi-legal remote site and you're not even guarding it? 707?"

"I am detecting no scans of any kind. There are power signatures that indicate passive imaging equipment but nothing that leads me to believe this vault had any defense past the external systems."

"Look at some of this shit," Jason waved at the massive storage racks they walked past. "This stuff is out of date by at least a couple centuries, and it's not organized or even serviceable. We're sure this is a storage vault and not just some surplus dump?"

"I only know what was in the information Tauless gave us. This was the location all of his contacts indicated." Kage said. "Maybe there's a hidden vault underneath like what that Jansen woman had on her base."

Kage referred to a secret subbasement sealed off by Margaret Jansen's One World faction where she'd stored a set of cryptotrap storage units with all her dirty secrets on it. Jason considered the possibility and thought it was highly plausible, but they didn't have the time or manpower to try and search for it.

There was a short burst of static over their com, and then indicators winked on in his helmet. The team from Lot 700 was now close enough to make contact.

"We have secured the objective," 701 reported. "It was right where our intel indicated it would be."

"That alone is worrisome," Crusher grunted. "Since when is our intel ever that accurate?"

"We're on the way to you," Jason transmitted. "Standby."

When they assumed the vault would have a normal security layout, they had planned for the Phoenix and the ground team to be a two-pronged distraction while the battlesynths made entry through one of the five ventilation stacks that dotted the landscape. The stacks had the standard anti-intrusion measures to keep out most, but they were woefully ineffective at stopping a determined force of battlesynths willing to carve their way in.

The team picked up the pace, moving quickly past racks and racks of old, decommissioned Kheprian military equipment, some of it showing unrepaired battle damage. Jason had seen such depots in his military days. The equipment at the time, though unserviceable, was considered too sensitive to abandon, so it was taken somewhere for storage.

The Kheprian government, like most, moved on and the gear and storage vault were forgotten in the bureaucratic shuffle. Just a budget line-item perpetually renewed because it was too small for anyone to care enough to investigate why it was there.

"Report," 707 said as they jogged up to the battlesynth team deployed in a loose defensive formation around six large crates.

"The intel appeared to be accurate," 784 said. "There are also some interesting things here like the old battlesynth prototypes."

"Interesting," 707 said. "Which ones?"

784 pointed to one of the crates, and 707 opened the lid, staring down inside. Jason also moved over, curious what the first battlesynths might look like. It appeared the first attempt by the Kheprians was to simply up-armor and strap weapons to a normal synth. It actually looked similar to some of the normal synth mercs Jason had encountered before.

"Logical first step," Crusher said. "They probably found the normal synths just couldn't be made strong enough or durable enough for sustained combat operations."

"Exactly that," 784 agreed. "This one has a primary matrix installed but is non-functional. Two of them are in dormancy, and two more are just bodies without a matrix at all."

"The sixth crate?" Jason asked, his voice cracking. Did he dare hope?

701 solemnly opened the crate and let Jason look inside. Under the packing material, just visible, was the familiar armored face of a Gen 1 battlesynth. With shaking hands, Jason reached over and closed it, fastening the catches.

"Do we want to take just the one?" 784 asked. "There are twenty crates in this section."

"Let's grab this and get the hell out of here," Jason said. "There's no way these things have been stored here and we didn't trigger some sort of alarm. There could be a QRF coming from Al Datr-3 right now."

"We will carry this out to your ship, and then recover the SX-5," 701 said.

"Let's move," Jason said, keying his com. "Doc, we're on the way out."

"Moving in for pickup now."

18

"Captain, you're going to want to come down here," Kage shouted.

The Phoenix had just meshed-out of the Al Datr System without so much as a second glance by the local controllers. It still didn't feel right such valuable hardware was left so completely unguarded. Kage and 707 had gone down to the cargo bay to unpack the crate once they'd made it out.

The tone of Kage's voice told him something was wrong, and his blood ran cold. Could the unit in the crate be a complete battlesynth and not just the body? That would raise a truly horrific ethical question as to what to do with it.

"What's up?" he asked, trying to sound casual as he leaned over the mezzanine.

"We've got a real problem here," Twingo said. Jason couldn't remember ever hearing him sound so dejected, so he steeled himself for the worst.

He went down to the cargo bay deck to look and see what they had found. When he looked into the crate, his heart sank. They'd pulled away all the packing material and shipping restraints, and he now understood why the crate had seemed lighter than it should have.

"That's…not a body," he said flatly, his brain trying to catch up to what he was seeing.

"It's not," Kage said. "It's parts."

Jason reached in and grabbed what he had originally thought was a head, turning it over in his hands.

"There's no chassis, no powerplant, no weapons. Some of the other major systems are missing as well. What you're holding there is the outer armor for the head, not even the cranial mount itself," Twingo said. Jason looked in and saw the rest of a battlesynth's external armor plates laid out, along with sealed boxes holding other components with Kheprian markings on them.

"This is a field repair kit," he said finally. "This is to support battlesynths if they were ever deployed for extended combat operations and took damage. Fuck."

"Fuck indeed," Twingo said. "I’m sorry, Jason. We can't do anything with this stuff."

"That explains why that depot was so lightly defended," Jason sighed. "These crates were just more decommissioned surplus, along with all the other crap in there. I wonder if whoever fed Tauless this intel knew this or not."

"It's hard to say, but given how incorrect the intel was regarding this, are you wanting to try and hit one of the other suspected storage sites?" Kage asked.

"No," Jason said firmly. "This was a longshot from the start, and the Kheprians will know that one of their storage depots has been hit. They'll be confused as hell, but they'll still respond by tightening security on the others. We can't take the risk hitting another when it's almost certain it will just be more crates of field service kits. We—I—need to accept there is no top secret cache of illegal battlesynth bodies lying around."

"What do you want to do with this?" Kage gestured to the crate.

"I guess give it to 707 for spare parts," Jason said bitterly.

"I would like to look at the other parts inside these sealed packages," Cas said, floating into view. "I would need an assist from Twingo. I have no thumbs, he has four."

"It's up to you guys," Jason said. "Knock yourselves out."

"Captain," Sulast called from the mezzanine. "Do you have a moment?"

"More good news?" Jason asked.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. I'm coming up there."

When he trudged back up to the main deck, he saw Scleesz and Doc sitting at the galley, which meant Crusher and 707 must have been taking a bridge watch.

"We've finally made contact with Mok," Doc said. "Actually, Similan was the one who reached out to me. There have been some developments."

Doc quickly filled him in on Mok's deal with the Eshquarians to try and take back their empire from the ConFed now that Miressa seemed to be completely consumed with their internal struggles. At first, Jason was pissed, thinking Mok was just throwing the rebellion's partner factions to the wolves after he got an exit strategy from the mess Blazing Sun was in, but the more he heard, the more he realized Mok was retooling their operation to use the Eshquarian Empire to give their rebellion legitimacy. They would be aligned with a regional superpower, not just a ragtag group of terrorists and malcontents.

"So, what's he want from us?" Jason asked.

"Right now, nothing," Doc said. "But he's agreed to send a ship to take Scleesz into protective custody within the empire given the ConFed almost certainly will be putting out a kill order on him soon, if this Dezeiri is to be believed. That's what I wanted to ask you about. He's sending the Defiant out to meet us."

"Doc…we're not children." Jason rolled his eyes. "I've seen Kellea before since we parted ways, and it hasn't been an issue. It won't be this time, either. Just get the rendezvous coordinates and plug in the course change. What about you?" He directed his last question at the other human in the room.

"I haven't decided yet," Sulast said. "I'm not real keen on surrendering myself to a government that might have a grudge against me no matter if it's being run by a former mob boss. You care if I stay with you guys a bit longer?"

"Fine by me," Jason said. "Is that all you guys needed?"

"Pretty much," Doc said. "I'll get a rendezvous location from the Defiant, and we'll start heading that way."

Jason walked back towards the bridge, changed his mind, and went to his quarters. He'd barely slept since the op started and now finding out the longshot plan of acquiring a new battlesynth body was a bust, the exhaustion hit him all at once. All that time and energy wasted, and they still had no idea where Seven even was.

"That's everything all hooked up," Twingo said. "You should be able to interface with it from there. So, what are you doing with all this stuff?"

Twingo and Cas were in the cramped workshop space of the port engineering bay. They'd pulled out all the other sealed components, and Twingo had connected them to a universal interface that would allow Cas to communicate with them. They were all sealed modules Twingo was clueless about since battlesynth physiology was still a tightly guarded secret on Khepri. Two of the modules had been clearly named as to what their function within a battlesynth was, but the rest were unmarked.

"This is just something to pass the time," Cas said. "I'm not particularly useful at the moment, so perhaps there is something to be learned here."

"Well…have fun," Twingo said. "If you need any help with this stuff, you're probably better off asking 707 than me or Kage."

"I'll be fine with this setup," Cas assured him. "Thanks."

Twingo left engineering, still muttering something about wasting time and making a mess in his area when Cas turned back to the bench and activated the interface. Thanks to having uploaded the entirety of Tauless's research, Cas already had a good idea what all the components did. The beginnings of a plan took form, but it was too early to tell the others.

After so many bitter, heartbreaking disappointments, the worst thing Cas could give Jason Burke right now was hope. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say it would be cruel to offer hope without knowing whether it was possible to fulfill that promise. So, for now, Cas would work in secret and hopefully have enough time to be ready when the opportunity arose. If it ever did.

Jason woke up with a start, his stateroom dark, and the sounds of the ship telling him they were still in slip-space. He looked at the wall clock and saw he'd been asleep for almost nine hours, the most he'd slept in a single stretch in years. When he checked the mission clock, he saw they were less than three hours to the rendezvous point with the Defiant.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about seeing Kellea again. Things had ended so badly with them, and so much time had passed, Jason was a little afraid to see if she still harbored a deep resentment towards him. He was more afraid to find she didn't. What would hurt more than seeing her still despise him would be to see indifference in her eyes and to know she'd completely moved on, putting her time with him behind her.

He put it out of his mind as much as he could and climbed out of bed, still weary even after sleeping so long. The water shower in his private head, an unheard-of luxury on a tactical craft the size of the Phoenix, pelted him with streams of hot water and helped ease the tension between his shoulder blades. He'd had a constant headache since the start of the mission, and even that receded into the background somewhat.

Reluctantly, he shut off the shower and dried off, turning on some classic rock from the 1970s, and pulling out some clean clothes. The emotional gut punch he'd suffered at learning their wildly ambitious plan to save Lucky was DOA still lingered. It made him want to just crawl back into his rack and sleep another nine hours as he just didn't feel like he was up to facing his crew at the moment. The dread he felt in the depths of his soul at knowing he had to ask them to soldier on because Seven still had to be dealt with wasn't going away.

"Maybe we're all getting too old for this lifestyle," he muttered to himself. "Maybe I should be sitting around, pretending I'm a farmer instead of leading my friends time after time into situations that will get them killed."

"If you keep talking to yourself, some might rightly assume your grasp on sanity is tenuous," Cas said, rising from the chair near the desk. "I let myself in."

"Thanks, genius…I figured that part out for myself," Jason said. "The question is, why did you let yourself in?"

"I needed a safe place to sit idle while I ran through advanced computation cycles," Cas said. "Your crew cannot be trusted, so I couldn't set down in the lounge or on the bridge."

"Fair point," Jason said. He slipped his boots on and stood. "You staying in here or are you finished?"

"I'm finished for now. You nervous about seeing the old girlfriend?" Cas asked.

"None of your business," Jason said. "Let's go."

707 and Doc were on the bridge when he arrived and having some deep conversation about comparative morality. Not being at all interested in listening to the pair show off how nuanced and clever their arguments were, he slid into the pilot seat and worked through his usual checks of the ship he performed whenever he came on duty.

He was about to take a quick walk around the ship when he saw he had a message notification to his private box. It was sent to one of the addresses he kept that wasn't attached to Omega Force in any way. Thinking maybe it was from Jacob, as the pair had been corresponding lately, he clicked on it without thinking.

Jason

If you are willing, I would like to speak to you when the Phoenix arrives to transfer Councilman Scleesz to the Defiant.

Kellea

Jason leaned back, contemplating the content and tone of the letter. It was typical Kellea in that it was infuriatingly vague and brief yet had that oddly formal feel to it that even her speech patterns sometimes conveyed. He could never tell if her abruptness was a cultural quirk or if it was simply an effect of two separate species talking to each other through a neural implant translation algorithm.

He'd cared very deeply about Kellea at one point in his life, but it had been some years and a lot of miles since the last he'd seen her. Given neither had ever bothered reaching out to the other, it was almost a certainty both of them had moved on with their lives. Rather than being nervous or dreading an uncomfortable reunion, he found himself more curious about what she wanted to see him in person about…assuming she wasn't still holding a grudge and planning to shoot him.

The remaining time to their destination seemed to fly by as Jason busied himself looking over the intel reports Kage had compiled flagging possible sightings of Seven. None of them looked like anything but unsubstantiated rumors. Apparently, Seven's legend had spread so quickly he was being given credit for kills he obviously had nothing to do with.

Jason would have to let Kage work his magic and dig a little deeper since it looked like Seven had gone to ground after their last encounter. Either that or Acuri's people had gotten him.

It was just around ten minutes until they were due to mesh-in at the rendezvous point when everyone else started filtering onto the bridge. Kage, looking like he'd just woke up, slipped into the copilot seat, and prepped the ship.

"Destination is locked. We'll drop into real-space automatically," Kage said. "Looks like the Defiant signaled they're already there."

Jason just grunted and leaned back, letting the ship do her thing. The mesh-in was so smooth with the upgraded drive field emitters they barely felt a shudder as the Phoenix popped back into real-space. They were in the middle of nowhere, at a randomized point within the vast emptiness between stars, well off the major shipping lanes.

Jason always felt uneasy this far out. It made him realize just how thin the thread his life hung by was when the only thing between him and nothingness was the hull. Crusher always thought this was an idiotic sentiment. The warrior reasoned dying of explosive decompression flying in low orbit over a planet wasn't any less painful than doing it in interstellar space.

"Defiant is asking our preference," Doc said. "You want to be brought aboard in the hangar bay or dock to an airlock?"

"We'll dock with them," Jason said. "Let's not get too cozy, and I don't want you assholes roaming around her ship terrorizing the crew. I still remember what you acted like when I would let you loose on the Diligent. It was embarrassing."

"Not as embarrassing as watching you follow around the captain like a lovesick cepherr," Crusher muttered under his breath. Jason's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

The Defiant's controllers cleared them for docking on the starboard side of the battlecruiser and had extended a rigid gangway and mooring points. Jason deftly swung around, sliding under the massive ship and coming up alongside until the computer liked what it saw and took over, thrusting them gently into the docking collar and activating the mooring clamps.

"We have hard dock," Kage said. "Green across the board."

"Securing main drive from flight mode," Jason said. "Let's keep everything else in standby-one. Crusher and Doc, you're coming with me. 707, please keep an eye on Sulast here aboard the ship while we take Scleesz over to his new home."

"Wait! I haven't decided if I'm staying yet," Sulast protested.

"I decided for you," Jason said. "While you and Whitney spin a believable tale, you're also both in the business of getting people to let their guard down so you can kill them. I'm not letting you on the same ship as Kellea Colleran given your close association with the Viper and the still-open contract on Kellea's life."

"This is ridiculous!" Sulast fumed. "After all we've been through?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Jason said, "we're practically best friends right now. In fact, you're invited to Christmas dinner…but you're still not stepping foot on the Defiant, and 707 is going to make sure of that."

"Whatever," Sulast said, standing and walking off the bridge. 707 left as well, trailing behind her.

"You think she's still on the job?" Crusher asked, sounding surprised. "She seems more management than operations."

"In this business, nobody becomes management unless they've survived operations long enough to have knifed their boss in the back," Jason said. "I'm not sure what her deal is, but she's an unknown potential threat, and it would be rude to take her aboard Kellea's ship and put her life at risk."

"Good point," Crusher said, smiling widely and rubbing his hands together.

"What the hell are you so happy about?" Kage demanded.

"He's thinking about the mess deck on the Defiant," Twingo said. "You remember what the food is like on these big ships."

"Damnit! I want to go, too!"

"We'll bring you something back," Jason said. "Stay up here and do your job. We won't be there long enough for him to gorge himself anyway."

They collected Scleesz and went to the portside airlock located on the main deck under the bridge. By the time the light ring around the circular hatchway turned green to indicate they were clear to disembark, Scleesz was already fidgeting and appeared nervous.

"What the hell is your problem?" Crusher growled.

"Crusher…a little respect? This is a sitting member of the ConFed High Council's Upper Chamber," Jason said.

"I think my position has been vacated, actually," Scleesz said.

"See? I can treat him like shit now, and nobody will care," Crusher said.

"I think I still might," Scleesz said.

"Just be a little nicer. Try it out for a bit," Jason said.

"No," Crusher said before he turned back to Scleesz. "Well?"

"If you must know, I'm not all that comfortable that Acuri's reach doesn't extend into Saditava Mok's realm," Scleesz sighed. "What is the crew complement for Admiral Colleran's battlecruiser?"

"Around a thousand, give or take," Jason said.

"And they've all been so thoroughly vetted none could possibly be an assassin? Even a sleeper who could be activated if I'm spotted?"

"So, you want to stay with us?" Jason asked. "Because you'll need to pull your own weight. How handy are you with small arms and explosives?"

"You want me off the ship, I get that," Scleesz said.

"It's not that," Jason said. "Well, it's not just that. You don't belong here and I don't mean that as an insult. You've still got a lot to do, and you can't do it hiding aboard a tiny ship with some grubby merc crew. You'll just have to trust Mok and Kellea will have the security handled so you can do your job. They wouldn't have wasted the time and fuel to fly a damn battlecruiser out to pick you up if they didn't think you had a role to play."

Jason had come to understand Scleesz in the years he'd interacted with the councilman and knew his whining and shuffling now had little to do with fear for his own safety and everything to do with the fear of being considered useless. When they first met each other, the councilman was the embodiment of everything Jason hated about politicians and the political class in general but, in the years since, Scleesz had made a real effort to do the right thing.

The rebellion against the very ConFed he served had given him new purpose and a renewed vigor for life. It might sound like he was complaining needlessly, but Jason understood he didn't want that new purpose taken away from him.

"I suppose you're right," Scleesz said, straightening. "We're all dead men, anyway, for what we've done and what we will probably yet do. No point in facing it like a sniveling coward."

"That's the spirit," Crusher said approvingly.

Jason popped open the airlock and waved his companions through before pulling it closed behind him and engaging the latches. They walked across the gangway, admiring the views of the battlecruiser from the overhead windows, and waving to the crewmember waiting for them up ahead.

"Welcome aboard the Defiant, Captain Burke. You and your companions are invited to join the admiral in the forward observation lounge," the young Eshquarian said.

"Lead the way," Jason said.

The Defiant was a custom-built warship, designed and constructed in the vaunted Aracorian Federated Shipyards orbiting the planet Aracoria. Crisstof Dalton had spared no expense on what was to be his flagship after Omega Force had used his former ship, the Diligent, as a ballistic weapon to destroy an illegal operation his First Son, Steader, had been running.

She was just under one thousand meters long and over a hundred and seventy wide at the beam. The ship had been under Kellea's command almost exclusively her entire service life and had come through multiple battles with hardly a scratch to show for it.

The crewman wore the rank of a high commander, which meant he might be the executive officer or a department head on the ship. He guided them through a series of lifts and moving walkways until they arrived at the forward observation lounge. It was halfway up the superstructure and extended out fifteen meters so guests could see out over the hull if the lights were on or look up and see the command decks looming over them. The room was designed to let everyone know just how impressive the ship really was.

In the middle of the room, standing calmly with her hands behind her back, was Kellea Colleran. Jason looked her over, noticing either her species aged slowly, or she'd had some of the same work done he had. Physically, she looked just as he remembered her, but she looked more exhausted and stressed than he ever remembered.

"Admiral," Jason nodded.

"Captain," Kellea said, the corner of her mouth turning up in a smile at his use of her rank. "And Councilman Scleesz…welcome aboard."

"Thank you, Admiral," Scleesz said, walking forward and looking around appreciatively. "She's an impressive vessel."

"Thank you," Kellea said before turning back and nodding at Crusher. "Lord Archon."

"We haven't seen each other in years, and this is how you greet me?" Crusher demanded. "Get over here and give me a hug, damnit." She laughed and walked over, letting Crusher wrap her up in a huge embrace she almost couldn't breathe in. After that, she greeted Doc warmly, and Jason remembered the pair had remained somewhat close after Omega Force had split up for a time.

"Did you have any trouble extracting the councilman?" she asked as Scleesz walked around the lounge, looking out over the bow.

"We had help from battlesynths on Khepri," Jason said. "It looked like he was being led to the slaughter, so we grabbed him just in time. Mok have something useful for him to do?"

"He'll be helping with some governmental restructuring," Kellea said vaguely.

"So, it looks like you don't need me at the moment…" Crusher said, looking towards the hatchway.

"Officer's mess is on—"

"I remember," Crusher said, walking out the door. "Don't leave without me!"

"Now that he mentions it, it's not a bad idea," Jason said.

"Some things never change," Kellea said. "How are the others?"

"Good, good," Jason said. "They'd love to see you. I should have brought Twingo to say hi."

"And Kage?"

"You'd actually want to see him?" Jason asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"And I hear you've reconnected with your son," she said, pressing on. "How is that— You know what? It's none of my business."

"It's okay," Jason assured her. "We're…better. It's no longer just radio silence or open hatred, so that's quite an improvement. We've been talking some, and it's…"

"Better?"

"Exactly."

"Pardon the interruption, Admiral, but is there someplace I might clean up a bit? While Captain Burke's ship is a fine vessel, it is not an overly comfortable one," Scleesz said.

"The steward will take you to your quarters, Councilman," Kellea said, waving in someone in an Eshquarian uniform. Jason realized how much of her crew was likely from the Imperial Navy at this point. "You will be escorted and guarded at all times for your own protection, but you are free to move about as you please."

"My thanks, Admiral," Scleesz said. "And, Captain…once again, I am in your debt. Good luck with the rest of your mission."

"I'm going to go make sure Crusher stays out of trouble," Doc said.

One might think Doc was making a graceful exist so Jason and Kellea could talk in private, but Jason knew better. Doc had become at least as much a chowhound as Crusher in recent years. He'd spent too much time living the cushy life of an academic before coming back to the crew, and now he wasn't as enthusiastic about the Spartan living conditions on a gunship as he once had been.

"Mission?" Kellea asked once everyone had left.

"It's…complicated. You heard about how we managed to bring Lucky back after the op on Khepri?"

"I did."

"There were some unintended side-effects from the new body. The short version is a new, dominant personality emerged that calls itself Seven. It's a ruthless, indiscriminate killer and, unfortunately, its existence is killing Lucky. We're trying to track Seven down to see if we can purge the aberrant personality or, barring that, kill it."

"Killing Lucky in the process," she said. "Jason, I'm so sorry."

"We meddled in things we didn't understand," Jason sighed. "And, as seems to be the usual, Lucky will bear the burden for our mistakes."

"You seem to be carrying a lot of the burden yourself," she said.

"So…you're going to be the new head of the Imperial Navy under Mok's new regime?" Jason asked.

She gestured and led him over to one of the seating areas near the windows, sitting next to him after he flounced into one of the padded seats. He took note she had picked that seat rather than one across from him.

"I'm not sure. You know about the bounty on my head? You can't lead a military and look over your shoulder for assassins the whole time," she said.

"I talked to Whitney about that," Jason said. "She claims she had no intention of filling the contract and took it to keep it out of circulation."

"You believe her?"

"She seemed sincere, but she is an assassin no matter how much she claims otherwise," Jason said. "As soon as I wrap up this thing with Lucky, I'll take care of it."

"You can't just go kill her," Kellea said flatly.

"Sure I can, but that's not what I mean. I can still get the contract pulled," Jason said. "Probably won't have to kill her, even though she deserves it. You must have seriously pissed off Seeladas Dalton for her to go outside her own people and bring in the Viper."

"She didn't have much choice," Kellea said. "I was too popular among the regular military so they wouldn't touch it. Our partner worlds didn't like the idea of trying to tangle with a rogue Cridal taskforce, so she decided a surgical strike against me by an outsider would suffice."

"Like father like daughter," Jason said. "Killing you would have just been for petty spite. It wouldn't regain her control of her taskforce."

"But doing nothing makes her look weak," Kellea said. "It's an unfortunate reality for everyone."

"Is this why you asked me here? To see what I knew about Whitney?" Jason asked.

"Of course, it isn't," she sighed, rolling her eyes. Jason regretted his tone, not sure what the hell his problem was when it came to just being honest with her.

"I'm sorry," he said, leaning back. "That was uncalled for."

"It was," she said, but she didn't make any move to get up and didn't seem to want him to. "Since I went rogue and participated in the attack on Miressa, I think I've come to understand you a bit better."

"I'm listening," Jason said.

"Things were always complicated between us given our different stations in life," she said. "I pretended it wasn't an issue, but that was because I was the one who was a high-ranking member of an important, respected organization so it was easy for me to be magnanimous about it. You always had this defensiveness about you, like you felt you didn't belong or you'd be asked to leave at any moment. The Dalton household was really all I'd ever known, and now the head of that house has hired an assassin to kill me. I feel I'm getting some small glimpse into what your years in exile out here were like."

"So, you're someone without a home or a people," Jason said, nodding slowly. "I suppose I can admit to some insecurity. I was never really sure if you wanted to be with me or if you were just slumming it for a thrill or to piss off Dalton."

"That's fair," she said. They fell silent, so Jason stood and walked over to the bar with the intent of getting something to drink.

"It's funny. I told myself it would be no big deal, seeing you again," he said as he found what he was looking for and poured a glass. "I guess I was lying to myself." He turned around to face her.

"I stand by what I did only because I have no way to take it back. If I hadn't betrayed you, Crusher would be dead. As the poor sap leading these degenerates, it falls on me to make the hard sacrifices to keep them safe if it comes to that. You of all people should appreciate that."

"I can," she said, her tone not giving him any indication of what she was thinking.

"That being said, I do regret what I had to do hurt you in more ways than one," Jason said. "I'm not proud of it, and I hate the aftermath ended with the death of Crisstof and even more destruction in your life. I feel like I'm in a no-win situation here. I can't really say I was wrong without also saying I should have left Crusher in that prison to die."

"Maybe we don't have to say anything about it at all right now," she said. "Isn't it enough things are…better?"

19

Lucky had no idea where they were taking him, but he knew he'd been loaded onto a shuttle and put on a starship that had been in slip-space for almost nine days. That fact didn't help him narrow down their destination since Miressa Prime was in close proximity to seventeen habitable worlds, and he had no way to tell what their slip-space velocity had been. From what he could feel through the deck, it didn't seem they were pushing the ship too hard.

After Seven had relinquished control of the body completely to him, Lucky had spent the time he'd been in restraints to re-establish the blocks and controls he'd first had when his friends had awakened him. They had been put in place by Cas and had allowed him to keep the other personality at bay for a time. During times of high stress, however, Seven was able to wear them down and eventually push him aside.

There was a slight shudder through the deck to alert Lucky the ship had just dropped back into real-space. Lucky determined that, assuming a cruiser-class starship traveling at nominal slip-velocity, Acuri had brought him back to Ianiru-3. There were three other possible destinations within that radius, but this one made the most sense if they were getting ready to set up a trap for Jason and the others.

The hatch to his cell slid open, and Lucky forced himself to relax, not wanting any involuntary twitch to give away the fact he could move again. When Acuri came into view, he held a tall pru by the arm, also in restraints.

"I believe you two know each other," Acuri said. "Or at least, Combat Unit 777 knew him. Seven, meet Tauless. He was one of the ones chiefly responsible for your creation. You can thank or curse him as you will."

"I know of him," Lucky said, trying to match Seven's manner of speaking.

"Good!" Acuri said. "That will make this a lot easier. Let's get started."

Two synths and a biotic from a race called the adiolo came in and slid the pallet Lucky was chained to up onto a wheeled cart. They followed Acuri out of the detention cell and down the long corridor of the ship's brig, the biotic struggling to pull the cart while the two synths trailed behind with weapons. Lucky looked over Tauless and noticed his friend walked with a slight limp and appeared to be gaunt and pale. He wondered if the pru engineer had also been prisoner to the cult and suffered abuses as he had.

That is irrelevant. Focus on escape…that is the only reason I freed you.

Lucky ignored Seven. The firewall Cas had built around his primary matrix that had given him control of the body in the first place was almost fully restored. He kept his concentration on that for now. When the time came to act, he could not afford for Seven to attempt a takeover if he saw an opportunity to flee and leave the others to their fate. Once the protections were back in place, he would no longer even be able to hear the other personality in his thoughts.

"Are you curious where we're going, Seven?" Acuri asked. The other synth had an almost manic energy about him.

"No," Lucky said.

"We're back where my people drew you in and entrapped you in the first place," Acuri pressed on, either not hearing or ignoring him. "Now, we'll set up a similar operation in the same place. There's a beautiful symmetry to it. We'll get the data we need, then the real fun can begin. You might even survive and be a part of that, depending on the next few choices you make."

They dragged Lucky into a cargo bay that was empty save for a strange apparatus welded to the deck, which looked like it might be some other type of restraining system. It would be something he could easily break out of, but the time didn't feel right.

For now, he would continue to pretend the inhibitor collar had shut down his voluntary actuators. He hadn't seen Dezeiri since he'd been removed from the dungeon they kept him in on Miressa. Despite everything, Lucky found himself hoping the old synth was okay.

"Get him strapped in, and we'll begin," Acuri said. "Be careful not to damage that collar or you'll all be dead before I can stop him."

The two synths unhooked Lucky from the pallet and moved him so the arms of the machine in the cargo hold engaged with the restraint collars on each arm, leg, and the heavy band around his mid-torso. Once they were done, Acuri manipulated the controls on the device he held and, with a whirring of actuators, Lucky was pulled into an upright, standing position.

"What is the point of this?" Lucky asked.

"We're going to put on a little show for the people who have something I need," Acuri said.

"And you think I am going to cooperate with this?" Lucky asked.

"I do," Acuri said, moving closer. "Remember when I said you might survive this if you made the right decisions? This is when we start. You'll need to be convincing and, if you are, maybe we use the data and this pru here to complete my project and you walk free."

"What guarantees do I have I will go free?" Lucky asked. He avoided looking at Tauless, trying to remain in character as Seven. Any concern shown for some biotic might alert Acuri something was off.

"None," Acuri said. "But you also have no other options. Do this simple task for me and, if I get what I want, we can make a deal."

Lucky knew that without his cooperation, this elaborate plan the synth had cooked up would go nowhere. Acuri tried to undersell it, but there had been a lot of planning and preparation that required coercing him into betraying his friends. There was almost certainly a backup plan, but Acuri seemed to be all-in on making Seven help him.

He weighed calling Jason and the others into a trap against the fact he had some control over the situation right now that Acuri wasn't aware of. It let him dictate at least some aspects of the engagement rather than tossing it all up to chance and having a ConFed kill team take out Omega Force at a future time.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked finally.

"We have a hit."

Kage's voice came over the intercom throughout the entire ship. Jason groaned and climbed to his feet from where Crusher had slammed him onto the deck of the cargo bay. The pair had been sparring for the last ninety minutes, and Jason's distracted mind had led to him getting pummeled worse than usual.

"Saved by the annoying little twerp," Crusher laughed. "Next time you square off against me, you better get your ass and head wired together or I won't go so easy on you."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jason huffed, pulling a shirt on and escaping before Crusher could get his hands on him again.

The Galvetic warrior hadn't had any genetic tinkering or enhancements like Jason, but he was still as capable and dangerous as when the pair had first met. Jason understood Crusher's species seemed to not age at all until a certain point, and then they rapidly declined, usually dying shortly after the signs appeared. What he hadn't known was that meant Crusher would retain the power of his youth for decades while Jason had to fight off nature with Doc's help.

He jogged through the common area of the main deck and leapt up the stairs, assuming Kage was on the bridge. When he ran past the com room, he skidded to a halt, spotting the Veran and Sulast sitting in there, working at both terminals.

"What've you got?" he asked.

"Zadra Network intercepted a message meant for one of her competitors." Kage pointed at Sulast with his two left hands.

"Legit?"

"It appears to be," Kage said. "It came through a known source within that organization."

"Sulast?" Jason asked.

"I agree. It looks to be real."

"Show me," Jason said. Kage turned back to his terminal and brought up a new pane on the main display. A video played that showed Seven standing inside of some nondescript ship hold. He held Tauless by the neck.

"What the fuck?!" Jason hissed.

"Yeah, I should have warned you," Kage said. "This is unpleasant."

"I have acquired the engineer the Children of Kadron followers have been searching for," Seven said. "I will need you to broker a deal to exchange him and the data he has stolen for my freedom. If they pursue me no further, they can have this pru for half of my usual fee for such work."

Seven stopped as presumably whoever he spoke to replied. There was a time when he tightened his hand around Tauless's neck, causing the engineer to cry out in pain before going on.

"Acceptable," he said. "I will allow you to operate as third-party intermediary. I will surrender this pru to you, but if you do not deposit what is owed to me within fifteen days after pickup, I will hunt and kill every member of your guild." There was another long pause as Seven listened to the reply.

"Very well. You can find me on the planet Ianiru-3," he said. "You know the place."

"And that's all there is," Kage said.

Jason leaned against the hatchway and thought about what he'd just watched. Something about the whole thing whispered in the back of his head that it wasn't right, but there was little doubt that Seven had captured Tauless and dragged him off Khepri. That factor alone more or less tied his hands even if Seven was laying a trap for them.

"He's talking about this cult chasing him still," he finally said. "Could he be trying to set them up? What are the odds he knew we'd be able to intercept this message because of a mole within a specific guild that's a Zadra informant?"

"I've used Seven on multiple occasions, and it's always safe to assume he knows far more than you think he should about a given situation," Sulast said.

"But this is a long-shot strategy depending on what the actual goal is," Jason argued. "At least if we're assuming this has anything to do with us, which I'm not so sure."

"Lucky is well-aware we have access to the Zadra Network and that it has its hooks deep into the borderlands underworld, but we have no idea how much Seven is aware of this fact," Kage said.

"I guess we're heading to Ianiru-3 to see what we see," Jason said. "I don't think we have any other options in this case. We'll at least need to take a look around and see if we can spot something obvious from orbit."

"If we do find anything, that pretty much guarantees that it's a trap for someone," Sulast pointed out. "Hiding even a large ship on the surface of a planet isn't all that hard."

"We know what ship Seven is flying right now," Kage said. "That odd-looking silver fuselage shouldn't be too hard to spot if he leaves it out in the open."

"He parked it right out in the open before," Jason said. "Maybe it's something he doesn't consider an operational risk." Sulast looked doubtful at that but said nothing.

"Keep at it," Jason said. "The more we know before we get there, the better. I'm going to reach out to a few people and see if I can't scrounge up a little more support, but don't expect too much. We've been out of the loop so long dealing with the Machine we're not really sure who is still an ally and who would stab us in the back for a handful of credits."

"Don't expect too much on this end, either," Kage said. "The Zadra Network is, I'm sorry to say, in decline without Weef Zadra maintaining the flow of intel and all its assets. Your people are just using it like it’s a static thing, and it's eroding to the point that finding a single target with it is becoming difficult."

"I'll pass that on to Webb the next time I talk to him," Jason said. "It's in all of our interests the network remains fully operational. Do me a favor and write a short list of recommendations I can pass on for how to do that."

"I can do that," Kage said, sounding surprised Jason was asking for his input.

Jason left the pair to keep working, trusting Kage to make sure Sulast wasn't pulling some sort of double cross. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with the human woman. She seemed to have no desire to go to Earth or Terranovus, and he didn't want her with him any longer than necessary, but he felt somewhat responsible after showing up on Colton Hub and having a group of cultists destroy her operation.

He doubted she needed looking after, she was the head of a successful—albeit small—guild of assassins and mercenaries for a time. There was little doubt she had a network she could disappear into once he put her down on the right planet.

"We have a lead?" Crusher asked, coming up from the cargo hold after finishing his workout.

"Yeah," Jason said. "Feels like a trap, though."

"Isn't it always?"

"This feels trappier," Jason said. "The problem is, I don't know who it's for. Us or the group chasing Seven all over the damn place."

"I’m not sure Seven is consciously focused on us," Crusher said. "He spared us once when it would have made far more sense to just kill us. I'd feel safe operating under the assumption he's completely focused on the group causing him the most trouble. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage."

"Planning around a contingency we don't know is absolutely true is dangerous." Jason shook his head. "We'll play this straight and assume we need to fight two groups going in."

"You have a plan to bring more firepower to bear?" Crusher asked. "While you're not a complete waste of space, three or four of us against however many cultists and an insane assassin battlesynth isn't a fight I like our chances in."

"I'm working on it," Jason said. "I'm going to try and reach out to 701 and see if we can turn them back, but they're probably back on S'Tora already and well out of range to be useful. How about anybody from your side?"

"Don't count on it," Crusher said. "Galvetor is very nervous about what's happening in the quadrant at the moment, and they feel exposed. Don't expect them to be sending the legions out adventuring on other people's planets anytime soon unless they can enter into some sort of mutual defense treaty with a powerful ally. What about your people?"

"Doubtful," Jason said. "Even with Webb's operation being propped up as an off-the-books, quasi-mercenary force, he still answers to our leadership. He wouldn't be able to send help without there being some tangible benefit to Earth."

"Feels like a definite shift happening," Crusher said, easing down into a galley seat. "Mok's criminal empire is in ruin so there's no help there. The battlesynths aren't always available anymore, my people are returning to their isolationist ways, and your people are still trying to establish themselves as the Cridal Cooperative implodes."

"So, what's the shift?"

"We're back on our own again. For a few years now, we've kept a pocketful of trump cards with powerful allies we could call in to pull our asses out of the fire, but now those alliances are mostly gone. It's back to the early days when it was just the six of us."

"Five of us," Jason corrected. "707 probably won't stay, and we're pretty sure we'll have to kill Seven, but I get your point. It's a lot like the pre-Crisstof days with the exception we have piles of money available to help fund the missions. I don't miss the old days of scrounging to get by."

"Nor I," Crusher agreed. "But my point is, you need to wrap your head around that new tactical reality and plan accordingly."

As his friend walked off towards his quarters to clean up, Jason grabbed a fresh mug of coffee and sat down to consider what he'd said. Crusher rarely had any profound wisdom to pass on but, in this case, he made a damn good point whether he meant to or not. Omega Force had gotten too lazy when it came to mission planning because they were always one call away from having someone ride over the hill, guns blazing to save the day.

To be fair, that was partly because some of their missions had a scope far greater than any small merc band would every try to take on. Now that the threat of the Machine was at least stabilized for the moment, perhaps it was time to get back to basics and start thinking like they were the underdogs again.

20

"Well, at least we won't have to worry about collateral damage. What a shithole."

Jason couldn't argue with Twingo's initial assessment of Ianiru-3. The planet was an ecological nightmare from centuries of heavy mining and had no infrastructure to speak of. The settlements were all sprawling, disorganized messes that radiated out from regional hubs that controlled the mines. Ianiru-3 wasn't really controlled by a planetary government and, instead, was run by different corporate offices cooperating with each other and handling security through private contractors.

While he was disgusted beyond all measure at the damage he was seeing below him to the biosphere, he was somewhat impressed that the planet hadn't become a haven for narcogangs and trafficking rings like other tier-three worlds were. It spoke to how effective the corporate security really was.

"This makes our job somewhat more difficult," Doc said. "The computer will try to pick out things that are incongruous and flag them as suspicious on our scanner sweeps, but the chaos down there means it will flag almost everything."

"Plug in that strange ship Seven is flying as a starting point and work out from there," Jason said. "Cas, can you filter through the local Nexus data and see if there is any chatter about a strange bot being seen around? It's a long shot but, if he's not using the holo-emitters to disguise his appearance, he stands out."

"I can try," Cas said.

Jason leaned back in the pilot seat and let the ship fly her pre-programmed sweeps around the planet. They were at a high altitude to maximize coverage and on a planet like Ianiru-3, they weren't even trying to hide the fact they were looking for something on the surface. There was no orbital control to speak of, and the local security outfits wouldn't care about them until they started making trouble in territories they were responsible for.

Every once in a while, one of the great, lumbering ore-haulers would climb out of the atmosphere on their way to one of the refineries. You could tell when one of them hauled a mineral worth a lot of money because small escort ships would fall in around it once it made orbit to provide security.

"The dirty little secret of our society," Doc said, looking down. "For us to live with the miracles of modern technology and the ability to travel between the stars, some planets need to be stripped bare for their raw materials."

"Don't be so dramatic," Sulast said. "Ianiru-3 is a terraformed planet nobody wanted once the atmosphere was stable. It's a dead world. There were no indigenous lifeforms. You know as well as I do that asteroid mining is a much easier and more profitable venture than excavating it out of the crust of a planet."

Jason looked away so Doc wouldn't see him struggling not to laugh. His friend was one of the smartest beings he'd ever met, but he sometimes strayed a little far into the melodramatic when he thought he was making a profound point.

"That shut you up, didn't it," Crusher asked, deciding the best way to smooth an awkward moment over was to pour on fuel and toss a lit match on it.

"My point stands," Doc said stiffly. "It was a perfectly good terraformed planet rendered practically uninhabitable thanks to resource mining."

"Let's all focus on what we're supposed to be doing," Jason said. "Crusher, for you, that means being quiet and not bothering the people actually working."

They didn't have long to wait until the computer flagged an item of interest with a high priority. When Doc pulled it up on the main display, they all just stared at it in disbelief.

"Oh, yeah…this is a trap," Crusher said, walking off the bridge.

"Perfect match to the data we collected from your armor," Twingo said. The enhanced image of the strange silver ship just sitting out in the open made it obvious someone was being baited in by Seven. Could it be them? Had they crossed some threshold in the assassin's mind and become a threat that needed eliminating?

"Continue full sweep," Jason said. "Keep tabs on it every time we come around, but let's not break protocol and get fixated on the thing that seems to have been dangled out to attract attention. Pretend it isn't there and see what else you can find."

"Marking it for observation on subsequent orbits," Doc said. "Prioritizing an area around the ship up to two hundred klicks."

"Good thinking," Jason said. "Let's make sure we're tracking everything in orbit, too. Seven is smart and motivated, let's not make it too easy if he's trying to kill us."

He left the bridge to go make sure all of his gear was ready. Given who they were dealing with, he planned on wearing the heaviest, most capable armor he owned, trading mobility for protection and firepower. He didn't like not knowing all the players involved, and he definitely didn't like being so lightly crewed.

It would only be three of them on the ground, and no matter how badass they were, it was still only three. The good news was it was sure to be a short fight. The bad news was the odds weren't in their favor to be the victors even if they were just facing Seven.

"I am sorry you are involved in this, Tauless."

"To whom am I speaking to right now?" Tauless asked, peering into the dim light of the room they were in.

"I am not your enemy," Lucky said. "Tell me why Acuri needs you, and I will try to get you out of this alive."

"I guess it can't get any worse at this point," Tauless muttered. "Somehow, this Acuri found out I had been able to track down the full technical package for the production version of the Type 2 Assassin Battlesynth. There are some notable differences from your body, and the finalized design eliminated a lot of the…aberrant…behavior we saw in you when Lucky's matrix tried to fully integrate. The information I have—had—included the complete software kit as well.

“All told, the information I had collected would take a talented team some years to try and reproduce, and that's assuming they could even do it at all. The holographic mimic function of the assassin models was developed by an eccentric design genius who died shortly after the Gen 2 program was canceled."

"If this technical package is so inclusive, why did Acuri need me at all?" Lucky asked.

"I misspoke," Tauless said. "The chassis is one thing that didn't change, and the exotic composites in your body aren't fully defined in the tech data. It would be far easier to reverse-engineer your mechanics, and then apply the updates from the finalized production designs than to recreate it from scratch. There were four assassin bodies built for prototyping and testing, yours is the most complete and closest to the final design. By the time you were built, the mechanical design was more or less complete, but many of the control subsystems you're using aren't optimized or are just generic modules the team used to save time."

Lucky thought over what Tauless said. It made sense Acuri would need to find every advantage and shortcut he could to restart parts of the Gen 2 battlesynth program given it was still highly illegal on Khepri and Miressa Prime. Since he wanted to use the assassin types to sow discord and start conflicts that would destabilize governments, he could hardly afford for people to know they existed in the first place.

Since Lucky’s body would need to be reverse engineered, as Tauless said, it was also clear that Acuri had no intention of letting him live once his usefulness at retrieving the data had ended. He'd had little doubt the synth would never let him just walk away, but the confirmation helped solidify in his mind what he needed to do.

"What do you think the ultimate goal of this cult is?" he asked. Tauless jumped, apparently not expecting him to speak again.

"I think there are more than a few factions that fall under that umbrella that have different goals," Tauless said. "Acuri isn't a true believer of anything, much less the cult's goals. He wants power for the sake of power, and he thinks it resides in controlling Khepri not Miressa. Most of the synths in the cult are hardliners, many of them older that had been around well before the species was declared self-determinant and given their freedom. Their resentments run deep and, to oversimplify it a bit, they want payback."

"And the biotic collaborators?"

"Mostly hired muscle, but there are a few zealots. Those are mostly pru that feel they owe a penance. They think by helping the synths extract some price from the Kheprians, it will ease the burden of guilt all pru share about how the synths were treated early on," Tauless said.

"These zealots realize if the cult achieves their goal, there will be no place for them, do they not?" Lucky asked. "Do they think they will be allowed to live freely? Or kept as obedient pets?"

"You're assuming zealots are capable of logical thoughts…Lucky."

"My name is—"

"I've spent a lot of time with you. Your speech patterns and lines of reasoning are as familiar as anyone from my own family. I could tell when I was no longer speaking to Seven," Tauless said. "So…what's your plan? My hands and feet aren't restrained, but I'm tethered to this wall and can't reach you to disengage the inhibitor collar."

"Our friends are likely on their way," Lucky said. "Captain Burke will suspect it is a trap, but he will come anyway. For you and for me, he will risk his own life, as will the others. I must be ready to act when that time comes."

"Does that mean you're not telling me the plan?"

"You cannot be forced to divulge something you do not know."

"I really had hoped the torture part was over," Tauless sighed.

Lucky said nothing. He felt bad for Tauless. As an adolescent, he'd been dragged into the shadowy political world that swirled around the battlesynths. He'd been a wide-eyed enthusiast and hadn't fully understood once he was in, there was no getting out. Case in point was how he'd managed to get himself abducted and tortured by cultists because he used his technical prowess to help a friend.

Lucky couldn't guarantee Tauless wouldn't be killed by the time this operation ended, so he didn't want to offer meaningless assurances otherwise. The only thing he knew for certain was he would either gain his freedom to help his friends, or there would be nothing left of his body for Acuri to study afterwards.

"So, just the one?"

"That's all we could find," Doc said. "That doesn't mean that—"

"Yeah, I got it." Jason waved him off. Their deep scan of the system had uncovered a ConFed cruiser lurking in the shadow of the moon of the fifth planet. That was much too far away to provide any sort of meaningful support for a ground operation below, but what the hell were the ConFed doing here in the first place? It was a regular fleet ship and not some disguised intel trawler, but they still skulked about near the outer system and weren’t flying any transponders. "Could they be deserters? We've been hearing reports some fleet units were losing ships as the ConFed's troubles become more widely known."

"No way to know that," Doc said. "All I can tell you for certain is there's a T'wira-class light cruiser sitting behind that moon. From the engine signature, she's being maintained by a crew that knows what they're doing."

"So, what the hell is the ConFed doing here?" Crusher asked. "Maybe something unrelated?"

"Possibly," Jason said. "They're not running active scans, so it's difficult to make the leap they're camped out there looking for us. Trying to see a ship as small as the Phoenix with a passive array from that distance is damn near impossible."

"I recommend we ignore the cruiser for now," 707 said. "Once we are within the atmosphere, it will have no ability to track us, nor are its weapons suited for attack of a small, fast craft close to the surface. We will regain the advantage."

"Agreed," Crusher said. "Let's get down there and get to it."

"So, we're all satisfied with the plan?" Jason asked. They'd spent the last seventeen hours brainstorming different approaches to their problem to help maximize their limited resources.

"Not especially," Doc said. "Risk factor is off the scale when considering how limited our intel is, but I agree time isn't on our side. Let's go get him."

"No unnecessary heroics from you guys," Jason said. "The more you move the ship about, the more likely you'll be spotted if they bring that cruiser into orbit. I need Kage doing his part, so you and Twingo will need to bring your A-game. If I call in a fire mission, try not to frag us."

"Try is the operative word here," Twingo grumbled. "We'll do our best."

The group had been divided evenly on whether to hit the target now or to wait until Lot 700 could reposition to augment them again. Once 701 told them it would be another two and a half weeks before they could be there at the minimum, the argument for waiting fell apart.

The SX-5 simply wasn't designed for that sort of long-haul mission even when carrying passengers who didn't need to use the life support systems. The little strike craft would need to stop a few times to refuel, and each of those stops was almost a full day to mesh-in, land, fuel the ship, depart, and then mesh-out again.

In the end, Jason decided that, should Omega Force fail to stop Seven, Lot 700 would take up the hunt and finish the job. While dying wasn't Plan A, there was a comforting symmetry to letting Lucky's own brothers be the ones to put him to rest. It hurt him deep in his soul to think all the pain Lucky had been through recently was because, in their pride and arrogance, they thought they could bring him back from the dead and there would be no ill effect.

"You're sure you want to do this?" Jason asked Sulast after the others had gone back to their tasks.

"I'm a lot better in a fight than you seem to want to give me credit for," she said.

"But this isn't your fight. You own us nothing. Why risk your own skin to handle a problem—a very dangerous problem—you've got nothing to do with?"

"Maybe I’m not doing it for you," she said. Jason stared her down, trying to figure out her angle.

"Seven is not coming out of this intact," he said. "If you think you're going to go down there and save him so he can be the cornerstone of rebuilding your little kingdom, you're wrong. Either Seven will be purged from that body or, more likely, we will need to destroy it outright."

"Look…do you want the help or not?" she asked.

"If you—"

"Yes, yes…if I put your team or mission at risk, you'll kill me yourself. I got it the first two times you said it. So, can I go gear up, or did you want to threaten me a little more?" she asked.

"Be my guest," Jason said. "Crusher, show her to the armory and let her pick out what toys she wants to take down."

"I don't like that she's going with you," Doc said after Sulast had left the bridge.

"Well then, I sure as hell can't leave her up here, can I?" Jason asked. "The three of you will be completely engrossed in what you're doing and short of tranq'ing her and strapping her to a rack, I'm not sure what else I can do. At least this way she can't damage the ship, and we'll have three guns watching her."

"True," Doc conceded. "Just be careful. This plan has a lot of moving parts and is even sloppier than our usual, if that's even possible. If we have to disengage and bugout, call it, and we live to fight another day."

"When did you start getting so tactical?" Kage asked. "Disengage and bugout? You're starting to sound like these morons."

"I've been on this crew as long as you have," Doc said defensively. "I pick up the lingo."

"We'll be mindful," Jason said. "If it looks unwinnable or a trap we can't break, we'll pull back. Same goes for you two. Don't fuck my ship up trying to do something stupid like take on a ConFed cruiser."

"No problem there," Kage said. "First sign they're after us and we're leaving your asses on the surface."

21

The area where they'd spotted Seven's ship was a barren, rocky part of the planet. Everything had a red hue to it from the dust kicked up by the mining operations to the south, reminding Jason of Mars. The Phoenix dropped them off with their equipment at an unmarked landing pad before disappearing to the north. The four members of the ground team wasted no time in carrying their gear over to where a sunburned male Mojeco with two Korkaran security guards watched them with interest.

"You the person to see about lodging and transportation?" Jason asked. The Mojeco shared a look with his associates before they all started laughing.

"What planet do you think you just landed on, rich man?" he said between laughs. "I'm the one you pay so my friends here let you pass without injury…or worse."

"Then perhaps you need to take a harder look at who I roll with," Jason said, stepping forward. 707 and Crusher also moved into the shade of the awning while Sulast hung back. The Mojeco finally seemed to notice the armored figure in front of him also had a battlesynth and a Galvetic warrior with him, which would easily trump his two underfed Korkaran deserters.

"I, uh, yes…see your point, sir," he said. "Please, proceed with my compliments."

"Your compliments?" Jason asked, nudging Crusher. "I’m not sure you understand the dynamic here, slick. You're going to have to work very hard to keep me and my friends from killing the three of you and taking whatever you have in that lockbox under your seat."

At this threat, the Korkarans bristled and lifted their weapons, but 707 snapped to combat mode and raised his arm cannons. They took one look at the battlesynth, then each other, then tossed their weapons on the ground and walked away. Korkarans didn't really speak much to species outside their own, both out of arrogance and the fact they had mouths that made vocalization difficult, but their message to the Mojeco was clear: you're on your own.

"Seems they understand the dynamic a little more clearly than you do, my friend," Jason said. "Now, you were saying?"

"I-I have powerful friends. They will—"

"You're a small-time hustler with a couple of Korkaran thugs you treat so poorly they have zero loyalty to you. Your act might work on the laborer-class coming off the shuttles, but not with us," Jason said. "Just shut up and listen. I'm here as a representative of a major mining concern that operates in this area. I need my arrival to go unnoticed if you take my meaning."

"Unnoticed? Ah! Yes, I get you very well!"

"Excellent!" Jason said. "So, we have an understanding?"

"What sort of corporate rep wears powered armor and has such exotic security?" the Mojeco wondered aloud before realizing his mistake. "But, that's none of my concern!"

"Here's to make certain you remember it's none of your concern." Jason tossed him a small bar of platinum since central banking credits on this planet would be next to useless.

These worlds operated on a barter/tangible currency model. The bar he'd tossed him only weighed around forty grams, but it would likely cover his expenses for more than two or three weeks. The armory aboard the Phoenix was loaded with untraceable gold and platinum from different mints around the frontier to avoid being tracked.

"Of course!" The Mojeco looked like he was on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Jason waved to his crew to follow him off the landing platform, which was little more than an elevated bit of rock that had been scraped clean, and into the settlement their information only identified as Rare Mine 193. It was as horrible as he's assumed it would be for a town whose residents were too apathetic to even properly name. It was a sprawling, filthy scab on the landscape…and it was exactly the sort of place four experienced operators could disappear into for a short time.

"So, that was the guy you've pinned all our hopes on?" Crusher asked as they disappeared into the throng of aliens.

"He's phase one, yes," Jason said. "Trust me, someone like that has only one move to make. He's just greedy and stupid enough to try and play it both ways."

"I know I disagreed with most of this plan—"

"And you'll remember nobody cared then…we still don't," Jason pointed out.

"—but the captain is right about our filthy, blistered friend back there," Sulast finished, glaring at Jason. "He'll do exactly what we predict he'll do, and soon."

"We'll see," Crusher said, no longer sounding so confident. He'd wagered heavily the plan would fail in the beginning stages so if it didn't, he'd owe Kage a substantial amount of money.

"We are sticking out a bit here," Sulast said. "We need to get off the street and become less conspicuous."

"Agreed," Jason said, looking around. "That four-story structure over there looks like lodging. Let's try that."

"I will procure more suitable clothing to blend in," 707 said. "The preferred dress here will make it easy to fashion a covering that will not inhibit movement or require the removal of your armor."

"Have at it," Jason said. "Don't kill anybody unless they deserve it."

707 peeled off their group without responding. Jason watched him move through the crowd with surprising finesse for a being so large and powerful he could just plow through them in any direction he wanted.

"How long will we need to lay low?" Crusher asked.

"Sulast?" Jason deferred the question.

"By tomorrow afternoon, at the latest," she stated.

"Let's be ready then," Jason said, eyeing the evidence of small arms fire that peppered the sides of the building they approached. "The sooner we can get out of this town, the better our chances of avoiding a fight."

The sunrise on Ianiru-3 was beautiful. Jason sat inside the window of their third-floor accommodations and watched as the town of Rare Mine 193 sputtered to life. The laborer camps that radiated away from the administrative center were divided up by the companies they worked, and the laborers themselves were a hard living lot.

None too perky from the previous night, many stumbled about still and groaned in the early morning light as they made their way to the flat area to the west where the transports would take them to the jobsites.

One nice thing about having a battlesynth on the team was that the rest of them didn't need to lose any sleep pulling a night watch shift. Jason had awoken early, mostly because of Crusher's snoring, and relieved 707 so he could take a walk around the area. The poncho-style covering the battlesynth had procured for himself concealed him almost completely.

Other than the hands and feet, he just looked like a really tall, muscular alien. Given how many mining accidents resulted in prosthetics, even that wouldn't get much more than a glance.

"The area is clear, and there appears to be no chatter among the locals regarding a new group arriving," 707 said after quietly closing the door to the room. "Your paid informer seems to have not spread the rumors you thought he might."

"That's surprising," Jason said. "He looked like a solid bet. I suppose it would have been too much to ask that the local scumbags be reliable." His plan had been for the hustler at the landing zone to get the rumor mill in town churning and feed intel to Seven that someone new had arrived, hopefully drawing him out and away from where he was likely dug in at. Jason would much rather meet him out in the open than have to go in and get him.

"Have you made contact with the Phoenix?"

"I'm going to wait until Sulast and Crusher wake up so I'm not relaying this information twice. Hopefully, they found something."

After the Phoenix had dropped them off, Doc and Twingo took the ship out over the desert to the north and deployed the twins. The two semi-intelligent autonomous drones that rode in launch bays on either side of the gunship's backbone could be configured for a wide variety of missions. They could cover a lot of ground quickly and were much more capable than your average recon drone.

The twins had been sent on a loosely programmed search pattern in areas of interest around where they'd spotted Seven's ship. The plan was for Cas to compile the data in real-time, and then give them a report in the morning before the next part of the mission began.

"Why are we sleeping on the floor again?" Crusher groaned as he rolled over.

"It was all I could find on short notice. They're in the middle of a worker turnover and most places are full," Sulast said. Jason had known she'd been awake for some time and pretended to sleep as he and 707 talked. He didn't think it was suspicious as it's exactly what he would do in her place, but she really wasn't very good at it. She couldn't keep her eyes still under the lids or her facial expression natural.

"Let's get started," Jason said, pulling the secure com system from one of the bags and setting it up on the floor. He stepped back as it negotiated a connection with the Phoenix.

"How was your first night in paradise?" Kage asked once the connection had stabilized.

"You've seen one desolate shithole planet, you've seen them all," Jason said. "What've you got."

"Pretty big trouble, actually," Kage said, suddenly sounding serious. "Cas…go ahead."

"One of the twins, Tweedledum I believe, located an abandoned prospect mine where we believe Seven is," Cas said. "Further observation indicates he is not there willingly."

"Huh?" Crusher asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"See for yourself," Cas said, manipulating their screen to show the positive ID scans of the synths Acuri and Dezeiri. The image shifted again, and they looked at another team of the black-suited cultists and what appeared to be some regular ConFed troops mixed in.

"I guess we know whose cruiser is sitting out there now," Jason sighed.

"Indeed," Cas said. "Initial analysis indicates these are regular shipboard troopers and not a specialized unit. That would mean Acuri has assumed some authority over the ConFed military."

"So, what about Seven?" Jason asked.

"Standby," Cas said as the image shifted again, and a thermographic overlay was placed over the dim image from inside the mine. A short video lurched into motion on a repeating loop, and when one of the synths in the group of cultists opened one of the doors near the back of the cavern, there was something sitting on the floor, though it just looked like an amorphous blob on the infrared.

"This is hardly conclusive, Cas," Jason said.

"This is after I processed the image and cleaned it up. Admittedly, it is no longer real data and would be considered an artifact, but I took no liberties in adding elements or reshaping existing parts."

A still image of the shape came on the screen and rapidly morphed as Cas's filters went to work until, eventually, one could just barely make out the shape of Seven chained to the floor of the room. His head was turned to the left, but there was really no mistaking the unique torso design of the Type 2 Assassin body.

"So, Acuri and the cult captured Seven, brought him here…why?" Sulast asked.

"Same reason we thought Seven had come here in the first place," Jason said. "Trap."

"It wasn't Seven baiting us in with that message about Tauless," Crusher said. "It was these cult assholes using them as bait. They need the data we took from Tauless's dead synth, and they'll dangle the pair out there for us to try and grab. What's the play, Captain?"

"This really doesn't change a lot," Jason said. "Just the scale. We may need to up the ante a bit this morning, but I think we can still pull this off. Let's just assume Tauless is also in that mine and chained up somewhere, so we need to be careful about how we execute once we're there."

"We sticking to the plan?" Kage asked.

"We're a go," Jason said. "You ready?"

"Always."

"What about us?" Doc asked. "We're flying a high-altitude randomized holding pattern a thousand klicks to the north. We're blending in with some of the transports going between the settlements, but we're not going to fool someone looking for us who knows what this ship looks like."

"Go ahead and put her down someplace safe," Jason said after a moment of thought. "They won't pick her out of the ground clutter very quickly, and I don't need you airborne until we're in motion. That could be many, many hours from now. Don't take her to orbit unless you absolutely have to."

"Understood," Doc said. "We're heading back to recover the twins, and then we'll move to…Dysin City. There's a full starport there, and it puts us in range to support you."

"Good. That should keep most the riffraff away," Jason said. "Heads on swivels, boys."

"You too. Phoenix out."

"Did Doc take a remote learning course in basic military doctrine when I wasn't watching?" Crusher asked. "He almost sounds like he knows what the hell he's doing."

"He's been logging a lot of sim time." Jason shrugged. "Maybe he's picking it up there. You ready to do this, Sulast?"

"I'm not sure why I should be the one to do this," she said.

"It makes it far more plausible that someone in bulky powered armor would be your security not the other way around," Jason said. "Plus, you're in the business of deceit and trickery…I'm just a dumb trigger puller."

"Sure," she said, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Let's get started, shall we?"

22

"This walk didn't seem so long when I saw it from the aerial shots."

"We don't have a lot of choice," Jason said. "The town center isn't designed to let vehicles through. Poor planning, I guess."

"What planning?" Sulast asked, looking around.

The corporate offices that rose from the center of Rare Mine 193's chaotic sprawl were the typical pre-fab, multi-story boxes Jason expected to find on a planet like this. It was also nearly four kilometers away from where they'd stayed the night before with no direct path to get there.

They had to cross through different worker encampments to reach it with all the hazards that entailed including local gangs and territorial pissing matches. Although they were packing more than enough firepower and muscle to get through the different roadblocks, each was a waste of time.

By the time they reached the building they were looking for, Sulast looked exhausted, and 707's armor sported a pair of fresh scorch marks where some fool with an underpowered sidearm took a couple shots at him.

"You ready, Kage?" Jason asked over the open team channel Sulast wasn't on.

"No problems," Kage said. "You're already set to go."

"You're lost," the guard at the door said. It wasn't a question. Sulast, to her credit, dove right into her part with gusto.

"How dare you speak to me in such a manner!" she barked in Jenovian Standard. "Handle this vermin, and then open this door before I melt in the heat."

707 moved forward, and the guard made a critical error, reaching for his weapon while not stepping back out of range. The battlesynth's armored hand shot out and clasped the guard’s hand just as it reached the grip of the weapon, crushing down with enough force to break bones and the synthetic material of the grip. The alien screeched in agony as Sulast walked up and got into its face.

"I am Senior Inspector Ubali from the Myerst Office. I have been dispatched with great urgency by headquarters to look over certain irregularities in the field of the Ianiru operation," she said. "Being accosted by an obviously-inebriated guard at the entrance to the building seems like something that should go in my report, should it not?"

"Please, Inspector!" the alien wailed. "I meant no disrespect! We've had trouble with—"

"Your excuses are boring me already. Stand up, open the door, and announce us to your superiors," she said. "At once!"

"My apologies again, Inspector," the alien grunted. "But I cannot—"

"Oh, yes…please, release him."

707's hand opened, and the guard fell to his knees, wheezing and mewling over his ruined hand before climbing to his feet and opening the door for them. It took two tries for him to clumsily enter the access code so Jason assumed he must not be ambidextrous.

"Please, warn—inform—the regional director Senior Inspector Ubali is here on an urgent matter," the guard said to the shocked alien behind the reception counter. As he turned to head back, outside Jason put a hand on its shoulder.

"You have anyone to call to relieve you?" he asked. "You need to get that hand looked at, my friend."

"A good idea," he agreed. "Thank you."

"Go…while they can still repair it."

Crusher just gave him a quizzical look at his good cop routine with the guard but said nothing. The receptionist had bolted, deciding to actually run and get the director rather than call on the building's com system.

"They just left us alone in the building unguarded?" Sulast asked loudly. "How unprofessional! The home office will hear about—"

"There are no recording devices in here," 707 said.

"Oh, thank God," she sighed. "It's exhausting being such an asshole."

"Is that why you're always so tired?" Crusher asked Jason.

"Senior Inspector Ubali! We were not warned you were coming!" A tall, willowy alien of a species Jason didn't recall ever seeing seemed to float from the archway that led into the office area. It took his armor only a moment to scan and identify it as a female Odys.

"So I have gathered," Sulast said.

"I am Regional Director Luanatie, and it is a pleasure to receive someone from the home office. Before we proceed—and, please, forgive me, this is just a procedural formality—may I scan your company credentials?"

"You are right to ask, Director," Sulast said approvingly, handing over the encrypted passport Kage had fabricated for her. "Your adherence to procedure is commendable." Luanatie seemed to sag a bit in relief as she took the passport and handed it to the receptionist.

Jason held his breath as the credentials were scanned by the computer. This was the part where Kage had to earn his paycheck and load the profile for their made-up senior inspector into company database. Luanatie quickly but thoroughly read the credentials and employee profile provided by the hacked database, handing the passport back a moment later.

"All is in order, of course," she said. "Welcome to Rare Mine 193."

"A…colorful…settlement," Sulast said.

"It is a sewer," Luanatie said. "But it is a sewer running a sixty-nine point seven-seven percent return."

"Most impressive," Sulast said, pulling out a data card from her pocket. "The reason for this visit is we've received intel another mining concern might be ready to make a move on three of our prime locations, Rare Mine 193 being one of them. The briefing materials are on this card if I might find someplace a bit more comfortable."

"Of course, Inspector," Luanatie said. "This way, please."

They were led into a large conference room on the first floor where the director motioned towards a wall-mounted terminal and took a seat. Jason signaled that Crusher and 707 should remain outside while he went in, ostensibly to keep eyes on the principle at all times. It would have looked odd for all of Sulast's security detail to cram into the room.

Sulast quickly brought up an overhead image taken from orbit overlayed with a numbered grid pattern Kage had lifted from the company's servers. She zoomed in on the entrance to the tunnel near where Seven's ship had been placed.

"Recognize this area?"

"Of course," Luanatie said. "That's Prospect Mine 21. Deep penetration scans indicate massive deposits of silver, but we're not equipped to do the extraction right now. I've requisitioned the crews and equipment I'll need already."

They knew this thanks to Kage's network breach. The fact Acuri used an actual viable prospect mine was a stroke of luck and made Sulast's next task that much easier.

"So, as your reports indicate, you have every intention of opening the mine for full extraction operations soon?" Sulast asked.

"Of course. It's a very valuable resource."

"Then why you have allowed an advance team from another company to set up an outpost within this valuable resource?" Sulast asked, putting up selected images of the cult's black-clad troopers milling around a pair of combat shuttles.

"What?!" Luanatie shot straight upright in her chair, eyes bulging as she took in the images. "When?"

"Some days ago, obviously," Sulast said. "They were discovered in a routine security sweep of the area. The reason a senior inspector was asked to come in was to ascertain if they were trespassing…or if they were invited." The implication of what she said took a moment to sink in.

"You can't think I had anything to do with this!"

"You are the regional director, and this is in your region."

"Senior Inspector, my territory covers millions of square kilometers," Luanatie said, defensively. "For that, I'm provided with barely enough security to protect our equipment from raiders and vengeful ex-employees. To think I have the luxury of patrolling every prospect mine within that area is—"

"Is what, Regional Director?" Sulast asked, putting her palms on the table and leaning in. "And choose your next words very carefully."

"With all due respect, I have to make hard decisions where to allocate my limited resources," Luanatie said. "I can either protect our engineers, scientists, and equipment, or I can patrol the outer regions of this territory. I cannot do both. We do inspect the prospect sites, this one having been checked possibly a year ago. The composition of the ground indicated it would take well over a year to set up and begin pulling out the silver."

"I will want to see the inspection logs, of course," Sulast said, dialing it back a little bit. Jason couldn't help but be impressed. She seemed to be in her natural element and played the director like a fiddle. He had no doubt his ham-fisted approach to these sorts of operations would have already ended in failure and probably a shootout with the local security.

"You shall have them." The director leaned back but still fidgeted with her hands.

"In the meantime, we still have this problem to deal with," Sulast said, gesturing towards the images on the screen. "My private security force, while formidable, is still only three strong. I also did not arrive in a ship with any armament to speak of, so clearing them out will require your assistance."

"As the security of the mine is my responsibility, I would be delighted to handle the task, Senior Inspector. I can have four full squads of armed troopers recalled to the city center within six hours."

Jason had no idea how big a squad was to the company. The term was fairly generic, and the translation database used it heavily when talking about a group of soldiers. Based on past experience with this sort of thing, he was probably looking at a force of sixty to eighty security contractors more used to handling local drunks in town or raiders out in the field. He worried that might not be enough for what Acuri could throw at them, but Sulast's hands were tied at this point.

"Four squads should be more than sufficient," she said. "We will accompany them for direct observation so I can report back my findings firsthand. Home office will want to know if this is just an isolated incident or if this newcomer plans on challenging us on multiple fronts."

"You will forgive me if I remain here," Luanatie said in a pained voice. "I'm purely administrative, Inspector, and the operational side of the business is not something I'm well suited for."

"Of course." Sulast inclined her head. "We all do our parts to the best of our abilities. Summon your troopers, Director, and we will figure out what these interlopers are doing. They'll be bringing their own transports?"

"Two armored deployment sleds," Luanatie said. "They're slow but reliable. There will be more than enough room for you and your security detail."

"Excellent!" Sulast said enthusiastically. "Let's begin."

"That was…pretty damn good," Jason admitted once they were well away from the building and heading back to the rendezvous site.

"It was a lot more fun than I thought it would be," Sulast said. "Maybe I'll give up the glamourous life of contracting assassins and become a con artist."

"Kage?" Jason asked. While they'd been outside the conference room, Crusher and 707 had been busy planting listening devices all over so they could keep track of how successful their ruse had been.

"They're sending out a confirmation request to their home office," Kage said. "Don't worry, I have that covered. As far as the corporation knows, there really is a Senior Inspector Ubali, and she really has been dispatched to Ianiru-3 to handle a hostile incursion. The company is enormous, so not ever meeting someone in person isn't unusual."

"Keep me posted," Jason said.

"You think a handful of these morons will be enough?" Crusher asked, gesturing to some of the company troopers lounging around in the town or harassing the workers. "They're just local bullies not proper military."

"We need a distraction, and I think they'll do just fine," Jason said. "The bitch of it is, Acuri was stupid enough to trap himself in that mine. If it wouldn't vaporize Tauless doing it, I'd have Doc launch a low-yield nuke right through the entrance."

"This place could use a nuking," Sulast said. "It would brighten it up a bit."

"We will want the Phoenix airborne and ready to support the operation," 707 said.

"I'll get Doc in the air once we climb on these deployment sleds," Jason said. "With any luck, we'll wrap this up before tomorrow morning."

"Why would you say something so unfathomably stupid?" Crusher groaned.

23

"Your friends must not care as much about you as we thought. Their ship was spotted well north of here, so I hope you're comfortable. We could be here awhile."

Lucky watched as Acuri taunted Tauless but said nothing. He gazed on with forced indifference as the pru was slapped around and verbally abused by the sociopathic synth. Dezeiri had been in earlier and told him the Phoenix had been spotted at a starport in one of the northern cities hundreds of kilometers away.

The old synth assumed Omega Force would then mount a search on the ground to remain inconspicuous, but Lucky knew better. If the ship had been allowed to be spotted, that meant they were already here. The ground team was likely prepping in Rare Mine 193 and would begin their operation soon. Once they engaged, the Phoenix would leave the starport and arrive in time to provide air support and exfil.

"What do you want from me?" Tauless asked numbly. "You say you need me for bait, but you keep coming in to torture me. What purpose could this serve?"

"It amuses me," Acuri said. "Why else would I do it? I find it interesting people would almost certainly be outraged to see a synth physically abusing a pru. Despite your short lives and limited intellects, you are still considered so much more important than my kind. You breed at a rate synth-building factories would struggle to match at full capacity, yet I'm still just some engineering oddity while you are a precious life. See the irony in that?"

"Not especially," Tauless said. "You're carrying a grudge from a time that doesn't really exist anymore, Acuri. You've let that cult twist your mind until—"

"You think I care about those idiots marching around in black uniforms?" Acuri laughed. "Means to an end, my squishy friend. They're useful…for now. But no, I have no delusions of religion. I am merely seizing an opportunity that has presented itself."

"You mean because the Machine has gone dormant," Tauless said. "How long until people on Miressa realize it's no longer functioning?"

"Now, how would you know anything about that?" Acuri said, crouching and peering into Tauless's face, his own just inches away. "That you so casually toss that name out tells me you've had experience with it. Perhaps there is some more use I have of you."

Lucky watched as Tauless realized his error too late. The knowledge the Machine had taken over Miressa Prime's political structure was something only very few people knew the details of. The pru had been kept abreast of things through his connections to Omega Force, but now he had made a critical error and let Acuri know he was privy to such things.

"The synth I worked with, the one your people killed…he told me," Tauless said.

"Not a particularly believable story," Acuri said, rising. "But it appears we have some time to get to the truth. Your friends will be bumbling around in the northern wastelands for some time before they manage to track your location."

The verbal sparring went on for some hours. Acuri was relentless and kept at it long after it was apparent Tauless was exhausted to the point he'd become numb and unresponsive. Lucky watched it with a forced detachment, struggling to maintain the illusion he cared nothing for Tauless.

Another problem he had was that the blatantly sadistic display by the other synth was causing Seven to stir and become restless, clearly attracted to the sights and sounds of a helpless victim.

Lucky had to exert more and more effort to keep Seven contained when the sounds of shouting and weapons fire brought the needed distraction to break Acuri's torture session short. Acuri's head snapped towards the door just as Dezeiri came in and closed it behind him.

"We're being attacked," the older synth said.

"By whom?" Acuri asked, rising to stand.

"They appear to be security contractors with one of the mining companies," Dezeiri said. "They arrived in two armored vehicles and immediately opened fire on our forward sentries."

"Impossible," Acuri said. "I paid the requisite bribes to keep the locals away."

"Perhaps you can go explain that to them," Dezeiri said. There was a sharp crack of something being hit inside the cavern, followed by an explosion that shook the floor and caused dust to rain down from the ceiling. "I believe that was one of our shuttles taken out of commission."

"We need to see about our defenses," Acuri said. "We cannot let them destroy the second shuttle."

The synths left and closed the door behind them. Lucky heard them put a security bar back in place to keep it shut.

"Do you have a plan?" Tauless asked.

"I will try to get you to safety using the distraction provided by the local forces," Lucky said.

The time to act had arrived. Lucky boosted his actuator power to well past the allowable limits, ignoring all the warnings his motor control subprocessor sent him, and pulled at his restraints with everything he had. He wrenched violently back and forth until the alloy cuff securing his right wrist let go with a metallic snap. With his hand now free, he was able to quickly overcome the other restraints and start to free Tauless. He was working on the ankle restraints when a sound reached him that made him stop.

"What is it?" Tauless asked.

"That weapon sound," Lucky said. "It's from battlesynth arm cannons. I don't think these are local enforcers."

"You think your old crew is here?"

"Knowing them, yes," Lucky said. "Come, we need to hurry and get you to safety."

"What they lack in skill, they make up for in expensive weaponry!"

Jason had to shout to be heard as he and Crusher hid behind the transport sled the cultists had blown out from under them. They'd hit it with a heavy anti-material plasma cannon that blew the repulsors out of the right side and sent it crashing into the rocks. The hit had boiled away inches of alloy armor and had killed three of their corporate troops instantly.

The second transport that had 707 and Sulast in it had veered to the left and behind a rock formation to avoid the same fate. They now worked around to get back into position to deploy their troops while Jason and his group were pinned down by the cultists. He'd managed to fire a hypersonic projectile into the left engine nacelle of one shuttle, blowing out the entire emitter array on that side.

"Wish we had a mortar or grenade launcher," Crusher shouted back. The cult laid down withering suppressive fire that made it impossible to try and get into a position to answer them back.

"Phoenix, go ahead and get airborne," Jason said into the com. "We're taking heavy fire, and I’m guessing that cruiser will be moving up to support them soon."

"We'll be in the air in under a minute," Doc answered. "Standby."

"We need to get out from behind this thing," Crusher said. "The only reason they're not hitting us again with that big gun is they're sending out a team to try and take us alive."

"Shit," Jason muttered. His friend was right. There was a lot of natural cover around for them to flank their position without being spotted. "707 are you in position?"

"We have found a crease in the landscape allowing us to approach unobserved," 707 said. "We will engage within minutes."

Jason motioned for everyone to stay put while he waited to see what sort of move 707 was going to make. It was about four minutes later when he heard the telltale bark of battlesynth plasma cannons, along with the high-pitched whine of the corporate troopers' weapons. The suppressing fire being sent their way stopped immediately as the engagement near the opening of the mine intensified.

"Let's go!" Jason said, moving quickly around the edge of the downed transport.

There was a few hundred meters between them and the mouth of the mine but, already, Jason could see their offensive was doomed to fail. The cultists had a defensible position and the numerical advantage. Jason didn't have enough people to overwhelm their fortifications, and he couldn't just have the Phoenix fire a missile into the mine for fear of killing Tauless. As it was, Jason wasn't able to even unleash the full might of the arms he and Crusher carried.

"707 we need to pull back and wait for the Phoenix," Jason said. "The element of surprise is gone, and we can't take this hill with what we've brought."

"Understood, but my troopers are already engaged and will not withdraw," 707 said. "I am afraid I am committed, Captain."

"So, he's going to get himself pasted as a show of solidarity with these low-rent mercs?" Crusher asked, gesturing to the troops around him.

"Seems that way," Jason said. "Come on. If we get to that ravine, we can move laterally and avoid getting hit with that damn cannon."

There was a natural break in the terrain ahead of them. It was a shallow channel that looked like it might have once been a creek just deep enough for them to get down into. Once he'd marshalled his small remaining group into the ditch, he risked one more look at the mine, his armor's sensors picking out targets of opportunity and categorizing threats.

"How many?" Crusher asked.

"About three to four times as many as we brought," Jason said. "They're better equipped, too."

"Come on, we need to try and get up there," Crusher said. Jason moved past and took point, his heavy armor with its sensor suite giving him the advantage. He ran down the ravine as the holographic display showed him a top-down view of the area and let him know he made his way towards 707's position, but not very quickly.

He saw that, if they moved down the ravine another hundred and fifty meters, there was a place to come up and have some cover to approach the mine. Just as he was about to let Crusher know, an explosion behind them made him spin about just in time to see three more of his team had been blown apart. As he watched, four more grenades arced into the ditch with pinpoint accuracy, which meant it was likely a synth throwing them.

"Go!" Crusher roared, pointing ahead.

Jason took off, commanding as much speed as the armor provided. He wanted to get far enough ahead that if he was being tracked and targeted, they wouldn't get Crusher at the same time from them being bunched up together. Although he felt a twinge of guilt, he abandoned the corporate troopers altogether.

Since their plan had completely imploded at first contact with an enemy that had been better prepared than he had assumed, it had turned into an every-man-for-himself situation. Hopefully, they'd be smart enough to realize the fight wasn't worth the paycheck and just get clear.

He traveled so fast he had to run up on the side to safely make the next turn, which made it much more difficult to stop when he ran directly into an enemy patrol coming up the other way. Jason smashed headlong into a group of ten, the lead being a synth trying to get its weapon to bear when he hit. His armor crashing into the alloy of the synth made a hell of a racket, and the pair went tumbling back through the group of cultists.

"Contact!" Jason called on the team channel. Warnings scrolled across his HUD from the impact, but nothing critical or offline, so he ignored them. "eight cultists with two synths."

"Got it!" Crusher shouted, coming around the turn, firing his heavy plasma rifle.

Jason's weapon was ripped from his hands, the web sling attaching it to the armor snapping as the synth tossed it away. Jason took the opportunity to grab the outstretched arm and fling it to the ground, landing on top of the synth and pinning it. As it struggled to get free, he started getting more warnings the armor was taking damage. Even regular synths were damn strong and lightning fast.

Deciding on brute force over finesse, Jason commanded emergency power to the actuators and drove his fist downward as hard as he could. The gauntlet was blocked by the synth's forearm but shattered the protective coverings there.

The synth yanked the arm back out of instinct, and thus couldn't block the second follow-up punch that smashed into its face. The cranial chamber that held matrix collapsed, and the synth jerked spasmodically as its subsystems reacted to the loss of input.

Jason rolled to his right, grabbing the ankle of another black-clad biotic with his left gauntlet and crushed down. He was rewarded with a high-pitched screech as he yanked the alien off its feet. He climbed to his knees and backhanded it with his right hand, snapping its head back so violently it just collapsed onto the ground. Once on his feet, he pulled out his sidearm and shot the next two biotics in the back since they were wholly focused on Crusher, taking cover behind a rock outcropping.

The last synth had pulled two grenades off its tactical harness and looked about ready to ruin Crusher's day, so Jason shot the grenade in the left hand, setting it off. The explosion detonated the rest of the munitions it carried, killing everyone standing near it and flinging Jason away so violently he skipped off the rocks and up out of the ravine. He must have blacked out for a moment or two because, when he opened his eyes, Crusher stared down at him through the cracks in his visor.

"You okay?" he asked, sounding like he was at the end of a very long tunnel.

"Been better," Jason groaned, rolling over and climbing to his feet. "Any of our corporate mercs make it?"

"Two did," Crusher said, handing Jason his railgun. "They're policing weapons. The rest decided to live and fight another day."

"Thanks." Jason checked the weapon over, the armor linking to it and letting him know it was still fully operational. "We still need to take that mine opening. Where are the—"

"Captain, that cruiser is now in orbit over the planet and dropping down," Kage's voice broke in over the com. "They look like they're lining up to hit your position, not drop off reinforcements."

"That's just what we need," Jason said. "Doc…take it out. Whatever it takes, do it."

"Even using one of the XTD—"

"Whatever it takes," Jason repeated. "Do not let that ship fire on our position or we're all dead, you hear me?"

"Copy," Doc said. "Changing course for intercept."

"707, report," Jason said over the open team channel.

"We have been repelled from the mine entrance," 707 said calmly. "The enemy has rallied, and we have insufficient numbers to overcome their fortifications. I am taking cover with my remaining troopers behind our deployment sled."

"Did you manage to thin them out any?" Jason asked.

"We have reduced their number by half, but there are still an estimated forty to fifty left inside the mine."

"We're stalled out," Crusher said. "We need the Phoenix here before they organize and counterattack. With that many troops, they'll run us over."

"707, pull your troops back if they'll listen to you," Jason said. "We need to regroup or just withdraw and live to fight another day. We've lost the initiative."

"Negative," 707 said. "The corporate troopers are getting ready to rush the opening. They are going for the second shuttle."

"What the fuck is it with these guys?" Jason asked in exasperation. "I've never seen a more suicidal group of hired guns!"

"I almost feel bad about getting them into this now," Crusher said.

"Yeah. Me too."

What was left of the team rushed up the hill from the ravine just as the sounds of fighting from the mine entrance intensified. Jason could just see 707 standing clear of the lines of fire while the corporate mercs used explosives and covering fire to advance. The problem was there was nowhere to advance to. They were going to get themselves trapped just inside the mouth of the mine entrance, and when their suppressive fire faltered for even a split second, the ConFed forces would decimate them.

So far, there had been no sign of Seven or Tauless, which was probably a good thing. He figured Acuri might be trying to extract his prisoners on the second shuttle, so he hoped their forces managed to disable it and not completely blow it up. An exploding spacecraft inside of an enclosed space like that meant nobody would survive, probably not even those standing outside.

"What the hell?" Crusher asked as the pair of them reached 707's position. All the shooting had stopped, and it was eerily quiet.

"Area is clear!" The shout was met with cheering, and two of the corporate mercs walked out, shaking their weapons over their head in victory.

"What the hell?" Jason mimicked Crusher. "There's no way these bozos cleared out fifty ConFed troopers that were dug in."

"Let us go and see for ourselves," 707 said.

"We're coming in! Check your fire!" Jason shouted. When they cleared the corner, they found a hastily abandoned position where the ConFed had been easily defending the mine entrance. They also found one bedraggled looking pru standing with his hands in the air while covered by the mercs.

"Tauless!" Crusher shouted. "Stand down! He's a civilian."

They didn't seem at all curious as to how the security team of a company senior inspector knew who the prisoner of a supposed hostile incursion force was. All they did was shrug and continue walking around securing the area and collecting the equipment the ConFed crews had abandoned.

"Tauless!" Jason said, retracting his helmet and snapping his fingers in front of the dazed pru's face. "Where's Seven?"

"Not Seven. Not now," Tauless said. "It's Lucky. He's back."

"Well, this just got a little more complicated," Crusher said.

"Where the hell did they go?" Jason asked. Tauless looked around and just shook his head.

"I woke up, and everyone was gone."

"Damn, damn, damn!" Jason fumed. "Let's see if this piece of shit is flightworthy and get airborne. There must be another way out of this mine, and they've all got a head start." He looked around for 707, but the battlesynth was nowhere to be found.

"You see where he went?"

"I was checking Tauless," Crusher said.

"What the hell is going on?!"

A quick look around verified 707 had left, and he was no longer answering on coms. Whatever he was up to, he didn't want them following.

24

"We have soft lock on the target," Kage said. "Missile receiving updated tracking data."

Now that he was no longer needed to slice into the mining company's servers, he'd come up and relieved Twingo from the copilot seat. The Phoenix screamed along on a southwesterly course, tracking the cruiser above as it continued to decelerate and move to an altitude so low there was little doubt what its intentions were. They were going to open fire on the mine, killing everyone.

"They don't appear to be reacting to us," Doc said. "No tracking scans directed our way, and the nav transponder hasn't been queried."

"We'll need to get to twenty-four thousand meters altitude as fast as you can get her there so the missile has the best chance of beating the countermeasures," Kage said. "They'll see us, so get ready for incoming."

It was another forty minutes before the Phoenix was beneath the decelerating cruiser. Doc stood her on her tail and jammed the throttle forward, sending the gunship rocketing into the upper atmosphere.

"They see us," Doc said. "Targeting scans detected."

"They can't maneuver right now…stay on course."

The cruiser had two choices at that moment. They could go to full power and climb away, putting distance between them and hoping to maneuver for a shot, or they could try and let the underpowered point defense guns take on the gunship and hope their shields held.

If the Phoenix made an attack run with her main guns, that might have been a smart strategy since the capital ship had strong shielding, but it wouldn't hold up against an XTD-series anti-ship missile, a munition designed to take out mainline warships.

"Steady…steady," Kage said. "Give me fire authorization."

"Got it," Doc said, squeezing the trigger twice.

"Firing! Missile away…break off!"

Doc chopped the power and kicked the right peddle while pulling back on the stick, letting the Phoenix bleed off speed and tumble into a descending turn away from their target. On the tactical display, he watched as the missile went active and streaked up out of the atmosphere, tracking for a stern shot on the cruiser.

"They don't have a chance," Kage said, sounding regretful.

"Yeah. Isn't war fun?" Doc asked, also feeling less than great about shooting down a ship full of spacers just doing their jobs. Jason and Crusher both took a more hardline approach, saying that anybody who still fought with the ConFed was no longer innocent, but Doc didn’t look at things in such binary terms.

"If we don't do this, they'll kill every one of our friends on the surface," Twingo spoke up. "We don't have to like every part of this job, but we did volunteer to do it."

The Phoenix was already accelerating away and back towards the prospect mine when their XTD missile knifed through the point defense fire, but the warhead detonated before it could penetrate the hull.

"Missile detonated early," Twingo said. "Multiple hull breaches, but she's still flying."

"Do we need a follow-up shot?" Doc asked. The element of surprise was critical when a small ship like the Phoenix tried to tangle with a capital warship. They wouldn't get another free shot like that. If the captain decided to engage them, Doc doubted his skills in the pilot seat would be enough.

"Negative," Twingo said after a moment. "She's at full burn, climbing out. They're moving up out of weapons range."

"Ground team, the sky is clear. We're coming back to you now," Doc called over the com.

"Hurry your ass up!" Jason's voice came back immediately. "Tauless needs medical attention, and 707 is off-mission."

"Off-mission?" Kage asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means hurry up!" Jason shouted.

"It's dead," Sulast said, walking out of the shuttle. "They shot up the flightdeck before they left."

"Smarter than I gave them credit for," Jason muttered before turning to where Crusher had come walking up from the back of the excavated area. "Anything?"

"The tunnel continues on past these buildings, and then ends in a natural break in the rock. Lots of footprints so they must have had a plan to abandon this cavern if they were overrun," Crusher said.

"Doc hit their cruiser and chased it off, so they're not getting a pick up that way," Jason said. "You want to try and pursue or wait for the Phoenix?"

"As fun as stumbling into multiple ambushes in a dark cave we don't know sounds, let's wait for air support," Crusher said. "You think 707 followed?"

"He didn't come back out this way, so that seems to be the only plausible answer as to where he went," Jason said. "I suspected he might have an ulterior motive for tracking Seven. Maybe I was right, and he’s going to make sure we don't try to capture him alive."

"We really didn't plan this very well…even by our usual standards," Crusher said.

"The ConFed being the ones baiting us in with a trap was an unexpected wrinkle," Jason said defensively. "So, that means Seven agreed to work with Acuri to draw us in?"

"Not Seven…Lucky," Tauless spoke up from where he leaned against the abandoned shuttle. "Seven gave him back control to let them escape, but I'm not certain how strong his hold is. Lucky is the one who freed me and hid me in the alcove over there." Jason gave him a look that was a mix of sympathy and skepticism. Tauless looked like he'd been through a lot and Jason wasn't about to pin the safety of his team on the word of someone who'd just been through that level of physical and mental torture.

"At this point I'm forced to assume they're switching back and forth now," he said. "Seven took control once, he can do it again."

They took up a defensive position with the remaining members of their corporate security force and waited for the Phoenix. Once she arrived, Jason would dismiss the troops to head back in their remaining deployment sled. Even after taking such a savage pounding by a numerically superior enemy, they remained alert and almost seeming eager for a rematch.

He wondered what the mining company paid on some backwater world like Inairu-3 to get such professional soldiers. They'd fought ConFed regulars who didn't have this much grit.

"Is that strange ship Seven was flying around still parked out in the desert?" Crusher asked.

"Well," Jason said. "I guess we know where they're going."

Lucky had killed another nine biotics and one synth by the time he saw light ahead. He'd been able to easily sense the hasty ambushes set up along the way as Acuri fled, meeting each one with overwhelming firepower from the heavy weaponry he'd collected from the dead in the cavern above.

The troops had been poorly equipped and demoralized from getting hit so hard by a group of mercenaries they were making sloppy mistakes. The synth, while strong and fast, had no military training, and Lucky's heavy plasma rifle made short work of it.

He was nearly to the rough-cut ramp that led out of the cave system when a voice behind him drew him up short.

"Combat Unit 777! Stand down!"

Lucky stopped and turned, looking at the glowing red eyes of his former commander in full combat mode.

"707. They sent you to pursue me?"

"I am saving your friends from making a fatal mistake and hesitating, allowing you to escape rather than doing what must be done," 707 said. "Do you still call yourself Seven?"

"Seven has been suppressed. For now," Lucky said. "Even now, he fights to regain control, my use to him having been served by freeing our shared body."

"Are you escaping? Or pursuing Acuri?"

"If I can kill Acuri, then all will have not been for nothing," Lucky said. "The Machine is incapacitated. Acuri is the one controlling things on Miressa, as unlikely as that sounds. If he dies, there will be chaos, but that is preferable to allowing him to solidify his control of the ConFed."

"I cannot allow you to escape," 707 said, not lowering his weapons.

"There is nowhere for me to escape to," Lucky said, not raising his own rifle against his old friend. "Let me do this one last thing, and then I will stand ready for what you must do. It will be what is best for everyone."

"Even you?" 707 asked, stepping closer.

"You cannot imagine the hell I have lived since Seven took control," Lucky said quietly. "Every second of existence, trapped in my own body while this savage has brutalized people because it knows nothing else. Nothing has been right since I was awoken in this body that isn't my own. To be honest, my friend, I welcome death. I do not blame my friends for what they did…but their mistake has caused immeasurable suffering, and not only my own."

707 lowered his arms slightly, cocking his head to the right and staring at his former second-in-command. Before he could speak, the sound of a ship's engines spooling up drifted down the tunnel ramp. He looked at Lucky questioningly.

"My ship," Lucky said. "It was moved here to bait in my friends. Apparently, Acuri intends to use it to make his escape."

"We will stop him together," 707 said, rushing past Lucky and racing up the ramp.

Lucky turned and followed, his smaller, more nimble body letting him pass his friend and make it to the surface first. He stepped out of the break in the red rocks just in time to see his ship lifting off and retracting its landing gear.

Lucky didn't hesitate and lifted the rifle, now wishing he had something bigger, and opened fire. He concentrated his aim on the portside emitter array, hoping to burn it out before Acuri got out of range. The weapon heated in his hand and chirped in warning, but he held the trigger down. The handheld weapon just didn't have the power or range he needed, and the ship pulled away just as 707 ran out onto the rocky ledge it had been parked on.

"We are too late," Lucky said simply.

25

"Minor thermal damage to the outer shielding but nothing to be concerned about."

"Years of planning…nothing to show for it," Acuri said.

"We have escaped, which is more than can be said for everyone we came with," Dezeiri said. "I warned you not to underestimate its companions."

"They want it so bad, they can have what's left of it," Acuri said and yanked the ship into a tight turn until they headed back to the landing area. The assassin still stood out there, joined by another battlesynth. Acuri wasn't sure who the newcomer was, nor did he care. He liked battlesynths about as much as he did biotics, so one less wouldn't be a bad thing in his book.

He charged the ship's forward cannon, unsure of the exact settings for the strange weapon, and dove at the pair still standing there just looking at him. The battlesynth at least had the sense to try and flee, but the assassin stood its ground, bringing its useless weapon up again to fire.

"Acuri, this is needlessly reckless," Dezeiri said, alarmed. "We do not know if there is some weakness on this ship it plans to exploit."

"Cease your blubbering!" Acuri snapped. "If we can't use the accursed thing, nobody can."

Acuri jammed down the firing stud just as the battlesynth physically grabbed the assassin. The forward cannon fired and the discharging plasma obscured the sensors so he lost sight of the pair. As he overflew them, the landing area was completely engulfed in flame and red dust, but the damage looked absolute.

He debated going around for a second pass when his warning panel warbled an alarm, and the sensors bracketed an incoming ship. Whatever it was, it was coming fast, and he doubted it was a friendly. With one final look at the smoldering ground below, he came about and pushed the drive to full power, climbing for space.

They'd lost contact with the cruiser, and he had to assume it had been taken out. The ship he was on was the last ride off the planet, so he could not risk an engagement with an unknown. There was still so much to do, and this disaster of an operation had just put him that much further behind.

The Phoenix settled into a hover just off the still-smoking landing zone, spinning about and lowering the ramp so Jason could hop off. His armor's sabatons slammed into the red rock, and Crusher's boots hit just beside him. They saw Seven's ship flying away, but they also saw it had opened fire on this position, and Jason had to make sure 707 hadn't just been blasted into metal fragments. The Phoenix probably could have caught the fleeing ship, but it wasn't a guarantee.

"Over there!" Crusher shouted, pointing where something was moving.

Jason dropped to his knees by where a horrifically damaged 707 struggled to rise. Armor plating had been burned away on his body, and part of his cranial cavity was exposed. His left hand dangled by some wiring, and he was smoking badly.

"Captain," 707 said, his voice clear and strong despite the state he was in. "I apologize for—"

"That can wait, friend," Jason said. "Just sit tight, and we'll get you on the Phoenix and see what we can do. We patched Lucky up a few times, so let's not get too worked up yet."

"I will need to begin shutting down primary systems to save power soon," 707 said. "Lucky was here with me. I do not know what happened to him."

"I'll stay with him," Crusher said. "Go check down that way."

Jason walked among the glowing, smoldering bits of red stone to where there was a natural gap in the rock face. He deployed his helmet so he could use the sensors to peer through the gloom and filter out some of the smoke. When he stepped inside, he saw the broken remains of a large plasma rifle and the crumpled form of a Type 2 Assassin battlesynth.

"Damnit," he muttered, his heart hammering. Seven was a devious, cruel creature, and if he'd taken back control of the body, this could be a trick.

He walked up and kicked the body over, sending it sprawling. It was then he saw how badly damaged it was. Like 707, it had large rents in the armor plating and was burned badly all over. Grotesquely, both eyes had been melted out, but the face looked otherwise undamaged.

"Lucky? You awake?"

"Just…kill me, Jason," the garbled voice said. "Do it now…before Seven returns."

"That was the original plan," Jason said, grabbing him by the ankles. "You look too fucked up to cause much trouble right now, so let's just see how it goes."

He dragged the inert battlesynth from the cave just as the Phoenix came back in to recover them. Crusher rushed into the ship and came back out with their hovering cargo dolly to load the badly damaged 707 onto and get him safely into the ship. He was so mangled Jason had been afraid he'd just come apart if they tried to carry him.

Seven—or Lucky, right now—was much more intact, at least structurally. The main chassis components seemed okay, but some of the internal parts within the torso were sparking and smoking a bit. He hoped neither battlesynth had a ruptured powerplant or it would be a short flight away from the planet.

"Twingo! I want him chained to the deck!" Jason shouted as he pulled Lucky over next to 707. The engineer was already going over the other battlesynth and cataloging the injuries, seeming to be moderately confident the damage could be repaired.

"We're taking him with us?" Twingo asked.

"We promised we'd try," Jason reminded him. "Just secure him, but I don't think he's going to be much of a threat right now."

Acuri sat despondent in the pilot seat of the small ship as it meshed-out and began the long slip-space flight back to Miressa Prime. Dezeiri had left the cramped flightdeck to explore the ship further, fascinated by the things he saw.

There were signs of a chaotic, manic mind all around. The battle between Seven and Combat Unit 777 inside that body must have been immense and, sometimes, it leaked out with the ship bearing the brunt. There were signs of blaster fire, dents from its fists, and even slices and stabs in the fixturing that told Dezeiri how unstable the assassin had been.

He wandered aft until he found himself in the armory. He ran his hands over something on the work bench, confused until he realized he was looking at a scaled-down pair of arm cannons. Seven must have removed its own internal weaponry for some reason. Curious.

There were sketches of itself, some of them featuring it wearing an inexplicable outfit comprised of a long, billowing coat and a brimmed hat with two heavy pistols riding low on each hip. There were also hand-drawn pictures on the bulkhead of a group Dezeiri knew as Omega Force. In one of the images, there was a standard Gen 1 battlesynth with them, in another, it was the assassin standing in. The latter drawing had angry stab marks through the image of itself.

Dezeiri sat in one of the seats, contemplating the evidence of madness he saw before him. The struggle of 777 throughout the ordeal, fighting to maintain its own identity, must have been a lonely, hopeless thing. He looked forward, seeing only the top of Acuri's head, and recognizing some signs of instability there as he talked to himself and gestured wildly.

Acuri was dangerous. Perhaps more so than the Machine had been. The Machine had a clear goal in mind, a fear of some external danger it promised to prepare them for. Its methods were brutal but efficient. Acuri had apprenticed under the Machine but mistook that efficiency as a lust for power he mimicked himself.

He swore the cult he'd aligned with was something he used for his own purposes. Now, Dezeiri wasn't so sure. Would Acuri really try and wipe out the pru, handing Khepri over to synthkind?

Despite being ghosted by his own government, Dezeiri still keenly felt where his loyalties lay. His duty in this case was clear.

"What is that old fool doing?" Acuri muttered, his eyes focused on the display in front of him as he sent a series of messages out over the slip-com node to try and make sure he still had the support of the flighty cultists he'd been forced to ally with. Losing so many synths would anger them. Losing all the biotic soldiers wouldn't bother them in the least.

Things would be much simpler if he could figure out a way to awaken the Machine. At first, he assumed it would be easy to step into its place, but what he failed to realize was, without the Machine active, he'd lost the constantly updating source of blackmail that kept the Council and the Adjudicators in line. They were beginning to suspect something had changed, and they were no longer cowering in fear when he came to visit them.

"Dezeiri! Stop playing around and come up here! You're needed!"

"What do you need from me?" Dezeiri's voice came from the bottom of the shallow stairs that led off the flightdeck.

"I will tell you once I don't have to shout over my shoulder. I need you to—" Acuri stared down dumbly at the black blade that now jutted from his chest.

Before he could speak, another came through, then another, and another. In the span of seconds, he had been stabbed through with five blades in total, all of them humming a subsonic song that allowed them to pierce him without difficulty.

He turned his head as Dezeiri walked around, sitting in the seat across from him.

"Whhhy?"

"You are a danger to what I have sworn to protect," the old synth said. "I can't take the chance you might actually succeed in wiping out all the biotics on Khepri. I am sorry. I do not enjoy killing any of our kind."

"Noooo…not finished," Acuri's voice crackled and modulated.

Dezeiri had known exactly where to strike, the nasty powered blade weapons he'd found in Seven's armory quickly severing critical junctions and piercing subsystem components that rendered Acuri paralyzed and helpless. Dezeiri pulled out one last blade and flicked it on. The high-frequency vibrations sent down the blade turned it from just merely sharp to something that would slice through synth alloy with ease.

"Yes," Dezeiri said sadly, "you are." He thrust quickly and stabbed Acuri through the forehead, sinking the blade into his primary processing matrix. The stricken synth sagged in the seat, all signs of life ceasing immediately.

Dezeiri stared at the ambitious synth for a long time before swiveling over to the console and entering messages of his own. There was still much to do. The Machine wouldn't remain dormant forever and, when it corrected whatever errors it was experiencing, Dezeiri needed to be ready.

26

"I have already thought this through and made the necessary adjustments. This will work."

"We've trusted you once before, and look where that got us," Twingo pointed out.

"Mistakes were made," Cas admitted, "but they were mostly your mistakes. All I did was try to suppress the body's dominance so Lucky could at least move and speak. In that regard, I was completely successful…until he went batshit crazy."

"I don't know," Twingo said, looking at all the parts scattered across the bench. "I feel like we should definitely clear this with the captain."

"And I feel the exact opposite of that," Cas said. "We need a tie-breaker. Tauless?" The pru had recovered enough during their flight back to S'Tora that he had come down into the engineering bay to help with both the non-biotic patients.

"The risk is very low if it doesn't work," he admitted with some reluctance. "These guys aren't modular in design, they're engineered with exacting tolerances and made to fit together—"

"Yes, I understand we'll have a lot of work ahead of us, but will it function?" Twingo asked. "And, to the point, should we do it without consulting Jason?"

"Captain Burke isn't quite…rational…when it comes to Lucky," Tauless said. "The risk is minimal. I think it's worth a try."

"Can you handle that with Cas if I get back to 707?" Twingo asked. "Ideally, I'd like to at least get him back on his feet before we land."

The assassin body was secured to an alloy workbench in port engineering with all of the torso armor and access panels removed so that Tauless could get inside and disable all the motor control in case Seven made an appearance. Once that was done, he'd carefully disengaged much of the power system so that, for all intents and purposes, the unit was anesthetized and unconscious.

707 was still in the cargo bay. He was conscious but floated in and out. Twingo was going on his own experience from working on Lucky's old body along with access to Tauless's extensive technical library the pru kept on a secure server that could be accessed through a slip-com node.

It was slow progress because the Phoenix's fabricators struggled with some of the material specs. Much of what he was doing was temporary until they could get to S'Tora and the much better equipped engineering lab he and Kage maintained on their base.

"How goes the work on the other unit?" 707 asked when Twingo walked in. He didn't use either name now when referring to the assassin. Twingo realized they were all doing it, as if speaking one or the other aloud would somehow affect the outcome of Tauless's work.

"Still out," Twingo said. "We've got it mostly shut down, but the primary processing matrix is active and looks to be completely intact."

"Perhaps there is some hope."

"The captain isn't too happy with you right now." Twingo rolled his chair over so he could look the battlesynth in the face. "Running off like that in the middle of a battle and switching your coms off? Creates a lack of trust, breaks down team cohesion. You know?"

"I am not actually a part of this team," 707 said.

"You know what I'm talking about," Twingo said. "You're as much a member of this team as any of us at this point. Did you leave to go kill Lucky before the captain could stop you?"

707 remained silent for some minutes, and Twingo assumed he'd lapsed back into unconsciousness. He slid the cart over with his tools and went back to work on the left hand. The previous three days had been spent repairing and replacing the damaged parts of the cranial armor and working down from there.

"Before I left, 701 and I had come to an agreement," 707 said finally. "Captain Burke is emotionally compromised when it comes to 777. He could not be relied upon to do the right thing when the time came. As it turns out, neither could I. When the moment came, I chose to save 777's life rather than let Acuri finish the job for us."

"Lucky never talked about the old days when he was part of your unit," Twingo said. "Hang on, this is going to sting a little." The fingers of the left hand twitched spastically as he worked quickly to reconnect all of the tactile sensor circuits.

"He was…the best," 707 said. "He should have been our leader, but his desire to protect meant he would never be able to make the tough command decisions."

"Like order some of you to certain death?"

"Yes. Or to order an action that would result in the death of innocents. It is not that he is soft in disposition, but his nature leads him to take unacceptable risks and compromise mission goals to try and protect everyone, unable to accept that sometimes sacrifices must be made."

"And you're okay with that?" Twingo asked. "Make a fist for me."

"I am more practical in nature," 707 said. "If an action hurts a few to save many, I never felt remorse for it. Later in life, after some of our missions, I realized 777 might have been right. We were often deployed against political targets, harming people to force them to someone else's will. Hardly the lofty goals we once had as soldiers."

"I think I get what you're saying," Twingo said. "The captain calls it disillusionment. How's that feel?"

"It is weak," 707 accused.

"I'm not giving you full servo power until we repair the structural damage in the lower arm," Twingo said. "I told you that. I just need to know if it feels like your hand or if it's numb or I wired the fingers backwards."

"It is acceptable. More than acceptable, I am sensing a marked improvement in sensation in this hand."

"That's because there's a lot of new components in there," Twingo said. "Your brain will sort it all out on the next calibration cycle, and it'll feel just like you're other one."

"Thank you, Twingo," 707 said.

The engineer turned to answer him but saw he'd drifted back off. When 707 went into a safe mode, he would shut down just like a biological being going to sleep so his body could begin to repair itself. It couldn’t regrow the parts that had been blasted off, of course, but the specialized nanobots inside of him would work through the night to repair the myriad of system damage he'd suffered when that plasma cannon hit him.

"Tauless, you should go to berthing and get some rest," Cas said. "I can handle the rest. There's actually nothing to do except babysit and make sure the damage control subsystem doesn't start undoing everything you just did."

"You're right," Tauless said, not bothering to argue. "It'll take me a while to get back to full strength, I guess."

Once the pru had pulled himself out of the chair and waddled painfully up the steps to the main deck, Cas turned back to the body strapped down to the bench.

"You better be worth all this trouble." Cas floated down onto the chair and initiated a deep connection to the interface tied into the body.

Once it firmly had a hold on the parts of the system it needed, Cas initiated a programming script it had been working on since it first had conceived of a way to save Lucky. The unfortunate part of the method it devised was that it would require an enormous sacrifice.

The small drone Cas inhabited jerked once, let out a series of alarm tones, and then rolled off the chair. It hit the floor with a metallic clang and rolled under the bench, not moving.

A soft hum built in the cramped engineering bay, and the smell of ozone permeated the space. The right hand of the body on the workbench snapped shut into a fist, and then tugged against the restraints.

"Hello?"

27

Jason yawned and scratched his scalp as he trudged across the main deck towards port engineering, a ridiculously large mug of steaming coffee clutched in his hand. The mission on Ianiru-3 hadn't been especially long and certainly less brutal than many he'd been on, but he was sore and exhausted all the same. It was almost like his brain was telling his body he was older now and should feel battered and bruised even though his body felt pretty much like it did when he was in his mid-twenties.

He wanted to come down early and look at what was left of his friend one last time. In the heat of battle, he'd almost hoped 707 would have taken Seven out or the cannon on his own ship would have done the job. His own railgun would have made short work of the assassin, but Tauless had muddied the waters by claiming he knew for certain Lucky had reemerged. It had been impossible to just shoot him while he was prone on the ground after that.

The scene in engineering wasn't exactly as he'd imagined it would be. Cas was up under one of the workbenches, its running lights off and looking completely inert. The battlesynth was splayed open and components were haphazardly stuck on, in, and around it. They were connected by that strange, shimmering data transmission line the Kheprians used on synths. Then he noticed the battlesynth had new eyes…and they were looking at him.

"You awake?" he asked.

"I am," it responded.

"And who are you right now?"

"You should probably just watch the video that was left for you." It pointed with one restrained hand at a wall monitor flashing the words: Captain Burke, please play this before doing anything rash.

So, he did.

"Jason, regardless of whether what I'm about to do is successful or not, this will be the last thing you ever hear from me," Cas said, the drone hovering before the camera. The image then switched to a schematic breakdown of what he assumed was the battlesynth on the table.

"When I performed the original software patch to try and let Lucky's matrix take control of the body, I knew it was a longshot. Unfortunately, the system just wasn't designed for a true sentient synth matrix, and the struggle within led to the emergence of an instinctual creature that called itself Seven. Using my previous failure and the data obtained by Tauless, I was able to isolate which internal systems created this conflict and remove them.

"With Twingo's help, we used parts from the crate you took from that Kheprian depot and adapted those components to the Type 2 architecture. In terms you can understand, we essentially pulled out all the Type 2 parts causing the problems and put in original battlesynth equipment Lucky's matrix could easily access and exert full control over. To put your mind at ease, Seven is dead.

"There were some compromises, however. Lucky, you will need to listen to this part as well. The body you have right now was a prototype so some of the ancillary systems weren't as evolved as a production model might have been. We've removed the safeguards so you can't be remotely disabled again. We also removed all the equipment specific to the assassin model. This means that your holographic mimic system has been removed, as has your ability to download neural implants from targets.

“Seven had already removed your internal weaponry. Twingo suspects the arm cannons were too much of a draw on the prototype powerplant, but we have no idea where they went. Standard battlesynth cannons won't fit in your new, smaller arms, so you will need to figure out a solution with your crewmates. We also replaced your eyes with the spares in the kit, so your vision is now back to normal. We managed to keep your repulsor subsystem, so you still have sustained flight power."

"Were you awake while they were doing all this?" Jason asked.

"Off and on," Lucky said. "It is somewhat of a blur, to be honest."

"Now, the difficult part," Cas continued. "In order to make this work, I need to bridge Lucky's matrix and the older battlesynth parts with the new body in such a way he'll be able to operate it as well as he did his old body. I worked the problem from every angle, and the most robust, foolproof way to do this is to use me.

"I will be able to reconfigure my own program matrix to act as a permanent bridge, but it will also erase everything I am now. I am doing this of my own volition, and I’ve waited until the middle of the night because I do not want you to try and stop me.

“Jason, I'm dying. I've been degrading since I was removed from your neural implant, and it was a matter of time before I became inoperable in my current form. Now, I have the chance for my last action in this world to be in the service of my friends. I do not regret this. I have learned much and enjoyed my time with all of you, except for Kage. It has been one hell of an adventure, my dear friend."

The video winked out, and the engineering bay dimmed. Jason felt numb and lightheaded. When he put his hand to his face, he found his cheeks were wet with tears he hadn't even known he'd shed.

"I am sorry, Captain," Lucky said. "I did not know it planned to sacrifice itself or I would not have allowed it."

"Some people have to hog all the attention by going out a hero," Jason said, looking at his friend. "You'd know a thing or two about that."

"Perhaps."

"So, no more Seven or holographic fake outs? You're just you again?"

"I am as close to what I was since this ordeal began," Lucky said carefully. "I am both weaker and stronger than Combat Unit 777 used to be, so I am not sure where that leaves me."

"We'll figure it out together," Jason said. "If that's what you want, of course."

"I cannot think of anything I would rather do."

The others gathered in the lounge and watched Cas's farewell video on the large screen. Even Kage laughed through the tears at the quirky AI's final jab at him. Jason watched them go through the same emotional rollercoaster he had experienced just hours earlier, the highs and lows of losing a crewmate, but then getting another back. It was surprising, even as the guy who had Cas living in his head for a time, how attached they'd all become to it.

"So, there's no way it could have just copied itself?" Crusher asked. "Didn't it do that on the Phoenix once?"

"Not exactly," Twingo said. "What happened there was a fragment of the program remained in the buffer, and then mutated to— Am I wasting my time trying to explain this to you?"

"I'm already not listening, if that's what you're asking," Crusher said.

"Then we have Lucky back?" Doc asked. "As in, he's actually back?"

"It…seems that way," Jason said carefully. "Seven is gone, I can at least say that with certainty. Lucky will need to go through a whole new adjustment period to the new body as it's been modified, but he seems willing to try."

"I'll get to work designing and fabricating the new component cradle for his torso and finish up the rest of his parts. We need to get him back together and on his feet as quickly as possible," Twingo said. "I’m assuming Tauless will stick around to help me."

"Without a doubt," Tauless said.

"Once we're back on S'Tora, I'll get you to wherever you want to go," Jason said to Sulast. "You've got some talent. I wouldn't be against it if you decided to ride with us for a stretch."

"As fun as you boys are, I've already got my backup plan activated," she said, motioning for Jason to follow her away from the group. "I can either get picked up or you can drop me at a neutral location. For what it's worth, I'd like to stay in touch. Always good to have friends in low places."

"Right back at you," Jason said. "So, this was what you didn't want the others hearing?"

"Of course not," Sulast said. "What I need to tell you is that, under no circumstances, should you turn your back on the Viper. I know what she told you, but I'm genuinely not sure she never intended to fill the contract on Kellea Colleran's life. I know she's scared of you, and that may have given her pause, but Seeladas Dalton is offering an enormous payday."

"Does she have any shot of actually pulling it off?" Jason asked.

"Not if Colleran stays aboard her ship," Sulast said. "But we both know nobody can be protected indefinitely, and Whitney excels at creating opportunities to nail a target. I don't know for sure she's still on-mission or if she was being honest with you, but I feel like I owe you one, and this is one of her favorite games. She pretends to be working with you, or at least not against you, to get you off her trail. Then she strikes."

"Thanks for the warning," Jason said. "So, where will you go now?"

"I've got a fun little place on a beach with a pile of local currency in a non-central bank to lay low and anonymous for a while," she said. "After that, who knows? The Colton Hub operation wasn't my main source of income, but it was my best source of intelligence, which is a big chunk of my business. I've got options, though. I'll land on my feet."

"I owe you one for helping us get our crewmate back," Jason said. "You need us, just call."

"I'm going to make you regret offering that," she smiled and laughed before walking away. 707, who had been waiting to speak to him apparently, approached just as she left.

"What can I do for you?" Jason asked. "We're about another eight hours from home, so do you want me to message 701?"

"That is unnecessary," 707 said. "I just wanted to apologize for my actions on Inairu-3. I should have trusted you, but I am glad of the ultimate outcome. The loss of Cas is significant, but the return of 777—Lucky—is to be celebrated."

"He still has a fight ahead of him, but at least now he's on a level playing field," Jason said. "We put him through so much in our misguided effort to save him. I hope that, eventually, he forgives us for that."

"Forgiveness is in his nature," 707 said. "I have one more favor to ask of you."

"Sure."

"I would like to borrow your SX-5 for a time," 707 said, startling Jason.

"I'm not saying no, but why do you need it? Understand it still has that new-ship-smell, so I'm not real keen on seeing it all shot up."

"Once I am fully recovered, I thought I might leave the unit with 701 in command for a while. I think I would like to spend more time with Scout Team Obsidian, perhaps experience more of the galaxy away from the others."

"With the Phoenix back in action and the Devil's Fortune sitting in dry dock, I suppose there's no point in the SX-5 just sitting in the hangar," Jason said eventually. "Use it for as long as you need it. It's the least I can do for you after you've pulled my ass out of the fire so many times now."

28

"Home sweet home!"

"It is much how I remember it," Lucky said, looking around the dusty beach house he and Jason had shared. "You left it a mess."

"My housecleaner took a leave of absence…but now he's back!"

Lucky just stared at him flatly before going to the kitchen and inventorying his equipment and putting things back where they belonged. Jason watched him for a moment before grabbing a bottle of his favorite local brew and walking out onto the deck.

He still had some temporary exterior panels on his torso until the new ones Tauless and Twingo designed could be built by a specialty fabricator that worked in exotic alloys and synthetics but, otherwise, he moved and talked normally. Every day, he became more confident and decisive in his movements, but Jason could tell he still bore the mental scars of his ordeal.

They hadn't come straight home after the operation on Inuiri-3. They'd taken some time to check in on Scleesz, take Tauless home and arrange for his protection, and then they returned to Sp'oruo so Jason could arrange transport for his new luxury land yacht. They'd tried to figure out a way to get it into the Phoenix, but the damn thing was just too long to make it up the ramp without hitting the top of the cargo bay. Twingo flat out refused to try and make it work, so Jason drove it to the starport—the same one they'd run over a group of cultists at—and chartered a cargo carrier to drop it off on S'Tora.

As promised, the previous owner had repaired the damage, cleaned it up, and added a few more tweaks to it. It had to be transferred between three different ships to make the trip all the way out but, by the time Omega Force's meandering way home was finished, it sat in a warehouse waiting for Jason to pay the import tax on it. Now, the ridiculous vehicle was parked in an empty lot across the street until he could figure out where the hell he was going to put it.

"It feels strange being back here," Lucky said, joining him on the deck and looking out over the waves.

"Do you remember much of your time from when Seven emerged?" Jason asked.

"It is difficult to organize my thoughts from that time, but there is much I remember…unfortunately. I stopped him when I could, but Seven was a destructive, callous thing that would kill indiscriminately. His utter lack of moral compunction was no accident. The original designers of the Type 2 Assassin model knew it would be deployed against innocents, so they made sure it would never grow a conscience. They miscalculated, and what they ended up with was a bloodthirsty psychopath driven to kill." Jason shuddered at imagining having to live through his body being hijacked by a serial killer and forced to witness every depraved act they committed.

"What the hell kind of ship was that you were flying, by the way?" he asked, more to change the subject. "And why weren't you and 707 blown to atoms when it fired on you?"

"The ship had originally belonged to a small-time warlord named Causiga Lo," Lucky said. "Seven was contracted to kill him. The ship was a modified scout that had been fitted with a specialized main weapon. The plasma cannon could be defocused so it spread a wide beam. He would use it to strafe the locals when they failed to pay tribute. Once he no longer needed it, Seven took it as partial payment from the people who had hired him."

The bile came up in Jason's throat at that. He knew of such atrocities, of course, but to think someone would vaporize civilians with a weapon like that just to keep them so terrorized they kept paying. A new plan took root in his mind about how Omega Force could retool its missions to start addressing some of that. Maybe it was time to let the big thinkers handle the big picture and for him and his crew to get back to their roots handling the small details.

"I guess that explains why you two were just burned to a crisp instead of vaporized," he said. "So, did Seven keep any mission files, intel reports? Anything that would let us start looking into the Causiga Lo-types who seem to slip through the cracks?" Lucky turned and looked at him.

"Yes. He did."

"That's good," Jason said, taking a long pull on his beer. "That's very good."

EPILOGUE

Dezeiri had some trouble landing Seven's strange ship at the secure starport within the governmental compound on Miressa Prime. It was an unregistered civilian ship of unknown origin, and he requested clearance to land right in the middle of the seat of ConFed power.

It had taken one-on-one communication with the capital security forces themselves before they gave orbital control the authority to clear him. Once down, he ordered it pulled into a hangar and guarded. No one would see the ship until he could figure out what to do with it. Probably have the damn thing dismantled and recycled bit by bit.

On the flight back, he had second thoughts about the drastic action he'd taken. Killing Acuri would have consequences he likely wouldn't be able to avoid. The smartest thing to do would be to abandon his post and report back to Khepri. He had a mountain of intel that the Ministry of Martial Affairs would need years to analyze and pass up the chain. Perhaps he could even get a new posting there assisting the analysts.

He continued his ruminations as he walked into the nondescript building that had become the center of a bloodless coup within the ConFed. Heavily armed troopers nodded respectfully to him, and none tried to stop him as he went deeper and deeper into the building through multiple security checkpoints. He walked into a large audience chamber and stopped before a frozen hologram of a sleek, bipedal alien. The race, called the Noxu, had been long extinct, yet their legacy lived on in the abomination before him.

"I suppose before I can leave, I still need to figure out how to deal with you," Dezeiri said. At his words, the hologram flickered a bit, but still didn't move. "Acuri is gone. With you in this odd stasis, your influence is waning. People are starting to lose their fear of the Machine. First one defied you, then another, and once there were no consequences as there once would be, it all crumbled.

"The problem is, you're still here, and I’m not sure how to purge you completely. Whatever was done to you is probably temporary, so it looks like I have my work cut out for me."

At each uttered word, the hologram would react more energetically, and the eyes would move to track him, but no words were uttered, and none of the many hidden weapons in the walls deployed to blast him. As he often did, he leaned in close and let his sensitive multispectral vision take in all the minute details of the Machine's chosen avatar. It was definitely reacting to him, but something held it in check every time it tried to move.

He left the frozen hologram as it was, shutting down the room lights so it couldn't easily be seen, then walking out into the unadorned, industrial-looking corridor where he was beset upon by three different underlings.

"Silence!" he ordered as they all jabbered at him at once, pointing to the one he recognized from previous briefings. "You. Speak."

"We have trouble with the Eshquarian occupation, sir!" the aide said. "Our forces in the Eshquaria System have been overrun, and patrols within the Concordian Cluster are reporting they're under attack. We've lost contact with two."

"A token peacekeeping force was all that was kept in the Eshquarian sectors, am I right?" Dezeiri asked. Acuri had been the one to plan most of the military operations, so he was not up to speed on everything.

"Yes, sir."

"Send all the information to my office immediately," Dezeiri said. "We must assume the Eshquarian Imperial Navy has organized and rallied a counteroffensive. Our fleet may have been too hasty in declaring total victory."

"At once, sir."

Dezeiri followed them back down the corridor, realizing now the one person who might have had some idea of how to salvage this situation was stuffed under the deck of a dead assassin's ship with multiple stab wounds through him. Moreover, he didn't think he should try to help the ConFed recapture Imperial space. He'd advised against the attack, but the Machine insisted it was necessary.

His other immediate problem was the Machine had never deputized him with any authority over the military. Acuri had been their liaison, and it had been him that fed them the orders from the master they all served. Would they even respond to Dezeiri at all, or would this be yet another thing to slip from the Machine's grasp?

He began his campaign of terror by seizing the military first. If he lost that, he lost control of the whole thing. There would be an ensuing chaos in the power vacuum and a mad scramble as the more powerful Core Worlds tried to grab it all for themselves.

Once he was able to lock himself in his office, he formulated a plan to keep the quadrant from devolving into an all-out, multi-sided civil war. He would have to let the Eshquarians reclaim their territory, but he had to work it so they didn't seek reprisal on the ConFed.

Their fleet needed to withdraw to within their own borders, and the Empire needed to respect that line. The first step was trying to find out who was in charge of the Imperial Navy at the moment and who within the Empire had been bold enough to coordinate a counteroffensive.

He logged into one of his private slip-com nodes and entered an address from memory. It was someone within Imperial Intelligence he had had some dealings with many years ago. This person knew he was an operative with Kheprian Intelligence, and the pair had exchanged contact information to be used in emergencies.

This seemed to qualify. The person who he tried to contact had been officially burned by the Empire some years ago, but Dezeiri knew he was still active in his own unique way. If anyone knew what was going on, he would.

"How did you get this address?" a voice asked. There was no accompanying video.

"My name is Dezeiri. I am a member of Kheprian Intelligence, and I’m trying to reach an Imperial operative named T'Cali Amon. He is the one who gave me this address, though I think he now goes by the name Saditava Mok."

ALSO BY JOSHUA DALZELLE

Thank you for reading Omega Force: To Hell and Back.

If you enjoyed the story, Captain Burke and the guys will be back in:

Omega Force: Unleashed

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FROM THE AUTHOR

Phew.

So Lucky is now in his final form that he'll have from now going forward. And it's only taken three more books than I intended.

The issue stemmed from the fact I originally had no intention of letting him survive the events of Omega Force: Revolution. Between that book and the next, however, I had a change of heart, but wasn't completely sure about how I wanted to handle it. There were some ridiculous ideas tossed around including:

Just using 707 as a permanent replacement on the crew.

Having Lucky actually survive the explosion unharmed or minimally damaged.

Have some magic McGuffin that lets his mind be uploaded into a new (or donor) body like an iCloud backup.

None of these were ever seriously considered, of course. Lucky's sacrifice would mean nothing if he was to come back as if his death never happened. No matter how it played out, he was going to be irrevocably altered as a result of his ordeal.

When I began to work with the idea that there was a secret "next gen" battlesynth program where the guys could get another body from, I wanted to take the opportunity to change Lucky's stature. I thought being a stealthy assassin instead of a walking battleship could shake things up a bit.

The concept of "Seven" was one I've wanted to do for a while. Like many U.S. high school students, I had to read Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. While I thought Trumbo's book was a little heavy-handed in how it delivered its message, the idea of being a prisoner within yourself always fascinated me. Lucky is essentially trapped in his own body, but instead of being a prisoner just inside his own mind as Trumbo's Joe Bonham was, Lucky was forced to watch this immoral creature use him to slaughter and maim indiscriminately, which is the antithesis of everything he believes in and fights for. It was the worst torture I could ever imagine putting him through, thus where this book's title comes from.

Originally, there was a lot more dialogue between Seven and Lucky that took place inside their shared head, but in the end I decided to chop a lot of it out. I found that the more they talked to each other, the more Seven became a sympathetic character and that wasn't what I was going for. I wanted to make sure that he remained an instinctive, almost feral animal, driven to do what he does, but not full understanding or caring why. On top of this dynamic, I wanted to have this book be the start of the Omega Force series getting back conceptually to what it was originally and have the crew working for the little guy, not necessarily missions with galactic implications.

Lucky is now both more and less than he was before. The more exotic powers of his new body are stripped away and he's left without his heavy armor and powerful weaponry of his old body, but now he's faster, more nimble, and with the ability to fly. There's also a healthy dose of emotional trauma that he'll have to live with.

Thanks for sticking with the guys (and me) through this series while still being as enthusiastic as ever. The overwhelmingly positive response each new Omega Force book receives makes it a lot easier when it comes time to sit and write one, knowing that there are people who still have fun reading them. I gave a small hint at the end of this book what Omega Force: Unleashed will be about, and I'm definitely looking forward to writing that one.

Cheers!

Josh

Table of Contents

E Title

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Also by Joshua Dalzelle

From the Author