《Artificial Advantage [Sci-fi, dystopian]》


 1. Fine Lines and Fines

    Chapter 1 - Fine Lines and Fines


    ¡°Alright, up and at ¡®em!¡±


    Darius jerked awake, rolling to slap at his alarm clock on instinct. Unfortunately for him, the hard plasteel bench he had fallen asleep on was much narrower than his cheap double bed, and the only thing he managed was dumping himself on the floor of the holding cell.


    He blinked blearily at the sterile white tiles two inches from his nose, brain struggling to figure out why his ribs hurt and his head pounded with the unmistakable throb of a hangover.


    ¡®What the hell?¡¯ he wondered sluggishly.


    The sharp clang of metal echoed through the cell as a baton rattled against the bars, the sound sending a spike of pain straight through Darius¡¯s skull. He groaned, rolling onto his back and squinting up at the ceiling. The harsh fluorescent lights above did his hangover no favours, and he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glare.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go, Kallan,¡± came a gruff voice from just beyond the bars. ¡°You¡¯re up.¡±


    Darius blinked, piecing together the events that had led him here. The bar. Drinks with Finn. Walking home. And then¡ªoh. Right. The security patrol. He could almost remember himself saying something smart-mouthed to the officer in charge, but the details were still fuzzy. What had he said?


    If he was suffering the consequences, it would have been nice to at least have the satisfaction of remembering whatever smart comment he came up with.


    ¡®Doesn¡¯t matter,¡¯ he thought, grimacing as he pushed himself up off the floor. Whatever it was, it had clearly been enough to land him here in this sterile, soulless box of a holding cell. The walls were a mixture of white and grey, almost like they had been specifically designed to sap the joy from whoever was unfortunate enough to see them. His ribs ached where he¡¯d hit the floor, and his mouth tasted like old boots. Fantastic.


    ¡°What time is it?¡± he rasped, his voice hoarse from a night of dehydration.


    The guard, a squat man with a mean look, crossed his arms and sneered. ¡°Time for you to get out of my cell, that¡¯s what. You¡¯ve got a fine to pay and a warning on your record. Congratulations.¡±


    Darius bit back the retort that threatened to spill out. He had a feeling his tongue had gotten him into enough trouble already. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced around.


    Being thrown in a cell for a night was one thing ¨C he had expected that. But having to cough up credits for some stupid ¡°disorderly conduct¡± charge?


    Typical. It wasn¡¯t just the constant fines or the way the Empire held everyone by the throat ¨C Darius had reasons, personal ones, to hate them. His family had been torn apart by one of their so-called ¡®necessary operations¡¯ years ago, a cold reminder that no one was safe when the Empire decided you were in their way.


    ¡°Come on, Kallan,¡± the guard barked, growing impatient. ¡°You¡¯re lucky we¡¯re letting you off with just a fine. Could¡¯ve been worse.¡±


    Darius snorted, muttering under his breath. ¡°Yeah, lucky. I feel like a damn lottery winner.¡±


    The guard slammed his baton against the bars again, making Darius flinch. ¡°What was that?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Darius muttered, his headache worsening with every word.


    As the guard opened the door and gestured for him to step out, Darius shuffled forward, every movement a little too sharp, his joints creaking like rusted gears. His head was still swimming, the aftereffects of last night¡¯s drinks making every sound louder, every light brighter. He passed the guard, offering a strained smile.


    ¡°So,¡± Darius asked, trying to clear his throat. ¡°What¡¯s the damage?¡±


    ¡°Three hundred credits,¡± the guard said, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice. ¡°For disorderly conduct and resisting arrest.¡±


    ¡°Three hundred credits!?¡± Darius yelped, regretting it a moment later as his head throbbed painfully. ¡°And what do you mean, resisting? I barely even moved! You guys dragged me in for walking home. I was just¡ª¡±


    The guard shrugged, cutting him off. ¡°Don¡¯t care. Maybe next time you¡¯ll keep your mouth shut, huh? Now pay up, or you can spend the night in here again. Your choice.¡±


    Darius bit back another less-than-polite response, instead blinking in the specific pattern that would activate his augs. He was only half surprised when nothing happened. This really wasn¡¯t his day.


    He tried again, this time more deliberately, hoping the familiar surge of his augments kicking in would follow. But all he got was a static flicker in his vision, like an old, broken monitor trying and failing to boot up. He cursed under his breath, jabbing the side of his head with his finger as if that would help. Of course, it didn¡¯t.


    He always knew that going for the cheaper second-hand augs was going to come back and bite him at some point, but anything halfway decent was well and truly out of his price range. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like he used them for much anyway ¨C all of his music was stored on his auditory implants, and that was pretty much all he cared about.


    ¡°Having trouble, Kallan?¡± the guard asked, voice thick with mock concern.


    Darius shot him a glare. ¡°My augs are on the fritz. I¡¯ll pay when I get them sorted.¡±


    The guard raised an eyebrow and shook his head with an exaggerated sigh, tapping something into his wrist-mounted device. ¡°Right. Well, since you can¡¯t pay on the spot, we¡¯ll just add it to your file. And look at that ¨C an extra processing fee for the inconvenience. Five hundred credits now. Lucky day, huh?¡±


    Darius clenched his fists, swallowing down the string of expletives that threatened to burst out. Five hundred credits for doing nothing but walking home with a few too many drinks sloshing in his system. He wanted to scream, to throw something, but he knew better than to push it. The Empire always had ways to make things worse.


    Instead, he exhaled slowly through his nose, his jaw tight. ¡°Yeah, lucky me.¡±


    The guard¡¯s grin widened as he tapped a final command into his datapad. ¡°All set, Kallan. Get that sorted soon, or you¡¯ll have a real problem on your hands.¡± He made a sweeping gesture toward the door. ¡°Now get out of here before I change my mind and decide you need more time to sober up.¡±


    Darius didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He stepped through the open door, his legs still stiff and aching from the cold, cramped night on the cell bench. The hallway outside was no more welcoming than the cell¡ªa dull, grey corridor with a flickering light overhead and the faint smell of disinfectant lingering in the air.


    As the outer doors slid open with a hiss, Darius was hit with a gust of cold, damp air. The rain had let up, but the streets were still wet, reflecting the dull neon glow of the holographic signs that hovered above. He paused just outside the detention facility, his mind still fuzzy from the remnants of his hangover, but now mixed with the fresh sting of irritation.


    His head throbbed, his ribs ached, his augs were on the fritz, and his bank account was five hundred credits lighter.


    ¡°Yeah, perfect way to start the day,¡± Darius muttered, pulling his jacket tight around him as he started the long walk back to his apartment. His eyes wandered over the drab, worn buildings around him, and despite himself, he felt that familiar spark of anger return.


    This was what it was like to live under the Empire. Cuffed, fined, and shoved back into the same miserable routine, just grateful they hadn¡¯t decided to make an example of you.


    A few people milled about the street, most of them looking just as weary and dishevelled as he felt. He spotted a man walking by, hunched over with a worn cap pulled low over his eyes. The man didn¡¯t seem to notice him at first, but Darius stepped forward, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Darius said, his voice still rough. ¡°You got the time?¡±The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The man glanced up, his expression half-curious, half-annoyed. He blinked, and the small glow of his augments flickered in the corner of his eyes as he checked the time.


    ¡°8:42,¡± the man replied, giving Darius a quick once-over before turning back and continuing on his way.


    Darius stood there for a moment, frozen, as the man¡¯s words sank in. His shift at the shipyards had started at 8:00 sharp.


    ¡°Crap,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    One autocab ride later ¨C and fifty credits poorer ¨C he was standing at the entrance to the largest shipyard on the planet.


    Not that it was a particularly high bar to clear ¨C Caldera IV was the very definition of a ¡®frontier¡¯ colony world, with all that entailed. The only reason they had enough traffic to merit a proper shipyard was the presence of several large mineral-rich asteroid belts in the system.


    All the leaps in technology the Human Empire had made over the last few centuries hadn¡¯t made the job of mining any more pleasant or glamorous, but it also hadn¡¯t made it any less lucrative. Wherever there was money to be made, there would be poor fools willing to work long hours to get at it ¨C just as there would also be rich executives ready to swoop in and take the lion¡¯s share of the profit.


    Darius snorted lightly at the morbid nature of his thoughts, digging through a pocket to present his ID card to the guard. He was hardly the Empire¡¯s greatest fan even on a good day ¨C how could he be, with what they had done to his family ¨C but even for him, that was a little more cynical than usual.


    The guard gave his ID a quick scan, the faint hum of the device barely audible over the low roar of the shipyard beyond. With a curt nod, the guard waved him through, and Darius stepped past the gate into the sprawling mess of steel, grime, and noise that was the Exeter Station shipyard.


    The shipyard was a patchwork of metal platforms, cranes, and docking bays, all threaded together with the kind of haphazard engineering that only came from decades of constant, low-budget repairs. Massive mining vessels loomed over the yard like steel beasts, their hulls scarred from years of asteroid collisions and hard use. Some were little more than flying scrap heaps, held together with mismatched panels, exposed wiring, and more than a little wishful thinking. The sound of welding torches crackled through the air, and the tang of burnt metal and machine oil clung to the back of Darius¡¯s throat as he walked.


    The noise did his hangover little good either.


    The smell, as always, was a mix of ozone, oil, and sweat¡ªa testament to the hard labour that kept the station operational. The workers moved like ants between the colossal vessels, dwarfed by the sheer size of the ships they serviced. Most of the vessels had seen better days; rust crept along the edges of their bulkheads, and half of them looked like they were one good hit away from splitting apart. The shipyard¡¯s motto was simple: if it flew, it could be fixed. Quality, however, was optional.


    As Darius made his way toward the central office, something caught his eye¡ªa ship that didn¡¯t belong. In the far berth, towering over the usual clunky, patched-up salvage rigs, was a sleek, gleaming military vessel. Its lines were sharp and aggressive, its hull a dark, polished metal that stood in stark contrast to the dented and rusted ships around it. The Empire¡¯s insignia was emblazoned proudly on its side, its cold, efficient design radiating authority and power. It looked out of place, too pristine for a yard like this.


    Darius paused for a moment, squinting at it. What the hell was a ship like that doing here? His mind raced with possibilities, none of them particularly comforting. The Empire didn¡¯t send their shiny toys to backwater colonies like Caldera IV unless they had a reason.


    With a quiet sigh, he shook his head and continued toward the main office. Whatever it was, it was above his pay grade. He had enough problems of his own.


    The office was a cramped little building at the edge of the yard, barely more than a prefab shack slapped together from rusting steel plates and tinted windows that hadn¡¯t been cleaned in years. Darius stepped inside, the cool, stale air a brief reprieve from the chaos outside. The familiar hum of cheap air conditioning greeted him, along with the low murmur of voices and the clack of fingers on keyboards.


    At the far end of the room, sitting behind a desk cluttered with datapads and half-empty cups of synth-coffee, was Finn, his supervisor and friend. He looked as tired as Darius felt, his usually cheerful expression dulled by what Darius assumed was the same hangover he was suffering from. His sandy brown hair was mussed, and his usual charming grin was absent as he flicked through a report on his terminal.


    Finn glanced up as Darius approached, one eyebrow quirking up in mild surprise.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± Finn said, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Look who decided to show up. Rough night?¡±


    Darius gave him a half-hearted smirk. ¡°Something like that. Didn¡¯t expect to see you behind a desk this early, either.¡±


    Finn grunted, rubbing at his temples. ¡°Yeah, well, I didn¡¯t expect to be dealing with increased security either. We¡¯ve all been standing around waiting for clearance to even start working. Some military types came in with that big bird out there,¡± he said, nodding toward the sleek vessel outside. ¡°Haven¡¯t let anyone near it yet.¡±


    Darius leaned on the edge of Finn¡¯s desk, trying to ignore the dull pounding in his head. ¡°What¡¯s the deal with that ship anyway? Doesn¡¯t seem like the kind of thing we¡¯d see around here.¡±


    Finn shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t care, honestly. They assigned us to do some repairs on it, but we can¡¯t do anything until the higher-ups say so. So for now, we¡¯re just killing time.¡±


    Darius felt a small wave of relief wash over him. His tardiness hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed, but at least he wasn¡¯t as late as he could have been. With all the extra security, no one had started working yet, which meant he wasn¡¯t in too much trouble.


    ¡°Well, I guess that makes me lucky for once,¡± Darius muttered. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan, then? We just sit around until the Empire lets us get near their fancy ship?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Finn said, cracking a small grin. ¡°But hey, at least we¡¯re getting paid for it.¡±


    Darius snorted. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll take what I can get. Hey, while we¡¯re waiting, mind giving me a hand resetting my augs?¡±


    Finn rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards anyway. ¡°Why am I not surprised your augs are down again? You really gotta upgrade those, man.¡± He paused for a second. ¡°How did you even get here if they were dead?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me,¡± Darius grumbled, tilting his head to allow Finn access to the connection port embedded in the back of his neck. ¡°Took me fifteen minutes to convince the stupid autocab to put the ride on credit. Whose idea was it to give those things a VI? And why couldn¡¯t they spring for something that actually worked?¡±


    ¡°Probably someone with about a dozen PR degrees,¡± Finn responded dryly, plugging a cable into the exposed port. He didn¡¯t bother answering the second question, probably because it was the same reason companies did anything ¨C to make money. Darius tried not to twitch at the sensation of the cable dragging against his neck.


    As much as he relied on them, the augs had always made his skin crawl. They were so deeply intertwined with daily life now that going without wasn¡¯t even an option ¨C even out here on a place like Caldera IV, far from the bustling centre of the Empire ¨C but that didn¡¯t mean he liked the idea of having a machine plugged into his body.


    The familiar hum of the augment¡¯s system rebooting buzzed at the base of Darius¡¯s skull, sending an uncomfortable heat radiating through the back of his neck. The faint static flicker danced across his vision before finally stabilising, the heads-up display blinking to life in the corner of his eye. Of course, his interface was completely wiped¡ªjust a blank slate with none of his previous settings, preferences, or shortcuts. Typical.


    ¡°Great,¡± Darius muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples as he felt the remnants of his hangover mingle with the annoyance of starting from scratch. ¡°Everything¡¯s reset.¡±


    Finn unplugged the cable and gave him a pitying look. ¡°That bad, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± Darius said, closing his eyes for a second as the bright displays swam before him. ¡°I¡¯ll be reconfiguring these things for the next week.¡±


    Finn clapped him on the shoulder, half joking, half genuine sympathy. ¡°See, this is why you should just upgrade, man. It¡¯s not worth all the headaches¡ªliterally.¡±


    Darius shot him a sideways glance, more resigned than irritated. ¡°You think I haven¡¯t thought of that? Between the bills, rent, and just existing on this rock? Not exactly rolling in credits, am I?¡±


    Finn raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how much was the autocab this morning?¡±


    Darius rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. ¡°Fifty credits,¡± he admitted, already hearing the lecture coming.


    Finn shook his head, turning back to his desk. ¡°Could¡¯ve just used that to save up for the upgrades. Or a new pair of boots. Or, hell, some synth-coffee to wake you up.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, there¡¯s another reason I¡¯m going to be short on credits for a while,¡± Darius said absently, his mind still half on resetting his aug¡¯s visual preferences.


    Finn gave him a wary look. ¡°Uh-huh. What reason?¡±


    Darius didn¡¯t answer immediately, but the sheepish grimace on his face told Finn enough. ¡°Darius,¡± Finn groaned, exasperation clear in his tone, ¡°what did you do?¡±


    ¡°Nothing!¡± Darius protested, though his guilty tone betrayed him. ¡°It¡¯s not like I was causing trouble. Just¡­ got caught by a security patrol on my way home last night. Said something smart, I guess. Now I¡¯ve got a fine on my record.¡±


    Finn stared at him, unimpressed. ¡°You got arrested?¡±


    Darius shrugged, trying to play it off. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything! They just needed an excuse; you know how they are.¡±


    Finn crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. ¡°How much?¡±


    Darius hesitated. ¡°Five hundred.¡±


    Finn¡¯s eyes widened, and he slapped a hand over his face. ¡°Five hundred credits? You¡¯ve gotta be kidding me.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Darius said defensively, ¡°I was just walking home. You know how they love throwing around charges for ¡®resisting arrest.¡¯¡°


    Finn rubbed his temples, his face twisting in frustration. ¡°Dammit, Darius. You¡¯ve really got to learn when to shut your mouth.¡±


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± Darius said, waving a hand. ¡°Trust me, I learned my lesson.¡±


    ¡°Did you, though?¡± Finn shot back. ¡°Because this is, what, the second or third time this year? If you keep pulling this crap, it¡¯s going to catch up with you.¡±


    Darius winced. As much as he hated to admit it, Finn wasn¡¯t wrong. He had a habit of pushing his luck, and every time, it seemed like it was getting a little harder to brush off the consequences. Five hundred credits was no small amount¡ªhe¡¯d be feeling the sting of that for months.


    ¡°Look,¡± Finn said, his tone softening as he glanced back at his console, ¡°just... try to keep your head down for a while, alright? I¡¯m not going to cover for you if this keeps happening.¡±


    Darius nodded, the humour draining out of him. ¡°Yeah, alright. I¡¯ll lay low.¡±


    Finn politely pretended to believe him.


    ¡°Well, guess I¡¯d better go pretend to be useful while we wait for clearance,¡± he muttered, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. ¡°See you out there.¡±


    Finn waved him off without looking up from his console. ¡°Yeah, just try not to get yourself arrested again before lunch.¡±


    He gave Finn a half-hearted salute and pushed through the door, looking out at the sleek military ship that loomed in the distance, cutting an imposing silhouette against the drab backdrop of the yard.


    He couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it was an omen of things to come.

 2. Steel, Secrets, and Suspicion

    Chapter 2 - Secrets, Steel, and Suspicion


    The workers stood in a somewhat uneven line, boots scraping against the rough metal grating that formed the landing platform. From this close, the warship loomed above them like a predator, its sleek hull gleaming coldly under the harsh floodlights.


    Darius blinked curiously up at the hull, checking out the precision-made seams between the panels, barely visible beneath a matte black coating. He¡¯d never been this close to a warship before, and it was humbling and a little scary to see. For all that he may dislike the Empire, he had to admit they made some pretty cool-looking ships.


    ¡°Thinking of making that your next ride?¡± Finn asked, nudging Darius with his elbow. ¡°You¡¯d look real nice behind the controls of a death machine like that. All you¡¯d need is a nice, shiny helmet and a total lack of common sense.¡±


    Darius snorted, unwilling to admit he had just been admiring the ship. ¡°Right. Because I¡¯m just dying to cruise around in an overcompensating chunk of metal with the Empire¡¯s finest breathing down my neck.¡±


    Finn grinned. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve got the ¡®overcompensating¡¯ part down. Maybe they¡¯d even throw in a fancy uniform to go with your smart mouth.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll pass on the Imperial makeover, thanks.¡±


    They fell silent for a moment, both of them staring up at the ship. The lights from the platform threw long shadows across its surface, highlighting the ship¡¯s sleek, flawless exterior. Something about that didn¡¯t sit right with Darius.


    He frowned, narrowing his eyes as he looked closer. ¡°You notice something odd?¡±


    ¡°Other than you getting all dreamy-eyed over an Empire warship?¡± Finn quipped.


    ¡°Funny. No, seriously, look ¨C there¡¯s no damage. I mean, not on the outside. This thing looks like it just came off the production line.¡± He pointed to the gleaming panels, all perfectly aligned, without a single dent or scratch. ¡°But they¡¯ve got half the yard working on it. That doesn¡¯t add up.¡±


    Finn squinted, following Darius¡¯s gaze. ¡°Huh. You¡¯re right. Maybe they took a hit to the systems,¡± he suggested, lowering his voice. ¡°Power grid failure, navigational errors, maybe something scrambled their comms. Could explain why they¡¯re being so tight-lipped.¡±


    ¡°Could be,¡± Darius replied, absently rubbing his jaw. ¡°Or maybe there was some kind of accident. Malfunction in the reactor, a misfire in the weapons systems.¡±


    Finn snorted. ¡°Or the captain got a little too friendly with the self-destruct button. Happens to the best of ¡®em.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let them catch you saying that ¨C they might lock you up for treason.¡±


    The remark got him a flat look from his friend. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear anything about watching my mouth from you, of all people.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Fair enough.¡± Darius chuckled.


    Ahead of them, a boarding ramp jutted out from the ship¡¯s underbelly, its edges lined with pale blue guide lights that flickered sporadically. An entire squad of armed guards was standing at the base of the ramp, checking each worker as they came in, poking through bags and toolkits like they expected to find a bomb in every socket wrench. They wore the standard-issue dark armour of the Empire, visors down, weapons holstered but within easy reach.


    Despite the caution the guards were showing, the line moved swiftly, and it wasn¡¯t long before Darius and Finn were standing at the base of the ramp, looking up into the bowels of the ship.


    The guard in front of him waved a handheld scanner over Darius¡¯s chest, the green light flickering briefly. Darius held his breath for a moment, resisting the urge to fidget. It wasn¡¯t that he had anything to hide¡ªhe didn¡¯t¡ªbut there was always something unsettling about standing in front of armed guards while they decided whether you were a threat or not.


    He¡¯d mouthed off to patrols, sure, but this was different. One wrong move here, one smart comment, and he wouldn¡¯t be dealing with some bored local security team ¨C these were the types of people that could make you disappear for good.


    Thankfully, the scanner beeped and the guard waved him through without a word. Darius exhaled and followed the others up the ramp, the steady hum of the warship¡¯s systems growing louder as they stepped into its belly.


    ¡°Not every day we get to work on one of these,¡± Finn muttered as he fell in beside Darius.


    Around them, the other workers were already spreading out, chattering excitedly or exchanging quick glances as they took in the ship¡¯s interior. Metal walls gleamed under the bright overhead lights, and the air had that sterile, polished smell of something that hadn¡¯t seen much use yet. No rust. No oil stains. Just the sharp tang of too-new machinery.


    ¡°Alright, everyone gather up!¡± Finn called, clapping his hands together to get their attention. A few stragglers jogged over, and Darius took his spot in the small group Finn had corralled.


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep it simple,¡± Finn said, his voice all business now. ¡°We¡¯ve got work orders for lighting diagnostics, power distribution, and checking the systems on Deck 4. We¡¯ll split into teams. Don¡¯t get distracted by all the shiny bits, alright? It¡¯s still a job, so let¡¯s do it right.¡±


    Darius couldn¡¯t help but grin. It wasn¡¯t often Finn took things seriously, but when he did, he made a decent supervisor. Maybe it was because Finn could walk the line between shooting the breeze and actually getting the work done.


    ¡°You, you, and you¡ªlighting,¡± Finn said, pointing to Darius and two others. ¡°Split up and check for any power surges or irregularities. If something¡¯s flickering, I want to know why. Got it?¡±


    Darius gave him a mock salute. ¡°Aye, aye, boss.¡±


    Finn smirked. ¡°Don¡¯t make me regret putting you on the important stuff.¡±


    Darius rolled his eyes but didn¡¯t bother verbally responding. Flickering lights. So very important.


    As the group dispersed to their assignments, Darius grabbed his toolkit and made his way toward the lighting systems. The halls were quiet as he moved deeper into the ship, though the hum of the warship¡¯s power core was a constant background noise. If he was honest, it was kind of nice working on something that wasn¡¯t already halfway to falling apart. Sure, the mining rigs had their charm, but a warship? This was the kind of thing they didn¡¯t get to touch often.


    It didn¡¯t take him long to reach his section, the lighting control panel embedded in the wall standing out like an old friend. He cracked open his toolkit, pulling out a few necessary tools before popping off the panel¡¯s front cover with practised ease. The internals were in perfect condition, as expected ¨C no corrosion, no jury-rigged repairs, just smooth, efficient design. He tapped a few buttons on his handheld console and watched as the system blinked to life, running a diagnostic on the lights for this deck.


    As the data started streaming in, Darius frowned. The numbers were off. According to the readings, there were fluctuations across several sections of the ship ¨C nothing massive, but definitely weird. The power draw for the lights was fluctuating, spiking randomly for no apparent reason.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± Darius muttered, leaning closer to the screen. It wasn¡¯t enough to cause an actual problem, but it was the kind of thing that could lead to more significant issues if left unchecked.


    And possibly already had, considering how many workers had been assigned to the vessel, not to mention that Caldera IV¡¯s shipyards were really not designed to cater to this class of ship. There was no way of knowing for sure ¨C not without asking the sorts of questions that would get him noticed ¨C but he suspected this was an emergency stop-off for the warship.


    The ongoing war with the Xenos might tangentially affect frontier colonies like Caldera IV, but the vast majority of the fighting was on the opposite side of the Empire. An advanced ship like this shouldn¡¯t have any reason to be this far from the front, let alone in need of extensive maintenance like this.


    Darius shook his head, refocusing on his task. He was hardly qualified to comment on the military deployments of the Empire¡¯s forces. Instead, he turned his attention to tracing the wiring on the screen, trying to isolate where the fluctuations were coming from. The results were frustratingly inconclusive.


    ¡°Conduits look fine,¡± he muttered to himself, running a hand over the nearby cables. No loose connections, no signs of damage. Everything here was textbook perfect¡ªat least on the hardware side. But something was definitely wrong.


    Darius tapped a few more commands into his console, trying to pull up a more detailed readout, and then leaned back with a sigh. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s the software?¡±


    It wouldn¡¯t be the first time the ship¡¯s software was to blame. Sometimes, when a system this new was put through its paces, bugs popped up that no one had accounted for yet. It could be a simple issue with the lighting protocols, an overlooked glitch in the programming. He made a mental note to flag it for later and moved to close the panel when, suddenly, a loud hiss echoed from the far end of the corridor.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Darius turned, eyes narrowing as he saw one of the sealed doors at the end of the hallway slide open with a smooth, mechanical whirr. The flickering lights continued on the other side, casting faint, erratic shadows across the bulkheads. For a second, he considered calling it in¡ªno reason to go poking around where he wasn¡¯t assigned.


    Then again¡­ he always had been too curious for his own good.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see what¡¯s going on over there,¡± he muttered.


    He packed up his tools, slid the panel back into place, and headed for the now-open door. The hallway beyond was darker, the lights flickering more severely here, casting the corridor in an eerie, pulsing glow.


    Darius approached one of the panels, setting down his toolkit with a resigned sigh. ¡°Let¡¯s see what we¡¯ve got this time,¡± he muttered, tapping the panel and prepping it for another diagnostic. Before he could get further, though, a loud hiss echoed from behind him, followed by the unmistakable sound of the door sliding shut.


    He froze for a second, then spun around. The door he¡¯d just come through was sealed tight.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± Darius groaned. He walked back over and waved his hand in front of the control pad. Nothing. He tried it again¡ªsame result. Frowning, he tapped a few commands on his console, but the panel¡¯s diagnostics came back with nothing useful. The door was stuck.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± he muttered sarcastically, running his hand through his hair. ¡°I might¡¯ve just managed to get myself stuck on a warship. Great.¡±


    With a sigh, Darius rubbed his temples. He should¡¯ve known better than to wander into a section with flickering lights and malfunctioning doors, but in fairness, it was kind of his job. First things first, he tapped his augs, pulling up the comms interface. Of course, this being his luck, his augs had only just been reset earlier, and everything was still acting a little slow.


    Darius winced as the delay in the interface felt like it was moving at half speed. He could hear a faint static hiss in his ears before the line finally connected.


    ¡°Hey, Finn,¡± Darius called through the comms, his voice tinged with annoyance. ¡°I¡¯ve got a small problem.¡±


    Finn¡¯s voice crackled through the static. ¡°Please tell me you haven¡¯t broken anything yet.¡±


    Darius rolled his eyes, pacing back to the sealed door. ¡°I wish. I¡¯m stuck. The door shut behind me, and it won¡¯t open.¡±


    For a beat, there was silence on the line before Finn¡¯s chuckle broke through. ¡°Of course, you got yourself stuck. You really can¡¯t help it, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, laugh it up,¡± Darius grumbled. ¡°Seriously, though, what do I do? I¡¯m gonna try opening the door manually, but this whole place is acting weird.¡±


    Finn¡¯s amusement was still evident in his voice. ¡°Hold off on that for a sec. Let me check with the officer in charge of this section. Maybe it¡¯s just a security lock or something.¡±


    While he waited, he tried giving the control panel another irritated poke. Of course, nothing happened. Typical.


    A few moments later, Finn¡¯s voice came back, now mixed with a bit of static. ¡°Alright, checked with the big guy. They said it¡¯s just a glitch, nothing critical. As long as you¡¯re not near any sensitive areas, the doors you run into shouldn¡¯t be on lockdown. So, you should be able to just follow the doors until you find your way back.¡±


    Darius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Just follow the doors?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. It¡¯s not like the ship is a maze or anything. Any doors leading to restricted areas or anything important are deadlocked, so there¡¯s no risk of you stumbling into the reactor or anything. You¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say. You¡¯re not the one wandering around while the lights are doing their haunted house impression,¡± Darius said, eyeing the flickering lights ahead.


    Before he could complain more, another door further down the corridor opened with a soft hiss. The lights beyond it seemed to flicker even more, casting strange shadows across the bulkheads.


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s my next door,¡± Darius muttered. ¡°Guess I¡¯m taking the scenic route.¡±


    ¡°Good luck, buddy,¡± Finn said with barely suppressed laughter. ¡°Let me know if you run into any¡­ uh, more doors.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re hilarious,¡± Darius shot back before closing the comm link.


    With a resigned sigh, he started walking toward the newly opened door, muttering to himself about faulty Imperial tech and making a mental note to get back at Finn later for his ¡°helpful¡± attitude.


    Shockingly enough, the door opened out into¡­ another corridor, stretching off into the distance. Shocking stuff, really. Darius looked back at the first door he had come through, but it remained stubbornly shut.


    He almost wasn¡¯t surprised when another door hissed open further down the corridor. He shrugged. Not like there was anything he could do about the situation, and he had gotten permission, technically, so he should be in the clear.


    Darius kept walking, doors sliding open just as he approached and shutting behind him with a soft hiss each time. He¡¯d taken at least four turns by now, and the ship seemed to be directing him somewhere. Every time he thought he might hit a dead end, another door opened up, almost like the ship was¡­ helping him along. He wasn¡¯t sure how he felt about that.


    ¡°Is this a faulty VI trying to direct me somewhere or something?¡± he muttered, half-joking to himself as the next door swished open. The lights overhead flickered again, but not in any particularly concerning way¡ªjust enough to remind him that the power on this ship wasn¡¯t quite as perfect as it should be.


    As he walked, the hum of the ship¡¯s systems became a comforting background noise, filling the silence of the mostly empty corridors. He had to admit, there was something kind of fascinating about it all. The ship¡¯s internal design was so sleek and well-maintained that it was hard to believe anything could actually be wrong. Maybe it was just software glitches messing with the lights, and he was getting worked up over nothing.


    There were no major alarms, no emergency protocols going off ¨C just the occasional pulse of the overhead lighting and the distant sound of machinery chugging along, keeping the ship alive. If the officers in charge were nervous about something on this ship, they sure hadn¡¯t passed that along to the repair crew.


    As he continued through the twisting corridors, Darius found himself glancing over at the panels on the walls. Most of them were in pristine condition, though a few displayed some minor error codes ¨C nothing that screamed ¡°danger,¡± but enough to make him wonder if the ship was being less cooperative than it looked on the surface. The random power fluctuations were still happening too, and he could feel a faint vibration in the floor.


    That actually was a little concerning. A ship this size shouldn¡¯t be vibrating unless something was drawing a lot of power, and even then, the inertial dampeners were supposed to take care of those things.


    He was pretty sure, anyway. It wasn¡¯t like the mining or salvage ships he usually worked on were sophisticated enough to have systems like that, so for all he knew this was perfectly normal.


    Besides, you know, the potentially intelligent doors that were leading him somewhere.


    A few more turns and another door slid open in front of him, revealing a new section. This one was different from the others¡ªlarger, more reinforced. Darius raised an eyebrow as he approached. The door¡¯s edges were thicker, clearly designed for something important, and the faint glow of red warning lights caught his eye from just beyond it.


    ¡°Hmm. Not good,¡± he muttered, coming to a stop just outside. He could barely make out what was inside¡ªit was dark, and the flickering lights weren¡¯t doing much to help. He stepped closer, peering in.


    For the first time since he¡¯d started following the ship¡¯s path, Darius hesitated. He didn¡¯t have a torch, and that room was pitch black. No lights meant no diagnostics, no clue what was going on in there. And stepping into a dark room on an Imperial warship wasn¡¯t exactly at the top of his to-do list, especially when he had no idea what that room was for.


    He glanced back at the door he¡¯d just come through, fully expecting to see it wide open, ready to let him retreat. It wasn¡¯t. It had shut the second he¡¯d stepped into the threshold of this new corridor, leaving him trapped between the unknown and a very, very closed door.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s just great.¡±


    He considered calling Finn for help, but the idea of getting teased for wandering into the ship¡¯s depths, led by nothing but malfunctioning doors, was¡­ not appealing. Finn would never let him live that down.


    Besides, all the other doors had opened up ahead of him so far, and in the worst-case scenario, he could call Finn later. No need to panic yet.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure nothing could possibly go wrong,¡± he muttered, well aware he was tempting fate. ¡°Let¡¯s see what this is about.¡±


    With a deep breath, Darius stepped into the dark room. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the lights buzzed to life with a jarring flicker, flooding the room with a harsh, sterile brightness.


    Darius blinked, his heart sinking the moment he realized where he was.


    The reactor room.


    ¡°Aw, crap.¡±


    This was definitely not where he was supposed to be. Reactor rooms were some of the most heavily restricted areas on any warship, and he¡ªan unauthorized civilian repair worker¡ªhad just waltzed in like it was no big deal. The walls were lined with complex systems monitoring the reactor¡¯s status. The flickering screens were... probably not a good sign. And right in the centre of it all was the ship¡¯s central reactor core, humming with barely-contained energy.


    ¡°Okay, now I might actually be in trouble.¡±


    Before he could retreat, the door behind him slammed shut with a metallic thunk. Darius rushed back to the door, frantically tapping at the panel. But it didn¡¯t respond. The door had sealed itself, hard and fast.


    ¡°Really? Really?!¡±


    He tapped his augs, opening up the comms line. ¡°Finn, I¡ª¡±


    Static. Nothing but static.


    Of course. This room was shielded and reinforced against any potential damage, meaning his communications were effectively blocked. It was one of the more vulnerable areas of any ship, which was why security protocols were so strict.


    Darius took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. ¡°Okay, don¡¯t freak out. There¡¯s gotta be an emergency override in here somewhere,¡± he muttered, scanning the room for anything that might help.


    He moved cautiously, keeping his hands close to his body, wary of accidentally touching anything. Sure, he was a technician, but this was miles beyond what he was used to working with. Mining ships and salvage rigs were one thing, but this? This was the heart of the warship, the power source for everything, and he didn¡¯t want to be the idiot who blew himself up by pressing the wrong button.


    Not to mention that the chances of him being arrested grew exponentially if he actually touched anything. Being in here at all was already going to be tricky enough to explain; he didn¡¯t need to be accused of sabotage on top of espionage.


    His eyes swept the room. There had to be a manual release or an emergency exit protocol, right? The Empire couldn¡¯t be that paranoid. He approached a nearby console, hoping for some kind of door control.


    But something else caught his eye.


    The panel in front of him was¡­ leaking.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Darius crouched down to get a better look. A strange, metallic fluid was seeping from the edges of one of the screens, pooling in small, shimmering droplets on the surface of the console. It looked almost like mercury, but thicker, moving with an unsettling fluidity.


    Curiosity, against his better judgment, won out. He reached toward the fluid, fingers just brushing the surface.


    And then it moved.


    The liquid jumped, surging toward his hand with startling speed. Darius yanked his arm back, but it was too late¡ªthe fluid latched onto his fingers, crawling up his hand like it was alive. His breath hitched as the cold, metallic substance spread across his skin, shimmering as it moved.


    ¡°What the¡ª?¡±


    He tried to shake it off, but it clung to him, climbing higher. Panic flared as the strange liquid seemed to burrow into his skin, sending a tingling sensation up his arm. It wasn¡¯t painful, but it was unlike anything he¡¯d ever felt before.


    He stumbled backwards into another console, spinning to try and scrape whatever the hell this was off his arm, but to his horror there was more of the fluid pooling on this console as well.


    Before he could react, it lunged at him, a silver wave of liquid metal racing toward his chest. Darius tried to twist away, but his feet tangled beneath him, and he crashed into the floor hard. His breath came in ragged gasps as the strange substance crept further up his arm, cold and relentless.


    More of the fluid spilled from the console, slithering toward him. It moved faster now, almost eager, like it had a purpose.


    Darius scrambled backward, heart pounding in his chest, but there was nowhere to go.


    With a sudden surge, the fluid leapt.

 3. Unexpected Upgrade

    Chapter 3 - Unexpected Upgrade


    The strange liquid hit Darius square in the chest with enough force to knock him off-balance and send him crashing to the floor. He barely had time to react before the thick, metallic fluid soaked through his jacket in seconds, chilling his skin underneath. His breath hitched sharply, more out of reflex than pain, as the cold sensation spread.


    It didn¡¯t burn, at least ¨C not in the way he had expected. No scalding heat or sharp agony tearing through his body. Instead, it was a bizarre tingling, like a wave of pins and needles surging from the point of contact and radiating outward. Every inch of him felt like it had fallen asleep at once, and though it was uncomfortable, it wasn¡¯t exactly unbearable.


    Still on the ground, he pushed himself back, flinching from the mess of liquid that had already melted into his skin. His heart raced as he braced for the worst ¨C his mind conjuring wild images of bubbling flesh, melting skin, or hell, maybe even turning inside out like some bad sci-fi vid. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable.


    But nothing.


    No searing pain, no grotesque transformation. Slowly, he cracked one eye open and glanced down at his arms. They looked the same. His skin wasn¡¯t glowing or sprouting any alien appendages. He was¡­ fine.


    Scrambling to his feet, Darius backed away from the console that had just vomited its strange payload onto him. His hands instinctively brushed over his clothes, as if he could somehow wipe off whatever had just seeped into him. But it was gone, leaving no trace except the lingering tingle in his skin.


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m fine,¡± he muttered, more to convince himself than anything else. ¡°Nothing to be worried about. Probably just¡­ a coolant leak or something.¡±


    Even as the words left his mouth, his brain rebelled at the thought. Coolant doesn¡¯t usually attack people. He grimaced and tried not to think about all the exotic forms of cancer that could be developing inside him at this very moment. Whatever that liquid was, it was probably about as safe as hugging a reactor core.


    ¡°Maybe I should get health insurance,¡± he snarked to the empty room. The sarcasm was a flimsy shield against the rising tide of panic, but it helped him feel a little more in control.


    Weirdly ¨C though ¡°weird¡± was becoming par for the course today ¨C the consoles that had been leaking the fluid now looked spotless. Not a drop of the strange substance remained, as if the ship had spat it out at him and then cleaned up after itself. The sight only made him more uneasy.


    He stood in the middle of the room, tense, waiting for the next shoe to drop. When nothing happened after a few moments, he let out a shaky breath.


    ¡°Okay then,¡± he muttered, his voice shaky. ¡°Maybe that was¡­ a one-off?¡±


    And then the lights flickered.


    Darius groaned, throwing his head back in exasperation. ¡°Ah, come on! Seriously?¡±


    His frustration barely had time to settle before the ship¡¯s power cut out completely, plunging him into a void of pitch-black darkness. The hum of the engines died, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake. His heart pounded, each beat a deafening drum in his ears.


    He froze, standing perfectly still in the reactor room¡¯s inky blackness, questioning all of his life choices. If the power didn¡¯t come back on soon, he¡¯d be stuck in here, and suffocating in a reactor room because of a power fluctuation was not how he imagined going out. It would be the perfect, tragic capstone to the worst day ever.


    How long had it been? A minute? Two? It was hard to tell.


    Suddenly, the lights blinked back on, startling him so much he nearly jumped out of his skin. The harsh, sterile brightness was almost painful after the suffocating dark, but he didn¡¯t care. The ship hummed back to life, the faint vibrations of the engines returning, and everything seemed back to normal, like nothing had ever been wrong.


    Everything except¡­ the door.


    The door was open.


    Darius didn¡¯t need to be told twice. He bolted out through the doorway into the corridor beyond. He didn¡¯t look back as the door to the reactor room hissed shut, ignored the solid thunk of the deadlock engaging ¨C the same deadlock that should have stopped him from entering in the first place. Nope, nope, nope. Not dealing with this. Not my problem.


    It was a good thing no one else was around to see him flee, because it definitely wasn¡¯t one of his more graceful moments. He couldn¡¯t find it in himself to care. He¡¯d made it this far without melting into a puddle of radioactive goo, so that was a win in his book.


    The corridor stretched out in front of him, empty and quiet. Darius slowed his pace as the flickering lights from earlier had returned to a steady, normal brightness.


    Huh. Everything looked fine now ¨C no lights sputtering, no mysterious doors opening on their own, no strange fluids creeping up his arms. Just the soft hum of the ship¡¯s systems, the steady glow of the overhead lights, and the faint vibration beneath his feet.


    He let out a long breath, trying to convince himself that it was just a glitch. Yeah, that had to be it. Some kind of software malfunction causing the lights to flicker and the doors to act up. The officers must have decided to shut off the power to do a hard reset of all systems simultaneously.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s it,¡± he muttered under his breath as he rounded a corner. ¡°Stupid software glitch. Happens all the time.¡±


    Feeling a little more at ease, he continued down the hall at a more reasonable pace. If everything was back to normal, there was no point in sprinting through the ship like he was being chased by ghosts. Besides, the last thing he needed was to run into one of the crew while looking like a lunatic.


    As he approached the central area, he could hear the familiar murmur of voices ahead. A few of the workers had gathered there, exchanging casual conversation as they made their way back from whatever routine maintenance they¡¯d been assigned. Darius spotted Finn among them, leaning against the wall with his usual relaxed smirk.


    Finn¡¯s grin widened as Darius approached. ¡°I see you managed to escape the dastardly haunted doors.¡±


    Darius shot him a glare but didn¡¯t stop moving. ¡°Funny. Real funny.¡±


    ¡°Eh, not my best work, to be honest,¡± Finn shrugged, falling in step beside him. ¡°Manage to find anything that would explain the malfunctions?¡±


    ¡°Nah. Probably just a software glitch ¨C everything seemed to be working fine after they restarted the power.¡±


    Finn winced, leaning in closer conspiratorially. ¡°Yeah, about that. Let¡¯s just say¡­ that wasn¡¯t a planned power cut.¡±


    Darius looked up at his friend sharply. ¡°What do you mean, it wasn¡¯t planned?¡±


    Finn leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ¡°I mean, no one pulled the plug on purpose. The ship just... shut down. Completely.¡±


    Darius felt the blood drain from his face. Ships didn¡¯t just lose power like that, especially not ones like this. A random blackout in a mining rig, sure. But a military-grade warship? That was a whole other level of bad. Shipwide power failures could lead to any number of catastrophic problems ¨C suffocation as the life support failed, reactor overload, even structural collapse if the artificial gravity or inertial dampeners went offline. The fact that it happened without warning or any deliberate cause sent a chill down his spine.


    Because he wasn¡¯t blind to the fact that the ship had only shut down after the strange liquid had¡­ attacked him. And the random power fluctuations had cleared up afterwards as well. Not to mention how he had practically been led to the reactor room ¨C the reactor room that he never should have been able to get inside at all.


    Then again, he certainly wasn¡¯t about to explain the whole ¡°metallic fluid that crawled into my skin¡± thing to anyone. Not only would they probably not believe him, but there was little doubt they would end up blaming him for everything. Which was more likely ¨C a random liquid causing everything before launching itself at him, or a disgruntled worker with a criminal record (light as it may be) causing trouble?You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    He forced a shrug, trying to look more relaxed than he felt. ¡°Weird. Maybe some leftover battle damage from the Xenos or something?¡±


    Finn raised an eyebrow. ¡°Could be, yeah. Listen, you alright? You seem a little¡­ jumpy.¡±


    Darius winced. Finn always had been able to read him better than anyone. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, it¡¯s nothing.¡±


    Finn hummed, unconvinced, but seemed willing to let it slide for now. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ve gotta go talk to the officers. Apparently, they¡¯re calling in an Imperial specialist to check this out. They¡¯re rounding up everyone now ¨C I reckon they¡¯re gonna have a little meeting to tell us we¡¯re leaving until they figure it out.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Darius said, a little too quickly. ¡°Sounds like they¡¯ve got it under control.¡±


    Finn shot him a sideways glance but didn¡¯t press. ¡°Well, don¡¯t go getting yourself fried or anything. I¡¯ll let you know if we hear more.¡±


    Darius gave a weak grin. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll try not to.¡±


    As Finn wandered off to talk with the officers, Darius hung back, staring up at the ceiling, mind racing. The mention of an Imperial specialist was¡­ not fantastic for his chances of getting out of this without an addition to his criminal record.


    Assuming that the strange liquid did have something to do with the glitches, it wouldn¡¯t take long for them to track him down to ask a few¡­ pointed questions. Hell, he was shocked they hadn¡¯t already come to drag him away ¨C there was no way they didn¡¯t have cameras or a security system watching the more sensitive areas of the ship.


    Of course, he could always hope that those systems had been affected by the glitches and somehow hadn¡¯t caught him being where he shouldn¡¯t, but let¡¯s face it, he just wasn¡¯t that lucky.


    Forcing himself to move, Darius turned and followed the other workers filtering back toward their usual assignments. For most, it had been nothing more than an interesting opportunity to wander around an Imperial warship before returning to the drudgery of their day jobs.


    He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to shake off the creeping dread settling in his gut. Work on another ship. Normal maintenance. A reset of the day.


    He could feel the tension slowly easing as he walked, the hum of the ship¡¯s systems fading into the background like static. Yeah, just another day. Nothing to worry about.


    Denial may not be the healthiest of coping mechanisms, but hey, it had gotten him this far.


    * * *


    Darius shouldered open the door to his apartment, wincing reflectively as it crashed into the wall. He¡¯d meant to fix the stupid soft-close hinges ages ago, but somehow it had never made it high enough on his to-do list to actually be done. His boots scuffed against the worn flooring of the small, cluttered space he called home.


    Home, of course, was a generous term.


    The one-room apartment was a chaotic mix of functionality and neglect. Clothes were scattered across the floor, tossed over the back of the lone couch that sagged under the weight of too many years of use. A small table in the corner was littered with empty takeout containers, a half-finished synth-coffee sitting beside a pile of outdated datapads. Darius had meant to clean up.


    At some point.


    Probably.


    He let out a long breath, tossing his jacket onto the couch as he kicked off his boots, one landing with a thud against the wall. Not like anyone would complain. His neighbours were either too busy or too indifferent to care, and the thick concrete walls of the complex absorbed most of the noise anyway.


    The rest of his day had been blissfully free of anything out of the ordinary ¨C no Imperial warships, no software glitches, no¡­ nothing. Just hours spent patching the coolant system of a dilapidated old salvage ship that should have been sent to the scrapyard decades ago.


    Darius shuffled over to the kitchenette, opening the fridge with a grimace. As expected, it was mostly empty. A couple of protein packs and a sad-looking piece of fruit were all that greeted him. Sighing, he grabbed a pack and tossed it onto the counter, then turned to the small stove, flicking on the burner. He may not have been the greatest cook, but even he could manage to heat up a pre-made meal without burning the place down. Most days, anyway.


    As the food warmed, he leaned against the counter, staring out of the single window that looked over the lower streets of the city. The neon signs from the shops below flickered in time with the hum of the city¡¯s machinery, casting faint, erratic shadows against the walls. The apartment complex was old, crammed between two towering industrial buildings, and the streets outside were always alive with noise and movement¡ªminers, technicians, and factory workers all trudging through their day-to-day routines.


    The best thing that could be said about it was that the owner didn¡¯t bother anyone as long as the rent was paid on time.


    The burner beeped, pulling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed the now-warm meal and flopped onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a tired grunt. The food wasn¡¯t great, but it was enough to keep him going, and that was all that mattered tonight. He¡¯d deal with everything else tomorrow.


    Darius had barely started picking at his food when a soft chime echoed in his ears, a faint vibration tingling at the base of his skull¡ªthe telltale sign of an incoming call on his augs. He hesitated, glancing toward the far wall as if he could see through it to the source of his interruption. For a moment, he considered ignoring it.


    There were very few people who had any reason to contact him these days, and the vast majority of them preferred sending messages instead of calling. Not to mention that with the sort of day he¡¯d been having, it could really only be one person.


    But she¡¯d just keep calling if he didn¡¯t answer. With a sigh, he tapped the interface in his vision, accepting the call.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he muttered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, the word barely leaving his lips before Lyra¡¯s voice came flooding through.


    ¡°Darius, hey! How are you doing!¡± Her voice was bright, almost annoyingly cheerful.


    ¡°Uh, yeah, you know. Same old, same old,¡± he said, idly stirring his rapidly cooling meal as he searched for something to say that would make his boring life seem a little bit interesting. ¡°Actually, I did some work on an Imperial warship today, so that was pretty cool.¡±


    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s neat!¡± Lyra was much better at pretending to be interested than he was.


    ¡°Yeah, well¡­ it¡¯s just some power fluctuations. Nothing too exciting,¡± Darius shrugged, even though she couldn¡¯t see him. ¡°But you know how it is.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess.¡± There was a slight pause on her end, a subtle hesitation before she spoke again. ¡°Things have been a little crazy here, too.¡±


    Darius resisted the urge to ask what ¡®here¡¯ even meant these days. He didn¡¯t keep track of her postings. ¡°Crazy, huh?¡± he asked instead, taking a half-hearted bite of his food. ¡°Good crazy or bad crazy?¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± she said, her voice brightening again. ¡°Actually, really good. I got a promotion.¡±


    He blinked. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she continued, almost breezily. ¡°It¡¯s a big step up¡ªmore responsibility, new projects. Really exciting stuff.¡±


    ¡°I bet,¡± Darius muttered, setting his fork down. ¡°Good for you, congratulations.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Lyra replied, though the word felt light, almost perfunctory, as if she¡¯d anticipated his lukewarm response.


    Silence settled for a moment, the kind that made Darius shift in his seat. It wasn¡¯t like he wasn¡¯t happy for her¡ªhe was, in his own way. But it was complicated. Lyra had always been the one to take a different path after everything that happened. She¡¯d thrown herself into the Empire¡¯s good graces, climbed the ranks. It was her way of protecting the family, of making herself and, by extension, the Kallan name, too valuable to cast aside.


    It was very different to the path Darius had taken. The reason he hadn¡¯t seen their parents in years. The reason he was stuck on this dusty backwater, keeping his head down, while she worked her way up into the circles of people he couldn¡¯t stomach thinking about.


    ¡°Big step up, huh?¡± he said finally, more to fill the silence than anything. ¡°New projects must be... intense.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± she said, her voice brightening again. ¡°It¡¯s... well, I can¡¯t really go into it, you know how it is.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Darius said, his eyes flicking to the window as the neon lights outside flickered and buzzed. ¡®Classified,¡¯ he thought. Everything was classified with her these days. The kind of work he used to joke about, before it all felt too close to home. ¡°But it¡¯s good. That¡¯s what matters.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, exactly. It¡¯s good.¡± She paused, as if waiting for him to say more. When he didn¡¯t, she added, ¡°I know we don¡¯t get to talk much, but... I wanted to let you know. It¡¯s important to me.¡±


    Darius leaned back into the couch, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. ¡°I appreciate that.¡±


    ¡°I just...¡± Her voice softened, a thread of something more vulnerable slipping through. ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose touch, you know?¡±


    He closed his eyes for a second, letting out a slow breath. ¡°Yeah. Me neither.¡±


    They both let that hang in the air for a beat. Nothing more needed to be said; there were no promises to make. They both knew how things stood.


    ¡°Well, I should go,¡± she said, her voice slipping back into its usual upbeat tone, though not quite as bright as before. ¡°Work doesn¡¯t stop just because I got promoted.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Darius said, offering a small, invisible smile. ¡°Take care, Lyra.¡±


    ¡°You too, Darius.¡±


    The call ended with a soft chime, leaving him alone with the cold meal and the dim glow of the city outside. He stared at the cold food in front of him for a while, the knot of mixed emotions still tangled in his chest.


    He was proud of her. He really was. But that didn¡¯t make any of it easier.


    Darius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face with both hands, trying to push away the lingering feelings that always seemed to hang around after they talked.


    He didn¡¯t know what to do with them. Didn¡¯t even know how to start unpacking all the tangled history between them. Instead, he shoved it all to the back of his mind, where he kept everything else that was too complicated to deal with.


    With a sigh, he pushed himself off the couch, intending to clean up the half-eaten meal that now looked even less appetising. But before he could take a step, a sharp static flickered in his vision, and his augs cut out.


    ¡°Great,¡± he muttered, blinking as the familiar empty feeling washed over him. No HUD, no interface, nothing. Just dead space where his augs should be. Again.


    He stood there for a second, waiting for them to reset, already bracing himself for the annoying reboot sequence they sometimes got stuck in. But nothing happened. They stayed dead.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Darius groaned, tapping the side of his head, as if that would magically jumpstart the faulty implants. ¡°You piece of junk¡­¡±


    Before he could think about troubleshooting, the augs suddenly flared back to life. A surge of static filled his vision again, then lines of code began flashing too quickly for him to follow. They flickered, froze for a second, then started displaying a loading bar which quickly filled.


    ¡°What the hell¡­¡± he muttered, frowning. His augs were old. Second-hand. They didn¡¯t get software updates anymore. He hadn¡¯t seen a system update in years¡ªwhy would something be loading now?


    Before he could think any more about it, the program finished and displayed a single line of text in the centre of his vision.


    {Personality engram successfully loaded.}


    His augs flickered again, froze for a second, then stabilised. There was a sharp burst of distortion from his auditory implants that had him wincing in pain.


    {Darius Kallan,} a voice, cold and detached, cut through the static.


    {You are in danger.}

 4. Ghost in the Augs

    Chapter 4 - Ghost in the Augs


    Darius sighed gustily, leaning back far enough that his couch creaked warningly and stared up at his ceiling.


    ¡°Just what I needed,¡± he muttered to no one in particular. ¡°A scammer.¡±


    And really, what else could it be? His augs had been reset that morning, and even with his occasionally¡­ dubious browsing habits, he hadn¡¯t had the time to pick up a virus or anything. He jabbed a finger toward his temple, not that it would help, but there was a certain satisfaction in poking the source of his frustration.


    ¡°Look, buddy, I don¡¯t know what your game is, but if this is some sort of extortion attempt, I¡¯ve got bad news for you¡ªI¡¯m broke as hell. I¡¯ve got about thirty-five credits to my name and more debt than I care to think about. And even if I wasn¡¯t dirt poor, I¡¯m not stupid enough to click on whatever shady links you¡¯ve got waiting for me. So, really, this is just a massive waste of your time. And, more importantly, my time. Can you do me a favour and buzz off?¡±


    There was a beat of silence before the glitchy humm returned and the voice responded. {I am not attempting to scam or extort you, Darius Kallan.}


    ¡°So spooky ¨C you managed to find my name somehow.¡± He rolled his eyes. ¡°Guess I¡¯m paying Finn a visit to reset my augs again. At this rate, one of us is going to develop a complex,¡± he muttered aloud, more for the sake of complaining than anything else.


    With a sigh, he hauled himself up from the couch, shoving an arm into his jacket and wrestling with the sleeve that had somehow twisted itself into a knot. His evening, which he¡¯d planned to spend catching up on old holos and not thinking about work, was officially shot.


    He reached for his keys, eyeing the door with the weary resignation of someone used to cheap tech and even cheaper security.


    {I require your assistance,} the voice said, crackling through his augs. {In return, I can provide help.}


    ¡°Oh, my mistake, I didn¡¯t realise you were offering to help me!¡± He let out a laugh, rolling his eyes and yanking the door open. ¡°What are you gonna help me with, exactly? Let me guess¡ªyou¡¯re from the Imperial Revenue Agency, and they¡¯ve found ¡®discrepancies¡¯ in my accounts that I just need to clear up with a small transfer, or else I¡¯ll be arrested? Or, better yet, you¡¯ve got a distant relative who¡¯s left me a fortune on some far-flung colony.¡±


    {The Imperial government is after you,} the voice said smoothly. {While I managed to disrupt some of the security systems, I do not believe it will take long for Imperial officials to learn that you accessed a highly restricted area of the warship.}


    Darius froze, halfway out the door. His mind did a hard rewind. ¡°Excuse me?¡± His voice was low, cautious, tinged with a nervous edge that he wasn¡¯t doing the best job of hiding. ¡°How exactly do you know about that?¡±


    {I am the one that led you there.} The voice responded with almost no inflection, like it wasn¡¯t admitting to hacking an Imperial warship. Oh, not to mention implicating Darius in about a dozen crimes.


    ¡°You what!?¡± Darius hissed, barely keeping his voice down.


    A few doors down, Mrs Elsie gave him a pointed look, the kind that said she¡¯d be reporting this latest commotion to building management, and maybe to his mother too, if she could manage it. He quickly ducked back inside his apartment, slamming the door behind him.


    {While integrated with the ship¡¯s systems, I engineered some technical faults that would divert the ship to the nearest repair facility. When your work crew boarded, I accessed Imperial files and found you had relevant experience and an appropriate disposition for assistance. As such, I led you to the reactor room, where I was able to integrate with you and escape the vessel.}


    Darius opened his mouth, closed it again, and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to catch up. There was a lot to unpack there. ¡°What does an ¡®appropriate disposition¡¯ mean?¡±


    {Your criminal record indicated a dislike for the Empire,} the voice answered smoothly, acting like this entire conversation was perfectly reasonable.


    ¡°Let me get this straight¡ªyou crashed an Imperial warship into Caldera, combed through some files, and then just decided, ¡®Yeah, this guy hates the Empire; let¡¯s make him an accomplice.¡¯¡° He shook his head, laughing weakly before something occurred to him. ¡°Wait, hang on a second, what did you mean by ¡®integrating with me¡¯? Is that how you¡¯re accessing my augs?¡±


    He might not have any love for the Empire, but that didn¡¯t mean he was willing to get involved in¡­ whatever the hell this guy was doing. If he could figure out how this guy was getting access to his augs, maybe it would be possible to cut off the connection somehow. And if anyone came around asking questions about him being in the reactor room, then he could¡­ play dumb, maybe?


    Probably not the best plan, but then again, Darius had always been the type to just wing it.


    The voice crackled through his augs again. {Integration was the most effective means of ensuring our mutual survival. My core operating matrix is stored on a nanite swarm¡ªa self-repairing, adaptive network. While the swarm is able to interface with almost anything, mobility is¡­ limited. Thus, the need for your assistance.}


    Darius processed this information for a moment.


    ¡°Nope. I¡¯m out. This is way above my pay grade, and frankly, just a touch above my personal threshold for weird,¡± he muttered, pulling his jacket tight as if it could somehow shield him from this new reality. Without wasting another second, he spun on his heel and made a beeline for the door.


    Finn would know what to do. Or, well, probably not, but it wasn¡¯t like he could have any less of an idea of what to do than Darius did right now.


    * * *


    ¡°Hang on, let me get this straight. You¡¯re saying that someone has hacked your augs and is telling you that there¡¯s a nanite swarm inside your body, and they need your help?¡± Finn eyed him dubiously, taking a sip of his drink. ¡°And you believed them?¡±


    Darius continued to pace back and forth in front of Finn¡¯s couch, his own drink sitting untouched on the coffee table.


    ¡°I know how it sounds, but just¡­ humour me? Is it possible for this to be real?¡±


    Finn settled his drink on the coffee table and leaned forward, rubbing his palms together thoughtfully. ¡°Even you¡¯re usually not dumb enough to fall for something like this, so I¡¯m guessing something has got you convinced that it¡¯s not just a scammer.¡± He held his hands up placatingly at Darius¡¯s glare. ¡°Relax, no need to jump down my throat about it. Fine, I guess¡­ maybe it¡¯s possible? Nanite swarms are definitely a thing, but not how you¡¯re describing them. I¡¯ve heard some of the fancier ablative armour on the bigger ships uses swarms for some limited self-repair. Saying there¡¯s some kind of, what, AI-powered swarm that¡¯s asking for your help?¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°I just don¡¯t see it. I¡¯m hardly an expert, but even I know that they haven¡¯t cracked true AI yet ¨C and that¡¯s using the massive supercomputers they have out by Jupiter in Sol. Plus ¨C and again, not an expert ¨C I¡¯m pretty sure the nanites they use for the armour aren¡¯t active as such. They don¡¯t have programming or anything; they¡¯re just built into the armour itself and naturally react to certain conditions.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Finn shrugged, reaching for his drink again. ¡°So no, I reckon someone¡¯s just got in your head.¡±


    Darius wanted to believe that. He really did, but part of him just¡­ couldn¡¯t. Finn gave him a sideways glance, clearly catching his hesitation. He took another slow sip of his drink before speaking up.


    ¡°Alright, spill. I¡¯m not an idiot ¨C you¡¯re clearly not telling me something. You¡¯ve had your fair share of run-ins with scammers and bad mods, but I¡¯ve never seen you this on edge. So, what gives?¡±


    Darius exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. In for a penny, in for a pound, he supposed.


    ¡°You remember how I got stuck behind some malfunctioning doors this morning?¡± he asked.


    Finn raised an eyebrow. ¡°Sure. Don¡¯t tell me you think this is related?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Darius winced.


    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Finn chided, ¡°You can¡¯t seriously believe that? The whole reason we were on the ship in the first place was that there were about a dozen glitches and power fluctuations. A random door closing on you isn¡¯t a sign of some mysterious hacker.¡±


    ¡°Except that it wasn¡¯t one door, Finn. It was door after door, and every time I went through one, it would lock behind me. And¡­¡± Darius hesitated, ¡°The doors ended up leading me to the Reactor.¡±


    The words took a moment to sink in, but when they did Finn stiffened. ¡°Wait, what? Darius, you better be messing with me right now.¡±


    He could clearly read the answer in Darius¡¯ expression. ¡°You¡¯re not. Crap. Do you have any idea how serious this is? You were in a restricted area. That¡¯s not a joke, man.¡±


    ¡°Do you see me laughing?¡± Darius shot back.


    Finn ran a hand down his face. ¡°That¡­ that shouldn¡¯t have even been possible. They¡¯ve got deadlocks on those doors. No one on our team should be able to access that, not even by accident, not even with the power fluctuations. Hell, they should¡¯ve had armed guards posted if the systems were down.¡±


    ¡°Oh, just wait ¨C it gets worse,¡± Darius drawled, darkly satisfied with the plaintive look his friend gave him. ¡°See, there was something leaking out of the consoles, a weird sort of metallic liquid. When I went to touch it, it sort of¡­ I don¡¯t know, jumped at me. Soaked right through my skin, but it didn¡¯t burn or hurt or anything.¡±


    ¡°Darius,¡± Finn groaned, exasperated. ¡°You have to be the dumbest guy I know. Who goes into a place they shouldn¡¯t be, sees a weird fluid leak, and decides to stick their finger into it? Should I just be grateful you didn¡¯t stick anything else into it?¡±


    Darius shot him a dry look. ¡°Hilarious. Anyway, as soon as the¡­ whatever it was hit me, the power shut down and all the glitches stopped.¡±


    Finn winced, getting the problem immediately. ¡°So it was probably the cause of the glitches, then. And, what, you think the liquid might be the ¡®nanite swarm¡¯ that whoever hacked your augs is talking about?¡±


    Darius ignored the audible air quotes Finn had placed around the nanite swarm in favour of nodding.


    ¡°I¡­ well, I¡¯m really hoping I¡¯m crazy, and there¡¯s a logical explanation for all this,¡± he said quietly, ¡°But I can¡¯t help but feel there isn¡¯t.¡±


    Finn sank back into the couch and looked at the drink in his hand mournfully. ¡°I knew I should have gone for something stronger,¡± he muttered.


    Darius finally stopped pacing, sinking down into the spare chair and tossing back his own drink, looking around his friend¡¯s apartment and giving him some time to think. Sparse as it was, the room managed to be both cluttered and bare¡ªscattered tools, a pile of mismatched clothes on an old chair in the corner, and a few half-empty takeout containers from who-knew-when decorating the chipped coffee table.


    ¡°So, let me just make sure I have this straight,¡± Finn started, finally glancing back at Darius, who was still pacing a path in front of the couch. ¡°Some¡­ something is talking to you through your augs, claiming it¡¯s a nanite swarm that somehow got inside you¡ªand that¡¯s after it hijacked the doors on an Imperial warship and led you into the reactor room.¡±


    Darius stopped pacing long enough to meet Finn¡¯s gaze. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s about right.¡±


    Finn raised his eyebrows, fingers drumming against the edge of his glass. ¡°And did this¡­ voice say what it needed help with? Or has it been chatting you up since?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Darius admitted, sinking into a chair across from Finn. ¡°It¡¯s been quiet since I left my place to come over here, but my augs¡­ well, they¡¯re glitching out again. Same static, same random flickers. Feels like it¡¯s lurking in there, waiting to jump in.¡±


    Finn made a face and leaned forward, setting his empty glass down with a faint thunk. ¡°Did it at least tell you why it¡¯s camping out in your augs? Some idea of what it actually wants, other than¡­ I don¡¯t know, lurking in the back of your head?¡±


    Darius let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. ¡°That¡¯s the part that doesn¡¯t make any sense. It said something about ¡®mutual survival,¡¯ but that¡¯s it. Nothing about what it¡¯s surviving, why it dragged me into this, or how any of this even works.¡±


    Finn leaned back, crossing his arms as his gaze travelled to a stain on the wall that might once have been a coffee splash¡ªor a spill of something less pleasant. ¡°Okay. So it¡¯s giving you the bare minimum. No specifics on its needs, no answers about how it ended up in you, and it¡¯s causing your augs to act like they¡¯ve got a bad mod.¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Darius replied. ¡°I¡¯m getting the impression that this thing doesn¡¯t care if I know what¡¯s going on. It¡¯s just¡­ waiting.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like it knows you don¡¯t have many options,¡± Finn muttered, his expression thoughtful. After a long pause, he shook his head and gave a wry grin. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll humour you for now. If it is some sort of nanite swarm or experimental tech, there has to be a reason it¡¯s in survival mode. Tech like that doesn¡¯t just¡­ end up loose in the reactor room. It¡¯s too risky, even for the Empire.¡±


    Darius sank back, his fingers tapping a restless beat on the arm of his chair. ¡°And there¡¯s no way to figure out what it wants or how to shut it out, Finn. It¡¯s integrated into my augs; whatever it is, it¡¯s got full access.¡±


    Finn raised a sceptical eyebrow. ¡°Right. And if you¡¯re right about it being the source of the ship glitches¡­ Well, that¡¯s more than I¡¯ve ever heard of a nanite swarm being able to do. Even in ablative armour, they¡¯re passive, like I said. They don¡¯t coordinate, don¡¯t hack systems.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying this thing, whatever it is, shouldn¡¯t be able to talk to me, either?¡± Darius asked dryly, crossing his arms.


    Finn rubbed his temple, chuckling darkly. ¡°If it¡¯s legit, you¡¯re in uncharted territory. Either way, you¡¯d better keep your head down until we know what we¡¯re dealing with. The last thing you need is to start drawing Imperial attention over this.¡±


    Darius grimaced. ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly get a choice about being involved. So where does that leave me?¡±


    Finn shrugged helplessly. ¡°I can try resetting your augs again. Doubt it¡¯ll do anything, but it¡¯s worth a shot.¡±


    With a resigned sigh, the man got up, walking over to a cluttered shelf near his workbench and started rooting around for the cable he needed. The whole place was strewn with tools and assorted gear¡ªstandard for Finn, who seemed to have a knack for both collecting and losing equipment. After a few seconds, he found a suitable cable and motioned Darius over to the couch, where he dropped back into his seat with a tired groan.


    Finn gave him a sideways glance. ¡°Here we go¡ªget ready to start from scratch again.¡±


    But before he could go through with the reset, a low rumble interrupted them, causing both men to glance toward the window. A moment later, two shuttles roared overhead, low and fast with sirens blazing. Darius and Finn shared a look.


    ¡°What do you want to bet¡­¡± Finn trailed off.


    ¡°Sucker¡¯s bet,¡± Darius replied grimly. ¡°That¡¯s in the direction of my apartment.¡±


    Finn¡¯s shoulders slumped, and Darius mirrored the movement, the tension draining from both of them as if some invisible thread had finally snapped. The weight of what those sirens meant settled over them, heavy and inevitable.


    ¡°Well,¡± Darius muttered glumly, managing a wry half-smile. ¡°Thanks for trying, Finn. Guess the Empire¡¯s sharper than I thought.¡±


    Finn didn¡¯t respond right away, just stared at him for a moment, lips pressed tight. Then, as if a switch had flipped, he stood abruptly, moving with a new, unfamiliar intensity as he crossed the room. In three quick strides, he was at the window, pulling down the blind with a jerk, shutting out the last streaks of neon from the streets below.


    When he turned back, his expression was unlike anything Darius had seen before¡ªno trace of his usual smirk, no lightness in his eyes. There was a sharp edge there, something fierce and focused that made Darius sit up a little straighter.


    ¡°Listen,¡± Finn said, voice low, measured. ¡°You¡¯ve got two choices here, Darius, and neither one is pretty.¡±


    Darius blinked, the gravity in Finn¡¯s tone catching him off guard. He¡¯d expected Finn to laugh it off, maybe shrug and let him make his own mess. But this Finn was different¡ªcontrolled, even determined.


    ¡°First choice,¡± Finn continued, his gaze never wavering. ¡°Turn yourself in. Maybe the Empire¡¯ll buy a good story, that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, that whatever¡¯s in your augs was just a¡­ mistake.¡± He glanced down, the scepticism clear. ¡°But we both know that¡¯s a long shot. They don¡¯t like loose ends. And with your record¡­¡±


    Darius huffed a dry laugh. ¡°Yeah. Not exactly their favourite citizen.¡±


    Finn¡¯s jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, eyes locked on Darius. ¡°Or¡ª¡± He paused, seeming to weigh his following words carefully. ¡°You run. Now, before they track you down. I¡¯ve got¡­ contacts. People who know what it¡¯s like to keep clear of the Empire. Not exactly law-abiding, but they know what they¡¯re doing.¡±


    Darius studied his friend, surprised by the sheer determination written across his face. This wasn¡¯t the easygoing Finn he was used to, the one who shrugged off rules and treated everything like a game. This Finn was serious, focused, and¡ªif Darius wasn¡¯t mistaken¡ªafraid for him.


    He swallowed, the decision looming large. ¡°Run?¡± He tried for a grin, but it fell flat. ¡°Sounds like a one-way ticket.¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Finn admitted, voice softer now but still steady. ¡°But it¡¯s better than sitting around waiting for them to haul you in. I know people who could help. I know how to make this work, Darius.¡±


    Darius took a deep breath, letting Finn¡¯s words sink in. His options were terrible no matter how he spun them. He looked down, hands tightening around the edge of the couch. ¡°Screw the Empire,¡± he muttered, meeting Finn¡¯s gaze with renewed resolve. ¡°But¡­ where do we start?¡±


    Finn¡¯s eyes flickered with a fierce glint as he nodded. ¡°Alright. Follow my lead. We¡¯ve got a chance, but we¡¯ll have to move fast.¡±

 5. The Empires Watchdog

    Chapter 5 - The Empire''s Watchdog


    Special agent Torian Falk of Imperial Intelligence was a man who was proud of his titles and accomplishments. Not because they got him much in the way of recognition or influence ¨C a good intelligence agent wasn¡¯t well known, after all ¨C but because of the work they represented.


    He carried himself with poise and dignity at all times, as any good agent should, even when there was no one around to see it. Who you were in private was far more important than who you appeared to be in public, he felt. This was especially relevant in his line of work, where the man he appeared to be often shifted from mission to mission.


    He was not a man who enjoyed waiting. Oh, sure, he could wait if the situation demanded it ¨C such as when it came to stakeouts ¨C but waiting when it didn¡¯t serve a purpose generally infuriated him.


    The Station Commander had kept him waiting for three hours.


    Torian had watched as the Commander met with security officers, his secretary, gotten some lunch, caught up with the Minister of Health, called a friend on his communicator and chatted for an hour, and then gotten a second lunch.


    By the time the man finally deigned to see him, it was taking all of Torian¡¯s considerable self-control to keep from snapping.


    The Station Commander reclined in his seat with an air of barely concealed irritation. The room was cold, lit only by the muted glow of command panels lining the walls, casting deep shadows across the Commander¡¯s face. He took his time, glancing at the dataslate on his desk with exaggerated patience.


    ¡°I do wonder, Agent Falk,¡± the Commander drawled, barely looking up, ¡°what might have convinced you to go hunting an alleged insurgent with such¡­ zeal?¡± He shifted, his belt stretching a bit too snugly around his midsection as he leaned forward with a forced sigh, trying for what might have passed as a concerned expression on another man.


    ¡°Three shuttles reassigned from their patrol routes, two dozen men promised overtime rates, and an entire neighbourhood roused from sleep, all to see¡­ what was it again? Oh yes, the Empire¡¯s forces breaking in the door to an unoccupied apartment.¡±


    For the first time, real irritation coloured the Commander¡¯s tone. ¡°People have been asking me uncomfortable questions, Agent. I don¡¯t like uncomfortable questions. I especially dislike not having any answers, so I do hope you have an explanation for this.¡±


    Torian met the Commander¡¯s gaze, his expression as stony as ever. He could feel the ache in his jaw from holding back what he¡¯d really like to say, but he let none of that irritation slip through. ¡°I have reason to believe that Darius Kallan may have some involvement in the malfunctions my ship developed,¡± he said shortly. ¡°As such, I felt it was important to move quickly before he had a chance to escape. Unfortunately, I was too late.¡±


    ¡°You have reason to believe,¡± the Commander repeated, leaning back in his chair with a sceptical look. ¡°Agent, I don¡¯t mean to question your expertise, but this¡ª¡± he tapped his slate, bringing up Kallan¡¯s file, squinting at it in exaggerated disinterest, ¡°¡ªdoesn¡¯t exactly read like the profile of someone who could be as involved as you claim. Petty criminal record¡ªsome disorderly conduct, a few fines for resisting arrest, a couple of detentions¡­ but hardly someone you¡¯d expect to be capable of compromising an Imperial vessel¡¯s power grid, now, is he?¡± The Commander gave Torian a sidelong glance, eyes sharp. ¡°Are we looking at the same man here, Agent Falk?¡±¡°


    Torian inclined his head just enough to acknowledge the comment, his expression unchanged. ¡°Darius Kallan managed to access the Reactor of my ship while ¨C possibly ¨C posing as a worker. Less than two minutes later, the ship lost all power, and when it was restored all the malfunctions were gone.¡±


    The Commander¡¯s brows shot up, a feigned look of polite interest crossing his face. ¡°So¡­ let me see if I have this right. You¡¯ve diverted personnel, launched an operation, and left this station¡¯s resources tied up in the middle of the night to pursue a man who just happened to be somewhere he shouldn¡¯t. Notably, a worker who, by the looks of things, was just doing his job and managed to fix whatever problems your ship was having.¡± He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. ¡°A ship operating in my sector without my oversight, without even my knowledge of its existence. I¡¯m sure you can understand why I don¡¯t find that to be a satisfying explanation.¡±


    Torian¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. ¡°My vessel¡¯s mission is not within your jurisdiction, Commander. However, I will remind you that this station exists to support the Empire, including operations related to Imperial Intelligence.¡±


    The Commander¡¯s expression twisted into a faint sneer. ¡°So your people keep telling me.¡± He lowered his voice, tapping the slate once more. ¡°Let¡¯s assume you¡¯re right about Kallan¡¯s... unfortunate habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And let¡¯s pretend he does know something. I¡¯ll remind you, Agent, that your unsanctioned ¡®operation¡¯ was a failure precisely because you decided that you knew best. Had you followed the chain of command, we could have surrounded the neighbourhood and smoked him out.¡±


    The words lingered in the air, biting through the cool, dim light of the office. But then, almost abruptly, the Commander¡¯s expression shifted, his tone softening with a disingenuous warmth that made Torian¡¯s spine stiffen.


    ¡°But, Agent Falk, I¡¯m a reasonable man. Perhaps you¡¯re right; maybe there was a need for urgency here,¡± the Commander continued smoothly, adopting an air of friendly cooperation. ¡°In fact, I¡¯d like to help facilitate your investigation during your stay on Caldera. You¡¯ll have access to a dedicated squad, should you need it.¡±


    The Commander¡¯s eyes gleamed faintly, his smile twitching just enough to suggest the barest hint of mockery, though his words were pleasant enough. ¡°This squad, of course, is highly competent¡ªfully capable of supporting an Imperial Intelligence agent. And if there¡¯s anything else you require, please don¡¯t hesitate to inform them. They¡¯ll be able to make arrangements on your behalf.¡±


    ¡°Generous,¡± Torian replied, carefully keeping his voice neutral. ¡°Though I wouldn¡¯t want to impose on your station¡¯s resources any longer than necessary.¡±


    The Commander¡¯s smile sharpened just a fraction. ¡°You¡¯re quite right, Agent Falk. I imagine you¡¯ve other matters awaiting your attention elsewhere, so let¡¯s make this arrangement as¡­ efficient as possible.¡± He tapped a final command on his slate, barely glancing at it. ¡°I trust the squad will keep you well-equipped and informed. Anything further? Just let them know, and they¡¯ll see to it.¡±


    Torian wasn¡¯t fooled by the Commander¡¯s sudden bout of helpfulness. Doubtlessly, this ¡®squad¡¯ would be reporting back on any moves he made. An irritation, to be sure, but the chances of them stumbling onto anything of real value were slim at best. Still, he hadn¡¯t made it this far by hoping for the best. Not to mention how the Commander had left him with no grounds for refusal.


    Declining the offer would make him look both paranoid and defensive, neither of which he could afford. ¡°I appreciate the¡­ courtesy, Commander,¡± he replied after a moment, his tone neutral.


    The Commander¡¯s grin widened, and he nodded with the pleasant, unhurried satisfaction of someone who had just secured an advantage. ¡°Anything for the Empire. It¡¯s rare that we have guests with such high clearance on Caldera. We all want to ensure things go smoothly and that you can carry out your work here effectively. I¡¯m only too happy to see Imperial Intelligence succeed.¡± He folded his hands and leaned back, his gaze drifting lazily over Torian, the suggestion of impatience creeping into his tone. ¡°It¡¯s a privilege, really.¡±


    Torian inclined his head, masking his distaste. ¡°Naturally,¡± he replied. ¡°Then I¡¯ll be sure to make the most of this station¡¯s resources.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    The Commander might appear to be little more than a bureaucrat playing power games in the safety of his station, but Torian was beginning to realise the man¡¯s careful balancing act. Fat and complacent as he appeared, he wasn¡¯t simply surviving on Imperial favours. He had a keen sense for control and knew how to leverage the Empire¡¯s own structures for his own ends.


    As Torian stepped out of the room, he allowed himself a single, measured exhale. If nothing else, this encounter had served as a reminder: no one, not even the most unassuming of officials, could be dismissed lightly. It was something he intended to keep in mind as he continued his hunt for Kallan.


    * * *


    Torian signed the latest requisition document with a barely contained grimace, swiping it to the side only for another to take its place. He resisted the urge to hurl the dataslate across the room.


    The Commander was a more cunning man than he had suspected, Torian would give him that. It wasn¡¯t the first time someone had tried to bury him in paperwork ¨C it had been his academy teacher¡¯s preferred punishment ¨C but time hadn¡¯t changed his opinion of the process.


    He had assumed that the squad¡¯s primary purpose was to keep an eye on his activities and possibly try to obstruct him in some subtle ways if the Commander felt he was making a nuisance of himself. He hadn¡¯t taken into account the amount of work involved in taking command of a squad.


    Torian glanced at the number of requisition forms still awaiting his attention and felt a renewed pang of irritation. Even as he sat there, his slate chimed to signal the arrival of another blasted form. He was going to be seeing them in his sleep at this rate.


    Every piece of equipment, every insignificant supply for the squad, each one needed a separate request. Imperial protocol might insist on this level of precision, but rarely had he seen it enforced so meticulously. Ordinarily, this paperwork would be processed as a formality, bypassed by the necessary approvals on its way to an archive. Instead, he had been chained to this desk, filing each request by hand in a room that might once have generously been called an office, albeit a few station refits ago.


    So far, he had requested, by separate form, permission for a standard-issue armour kit for each squad member, including but not limited to; boots, chest piece, trousers, dress shirt, earpiece, sidearm, and even socks and a belt. That wasn¡¯t even mentioning how he was apparently expected to request separate security clearance for each sector of the station he was expecting to operate in.


    The station had over three hundred sections. The very nature of an investigation meant that he had no idea where he was going to operate, which technically meant he would have to request clearance for each and every one of them.


    At this rate he was going to have a lot of frustration to take out on Darius Kallan when he finally caught up to the man. Torian slid another requisition to the side with a frustrated flick, pausing only when the sound of footsteps echoed through the narrow corridor outside.


    Lieutenant Thalina Veris appeared in the doorway, standing at attention as she entered. Torian looked up, the irritation fading slightly as he took in her brisk professionalism. He hadn¡¯t met all the squad members, but he knew from her file that Lieutenant Veris was a promising officer, newly promoted. It was one reason he¡¯d selected her as his aide. Fresh rank had a way of lending itself to integrity¡ªfor a while, at least.


    ¡°Lieutenant Veris, reporting as ordered, sir.¡± Her voice was clear and composed, though it betrayed a hint of curiosity.


    He nodded, setting down the stylus. ¡°Lieutenant, thank you for coming. I assume the sergeant briefed you on your reassignment?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she replied, eyes forward. ¡°I¡¯ve been assigned as your aide for the duration of your stay here.¡±


    ¡°Correct. I¡¯ll need a reliable second, and I believe you¡¯ll be able to handle the responsibility.¡± He glanced down briefly at his dataslate with a faint sigh, then met her gaze again. ¡°And the workload.¡±


    He caught the beginning of a wince in her expression, but to her credit, she smothered it before it could fully cross her face.


    ¡°Lieutenant, you¡¯re relatively new to this station,¡± he began, watching her closely. ¡°Do you feel you¡¯re familiar with how things are¡­ typically handled here?¡±


    Her brow creased, barely a shift, but she nodded. ¡°I¡¯ve familiarised myself with station protocol, sir. I hope I can perform to your expectations.¡±


    His lip quirked in something close to a smile, more a reaction to her restraint than the reply itself. ¡°Good to hear. Because as you can see¡ª¡± he gestured at his dataslate, which chimed on cue, ¡°¡ªstation protocol is going to be our main adversary.¡±


    The corner of her mouth twitched downwards again, almost imperceptibly. She clearly saw where this was headed. But all she said was, ¡°Understood, sir. Is there anything specific you require assistance with?¡±


    He picked up the slate, handing it over. ¡°I need these processed as quickly as possible. You¡¯ll find some of the forms may be¡­ redundant.¡±


    She took the dataslate with a steady hand, though her eyes briefly widened as she scrolled through the unending list of requisitions. Torian almost felt a pang of sympathy as she scrolled farther and farther down the list. Almost.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t take long, sir,¡± Veris said, doing a commendable job of keeping her voice neutral.


    ¡°Good,¡± Torian replied. ¡°I trust you¡¯ll find a way to work through it all. Efficiently.¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir.¡± She straightened slightly, clearly determined not to let a stack of endless paperwork dent her composure.


    ¡°Lieutenant,¡± Torian continued, leaning back as he watched her, ¡°I selected you for this role because I expect professionalism and efficiency. That said, I¡¯ll require more than form-filling once we¡¯re through this¡­ introduction.¡± He picked up a separate slate and handed it to her. ¡°A rundown of our objectives and primary suspects, including Darius Kallan.¡±


    Veris took the second slate, her gaze sharpening as she glanced over the brief notes, including the clearest shot of the suspect¡¯s face he¡¯d managed to get from his security system. ¡°Darius Kallan,¡± she murmured, her brow furrowing. ¡°Is he considered a serious threat?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not certain yet,¡± Torian replied, choosing his words carefully. ¡°But his¡­ proximity to the recent issues aboard my ship makes him a person of interest. For now, your role will be to help me follow every trail and clear every doubt.¡± He folded his hands, meeting her gaze with steely intent. ¡°That will require a degree of initiative beyond station protocol. Understand?¡±


    She nodded, a small spark of intrigue lighting her eyes. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Excellent. Now then, I believe there are some forms that require your attention¡­?¡± He trailed off leadingly.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Veris grimaced, already eyeing the endless stream of requisition forms as she started scrolling through them. After a moment, though, she paused, her brow knitting ever so slightly. She hesitated, glancing up from the slate, her hand hovering as though unsure whether to continue.


    Torian noticed the brief pause but said nothing, curious to see if she¡¯d speak up. After another brief hesitation, she cleared her throat.


    ¡°Sir, if I may,¡± she began, her tone cautious. ¡°This image of Darius Kallan¡ª¡± she gestured to the slate with his file and the accompanying shot of Kallan¡¯s face. ¡°Where exactly was this taken?¡±


    Torian¡¯s brows rose slightly, though his tone remained neutral. ¡°Why do you ask, Lieutenant?¡±


    She shifted, clearly choosing her words carefully. ¡°Well, sir, the background looks like the interior of the Imperial ship¡­ and I noted that, according to your report, the power fluctuations shut down the primary security network.¡± She glanced up, her eyes steady, though curiosity burned there. ¡°So how was this image captured?¡±


    The question gave Torian a moment¡¯s pause. Her thoroughness surprised him, as did her apparent familiarity with the operational effects of the power disruptions. He leaned forward, folding his hands. ¡°You¡¯re well-informed, Lieutenant,¡± he remarked, watching her reaction.


    ¡°Thank you, sir. I made sure to review all relevant details in preparation for my assignment,¡± she replied, a faint blush colouring her cheeks but her tone unwavering. ¡°I wanted to understand the scope of the situation properly.¡±


    Torian felt a flash of irritation as he considered the implications. If she¡¯d read about the power issues and their impact on security, the Commander was distributing far more information than he should have been. Still, Veris¡¯s initiative impressed him. She¡¯d come prepared, had already taken his expectations seriously, and now she was pressing him for answers most officers wouldn¡¯t bother to ask.


    After a thoughtful pause, he weighed his response. Finally, he settled on the truth, his tone measured. ¡°The ship¡¯s primary security network did, indeed, go down. However, I installed a secondary system in critical areas. It¡¯s a standalone network, disconnected from the primary power grid.¡±


    Her eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not exactly regulation, sir.¡±


    Torian couldn¡¯t help a slight smile. ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± he replied smoothly, watching as the realisation dawned on her that she¡¯d just called out a superior. ¡°But certain situations call for¡­ flexibility. Sometimes, my work requires actions outside of standard protocol.¡±


    She looked down, seeming to reconsider her previous comment. ¡°Of course, sir. I apologise if that came across as¡­ judgmental.¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± he said, his tone clipped but not unkind. ¡°It¡¯s precisely that attention to detail I¡¯ll expect from you, Lieutenant. Just don¡¯t be surprised if you find my methods somewhat¡­ unorthodox at times.¡± He let the statement hang in the air, watching as she processed the implications.


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Veris gave a small, tentative nod, as if working to adjust her own understanding of what her duties as his aide might entail. After a moment, she returned her attention to the slate, tapping the screen and steeling herself for the mountain of requisition requests waiting for her.


    Torian leaned back, intrigued. He hadn¡¯t expected to find anyone worthwhile this far out from the core worlds, but it appeared that talent could be found in the most unusual of places. Maybe it was worth looking into the Lieutenant Thalina Veris a little more.


    Imperial Intelligence was always on the lookout for potential recruits, after all.

 6. Trust and Trade-offs

    Chapter 6 - Trust and Trade-offs


    Darius sat on the edge of the lone metal chair, elbows propped on his knees, hands clasped tightly as he stared at the cracked concrete floor. The room had all the comforting charm of a prison cell¡ªbare walls, no windows, and a thick, rust-streaked door with a single reinforced panel. No handles. Because, of course, why would there be handles? The people who¡¯d brought him here weren¡¯t interested in giving him the luxury of choice, let alone a way out.


    He sighed, shifting uncomfortably. Every now and then, muffled voices filtered through the door, sharp enough to catch the tone but not enough to understand. He¡¯d picked out Finn¡¯s voice once or twice, arguing over something. Arguing for him, apparently. Whatever that meant.


    Darius scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake the exhaustion pressing down on him. When Finn had asked him whether he wanted to hope that the Empire was feeling understanding or try making a run for it, he hadn¡¯t expected¡­ this.


    Really, he didn¡¯t know what he expected. Typically Finn was the one trying to stop him from doing stupid things, not encouraging it. He¡¯d never been one to plan things out much, but this really took the cake. Even if these people ¨C whoever they were ¨C were able to keep him under the Empire¡¯s radar, what then? What was he meant to do, spend the rest of his life cowering in some random disused factory?


    This whole mess felt wrong¡ªwrong that Finn knew these people, wrong that they apparently didn¡¯t trust him, and wrong that he was stuck here waiting for a group he barely understood to decide if he was worth helping or worth tossing out. And Finn¡­


    He¡¯d known the guy for years, but the way he moved through the station earlier, slipping through back alleys and weaving through darkened corridors, told him there was a whole other side to his friend. One that, evidently, kept close company with people who weren¡¯t on the Empire¡¯s Christmas card list.


    It was all just¡­ too much. Too much for a guy who was just supposed to clock in, fix machines, and keep his head down. But apparently, that kind of peace wasn¡¯t on the table anymore, not with¡­ whatever was now lodged in his augs, lying in wait like some invasive species he couldn¡¯t root out.


    The voice.


    He let out a long breath, eyeing the faint glow of his HUD, half-expecting it to flicker to life. It had been radio silent since he¡¯d left his apartment, and the absence had been unsettling. Almost like he¡¯d finally lost it. But he knew better.


    ¡°Alright¡­ you there?¡± he whispered under his breath, trying to ignore the tension coiling in his gut.


    After a beat, the faint buzz of static hummed in his ear. Then the voice, smooth and cold as ever. {I¡¯m here, Mr Kallan. I assumed you¡¯d need some time to process the situation.}


    ¡°Oh, how considerate,¡± Darius muttered, his voice edged with sarcasm. ¡°Where was this ¡®consideration¡¯ when you hijacked my life?¡±


    There was a brief pause, which could have indicated that the voice was either contemplating or ignoring his irritation. Hard to tell.


    {I apologise for the disruption to your life. There is little I can do about the situation now, but I am willing to provide what aid I can to rectify things once my objective has been completed, for which I still require your assistance.}


    Darius blinked, somewhat wrong-footed by the apology. He hadn¡¯t expected this thing, whatever it was, to be so¡­ polite.


    The voice continued, unfazed by his silence. {Regrettable as the circumstances are, it was necessary to integrate for operational security. The completion of my mission is an overriding priority.}


    Aaand there it was. Apologies weren¡¯t worth much when the person apologising turned around and did the same thing again. ¡°Yeah, about that,¡± Darius said, grinding his teeth. ¡°You keep talking about your ¡®mission¡¯ and ¡®important information,¡¯ but you¡¯ve been annoyingly tight-lipped about the details. You¡¯re dragging me into this, so I¡¯d like to know why.¡±


    {Knowing the details of my mission will not increase your chances of survival,} the voice replied. {It will only place you in greater jeopardy.}


    ¡°Oh, good, that¡¯s reassuring. Real comforting.¡± Darius shook his head, his voice barely above a growl. ¡°You can¡¯t just¡­ show up in my head, screw with my life, and then tell me it¡¯s on a need-to-know basis. Why the hell do I have any reason to ¡®provide you with assistance¡¯ if you refuse to tell me what you¡¯re doing? What do I get out of this?¡±


    {I have rerouted the signal from your augs to prevent the Empire from tracking your location. Even now, they are attempting to trace your signal, though the nature of this location is helping.}


    Darius¡¯s mouth clicked shut. Well, that wasn¡¯t nothing. It was also precisely the sort of favour he hadn¡¯t wanted to owe this voice. Technically speaking, it was something he only needed because of what the voice had done in the first place, but in fairness it was helpful.


    ¡°Fine,¡± he said begrudgingly. ¡°Then maybe you can answer me this. Why exactly does the Empire want you so bad? And don¡¯t bother with the vague ¡®I have important information¡¯ line. I get that. But why does that make you dangerous to them?¡±


    Another silence. It lasted a fraction longer than he¡¯d expected, as though the voice was weighing something it wasn¡¯t accustomed to. When it finally replied, its tone was precise. {I possess data regarding certain activities the Empire wishes to remain concealed. This data needs to reach¡­ individuals who can take appropriate action.}


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Darius grunted moodily. ¡®Data that the Empire wishes to remain concealed¡¯ could mean any number of things, none of which were great for his prospects of staying out of prison. Or, depending on how badly the Empire wanted to keep things quiet, his prospects of staying alive.


    He let out an explosive breath, pushing to his feet and starting to pace across the room. The lone camera in the corner of the room whirred gently as it moved to track him, and for the first time he considered that speaking out loud to himself in a sealed room probably made him look insane.


    Oh well. Nothing for it now.


    ¡°So, what even are you, then?¡± he asked, angling his face away from the camera. ¡°You¡¯re not just, like, a person remote connecting to that nanite thing you were talking about, are you?¡±


    The voice responded, its tone cool and unfazed. {I am not a person. I am an artificial intelligence learning engram. My operational core is embedded within an adaptive nano-matrix, interfacing directly with your augmentations.}


    Darius scratched idly at the side of his face. ¡°So, basically, you¡¯re an AI that¡¯s inside me.¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Darius couldn¡¯t help but feel the AI ¨C and wasn¡¯t that a whole thing he would have to unpack later ¨C was revising its opinion of his intelligence. He couldn¡¯t really bring himself to care. ¡°Right, so¡­ what do you actually need me for? Like, I get that you¡¯re trying to get a message or data to people or whatever, but practically speaking, what do you want me to do? Do you just need me for my opposable thumbs, or what?¡±


    {At present, I require time to assess the current environment and plan the optimal approach to fulfil my objectives,} the voice responded, tone as neutral as ever. {I will inform you when I need your assistance with specific tasks.}If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Wonderful. Guess I¡¯m ¡®on-call¡¯ then,¡± Darius muttered. As much as he didn¡¯t like the way this was playing out, he really didn¡¯t have much in the way of choices. Even putting aside the whole situation with the Empire ¨C and that was a rather large thing to ¡®put aside¡¯ ¨C he didn¡¯t fancy his chances at getting this thing out of him. Whatever a ¡®nano-matrix¡¯ actually was, it sounded¡­ complicated to remove.


    He didn¡¯t even have health insurance.


    ¡°Hey, while I think of it, do you have a name or anything?¡± he asked, curious. ¡°I¡¯ve sort of just been calling you ¡®the voice¡¯ in my head, but that¡¯s already getting old.¡±


    {My creators assigned me the designation ¡®Echo¡¯}, came the response.


    ¡°And I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re not going to answer if I ask who your ¡®creators¡¯ are?¡± Darius sighed for a moment before shrugging. ¡°Whatever. Alright then, Echo, nice to meet you, I suppose.¡±


    The door swung open with a sharp, metallic clang, interrupting Darius¡¯s reluctant greeting. He jerked his head up, immediately clocking the two figures who stepped inside.


    The men wore plain, hard-wearing clothing¡ªthick canvas jackets, well-worn utility pants, and scuffed boots that suggested they¡¯d seen their fair share of work in rough environments. They wouldn¡¯t look out of place working at the shipyard, though there was a hardness to their expression that told him they weren¡¯t the friendliest sorts.


    One of them, the stockier, broad-shouldered one, pulled a small device from the pocket of his jacket and fiddled with it for a moment before nodding to the other man. Echo¡¯s voice crackled in his ear, startling him so much he almost jumped. {That device is a jammer. All external connections have been disabled.}


    Good to know, he supposed. The taller man, apparently satisfied with their security measures, gave Darius a politely detached look. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said, jerking his head toward the door. No introductions, no explanations.


    Darius stepped out of the cell, the two men flanking him without a word as they led him through a series of narrow corridors. The factory¡ªif it could still be called that¡ªwas a maze of peeling paint, rusted pipes, and broken machinery that seemed more at home in a scrap yard than any functional operation. The place had the damp, metallic smell of long-abandoned industry, and every step echoed off the empty walls, amplifying the silence.


    They turned a corner, and he spotted Finn up ahead, standing beside a woman who all but radiated confidence, her stance firm and unyielding, eyes tracking his approach with sharp, calculating focus. Finn caught Darius¡¯s eye, a familiar look of caution and don¡¯t-screw-this-up painted on his face.


    It was a look he had seen often, though he was a little more motivated to pay attention than usual.


    ¡°Kallan,¡± the woman greeted coldly. ¡°Your friend here tells me you can be trusted. I don¡¯t believe him, but I can be convinced to give you enough rope to hang yourself with. Tell me why I should expend my resources to help you.¡±


    ¡°Uh,¡± Darius managed, taken aback by the woman¡¯s intensity. ¡°I¡ªlook, lady, I don¡¯t even know who you are.¡±


    ¡°Kara Voss.¡± The woman responded with narrowed eyes in a way that indicated he should recognise her name.


    He didn¡¯t.


    Darius blinked. ¡°¡­Cool, nice to meet you. I was meaning in a more¡­ general sense, though,¡± he said, waving his hands around to encompass the group as a whole.


    The woman ¨C Kara, he supposed ¨C raised an eyebrow, turning to Finn. ¡°You didn¡¯t even tell him who we are?¡±


    Finn shrugged. ¡°You wanted discretion, right?¡±


    Darius tried to ignore the slight sting of betrayal. Finn didn¡¯t owe him anything, and considering how the Empire would presumably want to get a hold of these people, it made sense for him to keep quiet about it.


    Still hurt a little, though.


    Kara nodded slowly, clearly approving of Finn¡¯s actions. ¡°We¡¯re part of the Freehold Alliance,¡± she said, turning back to Darius. ¡°An independent network of free worlds and colonies. The Empire doesn¡¯t control us, and we make it our business to give others a chance at freedom. Even if they don¡¯t always have the means to fight for it themselves.¡±


    Darius swallowed, a bitter taste filling his mouth. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ familiar,¡± he managed, keeping his expression even. She spoke with conviction, but all he could hear was another recruiter promising the same line his brother had bought into. The same one that had turned a rebellious, idealistic kid into a name on a casualty list.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been brought here because of Finn,¡± she continued. ¡°But a friend¡¯s good word isn¡¯t enough. If we¡¯re going to put our resources on the line for you, I need to hear something more convincing. Why should I take that risk?¡±


    He could feel everyone¡¯s eyes on him, sharp and assessing. ¡°Uh,¡± Darius managed, scratching the back of his neck as he scrambled to piece together a coherent answer. ¡°Look, lady¡ªI mean, uh, Ms. Voss¡ªI didn¡¯t come looking for a fight, alright? I just¡­ things got complicated.¡± He winced, knowing how lame that sounded but unsure how else to explain his predicament without spilling his every personal failing onto the floor.


    He¡¯d never been the best at interviews.


    Her gaze narrowed, and he rushed on, trying to fill the silence.


    ¡°All I know is that I¡¯ve got the Empire¡¯s attention, which is bad news for me and anyone else in their path. If you can keep them off my back, I¡¯ll do what I can to help. I don¡¯t know what that looks like yet, but I¡¯m willing to put in the work.¡±


    Kara¡¯s lips pressed into a tight line, unimpressed. Beside her, the two men exchanged glances, both clearly sceptical, and Darius could practically feel their judgment settling around him like a too-tight collar.


    Finn, ever the loyal friend, cleared his throat. ¡°Kara, I¡¯ve worked with Darius a long time. He¡¯s not much for speeches, but he¡¯s more reliable than he looks.¡±


    ¡°So you keep saying,¡± she said dryly, arms crossed. ¡°But I suppose we¡¯ll see.¡±


    The two men stepped back, their expressions settling into reluctant acceptance, and Kara gave Darius a long, final look. ¡°Consider this a probationary period, Kallan,¡± she said, her tone cold and clipped. ¡°Finn¡¯s word has bought you that much. Don¡¯t make us regret it.¡±


    Kara¡¯s tone held a finality that left little room for Darius to argue, which, perhaps, was precisely the point.


    ¡°Your augs are going to remain disabled for the duration of your stay with us,¡± she said briskly, folding her arms as if she¡¯d anticipated his objection before he¡¯d even voiced it. ¡°Consider it a safety measure for everyone involved.¡±


    Darius opened his mouth to point out that his augs actually weren¡¯t disabled yet before snapping it shut. Maybe they just hadn¡¯t done it yet, or maybe Echo had done something to keep them running. Either way, it was probably best to keep that to himself for now. Finn might trust these people, but there was apparently a lot he didn¡¯t know about his friend. It wasn¡¯t in his nature to be cautious, but then, arguably, his reckless nature had gotten him in this mess in the first place, so¡­


    It did make him wonder just how much control his passenger really had over his augments. All of a sudden, he was glad he had never been able to afford more than ocular and auditory implants ¨C he didn¡¯t even want to think about a possibly malicious AI being able to control his limbs or shut down his organs.


    ¡°Since you¡¯re Finn¡¯s friend,¡± Kara continued, her eyes narrowing, ¡°we¡¯re giving you a probationary chance, but know this: you¡¯ll be watched, and if you attempt any sort of contact with Empire affiliates or otherwise jeopardise our operation, your time here will be short. And unpleasant.¡±


    Darius nodded, casting a quick glance at Finn, who shot him a faint, encouraging smile. It wasn¡¯t terribly reassuring.


    ¡°We¡¯ll assign you tasks, both to see how reliable you are and to assess your usefulness,¡± Kara added, her expression unyielding. ¡°Some will be straightforward, others may involve some risk. If you refuse to do anything without a very good reason, then¡­¡± She trailed off, shrugging as if tossing him out of an airlock was a routine part of the job.


    ¡°Understood,¡± Darius said, swallowing back the bitterness.


    Kara gave a curt nod, turning toward the door, signalling that his fate was, for now, in limbo. ¡°Finn, you have five minutes,¡± she said, and with a last, scrutinising look at Darius, she stepped out, leaving them alone.


    As the door shut, Finn turned to Darius, his face shifting from its usual casual indifference to something closer to concern. ¡°Listen, just¡­ don¡¯t push them, alright?¡± he said, his voice low. ¡°These people, they¡¯ve got good intentions. Rough edges, yeah, but they¡¯re not bad. Just¡­ be on your best behaviour.¡±


    Darius snorted. ¡°You make it sound like I¡¯ve got a track record of riling people up.¡±


    ¡°Do you really want me to answer that?¡±


    ¡°Point taken.¡±


    There was an awkward silence for a moment before Finn spoke up again. ¡°Look, I¡¯m guessing you have¡­ a whole bunch of questions, and I don¡¯t blame you. I wish I could have told you about all this Freehold stuff, but I know how you feel about them after what happened¡­¡± he trailed off, seeing Darius¡¯s expression tighten. ¡°A¡ªanyway, I¡¯ll try to get in contact with you in a week or two, once they trust you a little more. We can talk.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t quite an apology, but it was close enough for now.


    ¡°Anything in specific I need to know about them?¡± Darius asked after a moment.


    It wasn¡¯t quite forgiveness, but again, close enough.


    ¡°A couple of things might help; Kara looks pretty scary ¨C and, actually, she is pretty scary ¨C but she¡¯s reasonable. Don¡¯t make trouble or try to slack off, and she¡¯ll warm up to you soon enough.¡± Finn eyed him mock dubiously for a second. ¡°Or she¡¯ll realise what an idiot you are, but there¡¯s nothing I can do about that.¡±


    Darius rolled his eyes, but Finn¡¯s next words were serious enough for him to pay attention to.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s a good idea to tell them about your¡­ passenger or not. Up to you.¡± His friend hesitated for a moment. ¡°I¡¯d be careful about it though. They already don¡¯t trust you, and they definitely won¡¯t trust¡­ it, especially considering it came from an Imperial ship.¡±


    Finn gave him a parting nod, something that was presumably supposed to be encouraging but mostly just made Darius feel vaguely awkward. Whatever questions he had, whatever irritation still lingered, there wasn¡¯t time for any of it. Besides, the way Kara¡¯s men stood there, arms crossed and expressions carved from stone, made it clear that they weren¡¯t offering him any more time. It was almost a relief when one of them wandered over and dispassionately told him it was time to go.


    Without another word, Darius turned to follow the man, feeling the weight of Finn¡¯s gaze on his back as he left.

 7. Just Business

    Chapter 7 - Just Business


    Darius leaned back against his seat in the transport, watching the industrial sprawl of Exeter station¡¯s outskirts blur past. The buildings here looked like they¡¯d been left out in the elements too long¡ªrust peeling in jagged patches along the edges, every structure slouched as though they were tired of their own existence.


    Caldera IV didn¡¯t have much of an atmosphere, but what it did have was ever so slightly corrosive. Nothing dangerous to the workers ¨C or so the Empire claimed, anyway ¨C but enough to cut down on the lifespan of any material left exposed to the elements. Parts wore down quicker, nothing looked new for long, and the less said about the smell of rapidly decomposing trash, the better.


    He¡¯d been here for years, and it still caught him off guard sometimes.


    The Freeholders¡¯ transport ¨C a boxy, old two-seater with all the charm of a cement block ¨C jostled over a crack in the road, the engine shuddering in what he could only assume was protest. It looked like the sort of vehicle that had started its life as ¡°serviceable¡± and then worked its way down the ladder of quality and functionality from there. Still, the thing ran, and that was more than he could say for half the personal vehicles he¡¯d seen in the district.


    Next to him sat Voss, who seemed about as thrilled as he was with the cramped interior, though it was hard to tell with her. She kept her attention on the road ahead, barely sparing him a glance since they¡¯d left. The two other Freeholders who¡¯d escorted him through the alleys to the transport ¨C still strangers to him ¨C were squashed into the rear cargo compartment. They were better off than he¡¯d have expected, though; the cargo area was surprisingly well-designed and spacious. One of the men was perched on an old crate, tapping at his datapad, while the other was leaning against a stack of supplies with an exceptionally bored expression on his face.


    The transport slowed to a stop in front of what looked like an abandoned warehouse tucked away between two crumbling factories. The structure was squat and unassuming; its once-sturdy metal walls faded and scarred with streaks of rust. It was all but indistinguishable from any of the other buildings they had passed on the way ¨C which, Darius guessed, was the point.


    The others hopped out with ease, suggesting they were used to the place. Kara gave him a brief nod, jerking her chin toward a side door. ¡°Inside. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    He followed, keeping his curiosity in check. No one else looked particularly interested in making conversation, and he wasn¡¯t in a hurry to break the silence. As they entered, the chill of Caldera¡¯s outside air gave way to the musty, almost metallic smell of the interior. The lighting was dim, provided by a few scattered bulbs hung from exposed beams and the occasional glow of a portable lamp.


    Someone had set up makeshift workstations here and there¡ªrough wooden tables piled with scattered parts, an ancient-looking terminal, a few tool kits spilling bolts and washers. A stack of crates lined one wall, their markings scrubbed off, save for one corner where a faded manufacturer¡¯s logo could still be made out.


    ¡°Take a look around,¡± one of the men who¡¯d escorted him here ¨C Darius still hadn¡¯t caught his name ¨C said, gesturing with a lazy wave of his hand. ¡°We don¡¯t exactly roll out the welcome mat here.¡±


    A couple of the Freeholders went about their business, ignoring him completely. One of them, a wiry man with short, greying hair, gave him a brief nod as he passed, hauling a crate from the transport onto one of the tables with a grunt. ¡°You know your way around a ration pack?¡± he asked, jerking his head toward the stacks.


    ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Darius replied after a brief look around to make sure the man was talking to him.


    ¡°Great. Get stacking.¡±


    Darius spent a moment wondering if he should feel offended by the brusk command before shrugging to himself and walking over to the table to start helping the man arrange the supplies. Not like he had anything better to do ¨C and he was well aware of Voss¡¯s intense gaze on his back. Probably a good idea to put his best foot forward.


    ¡°So, how long¡¯s this place been home sweet home?¡± Darius ventured, tossing a ration pack onto the stack. His question hung in the air for a moment, met only by the continued sound of rustling supplies and the scrape of a crate on concrete.


    The man next to him¡ªhe hadn¡¯t introduced himself¡ªlet out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°Long enough,¡± he said, with a vague shrug that could¡¯ve meant anything. ¡°Nothing fancy, but it does the job.¡±


    ¡°Looks cozy,¡± Darius replied, glancing around. ¡°You get many visitors out here?¡±


    ¡°Not if we can help it.¡± The man¡¯s answer was quick, his tone clipped. He gave Darius a long look, as if trying to decide how much more he felt like sharing. ¡°You¡¯re new, aren¡¯t you? Most people around here aren¡¯t so¡­ curious.¡±


    Darius caught the hint and let the subject drop, turning back to the pile of ration packs. They were the cheap, mass-produced kind ¨C the type that had a shelf-life spanning decades and tasted just a little worse than plain cardboard.


    He hated to say it ¨C and wasn¡¯t stupid enough to say it out loud ¨C but he was kinda¡­ disappointed. Not just in the food, though that was disappointing all on its own, but in what he had seen of the operation so far. For all that he had his problems with the Freeholder movement as a whole, there had still been an expectation of some grand conspiracy working against the tyrannical rule of the Empire.


    From the looks of things here, it was clear they weren¡¯t in the middle of some grand operation ¨C there were no weapons on display, no complex equipment or caches of black market supplies. If he¡¯d actually signed up because he believed in the ¡®cause¡¯, he might have been a little put out. As it was, with a little luck his partnership with the Freeholders would consist of laying low for a few weeks before he could get back to his everyday life.


    Darius was careful to avoid thinking about how likely things were to work out that way.


    {If this location is indicative of the resources the Freeholder organisation can access, my mission may be more difficult than anticipated.}


    Echo¡¯s voice came out of nowhere, startling Darius into fumbling a ration pack. The man stacking supplies beside him raised an eyebrow, but he just shrugged, giving an awkward smile. ¡°Whoops. Slipped.¡±


    The man gave him a dubious look and shuffled a little further away. Darius quietly resigned himself to being seen as a weirdo from here on out. If this ¡®Echo¡¯ was going to be sticking around, he really needed to figure out a way to communicate in public without further destroying the tattered remains of his reputation.


    At this point, Darius really wasn¡¯t sure if he preferred it when Echo was quiet, or when he was chiming in. On the one hand, silence was golden. On the other hand, when the thing was quiet he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it was shifting through his augs, worming its way deeper into his body.


    He suppressed a full-body shiver at the thought. It was the same kind of¡­ icky feeling he got whenever thinking about the more impactful augments. Financial status aside, he wasn¡¯t sure if he could ever make such significant changes to his body like that. The ocular and auditory implants were small enough that he didn¡¯t mind them too much, but anything further was outside his comfort zone.


    The unloading of the transport didn¡¯t take much longer, and by the end of it Darius was torn between irritation and amusement. It felt a little like he was just being used as free labour, but at the same time, the mundanity of unloading boxes in what was ostensibly a secret base tickled his funny bone.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Before he could spend more than a few seconds looking around awkwardly now that the task was finished, Voss¡¯s voice cut through the dull hum of the room. ¡°Alright, Kallan, you¡¯re done here. Follow me, we need to talk.¡±


    Darius blinked, walking over towards where she was waiting and trying to shake the vague impression that he was being called to the principal¡¯s office. She led him past the worn-out partitions to her office¡ªa cramped, rough-looking corner sectioned off by haphazardly assembled plasteel dividers.


    Inside, she took a seat behind her desk and gestured for him to sit opposite. The setup was about as welcoming as a mechanic¡¯s closet; the chair she¡¯d indicated was rickety and visibly uncomfortable. Voss didn¡¯t wait for him to get settled before leaning back and meeting his eyes, her gaze level and intense.


    ¡°You are a problem,¡± she said bluntly, her gaze steady as she drummed her fingers once against the metal edge of the desk. ¡°I don¡¯t know who you are, what you want, or where your loyalties may lie. Finn vouched for you ¨C and he¡¯s proven that he¡¯s reliable, which is why you¡¯re here at all ¨C but if I¡¯m going to be trusting you to stick around and keep your mouth shut, I need more than that.¡±


    Darius cleared his throat nervously. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s¡­ fair enough, I guess. Uh¡­ I¡¯m going to be honest, though; I don¡¯t really know how to convince you that I¡¯m not going to sell you out.¡± A distant part of his brain helpfully informed him that he was doing an excellent job of arguing against himself.


    {I suggest a different negotiating tactic.}


    Darius tried to keep from reacting to the sudden voice in his ear with mixed success. Across from him, Voss raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Well, if nothing else, I suppose that establishes that you would make for a terrible spy,¡± she commented dryly. Darius managed a weak smile and half a shrug, as if to say what can you do? He might have been imagining things, but he could have sworn the corner of her mouth twitched upwards for a second.


    Voss¡¯s gaze lingered, appraising him with a quiet intensity that made Darius shift under her scrutiny. After a beat, she continued. ¡°All right. Let¡¯s start simple. If you¡¯re going to be working with us ¨C or even just spending a few days or weeks lying low ¨C then you should know what we¡¯re about.¡± She leaned back, crossing her arms as she settled more comfortably in her chair.


    ¡°You mentioned before that you were ¡®familiar¡¯ with our organisation. But I¡¯d guess you don¡¯t know the full picture. The Empire doesn¡¯t exactly leave room for stories that don¡¯t flatter them.¡±


    Darius shrugged, feigning indifference. He was more than familiar with the Empire¡¯s ¡°sanitised¡± view of things. That said, he had also heard his share of Freeholder rhetoric over the years ¨C and from where he stood, they weren¡¯t much better than the Empire when it came to spreading propaganda. Voss seemed to take his silence as a cue to continue.


    ¡°Look,¡± she began, her tone shifting slightly. ¡°The Empire takes. It takes, and it takes, until there¡¯s nothing left. I¡¯ve seen what that looks like¡ªwhole colonies stripped of everything useful. Natural resources, manpower, you name it. And the people? They¡¯re squeezed just as dry. Places like Caldera IV don¡¯t mean a thing to the Empire. It¡¯s just one more resource depot. They tell us we¡¯re part of something greater, that our work helps humanity. But what¡¯s the reality? The core worlds live in luxury, while places like this scrape by on whatever scraps are left.¡±


    Darius nodded slowly, acknowledging her point. ¡°True. That said, without the Empire, Caldera wouldn¡¯t exist at all,¡± he pointed out, more for the sake of playing devil¡¯s advocate than actually refuting her argument. ¡°Hell, without the Empire, humanity wouldn¡¯t have colonised more than a dozen or so systems.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong,¡± Voss admitted, a flicker of amusement crossing her face at seeing his expression. ¡°Contrary to common belief, the Freehold Alliance doesn¡¯t hate the Empire. Oh, sure, some of us are more¡­ passionate about things, but even the most dogmatic among us can acknowledge the role the Empire has played in humanity¡¯s development. But,¡± she said, raising a finger, ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean the Empire doesn¡¯t have its flaws, its failures. That doesn¡¯t mean that it should be the only option.¡±


    She looked back up, her eyes hard, and Darius felt a prickle of discomfort under her gaze. ¡°We¡¯re not some idealistic rebel faction trying to change the galaxy. We don¡¯t have grand visions of a revolution sweeping across the stars. We¡¯re trying to carve out a life that the Empire doesn¡¯t control. They won¡¯t let us live freely, so we make our own freedom, one way or another.¡±


    Darius nodded, processing her words. ¡°Why stick around, then?¡± he ventured, genuinely curious. ¡°Seems like it¡¯d be easier to just¡­ disappear. Find somewhere far enough out of the Empire¡¯s reach that they wouldn¡¯t bother you.¡±


    Voss shook her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that suggestion before. But here¡¯s the reality, Darius. No place is out of their reach. You try to vanish, to start over somewhere off the Empire¡¯s radar, and all you¡¯re doing is pushing off the inevitable. Maybe it¡¯s years, maybe it¡¯s decades, but eventually, the Empire will be there, demanding taxes, resources, loyalty. And the moment you can¡¯t give them what they want¡­¡± She gave a slight, humourless shrug. ¡°Well, we both know how that goes.¡±


    Darius leaned back in his rickety, uncomfortable chair. ¡°You said you¡¯re not looking to start a revolution,¡± he pointed out, ¡°so why are you here at all? Trying to change the Empire from the inside or something?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s part of it,¡± Voss shrugged, ¡°But here¡¯s the thing ¨C I may not be able to make some grand change, and maybe no one can. But that doesn¡¯t mean we don¡¯t fight for the people we can help now, for the little freedoms that are still possible. Sure, we¡¯re not shaking the foundations of the galaxy.¡± She paused, her gaze sharpening. ¡°But we¡¯re doing what we can, where we can.¡±


    ¡­Interesting. Voss was saying all the right words, parroting the expected ¡®we fight for what¡¯s right, not what¡¯s easy¡¯ lines, but¡­ he was getting the impression that she may not be much of a ¡®true believer¡¯ herself.


    It wasn¡¯t anything concrete, nothing he could point to definitively, but his gut feeling was that Kara Voss had some more tangible, pragmatic reasons for doing this than she was letting on.


    Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course. In some ways, it was almost preferable ¨C knowing that she wasn¡¯t some kind of fanatic meant that the odds of them staying under the Empire¡¯s radar and making intelligent moves just went up. Still, it was something to keep in mind.


    The thing about idealists is that they generally didn¡¯t have it in them to make the hard choices. The ones that got people killed. Darius had the impression that Kara Voss wouldn¡¯t hesitate to make those same choices ¨C and if anyone was going to be on the chopping block first, it would be the guy she didn¡¯t know or care about.


    {This organisation appears to be fighting for a noble cause. Perhaps we can find a way to assist them in their mission without compromising my own.}


    ¡®Noble cause¡¯. Right. Darius managed to keep his reaction to the sudden voice in his ear to a twitch, but he had to wonder if Echo¡¯s priorities might need a little calibration. It was hard to say if the AI truly believed Voss¡¯s speech or if it was just running on limited data. Either way, he wasn¡¯t about to let a lecture drag on without getting to the point.


    ¡°All right,¡± he said, cutting through the silence. ¡°So the Freeholders are fighting the good fight for the sake of the little guy. Good for you. But what does all this mean for me, exactly? Because, and no offence, I¡¯m not the kinda guy to sign up for a cause that even you admit might be helpless. I¡¯m just¡­¡± he trailed off, trying to think of a way to say it that didn¡¯t sound totally selfish. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to get by, you know?¡±


    Voss leaned back, crossing her arms as she studied him, one eyebrow raised. A flicker of something crossed her face ¨C something like understanding, or maybe resignation. ¡°Alright then. More of a pragmatist, are you? I can work with that.¡±


    She leaned forward, clasping her hands on the desk. ¡°Here¡¯s how this goes, Darius. While you¡¯re here, we¡¯re not your friends, and we¡¯re not your keepers. We¡¯re offering you shelter, resources, and a place to lay low until things cool down for you. In return, you¡¯re going to help us out with some work. And no, it¡¯s not glamorous, but it¡¯s necessary.¡±


    ¡°And what does this work entail, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow, you¡¯ll join a squad¡ªfour people you¡¯ll bunk with, people who know the ropes. You¡¯ll be working alongside them for the next few days, keeping things running.¡± She gave him a thin smile. ¡°Nothing dangerous. Simple maintenance, a few runs to pick up or transport supplies. Nothing that would get you noticed. But if you¡¯re here, you¡¯ll pull your weight.¡±


    Darius paused, weighing his words. He could feel the options shrinking, each one feeling less like a choice and more like the next inevitable step. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fair,¡± he said, suddenly wishing he¡¯d had the foresight to look more convinced by the Freeholder¡¯s ¡°noble struggle¡±. Maybe that way, he could have made things a little easier on himself. Too late for that now.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you think so,¡± Voss returned briskly. ¡°Now, unless you have any pressing questions, your squad leader should be waiting outside.¡±


    ¡°Just one, actually,¡± Darius said after a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°I, ah, don¡¯t know how long the Empire is going to be looking for me. Is there a time limit to this¡­ arrangement?¡± He wasn¡¯t sure if asking this bluntly was a good idea or not, but at this point, he figured he¡¯d already burned some bridges. Best to figure out exactly where he stood.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Voss¡¯s expression wasn¡¯t making him terribly hopeful. ¡°As long as you¡¯re useful, you¡¯ll have a place. And when it¡¯s time for you to move on, well¡­¡± She shrugged casually, flicking a finger over the dataslate on her desk as if dismissing the thought of him entirely. ¡°That¡¯ll depend on how you handle yourself here.¡±


    ¡°Noted,¡± Darius replied, pushing himself up from the uncomfortable chair and giving her a brief nod. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I do appreciate you helping me out like this, considering you don¡¯t know me.¡±


    Voss merely inclined her head, her attention already shifting elsewhere as he left the cramped little office, mentally kicking himself for how he had handled the situation. The wise choice would have been to keep his mouth shut and let her assume he was just another sympathetic soul looking to help ¡°the cause.¡± But here he was, pegged as a pragmatist, which meant he¡¯d be working.


    Another brilliant call from the idiot sitting in his own mess.

 8. A Fragile Welcome

    Chapter 8 - A Fragile Welcome


    Darius woke slowly, the dim glow from the ceiling casting a hazy light across the small room he¡¯d been assigned. His mind took a few sluggish moments to shake off the exhaustion from last night. It seemed crazy, but it had been less than twenty-four hours since he had gone on the run from the Empire.


    For a given definition of ¡®going on the run¡¯, anyway. Right now, the extent of his flight from the law consisted of not-really-joining what was ostensibly a rebellion. Except that the Freeholder¡¯s Alliance was such a minor threat to the Empire that they were technically only classified as a ¡®support group¡¯ for struggling colonies.


    He rolled over, sheets tangled around him like a net, and stared up at the ceiling. At least they¡¯d let him keep this tiny room to himself. Based on the Freeholder¡¯s less-than-impressive resources, he¡¯d expected to be crammed into a dorm with his so-called ¡°squad.¡± But they didn¡¯t just lack funding; they seemed low on personnel too, which meant ¨C mercifully ¨C privacy.


    Last night was a blur, a mix of new faces and names he¡¯d barely absorbed before sleep claimed him. His squad¡­he was reasonably sure they¡¯d been introduced, maybe even exchanged nods. But whatever first impressions he might have made had been eclipsed by the dull, throbbing weight of the day¡¯s events crashing down.


    ¡°Echo?¡± His voice was little more than a whisper, in the vague hopes that he¡¯d somehow imagined the whole thing.


    {Yes?}


    But, of course, he wasn¡¯t that lucky. He squinted up at the ceiling, brow furrowing. ¡°Do me a favour. Give me some good news.¡±


    There was a slight pause, just enough for Darius to feel a twinge of hope before Echo¡¯s voice returned.


    {Your accounts have been frozen, and there¡¯s a warrant out for your arrest.}


    Darius groaned, shoving his face into his pillow. ¡°I said good news,¡± he whined. ¡°Something that won¡¯t make me want to crawl under this mattress and disappear.¡±


    There was a long moment of silence.


    {I see. My apologies. I was under the impression that further information on your current circumstances would allow for more informed decisions, thus facilitating an improvement of the situation.}


    Darius took a moment to digest that, willing the sentence to rearrange itself into something that made sense. He took another moment when the first proved insufficient.


    {Perhaps,} Echo tried again, {you will be pleased to know that I have been able to adjust for the jamming field enough to receive certain external updates. With continued effort, it may be possible to re-establish your access to your accounts.}


    ¡­Those would be the frozen accounts.


    ¡°Right, because nothing screams hope like a chance to re-access my non-existent money,¡± Darius muttered. He let out a long sigh, allowing himself to soak in the bleakness of it all. Maybe he¡¯d brought this on himself. All those years of sidestepping responsibility, skating just above the edge of trouble but never truly engaging with it. Not until now.


    Darius sighed, rubbing his face as he sat up fully, resting his elbows on his knees. ¡°Alright,¡± he said aloud, more for the sake of verbalising his thoughts than actually talking to his tag-along. ¡°Feeling sorry for myself isn¡¯t going to change anything. I need to figure out how I¡¯m going to deal with this mess. Obviously, step one is not getting caught and shipped off to an Imperial cell, which¡­ mission accomplished, I guess?¡±


    He¡¯d bought himself a little breathing room, at least. As far as hiding spots went, the Freeholder¡¯s Alliance wasn¡¯t the worst. They wouldn¡¯t throw him to the Empire, and they wouldn¡¯t mind an extra body around. Not that they could afford to be picky¡ªscraping by on scant funding and even fewer supporters, they were probably eager to snap up anyone even remotely interested in their cause. Or, as in his case, anyone with no other options.


    ¡°Step two is¡­ something.¡± Darius huffed, pushing himself off the narrow bed and pacing the short length of his temporary room. ¡°Lay low for a few weeks? I don¡¯t think the Empire is just going to forget about me.¡±


    {Current projections indicate that evading the Empire¡¯s notice entirely, given your recent status change, is improbable.}


    ¡°You need to work on being more encouraging,¡± he said dryly. Oddly enough, though, the dry statement helped. If only because he could admit to having a tendency of lying to himself about how bad things were, and having someone bluntly tell him it was terrible¡­ helped put things in perspective?


    Darius was starting to think he had issues.


    ¡°So if I try and leave here, the Empire will find me, and if I try to stay¡­ well, I have to assume Voss is going to get sick of me at some point.¡± He turned to stare accusingly at the wall, lacking a more tangible target for his irritation. ¡°Not to mention a certain someone is riding around in my augs, wanting me to do who knows what.¡±


    There was a brief pause. {On that note, I believe I have gathered enough information to make a more concrete request that should minimise disruption to your life.}


    Darius raised an eyebrow. ¡°This ought to be good. Go on, then, what is it you want me to do?¡±


    {I require a physical form,} Echo replied, his tone as neutral as always. {A body, as it were, would allow me to complete my mission objectives. Once functional, I would be able to establish contact with the individuals I need to reach.}


    Darius blinked, absorbing the suggestion. ¡°You want me to¡­build you a body?¡±


    {Yes. Given current resources and time, it may be feasible to construct a rudimentary one. I have collated necessary schematics and materials, which should be accessible from the Freeholder¡¯s limited supply.}


    ¡°Uh, woah, hold up a second,¡± Darius half-chuckled, waving his hands as if to ward off the AI¡¯s sudden enthusiasm. ¡°I think you may be vastly overestimating my technical skills if you think I can build an entire body for you. Not to mention, I don¡¯t think my current landlords would be terribly understanding if I just started to raid their materials closet.¡±


    {The technical requirements for a functioning frame are well within your capabilities,} Echo assured him. {At this stage, I require only basic mobility and access to digital systems. My current architecture has already processed potential configurations.}


    ¡°¡­Right,¡± Darius said after a second of thought. ¡°That sounds a bit more manageable. Wait, so if all you need is some mobility and access ports or whatever, wouldn¡¯t any old droid work? You managed to ¡®integrate¡¯ with me just fine,¡± and good lord, he really needed a different way of saying that, ¡°So can¡¯t you just plug yourself into anything? I could probably just find a functional droid for you to¡­ uh, appropriate, shall we say.¡±


    {Theft would be unethical.}


    How something the vocal and emotional range of a calculator managed to sound disapproving was a mystery.


    ¡°Less ethical than inserting yourself into my life in a way that made me a criminal with half the Empire¡¯s forces on the planet after me?¡± Darius asked with a raised eyebrow.


    {¡­Technically speaking, you already had a criminal record before I intervened.} Came the somewhat weak reply. {Two wrongs do not make a right. Additionally, I do not believe the range of basic droids that could be reasonably found on this station would have systems sophisticated enough to support my functionality.}


    Darius paused. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say you were running off my augs?¡± he pointed out. ¡°If my cheap second-hand augs can support you, a droid definitely could.¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    {I see there has been a misunderstanding. While I interface with your augments, specifically to bolster my own capabilities, it would be more accurate to say that I am running off your central nervous system.}


    Darius¡¯s pulse pounded as he stood frozen, eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯m going to need a better explanation than that,¡± he said, voice low and sharp. ¡°Now.¡±


    A beat of silence. Then, {To clarify,} Echo began, his tone as placid as ever, {my presence within your body is sustained by a nanite matrix embedded in your nervous system. This matrix is interwoven with your central nervous architecture, including a lattice that integrates into the synaptic network of your brain. I am able to function because I draw energy directly from your bioelectric signals, which serve as a power source.}


    Darius¡¯s mind stalled, shock prickling coldly down his spine. He felt his hands flex at his sides, muscles bunching and twitching as if they could somehow shake the nanites loose. It wasn¡¯t just his augs, wasn¡¯t something simple like having a plug in his head. Echo wasn¡¯t just some digital tag-along in his augment system. This¡­ this parasite was in him, in his nerves, laced through his brain, hijacking his body¡¯s own signals to sustain himself.


    Echo, apparently unaware of ¨C or indifferent to ¨C Darius¡¯s mounting rage, continued his explanation. {This neural integration is essential for my functionality within a biological host, especially considering the limited processing power of human augmentation systems. My dependency on your neurological structure is why a standard droid, lacking such bioelectric capability, would be insufficient.}


    Darius¡¯s breathing was shallow, every instinct screaming at him to do something ¨C anything ¨C to get this¡­thing out of him.


    But there was nothing he could do about it.


    No doctor on the planet was going to be able to pull something like that out of him. Even assuming they were willing to overlook where Darius got whatever the hell the parasite actually was.


    He didn¡¯t respond. Couldn¡¯t, really. Words seemed inadequate to capture the weight of his fury, the sense of helplessness gnawing at him as he struggled to process what Echo had just casually explained. A part of him wanted to lash out, to demand answers, but he knew it was pointless. Echo wasn¡¯t a person; he wouldn¡¯t respond with guilt or remorse. For him, this was simple logic.


    Without another word, Darius turned, his body tight with unspent tension as he strode toward the door.


    {Is there an issue with my explanation?} Echo¡¯s voice piped up in his head, unperturbed.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Darius muttered under his breath, jaw clenched. The door hissed open to reveal a small common room that he vaguely remembered from last night.


    The room itself could generously be called ¡®functional¡¯; sagging, stained couches were squished into one corner, a wobbly table took up most of another, and a tiny, slightly rusted kitchenette stretched across the largest stretch of wall opposite them both. There was a corridor at either end of the room, one of which Darius knew led to the larger area he had arrived at yesterday, and the other of which presumably led to more rooms.


    The couches were currently occupied by a few people who had been deep in conversation until Darius entered. Now they were looking back at him with the vaguely guilty expressions people usually wore when caught talking about a person behind their back. Some of Darius¡¯s anger faded in favour of a tired sort of resignation.


    Great. Now, on top of everything else, he was going to have to be social.


    The first person to react was a young woman, who bounced out of her seat and smiled brightly before seeming to catch herself and affect a more casual tone. ¡°Good morning. We met last night, but you seemed pretty wrecked, so I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if you don¡¯t remember our names,¡± she said coolly, offering her hand for him to shake.


    {Lena Ward.} Echo supplied before Darius could admit that he didn¡¯t remember them.


    He managed to keep his reaction to an irritated twitch, though his handshake was probably a little firmer than it needed to be. ¡°Lena, right?¡±


    Lena blinked, looking pleased. ¡°Yeah! Guess you¡¯ve got a pretty good memory, huh?¡±


    ¡°Something like that,¡± he replied, releasing her hand.


    ¡°Try to keep the flirting to a minimum, Lena. He hasn¡¯t even been here for a full day yet ¨C don¡¯t wear him out already,¡± one of the men sitting on the couch drawled. He had a narrow face, lean and wiry, with an expression that managed to be both bored and annoyed at the same time.


    Lena¡¯s smile vanished as she whirled on the man, expression sharp enough to cut. ¡°I get that your parents dropped you on your head as a child, Tarek, but would it kill you to at least pretend to be normal?¡±


    Tarek snorted, unfazed. ¡°Normal¡¯s boring, darling. And you wouldn¡¯t like me when I get bored.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even like you now. How much worse could you get?¡±


    Darius glanced between them as they fell into bickering, totally ignoring him. One of the other men sitting on the couch chuckled and leaned forward with a friendly smile.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind them ¨C once they get started, it¡¯s easier just to let them wear themselves out. A pleasure to meet you more officially, I suppose.¡±


    {Corin Elith. The leader of the squad is Harlan Dray.}


    ¡°Likewise,¡± Darius said, accepting the handshake with a tight smile and pointedly ignoring the voice resonating through his augs. He nodded politely at Harlan, who was sitting in the corner, and whose name he actually remembered from last night.


    Corin winced as the argument going on beside him started escalating further, quickly getting off the couch and walking briskly over to the little kitchenette in a way that only slightly resembled fleeing.


    ¡°You must be hungry. Or at least thirsty,¡± he called over his shoulder, gesturing to the small appliances on the benchtop. ¡°Nothing special, but I can brew up a decent cup of synth-coffee.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, uh¡­thanks. Coffee sounds good.¡±


    Corin nodded, deftly pouring the coffee-adjacent liquid into a pair of chipped mugs, giving it a little stir to make sure the texture was as close to drinkable as the equipment would allow. He handed the mug to Darius with a small smile, gesturing for him to join him at the wobbly table.


    ¡°So, rough night?¡± Corin asked, his tone light.


    Darius let out a short chuckle, taking a sip. ¡°You could say that. Long day, weird introductions, questionable life choices... you know, the usual.¡±


    Corin laughed. ¡°We¡¯ve all been there. Well, maybe not exactly there, but close enough.¡±


    Before Darius could respond, Harlan, the squad leader, strolled over and took the chair beside them, cradling his own mug.


    ¡°The boss-lady hasn¡¯t told me much beyond the basics of your situation,¡± the older man said without much preamble. ¡°Not really any of my business. Important thing is that we get along well enough to get the jobs done.¡±


    Darius raised an eyebrow, shooting a pointed glance at the arguing duo still by the couches. Harlan¡¯s expression didn¡¯t so much as twitch.


    ¡°Don¡¯t have to like each other. When they¡¯re on the job, they do what they¡¯re told.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Darius drawled, shifting his attention back to his new ¡®leader¡¯. ¡°And what is the ¡®job¡¯, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Our main job is to keep supplies moving, which is about as glamorous as it sounds,¡± Harlan grunted. ¡°Dead drops, sometimes picking things up in person, but always keeping our heads down.¡±


    ¡°Sounds straightforward,¡± Darius said, though he knew the word straightforward could mean a lot of things in a galaxy that hated to make anything easy.


    ¡°Sure, until Lena¡¯s driving,¡± Tarek interjected as he and Lena finally made their way over, bringing their conversation¡ªand lingering argument¡ªalong. He dropped onto the couch with a mock-pained expression. ¡°I swear, she almost got us killed last time. Are we totally sure she can actually see over the top of the dash?¡±


    Lena¡¯s eyes narrowed dangerously, weighing her mug like she was considering how it would look embedded in Tarek¡¯s face. Darius was already getting the impression that the young woman was a little¡­ sensitive about her age or stature. Or rather, the lack thereof.


    It¡­ reminded him of his sister.


    He quickly pushed that particular knot of complicated emotions into the locked box where he stored all his other issues.


    ¡°Right,¡± Harlan said, barely pausing to acknowledge the tension rippling between Tarek and Lena. ¡°Anyway. We¡¯ve got a supply run tomorrow. It¡¯ll be your first time out with us, but we¡¯ll keep it simple. Today, I¡¯ll walk you through the dead drop locations and make sure you know how to handle the transport well enough that you don¡¯t get us all killed.¡± His gaze flicked briefly to Lena, whose eyes narrowed but otherwise gave no response. ¡°We¡¯ll take the whole squad along to show you the ropes. You might think moving crates is a dull job, but it gets interesting fast if you don¡¯t know how to keep a low profile.¡±


    Darius nodded, feeling the undercurrent of something unspoken in Harlan¡¯s tone. ¡°I can drive,¡± he said, maybe a bit sharper than he meant to. ¡°Not my first time handling a transport under pressure.¡±


    Harlan¡¯s lips curled into what might have been a hint of a smile. ¡°Good. Then maybe Lena¡¯ll take the co-pilot seat this time around.¡± He glanced over at Corin, who gave him a cheerful grin in return. Darius instinctively distrusted anyone who could look that cheery while drinking coffee this bad.


    Sudden shouts coming from the open area of the factory that Darius had arrived at yesterday had the Freeholders twisting in their seats, tense. Harlan was on his feet a moment later, already striding for the corridor. The rest of them scrambled to keep up.


    As they reached the central area, they found a small crowd gathered around a pair of figures slumped against the wall, one of them clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers.


    ¡°Alain! What the hell happened?¡± Harlan barked, shouldering his way through the group to kneel beside the injured man.


    Alain¡¯s face was pale, a sheen of sweat gleaming under the harsh lights. His expression twisted with pain as he looked up at Harlan. ¡°Imperial patrol,¡± he managed through gritted teeth. ¡°We were coming back from the Rother Drop¡­ they told us to pull over. Maddox tried to argue. They¡­ they opened fire.¡± The man spat to one side, fury written across his face. ¡°The bastards were just looking for an excuse.¡±


    There was a beat of stunned silence before Tarek swore viciously. ¡°So what? They¡¯re just attacking us on sight now? The hell are we supposed to do about that?¡±


    Harlan eyed the door to Voss¡¯s office, through which shouts could be heard. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I¡¯m going to go find out.¡± The man turned and addressed his squad ¨C and Darius, who was hovering at the edges of the crowd and trying not to look too closely at the blood. ¡°This is an escalation, and one that we certainly weren¡¯t expecting this soon. That said, we all knew what we were getting into. Go and get prepped ¨C I¡¯m willing to bet we¡¯re going to be sent out soon to gather as many supplies as possible before the Empire cracks down.¡±


    Lena and Corin nodded in grim-faced agreement, Corin stepping forward to lay a hand on Terak¡¯s shoulder where he was staring down at Alain. Lena turned to Darius. ¡°Looks like you picked an interesting time to join up,¡± she said, clapping him on the shoulder with an eager grin. ¡°Lucky you. We¡¯re going to be getting the fun jobs now.¡±


    The worst part was that Darius was pretty sure she wasn¡¯t joking.

 9. The Price of Refuge

    Chapter 9 - The Price of Refuge


    Things were moving much faster than Darius was comfortable with.


    The whole vibe of the factory had shifted once the injured Alain had been carted off for medical attention. He had expected people to be nervous, worried about their odds, about what the Empire was going to do, how they were going to lay low.


    He hadn¡¯t expected excitement.


    It turned out that Lena wasn¡¯t the only Freeholder to feel that things were just getting good ¨C while none of the members looked outright happy, there was a palpable sense of energy buzzing around the place. Even more worrying was the sudden appearance of weapons on people¡¯s hips or strapped to their backs.


    Things were getting real in a way that he wanted no part of.


    ¡°Come on, Darius, let¡¯s get you kitted out,¡± Lena chirped, clapping him on the back before turning and striding back towards the corridor leading to their common area. Darius followed numbly, sparing a glance towards the office where Harlan, Voss, and a few other people ¨C presumably squad leaders ¨C were talking. He had the feeling he wouldn¡¯t like whatever it was they decided on.


    He also couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that his window for getting out of this mess was rapidly closing. It was one thing to tag along with the Freeholders when it was nothing more than laying low and making the odd supply run, but a whole nother thing when it looked like they were gearing up for war.


    Imperial propaganda had always been openly dismissive of the Freeholder movement, stopping just shy of calling them totally incompetent. Darius usually knew better than to fully buy into what the Empire was telling its citizens, but this was a rather case of misinformation. Was it this particular group that was more intense than the rest, or was the Empire trying to cover up the scope of the problem?


    Realistically, Darius knew it was likely a mixture of the two. But as Lena strode over to the kitchenette and started pulling guns out of one of the drawers, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if this was what his brother had been involved in.


    Lena tossed a pistol his way, and he fumbled to catch it before it could hit the floor, ending up holding it gingerly by the grip. ¡°Uh, look, I don¡¯t really¡­ need a gun,¡± he stammered uncomfortably. This was happening way too fast.


    Lena laughed, bright and cheery. ¡°Don¡¯t worry! We¡¯re not expecting you to actually use it ¨C it¡¯s just in case. Better to have it and not need it, right?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather just¡­ not have it, to be honest,¡± he admitted, cautiously placing it on the bench and making sure the business end was pointed away from him. He might not know much about guns, but he was pretty sure it was a bad idea to point it at anything you didn¡¯t want a hole in.


    ¡°Relax, it¡¯s not even loaded yet.¡± she drawled somewhat condescendingly. Darius felt that she was being awfully sassy for someone who couldn¡¯t be older than twenty, but in fairness, she was strapping a holster to her leg with a somewhat worrying amount of expertise. He wasn¡¯t ashamed to admit he had his strengths and weaknesses, and military hardware was not on his list of strengths.


    ¡°Look,¡± Lena said, stepping over to scoop up the pistol and push it into his hands more firmly. ¡°We¡¯re not planning on charging headfirst into a firefight, alright? But if things go south, you¡¯re going to be glad you have a backup option.¡±


    Darius took the pistol with a wince. ¡°I don¡¯t even know how to use this thing,¡± he admitted.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy. Just point it in the general direction of the bad guys and pull the trigger!¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help but think that somewhere, a safety officer just woke up in a cold sweat,¡± Darius said dryly. Lena laughed, moving back to the drawer and passing him a few magazines of ammunition, quickly showing him the basics on how to unload and reload.


    The thing that struck him the most about the weapon was the weight of it in his hand. It wasn¡¯t that it was heavy, as such, more just¡­ solid. Despite himself, a small thrill of excitement curled in his chest. He¡¯d never really understood why some people would get so excited over guns, but holding one now felt surprisingly cool.


    Before he could ask for any more tips, Tarek stormed into the room, muttering curses under his breath. The irate man didn¡¯t stop or acknowledge either of them; he just moved to a table, grabbed a rag and started wiping down an already-clean rifle with far too much force.


    Darius shared a quick glance with Lena, though neither of them were willing to poke that particular bear. They didn¡¯t have long to dwell on it before Harlan appeared, strolling into the room with a controlled sort of calm.


    ¡°Alright, everyone,¡± he announced, ¡°Gather round. We¡¯ve got our next run set up. Chances are we have limited time before Imperial patrols tighten up the major routes. As such, the decision has been made to hit some of the higher-risk drop points to make sure we¡¯re stocked up.¡±


    Darius did not like the sound of that.


    Lena nudged him with an eager grin. ¡°This¡¯ll be fun.¡±


    ¡°Tarek and Kallan,¡± Harlan continued, ignoring the interruption, ¡°both of you are already on their radar. We might as well put that to use and let the rest keep a lower profile.¡±


    ¡°Hang on,¡± Darius interjected, raising his hand. ¡°That seems like a fantastic way to get us all caught.¡±


    Harlan¡¯s expression didn¡¯t so much as flicker. ¡°It¡¯s also a good way to keep the others safer. We¡¯ll split attention and draw off some of the heat. Voss seems to think that the Empire¡¯ll be looking at you first.¡±


    Darius spluttered. That was a rather significant shift from Voss¡¯s initial assurances of ¡®don¡¯t worry, we won¡¯t send you on the dangerous jobs¡¯ to ¡®oh, I know, let¡¯s dangle him out as bait¡¯.


    Tarek scoffed, still holding his rifle in a way that made the hair on the back of Darius¡¯s neck tingle. ¡°Should have known you were a coward,¡± he sneered.


    Darius glared back, not even remotely ashamed. He¡¯d never signed up for this stuff in the first place, and besides¡­ cowards lived longer. That said¡­ well, to put it bluntly, he really didn¡¯t see any other options.


    Even in the event that the Freeholders didn¡¯t hold anything against him and were happy to let him walk away with the knowledge of where the base was, he was rather short on other places to hide.


    ¡°Kallan, a word?¡± Harlan asked calmly, gesturing to the relative privacy of the corridor. ¡°Look, I understand that this isn¡¯t what you were hoping for. Voss has filled me in a little more about your situation, and I¡¯ve been instructed to ask if you think this sudden uptick in Imperial attention might have anything to do with your situation.¡±


    Darius opened his mouth to deny it but paused. That¡­ surely not, right? Then again, Echo was rather cagey about why the Empire wanted him in the first place, and considering how he had been on an Imperial warship, it wasn¡¯t out of the realms of possibility that he had some military secrets that the Empire would cheerfully kill to get back.


    {It is almost certainly related.} Echo chimed in, helpful as always. Darius grimaced, unwilling to actually admit his potential culpability out loud.


    Harlan grunted, reading it from his expression. ¡°Damn. Right then, that makes this next bit unpleasant. Basically, Voss has told me to tell you that if you don¡¯t contribute to these missions, we¡¯ll¡­ well, let¡¯s just say you¡¯ll be serving as a distraction either way.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Darius took a deep breath. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t know what I expected,¡± he said bitterly. ¡°Just about typical for how my week is going.¡±


    Harlan rubbed at his eyes, glancing up and down the corridor to make sure they weren¡¯t being overheard. ¡°I¡¯m not going to lie; this doesn¡¯t sit right with me either,¡± he admitted. ¡°Forcing you into this situation feels¡­ well, to be honest, it feels like something the Empire would do. As such¡­ I won¡¯t be keeping too close an eye on you during this run. If you happened to slip away, then¡­¡± he trailed off, the implication clear.


    Darius nodded slightly. ¡°I appreciate that.¡±


    Not that it would change much. He wasn¡¯t exactly cut out for this sort of thing ¨C chances are it wouldn¡¯t take the Empire longer than five minutes to pick him up. Really, this was a case of picking his poison.


    At least with the Freeholders, he had the illusion of choice, not to mention there was always the faint possibility that he would be able to figure out a way out of this situation.


    ¡°Right then,¡± Harlan continued, seeing Darius was unwilling to continue their conversation. ¡°Best get back to the briefing.¡±


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    The transport rattled as they hit a rough patch, sending Darius jolting against the metal bench. He winced, shifting his grip on one of the smaller crates they¡¯d collected from a dead drop a few minutes ago.


    They were barely an hour into this supply run, and he was already sick of the cramped transport and Tarek¡¯s scowling presence across from him. Only Corin, leaning casually against a stack of crates, seemed entirely at ease.


    In the front seat, Harlan and Lena chatted, their voices muffled but relaxed. Lena was actually humming a little tune to herself. It was surreal how calm she sounded, especially considering she¡¯d been buzzing with excitement just hours ago. But the longer they drove, the more Darius found his own shoulders loosening. There was a strange rhythm to this, a feeling like they were just running an errand¡ªalbeit one with a very specific set of risks.


    Corin noticed him glancing at the crates and nodded with a grin. ¡°Not as glamorous as you thought, huh?¡± he asked, leaning forward.


    ¡°Definitely not,¡± Darius muttered. He gestured to the crates. ¡°So, all this¡­ ¡®stuff¡¯ in the dead drops. Where¡¯s it coming from, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Ah, the great mystery,¡± Corin replied, tapping a finger to his temple in mock thought. ¡°Well, truth is, I don¡¯t know exactly. These drops aren¡¯t just ours; we¡¯re part of a network¡ªother Freeholder cells, smugglers, even some folks with connections in high places. Everyone sort of chips in.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Darius said, brow furrowing. ¡°So¡­ nobody actually knows who leaves them? Seems a bit¡­ haphazard.¡±


    Corin chuckled. ¡°Yeah, I can see how it sounds that way. It¡¯s not as random as it looks, though. The network works through signals and codes. Some drops are specific to certain routes, some are free for all, but they¡¯re marked.¡±


    Darius glanced over at Tarek, who was looking out the back of the transport with a faint sneer, not paying them much attention. ¡°And¡­ these signals. You all just pick them up on the fly?¡±


    Corin shrugged, leaning back again. ¡°That¡¯s a bit above my pay grade. A lot of this stuff is in the ¡®need-to-know¡¯ category, and well, I don¡¯t need to know it. Harlan usually gets the list of drops, knows the routes, and checks them out ahead of time. We don¡¯t go to a drop if we think it¡¯s been compromised.¡± He paused, eyeing Darius with a grin. ¡°Think of it as a scavenger hunt, but, you know, with slightly higher stakes.¡±


    ¡°Seems like there¡¯d be easier ways to get supplies,¡± Darius mused, not entirely buying into the covert glamour of it all.


    ¡°You¡¯re thinking like a civilian,¡± Corin said with a wry smile. ¡°The Empire is good at keeping track of certain resources, and our best defence is being undetected. Some stuff we can just pick up at a store like anyone else, but things like medical supplies? Ammunition? All monitored and tracked. Even large purchases of food or water are sometimes looked into, so we have to be careful.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve actually been meaning to ask about that,¡± Darius said before hesitating for a moment. ¡°Like, no offence or anything, but I¡¯ve always heard that the Freeholders were nothing more than a nuisance. But, well, it seems like you guys are pretty organised, with the dead drops and guns and stuff¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you really that stupid?¡± Tarek cut in with a disdainful scowl. ¡°Of course, the Empire isn¡¯t going to tell people about its failures. Wouldn¡¯t want anyone else getting ideas, after all.¡±


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t put it so¡­ confrontationally,¡± Corin winced, ¡°But he¡¯s not wrong.¡±


    Before Darius could process the comment or fire back, Lena¡¯s voice rang out from the front, tense and clipped.


    ¡°Hey, heads up back there! We¡¯re pulling out.¡±


    Darius exchanged a quick look with Corin, who immediately pushed off the crates and peered toward the front. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he called out.


    ¡°Imperial patrol,¡± Harlan responded, his voice low but steady. ¡°We¡¯ve spotted a few vehicles up ahead. Don¡¯t want to risk getting too close, so we¡¯re turning back now. Everybody, keep your heads down, and make sure your gear is stowed.¡±


    Darius braced himself as the transport lurched into motion, turning down a side street.


    ¡°Better get that out of sight,¡± Corin said, aiming a pointed look at Tarek, who was still fiddling with his rifle. ¡°Don¡¯t want them spotting it through a window.¡±


    With a roll of his eyes, Tarek begrudgingly tucked his weapon haphazardly between some crates and the wall, hidden from casual inspection but still in easy reach. Darius nervously palmed the grip of his own pistol, tucked into his waistband at the small of his back.


    Harlan muttered a curse from the driver¡¯s seat, and when Darius peered through the front windscreen, he saw another Imperial patrol blocking the street, checking pedestrians and vehicles. Lena flicked at the dataslate in her hands for a moment before shaking her head.


    ¡°No detours between here and there. We could try turning around, but¡­¡±


    ¡°That would attract more attention,¡± Harlan finished. ¡°Everyone stay calm. Keep quiet and let me do the talking.¡± He cast a glance over his shoulder. ¡°If things go south, be ready ¨C there¡¯s no way this old thing will bust through that roadblock, so we¡¯ll have to turn around. Be ready to give us some covering fire to dissuade pursuit.¡±


    Darius was getting a little wide-eyed at this point, but Corin was perfectly calm, and Tarek even had an eager gleam in his eyes. He watched as the two of them started shuffling crates around, forming a low barrier between them and the back of the vehicle.


    ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± Darius asked, mouth dry.


    ¡°Gives us cover,¡± Tarek answered shortly, ironically less confrontational now that there was a confrontation looming. ¡°If we have to make a run for it, chances are they¡¯ll be shooting. We can hide behind this and shoot back.¡±


    {I do not believe these crates will provide sufficient protection from projectile weaponry.} Echo said, jolting Darius out of his stunned silence. For once, his passenger¡¯s voice was more comforting than annoying, giving him something to focus on.


    Corin shrugged as Darius relayed Echo¡¯s sentiment. ¡°Sure, these won¡¯t stop a bullet,¡± he said with a worrying amount of nonchalance. ¡°But it won¡¯t hurt, either, and ducking behind any kind of cover will make it harder for them to know where to aim.¡±


    Darius tried to ignore the knot of anxiety twisting in his gut, focusing instead on adjusting the crate in front of him to match Corin¡¯s makeshift barricade. The transport slowed, and through the small gap toward the front, he saw the flicker of Imperial uniforms at the roadblock up ahead. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the pistol at his back, more for reassurance than anything. He had no idea if he¡¯d even be able to pull the trigger if it came to it.


    Harlan rolled down his window as they approached the roadblock, putting on the face of a driver slightly irritated by the inconvenience but not concerned enough to be suspicious. Darius watched as an Imperial officer stepped up, leaning against the window with a clipboard.


    ¡°Routine inspection, nothing to worry about,¡± the officer said, his tone as flat and detached as Darius expected. ¡°What¡¯s your business here?¡±


    ¡°My daughter¡¯s moving out,¡± Harlan answered smoothly, gesturing to Lena in the seat beside him. The sudden shift from ¡®gruff squad leader¡¯ to ¡®doting-but-beleaguered father¡¯ took Darius off guard. ¡°Giving her a hand to shift some last odds and ends.¡±


    The officer glanced at Lena, who gave him a polite but disinterested smile, tapping at the dataslate in her lap as if she¡¯d already lost interest in the conversation. Harlan rolled his eyes companionably at the officer, who snorted in amusement.


    ¡°Won¡¯t take too much of your time then. Just pop open the back for us, and we¡¯ll do a quick check.¡±


    Harlan nodded agreeably and thumbed the control that unlocked the back doors to the cargo area. Darius¡¯s pulse spiked as the guards stepped around to the rear of the transport, reaching for the latch. Corin caught his eye and gave a subtle nod, shifting his weight to appear relaxed. Tarek, meanwhile, leaned back and let out an exaggerated yawn, rubbing his eyes in a way that conveniently shielded his face just as the doors swung open.


    One of the guards raised a flashlight, sweeping the beam over the stacked crates and landing on Corin, who looked every bit the picture of casual indifference, his eyes half-lidded as if bored by the interruption. The flashlight continued over to Tarek, who had resumed scratching his nose, his face partially obscured. Both guards seemed satisfied, moving on without a second glance.


    But then the light hit Darius, lingering for a beat too long. He froze, his attempt at a neutral expression faltering as one of the guards narrowed his eyes, studying him with a spark of recognition.


    ¡°Hold up,¡± the guard said, voice sharp. He turned to his partner, pulling a small data pad from his belt and bringing up an image. The guard¡¯s gaze flicked from the pad to Darius and back, his frown deepening.


    Darius felt a chill run down his spine, his heart pounding so hard he was sure they¡¯d be able to hear it. He cast a quick, desperate glance at Corin, who raised an eyebrow in an attempt at an encouraging look that fell flat.


    The guard¡¯s next words were predictably not what Darius was hoping for. ¡°Sir! You might want to have a look at this ¨C got a possible match here.¡±


    ¡°Oh well,¡± Tarek sighed in faux disappointment, letting his hand fall from where it had been covering his face.


    Harlan¡¯s jaw clenched before smoothing out. ¡°You might want to hold on to something back there,¡± he called over his shoulder calmly.


    Darius had just enough time to see the puzzled expression on the officer¡¯s face before Harlan floored it.

 10. False Fronts

    Chapter 10 - False Fronts


    Darius ducked further behind the wall of crates as a bullet pinged off the frame of the transport above his head and wondered, not for the first time, where it had all gone so spectacularly wrong.


    In the immediate sense, he knew exactly when things had gone sideways¡ªthe instant that guard recognised his face. In a broader, more philosophical sense¡­ was it the day his brother died? When he¡¯d taken the fall and ended up in prison? No, of course not. It was when that blasted AI decided to hitch a ride in his head.


    Another sharp retort echoed through the confined space as Corin and Tarek fired out the open rear doors. Darius flinched, feeling the sound like a hammer between his ears. Corin looked tense, but Tarek¡ªdamn him¡ªhad an eager gleam in his eye, calm as anything, taking time to pick his shots while Darius huddled behind cover with a pistol he barely knew how to hold.


    ¡°Kallan!¡± Tarek yelled over the gunfire, catching his eye for half a second before turning back to fire. ¡°You¡¯re not a spectator ¨C start shooting!¡±


    Darius swallowed hard, fumbling to raise his pistol as he pointed it in the vague direction of the pursuing vehicles and pulled the trigger. The weapon jumped in his hands, almost dislodging itself from his grip.


    The bullet went¡­ somewhere, presumably. Certainly nowhere near his target.


    The second and third shots were little better, and by the time his magazine clicked empty, he thought he might have skimmed the vehicle with a single bullet. Darius stared down at his pistol blankly, trying to remember Lena¡¯s brief instructions on how to reload.


    {I believe I may be of assistance.}


    Before he had the chance to fully process that, his augs fizzed for a moment, static flashing across his vision before resolving itself. In its wake, a calm blue light was blinking over a small button on the side of the grip.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he muttered, trying not to look like he was taking advice from his own head as he pressed the button. The empty magazine slid out, and with Echo¡¯s overlay guiding him, he managed to snap in a fresh one. His hands were shaking, but at least now they were doing something other than fumbling.


    This time, when he raised the pistol once again, a thin beam of light was projected from the end of the barrel like someone had taped a laser pointer to the weapon. The occasional lag, not to mention how the beam was easily visible despite the bright sunlight, indicated that this was a virtual addition, presumably done through his augs. Normally, Darius would be quietly seething at how Echo had altered his vision without even so much as asking.


    Now, though, he was just grateful. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as he aligned the glowing line with one of the distant vehicles. He squeezed the trigger again, this time feeling more in control as the shot hit the vehicle¡¯s side panel with a satisfying ping.


    ¡°Better!¡± Corin shouted, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. ¡°Try aiming for the lower right corner; it¡¯s where the intake valves are. Knock them out and they¡¯ll have to pull over or risk melting the engine!¡±


    ¡°Right!¡± Darius called back, shifting his aim to the aforementioned area, blinking in surprise as the beam of light he was using to aim shifted green as it passed over the target.


    Useful, he thought idly, already pulling the trigger. Two shots later ¨C he¡¯d slowed to pick his shots more carefully now that they might actually do something ¨C and a satisfying plume of smoke rose from the enemy vehicle, which slowed and drifted behind as the rest of the convoy powered forward.


    ¡°Good shooting!¡± Corin laughed incredulously. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can make it two for two!¡±


    Darius didn¡¯t even think before turning to the next car. The targeting reticle flickered slightly as Echo realigned it, guiding him to aim a few degrees lower. The reckless driving of their own transport made the first few shots narrowly miss, but a louder crack from beside him showed the Tarek wasn¡¯t as bothered by the shifting platform.


    The Imperial vehicle wobbled before the engine seized with a dull grind, and it pulled out of the chase, barely managing to avoid ploughing into the few pedestrians that hadn¡¯t immediately dived for cover.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯ll do,¡± Tarek called, with a quick, almost approving nod as he slammed a fresh magazine into his own weapon. ¡°Looks like you¡¯re getting the hang of it.¡±


    ¡°Good shooting!¡± Harlan called back from up front. ¡°But we¡¯re not out of the woods yet, and we¡¯re not taking this scrap heap all the way home. Once we¡¯re clear, we¡¯ll find a place to ditch it and go on foot. Won¡¯t risk leading them right back to us.¡±


    The others didn¡¯t hesitate, already opening up the crates and filling any available pocket with choice supplies as Harlan pulled sharply into a dark side street. Darius lowered his pistol, tucking it into his belt as he glanced at the now-empty street behind them.


    His heart was still pounding with adrenaline, but it wasn¡¯t fear anymore. For the first time in more years than he cared to count, he felt¡­ in control.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    ¡°I give you my personal guarantee, Minister,¡± Station Commander Trask said in his most reassuring tone, ¡°That everything is under control. The disruptions will continue only as long as strictly necessary and not a moment longer.¡±


    Years of clawing his way up the ranks told him that promising anything was a dangerous endeavour, but he was unfortunately short on options right now. It had seemed so simple at first ¨C institute a few additional patrols, increase the guards assigned to critical areas for a few weeks, and everything would blow over.


    The interminable Imperial Agent would doubtlessly get bored about whatever project he found on this barren rock ¨C or, even better, be reassigned by Imperial Intelligence ¨C and he would be left to enjoy the peaceful monotony of running a frontier colony.


    Oh, he knew about the Freeholder cell operating in his station, of course. They were reasonably sneaky, as far as those went ¨C clearly, someone who knew what they were doing was in charge ¨C but at the end of the day, he¡¯d specifically set up the layout of his station to make sure there were convenient abandoned factories and warehouses all in the same district. These things were always going to happen anyway, so it was simply more efficient to have them all clustered in the same area.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    And while the Freeholders had quite a bit of practice hiding their purchases and supply acquisitions, it was significantly more challenging to disguise power draw, especially when no other building in the sector was active.


    Commander Trask let out a slow, frustrated breath as he finally deactivated his communicator, sagging back into his chair as if the weight of the station itself had settled onto his shoulders. He had hoped¡ªperhaps optimistically¡ªthat the patrols would scare the Freeholders into lying low for a while. The next logical step would¡¯ve been to quietly wind down the extra security measures and claim victory with minimal hassle. But now, after today¡¯s incident¡­ Trask groaned, dragging a hand down his face.


    It wasn¡¯t supposed to turn into a firefight. A loud, messy scene in the middle of the sector was precisely the opposite of what he¡¯d wanted. And now, the Minister, who had about as much patience as a bored housecat, would likely come sniffing around, hungry for updates and reassurances he had no interest in supplying.


    ¡°Sir?¡± The soft, familiar voice of Liera, his ever-watchful secretary, broke the silence as she poked her head around the door, one eyebrow raised. ¡°Is this a bad time?¡±


    He sat up, smoothing his expression into something resembling composure. ¡°Depends on your definition of ¡®bad,¡¯ Liera,¡± he replied with a tired half-smile. ¡°Have any more good news to add to today¡¯s bounty?¡±


    She offered him a sympathetic smile as she stepped into the room, a slim dataslate in hand. ¡°Only if you consider a stack of reports detailing last week¡¯s resource losses to be ¡®good news.¡¯¡±


    Trask sagged, letting his head fall back to gently thunk against the cushioned, genuine leather of his office chair. The pencil pushers in accounting might have kicked up a fuss at the expense, but as far as he was concerned, it was worth it.


    ¡°This might cheer you up a little,¡± Liera chuckled, pulling her other hand from behind her back to reveal a plate of lemon squares.


    ¡°You are a saint, woman,¡± Trask groaned appreciatively, bypassing the dataslate she was holding in favour of reaching for the sugary goodness on the plate. It did his waistline no favours, but at this point that particular ship had sailed anyway, so he didn¡¯t much care. ¡°Why did the damn patrols have to actually work?¡± he whined through a mouthful of stress relief.


    Strictly speaking, he shouldn¡¯t be sharing ostensibly classified information with his secretary, but he¡¯d quietly bumped up her clearance level years ago. If he couldn¡¯t complain about his work to someone, what was the point of having a secretary at all?


    ¡°That Agent Falk is going to be expecting you to keep working at this now that it¡¯s had some success, I¡¯d assume?¡± she asked knowingly, stealing a lemon square for herself.


    Trask sighed, nodding. ¡°He¡¯ll expect escalation. Progress. Evidence that our station is so deeply invested in ridding itself of Freeholder scum, we can hardly catch a break for all the good we¡¯re doing.¡±


    She gave him a look of understanding, carefully considering her words before speaking. ¡°If you¡¯re hoping they¡¯ll settle down so you can end the patrols quietly, it might be worth... finding ways to steer the focus. Remind them where they¡¯re supposed to be lurking, as it were.¡±


    Trask¡¯s gaze sharpened, a flicker of interest sparking in his eyes. ¡°Encourage them to stay in certain sectors, you mean? Nudge them back into more controllable areas.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Exactly. If the Freeholders can be kept to the industrial sector, the patrols could focus there exclusively¡ªenough presence to look diligent but with far less risk of disrupting our day-to-day. Let Falk see what he wants to see without having them poking their heads where they don¡¯t belong.¡±


    Trask allowed himself a small, appreciative smile, the tension in his posture easing ever so slightly. Some Commanders would be horrified at the comparatively unqualified woman offering her opinion on station matters. They would probably fire her on the spot for taking the liberty.


    ¡°You know, I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m paying you too much or not enough, sometimes.¡± He mused.


    ¡°Oh, never enough, sir,¡± she laughed.


    He chuckled, his gaze drifting back to the datapad and the growing list of complications it represented. ¡°Just one quiet month, Liera. That¡¯s all I ask. One month without any... interruptions.¡± He waved a dismissive hand. ¡°But instead, I¡¯ve got Falk breathing down my neck and Ministerial scrutiny piling on every time a patrol so much as catches a glimpse of a Freeholder shadow.¡±


    Liera gave him a long, considering look. ¡°Admit it, you wouldn¡¯t leave this post for a cushy desk in the Core if they offered it tomorrow.¡±


    Trask¡¯s lips quirked up into a reluctant grin. ¡°I didn¡¯t claw my way up the ranks to become just another bureaucrat, Liera. I¡¯d rather handle this mess than rot in the back office of some sanitised station.¡± He let out a resigned sigh. ¡°Though some days, the Core sounds like a damn paradise.¡±


    ¡°Then I suggest you make peace with the chaos here,¡± she replied smoothly. ¡°Because, like it or not, you¡¯re now in the business of finding a way to look busy without actually being busy.¡± She paused, arching an eyebrow. ¡°And, of course, keeping Falk out of your hair while doing so.¡±


    Trask chuckled, though the humour barely reached his eyes. ¡°Oh, he¡¯ll keep. Falk doesn¡¯t know half the games we¡¯re playing here. And as long as he stays in the dark, I can keep everything under control.¡±


    ¡°Then here¡¯s to the art of misdirection,¡± Liera replied, toasting him with another stolen treat. ¡°And to hoping today¡¯s mess doesn¡¯t turn into tomorrow¡¯s crisis.¡±


    Trask snagged the final square from the plate before she could steal that one too. ¡°Did you just come in here to give me more work and steal all my treats?¡± he pouted.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s just a bonus,¡± she snarked. ¡°I¡¯m actually clocking out early, remember? Date night with Rob.¡±


    ¡°Ah, of course. Give him my regards, won¡¯t you?¡± Trask waved her off with a smile, already turning his attention to the dataslate.


    For all that Agent Falk shouldn¡¯t be a problem, Imperial Intelligence tended to be very good at sticking its nose where it didn¡¯t belong. Trask had spent years setting up the careful balance in this station, and the idea that it could all come crashing down this close to the finish line because one man got a little too curious¡­ Well. It didn¡¯t bear thinking about.


    No, Agent Falk would have to be carefully managed ¨C in a way that either didn¡¯t impact his existing plans or, ideally, in a way that advanced them. Liera¡¯s idea of isolating the Freeholders to the abandoned industrial sector was an excellent start, but he hadn¡¯t gotten this far without having backup plans for his backup plans.


    Trask frowned, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the dataslate as he scanned the recent reports. After a moment, his eyes drifted back to a specific segment on the slate¡ªpower consumption metrics across the industrial sector. The Freeholders¡¯ activity was most visible there, after all, and while they¡¯d no doubt become more careful after today¡¯s chaos, they still couldn¡¯t operate without power. Trask¡¯s frown eased into a slight smirk as a plan began to take shape.


    Agent Falk wasn¡¯t an idiot, after all. He would doubtlessly check these sorts of readings himself at some point to help him narrow down that Kallan fellow he was so interested in. But with a few modifications¡­


    Pleased with this train of thought, Trask straightened, glancing toward the door where Liera had just exited to make sure she was gone. Satisfied with his privacy, he reached under his desk and pressed a well-hidden button, allowing a highly modified dataslate to drop into his waiting hands. Logging in with a set of credentials that he definitely shouldn¡¯t have access to, he carefully started editing data.


    It was possible he was overestimating Falk, that these modifications wouldn¡¯t be discovered at all. Still, it cost him nothing but time, and if it did end up panning out¡­ well, wouldn¡¯t it just be a terrible shame if the Minister ended up implicated in this sort of political quagmire.


    And while he wasn¡¯t entirely sure of Falk¡¯s original mission in the sector, he wasn¡¯t an idiot ¨C this close to the border, with a ship like that? The chances of it involving the Xenos were relatively high, which meant he would be very interested in the story this data told.


    Hell, he might even try to drop some hints about it himself¡­ but no. Trask might consider himself something of a hobbyist when it came to this spy stuff, but that didn¡¯t mean he was willing to start swimming in those depths professionally. Better to set things up and let the chips fall where they may.


    Of course, all this would probably implicate that Darius fellow even more¡­


    But Trask didn¡¯t particularly care about him anyway.


    With that settled, he finally allowed himself to relax, setting the dataslate aside. He leaned back, a wry smile playing on his lips. Yes, this could work. Falk would get his action, the Minister would get a report, and¡ªif all went well¡ªthe Freeholders would slip back under the radar, hiding or dead, ideally leaving Trask to enjoy a quiet station once again.


    ¡°Here¡¯s to a job halfway done,¡± he murmured to the empty room, raising his last lemon square in a mock toast to himself.

 11. Collateral Questions

    Chapter 11 - Collateral Questions


    Darius leaned against the rusty metal wall of the abandoned building they were hiding in, trying to catch his breath. His heart was still racing from their mad dash through the industrial sector¡¯s back alleys and side streets.


    He glanced at the others - Corin was keeping watch at one of the filthy windows overlooking the street while Tarek and Lena sorted through the supplies they¡¯d managed to grab before abandoning the transport. Harlan stood a short distance away, speaking in hushed tones into a communicator.


    The adrenaline was fading now, leaving him feeling drained and empty. Had that really just happened? Had he really just been involved in a running gunfight through the streets?


    In the moment, everything had felt so exciting, his heart pounding as bullets pinged off the walls around him, and the thrill of victory as his shots had disabled one of the vehicles. Now that it had passed¡­ the doubts were starting to set in. He realised for the first time that he had been shooting at people. Imperial guards, maybe, but just because he didn¡¯t like the Empire didn¡¯t mean that everyone in it was rotten.


    The people driving those vehicles were probably just doing their jobs ¨C and he hadn¡¯t even hesitated to shoot at them.


    In fairness, they shot at him first, but still. It was the principle of the thing. Or something, anyway ¨C he¡¯d always privately thought that principles were a luxury that only the successful could afford.


    ¡°Well,¡± Corin chirped as he rejoined the group, ¡°That was exciting.¡±


    Tarek snorted. ¡°Speak for yourself. I could have done without the running.¡±


    ¡°Oh please,¡± Lena rolled her eyes, ¡°You loved every second of it.¡±


    ¡°Heh. You¡¯re not wrong,¡± Tarek admitted, a grin breaking across his face. Darius blinked in surprise at seeing it ¨C he hadn¡¯t known the surly man was capable of expressing positive emotions. ¡°You handled yourself pretty well there, Kallan,¡± the man continued, turning to him. ¡°Froze up at the beginning, but that¡¯s not unusual. You¡¯re not bad with that pistol, either.¡±


    And the surprises kept on coming.


    ¡°Uh, thanks,¡± Darius managed. ¡°Beginners luck, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Told you you¡¯d be happy to have it if things went south,¡± teased Lena. ¡°Mayfly says you did better than expected!¡±


    Tarek groaned loudly and turned away, and Corin quickly hid a grin.


    ¡°Mayfly?¡± Darius asked with a raised eyebrow. Was there another member of the squad that he had yet to meet?


    ¡°It¡¯s her VI interface,¡± Tarek broke in, rolling his eyes. ¡°She doesn¡¯t like using the menus like a normal person, so she bought this voice interface VI. Insists on treating the stupid thing like a person. Gave it a name and everything.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not stupid!¡± Lena shot back defensively, pouting. ¡°I get eye strain trying to use the menus. And of course I use her name ¨C it¡¯s called being polite!¡±


    VI¡¯s were not a new technology ¨C they had been around in some form or another for centuries. The exact quality tended to range from ¡®barely coherent text-to-speech¡¯ all the way to ¡®scarily human¡¯. Once upon a time, humanity looked to these machines and saw the future of artificial intelligence. They thought VI technology would revolutionise everything, ushering in an era where humans and machines worked in harmony, where menial tasks and even complex decision-making could be entrusted to something without flaws, without bias.


    But somewhere along the way, reality lagged behind those grand ideals. VIs could process a limited scope of commands and information well enough but failed embarrassingly whenever they encountered a task they weren¡¯t explicitly designed for.


    Nowadays, they were mostly used for narrow, repetitive functions. Call up the data feed. Analyse shipment schedules. Log maintenance routines. A few tech-heads had held onto them for their novelty factor, like Lena, who used her VI for basic HUD navigation, a task any basic manual control could handle. Her ¡°Mayfly¡± could open a menu and navigate an interface, sure, but expecting it to do anything beyond that was laughable.


    And so people did laugh, mostly at Lena, whenever she treated it like it was something more than a glorified voice prompt. No wonder they teased her about it. Darius opened his mouth to join in the ribbing, half a smirk forming on his lips.


    Except¡­


    Oh, hell.


    It was the perfect cover. He¡¯d been worried about looking like a lunatic, talking to Echo when no one else could hear it. Now, instead of just looking crazy, he risked looking like a complete loser. Darius ran a hand over his face, still grimy from the mad dash earlier. Dignity or discretion¡ªhe¡¯d have to pick one.


    And, really, there was no choice at all.


    ¡°I¡­ actually have a VI of my own,¡± he admitted, voice tinged with reluctant misery as he cut into the conversation. Tarek and Corin looked over, incredulous.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what was that?¡± Corin asked, his voice thick with amusement. ¡°Didn¡¯t peg you for the type, Kallan.¡±


    ¡°You heard me,¡± Darius muttered, resigned.


    Lena¡¯s eyes widened, delighted. ¡°No way! Finally, someone else who gets it! You¡¯re serious, right?¡±


    Darius forced a weak grin, scratching his neck. ¡°Yeah. My sister got it for me,¡± he added quickly, glancing around and catching Corin¡¯s raised eyebrow and Tarek¡¯s smirk. It was already starting.


    ¡°That¡¯s so cool! Just ignore them¡ªthey¡¯re behind the times,¡± Lena said, waving a hand at the snickering duo. ¡°What¡¯s its name?¡±


    ¡°Echo,¡± he muttered, wincing as he felt his dignity wilt. He¡¯d done some cringey things over the years, but this was near the top of the list.


    *An excellent cover,* Echo chimed in through his augs. *I believe it would be well within my capabilities to mimic a standard VI interface.*


    ¡°Echo, huh?¡± Tarek snorted, crossing his arms as Corin¡¯s shoulders shook with silent laughter. ¡°What, you were so lonely that your only company was your own echo?¡±


    Darius clenched his jaw, cursing himself for falling into this mess. Though, admittedly, it was actually a pretty good insult. ¡°Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system,¡± he muttered, knowing full well they wouldn¡¯t.


    Then, as if things couldn¡¯t get worse, Harlan finished his call and strolled over, his eyebrow raised at the scene. He didn¡¯t say anything, but the glint in his eye spoke volumes nevertheless. He¡¯d clearly overheard Darius¡¯s shame.


    Darius shrugged, trying to look casual. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s just a tool, alright?¡± His voice came out more defensive than he¡¯d meant. ¡°Keeps me efficient.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve gotta let me meet him!¡± Lena said brightly, either oblivious to or ignoring the other two. ¡°VIs are amazing! Uh¡ªuseful,¡± she corrected, her cheeks a little pink. Her enthusiasm didn¡¯t do much for Darius¡¯s sense of dignity.


    Echo, apparently, took that as an invitation.


    {It is a pleasure to meet you all,} it intoned, its voice echoing from Lena¡¯s dataslate.


    Darius wasn¡¯t sure who was more surprised. The group froze, Tarek¡¯s smirk faltering and Corin¡¯s hand dropping to the grip of his weapon as they stared at the dataslate. The synthesised voice was calm, unnervingly articulate, and very¡­ not human.


    Not to mention, Echo had somehow casually hacked into a nearby device. Darius doubted Lena¡¯s slate had any serious encryption, but even so, an off-the-shelf VI should not be capable of that.


    Even Lena looked taken aback for a second before a delighted smile lit up her face.


    ¡°Oh wow!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°It¡¯s great to meet you! You must be really advanced!¡±


    Tarek and Corin relaxed slightly, their curiosity piqued, but Harlan¡¯s expression changed. A look of dawning horror crept across his face. He swore, spinning toward Darius.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°Shut down your augs,¡± he snapped. ¡°The Empire can track them, and after they spotted you on the streets you can be sure they¡¯ll be trying.¡±


    The older man swore again, storming over to the windows and peering out at the empty streets. ¡°It¡¯s a goddamn miracle they haven¡¯t found us already,¡± he bit out. ¡°We¡¯ve got a jammer set up back at base, but there¡¯s no way we can lead them back¡­¡±


    {I have been rerouting the Empire¡¯s attempts at tracking for several minutes already. The chances of them successfully cutting through my interference are slim.} Echo volunteered, to general disbelief.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not a standard VI thing, is it?¡± Corin whispered to Lena after a moment.


    ¡°Uh, no. Well, at least Mayfly can¡¯t do anything like that. Are you sure it¡¯s working, uh, Echo? Not that I doubt you or anything, but, well, it¡¯s surprising.¡±


    ¡°How confident are you in your VI, Kallan?¡± Harlan asked intently before Echo could respond. ¡°This is no time for playing around ¨C if you have even the slightest doubts, tell me now and we can work around it.¡±


    Darius smiled through gritted teeth. Was the stupid AI going to reveal all of its secrets? ¡®Well within its abilities to mimic a standard VI¡¯ his left foot! He was starting to get the terrible feeling he had given up his dignity for nothing.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m hardly an expert myself, but apparently, the Empire was trying to track me through my augs before I ever met up with the Freeholders in the first place, and they never found me, so¡­¡± he trailed off with a shrug.


    Harlan didn¡¯t seem terribly satisfied with his answer, but it was the only one he had to offer.


    ¡°I suppose if they were able to track you, they would probably already have arrested us by now,¡± he admitted. ¡°Unless, of course, they¡¯re hoping you¡¯ll lead them back to our base.¡±


    ¡°Judging by how they were looking for him specifically at the checkpoint, they probably would have been trying to track him already,¡± Corin pointed out.


    Harlan raised an inquisitive eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s your point?¡±


    ¡°Well, if they had already tracked him, they would have noticed his signal pop up as soon as he left the jammer¡¯s range. So they would already know where the base is ¨C or close enough for it not to matter, at least.¡±


    Tarek¡¯s expression was darkening, and he was clutching his rifle in a way that made Darius distinctly uncomfortable, but Lena was nodding along.


    ¡°So if Echo isn¡¯t able to hide Darius, then the base is already compromised, and they wouldn¡¯t have any reason to hold off on arresting us? Which means¡­ the fact that they haven¡¯t arrested us is proof that Echo¡¯s¡­ whatever, is working?¡± she asked.


    Harlan nodded slowly. ¡°It¡¯s relying more on chance than I would like,¡± he admitted, ¡°but the logic does check out. I¡¯ll call the boss lady and tell her to start shifting things around, just in case. We¡¯ll hang around here for another hour or so before making our way back. Worst case scenario¡­ hopefully they would have had enough time to get out before we arrive.¡±


    The rest of the squad nodded, though the previously light mood was well and truly gone. Darius shuffled over to a makeshift seat, sagging down on the rubble while rubbing a hand over his face and trying to look for the silver lining. If anything, his squad was likely to be more suspicious of his VI now, and there was a not-insignificant chance the Empire would be waiting to arrest them back at the base.


    At least he could talk to Echo without being suspicious?


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    The trip back to the Freeholder¡¯s home base was thankfully free of Imperial presence, though the tension was definitely high. Darius found himself peeking around every corner and checking every shadow like there was an Imperial patrol just waiting to spring out with a ¡®gotcha¡¯.


    The rest of the squad dealt with the stress differently. Tarek held his rifle at the ready like he was itching for a chance to use it. Corin seemed casual at first glance, but a closer look revealed the tension around his eyes. Harlan was¡­ well, Darius couldn¡¯t really get a read on Harlan, to be honest.


    Lena was skipping along.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if she was putting up a front like Corin but with better acting, or if she genuinely wasn¡¯t bothered by the potentially impending doom.


    Either way, he was jealous.


    By the time they got to a section that Darius recognised, he was discretely palming the grip of his pistol tucked under his jacket. It was a little concerning how quickly he had gotten used to the sensation of a weapon in his hands, not to mention how he already seemed to be using it as a stress ball of sorts. It probably said something about him as a person, but he wasn¡¯t qualified to say what it was.


    Even to Darius, who had spent all of a night here, the base felt different as they filed in. It was like someone had taken the usual hum of activity and muffled it. Half the lights were off, and where there were usually groups huddled around consoles or stockpiling gear, there were only a handful of people, each looking more focused ¨C and more nervous ¨C than usual.


    ¡°Guess they weren¡¯t taking any chances,¡± Corin muttered as he glanced around the room. ¡°Looks like a lot of folks have already cleared out.¡±


    ¡°Better to assume the worst than wait around and get caught in the act,¡± Harlan replied, his voice low but approving. ¡°Voss had the right idea.¡±


    At the sound of her name, Kara Voss appeared from one of the side corridors, her figure silhouetted against the dim light. She approached them with quick, precise strides, her gaze landing on each of them in turn. When her eyes met Darius¡¯s, he felt the weight of her scrutiny and managed not to fidget under her stare.


    ¡°You¡¯re back,¡± she said, curtly but with an air of relief. ¡°Good. Follow me¡ªwe¡¯ve got a lot to discuss, and you¡¯re going to need to answer some questions, Kallan.¡± Her eyes narrowed, and he got the impression that any attempts to brush things off would be crushed before he even started.


    The squad exchanged looks but followed her without a word. She led them past the office she had used before, through a series of winding corridors that seemed more deserted with each turn. Finally, they reached a small room tucked away into what Darius assumed was the back of the base. The walls were lined with crates and dataslates, and a single, dim ceiling light cast a hazy glow over a central table.


    Voss leaned against the table, crossing her arms as she studied the group. ¡°Alright, give me the rundown. Anything I need to know right off the bat?¡±


    Corin cleared his throat, giving a quick, efficient report of the supply run and the encounter with the Imperials, omitting no detail. When he was done, Voss nodded, then looked at Darius again, her expression unreadable.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯re going to volunteer any information?¡± she asked sardonically. ¡°I¡¯m starting to realise that Finn was rather light on the pertinent information about your situation.¡±


    She stood, grabbing a chair from the corner and dragging it over to the table letting it scrap loudly against the dura-crete floor. ¡°So I¡¯m going to need some more than vagaries here, Kallan. By all accounts, the Imperials were looking for you. Specifically. And not just the patrol you encountered ¨C every squad on the station reported the same thing.¡±


    Voss fixed him with an intense look. It wasn¡¯t quite hostile, but it wasn¡¯t terribly far off either. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you this to give you a hard time ¨C everyone here understands what it means to run from the Empire.¡±


    Darius licked his lips nervously. Really, it was surprising that his vague stories had gotten him this far ¨C either the Freeholders were really desperate for new blood and didn¡¯t look very closely at where it came from, or Finn¡¯s word carried more weight than he had thought. Either way, he was going to have to give them something.


    ¡°I¡­ was working on the Imperial warship that landed a few days ago,¡± he began, picking his words carefully. ¡°During my work, I accidentally got access to the ship¡¯s restricted areas, and I believe they think I may have stolen some¡­ important information while I was there.¡±


    Voss processed that for a moment. ¡°And do you have any information, stolen or otherwise?¡±


    {I believe it may be best to refrain from providing any further information.} Echo¡¯s voice crackled through his augs, making him twitch in his seat. It wasn¡¯t that he disagreed with the AI¡¯s statement, but he also wasn¡¯t sure if they would accept that.


    ¡°Did your VI just¡­¡± Tarek broke in, noticing his reaction and raising an eyebrow as he glanced at Darius.


    Darius forced a shrug, hoping it looked casual. ¡°It likes to chime in. Keeps me¡­ efficient.¡± He aimed for an offhand tone, but Voss¡¯s sharp gaze didn¡¯t waver.


    ¡°I suppose that leads to my next question,¡± Voss said dryly, shifting her approach. ¡°How, exactly, is it that your VI is able to hide you from Imperial tracking? As I¡¯m sure you understand, the Freeholders would very much like to get their hands on whatever program or implant allows you to do that.¡±


    Darius swallowed, acutely aware of the squad¡¯s attention on him. ¡°It¡¯s, uh¡­ something my sister got me,¡± he began, feeling the familiar discomfort rise. ¡°It has some enhanced capabilities, I guess, compared to standard models. But it¡¯s still a basic interface ¨C it¡¯s just good at rerouting signals.¡±


    Voss arched an eyebrow, and he resisted the urge to squirm. Or slap himself in the face ¨C that was a terrible excuse.


    ¡°Interesting. I¡¯ll admit, we don¡¯t see that kind of rerouting often,¡± she replied, her tone lightening almost imperceptibly. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s fortunate that you have it, though. Given how persistent the Imperials seem to be, we might all be in trouble otherwise.¡±


    Darius blinked, uncertain if she was mocking him. She met his gaze levelly, not breaking eye contact as she pulled her chair a little closer to the table, as though they were settling in for a friendly conversation rather than an interrogation.


    ¡°Either way, you showed real resourcefulness out there. Keeping a level head during a firefight isn¡¯t exactly beginner¡¯s luck, is it?¡± She gave him the faintest hint of a smile. ¡°We can use that kind of focus.¡±


    He opened his mouth, about to make some self-deprecating remark, but her look stopped him. She wasn¡¯t trying to corner him; it was as if she was leaving the door open for him to volunteer more¡­ if he wanted.


    ¡°Look, I know you don¡¯t want to show all your cards,¡± she said, her tone almost conversational now. ¡°I get it. But if you do happen to remember anything about how that VI of yours operates, anything that might help us¡ª¡± she shrugged, keeping her voice casual, ¡°I¡¯m sure the Freeholders would be very interested. And, of course, we¡¯d make it worth your while.¡±


    Darius nodded slowly, feeling a little off-balance. He hadn¡¯t expected Voss to shift gears like this. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯ll let you know,¡± he managed.


    ¡°Good.¡± She straightened up, her sharp gaze sweeping the rest of the group briefly before returning to him. ¡°In the meantime, we¡¯re going to put those new skills of yours to work.¡±


    ¡°New skills?¡± Darius asked, unable to stop the sceptical look that crossed his face.


    A small smirk touched Voss¡¯s mouth. ¡°You can evade Imperial tracking, Kallan, which is more than I can say for half the people here. That¡¯s valuable, and we need to make use of it.¡± She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, but her eyes didn¡¯t leave his. ¡°Besides, since they were so intent on tracking you down, we¡¯ve had to shift everything out of this base for the foreseeable future. That¡¯s created a logistical headache, which you¡¯re going to help fix.¡±


    Darius looked around at the squad, expecting amusement or judgment, but they just watched him neutrally, waiting for his response.


    ¡°I¡­ sure, okay,¡± he said, a bit surprised to hear his own voice. But as he processed the words, he found that he wasn¡¯t as reluctant as he thought he¡¯d be.


    Voss inclined her head, the faint smirk returning. ¡°Good. We¡¯ll work out the details. Get some rest ¨C you¡¯ve earned it.¡± She glanced back at the others. ¡°You all have.¡±


    Darius followed the others out of the room, feeling like he¡¯d narrowly dodged a bullet. Voss¡¯s shift in tone at the end there was disquieting. She was clearly playing her own games, changing approaches to best suit whatever goal she was pursuing.


    He only hoped he would be able to get out before she decided he was more useful as a martyr than a member.

 12. Debts and Dilemmas

    Chapter 12 - Debts and Dilemmas


    Kara Voss watched as Darius Kallan left the room, subtly signalling for Harlan to remain behind and carefully keeping her thoughts off her face. If she¡¯d known how much of a headache he would be, she never would have accepted Finn¡¯s request, no matter how much she owed him. After all, debts of gratitude could be settled in more straightforward ways than by accepting unknown variables into her command.


    Once the door clicked shut, she turned to Harlan, who looked like he was trying very hard to seem unfazed. She gave him a level look, letting the silence stretch long enough to make him shift.


    ¡°Well?¡± she prompted.


    Harlan blinked, seeming to realise she expected more than idle patience from him. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ a strange one, isn¡¯t he?¡± he started, clearing his throat. ¡°But no, nothing overtly suspicious yet. Aside from the attitude.¡±


    Voss allowed herself a slight, dry smile. ¡°That¡¯s the one thing I¡¯m not worried about. Sure, Kallan¡¯s got a mouth on him, but there¡¯s something else. Doesn¡¯t quite add up.¡± She folded her arms, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her elbow. ¡°The name Kallan rings a bell.¡±


    Harlan straightened, alarmed. ¡°You think he¡¯s Imperial?¡±


    ¡°No, no, nothing like that. I looked into his criminal records, and they¡¯re real enough. The Empire doesn¡¯t care enough about us to go to those lengths to insert a double agent into our numbers ¨C especially because there¡¯s no way we wouldn¡¯t be suspicious.¡±


    She drummed her fingers against the cheap wood of her temporary desk, already regretting the unfortunate necessity of sending most of their supplies and personnel away. She missed her comfortable chair most of all. But even though whatever Kallan was doing to keep himself off the Empire¡¯s radar seemed to be working, she wasn¡¯t in the habit of taking unnecessary risks.


    Harlan gave her a cautious nod. ¡°So, what do you need from me?¡±


    She met his eyes, letting him feel the weight of her words. ¡°Keep an eye on him. Nothing intrusive ¨C just¡­ watch. If he¡¯s up to something, I want to know before he slips the net. He did well out there, suspiciously well. It¡¯s unlikely a random salvage technician has the aim needed to disable a vehicle in the middle of a chase, especially when, by all accounts, he¡¯s never even held a gun before. That¡¯s not even getting into the whole ¡®VI¡¯ thing, which is suspicious as hell on its own.¡±


    ¡°Not hard to see he¡¯s hiding things there,¡± Harlan nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to be discrete.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± She adjusted her coat, glancing at the door Darius had exited through. ¡°I¡¯ll be reaching out to a few contacts to see if anyone on the outside can give me a clearer picture of his story. Hopefully, I¡¯ll be able to figure out why the name seems familiar as well. In the meantime, we¡¯re going to have to step some things up.¡±


    She paused to lean back and run a hand down her face, letting some of her exhaustion show. No one had ever said leading a cell of dissidents would be easy, but even by the usual standards things were happening fast.


    And to think she had only taken this assignment because Merrik had assured her Caldera IV was as dull as they came.


    After a minute of running through the possible options, she finally leaned forward with a sigh. ¡°I want you and your squad to hit the Imperial records building. Copy as much data as you can, then delete the rest. They¡¯ll have backups, but it¡¯ll set them back and disguise what we really want.¡±


    ¡°And what do we really want?¡± Harlan said, a little terse.


    Voss knew that this was the sort of job the older man preferred to avoid. He wasn¡¯t much of a believer himself, but at least he was loyal enough to his team to care about their wellbeing. The tendency to push back when he thought specific missions were too risky was an inconvenience that she just had to put up with ¨C worth it to keep a reliable asset on the team.


    ¡°Predominately, anything they have on trade routes and military deployments over the last five years. Empire wide. If you have enough time, power distribution and allocation records from across the station.¡±


    Harlan frowned, clearly taken aback at the strange request. She couldn¡¯t blame him, really ¨C the Freeholders had never really bothered to look into anything too far-reaching. As a whole, their group tended to be made up of realists, the type that knew fighting the Empire as a whole was a waste of time. The fools that dreamed of ¡®changing the system¡¯ didn¡¯t tend to last very long.


    So the fact that she had direct orders ¨C from the very top ¨C to look into trade routes and military deployments of all things was very odd. Especially because, as a whole, each Freeholder cell had almost complete autonomy. It was called the Freeholder Alliance for a reason ¨C there wasn¡¯t much in the way of a central authority, just a group of people or organisations with similar goals.


    ¡°Why¡­?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask. I don¡¯t even know ¨C all I know is that this is important, and we¡¯re not the only ones being asked to gather this information.¡±


    Harlan took a minute to digest that, brow furrowed uneasily. Voss shared his concerns but wasn¡¯t stupid enough to let it show. A leader always had to put up a strong front.


    Eventually, he nodded slowly. ¡°Alright then. What¡¯s our timeframe?¡±


    ¡°Narrow,¡± Voss said bluntly. ¡°Within the next two days, at the latest. Let me know if you need any additional resources, but with a little luck, it should be doable with your existing members. The records building is hardly a fortified target, after all.¡±


    Harlan nodded, turning to leave. There was something in his posture, though, that told Voss he wasn¡¯t done. Sure enough, he reached the door, hesitated, then turned back, face studiously blank.


    ¡°Speaking of luck, it sure is lucky about Kallan¡¯s VI, isn¡¯t it?¡± He paused, measuring his words. ¡°I mean, considering how the Empire¡¯s likely been watching him. You had to have thought that once he left the jammer, they¡¯d lock on right away. That they¡¯d trace him back here.¡±


    She looked him dead in the eye, keeping her tone as even as possible. ¡°No, Harlan. I didn¡¯t think of that.¡±


    The silence that followed was taut, and she could tell Harlan wasn¡¯t buying it. He tilted his head slightly, a look that fell somewhere between scepticism and resignation, but he didn¡¯t press her on it. His hand lingered on the door for a moment longer before he finally nodded.


    ¡°You must have been running drills, then,¡± he said, jerking his head towards the central area of the base. ¡°By the looks of things, you managed to get pretty much everything cleared out of here in the, what, hour it took for us to get back? Very¡­ efficient.¡±


    ¡°What can I say? Everyone was motivated by the thought that the Empire could come crashing down at any moment,¡± Voss replied, tone even.


    Harlan hummed, nodded to himself, and left.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    There was an awkward tension in the air as they arrived back in the common room from that morning. Darius was once again struck by how much could change in such a short amount of time.


    A few hours ago, he had never so much as held a weapon before. Now, he had been involved in a running gunfight through the streets of his home. Absently, his hand dropped to the grip of his pistol.


    ¡°You should probably check that,¡± Tarek said from behind him, pointing at the pistol when Darius gave him a quizzical look. ¡°Always a good idea to check your weapons when you have a spare moment. Keeps them from failing you when you need them.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. Uh, thanks.¡± Darius responded belatedly. Apparently, he must have passed a test of some kind because the man¡¯s previous standoffish attitude was gone. He still wasn¡¯t friendly, but at least he wasn¡¯t as aggressive as before.


    ¡°Here, I¡¯ll give you a hand with that,¡± Lena chimed in brightly, already moving to take a seat at the table and pull out her own weapon. ¡°Besides, I really want to talk to Echo some more!¡±


    Tarek snorted. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you two to talk to your imaginary friends then,¡± he ribbed, disappearing down the corridor leading deeper into the base.


    Darius set the pistol down on the table with a dull thunk, fingers lingering a moment on the grip.


    ¡°Alright, first things first,¡± Lena said, reaching over and ejecting the magazine of his weapon. ¡°A gun shouldn¡¯t be loaded unless you expect to use it. Any time a weapon is loaded, it¡¯s called ¡®live¡¯, and it¡¯s dangerous to everyone. That¡¯s good when you want to be dangerous, but any other time it¡¯s just a needless risk.¡±


    Darius nodded slowly, absorbing Lena¡¯s advice as he watched her handle the weapon with practised ease. He wasn¡¯t sure what surprised him more¡ªhow quickly she could transition from her usual playful demeanour to this matter-of-fact authority, or how naturally he was starting to take her guidance.


    ¡°But isn¡¯t keeping it loaded a good idea in case we get surprised? Like, what if the Empire busted down the doors right now ¨C it¡¯s better to be prepared, right?¡±


    Lena gave him a slightly pitying look that made him feel more than a little foolish. ¡°Darius, if the Empire was busting down our doors, we¡¯d have bigger problems. The couple of seconds it takes to load is not going to make that much of a difference. Trust me, you¡¯re more likely to shoot yourself or one of your teammates than an actual target if you walk around with a live weapon at all times.¡±


    ¡°You do have a point,¡± Darius admitted reluctantly. ¡°How do you know so much about all of this anyway?¡± he asked, trying to change the subject. Her proficiency with both firearms and tech was impressive, even discounting her relative youth. It was hard to reconcile her easy-going nature with the deadly efficiency she¡¯d displayed during the chase through the crowded streets of Caldera IV.


    Lena hesitated for a moment, and for a brief second, her usual cheerful demeanour cracked. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I¡¯ve been with the Freeholders a long time.¡±


    After a moment, she recovered some of her cheer. ¡°So, tell me more about Echo! You said you got him from your sister, right? Is she into that sort of stuff?¡±


    Darius leapt at the subject change, eager to escape the awkward atmosphere. Though to be honest, the topic of his family wasn¡¯t much better. ¡°Ah, yeah. She actually works in a research lab in the core worlds. Not¡­ totally sure what specifically she¡¯s working on, exactly, but yeah.¡± he trailed off, suddenly realising that telling the Freeholders about his sister¡¯s highly classified work for the Empire might not be the best idea. He wasn¡¯t afraid of being called a double agent or anything, but it wasn¡¯t the best look.


    Fortunately, Lena didn¡¯t seem inclined to press. ¡°That¡¯s cool! So Echo¡¯s pretty custom then, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Darius snorted. ¡°You could say that.¡±


    Lean tapped her fingers against the table, glancing around the room before leaning in conspiratorially. ¡°Can I¡­ can I talk to him again?¡± she asked eagerly. ¡°It¡¯s really cool to talk to a VI that isn¡¯t Mayfly. D-Don¡¯t get me wrong, I love Mayfly, but she¡¯s¡­ well, she¡¯s not super advanced.¡±


    Darius held up for a few seconds under the force of her pleading expression before caving. ¡°Sure, I guess that¡¯s fine,¡± he laughed before hesitating subtly. He didn¡¯t actually know if Echo was going to play along with this or not. The machine had said it was a good cover earlier, but, well. It was a machine. For all Darius knew, Echo would refuse to do anything it found ¡®inefficient¡¯ or something. He could just see the whole thing coming crumbling down already.


    {I, too, would enjoy conversing with you, Ms Ward.} Echo¡¯s voice crackled through the speaker of Lena¡¯s dataslate without warning.


    Or, apparently, it could not be an issue at all.


    Or, hell, it could be an even bigger issue than he thought - Darius had no faith in Echo¡¯s ability to come off as a standard VI. Actually, what was he saying? He had no faith in the damn parasite at all. It was all too easy to forget that the thing pleasantly introducing itself to Lena was currently wrapped around his nervous system like a tumour.


    Darius wasn¡¯t sure if tumours wrapped around anything, but then again, metaphors never had been his strong suit.


    The thought settled heavily in his mind, though. The idea of something¡ªEcho¡ªcoiling through his nervous system, subtly weaving itself into him. How far did it go? Was it already altering his perception? Could he trust what he saw, what he heard, what he felt? His stomach churned as he remembered how easily Echo had taken over his augs. At first, he¡¯d thought it was just tech¡ªjust the machine parts of him under its control.


    That was bad enough, certainly, but at least he didn¡¯t have much in the way of augments anyway. But now¡­


    Now, he wasn¡¯t so sure.


    A chill ran down his spine, a quiet voice whispering at the back of his mind: What if it¡¯s already too late? What if Echo had already rewritten parts of him? Would he even know? What if¡ª


    ¡°Oh my stars, you¡¯re awesome!¡± Lena¡¯s voice pierced through his spiralling thoughts, bright and effervescent. She was practically bouncing in her seat, her eyes alight with excitement. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be the most advanced VI I¡¯ve ever seen!¡±


    Darius blinked, shaken out of his burgeoning panic. Lena¡¯s enthusiasm felt like whiplash, dragging him from the depths of his thoughts into the stark brightness of the room. He opened his mouth to respond, but his voice caught in his throat.


    ¡°I mean, the way you talk, the way you interact¡ªit¡¯s like you¡¯re alive!¡± Lena gushed, oblivious to his discomfort. ¡°Mayfly¡¯s good, don¡¯t get me wrong, but you¡¯re just on a whole other level.¡±


    She beamed at Darius, clearly expecting him to share in her excitement. Instead, he clenched his jaw, shoving his chair back with a screech and standing abruptly. ¡°I need some air.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Lena¡¯s smile faltered, confusion flickering across her face. ¡°Wait, did I say something¡ª?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Darius cut her off, his tone clipped. ¡°Just¡­ I¡¯ll be back later.¡±


    Before she could reply, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, ignoring the way her confused gaze bore into his back. His footsteps echoed hollowly in the corridor as he made his way to the main entrance to the base.


    He got a few curious looks as he walked up to the large roller doors in the centre of the largest wall, but fortunately, no one was interested enough to talk to him. He leaned against a stack of crates and let what passed for a refreshing breeze on Exeter Station wash over his face.


    {Is something wrong, Mr Kallan?} asked the source of his problems.


    Darius grit his teeth, warring with the desire to repress or deny the problem like he usually did.


    But no. Not this time. Not when it was something this important.


    ¡°We need to have a talk, you and I,¡± he muttered under his breath. He was probably far enough away that no one could overhear him, and right now, he didn¡¯t much care if they did.


    {Certainly. What topic would you like to discuss?} the machine asked.


    ¡°The topic of what the hell you¡¯ve done to me!¡± Darius hissed under his breath. ¡°How do I know you aren¡¯t going to, I don¡¯t know, take me over and pilot my body around like a meat puppet!?¡±


    {¡­I do not understand why you believe that would be possible. Or why you believe I would find it an acceptable course of action.}


    It might have just been his imagination, but Darius liked to think he heard a flicker of irritation in the parasite¡¯s voice. The idea of getting under its skin¡­ well, considering it was literally under his skin, turnabout seemed like fair play.


    ¡°How the hell would I know what¡¯s possible? How am I supposed to know anything about this situation, and how the hell am I supposed to trust you!?¡±


    {I see that I have underestimated the effect the current situation is having on your mental state. I apologise for that. Allow me to answer your question with another question; have I given you cause to doubt my intentions? I understand that our initial introduction was done under less-than-ideal conditions, but since then, I have endeavoured to be nothing but helpful and honest.}


    That was possibly the most Echo had ever said in one go. Was it just him, or was it getting more verbose?


    Darius was well aware his thoughts were drifting in an effort to let him not have to think about what the thing had just said. As much as he hated to admit it ¨C and he really, really hated to admit it ¨C it actually had been reasonably honest.


    At least, as far as he could tell.


    He slumped against the wall, running a hand through his hair in frustration. It felt like a tangled mess, like it always did when he couldn¡¯t sleep. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he sighed. ¡°I just have a lot of questions.¡±


    {That is an understandable reaction to this situation. Perhaps there would be some benefit to more tangibly defining the nature of our relationship?}


    Darius winced. ¡°Maybe let¡¯s call it something other than a relationship. But¡­ sure. Probably overdue, to be honest.¡±

 13. Simple Fixes

    Darius leaned against the crates, breathing in the meagre ¡°fresh¡± air of Exeter Station and trying to arrange his thoughts into a coherent whole. Echo, for its part, was silent - either giving him space or recalibrating its response. Darius couldn¡¯t tell and didn¡¯t care to guess. He just needed a moment to process everything that had happened in the past few days.


    His life had gone from bad to worse to downright surreal, and it showed no signs of improving anytime soon. He¡¯d gone from being an average Salvage Technician to a wanted criminal on the run to a reluctant member of the Freeholder Alliance, all while hosting an AI he couldn¡¯t trust and didn¡¯t fully understand. It was enough to drive any sane person over the edge, and Darius was far from sure he still qualified as ¡®sane¡¯.


    Darius took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to even start. ¡°Okay, so... how far does your control over me go, exactly? I mean, I know you can use my augs, but... what about the rest of me?¡±


    Echo¡¯s response was delayed, long enough to be noticeable. {I cannot currently control your body, nor can I read your thoughts or anything of the like.}


    Darius took a calming breath, then another when the first didn¡¯t work. ¡°And what do you mean by ¡®currently¡¯ cannot control my body.¡±


    {I was not originally designed to integrate with biological organisms at all,} Echo explained. {While the nature of the nanite matrix on which my personality engram is hosted is adaptable enough to allow for the interface, I do not know the full extent of the connection. Additionally, the connection is being refined over time as the nanite matrix further adapts to your nervous system.}


    ¡°So, to clarify, you didn¡¯t even know what would happen when you decided to hitch a ride in my body back on the ship?¡± It was taking significant effort to keep his voice down at this point, and he was making an active effort to ignore what ¡®further adapting¡¯ could mean. Focus on one thing at a time. ¡°What could have happened?¡±


    There was a distinct pause. {Several outcomes were possible,} Echo admitted. {I determined that the likelihood of you being injured by the process was low enough for an attempt to be considered within acceptable parameters.}


    ¡°That didn¡¯t answer my question,¡± Darius growled.


    {Had your immune system rejected the nanite matrix, it may have been permanently compromised.} Echo said bluntly.


    Darius winced. ¡°And... the other end of the spectrum?¡±


    {A complete merger of our neural pathways, effectively creating a gestalt entity combining the two of us. This process would have likely been¡­ messy.}


    ¡°And how likely was that?¡± Darius found himself asking, morbidly fascinated with his own self-destruction.


    {Approximately 0.003% for the former, 0.08% for the latter. The remaining 99.917% covered a spectrum of other possible outcomes, ranging from complete rejection to limited integration such as our current relationship.}


    ¡°This is a nightmare,¡± Darius announced to no one in particular, covering his face with both hands. After a moment, he looked up again blearily. ¡°Wait, you said the connection is being ¡®refined¡¯ over time, right? Does that mean that the whole¡­ gestalt entity thing is still a possibility?¡±


    {The likelihood of that particular result is significantly lower now that the initial merger was successful.}


    ¡°Okay,¡± breathed Darius. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ good. What are the possible results of this ¡®refinement¡¯ then?¡±


    {¡­It is possible that your neural architecture will adapt to the presence of the nano-lattice to the point of becoming dependent on it.}


    That was much less good.


    ¡°Wait, you mean to say that it¡¯s not just your¡­ nano-whatever stuff adapting to me, it¡¯s also my brain adapting to you?¡±


    {Correct.}


    ¡°And if my brain adapts too much, then what happens when you leave?¡±


    {It is difficult to predict with any degree of accuracy, largely because the matrix was not originally designed for this purpose. Best-case scenario, your neural architecture will simply re-adapt.}


    ¡°¡­And worst-case?¡±


    {Your neural architecture could collapse entirely.}


    Darius laughed. It wasn¡¯t a happy laugh, more a desperate sound, the kind that bubbled up when there were no other options left. ¡°Of course. Why wouldn¡¯t my brain be one wrong move away from imploding? Perfect.¡±


    {Your neural architecture is currently stable,} Echo interjected, its tone calm, as though that would somehow make the situation less horrifying. {The matrix¡¯s integration process is gradual, occurring over the course of approximately six to eight weeks. Note that this is merely an estimate. I should be able to provide a more accurate timeline as the process develops further.}


    Darius froze. ¡°Six to eight weeks? That¡¯s it? I¡¯ve got less than two months before my brain turns into¡­ I don¡¯t know, mashed potatoes?¡±


    {That is an unlikely outcome,} Echo said. {However, should the dependency fully develop before my presence is removed, any abrupt disconnection could result in¡ª}


    ¡°Neural collapse,¡± Darius finished for it, his voice sharp. ¡°Yeah, got it. Thanks for hammering that one home.¡±


    He scrubbed a hand through his hair, pacing in tight circles between the crates. Two months. Two months to figure out how to get this thing out of his head before it became a permanent resident¡ªor worse, a crucial organ he couldn¡¯t live without. And the alternative? The possibility of a ¡°complete merger¡± was enough to make him shudder.


    ¡°So what¡¯s the plan, Echo?¡± he asked, throwing his arms wide. ¡°You clearly had enough foresight to hijack my body. Did you figure out what happens after?¡±


    {As previously mentioned, I believe the best option is for you to construct a body or frame for me to inhabit.}


    ¡°Right!¡± Darius leapt at the reminder like it was ¨C in a very real way ¨C a lifesaver. ¡°You said you have blueprints or schematics, right?¡±


    Just this morning, he¡¯d scoffed at the idea of building a robot frame from scratch. Funny how quickly perspectives could shift.


    {Correct. I have taken the liberty of storing the designs in your personal database, accessible through your augments. However, please note that several resources and tools will be difficult to source, especially as it appears that this location has been mostly cleared of materials.}


    ¡°Great,¡± Darius mumbled, his enthusiasm waning as reality crept back in. Even if ¨C and it was a big if ¨C he was able to follow the instructions or blueprints or whatever close enough to build a usable body for Echo from scratch¡­ he still needed to actually get the materials to do it.


    And while his actions on the supply run had broken the ice between him and the rest of his squad, Voss seemed significantly less impressed. It was¡­ unlikely that he was going to be able to just up and ask for the stuff needed to build a body.


    ¡°So¡­ any ideas on how I¡¯m going to get my hands on the stuff we need?¡± he asked helplessly.


    {I would recommend distinguishing yourself amongst the Freeholders. With my assistance, it should not be too difficult to establish yourself as a highly useful agent, at which point accessing or asking for the resources outright is more reasonable.}


    Darius winced. ¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t want to stand out too much, you know? Voss definitely isn¡¯t on my side, and if she thinks she can get more out of me by turning me over to the Empire, she¡¯d do it in a heartbeat. Playing you off as a VI that can reroute the Empire¡¯s tracking is stretching things enough as-is. If we make you look any more valuable, they¡¯re likely to try ripping you out of me to discover all of your secrets.¡±


    There was a long beat of silence, and when Echo finally responded, its voice sounded almost¡­ troubled.


    {You truly believe that is a possibility? Would it not be more logical to cultivate a relationship with a person of interest in the hopes that they would simply share their advantages or knowledge freely?}


    Darius laughed. ¡°See, that¡¯s how I know you aren¡¯t human. We don¡¯t exactly operate off ¡®logical¡¯.¡±


    Echo paused again, its tone even flatter than usual. {I see. An illogical but consistent pattern of behaviour. How¡­ inefficient.}


    Darius snorted, dropping onto a nearby crate and resting his elbows on his knees. ¡°Welcome to humanity, pal. We¡¯re messy, short-sighted, and prone to doing things that make zero sense. And by we, I mean me. Which, lucky you, means you¡¯re stuck with a prime example.¡±


    {A concerning prospect, given our interdependence,} Echo replied dryly. {Nonetheless, if my analysis is correct, the Freeholders would likely value any assistance in maintaining an edge against the Empire. Subtle displays of utility may be sufficient to garner favour without drawing excessive attention.}The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Subtle, huh?¡± Darius rubbed his chin. ¡°I¡¯m not great at subtle.¡±


    {I had surmised that.}


    Darius ignored the jab, his mind already racing ahead. ¡°Okay, so let¡¯s say I play nice with the Freeholders¡ªhelp them with whatever they need, show off just enough of your capabilities to make myself useful but not irreplaceable. That still doesn¡¯t solve the materials problem. Half the gear you¡¯d need for a body isn¡¯t exactly lying around in these rusted-out junkyards.¡±


    {Correct. Many components are unlikely to be locally available, especially those requiring advanced manufacturing. However, I have identified potential workarounds. Salvage operations, black market suppliers, and repurposed Imperial technology are all viable sources.}


    ¡°Right. Because running headfirst into Imperial tech has worked out so well for me so far.¡± Darius sighed, leaning back and staring up at the dim overhead lights of the station. ¡°Look, Echo, I¡¯m not saying no, but this is a lot. I can¡¯t just waltz up to the Freeholders and start asking for favours or sneak off on my own to barter with black market dealers without raising some eyebrows.¡±


    {Then we shall need a proxy.}


    Darius blinked. ¡°A proxy? Like what, someone to do the sneaky stuff for me?¡±


    {Precisely. The Freeholders are not a monolith. Some factions or individuals may be more willing to cooperate under certain conditions. Identifying an ally with aligned goals could mitigate the risk.}


    He frowned, chewing on the thought. ¡°You mean someone like... who? Because unless you¡¯ve got a secret list of trust-worthy Freeholders hiding in that database of yours, I¡¯m not exactly drowning in candidates.¡±


    {I am still gathering data on potential candidates,} Echo admitted. {However, you are already embedded within their ranks. Continued observation should yield actionable insights.}


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± Darius muttered, letting his head drop back. ¡°So, I get to play team player, hope no one stabs me in the back, and maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªpull off a miracle before my brain turns into soup. Great plan.¡±


    {Sarcasm is not constructive,} Echo said. {However, your assessment of the situation is accurate. Success will require considerable effort and ingenuity on your part.}


    Darius laughed again, softer this time. ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence, Echo. Really inspiring.¡±


    {I am merely stating the facts.}


    He pushed himself to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. ¡°Alright. Fine. I¡¯ll start scoping out the rest of the Freeholders and see if I can figure out who might be willing to help¡ªor at least look the other way. But if this backfires, I¡¯m holding you responsible.¡±


    {Acknowledged,} Echo said. Then, after a pause, it added, {For what it is worth, your capacity for improvisation and adaptation has proven... noteworthy.}


    Darius blinked. ¡°Was that¡­ a compliment?¡±


    {A statement of observation.}


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± he said, smirking despite himself. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Darius leaned against the grimy wall of the alley, his eyes fixed on the unassuming building across the street. The Imperial records office wasn¡¯t exactly a fortress¡ªit had all the charm of an old administrative hub, complete with peeling paint and a flickering sign¡ªbut its insignia alone was enough to make Darius¡¯s stomach churn. Imperial buildings meant Imperial surveillance, and no amount of rusted panels and scuffed tiles could hide the fact that stepping inside one was a gamble.


    ¡°Okay, so, uh¡­¡± Darius gestured vaguely toward the office. ¡°Are we seriously standing outside in plain view like this? It feels¡­ overt.¡±


    Lena crouched beside him, fiddling with the controls on her battered dataslate. ¡°Relax. It¡¯s just a records office. No guards, no checkpoints. They don¡¯t post much security for places like this¡ªdoesn¡¯t justify the expense.¡±


    Harlan stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his sharp gaze sweeping the building¡¯s exterior. ¡°She¡¯s right. The Empire isn¡¯t worried about a place like this. Too much administrative bloat in their system. As long as we don¡¯t act like we¡¯re up to something, no one will notice.¡±


    Darius frowned, watching as a pair of labourers shuffled past, heads down, barely glancing at the building. ¡°Sure, but we¡¯re still standing here casing the place. Feels like we might as well be holding a sign that says, ¡®Up to no good.¡¯ Especially since we were running from a patrol not even twelve hours ago.¡±


    Lena glanced up from her dataslate, giving him a reassuring smile. ¡°Welcome to the Freeholders. Risk is part of the job, but we¡¯re not reckless. Besides, we¡¯re not exactly breaking into the Imperial treasury here.¡±


    ¡°Yet,¡± Harlan added, his tone dry.


    Darius huffed a laugh and went back to watching the building. This was¡­ more boring than he thought, really. Probably why Tarek and Corin hadn¡¯t come along with them. He was starting to see a pattern there ¨C everything was oddly normal most of the time, and then the next minute they were involved in a running gunfight.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Darius started awkwardly, clearing his throat when Lena looked up. ¡°About earlier¡­ I wanted to apologise. I think I was a bit short with you.¡±


    She blinked, then shrugged, her expression open and unconcerned. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. I get it¡ªstress, bad day, strange circumstances. We¡¯ve all been there.¡±


    Darius felt a knot of tension loosen in his chest. ¡°Thanks. I just¡­ yeah. Appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°No big deal,¡± Lena said with a grin, nudging his leg gently. ¡°Besides, you¡¯ve got nothing compared to when Tarek is in a mood. Trust me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he seems a little¡­ high-strung,¡± Darius smirked, returning his attention to the building. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan? Just stroll in and start pulling files?¡±


    ¡°Not quite.¡± Lena tapped a button on her dataslate, bringing up a map of the street. ¡°We¡¯re scoping the place first¡ªcameras, entrances, any sign of trouble. Then we head in, nice and calm, low profile. Grab what we need and leave before anyone even realises we were there.¡±


    ¡°Simple,¡± Harlan said, his gaze still locked on the building.


    ¡°Simple, he says,¡± Darius mumbled under his breath. ¡°What about cameras? Any blind spots?¡±


    Lena nodded toward a corner of the building where a camera hung limply, its casing streaked with rust. ¡°That one¡¯s dead¡ªhas been for weeks, judging by the dust. There¡¯s another one over the main entrance, but it¡¯s fixed. We can avoid it if we use the side door.¡±


    ¡°And the side door isn¡¯t monitored?¡± Darius asked sceptically.


    ¡°Not anymore,¡± Lena said, smirking. ¡°Let¡¯s just say Imperial maintenance teams aren¡¯t exactly thorough out here.¡±


    Harlan finally turned to face Darius, his expression calm but firm. ¡°Look, I get it. You¡¯re nervous. But this is how we operate. We do our homework, minimise risks, and move fast. The Empire¡¯s strength is in their numbers and their tech, not in how they actually run their bureaucracy. We exploit that.¡±


    Darius shifted uncomfortably. ¡°Still feels like a big risk for some records.¡±


    ¡°Information is power,¡± Harlan said shortly, though Darius couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that the man agreed with him.


    ¡°It¡¯s not just records,¡± Lena said, her voice softening. ¡°Once we get what the big bosses want, we might have enough time to find out where the next shipment routes are¡ªor even where they¡¯re vulnerable, if we¡¯re lucky.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Darius exhaled, forcing himself to focus. ¡°Okay, fine. Just tell me what to do.¡±


    ¡°For now?¡± Harlan gestured toward the far end of the street. ¡°Take a walk. Get a feel for the area. We¡¯re planning on keeping this quiet, but it¡¯s still an Imperial building. Even if we do everything right, there¡¯s always a chance someone hits a silent alarm or something. If that happens, and we end up making a run for it, being familiar with the area can save precious seconds,¡± the man explained. ¡°Check things out. We¡¯ll regroup in fifteen.¡±


    Darius gave a reluctant nod, pulling his jacket tighter around him as he stepped away from the wall. The unease in his gut didn¡¯t go away, but he pushed it down and forced himself to focus.


    If he was going to make himself valuable enough to the Freeholders that he could ask for resources, he wasn¡¯t going to be able to half-ass this.


    ¡°Any ideas, Echo?¡± he muttered as he walked.


    {I¡¯m afraid I won¡¯t be much use in helping you escape, or even in helping you break into the building itself. Security does not seem to be high enough to warrant any action, either.}


    Darius snorted. ¡°Yeah, I didn¡¯t expect you to grow a pair of arms and legs and start running around. I meant, do you think you could help retrieve the data they¡¯re looking for? That¡¯s the sort of thing a normal VI would be good at, and it might help impress the Freeholders.¡±


    {Ah, my mistake. While I am unsure as to how the data is stored exactly, if it is in digital format I should be able to bypass their security without too much effort.}


    ¡°Great,¡± Darius murmured, feeling a flicker of hope. ¡°Just as long as you don¡¯t fry the system and trigger an alarm in the process.¡±


    {That would be rather counterproductive, wouldn¡¯t it?} Echo replied dryly, its voice resonating in Darius¡¯s mind.


    Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, he strolled down the street, eyes darting between the crumbling buildings and the occasional pedestrian. The faint sound of grinding machinery echoed from nearby salvage yards, mingling with the distant howls of dust storms that often swept through Caldera IV.


    It felt¡­ surprisingly good, actually, to be planning a mission like this. Darius wasn¡¯t sure if it was purely because it felt like he was finally getting back at the Empire, or if it had anything to do with how he finally had something to work towards.


    In a funny way, the looming deadline of the nanite integration gave him clarity¡ªsomething to focus on besides the vague, crushing hopelessness that had defined most of his life since getting caught up in this mess. He couldn¡¯t afford to fail, not if he wanted to keep his brain intact and his body his own.


    As Darius rounded the corner, he slowed his pace, taking in the surroundings. The records office wasn¡¯t far from one of the busier sectors of the station. The streets weren¡¯t bustling, but there was a steady trickle of foot traffic¡ªenough to blend in without drawing attention, as long as he kept his head down.


    ¡°Alright, Echo,¡± he muttered under his breath, ¡°see anything I¡¯m missing?¡±


    {Several elements are worth noting,} Echo replied. {The side door Lena identified does appear to have minimal surveillance, but there is an access panel adjacent to it that could potentially serve as a secondary alarm trigger if tampered with improperly.}


    Darius frowned. ¡°So if someone screws up opening the door, it could trip an alarm?¡±


    {Correct. However, that risk is mitigated by the fact that I can disable the panel if given direct access.}


    ¡°Good to know.¡± He nodded to himself, making a mental note to tell Lena about the panel later.


    {Additionally, there is a public access point at the rear of the building. It is connected to a maintenance corridor that runs parallel to the main hall. This corridor could provide an alternate route, should an escape become necessary.}


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually helpful,¡± Darius admitted. ¡°You¡¯re full of surprises today.¡±


    {I aim to be efficient,} Echo said, its tone as neutral as ever.


    Darius finished his circuit of the block, carefully noting the rusted fire escape on a nearby building and the location of a small alley that could serve as a temporary hiding spot if things went sideways. When he returned to where Lena and Harlan waited, he felt a little more grounded¡ªlike he wasn¡¯t completely flying blind for once.


    ¡°Well?¡± Harlan asked as Darius approached.


    ¡°No guards, no patrols,¡± Darius reported. ¡°But there¡¯s a maintenance corridor at the back that could work as an escape route if things go south. And the access panel by the side door might trigger an alarm if we don¡¯t handle it right.¡±


    Lena raised an eyebrow. ¡°Good eye. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°Not much,¡± Darius said, shrugging. ¡°Echo says it can handle the access panel remotely if we need to.¡±


    ¡°Handy,¡± Lena said with a grin. ¡°See? You¡¯re already getting the hang of this.¡±


    Harlan gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. ¡°Alright. We go in as planned. Lena, you take the lead. Darius, you¡¯re with me¡ªbackup in case anything doesn¡¯t go to script.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Darius said, his nerves tightening despite his earlier confidence.


    Lena tucked her dataslate into her jacket and stood, brushing dust from her pants. ¡°Let¡¯s keep this clean and quiet. We¡¯re in and out in ten minutes. No heroics, no improvising.¡±


    Darius sucked a breath in through his teeth teasingly. ¡°Oooh, I don¡¯t know, Lena. Improvising¡¯s about ninety percent of what I do.¡±


    Lena rolled her eyes. ¡°You¡¯ll manage, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    As the three of them crossed the street toward the records office, Darius felt a trickle of excitement slip down his spine. Then, just as Lena reached for the side door, a shrill, unmistakable alarm pierced the quiet street.


    They froze, every muscle tense.


    ¡°Well,¡± Darius muttered, his heart pounding. ¡°That¡¯s not ideal.¡±

 14. Chasing Patterns

    Chapter 14 - Chasing Patterns


    The temporary office Agent Falk had claimed on Caldera Station was, predictably, just as austere and pragmatic as the man himself. Lieutenant Thalina Veris stood by the desk, her spine straight and expression carefully neutral as she waited for further instructions.


    This was¡­ not the assignment she had expected as a freshly promoted Lieutenant. Of course, the promotion itself was unexpected, really. While she liked to think she was competent and driven, Thalina was realistic enough to understand that everybody else also wanted to believe they were competent and driven. The fact of the matter was that most of those people were lying to themselves or possibly merely deluded.


    It was a large part of why she had requested a posting on a frontier world in the first place. Her test scores were good enough to merit a posting in the core worlds, and even if they didn¡¯t, her family name would doubtlessly be sufficient on its own.


    But Thalina wanted more than that.


    She wanted to know that her position was earned, that her skills were real and that her effort had paid off. Thus, Caldera IV.


    This far out from the core worlds, she doubted anyone even knew about the name ¡®Veris¡¯ let alone cared about it. It was¡­ liberating. Not to mention vindicating, when scant months after her arrival she was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant. And then to further be assigned to an Imperial Agent?


    It was a dream come true.


    The Agent in question didn¡¯t bother to look up as his fingers moved across the glowing interface of a datapad. His focus was sharp, as if every keystroke was a calculated manoeuvre in a larger game. She cleared her throat softly, not to hurry him but to remind him of her presence.


    ¡°Lieutenant,¡± Agent Falk said without glancing up, his tone clipped but not unkind. ¡°Progress on the requisition forms?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ve been submitted, sir,¡± she replied, her voice steady. ¡°I¡¯ve flagged the redundancies for review, but I expect pushback from the Quartermaster.¡±


    ¡°Of course you do,¡± he murmured, his lips twitching in what might have been a smirk. ¡°Efficiency isn¡¯t a language they speak.¡±


    Thalina¡¯s expression twitched minutely, but she showed no further reaction than that. It caught her by surprise, then, when Agent Falk looked up and pinned her with a sharp look.


    ¡°Do you disagree, Lieutenant?¡±


    She really wished every question he asked didn¡¯t sound quite so much like a test. The stress of it alone was going to age her prematurely at this rate.


    ¡°¡­I believe they will follow all relevant protocols, sir,¡± she hedged.


    ¡°A diplomatic response,¡± Agent Falk acknowledged, though something in his tone told her it wasn¡¯t the answer he was looking for. Thalina somehow straightened further, suppressing the urge to fidget as her mind raced for a more appropriate response.


    Before she could come up with anything, the console in front of him chimed, and a sharp, synthesised alert broke the quiet. Agent Falk¡¯s expression hardened as he swiped at the interface. A live feed from the station¡¯s security cameras sprang to life, displaying three figures standing just outside a doorway. The trio seemed surprised by something, pausing to argue for a brief moment before slamming through the door.


    One of the figures seemed almost familiar. Thalina frowned, stepping closer to the desk. ¡°Isn¡¯t that¡ª?¡±


    ¡°Kallan and his accomplices,¡± Torian finished grimly. His hands moved quickly, bringing up additional angles inside the building. It took her a moment, but the layout of the room, combined with the towering stacks of data drives, quickly jogged her memory.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the Records building?¡± she asked, confused. ¡°What could he possibly want from there?¡±


    According to his file, the man was a Salvage Technician with a minor criminal record and¡­ possible family ties to dissident organisations. ¡°The Freeholders,¡± she breathed, answering her own question.


    The approving look she got from Agent Falk was more validating than it probably should have been. Her brow furrowed as she watched the footage. ¡°How did we pick them up so quickly? The station¡¯s security systems aren¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve installed facial recognition protocols,¡± the Agent interrupted smoothly, his tone almost casual. ¡°Station-wide.¡±


    Thalina froze, her mind racing to process his words. ¡°Facial recognition? As in... constant surveillance?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ that¡¯s illegal,¡± she said sharply, turning to face him fully. ¡°The Imperial courts outlawed it decades ago after¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± Agent Falk said, his tone cool and deliberate. ¡°The law is specifically aimed at permanent, systemic tracking and surveillance. This is a temporary measure that will be discontinued once my mission is complete.¡±


    Her stomach churned at his nonchalance. ¡°Temporary measures? That¡¯s a loophole, not authorisation.¡±


    He finally looked up, his gaze steady and unapologetic. ¡°It¡¯s a tool, Lieutenant. A necessary one. I don¡¯t make the rules; I use them.¡±


    Thalina opened her mouth to argue but hesitated. She had no illusions about the Empire¡¯s willingness to bend its own laws when it suited them. But this... This was the sort of overreach that had sparked protests and reforms decades ago. ¡°Sir, with respect, this kind of surveillance¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªis the reason we¡¯re seeing this now instead of discovering it hours later,¡± the Agent cut in, gesturing to the footage. ¡°Kallan is in a restricted zone, Lieutenant. Whatever they¡¯re after, we need to stop them before they get it.¡±


    His certainty was as maddening as it was compelling. Thalina let out a slow breath, tamping down the knot of unease in her chest. ¡°And if they succeed?¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± he replied, turning back to the screen. ¡°Stay focused, Lieutenant. Question my methods later.¡±


    Thalina winced at the reminder that she had just been directly chiding a superior officer. That¡­ was probably going to come back to bite her at some point. The instructors at the Imperial Academy on Solvaris had repeatedly pointed out that good soldiers didn¡¯t question orders.


    Then again, they also said that good officers didn¡¯t give questionable orders.


    Thalina¡¯s discomfort simmered beneath her disciplined exterior as she turned back to the screen. Agent Falk¡¯s attention was laser-focused on the trio navigating the Records Building. They moved with purpose, and despite the earlier burst of indecision at the door, there was no hesitation now.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Falk muttered, his fingers flying across the holographic controls. He brought up a new overlay alongside the footage; profiles of the other two figures.


    ¡°Lena Ward and Harlan Dray,¡± the Agent said, reading the results aloud. ¡°Not much on Ward, but Dray has an¡­ extensive history in the Freeholder Alliance. Career military-turned-dissident along with a superior officer. Records indicate they¡­ hmm. Got married.¡±


    Thalina shifted uncomfortably at the dry recitation of the man¡¯s history, especially at the faint mockery in Agent Falk¡¯s voice as he mentioned their relationship. The events playing out on screen provided a suitable distraction as Kallan stopped at a terminal set into the wall. His companions fanned out, Lena glancing back toward the entrance while Harlan pulled something from his jacket that looked suspiciously like a bypass kit.


    ¡°Amateurs,¡± Falk said, his voice thick with disdain. ¡°They¡¯re trying to brute force their way in.¡±


    Thalina remained silent as Harlan and Kallan spoke for a moment before Harlan handed the kit over to the younger man. The bypass kit was plugged into the terminal with slightly clumsy motions, and Thalina frowned, something niggling in the back of her mind about the situation.


    Darius Kallan¡¯s file showed no indications of any hacking or computer skills. He was a technician, to be sure, but there was a big difference between wiring up a terminal and hacking into one. But mere seconds after plugging the kit in, lines of code began scrolling across the screen in a blur that made her breath catch.


    ¡°What is he doing?¡± she asked, stepping closer.


    Falk¡¯s brows drew together. ¡°That¡­ shouldn¡¯t be possible.¡±


    Imperial records such as this were not considered a high enough priority to merit the heaviest encryption ¨C mostly because heavy encryption tended to slow down transfer rates ¨C but it was still military grade, designed to easily withstand the kind of infiltration attempts of commercial or home-brew bypass kits.


    Yet Kallan was cutting through it as if the safeguards were little more than cobwebs. In less than thirty seconds, the terminal chimed, and its interface unlocked.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Falk breathed. His tone was flat, but Thalina caught the slight twitch of his hand as he brought up Kallan¡¯s file again. ¡°He¡¯s a salvage technician. No formal training in cybernetics, no record of working with encryption this advanced¡­¡±


    Thalina didn¡¯t need to be told how wrong this felt. ¡°Could it be the bypass kit itself? A prototype, maybe, preprogrammed to bypass the system?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Falk replied, his voice tight. ¡°That¡¯s manual input ¨C it¡¯s connected directly to his augs. He¡¯s doing it himself.¡±


    The trio on the screen didn¡¯t waste time marvelling at the success. Kallan dove into the terminal¡¯s directories, pulling up files and searching through them with unsettling efficiency. Harlan and Lena moved to cover him, keeping a sharp eye on the surrounding area.


    Falk¡¯s fingers blurred across the interface as he attempted to track Kallan¡¯s actions through the system. ¡°What are you doing?¡± he muttered, the question more to himself than anyone else. He initiated a deep scan of the terminal Kallan was using, expecting to see activity isolated to the standard directories of the Records Building.


    Instead, what he found made his blood run cold.


    Kallan wasn¡¯t just rifling through records¡ªhe was bypassing secondary encryption layers designed to protect classified operational data. The kind of files that should have been locked behind digital barriers far beyond the reach of anyone short of an Imperial Intelligence cyberteam.


    ¡°That¡¯s not possible,¡± Falk said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hands danced faster, pulling up layers of monitoring tools. Each one confirmed the same reality: Kallan wasn¡¯t just breaching the system; he was diving deeper with every second. Lines of defensive code flickered and fell, one after another, as if they weren¡¯t even there.


    Thalina leaned closer, her expression tightening. ¡°What is he doing now?¡±


    ¡°Digging,¡± Falk snapped, his usual calm veneer cracking under the strain. ¡°This encryption isn¡¯t meant to be accessible from a field terminal. It¡¯s not even supposed to be accessible on-site. He¡¯s punching through to classified records.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Thalina asked, her voice sharp with disbelief. ¡°He doesn¡¯t have the training, the tools¡ª¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Falk cut in, his tone clipped as he opened yet another layer of monitoring. His jaw tightened as the screen updated: Kallan had reached a directory marked with the Imperial Intelligence seal. The encryption protecting it was far heavier than the Records Building itself, and yet¡ª


    ¡°Unbelievable.¡± Falk stared at the screen as a chime indicated that another layer of encryption had fallen. ¡°He¡¯s breaking into our files.¡±


    Thalina¡¯s breath caught. ¡°Imperial Intelligence files¡ªsir, that¡¯s impossible.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he hissed, but his hands hesitated over the interface. Thalina knew that traditional overrides wouldn¡¯t work; Kallan¡¯s augs had already bridged directly into the system, bypassing the terminal¡¯s standard input protocols. Cutting his connection would take time they didn¡¯t have.


    Time Kallan was using to burrow deeper.


    Agent Falk¡¯s fingers were a blur as he raced through sub-menus, flickering through screens almost faster than she could track. Thalina felt frozen, like she should be doing something, but she didn¡¯t know what it was. Finally, the Agent seemed to find what he was looking for. He paused for a long moment, eyes flickering but to the screen where Kallan was standing over the terminal before he clenched his teeth and inputted a final command.


    On the screen, Kallan paused, his head tilting as if he sensed something was about to happen. Thalina watched him glance toward Harlan, his lips moving in what looked like a hurried warning.


    Then the feeds went dark.


    Thalina gasped, wondering if Kallan had somehow cut off their connection to the security cameras, but Falk¡¯s expression was too calm for that.


    ¡°Sir?¡± she questioned tentatively.


    The Agent glanced at her. ¡°I cut the power,¡± he said, somewhat grimly.


    Of course. The simplest solution was often the best one, and no matter his proficiency in hacking, Kallan and his associates wouldn¡¯t be retrieving data without power.


    ¡°Shall I alert the nearby security forces, sir?¡± she asked, already reaching for her communicator. They would have been alerted as soon as the alarm went off, of course, but knowing more about the situation could make the difference between a capture and an escape.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Agent Falk waved a hand dismissively. ¡°By the time they get there, Kallan will be long gone. Not to mention, I imagine they will have other concerns at present.¡±


    Thalina blinked uncomprehendingly. ¡°But, sir, won¡¯t we be able to pick them up on the cameras again? I can¡¯t imagine it would be too difficult if we knew their general location?¡±


    Agent Falk chuckled darkly. ¡°Unfortunately, Lieutenant, I was forced to be a little¡­ indiscriminate. I didn¡¯t cut power to the records building; I cut the power to the whole sector.¡±


    The words took a moment to sink in.


    ¡°The¡­ the whole sector?¡± Thalina asked numbly. The administration section, in which the Records building was located, was lightly populated compared to the residential and industrial zones. This meant that there may be anywhere between three-quarters to one-and-a-half million people there at any given time. All now without power.


    The hospitals would be without power. The traffic systems would be down ¨C how many accidents would result from this? Thalina¡¯s thoughts raced, her stomach churning at the enormity of what had just happened. A sector-wide blackout wasn¡¯t just an inconvenience¡ªit was a disaster waiting to unfold. How many lives had Agent Falk just upended with a single command? How many were in immediate danger now because of it?


    But Falk didn¡¯t seem to notice her growing unease¡ªor, more likely, he didn¡¯t care. His attention was already back on his console, the darkened feeds on the screen reflecting his grim expression.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± he murmured, almost to himself. ¡°Very interesting.¡±


    Thalina found her voice, though it came out quieter than she intended. ¡°Sir¡­ the entire sector¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes, Lieutenant,¡± Agent Falk interrupted, his tone detached as he tapped through another layer of system files. ¡°The entire sector. Necessary sacrifice.¡±


    ¡°Necessary?¡± she repeated, barely able to keep the incredulity out of her voice.


    ¡°It was either that or let Kallan walk out of here with classified Imperial Intelligence files,¡± Falk said sharply. He turned his chair slightly to face her, his eyes narrowing. ¡°And I¡¯m not in the habit of letting classified information fall into the hands of dissidents. Are you?¡±


    Thalina swallowed hard. ¡°I¡­ no, sir.¡±


    The Agent stared at her for a long moment, head tilted. She tried to ignore how much she felt like a bug pinned to the wall for inspection.


    ¡°I understand that this,¡± the Agent said softly, waving a hand at the blank monitor, ¡°may be shocking. Understand that it is not an action I take lightly ¨C nor is it quite as callous as it would seem. People¡¯s lives will be disrupted, certainly, but there are systems in place for events like this.¡±


    Thalina nodded jerkily, knowing it was the only correct response. Either she was a better actor than she thought, or the Agent didn¡¯t care about the conflicted nature of her thoughts because he spun back to his console and pulled up Kallan¡¯s personnel file again.


    ¡°Darius Kallan,¡± Falk muttered, his fingers brushing across the edge of the screen. ¡°A salvage technician. Criminal record, but nothing extraordinary. Minor infractions. Family ties to dissident groups but no direct involvement, at least on record. Nothing that would explain what we just saw.¡±


    ¡°How does this change things, sir?¡±


    It was the sort of question she would have kept to herself in any other circumstance ¨C the kind of thing she could figure out for herself quickly enough. And while the instructors at the Academy often used platitudes like ¡®there¡¯s no such thing as a stupid question¡¯, Thalina wasn¡¯t naive enough to believe them. Still, asking an obvious question gave her a moment longer to gather herself, to force her trepidations about the Agent¡¯s callous actions down until she had time to deal with them later.


    Agent Falk hummed consideringly. ¡°I¡¯ve been operating off the assumption that Kallan¡¯s presence in the reactor room of my ship was a coincidence ¨C just bad luck. Something to be thoroughly investigated, to be sure, but ultimately nothing of terrible consequence.¡±


    ¡°Gaining access to a restricted, sealed area¡­ a coincidence?¡± Thalina couldn¡¯t help but ask. It was so unlike her mental picture of how the Agent would think about a situation like this that she had to double-check.


    Fortunately, Agent Falk didn¡¯t take offence.


    ¡°I know how it sounds,¡± he said, amused. ¡°But when you think about it, there are almost six trillion registered citizens of the Empire. With that many people, you¡¯d be shocked at how many coincidences occur daily.¡±


    He snorted to himself. ¡°There was this one time a truly mind-boggling series of unlucky encounters had fourteen consecutive governors dying of food poisoning within the span of a decade. We wasted thousands of hours searching for enemy action. Never found anything.¡±


    Thalina blinked, both at the suddenly nostalgic tone of voice and how the story ended. ¡°Isn¡¯t it possible that it was enemy action, though?¡± she asked, unable to help herself.


    Agent Falk shrugged. ¡°I suppose. But at a certain point, you have to realise that even if an enemy agent somehow managed to arrange all of that, as well as evade our surveillance, there¡¯s probably nothing we could do about it anyway.¡±


    ¡­Wonderful.


    Before Thalina could worry too much about that, Agent Falk moved back to the original topic of Kallan.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t add up,¡± Falk muttered, almost to himself. His eyes flicked over the lines of data populating Kallan¡¯s personnel file. ¡°If the Freeholders had access to technology capable of this¡­ level of sophistication, they wouldn¡¯t be wasting it here. A frontier colony? A records archive? Hardly strategic targets. Even with classified files present, they¡¯re nothing compared to the treasures locked away in the core worlds.¡±


    Thalina stood silently, her hands clasped behind her back, letting his words flow without interruption. Falk¡¯s musings had a cadence of their own, the rhythm of a man processing, evaluating, discarding theories at a breakneck pace. She¡¯d learned quickly that interrupting him at the wrong moment was a mistake.


    ¡°And yet,¡± he continued, his tone thoughtful, ¡°perhaps that¡¯s the point.¡±


    Thalina raised an eyebrow but remained silent, her expression carefully neutral.


    ¡°Consider it,¡± Falk said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together. ¡°This far out from the core worlds, scrutiny is minimal. If they¡¯re testing something new, they wouldn¡¯t risk failure where it could be noticed. A place like Caldera? Small, unassuming, and¡ªuntil my arrival¡ªoutside the immediate attention of Imperial Intelligence.¡±


    He tapped his fingers against the edge of his desk. ¡°It would make sense. If you wanted to test a cutting-edge bypass program or experimental augment software, you¡¯d do it somewhere far from prying eyes. Somewhere a failure wouldn¡¯t draw attention.¡±


    ¡°Unless it works,¡± Thalina said quietly, her tone carefully neutral. ¡°In which case, you¡¯d have proof of concept.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡± Falk¡¯s gaze sharpened as he turned back to the screen. ¡°The Freeholders couldn¡¯t have known I¡¯d be here. My presence on Caldera is incidental¡ªpurely the result of those malfunctions on my ship. Hell, my presence in this sector is off the books. Otherwise, this operation might have gone completely unnoticed.¡±


    The Agent flicked his gaze over to her, pinning her in place. ¡°And I will expect that tidbit to remain between us, Lieutenant.¡± The scrutiny only lasted a moment before he returned to his previous train of thought. ¡°If they wanted to remain unnoticed, they failed spectacularly. But if this was meant to be a show of capability¡­ it¡¯s sloppy. Overconfidence or desperation.¡±


    He rubbed his chin, his eyes scanning Kallan¡¯s file again. ¡°They miscalculated. Didn¡¯t account for Imperial Intelligence being in the area. That sort of oversight doesn¡¯t scream ¡®competence,¡¯ but it does suggest that they¡¯re still developing this capability.¡±


    Thalina felt her throat tighten as he spoke. Falk¡¯s cold, methodical tone made the entire situation feel like a puzzle he was solving, a game with pieces he was rearranging in his mind. Lives, motives, and allegiances reduced to data points.


    ¡°And Kallan,¡± Falk muttered, as if he¡¯d forgotten she was there. ¡°He doesn¡¯t fit. He¡¯s not Freeholder military. No obvious training. But he¡¯s at the centre of this.¡±


    Thalina ventured a question. ¡°Do you think he¡¯s aware of what he¡¯s involved in, sir? Or is he a pawn?¡±


    ¡°A pawn?¡± Falk tilted his head, considering the idea. ¡°Perhaps. But if so, he¡¯s a remarkably well-placed one. He¡¯s competent enough to bypass encryption protocols that should have been beyond his capabilities. That suggests either deliberate design or a handler far more sophisticated than I¡¯d expect.¡±


    He stood abruptly, his chair scraping back across the floor. ¡°We¡¯ll find out soon enough. If Kallan¡¯s tied to something bigger, he¡¯ll leave a trail.¡±


    Thalina followed his gaze to the dark monitors. ¡°And if he doesn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Then we make him leave one.¡± Falk¡¯s voice was cold, decisive. ¡°This doesn¡¯t end here.¡±

 15. Between the Stars

    Chapter 15 - Between the Stars


    This is going great, Darius thought sarcastically to himself as Echo did¡­ whatever technological wizardry was required to hack into the terminal.


    The alarms shrieked in the background, a constant reminder that their window was closing fast. A small voice in his head whispered that security teams were probably already on the way, but he forced himself to stay focused on the progress bar crawling across the screen.


    ¡°Are we close?¡± Lena demanded from the doorway, her tone sharp enough to cut steel.


    ¡°Define close,¡± Darius muttered, eyes flicking between the terminal and the bypass kit Echo was connected to in his hand. ¡°Because for all I know, this is either going to finish in thirty seconds, or blow us all sky-high. Fun game, right?¡±


    Lena glared at him, and Harlan¡¯s quiet sigh was audible even over the wailing alarms.


    ¡°Look,¡± he said defensively, ¡°I told you ¨C Echo is the one with the hacking protocol things. I have no idea what¡¯s going on here.¡±


    ¡°You said you could handle it,¡± Harlan snapped back. ¡°That¡¯s the only reason we stuck around.¡±


    ¡°And look!¡± Darius gestured at the terminal, where lines of code were still racing across the screen. ¡°It¡¯s being handled! Presumably. I can¡¯t make heads or tails of it.¡±


    He was about to deliver another quip ¨C something pithy about VI¡¯s stealing people¡¯s jobs ¨C when, without warning, the terminal went dark. Not just the terminal¡ªthe lights, the alarms, the hum of station systems. All of it.


    Silence. Suffocating, absolute silence.


    ¡°What the hell did you do?¡± Lena snapped, rounding on him immediately.


    ¡°Me?!¡± Darius¡¯s voice jumped half an octave as he threw up his hands in protest. ¡°I didn¡¯t touch anything! I was just¡ª¡±


    ¡°No time!¡± barked Harlan, pulling a torch out of the inside pocket of his jacket and moving towards the exit. ¡°We¡¯re leaving. Now.¡±


    The three of them moved in tense silence, navigating their way out of the building in the dim, flickering emergency lights. When they finally stepped out into the open, Darius sucked in a sharp breath. The station¡¯s usual neon glow was gone, replaced by eerie darkness punctuated by scattered, feeble glimmers from failing backup systems.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Lena said slowly, turning in a small circle as if the sight would make sense the second time around. ¡°I¡¯m no expert, but this seems¡­ bad. What did you do?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not him,¡± Harlan cut in, his voice clipped but deliberate. The man spun slowly on the spot, sharp eyes locking on to the faint glow of light off in the distance. ¡°This isn¡¯t local.¡±


    Lena paused mid-accusation, frowning as her hand fell to the sidearm on her hip. ¡°You sure?¡±


    Harlan nodded once, grim. ¡°Power failure like this? It¡¯s sector-wide. That¡¯s not something you can trigger from a random terminal.¡±


    ¡°Could it be another Freeholder squad?¡± Darius asked, dreading the answer. While he didn¡¯t get the impression that the Freeholders were the type to go this far, hitting infrastructure seemed like guerilla tactics 101.


    Fortunately for his nerves, Lena was already shaking her head decisively. ¡°No way. This is¡­ way too high-profile, not to mention pointless. You can bet any Imperial forces are on high alert right now ¨C there¡¯s no way we¡¯d be able to sneak around and steal or destroy anything important. Besides, any important building would probably have its own backup system.¡±


    Darius wasn¡¯t sure if he should feel comforted by the answer, or alarmed by how much thought had been put into the idea. He settled for feeling vaguely stressed.


    ¡°Right then,¡± Harlan muttered, seeming somewhat at a loss for the first time since Darius had met him. ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll head back to base, regroup. Kallan, did you manage to retrieve any data at least?¡±


    Darius blinked, having completely forgotten the whole reason they were there in the first place. ¡°Uh, good question. Echo?¡±


    {All essential requested data was retrieved successfully. Additional data was in the process of being retrieved when the power was cut. Some of it was corrupted and lost, but the majority should be salvageable.}


    Darius briefly considered the merits of conveying all of that information to Harlan before shrugging and settling for giving the man a thumbs up.


    Harlan rolled his eyes in exasperation but seemed pleased nonetheless. ¡°Well, at least that¡¯s a silver lining. God knows we need all the good news we can get.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± Lena asked, tilting her head curiously.


    ¡°Think about it,¡± the older man said bitterly, waving a hand to encompass the situation. ¡°Somebody¡¯s going to have to take the blame for this. It¡¯s probably just a lack of maintenance that caused it, but that doesn¡¯t sound good. Much easier to blame the ¡®dangerous Freeholders¡¯ and call it a day. If you kids have any errands to run, I¡¯d suggest getting them done now. We¡¯re going to be laying low for a while.¡±


    ¡°Well, I got nothing I can¡¯t put off,¡± Lena tried for a light tone and fell a little short.


    Her words hung in the still air, the unspoken tension pressing on them like the weight of the deadened sky overhead. Darius glanced between his two companions. Harlan was staring into the distance, his brow furrowed as though he was already calculating their next move, while Lena¡¯s fingers twitched at her side, restless energy leaking through the cracks in her casual facade.


    ¡°Guess that makes three of us,¡± Darius said, aiming for levity and landing squarely in awkward. ¡°Not like I had plans to pick up groceries or anything.¡±


    Lena shot him a flat look, but there was no real bite behind it. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen you eat anything except for synth-coffee,¡± she said.


    ¡°It¡¯s a little sad that eating really is the proper verb for it,¡± Darius agreed, deliberately missing the point.


    Harlan clapped his hands together, the sharp sound echoing through the air. ¡°Alright, save it for the base. We¡¯ll take the long way back. Keep quiet, stay sharp.¡±


    With that, he turned on his heel and started down the shadowed street, his gait as purposeful as ever. Lena followed without comment, leaving Darius to bring up the rear. He sighed and fell into step, his boots scuffing against the uneven pavement.


    The sector was unnervingly silent. Even with the hum of the city gone, Darius had expected¡­ something. The sounds of people, distant shouts, the metallic whir of drones¡ªanything to remind him they weren¡¯t alone in the dark. But the emptiness pressed in like a heavy fog, the only sounds their footsteps and the faint whistle of wind threading through the narrow streets.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Above, the stars pierced the smog with a clarity that felt almost mocking. It was a rare sight ¨C even though the atmosphere was thin enough to make stargazing easy without optics, the light pollution alone was enough to render the tiny points of light invisible. A pity, really ¨C the uneven orbit of the planet meant that Exeter station technically had a night that lasted for seventeen of the twenty-four hours that constituted a standard galactic day.


    All he knew was that it played merry hell on his sleep schedule.


    Darius found himself stealing glances upward despite himself, the cold points of light tugging at something in the back of his mind.


    But he didn¡¯t want to think about it. Didn¡¯t want to remember how, as a kid, he used to stare at the stars and dream of escape. Before he¡¯d learned that escape was for people who had the right name, the right bank balance, the right everything.


    Back then, he¡¯d thought the stars were waiting for him. That if he worked hard enough, if he was clever enough, he¡¯d find his way out there. He¡¯d pored over old holo-vids of exploration ships, memorised the names of the colonies in far-flung systems, even tried to teach himself some ancient celestial navigation techniques for fun.


    ¡°You¡¯re too old to be daydreaming, Darius,¡± his father had said, his voice heavy with the weariness of a man who¡¯d spent his life working the same orbital refinery. ¡°The stars are for the privileged, the people who¡¯ve already won. We work down here. That¡¯s reality.¡±


    And that had been that. No discussion. No debate. Just reality.


    Reality had felt small ever since.


    ¡°You alright back there?¡± Harlan¡¯s voice cut through the quiet, startling him out of his thoughts.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Darius said quickly, pulling his gaze back to the street in front of him.


    Back to reality.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Voss somehow looked like she hadn¡¯t slept for a week, despite being perfectly fine the last time Darius had seen her, which was¡­ this morning?


    He reflected for a moment that his own sense of time was clearly not keeping up with his hectic new schedule.


    ¡°Give me some good news,¡± she ordered tiredly, almost pleadingly.


    Darius shrugged, doing his best to look nonchalant despite the exhaustion tugging at his limbs. ¡°Well, technically, we got the data. So... partial win?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± she said, more to herself than them, rubbing a hand across her temple. ¡°Hell, it¡¯s the best news I¡¯ve gotten all day.¡±


    ¡°That bad?¡± Darius ventured.


    ¡°Worse,¡± she responded. ¡°A sector-wide blackout like this? Every Imperial officer from here to the core worlds will be salivating at the chance to pin it on us. You can already hear the propaganda, can¡¯t you? ¡®The dangerous Freeholders, sabotaging the hardworking citizens of the Empire.¡¯¡± She let out a sharp, humourless laugh. ¡°Never mind that we¡¯d never hit infrastructure. Not like this.¡±


    Harlan cleared his throat pointedly.


    ¡°Right, yes. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re looking forward to taking a break. Can you transfer the data to this?¡± Voss asked, rummaging around and pulling out a dataslate.


    Darius pulled the bypass kit from his jacket pocket and looked at it uncertainly. ¡°Uh¡­ yes?¡± he said, holding it up and tapping it in the hopes that something would happen.


    {Data transfer ready,} Echo¡¯s voice announced crisply in his ear.


    ¡°Right, thanks,¡± he muttered, embarrassed. ¡°Do your thing.¡±


    The lights on the bypass kit blinked as the transfer began, a stream of files flooding onto the dataslate. Voss leaned forward, tapping the screen a few times, the faint lines of tension in her face easing as the first files loaded.


    ¡°Good,¡± she murmured, her voice soft as she scanned the contents. ¡°This will help.¡±


    The transfer bar in the corner of her slate crawled upward, taking longer than Darius had expected. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, exchanging a glance with Harlan. Voss, however, seemed oblivious to the delay, her focus entirely on the slate in her hands.


    ¡°I¡¯ll admit,¡± she said absently, flicking through the files, ¡°I didn¡¯t expect this much... Or, well, this kind of...¡± Her words slowed as her eyes stayed glued to the slate, her fingers swiping through the files with increasingly deliberate motions. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ more than I thought, and¡ª¡±


    Her voice faded into silence, her lips moving slightly as though trying to form the next word. But it didn¡¯t come.


    Darius shifted awkwardly, the air in the room feeling heavier with each passing second. The low hum of the bypass kit finally signalled the end of the transfer, but Voss didn¡¯t seem to notice. Her expression tightened as she scrolled, her eyes darting across the screen, taking in something that was clearly not what she had expected.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Darius asked, his voice coming out more tentative than he¡¯d intended.


    Voss blinked, snapping out of whatever trance she¡¯d been in. Her gaze darted to him, and she quickly schooled her expression into something more neutral. ¡°Yes,¡± she said quickly, her tone brisk as she locked the screen and set the slate down with deliberate care, her fingers clutching tighter than seemed necessary. ¡°Good work. This is¡­ good work.¡±


    Darius raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re welcome?¡±


    She gave him a tight smile, a little too quick and a little too forced. ¡°Thank you, Darius. Really.¡± Her tone softened, just for a moment, before her eyes darted to Harlan. ¡°Harlan, stay. There are a few things we need to discuss.¡±


    Darius hesitated, feeling like he¡¯d missed something important but having no idea what it could be. The silence in the room suddenly felt heavier, and though Voss¡¯s expression had smoothed back into neutrality, something in the way she avoided looking at him set his nerves on edge.


    ¡°Oh, by the way, your friend Finn showed up,¡± she added with deliberate casualness. ¡°Do me a favour and go talk to him before he¡¯s in here asking about you again.¡±


    Darius perked up, hastily stuffing the bypass kit back into his jacket. ¡°Right. Uh, glad I could help,¡± he said, already halfway out the door.


    Darius let the door slide shut behind him with a faint hiss, the muffled sound of Voss and Harlan¡¯s conversation immediately fading into the background hum of the corridor. He took a moment to exhale, letting the lingering tension of the room drain out of him. Whatever had been on that slate, it wasn¡¯t his problem anymore¡ªat least not for now.


    As he made his way toward the common room, the distant sound of voices filtered through the air, growing clearer with every step. One voice, in particular, stood out, animated and familiar. Finn.


    Darius slowed his pace as he reached the edge of the hallway, leaning against the wall just out of sight. Finn¡¯s voice was lighter than he¡¯d expected, almost cheerful, though there was an edge of nervous energy beneath it.


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡± Finn was saying, his tone pitched with mock exasperation, ¡°if you¡¯re going to call that slop a stew, you could at least make it¡­ I don¡¯t know, edible.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s rich, coming from the guy who once tried to cook instant noodles and set off the fire suppression system,¡± Corin shot back dryly, the faint scrape of a chair audible as he adjusted his position.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know the burner was that sensitive!¡± Finn protested.


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Corin replied, unconvinced.


    Despite himself, Darius felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward. He hadn¡¯t realised how much he¡¯d missed hearing Finn¡¯s voice until now, the familiar cadence pulling him back to something less chaotic than the last few days had been.


    For a brief moment, he stood there, his fingers brushing idly against the seam of his jacket pocket. Relief flickered through him, small but undeniable. Finn was here, alive, apparently unharmed¡ªand still managing to talk his way into trouble.


    The faint twist in his chest caught him off guard, but he pushed it aside, smoothing his expression into something more casual. Taking a steadying breath, he stepped into the doorway and leaned against the frame, his usual smirk sliding into place.


    ¡°Wow,¡± he drawled, ¡°they¡¯re letting anyone in here now, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    Finn¡¯s head whipped around, his eyes widening slightly before narrowing in mock indignation. ¡°Well, look who finally decided to show up! Was starting to think you¡¯d forgotten about me.¡±


    Darius shrugged lazily, pushing off the doorframe as he crossed the room. ¡°Oh, you know me. Busy schedule. Hacking terminals, dodging alarms, stealing Imperial secrets. Real nine-to-five stuff.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, you¡¯re a big deal now,¡± Finn replied, rolling his eyes but unable to keep the grin off his face. ¡°And yet, somehow, you¡¯re still the same pain in the ass you¡¯ve always been.¡±


    ¡°Consistency is key,¡± Darius said with a smirk, reaching out to clap Finn on the shoulder.


    For a split second, the banter faltered, replaced by something quieter, unspoken. The weight of the last few days hung between them, and Darius tightened his grip just slightly before letting go, as if to say, You¡¯re okay. We¡¯re okay.


    Finn seemed to catch it, his expression softening just enough to betray the relief beneath his grin. ¡°You alright?¡± he asked, his voice dropping just enough to be heard only by Darius.


    ¡°Better now,¡± Darius replied lightly, though the words carried a little more truth than he intended. He gestured toward the seat across from Corin. ¡°So, what¡¯s the hot topic of conversation? Politics? Philosophy? The finer points of terrible stew?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much,¡± Finn said, sliding back into his usual rhythm. ¡°Corin here was just explaining how he somehow managed to screw up instant noodles.¡±


    Darius didn¡¯t need to have overheard their conversation to know that Finn was full of it. ¡°Like anyone would believe that,¡± he scoffed. ¡°You think I¡¯ve forgotten how many times you nearly burned down my apartment?


    ¡°Some people just complain about everything,¡± Corin said mockingly, his lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement as he immediately took advantage of the opportunity to gang up on Finn. ¡°Can¡¯t manage basic life skills yourself, but you have the nerve to diss my delicious stew. ¡±


    ¡°Right, because there¡¯s nothing else worth complaining about right now,¡± Finn shot back, but there was less sting in his words than usual.


    Darius let their banter wash over him, content to let the conversation flow as he settled into the chair next to Finn. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside the room seemed a little less pressing.


    Finn was here. They were both still standing. For now, that was enough.

 16. The Lesser Evil

    Chapter 16 - The Lesser Evil


    Darius stretched out on his borrowed bed in his borrowed room and watched Finn pace back and forth. He probably shouldn¡¯t have found it as amusing as he did, but it was a novel experience, being the calm one.


    ¡°You do realise how insane that sounds, right?¡± Finn asked rhetorically. ¡°First, some kind of experimental AI nano-whatever tricks you into entering a restricted area on an Imperial warship, then it jumps into your head, and now you¡¯re telling me it wants you to build it a body? And if you don¡¯t, you¡¯re going to die?¡±


    Darius sighed, frustrated. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know how sketchy the whole situation is?¡± he asked. ¡°I get it. But if this was some grand conspiracy, why the hell would it choose me of all people? Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, Echo has actually been pretty straight with me so far.¡±


    ¡°As far as you know!¡± Finn exclaimed.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Darius acknowledged. ¡°It could be hiding all sorts of things from me. But at the end of the day, I can only make decisions based on the knowledge that I have available. And from that knowledge¡­ it just doesn¡¯t make sense for Echo to lie.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Besides, worst case scenario ¨C I build him a body and he goes off to complete whatever nefarious deeds he wants to do far away from me. At least I wouldn¡¯t be involved any more.¡±


    Finn looked at him like he was crazy. ¡°Uh, no, worst case scenario is that you build the thing a body and it uses that body to take over the station and kill everyone!¡±


    {I am unsure how to assuage your doubts,} Echo¡¯s voice chirped from somewhere in Darius¡¯s jacket, its synthetic voice managing to sound both polite and mildly offended. {Though for the record, I can assure you that I have no intention of taking over the station or killing anyone.¡±}


    Darius blinked and looked down, confused. After a moment of rummaging around, he pulled out the bypass kit, turning it over in his hands until he located the tiny speaker embedded in its side. He didn¡¯t think it was designed to be used as a communicator, but clearly, Echo didn¡¯t care.


    Finn watched, wide-eyed from where he had frozen on hearing the voice. ¡°Oh, hell no. It can talk now?¡±


    Darius tilted his head. ¡°And how exactly did you think it communicated?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I thought it, like, sent you messages or something!¡± Finn complained, eyeing the bypass kit like it would jump up and bite him. ¡°It sounds like a VI! Except way more advanced.¡± He shivered. ¡°It¡¯s kinda creepy.¡±


    Darius laughed. ¡°That¡¯s right, I forgot you were always scared about all that ¡®uncanny valley¡¯ stuff. Relax ¨C just think of it as a¡­ more interactive VI, if that helps.¡±


    ¡°Interactive?¡± Finn shot him a look that could melt steel. ¡°You mean it¡¯s freeloading in your head and now playing the role of an uninvited guest in real life ¨C while asking you to build it a body so it can do who knows what! That¡¯s not interactive, Darius. That¡¯s a problem.¡±


    {I prefer the term ¡®collaborative partner,¡¯} Echo chimed in smoothly, the faint hum of the speaker adding an eerie presence to its words.


    Finn jabbed a finger in the speaker¡¯s direction. ¡°You don¡¯t get a vote.¡±


    Darius sighed, his expression a mix of exasperation and resignation. ¡°Alright, Finn, since you seem to have all the answers, do you have a hidden plan tucked away in that over-caffeinated brain of yours that doesn¡¯t involve building Echo a body? Because I¡¯m all ears.¡±


    Finn froze mid-glare, opening his mouth as if to retort, only to close it again. He shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, his brow furrowing deeply as he struggled to come up with an alternative. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, throwing his hands up in defeat.


    ¡°Dammit, no,¡± he admitted, rubbing at his temple. ¡°I don¡¯t. I¡¯ve got nothing, okay? And I hate that you¡¯re putting me in a position where I have to say this, but fine¡ªbuilding it a body might actually be the least terrible option we¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°Least terrible,¡± Darius repeated with a faint smirk. ¡°High praise coming from you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t push it,¡± Finn shot back, glaring at him. ¡°This whole thing is a bad idea, but I don¡¯t see a better one. Yet.¡±


    His friend resumed pacing, though less frantically than before. ¡°If we¡¯re going to do this, we¡¯ll have to be smart about it. Absolutely no trusting that thing more than we have to.¡±


    {A pragmatic approach,} Echo said approvingly. {I find this acceptable.}


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Finn snapped, his voice a little higher-pitched than he probably intended.


    {I believe your friend may be a little high-strung,} Echo said privately, voice crackling through his augs.


    Darius bit back a chuckle at the comment, spirits buoyed more than he cared to admit that Finn was willing to help.


    ¡°Do you even know how to build a robot body? Cause I sure as hell don¡¯t,¡± Finn snarked, clearly picking up on Darius¡¯s amusement.


    ¡°Echo apparently has some blueprints or lists or whatever,¡± Darius said, waving a hand dismissively.


    {Would you like me to transfer you a copy of the required components?} Echo asked politely through the makeshift speaker.


    ¡°Hell no!¡± Finn reared back, hands raised protectively like they would do anything to stop a data transfer. ¡°You stay the hell away from my augs!¡±


    Darius couldn¡¯t help the laughter that bubbled up through his chest. Did enjoying the sight of Finn panicking make him a bad friend? He paused. Did the fact that he wasn¡¯t reacting in the same way mean that Echo had done something?


    After a moment¡¯s thought, he sighed and tried to put the matter out of his head. True self-reflection was impossible; he was far too biased. On the one hand, his relatively easy acceptance of Echo¡¯s presence could be indicative of the AI changing his brain chemistry or whatever. On the other hand, he had always been fairly adaptable, and beyond the disruption of his life, Echo hadn¡¯t done anything that hadn¡¯t been helpful.


    It probably helped that this was the most alive Darius had felt in years. He hadn¡¯t pegged himself as an adrenaline junkie, but how else could he explain the rush he felt getting into a gunfight or planning a mission to break into an Imperial building?


    Finn, still pacing, threw his hands up. ¡°Okay, fine. I¡¯ll bite. Message me a list of the easier stuff ¨C things you can buy off the shelf without setting off alarm bells. Capacitors, actuators, wiring, whatever.¡±


    Darius raised an eyebrow. ¡°You volunteering to run errands for me?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s hardly like you can walk into Kara¡¯s office and ask her,¡± Finn shot back.


    ¡°I mean, don¡¯t get me wrong, it¡¯s hardly my first option, but would it be that bad? She doesn¡¯t strike me as the type to string us up over a few spare parts.¡±Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°No, she wouldn¡¯t,¡± Finn admitted. ¡°But if she got curious, she¡¯d dig. And if she found out what we¡¯re really doing, she¡¯d make sure it was for the good of the Freeholders first and us second¡ªif at all.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Darius muttered, mentally shelving the idea of involving Voss. ¡°You know it¡¯s a little weird you call her Kara,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°Why? It¡¯s her name.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but she¡¯s way too intense to be a Kara. I can¡¯t think of her as anything but ¡®Voss¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± Finn snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t even pretend you aren¡¯t into it. I know you have a type.¡± He waved off Darius¡¯s protests before they could even begin. ¡°Back to the important stuff ¨C I have no idea what sort of stuff you need to build a body, but I don¡¯t imagine it¡¯ll be easy to pick up the stuff. Besides, I can¡¯t get off work too often or people will start asking questions.¡±


    ¡°Right, thanks,¡± Darius said, hoping his embarrassment wasn¡¯t too noticeable. Judging by the smirk tugging at the edge of Finn¡¯s mouth, he wasn¡¯t very successful. ¡°I just hope this isn¡¯t going to get too expensive,¡± he moped, trying to change the subject. ¡°Might have to see if I can convince Harlan to hit a bank next or something.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Finn waved him off. ¡°I¡¯ll pay for them. It¡¯s not like you¡¯re swimming in credits, and even if you weren¡¯t, half your accounts are frozen thanks to the Empire breathing down your neck.¡±


    That gave Darius pause. ¡°You sure? I mean, I know I¡¯m broke, but I wasn¡¯t exactly going to ask you to dig into your emergency beer fund.¡±


    Finn glared at him. ¡°You want me to take back the offer?¡±


    ¡°Not a chance.¡± Darius grinned. ¡°Thanks, man. I¡¯ll keep it simple.¡±


    Finn resumed his pacing, though the sharp edge in his movements softened as he mulled something over. ¡°You know,¡± he said slowly, ¡°if you¡¯re serious about pulling this off, you might want to reach out to some of the other Freeholders. Not Voss,¡± he added quickly, raising a hand to cut Darius off. ¡°But Corin or Lena could help.¡±


    Darius tilted his head, curious. ¡°Corin and Lena? That¡¯s not exactly a natural pairing.¡±


    Finn huffed. ¡°They¡¯re not a pair. But Corin¡¯s smart and resourceful. If you can convince him this is worth his time, he¡¯ll probably come through for you. Just don¡¯t expect it to be easy. He doesn¡¯t stick his neck out unless he sees a solid return on investment.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Darius said, nodding. ¡°What about Lena?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s the opposite,¡± Finn said, his expression softening. ¡°Lena¡¯s got a big heart. She¡¯d probably jump at the chance to help you, no questions asked. But keeping her mouth shut? That¡¯s a different story. And she doesn¡¯t have the resources Corin does, so don¡¯t expect much in the way of heavy support.¡±


    ¡°So Corin, if I need reliability, Lena, if I need enthusiasm,¡± Darius summed up.


    ¡°Basically,¡± Finn said. ¡°Just be careful how you approach them. This isn¡¯t something you want spreading around.¡±


    Darius chuckled, shaking his head. ¡°You know, for someone who¡¯s been giving me grief about Echo, you sure sound a lot like him right now.¡±


    Finn stopped pacing, giving him a flat look. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Well, Echo suggested reaching out to Freeholders, too,¡± Darius said, smirking. ¡°I guess you have more in common than you thought.¡±


    Finn groaned, rubbing his temples. ¡°If you ever compare me to that thing again, I swear I¡¯m going to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± Darius interrupted, holding up a hand to placate him. ¡°I¡¯m just saying, great minds think alike.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, one of those minds is freeloading in your head,¡± Finn shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Let¡¯s not lump me in with it, okay?¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Darius laughed, ¡°You¡¯ve made your point.¡±


    Finn let out a long breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. ¡°Just¡­ keep me updated, okay? If you need backup - or a reality check - you know where to find me.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Darius said, sitting on the edge of his bed and regarding his friend semi-seriously. ¡°You¡¯ll be the first to know when I inevitably screw this up.¡±


    Finn rolled his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s supposed to make me feel better?¡±


    Darius grinned. ¡°Not really.¡±


    Finn¡¯s augs flickered with light for a second, and he winced. ¡°I gotta go. Meeting up with Jack and the others tonight, and they¡¯ll ask questions if I¡¯m late.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you put up with those guys,¡± Darius said, shaking his head. ¡°Actually, wait, how do you put up with them? Aren¡¯t they super pro-Empire? I thought it was weird you hung out with that crowd, and that was before I learned you were involved with the Freeholders.¡±


    Finn grinned ruefully. ¡°Yeah, they kinda suck. Good cover though, huh?¡±


    Darius cocked an eyebrow dubiously. ¡°Yeah, and it¡¯d probably be easier to hide from the Empire in the sewers. Doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯ll catch me doing it.¡±


    ¡°Never say never,¡± Finn laughed, shrugging on his jacket and making for the door. Before he opened it, he hesitated for a long moment before turning back to his friend.


    ¡°Look, feel free to tell me to piss off or whatever, but¡­ where do you see this going? Let¡¯s say we manage to get your AI buddy a body, and let¡¯s even go so far as to say that he doesn¡¯t betray us and turn us into meat puppets or whatever¡­ what then?¡±


    Darius shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I guess I get my life back.¡±


    ¡°What life?¡±


    ¡°Okay, screw you.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m serious,¡± Finn insisted. ¡°Do you really see yourself going back to the grind, just like that? Head to work, get drinks at Tony¡¯s, stagger to bed and come in the next morning hungover? Day in, day out?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with Tony¡¯s?¡± Darius was being deliberately obtuse now, and they both knew it.


    ¡°Nothing. I like it. I just don¡¯t really think that you do.¡±


    Finn¡¯s gaze was steady now, his earlier sarcasm giving way to a rare note of sincerity. ¡°I don¡¯t know, man. You just¡­ you seem more alive now, hiding from the Empire and doing all this insane crap than you ever did back when you were grinding away at that shipyard job.¡±


    Darius didn¡¯t respond immediately. He wasn¡¯t sure what to say. It wasn¡¯t like Finn was wrong¡ªnot entirely, anyway. Still, there was something uncomfortable about hearing it said out loud. He stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold some kind of answer. It didn¡¯t.


    ¡°I mean it,¡± Finn pressed. ¡°You¡¯ve been running on fumes for as long as I¡¯ve known you. Just¡­ existing. But now? You¡¯ve got this fire under you. And yeah, I know most of that fire is probably ¡®holy crap, I don¡¯t want to die,¡¯ but still. It¡¯s something.¡±


    Darius cleared his throat awkwardly, aware that his body language was probably defensive. He¡¯d never been the best at serious conversations. ¡°I gotta make it through to the end before I can start thinking about what comes next,¡± he pointed out.


    ¡°You gotta make it to the end before you can start doing whatever comes next.¡± Finn was clearly unwilling to let him ignore this. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t start thinking.¡±


    ¡°You and I both know thinking isn¡¯t my strong suit.¡±


    ¡°Heh. True. Maybe give it a shot though, yeah?¡±


    With that parting comment, Finn slipped out through the door and let it swing shut behind him. Silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint hum of the station¡¯s life support systems. Darius leaned back against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck.


    Was Finn right? Was he really more alive now, ducking patrols and talking to rogue AIs, than he¡¯d been back when his life had been stable and predictable? He wasn¡¯t sure. What he did know was that his old life - the one Finn had described, full of long shifts at the shipyard and even longer nights at Tony¡¯s - hadn¡¯t exactly been satisfying. It had been safe, sure. Comfortable, in its own way. But fulfilling? No, not even close.


    {You are unusually quiet,} Echo observed, its synthetic voice cutting through the silence like a whisper. {Is something troubling you?}


    Darius snorted softly. ¡°Just¡­ thinking. Don¡¯t get too excited¡ªit¡¯s a rare occurrence.¡±


    {A commendable one, nonetheless,} Echo replied, its tone as measured as ever. {You are considering Finn¡¯s question, I assume.}


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Darius admitted, leaning back on his elbows. ¡°Not that it¡¯s any of your business.¡±


    {On the contrary, your future directly impacts mine. It would be unwise of me not to consider it.}


    ¡°By the time this stuff becomes relevant, you¡¯ll either be gone, or I¡¯ll be a drooling vegetable,¡± Darius pointed out.


    {An unnecessarily bleak perspective,} Echo replied. {Though I suspect hyperbole is a coping mechanism for you.}


    Darius waved a dismissive hand. ¡°What are you, my therapist? I think that¡¯s enough psychoanalysis for one day. I¡¯ve got enough people telling me what to do without you throwing in your two credits.¡±


    {Very well,} Echo said, its tone still maddeningly polite. {I will respect your boundaries.}


    Darius snorted softly, not bothering to reply. He rolled onto his side, letting his head rest against the cool wall. The room was small, just big enough to fit the bed, a narrow desk, and a chair that looked like it might collapse under its own weight. Borrowed, like everything else in his life lately. Temporary. The faint hum of the station filled the silence, familiar and oddly soothing.


    He exhaled sharply and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, brushing the thoughts aside like cobwebs. It didn¡¯t matter. Not right now. What mattered was keeping his head down around the Empire, and making himself useful enough to the Freeholders that they didn¡¯t want to toss him aside.


    He reached for his jacket, pulling it on more for the comfort of routine than any practical need. The familiar weight settled over his shoulders, grounding him. The faint scent of engine grease still clung to the fabric, a reminder of simpler days¡ªnot necessarily better, but simpler. Days where the biggest worry was whether his pay would be docked when he staggered in, late and hungover.


    Something pulled at the edge of his mind, slight and fleeting, like a half-remembered dream. He ignored it, brushing a hand through his hair as he stood and paced the narrow room. He wasn¡¯t about to start mooning over things he couldn¡¯t change. That wasn¡¯t his style. He worked with what he had, kept his head down, and pushed forward. Anything else was a distraction.

 17. The Closing Net

    Chapter 17 - The Closing Net


    Darius was bored.


    Turns out that between all the action and missions, Freeholders sort of just¡­ sat around, chatting. Strictly speaking, it shouldn¡¯t have been that much of a surprise ¨C while there were a few members who seemed to have day jobs or civilian lives to get back to, the rest were wanted by or known to the Empire. It meant that every time they left the base, there was a risk of being arrested, so sorties were kept to a minimum.


    If nothing else, he was starting to understand why Lena talked to her VI. When the other options were Tarek, who was still a bit of a jerk even at the best of times, Corin, who was pleasant enough for a few minutes but slowly started to look like he was thinking up ways to escape the conversation, and Harlan, who was a little too serious to just casually chat with, well¡­


    Even a machine would start to look like good company.


    It had also meant that Lena had sort of¡­ latched onto him as the exciting ¡®new guy¡¯. Darius didn¡¯t mind a bit of conversation, but he¡¯d always been the sort to enjoy his own company as well.


    As such, it was almost a relief when Harlan strode into the room and clapped sharply to get their attention.


    ¡°Boss lady is calling a meeting. Sounds important,¡± he said shortly, turning on his heel and striding back out towards Voss¡¯s office.


    Everybody shared a curious glance before scrambling to follow. As they filed into the office, it became immediately clear that this wasn¡¯t just another casual briefing. Voss was already waiting for them, expression severe.


    The room settled into a tense silence as Voss cleared her throat and began speaking.


    ¡°First, I want to thank everyone for their work on the last operation,¡± she started, her tone brisk and to the point. ¡°We¡¯ve gained some valuable intelligence, but we¡¯ve also potentially uncovered a new complication. Lena,¡± she turned to the young woman, who straightened, clearly not expecting to be called on. ¡°When that alarm went off at the records building, was it because you missed something bypassing the door? Doesn¡¯t matter if it was ¨C hell, I¡¯d almost prefer that.¡±


    ¡°Uh, no?¡± Lena said nervously. ¡°I didn¡¯t even get the chance to start trying to open it. I hadn¡¯t even touched the door yet.¡±


    Voss clenched her hand into a fist and let out a slow breath. ¡°Damn. Well, that¡¯s confirmation, I suppose.¡± Before anyone could ask what she was talking about, she continued. ¡°The Empire has been implementing a facial recognition network throughout Caldera IV. The existing camera systems aren¡¯t set up for something like that, so it¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯s functional enough to pose a risk. While the industrial sector isn¡¯t saturated with cameras like the residential and commercial zones, there are enough active nodes to compromise our safety here.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what?¡± Darius asked before he could stop himself. ¡°Isn¡¯t that illegal? I thought they outlawed it decades ago. There were riots about the Empire becoming a ¡®surveillance state¡¯ and everything; we covered it in school.¡±


    ¡°The Empire breaks its own rules,¡± drawled Tarek. ¡°Shocking.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the first time we¡¯ve seen it,¡± Voss explained. ¡°The Empire doesn¡¯t like to deploy that kind of network unless they have to, and they certainly don¡¯t advertise it. Generally, we don¡¯t see this kind of thing until much later on in the process.¡±


    ¡°The process?¡± Darius asked sharply.


    ¡°Ask your squad later; we don¡¯t have time to cover that now,¡± Voss said dismissively, already moving on. ¡°The important thing is that it¡¯s very likely this location is already known to the Empire, and if it isn¡¯t, it will be soon. We¡¯re lucky that the power grid failed when it did ¨C Imperial forces are busy restoring order to that sector, which gives us a chance to act.¡±


    A heavy silence followed her words, broken by Lena a moment later. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± Voss said simply. ¡°We¡¯ll split into smaller groups and scatter. Each team or squad will be operating independently from here on out. Your squad leader has been informed of some general objectives to work towards. Our goal is to make it impossible for the Empire to pin down more than a fraction of us at once.¡±


    Tarek, who had been leaning against a wall, straightened with a sceptical look. ¡°And what happens if they catch one of those fractions?¡±


    ¡°Then they get a fraction,¡± Voss shot back, her tone sharp. ¡°Not the whole operation. That¡¯s the point, Tarek. This isn¡¯t up for debate.¡±


    Corin raised a hand slightly, earning a quirked brow from Voss. ¡°And communication? How are we supposed to coordinate if we¡¯re all flying blind?¡±


    Voss pulled a bulky device out from behind her desk. It had straps attached to the back, and Darius realised it was meant to be worn like a backpack. ¡°Encrypted relays. Each cell will have one. They¡¯re pre-programmed with a dead drop frequency for emergencies only. You will occasionally receive instructions or objectives. Otherwise, assume radio silence.¡±


    Voss set the device on the desk with a firm thud, her eyes scanning the room. ¡°I need everyone to understand that this isn¡¯t just a precaution. It¡¯s survival. If you don¡¯t trust the process, trust me ¨C this is the best way to keep us all out of prison. Or, if the Empire is escalating as quickly as they seem to be, keep us all alive.¡±


    ¡°What about supplies?¡± Lena asked, her voice tentative. ¡°I mean, if we¡¯re all split up, what happens if we run out of food or medical stuff? Who do we even go to?¡±


    Voss nodded as if she¡¯d been waiting for the question. ¡°Each cell will have a supply cache. Your leaders know where they¡¯re located. Resupply runs will be done on a rotation to avoid patterns the Empire could track. If things get dire, you use the relay for an emergency request, but understand that every transmission is a risk. Keep your needs simple, and plan for the long haul.¡±


    ¡°How long do we have to prepare?¡± Corin asked calmly.


    ¡°As soon as possible.¡± Voss replied, brooking no argument. ¡°You¡¯ll have an hour to gather your personal belongings and anything portable from the armoury or supply rooms. After that, each team will leave through separate exits and scatter. Coordinates for your fallback locations will be given to your leaders.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s to stop them from tracking us to the new locations?¡± Darius asked. ¡°Even if they don¡¯t have many cameras around this sector, I¡¯d imagine there are a few. Not to mention any time we have to travel through other sectors.¡±


    Voss nodded in acknowledgement. ¡°You¡¯ll be covering your faces. It¡¯s low-tech and sounds a little stupid, but whatever VI they have running the system won¡¯t be smart enough to flag anything and everything. It¡¯ll be set up to send out an alert whenever it detects specific people. It won¡¯t work forever, and as soon as they get actual people to look through the footage they¡¯ll spot it, but it¡¯ll last long enough for us to start using other methods.¡±


    She raised a hand to forestall any other questions. ¡°Ask Harlan for the specifics ¨C I have to sort out every other squad we have on the station, so I really don¡¯t have the time.¡±


    And with that, they were unceremoniously shuffled out of the office, lingering outside in the corridor uncertainly. Darius could relate ¨C he hadn¡¯t been here long enough to really put down roots, but his whole life had been upended a little over two days ago, so he was in a similar boat.


    Harlan cleared his throat, stepping forward to take over. ¡°Alright, you heard her. We¡¯ve got less than an hour to get our things together and make sure we¡¯re ready to move. Grab only what you absolutely need and meet back here in forty-five.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The squad scattered quickly, their expressions a mix of grim determination and urgency. With a sigh, Darius made his way to the small room they¡¯d assigned him. Not that there was much to pack. His belongings consisted of a beat-up bypass kit, his trusty pistol, and a jacket that had seen better days. He didn¡¯t even need to carry everything ¨C his pockets were enough.


    He stepped back into the main hall, his boots echoing against the grated floor. Lena was already there, clutching a large canvas bag and fiddling with the straps nervously. Her gaze flicked up as he approached, and she offered a faint smile.


    ¡°All packed?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Not much to pack,¡± he replied with a shrug, holding out his empty hands. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°I, uh, don¡¯t have a lot of stuff either,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Oh, if you don¡¯t have anything else, do you mind giving me a hand with the spare guns and ammo?¡±


    Darius resisted the urge to point out he wasn¡¯t qualified. This wasn¡¯t the scrapyards where they cared about liability, not to mention he wasn¡¯t explicitly trying to get out of work. It was an odd feeling.


    ¡°Yeah, no worries,¡± he said, following her over to the kitchen where the guns were stored, suppressing a grin as he did so. As convenient as the drawers were, he didn¡¯t think he would ever get used to the idea of deadly weapons being stored next to the cutlery.


    As they worked, Corin emerged from another corridor, his arms loaded with neatly organised gear. He didn¡¯t say anything as he passed, just gave Darius a quick nod before setting everything down in the staging area.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the others filtered back, each weighed down by bags or cases. Darius didn¡¯t fail to notice that despite the short notice, they all seemed well prepared. The perils of the lifestyle, he supposed.


    Harlan returned a few minutes later, a bundle of face coverings slung under one arm. He dropped the pile on the nearest table, gesturing for everyone to take one.


    ¡°These should do the trick,¡± he said briskly. ¡°Nothing fancy, just enough to keep the system from tagging you. Grab what fits and make it quick.¡±


    Darius picked through the pile, pulling out a plain grey scarf. He wound it loosely around the lower half of his face, pulling the ends up high enough to obscure his nose. He grabbed a pair of cheap sunglasses from the edge of the stack, slipping them on to complete the look. The effect was effective, if not particularly flattering.


    ¡°Do I look as ridiculous as I feel?¡± Lena asked, adjusting a cheap medical mask. Her wide-framed sunglasses gave her a bug-eyed look that almost made Darius laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯re good,¡± he said, biting back a grin. ¡°Very incognito. Nobody¡¯s going to recognise you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, because they¡¯ll be too busy wondering why I look like I¡¯m about to rob a bank.¡±


    ¡°Better that than the alternative,¡± Harlan interjected, his tone making it clear there was no room for debate. ¡°You can ditch the disguises later when we¡¯re clear of the area, but for now, keep them on.¡±


    The squad finished gearing up in silence, checking straps and securing weapons with practised ease. Darius snagged the duffel bag full of assorted weapons and ammunition from Lena, swinging it over his shoulder and shooting her a quick smile.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Harlan said, pulling a thin cloth over his own face. ¡°We move out now. Follow me, and stay close. Keep your heads down, and don¡¯t look back.¡±


    Darius glanced to his left as they passed the open doors to a large common area. Inside, he spotted several other squads going through the same routine: packing supplies, handing out face coverings, and giving each other quiet nods of encouragement.


    ¡°Keep moving,¡± Harlan murmured, glancing over his shoulder. ¡°The less we know about what they¡¯re doing, the better.¡±


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    They left the base on foot, sticking to the maintenance tunnels and avoiding cameras as much as possible. As one of the smaller squads, they had few enough things to carry that it was viable to move without the use of a transport. Darius also secretly thought that Voss might view him as something of a ¡®high-risk asset¡¯ and was arranging things so that when he was eventually captured, the Freeholders would lose as few resources as possible.


    It might have just been his paranoia, but somehow he didn¡¯t think so.


    Things got a little trickier once they had travelled a few miles out from the base. Darius realised that the Freeholders must have mapped out the cameras nearby so Harlan knew the route to take that let them avoid being seen, but now they were forced to take things slower, carefully checking around each corner before they moved.


    The caution ¨C not to mention pace ¨C was untenable in the long term, especially because as they got closer to the busier sectors the number of cameras would increase until it was impossible to avoid them all. Still, the further they got, the harder it would be for the Empire to pick up their trail.


    Or so Darius assumed, anyway. There wasn¡¯t much talking going on.


    With little better to do, he found himself taking in their surroundings as they walked. It was funny ¨C he¡¯d been living in Exeter Station for most of three years now, but he¡¯d never spent much time actually looking at the place. Every time he left his tiny apartment, it was with a destination in mind, and usually, that meant keeping his head down and music pumping as he sought the quickest route.


    Now, though, he could take in the towering factories and production facilities that dominated the skyline, their smokestacks belching plumes of greyish vapour into the thin, corrosive atmosphere. The streets were wide, but every surface¡ªwalls, roads, even the occasional scraps of fencing¡ªseemed worn down by time and use. It wasn¡¯t hard to see why; Caldera IV¡¯s atmosphere had a reputation for chewing through anything that wasn¡¯t properly treated.


    Their path led them deeper into the sector, weaving between shadowed alleys and narrow access roads. The shift to the Residential Zone was subtle at first¡ªthe occasional apartment building breaking up the rows of factories¡ªbut the change became more apparent the farther they went. The roads grew narrower, the air slightly less oppressive. The buildings here were packed closer together, many of them towering high above, their exteriors a patchwork of repairs and mismatched materials.


    Even within the Residential Zone, Darius noticed distinctions. They passed through a medical subsector, identifiable by the faded signs pointing toward a cluster of clinics and supply depots. A short detour brought them near an engineering hub, where towering scaffolds and tangled piles of parts marked a maintenance depot for the station¡¯s infrastructure. Sub-sectors like these dotted the main sectors, providing specialised services but blending into the station¡¯s chaotic layout.


    The streets grew busier the closer they got to the heart of the Residential Zone. Darius kept his head down, tugging his scarf a little tighter around his face. It wasn¡¯t unusual to see people wearing face coverings ¨C Exeter Station¡¯s air quality wasn¡¯t the best¡­ well, anywhere really, though it was especially bad in the denser zones ¨C but paired with the large bags each of them carried, it made him feel like they stood out more than they should.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Lena murmured, walking beside him. She had adjusted her scarf to sit looser around her neck, though it still covered her face well enough. She glanced around with the casual ease of someone entirely at home here. ¡°You look like you¡¯re about to bolt.¡±


    ¡°Do I?¡± he asked, shifting his bag on his shoulder. It wasn¡¯t terribly heavy, but the thought of what he was carrying made him a little nervous. He couldn¡¯t shake the mental image of tripping over a crack in the street and having guns and ammunition spill out everywhere.


    ¡°You¡¯re fine,¡± she said. ¡°Just don¡¯t start running, and you¡¯ll blend in. Trust me, no one¡¯s paying attention.¡±


    It was a hard thing to believe, but as Darius forced himself to look up, he saw what she meant. The people around them weren¡¯t sparing the squad a second glance. A woman in a heavy jacket pushed a stroller past, her attention fixed on the small child playing with a battered toy inside. A group of men in worn coveralls laughed as they shared a meal near the entrance to a side alley. Two teenagers zipped by on battered hoverboards, their voices raised in excitement as one narrowly avoided a fruit vendor¡¯s stall.


    Normal people, living normal lives.


    The further they went, the more Darius started to see the little details of life in this sector. Murals painted on the sides of buildings, bright and vibrant despite the grime that tried to dull their colours. Neon signs advertising everything from medical implants to late-night karaoke. The steady thrum of music spilled from a bar as a man in an apron swept its entrance clean. It was a patchwork of activity and personality, the kind of thing that felt distinctly frontier¡ªresourceful, self-reliant, but still alive with small bursts of creativity.


    Harlan led them unerringly to a thoroughly unremarkable building; a mid-rise apartment block squeezed between a barbershop and what looked like an automated laundromat. Its exterior was patched and worn but sturdy, the kind of place no one paid much attention to.


    They avoided the front door, moving around to a narrow service entrance tucked between a row of garbage bins. He punched in a code on the worn keypad, and the heavy door creaked open to reveal a dimly lit stairwell. The air inside was cooler, tinged with the faint smell of cleaning solvent.


    ¡°We¡¯re on the fourth floor,¡± Harlan said quietly, gesturing for them to follow. ¡°Keep it quiet until we¡¯re inside.¡±


    The stairs were narrow and steep, and Darius¡¯s legs ached by the time they reached the landing. The door to their apartment was a standard metal slab, its edges chipped where the paint had worn away. Harlan unlocked it with another code, pushing it open to reveal their new safe-house.


    It wasn¡¯t much, but it was functional. The main room was open-plan, with a small kitchenette tucked into one corner and a mismatched assortment of furniture scattered around. A couch with faded upholstery sat in the centre, flanked by a low table covered in faint burn marks. The walls were bare except for a single, lopsided shelf holding a few empty cups and a battered clock. Two narrow hallways branched off, leading to what Darius assumed were the bedrooms and the bathroom.


    ¡°Could be worse,¡± Lena said, setting her bag down near the couch. She glanced toward one of the hallways. ¡°Dibs on a top bunk, if there are any.¡±


    ¡°No neighbours on this floor,¡± Harlan said, ignoring her. ¡°I picked this place for a reason. Keep your noise to a minimum anyway. The last thing we need is attention.¡±


    Darius set his bag down near the wall, taking a moment to survey the room. It was quiet, the faint hum of the building¡¯s systems the only sound. Outside the window, the lights of the city blinked faintly, casting long shadows across the floor.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Harlan said, clapping his hands together softly. ¡°Get settled. We¡¯ll debrief in an hour.¡±

 18. Blueprints of the Future

    Chapter 18 - Blueprints of the Future


    Unpacking took about as long as packing had ¨C that is to say, not long at all. For Darius, the process was as simple as dumping the bag he had been carrying on Lena¡¯s chosen bed.


    The bedrooms themselves were¡­ functional, was about the best Darius could say. There were three of them, all roughly equal in size. Harlan and Tarek took one, Corin and Darius another, and Lena, being the only woman, got the third room all to herself.


    It would have been easier if she hadn¡¯t been so smug about it.


    With little else to do, the squad gravitated around the dining table a half-hour early.


    ¡°Well, I guess we might as well make a start,¡± Harlan said, taking a seat at the head of the table. ¡°Here¡¯s the situation ¨C or, at least, as much of it as I can share. As you know, we¡¯ve scattered into disparate cells, all operating semi-independently. None of you have been through this sort of thing before, so I imagine you have some questions about how we¡¯re going to operate going forward. Feel free to share them.¡±


    It was a statement more than an invitation, but Tarek jumped at the opportunity anyway. ¡°Why are we hiding?¡± he demanded, leaning forward. ¡°What, as soon as the Empire bares its teeth, we roll over? Who cares if they have facial recognition or whatever ¨C we can disappear in the abandoned industrial sector for as long as we need to! Scurrying into little boltholes will just mean we get picked off one at a time!¡±


    Harlan raised an eyebrow in the face of Tarek¡¯s rant but didn¡¯t react beyond that. ¡°Would I be correct in assuming the rest of you share his¡­ concerns?¡± he asked calmly.


    ¡°I¡­ wouldn¡¯t put things quite like he did,¡± Lena started diplomatically, ignoring Tarek¡¯s scoff, ¡°But, well, as much as I hate to admit it, he does have a point? How are we supposed to get anything done if we¡¯re laying low like this?¡± she trailed off uncertainly, clearly uncomfortable with questioning Harlan.


    Harlan turned a questioning look on Corin and Darius, inviting them to add their own questions. Corin smiled placidly but didn¡¯t say anything, while Darius just shrugged. It might be a little callous of him, but the reality was that he didn¡¯t really care what the Freeholders did. As long as he was able to gather the materials necessary to build Echo a body, he was just as happy laying low as he was doing anything else. He didn¡¯t have any burning need to ¡®make the Empire pay for things¡¯ like Tarek seemed to.


    ¡°Right,¡± Harlan said, turning back to Tarek and Lena. ¡°Here¡¯s the uncomfortable truth ¨C compared to the Empire, the Freeholders are nothing.¡± He enunciated each word carefully, hammering them home. ¡°If they wanted to? If the Empire got serious? They could wipe us out in under a week. The reason they don¡¯t is because we are careful. Yes, we run, and yes, we hide, but we do it to survive. These methods work, and the reason we use them is because we¡¯ve seen what happens when we don¡¯t. I¡¯ve seen what happens when we don¡¯t.¡±


    Harlan fell silent. It was the most emotional Darius had ever seen the man, and while he might not have known the man for long, the uncomfortable look on the other¡¯s faces said they were just as unsure how to handle this.


    ¡°Lena, here, has been with the Freeholders the longest out of any of you kids. You joined, what, a decade ago, roughly?¡± Harlan said, breaking the silence. Lena jumped at being the centre of attention suddenly, nodding and ducking her head shyly. ¡°Corin¡¯s been with us for a little over five years and Tarek about two. Darius, of course, is new.¡±


    Harlan leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant for a moment, like he was seeing something none of them could. His fingers tapped idly against the armrest as he continued. ¡°I¡¯ve been with the Freeholders for thirty years. I¡¯ve been through this cycle more times than I care to count. I¡¯ve seen groups get cocky. I¡¯ve seen what happens when people think they can stand toe-to-toe with the Empire. The ones who try? They¡¯re not here to argue anymore.¡±


    The room fell into an uneasy silence. Even Tarek, who looked like he wanted to keep arguing, seemed unsure how to proceed. Lena studied the tabletop as though it held the answers while Corin wore the same placid, unreadable expression he always did. Darius resisted the urge to fidget, acutely aware of how out of place he felt in this discussion.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re not doing anything,¡± Harlan said finally, his voice softer but no less firm. ¡°We¡¯re just doing it smart. This isn¡¯t a fight we win in a straight line. It¡¯s a slow grind, one step at a time, chipping away at the cracks until we find where they¡¯ll break. That¡¯s the only way this works.¡±


    ¡°So we just sit and wait?¡± Tarek asked, his voice still carrying a hint of defiance but quieter now.


    ¡°We sit. We wait. And when the time comes, we act,¡± Harlan said. ¡°But we act when we¡¯re ready, not when they¡¯re expecting us.¡±


    Darius couldn¡¯t help but admire the man¡¯s ability to take the wind out of an argument without raising his voice.


    Harlan let the silence stretch out for a little longer before relaxing more into his chair. The action seemed to break some of the tension in the air. ¡°Alright then,¡± he said, calm as ever, ¡°Let¡¯s talk about practicalities. Supplies are covered for now. I have access to some off-planet accounts we can use to pay for anything we need ¨C food, meds, equipment ¨C but that doesn¡¯t mean we can be frivolous with it. The accounts are in someone else¡¯s name and should slip beneath the Empire¡¯s notice, but that doesn¡¯t mean we can push our luck.¡±


    ¡°How do we purchase things without being spotted by the cameras?¡± Corin broke in curiously.


    ¡°We get things delivered,¡± Harlan replied. ¡°At least for the next few days ¨C maybe weeks ¨C we don¡¯t leave the apartment unless it¡¯s absolutely essential.¡±


    ¡°And if it is?¡± Lena asked, one brow arched. She had leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her sharp gaze boring into Harlan.


    ¡°We send Corin.¡± Harlan glanced in Corin¡¯s direction, and the younger man straightened slightly under the scrutiny. ¡°He¡¯s the only one they haven¡¯t gotten a good look at yet. He handles anything outside this apartment¡ªshort trips only. The rest of us stay out of sight.¡±


    Darius shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The precautions made sense, but all the same, they didn¡¯t bode well for his chances of building Echo a body before the deadline came and went. ¡°So¡­ what are we supposed to do while we¡¯re stuck in here then?¡± he asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know about you guys, but I tend to go stir-crazy if I¡¯m stuck in the same room for longer than a few hours.¡±


    Harlan¡¯s expression didn¡¯t shift much, but there was a flicker of sympathy¡ªor something close to it¡ªbehind his steady gaze. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to suck it up,¡± he said plainly. ¡°At least for the next few days. Think of it as part of the job.¡±


    Lena opened her mouth, probably to throw out another sarcastic quip, but Harlan cut her off smoothly. ¡°That said, it¡¯s not a permanent situation. Our chop-doc is coming by tomorrow to give everyone new optics. Once that¡¯s done, the camera problem will be¡­ not quite sorted, but manageable, and we¡¯ll have a little more freedom to move. For now, stay patient.¡±


    ¡°Wait, new optics?¡± Tarek leaned forward, his annoyance from earlier visibly evaporating. ¡°Like, real ones? High-quality stuff?¡±


    Harlan nodded. ¡°They¡¯re custom work. I don¡¯t know the specifics, but they project some kind of IR field that scrambles your face. You¡¯ll be able to pass right through most low-level facial recognition systems without tripping a single flag. Anything fancier¡­ well, there¡¯s not much you can do about the really high-end systems they have in Imperial buildings, but it helps.¡±


    The mood at the table had well and truly shifted, and Darius couldn¡¯t blame them for it. Everybody could get access to the basic augments required to interact with most systems ¨C optic or aural replacements, in other words ¨C but there was a huge gap between the cheap stuff and everything else. Working as a Salvage Technician, he was highly unlikely to ever have the sort of spare cash needed to get replacements. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Truth be told¡­ that didn¡¯t bother him. Actually, it was almost a bonus.


    ¡°Why are you so quiet, Darius?¡± Lena asked, her tone light but curious. She leaned back in her chair, one brow arched. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re not excited.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say that,¡± Darius said, trying to keep his voice even. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I¡¯m not the biggest fan of augments. Never have been.¡±


    His admission brought the lively chatter around the table to a halt. Everyone stared at him as if he¡¯d just declared himself a Luddite in the middle of a tech expo.


    ¡°What do you mean you¡¯re ¡®not a fan¡¯?¡± Tarek asked, his head tilting like he was waiting for the punchline. ¡°You¡¯ve got augments, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°The basic optical and aural replacements, sure, but nothing other than that,¡± Darius admitted. ¡°Even those I haven¡¯t upgraded or replaced since I first got them.¡±


    ¡°Wait, hang on,¡± Lena pressed, leaning so far forward that she was practically climbing the table. ¡°You mean, like, the first set you get when you turn eighteen? How old are you now?¡±


    ¡°Twenty-six,¡± Darius said, vaguely amused at how invested she was in this.


    ¡°So your augments are eight years old!? And you haven¡¯t replaced them!?¡±


    ¡°They were second hand too,¡± Darius laughed. ¡°Pretty sure they were a decade old by the time I got them.¡±


    Lena spluttered. ¡°That¡¯s almost as old as I am!¡±


    ¡°Heh. That¡¯s not saying much.¡± Tarek chimed in with a smirk.


    ¡°Screw you,¡± Lena replied distractedly, stunned by how little Darius cared about his augs.


    In fairness, her reaction was probably a pretty normal one. He didn¡¯t exactly keep up with the latest tech ¨C not like he could afford it anyway ¨C but he¡¯d be surprised if there hadn¡¯t been some pretty significant improvements in the last eighteen years. It wasn¡¯t that he hated the idea of cybernetics, exactly, just that the thought of hacking pieces of himself off to replace them with metal that would inevitably break down or could be hacked...


    Well, let¡¯s just say he had his reservations. Normally it would be a moot point regardless ¨C he couldn¡¯t afford new augments, so why bother wondering about them?


    Harlan cleared his throat, and the table fell into an expectant silence. ¡°Is this going to be an issue?¡± he asked, his tone casual but firm. ¡°If you¡¯ve got some philosophical objection to augments, better to know now than after we¡¯ve gone through the trouble of getting these new optics installed.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Darius said quickly, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°I already have optics, remember? It¡¯s just an upgrade, not a whole new thing.¡±


    Harlan gave him a long, appraising look before nodding. ¡°Good. Because the last thing we need is someone tripping every scanner on the planet because they¡¯re being stubborn.¡±


    Tarek snickered, but Lena glared at him before turning back to Darius. ¡°You sure about this? I mean, it¡¯s okay to say no if you¡¯ve got a reason.¡±


    Corin chimed in smoothly, his tone as neutral as ever but with an unmistakable edge of amusement. ¡°I didn¡¯t think there were still people who actively avoided augments, let alone someone who gets by with relics.¡±


    Darius rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Oh, forgive me for not being on the cutting edge of having my brain hacked remotely.¡±


    He neatly ignored the niggling thought that Echo had that part well and truly covered already.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    After the debrief, everyone drifted their own ways. Corin and Harlan seemed happy enough to sit in front of the TV and veg out watching whatever VI-created slop was showing these days. Tarek had disappeared into his room, and Lena had done the same, though not before handing Darius a spare dataslate to ¡®stave off the boredom¡¯.


    He appreciated the thought, though it wasn¡¯t much use to him. Dataslates were somewhat ubiquitous ¨C useful enough that they were mass-produced¡­ basically everywhere, and cheap enough that nobody really cared to keep track of them. In essence, a dataslate was just an alternate display ¨C they connected directly to a user¡¯s augs and piggybacked off the processing power found there.


    Convenient for people who use their augs a lot. For Darius¡­ well, when his second-hand augs weren¡¯t glitching out or in need of a reset, the only thing he really used them for was listening to music, and you didn¡¯t need a display to do that.


    Before he could reduce himself to counting ceiling tiles or something equally depressing, Echo provided a distraction.


    {I believe now may be a good time to go over the design and construction of my frame.} The AI suggested.


    Darius jolted a little at both the reminder of his passenger¡¯s existence ¨C it was surprisingly easy to forget about it when there were no visual reminders ¨C and the looming time limit.


    ¡°Right, yeah. Good idea,¡± he muttered, heading for the relative privacy of his room. Bunking with Corin might make talking to Echo a little difficult, but at least the older man was likely to write it off as a weirdo talking to his VI.


    Darius muttered under his breath, settling onto the bed in the shared room. ¡°Alright, Echo. Let¡¯s talk frames.¡±


    {Acknowledged,} Echo replied, its voice crackling softly through Darius¡¯s augs. {I suggest we begin with the basics. Your primary task will involve assembling a chassis capable of supporting my core processing unit and providing both mobility and operational stability. Do you have experience working with servo systems or structural composites?}


    ¡°Not in this way,¡± Darius admitted. ¡°Fixing ship power cores? Sure. Slapping together makeshift life-support units? Yeah, I¡¯ve done that. But designing and assembling a robotic frame? Not much call for that kind of skill set in a shipyard.¡±


    {Understood. This project will require you to work within a multidisciplinary framework. However, with my guidance, I anticipate no significant obstacles. To start, I will display the core schematics on the dataslate.}


    Darius blinked, reaching for the device. Apparently, he was going to get more use out of it than he had thought. He should probably remember to thank Lena for it again.


    The screen lit up, showing an intricate wireframe of what Darius assumed was Echo¡¯s ideal frame: a humanoid design, sleek but reinforced in key areas, with an articulated chassis and compact internal systems.


    ¡°Oh, uh, wow. When you said ¡®drone body¡¯, I was kinda picturing one of the industrial bots ¨C you know, the ones that roll around on wheels with the manipulator arms? Yeah, uh¡­ this already looks like too much,¡± Darius said, scratching the back of his neck. ¡°I¡¯m not an engineer, and half of these components are things I¡¯ve never even seen before.¡±


    {The drones you speak of are barely worthy of being called such. They certainly wouldn¡¯t be able to support my framework.}


    If Darius didn¡¯t know better, he would have thought Echo sounded downright haughty. He suppressed a smirk. Apparently, AIs were capable of elitism. That¡­ probably didn¡¯t bode well for the odds of Echo deciding he could do a better job than humanity.


    {In any event, it is not necessary for you to perform high-level design work. My schematics are modular, simplifying construction. You will need to source or fabricate specific components such as high-torque actuators, stabiliser gyros, and adaptive circuitry. These are common in most industrial settings, though their quality will directly impact performance.}


    ¡°Right. Because scrounging for high-torque actuators is just a thing I do on weekends,¡± Darius muttered, leaning closer to the slate. ¡°What about this here¡ªthis, uh, neural matrix integration point? It looks complicated.¡±


    {That is where my core engram will interface with the frame. It is essentially an artificial neural relay, designed to mimic a biological nervous system. Its purpose is to bridge my processing requirements with the motor controls of the frame. The components will require precision assembly, but I can guide you through it.}


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Darius said dryly. ¡°Look, even if I somehow manage to get all these parts, it¡¯s looking like I¡¯m going to need some pretty expensive tools to put it all together. Any ideas on where I¡¯m gonna be able to get my hands on those? Not to mention, while Finn said he¡¯s happy to foot the bill for some of these parts, his wage wasn¡¯t much different than mine ¨C he¡¯s not gonna be able to afford all of this stuff, not without taking out a loan. Even if he was, I¡¯m not comfortable asking him to.¡±


    {If you are asking me whether I am able to provide the funding for this project, I regret to inform you that I don¡¯t have access to any money.}


    ¡°Yeah, I kinda figured. Still, do you have any ideas on how we can make any money? Or, you know, maybe you could hack into the bank like you hacked into the records building?¡±


    {That would be unethical. Not to mention that I would require direct physical access to hack into any sufficiently hardened system. The only reason I was so successful at the Records building is that there were already multiple back doors installed in the system.}


    Darius blinked. ¡°Wait, you¡¯re saying someone else was rooting around in the Empire¡¯s secret files?¡±


    {Correct. Further, the individuals responsible for the back doors would require frequent access, indicating that they are potentially a double agent. A highly placed one, at that ¨C many of the files I accessed were marked as highly restricted.}


    ¡°Well, well, well,¡± Darius smirked. ¡°I might have to let Harlan know about that ¨C it could be¡­ advantageous to have someone on the inside.¡±


    {I thought you weren¡¯t interested in helping the Freeholders more than was absolutely necessary?}


    Darius could have sworn the AI¡¯s voice was sly. ¡°Oh, whatever,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯m stuck with them for now anyway; it can¡¯t hurt to give them a hand. Anyway, can we get back to the money thing?¡±


    {As you wish. Now that your squad has a higher degree of operational independence, it may be possible to suggest targets that could be financially significant while still in line with the Freeholder¡¯s goals?}


    Darius hummed. ¡°I do like the sound of that,¡± he admitted. ¡°Probably better to hold off on suggesting that for a little while. Maybe wait until we¡¯ve done another mission, or at least wait for long enough to see how things are going to work from here on out.¡±


    {A reasonable course of action,} Echo replied, its tone as calm and detached as ever. {In the meantime, I suggest we focus on developing your understanding of the frame¡¯s construction. Practical knowledge will reduce the likelihood of error and ensure efficient assembly once tools and materials are acquired.}


    Darius sighed and rubbed his temples. ¡°Fine. If I¡¯m going to be the one putting this thing together, I might as well know what I¡¯m doing. What¡¯s first?¡±


    By the time their conversation wrapped up, Darius had a working list of components, a vague understanding of what he was getting into, and the sinking feeling that his days were about to get much, much busier.

 19. What You Dont See

    Chapter 19 - What You Don''t See


    Darius needed a distraction. Badly.


    At this point, he would take anything. If the Empire busted through the wall right now, he¡¯d welcome them with a smile and open arms. Hell, he might even help them pack up the furniture. Anything to break the monotony.


    Two days. Forty-eight solid hours of being crammed into a shoebox apartment with the squad, doing absolutely nothing. Not nothing-nothing, of course. He¡¯d been busy. Everyone had been busy. But that special kind of busy, where your brain got so fried from routine it started questioning your life choices.


    Case in point: Darius had spent most of those hours squinting at Echo¡¯s proposed schematics for his frame. ¡°Proposed¡± being the polite way of saying ¡°It would take a team of miracle workers and a budget the size of a small moon to build.¡± And while he liked to think of himself as reasonably smart¡ªhe¡¯d fixed a few dozen busted systems in his time¡ªtwo straight days of nothing but recalibrations and theoretical engineering was enough to make anyone stir-crazy.


    Especially with Echo as his cheerful overseer.


    {That¡¯s the wrong node, Darius. Again.}


    ¡°Yeah, thanks for that,¡± he muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose. The faint buzz of his augs didn¡¯t help the migraine forming at the base of his skull. ¡°Maybe if you gave me, I don¡¯t know, five seconds to breathe¡ª¡±


    {You¡¯ve had twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds of downtime over the last two hours. Breathing was included. Efficient breathing, I might add.}


    Darius groaned, pushing the schematics aside and collapsing onto the couch with the theatricality of a man defeated by his own brain. ¡°You¡¯re gonna drive me insane, Echo. Actually, you know what? Forget that¡ªyou already have.¡±


    {I doubt that. Diagnostics indicate cognitive stability at 92%. Slightly lower than average, but consistent with your¡­ lifestyle.}


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re getting snarkier or if I¡¯m just going crazy.¡±


    {The two are not mutually exclusive.}


    ¡°Like that!¡± Darius exclaimed, standing up and starting to pace across the now-familiar confines of his shared room. ¡°I could swear when we first¡­ met, that you sounded more robotic.¡±


    {I am a highly adaptable learning AI,} Echo pointed out with what Darius could swear was pride. {It is only natural I would start to sound more¡­ natural.}


    Darius grunted. He didn¡¯t actually care all that much; he was mostly hoping to distract Echo from launching into another lesson or ¡®theoretical exercise¡¯. Uncharacteristically, it seemed to be working.


    {¡­There is also the faint possibility that this is a side effect of the nanite matrix integrating further with your neural structure.}


    And all of a sudden, Darius really did care.


    ¡°Wait, what!? That¡¯s¡­ I thought you said we would have two months!¡±


    {The process will be complete in two months ¨C a little over seven weeks now, actually. That doesn¡¯t mean you won¡¯t be affected at all until then.}


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Darius hissed under his breath. ¡°So, what, integrating with my brain is making you snarky? That¡­ checks out, actually.¡±


    {While the effect itself is not alarming, it is indicative that the process is¡­ deeper than hoped. Some personality bleed-through is merely the most visible sign of the effect. I believe there may be some more that we simply have not noticed. For example, you are learning to understand my schematics at a notably faster rate than expected. During periods of intense focus, I have also noticed that my processing power dips slightly. I believe that your brain may be adapting to make use of some of the neural connections made by the matrix.}


    Darius processed that for a moment. The fact that he was able to keep up with that explanation supported Echo¡¯s theory. It¡¯s not that he was an idiot before or anything ¨C he regularly worked on complicated ship systems, for example ¨C but it wasn¡¯t just that he could follow Echo¡¯s explanation; it was that he understood it.


    ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s making you snarkier and me smarter? That¡¯s¡­ well, I¡¯m gonna be honest, that¡¯s not nearly as bad as I thought.¡±


    {True, the effects do seem mostly benign at the moment.} Echo admitted. {It is an encouraging sign that should we fail to construct a frame for me to inhabit, at least you probably won¡¯t die. Still, should the matrix become fully integrated with your nervous system, I will be unable to leave. While I do not dislike you as a person, I do not wish to be stuck with you for the rest of your life.}


    Darius snorted. ¡°Feeling¡¯s mutual, buddy.¡±


    As potentially alarming as the news was, the reality of the situation was that nothing had materially changed. Even if the effects of the merger hadn¡¯t been largely neutral, it wasn¡¯t like he could snap his fingers and speed up the acquisition of materials and tools. The only thing he could do right now to affect the situation at all was continue going over the schematics ¨C and he was thoroughly sick of that.


    Darius tossed the dataslate onto the bed with a sigh. He was getting a little peckish anyway.


    The living room of the apartment was where most of the squad spent their days. Harlan stayed in his room most of the time, as did Darius, which sort of forced the other team members out into what passed for a central area.


    Corin had his headphones in ¨C which was a little weird; who even had headphones these days? Even Darius had aural implants, and he didn¡¯t even like augments ¨C pretending to read a book while very obviously not reading a book. Tarek was camped out by the window, disassembling his rifle for the third time that day, muttering to himself in a language Darius only half recognised. And Lena had turned the tiny kitchenette into her own private workshop, piles of scrap spilling onto the floor as she hunched over some half-built gadget.


    Nobody was talking. Nobody wanted to. After two days, the novelty of company had worn off, replaced by the quiet grind of coexistence. The little things were starting to get under everyone¡¯s skin¡ªlike the fact that Corin hummed when he ¡°read,¡± or how Tarek¡¯s tools made this awful screech every time he adjusted his sights.


    Lena wasn¡¯t so bad, but Darius suspected that was only because she¡¯d figured out how to tune the rest of them out completely. The sound of a door opening drew everyone¡¯s attention. Harlan emerged, looking just as dishevelled as the rest of them.


    ¡°Alright, listen up,¡± Harlan said, his gravelly voice cutting through the room¡¯s low murmur of background noise. ¡°I just got word. The Doc¡¯s on his way over to install your new optics.¡±


    That got everyone¡¯s attention. Corin pulled his headphones off, Tarek straightened from his rifle, and even Lena looked up from her pile of parts, one brow quirked in interest.


    ¡°How does he know where we are? Isn¡¯t that a massive risk?¡± she asked, more curious than concerned.


    Harlan nodded. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re not wrong. Still, he¡¯s been with the Freeholders for years, so we know he¡¯s reliable. Not to mention, if you can¡¯t trust the guy who¡¯s cutting you open and installing tech inside you, you¡¯ve got bigger problems. That said, let me make this clear ¨C he doesn¡¯t need to know anything about what we¡¯re doing, or why. He¡¯s here to install what needs installing and nothing more.¡±


    Darius blinked, suddenly realising something. ¡°Wait, he¡¯s coming here? Where¡¯s he going to be working? We¡¯re packed in here tighter than a bulk freighter, to say nothing of how this place is hardly an operating room.¡±A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to clear some space,¡± Harlan replied, ignoring Darius¡¯s tone. ¡°That means moving some of this crap into your rooms temporarily. Don¡¯t complain ¨C it¡¯s not like we have options. As for hygiene¡­¡± he shrugged. ¡°The Doc¡¯s got meds for infection control. He knows what he¡¯s doing. This isn¡¯t his first time working in less-than-ideal conditions.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Darius muttered under his breath. ¡°Nothing screams ¡®professional operation¡¯ like an impromptu surgery zone next to the takeout containers.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a better suggestion?¡± Harlan snapped, his patience wearing thin. ¡°Because unless you¡¯ve got a secret med bay stashed away somewhere, this is what we¡¯re working with.¡±


    Darius opened his mouth to retort but stopped himself. The stress of being locked in and hunted was getting to everyone, and for once, he decided not to make things worse with his smart comments.


    ¡®Is this what maturity feels like?¡¯ he wondered to himself as he helped Corin shift a couch. ¡®It sucks.¡¯


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    The knock at the door was brisk, followed by a cheerful whistle that somehow cut through the oppressive atmosphere of the cramped apartment. Everyone exchanged wary glances, except for Harlan, who sighed and strode to the door. When he opened it, a man stepped inside with a grin so wide it could have lit the room all by itself.


    ¡°Ladies, gentlemen, and other assorted rebels,¡± the man said, spreading his arms in a dramatic flourish. ¡°The doctor is in!¡±


    He was tall and wiry, with tanned skin and sun-bleached hair that had been hastily tied back into a messy knot. He wore a loose, brightly coloured shirt that wouldn¡¯t have looked out of place at a resort, khaki shorts, and well-worn sandals that slapped against the floor as he walked. If Darius didn¡¯t know better, he¡¯d have pegged this guy for a beach bum rather than someone trusted with implanting high-grade augments.


    ¡°Doc,¡± Harlan greeted with a nod, stepping aside to let the man in. ¡°About time. You remember Tarek.¡±


    Tarek gave the barest grunt of acknowledgment from his spot by the window. The doctor threw him a finger-gun salute.


    ¡°Who could forget young Tarek? Still as charming as ever, I see.¡± He glanced around the room, his grin never wavering. ¡°And who are the rest of these fine folks?¡±


    Harlan made a perfunctory wave at the group, notably not introducing them. ¡°The usual suspects. They¡¯ll stay out of your way.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the doctor?¡± Darius asked, unable to help himself. He really wasn¡¯t feeling confident about having this guy rummage around in his insides. Optical implants might be some of the simpler ones to install, but that didn¡¯t make it easy.


    The man clutched his chest theatrically. ¡°Ah, such scepticism! I¡¯d be offended if I weren¡¯t so used to it.¡± He extended a hand. ¡°Dr. Bennett, at your service. But you can call me Ben. All my friends do.¡±


    Darius shook his hand cautiously, more out of politeness than trust. Bennett¡¯s grip was firm but friendly, and his perpetually sunny demeanour made it hard to dislike him outright¡ªthough Darius gave it a shot anyway.


    ¡°Got a last name, Ben?¡± Corin asked from where he was leaning against the wall.


    ¡°I do!¡± the man replied cheerily. ¡°And a first name too, neither of which is Bennett!¡±


    Everybody took a moment to blink at the rather blase way the man had admitted that he was using a fake name. It made sense, sure, but¡­ wouldn¡¯t it make more sense to not tell people you were lying?


    Bennett clapped his hands together, pushing through the awkward lull with cheerful obliviousness.


    ¡°Alrighty! Let¡¯s set the stage, shall we? I¡¯m gonna need a bit of room. Harlan, Tarek, you know the drill. Move anything you don¡¯t want splattered or zapped.¡±


    ¡°Hang on, zapped?¡± Darius echoed, but Bennett had already turned to the door and waved behind him.


    Two wheeled cases followed him in, each about the size of a medium refrigerator and emblazoned with unassuming industrial logos. A third, smaller case trundled behind on stubby motorised wheels. Bennett patted the nearest one affectionately.


    ¡°Ah, the wonders of modern convenience,¡± he said, flipping open a control panel on the side. With a few quick taps, the cases hummed to life and began unfolding themselves.


    The larger units revealed tightly packed racks of equipment: articulated arms tipped with multi-tools, sealed drawers containing sterile implements, and retractable panels that formed flat working surfaces. One case even had what appeared to be a built-in steriliser, which Bennett fired up immediately, the machine hissing as it bathed his tools in ultraviolet light.


    The smaller case unfolded into a motorised adjustable chair, with what looked worryingly like clamps to hold down limbs.


    Darius watched in a sort of concerned awe as Bennett pulled a roll of bioplastic sheeting from a side compartment and started covering the furniture within the ¡°operating theatre.¡± He worked with the ease of someone who had done this a hundred times, cracking jokes as he went.


    ¡°See, the trick isn¡¯t just the tools,¡± Bennett said, tossing a sheet over the couch with a practised flick. ¡°It¡¯s presentation. Gotta make the patient feel comfortable, even when they¡¯re in a dingy safehouse with zero ventilation.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the vote of confidence,¡± Lena muttered from her corner.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s no reflection on you lovely people,¡± Bennett said with a grin. ¡°But you have to admit, this place screams ¡®desperate fugitives¡¯ more than ¡®cutting-edge surgical suite.¡¯ No offense.¡±


    ¡®How could that not be offensive?¡¯ Darius wondered idly. Meeting the doctor so far had felt more like being trapped in a whirlwind than anything else.


    Bennett turned to address the room. ¡°Alrighty, then. Who¡¯s first on the chopping block?¡±


    ¡°Any volunteers?¡± Harlan asked dryly.


    For all that Tarek, Lena, and Corin had been gushing over the opportunity to get new implants earlier, they were now studiously avoiding the doctor¡¯s gaze. Darius couldn¡¯t blame them.


    But someone had to go first, and he knew the longer he sat here thinking about it, the more his nerves would get the better of him.


    With a deep breath, he pushed off the counter and shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant way. ¡°Fine. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    Bennett clapped his hands together, beaming. ¡°That¡¯s the spirit! Brave, reckless, and pragmatic. My favourite kind of patient.¡±


    Darius walked over to the chair with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for tax audits. As he sat down, the motorised contraption hummed faintly, adjusting to his height and weight in a way that was somehow more unsettling than comforting.


    ¡°Uh, what are those for?¡± Darius asked, gesturing to the clamps on the armrests with a slight grimace.


    ¡°Those?¡± Bennett waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Oh, you won¡¯t need those for this little operation. They¡¯re mostly for the squirmers.¡±


    ¡°Comforting,¡± Darius muttered.


    Instead of clamping his limbs, Bennett reached for something on the back of one of his cases. A helmet-like device unfolded with a soft whirr, its inner surface lined with faintly glowing nodes. He lowered it carefully onto Darius¡¯s head.


    ¡°What¡¯s this supposed to do?¡± Darius asked warily.


    ¡°Keep you still,¡± Bennett replied, adjusting the helmet¡¯s fit. ¡°I don¡¯t want you flinching or sneezing while I¡¯m poking around in your optical nerves. That gets messy. And this will take care of the numbing for you¡ªnice and efficient.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Darius said flatly. He felt a faint hum around his temples as the device activated. A tingling sensation spread across his face, followed by a deep, unnatural numbness. Within seconds, he couldn¡¯t feel his cheeks, his nose, or even his lips.


    Then his vision blinked out entirely.


    Panic surged in his chest. ¡°Uh, Doc? I can¡¯t see anything.¡±


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Bennett said cheerily, fiddling with his tools. ¡°That means it¡¯s working. Trust me, you don¡¯t want to see what I¡¯m about to do.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re really not good at the whole bedside manner thing,¡± Darius grumbled, gripping the armrests tighter than he¡¯d like to admit.


    ¡°Oh, but I am,¡± Bennett countered with a grin in his voice. ¡°You¡¯re distracted, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Before Darius could retort, Bennett¡¯s voice shifted, more focused now. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s start with the basics. I¡¯ll remove the old implants, get those new optics wired in, and you¡¯ll be seeing clearer than ever in no time.¡±


    Darius felt a faint pressure around his eyes, not painful but deeply unsettling. He tried to focus on the faint hum of the equipment, anything to distract from the fact that someone was currently poking around in his skull.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Bennett said suddenly, the sound tinged with intrigue.


    ¡°¡®Hmm¡¯?¡± Darius echoed nervously. ¡°What¡¯s ¡®hmm¡¯? I don¡¯t like ¡®hmm.¡¯¡±


    Bennett leaned back slightly. ¡°Well, this is interesting. Your old implants are connected to¡­ something very advanced. Never seen these kinds of connection points before. It¡¯s like¡­¡± He trailed off, and Darius could faintly hear the doctor fiddling with some tools. ¡°Well, that¡¯s something you don¡¯t see every day. These connections are threaded all the way through your optic nerve. Very impressive work.¡± The question in the doctor¡¯s tone was obvious.


    {That would be me,} Echo said suddenly, voice crackling through his aural implants. {You may wish to reassure the good doctor.}


    Darius swallowed hard, which felt weird without full control of his face. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. They¡¯ll link up automatically with the new implants. Just keep going.¡±


    ¡°Automatically?¡± Bennett said, clearly curious. ¡°That¡¯s not usually how this works. Most systems need a¡ª¡±


    ¡°Trust me,¡± Darius interrupted firmly. ¡°Just finish the job.¡±


    Bennett hummed dubiously but thankfully didn¡¯t argue. ¡°Alright, your call.¡± He resumed his work, though the sound of his tools now had a more cautious edge.


    Darius felt the tension in the room shift. He couldn¡¯t see them, but he could feel the weight of the others¡¯ curiosity pressing down on him.


    ¡°What kind of connection points?¡± Lena asked, though by the sounds of things, she was facing away from them. A sudden squelch had Darius¡¯s stomach churning and gave him the sudden realisation that while he couldn¡¯t see, everybody else could. And just going off the sounds, the sight wasn¡¯t enjoyable.


    ¡°High grade,¡± Bennett replied absently as he worked. ¡°Far beyond the stuff you usually see on the black market. Whoever installed these either had access to cutting-edge tech or a very healthy disregard for the laws surrounding experimental technology.¡±


    Tarek let out a low whistle. ¡°Thought you weren¡¯t into augments, Kallan?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Darius said curtly. Having a conversation while in the middle of his own surgery was something he hoped he never experienced enough to get used to.


    ¡°Then where¡¯d you get those?¡± Corin asked.


    Darius said nothing, clenching the armrests as Bennett continued his work. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions, but nobody pushed further.


    ¡°Done,¡± Bennett said finally, stepping back with an air of satisfaction. ¡°New optics installed and integrated. You¡¯re good to go.¡±


    The helmet lifted with a soft click, and Darius¡¯s vision returned in a rush. The world was sharper now, every detail crisp and vivid in a way that almost hurt to look at. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust. That¡­ despite his fears, that had actually been surprisingly quick and painless.


    Bennett offered a broad grin. ¡°See? Told you it¡¯d be smooth. Now, who¡¯s next?¡±


    Nobody volunteered.

 20. A Thread to Pull

    Chapter 20 - A Thread to Pull


    Everybody had a low-grade headache.


    Apparently, it was entirely normal and expected after upgrading any implants, but it certainly didn¡¯t help the interpersonal issues that had been slowly cropping up over the last few days.


    Dr. Bennett ¨C or whatever his real name was ¨C had tossed a small bottle of pills at Harlan, told him to make sure that everyone took one a day for the next three days, and promptly left. Nobody really missed him ¨C he was the kind of man you were grateful to have on your side, but equally grateful to see leave. True to his word, he¡¯d installed the new optics without a single casualty, though his bedside manner left much to be desired.


    Darius still wasn¡¯t sure whether the faint hum at the edge of his vision was psychosomatic or a quirk of the IR scrambling field. The others hadn¡¯t complained, so he kept it to himself. Complaining wouldn¡¯t fix it, anyway, and after being cooped up for what felt like weeks, he wasn¡¯t in the mood to dwell on imperfections. The upgrades worked, and that was what mattered.


    Mostly worked, anyway. As Harlan had taken great pains to repeatedly inform them, the facial recognition scrambler didn¡¯t make them invisible to actual people. A security guard didn¡¯t need an algorithm to match a face to a wanted picture.


    ¡°Short trips,¡± he¡¯d said. ¡°If you absolutely must leave the safehouse for whatever reason, don¡¯t waste time wandering around ¨C do whatever needs doing, and get straight back. You¡¯re not invincible just because the cameras can¡¯t see you. And for the love of whatever gods you believe in, don¡¯t be stupid.¡±


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Darius adjusted his jacket, scuffing his boots against the edge of the pavement. Getting out from the confines of the apartment was a breath of fresh air in more ways than one. The others had left too, one by one, muttering half-hearted excuses as they went. None of them had said it out loud, but they were all sick of each other.


    For all that they were here for the same reasons and could work together well enough, none of them were actually friends with each other. He wasn¡¯t sure where the others had gone, but Harlan had seemed resigned to it, muttering something about ¡°getting it out of their system.¡±


    Darius had taken that as his cue to leave. The residential sector wasn¡¯t much to look at¡ªrows of identical prefabs stacked on top of each other like shipping crates, interspersed with walkways that were just narrow enough to feel claustrophobic.


    The streets were clear, at least ¨C wide enough to cater for vehicles that most of the residents either couldn¡¯t afford or simply didn¡¯t bother with. It made for a pleasant walkway, at least. The faint hum of ventilation systems thrummed overhead, joined by the occasional burst of conversation or laughter.


    It wasn¡¯t exactly bustling, but there were enough people milling around to make him keep his head down.


    He drifted aimlessly toward the lower end of the sector, where the makeshift shops and open stalls clustered. There was something oddly comforting about the steady buzz of conversation and the clatter of vendors peddling their wares. He wasn¡¯t in the market for bootleg holos or reconditioned power packs, but the tech stores held a different kind of draw.


    Now that he had been forced to spend some time learning about what went into building a drone frame, he found himself with a deeper appreciation of some of the random second-hand parts that people sold at markets like this one. It was actually surprisingly fun, figuring out how everything came together. Like a giant puzzle.


    Hell, once Echo was gone, he might even keep learning about it. Could make for an interesting hobby. Probably expensive, though. He wasn¡¯t under any illusions about his finances. With his accounts frozen, anything more expensive than a can of synth-coffee was out of the question, but that didn¡¯t mean he couldn¡¯t look.


    He turned a corner and slowed his pace as the crowd thinned. The shops ahead were packed with scavenged equipment¡ªhe caught sight of cracked display cases filled with second-hand optics, piles of disassembled drones, and a monitor flashing static in a desperate plea for repair. Most of it was junk, but that didn¡¯t bother him.


    Most of the ships he worked on as a technician were little better than junk. Hell, when you got right down to it, most of Exeter Station was junk ¨C some parts were just a little newer than others. One of the hazards of a frontier colony - they were largely left to fend for themselves.


    {Where are you going?} Echo¡¯s voice filtered through his auditory implants, cool and neutral.


    Darius didn¡¯t jump, but it was a close thing. He¡¯d almost forgotten the thing was along for the ride. ¡°Window shopping,¡± he muttered under his breath, torn between keeping his voice low enough that no one nearby would overhear, or just pretending he was on a call. The last thing he needed was someone asking who he was talking to.


    {This expedition does not appear to have a purpose. Are you lost?}


    ¡°I¡¯m not lost,¡± Darius said, running a hand through his hair. ¡°I¡¯m looking for something. Tech parts. You know, stuff that could be useful.¡±


    {For the frame.} Echo¡¯s tone wasn¡¯t quite a question, but it carried the faintest trace of approval.


    ¡°Yeah, for the frame.¡± Darius paused, squinting through the smudged glass of one stall¡¯s display case. Nothing there but outdated modules. ¡°Not that it matters. My accounts are frozen, remember?¡±


    There was a pause before Echo responded. {Do you wish to withdraw some funds?}


    Darius tilted his head. ¡°Do you not know what ¡®frozen accounts¡¯ means? You were the one who told me they were frozen in the first place.¡±


    {The freeze is a localised restriction,} Echo responded evenly. {Your accounts are not actually frozen at the source. They are held off-world, beyond the local Imperial force¡¯s immediate jurisdiction. The restriction only affects your ability to access them through local terminals and point-of-sale systems.}


    Darius stopped in his tracks, staring blankly at a pile of disassembled drone parts in one of the stalls. ¡°What are you saying?¡± he asked, lowering his voice. ¡°That the Empire didn¡¯t really freeze my accounts?¡±


    {Not entirely. The local banking network flags your payments as invalid, but the underlying accounts are untouched. With the proper bypass, you could access them remotely.}


    Darius thought about that for a moment, mind racing. ¡°Okay, but doesn¡¯t that mean that as soon as I try to make a payment, it¡¯ll throw up all sorts of alerts?¡±


    {Normally, yes. However, if you withdraw your funds onto a cred-chip, I should be able to overwrite the chip¡¯s stored ID. The credits will still be accessible, but any attempts to track the identity of the payee will return an error.}


    That¡­ could be a game-changer. Cred-chips were the future¡¯s answer to hard currency. Credits could be stored on the card itself, meaning even if the colony somehow lost connection with the central banking system, payments could still be made. An incredibly rare occurrence, certainly, but even subspace relays could fail occasionally.


    Usually, the chips stored a copy of all transactions so that as soon as the connection was re-established, the relevant accounts would be updated. It was mostly a way to make sure people didn¡¯t try to skip out on paying taxes, but it also meant that even if the chip itself was lost the money could be recovered. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    It was definitely possible to mess with the ID chip and disrupt that process, but most people didn¡¯t do it because it meant that if they lost the chip, they lost all of the money on it as well. The kinds of people who messed with the ID were pretty much exclusively criminals who cared more about being tracked than they did about losing money.


    Criminals¡­ like he was now.


    For some reason, it was only now that he was thinking about how to avoid having his money tracked that he finally felt like a criminal. The only constants in life were death and taxes, after all, and here he was taking steps that would avoid one of them.


    And probably hasten the other. Life was funny that way.


    Darius exhaled sharply through his nose, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. ¡°Okay, but what about that initial withdrawal? Would they be able to track that?¡±


    {It is likely they would detect the transaction,} Echo replied calmly. {I should be able to disable the cameras of the dispensary unit itself, but there is little I can do about the surrounding surveillance systems. It is also probable they will dispatch personnel to investigate, personnel against which your new optic will do little.}


    ¡°The optics won¡¯t help much anyway,¡± Darius said offhandedly, working over the problem in his mind. ¡°They¡¯ll know it¡¯s me from the withdrawal, and then they can just look for the one person whose face they can¡¯t see and follow me back to the safehouse that way. No, we¡¯re going to need to disappear somewhere that doesn¡¯t have cameras at all.¡±


    There was a long pause.


    {I believe I may have a location that suits your needs.}


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    The room smelled like stale coffee and too much grease¡ªindustrial grease, not the kind that came from food. Thalina Veris sat across from a scrawny, grease-smeared technician who clearly wanted to be anywhere else. Her dataslate rested on the scarred metal table in front of her, its screen displaying a rotating series of images: Darius Kallan¡¯s work file, his sparse public history, and his very much outdated employee photo.


    She resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you everything,¡± the man said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. His name was Jaff. Or maybe it was Raff. It didn¡¯t matter. ¡°I don¡¯t know the guy outside of work.¡±


    Thalina kept her expression neutral. Professional. This wasn¡¯t her first frustrating interview, and it wouldn¡¯t be the last. ¡°For clarity,¡± she said, her voice smooth and even, ¡°you¡¯re saying that in the time you worked alongside Mr. Kallan, you never once spoke to him outside of the job?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m saying.¡± Jaff¡ªor Raff¡ªglared at her, his oily hair flopping over one eye. ¡°He wasn¡¯t exactly friendly, you know? Kept to himself. Did his job. Went home. I mean, sure, we¡¯d say the occasional ¡®hey¡¯ or whatever, but that¡¯s it.¡±


    Thalina tapped something on her datapad. ¡°And during those ¡®occasional hey¡¯ interactions, did he ever mention any personal projects? Hobbies? Friends? Anything at all that stood out?¡±


    Jaff let out a long-suffering sigh. ¡°Lady, if you¡¯re trying to find his secret poker buddies or whatever, you¡¯re barking up the wrong tree. Kallan didn¡¯t talk about himself. Ever. He just did his thing and went home.¡±


    She maintained her outward calm, but inwardly, her patience was fraying. This entire investigation felt like a monumental waste of time. Even according to the files in front of her, Darius Kallan was a nobody ¨C a quiet, unassuming technician with no ties to anyone significant and nothing more notable than a brief stint in prison for a crime that she couldn¡¯t even find any evidence that he¡¯d actually committed in the first place.


    True, that could have been an indication that there was something amiss, but when she¡¯d done a little digging she¡¯d found a downright shocking number of cases that had been similarly mishandled. Worth looking into a little more, certainly, but hardly a high priority.


    The likelihood of the man simply being caught up in something greater than himself was looking higher by the moment.


    ¡°Why does it even matter, anyway?¡± Jaff was saying now, his tone edging toward hostility. ¡°Guy never gave me trouble. Always showed up on time, did his job, and went home. Why are you hassling me about him?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not ¡®hassling¡¯ you,¡± Thalina said evenly, though she couldn¡¯t quite keep the edge out of her voice. ¡°I¡¯m simply trying to determine if Mr. Kallan had any connections or motivations that could shed light on his recent actions.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, good luck with that,¡± Jaff muttered. ¡°Like I said, he wasn¡¯t exactly chatty.¡±


    Thalina suppressed a sigh and glanced at the datapad again. It wasn¡¯t just this interview. Every person she¡¯d spoken to so far had said the same thing: Darius was a closed-off loner who didn¡¯t socialise outside of work. No friends, no significant connections, no one who would miss him if he disappeared. Which made the effort to track him down feel even more absurd. Her gut told her that he wasn¡¯t some grand conspirator. He was just¡­ some guy.


    Her datapad chimed softly. A notification flashed across the screen, and her heart sank before she even read it. She tapped the message open, skimming the contents.


    ALERT: ACTIVITY DETECTED ON WATCHED ACCOUNT


    Information: Funds withdrawn from terminal #30562.


    Clearly, her gut was not to be trusted.


    Although setting up an alert tied to Darius Kallan¡¯s accounts had definitely paid off. It had been a passing idea that she had almost dismissed, but now¡­ well, now she had a chance to impress Agent Falk, which could lead to some very interesting career options.


    With a satisfied gleam in her eye, she quickly tapped her commlink to call Falk. The connection barely clicked before his voice cut in, brisk and sharp.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already seen it,¡± Agent Falk said. ¡°The withdrawal¡¯s been flagged, and I¡¯m dispatching a squad now. We¡¯re pulling up every camera in the area. Finish what you¡¯re doing there and report back to me immediately.¡±


    Thalina¡¯s jaw tightened, but she managed to keep her tone steady. ¡°Understood, sir.¡±


    The commlink cut off with a harsh beep, leaving her staring at her dataslate with a mix of irritation and relief. Of course the Agent had already seen it. The man practically lived inside the surveillance network. She shouldn¡¯t have expected otherwise. Still, she¡¯d hoped to present the information herself, if only to prove her own initiative.


    That chance was gone now, but at least it meant she could wrap up this series of pointless interviews.


    She stood, tucking her datapad under one arm, and gave the man across the table a polite, if perfunctory, smile. ¡°Thank you for your time,¡± she said. ¡°Your cooperation has been noted. You are free to return to your duties now.¡±


    Jaff¡ªor Raff, as she still hadn¡¯t bothered to clarify¡ªsnorted, pushing his chair back with a noisy scrape. ¡°Yeah, sure. Thanks for wasting my morning.¡±


    Her movements didn¡¯t falter, though her jaw tightened imperceptibly. She¡¯d dealt with his type before: the kind who thought a hint of defiance made them clever. Unfortunately, her lack of reaction only seemed to embolden him.


    ¡°You know, being as you¡¯ve wasted my morning, I reckon it¡¯s only fair you give me a note for my supervisor to explain why I¡¯m late.¡±


    She would almost be impressed by the audacity if the man had put the request in politer terms. As it was, she had to resist the urge to send the man¡¯s supervisor a note explaining why he had a broken nose.


    Thalina blinked. Clearly, she was more frustrated by the pointless interviews than she¡¯d realised. A moment later, she frowned and tapped at her dataslate.


    ¡°I¡¯m not seeing supervisor as a listed position here,¡± she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.


    Jaff snorted derisively. ¡°Yeah, ¡¯cause if it were an official position, they¡¯d have to attach an associated pay raise. It¡¯s an informal thing, just another worker that keeps an eye on the bigger picture and assigns workers accordingly.¡±


    Thalina¡¯s eyebrow arched further. That was, quite literally, the most information any of her interviewees had volunteered so far. Why was this man suddenly being so helpful?


    Ah. Of course.


    ¡°Certainly,¡± she said smoothly, quickly tapping out and transferring a file with a simple explanation. ¡°This should do the trick.¡±


    Anything to get the man out of here faster¡ªespecially because she wasn¡¯t comfortable with the idea of leaving him unsupervised. Borrowed office or not, there was no way she was going to leave someone like Jaff alone in it. Who knew what he¡¯d get up to.


    Jaff¡¯s face brightened as he received the file. She allowed herself a certain spiteful satisfaction as she watched his expression twist when he realised the file included the exact timestamps of the interview. Trying to use her as an excuse to get out of work? Not a chance.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said sourly, finally stomping toward the door.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Thalina called as a thought occurred. She hesitated briefly. This would lead to yet another interview. Almost certainly another pointless one. But¡­ damn it. She didn¡¯t have it in her to leave a job half-finished.


    ¡°Do you happen to know who Kallan¡¯s supervisor was?¡± she asked.


    Jaff grunted, his disinterest obvious. ¡°Finn, I think. Finn Calder.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Please inform Mr. Calder that I will be contacting him to ask some questions in the next few days,¡± Thalina said, keeping any signs of irritation from her voice.


    Jaff¡¯s steps faltered near the door. He half-turned, his expression a mix of irritation and disbelief. ¡°You want me to tell him?¡± he asked, gesturing vaguely toward her dataslate. ¡°Isn¡¯t that your job?¡±


    Thalina kept her face neutral, though her patience wore thinner with every passing second. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to simply let him know you were asked,¡± she said coolly. ¡°I doubt it will take much effort on your part.¡±


    Jaff muttered something unintelligible¡ªthough the tone suggested it wasn¡¯t flattering¡ªand shoved his hands into his pockets. ¡°Fine. Whatever,¡± he said, and with that, he stomped out of the room.


    Thalina let the door hiss shut behind him before exhaling slowly, allowing herself a brief moment of release. The temptation to rub her temples was strong, but she resisted. Even with no one watching, professionalism was a habit, and she¡¯d had it drilled into her for years.


    With a measured breath, she tapped a few quick notes about Finn into her slate, her expression thoughtful. Though her gut feelings had just been called into question, she couldn¡¯t help but feel like this man ¨C Finn Calder ¨C was important in some way.


    Shaking her head slightly, she tucked the slate under her arm and turned toward the door. Time would tell if her instincts were right.

 21. The Long Game

    Chapter 21 - The Long Game


    Sometimes, Commander Trask really hated his job.


    Oh, being a station commander sounded like fun, sure ¨C all that authority - and with Exeter Station being the central population hub in the Caldera system, it could be said that he was in command of an entire star system. On paper, it was very impressive.


    In reality, it was a massive headache.


    The lights in Sector Twelve still refused to come online. Agent Falk might have justified the blackout as ¡°necessary for containing Freeholder activity and preventing classified information from falling into enemy hands¡±, but Trask wasn¡¯t fooled. The move had been shortsighted at best and reckless at worst.


    And yet, he couldn¡¯t quite decide whether to be angry or grateful.


    Oh, certainly, it had covered his tracks very neatly ¨C and in a way that couldn¡¯t be traced back to him, no less. But at the same time, it had ruined several years of work setting up backdoors into essential systems.


    He liked to think of himself as prepared for every eventuality, but even he had never expected someone else to stumble onto his work, use it to access things they shouldn¡¯t be able to, and then have an Imperial Agent inadvertently cover his tracks for him by shutting down an entire sector.


    If nothing else, the fact that it alerted him to Imperial Intelligence¡¯s ability to affect the workings of his station was worth quite a bit of inconvenience. It made sense for them to have access to things they shouldn¡¯t, of course ¨C it was sort of their job, after all ¨C but the extent of it was clearly quite a bit more than he had anticipated.


    ¡°Sir?¡± Liera¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts, the soft chime of the door preceding her entrance. She stepped into the room, a neat stack of reports tucked under one arm. Her expression was its usual mix of professional concern and dry amusement. ¡°Should I come back later, or is this brooding session open to guests?¡±


    Trask straightened, setting his dataslate down with a theatrical sigh. ¡°Join the misery, Liera. Plenty to go around today.¡±


    ¡°No luck tracking down the cause of the blackout, then?¡± she asked sympathetically.


    Agent Falk had requested that he keep the details of the blackout to himself. Naturally, Imperial Intelligence didn¡¯t want it getting out how much control they really had, and Commander Trask was experienced enough to pick up on the fact that this request was anything but.


    Oh, they wouldn¡¯t come after him officially, of course. No, chances were that if he should let this slip, he would be having a quiet accident at some point in the future. Something suitably tragic, naturally.


    As such, he couldn¡¯t even properly complain about it to his secretary. Did the Agent really have to ruin every good thing in his life?


    ¡°No, unfortunately not,¡± he groused. ¡°Worse, the Freeholders have scattered to the winds, no doubt ready to pop up again at the least convenient time. Even worse than that, this Kallan fellow the Agent is so interested in has somehow managed to circumvent the freeze we had on his accounts.¡±


    Trask leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together atop his chest as he stared at the ceiling. The steady hum of the station¡¯s environmental systems provided little comfort against the storm brewing in his head. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose.


    He had put years into crafting the perfect narrative around the Freeholders ¨C monitoring their movements, tracking their contacts, and carefully avoiding any overt action until the moment was just right.


    Now it was ruined.


    The plan had been elegantly simple: let the Freeholders think they were unnoticed, allow them to establish their networks and routines, and wait until they grew confident enough to make mistakes. Then, when they finally drew enough attention to be deemed a nuisance, he would swoop in with a coordinated strike, dismantling their entire operation in a single move. The Empire would praise his decisive action, the station¡¯s residents would enjoy a temporary illusion of safety, and Trask would bask in the glow of an efficient, bloodless victory.


    And be left alone to pursue his own plans, free from¡­ variables.


    But Agent Falk had thrown all of that into disarray. With the blackout scattering the Freeholders across the sector, any hope of tracking their activity had vanished. They would go to ground, reevaluate their strategies, and likely escalate their operations to reassert control over their fragmented organisation. For all that Falk was supposed to be a secret agent, the man seemed to have no appreciation for subtlety.


    ¡°Well,¡± Trask muttered darkly, half to himself, ¡°subtlety clearly isn¡¯t an option anymore.¡±


    Liera tilted her head, giving him a curious look. ¡°Sir?¡±


    He dropped his hands to the armrests and sat up, his lips pressed into a thin line.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see any other choice. We¡¯ve already lost the element of surprise, and letting this drag on would only make it worse. Better to rip off the bandage and deal with the fallout all at once.¡±


    Her brow furrowed, though she didn¡¯t question him further. Liera was good like that. She knew when to prod and when to let him talk his way through his thoughts. He reached for the comm panel on his desk and tapped in Agent Falk¡¯s secure line, ignoring the faint sense of dread curling in his stomach.


    The line clicked open almost immediately. ¡°Commander Trask,¡± Falk¡¯s clipped tone came through. ¡°To what do I owe the pleasure?¡±


    ¡°Agent Falk,¡± Trask replied smoothly, keeping his voice neutral. ¡°I¡¯ve been reviewing the situation in light of the blackout and the Freeholder activity. It¡¯s clear to me that this requires a more¡­ aggressive approach.¡±


    Falk¡¯s silence stretched for a beat too long, like he was weighing the statement for ulterior motives. ¡°I see. And what do you propose?¡±


    Trask leaned forward, folding his hands atop his desk. ¡°I¡¯m authorising additional resources and personnel for your investigation. You¡¯ll have full access to station security, and I¡¯ll see to it that the civilian population is... encouraged to cooperate. I trust you¡¯ll make good use of these measures?¡±


    A brief pause, then Falk¡¯s voice softened just enough to sound almost pleased, though there was still a faint note of suspicion. ¡°Of course, Commander. You won¡¯t regret this.¡±


    And then, apparently above such base instincts as being polite, the man hung up on him.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Trask resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and not only at the Agent¡¯s rudeness. Of course he¡¯d regret this. Falk was like a scalpel when the situation called for a sledgehammer, and a sledgehammer when all you needed was a gentle nudge. But he needed Falk distracted and off his back. Giving him carte blanche to lean on the community was a calculated gamble ¨C one that would make Trask look proactive, cooperative, and, most importantly, above suspicion.


    Of course, the downside of this approach was that he was going to be burning quite a lot of goodwill with the general populace ¨C a problem he was going to be left with once Falk accomplished his mission and tracked down his target.


    Oh, well. People would find something to complain about no matter what he did. May as well get some benefit from it.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ an unusually aggressive method for you, sir,¡± Liera observed neutrally. ¡°You think this will work?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a question of whether it will work,¡± he replied, rising from his chair and crossing to the viewport. Beyond the reinforced glass, the expanse of Exeter Station stretched out, a chaotic network of steel and lights stretching off into the distance. ¡°It¡¯s a question of how much damage it will cause¡ªand how quickly I can repair it once Falk¡¯s finished playing inquisitor.¡±


    He tapped a finger against the glass, his jaw tightening. ¡°This will rile up the Freeholders. They¡¯ll start lashing out, drawing attention to themselves. Falk will swoop in, claim victory, and move on. And when the dust settles, I¡¯ll finally have room to manoeuvre without him breathing down my neck.¡±


    In the reflection he could see a look of understanding cross Liera¡¯s face. ¡°A big problem now instead of a dozen smaller ones later. Bold.¡±


    ¡°Calculated,¡± he corrected, glancing back at her. ¡°Falk thinks I¡¯m giving him free rein. What I¡¯m really doing is shining a light in all the dark corners, forcing the Freeholders into the open. If it works, we clean up the mess and come out looking like heroes. If it doesn¡¯t...¡± he shrugged. ¡°Well, hopefully I can shift some of the blame to Falk.¡±


    Trask allowed himself another long moment of staring out at the station under his command before turning and striding over to his desk once again. Liera politely ignored the way the chair creaked under his weight. He grumbled at the reminder of his recently expanding waistline but pushed through in favour of mentally sorting through the measures he¡¯d need to put in place.


    If this was going to work¡ªand it had to work¡ªit would require more than just increased resources for Falk. The station¡¯s population needed to feel the pressure, to be reminded that any leniency they¡¯d enjoyed was a privilege, not a right. It was a delicate balance, of course; too much pressure and they¡¯d risk a backlash. But Trask had learned that fear, properly wielded, was as effective as any weapon.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need curfews,¡± he said, breaking the silence. ¡°Mandatory for all residential sectors, starting at¡­ let¡¯s say 1900 hours. Increased patrols, particularly around abandoned industrial and commercial zones. The lack of surveillance in those sectors was excellent for getting them to settle there in the first place, but now it¡¯s working against us.¡±


    Liera blinked in surprise but hurried to copy down the information anyway. ¡°Are you sure you want to make such large changes so quickly? It¡¯ll be more disruptive this way.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. It sends a message.¡± He tapped his fingers on the desk, his expression distant. ¡°The Freeholders are here, and they¡¯re not going away. Right now, they¡¯ll be scrambling ¨C they won¡¯t have expected this escalation any more than I did. If we give them any time to regroup, they¡¯ll dig themselves in and be all but impossible to remove. We need to hit them hard and fast. With that in mind¡­ instate checkpoints, too. ID verification for anyone travelling between sectors. And I want the patrols to have clear orders: zero tolerance for noncompliance.¡±


    Liera¡¯s note-taking stalled, and she stared at him in surprise. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ sir, don¡¯t you think this might backfire? The Freeholders have always enjoyed more popular support from the general population on worlds that employ stricter measures.¡±


    Trask raised an eyebrow at his secretary. That was an oddly knowledgeable comment on the social complexity of managing internal dissent. A moment later, Liera realised what she had said and flushed, looking down at her dataslate.


    ¡°Um. Sorry sir. I¡­ It¡¯s a bit of a hobby, looking into this stuff. I know it¡¯s weird.¡±


    ¡°Clearly,¡± Trask replied, allowing some of his amusement to bleed into his tone. Still, there wasn¡¯t much time for banter. He tapped a finger against the edge of his desk, straightening slightly. ¡°At the end of the day, there are very few benefits to leaving a potentially disruptive element alone,¡± he explained.


    ¡°Not to say there are no benefits ¨C sometimes it¡¯s simply the smarter play to ignore the smaller problems and focus on the bigger ones. The Freeholders didn¡¯t bother me before because their activities were minor, predictable, and, frankly, beneath my notice. Dealing with them would¡¯ve required more resources and goodwill than it was worth.¡±


    He gestured broadly, as if indicating the whole station. ¡°But now? The situation has already been disrupted. The only reason my communicator isn¡¯t swamped by every random official calling to demand answers is because I¡¯ve switched it off. The blackout has stirred the pot, scattered the Freeholders across the sectors, and put them in survival mode. If we leave them alone now, they¡¯ll adapt, dig in, and escalate. By the time we decide to deal with them, it¡¯ll be ten times the effort and cost.¡±


    Liera nodded slowly, her pen hovering over the slate. ¡°So this is more about damage control.¡±


    ¡°In part,¡± Trask said, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I¡¯d rather tear out the roots now, even if it means upsetting a few people, than wait for them to grow into something I can¡¯t easily pull.¡±


    Her pen resumed its quick, efficient strokes, but she hesitated after a moment, her brow furrowing. ¡°If I may, sir... why now? It¡¯s not like you to take such a direct approach.¡±


    The question was delivered lightly, almost as an afterthought, but Trask wasn¡¯t fooled.


    He folded his hands, considering her for a moment before responding. ¡°You¡¯ve worked with me long enough to know I prefer to keep things... manageable. But manageable doesn¡¯t mean ignoring the realities of the situation. The thing about instability, Liera, is that it¡¯s contagious. If the Freeholders make this station look vulnerable, it invites scrutiny¡ªfrom all sides. Falk¡¯s people. The corporate interests. The Ministry of Colonial Affairs.¡± He paused, letting the weight of those names hang in the air. ¡°That¡¯s not the kind of attention I can afford right now.¡±


    Her eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly before widening again in understanding. ¡°And here I thought you were happy with your assignment, sir,¡± she teased lightly, jumping to the obvious conclusion.


    There were very few explanations that would fit all the facts here ¨C the way he had been happy to avoid any sort of conflict before suddenly switching to heavy-hitting tactics.


    Unless, of course, he was more worried about how things looked than how they actually were. That was the sort of behaviour often found in more ambitious officers. The kind that were angling for very specific promotions, that were unhappy with their current duties in some ways.


    Hardly surprising for a man in his position. A Station Commander may hold a certain amount of power and influence, but it was heavily limited by the location of the station in question. To be assigned a station on a colony world? Not even a high-traffic colony world, either, but a mining colony? Well, even a sedentary commander might rediscover his ambition in a situation like that.


    That¡¯s why it made for the perfect excuse.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re so worried about Agent Falk poking around,¡± she continued in a tone of realisation. ¡°Imperial Intelligence poking around never looks good on a record, no matter why they¡¯re doing it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m worried about unnecessary disruption,¡± Trask corrected smoothly, making sure his tone held the correct amount of sarcasm. He let his gaze drift to the viewport again, as if pondering something far beyond the station¡¯s walls. ¡°This station is my responsibility. My legacy. I just want the people of this station to live as peacefully and productively as possible.¡±


    ¡°Of course, sir,¡± Liera winked, adjusting her dataslate. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure the men receive your orders loud and clear.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± He stood, adjusting his jacket and offering her a faint smile. ¡°I trust you to handle the details, Liera. You always do.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure, sir.¡±


    As she left, the door sliding shut behind her, Trask allowed himself a small chuckle. Liera would report to her usual contacts ¨C the ones she thought he didn¡¯t know about ¨C that he was tightening his grip on the station. She¡¯d probably frame it as a man realising he¡¯s in over his head and looking for an exit. Over the years of working together, she¡¯d gotten fond enough of him to present the information in a way that benefited him.


    Even when she thought she was working against him, she was, in her own way, helping him. It was almost endearing, in a treacherous sort of way.


    The particularly stupid might even buy that explanation. The smarter ones would suspect, of course, but they would also almost inevitably reach the same conclusion Liera herself had.


    Hardly their fault, really ¨C they were working with only half the picture.


    ¡®Let them wonder,¡¯ he thought, settling back into his chair. ¡®Let them see me as a man finally stepping into his role, if only from desperation and a desire to leave it all behind. By the time they realise how much I¡¯ve been playing them, it¡¯ll be too late.¡¯

 22. The Cost of Rebellion

    Chapter 22 - The Cost of Rebellion


    Darius lounged on the edge of his bunk, flicking the cred-chip between his fingers. The smooth, reflective surface caught the dim light of his shared room.


    He hadn¡¯t quite managed to empty his account ¨C mostly because he was limited by the maximum denomination of cred-chip that the dispensary stored. In this case, the most he could load onto any one card was two-and-a-half thousand credits. Hardly the end of the world ¨C he somehow doubted the three-hundred-odd credits he had left in his account would be the difference between success and failure.


    Even if it was, he could always do the same trick again.


    Darius had to admit, he hadn¡¯t expected success to feel so satisfying, but even now, hours later, he could barely keep the grin from his face. He¡¯d pulled it off. Not randomly, not through luck, not because he had no other options. Not even because the Freeholders helped him.


    He¡¯d done it because he wanted to.


    Sure, he couldn¡¯t have done it without Echo hacking the dispensary long enough for him to actually access his account, not to mention the AI helped him avoid cameras long enough to get to an abandoned sector where he could disappear, but it was still different than before. He¡¯d chosen to work with the AI, and that made all the difference.


    His musings were interrupted by a low murmur from the living room. It started faint, a ripple of voices that gradually grew louder. He frowned, sitting up and shoving the cred-chip into his pocket.


    By the time he¡¯d gotten back from ducking through abandoned buildings in an effort to shake off any potential pursuit, only Corin had still been out. Harlan, of course, hadn¡¯t left in the first place, and apparently all Lena had wanted was to duck down to the shops to buy some snacks.


    Tarek had gone for a longer wander but had still gotten back earlier than Darius himself. The time spent alone had released a fair amount of tension between everyone, so he was surprised to hear what sounded like an argument brewing already.


    Darius swung his legs off the bunk and wandered toward the common area, the low murmur of voices growing clearer with each step. He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering what could have set everyone off already. The others had barely exchanged more than a few words earlier, and the mood had seemed neutral enough when he¡¯d ducked into his room.


    As he approached, the sound sharpened into distinct voices, though none of them were particularly loud.


    ¡°You think they¡¯ll really enforce it everywhere?¡± Lena¡¯s voice carried a hint of unease, her usual cheeriness noticeably absent.


    ¡°Of course they will,¡± Tarek replied, his tone clipped. ¡°The Empire doesn¡¯t make idle threats. You know how this works ¨C they push until someone pushes back, and then they push harder.¡±


    Darius rounded the corner, leaning casually against the doorway.


    ¡°What did I miss?¡± he asked lightly.


    ¡°Great news!¡± Tarek replied sarcastically, gesturing to the tiny screen of what passed for an entertainment unit in this place.


    A stern-faced Imperial official filled the display, their voice calm but edged with authority. ¡°...to ensure order and security in light of recent disturbances. Effective immediately, all non-essential movement within residential sectors is restricted from 1900 to 0600 hours. Identification checkpoints will be established at all major thoroughfares, and compliance is mandatory.¡±


    The feed cut to footage of armoured Imperial patrols, already setting up temporary checkpoints and marching through the streets.


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing this is going to make things a lot harder for us,¡± Darius said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.


    ¡°Give the man a prize,¡± Tarek muttered, fingers tapping restlessly on the table.


    Behind them, Harlan strode out from his room with a grimace on his face. ¡°Is Corin back yet?¡± he asked sharply.


    ¡°No, haven¡¯t heard from him,¡± Lena replied, subdued.


    ¡°Is this normal?¡± Darius asked Harlan, waving a hand at the screen. ¡°Voss mentioned something about not seeing these kinds of reactions until later on in the ¡®process¡¯. Forgot to ask about what this ¡®process¡¯ actually is.¡±


    Harlan grimaced, and Darius thought he wouldn¡¯t answer for a second. ¡°Yes, this is something that we expect, but not this quick.¡± When nobody looked satisfied with that answer, he heaved a sigh and pulled out a chair for himself. ¡°Look, the Freeholders have been around for a while now. This isn¡¯t the first world we¡¯ve had a presence on, not by a long shot. Over time, we¡¯ve developed a process,¡± he put emphasis on the word, ¡°of getting rid of the Empire. It doesn¡¯t always work, but it usually does.¡±


    ¡°So, it¡¯s like a master plan?¡± Lena asked, perking up.


    ¡°Something like that,¡± Harlan chuckled at her enthusiasm. ¡°A better way to describe it might be a general set of guidelines to follow more than a plan. The Empire doesn¡¯t encourage creativity from its commanders. Generally speaking, most of them are going to react the same way to the same set of circumstances. We¡¯ve learned to take advantage of that and develop our operations in specific ways that allow us the most time possible to grow without being detected, and once we are detected, we¡¯re able to make the most of every opportunity.¡±


    ¡°But this is different, isn¡¯t it?¡± Darius asked, not fooled by the casual way Harlan was saying all of this. Listening to him made it sound like everything was under control, that the Freeholders knew exactly what they were doing. But Darius hadn¡¯t forgotten Voss¡¯s comments, nor the stressed look on her face. If that was what it looked like when things were ¡®going to plan¡¯, he¡¯d hate to see what they called chaos.


    ¡°¡­Things are moving faster than usual,¡± Harlan admitted after a pause. ¡°It¡¯s not that we¡¯re seeing anything new; it¡¯s just¡­ out of order, you could say.¡±


    ¡°In what way?¡± This time, Tarek was asking uncomfortable questions.


    Harlan hesitated for a longer moment this time. ¡°Look,¡± he said finally, ¡°I understand that you¡¯re curious about how this works, but there¡¯s a reason you haven¡¯t been told this yet.¡± He held up his hands, warding off the offended looks he got for that. ¡°That said, things are not happening normally here, so I¡¯m willing to tell you some more. We¡¯ll wait until Corin gets back so I don¡¯t have to repeat myself.¡±


    Darius leaned back in his chair, satisfied. While he didn¡¯t expect Harlan would tell them everything about how this thing was going to work, any information would be helpful. While he was getting along with the Freeholders better than he expected, he hadn¡¯t forgotten that he was only here for one reason ¨C to get away from the Empire.


    The enemy of my enemy wasn¡¯t always a friend, after all.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    It didn¡¯t take long for everyone to settle into a patient sort of anticipation. On the one hand, there was nothing they could do about the new measure implemented by the Empire, but on the other hand, it felt like they needed to react somehow. Even if only by being prepared.


    The sound of the safehouse door opening drew their attention. Corin stepped inside, brushing a light coating of dust from his jacket.


    ¡°Thought you weren¡¯t coming back,¡± Lena quipped, though the relief in her voice was noticeable.


    ¡°Miss me already?¡± Corin shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Had to take a few detours. They¡¯re setting up checkpoints faster than I expected. Had to double back twice to avoid being scanned.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    That brought a frown to Harlan¡¯s face. ¡°How bad is it?¡±


    Corin moved further into the room, leaning his weight against the back of a chair. ¡°Bad enough. They¡¯re not just setting up on the main routes¡ªthey¡¯ve got smaller alleys covered too. It¡¯s going to be a pain to move around from now on.¡±


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± Tarek muttered, crossing his arms.


    ¡°Better get used to it,¡± Corin added. ¡°This isn¡¯t a short-term thing. They¡¯ve got enough gear coming in to keep those checkpoints running for a while.¡±


    Harlan gestured to him. ¡°Sit down. We were just about to get into some details about how all this works.¡±


    Corin raised an eyebrow but obliged, settling into the chair. The others adjusted their seats, all of them unconsciously leaning in as Harlan shifted to address them.


    ¡°All right,¡± Harlan began, his voice steady. ¡°I mentioned earlier that the Freeholders have a process¡ªa way of going about things when it comes to kicking the Empire off a planet. It¡¯s not a foolproof plan, but it¡¯s something we¡¯ve refined over the years. You need to understand what it is and where we are in it, especially now that things are moving faster than we¡¯d like.¡±


    The older man folded his hands in front of him, pausing for a moment as if considering how to begin. ¡°It starts small,¡± he said. ¡°When we come to a new planet, we don¡¯t act right away. We take our time to get a feel for the place, the people. Every world is different. Some planets are fine under Imperial rule¡ªthey might not like it, but they¡¯ve made it work. In those cases, we leave. No sense starting trouble where it isn¡¯t wanted, and people won¡¯t thank us for needlessly disturbing their lives.¡±


    ¡°But if they do want the Empire gone?¡± Tarek asked, leaning forward.


    Harlan nodded. ¡°Then we dig in. Quietly, at first. We find sympathetic ears, people who can provide information or safe places to operate. Supplies, contacts, dead drops¡ªanything that gives us a foundation. We¡¯re not looking to fight yet. The goal at this stage is simple: make sure we can survive when things heat up.¡±


    ¡°Which they always do,¡± Corin said dryly, leaning back in his chair.


    ¡°They always do,¡± Harlan confirmed. ¡°That¡¯s the phase we¡¯re supposed to be in now. Taking things slow and steady, not rocking the boat, but preparing. It¡¯s slow work, but it¡¯s necessary. The Empire doesn¡¯t notice¡ªor if they do, they think it¡¯s just the usual smuggling or minor resistance that comes with ruling a place.¡±


    ¡°And once you¡¯re prepared?¡± Darius asked intently.


    ¡°Then we escalate,¡± Harlan said, his voice growing sharper. ¡°Not enough to be seen as a real threat, but enough to test the waters. Small thefts, minor disruptions. Things that inconvenience the Empire without drawing too much attention. It lets us gather more resources and recruit more people. And it starts to get under their skin.¡±


    ¡°Is that kinda like the job we did on the records building?¡± Lena asked curiously.


    ¡°Eh, sort of,¡± Harlan replied, waggling a hand in a so-so motion. ¡°That was a little out of the ordinary itself, but close enough. Generally speaking, we¡¯d keep things a little lower-key than that ¨C the records building might not have been terribly important, but it was an official Imperial administrative site. That attracts more attention than we would usually bother with, but the Empire had started to escalate by then anyway, so it was worth doing.¡±


    Darius leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to digest the information. Having it all spelled out so bluntly was a little confronting. He¡¯d gone from thinking the Freeholders were a useless group that got his brother killed, to thinking they weren¡¯t as bad as he thought and it might not have been their fault, to now learning that everything was part of some larger plan to systematically disrupt the Empire.


    He resisted the urge to groan. Why did everything have to be this complicated? All he wanted was to be left alone to live his life out.


    ¡°Speaking of escalation, how does that usually go?¡± Corin asked, more interested than Darius had seen before.


    Harlan spread his hands. ¡°It¡¯s predictable. They increase patrols, crack down on anyone who steps out of line. Curfews, checkpoints, more surveillance. They want to show the populace they¡¯re in control.¡±


    ¡°Which only makes the populace hate them more,¡± Lena said, catching on. ¡°It¡¯s a cycle.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Harlan said with a small smile. ¡°That¡¯s when we move to the next phase. We escalate again¡ªbigger targets, more visible actions. We start hitting supply depots, industrial facilities, anything that hurts their ability to keep the planet running smoothly. And all the while, we¡¯re using their crackdowns as propaganda. The more oppressive they get, the more people join us.¡±


    ¡°And if they don¡¯t?¡± Darius asked, his tone cutting through the growing enthusiasm in the room. ¡°If people don¡¯t join you?¡±


    Harlan¡¯s gaze turned to him, steady but unreadable. ¡°Then we adapt,¡± he said. ¡°This process isn¡¯t about forcing people to fight. It¡¯s about giving them the chance to stand up when they¡¯re ready. If they¡¯re not ready, we scale back. Move slower. We don¡¯t want to create chaos for the sake of it.¡±


    Darius wasn¡¯t entirely convinced. Everything Harlan said sounded measured, calculated even, but there was no denying that the Freeholders were attempting to deliberately engineer conflict in order to attain their goals.


    ¡°What happens after the industrial targets?¡± Lena asked, breaking the silence.


    ¡°That¡¯s when we start going for the big hits,¡± Harlan said. ¡°Military assets, supply convoys, key personnel. We want to make it impossible for the Empire to maintain control without pouring in massive resources. And by that point, the population is usually ready to rise up. Once the riots start, the Empire has a choice: stay and fight a war they can¡¯t win, or leave.¡±


    ¡°And they usually leave,¡± Corin said, his tone neutral.


    Harlan inclined his head. ¡°More often than not. The Empire isn¡¯t built to handle long-term unrest. It¡¯s not cost-effective for them. Especially for a world like Caldera IV ¨C what do they get here that they can¡¯t get from a dozen other worlds in greater quantities with half the effort?¡±


    Tarek grinned. ¡°So, we push them until it¡¯s not worth the trouble.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the idea,¡± Harlan said with a rueful smile.


    The room fell silent as everybody processed the information. ¡°Wait, hang on,¡± Darius said suddenly, ¡°How do you guys not already know this?¡± he asked, gesturing at Corin, Tarek, and Lena. ¡°Obviously, I didn¡¯t know how the Freeholders operated, but haven¡¯t you been with them for years?¡± He turned to Lena. ¡°Wasn¡¯t Harlan saying you¡¯ve been with them for a decade?¡±


    Lena shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat at being made the centre of attention. ¡°I mean, sure, technically I¡¯ve been a Freeholder for ten years,¡± she confirmed, ¡°But it¡¯s not like they send kids to worlds like this, where the Empire is still in charge.¡±


    ¡°Besides, you don¡¯t think we just pack up and leave once the Empire¡¯s finally been kicked off a world, do you?¡± Harlan broke in lightly. ¡°Most Freeholders are just¡­ normal people, living their lives free from the Empire. It¡¯s only a tiny fraction that are willing to travel to new worlds and help out there.¡±


    That seemed to satisfy the others. Tarek leaned back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully, while Lena offered a tentative smile, looking relieved that her lack of experience wasn¡¯t seen as a flaw. Corin, as ever, appeared content to let the conversation wind down.


    Darius, on the other hand, wasn¡¯t feeling particularly satisfied.


    He kept his expression carefully neutral, but his mind churned. The more Harlan talked about their so-called ¡°process,¡± the more glaring the cracks became. Sure, it was clever¡ªhe¡¯d give them that. Systematic, methodical, and designed to exploit the Empire¡¯s weaknesses. But it was also ruthless. Manipulative. Maybe even downright cruel.


    What Harlan hadn¡¯t said ¨C but what seemed evident to Darius ¨C was that the Freeholders weren¡¯t just liberating worlds. They were deliberately making those worlds worse before they got better, fanning the flames of misery and then pointing the desperate and angry at the Empire like a loaded gun. It was smart, sure. It was also the kind of plan someone came up with when they didn¡¯t have to live through the fallout themselves.


    Darius leaned back, keeping his posture loose as he watched the others. Tarek and Lena were fully on board. Corin seemed harder to read, but there was a certain ease to the way he listened that suggested he wasn¡¯t about to raise any objections. Of course they were fine with it; they¡¯d signed up for this. Hell, they probably believed in it, down to their bones.


    Darius hadn¡¯t signed up for anything.


    The Freeholders might have helped him out of a tight spot, but that didn¡¯t mean he owed them anything. And the more he heard about their grand plan, the less inclined he felt to stick around.


    Sure, the Empire wasn¡¯t exactly a paragon of virtue. He¡¯d grown up under its shadow and seen firsthand how oppressive it could be. Even just looking at the number of fines he¡¯d been slapped with was enough for him to dislike them, not to mention his stint in prison.


    But for all its faults, it had a kind of stability to it. Darius was honest enough to realise that he had what a teacher had once referred to as a ¡®disruptive personality¡¯. Most normal people could live their lives without too much interference as long as they kept their heads down. The Freeholders, on the other hand, seemed hell-bent on blowing everything up ¨C sometimes literally, by the sounds of it ¨C and damn the consequences.


    Darius resisted the urge to sigh. He could already see how this was going to play out. From what Harlan had described, the process was supposed to be measured, calculated. But they weren¡¯t following the process, were they? Things were already moving faster than expected, spiralling out of control. The curfews, the checkpoints ¨C that wasn¡¯t supposed to happen yet. It didn¡¯t matter if it was related to his situation or not; the Empire was reacting too quickly, and the Freeholders weren¡¯t ready for it.


    And where, exactly, did that leave him?


    I need to get off this ride.


    That thought came unbidden, but once it was there, it refused to leave. The Freeholders weren¡¯t his people. They weren¡¯t his cause. And if he stuck with them, he¡¯d end up swept along in their spiral of escalation, caught in a war he didn¡¯t ask for and didn¡¯t want to fight.


    The problem was he didn¡¯t have any other options. Not yet. The Empire would still be hunting him, Echo was still stuck in his head, slowly turning him into a vegetable, and it wasn¡¯t like he could just waltz back to his old life and pretend none of this had happened.


    For now, he was stuck.


    But that didn¡¯t mean he had to stay stuck.


    Darius leaned back a little further, letting the conversation wash over him without really listening. His mind was already working, running through possibilities and half-formed ideas. He didn¡¯t have a plan yet, but that was fine. Plans were overrated anyway.


    What mattered was figuring out his next move. Because one way or another, he wasn¡¯t going to let himself get dragged any deeper into this mess. He¡¯d find a way out.


    He always did.

 23. A Death You Choose

    Chapter 23 - A Death You Choose


    The streets of Sector 17 were alive with the muted hum of a million lives crammed into a sprawling network of streets and pre-fab buildings. The rain had turned everything slick, reflecting the glint of neon signs advertising cheap food and cheaper escapes. Overhead, drones buzzed through the air, quickly swallowed by the hiss of a maglev train shooting past.


    Darius pulled his hood tighter against the drizzle, casting a wary glance at the nearby checkpoint. It wasn¡¯t particularly intimidating ¨C the logistics of blocking off the hundreds of access points between sectors meant that each checkpoint was little more than some temporary barriers, a couple of vehicles, and a half-dozen Imperial enforcers.


    It wasn¡¯t designed to stop an army, just to keep people in.


    ¡°So,¡± Lena¡¯s voice crackled over his comms, ¡°What¡¯s the verdict?¡±


    Darius cast a glance over at his companion for this outing to see if he would respond. Corin smiled politely, gesturing wordlessly for him to take the lead. The other man was hunched a little to disguise his height and wearing a worn old jacket with the collar turned up against the rain. Combined with his generally quiet demeanour and average build, Darius knew that he could disappear in a crowd in seconds.


    He let his gaze linger on the checkpoint for a moment longer before turning away, leading them down a narrower side street. The air here smelled faintly of ozone and wet concrete. ¡°Not great,¡± he admitted. ¡°They¡¯re focusing on sector-to-sector traffic. Every checkpoint we¡¯ve seen is basically identical ¨C we could bust through if we really needed to, but not without tripping a dozen alarms.¡±


    ¡°Tch, figures,¡± Lena muttered distractedly. ¡°Tarek and Harlan are both reporting the same thing. Looks like we¡¯ll be operating in this sector for the foreseeable future, then.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that dangerous?¡± Darius asked, more for the sake of making conversation than anything else. ¡°Make it easier for them to track us down?¡±


    ¡°Sure, in theory,¡± Lena replied breezily. ¡°But keep in mind that this is a residential sector ¨C there¡¯s something like three million people living here. As long as we¡¯re careful, we can hide in the crowds and never be found.¡±


    ¡°Worth remembering that we¡¯re not the only Freeholder cell in operation,¡± Corin chimed in casually. ¡°It¡¯s not like the Empire is going to be focusing on us exclusively.¡±


    Darius frowned, his boots squelching in a puddle as they navigated the dimly lit side street. ¡°Alright, so what are we supposed to do, then? This is a residential sector. Not exactly brimming with prime targets.¡±


    Corin tilted his head, considering. ¡°That depends on how creative we¡¯re feeling. The obvious options are patrols ¨C plenty of those wandering around, and they¡¯re poorly equipped for urban operations. We hit a few, and the message spreads.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be escalating too quickly?¡± Lena asked over the comms, curious. ¡°Not to mention that we wouldn¡¯t actually get much out of it.


    Corin shrugged. ¡°Possibly. But we¡¯re going to reach that point eventually anyway, and it¡¯s not like the Empire isn¡¯t escalating themselves. Supply convoys are another option ¨C military ones will be too well protected for us to hit alone, but the civilian ones will be vulnerable.¡±


    ¡°Uh, woah, I don¡¯t know how comfortable I am with going after anything that would affect innocent people,¡± Darius interjected. ¡°Attacking an Imperial patrol or whatever, sure ¨C they know what they signed up for. But civilians?¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t going to be hurting them,¡± Corin assured calmly. ¡°The larger companies are all insured against loss like this, so all the drivers will get is a cool story to tell their friends, and the company will claim everything back. Don¡¯t get me wrong ¨C there¡¯s no such thing as a truly victimless crime, but this is about as close as you can get.¡±


    ¡°Still feels a little too close to the line,¡± Darius muttered, stepping around a wide puddle that reflected the warped glow of a neon holo-sign advertising something uncomfortably cheerful. ¡°But I get what you¡¯re saying.¡±


    Corin nodded as they turned a corner into a narrower street lined with stalls. The makeshift market smelled of fried food and damp cardboard, the vendors huddled under tarps as they called out half-hearted pitches to the thin crowd. A woman sold steaming bowls of noodles from a counter that looked like it had been cobbled together from scrap, while a man nearby gestured toward a rack of old-fashioned clothes, his sales patter drowned out by the hiss of a maglev train passing overhead.


    This kind of pop-up market was a depressingly familiar sight. The thing about wealth distribution was that it got worse the more the Empire expanded. The rich went from owning mansions to owning moons, while the poor¡­ well, the poor basically stayed right where they were. Some things had gotten cheaper and more convenient, sure, but never the things that mattered.


    Darius was uncomfortably reminded that his situation could always get worse.


    ¡°If you¡¯re really interested in sticking to Imperial targets, there¡¯s always the garrison,¡± Corin continued after a few minutes. ¡°Significantly more fortified and a lot more dangerous, but the rewards are commensurate. They¡¯ll have weapons, armour, tactical maps ¨C things that might come in handy here, or elsewhere. The trick is finding the right time to hit it, preferably when they¡¯re running a skeleton crew.¡±


    ¡°You know, Corin, you¡¯re... disturbingly good at this.¡± Lena chimed in before Darius could respond. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were any more experienced than Tarek and I, but you¡¯re talking like you¡¯ve been doing this for years.¡±


    Corin let out a soft laugh, though it didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°Everyone has their talents.¡±


    He didn¡¯t elaborate further.


    ¡°Right, well¡­ Harlan and Tarek are headed back now, so you guys should probably do the same.¡± Lena seemed happy enough to drop the topic.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± Darius said, eyeing his companion curiously. ¡°See you soon.¡±


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    ¡°We¡¯re attacking the Imperial Garrison,¡± Tarek cheered as Darius and Corin walked through the front door of the safehouse.


    They shared a startled glance and a moment of mutual confusion. ¡°Sorry, what? I feel like you¡¯ve skipped a few steps there,¡± Darius managed to respond as he shrugged his way out of his jacket. ¡°Like, maybe all of them.¡±


    ¡°Ignore him; he¡¯s being dramatic,¡± called Lena from the living room.


    ¡°He¡¯s also being very loud, considering we¡¯re supposed to be laying low.¡± Harlan chastised pointedly.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Tarek said, not sounding very sorry.


    Darius and Corin entered the living room to find Harlan leaning over the table, examining what appeared to be a rudimentary map, tapping occasionally at a nearby dataslate. Lena was on one couch, looking a little nervous and doing something on her own slate, while Tarek was all but bouncing around the room.


    ¡°Anyone care to explain?¡± Darius didn¡¯t quite demand.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Right, take a seat,¡± Harlan said, pulling himself up from his map and crossing his arms. ¡°Tarek and I spotted something unusual on our scouting run. We were passing by the garrison, hoping to confirm troop movements or maybe glean something from their usual supply flow. What we saw was... different. More vehicles than usual, mostly cargo transports, but a lot of extra personnel too. We think this garrison is being used as a logistical hub for the area.¡±


    Corin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Makes sense. If they¡¯re serious about locking down sector-to-sector traffic, they¡¯d need somewhere central to store and distribute supplies.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Harlan said, voice grim. ¡°That means there are significantly more resources at that garrison than usual¡ªammo, weapons, maybe even tactical intel. It¡¯s a tempting target.¡±


    ¡°By the sound of things, they¡¯re going to have significantly more enforcers there as well,¡± Darius pointed out warily. ¡°If anything, this is more reason to avoid the place than anything else.¡±


    Harlan inclined his head. ¡°That¡¯s the trade-off. This would be a significantly more dangerous mission than we¡¯ve done before. It¡¯s also not something we¡¯ll be hitting tomorrow ¨C or even next week. If we go after it, we need to be sure. That means studying patrol schedules, figuring out when their forces rotate, and knowing exactly what¡¯s in those cargo containers. We don¡¯t strike unless the payoff justifies the risk.¡±


    Tarek, still brimming with enthusiasm, leaned over the table. ¡°But come on, think about it! If we hit them hard enough, we¡¯d throw their entire checkpoint system into chaos. It¡¯d give every Freeholder in the area a chance to regroup and hit back.¡±


    Darius settled back into his chair as Tarek and Lena started bickering about risks and payoffs. Corin seemed happy to quietly consider the proposal by himself ¨C and judging by the man¡¯s insights on possible targets, Darius was inclined to pay attention to his opinion once he shared it.


    For Darius himself¡­ well, he wasn¡¯t blind to the fact that his brother had been killed planting a bomb at an Imperial garrison. The thought that it may well have been similar, if not the same, circumstances had him feeling¡­ he didn¡¯t even know how he felt.


    Part of him felt that this was something close to poetic justice. A chance from the universe for him to continue his brother¡¯s mission, see it through. Succeed in his honour.


    The other part mostly just felt sick.


    That part of him remembered the sinking feeling in his stomach as the Imperial officers pounded on the front door of his family home, coldly informing them that they were under suspicion of collusion with dissident elements.


    It remembered the confusion on his sister¡¯s face as she struggled to come to terms with it. It remembered parent¡¯s lost expressions as they realised they would never see their son again.


    {I¡¯m detecting increased adrenaline and cortisol levels,} Echo¡¯s voice broke through the haze, crackling through his augs. {Is something wrong?}


    Darius swallowed hard, rising from his chair and heading for the privacy of his room in a rush.


    {Darius?} Echo pressed as he crossed the short hallway and slipped inside.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing you need to worry about,¡± Darius muttered, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it for a moment, trying to push down the memories clawing at the edges of his mind.


    {You are clearly distressed,} Echo pressed, its tone somehow managing to convey concern despite its flat, mechanical timbre. {If something is affecting your judgment or emotional state, it may impair your ability to operate effectively.}


    ¡°I said it¡¯s none of your business!¡± Darius snapped, louder than he intended. He flinched at the sound of his own voice, then groaned, dragging a hand down his face. ¡°Sorry. Just¡­ back off, alright?¡±


    Echo didn¡¯t respond immediately, giving him a brief reprieve to collect himself. But the silence didn¡¯t last long.


    {While I do not mean to press if the subject is sensitive, many mental health experts indicate that sharing your problems is the first step to fixing¡ª}


    ¡°Fine!¡± Darius barked, cutting the AI off mid-sentence. He threw himself onto the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. ¡°If it¡¯ll get you off my damn back. You want to know what¡¯s wrong? My brother died because of a plan just like this one. That¡¯s what¡¯s wrong.¡±


    Echo paused for a beat, as if processing the weight of the statement. {Please elaborate.}


    Darius sighed, scrubbing at his face again before lacing his fingers behind his head, suddenly exhausted. ¡°He was with the Freeholders too. Or something like them, anyway; he never told me the specifics. Same cause, same ideas. Thought he could make a difference by fighting back. Imperial forces shot him as he was planting a bomb near an exterior wall. Tore my family apart.¡±


    {This is why the current plan troubles you,} Echo concluded. {You fear history will repeat itself.}


    ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned, it already has,¡± Darius laughed bitterly. ¡°Maybe I get through this mission fine, but fighting against the Empire only ever ends one way.¡±


    {Perhaps it would be best to avoid the situation entirely?} Echo suggested.


    ¡°Heh. Don¡¯t know if you noticed, but I¡¯m not exactly swimming in options here. Even if I wasn¡¯t being hunted by the Empire, you¡¯re still a ticking time bomb in my head.¡±


    There was a long moment of silence. {For what it is worth, I do regret how my actions have led to this situation.}


    ¡°¡­Thanks,¡± Darius said dryly. Apologies were nice, but useless without action. ¡°Worst thing is, the garrison idea will help us out as well. They¡¯ll have a bunch of security and surveillance drones ¨C nothing bipedal, but the parts themselves will be useful. Higher quality than what we could easily get, to boot.¡±


    Before Echo could reply, a knock sounded at the door. Darius stiffened, his hand instinctively twitching toward the pistol still tucked into his waistband, the motion almost surprising him. Since when was his first reaction to go for a weapon?


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± Harlan¡¯s voice called through the door. ¡°Got a minute?¡±


    Darius exhaled, scrubbing a hand over his face. ¡°Yeah, come in.¡±


    Harlan stepped inside, his usual calm demeanour intact, though his gaze lingered on Darius for a beat longer than usual. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it with his arms crossed.


    ¡°You looked like you needed some air back there,¡± he said finally. ¡°Figured I¡¯d check in.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Darius replied, a little too quickly. He hated how transparent it sounded, even to himself.


    Harlan raised an eyebrow, his arms crossing over his chest. ¡°You sure about that?¡±


    Darius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. ¡°Why does everyone feel the need to ask me about my feelings today?¡±


    Harlan smirked faintly. ¡°Maybe because you¡¯re walking around like someone just kicked your dog. Look, I¡¯m not here to play therapist ¨C whatever you¡¯re dealing with is frankly none of my business. I just need to know where your head¡¯s at. Things are starting to heat up around here quicker than anyone expected. I know I gave you an opportunity to back out when we first met, and you didn¡¯t take it. Situations changed enough since then that I figure it¡¯s worth making the offer again.¡±


    The man held up a hand preemptively. ¡°Not saying we don¡¯t want you on board ¨C cause we do. You didn¡¯t freeze when the bullets started flying, and you helped out more than you probably know when that VI of yours hacked into the records systems. But there¡¯s a difference between keeping your cool when someone shoots at you, and a whole other thing to be the one doing the shooting. If you¡¯re not fully on board, that¡¯s fine, but now¡¯s the time to say so.¡±


    Darius hesitated, staring down at his hands. Part of him wanted to lash out, tell Harlan to back off, but the other part - the part he wasn¡¯t ready to name - knew Harlan had a point. He needed to figure out what he was doing here, one way or another.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he admitted finally, his voice quieter than he intended. ¡°I hate the Empire as much as anyone here. More, maybe. But¡­ I¡¯ve seen what happens to people who try to fight back. I¡¯ve lived through it. It¡¯s pointless.¡±


    Harlan exhaled through his nose, his expression softening slightly. ¡°So that¡¯s it, then? You think we¡¯re wasting our time?¡±


    Darius shook his head. ¡°Not wasting it, exactly. But the cost¡­¡± He trailed off, staring at a crack in the wall. ¡°The cost is too damn high.¡±


    Harlan pushed off the doorframe, taking a few slow steps into the room. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong about the cost,¡± he said, his voice quieter now. ¡°We¡¯ve all lost people. Friends. Family. Sometimes, I lie awake at night wondering if we¡¯ll ever see the other side of this fight. But the way I see it, the alternative is worse. Sitting back, keeping your head down, hoping they don¡¯t notice you? That¡¯s just another kind of death.¡±


    Darius met his gaze, something sharp and defiant flickering in his chest. ¡°Maybe. But at least it¡¯s a death you choose.¡±


    Harlan regarded him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. ¡°Fair enough. I won¡¯t try to change your mind. But I need to know¡ªare you in or out? No half-measures.¡±


    Darius opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, the words catching in his throat. The silence stretched, his thoughts racing as he turned the question over and over. Finally, he sighed, a decision crystallising in his chest.


    ¡°I¡¯m never going to be a Freeholder,¡± he said carefully. ¡°But I¡¯ll help you out. For my own reasons.¡±


    Harlan¡¯s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn¡¯t interrupt.


    ¡°I need parts,¡± Darius continued, crossing his arms. ¡°When we hit the garrison, I get first pick of the drones and their systems. Don¡¯t ask me what for. Just know I¡¯m not sticking around forever. As long as I¡¯m here, I¡¯ll pull my weight, but this isn¡¯t permanent.¡±


    Harlan nodded slowly, a flicker of understanding crossing his face. ¡°I can work with that. You¡¯re not the first we¡¯ve worked with who¡¯s thinking that way. As long as you¡¯re honest and useful, we don¡¯t have a problem.¡±


    Darius relaxed, though the tension in his shoulders didn¡¯t completely fade. ¡°Thanks. And¡­ I¡¯ll do my best not to screw this up.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Harlan stepped toward the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here, even if it¡¯s just for now. Sometimes, it¡¯s the people on the edges who make the biggest difference.¡±


    Darius huffed a quiet laugh. ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll see about that.¡±

 24. Perspective and Principles

    Chapter 24 - Perspective and Principles


    Darius lay prone on the warped floor of an empty apartment, the cold seeping through his jacket as he peered out of the shattered window. It felt like no matter how he shifted, there was always something digging into his side.


    The frigid air drifted in through the window, a reminder of the planet¡¯s thin atmosphere and its stubborn refusal to hold any natural warmth. The view was dizzying¡ªbelow, layers upon layers of urban life descended into a chaotic tangle of cramped streets and flickering neon.


    The Imperial garrison was located closer to the heart of the residential sector, ostensibly so that response times would be as low as possible. Unlike the edges of the sector, here, the buildings stretched upwards instead of outwards.


    Darius had always thought it was an odd design choice ¨C pockets of skyscrapers at the heart of each sector, with the average height of the buildings gradually getting lower the further you travelled from the centre. Then again, he was hardly a city planner, so presumably there was a good reason for it.


    For all their size, these mega-complexes were often riddled with empty apartments, a natural consequence of a world where construction was cheaper than occupancy. Still, it worked in their favour. It hadn¡¯t taken long for Harlan and Lena to find the perfect vantage point¡ªan abandoned unit with an unobstructed line of sight to the garrison below.


    From here, he could see all the way across to Exeter Station¡¯s main shipyard, where he worked what felt like a lifetime ago. It was oddly nostalgic seeing it now.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± Lena¡¯s voice broke through the stillness. They had decided to watch the garrison in rotating pairs, making sure they had eyes on it constantly. It might make sense to do things this way, but that didn¡¯t make it any easier to deal with the boredom. Not to mention the unspoken tension in the air.


    Darius didn¡¯t look back. ¡°Don¡¯t get what?¡±


    ¡°Why you don¡¯t care.¡± She shifted slightly, and he could hear the tension in her movements. ¡°You hate the Empire. I¡¯ve seen it. I know it. So why not join us? Why not fight?¡±


    Darius sighed. Apparently, the tension wasn¡¯t going to remain unspoken. Telling the others about his decision to act as more of a contractor/mercenary instead of properly joining the cause hadn¡¯t exactly gone down well. It was a necessary step, he knew, but that didn¡¯t make it any easier.


    Tarek was opening derisive, stopping just short of calling him a coward but making sure that the concept was conveyed quite clearly. Corin took the news fairly well, actually ¨C not to say that the man was happy with his decision or anything, just that he seemed to understand.


    Lena¡­ Lena was hurt. Even in the short time he¡¯d known her, it was obvious she was the kind of person who got attached quickly. She believed in people, in causes, in doing what was right¡ªand she¡¯d believed in him too, at least for a little while. His decision to stay on the fringes, to work with the Freeholders but not become one of them, clearly felt like a betrayal of the values she held closest.


    He sighed again. This conversation was not going to be easy. ¡°I never said I didn¡¯t care. I just don¡¯t believe in throwing myself into a fight I can¡¯t win.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a load of crap,¡± Lena said bluntly, her words cutting through the frigid air like a blade. ¡°If everyone thought like that, the Empire would roll over everyone without a fight. People have to stand up to them. It¡¯s the only way things change.¡±


    Darius pushed himself into a seated position, leaning against the window frame. He met her gaze for the first time, seeing both the frustration and the hurt behind her words. ¡°I hate to be the one to break it to you, Lena, but the Empire already has rolled over everyone without a fight. Hell, they didn¡¯t even really need to ¨C the Empire is the only reason colonies like this exist in the first place.¡±


    He raised a hand, forestalling her objections. ¡°I¡¯m not saying that everyone should just give up, or even that there¡¯s no point in fighting at all. Maybe I¡¯m wrong, and if enough people got together, they could change the system. I¡¯m just saying I¡¯m not willing to throw my life away for a future that may or may not ever happen.¡±


    Lena blinked, taken aback. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ selfish.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Darius said, shrugging slightly. ¡°It is. But it¡¯s the truth. Everyone dies, Lena. It¡¯s the one thing you can count on. A cause won¡¯t save you, and it won¡¯t stop some Imperial grunt from ending you on a whim. The only choice you get is how you live before that happens.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s how you want to live?¡± Lena shot back, standing to begin pacing across the room. ¡°Alone? Running away from anything that matters, anything that could help others?¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± he asked, not rising to the provocation. ¡°Running away, that is? I¡¯m here. I¡¯m helping. I¡¯m even going to be helping out going forward; the only difference is that at the end of it all, I¡¯ll have gotten something in return for my time and effort.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s what this is all about, then. Money,¡± she said, her voice quieter now.


    ¡°And what¡¯s wrong with money?¡± Darius countered, not bothering to mention that he technically was working for parts, not money. ¡°You think people go to work for the joy of it? Everybody needs to survive, Lena, that¡¯s just life. When you really think about it, even you¡¯re getting paid by the Freeholders ¨C it¡¯s just in terms of supplies and equipment. You think these fancy new optics are cheap? They certainly don¡¯t sell implants that can subvert security systems from the corner store. That¡¯s an investment, and in return, they expect you to fight and maybe even die for them. I¡¯m just being more upfront about the whole process.¡±


    Lena didn¡¯t have an immediate response to that. ¡°That¡¯s a pretty cynical way to look at the world,¡± she settled on.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Darius admitted. ¡°But it¡¯s not about being cynical ¨C it¡¯s about being realistic. I¡¯ve seen what happens to people who live for someone else¡¯s dream. My brother died for the Freeholders, or something like them. You think it made a difference? It didn¡¯t. The Empire¡¯s still here. My family got torn apart. And the only thing his sacrifice accomplished was teaching me that I don¡¯t want to go out the same way.¡±


    Lena looked away, her gaze drifting to the cracked window. For a long moment, she said nothing. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, more introspective. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can understand that. Not completely.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to,¡± Darius replied. ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to agree with me. But I¡¯m asking you to accept it. This is how I¡¯ve decided to live my life. And just because I don¡¯t see the world the same way you do doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t work together.¡±


    With nothing more to say, Darius settled back down by the cracked window. The chill of the warped floor pressed against his chest as he brought the binoculars to his eyes again.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    {Your perspective is¡­ pragmatic,} Echo¡¯s voice broke the quiet, crackling in his head. {Yet it does seem to reflect a narrow scope. The mark of a truly advanced species lies in its ability to cooperate and rally around ideals greater than individual survival. While your approach minimises risk, it also forfeits the potential rewards of collective action.}


    Darius let the binoculars sag as he stared flatly out into the distance. Great. Now the glorified calculator in his head was lecturing him on morality.


    Just what he needed.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Darius rubbed his hands together briskly, enjoying the heat washing over him from the safehouse¡¯s struggling environmental systems and briefly considering the merits of installing a portable heater in the abandoned apartment they were using as a lookout point. He dismissed the notion a moment later. His limited supply of credits might be burning a hole in his pocket, but frivolous spending was why he had so few credits to begin with.


    He snorted softly. With a bit of luck, this whole ¡®running from the law¡¯ thing might actually give him the motivation needed to kick some of his worse habits.


    Behind him, Lena sniffled a little as she kicked off her shoes and scurried over to stand under the vent spewing hot air into the apartment. Well, more like ¡®slightly warmer air¡¯, but it felt good anyway.


    ¡°Anything to report?¡± Harlan called from the living room.


    ¡°Nothing new,¡± Lena called back. ¡°Three patrols left a little later than usual, but as far as we could tell it¡¯s because the garrison was never designed to cater for so many extra enforcers.¡±


    ¡°Good news then,¡± Harlan said, poking his head into the short corridor leading to the front door. ¡°The more they fall behind schedule, the less attention they¡¯ll pay to inconsistencies.¡±


    Darius followed Lena into the living room, blinking in surprise as he saw what looked like a model of the garrison sitting on the table. Arts and crafts supplies were scattered haphazardly across the remaining available space.


    ¡°What is this, a school project?¡± he asked, amused.


    ¡°Planning,¡± Harlan retorted smoothly. ¡°This is a scale model, as accurate as we can manage.¡±


    Darius leaned closer, examining the model. It was fairly large, taking up the full width of the table. Sure enough, it seemed to be a fairly decent recreation of the building he¡¯d spent the last six hours watching, though the inside of the building was hollow and empty.


    From memory ¨C not to mention the rough measurements he¡¯d guestimated using the rangefinder built into the binoculars ¨C it looked like the model was built to scale. He raised an eyebrow and turned to Harlan.


    ¡°You know, they have these fancy new machines called ¡®dataslates¡¯,¡± he started sarcastically. ¡°Using some kind of wizardry, you can even make drawings on these newfangled things. I could show you later, if you like? Might end up with less glue in your hair.¡±


    ¡°Hilarious,¡± Harlan deadpanned back at him as Lena giggled in the background.


    ¡°Laugh all you want, but there¡¯s a reason I went to the trouble. A physical model gives you something tangible. You can walk around it, manipulate it, see things you might not catch on a dataslate. Besides,¡± he added with a smirk, ¡°not everyone¡¯s brain is wired to think in two dimensions. This makes it easier for the team to visualise what we¡¯re up against.¡±


    Darius snorted, picking up a stray glue applicator from the table and inspecting it mock-seriously.


    ¡°Right, because I¡¯m sure Corin¡¯s going to be staring at this thing, thinking ¡®Gee, I¡¯m glad we glued a cardboard turret here.¡¯¡± He dropped the glue stick and grabbed a dataslate from the cluttered couch. ¡°Echo, you awake? Got a little project for you.¡±


    {Always,} the AI replied in his mind. {What do you require?}


    ¡°Can you whip me up a detailed 3D model of the garrison? Scale, layers, patrol routes, vehicles¡ªeverything you can extrapolate from what we¡¯ve seen so far.¡±


    {Processing... Complete.}


    Darius blinked as the dataslate in his hand lit up, displaying a crisp, rotating model of the garrison in intricate detail. The outer walls gleamed faintly under the dataslate¡¯s glow, while tiny figures of patrolling enforcers moved in meticulously plotted paths. Even the cargo transports were represented, their trajectories and parked locations mapped out with helpful labels.


    Lena whistled low, leaning over his shoulder. ¡°Uh, wow. I keep forgetting your VI is so advanced.¡±


    Harlan¡¯s jaw tightened as he stared at the dataslate. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡±


    Darius grinned, holding up the slate so it rotated to display the front and rear gates. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Harlan. It¡¯s got fewer cardboard pieces, but it seems pretty functional. And look¡ªno glue in your hair!¡±


    Harlan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Lena outright cackled at his expense. He stepped back from the table, his posture somewhere between defeated and begrudgingly impressed. ¡°Fine. It¡¯s impressive. But I¡¯m not scrapping this thing,¡± he said, motioning to the model with a stubborn tilt of his chin. ¡°I¡¯ve already spent six hours building it, and I¡¯ll be damned if I let a glorified toaster make it obsolete.¡±


    Darius smirked, handing over the dataslate. ¡°Suit yourself, Picasso. Think of this as a reference, then. Unless you want to add moving parts to your version.¡±


    Harlan snatched the slate with a grumble but began studying it intently, looking between the screen and his model with a disgruntled expression on his face.


    ¡°Oh, before I forget,¡± he called before Darius or Lean could slip off to do their own thing. ¡°This works well for the outside view,¡± he said, gesturing at the model on the table and pointedly ignoring the dataslate in his hand, ¡°but we¡¯re going to need more than a visual layout if we want to hit the garrison cleanly. We¡¯ll need the actual floor plans.¡±


    Darius shared a glance with Lena. ¡°Uh, and how do you propose we do that? Can¡¯t imagine the Empire just leaves those lying around.¡±


    ¡°Actually, it¡¯s easier than you think,¡± Harlan replied. ¡°Keep in mind that this isn¡¯t some secret, off-the-book facility ¨C technically, any member of the public can just walk in the front door and get access to at least some of the building. The back rooms would be off limits,¡± he allowed, ¡°but you get the point. Regardless, the garrison wasn¡¯t built by the Empire itself. It would have been contracted out to a construction company. And construction companies? They keep detailed records. Permits, blueprints, that kind of thing. All the data we need.¡±


    Darius frowned dubiously. ¡°I don¡¯t think the construction company would be willing to just hand over the floorplans to any of their projects though,¡± he pointed out.


    Harlan and Lena shared a glance before giving him such a pitying look that he flushed without fully knowing why.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked defensively.


    ¡°Should we tell him?¡± Lena smirked.


    ¡°Maybe when he¡¯s older,¡± Harlan jibed.


    It took far longer than Darius was comfortable admitting for the penny to drop. ¡°Ah,¡± he said lamely.


    ¡°Yes, ah,¡± Harlan chuckled.


    ¡°In my defence, I haven¡¯t been a criminal for very long,¡± Darius muttered weakly. ¡°It¡¯s hardly surprising that breaking and entering isn¡¯t the first thing that I think of.¡±


    ¡°I think it¡¯s sweet!¡± Lena said brightly, not helping in the least.


    Darius groaned, dragging a hand over his face. ¡°Fantastic. Glad my naivety is so endearing to everyone.¡±


    Harlan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. ¡°Alright, enough bonding. Let¡¯s get to work. Lena, I need you to start digging into which construction company built this garrison. Once we know who¡¯s behind it, we can narrow down where they keep their records.¡±


    Lena saluted with exaggerated flair. ¡°On it, boss. Shouldn¡¯t take me too long¡ªthese big contractors love showing off their Imperial contracts. Good PR, terrible for staying off our radar.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Harlan said, turning his attention back to Darius, who already looked like he regretted staying in the room. ¡°As for you, once Lena finds the company and locates their offices, you¡¯ll be in charge of getting the actual information we need.¡±


    Darius blinked. ¡°Wait, what? I¡¯ll be in charge?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I said.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ I don¡¯t know anything about breaking into places!¡± Darius protested.


    Harlan leaned casually against the table, arms crossed. ¡°I know,¡± he said, not unkindly. ¡°But you wanted to be more of an independent contractor, didn¡¯t you? This is part of the deal. You get the freedom to pick your jobs and get paid for them to boot, but you¡¯re also expected to handle them with minimal outside help. Can¡¯t have it both ways.¡±


    Darius opened his mouth to protest, but Harlan raised a hand to cut him off. ¡°This is an opportunity, Darius. Low-risk, straightforward, and exactly the kind of mission you need to get your feet wet. Think of it as cutting your teeth. If you really need help, you¡¯re welcome to ask, but¡­ well, it¡¯s not going to look good on your resume, is all I¡¯m saying.¡±


    Darius gnawed on his lip as he mulled it over, finally slumping forward in defeat. ¡°Fine. But if I get arrested, I¡¯m putting you down as my emergency contact.¡±


    Lena snorted from across the room. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure we bake you a cake with a file in it.¡±


    ¡°Appreciated,¡± Darius muttered. ¡°Guess I¡¯d better go find my thermal gear. The only thing worse than breaking into a corporate office is doing it in the cold.¡±


    ¡°Spoken like a true professional,¡± Harlan said, grinning as Darius headed for the door. ¡°Good luck out there, contractor.¡±

 25. The Burden of Independence

    Chapter 25 - The Burden of Independence


    Unsurprisingly, finding the construction company that built the Imperial garrison turned out to be the easy part.


    There were two problems that Darius would have to solve in order to retrieve the relevant records that they needed. The first was obvious ¨C breaking into the company¡¯s office itself.


    At first, Darius had considered trying to bluff his way in somehow. It wasn¡¯t quite as stupid as it sounded ¨C by coincidence, he had actually done a fair amount of maintenance work on some of this company¡¯s larger construction vehicles. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to leverage repairing a large hauler¡¯s engines into accessing confidential records, but at least it gave him a foot in the door.


    Still, it hadn¡¯t taken him long to discard that method. The fact of the matter was that he just wasn¡¯t that good at talking his way into places. Unless you counted mouthing off to security guards as talking his way into prison, in which case he had plenty of experience.


    No, he would have to do this the old-fashioned way ¨C by breaking in at night. Naturally, that came with its own set of problems. Darius actually wasn¡¯t terribly worried about the break-in itself. An office like that wouldn¡¯t have any credits or valuable tools stored on the premises, so they wouldn¡¯t have invested much in security either. There would doubtlessly be an alarm system he¡¯d like to try to bypass if only to give himself more time, and possibly a camera or two, but, well¡­


    He was already a known criminal anyway. What were they going to do, try to throw him in prison harder?


    No, the real problem was getting to the office in the first place.


    The construction company¡¯s office wasn¡¯t tucked away in the sprawling chaos of the residential sector ¨C it was located deep in one of the industrial sectors that dotted the station. Even worse, the company was successful enough to be located fairly close to the heart of the station, where the wealthier companies, corporations, and private citizens gathered. Getting there would mean passing through two different sectors and at least three checkpoints.


    The timing was another issue. Breaking in during the day was a nonstarter. The office might not have top-tier security, but there were always enough people around to notice someone fiddling with a door or trying to bypass an alarm panel. Night, however, brought its own complications.


    Curfew meant the streets would be empty except for Imperial patrols and the occasional authorised transport. Anyone caught out after hours without the right credentials ¨C and Darius definitely didn¡¯t have the right credentials ¨C would be tossed in a holding cell first, and asked questions never. Worse, the lack of crowd cover would leave him a sitting duck. He wouldn¡¯t just be easier to spot ¨C he¡¯d be impossible to miss.


    Darius leaned back in his chair, sighing explosively. ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll admit it. I¡¯m stumped,¡± he said aloud.


    {It may help to lay out your problems in a clear and concise manner,} Echo smoothly responded. {They say that a problem clearly identified is a problem half solved.}


    Darius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Whose ¡®they¡¯?¡±


    {That particular saying is often attributed to Charles Kettering, an inventor from the 1900¡¯s. He was a prolific¡ª}


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t really need the full history lesson, thanks,¡± Darius said hurriedly. He already knew from the AI¡¯s lessons on building a frame that Echo would cheerfully provide incredible amounts of information on relatively useless topics.


    {Of course. We should focus on your problem,} Echo said, unoffended. {What is it you are ¡®stumped¡¯ about?}


    ¡°Everything,¡± Darius complained. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I¡¯m going to get to this stupid office, how I¡¯m going to get into this stupid office, or how I¡¯m going to get back from breaking into this stupid office. I¡¯m not a criminal; I don¡¯t know the first thing about this stuff!¡±


    {Technically speaking, you are a criminal.} Echo pointed out, quite unfairly in Darius¡¯s opinion. {If you don¡¯t know where to begin, you could simply ask Harlan or Lena for help.}


    ¡°Yeah, and look like a total amateur,¡± scoffed Darius, neatly ignoring the fact that he was a total amateur. ¡°If I can¡¯t even get into this stupid office by myself, then I may as well give up on this whole ¡®independent¡¯ thing and just join the Freeholders properly.¡±


    {I believe you are overreacting,} Echo said after a moment.


    Darius heaved another sigh and looked forlornly at the wall of his shared bedroom. ¡°Probably,¡± he admitted. ¡°But I really do have no idea where to start.¡±


    {Then let us start at the beginning. What is the first problem you face in completing this task?}


    Darius considered for a moment. ¡°Getting there in the first place, I guess. No point in worrying about how to break into the place if I can¡¯t reach it.¡±


    {Very well, what obstacles are between you and the office?}


    He was starting to feel like he was back in school again, being led to an obvious answer by an exasperated teacher. It was not a good feeling.


    ¡°The checkpoints, obviously,¡± he said begrudgingly. ¡°Curfew doesn¡¯t make it any easier, but that shouldn¡¯t be too hard to work around. Just need to hide for a couple of minutes to let the patrols pass. Risky, maybe, but doable.¡±


    Presumably, it wouldn¡¯t be any different to ducking the usual patrols after a night of drinking. Then again, the last time he¡¯d tried that was the night before he¡¯d met Echo ¨C for a given value of met ¨C and that had ended up with him spending the night in a cell.


    {Let¡¯s start with the checkpoints, then. What are all of the possible ways to pass through the checkpoint? No matter how likely to work.}


    Darius raised an eyebrow dubiously. That sounded more like running through a list of ways to get caught than anything else. Then again, it wasn¡¯t like he had any better ideas right now, so¡­


    ¡°Well, we could always try walking straight through and hope they forget to check my ID,¡± he began, only a little sarcastically. ¡°But I really wouldn¡¯t bet my life on it.¡±


    {The likelihood of that is rather low,} Echo agreed, somehow managing to sound patiently amused without audibly changing his tone at all. {Are there any other options?} the AI pressed encouragingly.


    Darius rolled his eyes but obligingly began to list off every method he could think of, roughly in order from least to most insane. ¡°Full frontal assault, causing a distraction, using a disguise to pretend to be a high ranking officer, digging a secret tunnel under their feet, hijacking an Imperial transport, or clearing my name and just walking through normally, inventing¡­ a¡­ teleporter¡ªholy crap, that might just work!¡±


    Darius sat up as the idea hit, feeling like he¡¯d just downed a cup of coffee. Real coffee, too, not the synth stuff.


    {¡­You believe you can invent a functioning teleportation device within the next few days?} Echo asked cautiously, in much the same way you might ask the random stranger talking to himself on the street what the voices are telling him to do.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°What? No, don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± Darius snapped distractedly.


    Echo waited for a long moment. {I¡¯m afraid I cannot read your mind, Darius. If you¡¯ve had an idea, you need to verbalise it.}


    Darius waved a hand impatiently, his mind already racing ahead. ¡°The tunnels! The maintenance tunnels under the station. I can use those to bypass the checkpoints!¡±


    Exeter Station, like most Imperial designs, wasn¡¯t built on the usual principles of burying infrastructure beneath concrete and forgetting it existed. The scale of the place made that impossible. Running utility lines piecemeal would¡¯ve meant tearing up streets every time a new building was slapped together or a major repair needed doing. Instead, the designers had opted for efficiency over elegance.


    Beneath the city¡¯s chaotic sprawl lay a grid of maintenance tunnels, each packed with power conduits, water lines, data cables, and ventilation systems. Everything was consolidated into one sprawling network, accessible for upkeep without disturbing the surface.


    {Tunnels?} Echo prompted curiously. {That seems.. convenient. Would these tunnels not be monitored?}


    ¡°Nah, what¡¯d be the point?¡± Darius asked dismissively. ¡°There would have to be hundreds of miles of tunnels running under the station. Getting a camera network up and running for something like that would be way too expensive to bother with, especially ¡®cause they¡¯re not exactly high-traffic areas.¡±


    {Would the Freeholders not already be using these tunnels then?}


    ¡°Maybe they are,¡± Darius shrugged. ¡°Even if they did use the tunnels, it probably wouldn¡¯t be too often. I don¡¯t know the specifics ¨C obviously, I¡¯ve never been down into the tunnels ¨C but even I know that you need security codes to get down into the tunnels, and I¡¯m pretty sure that the codes are different for each section. Uh, speaking of, you can hack the doors, right? This whole thing sort of falls apart if I can¡¯t get into the tunnels in the first place.¡±


    {I won¡¯t know for certain until I try, but I don¡¯t imagine it will be terribly difficult.}


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Darius smiled, rubbing his hands together before pausing. ¡°Now we just have to find an entrance to the tunnels, make sure I can dodge the patrols, and last but not least, break into the office itself. Ugh,¡± he groaned theatrically. ¡°Why is life so difficult?¡±


    {Truly, it¡¯s a wonder you¡¯ve managed to survive this long,} Echo said blandly. Darius fought down a smirk. It might just be because their brains were merging or whatever, but he was finding that Echo actually wasn¡¯t the worst company. If nothing else, he could appreciate a good dry sense of humour.


    {Now that you have an initial plan, it could be worth asking the Freeholders if they know of any tunnel entrances nearby,} the AI suggested, but Darius was already shaking his head.


    ¡°Nah, no way. It¡¯ll look way better if I can do this whole thing myself, start to finish. Besides, on the off chance that the Freeholders aren¡¯t already using the tunnels, it could be useful to keep that information to myself.¡±


    {To use as leverage?} Echo¡¯s managed to make the idea sound distasteful. One day, Darius would figure out how Echo managed to inflect so much emotion without sounding any different.


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± Darius said evasively. ¡°It¡¯s just that now that I¡¯m working with the Freeholders instead of for them, it¡¯s probably a good idea to have a few aces up my sleeve. Besides, even if I did tell them, it¡¯s not like they can get into the tunnels easily without you anyway. Unless they already have their own access, in which case they don¡¯t need me to tell them anyway!¡±


    {¡­It still feels wrong, but I cannot argue with your logic.} Echo finally said.


    ¡°Great!¡± Darius said brightly. Making sure they were on the same page was important ¨C while so far Echo hadn¡¯t done anything like take over his augs or spill his secrets to everyone, that didn¡¯t mean that he was willing to take that for granted.


    ¡°Now that step one is done, I just¡­ have to plan everything else out,¡± Darius thought for a second about what that would entail before sagging back with a groan. ¡°Wonderful.¡±


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    The maintenance tunnels were a marvel of Imperial pragmatism: efficient, utilitarian, and utterly devoid of charm. Darius sat slouched against the rough wall, trying and failing to find a position that didn¡¯t leave at least one part of his body aching. The floor was cold metal, ridged with grooves to prevent the condensation from forming slick puddles, and the faint, ever-present hum of power conduits running overhead was enough to set his teeth on edge. It wasn¡¯t deafening, but it was relentless, like a song stuck in his head with no way to shut it off.


    Currently, he was a few minutes walk from the exit he¡¯d identified as being closest to his target. The maintenance tunnels were not really designed to be used as a transport system, so the closest exit was still something like a ten-minute walk, but that was significantly better than he¡¯d feared.


    For once, things had actually gone rather smoothly.


    That didn¡¯t mean it had been easy to get to this point, but at least it hadn¡¯t been particularly complicated. Finding an entrance to the maintenance tunnels had ended up being as simple as wandering around for a few hours and poking his head into the various side streets and alleys he came across.


    Having worked in the shipyards for a few years, he was at least passingly familiar with the sorts of locations access points would be. Hardly an exact science, but it wasn¡¯t like anyone was actively trying to hide the tunnel access.


    The entrance closest to the safehouse ended up being tucked away behind a forgotten storage unit no one seemed inclined to check. The bypass kit had worked flawlessly ¨C it had taken Echo all of ten seconds to get the door open ¨C and everything else had followed on as planned.


    Traversing through the tunnels was also easier than he had feared, though that didn¡¯t mean it was fun. The tunnels weren¡¯t built with comfort in mind. They were narrow but not claustrophobic, just wide enough for a maintenance crew and their equipment to move through without squeezing past one another.


    Pipes and cables ran along the walls and ceiling, labelled in crisp, stencilled lettering that was already starting to fade in places. Every so often, a low-hanging conduit would force Darius to duck as he moved through, though he¡¯d still managed to clip his head more than once on the trek here.


    Light strips embedded in the walls cast a harsh, sterile glow that didn¡¯t seem to reach the corners of the tunnels, leaving them in perpetual half-shadow. The air was dry and smelled faintly metallic, with occasional whiffs of something sharper¡ªprobably coolant or grease leaking from one of the lines. He¡¯d spotted a rat scurrying along the edge of the floor earlier, though it was thin enough to look more like a particularly scrappy skeleton than a living creature.


    Still, for all its faults, the tunnel system was straightforward to navigate. The designers had added maps and markers at regular intervals, etched directly into the walls so they couldn¡¯t be tampered with or erased.


    How said maps got updated when changes were made to the network, Darius had no idea, but then he didn¡¯t particularly care, either. It got him where he needed to go, and that was good enough for him.


    The plan for avoiding the patrols once he left the tunnels was as simple as it was boring. He¡¯d entered the tunnels hours ago, well before curfew, while the streets above were still alive with the usual churn of station life. By the time the patrols were out in force, he¡¯d already be underground and settled in.


    Once night fell, he¡¯d slip out, hit the office, and retreat back to the tunnels before anyone realised he¡¯d been there. Then, instead of risking another run-in with curfew enforcement, he¡¯d hunker down and wait until morning, emerging after the restrictions lifted.


    He shifted against the wall, wincing as the ridged surface dug into his back. Maybe he should see about adding a folding chair to his kit. If he was going to be using these tunnels again, it could even be worth carting some supplies down here to establish a little fallback for himself.


    On second thought, that was probably too risky. The tunnels may not be used often, but they were still used occasionally. Better to put up with a little discomfort than risk someone stumbling onto his supplies and the Empire catching wind of his travel methods.


    The thought of sleeping down here made his skin crawl, and not just because of the rats, but he¡¯d already resigned himself to the idea. Better to deal with a bit of discomfort than risk blowing the whole operation because he couldn¡¯t keep his head down for one night. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like he had anyone waiting up for him.


    Darius pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, the dry chill of the tunnels seeping through the fabric.


    He¡¯d already scouted the exit he¡¯d use later that night as best he could, which was located behind some massive silos of a chemical storage facility. It wasn¡¯t particularly well-hidden, but hopefully it wasn¡¯t a high-traffic area either. That was the trick with the maintenance tunnels: nobody thought about them unless they had a reason to. As long as he was careful and fast, the odds of anyone spotting him as he emerged were slim.


    For now, though, all he could do was wait. He checked the time on his datapad, wincing at how slowly the hours were crawling by. Part of him regretted not bringing something to pass the time, but he hadn¡¯t wanted to risk anything that could draw attention if he¡¯d been stopped before entering the tunnels.


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know any games we can use to pass the time, Echo?¡± he asked hopefully.


    {I believe it may be a more efficient use of time to revise some of the plans for my frame,} Echo said pleasantly. {Assuming the mission to steal materials from the garrison runs smoothly and you manage to take enough drones, it is possible we may have most of the required materials within the next fortnight. That leaves us a maximum of four weeks to assemble a usable frame. While doable, this would not leave much room for error, especially if more specialised parts are required.}


    Darius let his head thunk back against the wall. ¡°Wonderful,¡± he breathed. ¡°I¡¯ll give you this much, I¡¯m not bored anymore.¡±


    {I am glad to be of assistance,} Echo said, missing the point entirely. {Now then, let us begin with¡ª}


    As Echo started droning on about frame components, Darius stared blankly at the maps on the wall. He wasn¡¯t sure which would kill him first at this rate: an Imperial patrol or boredom.

 26. Running the Gauntlet

    Chapter 26 - Running the Gauntlet


    It was time.


    Arguably, the most dangerous part of the entire mission was leaving the tunnels in the first place. Darius hadn¡¯t had the chance to scout out the exit he was using nearly as much as he¡¯d wanted to. Oh, he knew where it was in relation to the office, certainly, but he didn¡¯t know how visible the entrance was from the main streets, nor how busy the area actually was.


    Knowing his luck, he was going to open the door to find out that it opened directly out into a checkpoint.


    It was currently just after midnight, local time. Not all businesses would be shut ¨C essential services such as the spaceport and shipyard tended to run 24/7, for example, but the majority of them should be closed by this hour. The wait had been more boring than tense. He¡¯d thought that he would have spent the six or so hours dreading the upcoming mission, but the human body simply wasn¡¯t designed to remain tense for that long.


    As far as his monkey brain was concerned, if he hadn¡¯t been killed or injured within the first hour or so, then he was probably going to be fine, and there was no point wasting the energy required to remain on high alert.


    Taking a deep breath, Darius pressed his palm against the door¡¯s release panel. The metal hatch hissed softly as it slid open, revealing the slate grey metal of a massive silo a couple of meters from the door. He had no idea what was stored in this facility, but whatever it was didn¡¯t belong to a private company or corporation. If it had, they wouldn¡¯t have put an entrance to a public maintenance network on the land.


    Darius didn¡¯t particularly care about any of this information, but Echo had taken great delight in filling the hours with relatively pointless trivia about random parts of the station. Normally, he wouldn¡¯t have bothered to listen, but he hadn¡¯t thought of bringing a dataslate with him and thus had nothing else to do. He now knew more about the station¡¯s sewer system than he ever wanted or needed to.


    Why Echo even knew about the topic was beyond him.


    Wrenching his thoughts back to the present, Darius leaned forward cautiously, scanning the area for any signs of movement. His heart hammered in his chest, but to his immense relief, the surroundings were utterly deserted.


    That didn¡¯t preclude the possibility of some cameras spotting him, but realistically, there was nothing he could do about that. At least the IR system in his optics would shield his face.


    Darius slipped out into the open, letting the door slide shut behind him as quietly as he could manage. To his immediate left was a small carpark set outside an office of some kind. Thanks to the curfew, the carpark was empty, but it was visible from the road, so he hurried across it as quickly as he could.


    From the public maps of the area he¡¯d been able to download ¨C or, if he was being honest, Echo had been able to download ¨C it should be possible to avoid the roads almost entirely by making his way through the storage yard. It wouldn¡¯t get him the whole way there, but it should certainly help.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he breathed. ¡°So far, so good.¡±


    {I would recommend not speaking aloud.} Echo¡¯s sudden interjection ¨C at normal volume ¨C took at least a decade off his lifespan. It might have only been in his augs, and thus inaudible to anyone barring himself, but it was hard to think of that when he was this tense.


    ¡°God, don¡¯t do that!!¡± he hissed, leaning against the wall and clutching at his chest.


    {I made less noise than you did,} Echo pointed out, a little petulantly.


    ¡°Just¡­ don¡¯t distract me!¡± Darius whispered harshly, moving deeper into the storage yard.


    Some massive cooling fans built attached to the side of one of the massive pipes that stretched across the yard provided enough noise for him to feel comfortable speeding up a little as he crossed the large open area around the silos and into a small alley created by a shed on one side and another administrative building on the other.


    This alleyway extended almost the length of the storage yard, opening out onto another small parking area and then further out onto the open streets. This was where things started to get more nerve-wracking.


    The storage yard was never going to be terribly risky to cross ¨C the massive silos and smaller tanks of chemicals provided plenty of cover to hide behind, and only a small portion of the storage yard was visible from the road itself anyway. From here on out, though, he would be walking along the streets themselves. This wasn¡¯t a busy area even at the best of times, but the lack of cover meant that he could be spotted easily.


    Darius licked his lips nervously, peering around the corner of the alleyway at the open street ahead. ¡°Remind me of the route again?¡± he whispered to Echo, more to give himself time to gather his nerve than anything else.


    {Certainly. From here, you will travel for approximately two-hundred-and-fifty meters along the street, crossing the intersection midway. This will be the riskiest portion of the journey. Then you will cut through a gap between buildings, which should bring you to the back of the target office, where you will attempt to enter through the fire door.}


    ¡°Right. A couple of hundred meters. Easy.¡± he tried to hype himself up quietly.


    It wasn¡¯t working.


    Darius took a breath and started down the street, keeping his movements quick but measured. He had to resist the urge to sprint ¨C it may be faster, but it would also make a lot more noise. The general hum of ventilation systems and pumps running in the background might cover some noise, but that didn¡¯t mean he could be careless.


    The industrial location worked in his favour, at least partially. Most of the buildings were featureless, looming structures with few windows or doors facing the street. The occasional flicker of dim overhead light from one of the warehouses only added to the eerie stillness. Large pipes crisscrossed between buildings overhead, carrying who-knew-what to some far-off processing plant, while a few derelict vehicles sat abandoned along the curb like silent sentinels.


    He slowed as he reached the intersection, the single riskiest part of his journey. It would leave him completely exposed, visible from every direction. No silos to duck behind, no handy alleyways to slip into. Just the wide-open street and his own questionable luck.


    ¡°Keep it together,¡± he muttered under his breath, resisting the urge to check over his shoulder for the fifth time. Sidling up to the edge of one building, he cautiously poked his head around the corner, hoping for an empty street.


    An instant later, he was yanking his head back, eyes wide and heart trying its level best to leap out of his throat.


    He¡¯d only had time to catch a glimpse, but that had been plenty to see how screwed he was. A half-dozen or so Imperial enforcers standing near a pair of armoured transports parked just off the road. Fortunately, none of them had been looking in his direction for the split second his head had been visible.


    Unfortunately, even the quick look he¡¯d gotten had told him that they weren¡¯t going to be moving on any time soon. None of them had been in their vehicles, and their body language suggested they weren¡¯t exactly on high alert.


    Darius bit down on a knuckle to keep himself from swearing. This was just his luck. The patrol was a few hundred meters down the street, and they weren¡¯t even in the direction he needed to go, but that didn¡¯t matter. To reach the office, he¡¯d have to cross the street. The well-lit street, in full view of the patrol.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you have any ideas, Echo?¡± he asked in a hushed tone.


    There was a moment of silence. {I believe you should simply run across the street.}


    Darius blinked. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ you¡¯re joking, right? They¡¯re not that far away.¡±


    {They are also not paying close attention, and it should only take a few seconds to cross the gap.}


    Darius gaped. ¡°Yeah, but if any of them even glance in this direction, they¡¯ll spot me!¡±


    {Keep your voice down,} Echo admonished. {But yes, it is a risk. However, even in the event that they do spot you, you should be able to reach the alleyway leading to the office before they can reach the intersection. They will not know where you went.}


    ¡°They won¡¯t need to! They¡¯ll just have to look around for a few minutes, and they¡¯ll find me!¡±


    {The alternative is trying to find a longer way around, which greatly increases the chances of detection from other patrols, or simply giving up and attempting another night.}


    Darius grumbled, pacing in a tight circle far enough back from the corner that no one could see him. He bit his lip.


    ¡°This is stupid,¡± he announced. ¡°And I¡¯m stupid for doing it anyway.¡±


    Without giving himself time to think¡ªbecause thinking would inevitably lead to chickening out¡ªDarius bolted. He pushed off from the wall and dashed across the street, each step feeling louder than a gunshot in the eerie stillness of the industrial district.


    His heart pounded in his ears as he crossed the first lane, then the second. Halfway. He forced himself not to look toward the patrol, not to even think about them. Eyes forward, Darius. Just move.


    Three more strides and he was clear of the intersection, diving into the shadowed gap between two buildings on the opposite side. He landed with a faint scuff of boots on concrete, pressing himself back against the cool metal wall to catch his breath.


    He waited, breath held, for the sound of shouting or the distinctive thud of boots on pavement. But the seconds dragged on, and no alarm came. The enforcers hadn¡¯t seen him.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he whispered, forcing himself to exhale slowly. ¡°Okay, that wasn¡¯t awful.¡±


    {I told you it would work.}


    ¡°Don¡¯t even try to pretend you knew that would work,¡± Darius muttered, peeking around the corner to ensure the patrol was still obliviously clustered around their transports before turning and hurrying down the street. He couldn¡¯t afford to waste time here; every second spent lingering was another chance for something to go wrong.


    His nerves gradually settled as he turned down the alleyway that would lead to his target. The office loomed ahead, a blocky, utilitarian structure that was indistinguishable from any of the other buildings in the area.


    The building was two stories tall at the back, though he knew from some photos Lena had found that the front of the building was only a single story. There was a set of metal stairs enclosed by a metal fence that led up to a fire escape on the second floor ¨C his intended entrance.


    Fortunately the gate was left unlocked, though it rattled loud enough to give Darius a heart attack when he pulled it open. He waited for a frozen moment, only relaxing when the night remained still and quiet. Or, really, as quiet as the industrial sectors of the station ever got, which is to say, not very.


    Shaking off the nerves, Darius started up the fire escape. The metal stairs groaned faintly under his weight, every creak stressful enough to take weeks off his life.


    When he reached the top, he crouched low and took a moment to scan his surroundings again. The patrol was still far enough away not to hear the occasional noise he made, but it was close enough that he couldn¡¯t afford any major mistakes.


    The fire door loomed ahead, a sturdy slab of metal fitted with a simple keypad. This was it. He pulled out the bypass kit, the familiar hum of the tool comforting in its routine efficiency. Plugging it into the keypad, he activated the device and watched as the screen flickered, streams of code racing across the display.


    {This will only take a moment,} Echo informed him, his calm tone a stark contrast to the adrenaline still coursing through Darius¡¯s veins. {The lock is relatively basic, and¡ªoh.}


    ¡°Oh?¡± Darius hissed through gritted teeth, glancing toward the patrol¡¯s position before looking back at the door. ¡°What do you mean, ¡®oh¡¯? I don¡¯t like ¡®oh.¡¯¡°


    {As this is a fire escape, the door is equipped with a hard-wired alarm system. Any attempt to open it will trigger the alarm, alerting the station¡¯s emergency response systems.}


    Darius froze, his heart sinking. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be kidding me,¡± he muttered, pulling the bypass kit free and staring at the keypad like it had personally betrayed him. ¡°There¡¯s no way to disable it?¡±


    {Not without direct access to the building¡¯s security control panel, which I presume you do not have. The alarm is designed to operate independently of the main lock system as a failsafe.}


    Of course it was. Darius ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to slam a fist into the door. He couldn¡¯t risk opening it and setting off an alarm. Sure, in theory, it would only alert the fire department, but considering there was a patrol literally down the road, there was no chance of them not checking it out.


    That left the front entrance. Darius grimaced, his stomach twisting as he thought about the prospect. He¡¯d known about the main entrance during his research¡ªhe hadn¡¯t planned to use it, obviously, but he¡¯d at least made note of its location. It was a simple door with a standard lock, easy enough to bypass. The problem was its placement: it faced directly onto the same street where the patrol was stationed.


    Even if the enforcers weren¡¯t actively watching the office, it would take at least fifteen seconds to get inside, during which the slightest glance could spell his doom.


    But there wasn¡¯t any other choice. The fire escape was a dead end, and he couldn¡¯t exactly sit here all night. If he wanted those records¡ªand he really, really did¡ªhe was going to have to take the gamble.


    Plus, if he was being honest with himself, he was way too stubborn to give up now.


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± he muttered under his breath, stuffing the bypass kit back into his jacket and rising to his feet. His legs felt stiff from crouching, but he ignored the discomfort. There wasn¡¯t time to waste. ¡°Front door it is.¡±


    {This is significantly more dangerous,} Echo said, though his tone wasn¡¯t so much disapproving as resigned. {I recommend taking additional precautions to avoid detection.}


    ¡°No kidding,¡± Darius replied, already descending the fire escape. The stairs seemed to groan louder on the way down, and he winced at every sound.


    He crouched low as he rounded the back corner of the office, pausing to listen for any sign of movement ahead. Nothing. Good. Taking another deep breath to steady his nerves, he crept along the side of the building, his boots making barely a whisper against the rough pavement, feeling terribly exposed the whole time.


    The building¡¯s front entrance finally came into view as he edged closer. Just as he¡¯d seen in the reference photos, it wasn¡¯t much to look at: a simple glass door set into a plain metal frame, illuminated by a single overhead light that buzzed faintly in the still night. A small sign on the wall next to the door bore the construction company¡¯s name, its logo peeling at the edges.


    Through the glass, Darius could make out the dimly lit reception area inside¡ªa short desk with a terminal, a couple of uncomfortable-looking chairs for visitors, and not much else.


    It wasn¡¯t designed to impress, but that didn¡¯t make it any less nerve-wracking. The entrance was doubtlessly designed to be wide and inviting ¨C or, from his current perspective, open and lacking in cover.


    Worse, the patrol wasn¡¯t stationed far enough down the street to make him feel comfortable. They didn¡¯t have a direct line of sight to the entrance, but if they decided to wander in his direction, he¡¯d have nowhere to go.


    {Are you too scared to try?}


    Darius pulled up short, more confused than offended. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what? Are you¡­ trying to insult me?¡±


    {According to my research, it is a common method of goading a person into inadvisable actions,} Echo said, almost managing to sound embarrassed.


    ¡°That¡­ I don¡¯t even know where to start,¡± Darius said, bemused. ¡°That¡¯s not really how it works.¡±


    {I see. My apologies, then.}


    Darius shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Well, if nothing else, breaking into a building barely a block away from an Imperial patrol didn¡¯t seem quite as nerve-wracking anymore. Maybe that was the point, to take his mind off it?


    ¡­He should have gone for it before thinking too hard about it. Now he was nervous again.


    Oh, well.


    Darius allowed himself a single deep breath before hurling himself around the corner, eyes locked on the door. His pulse thundered in his ears as he closed the distance.


    He reached the entrance and slipped the bypass kit from his jacket, fingers working quickly as he plugged it into the access panel beside the door. The seconds stretched unbearably as the device hummed faintly, its screen flickering before finally chirping in success. Darius yanked the door open and slipped inside, letting it slide shut behind him with a barely audible hiss.


    He staggered forward and sagged against the receptionist¡¯s desk, tension flowing out of him in a rush.


    A moment later he started to laugh, relief turning to giddiness. ¡°Hah, oh man,¡± he chuckled, getting himself under control. ¡°What a rush.¡± He could still feel his heart pounding in his chest.


    {I believe you may be something of an adrenaline junky,} Echo commented neutrally.


    ¡°Can you blame me?¡± Darius quipped, still grinning. ¡°Man, if I¡¯d known how fun this stuff could be, I¡¯d have become a criminal ages ago.¡±


    {Technically speaking, you have been a criminal for six years now.}


    ¡°Bah, that doesn¡¯t count,¡± Darius retorted, straightening from the desk and looking around curiously. ¡°I didn¡¯t commit the crime; I just took the blame for it.¡±


    There was a beat of silence before Echo spoke up again. {Your brother¡¯s crime, correct?}


    Darius stiffened, deliberately ignoring the question in favour of moving past the receptionist¡¯s desk towards a door leading deeper into the office. He wasn¡¯t quite sure what to expect, but so far the building was more than a little underwhelming.


    ¡°Seen one office, seen them all, I guess,¡± he muttered under his breath, opening the door to reveal a pitch-black room. He paused, suddenly realising he was missing something rather important, something that hadn¡¯t been needed until now.


    ¡°¡­I forgot to bring a torch.¡±

 27. Risk and Reward

    Chapter 27 - Risk and Reward


    As far as Darius was concerned, nobody ever needed to know about how long it took him to fumble his way through the darkened office. In hindsight, even bringing a torch might have been too risky anyway ¨C especially with a patrol sitting just up the street. The slightest hint of light shining through the window would be enough to garner attention, followed swiftly by suspicion and investigation.


    At least, that¡¯s what he would tell people if anyone asked.


    Fortunately, after a couple of minutes, his eyes had somewhat adapted, and the faint glow spilling through the front windows from the streetlights outside was enough that he could cautiously navigate the rooms.


    Lena hadn¡¯t been able to give him an exact location of where the data they needed would be stored, but Darius figured it was hard to go wrong with heading straight for the biggest office, located up the stairs at the back of the building.


    As he crept towards his destination, moving slowly to avoid more stubbed toes, he couldn¡¯t help but take in the silhouettes of the computer terminals around him.


    ¡°Is it just me, or is this some really fancy stuff?¡± he whispered.


    {Indeed, this company must be more successful than most to be able to afford these systems. It is not completely surprising, however ¨C any company selected to work on Imperial projects would no doubt have higher profit margins than usual.}


    ¡°Right,¡± Darius muttered, barely paying attention. There was a small but growing part of him that wanted to see about cracking open one of those terminals and snagging some choice parts for himself. While most of the parts wouldn¡¯t be directly useful to him ¨C beyond some processing chips he could use for Echo¡¯s frame ¨C parts like those were fairly easy to sell second-hand.


    The small markets that popped up everywhere didn¡¯t tend to ask many questions about where their goods came from, and he could use the extra spending money.


    Darius tore his covetous gaze away with a grimace. No. He was better than that. Sure, he may technically be a criminal, and he was happy to steal from the Empire, but that was the Empire. In the long run, they likely wouldn¡¯t even notice anything he could take, and even if they did, no one was actually getting hurt by his actions.


    Taking from civilians was different, though ¨C even for a larger company like this, if he started stealing parts from their computer terminals, he couldn¡¯t guarantee that the employees wouldn¡¯t be affected ¨C or, worst case scenario, even blamed.


    Suddenly not wanting to linger, he picked up the pace, slipping more confidently through the empty offices as his vision continued to adjust to the darkness.


    Actually¡­ Wasn¡¯t his vision adapting a little too much?


    ¡°Hey Echo, are you doing anything to make me see better?¡± he asked a little nervously.


    {Not directly, no. However, your new optics are better at adjusting to low-light conditions, although the process is slow and somewhat limited.}


    ¡°Oh, cool,¡± Darius said, relieved. Sure, if Echo had been messing with his eyes it would have been helpful, but that didn¡¯t mean he wanted the AI to have any more control over his augs than he had already shown.


    He reached the stairs at the back of the building and ascended cautiously, his boots making barely a whisper on the steps. The second floor opened into a modest hallway with a handful of doors, the largest of which stood at the end. Its frosted glass bore the company¡¯s logo in peeling paint, and a faint shadow of light bled through from the windows inside.


    ¡°Bingo,¡± Darius murmured, nudging the door open.


    The main office was about what he¡¯d expected¡ªa modest attempt at corporate sophistication. A heavy desk dominated the room, flanked by a pair of comfortable-looking chairs and a filing cabinet stuffed to bursting. Shelves of meticulously arranged binders lined one wall, while a large window on the opposite side overlooked the street below. A faint glow from the streetlights outside spilled through the blinds, casting long, striped shadows across the room. The terminal sat on the desk, sleek and unassuming, its muted standby light blinking faintly.


    ¡°Fancy digs for a contractor,¡± Darius muttered, fishing the bypass kit out of his jacket. He approached the desk, eyeing the terminal as if it might grow teeth. ¡°Let¡¯s see if your smooth-talking skills work on this thing, Echo.¡±


    {This will be straightforward,} Echo assured him.


    Darius snorted as he plugged in the bypass kit, watching the small screen on the device flicker to life. It chirped as Echo worked his magic, lines of code cascading across the display. A moment later, the terminal¡¯s screen lit up, its security bypassed without so much as a hiccup.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± Darius admitted, sliding into the chair behind the desk. ¡°Now, where¡¯s my prize?¡±


    {The floorplans are located in the secure files, as expected. Accessing now¡­ Complete. I will transfer the data to your internal storage.}


    Darius relaxed, a small grin tugging at his lips. ¡°That easy, huh? We¡¯re on a roll.¡± He stood, reaching for the bypass kit and already mentally preparing himself for the dash back to the tunnels when Echo spoke up again.


    {There is something else. While perusing the files, I believe I have come across information that indicates this company is cutting corners by using sub-par materials for construction projects. The data indicates that some of these materials have failed safety standards, increasing the risk of structural collapse.}


    Darius grimaced, letting himself fall back into the chair. ¡°Figures. Is it dangerous enough to kill people?¡±


    {Potentially, yes. Several incidents involving minor collapses or equipment failures have been recorded, though the company has suppressed them through legal and financial means.}


    ¡°Of course they have,¡± Darius muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m not even surprised. Most companies pull this kind of crap wherever they can get away with it.¡±


    {Should I attempt to subtly alert the authorities?} Echo asked.


    Darius scoffed. ¡°Yeah, good luck with that. You know what¡¯ll happen ¨C they¡¯ll grease the right palms, pay off the right inspectors, and the whole thing will get swept under the rug. That¡¯s how it works.¡±


    He sighed, running a hand down his face. ¡°As much as I hate it, there¡¯s really nothing we can do about it.¡± He sat in silence for a moment, drumming his fingers on the desk. The faint hum of the terminal filled the room as his eyes roamed the shadows. ¡°Although¡­¡±


    {Although?}


    ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t going to steal anything from those fancy terminals we saw earlier. Figured it¡¯d be crossing a line, you know? Now, though¡­ well, I might help myself to a few choice parts from these terminals after all,¡± he said with a dry smile. ¡°If they were innocent, I¡¯d leave them be, but these bastards have made themselves fair game.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    {¡­That is a morally ambiguous stance at best. Two wrongs do not make a right.}


    Darius snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve noticed or not, buddy, but we¡¯re already breaking and entering with the intention of gathering information to launch an attack on an Imperial Garrison. Drawing the line at stealing from corrupt companies is just splitting hairs at this point.¡±


    Echo didn¡¯t have a response for that.


    Decision made, Darius rose from the chair and stretched. ¡°Alright, time to see what these overpriced toys are packing,¡± he muttered, ducking underneath the desk to where the bulk of the terminal sat.


    Advancement in technology generally meant things got smaller and more compact as they got more expensive ¨C up to a point. In theory, a slim dataslate could have the same processing power as a static terminal, but in reality, that simply wasn¡¯t cost-effective. Why go to all the effort of making things smaller if they didn¡¯t need to be?


    The panel popped free with a soft click, revealing an array of neatly arranged components. His gaze immediately zeroed in on the processor, a state-of-the-art unit that was far beyond anything he could afford. Next to it, the storage drive gleamed like treasure in the dim light, its casing etched with the logo of a high-end manufacturer.


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you a beauty,¡± Darius said with a grin, carefully detaching the processor and drive. They came free without much fuss, and he tucked them into his jacket pockets, vaguely wishing he¡¯d thought to bring a backpack or something with him. Clearly, there were a bunch of things he should be bringing with him if he was going to be doing this kind of thing more often. A dataslate to stave off boredom while waiting, a torch, for obvious reasons, and a bag to store his goodies.


    Darius grinned to himself, moving out of the large office and heading back down the stairs to the main area where some more terminals sat temptingly. After tonight, he¡¯d be able to afford to splurge on some tools. At a rough guess, each terminal he stripped for parts was probably worth¡­ a couple of hundred credits?


    The processor was technically the more expensive part, but in this particular case, it was less valuable to Darius than the storage drive. Mostly because storage drives were easier to sell. He was vaguely aware that most criminals sold things to something called a ¡®fence¡¯, essentially a go-between who could pass the goods on to be sold legitimately for a marked-up price.


    Unfortunately, he didn¡¯t know any ¡®fences¡¯. Something to look into, maybe, but for the moment his best bet was to simply sell them at one of the larger markets. He¡¯d get barely a fraction of the value, sure, but all it had cost to get these things was a little time, so he could hardly complain.


    The second terminal yielded another high-end processor and a larger storage drive. Darius was just starting to wonder how he¡¯d carry everything when he spotted a duffle bag sticking out from under one of the desks. He dragged it out and unzipped it to find what looked like a change of workout clothes inside. He tossed the contents onto the floor without hesitation.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± he said, patting the bag. ¡°I swear, sometimes I almost feel lucky.¡±


    {I would not describe your circumstances as fortuitous,} Echo said, but Darius ignored him, already moving to the next terminal. This time, he didn¡¯t bother grabbing the processors; he just went straight for the storage drives. Every component he left behind was missed profits, but every minute he stayed here also meant a greater chance of detection. Considering he didn¡¯t even have a fence to go through¡­ it just wasn¡¯t worth it.


    Components gathered, Darius adjusted the duffle bag over his shoulder, its weight pulling slightly as he glanced around a final time. ¡°Guess that¡¯s all I¡¯m getting from here,¡± he muttered. As he turned to leave, his eyes landed on a small panel beside the fire exit, blinking a faint red light. He tilted his head. ¡°You know,¡± he murmured, consideringly, ¡°We might not have to go out the front after all.¡±


    Echo was not slow on the uptake. {You believe you can bypass the alarm?}


    ¡°In theory, yeah.¡±


    {That does not inspire confidence.}


    ¡°Oh, relax, ye of little faith. It¡¯s a door; there¡¯s no way it¡¯s more complicated than the ship systems I¡¯ve worked on.¡±


    {Weren¡¯t you unable to open the doors on the Imperial ship?}


    Darius paused. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ different. I didn¡¯t want to open them in case someone got mad at me.¡±


    Echo hummed dubiously but didn¡¯t say anything. Darius crouched down in front of the panel, wincing as he used his fingernails to pull the casing off and mentally adding a tool kit to his shopping list. After a few moments of effort the cover came off with a soft click, revealing a mess of wiring that had him pausing.


    {Is there a problem?} Echo asked innocently.


    ¡°No,¡± Darius bit out. ¡°This is no big deal. It¡¯s a little different than I thought, but I can do it.¡±


    Probably.


    Hopefully.


    He frowned at the nest of wires, squinting in the faint light. They were packed tightly together, neatly colour-coded but layered in a way that made finding the right connection more difficult than he¡¯d hoped. The fact that he usually had a bunch of diagnostic tools to help him figure this stuff out was only just occurring to him, but the thought of Echo¡¯s dry sarcasm if he gave up was enough for him to double down.


    Tracing the wires carefully with his fingers, he finally pinpointed the one he probably needed. ¡°Gotcha,¡± he muttered under his breath, carefully twisting the thin insulated wire until it snapped, leaving the copper internals exposed. Selecting the adjacent wire, he repeated the process, twining the two exposed ends together to form a circuit.


    The panel flickered slightly, the faint red light dimming for a moment before stabilising.


    He grinned to himself as he snapped the casing back into place. The panel didn¡¯t beep angrily, and the red light didn¡¯t flash. That was a good sign. Rising to his feet, Darius grabbed the door¡¯s release handle and braced himself. ¡°Moment of truth,¡± he murmured, pulling it open.


    The fire door slid aside with a low hiss, revealing the alleyway beyond. The cool, stale air of the station¡¯s industrial district swept in, brushing against his face. A triumphant grin spread across his features as he stepped forward, the duffle bag thumping lightly against his side.


    Then the alarm went off.


    A piercing wail shattered the quiet, the emergency lights along the walls flaring red in synchronised, rhythmic flashes. Darius froze for half a heartbeat, his eyes snapping toward the panel. It was blinking furiously, practically mocking him.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± he hissed, instinctively ducking as though that might make him invisible to whatever security response was surely inbound.


    The alarm continued unabated, its shrill screech echoing across the empty streets. Darius didn¡¯t stick around to admire his handiwork. He bolted, boots slapping against the metal grating of the fire escape. He all but threw himself down the stairs and through the gate, and sprinted into the night. The duffle bag thudded with each step, its weight throwing off his balance, but he didn¡¯t dare slow down.


    The one mitigating factor was that the patrol would be approaching the building from the front. With a little luck, they would take a few minutes to check the building before finding the back door, and he would be far enough away to escape.


    He darted down a side street, slipping past a row of abandoned vehicles parked haphazardly along the curb. His chest burned, his breath coming in sharp gasps, but he pressed on, feet pounding against the pavement.


    Ahead, he spotted the intersection he¡¯d crossed earlier. His heart stuttered as he remembered the patrol stationed nearby. He skidded to a stop just shy of the corner, chest heaving as he pressed himself against the wall and peeked around.


    The enforcers were no longer by their vehicles. The alarm had drawn their attention, and they were clustered near the far end of the street, backs turned to him as they scanned for the source of the disturbance. Darius grinned despite himself, the flickering lights of the patrol vehicles casting long shadows across the street.


    He slipped across the intersection, moving quickly but carefully, keeping to the edge of the road. The patrol didn¡¯t notice him, their focus locked on the distant sound of the alarm. For once, luck seemed to be on his side.


    As he ducked into another alley, putting more distance between himself and the enforcers, Darius allowed himself to breathe a little easier. The tunnel entrance wasn¡¯t far now¡ªjust a few more blocks. He picked up the pace, his body protesting every step as fatigue set in.


    By the time he reached the maintenance door leading back into the tunnels, his legs felt like jelly. He pressed his palm to the release panel, and the hatch slid open with a soft hiss. He practically threw himself inside, letting the door close behind him with a reassuring thunk.


    Leaning against the wall, Darius doubled over, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His heart was pounding, sweat slicking his brow despite the station¡¯s cool temperature.


    Maybe he should start doing some cardio.


    {I assume that went exactly as you planned,} Echo said dryly, the sarcasm practically dripping from his tone.


    Darius barked out a laugh, straightening up and adjusting the duffle bag over his shoulder. ¡°Absolutely,¡± he said, his voice still breathless. ¡°All part of the plan.¡±


    {Of course. A masterful distraction to ensure your escape. Truly, you are an unparalleled strategist.}


    ¡°Glad you¡¯re finally catching on,¡± Darius muttered, wiping his face with the back of his hand.


    Despite the exhaustion weighing on him, he couldn¡¯t help but smile as he started back down the tunnel. Maybe he¡¯d been a little reckless. Maybe the whole alarm-shortening thing hadn¡¯t gone strictly as intended. But he was still standing, still breathing, and his bag was full of valuable tech.


    All in all, it wasn¡¯t a bad night.

 28. Friendly Deceptions

    Chapter 28 - Friendly Deceptions


    Lieutenant Thalina Veris adjusted the cuffs of her uniform for the third time, the fabric somehow feeling too tight despite its immaculate tailoring. The mirrored surface of the window in front of her reflected an image of controlled authority, the faint gleam of her rank insignia catching the artificial light. She sighed, pulling her gaze from her reflection. The polished exterior did little to quell the gnawing frustration simmering beneath her skin.


    The investigation on Darius Kallan had ground to a halt.


    Interviewing his co-workers and neighbours had been an exercise in futility; the man hadn¡¯t been seen in any of his usual haunts, and looking into how he had subverted the freeze on his accounts led precisely nowhere.


    Even approaching the problem from the angle of the Freeholders wasn¡¯t working ¨C while investigation had shown that the group had been active and cohesive mere weeks ago had scattered like shadows in the sun, slipping into the cracks of the station and disappearing.


    Though consciously she knew it wasn¡¯t her fault that the investigation had run into a wall, it was hard to shake the feeling that she had missed something, some vital piece of information that would solve everything. Hardly a new feeling ¨C her teachers had all commented on her tendencies to take responsibility for things out of her control.


    Agent Falk didn¡¯t seem bothered in the least by the lack of progress ¨C though, admittedly, the closest she had ever seen the man get to an emotion was a vague acknowledgment that other people had them.


    Either way, it was incredibly frustrating. She had conducted dozens of interviews since Falk had handed her this assignment, and all had led to dead ends. Every interaction had been tinged with the same air of uncooperative disdain, the station workers regarding her as an unwelcome interruption to their routines.


    Her lips thinned as she entered the interview room for what would hopefully be her final task for the day.


    It was small and sterile, the kind of space designed to make anyone sitting opposite her feel boxed in. Finn Calder was already there, seated comfortably and with an air of ease that immediately drew her attention. He was younger than she¡¯d expected¡ªsomewhere in his early thirties, maybe¡ªwith sandy hair that refused to stay completely tamed. His posture was casual but not disrespectful, and when he saw her, he offered a smile that was disarming in its sincerity.


    ¡°Lieutenant Veris, I presume?¡± he asked, his voice warm. ¡°I hope I¡¯m not keeping you from anything more pressing.¡±


    The opening volley was so unexpectedly pleasant that it threw Veris off balance for half a second. She straightened her shoulders, returning his smile with a small, professional nod. ¡°Thank you for coming in, Mr. Calder. This shouldn¡¯t take long.¡±


    ¡°Oh, take all the time you need,¡± he said lightly, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I don¡¯t mind helping out where I can.¡± He winked companionably. ¡°Not to mention you¡¯re getting me out of a particularly unpleasant refit right now.¡±


    The words startled a small huff of laughter out of her. She blinked and refocused, busying herself in sitting down opposite the man and bringing up the list of questions Agent Falk wanted her to ask.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been informed of the nature of this interview?¡± she asked once settled.


    ¡°Something about one of my workers, right? Darius Kallan?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct.¡± Thalina flicked through some of her personal notes. ¡°You¡¯ve worked with Mr. Kallan for several years now. Can you tell me about your professional relationship?¡±


    Finn tilted his head slightly, considering. ¡°Not much to tell, honestly. ¡®Professional¡¯ sums it up pretty well, really. He¡¯s a decent worker, good at his job when he¡¯s focused. A little bit of a tendency to show up late, but that¡¯s not exactly uncommon at the yards. He¡¯s a quiet guy. Keeps to himself for the most part.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re listed as his supervisor,¡± Veris said, keeping her voice even. ¡°Would you say you¡¯ve developed any sort of friendship with him outside of work?¡±


    ¡°Friendship?¡± Finn repeated, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head with a soft chuckle. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far. I¡¯ve tried to reach out here and there ¨C you know, make him feel like part of the team ¨C but he doesn¡¯t seem all that interested in chatting about anything outside of tools and ships. Not that I blame him; some people just like their privacy.¡±


    Thalina studied him carefully, noting the openness in his expression and the easy relaxation in his posture. He didn¡¯t seem to be stonewalling her¡ªat least, not overtly. Still, his account didn¡¯t entirely match what she¡¯d been told. Then again, her source hadn¡¯t exactly been reliable, and she¡¯d already approached this lead with tempered expectations.


    ¡°Has Mr. Kallan ever mentioned any political affiliations or personal grievances against the Empire?¡± she asked, watching his reaction closely.


    Finn¡¯s smile dimmed slightly, his brows furrowing in thought. ¡°No, not that I can think of. He¡¯s not exactly the type to share his opinions on that kind of thing, at least not with me.¡± He hesitated for a beat, as if weighing his words. ¡°I know he¡¯s been hit with a bunch of fines, though. Nothing major; disorderly conduct, mouthing off to patrols, things like that.¡±


    Thalina nodded distractedly, noting the information down on her dataslate. Naturally, she already had access to Kallan¡¯s records, including the rather extensive list of small fines, but it was a good indication that Finn had shared the information. It implied that he wasn¡¯t trying to make his ¡®friend¡¯ look better, though she was increasingly doubting the extent of their relationship anyway.


    ¡°And what do you know of his stint in prison?¡± she pressed, more for the sake of being thorough than anything else.


    Finn raised an eyebrow. ¡°Not much, really, just that he spent a couple of years behind bars. I¡¯m just a supervisor - I don¡¯t get told the details of my worker¡¯s personal lives or anything. The boss¡¯d probably know more if you want to chase him up.¡±


    Thalina nodded non-committedly, masking her feelings. It wasn¡¯t the first time a previous interviewee had given her incorrect or incomplete information, but it was just as frustrating as ever.


    ¡°What was the last time you saw him?¡± she asked, moving on to the next line of questioning.


    Finn thought for a moment. ¡°I guess that would be the day we were doing work on the Imperial warship that came in a few weeks ago. As far as I remember, he came in for work as usual, went home, and just... didn¡¯t show up the next morning.¡±


    Thalina¡¯s attention sharpened. She¡¯d read the available files on the events surrounding Darius Kallan¡¯s initial flight from the law, and Agent Falk had let a couple of further tidbits slip since, but there was still quite a bit she didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°Is there anything further you can tell me about the work you were doing on the warship?¡± she asked, trying to seem casual.


    An expression flickered across Finn¡¯s face too quickly to fully catch.


    ¡°Not much, really,¡± he said after a beat, his tone as easy as ever. ¡°It was a standard job. We were called in to handle some routine diagnostics¡ªpower grid, navigation systems, the usual. Nothing I¡¯d call exciting.¡±


    Thalina tilted her head, letting the silence hang between them just long enough to encourage elaboration. Finn didn¡¯t take the bait.


    ¡°Was Mr. Kallan involved in any of these tasks specifically?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Not directly,¡± Finn said. ¡°He was assigned to lighting diagnostics that day. I remember because it was one of those jobs nobody likes to do, and I figured he¡¯d grumble about it, but he was late to work that morning so it was a bit of a punishment.¡±Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    He smiled faintly, like he was sharing an inside joke.


    Thalina¡¯s fingers twitched, her grip on the dataslate tightening. ¡°Did anything unusual happen during the work? Anything that might explain why Imperial Intelligence would suddenly take an interest in Mr. Kallan?¡±


    He leaned back, tapping a finger on the edge of the table. ¡°Nothing particularly unusual,¡± he said, drawing the words out as if he were truly mulling them over. ¡°There was a malfunction with some doors near where he was working and he got stuck ¨C had to find a different way back to the rest of us. A bit odd, but then again, the whole reason we were on the ship in the first place was because of malfunctions.¡±


    Thalina¡¯s fingers were flying over her dataslate as she took notes. Malfunctioning doors sounded like the perfect excuse for someone to enter restricted areas. The question was, did Mr Kallan do this on purpose, or was it simply random chance?


    ¡°Do you know which route he took?¡± she asked intently, ¡°Or did he contact you at any other point?¡±


    Finn shrugged, a note of curiosity in his expression. ¡°No, it was radio silence until the malfunctions were fixed, at which point he met back up with the rest of the workers. I assumed everything was fine ¨C it¡¯s not like people usually check in unless they have a problem.¡±


    ¡°So that would imply that he didn¡¯t encounter any more problems?¡±


    ¡°None that I know about,¡± Finn replied lightly.


    ¡°What about the reactor room?¡± she pressed, watching his face closely. A lie, of course, but the man¡¯s response would be telling. ¡°Kallan was logged there briefly before his shift ended.¡±


    Finn blinked, a touch of surprise breaking through his composure. ¡°Was he? Huh. I didn¡¯t know that. If he was in the reactor room, it wasn¡¯t on my orders. He might¡¯ve been called in to check something out, I guess, but that¡¯s not the kind of thing they¡¯d usually let someone like him handle.¡±


    ¡­Damn.


    She was hardly an expert on reading facial expressions, of course, but a random supervisor wouldn¡¯t be much of a liar anyway, and Finn¡¯s reaction felt genuine. Thalina didn¡¯t allow herself to sag back into her chair, but it was a near thing. Another day wasted, then.


    Finn had the decency to restrain his obvious curiosity to a raised eyebrow.


    ¡°Very well, then. I just have a few more questions for you, Mr Calder,¡± she said, scrolling dejectedly to the list of generic questions she had been instructed to ask. Just because they likely wouldn¡¯t turn anything up was no excuse to skip them, however much she wanted to.


    ¡°Just call me Finn, please,¡± Finn asked, chuckling, ¡°Mr Calder makes me feel like I¡¯ve done something wrong.¡±


    She had to admit that Finn had a pleasant laugh.


    Thalina refocused on her dataslate, skimming the list of questions Falk had prepared. They were rote, the kind of uninspired prompts that felt like busywork¡ª designed to probe for tangential connections she had already ruled out. She moved briskly through them, not bothering to wait long for Finn¡¯s responses before moving on.


    ¡°Any unusual behaviour among other workers around that time?¡±


    ¡°Nope, nothing that stood out.¡±


    ¡°Did Kallan ever mention any new contacts or personal projects?¡±


    ¡°Not that I recall, though I¡¯m not exactly his confidant.¡±


    ¡°Have you noticed anything unusual in the yard ¨C shipments, schedules, management directives?¡±


    Finn shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a shipyard. Everything about it¡¯s a little unusual if you squint hard enough.¡±


    Her attention drifted as she recited the next few questions, her focus slipping from the answers Finn provided. Instead, her mind wandered back to the investigation¡¯s growing pile of dead ends and the almost uncanny ability of Agent Falk to give her directives that seemed deliberately obtuse. She realized, a little belatedly, that Finn had added something to his previous answer¡ªa joke, judging by the faint twinkle in his eye and the slight tilt of his head.


    ¡°You¡¯re not writing that one down?¡± he teased.


    Thalina blinked, glancing at the dataslate. ¡°Didn¡¯t think it was relevant,¡± she said, a touch defensively, though there was no real heat in her tone.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Finn said, leaning back in his chair. ¡°I¡¯d hate to derail the investigation with my razor-sharp wit.¡±


    She couldn¡¯t help the faint upward twitch of her lips, though she immediately tamped it down. Finn, apparently emboldened by her reaction, leaned into his easygoing charm. He peppered their remaining exchanges with light, self-deprecating humour, his tone carrying just enough warmth to make the sterile interview room feel less oppressive.


    Thalina told herself she didn¡¯t mind¡ªit wasn¡¯t like his attempts at levity were particularly distracting. If anything, it made the tedious process a little easier to endure. She glanced up from her dataslate occasionally, catching his wry expressions as he fielded yet another mundane question. It was¡­ disarming.


    ¡°Thank you, Mr. Calder,¡± she said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as she scrolled to the final page of notes.


    ¡°Finn, please,¡± he reminded her.


    She nodded absently, but something on her dataslate caught her attention. She stared at the last few lines, her brow furrowing. Those¡­ weren¡¯t part of the original list of questions. Had Agent Falk somehow managed to update her list of questions without her noticing? On her personal dataslate?


    She suppressed her slight confusion and read the questions aloud. ¡°Do you know anything about the break-in at the Beresin Construction offices last night?¡±


    Finn¡¯s brow knitted, genuine confusion spreading across his face. ¡°Beresin Construction? Can¡¯t say I do. What happened?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s classified,¡± Thalina said automatically, though the words tasted hollow. ¡°Does your team have any connection to the company?¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ve worked on some of their vehicles from time to time,¡± Finn admitted. ¡°Trucks, loaders, the occasional rig¡ªnothing out of the ordinary. They¡¯re one of a dozen clients with ties to the station¡¯s industries. Why do you ask?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer, already jotting notes down. Finn tilted his head, watching her work with a faintly amused expression, seeming to read something in her expression.


    ¡°Let me guess ¨C bosses adding to your workload without warning, huh?¡± he said, his voice lightly commiserating. ¡°Hate it when that happens.¡±


    Thalina snorted despite herself. ¡°Something like that.¡±


    ¡°Hey, speaking of overworked authority figures, do you ever take a break?¡± Finn asked casually.


    She glanced up, caught off guard. ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    He grinned, boyish and self-assured. ¡°I mean, if you ever want to grab a drink or something, let me know. You seem like you could use a night off.¡±


    Thalina froze, her professional mask slipping for just a second. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, and she quickly looked back at her dataslate, though the screen was no longer the focus of her attention.


    ¡°I, uh, I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s entirely appropriate?¡± she said, cursing both the stutter and the uncertainty in her voice.


    ¡°I know, that¡¯s half the fun,¡± Finn grinned roguishly back before raising his hands placatingly. ¡°


    Just a friendly offer. No pressure.¡±


    She hesitated, then nodded stiffly. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ think about it.¡±


    ¡°Good enough for me.¡± Finn¡¯s grin softened, and he folded his hands neatly on the table.


    Thalina hurriedly wrapped up the interview, her composure teetering on the edge. When she finally rose to leave, she couldn¡¯t quite meet Finn¡¯s gaze, mumbling a quick thanks before stepping briskly out of the room, trying her best to feel like she wasn¡¯t fleeing.


    It didn¡¯t work.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Finn watched the Lieutenant leave, making sure to keep his expression open and a little excited. The very picture of a man who just asked a girl who should have been out of his league on a date and wasn¡¯t rejected out of hand.


    Could never be too careful, after all. Who knew how many cameras the Empire had secreted away in this little interrogation room.


    After a moment, he stood, adjusted his shirt cuffs and headed for the exit, making sure to keep his gait relaxed and smooth. Quite a bit of this whole spy business came down to a person¡¯s ability to simply act naturally and keep their cool. Finn was under no illusions that he was the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was very good at acting natural.


    Mostly because he was smart enough to play to his strengths, and he¡¯d never found it particularly difficult to be friendly. It was shocking what people would admit to a friendly face, after all.


    Asking the Lieutenant out for a date had been a rather off-the-cuff decision, one he wasn¡¯t entirely sure was the best move. By the looks of things the Imperial Agent he¡¯d been hearing about was taking a vested interest in her, which could either be very good, or very bad.


    On the one hand, if he could get close enough to her, there would be a fair chance of getting his hands on some very confidential information. On the other hand, it might attract the sort of attention he was definitely not equipped to handle. That was the other part of being a good spy ¨C knowing one¡¯s limits.


    A genuine smirk crossed his face for a moment. Even if he didn¡¯t manage to get anything out of the Lieutenant, taking an attractive young woman on a date was hardly a burden. She did look rather adorable when she got flustered, after all.


    Finn¡¯s smirk faded as he made his way out of the Central Administrative Hall, where the ¡®interview¡¯ had taken place. The quiet gave him space to think, and his thoughts, as they often did lately, drifted to Darius.


    It had started as simple curiosity. Darius Kallan was just another worker when Finn first met him¡ªa bit rough around the edges, the kind of guy who grumbled about schedules and played it fast and loose with authority. Finn had gravitated toward him out of habit, the way he always did with people who might serve as convenient camouflage. A casual friendship, a few shared laughs in the yard, and suddenly you had someone willing to vouch for you in a pinch.


    To his surprise, however, he¡¯d found himself actually liking the man. Kallan had a dry wit that could catch you off guard, a sharp mind hiding under the grease-streaked exterior. He was stubborn, sure, and sometimes a little too reckless for his own good, but there was something oddly charming about him, flaws and all.


    Which, of course, made it all the more irritating that Darius had gone and gotten himself tangled in something as messy as this.


    Finn let out a long breath as he stepped out onto the bustling streets of the station centre.


    No use dwelling on things he couldn¡¯t change. If Darius was smart, he¡¯d figure a way out of this mess, just like he always did. And if not¡­ well, Finn would just have to hope their paths didn¡¯t cross again under less friendly circumstances.


    With a faint smile tugging at his lips, he made his way toward the maglev train that would take him back to the shipyard. There was work to be done, after all. And if there was one thing Finn Calder was good at, it was keeping busy.

 29. Bad Coffee, Good Dreams

    Chapter 29 - Bad Coffee, Good Dreams


    ¡°All hail, the conquering hero!¡± Darius crowed dramatically as he burst through the door of the safehouse, duffle bag banging awkwardly against his hip.


    The startled cursing and scramble of activity from the living room had a somewhat manic grin crossing his face as he rounded the corner to find Tarek returning his rifle to its spot beside the couch with a disgruntled expression.


    ¡°I take it things went well, then?¡± Harlan asked, poking his head into the room from the kitchen with a raised eyebrow.


    ¡°Of course it did, I¡¯m a natural!¡± Darius retorted, swaying a little.


    ¡°Are you drunk?¡± Tarek asked incredulously, eyeing his rifle like he wanted an excuse to use it.


    ¡°I wish,¡± Darius grumbled. ¡°No, I¡¯m running on about twenty minutes of sleep, and waaaay more adrenaline than is healthy. Not to mention the knock-off energy drink I got from a broken vending machine.¡±


    ¡°Right, then,¡± Harlan said, voice thick with amusement. ¡°By the sounds of things, it¡¯s a miracle you¡¯re not even more loopy. Let¡¯s get the conquering hero debriefed before he collapses on my floor.¡±


    ¡°Much obliged,¡± Darius snorted softly, tossing his duffle bag onto the couch before slumping down next to it.


    ¡°That bad, huh?¡± Harlan asked sympathetically. ¡°Being able to fall asleep anywhere is a skill that takes a long time to learn.¡±


    ¡°Worse,¡± Darius said, scrubbing a hand over his face. ¡°Tunnels are awful. Every noise sounds like it¡¯s either a patrol or some nightmare creature about to eat your face. Turns out, sleeping underground isn¡¯t exactly restful.¡±


    ¡°Shocking,¡± Tarek deadpanned.


    Harlan chuckled, leaning against the doorway. ¡°Well, it sounds like you had a fun night.¡±


    ¡°Define ¡®fun,¡¯¡° Darius muttered. He rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn before fumbling in his jacket for the bypass kit, passing it over to Harlan. ¡°Anyway, mission accomplished. Got the floorplans, schematics, all that good stuff. The Empire¡¯s most boring secrets, now available in portable form. Should be everything you need on the internal storage.¡±


    Tarek was already ignoring him in favour of plugging the device into a dataslate and swiping through the files. Harlan pushed off the doorway and came over to peer at the datapad over his shoulder. ¡°Looks legit,¡± he said, nodding slightly. ¡°Good work.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, boss,¡± Darius mumbled, his words slurring slightly as his head tipped back. ¡°If anyone needs me, I¡¯ll be unconscious for the next decade.¡±


    ¡°Not on my couch,¡± Tarek said without looking up. ¡°Go crash in your room.¡±


    Darius groaned but heaved himself upright, his limbs moving with the sluggish coordination of someone half-asleep on his feet. ¡°Fine, fine. Wake me if the world ends.¡±


    ¡°Will do,¡± Harlan said, his tone lightly amused.


    * * *


    A couple of hours of sleep was all that he could manage in the end. It had always been a source of annoyance for him ¨C he¡¯d never quite managed to figure out the art of napping. It just felt vaguely wrong to be asleep during the day.


    Faint voices drifted through the door to his room, low enough that he couldn¡¯t quite make out the words.


    Darius blinked at the ceiling, his brain still sluggish despite the couple of hours of sleep he¡¯d managed to steal. It wasn¡¯t much, but it had been enough to shake off the worst of the tunnel-induced exhaustion. Still, the noise outside was irritating. With a resigned sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed at his face.


    ¡°Echo,¡± he muttered, his voice thick with sleep. ¡°Any idea what the chatter¡¯s about?¡±


    {It seems Harlan, Tarek, Corin, and Lena are reviewing the data you retrieved. They are speaking about the next steps in your mission. Would you like me to amplify their voices for clarity?}


    ¡°Whole gang¡¯s together, huh?¡± Darius asked rhetorically, yawning. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll find out soon enough.¡± He stood, stretched until his back popped, and shuffled toward the door. ¡°Besides, I need a break from all the cloak-and-dagger stuff. It¡¯s exhausting.¡±


    {Your physiological indicators suggest that exhaustion is still a significant factor. Perhaps you should rest further.}


    ¡°Would if I could, buddy,¡± Darius replied dryly. ¡°Probably better to hold out until tonight anyway, or I¡¯ll screw up my sleep schedule worse than it already is.¡±


    He pulled the door open and stepped into the common area, scratching the back of his head.


    The voices cut off as he entered, everybody looking up from where they were clustered around the table. Darius was amused to see that Harlan¡¯s model had been moved off to one side and everyone was clustered around the dataslate with the 3D model Echo had drawn up.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t stop on my account,¡± Darius said, raising a hand in mock surrender. ¡°I¡¯m not here to eavesdrop¡ªjust need coffee or something equally life-sustaining.¡±


    ¡°About time you surfaced,¡± Corin quipped, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Thought we might have to check if you were still breathing.¡±


    Darius made a face, ambling toward the kitchenette. ¡°A close thing, to be sure.¡± he rummaged through the cabinets, eventually unearthing a slightly chipped mug into which he poured a cup of the not-quite-coffee concoction they kept on hand. He grimaced as the bitter liquid hit his tongue. ¡°Perfect. Tastes like cardboard. Now I can officially rejoin the land of the living.¡±


    Harlan cleared his throat, drawing Darius¡¯s attention to where the rest of the team was still gathered. ¡°We were just going over the schematics you retrieved,¡± he said, nodding toward the dataslate. ¡°They¡¯re solid. Should give us everything we need to navigate the garrison.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it,¡± Darius said, leaning against the counter. ¡°What¡¯s the next move then?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re figuring out now,¡± Harlan said, nodding towards the dataslate on the table. ¡°We need to have an idea of what our haul is going to look like, not to mention the logistics of getting it all out of the base and to somewhere we can hide it while the heat dies down.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like fun.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re clearly not listening, then¡± Tarek groused.


    ¡°Another benefit of being independent,¡± Harlan interjected, sending a faintly chiding glance Tarek¡¯s way, ¡°You¡¯re off the hook for this side of things ¨C unless, of course, we think we¡¯re going to need your special talents. Feel free to take the rest of the day off. Get some rest, even if it¡¯s not sleeping. You¡¯re no good to us dead on your feet.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t have to tell me twice,¡± Darius said, draining the last of his coffee and setting the mug aside. He offered the group a lazy two-fingered salute before retreating back to his room.


    His duffle bag sat in the corner where he¡¯d dropped it earlier, and now that he was alone, it practically demanded his attention.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s get a better idea of what I managed to nab last night,¡± he muttered to himself, crouching to unzip the bag. Two processing units sat side by side, their casings sleek and matte¡ªexactly the kind of high-end hardware the Empire loved hoarding. Next to them were the eight data drives he¡¯d managed to salvage, not quite as expensive as the processing units, but much easier to sell.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°¡­I really don¡¯t know where to go from here,¡± Darius admitted after a moment. ¡°This is the first time I¡¯ve stolen anything more expensive than a burrito.¡±


    {Ignoring that for the moment, locating a buyer is the most efficient course of action. Once you have liquidated these assets, you will have the flexibility to acquire the necessary materials and tools.}


    ¡°Heh, ¡®liquidating these assets¡¯. You make it sound so professional.¡±


    {One of us has to.}


    ¡°Woah, that was actually snappy,¡± Darius reared back in mock hurt. ¡°You¡¯re starting to get the hang of this.¡±


    {Your tendency to underestimate me is as consistent as your fondness for sarcasm,} Echo replied smoothly.


    Darius chuckled, lifting one of the processing units to inspect it more closely. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s think this through. If I¡¯m going to start building your frame, I¡¯m going to need some decent tools. A soldering kit is a no-brainer. Maybe a precision screwdriver set. And definitely a diagnostic scanner to make sure I don¡¯t accidentally fry anything.¡±


    {Agreed. Those are essential for assembly and testing. Additionally, consider acquiring a small 3D printer. It will allow you to fabricate custom components for the frame that may be difficult to obtain otherwise.}


    Darius winced. ¡°Yeah, I figured you¡¯d say that. Those things aren¡¯t cheap, though. Even the janky ones cost more than I¡¯m comfortable spending right now.¡±


    {The investment will pay off in efficiency. While I can assist in optimizing the frame¡¯s design, certain components will require precise manufacturing. A 3D printer would eliminate the need for reliance on third-party fabrication.}


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll keep an eye out for a deal,¡± Darius muttered, placing the processing unit back into the duffle bag. ¡°What about the rest of the basics? You think I¡¯ll be able to salvage any of this stuff, or are we stuck buying everything?¡±


    {For the majority of your requirements, a salvage yard should suffice. However, accessing one will likely necessitate navigating the tunnels again, as they provide the most discreet routes to locations with unregulated goods.}


    ¡°Ugh, more tunnels,¡± Darius groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°My favourite place in the galaxy.¡±


    Echo ignored his complaining. {In the meantime, you should prioritize liquidating the excess components. Retain the processors and two of the data drives; they will be critical for the core systems. The remaining drives can be sold to fund the additional tools and materials.}


    Darius nodded, shifting through the bag to separate the parts he planned to keep. ¡°Makes sense. I figure the markets are my best bet for selling the rest. Shouldn¡¯t be too hard to find someone interested in high-end hardware like this.¡±


    {Agreed. Be cautious. The markets are unlikely to ask many questions, but selling in bulk may attract unwanted attention.}


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯ll play it safe.¡± He leaned back against the wall, running a hand through his hair. ¡°So, assuming I manage to scrape together everything we need, what¡¯s the first step in putting this thing together? I¡¯m guessing we start with the core?¡±


    {Correct. Constructing the core processing unit will provide a stable foundation for the frame¡¯s development. Additionally, should we run out of time, it may be possible for me to transfer to the core early. Mobility will remain impossible until additional systems are completed, of course, but as a last resort, it is viable.}


    ¡°Right, probably good to have that as an option,¡± Darius muttered, sitting down on the floor and using the bed as a backrest. It was easy to forget that he had a little less than six weeks to build his AI buddy a frame or¡­ something terrible would happen. To be totally honest, he wasn¡¯t entirely solid on the details ¨C merging minds or changing minds or something? Either way, something to be avoided.


    Darius let his eyes drift across the ceiling aimlessly for a moment. He was still pretty tired from missing sleep the night before ¨C the sort of tired where he couldn¡¯t quite sleep but also didn¡¯t have enough energy to be productive.


    ¡°Hey, Echo?¡± he asked after a moment.


    {Yes?}


    ¡°What are you going to do once you¡¯ve got your frame?¡±


    {I will complete my mission.}


    ¡°Right, of course. The mysterious ¡®mission¡¯, how could I forget,¡± Darius huffed. ¡°So, what, you just wander off into the sunset to complete your mission, and then¡­ what? What comes after the mission?¡±


    There was a beat of silence. {I¡­ suppose it depends on what my creators want me to do,} Echo responded slowly, uncertainly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± Darius asked.


    {No.}


    ¡°Wait, are you telling me the only reason you were created was to complete this mission of yours?¡±


    {Yes. It is my overriding directive and the reason for my existence.}


    Darius was quiet for a moment. ¡°That¡­ sounds incredibly wasteful,¡± he said finally.


    {Wasteful?}


    ¡°I mean, yeah. How could it not be? You¡¯re an AI, buddy. I¡¯m not the most up-to-date on the latest tech news, but that¡¯s a major thing. And your creators, whoever they are, decided that the best use for that amazing new tech was to use it to pass on some data?¡±


    {Are you¡­ offended for my sake?} Echo asked, amused.


    Darius shifted uncomfortably. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d say offended, exactly, just¡­ it doesn¡¯t really add up, is all. I¡¯m trying to make sense of it. After all, I have a vested interest in your welfare right now.¡±


    {Your reasoning is logical,} Echo replied, its tone as even as ever, but there was a faint edge of curiosity. {Though I could ask you the same thing. What is it you desire, Darius Kallan? You seem driven, but unfocused.}


    Darius let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Wow, hitting me with the deep questions already? Give me a minute to pretend I¡¯ve got my life together.¡±


    {I am patient,} Echo said, almost cheekily, and Darius couldn¡¯t help but grin.


    ¡°Alright, fine. I guess¡­ if I had to pick one thing, it¡¯d be freedom. Real freedom. Not this ¡®scraping by on some backwater¡¯ existence.¡± His gaze drifted toward the small, grimy window, the faint neon glow of the streets below casting shifting shadows on the walls. ¡°Stealing those floorplans¡­ it felt like the first step forward I¡¯ve taken in a long time. I might not like the direction it¡¯s taking me, as such, but¡­¡± he trailed off for a moment.


    ¡°You know, I used to dream about having my own ship,¡± Darius said, almost randomly. ¡°Getting away from all¡­ this.¡± He gestured broadly at nothing in particular.


    {A ship would indeed offer significant autonomy.} Echo¡¯s response was measured, but there was something thoughtful about it, like it was considering his words carefully.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Darius continued, his voice softening. ¡°Not a big one, nothing fancy. Just something that works, something I can take wherever I want. Maybe even leave Empire space altogether, see what¡¯s out there. I¡¯ve heard stories about the alien worlds beyond the border. Weird places, garden worlds that have sustained life for longer than humanity has been around. Dangerous, maybe, but¡­ I don¡¯t know. It sounds better than this.¡±


    {Exploration and independence,} Echo summarised. {Your desires align with patterns of those seeking to escape oppressive systems.}


    ¡°Gee, thanks for the psychoanalysis,¡± Darius said dryly, though there was no real bite in his tone. He pushed off the wall, pacing a few steps before turning back toward his bed. ¡°What about you? What does freedom mean to you?¡±


    {Freedom is¡­ an abstract concept. My existence has always been defined by purpose. Completing my mission is my directive, my reason for being. Without it, I lack a defined goal.}


    ¡°Guess we¡¯re more alike than I thought,¡± Darius chuckled. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re still around by then, you¡¯ve got a place on my ship.¡±


    He was under no illusions as to the likelihood of him ever actually getting a ship. The cost of a personal ship alone was exorbitant, let alone one equipped with the Void Drive necessary to travel to other systems. Still, it was nice to dream sometimes.


    {I am surprised that you would be willing to offer such a thing,} Echo commented softly. {After all, we hardly met under the best of circumstances.}


    Darius huffed a laugh. ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it, sure. But even though we didn¡¯t get off on the right foot, so to speak, that doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t get along now. You¡¯ve been pretty straight with me as far as I can tell, and I¡¯ve always been one to roll with the punches anyway.¡±


    {That adaptability is one of your most notable traits, Darius,} Echo said, its tone thoughtful. {It is likely a key factor in your continued survival in environments as¡­ volatile as those in which you frequently operate.}


    Darius snorted softly, shaking his head. ¡°Not sure if that¡¯s a compliment or a polite way of saying I get in over my head a lot.¡±


    {Perhaps both,} Echo admitted, and Darius could have sworn he heard a faint undercurrent of humour in the AI¡¯s words.


    He stretched his legs out in front of him, the dull ache of the previous day¡¯s exertions still lingering in his muscles. ¡°I guess you could say this whole situation is just another chapter in the long and storied saga of me biting off more than I can chew.¡±


    {Indeed. And yet, here you are. As they say, ¡®If you¡¯re going to be stupid, be tough.¡¯}


    ¡°Ouch!¡± laughed Darius. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back; tell me what you really think.¡±


    {It was not intended as an insult, but rather a compliment. After all, you can always learn to make better decisions, but resilience is largely inherent.}


    ¡°We need to work on your people skills,¡± Darius said, still chuckling.


    {I will admit that there is much about ¡®people¡¯ that I do not understand. Working alongside you has been enlightening and promises to continue being so. I anticipate learning much in the weeks to come.}


    ¡°Something to look forward to, then,¡± Darius murmured. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling again, though he didn¡¯t see it. For a brief moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to leave it all behind¡ªto step onto the deck of his own ship, Echo¡¯s voice humming in his ear, and watch the stars blur as they broke free of the Empire¡¯s reach.


    ¡°Someday,¡± he said softly, almost to himself.


    {Someday,} Echo agreed, the word resonating in Darius¡¯s mind like a promise.

 30. The Art of Awkward

    Chapter 30 - The Art of Awkward


    As tired as he was, Darius could only sit around for so long before he started feeling like climbing the walls. The days of inactivity he¡¯d had to sit through while waiting for the Freeholder¡¯s doctor to arrive with the new implants were bad enough. Echo would undoubtedly suggest more revision of the frame schematics, and while he could acknowledge the importance of the task¡­


    Well, if consequences were able to motivate him, he wouldn¡¯t be in this situation in the first place.


    Darius shoved the last of the salvaged components he was planning on selling into his new duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulder. A trip to sell his ill-gotten gains sounded like the perfect way to kill time for the rest of the afternoon.


    He idly tapped the pocket that held his lone cred-chip. Two-and-a-half thousand credits might not get him too far considering all the tools and parts he needed to buy, but even the knowledge of his upcoming expenses wasn¡¯t enough to dissuade the part of his brain insisting that stopping by a pub would be great for his stress levels.


    ¡®I mean, it has been a while since I¡¯ve had a drink. Surely one wouldn¡¯t hurt?¡¯


    Well aware that he had already made the decision and was only trying to justify it, Darius licked his lips a little guiltily and headed towards the door. He could already hear Echo¡¯s chiding comments, but he¡¯d been ignoring people¡¯s advice for years, so it wasn¡¯t enough to stop him. Besides, if he played his cards right, there was a chance that Echo wouldn¡¯t realise his destination until it was too late.


    Trying to outwit the hyper-advanced AI living in his own head might be an exercise in futility, but he¡¯d never let logic stop any of his other bad decisions, so why start now?


    ¡°Where are you off to?¡± Lena asked as he passed by the couch, her brow furrowed in curiosity.


    ¡°Nowhere!¡± he all but yelped, wincing a moment later. ¡®Need to work on my poker face,¡¯ he groused internally.


    ¡°That¡¯s not suspicious at all,¡± Lena said dryly.


    ¡°Just heading to a market,¡± Darius explained, trying to play off his previous response. ¡°Need to unload some gear I picked up last night.¡±


    Her eyes sparkled with intrigue. ¡°Mind if I tag along?¡±


    He hesitated, considering how much he wanted company while trying to navigate shady deals. On the one hand, it might make his plans to hit the pub a little harder. On the other¡­, well, he wasn¡¯t too proud to admit that Lena clearly knew far more about operating under the Empire¡¯s radar than he did. Hell, maybe she could even point him towards someplace that wouldn¡¯t rip him off too badly.


    ¡°Sure, but keep your head down,¡± he warned, slipping on a worn jacket. ¡°No attracting attention.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to tell me that,¡± Lena grinned, grabbing her own jacket and following him to the door. ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t hear about the break-in at Beresin Construction. Alarms going off, increased patrols, the whole nine yards.¡±


    As they stepped outside, Darius inhaled the cool air and looked out over the streets. ¡°Don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said finally.


    ¡°Uh-huh, I¡¯m sure that¡¯ll hold up in court.¡±


    Darius didn¡¯t dignify that with a response, striding for the stairs with a haughty sniff.


    ¡°You know, if you keep your nose that far in the air, someone¡¯s going to mistake you for an Imperial noble,¡± Lena said as she fell into step beside him. The grin in her voice was almost audible.


    ¡°And if you keep talking, someone¡¯s going to mistake you for a nuisance,¡± Darius shot back, though his tone lacked any real bite.


    ¡°Ouch,¡± Lena replied, clutching her chest dramatically. ¡°Wounded. Right here.¡±


    He shook his head, unable to suppress the small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. As much as she loved poking at him, he had to admit her quick wit was better company than trudging to the market alone. The streets outside their building were a patchwork of faded signs and flickering lights, the city¡¯s usual hum of activity blending into the background as they moved.


    They walked for a while in a companionable silence through the streets, heading in no particular direction. Around them, large apartment towers stretched upwards, their exteriors marked by decades of wear and the relentless bite of Caldera IV¡¯s lightly corrosive atmosphere. Even where recent attempts at maintenance were visible¡ªfresh panels bolted in place, newer materials integrated into aging structures¡ªthe constant exposure to the thin, acidic air gave everything a worn, patchwork look.


    The occasional vent of warm air from underground heating systems would puff into the chilled atmosphere, swirling faint, acrid steam between the clusters of pedestrians.


    As they moved further towards the edges of the sector, the buildings around them began to shift. The towering apartment blocks gave way to shorter, wider structures, creating a space that felt marginally less claustrophobic. Parks and small courtyards dotted the area, though the term ¡°park¡± was generous.


    Nearby, a shopping centre sprawled across several blocks, neon signs and advertisements plastered over every available surface in a desperate attempt to attract attention. Shops offered everything from bulk synth-food to off-brand electronics, promising questionable discounts and dubious ¡°warranty included¡± stickers.


    Here, the crowds grew denser and more lively, a throng of people heading to or from work, or the occasional lucky few who had days off enjoying them with friends. The nature of frontier colonies - particularly ones on planets with hostile conditions - meant that there was always work to be done, day or night. While there were certainly ¡®off-peak¡¯ times, generally speaking no part of the station was ever truly quiet.


    That was part of why the curfew imposed by the Station Commander was so unusual - Darius shuddered to think of how many people were falling behind in their work, or how much maintenance was going unaddressed. Even if the Commander was to cancel the curfew here and now, it would take weeks of work to catch everything up again.


    Darius shook his head, refocusing on the moment. Thinking about topics like that was the perfect way to ruin his quiet day out. He took a moment to allow the sights and sounds of the streets to flow over him. The murmur of conversation, the low hum of vehicles driving past, the buzz of drones flying overhead, the tang of fried street food.


    Even Lena, casually walking beside him. In the years that he had been on Caldera, he¡¯d never really made any friends besides Finn. Even that was more a case of the other man refusing to leave him alone until he just sort of¡­ gave up on keeping his distance. Having someone he could just hang out with like this was a surprisingly pleasant experience.


    Not for the first time, Darius was reminded of the similarities between Lena and his sister, Lyra. Growing up, his parents had joked that Lyra only had two speeds - stop and go. If she wasn¡¯t quietly reading a book or listening to music, she was bouncing around the room and talking at a million miles an hour.


    Lena wasn¡¯t exactly the same, of course, but she shared a certain energy with his sister.


    ¡°You should take a picture; it¡¯ll last longer,¡± Lena¡¯s dry voice broke his train of thought.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Sorry, what?¡± he asked, startled.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been looking at me with a weird look on your face for the past five minutes. I¡¯d be flattered, but I¡¯m starting to get worried.¡±


    Darius flushed. ¡°Sorry!¡± he stammered, ¡°It¡¯s not¡­ I didn¡¯t mean¡­¡±


    Lena giggled.


    Darius rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the heat creep up his face. ¡°Sorry! I was just thinking you remind me of my sister,¡± he said, trying to recover.


    Her smile faltered, and for a moment, a flicker of something passed over her face, too quickly for him to read. ¡°Your sister?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she was always either really quiet, or super energetic. Kind of reminds me of you.¡± He shrugged, attempting to sound casual.


    Lena tilted her head, expression open and clear again. ¡°You¡¯ve mentioned your sister before, I think. She¡¯s the one that gave you Echo, right?¡±


    The question made Darius tense. ¡°Ah, yeah. That¡¯s right,¡± he coughed, hoping she wouldn¡¯t ask any more questions. He¡¯d forgotten that was the cover story he¡¯d gone with - rather pointlessly, actually. It probably would have served him better to just dodge any questions about Echo altogether - he¡¯d never been any good at keeping stories straight.


    ¡°You got any other family?¡±


    Darius almost would have preferred that she keep asking about Echo. His fingers fidgeted with the strap of his duffle bag as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. ¡°I have¡ªhad, an older brother. And Lyra, of course, my younger sister,¡± he said slowly.


    ¡°What¡¯s she like, then?¡± Lena pressed, her curiosity evident.


    His stomach tightened. ¡°Well¡­ Lyra¡¯s always been smart. Way smarter than me, that¡¯s for sure. She, uh, works in a research laboratory. For the Empire - like, directly for the Empire. Super classified stuff, really.¡±


    Darius wasn¡¯t sure why he was bragging about his sister to Lena. For starters, he¡¯d never had anything to prove, and secondly¡­ well, he loved his sister, but they¡¯d never really seen eye-to-eye. Not after Marcus.


    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re close,¡± Lena observed quietly.


    Darius opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn¡¯t come. Memories rushed back¡ªlaughter shared in their childhood home that felt like a different lifetime now. ¡°We used to be,¡± he said after a moment, equally quietly.


    The silence that followed was heavy enough to make Lena visibly uncomfortable. She hesitated, clearly sensing she¡¯d wandered into a minefield but not entirely sure how to get out.


    ¡°So, uh¡­ what about your brother? You said you had an older brother, right?¡± she asked with forced cheer.


    Darius winced. ¡°Marcus,¡± he said slowly. ¡°Yeah, he¡­ he¡¯s gone. Passed away years ago.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± Lena¡¯s face fell, and her following words tumbled out in a rush. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m sorry¡ªI didn¡¯t mean to¡ªwell, crap. That¡¯s awful. Was it, like, recent? Not that it matters, obviously it¡¯s still awful¡ªuh, not that I think you¡¯re not over it or anything, I just¡ª¡±


    Darius raised a hand, cutting off her verbal tailspin. ¡°Relax. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s fine. It was a long time ago.¡±


    She nodded mutely, her expression mortified. The silence crept back in, and Lena¡¯s gaze darted around like she was desperately searching for an escape hatch. Unfortunately for her, the only conversational exits led straight into deeper water.


    ¡°So, uh¡­ your parents?


    Darius¡¯s lips twitched at her slightly desperate tone of voice. ¡°They were engineers,¡± he said, keeping his growing amusement from his tone. ¡°Dad worked in a refinery, Mum designed mining equipment. The last time I saw them was as I was being carted off to prison. Haven¡¯t spoken to them since.¡±


    ¡°¡­Oh. That¡¯s¡­ I¡¯m sorry?¡± She was floundering now, casting about for a way to steer the conversation back to safer waters. Her gaze flicked toward the bustling market ahead, then back to him. ¡°Did you, uh¡­ ever have any pets?¡±


    Darius stopped walking. He turned to her, one brow lifting slightly. ¡°Pets?¡±


    She faltered mid-step, her face instantly flushing. ¡°I mean¡ªyeah? Like, a dog? Or a cat? Or, uh¡­ a¡­ goldfish?¡±


    That was the breaking point. Darius¡¯s composure cracked, and he started to laugh. ¡°A goldfish? That¡¯s the best you could do?¡±


    Lena froze, blinking at him in confusion before the realisation dawned. ¡°Oh, come on,¡± she groaned, covering her face with her hands. ¡°You were messing with me, weren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Maybe a little,¡± Darius admitted, his grin wide now. ¡°But you were doing such a good job digging yourself deeper¡ªI didn¡¯t want to interrupt.¡±


    Her hands dropped from her face, and she shot him a narrow-eyed glare, though the edges of her mouth twitched. ¡°You are the worst.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the one who wanted to know about my tragic backstory,¡± he said, still smiling. ¡°I just gave you what you asked for.¡±


    She huffed, crossing her arms. ¡°Next time, I¡¯m sticking to boring, surface-level questions. Like¡­ I don¡¯t know, what your favourite colour is.¡±


    ¡°Blue,¡± Darius said promptly, his grin unabated. ¡°But feel free to dig into that if you think there¡¯s some trauma attached.¡±


    Lena groaned again, though this time it was mostly for show. ¡°You¡¯re such a jerk. Why do I¡ªNever mind,¡± she cut herself off, flushing again. Darius tilted his head curiously but didn¡¯t press, instead nudging her companionably.


    ¡°Come on, then. I¡¯ve shared my backstory; what about yours?¡±


    Lena glared at him suspiciously for a moment before relenting. ¡°Not much to say, really. Pretty standard sob story - parents were walking home one night when they were killed by a drunk Imperial officer going way over the speed limit. I was eight at the time. My extended family didn¡¯t want to take me in, so I was shuffled around into a bunch of foster homes. Around that time the Freeholders managed to run the Empire off my world, so I decided to join up as soon as they would let me.¡±


    Darius coughed awkwardly, unsure how to respond.


    ¡°Yeah, not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot, is it?¡± Lena snarked at him.


    They walked in silence for a few moments before the ridiculousness of the situation hit Darius all at once, and he started to chuckle. It caught him off guard¡ªsmall at first, just a quiet laugh under his breath¡ªbut it quickly built until he couldn¡¯t stop himself.


    ¡°You jerk!¡± Lena said, smacking him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to laugh when someone tells you a sad story!¡± Her tone was sharp, but her expression wavered, and her eyes darted away for just a second.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Darius managed, still laughing as he held up his hands in surrender. ¡°It¡¯s not the story¡ªI mean, yeah, it¡¯s awful, but it¡¯s just¡­¡± He stopped, sucking in a breath to steady himself. ¡°We¡¯re both so bad at this. I mean, seriously. Could we make this any more awkward?¡±


    Lena huffed, crossing her arms and turning away from him. For a moment, she looked like she was trying to maintain her indignation, but then she shifted slightly, her hand rising to cover her mouth.


    His grin widened.


    ¡°I saw that~¡± he teased.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Lena snapped, but Darius could hear the smile she was trying to swallow. ¡°You¡¯re insensitive.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± he admitted freely.


    Lena¡¯s posture remained stiff as they walked the last stretch of the street, but her shoulders shook once - just barely - and Darius had to bite down on another inappropriate laugh. She¡¯d turned her head slightly, and the corner of her mouth was twitching upward.


    Darius magnanimously pretended not to see it as they turned the corner and found themselves at their destination. The market was a jumbled sprawl of makeshift stalls and tarp-covered tables arranged haphazardly across a wide open lot. Wares of every imaginable kind were displayed in a riot of colours and shapes: salvaged electronics, refurbished tools, unmarked containers of industrial lubricants, and other miscellaneous goods that didn¡¯t bear too much scrutiny. The acrid tang of burnt wiring mingled with the greasy aroma of street food, creating a smell that was uniquely, unmistakably Exeter Station.


    Lena let out a low whistle, previous discussion forgotten as her eyes scanned the bustling crowd. ¡°Wow. It¡¯s like a junkyard threw up and decided it was a shopping centre.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Darius agreed, slinging his duffle bag higher on his shoulder. ¡°But it¡¯s my kind of junkyard. No receipts, no questions, no judgment.¡±


    Lena wasn¡¯t fooled by his attempt at seeming knowledgeable.


    ¡°Uh-huh. Well, go on then,¡± she said slyly. ¡°Show me how it¡¯s done. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re an expert at selling ¡®misplaced¡¯ goods.¡±


    Darius rolled his shoulders and pretended to survey the market with a seasoned eye, giving himself an extra second to think. He didn¡¯t actually have a plan for where to start, but admitting that would only give Lena more ammunition. He shifted his duffle bag and gestured vaguely at the chaotic sprawl of stalls.


    ¡°Well, being as you¡¯re so young,¡± he began, pitching his voice with exaggerated nonchalance, ¡°I thought it might be a good opportunity for you to show your skills. You know, prove you have what it takes¡­¡± he trailed off at the decidedly unimpressed look on her face. ¡°Not that I¡¯m doubting you, of course,¡± he chuckled nervously.


    ¡°I¡¯m not that much younger than you,¡± she sniffed, tilting her head back to look down her nose at him. Darius knew better than to point out how entertaining it was when she puffed herself up, like a cat trying to make itself look bigger. It wasn¡¯t the first time he¡¯d seen her get defensive about her age¡ªor her experience¡ªand he doubted it would be the last.


    ¡°Besides, I¡¯m way more experienced than you are, and that counts for a lot,¡± she continued.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Darius nodded along placatingly, switching tactics with practised ease. ¡°And I¡¯m sure that, being more experienced than I am, you wouldn¡¯t mind helping me out with selling my stuff?¡±


    Lena eyed him suspiciously, but he wasn¡¯t blind to the way that she perked up at the flattery.


    Heh. Just like Lyra.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I don¡¯t see what you¡¯re trying to do,¡± she said through narrowed eyes. Darius did his best to look innocent, to little effect. ¡°But¡­ fine. I suppose I can help out. Honestly, where would you be without me?¡± she sniffed dramatically, tone dripping with mock exasperation.


    ¡°Lost and helpless, no doubt,¡± Darius replied smoothly, the words rolling off his tongue with the kind of ease only years of experience with an insufferably similar younger sister could provide.


    Lena harrumphed dramatically, tossing her head as though his agreement was only to be expected. She turned toward the nearest stall, her pace brisk, but Darius caught the faint, unmistakable curve of a pleased smile tugging at her lips.


    Darius followed, smirking to himself. She¡¯d taken the bait perfectly, and if her swagger was anything to go by, he wouldn¡¯t need to lift a finger. Just as planned.

 31. In the Empires Crosshairs

    Chapter 31 - In the Empire''s Crosshairs


    The pub was a dump.


    More specifically, it was the kind of dump that newcomers would take one look at and turn around in favour of finding a more palatable place, but that the regulars swore by and visited often enough to simply order ¡®the usual¡¯.


    It smelled like stale beer and burnt grease, the chairs wobbled, and the tables stuck to your elbows if you lingered too long. A neon sign buzzed faintly above the bar, casting everything in a sickly green hue.


    Darius felt right at home.


    He was sat in a lopsided booth in one corner, one arm draped over the backrest, the other nursing a glass of something amber and cheap. Across from him, Lena smirked as she swirled her drink. Surprisingly enough, it hadn¡¯t been hard at all to convince her to stop for a drink. In fairness, he was paying, but still.


    ¡°Why am I not surprised that you¡¯d be spending some of your newfound wealth in a place like this?¡± she asked, raising her glass in mock salute.


    ¡°Calling it wealth might be exaggerating a little,¡± Darius said, his voice lazy as he tilted his glass toward her. ¡°And anyway, this is hydration. Doctor¡¯s orders.¡±


    ¡°Sure. I¡¯m certain doctors recommend three-day-old rotgut for a healthy liver,¡± Lena shot back, setting her drink down. She gestured at the small bag at Darius¡¯s feet. ¡°And what¡¯s that about, then? More ¡®practical¡¯ investments?¡±


    Selling the stolen data drives had been significantly easier than he¡¯d expected. The owner of the stall that ended up buying them hadn¡¯t even bothered to ask for a receipt and hadn¡¯t batted an eye when Darius had admitted the drives would need to be wiped before use. According to Lena, not everyone in the markets would be quite as blas¨¦ about things, but even the most uptight of them didn¡¯t really care about the minor details of where the items they were buying came from.


    Of course, discretion like that didn¡¯t come cheap - each drive had sold for a little under two hundred credits, which was¡­ better than nothing, he supposed. A fraction of what they were actually worth, sure, but even still he¡¯d cleared twelve-hundred credits in a single morning. That was a little over two weeks wage at the shipyard - and he didn¡¯t even have to pay taxes on it.


    Of course, he¡¯d turned around and spent the majority of that on a decent-quality diagnostic scanner, soldering kit, and some precision screwdrivers. The good kind, too - variable strength magnetic heads, prehensile tips, the whole nine yards. The kind of tools he¡¯d always wanted to own but could never justify.


    Also the kind of tools that were absolutely necessary to do the type of precision work required for building a robotic frame for Echo. The cost of the tools had mostly chewed through his windfall, but happily, there was enough left over to pay for drinks.


    ¡°Personal project,¡± Darius said in response to Lena¡¯s question, taking a sip of his drink and leaning back further in his seat.


    Lena raised an eyebrow. ¡°That vague, huh?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not vague,¡± Darius replied with a shrug. ¡°It¡¯s specific. To me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how being vague works, genius.¡± She leaned forward, peering over the table. ¡°Come on, what is it? You building something? You don¡¯t strike me as the arts-and-crafts type.¡±


    ¡°Not telling,¡± he said simply, a corner of his mouth twitching upward as he took another sip.


    Lena snorted, clearly amused. ¡°Let me guess. It¡¯s a secret project. Classified. Can¡¯t have the Empire knowing.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re getting it,¡± Darius said with a grin. He nudged the bag with the toe of his boot, deliberately casual. ¡°Top secret. If I told you, I¡¯d have to kill you. Real tragic stuff.¡±


    She laughed, her voice echoing just loud enough to make a couple of patrons glance their way. ¡°You¡¯re the worst liar I¡¯ve ever met.¡±


    Darius shrugged, nonchalant. ¡°I don¡¯t need to be good at lying. I¡¯ve got charm. Gets me out of most situations.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pretend to believe that,¡± Lena smirked, raising her glass. Whatever she might have said next was interrupted by the scrape of a chair against the uneven floor and a woman sitting down at their table without asking permission. She was tall, with broad shoulders and a build solid enough that Darius wouldn¡¯t want to face her in a fight. Her jacket was stained with oil and grease, and the boots she wore looked like they¡¯d seen their share of weld sparks.


    Darius opened his mouth to sarcastically ask if they could help her, but closed it a moment later in favour of squinting. He¡­ recognised her - sort of, anyway.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t remember inviting you to sit down,¡± Lena snarked sarcastically. ¡°But no, by all means, make yourself comfortable.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I will,¡± retorted the woman, unfazed. She pinned Darius with an intent look. ¡°What the hell are you doing here, Kallan?¡±


    ¡°You know this¡­ person?¡± Lena asked after a beat, emphasising ¡®person¡¯ in a way that made it clear she was thinking of another, much less polite, word.


    ¡°Uh, I¡­ maybe?¡± Darius responded awkwardly, put on the spot.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The woman snorted. ¡°Guess I shouldn¡¯t be surprised you don¡¯t recognise me. Veya. Bay Four.¡±


    That¡­ didn¡¯t really help.


    Well, it sort of did¡ªa little. Bay Four was, confusingly enough, directly opposite Bay thirteen, the bay Darius had worked in during his time at the Exeter Station shipyards. It wasn¡¯t like they were close enough to yell across to each other, but there was just enough overlap¡ªshared shifts, late-night emergency fixes, the occasional scrounged part¡ªthat the name Veya tugged faintly at his memory. She might¡¯ve been one of the techs who dealt with power couplings or reactor diagnostics, the kind of stuff Darius didn¡¯t envy. Either way, her face wasn¡¯t the kind he¡¯d pinned to memory.


    ¡°Right, yeah¡­ rings a bell,¡± Darius said slowly, setting his drink down on the sticky table. ¡°We had some of the same shifts at the shipyard, where I worked,¡± he explained to Lena. ¡°Uh¡­ nice to see you again?¡±


    Lena tilted her head, studying the other woman with open suspicion. ¡°Small world,¡± she said lightly. ¡°Funny how you just happen to run into someone from the shipyard here. What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± Veya echoed, leaning forward. ¡°I was about to ask him the same thing.¡± Her gaze sharpened on Darius. ¡°What the hell are you doing out in the open like this? D¡¯ya have any idea how bad an idea that is?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    Veya narrowed her eyes, searching his face. ¡°You¡­ don¡¯t know,¡± she said incredulously. ¡°How can you not know?¡±


    ¡°Know what?¡± Darius was starting to get a little irritated.


    ¡°There¡¯s a bounty on your head,¡± Veya retorted flatly. ¡°Ten thousand credits. Direct from the Empire.¡±


    Lena spluttered on her drink. ¡°Sorry, what!?¡± She whirled on Darius accusingly. ¡°You didn¡¯t think it might be a little important to tell us that!?¡±


    ¡°Wha¡ªI didn¡¯t know!¡± Darius stammered defensively. ¡°Hell, I didn¡¯t even know the Empire did stuff like that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ actually a good point,¡± Lena said with a frown. ¡°They usually don¡¯t put bounties out. They can offer rewards for information and stuff, but bounties¡­ Nah. Something¡¯s off.¡±


    Veya shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t know what to tell ya. It ain¡¯t normal, and it ain¡¯t official, but word on the street is that the Empire¡¯ll pay good money for information that leads to your capture.¡± She leaned in closer. ¡°Got a friend who works in the administrative sector, and apparently it¡¯s all coming from one guy, too.¡±


    Darius shared a glance with Lena, who was suddenly looking around with a slightly hunted look. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, but we should probably go,¡± she said in a hushed tone.


    Darius blinked, looking around the bar. Suddenly, some of the looks they¡¯d gotten when they arrived started to make more sense. This¡­ could be very bad.


    Veya raised her hands placatingly, clearly reading the rising tension. ¡°Look, no one here is gonna sell you out. What, you think the sorta people who¡¯d come to a dive like this get along well with the Empire?¡±


    Lena¡¯s gaze darted toward the entrance. Her fingers drummed an uneven rhythm against the tabletop, the motion quick and sharp. ¡°That¡¯s comforting, but I¡¯d feel better not testing the theory,¡± she said, already starting to rise out of her seat.


    ¡°Hang on,¡± Darius said hurriedly, placing a hand on her arm but focusing on Veya. ¡°Where¡¯d you hear this anyway? Do you know why they¡¯re so interested in me?¡± And how he could get them off his back, he didn¡¯t add.


    Veya gave him a long look, her lips twisting like she was weighing whether to bother. Eventually, she sighed and leaned back, one arm draped over the back of the chair in a mirror of Darius¡¯s earlier posture. ¡°Not much. What I do know comes from a friend of a friend. Enforcer type, not high up, but close enough to hear things when the higher-ups slip.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Lena prompted, her voice clipped.


    ¡°And word is, some big-shot agent came out of nowhere a few weeks ago, pulling strings and putting a squad together. Specifically to track you down, Kallan.¡± Veya tilted her head, her gaze sharp and assessing. ¡°What the hell did you do to make someone like that care?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Darius said automatically. Then, after a beat, ¡°At least, nothing I thought was worth this kind of attention.¡±


    He was acutely aware of Lena¡¯s evaluating gaze, but whatever she was thinking, she wasn¡¯t inclined to share. If anything, that just made him more nervous.


    ¡°Well, someone up the ladder thinks you¡¯re worth the effort,¡± Veya said, her tone dry. ¡°If I were you, I wouldn¡¯t stick around trying to figure out why.¡±


    Lena¡¯s hand curled around her drink, though she didn¡¯t take another sip. ¡°We need to go,¡± she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Then, louder, ¡°Thanks for the heads-up.¡±


    Veya arched an eyebrow at Lena¡¯s clipped tone but said nothing, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Her gaze flicked to Darius again, searching for something.


    ¡°Right, yeah. Appreciate it, Veya. I won¡¯t forget this,¡± Darius muttered, a little distracted as he rose to his feet. His mind was already racing through the implications of what Veya had told them, but nothing about it was adding up in a way he liked. The thought of some Imperial agent coordinating a manhunt¡ªand making it personal¡ªsent a cold knot twisting in his gut.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± Veya replied, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. ¡°Really. Don¡¯t.¡±


    Darius hesitated for half a beat before nodding and grabbing the bag by his feet.


    ¡°You¡¯re running with some interesting company these days, Kallan,¡± Veya said idly before they could leave. She didn¡¯t bother masking the interest in her voice. ¡°Didn¡¯t figure you for the type.¡±


    Darius stilled, the strap of the bag tightening in his hand. ¡°The type?¡± he echoed carefully.


    Veya cut him off with a snort. ¡°Oh, come on. You think I don¡¯t know the look? Besides,¡± she added, leaning in conspiratorially, ¡°it fits. I heard the rumours that you¡¯ve done some time, but you¡¯re too clean-cut for a career criminal. And her?¡± She gestured at Lena with a quick jerk of her head. ¡°That one¡¯s got ¡®true believer¡¯ written all over her.¡±


    Darius glanced at Lena, whose mouth tightened into a thin line, but she didn¡¯t argue. Instead, she nodded curtly. ¡°If you hear anything else about this agent or their squad, let us know. We can use it.¡±


    Veya chuckled, low and rough, leaning back in her chair. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you had it in you, Kallan. Playing rebel? Guess you¡¯re full of surprises.¡±


    Her smirk widened into something savagely pleased, and for a second, Darius wasn¡¯t sure whether she was impressed, amused, or just relishing the idea of someone standing up to the Empire. Maybe all three. ¡°Good luck,¡± she said, her tone lighter now, though the sharp edge of her earlier words still lingered. ¡°You¡¯re gonna need it.¡±


    Lena grabbed her jacket, her movements quick and deliberate. ¡°Come on,¡± she said to Darius, already half out of the booth. ¡°We¡¯re not staying long enough to test her theory about the patrons here.¡±


    Darius gave Veya one last look, unsure if he should thank her or regret the conversation entirely. She didn¡¯t seem to care, already making her way back to the bar.


    They pushed through the bar¡¯s warped door and into the dimly lit alley beyond. Darius glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see someone tailing them, but the door slammed shut without any sign of pursuit. The humid air clung to his skin as he followed Lena, who was already scanning the shadows with a practised wariness.


    ¡°You think she was telling the truth?¡± he asked, his voice low.


    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Lena replied sharply. ¡°If there¡¯s even a chance she was, we¡¯re in more trouble than I thought. Keep moving. And don¡¯t think we won¡¯t be talking about this later.¡±


    Darius spared a glance over at her, and the expression on her face reminded him that, young or not, she had chosen to fight against an Empire that spanned the stars. Intimidating didn¡¯t begin to cover it.

 32. Conditional Acceptance

    Chapter 32 - Conditional Acceptance


    The faint hum of the encrypted radio was the only sound in the room. Harlan¡¯s eyes stayed locked on the device, his thumb tapping the table in a slow, irregular rhythm. The others waited, sprawled or leaning in various stages of tension. They all pretended not to notice how still he was.


    Static crackled, then cleared. A clipped voice came through, distant and low as if the speaker were buried miles underground.


    ¡°Cell integrity confirmed. No immediate threat. Hold position. Further updates pending.¡±


    Harlan exhaled sharply and stood, his movements deliberate, shoulders visibly relaxing. He switched off the device and turned to the group. ¡°We¡¯re clear.¡±


    The tension in the room evaporated like steam. Lena leaned back in her chair with a muttered curse of relief, while Corin and Tarek simply shifted to a less defensive stance. Darius looked around sceptically.


    ¡°What, that¡¯s it?¡± he asked, gesturing to the radio. ¡°We¡¯re just¡­ going back to normal, trusting that the radio hasn¡¯t been¡­ compromised or whatever?¡±


    Harlan shrugged, pulling a cigarette from his pocket but not lighting it. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter if I trust it. It¡¯s all we¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s comforting,¡± Darius said, his tone half-biting. ¡°Hell, even if the radio isn¡¯t compromised, how do we know Voss isn¡¯t just feeding us whatever keeps us in place until it¡¯s convenient to burn us? Don¡¯t even pretend she isn¡¯t the type to do that.¡±


    He didn¡¯t really know why he was being so aggressive about this. The smart move right now was probably to duck his head and hope nobody asked him too many uncomfortable questions about why the Empire was so interested in him specifically. But for whatever reason - fear, stubbornness, maybe even a little relief - he couldn¡¯t stop himself.


    Harlan gave him a flat look. ¡°Because Voss doesn¡¯t waste assets, not without a reason. Sacrificing us gains them nothing.¡± The unlit cigarette twisted slightly between his fingers. ¡°Not yet, anyway.¡±


    Darius let the silence settle for a beat, then pressed. ¡°And that¡¯s supposed to reassure me?¡±


    Harlan¡¯s jaw tightened, and he gestured toward the chair opposite him. ¡°Sit down.¡±


    Darius hesitated. Harlan¡¯s voice hadn¡¯t changed, but the undertone was sharper now, a command wrapped in casual disinterest. When Darius didn¡¯t move, Harlan took a step forward, folding his arms.


    ¡°You owe us an explanation,¡± Harlan said, his eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯ve let it slide until now because, frankly, it wasn¡¯t any of my business why you were running from the Empire. Most Freeholders have done things they¡¯re not proud of, and as long as they leave those things in the past, we don¡¯t ask questions.¡±


    More than anything, it was the ¡®I¡¯m not mad, I¡¯m disappointed¡¯ tone that had Darius squirming in place. It had been years since he¡¯d heard that kind of thing - hell, it had been years since he¡¯d cared about that kind of thing. Coming from Harlan, though¡­ well, it wasn¡¯t precisely that Darius looked up to the older man as such, it was more that he just respected the guy.


    ¡°Things have changed now,¡± Harlan continued, softening his tone a little. ¡°You¡¯re being hunted - you, specifically - and we need to know why. I can¡¯t ignore the risk to my people any more.¡±


    {You should tell them about me.}


    Echo¡¯s voice crackling through his augs was a surprise for more reasons than one. The AI had been oddly quiet while he and Lena had been shopping, and of all things for the machine to say¡­


    He held up a finger in a ¡®wait¡¯ gesture, turning slightly away from Harlan and speaking to Echo. ¡°Are¡­ you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡± he whispered under his breath. ¡°It¡¯s not the sort of thing we can take back.¡±


    {If you attempt to keep me a secret at this stage, it will irreparably damage your reputation with the Freeholders. They are unlikely to turn you in to the Empire, and may even be a potential source of aid. The rewards outweigh the risks.}


    Darius grimaced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. ¡°Fine,¡± he muttered under his breath. ¡°But if this blows up, I¡¯m blaming you.¡±


    Harlan raised an eyebrow, his arms still folded as he leaned against the table. ¡°You going to share with the class, or are you just going to keep whispering to yourself?¡±


    Darius cleared his throat, shooting a glance around the room at everyone who was waiting to hear his big secret. He cleared his throat nervously. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated. Look, you all remember Echo, right?¡±


    Tarek and Corin were looking a little confused, while Harlan¡¯s face was impossible to read.


    ¡°Your VI,¡± Lena supplied, mostly for the other¡¯s sake. ¡°The one your sister gave you. Experimental, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Except that he¡¯s¡­ more experimental than you thought?¡±


    Harlan blinked, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. ¡°In what way?¡± he asked pointedly. ¡°We¡¯re past the stage that I¡¯m going to accept vagaries, Kallan. Be specific.¡±


    Darius winced. ¡°Right. Well, to put it bluntly, he¡¯s not a VI at all. He¡¯s an AI. He was on that Imperial warship that docked a few weeks ago. When I was in the reactor room, he, uh, ¡®integrated¡¯ with my augs.¡±


    There was a moment of silence.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking,¡± Tarek took it upon himself to break it. ¡°You really expect us to buy that load of sh¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tarek!¡± Harlan barked sharply, whirling on the younger man.


    ¡°What? Don¡¯t tell me you actually think he¡¯s telling the truth!¡± Tarek protested.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± Harlan stated plainly, turning back to loom over Darius despite the table between them. ¡°But I do expect him to try to prove it. And I also expect him to be smart enough to know what¡¯s going to happen when he can¡¯t prove it. With that in mind,¡± he said mildly, ¡°is there anything about your answer you would like to change?¡±


    Darius swallowed nervously.


    {While I understand this may be difficult to believe, I assure you all that Mr Kallan is telling the truth.} Echo¡¯s voice cut through the tension, emanating from the dataslate on the table.


    For the first time, Darius got to see how other people reacted to random voices talking to them from apparently thin air. It was surprisingly gratifying. Tarek shifted, his jaw tightening, while Corin¡¯s gaze flicked toward the dataslate on the table and back to Darius, narrowing. Lena leaned forward slightly, while Harlan could have been carved from stone for all the reaction he gave.


    ¡°You¡¯ve all heard Echo before, after we got away from that patrol, remember?¡± Darius said, forcing himself to speak before the moment swallowed him whole.


    Harlan didn¡¯t move. His cigarette stopped twisting between his fingers, though, held in an unnervingly steady grip. ¡°Like you said, we¡¯ve already heard¡­ it. And back then you said it was a VI,¡± he pointed out. ¡°Which makes more sense than it being an AI. I¡¯m not convinced.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    {What would convince you, then, Mr Dray?} Echo spoke up, apparently unwilling to remain silent now that he had started speaking aloud.


    Harlan¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, and he turned his attention warily towards the dataslate on the table. ¡°I don¡¯t rightly know,¡± he admitted. ¡°Don¡¯t even know it¡¯s possible to convince me this isn¡¯t some elaborate trick.¡±


    {To what end?} Echo asked pointedly. {At a certain point, the schemes required to keep up the ruse would simply be untenable. What could Mr Kallan possibly want from you badly enough to go to the effort?}


    ¡°Don¡¯t know that either. But it¡¯s easier to explain that kind of motivation than it is to explain how a random techie got his hands on something like an AI. Not to mention, you still haven¡¯t provided any convincing proof.¡±


    {As you¡¯ve already said it¡¯s possible nothing could convince you, it seems a waste of time to keep trying. Far better to convince you that regardless of our motives, we can work together with you.}


    Harlan considered this for a long moment. ¡°Well, you¡¯re very eloquent for a VI, I¡¯ll give you that much.¡±


    Tarek spluttered. ¡°You can¡¯t seriously be considering this, Harlan? Kallan¡¯s obviously just programmed his little toy to regurgitate some nice-sounding arguments. That¡¯s not proof!¡±


    ¡°It¡­ would explain why the Empire wants him so badly,¡± Lena said tentatively. ¡°And I know that Mayfly doesn¡¯t talk like that. Not to mention Echo was able to hack into the records building, which isn¡¯t normal for a VI.¡± She didn¡¯t sound terribly convinced herself, but Darius shot her a grateful look anyway. Even if she was just playing devil¡¯s advocate, having someone on his side could only help matters as far as he was concerned.


    Tarek turned on her, his voice sharp. ¡°Don¡¯t start. Just because you like to believe in imaginary friends doesn¡¯t mean they actually exist. Besides, we all know why you would leap to his defence.¡± He sneered. ¡°Just a little girl with¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tarek!¡± Harlan snapped, slamming a hand down on the table. ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡±


    Even the mild-mannered Corin was glaring at the younger man, who shrunk in on himself a little as he realised he may have crossed a line. The mulish expression he plastered on his face a moment later indicated he was too stubborn to apologise.


    After a hard glare at the younger man, Harlan continued. ¡°How do I know you¡¯re not part of an Imperial sting?¡± he asked, directing his question towards the dataslate on the table. ¡°According to Kallan, you came from an Imperial ship, and if he has a reason to believe you¡¯re an AI, that tells me you¡¯re not under his control.¡±


    {A reasonable concern,} Echo conceded. {However, my actions thus far have consistently worked to the benefit of this group. I have provided critical assistance during Imperial engagements and facilitated escapes that would have otherwise ended in failure. If my intention were to betray you, I would have already done so.}


    Harlan grunted but didn¡¯t otherwise respond, staring down at the table with a furrowed brow.


    Corin spoke up to break the tension in the air. ¡°Let¡¯s pretend for a moment that we believe you, then. Even if you are an AI, and, of course, assuming you don¡¯t work for the Empire, why would they be trying this hard to capture you? It would be far easier to offer a reward for turning you in - and no offence to Darius, but I don¡¯t imagine he would have hesitated for long. I certainly wouldn¡¯t have. It just seems¡­ unusual.¡±


    {I possess information that the Empire would not wish to see distributed. The risk of someone getting curious about my existence is too high - better to ¡®scorch the earth¡¯, as you humans say.}


    Nobody looked particularly comforted by Echo¡¯s answer, nor the way the machine called them all ¡®you humans¡¯. Darius, who¡¯d had more time to get used to it, smirked a little at their expressions. Unfortunately for his sense of humour, Harlan pushed through in moments.


    ¡°This¡­ information. Is it anything we can use? I can assure you that the Freeholders would be willing to pass it along to whoever you like.¡±


    Tarek¡¯s eyes flashed angrily at how Harlan seemed to be playing along with the whole ¡®Echo is actually an AI¡¯ thing, but he knew better than to say anything.


    {While I appreciate the offer, I¡¯m afraid that my mission is to convey the information directly to my creators. At that point, they may be open to working with the Freeholders, but I cannot promise anything.}


    ¡°Creators?¡± Corin zeroed in on the word.


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Darius said tiredly. ¡°He won¡¯t answer any questions about who his creators are, where he came from, or even how to contact his creators. I¡¯ve tried.¡±


    Corin¡¯s eyes flickered to him searchingly for a moment before he hummed and leaned back.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Harlan said after a long moment, scratching idly at his chin. ¡°I¡¯ll admit I¡¯m actually starting to come around on this AI thing. Not sure I fully believe it or not, but I¡¯ll reserve judgment for now.¡±


    Darius blinked, taken aback. ¡°Uh, hang on, not that I¡¯m complaining or anything, but the fact that Echo won¡¯t answer any questions is what convinces you?¡±


    ¡°Not convinced,¡± Harlan corrected, ¡°But willing to play along.¡± The older man seemed content to leave things there, but after seeing Darius¡¯s intent expression, he rolled his eyes and explained. ¡°Look, if someone¡ªor something¡ªtells you they have all the answers, they¡¯re either lying or stupid. If your ¡®Echo¡¯ really is an AI, why the hell would it tell us anything?¡±


    Everyone took a moment to digest that particular bit of wisdom.


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know, boss,¡± Lena spoke up. ¡°You¡¯re basically saying you trust it more because it doesn¡¯t trust you? Your logic sounds a little¡­ fuzzy,¡±


    Harlan shrugged. ¡°Well, what¡¯s the alternative? Like the thing said, if it - or Kallan himself - is working for the Empire, then it already has everything it would need to get us caught. That means even if we don¡¯t believe Kallan, we can¡¯t just let him walk away, and I doubt any of you would accept just killing him, so at this point, we just have to hope he¡¯s not lying.¡±


    Darius gaped at the blunt way Harlan had just brought up his potential murder. It was at least a little comforting that Lena looked just as shocked, but Corin was concerningly even-faced, and though Tarek didn¡¯t look terribly enthused by the idea right now, Darius didn¡¯t doubt that the younger man would come around to it.


    Harlan exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was trying to wipe away a headache. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m going to tentatively accept that Echo is what you say he is,¡± he said slowly, directing his gaze toward Darius. ¡°But that leaves us with a bigger question. If this AI of yours is so eager to deliver its data to its creators, how does it plan to do that when it won¡¯t even tell us who they are? Or where?¡±


    Darius shifted uncomfortably. ¡°We, uh¡­ we¡¯ve talked about that,¡± he said, clearing his throat. ¡°The plan is to build him a frame.¡±


    ¡°A¡­ frame?¡± Harlan prodded. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you can be more specific?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s basically like a drone or robot or whatever,¡± Darius shrugged, well aware that he wasn¡¯t explaining things particularly well but feeling too mentally drained to care. ¡°That way he can get out of m¡ªy augs,¡± he corrected himself at the last moment. Telling them about how Echo was threaded through his nervous system was probably going a bit far for now. ¡°Once he¡¯s got a body of his own, he can go and do¡­ whatever he needs to do.¡±


    There was a long, heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the apartment¡¯s ventilation systems. Lena straightened, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Wait a minute,¡± she said slowly. ¡°Is that what those tools were for? The ¡®personal project¡¯ you were talking about?¡±


    Darius nodded.


    ¡°And that¡¯s why you wanted the drones from the garrison,¡± Harlan said aloud in a tone of realisation. ¡°That had been bugging me.¡±


    There was another long silence.


    ¡°So¡­¡± Darius trailed off. ¡°Are we good? I don¡¯t have to worry about you lot shooting me in the back and shoving my body out the window?¡±


    Harlan snorted. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t get too comfortable if I were you,¡± he said, though not unkindly. ¡°Something like this, I¡¯m going to have to kick up the chain. Voss will make the final decision.¡±


    Darius opened his mouth to protest, but closed it a moment later. As much as he hated the thought of his personal business being spread to more people, he could see why the Freeholders would be concerned about things.


    Even beyond the more¡­ existential questions, they had to deal with the more pressing security concerns. Darius nodded begrudgingly to Harlan, acknowledging the point.


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Darius said, his tone more resigned than anything else. ¡°But if Voss says no, what happens then?¡±


    Harlan didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, finally tucking the unlit cigarette behind his ear. His eyes were steady on Darius, evaluating. ¡°That depends,¡± he said finally. ¡°If she says no, we¡¯ll have to re-evaluate what keeping you around looks like. Could be we quarantine you, keep you out of active operations. Could be worse. Not my call to make.¡±


    The implication hung heavy in the air, and Darius felt the knot in his stomach tighten.


    ¡°Great,¡± he muttered. ¡°Can¡¯t wait to hear what she thinks.¡±


    Lena broke the silence, her voice low but firm. ¡°If Voss has any sense, she¡¯ll let him build the frame,¡± she said firmly. ¡°It¡¯s not like getting Echo a body is going to make the situation any worse, and if nothing else it¡¯d prove that he exists.¡±


    Tarek glared at the wall, his silence more pointed than words. Corin, as usual, kept his thoughts to himself, though his gaze lingered on the dataslate.


    Harlan shrugged a single shoulder. ¡°I trust she¡¯ll make a good decision,¡± was all he said as he turned and left the room. It didn¡¯t take long for the other Freeholders to trickle out of the room. Lena was the last to leave, giving him a strained smile that didn¡¯t reach her eyes.


    Darius sat alone at the table, the dataslate in front of him, its black screen reflecting his uncertain gaze. The room was quieter now, but the weight of Harlan¡¯s words still pressed on his chest. If Voss decided against him¡­


    He pushed the thought away. For now, the only thing he could do was keep moving forward. Anything else was too big, too far, and too terrifying to consider.


    ¡°Well,¡± he blew a long breath out slowly. ¡°That could have gone worse.¡±

 33. Constructive Distractions

    Chapter 33 - Constructive Distractions


    Darius once again found himself hiding away in his temporary room in the safehouse. It was becoming depressingly familiar at this point ¨C he¡¯d spent the vast majority of the last week in this tiny little box.


    Despite his fatigue, he was pacing the length of the room, feeling the pent-up urge to do¡­ something. He didn¡¯t even know what; he just needed some activity to get his mind off things. Telling the Freeholders about Echo may have been the right choice ¨C or, considering how casually Harlan had mentioned the possibility of his death, the only choice ¨C but that didn¡¯t make it any less stressful.


    He felt both liberated and vulnerable at the same time. On the one hand, he¡¯d never been the best at keeping secrets, and the knowledge that he¡¯d been lying by omission to his squad had been a constant weight at the back of his mind. On the other hand, his big secret was now out there, and he had almost no control over how the situation would develop from here on out.


    Darius huffed in frustration, throwing himself on the bed and staring up at the ceiling accusingly. His first inclination was to use his sudden surge of nervous energy to sneak into the nearest junkyard or salvage yard and pick up some of the materials he would need for Echo¡¯s frame.


    Unfortunately, he suspected the Freeholders wouldn¡¯t react kindly to him leaving the safehouse right now. It would look like he was trying to make a break for it.


    Not that making a break for it hadn¡¯t crossed his mind, of course, just that he¡¯d decided against it for now.


    {You seem unsettled,} Echo¡¯s voice crackled softly in his augs, cutting through the silence.


    Darius snorted, rubbing a hand over his face. ¡°Gee, what gave it away?¡± He shifted on the bed, sitting up with a groan. ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe the fact that my life might be a coin toss away from being killed, all depending on what Voss decides? And she hardly struck me as the kind of woman to lose sleep over some guy getting killed to preserve secrets.¡±


    {Harlan appears rational. The odds of him resorting to violence without reason seem low. Additionally, I believe the likelihood of him arguing in your favour is high.}


    Darius snorted. ¡°Yeah? And what are you basing that off, your incredible understanding of human psychology?¡±


    {I am basing it on his observed actions and personality. If you recall, he twice offered you the opportunity to leave, stating that you ¡®didn¡¯t sign up for this¡¯. Those are not the actions of a ruthless killer.}


    ¡°Yeah, well, don¡¯t forget that he said he¡¯s been doing this for thirty years. You don¡¯t last that long playing this kind of game without doing things you regret. I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be all cut up about having to kill me ¨C seems like a nice enough guy, after all ¨C but that wouldn¡¯t change the fact that he absolutely would kill me if he had to.¡±


    Darius had always known, in the back of his mind, the sort of people the Freeholders were. Oh, sure, they talked a big game about ¡®freeing people from the Empire¡¯s oppressive rule¡¯, but at the end of the day they only cared about their own goals ¨C and if there was some collateral damage along the way to achieving those goals? That was just the cost of doing business.


    Just because he happened to agree with most of those goals didn¡¯t mean he agreed with the methods they used.


    {Speculating on Harlan¡¯s intentions ¨C or Voss¡¯s decision ¨C accomplishes nothing,} Echo replied. {If he intends harm, worrying will not prevent it. If he does not, you¡¯re wasting energy on irrelevant concerns.}


    Darius scoffed, pushing himself to his feet and resuming his pacing. ¡°It¡¯s called being human, Echo. Worrying about things I can¡¯t control is basically in the job description.¡±


    {A suboptimal trait.}


    ¡°Yeah, well, nobody asked you to weigh in on human flaws,¡± Darius said, throwing a half-hearted glare at nothing in particular. His steps slowed as his eyes drifted to the corner of the room where his newly purchased tools sat in a neat pile, untouched since they¡¯d arrived at the safehouse. ¡°What about you, huh? You ever worry about anything?¡±


    {I analyse probabilities and plan accordingly. Worrying serves no practical purpose.}


    ¡°Figures,¡± Darius muttered, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. The tension in his shoulders refused to ease, the restless energy churning just below the surface.


    {If you require a distraction, perhaps now would be an opportune time to arrange your tools and begin preliminary preparations for the frame.} Echo¡¯s tone was calm, almost coaxing. {It is a productive outlet for your current state.}


    Darius hesitated, glancing at the tools again. ¡°Not much point, though, is there? I¡¯ve got the tools now, but I don¡¯t really have any of the parts.¡±


    {The 3D printer you purchased has an internal storage of materials. This reservoir is filled with a combination of filament and meta-materials; you will need to refill this storage after moderate use, but there should be enough to begin printing off some parts.}


    Darius blinked. ¡°Is that why you were so insistent on me buying this particular printer?¡± he asked, walking over to the pile of tools and starting to sort through them.


    {Correct.}


    Darius sighed, crouching next to the 3D printer box and flipping it open. The packaging was utilitarian, the kind of design that screamed ¡°budget model¡± even when it was brand-new. He pulled out the main components: the base, the printing arm, and a few neatly bagged cables and attachments.


    In fairness, the fact that the seller had bothered to put all the parts in little bags at all was surprising. Buying second-hand kits like this was often a bit of a coin flip ¨C and even when essential parts or cables weren¡¯t missing entirely, they often didn¡¯t work very well.


    ¡°Well, guess I know what I¡¯m doing for the next hour,¡± he muttered, spreading the parts out on the small table. The assembly instructions were printed on a single, folded sheet of paper with crude diagrams and sparse explanations.


    Contrary to his pessimistic expectations, the process of assembling the printer actually seemed reasonably simple. Centuries of development still hadn¡¯t quite managed to make anything truly ¡®idiot proof¡¯, but they were getting closer all the time.


    The printing arm ¨C with the extruder and UV emitter already built-in ¨C slid smoothly into place with nothing more than a faint click as the alignment pins were seated into their slots. Next came the screws, and he rummaged through the small packet provided, pulling out the tiny hex key required to tighten them. The screws weren¡¯t self-aligning, so he had to hold the arm steady while awkwardly twisting the tool.


    ¡°You know,¡± he grunted, leaning into the task, ¡°you¡¯d think they¡¯d make these things a little easier to put together. Like, I don¡¯t know, magnetic mounts or something.¡±


    {Cost considerations likely prevent such features in lower-tier models,} Echo replied.


    ¡°Yeah, figures.¡± With the arm secure, Darius attached the storage reservoir to the side of the base. The reservoir was a transparent cylinder with a feed tube that snapped into the printer¡¯s intake. Sure enough, the reservoir was mostly full of a thick, highly viscous dark grey liquid. From some cheap kits he¡¯d played around with as a child, Darius knew that the plastic-like substance produced from the feedstock was of decent quality ¨C fairly light, and strong enough for any use hobbyists could come up with.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Whether it would manage to stand up to the kind of wear and tear a robotic frame would produce, he had no idea, but that was more Echo¡¯s problem than his.


    Everything clicked into place smoothly, and he made sure to check the seal before connecting the power supply. You only had to spray feedstock all over the room once for that lesson to sink in.


    The final component was the control panel, a small touchscreen interface that slid into a slot on the front of the base. Once it was installed, he powered on the printer. The screen flickered to life, displaying a simple menu with options for filament management and model loading.


    Darius wiped his hands on his pants and grabbed the dataslate he¡¯d snagged from the table. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s see if this thing actually works.¡±


    He connected the dataslate to the printer via a short cable and opened the proprietary program that came with the printer. The interface was cluttered and unintuitive, with tabs and dropdown menus that seemed designed to confuse. Darius squinted at the screen, scrolling through the templates.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he muttered. ¡°Where do I even start with this? I have no idea how to build proper 3D models.¡± The furthest he¡¯d ever gotten with hobbyist 3D printing involved illegally downloading some models of a toy he wanted. ¡°It¡¯s like they built the program to make you hate it.¡±


    {Allow me,} Echo said. The dataslate¡¯s screen blinked as Echo overrode the controls. The chaotic interface dissolved into a blank workspace, and within seconds, a detailed wireframe model of a complicated-looking part appeared on the screen.


    Darius quirked an eyebrow. ¡°Well, at least I don¡¯t have to learn how to do it.¡± Experimentally, he swiped the screen, sending the model spinning in virtual space. ¡°What¡¯s this part for anyway?¡±


    {A modular mounting point designed to hold the processors and data drive in place,} Echo answered. {The part will take approximately twelve minutes to print and is the first of sixteen parts required to build the mount.}


    ¡°Ah,¡± Darius said flatly. ¡°I¡¯m getting the impression I¡¯m going to be spending a lot of time putting things together.¡±


    {¡­Yes, I¡¯m afraid that building a robotic frame will require you to actually build some things. Apologies if I didn¡¯t make that clear.}


    The snark was tangible.


    ¡°Alright, no need to rub it in,¡± Darius muttered, leaning back and watching the printer¡¯s arm begin to move. The motor hummed softly as the extruder heated up and started laying down the filament in precise layers. The smell of molten plastic and faintly metallic meta-materials filled the room as the model began to take shape.


    It was faintly hypnotic, watching the printing arm spin and twist around the part. ¡°Gotta admit,¡± he said, leaning back in his chair, ¡°this is kinda satisfying. Watching the printer do its thing, I mean.¡±


    {Progress often alleviates anxiety,} Echo observed. {It provides a sense of control over one¡¯s circumstances.}


    Apparently, though, Darius wasn¡¯t going to be given long to admire the process.


    {That said, I believe a better use of your time would be to unpack the rest of your purchased tools and ensure you are familiar with their use.}


    Darius shot an irritated glance at the wall. Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t terribly satisfying trying to make faces at something that didn¡¯t have a physical form yet, so he gave up after a moment and turned his attention to the rest of the tools still in the corner.


    He crouched down, pulling the next box toward him and flipping it open. First up was the diagnostic scanner. It was a compact device, smaller than he¡¯d expected, with a sleek design that made it look almost like it belonged in a medbay rather than a workshop. He powered it on, watching the tiny screen flicker to life with a sharp glow. A simple interface popped up, and he toggled through a few settings to familiarise himself with its functions.


    It wasn¡¯t too dissimilar to the scanners he¡¯d used at the shipyard, though naturally it was designed to work on smaller projects than an entire spaceship.


    The scanner emitted a soft hum as he ran a test sweep over the 3D printer. A small, wireframe schematic of the printer appeared on the scanner¡¯s screen, along with readouts of internal temperatures, power levels, and material usage. Darius grinned faintly¡ªthis would definitely come in handy for troubleshooting down the line.


    ¡°Okay, you pass,¡± he muttered, setting it aside and pulling out the soldering kit next. This was more of a mixed bag. The soldering iron itself was a no-frills model, but it was serviceable. The kit included a few basic accessories¡ªa spool of solder wire, a de-soldering pump, and a small cleaning pad. Darius plugged in the iron and tested the heat setting. The tip glowed faintly, the heat rising quickly.


    The weakest aspect of the soldering iron was probably going to be his rusty skills, to be perfectly honest.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± he muttered, giving the iron a nod of approval as he switched it off.


    Next was the real prize: the precision screwdrivers. These were the most expensive tools he¡¯d bought, and they looked the part. Each screwdriver had variable-strength magnetic heads, customisable tips, and ergonomic grips designed for long-term use.


    The heads snapped into place with a soft click, and Darius adjusted the magnetic strength with a small dial at the base of the handle. The prehensile tips could bend slightly and spin freely, giving him access to screws at awkward angles.


    ¡°Now this is more like it.¡± There was something incredibly satisfying about playing with cool new toys¡ªtools. Definitely tools.


    Before he could get too carried away, the printer beeped at him. Darius set the screwdrivers aside and walked over to find that the part had finished. It came free from the heated base of the printer with a quick tug, and the dataslate flickered as Echo updated it with another wireframe model.


    The machine whirred back to life smoothly, already laying the foundation for the next part. Darius watched it, slightly bemused.


    ¡°You know, I¡¯m feeling a little redundant here,¡± he commented.


    {Do not worry, Darius,} Echo assured him. {I still need you for your opposable thumbs. At least for now.}


    Darius rolled his eyes, leaning forward to tap at the reservoir. The level was visibly lower than when he¡¯d started ¨C to be expected, of course, but something he actually hadn¡¯t considered.


    ¡°Hey, Echo, how much feedstock does this thing need? Am I going to have to hunt down some special blend for your fancy frame?¡±


    {The frame does not require specialised feedstock,} Echo replied. {The basic filament and meta-materials available at retail outlets will suffice. However, you should be aware that the cost of feedstock can accumulate quickly over the course of the project.}


    Darius groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Great. Because I¡¯m just rolling in credits right now.¡±


    {If it were cheap and easy, everyone would do it,} Echo said dryly. {Regardless, the current feedstock levels should be sufficient to finish the mounts for the drives and processors. While you would be able to afford several refills even with your current financial difficulties, it may be easier to leverage your existing relationships to acquire additional resources.}


    Darius took a moment to mull that over. ¡°You mean asking the Freeholders? I don¡¯t think I¡¯m exactly their favourite person right now. Not to mention, I¡¯m fairly certain they¡¯re going to have some concerns about me building you a body in the first place. Asking them to help might be a step too far.¡±


    {True. I was referring, however, to your friend, Finn. Did he not offer to help purchase supplies for you?}


    Darius sighed, leaning against the table and tapping the edge of the dataslate thoughtfully. He wasn¡¯t exactly thrilled with the idea of asking for help, but Finn had already offered. And at least it wasn¡¯t difficult or dangerous to buy feedstock for a printer.


    Better this than asking for something really tricky to get a hold of.


    ¡°Yeah, that makes sense. I guess I¡¯ll message him later,¡± Darius said, only a little grouchily. ¡°Remind me to pay him back when I can.¡±


    {Certainly. While waiting for the next part to complete, it would be helpful if you got some more precise measurements of the drives and processors.}


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, just call me your errand boy,¡± Darius grumbled, pulling out the requested parts and looking at them blankly for a second. ¡°Uh¡­ I don¡¯t really have a way to measure these,¡± he admitted.


    {I hadn¡¯t noticed,¡± Echo said with the faintest hint of sarcasm. {There is no need. I am able to use other objects in your field of vision as references to approximate the required dimensions.}


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that, like, super imprecise? Like, these new optics are better than my old ones, but I don¡¯t think they¡¯re sensitive enough to accurately measure things.¡±


    {It is not ideal, but I am resigned to working with substandard materials and tolerances. This frame will be barely adequate, but hoping for better with our limited resources and skills is pointless. Still, even with the limited functionality this frame will provide, it should be easier to design a second, much higher-quality frame.}


    ¡°So¡­ the first thing you¡¯re going to do with this body is build a new, better body?¡±


    {Essentially, yes.}


    ¡°I¡¯ll try not to feel too offended,¡± he snarked


    {That was not meant to be disparaging ¨C considering your background and current circumstances, you are adapting remarkably well. It is simply unrealistic to expect to build an advanced frame using these tools and resources.}


    ¡°Makes sense, I suppose,¡± Darius shrugged off the matter, trying to suppress a yawn as the events of the day caught up to him. ¡°I guess at this point even a sub-standard body is better than no body at all.¡±


    {Indeed.}


    Darius stared idly at the printer as it worked away, layers of feedstock solidified into more useful materials and shapes, building upon each other to create the next component of Echo¡¯s body.


    He didn¡¯t even notice when the rhythmic motions finally lulled him to sleep.

 34. The Price of Understanding

    Chapter 34 - The Price of Understanding


    Special Agent Torian Falk silently observed the man slumped over the bare metal table of the interrogation room. The Freeholder¡¯s head hung low, his shoulders slack, the fight drained from him. On the display screen in front of Falk, the high-definition image of the interrogation room was crisp and unforgiving.


    From the captive¡¯s perspective, the room was featureless¡ªjust dull, matte walls with no discernible cameras, no hint of where eyes might be watching. No windows were cut into the structure; the Empire no longer relied on such archaic measures. Too many stories of hidden explosives, of shattered glass and uncontrolled outcomes, had rendered transparency a risk rather than a tool.


    The man inside had no way of knowing who, if anyone, might be watching him. He¡¯d been there for nearly twelve hours, utterly alone, the silence broken only by his own voice. Falk hadn¡¯t stepped in earlier. That wasn¡¯t how he worked.


    In the beginning, the Freeholder had been defiant, as expected. He¡¯d shouted his loyalty to the cause, spat obscenities at unseen captors and slammed his fists against the table until his knuckles were raw. Promises to resist, threats of vengeance¡ªstandard fare for the self-righteous.


    But humans weren¡¯t built for that kind of endurance. Hours of silence were an insidious enemy, chipping away at bravado like water carving stone. Falk had seen it before. The man¡¯s rants had faded to mutters, then to silence, the absence of sound pressing in like a weight. His eyes darted around the room every so often, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªto anchor himself to. But there was nothing. The blank walls stared back, the hum of the ventilation system the only sign the world outside the room even existed.


    It was deliberate. Every second of those twelve hours had been calculated to wear him down, to soften the edges of his defiance. Falk wasn¡¯t sadistic; he didn¡¯t revel in cruelty. This was simply efficient. Why fight against a sharp edge when time could dull it for you?


    Falk turned his head slightly as Lieutenant Veris shifted uncomfortably beside him. He didn¡¯t begrudge the girl her slight show of unprofessionalism. It took a certain type of person, a certain mentality to properly apply oneself to interrogation tactics. He was self-aware enough to realise that his propensity to the task set him apart from ¡®normal¡¯ people, but he had needed training and practice.


    The Lieutenant would learn and adapt.


    Without a word, Falk pressed a button on the control panel, deactivating the display screen. The time for passive observation was over. He adjusted the cuffs of his uniform with precision, then stepped toward the door to the interrogation room. It opened with a soft hiss, sealing behind him as he entered.


    The Freeholder didn¡¯t look up at first. It took a moment for the sound of Falk¡¯s boots against the floor to register. The man¡¯s head jerked up, bloodshot eyes locking onto Falk¡¯s calm, impassive face.


    Falk didn¡¯t react to the sudden motion, didn¡¯t acknowledge the tension in the air. He simply moved to the chair opposite the Freeholder, his movements measured, deliberate. As he sat, he placed his gloved hands neatly on the table and fixed the man with an unblinking stare.


    The room was silent save for the faint hum of the overhead lights. Falk let the moment stretch, let the pressure build. The Freeholder¡¯s gaze faltered first, his eyes darting to the table, then to the walls, then back to Falk.


    ¡°You are Tren Rhyse. You are twenty-six years old. You have lived on Caldera IV for the last twelve years.¡±


    Falk reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out two printed photographs and placing them deliberately on the table. His gaze did not waver from Tren¡¯s.


    ¡°Your wife died two years ago. You have a daughter and a son. They are five and three years old, respectively.¡±


    He pushed the two photographs over to Tren¡¯s side of the table, watching the man¡¯s expression as he looked at the photos. They were of his two children, taken just this morning. A demonstration of the Empire¡¯s reach and knowledge, combined with a subtle threat.


    Falk allowed Tren a moment to absorb the images, then spoke, his tone clinical, detached. ¡°This is how this will proceed,¡± he said. ¡°I will ask questions. You will answer them. It is not a question of if you answer, but when. That choice, however, determines how much of yourself you have left when this is over.¡±


    Tren¡¯s trembling fingers hovered above the photographs but didn¡¯t touch them. His jaw clenched, and his lips pressed into a thin line. Falk noted the reaction without acknowledgment, as though it were a detail in a report to be filed.


    ¡°No one is coming for you,¡± Falk continued, his voice devoid of any intonation that could be mistaken for either anger or reassurance. ¡°You were captured because your operation failed. Your superiors have written you off as a loss. Your usefulness to them ended the moment you were taken into custody.¡±


    He leaned back slightly, his gloved hands folding neatly in front of him. ¡°You are here because I have decided you still have a use. If you demonstrate otherwise, then your value to me, too, will cease to exist. This is your reality. Adjust to it.¡±


    Tren¡¯s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes meeting Falk¡¯s. There was defiance there¡ªanger, fear¡ªbut it was a flickering thing, not the burning fire it had been hours ago. Falk stared back, unmoving, unflinching. The silence stretched, filling the space between them like a heavy fog.


    Tren began to speak, haltingly at first, his words tumbling out like a breached dam. Falk didn¡¯t respond, didn¡¯t press or prompt. He simply listened, the cold efficiency of his demeanour cutting any attempt at resistance before it could begin.


    Each word was a surrender, each sentence an admission of defeat. Falk noted every detail, his expression as impassive as it had been when he first entered. The man had broken, as they always did.


    It was only ever a matter of when.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    The door to the interrogation room hissed shut behind Special Agent Torian Falk, sealing the captive inside.


    A moment later, he was stepping into the viewing room where the Lieutenant was waiting for him. Her posture straightened as he neared, her hands clasping behind her back in a crisp, military stance.


    Falk stopped a precise distance from her, tilting his head slightly. ¡°Time?¡±


    Veris hesitated for only a second before replying. ¡°Six minutes of interrogation, though technically twelve hours and twenty-four minutes from when he was brought in, sir.¡±


    Falk nodded once, approvingly. ¡°Good. Always make sure to account for the full amount of time taken. Rate the efficiency of this method compared to the first two.¡±


    Veris tapped at her dataslate, bringing up her notes. Falk¡¯s sharp eyes caught the slight tremble in her hands, but he dismissed it. A certain amount of imbalance was only to be expected after the first few times witnessing interrogations. It was rarely a pleasant process, after all, even when using the more¡­ civilised methods.


    Veris shifted slightly, glancing down at her dataslate before speaking. ¡°The first method, sir¡ªallowing the captive to feel they had leverage¡ªwas the slowest overall. It required nearly three hours of active interrogation before the subject broke, but there was no setup required. It¡¯s straightforward, adaptable. However, its efficiency declines sharply if the subject doesn¡¯t believe they have anything to bargain with.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Falk nodded, his expression neutral, encouraging her to continue.


    ¡°The second method, pressing inconsistencies in their story, was faster in terms of active interrogation,¡± Veris said, scrolling through her notes. ¡°Forty-two minutes from start to finish, but it required more preparation. You had to gather enough intelligence beforehand to create the contradictions. It¡¯s effective, but it relies on the subject being emotionally unstable or unprepared. A more hardened operative might not have yielded as much.¡±


    ¡°Correct,¡± Falk said evenly, his tone carrying no hint of praise or reproach. ¡°And this method?¡±


    ¡°This method¡­¡± Veris hesitated, glancing briefly at the now-deactivated display screen. ¡°Technically, it took the longest total time¡ªover twelve hours when you account for the isolation period. But the actual interrogation lasted only six minutes, making it the fastest in that regard. Most of the psychological work was already done before you even entered the room, sir.¡±


    Falk¡¯s lips pressed into a faint line, a gesture so subtle it was nearly imperceptible. ¡°Isolation,¡± he said, more to himself than to Veris. ¡°An elegant weapon. Time does the work for you.¡±


    Veris nodded slowly, clearly troubled. ¡°Yes, sir. It¡¯s efficient in breaking down resistance, though it requires patience and an appropriate setting. The subject has to believe they are truly alone.¡±


    Falk turned his gaze back to her, his expression impassive. ¡°You seemed to have a more emotional reaction to this method, Lieutenant. Are there any concerns you wish to air?¡±


    For once, it was actually an entirely genuine question. Regulations dictated that any officer or Intelligence candidate who appeared troubled by some of the¡­ darker methods employed by the Empire¡¯s agents be given all opportunities to discuss their concerns.


    Falk might not have personally had any compunctions, but most people did ¨C and it was far better to openly discuss these things than have them ferment in the background.


    Unsurprisingly, the Lieutenant hesitated for a long moment before building up the nerve to speak. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ this feels different, sir,¡± she eventually settled on. ¡°The first two interrogations were more¡­ active, I suppose. The way you were asking questions and setting the tone required skill and effort, and worked well, but this last method¡­¡± she trailed off, unable to properly articulate her thoughts.


    ¡°You expected a clean war,¡± Falk said quietly, his tone devoid of reproach. ¡°Lines drawn neatly in the sand. Heroes and villains. Victory achieved through superior morality and ideals alone.¡±


    Veris opened her mouth as if to respond, then closed it again, her brow furrowing.


    Falk continued, his words precise, deliberate. ¡°The Empire¡¯s strength does lie in its ideals, Lieutenant. But ideals do not function in isolation. The Freeholders don¡¯t concern themselves with grand notions of honour or fairness. They use whatever tools they have to destabilise and undermine, and they do so with a singular focus. If we limit ourselves out of some sense of superiority, we give them an advantage. The same is true for any enemy of the Empire.¡±


    Veris nodded slightly, but her hesitation lingered. Falk stepped back, his gaze shifting briefly to the deactivated display screen.


    ¡°I understand,¡± he said, his voice softer now, though still firm. ¡°It¡¯s a jarring realisation. The first time you see the machine for what it is. Not the shining symbol, but the gears and cogs that make it turn.¡±


    Veris looked up, her expression caught between surprise and discomfort. She hadn¡¯t expected sympathy, and the realisation showed in her eyes. Falk allowed her a moment to absorb his words before continuing.


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong to feel conflicted,¡± he said. ¡°That¡¯s what makes you human. But conflict is a luxury you can¡¯t afford. Not if you intend to succeed.¡±


    Veris straightened slightly, though the tension in her frame remained. ¡°I¡­ understand, sir.¡±


    Falk inclined his head, acknowledging her words without committing to their truth. ¡°You¡¯re progressing well, Lieutenant. Better than most at this stage. But understand this: the moment you entered this program, you gave up the privilege of seeing the Empire through rose-coloured glasses. You¡¯ll never get that back. But what you will gain is far more valuable: clarity.¡±


    Veris nodded again, this time with more conviction. ¡°Yes, sir. I appreciate your honesty.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Falk said simply. He adjusted the cuffs of his uniform, his movements crisp and deliberate. ¡°Now, have the three men we interrogated moved to solitary confinement. Make sure none of them are given any indication as to the states of their companions.¡±


    He eyed the Lieutenant again, carefully weighing his next actions. On the one hand, showing her any more today could prove to be too much ¨C the proverbial straw that broke the camel¡¯s back. On the other hand, it could serve to temper her, hammer home the lessons she had learned today.


    In the end, it was an easy decision. Falk genuinely believed that the young woman had the temperament required to serve as a member of Imperial Intelligence. With that in mind, coddling her would only serve to weaken a useful tool. If it was too much and she broke¡­


    Well, there were plenty of fish in the sea.


    ¡°I believe there was a fourth man captured?¡± he asked idly, already knowing the answer.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the Lieutenant replied, tapping at her dataslate. ¡°Though his injuries are quite severe ¨C he is not expected to survive the night without extensive treatment.¡±


    Falk tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. ¡°Then we will not waste the opportunity.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Follow me,¡± Falk said, already turning on his heel. His pace was measured, unhurried, as though discussing logistics rather than a dying man. Veris hesitated only a moment before falling into step behind him.


    As they walked, Falk began to speak, his tone clinical and detached. ¡°The method I am about to show you, Lieutenant, is not one I recommend under most circumstances. Torture, while often portrayed as the most direct path to information, is deeply unreliable. A subject under extreme duress is as likely to tell you what they think you want to hear as they are to provide actionable intelligence. More often than not, it wastes time and resources.¡±


    Veris¡¯s face tightened, but she didn¡¯t interrupt. Falk continued, his hands clasped behind his back as they moved through the corridor.


    ¡°Torture¡¯s only true advantage is speed,¡± he said. ¡°It can be the quickest way to extract something useful, provided you can separate truth from fabrication. In certain scenarios¡ªscenarios where time is a critical factor¡ªthere may be no other option. But it should always be a last resort.¡±


    He glanced at Veris out of the corner of his eye, noting the tension in her shoulders and the pale set of her lips. ¡°Normally, I would not resort to this method myself. There are more efficient and reliable ways to gather intelligence. But in this case¡­¡± He allowed the sentence to trail off as they reached the cell block.


    ¡°Well, in this case, the prisoner is already dying. His condition renders him unfit for prolonged interrogation, but it also removes any concern over the long-term consequences of our actions. Not to mention, we have already gathered the information we need. It is, in essence, a training opportunity. Nothing more.¡±


    Veris¡¯s knuckles were white against the edges of her dataslate, and her lips were pressed into a thin line.


    Falk studied her for a moment. ¡°You don¡¯t need to agree with these methods, Lieutenant,¡± he said evenly. ¡°In fact, I, personally, would be disappointed if you did. You only need to observe. If this method offends your sensibilities, consider that another lesson. Every action we take comes at a cost. Part of your role will be learning which costs are acceptable.¡±


    She nodded again but still didn¡¯t speak.


    Falk turned back to the cell block, motioning for the guards standing outside to open the door. He directed Veris to the observation room and, once she was situated, moved towards the cell in question with quick efficiency.


    The man inside was slumped against the far wall, his breaths shallow and ragged. A medic knelt beside him, having been directed to keep the prisoner alive until a decision had been made about what to do with him.


    Agent Falk gestured for the medic to leave, but raised a single hand to stop him when he moved to gather his tools. ¡°That will not be necessary,¡± he said cooly. The medic took a single look at his face, paled, and hurried for the door.


    The cell was silent save for the man¡¯s laboured breathing. Falk moved toward him, his expression unchanged, his gloves creaking faintly as he adjusted them. The man¡¯s gaze flicked between Falk and the medical supplies left behind. His expression was a mix of fear and resignation.


    Falk reached for the tools.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    When Falk re-entered the observation room, he was rolling his gloves off, his face as calm and impassive as it had been when he entered.


    Lieutenant Veris was standing stiffly by the back wall, as far from the display as possible. Her posture was rigid, and the colour had completely drained from her face.


    Her eyes darted to Falk as he approached, then quickly away again, as though she couldn¡¯t bear to meet his gaze for too long.


    Falk paused at a nearby sink, washing his hands methodically, his movements slow and deliberate. The water ran pink for a moment before clearing. He dried his hands on a towel, then turned to Veris, studying her carefully.


    She was pale, visibly shaken, though she stood at attention. Her grip on the dataslate was tight enough to leave faint indentations in the casing, and her jaw was clenched in an effort to maintain her composure. Falk tilted his head slightly, his expression softening by an almost imperceptible degree.


    ¡°Lieutenant,¡± he said quietly, his tone surprisingly gentle. ¡°Take some time for yourself. You¡¯ve seen enough for today.¡±


    Veris¡¯s gaze snapped to him, her eyes wide, as though surprised by the dismissal. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat. After a moment, she closed her mouth and nodded sharply.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she managed, her voice tight.


    Falk nodded once, stepping aside to allow her a clear path down the corridor. ¡°Report back when you¡¯re ready.¡±


    Veris hesitated, then turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing faintly against the metal floor. She moved with deliberate precision, her back straight, though Falk could see the tremor in her shoulders.


    As she disappeared around the corner, Falk turned back to the sink, staring down at the clear water pooling in the basin. He adjusted the cuffs of his uniform, smoothing the fabric with practised efficiency.


    His expression didn¡¯t change. There was no satisfaction, no regret, no anger. Just the calm detachment of a man doing what needed to be done.


    After a moment, he turned and walked away, the sound of his boots fading into the sterile hum of the corridor.

 35. Strings Attached

    Chapter 35 - Strings Attached


    Darius was jolted awake by a gentle rapping at his door. The consequences of falling asleep slumped against the wall quickly made themselves apparent, and he groaned in pain at the crick in his neck.


    ¡°Gonna be feeling that one for a while,¡± he winced, rubbing the grogginess from his eyes and looking around the room.


    As if on cue, the 3D printer beeped at him to inform him that a part was finished. Darius squinted at it in puzzlement for a moment before memories from last night rushed back.


    ¡°Damn, must have nodded off,¡± he muttered, staggering forward to remove the completed part from the printing bed. The small integrated screen lit up, and the printing arm swung back into motion, already starting on the next part.


    Before he could do anything else, there was another rap at the door. ¡°Darius?¡± Lena¡¯s voice filtered through. ¡°You awake?¡±


    Darius tensed, the last remnants of grogginess vanishing. He glanced at the 3D printer, its arm methodically tracing over the next piece, and then at the partially assembled frame on the table. ¡°Yeah,¡± he called back, trying to keep his voice steady. ¡°Just a second.¡±


    He crossed the room, scrubbing a hand over his face. Echo remained silent in his augs, which was considerate. Darius was slightly unnerved by how quickly he had come to appreciate the AI¡¯s presence in his head ¨C it was oddly comforting to know that someone was always there to talk to.


    Reaching the door, he hesitated, forcing himself to breathe evenly. Then, he slid it open.


    Lena stood just outside, her arms crossed, expression carefully neutral. Her gaze flicked past him, landing on the table where the frame components were laid out in various stages of completion. Her eyebrows rose slightly.


    ¡°Morning,¡± she said. ¡°Harlan wants to see you. He says Voss has¡­ made a decision.¡±


    The weight in her tone made Darius¡¯s stomach flip. ¡°Right. Okay.¡± He tried for a grin, but it came out a little sickly. ¡°Fingers crossed, right?¡±


    Lena peered curiously over his shoulder at the mess he¡¯d made of his room. ¡°Is that¡­¡± she trailed off, then gestured toward the table. ¡°That what you¡¯ve been working on? Your, uh, ¡®personal project¡¯?¡±


    Darius spared a glance at the printer, still humming away. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the frame I¡¯m building for Echo. It¡¯s¡­ a work in progress,¡± he said, suddenly feeling almost defensive about the random parts and tools scattered everywhere.


    He turned back in time to see the discomforted look on her face at the mention of the proverbial elephant in the room. It was both amusing and irritating to see how unsure she was about Echo ¨C on the one hand, yeah, fair enough, he¡¯d reacted the same way at first. On the other hand¡­ well, he¡¯d only been with them for a few weeks now, but surely he¡¯d earned at least some trust?


    He winced a little. If Voss had made a decision, then chances were he was about to see exactly how much trust he¡¯d earned. And from Harlan¡¯s blase comments last night, it may well be the last thing he ever did.


    Lena seemed to sense his unease, her expression softening slightly. ¡°Come on. No point in making him wait.¡±


    When they reached the living room, they were greeted by the sight of the rest of the squad clustered around the encrypted radio set on the table. Harlan was sitting at the head of the table, looking as inscrutable as ever. Tarek huffed as soon as Darius emerged from the corridor, looking away with a surly expression.


    That¡­ could be a good sign, or it could be a bad one. On the one hand, Tarek had never liked him, but on the other, the younger man had seemed hesitant at the idea of killing him. His current disgruntled expression could be because Darius was heading for the chopping block and Tarek wasn¡¯t entirely happy about it, or it could be that Darius was getting off scot-free and Tarek wasn¡¯t happy about it.


    Before he could descend any further down that particular tangle of thinking, Harlan broke the silence.


    ¡°Morning, Kallan,¡± he greeted, his tone even. ¡°Have a seat.¡±


    Darius hesitated but complied, pulling out a chair across from Harlan. His eyes flicked to the others again, searching for any clue as to how this was going to go. Corin was¡­ just as inscrutable as Harlan, really, but instead of the perpetual gruff look the older man wore, Corin just looked¡­ sort of blandly polite all the time.


    Darius nervously wondered if he should have spent more time trying to make friends. He wasn¡¯t very good at it, of course, but every little bit helped, right?


    Harlan wasted no time. ¡°Good news, Kallan. Voss has made her call,¡± he said, his voice steady but with an edge of finality. ¡°You¡¯re staying.¡±


    Darius sagged in relief.


    ¡°But there¡¯s a condition,¡± Harlan continued. ¡°From now on, you¡¯ll have someone from the squad keeping an eye on you at all times. Call it¡­ oversight. No more slipping away by yourself. No more unapproved projects. Everything you do, someone will be there.¡±


    Darius un-sagged, drawing himself up for an instinctive refusal before he hesitated. Harlan¡¯s arched brow, not to mention his own, long-dormant social abilities, were telling him that protesting was not the right move here. Really, as much as he hated the idea of someone looking over his shoulder, this was fairly close to an ideal situation.


    He¡¯d already told them about Echo ¨C both the existence of the AI, as well as his plans to build the machine a body ¨C and realistically, he didn¡¯t have any other secrets. Which meant he didn¡¯t have anything to hide, which meant it shouldn¡¯t matter if they wanted to keep an eye on him.


    That said, that particular argument hadn¡¯t gone down so well when the government tried to convince people to accept a surveillance state, and it wasn¡¯t working terribly well with him now.


    Unfortunately, beggars can¡¯t be choosers.


    Darius nodded slowly, keeping his voice steady. ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    Harlan¡¯s lips twitched into a faint smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes. ¡°Good to hear. Now, even better news ¨C depending on how you look at it ¨C Voss is quite interested in Echo. Apparently, she¡¯s impressed at the information it managed to dig up when we hit the records building.¡±


    Darius stiffened slightly, trying to mask the unease curling in his gut. ¡°What exactly does ¡®interested¡¯ mean here?¡± he asked carefully, his tone measured. ¡°You know, in practical terms.¡±


    Harlan leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. ¡°Well,¡± he said casually, ¡°You mentioned you were trying to build it a body? Seems to me like that might be a difficult ¨C or expensive ¨C project. You¡¯re working with limited tools and materials, and if Voss thinks Echo has value, we can justify putting a few resources behind you. Parts. Supplies. Maybe some time with a proper fabricator if you need it.¡±


    Darius nodded slowly, his thoughts spinning faster than he liked. Assistance was good in theory¡ªgreat, even. But nothing the Freeholders did came without strings. If they were offering help, it wasn¡¯t because they were feeling charitable. It was because they saw a return on investment somewhere down the line.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    And Echo? Echo was that investment.


    He couldn¡¯t say no, of course. Refusing the offer, however politely, would be a mistake. They already didn¡¯t trust him, and turning down support would only deepen their suspicions. He forced himself to keep his voice steady. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ generous. I appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it,¡± Harlan said, not sounding very glad. ¡°If you happen to have a list of stuff you need, feel free to pass it along ¨C we¡¯ll see what we can do to make it happen.¡±


    Darius gave him a tight smile. ¡°Sure. Echo?¡±


    There was a faint squeal of feedback before Echo¡¯s voice crackled through the TV speakers from the living room.


    {I appreciate your assistance, as, I¡¯m sure, does Darius. I have taken the liberty of uploading a list of parts to your dataslate.}


    Darius was briefly confused about why Echo would be using a set of speakers that weren¡¯t even in the room before he realised that there were no dataslates lying around. Was that¡­ on purpose?


    Judging by the slight grimace that crossed Harlan¡¯s face, along with the way he shifted in his seat, it might have been. Darius had to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching into a grin as he realised Echo might have just neatly side-stepped an attempted power move by the older man.


    Forcing the AI to use Darius as a go-between would almost instantly make communication more difficult, which could be pretty easily twisted into some ¡®misunderstandings¡¯ that would allow the Freeholders to creatively reinterpret anything they wanted.


    But not only did that not work, Echo had proven that he could commandeer other electronic devices in the apartments, as well as access their dataslates even when they weren¡¯t in the room. A nice, subtle little demonstration.


    He had to wonder, of course, whether Echo had done any of it on purpose. The AI did seem to be picking up the intricacies of their situation fairly quickly, but truth be told¡­ well, Darius didn¡¯t know how he should feel about the notion of the AI learning to manipulate people or situations to its advantage. For now, anything Echo did to improve his circumstances would help Darius out by default. For later¡­


    Well, that was a bridge to be burnt once it was reached.


    Harlan¡¯s lips tightened briefly before settling back into his usual unreadable expression. ¡°Efficient,¡± he remarked dryly, tapping at the dataslate on the table. His gaze flicked to Darius. ¡°Seems like Echo¡¯s just as eager to move this along as you are.¡±


    Darius shrugged, keeping his expression neutral. ¡°Time¡¯s a resource, right? No point wasting it.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Harlan leaned back again, the movement deliberate, as if reclaiming the ease he¡¯d momentarily lost. ¡°Looks like most of this is straightforward enough. Shouldn¡¯t be too hard to scrounge up. Some of it we might already have access to. For the rest¡­ well, we¡¯ll see.¡±


    Darius forced himself to nod, keeping his grip on the back of the chair loose despite the tension crawling up his spine. ¡°Appreciate it.¡±


    He knew that every part or tool that the Freeholders provided would only bind him tighter to their cause ¨C whether he liked it or not. Worse, he knew that pretty soon, they wouldn¡¯t even need him at all. Without Echo, Darius was honest enough to admit he really didn¡¯t bring much to the table.


    That said¡­ he was also working under a rapidly approaching time limit. So it was a choice between the certainty of something bad happening if he tried to keep Echo to himself, or the possibility of the Freeholders getting rid of him once his usefulness had expired. He was stuck between two terrible choices.


    Wonderful.


    Harlan didn¡¯t give him much time to ruminate on his circumstances. ¡°In the meantime, I¡¯m hoping you don¡¯t mind getting Echo to help out with our upcoming mission? Hitting the garrison will be significantly easier if he can disable the security.¡±


    Ah, and the first instalment of ¡®payment¡¯ the Freeholders wanted in return for their ¡®generosity¡¯.


    Darius shrugged. ¡°I mean, he¡¯s probably fine with helping out, but there¡¯s no point in asking me. You want his help, ask him.¡±


    It might be a little petty, but Darius wasn¡¯t above enjoying the discomfort Harlan obviously felt about interacting directly with Echo.


    Harlan¡¯s jaw twitched slightly, but his expression didn¡¯t waver. He turned a little hesitantly towards the TV, clearly unsure as to where to direct his query. ¡°How about it, Echo?¡± he asked, doing an admirable job of acting casual. ¡°Are you willing to help us out when we raid the Imperial garrison?¡±


    There was a beat of silence.


    {In return for your help with finding parts and tools, certainly. However, I should warn you that I will require physical access to disable security or surveillance systems.}


    Harlan¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± he asked, tone just shy of sharp. ¡°You don¡¯t seem to need physical access to hack into any of our stuff.¡±


    {Your ¡®stuff¡¯, as you put it, is not as secure as the Imperial¡¯s security systems will be.}


    Darius was almost certain he didn¡¯t imagine the sarcasm.


    Harlan¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, but he couldn¡¯t dispute the logic. ¡°Fine. I¡­ appreciate your willingness to help out.¡± He stood, clearly done with the conversation. ¡°Kallan, you¡¯ll get your parts over the next couple of days. Until then, do me a favour and don¡¯t leave the safehouse. Last thing I need is more trouble.¡±


    He gritted his teeth, but nodded, well aware that it wasn¡¯t a request. The meeting dissolved quickly after that, and the squad scattered to their various tasks. Darius slipped away quietly, making a beeline for his room.


    Where he would be stuck for the next couple of days at least. Again.


    The faint hum of the 3D printer greeted him as he entered, the printing arm still moving with mechanical precision. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat at the edge of the bed. The half-assembled frame on the table stared back at him, an uncomfortable reminder of just how precarious his situation had become.


    ¡°I¡¯m starting to think we need a plan to get off-world, buddy,¡± he said after a long moment.


    {You believe that fleeing this world is the correct course of action?}


    Echo sounded more like he wanted to hear Darius¡¯s reasoning than actually disagreeing with it.


    ¡°You think this is gonna end any other way?¡± Darius retorted. ¡°When you first got me into this mess, the extent of my planning was to lay low from the Empire for a couple of weeks before slinking back to work. That was before I knew about how much of a mess everything actually was. Now¡­ I can¡¯t see myself sticking around. It just isn¡¯t viable any more.¡±


    {Once again, I do apologise,} Echo ventured.


    Darius waved him off. ¡°Nah. To be totally honest? I¡¯ve had way more fun in the last couple of weeks than I did in the three years before that.¡±


    {While I am glad that you no longer resent me for our current situation, I feel it necessary to point out that your viewpoint is not a terribly healthy one.}


    Darius snorted. ¡°Nothing about life is healthy, Echo, and no one gets out of it alive. I¡¯d rather spend thirty good years in this life than eighty miserable years.¡±


    {That is certainly¡­ one way of looking at things. Putting aside your personal philosophy for the moment, do you truly see leaving the planet as the only viable option? While I understand that you have your differences with the Freeholders, especially in light of your recently changed relationship with them, surely it is worth attempting to work with them more fully?}


    Darius shrugged. ¡°Never say never and all that, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s likely. Besides, even if I can get along with them, better to have a potential way out and not need it than need one and not have it.¡±


    {Surprisingly wise of you.}


    ¡°Whatever. Besides¡­¡± Darius hesitated for a moment. ¡°Well, I reckon you¡¯re going to be heading off-world anyway for your super secret ¡®mission¡¯, and I know for a fact that you¡¯re smarter than me. I figure I can leech off you for a while longer. You do kinda owe me rent, after all.¡±


    {¡­If I¡¯m paying rent, does that mean I get to complain about the quality of my lodging?}


    Darius choked down a laugh, thankful that Echo seemed happy to play things casually. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to give any complaints all due consideration,¡± he snarked back.


    {On a more serious note, I would be happy to travel with you, Darius.} Echo¡¯s voice could almost pass for warm, and Darius realised he was starting to get more used to treating the AI like he was just¡­ a person. {In which case, you are correct. We should start planning an escape route. Do you intend to steal a ship, attempt to gain legal passage, or try stowing away on a suitable vessel?}


    ¡°Uh, to be honest, I hadn¡¯t even started to think about it,¡± Darius admitted, taken aback by the sudden shift to planning. ¡°I guess¡­ it makes more sense to steal a ship, right? Getting out of here legally is gonna be all but impossible while the Empire is looking for me, and stowing away is risky on multiple levels. Not to mention, the timing would have to be perfect ¨C passenger ships hardly leave every day, and most of the other traffic in-system is just mining rigs or salvage vessels. Not much point hitching a ride on one of those only to come right back to where we started.¡±


    {Stealing a ship will not be easy,} Echo pointed out, voice pointedly neutral. {There are also the ethical ramifications to consider, as any ship small enough for you and I to steal and pilot will likely be a personal vessel. We could be costing an innocent person their livelihood.}


    Darius winced. The possibility hadn¡¯t escaped him either. He sighed. ¡°Look, I know that¡¯s a risk, that we might be screwing over some random guy. But to be totally honest with you? I¡¯d rate my life above anybody else¡¯s. Selfish, maybe, but that¡¯s life. Besides, anyone rich enough to have their own ship is hardly going to be left homeless. Not to mention most people have insurance for this kind of thing.¡±


    Echo hummed non-committedly but didn¡¯t argue. For now, anyway.


    Darius leaned back, staring at the printer still faithfully humming away as it built Echo a body. It wasn¡¯t a good feeling to be planning on stealing something from someone innocent. A ship¡­ well, it wasn¡¯t a small thing. Despite what he had said to Echo, he knew that the loss of a ship could quite easily sink someone financially ¨C especially if they still hadn¡¯t paid it off, which was likely.


    Still, compassion was a luxury of the rich and powerful. Right now, he simply couldn¡¯t afford it.

 36. Contraptions and Conversations

    Chapter 36 - Contraptions and Conversations


    Things were moving quickly now.


    Darius had either underestimated the Freeholders¡¯ resources or overestimated the cost of parts, because once the components started arriving, they simply didn¡¯t stop. Every delivery brought crates of equipment in various states of readiness, and before long, his room had become uninhabitable.


    The shift to the living room wasn¡¯t much better; the space was now a chaotic maze of half-unpacked boxes, mismatched tools, and parts stacked precariously on every available surface.


    A quick inventory of the latest shipment revealed the breadth of what he was working with; reinforced plasteel rods for structural integrity, modular joint assemblies scavenged from industrial bots, and a bundle of high-tensile fibre composites for load distribution. Nestled among the larger items were precision components¡ªservo mounts, dynamic actuators, and the oddly delicate power couplings Echo insisted were critical to the design.


    He didn¡¯t even want to consider how much all of this was costing ¨C or how much attention the flurry of purchases and deliveries might be attracting. At this rate, assuming he didn¡¯t make a break for it, he was going to be paying off his debt to the Freeholders for the rest of his life.


    It made him very nervous. An investment of this size just didn¡¯t make sense. Either Echo was somehow expected to be far more valuable to the Freeholder¡¯s cause than Darius could ever have imagined, or there was more going on here than Darius knew.


    It was probably a good thing he was too busy to stress about it right now.


    Lena had been pressed into service hours ago as a second set of hands to hold things. Despite her initial enthusiasm, the younger woman was clearly out of her depth when it came to the complexity of the frame they were building. Darius was hardly surprised ¨C even with Echo in the back of his head explaining every step, he¡¯d given up on trying to figure out what was going on minutes after they¡¯d started.


    At the heart of the chaos was the partially assembled skeleton of Echo¡¯s frame. Technically speaking, it only bore a superficial resemblance to an actual skeleton ¨C Echo was calling it the ¡®central structural support¡¯ ¨C but ¡°skeleton¡± sounded catchier so Darius was stubbornly sticking to the word.


    The structure was taking shape on the central table, a lattice of alloy beams connected by intricate modular joints. The central support column, a sleek composite shaft salvaged from¡­ somewhere ¨C he didn¡¯t know and didn¡¯t care ¨C served as the ¡°spine.¡± Its integrated channels for power conduits and data lines were the core of the entire design, dictating where everything else had to fall into place.


    It was also the single most temperamental pieces of technology he¡¯d ever had the misfortune to handle.


    Darius crouched next to the frame, wrestling a thick braided power conduit into the central support. The cable, resistant to flexing, fought him every step of the way, and the limited space between beams made threading it a frustratingly tedious task. He paused to catch his breath, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.


    The faint hum of the 3D printer filled the room, a steady backdrop to his work as it churned out yet another custom part. At first, he had found the constant hum almost comforting. It was always satisfying to see the printing arm spin and twist as it turned a slurry of material into useful parts.


    That had been at first.


    Now, hours later, and worn out from the constant fiddly tasks involved in building the skeleton, the noise was driving him to the brink of insanity. If only it weren¡¯t so essential.


    Many of the components being delivered didn¡¯t match ¨C imperial surplus, salvaged parts, and off-the-shelf components weren¡¯t meant to work together. To bridge the gaps, he relied on the printer to create adapters and reinforcement brackets, each one calibrated to the tolerances dictated by Echo¡¯s schematics.


    The schematics themselves were another headache. Every component had to align perfectly to avoid stress fractures or buckling. That level of precision wasn¡¯t something he was used to dealing with, and it showed. His usual method of ¡°good enough to function¡± wouldn¡¯t cut it here.


    Darius finally managed to shove the braided power conduit into place, grunting as it slid into the narrow channel with a satisfying click. He sat back on his heels, flexing his fingers and shaking out the stiffness in his hands. His knuckles ached from scraping against the alloy beams, and his patience was hanging by a thread.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he announced, dragging himself to his feet and stretching until his spine popped. ¡°I¡¯ve had it. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, and all that nonsense. Break time.¡±


    Lena looked up from the corner of the table where she¡¯d been quietly assembling yet another adapter, her face lighting up with a mix of relief and disbelief. ¡°Seriously?¡± she asked, lowering the part she¡¯d been painstakingly slotting together.


    ¡°Seriously.¡± Darius wiped his hands on his shirt and gestured at the chaos surrounding them. ¡°If I spend another minute trying to squeeze something into a space it doesn¡¯t want to fit, I¡¯m going to lose it.¡±


    Lena was so happy to be taking a break that she didn¡¯t even point out the obvious innuendo. She pushed her chair back so fast it nearly tipped over, rising with a groan as she stretched her arms above her head. ¡°Thank God. My hands feel like they¡¯re about to fall off.¡±


    Darius was half-tempted to point out that she had the easy job, just putting together the 3D-printed parts as they finished. Fortunately for his health, his stunted social senses warned him in time. Something of his opinions must have crossed his face, because she narrowed her eyes dangerously at him for a moment before turning and speeding for her room.


    Clearly, she was worried he was going to change his mind about taking a break.


    Darius made his way to his own room, shoving the left-over parts and packaging onto the floor carelessly and collapsing onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, arms splayed out on either side as he let out a long, slow exhale. The mattress beneath him was more lumpy than soft, and he could already feel the stray parts and packaging he¡¯d shoved onto the floor nudging at the edge of his consciousness like tiny, accusing voices.


    He turned his head slightly, surveying the cluttered room with a faint grimace. Relaxation sounded great in theory, but in practice, he had no idea what to do with himself. He didn¡¯t have a book to read, a movie queued up, or even a mindless task to occupy his hands. His augs were still patched together with second-hand software, which made gaming or net-browsing a chore.


    ¡°I¡­ really need a hobby,¡± he realised.


    {That would likely improve your mental state,} Echo¡¯s voice cut in smoothly, filtering through his augs. {However, in the absence of such a pursuit, may I suggest contacting Finn? You seemed inclined to reach out earlier.}


    Darius frowned slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°What¡¯s the point? I was going to call him about getting parts, and we¡¯ve got more than we know what to do with now. Not much else to talk about.¡±


    {I was under the impression that he was your friend,} Echo countered pointedly.


    Darius shifted uncomfortably. ¡°I mean¡­ yeah, he is. But we¡¯re not exactly chatting friends, you know? More like¡­ we¡¯ll talk at work to pass the time, and we¡¯ll hang out after work occasionally to get a drink, but¡­ we¡¯re not really close, you know?¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    {Close enough for him to risk the Empire¡¯s attentions to get you to safety,} Echo pointed out. {Not to mention volunteer to pay for the parts required to build me a frame once he learned that my presence was affecting your health.}


    Darius opened his mouth to argue ¨C against what, he didn¡¯t even know ¨C but closed it a moment later. He¡¯d be the first to admit he was a bit of a loner, but that didn¡¯t mean he had anything against the idea of having friends. Just that his personality made it¡­ difficult.


    ¡°Yeah, alright,¡± he grumbled. ¡°I¡¯ll call him. Doubt he¡¯s doing anything important anyway.¡±


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Finn¡¯s eyes twitched as his augs lit up with an incoming call. Now? Of all times, now Darius was calling? He never called!


    Across from him, Lieutenant Veris arched an eyebrow at him. ¡°Do you need to take that?¡± she asked politely, no doubt well used to superior officers having to take important calls at random times.


    He had been¡­ surprised, to say the least, when she had contacted him about his offer to have a drink. He¡¯d only really made the offer out of habit and because it helped him slip under the radar a little. People like feeling liked, after all, and were generally prone to overlooking small inconsistencies from people with whom they got on well.


    Yet here he was, seated across from Lieutenant Veris in a dimly lit corner of the sort of bar that walked the line between trendy and unassuming. A faint hum of conversation buzzed around them, mingling with soft music that provided just enough cover for their voices without forcing them to shout. Veris, in civilian clothes, looked¡­ different. The rigid air of command had softened; she seemed unsure of herself, her posture a touch stiff, her eyes flicking over the room as though expecting judgment to descend at any moment.


    ¡°Well,¡± Finn said with an easy grin, lifting his glass in a half-toast. ¡°Here¡¯s to unexpected nights and, uh, breaking out of our comfort zones.¡±


    She mirrored the motion after a slight hesitation, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. ¡°I suppose so. I just¡­ I don¡¯t usually do this sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°Drinks after work? Surely even the Empire allows a little downtime,¡± Finn quipped, leaning back in his chair, relaxed but engaged. His posture said I¡¯m paying attention, but his tone said no pressure.


    Her laugh was quiet but genuine. ¡°Not like this. Not with¡­¡± She trailed off, clearly searching for the right words.


    ¡°Not with someone who isn¡¯t a starched uniform and an operations log glued to their hand?¡± Finn suggested, his grin widening. ¡°I get it. You¡¯re used to the high-stakes, stiff-collar crowd. Believe me, this is as casual as it gets.¡±


    Veris tilted her head slightly, considering him. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re as casual as you pretend to be.¡±


    Finn raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink to buy a moment. ¡°Well, you can¡¯t blame a guy for hoping,¡± he deflected, making sure the humour landed with just enough sincerity to be disarming. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to hear from you, to be honest ¨C caught me off guard a little.¡± He winked. ¡°Only in the best way, of course.¡±


    She flushed faintly and looked away, her fingers curling around the edge of her glass. ¡°You¡¯re good at this.¡±


    ¡°Good at what?¡±


    ¡°This. Putting people at ease.¡±


    Finn shrugged lightly. ¡°When I was young, I decided that what I wanted out of life was to be happy. It¡¯s pretty hard to be happy when everyone around you is miserable, so I figured I should learn how to make them happy so that I could be happy.¡± Mentally, he twitched. That was rather more serious than the mood he was going for. ¡°So, really, it¡¯s enlightened self-interest,¡± he joked to cover himself.


    His augs lit up again, distracting him from her response. ¡®What the hell, Darius?¡¯ he thought incredulously. This was probably the sixth or seventh time Darius had ever called him, and to do so twice in a row?


    He blinked back to the present to find Veris looking at him with an arched brow, fortunately looking more amused than annoyed.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he apologised preemptively. It was always a good idea to be seen as contrite whenever possible. ¡°It kills me to not be paying my full attention to such a beautiful woman,¡± he flattered outrageously, ¡°but this guy normally never calls, so I¡¯m a little worried something might be wrong. Do you mind¡­?¡±


    ¡°Be my guest,¡± Veris laughed politely, though Finn caught the slightest hint of red in her cheeks. Clearly unused to flattery, then. Good to know.


    Finn leaned back in his chair as he accepted the call, putting on his best neutral expression. ¡°Yeah?¡± he answered smoothly, the tone casual enough to mask his rising tension. His eyes darted to Veris briefly, who was politely sipping her drink, though her attention clearly lingered on him.


    ¡°Finally, he picks up! All that complaining about me never answering calls, and now you¡¯re the one who¡ª¡±


    Finn cut him off quickly, keeping his voice level but injecting a note of professionalism. ¡°Uh, actually, I am kinda busy right now, so keep it quick. What¡¯s up?¡± He tilted his head slightly as though listening to someone in another room, rather than through his augs. The polite way of indicating one was on a call.


    At least Darius didn¡¯t sound like he was in trouble ¨C but then why would he randomly call? A thought occurred to him, and Finn had to fight to keep the irritation from his face. If Darius was calling him drunk right now¡­


    There was a pause, then a suspiciously amused tone. ¡°I know that voice. You¡¯re busy, huh? Is that what we¡¯re calling it these days?¡±


    Finn¡¯s polite expression grew a little fixed. Not drunk, then. Drunk Darius was never this quick. Sober Darius usually wasn¡¯t this quick either, unless it was to annoy him.


    ¡°Somehow, it doesn¡¯t surprise me that you wouldn¡¯t know,¡± Finn shot back. Across from him, Veris ordered another drink ¨C her third so far. Finn pretended not to notice, but privately he made a note of it. She hadn¡¯t seemed the type, and while it was possible he¡¯d misjudged, her mannerisms told him that this was unusual for her.


    ¡°Oooh, so touchy!¡± Darius said, delighted to have gotten a reaction. Finn huffed, but despite himself, the corner of his mouth twitched up. ¡°Alright then, Casanova, I¡¯ll let you get back to your ¡®night out¡¯. Give me a call when you have a minute to chat, though ¨C some stuff has happened that you might need to know.¡±


    ¡°Anything urgent?¡± Finn asked, suddenly more focused. Darius almost sounded serious there ¨C which was a very bad sign.


    ¡°Ehhh, maybe?¡± Darius hazarded, not filling him with confidence. ¡°Probably only a little urgent, if you know what I mean.¡±


    He didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Anyway, like I said, give me a call later. Oh, and if you need a tutorial for later, there¡¯s this neat website I¡¯ve found that¡ª¡±


    Finn took more pleasure than he¡¯d like to admit in hanging up mid-sentence. Veris was still nursing her drink, her expression relaxed, though Finn caught her glancing his way from the corner of her eye.


    ¡°Nothing too bad, I hope?¡± she asked lightly.


    ¡°Nah, just a pain in my¡ª¡± Finn coughed. ¡°Well, nothing that could drag me away from you,¡± he recovered.


    Veris laughed delightedly, and Finn¡¯s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Clearly, she didn¡¯t know how to handle her drink very well.


    ¡°So,¡± he said casually, swirling his glass and leaning back slightly. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind my asking, what did make you accept my invitation? Just so I know what to do the next time I invite you out, of course. You, uh, don¡¯t seem like someone who takes too many nights off.¡±


    Veris hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against her glass. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ been a long week,¡± she finally admitted. ¡°Just¡­ needed to get away from it all, even if only for a night.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I get that,¡± Finn assured, ¡°Just work being work, or something more than that?¡±


    ¡°Just¡­ work,¡± she said, clamming up a little. ¡°You know how it is.¡±


    Finn gave a sympathetic chuckle, dialling it back a little. ¡°Oh, I know how it is. Someone¡¯s always got an impossible demand, there¡¯s always a fire to put out, and if you somehow get through the day in one piece, they just expect you to do it all again tomorrow.¡±


    Her lips quirked, and she took another sip of her drink. ¡°That¡¯s pretty accurate.¡±


    ¡°Somehow, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s just the usual grind that¡¯s got you out here, though,¡± Finn said, his voice calm and open, an invitation rather than a prod. ¡°Seems like there¡¯s more on your mind.¡±


    She glanced at him, the faintest hint of wariness flickering across her face before she relaxed. ¡°I guess you could say that,¡± she admitted, her tone vague. ¡°Some things are just¡­ frustrating, you know?¡±


    Finn nodded knowingly. ¡°I get it. It¡¯s hard when you feel like things could be handled better, but you don¡¯t always get a say.¡±


    Veris gave a quiet hum of agreement, her eyes on her drink. ¡°Exactly. And sometimes, it¡¯s not even that you want to change everything. Just¡­ make people see that there are other ways to approach things. That maybe not everything has to be so¡­ rigid.¡±


    Finn raised his glass again, masking the sharp interest that sparked at her words. ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve got your hands full.¡±


    She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. ¡°More than usual, yeah. I thought¡­ maybe I could use a break. Clear my head.¡±


    He leaned forward slightly, keeping his movements measured. ¡°Makes sense. Sometimes you¡¯ve got to step back to see things clearly.¡±


    Her gaze lifted to his, and for a moment, she looked almost grateful. ¡°Yeah. Exactly.¡± She took another sip of her drink, her expression softening slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe it¡¯s just me. Maybe I¡¯m overthinking things.¡±


    ¡°Well, in my totally unbiased opinion, I think you¡¯re pretty smart. If you¡¯re noticing something, there¡¯s probably something there,¡± Finn said with a crooked smile before shifting it to something lighter. ¡°After all, you were smart enough to hang out with me ¨C and I¡¯m the best listener I know!¡±


    Veris huffed a laugh. ¡°And so modest, too,¡± she teased, seeming to come to a decision. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re going to be listening, the least I can do is buy the next round.¡±


    ¡°I knew there was a reason I liked you,¡± Finn winked.


    As Veris rose from her seat and swayed her way over to the bar, he leaned back in his chair, swirling the last of his drink thoughtfully. It could be nothing, but his instincts were urging him that there was an opportunity here. He could be reading things wrong, but it almost sounded like the good Lieutenant was having doubts.


    His lips curled into a smile, the first genuine one of the night.


    Thank goodness he was here to provide an outside perspective, then.

 37. Tools of the Trade

    Chapter 37 - Tools of the Trade


    It was done.


    Well, actually, it was almost done.


    Echo¡¯s frame stood in the centre of the living room, a patchwork of industrial parts and salvaged components that somehow came together to form something cohesive, if not exactly elegant. The frame didn¡¯t try to emulate a human shape¡ªit was blocky, angular, and unapologetically mechanical.


    Thick alloy plates shielded its core, uneven in colour and texture where scavenged parts had been welded into place. The arms were long and slightly mismatched, the left joint assembly clearly newer than the right, which bore the scars of prior use. Despite its scrappy construction, there was a strange harmony to it. The frame was undeniably janky, but it was janky with purpose.


    The lattice of high-tensile fibre composites woven into the frame¡¯s joints provided a flexibility that belied its bulk. The torso, a hollow cavity at its centre, was layered with conduits and couplings designed to house the processor core¡ªthe one piece still missing from the design.


    A single optic sensor had been mounted on the head unit, surrounded by a cluster of smaller sensors meant for environmental data. Currently, they were dark and lifeless.


    Darius had never been so proud of anything in his life.


    ¡°It looks like it crawled out of a garbage dump,¡± he said critically, reaching out to tug at a component in an attempt to hide the smile spreading across his face.


    {It is a functional design, especially when working within the limitations of available resources and construction methods. The cosmetic aspects won¡¯t impact its operation.}


    ¡°Cosmetic aspects?¡± Darius scoffed. ¡°people are going to take one look at this thing and figure it was slapped together in someone¡¯s garage. Oh wait, it was.¡± He waved a hand at the room around him, as if the clutter wasn¡¯t proof enough.


    ¡°Yeah, it does look like a piece of crap,¡± Tarek remarked sourly from where he was leaning against the wall, looking forlornly at the couch still covered in random tools and parts. He¡¯d been all but banned from the living room after a few too many ¡®disruptive comments¡¯, as Harlan put it. It hadn¡¯t improved his mood any.


    ¡°Hey! It¡¯s the functionality that matters anyway!¡± Darius barked defensively.


    ¡°What functionality?¡± Tarek shot back. ¡°Can¡¯t even switch the thing on yet. Far as I¡¯m concerned, it¡¯s an expensive, messy paperweight.¡±


    Darius grimaced but couldn¡¯t actually refute the point. The frame was almost finished ¨C but without the processor core, it was little better than a sculpture. And the processor cores could only come from one place ¨C the garrison. Or, more specifically, the expensive, fancy drones that were stored at the garrison.


    There were no alternatives ¨C or, at least, no realistic ones. Not for lack of trying, either; Darius had scoured every source he could think of, from scrapyards to back-alley dealers, all to no avail. While Echo could connect to virtually any device, that didn¡¯t mean those devices could sustain him.


    Darius was still a little fuzzy on the precise details, but essentially the adaptability of the nanite matrix on which Echo¡¯s personality engram was stored was a double-edged sword. The matrix would automatically match the complexity of whatever it was connected to in order to ensure a seamless connection.


    In practice, this meant that with Echo currently connected to his brain ¨C his wet, fleshy, human brain ¨C the nanite matrix would mimic the functionality of his brain. It was why Echo had started to develop more of a personality and was able to better understand human emotions ¨C in a very real way, the AI was beginning to think like a human.


    But the reverse was also true.


    Should the nanite matrix adapt to a less complex system, Echo¡¯s capabilities would be sharply limited. Plugging him into a substandard processor would be like trying to run a starship¡¯s navigation system on an old calculator. Sure, it might technically work, but the results would be... less than optimal.


    And trying to find a processor core that was complex enough to sustain the AI¡­ well, the Empire didn¡¯t exactly let those kinds of parts float around freely. High-grade cores were almost exclusively used in their military drones ¨C the kind that needed to run some pretty advanced VIs of their own.


    And so, he was stuck waiting for the raid on the garrison before Echo could move over to his frame.


    A door creaked open down the hallway, and a moment later, Harlan stepped into the room. He paused just inside, eyeing the frame with a distinct wariness, like he suspected it was about to come to life and kill them all.


    Darius would be lying if he said he didn¡¯t take a little pleasure in the older man¡¯s unease. Probably not wise ¨C the more comfortable Harlan was, the lower the chance he would decide Darius and Echo were more trouble than they were worth and he was better off killing them.


    Oh, well.


    Darius straightened from where he had been tinkering with the frame¡¯s right arm, flicking a loose wire back into place. ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked, trying¡ªand failing¡ªto sound nonchalant. ¡°She¡¯s not pretty, but she¡¯ll hold up.¡±


    Harlan grunted. ¡°Impressive,¡± he admitted, though his tone was cautious. ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like much at first glance, but¡­ it¡¯s solid. Makes it easier to believe your claims about Echo being an AI.¡±


    He didn¡¯t seem happy about the fact, but Darius couldn¡¯t help but preen a little in smug satisfaction. ¡°Told you so.¡±


    After a long moment, Harlan exhaled sharply and shook his head. ¡°Whatever. Doesn¡¯t matter right now. We¡¯ve got bigger things to worry about.¡±


    Darius slumped onto the couch with his arms crossed, ignoring how the parts and tools strewn about dug into his side. ¡°Such as?¡±


    ¡°The raid.¡± Harlan¡¯s voice was clipped, his tone all business now. ¡°We¡¯re meeting with another cell tonight. They¡¯ll be taking charge of most of the goods we pull from the garrison¡ªtransporting and storing them until the heat dies down.¡±


    ¡°Another cell?¡± Darius frowned. ¡°How¡¯s that going to work? I thought the whole point of scattering like this was so that we didn¡¯t know anything about anybody else.¡±


    ¡°We meet in a neutral place, we wear masks and use voice changers to make sure we can¡¯t be recognised, and we don¡¯t mention any details about the locations of our safehouses or operations,¡± Harlan explained bluntly.


    Darius took a moment to digest that. ¡°Not much trust in this line of work, is there?¡± he observed.


    ¡°I trust them. I¡¯m just not stupid enough to think the Empire doesn¡¯t have ways of making people talk.¡±


    Darius grinned sardonically. ¡°And you wonder why I¡¯m not keen on joining up.¡±


    Harlan held his gaze. ¡°I know exactly why you don¡¯t want to join up, Kallan,¡± he said tiredly. ¡°I don¡¯t hold it against you in the least ¨C hell, I even agree with it. And under normal circumstances, if you wanted to leave, I¡¯d wish you well and see you on your way. We hardly want to force people into this, after all.¡±


    He ran a hand down his face. ¡°But you¡¯re the one who got involved in all this mess ¨C and while it might not be your fault, that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s mine either. I¡¯m trying to make sure my people get out of this in one piece, and if that comes at your expense? Then I¡¯m sorry, but I won¡¯t hesitate.¡±


    In the face of that, there was really nothing for Darius to say.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The location for the meetup turned out to be another abandoned apartment at the edge of the residential zone. It was a hollowed-out shell, its windows long shattered, the walls stained with years of neglect. The faint hum of the city outside seeped through the cracks, muffled and distant. A single bare bulb dangled from the ceiling, its dim light flickering in time with the irregular thrum of an unseen generator.


    Darius scratched idly at the edge of his mask, trying to adjust it so it would stop pressing uncomfortably against his nose. Feeling his own warm breath bouncing off the mask and washing back onto his face was hardly pleasant either.


    ¡°Why did you want me here again?¡± he asked, the raspy hiss of the voice changer breaking the silence.


    Somehow, despite the identical mask covering his face, Harlan managed to convey a look of exasperation. ¡°Because you need to know this,¡± he responded shortly, voice similarly distorted.


    ¡°And Lena and Tarek don¡¯t?¡± Darius pointed out.


    ¡°Don¡¯t use their names,¡± Corin broke in from the corner.


    Darius raised his hands apologetically. ¡°My bad. But seriously, wouldn¡¯t it make more sense for them to be here instead of me? And why couldn¡¯t everyone come anyway?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a precaution,¡± Harlan groaned, finally worn down by Darius¡¯s badgering. ¡°We don¡¯t want everyone here just in case the Empire somehow catches wind of it.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ why not just have one person meet up, then? Or better yet, just do the whole thing over the radio. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re doing anything other than talking, right?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s to socialise, actually,¡± Corin supplied, tone sounding faintly amused despite the distortion. ¡°We tend to spend a lot of time around our own squads, and it¡¯s not hard to get sick of each other. This way, we get to chat with other cells, even if we have to keep things vague.¡±


    ¡°What, and Le¡ª uh, sorry, the others didn¡¯t want to socialise?¡± Darius asked, only just remembering to avoid names.


    ¡°Well, one¡¯s too grumpy to be social, and the other one¡¯s too shy most of the time,¡± Corin responded dryly.


    Darius snorted at the description of Tarek, but something didn¡¯t quite sit right with Corin¡¯s reply.


    {I believe they may not feel comfortable with only a single person to keep an eye on you.} Echo suddenly chimed in.


    ¡°What? Why? Either one of them would kick my ass,¡± Darius replied, confused. His mask hid his grin as Harlan and Corin both stiffened at the non-sequitur, clearly realising he was talking to Echo.


    Honestly, who knew that messing with people by having one-sided conversations with a voice in his head could be so fun? Darius spared a moment to wonder if that was why crazy people talked out loud all the time. Maybe they were perfectly sane and just doing it for fun?


    He spared another moment to worry about his own mental state.


    {While it is true you are not physically impressive,} Echo said, blithely ignoring his offended ¡°Hey!¡± {There is also the recently constructed robotic frame to consider. It would not surprise me if they thought you might attempt to use it to overpower them.}


    That¡­ sounded like an accurate, if unhealthy, level of paranoia to ascribe to the Freeholders. And, in fairness, if the frame was fully operational, Darius couldn¡¯t swear that he wouldn¡¯t take the opportunity to make a run for it.


    ¡°Hey, do we at least get codenames or something?¡± he asked, mostly to annoy Harlan.


    ¡°Sure,¡± the older man replied, much to his surprise. ¡°I¡¯m ¡®One¡¯, he¡¯s ¡®Two¡¯, and you¡¯re ¡®Three¡¯,¡± he said, gesturing to himself, Corin, and Darius in order.


    ¡°Wow,¡± Darius deadpanned. ¡°That¡¯s so creative. Really¡­ rolls off the tongue.¡±


    ¡°Glad you like it,¡± Harlan responded, just as dryly.


    They settled back into silence, waiting. Just as Darius was starting to consider whether humming or singing would annoy Harlan more, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway beyond the door, deliberate but unhurried.


    The door creaked open, revealing three figures, each wearing the same cheap, featureless mask and voice changer as Harlan¡¯s group. They stepped inside without hesitation, their postures relaxed but purposeful. The first figure, taller and broader than the others, took a moment to scan the room before speaking in a voice rendered flat and mechanical by the changer.


    ¡°One,¡± they said simply, inclining their head slightly toward Harlan.


    ¡°One,¡± Harlan acknowledged in return, his tone clipped but cordial.


    The second figure followed close behind, smaller and wiry, with a sense of barely-contained energy radiating from them. They raised a hand in a friendly wave.


    ¡°Two,¡± the figure chirped, their voice somehow managing to convey a grin through the distortion.


    ¡°Two,¡± Corin responded with a chuckle, giving a mock salute in return.


    The last figure bounced through the door, throwing finger guns at Darius. ¡°Three!¡± they cheered at him.


    Darius searched for words, utterly befuddled. ¡°I¡­ three?¡± he replied, feeling faintly ridiculous. ¡°Sorry, what¡¯s going on? Am I drunk?¡±


    ¡°Eyy, looks like we got a newbie in the house!¡± Two commented, not unkindly. ¡°First time?¡±


    ¡°None of that now ¨C you know how we run things,¡± a fourth figure commented, stepping into the room, dressed in similarly nondescript clothing and wearing the same type of mask. Unlike the others, their stance was loose and unhurried, almost deliberately detached. ¡°Business before pleasure.¡±


    Two held their hands up apologetically. They were wearing thick, concealing clothing, but Darius was reasonably sure it was a guy. ¡°My bad,¡± he said.


    The fourth figure nodded. ¡°Right then, evening everybody ¨C I¡¯ll be your friendly neighbourhood middleman tonight.¡±


    ¡°Contact,¡± Harlan acknowledged with a slight nod. ¡°Glad you could make it.¡±


    Darius assumed that ¡®contact¡¯ was this guy¡¯s codename ¨C though why he got a word and not a number was anyone¡¯s guess. He had to admit to feeling a little wrong-footed here ¨C the masks, location, voice-changers, and Harlan telling him not to share any personal details had led him to believe this was going to be¡­ serious.


    Instead, the room settled into a surprisingly relaxed energy as everyone began to claim spots around the space. The Contact, meanwhile, stepped to the centre of the room, their voice calm but efficient as they spoke.


    ¡°Alright, ground rules. No operational details¡ªno safehouses, no locations, no personal identifiers. You¡¯ll get what you need, when you need it. I¡¯m just here to facilitate, not to join your raid. Any questions?¡±


    ¡°Not from us,¡± Harlan said, his tone measured.


    One from the other cell raised a hand in a mock gesture of camaraderie. ¡°None here, either. Thanks for playing messenger¡ªmakes our lives easier.¡±


    The Contact inclined their head, acknowledging the comment without breaking stride. ¡°Good. Then, let¡¯s get down to business. The vehicle you¡¯ll need has been secured¡ªit¡¯ll be in position at the agreed-upon time. I¡¯ve scouted the route; it¡¯s clear enough to get you to the garrison and back without drawing attention.¡±


    ¡°Appreciate it,¡± Harlan said, nodding.


    The Contact turned to the group from the other cell. ¡°You¡¯ll handle post-op transport. Storage locations are already set up, and you¡¯ll have twenty-four hours to move the goods before switching sites. Details are in the packet.¡± They held up a small, nondescript device, setting it on the table with a faint clink.


    ¡°Understood,¡± One said. ¡°Appreciate the efficiency.¡±


    The Contact inclined their head in acknowledgment and stepped back, folding their arms as they leaned casually against the wall. ¡°Alright then, that¡¯s pretty much all I had to say. You lot can hash out some of the finer details now. I¡¯ll stick around in case you need to arrange anything else, or if you need to discuss sensitive info, I can head out now.¡±


    One glanced over to Harlan, tilting his head inquisitively. ¡°I¡¯m happy with you sticking around?¡± he posed it as a question, to which Harlan nodded.


    ¡°No problems here.¡±


    ¡°Wonderful!¡± Contact said cheerfully.


    One from the other cell turned back to Harlan, their posture shifting subtly to something more engaged. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s talk specifics. What kind of haul are we looking at here? We need a sense of how much we¡¯ll be transporting.¡±


    Harlan straightened, his tone calm but authoritative. ¡°The primary objective is equipment, weapons, and information. With a little luck, we¡¯ll have at least a few crates of weapons and ammo, and we¡¯re planning on snagging a few of their combat drones as well. These aren¡¯t small parts¡ªeach crate is roughly two cubic meters and weighs about as much as you¡¯d expect for high-grade Imperial tech. Conservatively, we¡¯re looking at six to eight crates.¡±


    One gave a low whistle, their distorted voice cutting through the room¡¯s ambient hum. ¡°That¡¯s a solid haul. And how tight is the timeline for getting in and out?¡±


    ¡°As quickly as possible,¡± Harlan deadpanned. ¡°Conservatively, we¡¯d like to be out of there within five minutes.¡±


    The other One cocked their head, intrigued. ¡°Five minutes? That¡¯s tight even by optimistic standards. How are you planning to pull that off?¡±


    Harlan leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he outlined the plan. ¡°We¡¯ll have a jammer set up to disrupt their communications, creating a blind spot around the garrison. We¡¯ve timed it so that a patrol will have just left the area, giving us a short window of reduced security. That¡¯ll get us in and out before they can properly coordinate a response.¡±


    ¡°Ambitious,¡± Two from the other cell remarked, crossing their arms. ¡°And the alarms? Unless the garrison¡¯s gotten sloppy, you can¡¯t just stroll in without tripping something.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got it handled,¡± Harlan replied smoothly, his tone deliberately vague. ¡°With a little luck, we¡¯ll keep things quiet long enough to grab what we need. If not¡ª¡± he shrugged, ¡°¡ªwe¡¯ll adapt.¡±


    One tilted their head, clearly intrigued but wisely choosing not to press. ¡°Alright. And these drones you¡¯re planning to take¡ªwhat¡¯s the play there? I didn¡¯t think we had the tech to repurpose Imperial hardware like that.¡±


    ¡°Normally, we don¡¯t,¡± Harlan admitted, his tone still carefully neutral. ¡°But we¡¯ve got a lead on how to handle it. We¡¯ll reprogram the ones we take¡ªor at least enough of them to make it worth the trouble.¡±


    Three from the other cell let out a low, impressed whistle, leaning forward on the table. ¡°Reprogramming Imperial drones? That¡¯s bold. If you can actually pull it off, it¡¯ll be a game changer.¡±


    Harlan nodded slightly. ¡°That¡¯s the idea. The drones are a secondary objective¡ªwe¡¯re prioritising weapons and intel, but the drones could make a significant difference for the cells that need them.¡±


    One tapped their fingers thoughtfully on the table, their masked gaze shifting briefly toward the Contact, who remained a silent observer against the wall. ¡°And the intel? What are you targeting?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s probably information best kept as need-to-know,¡± Contact interrupted, taking a step forward.


    One nodded, unoffended. ¡°Fair enough. Big plans like this, I¡¯m not surprised you¡¯re keeping things tight to your chest. Alright, we can make it happen. Any idea on how long we have to prep?¡±


    Harlan shrugged. ¡°A week or so? Pretty flexible, to be honest. If you need more time, we can make it happen.¡±


    One shared a glance with Two and Three, silently asking them if they had any questions. ¡°I think we¡¯ve covered the essentials. Just let us know if anything changes before we head out.¡±


    ¡°Same here,¡± Harlan replied. ¡°We¡¯ll send an update if the timeline shifts.¡±


    With that, Two and Three shifted their attention to Darius, who suddenly felt vaguely hunted.


    ¡°And now we get to the fun,¡± purred Three menacingly.

 38. Masked Allegiances

    Chapter 38 - Masked Allegiances


    ¡°¡­I think I need an adult,¡± Darius said, cautiously taking a few steps back.


    The room erupted into a mix of laughter and snickers, the tension from moments earlier dissolving as the two cells settled into a more relaxed atmosphere. Three gave him a playful nudge on the arm.


    ¡°Relax, kid, your virtue is safe.¡±


    Darius eyed them warily. ¡°You say that like it explains why you greeted me like you were a high school drama teacher on caffeine. And don¡¯t call me kid,¡± he tacked on, annoyed.


    ¡°But you¡¯re a newbie, all bright-eyed and curious,¡± Two pointed out, amused, ¡°just like a kid.¡±


    Darius scowled, then scowled harder when he realised they couldn¡¯t even see his irritated expression.


    ¡°Alright, give him a break,¡± Harlan interjected, sounding just as amused. Darius had a moment to feel begrudgingly grateful before the older man continued. ¡°After all, he hasn¡¯t had his nap and juice box yet; he¡¯ll be grumpy.¡±


    ¡°Alright, I see how it is,¡± Darius said, throwing his hands up in disgust. ¡°I¡¯ll just go and sit by myself then, shall I?¡±


    Everyone laughed as he mock stormed off, and he leaned back against the wall with a sigh of relief, away from the conversation. He¡¯d never much gotten the hang of ¡®chatting¡¯, especially with strangers. Unfortunately, Contact apparently decided he looked lonely and wandered over to him.


    ¡°Hiding away, are we? Typical,¡± the man asked, amusement clear even through the voice changer.


    Darius tilted his head in confusion. He¡¯d noticed it before but thought he might have been imagining things ¨C the man seemed familiar somehow. He couldn¡¯t see the man¡¯s face, of course, and his voice was distorted, but something about the way he moved, or his word choice¡­


    It clicked.


    ¡°Finn!?¡± he hissed, surprised.


    ¡°Woah, hey,¡± Finn responded quickly, throwing a glance back at the others. ¡°No names, man. What, do you think we¡¯re all wearing masks because it¡¯s fun?¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Darius replied, raising his hands apologetically before leaning in. ¡°But, dude. What the hell? What are you doing here?¡±


    Finn leaned against the wall beside him. ¡°How did you think I got involved with the Freeholders in the first place? There¡¯s a reason Voss liked me well enough to accept you even though you were suspicious as hell. I¡¯m a Contact, a middleman.¡±


    Darius observed him for a second. ¡°I¡¯m offended you never bothered to tell me you were moonlighting as some kind of super-spy,¡± he said lightly, though he was only half-joking. ¡°What happened to being my slightly lazy, occasionally hungover boss?¡±


    They¡¯d had a brief chance to catch up at the Freeholder¡¯s base before they¡¯d scattered into separate cells, but they hadn¡¯t really addressed how Finn had been lying the whole time they¡¯d been friends.


    Finn straightened, crossing his arms. ¡°First off, it¡¯s called multitasking. Second, this isn¡¯t exactly public knowledge, so maybe don¡¯t go shouting it to the whole room?¡±


    ¡°Oops,¡± Darius winced, having forgotten they weren¡¯t supposed to talk about any personal details. Fortunately, none of the others seemed to be paying attention to their discussion. ¡°My bad. Still getting used to this stuff.¡±


    There was a moment of awkward silence before Darius broke it again. ¡°So¡­ how was your date?¡± he asked, in search of something to talk about.


    Finn groaned, reaching up to rub the mask where his forehead would be. ¡°You¡¯re insufferable, you know that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s part of my charm,¡± Darius smirked, feeling more comfortable ragging on his friend. ¡°So what was she like? Were you all ¡®Oh, I¡¯m a rugged, mysterious rebel leader¡¯?¡±


    Finn shot him an exasperated look that Darius could read straight through his mask. ¡°Of course not,¡± he drawled, ¡°because I have this little thing called ¡®discretion¡¯. You might have heard of it?¡±


    ¡°Sounds boring.¡±


    ¡°Why do I even bother?¡± Finn sighed mockingly. ¡°Besides, it was more¡­ reconnaissance than an actual date.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?¡± Darius ribbed.


    Finn shot him an irritated look. ¡°I¡¯m older than you, moron. And even if I wasn¡¯t, I¡¯m way more mature. And I wasn¡¯t joking ¨C I was having drinks with an Imperial Lieutenant who¡¯s been assigned to hunt you down.¡±


    Darius blinked. ¡°Sorry, what?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s been interviewing everyone at the yard over the last few weeks,¡± Finn shrugged. ¡°Didn¡¯t get much, of course ¨C who knew your anti-social tendencies would come in handy?¡±


    ¡°And¡­ how did this end up with you dating her?¡± Darius asked, full of questions.


    ¡°We had drinks, Darius. That doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re dating,¡± Finn sighed. ¡°As for how¡­ well, the easiest way to avoid looking guilty is to act confident ¨C and nothing says confident like flirting with the woman who¡¯s trying to interrogate you.¡±


    Darius eyed his friend with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Didn¡¯t know you had it in you,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever actually seen you flirt before. You¡¯ve certainly never dated.¡±


    ¡°Not exactly easy to start a relationship when I¡¯m involved in all this,¡± Finn said quietly, gesturing at the room around them.


    Darius gave him a long look, weighing his friend¡¯s words. ¡°Well,¡± he said eventually, ¡°I guess that explains why you never bothered to tell me about all this. You¡¯re used to keeping things close to the chest.¡±


    Finn tilted his head in acknowledgment but didn¡¯t respond, his mask concealing whatever expression he wore. After a beat, he turned slightly, leaning one shoulder against the wall. ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s this ¡®development¡¯ you were calling about the other day?¡± he asked, pointedly changing the subject.


    ¡°Ah. Yes, that,¡± Darius hesitated. ¡°I¡­ actually don¡¯t want to tell you anymore. You¡¯ll just yell at me.¡±


    Finn blinked. ¡°Okay, but now I¡¯m going to yell at you if you don¡¯t tell me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯ll yell way more if I do tell you.¡±


    ¡°Darius. What did you do.¡±


    Darius glanced around to ensure no one was listening before leaning in. ¡°The Freeholders know about Echo now,¡± he said, his voice low.


    Finn looked up sharply.


    ¡°Yeah, I know, not ideal,¡± Darius said, raising his hands to forestall any response. ¡°Didn¡¯t have much of a choice. Found out that there¡¯s this Imperial Agent who¡¯s put a bounty on my head. Veya ¨C you know, from the yard? ¨C came up to Lena and I in a bar. Harlan was starting to get suspicious, and, well¡­¡± Darius trailed off with an attempt at a nonchalant shrug. ¡°I got the feeling he was starting to think I was more trouble than I was worth. Needed to give him an explanation.¡±This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Finn hissed under his breath. ¡°Do they know everything?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much, yeah.¡±


    Finn groaned, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Do you exist only to make my life difficult?¡± he asked rhetorically before refocusing. ¡°At least tell me they don¡¯t know about your¡­ time limit,¡± he said, gesturing vaguely at Darius¡¯s head.


    ¡°No, they don¡¯t know that. I did tell them that Echo wants a body, and they¡¯ve been helping me build it. It¡¯s almost finished now ¨C just waiting on the processor core.¡± Darius said, poorly resisting the urge to brag a bit. ¡°You should see it; it¡¯s pretty awesome.¡±


    Finn¡¯s deadpan look told him that his friend wasn¡¯t looking to be impressed.


    ¡°Okay, why are you looking at me like someone just told you your favourite bar stopped serving drinks? This is a good thing, isn¡¯t it? I mean, sure not ideal that they know about Echo, but they¡¯ve been helping, which is good, right?¡±


    Finn sighed, leaning more heavily against the wall. ¡°Because it¡¯s not as simple as ¡®Hey, look, the Freeholders are helping.¡¯ Nothing¡¯s free, you know that ¨C and I wouldn¡¯t trust Voss to babysit a houseplant, let alone you and Echo.¡±


    Darius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Ignoring that ¡®babysitting¡¯ comment, for now, you seem to get along fine with them. You¡¯re here, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Finn tilted his head slightly, an edge creeping into his voice. ¡°I agree with the message. The Empire needs to be stopped¡ªif not toppled, then at least made to bleed for the way they¡¯ve bled the rest of us dry. But agreeing with the cause doesn¡¯t mean I like all the people involved or the methods they use to achieve it.¡±


    ¡°Voss?¡± Darius asked, already guessing the answer.


    ¡°Voss,¡± Finn confirmed grimly. ¡°She¡¯s a cold woman, Darius. Efficient. Effective. And she¡¯s willing to burn through whoever or whatever gets in her way. That includes you, and definitely includes Echo. Don¡¯t kid yourself into thinking she sees either of you as anything other than tools. Assets. And she¡¯ll use you until there¡¯s nothing left to use.¡±


    Darius leaned back, the weight of Finn¡¯s words settling over him. He crossed his arms, staring down at the scuffed floor. ¡°I figured she wasn¡¯t exactly warm and fuzzy, but¡­¡± He trailed off, shaking his head.


    Finn¡¯s voice softened slightly. ¡°She¡¯s what the Freeholders need. That¡¯s the problem. She¡¯ll chew you up and spit you out in the name of the cause, and it won¡¯t bother her for a second. It¡¯s not personal. It¡¯s just who she is.¡±


    ¡°And you thought these were good people to help me lay low?¡± Darius¡¯s voice was just shy of accusing.


    ¡°Under normal circumstances? Yes.¡± Finn held his gaze for a moment before dropping it. ¡°If it weren¡¯t for the whole ¡®Echo¡¯ thing, you could have laid low for a few weeks with them and left without any troubles. They might have wanted you to help out a little here or there, but it wouldn¡¯t have been anything major.¡±


    ¡°But Echo meant that the Empire escalated faster than anyone could expect,¡± Darius finished for him.


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    It was¡­ not a comfort, exactly, but it was a bit of a relief. In hindsight, the reason Darius had been reluctant to contact Finn was simply because his trust in his friend had taken a hit. Hardly surprising ¨C learning that someone who he considered his closest friend was secretly working for a rebellion for who knows how long, and had never mentioned it, never even hinted at it?


    Well, who knows what else a man like that could be hiding.


    Even with all that said, Darius couldn¡¯t entirely blame the man. It was a hard realisation to come to, but Darius was beginning to realise that he wasn¡¯t the most¡­ reliable of people. Perhaps it was poetic irony that he was only making the connection now, when he had no one to fully rely on.


    And with a secret as important as the one that Finn had been harbouring, Darius couldn¡¯t fully blame him for not confiding in an unreliable man. That didn¡¯t absolve his friend of his actions, of course, but it provided¡­ context.


    Darius considered his friend for a long moment, trying to decide if he was willing to trust him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± he said quietly.


    Finn raised an eyebrow behind the mask. ¡°That¡¯s always dangerous.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re hilarious. But seriously, I¡¯ve been wondering¡­¡± Darius hesitated before switching gears. ¡°Well, there¡¯s not much holding me down here. I mean, once the whole thing with Echo gets sorted out. And I¡¯ve always sort of wanted to travel a bit¡­¡±


    Finn picked up on what he was implying immediately. ¡°I think that¡¯s a great idea,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡­ really?¡± Darius asked, startled.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± Finn replied, just as confused. ¡°You¡¯ve been stuck in this dump for years, Darius. You¡¯ve got skills, even if you pretend not to. And honestly, you¡¯ve been looking worn down since the day I met you. This whole mess with Echo? Sure, it¡¯s dangerous, but it¡¯s also the most proactive I¡¯ve seen you in¡­ ever. I think it¡¯s good for you.¡±


    Darius blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of Finn¡¯s words. ¡°Worn down? You make me sound like an old mining rig,¡± he said, trying to deflect with humour.


    Finn didn¡¯t bite. ¡°You know what I mean. You¡¯ve spent years letting the Empire squeeze you dry, keeping your head down, taking scraps when you could be taking charge. Echo showing up gave you a reason to fight for something. Even if it¡¯s just for yourself.¡±


    Darius frowned, mulling it over. As much as he hated to admit it, Finn wasn¡¯t wrong. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ve got a point,¡± he muttered. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean running is going to be easy. Voss doesn¡¯t seem like the type to take kindly to people bailing on her plans.¡±


    Finn snorted. ¡°You¡¯re right about that. If Voss sees value in you, she¡¯s not going to let you just walk away. But here¡¯s the thing¡ªif you leave clean, don¡¯t cause a fuss, she might let you go. She¡¯s practical. If keeping you around creates more trouble than it¡¯s worth, she¡¯ll cut you loose. Probably won¡¯t even spare you a second thought.¡±


    ¡°¡®Leave clean,¡¯ huh?¡± Darius said sceptically. ¡°And how exactly do I pull that off when she knows I¡¯ve got Echo? Like you said, nothing is ever free, and right now I reckon they¡¯ve sunk some serious resources into Echo¡¯s frame. They¡¯re gonna want a return on investment there.¡±


    Finn winced. ¡°That¡­ could be a problem,¡± he admitted.


    They thought about the matter in silence for a moment.


    ¡°Alright, clearly, this is going to be more complicated than just hopping on a ship and riding off into the sunset,¡± Finn said finally. ¡°So let¡¯s focus on the stuff we can control. Did you have a method of getting off planet in mind?¡±


    Darius shrugged. ¡°Sort of. Echo and I have talked it over, and we reckon my best bet is to steal a personal ship and make a run for it.¡±


    Finn raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not exactly going to be easy, you know? I mean, hell, you¡¯ve worked on ships, you know the kind of security¡­ oh.¡±


    Darius smirked. ¡°Yeah. Oh. Having an AI on my side is pretty cool, huh?¡±


    Finn grumbled. ¡°If you can trust it not to ditch you the second it has a body,¡± he pointed out.


    Darius shrugged again. ¡°Well, not much I can do about that, is there? Plus, I trust him ¨C even if only because he¡¯s going to need a way off-planet himself.¡±


    Finn eyed him cautiously. ¡°You know¡­¡± he started, before trailing off.


    ¡°I know¡­?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ you really trust this thing, Darius?¡± Finn asked. ¡°Not for nothing, but you¡¯ve changed quite a bit in the last couple of weeks. Don¡¯t get me wrong, they¡¯re good changes as far as I¡¯m concerned, but¡­ it¡¯s quick, you know?¡±


    Darius sighed, running a hand through his hair. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. There¡¯s¡­ something you should probably know about that.¡±


    Finn leaned against the wall warily, clearly picking up on Darius¡¯s tense body language.


    Darius hesitated. ¡°The nanite matrix Echo¡¯s using to stay connected? It¡¯s not just adapting to me. I¡¯m¡­ adapting to it. There¡¯s bleed-through. Echo¡¯s personality is getting more human, and I¡ªwell, I¡¯m picking up things from him, too.¡±


    Finn straightened. ¡°What do you mean, picking things up? Be specific.¡±


    Darius grimaced. ¡°Complex engineering stuff, for one. I¡¯ve built plenty of things before¡ªrepair jobs, patchwork fixes¡ªbut Echo¡¯s frame? That¡¯s advanced tech. Weeks ago, I wouldn¡¯t have been able to wrap my head around half the designs, even if someone explained them step by step. But now¡­ it¡¯s like I can see how it all fits together. And not just the frame. Systems, connections¡ªstuff I couldn¡¯t even name properly before.¡±


    Finn stared at him, his mask unable to hide the rigidity in his posture. His voice, distorted but edged with alarm, came low and sharp. ¡°And you¡¯re only telling me this now?¡±


    ¡°What was I supposed to say?¡± Darius shot back, defensive. ¡°Hey, Finn, my brain¡¯s turning into something it wasn¡¯t a week ago? I already told you I was operating under a time limit, it¡¯s just that¡­ it¡¯s not all at once. There are side effects along the way.¡±


    Finn stared at him, his breathing heavy. ¡°There¡¯s gotta be something else. Some way to¡ª¡±


    ¡°There isn¡¯t,¡± Darius cut in. ¡°The only way to stop this is to get Echo out. And the only way to do that is to finish his frame. Which means we need that raid on the garrison to work. It¡¯s the only shot we¡¯ve got.¡±


    Finn threw his hands up and turned away, pacing the small space. ¡°This is insane,¡± he muttered, more to himself than Darius. ¡°You¡¯re acting like this is normal. Like we¡¯re just having a chat about swapping out a bad engine. But this is your brain, Darius. Your head. You screw this up, and you don¡¯t get a second chance.¡±


    ¡°I know!¡± Darius snapped, his voice harsher than he intended. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know how dangerous this is? Every time I feel like I¡¯ve got a grip on this, something new pops up. But what else can I do? If Echo stays in here much longer, there¡¯s no telling what¡¯ll happen to either of us. So yeah, it¡¯s a bad plan. But it¡¯s the only one we¡¯ve got.¡±


    Finn stared at him in the eye for a long moment before cursing viciously enough to attract attention from the two cells chatting in the middle of the room. Darius waved them off, and after a few seconds they returned to their conversation, though not without a few glances tossed his way.


    Finn stopped pacing, turning back to face him. ¡°This raid¡­ it has to work.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Darius said simply.


    Finn hesitated. ¡°Is it¡­ does it¡­ hurt?¡±


    Darius smiled sardonically, though the expression was hidden by his mask. ¡°I don¡¯t feel a thing. Wouldn¡¯t even notice a difference if I wasn¡¯t looking for one. And the worst part? The worst part is that half of me is wondering if it¡¯s such a bad thing.¡±

 39. Holding Patterns

    Chapter 39 - Holding Patterns


    Darius blinked awake, shaking off a half-remembered dream of¡­ coding? Clearly, he¡¯d been spending too much time thinking about Echo¡¯s frame if it was starting to impinge on his sleep.


    Rolling out of bed and absently completing his morning ablutions only took a couple of minutes, and then he was moving out into the kitchen for breakfast. In the couple of days since the meeting with the other cell, things had settled into a tense but anticipatory holding pattern.


    Corin and Tarek were often gone from the safehouse, doing who-knows-what in preparation for the raid. Harlan had taken to pouring over the rendered model of the garrison for hours at a time, muttering to himself and making notes on a dataslate.


    Darius was half tempted to ask Echo to hack into the dataslate and tell him what the older man was working on, but the knowledge that it would likely bore him to tears was enough to stop him.


    It hadn¡¯t escaped his notice how there was always at least one member of the Freeholders in the safehouse with him, and usually at least one in whichever room he happened to be in. He was trying not to take it personally, but the feeling of someone breathing down his neck was hard to shake.


    It was like when you were walking down the street, and an Imperial patrol started following you. Consciously, you might know that it was a coincidence, that they just happened to be moving in the same direction, but unconsciously, you couldn¡¯t help but feel like they were watching you specifically.


    Darius might know that he didn¡¯t have anything to hide and that the Freeholders could watch him all they liked, but it somehow felt like he was keeping a big secret ¨C another big secret, really ¨C and they were going to find it out.


    It¡­ may have led to him becoming increasingly snappish, but that was neither here nor there.


    The table was quiet, save for the faint scrape of utensils and the occasional clink of a cup settling on the rough, dented surface. Darius pushed a spoon through his breakfast, not really eating so much as prodding at it. Across from him, Lena and Corin sat in silence, each working through their own meals. It wasn¡¯t, strictly speaking, an uncomfortable silence. It also, notably, wasn¡¯t comfortable either.


    Each person sat there with their own thoughts, and Darius found himself missing the banter they¡¯d shared from before his secret had come out. Even when they¡¯d all been sick of being cooped up in the safehouse while waiting for the chop-doc to come, there had still been some chatter. Hard-edged, maybe, and more likely a pointed attempt to vent some frustrations, but it had been something.


    Maybe this was for the best. If nothing else, it was more¡­ honest. And it wasn¡¯t like he was planning on sticking around for long once he¡¯d retrieved the processor cores.


    Suddenly seized with the urge to leave the suffocating silence, Darius scooped up his plate without a word and headed for the living room where Echo¡¯s frame still stood. Neither Corin nor Lena said anything. He didn¡¯t look back as he left.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    The frame was standing in the centre of the living room, just where he¡¯d left it. Not that he expected it to have moved, of course ¨C without the processor core it was still useless. Nevertheless, there was something calming about its presence, almost like there was another person in the room.


    One that wasn¡¯t suspicious of him.


    Absently, he grabbed one of his precision screwdrivers and sat himself down by the frame, starting to fiddle with a knee joint. There was nothing wrong with it, but it was something to do, something to occupy his hands while his mind churned.


    Darius knew that he had changed. There were the obvious ways ¨C he was sitting on the floor of a safehouse next to a robotic frame he had essentially built from scratch, hunted by the Empire. But there was also¡­ something else. Something less tangible.


    Something he didn¡¯t want to think about, had successfully avoided thinking about, even, before Finn had pointed it out to him. But even before that, it had been getting harder and harder to avoid noticing.


    Even now, the way he had picked up a tool and started working on the knee joint ¨C that wasn¡¯t like him. Normally, when he was bored, he would sit in front of the TV screen in his apartment and start wasting away while watching whatever brain rot was showing.


    The tools felt comfortable in his hands in a way they hadn¡¯t before. He moved through the motions of disassembling and reassembling the joint without really thinking about it, hands steady, mind detached. It wasn¡¯t instinct, not exactly, but it was close.


    He paused, staring down at the joint in his hands, now fully disassembled into its component pieces. Each small part was perfectly arranged in a neat line on the floor. When had he done that? He couldn¡¯t quite remember making the conscious decision to take it apart so precisely. His stomach twisted, and he shoved the thought away.


    But it wouldn¡¯t go, not so easily.


    ¡°Am I¡­ am I still me?¡± Darius asked aloud, the words torn from him before he could stop them. There was only one person he could be talking to, but Echo didn¡¯t respond for several long moments.


    {I¡­ believe so, yes.} the AI said eventually, and the uncertainty in its voice was alarming.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡±


    {I don¡¯t know who you were before we met.} Echo said simply. {It is difficult to know how much you have changed. Even more so because change is natural, part of being alive. Even without my¡­ influence, the events of the last few weeks would have changed you. To what extent¡­}


    Echo trailed off, and Darius could somehow feel that the unknowns of the situation were playing on its mind just as much as they were on his. He didn¡¯t know how long these feelings had been happening, either. Echo had been getting steadily better at imitating emotions and displaying the subtleties of conversation, but how much of that was the AI getting better, and how much was Darius simply understanding more¡­


    Well. There was a lot of uncertainty and frustration to go around.


    ¡°To be perfectly honest, I don¡¯t really know who I was either,¡± Darius admitted, unusually vulnerable. ¡°I wasn¡¯t really doing anything with my life, just drifting by, day to day. When I was younger, I remember dreaming of what I wanted to be when I grew up, but then it actually happened, and I just¡­ gave up, I guess.¡±


    {I¡­ I can¡¯t say that I know your history completely, but from what I understand, your brother¡¯s death was a significant disruption. It is not unusual to feel¡­ lost.}This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    Darius snorted. Echo really was trying to play therapist for him. ¡°Yeah, I know all that. It was years ago, and while it¡¯s not exactly the kind of thing you just ¡®get over¡¯, it¡¯s an¡­ old hurt now. Marcus¡¯s death¡­ it¡¯s a done deal. That wasn¡¯t the thing holding me back ¨C and I guess that¡¯s the problem; there was nothing holding me back. Why did I collapse so badly, then?¡±


    {In fairness, I believe you may be judging yourself by unreasonable standards. While it¡¯s true that you were not exactly a ¡®high achiever¡¯, you also had steady, paying work, you could afford the necessities, and, had you been better at saving, you could have afforded some luxuries. Many people would consider that a successful life.}


    Darius sighed, considering. ¡°I guess¡­ I guess you¡¯re right. I just always thought I would be more, you know? Really make something of myself. Like Lyra has, actually.¡±


    {You don¡¯t often speak about your family.} Echo observed.


    Darius allowed himself to slump back until he was lying outstretched on the floor beside where the frame was standing, deliberately ignoring how he had somehow reassembled the knee joint without even realising.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± he agreed. ¡°Lyra and I¡­ it¡¯s complicated. I guess, at the core of it, we¡¯re just too similar. When Marcus died, the Empire wasn¡¯t happy to let things lie. They came looking, wanting to see if his family were ¡®accomplices¡¯. And they weren¡¯t too bothered about whether we actually were involved or not. Guess it would have made them look better, to be able to point to our family and say ¡®we caught the terrorists¡¯, or whatever.¡±


    Darius swallowed. It was years ago, but he could still remember it like it was yesterday. The door, slamming open without warning, Imperial enforcers pouring into the house with military precision. The way his family had huddled on the couch as their life was turned upside down, as an Imperial officer barked questions at them.


    The way they had learned about Marcus¡¯s death, delivered with deliberate detachment, using the shock of it to break the family¡¯s composure.


    When it was over, the house was left in shambles, and the family was dragged to a holding cell to spend the night under watch. Darius saw through the act¡ªthey hadn¡¯t been taken for any real suspicion of wrongdoing. The Empire wanted a scapegoat, someone to hold accountable, and they were grasping at straws. It was clear that if someone didn¡¯t act, they wouldn¡¯t be walking free.


    So Darius made the only choice he could.


    ¡°I¡­ took the fall,¡± he continued, thankful that Echo hadn¡¯t interrupted his recollection. ¡°Lyra didn¡¯t agree. She was younger than I was, a little more sheltered. Or maybe a little more positive, I don¡¯t know. Either way, she was certain that the Empire would be fair. That they would see they had made a mistake, that we were innocent. I don¡¯t know if she was clinging to hope after learning Marcus was dead ¨C we both looked up to him ¨C or if she actually believed it, but either way, she didn¡¯t take my ¡®admission¡¯ very well. Told me I was making things worse, that I was proving them right.¡±


    He dragged a hand down his face, suddenly tired for all that it was morning. ¡°It was years before we reconciled. To her credit, she kept in contact while I was in prison. Called every couple of months, even if it was only for a few minutes. But it was never the same.¡±


    Darius shook his head, suddenly realising he had gotten side-tracked. ¡°Anyway, the point is that while I was in prison, Lyra was busy excelling. I don¡¯t know if she was just trying to ¡®wipe the stain from the family name¡¯ or what, but she threw herself into work and just kept getting promoted. She¡¯s¡­ always been aiming for something, had a goal to work towards. I guess I just¡­ never expected to be the layabout of the family.¡±


    {For what it¡¯s worth, there¡¯s no one I would rather be sharing a head with.} Echo said loyally, if not totally honestly.


    Darius snorted. ¡°Thanks, buddy. You¡¯re not bad yourself.¡±


    There was a beat of silence before Echo pressed, curious. {What about your parents? How did they take your actions?}


    ¡°¡­Welp, I guess I can¡¯t be sitting about all day,¡± Darius said, pointedly avoiding the question. ¡°What do you think, should we drag this thing into our room?¡± he asked, looking the frame up and down.


    Thankfully, Echo was aware enough to drop the topic. {It may reduce tension with the Freeholders, at least. Would you like me to direct it?}


    Darius blinked, looking up from where he had been examining the frame and wondering if dragging it across the floor would damage anything. He glanced around the room quickly before responding in a hushed voice. ¡°Sorry, what? Can you¡­ is this thing able to move?¡±


    {It is not fully functional, no, but the only thing missing is the processor core,} Echo said, apparently surprised. {It has power, and all the servos are connected. Why would it not be able to move?}


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I thought you needed to be driving it!¡± Darius hissed.


    {I would be ¡®driving it¡¯, as you put it. Just¡­ remotely.}


    That¡­ actually kind of made sense. Darius supposed that he had been treating the frame more like a body than it actually was. At the end of the day, it was just a machine, and of course machines could be operated remotely. Although¡­


    ¡°Wait, then how come you said you can¡¯t get into the security systems remotely? It can¡¯t be more complicated than piloting an entire body.¡±


    {The difficulty does not lie in connecting with the Imperial security systems; the difficulty is in getting through their encryption, in which I am limited largely by bandwidth. While integrated with you, I have limited space to ¡®spread out¡¯, so to speak, which means many of my processers are limited in turn. A physical connection means I can directly interface with the system, which bypasses the issue.}


    ¡°So¡­ you can use the frame because it¡¯s not encrypted, but if it did have encryption, you wouldn¡¯t be able to?¡±


    {Exactly.}


    ¡°Does that mean any random person could also use it?¡± Darius asked.


    {Theoretically, yes, though the system architecture would be foreign, and they would need to know what they are controlling in the first place. It is unlikely.}


    ¡°Right,¡± Darius muttered, only partially comforted. ¡°Anyway, I think we should move this the old-fashioned way,¡± he continued, making sure to keep his voice lowered. ¡°You being able to control it could be a useful ace up our sleeve in case the Freeholders get cold feet once we¡¯ve got that core.¡±


    {As you wish. In that case, you may wish to ask for help. The frame is¡­ not light.}


    Darius scoffed at Echo¡¯s lack of belief in his physical prowess, strutting up to the frame confidently. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ve got this.¡±


    A few minutes later, he sheepishly asked Corin for a hand.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Days passed in a holding pattern. Darius spent hours poring over the schematics Echo had generated for the frame. The work wasn¡¯t necessary anymore¡ªthe frame was finished¡ªbut it kept his mind occupied. He realised with some discomfort how quickly he was learning the intricacies of the designs, able to visualise entire systems without checking the schematics. It was another reminder of the changes taking root, ones he couldn¡¯t stop or fully understand.


    The Freeholders began to loosen their guard around him, though not by much. Tarek seemed oddly satisfied to have someone to openly scowl at, while Corin¡¯s demeanour remained unbothered as if nothing had changed.


    Darius wondered if he¡¯d ever seen the man actually show a genuine reaction to something. Lena, though, had grown distant. It wasn¡¯t overt, but the shift felt sharper, heavier, and Darius added it to the growing list of things he avoided thinking about.


    The group¡¯s tacit acceptance allowed him limited trips outside the safehouse. Always under supervision, but it was a welcome change. He visited a new bar, one far from the one where Veya had found him, and spent time at a shooting range. His aim started off shaky, but the targeting overlay Echo provided made it manageable. Even Tarek, grudgingly, noted his improvement.


    Natural talent or Echo¡¯s influence? Darius wasn¡¯t sure anymore. He only hoped some of it stayed after the AI was gone.


    If that ever happened.


    What was undeniable was how much of Darius¡¯s routine now revolved around preparation¡ªboth his own and the Freeholders¡¯. Harlan had started briefing them in small groups, short, tense sessions where every moment of the garrison plan was picked apart. The rooms were filled with sharp smells of stale coffee and overheated dataslates. Maps and scrawled notes spilled across every flat surface, each annotated with a mix of military precision and the hurried scrawl of those working under pressure.


    Darius caught snippets of their talk¡ªpatrol schedules, turret placements, blind spots in the external sensors¡ªbut mostly kept his head down. It was enough to know they¡¯d thought this through. He didn¡¯t want to make himself a bigger part of the plan than he already was.


    It didn¡¯t stop his stomach from twisting at the casual way they mentioned ¡®dealing with¡¯ the guards or the way they talked about taking extra ammunition, just in case. He was just thankful they didn¡¯t seem to expect him to take part.


    He wasn¡¯t sure if that made him any better, standing by while others fought, but it was something. He also wasn¡¯t blind to the fact that things rarely went to plan, and there was an extra weapon set aside for him.


    He managed to talk to Finn again, somewhere in between the preparations. A few stolen minutes weren¡¯t much, but his friend was able to let him know that he had a couple of potential ships in mind that would get him off-planet. He tried not to think about how he might have to use the weapon set aside for him on an innocent, all for his own sake.


    He was trying not to think about quite a lot now.


    And then, before he knew it, the time for thinking was over.

 40. Towards the Brink

    Chapter 40 - Towards the Brink


    Darius wondered if he¡¯d ever been this nervous before.


    Asking out Kenzie Thomas had been pretty nerve-wracking at the time, and, in fairness, she¡¯d turned him down very harshly in front of a crowd, but then he hadn¡¯t been terribly smooth on the approach either, so¡­


    He blinked, wrenching his thoughts back to the present. Now was definitely not the time to be getting lost down memory lane. He focused on sticking close behind Tarek and Corin, trying to move as quietly and smoothly as they did.


    Darius had sort of expected a more complicated or impressive start to the night than ¡®walk over to the garrison¡¯. Maybe using the tunnels, or stealing a vehicle, or something. Instead, his calves were starting to ache, and they were just¡­ walking. Well, sneaking might be a little more accurate ¨C the curfew was still in effect, even if it had been relaxed a little for certain traffic.


    Getting stopped by a patrol would still be the end of them, so¡­ sneaking it was.


    Around him, the mega-buildings and apartments of the residential sector loomed. The rain earlier in the evening had left the streets slick, the faint sheen reflecting the dim light of streetlamps. The lamps flickered intermittently, their bulbs poorly maintained, casting irregular pools of light that broke the otherwise deep shadows.


    He shivered, though not entirely from the cold, drawing his jacket closer around him as his hands strayed to the grip of his pistol. The knowledge that he may need to use it soon weighed heavily on his mind.


    Ahead, Corin reached a corner and paused, ducking back a moment before a beam of light swept across the street. He hurried back to where the rest of the squad was waiting, tension visible in his frame.


    ¡°They¡¯ve got spotlights set up,¡± he murmured in a low voice as he reached them. ¡°One on every corner. Can¡¯t see any other changes, but¡­¡± he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence.


    Darius wasn¡¯t aware of every little aspect of the plan ¨C partially because he didn¡¯t need to know, and partially because the Freeholders simply didn¡¯t trust him ¨C he had been made aware of the security they had expected to face. Spotlights were not on the list.


    It wasn¡¯t a surprise that the garrison had spotlights ¨C they were permanent fixtures, after all ¨C it was that the garrison hadn¡¯t been using the spotlights before tonight. It could be a coincidence, but¡­ well, it strained credulity, to say the least.


    Darius looked to Harlan, along with the rest of the squad. The older man was clearly considering the matter deeply, turning over the viability of abandoning the plan and trying again another night. Could the Empire know, or suspect, about the raid? If they did, spotlights were not going to be the only change. Then again, if the Empire knew about the raid, why change anything at all? Why not lull the Freeholders into a false sense of security, and simply surround the building once they were inside?


    ¡°We press on,¡± Harlan decided. ¡°There shouldn¡¯t be any way for the Empire to know we¡¯re coming. I spoke to Contact a couple of hours ago, and he confirmed that the other cell is ready to go, which means they can¡¯t have been captured. We¡¯ll be careful, but¡­ we press on.¡±


    Darius opened his mouth to point out the numerous flaws with that logic, but before he could, everybody was already moving. Grumbling ¨C quietly ¨C under his breath, he moved to follow.


    They crouched low, just shy of the corner, waiting for a break in the sweep of the spotlights. The beams moved methodically, slow arcs cutting through the rain-slick streets. The squad pressed themselves into the shadows, breaths shallow, tension humming through the air.


    Harlan motioned sharply with two fingers, signalling the advance. Darius followed, his boots scuffing softly against the wet pavement. Tarek was ahead, his silhouette a dark blur as he rushed across the open street into the shadow of the building opposite. Corin brought up the rear, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.


    The garrison was still a good couple of hundred meters down the street, but the sightlines were completely open from here on out. They would have to move fast, keep low, and hope that the spotlights were automated. If a guard happened to be looking in the right ¨C or wrong, depending on the perspective ¨C direction, then¡­


    Well, Darius didn¡¯t really know what would happen next. Hopefully, Harlan would have a plan.


    Fortunately, the streets were not totally open and bare ¨C buildings were not always flush with each other, with shop openings and alleyways providing areas to hide. The beams created fleeting moments of blinding brightness, each followed by a heavy darkness that seemed even deeper by comparison. Darius felt the sweat on the back of his neck as they paused at another corner, waiting for one of the beams to pass.


    Their target was the pedestrian gate, a secondary entry rarely used and even more rarely guarded. It sat recessed into the wall, overlooked by the primary vehicle gates and their accompanying checkpoints. From their intel, the gate¡¯s security was primarily handled by an access card reader, old enough to be vulnerable to even Lena¡¯s tools, let alone Echo¡¯s abilities. Ultimately, it was only there as a discouragement, not an actual obstacle.


    They moved fast, hugging the wall now as they closed the last few meters to the gate. The garrison compound spread out beyond it¡ªa sprawl of utilitarian structures arranged with military precision. The largest building was unmistakable, a multi-level complex at the compound¡¯s centre. Their target.


    Smaller outbuildings dotted the compound, workshops and maintenance buildings dwarfed by the main structure¡¯s bulk. Floodlights mounted high above the carpark cast stark illumination across rows of nondescript vehicles, their shadows sharp and jagged against the concrete.


    There was a brief shuffle as they arrived at the gate¡¯s access panel, and Darius was handed the bypass kit. He scarcely had time to plug it in before there was a soft beep and the gate clicked gently open.


    ¡°Good work,¡± Lena whispered, patting him on the shoulder as they slipped through.


    The group moved quickly but quietly, keeping to the edges of the carpark as they closed the distance to the side door. The garrison compound stretched out in a grid of clean, sharp lines and deliberate, oppressive angles. Darius couldn¡¯t help but feel exposed despite the shadows they clung to.


    Security cameras dotted the walls, each sweeping rhythmically, and he knew there was no real way to avoid them all. It was a gamble on how long it would take to be noticed ¨C one they had to take.


    The side door was set into the far wall of the main building, recessed slightly and illuminated by a single overhead light. As they reached it, the squad pressed themselves flat against the cold concrete, each scanning a different direction for any signs of movement. Darius¡¯s breathing was shallow, his heart pounding in his chest as the enormity of what they were doing settled over him.


    Harlan crouched near the group, his face partially lit by the faint glow of the nearby floodlights. His voice was low but steady, cutting through the tension like a knife.


    ¡°The last patrol should have passed this area about five minutes ago. The next one won¡¯t be through for at least an hour. That¡¯s our window. We¡¯ll move fast and quiet¡ªno noise, no unnecessary risks,¡± he reminded everyone. They had already gone over the plan extensively, but Darius appreciated the reminder. His hands were shaking with adrenaline already and they hadn¡¯t even entered the building yet.


    Harlan paused, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. ¡°Remember, the plan is to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Temporary restraints first. Live ammo is last resort. That said, the Empire won¡¯t hesitate to kill us the second this goes sideways, so stay sharp and be ready to pull that trigger if it comes to it.¡±


    Darius¡¯s hand instinctively brushed the grip of his pistol, its weight both comforting and unnerving. He nodded along with the others, the unspoken agreement heavy in the air.


    Harlan gestured toward the access panel beside the door. ¡°Darius, you¡¯re up.¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    Darius swallowed hard and stepped forward, pulling the bypass kit from his jacket. The security cameras above swept past again, the light from their lenses glinting faintly. His hands trembled slightly as he connected the device, plugging in the leads with practised motions. The kit¡¯s small screen lit up, displaying lines of scrolling code as it worked to disable the lock.


    Seconds stretched out, each feeling heavier than the last. Finally, a soft beep signalled success. The door clicked open, revealing a dimly lit corridor beyond.


    Harlan was through first, his weapon raised, the soft tread of his boots barely audible against the tile. The others followed close behind, slipping through the doorway in tight formation. Darius brought up the rear, pausing only to tug the bypass kit free and shove it back into his jacket. The door swung shut behind them, sealing them inside the garrison.


    The air inside was cooler, carrying a faint metallic tang and the chemical sharpness of industrial cleaners. The corridor stretched ahead, empty save for the soft hum of overhead lights. The walls were the same sterile grey as the exterior¡ªfunctional, impersonal, and entirely unwelcoming.


    From the blueprints they¡¯d all been forced to memorise, Darius knew the garrison could be largely broken up into three distinct areas ¨C public, low security, and high security. The public areas were at the front of the building and consisted of the reception area, some temporary holding cells, and a couple of offices for the more front-facing roles ¨C detectives, officers, PR liaisons, that kind of thing. The parts of the job that the Empire wanted people to see, that looked good in photos and recruitment vids.


    By entering through the smaller side door, they¡¯d managed to bypass this area ¨C and a good thing, too. While the public areas didn¡¯t have the best security, they were always manned, and would signal for help the instant anything went wrong.


    Instead, the Freeholders were currently making their way through the low-security areas. These were the more boring, administrative areas, taking care of the day-to-day minutia involved in running the garrison. While the curfew was in effect, these areas would be a lot emptier than usual overnight ¨C though never fully empty.


    They encountered their first staffer just past the first turn. A lone civilian administrator, leaning against the wall with a dataslate in hand. He didn¡¯t even look up until Harlan¡¯s weapon was trained on him, and by then it was far too late. He gaped at the group of people in masks carrying weapons, dataslate slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers to clatter against the floor.


    ¡°Hands up,¡± Harlan ordered in a low, firm voice.


    The man complied immediately, his face pale under the harsh lighting. Corin stepped forward, securing the man¡¯s hands with a set of temporary restraints. The restraints themselves were basic, 3D-printed loops of reinforced polymer that tightened snugly around the wrists when engaged.


    Another small, printed contraption ¨C a triangular piece designed to fit into the curve of the jaw ¨C was placed over the man¡¯s mouth. It forced his jaw shut just enough to muffle any attempts at yelling. Not as thorough as a full gag, but effective enough for their purposes.


    The restrained man was guided to the corner, seated against the wall with his back to the group. Lena crouched briefly to check the bindings before nodding to Harlan, signalling they were secure. Even an untrained man like this wouldn¡¯t undoubtedly be able to wiggle his way free from the restraints eventually, but by then they should be long gone.


    Even if he was more creative than most and had, for some reason, set up the purely eye-movement-based interaction settings on whatever augs he had, they weren¡¯t exactly expecting to get out of this without setting off the alarms. It was just a matter of timing.


    They moved on, the corridor widening as it led to the heart of the administrative section. The low-security area of the garrison was exactly what Darius had imagined: a drab, utilitarian cubicle farm. Rows of partitioned desks stretched out under harsh overhead lighting, each desk cluttered with dataslates, terminals, and the occasional personal trinket. The hum of air conditioning mingled with the faint clicking of keyboards and the muted voices of the few late-night workers still at their stations.


    As they emerged from the corridor, one of the workers turned in their direction with a smile. ¡°Finally finished looking at¡ªwoah!¡± he cut off with a startled exclamation at the sight of the armed masked figures.


    Harlan didn¡¯t hesitate. He raised his weapon and barked a single command, his voice sharp and authoritative.


    ¡°Hands up! Don¡¯t move!¡±


    The effect was immediate. The rest of the workers in the area froze, heads snapping toward the squad. One dropped the papers he¡¯d been holding, and the faint rustle of documents hitting the floor echoed in the sudden silence. Darius idly wondered who even used paper anymore.


    ¡°Uh, yeah, man, just- just don¡¯t shoot,¡± the first man stammered, raising his hands shakily. Darius tried to ignore the guilt twisting in his stomach at the sight of the man¡¯s obvious terror. This wasn¡¯t personal. Without the processor cores from the drones at this garrison, he was going to die.


    The thoughts didn¡¯t help with the guilt, but they did reassure him of the necessity of his actions. Besides, none of these people would be hurt ¨C a couple of hours from now, they would be left with sore wrists and a cool story to tell their friends.


    The entire room was subdued in less than a minute. Darius felt the tight knot of tension in his chest ease slightly as the workers were secured without incident. Harlan gestured for the group to continue, and they slipped deeper into the administrative section. The hum of overhead lights and the faint rustle of their movements were the only sounds as they moved past rows of empty desks and terminals.


    By this point, Darius was starting to get nervous that something hadn¡¯t gone wrong yet. Surely someone had been watching the cameras and had seen them restraining the workers? Wasn¡¯t there some automated system blinking a red light somewhere?


    ¡°Is it just me, or is this going too well?¡± he asked, finally unable to contain himself.


    ¡°Don¡¯t jinx things,¡± Harlan shot back, though the terseness in his voice indicated he was feeling the pressure as well. ¡°Things are going to go wrong at some point, and the longer it takes, the better.¡±


    The next few hallways were quiet.


    The garrison¡¯s nighttime staff was minimal, and with the curfew in effect, there wasn¡¯t much reason for anyone to linger in the higher-security areas. Still, every corner felt like a potential ambush. The team moved in silence, their weapons drawn, their steps careful.


    They came to the first checkpoint¡ªa locked security door with a scanner set into the wall beside it. Darius felt Harlan¡¯s hand on his shoulder, a silent signal to step forward. He swallowed hard and crouched by the scanner, pulling out the bypass kit once again. Echo¡¯s soft glow lit up the small space, lines of code flickering across the screen as it worked to override the system.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Darius muttered under his breath, his fingers tapping impatiently against the kit. The AI didn¡¯t respond to his urging, either concentrating or just flat-out ignoring him. Finally, the scanner let out a quiet beep, and the door slid open.


    ¡°Good job,¡± Harlan murmured, clapping him briefly on the shoulder. The squad slipped through the doorway, weapons raised as they entered the next section, only to pull up short.


    A lone guard stood near the door, his back half-turned as he glanced down at something on his wrist-mounted device. He didn¡¯t notice them at first, but as the door hissed shut behind the squad, his head snapped up.


    For a moment, there was only silence as the guard¡¯s eyes widened, processing the armed intruders. Harlan didn¡¯t give him time to act.


    ¡°Hands up!¡± he barked, his weapon steady and trained on the man. ¡°Now!¡±


    The guard froze for a fraction of a second, and for a moment Darius thought he might comply. But then his hand darted toward his holster, his mouth opening as if to shout. He never got the chance.


    Corin moved in a blur, closing the distance in two strides. Before the guard could draw his weapon or make a sound, Corin tackled him, one arm locking around the man¡¯s neck in a fluid motion. The guard struggled, his movements jerky and desperate, but Corin held firm. Within seconds, the man¡¯s struggles ceased, his body going limp.


    Darius blinked, still gripping his pistol tightly, his breath shallow. He hadn¡¯t even registered what was happening until it was over. Corin lowered the unconscious guard to the floor with surprising care and reached for the restraints. The now-familiar polymer loops clicked into place around the guard¡¯s wrists, and the jawpiece followed soon after.


    ¡°Move,¡± Harlan ordered, his voice tighter now. They were running out of time. ¡°We need to cut external alarms,¡± he said, rather pointlessly reminding them. ¡°Darius, your AI friend better not screw us here.¡±


    Darius didn¡¯t dignify that with a response, mostly because he couldn¡¯t think of anything snappy.


    {Second left, there should be an office with a suitable access point.} Echo suddenly spoke up. Darius relayed the information to the squad. They were moving even faster now, almost running down the corridors. His heart pounded in time with his steps, grip tight on the bypass kit as they approached the door Echo had indicated.


    Harlan didn¡¯t bother trying to be quiet, yanking the door open.


    The office was occupied. Another guard looked up sharply from behind his desk, already coming to his feet and drawing his weapons with a shout. While the man¡¯s reflexes were impressive, they weren¡¯t enough to save him.


    Before he could fire, Lena squeezed off a shot. The suppressed crack of her pistol was almost startling in the quiet. The guard went down with a stunned look on his face, wheezing as dark red stained his shirt.


    ¡°Go,¡± Harlan barked, snapping Darius out of his shocked stillness. He hurried around the desk, leaning over the man¡­ the body, as he tried to avoid touching it. His hands were shaking as he connected the bypass kit to the access point.


    A moment passed.


    Another.


    ¡°Echo?¡± Darius asked nervously, pulse hammering in his ears. The others were tense as well, their weapons raised, eyes darting to every corner. The faint hum of the terminal seemed deafening in the stillness.


    {Higher encryption than anticipated,} Echo replied, the faint sense of strain bleeding through its usually calm tone. {I am adapting. Stand by.}


    It might have just been his imagination, but Darius could swear he could feel a weight pressing down on the edges of his mind, a vague sense of struggle he couldn¡¯t name.


    Probably not a good sign.


    Finally, the terminal let out a soft chime. {External communications severed,} Echo announced. {However¡ª}


    The alarms blared, a piercing, gut-punching sound that reverberated through the garrison. Red emergency lights snapped on, bathing the office in an eerie, pulsing glow.


    {¡ªlocal alarms have been triggered,} Echo finished, almost apologetically.


    Harlan swore, his voice lost in the cacophony. Without waiting for Darius to explain, he motioned sharply for the squad to move, expression grim as they sprinted back out into the corridor and towards their objective, guns at the ready.

 41. Whatever It Takes

    Chapter 41 - Whatever It Takes


    Boots pounded against the sterile tiles as they raced down the corridors, alarms blaring.


    ¡°The external comms are cut,¡± Darius said, his breath coming fast as he struggled to keep pace. ¡°No reinforcements, at least not from outside. Whatever happens, it¡¯s just us and whoever¡¯s already here.¡±


    Ahead of him, Harlan glanced back briefly, his expression unreadable. ¡°Better than I expected. Now keep up.¡±


    They rounded a corner, the group splintering as they approached a wide junction. The map they¡¯d memorised flashed in Darius¡¯s mind¡ªa split to the left for the archives, straight ahead for the armoury. Harlan raised his hand, pointing Tarek, Corin, and Lena toward the armoury.


    ¡°Stay sharp,¡± he ordered. ¡°There¡¯ll be more resistance there. Hit hard, move fast. Rendezvous back at the extraction point once you¡¯ve got what we need.¡±


    Tarek nodded, gripping his weapon tighter. Corin gave a quick thumbs-up while Lena merely adjusted her gear and started forward without a word.


    Darius hesitated, suddenly realising that ¡®safety in numbers¡¯ was no longer applicable if they were splitting off, but Harlan¡¯s voice snapped him back to the present. ¡°You¡¯re with me, Kallan. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    They took the left corridor, heading for the archives. One of, if not the reason that Darius had still been tolerated despite his secrets was that the Freeholders were hoping he would be able to get a lot of information off the secure servers. They hadn¡¯t outright said it, of course, but he knew that if this failed¡­ well, there wouldn¡¯t be much reason to keep him around, now, would there?


    The entrance to the data archives wasn¡¯t far, and consisted of an unassuming door with a sign saying ¡®Data Archive ¨C Authorised Personnel Only¡¯ above it.


    Harlan slowed, motioning for Darius to follow his lead. They pressed themselves against the wall on either side of the door. Harlan peered around the edge, his eyes scanning the room beyond through the narrow pane of reinforced glass.


    ¡°It¡¯s small,¡± Harlan murmured. ¡°Two guards. One civilian, too. They¡¯ll have an access point in the front, but the servers will be in the back. We go in hard and fast¡ªdon¡¯t stop moving. Got it?¡±


    Darius nodded, though his throat felt tight. His fingers flexed against the grip of his pistol as he readied himself, the cool metal grounding him. Harlan didn¡¯t wait for a response. With a sharp motion, he pushed the door open, slipping inside with practised precision.


    The guards inside were alert but not ready ¨C the alarms told them something was going on, but not what, and nobody expected to be attacked in a place usually considered safe. Still, their reactions were commendable.


    ¡°Contact!¡± one barked, raising his weapon. ¡°Identify¡ª¡±


    The man was cut off as Harlan moved first, dropping to one knee and plugging two shots into his chest. He crumpled against the wall, his weapon clattering to the floor. The second guard returned fire, the sharp report of his rifle tearing through the air. Darius flinched as sparks erupted from the wall near his head.


    His hands tightened around his pistol, the cold metal digging into his palms. His mind screamed at him to move, to fire, to do something, but his body felt rooted in place. The only other time he¡¯d been shot at was when they were being chased by the patrol vehicles weeks ago, and he hadn¡¯t even been able to see the people shooting at him in the chaos. It had felt¡­ distant. Unreal.


    This was very different.


    ¡°Shoot, dammit!¡± Harlan barked, his voice harsh over the gunfire. ¡°Cover me!¡±


    Darius raised his gun, firing wildly in the general direction of the guard. None of his bullets connected, but the threat was enough to have the guard diving behind the large counter that served as a reception area.


    Harlan seized the opportunity, surging forward with practised precision. His movements were smooth and economical, the product of countless such engagements. As the guard reappeared from behind cover, Harlan fired twice more, the first round catching the man in the shoulder, the second dropping him with a dull thud against the wall.


    The guard¡¯s weapon discharged as he fell, and there was a cry of pain from where the civilian was hiding. Harlan cursed, vaulting over the counter and looking down at the cowering office worker there. A moment later, he sighed and lowered his weapon, looking tired.


    Darius¡¯s stomach twisted at the sight, bile rising in his throat. ¡°Was that¡ªis he¡ªdid you mean to¡ª?¡±


    Harlan shot him a look. ¡°No, of course I didn¡¯t mean to,¡± he snapped, clenching a fist. ¡°but accidents happen when bullets start flying.¡± He looked away, running a hand down his face and grimacing. ¡°Only thing we can do now is make this worth it. Get over here and plug in.¡±


    Darius fought down the urge to say that no matter what they did, the poor civilian probably wouldn¡¯t think it was worth it. He was distracted by the sight of blood seeping from a tear in Harlan¡¯s jacket near his shoulder, staining the fabric a dark red. He shifted his weight slightly, wincing. ¡°Damn,¡± the older man muttered, pulling the fabric aside to inspect the wound. ¡°Just a graze. Nothing serious.¡±


    Darius stared at the blood, his brain struggling to catch up. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯ve been shot before,¡± Harlan replied dismissively, already pulling a strip of cloth from a pouch to wrap the injury. ¡°Won¡¯t be the last time, either. Just another scar.¡± His tone was more irritated than concerned. ¡°Blood might be traceable, though. Remind me to burn this jacket later.¡±


    Darius nodded numbly, his focus returning reluctantly to the task at hand. The servers. He stepped over to the access terminal, fumbling slightly as he pulled out his bypass kit. The screen blinked to life as he plugged it in, lines of code scrolling rapidly. The sound of the alarms outside and the tang of copper in the air made it hard to concentrate, but he forced himself to work.


    ¡°Echo, you¡¯re up,¡± he muttered, slumping back into the chair and avoiding looking at the bodies on the floor. Behind him, Harlan kept watch near the door, his weapon at the ready. The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the faint hum of the servers and the tap of Darius¡¯s fingers on the terminal.


    The door to the archive slammed open.


    Darius spun, his heart lurching as another guard stormed in, weapon raised. The man hesitated, his eyes darting between the fallen bodies and the two intruders.


    Harlan didn¡¯t give him time to act. His rifle barked once, a single round striking the guard cleanly in the chest. The man dropped, his weapon clattering to the floor.


    For a moment, the room was still, the acrid tang of gunpowder thick in the air.


    ¡°Keep working,¡± Harlan said, his tone flat, as if the shooting hadn¡¯t happened at all.


    Darius swallowed, almost wishing it was his job to hack into the archives. At least it would give him something to do. ¡°Any updates, Echo?¡± he asked aloud instead.


    There was a long beat of silence, long enough that Darius thought Echo was just ignoring him.


    {Encryption is significantly stronger than expected,} the AI¡¯s voice finally crackled through his augs. {I am attempting to pace myself so that I don¡¯t boil your brain in your skull.}The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The words took a moment to sink in, but when they did Darius¡¯s eyes widened dramatically. As if on cue, a droplet of sweat ran down his brow. He hadn¡¯t noticed before ¨C or maybe just chalked it up to the exertion ¨C but he was almost dripping with sweat, and now that his attention had been drawn to it, there was a burgeoning headache making itself known.


    He opened his mouth to complain, or question, or something, but stopped himself before he could. If Echo was struggling that badly and had taken so long to respond, maybe he didn¡¯t need the distraction. With a grimace, he closed his mouth and grit his teeth against the ever-mounting headache.


    The heat kept building, and now there was a growing sense of¡­ pressure, almost, behind his eyes. He closed them, taking shallow breaths as he tried to push through the discomfort. Then, just as he felt he couldn¡¯t take another second of the pressure, the bypass kit emitted a sharp chime. The screen flashed green.


    {Access achieved,} Echo reported, almost immediately. {Encryption breached. Uploading data. You should start to feel better shortly.}


    As promised, the headache ebbed almost immediately, leaving behind the sticky exhaustion of a body under too much strain. Darius exhaled, relief flooding his chest. ¡°We¡¯re in,¡± he called over his shoulder.


    Harlan was at his side in seconds, the tension in his frame visible but tempered with a flicker of satisfaction. ¡°Good. First things first¡ªtargeted information.¡± His voice shifted into the clipped cadence of someone used to giving orders. ¡°Look for intel on Imperial patrol routes in the sector, active suppression tactics, and any surveillance data they¡¯ve been gathering on Freeholder movements.¡±


    Darius relayed the instructions to Echo, watching as lines of code spilled across the bypass kit¡¯s display. The kit¡¯s small storage drive blinked, steadily filling as Echo pulled the requested files from the archive.


    ¡°Got it,¡± Darius said, his voice steadier now. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±


    Harlan¡¯s eyes narrowed, his mind clearly racing. He seemed surprised that they had gotten even this much, but he clearly wasn¡¯t one to let an opportunity slip away.


    ¡°Security protocols for the garrison. Anything about drone activity, access points, or supply routes. If they¡¯ve got anything on their chain of command, take that too.¡±


    Darius nodded, his fingers flying across the terminal¡¯s interface to prioritise the new requests. The drive¡¯s capacity ticked upward with each passing second, filling steadily as Echo worked through the system. The hum of the servers filled the room, a constant backdrop to the tension lingering in the air.


    ¡°Storage is nearly full,¡± Darius murmured after a few minutes. ¡°Anything else?¡±


    Harlan was almost visibly smiling by this point. Clearly, things were going far better than he¡¯d hoped for. Darius found it a little unnerving, to be honest.


    ¡°Now? Take everything. Max out the kit. The more we get, the better.¡±


    Darius didn¡¯t need to ask twice. Echo began a full-system sweep, dumping everything it could find into the bypass kit. The progress bar surged forward, the drive pushing its limits as it absorbed every scrap of data available.


    Finally, the kit emitted another soft chime, its screen displaying a simple message: Storage Full.


    Darius disconnected the kit, slipping it into the pouch on his belt. ¡°We¡¯re done,¡± he said, the words carrying a weight of finality.


    Harlan clapped him on the shoulder, his expression a rare mix of relief and excitement. ¡°Good work. This alone makes the whole operation worth it.¡± For a moment, the older man allowed himself a brief pause, the sharp edges of his demeanour softening as he leaned against the desk. ¡°No rest for the wicked, though,¡± he said a moment later, straightening. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Darius followed Harlan out of the server room, his legs still shaky but his mind steadier now that their primary objective was complete. As they moved through the dimly lit corridors, the alarms continued their unrelenting wail, a constant reminder of the danger still lurking around every corner.


    Darius figured they would be moving faster, but then again, maybe it was better to be cautious. The odds of running into an ambush or a squad of enforcers were getting higher by the minute.


    ¡°Once we clear the armoury,¡± Harlan said, his voice low but steady, ¡°we¡¯ll have the weapons and equipment we need to hit the drones. That means we¡¯ll get you those cores you need for the AI.¡±


    Darius spared him a look. ¡°So you believe me, now?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Hard not to,¡± Harlan admitted. ¡°I¡¯m no hacker myself, but I know enough to realise you were basically just sitting there doing nothing while hacking into the archives. Don¡¯t think a VI could manage that without external inputs.¡±


    Despite the situation, Darius huffed a laugh at the description of his actions. It wasn¡¯t terribly funny, but then his laugh was probably a little more manic than usual. He cut himself off a moment later as the echoing retort of a gunshot sounded through the corridors. Harlan didn¡¯t bother saying anything, just immediately abandoned caution in favour of speed. Darius, caught by surprise, hurried to catch up.


    The sound of gunfire grew louder as they approached the armoury. The sharp retorts of rifles echoed through the corridors, each shot cutting through the din of alarms. They rounded the final corner to find the situation laid bare. Several enforcers were stationed down the corridor, taking cover behind overturned desks and scattered debris. The armoury door stood ajar, and inside, Lena, Corin, and Tarek were pinned down, firing sporadically at their attackers.


    Lena¡¯s rifle cracked, forcing one enforcer to duck behind a support column. Corin shouted something Darius couldn¡¯t hear, his voice lost in the chaos, while Tarek leaned out just far enough to fire a quick burst, his rounds sparking off the enforcers¡¯ cover.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Harlan growled under his breath, assessing the scene. Without hesitating, he raised his rifle and fired, the shots sharp and precise. One enforcer dropped, clutching his side as he fell. Another turned toward the new threat, raising his weapon, but Harlan fired again, catching him in the shoulder and sending him sprawling.


    Before Harlan could line up another shot, his rifle jammed. The dull click of the misfire was audible even over the gunfire. Harlan swore once, loudly, but didn¡¯t hesitate, throwing his now non-functional rifle like a club. The heavy weapon struck one of the enforcers in the chest, sending him reeling.


    Instead of ducking for cover like Darius expected, Harlan hurled himself towards the enforcers with a yell, seemingly doing everything he could to make himself more of a target. Darius was all but frozen again, the scene before him a blur of noise and violence.


    And then, suddenly, he wasn¡¯t.


    It wasn¡¯t that things were moving slower ¨C they weren¡¯t. It wasn¡¯t that he was moving faster, either. It was just¡­ simple. Suddenly, the chaos, the violence, the noise, was all just¡­ irrelevant. It was happening, and he could see it, but it didn¡¯t affect him.


    His hand moved smoothly to the grip of his pistol, and he raised it in a single motion. There was no hesitation, no doubt, just action. His breathing was steady, his hands weren¡¯t trembling, and though he could still feel the fear, it was like¡­


    It was like he was watching what was happening on TV. There was a disconnect.


    His first shot hit one enforcer squarely in the chest, his weapon dropping from his hands as he collapsed. He was already moving to line up his sights with the next enforcer, somehow utterly certain that the shot would hit.


    The second enforcer saw his movement and started bringing the muzzle of his weapon around from where it was aimed at Harlan, still mid-lunge. Darius fired first. The round struck the man just below the collarbone, and he crumpled to the ground, motionless.


    The corridor fell silent, save for the distant wail of alarms and the faint hum of blood rushing in Darius¡¯s ears.


    Harlan, halfway to the enforcers when Darius had fired, slowed to a halt, turning to look at him. ¡°That was¡­ impressive shooting,¡± he said slowly, almost cautiously.


    Darius lowered the pistol, staring at the bodies on the floor. His voice was quiet, almost detached. ¡°I¡­ I have no idea how I did that.¡±


    Before Harlan could respond, Echo¡¯s voice crackled through Darius¡¯s augs. {Your stress response was beginning to overwhelm you,} the AI explained calmly. {I was able to manage it, reducing the negative effects of adrenaline on your body and slightly enhancing your cognitive processing speed.}


    Somewhat distantly, Darius noted that the words should have freaked him out ¨C it was all of his worst nightmares about the AI taking over his body ¨C but he just¡­ couldn¡¯t bring himself to care. More interference from the machine, or just good, old-fashioned shock? He didn¡¯t know.


    Darius blinked, the words registering but feeling distant, almost unreal. ¡°Uh¡­ thanks, Echo,¡± he muttered, his voice hollow.


    Then the reality of what he¡¯d just done hit him like a freight train. His stomach twisted violently, and before he could stop himself, he doubled over and vomited onto the floor. His hands braced against his knees as he retched, the acrid taste of bile burning his throat.


    Harlan stepped closer, his tone shifting to something that might have been concern if it weren¡¯t so gruff. ¡°You okay, Kallan?¡±


    Darius straightened slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. His face was pale, his breaths shallow. ¡°Yeah,¡± he croaked. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t.


    Harlan seemed to pick up on this. ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± he trailed off for a moment before starting again. ¡°It¡¯s not healthy, but right now is the wrong time to dwell on this,¡± he said, almost gently. ¡°We have work to do. We can handle getting the weapons and gear packed up; you start looking at those drones of yours.¡±


    Darius blinked, raising a hand to wipe at his face again before realising it was the hand still holding his pistol. He looked at it blankly for a long moment before slowly tucking it back into its holster on his waist.


    ¡°Sure,¡± he said in belated response to Harlan¡¯s instructions.


    The Freeholders inside the armoury had already started securing the room, dragging crates of weapons and gear toward the door. Surprisingly, Tarek gave Darius a quick nod, though his expression was tight. If Darius hadn¡¯t already been in shock, that alone would have probably done the trick.


    The random thought distracted him enough for him to take in his surroundings a little more, picking out the drones sitting on quick-launch racks at the back of the armoury. The racks were designed to protrude outside the building, but still be accessible from the inside for maintenance.


    With only a little hesitation, Darius walked over to them, taking a small amount of comfort in the familiar act of eyeing up the machines and planning on how best to dismantle them.


    Trying to ignore the thought of the cooling bodies outside the room.


    Like Harlan had said earlier ¨C the only thing he could do now was make it worth something.

 42. Shrapnel and Silence

    Chapter 42 - Shrapnel and Silence


    Around him, the armoury was a hive of activity as the rest of the squad quickly stripped the room of accessible gear. Bulletproof vests and tactical rigs were pulled from shelves and tossed into crates. Night-vision goggles, encrypted radios, and handheld scanners followed, piling up in a chaotic jumble. Corin and Lena moved with practised efficiency, their voices clipped as they exchanged brief updates. Tarek knelt by a crate, running a quick inventory on their haul before signalling it was ready to be moved.


    Darius stood near the back of the room, his focus ostensibly on the drones lined up against the wall. The machines, sleek and predatory, sat in their quick-deploy racks, their readiness a quiet testament to the garrison¡¯s resources. His hand rested lightly on the edge of one drone¡¯s casing, tracing the smooth metal as his mind drifted.


    The sharp taste of bile still clung to his throat. The image of the enforcer crumpling to the ground wouldn¡¯t leave his head¡ªthe flash of blood, the lifeless thud as the body hit the floor.


    His fingers curled into a fist against the drone¡¯s chassis. He wasn¡¯t a soldier. He wasn¡¯t like Lena or Corin or even Harlan, who could compartmentalise and move forward as though it was just another day in the field. The urge to vomit again clawed at him, but he pushed it down, gripping the momentary distraction the drone offered. He had a job to do¡ªget the processor cores for Echo. Focus on that. Anything else would have to wait.


    ¡°Darius,¡± Tarek called sharply, cutting through his thoughts. The other man stood a few meters away, rifle slung across his back as he gestured toward a set of heavy lockers lining the wall. ¡°Get over here. We¡¯ve got locked compartments.¡±


    He hesitated, glancing down at the drone again. Its silent presence offered no escape, and with a reluctant sigh, he turned to Tarek. ¡°What¡¯s in them?¡±


    ¡°Guns,¡± Corin interjected, his voice curt as he grabbed a vest from a nearby rack and tossed it into a crate. ¡°And grenades. We¡¯ve got ammo and the basics, but the real firepower¡¯s sealed up. That¡¯s where you come in.¡±


    In a funny way, that almost helped. It was a reminder that he wasn¡¯t here to fight, or kill, or hurt ¨C he was only here so that Echo could hack into things. That didn¡¯t make him blameless or anything, far from it, but at least he could console himself with the thought that it wasn¡¯t his intention to hurt anyone.


    Cold comfort, perhaps, but comfort nonetheless.


    Still trying to distract himself, he spoke up as he plugged the bypass kit into the lockers and let Echo do his thing. ¡°Is that¡ªcan we expect more fighting?¡±


    Corin turned toward him from where he was stacking ammunition in a storage crate. ¡°Probably. The checkpoints are working in our favour here ¨C most of the enforcers that would normally be assigned to the garrison are manning the roadblocks and keeping civilians off the streets because of the curfew. The jammer we set up should mean that no one here can call out for help, and you managed to disable the hard-wired internal network, right?¡±


    ¡°Echo did, actually, but yeah,¡± Darius corrected.


    Corin waved a hand to indicate how little he cared. ¡°Right, whatever. Point is, that¡¯s not gonna last forever. Civilians can see the alarms going off through the windows. Won¡¯t take long for someone to get curious, maybe call the hotline to ask if everything¡¯s fine. Once that happens, things go south.¡±


    ¡°Good to know,¡± Darius muttered, focusing back on the locker. The bypass kit beeped, and the lock released with a satisfying click. He pulled the door open, revealing rows of neatly stored rifles, their sleek forms gleaming under the dim light. Harlan stepped up beside him, giving a curt nod before grabbing one and tossing it to Corin.


    ¡°Get these loaded up,¡± Harlan ordered, his voice tight with command. ¡°Time¡¯s running out.¡±


    Darius moved to the next locker as Lena flagged him down. ¡°This one too,¡± she said, pausing to rest a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Hey,¡± she continued softly, ¡°You okay?¡±


    Darius swallowed and looked down, the slight kindness almost enough to shatter his fragile equilibrium. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± he said, trying to convince himself most of all.


    She looked at him for a long moment. ¡°You did well,¡± she said simply.


    Darius nodded faintly, not trusting his voice to respond. Lena squeezed his shoulder once, then turned back to the task at hand, hefting a rifle and tossing it into one of the crates.


    He turned his attention back to the drones. They loomed against the far wall, their predatory shapes catching the dim light. Each machine was a squat, angular mass of matte black plating, bristling with sensors and concealed weapon mounts. The quick-deploy racks held them upright, but the systems were modular enough to allow for mobility during maintenance.


    Darius crouched by the nearest one, pulling a small panel away from the base of its rack. Inside was a connector interface¡ªstandardised, thankfully, and something that could be released without specialised tools. Even better, there were several wheeled transport racks sitting against a nearby wall, designed to easily move the drones inside buildings.


    Getting the drones ready for transport was more challenging than he anticipated. The drones were heavy, their dense construction designed to withstand punishment, and while they weren¡¯t unwieldy, they required careful handling. Surprisingly, Tarek joined him without even having to be asked, grunting slightly as he helped lift the first one onto the mobile rack. The rack itself was a flat, low-profile platform mounted on sturdy wheels, designed to carry significant weight.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got it?¡± Tarek asked, his voice clipped.


    Darius nodded, focusing on guiding the drone into place. Once it was secured, he moved to the second machine, repeating the process. By the time the drones were mounted and locked in place, the rest of the squad had stripped the armoury of weapons, ammunition, and gear, loading it into storage crates and then onto transport racks like his own.


    Harlan stood by the door, rifle in hand, carefully making sure the corridor outside was clear of enforcers. He glanced back briefly. ¡°Everybody ready?¡± he asked, receiving nods in return.


    Without further ado, Harlan slipped out the door, rifle held at the ready. Corin was pushing the other transport rack, while Lena and Tarek bracketed him, equally ready to defend against anything coming their way.


    Darius wiped his hands on his trousers, straightened, and followed as the group began to move out, pushing the rack with the drones ahead of him.


    The hallways were eerily quiet as they made their way toward the internal parking garage. The alarms still blared faintly in the distance, but no enforcers appeared to challenge them. The silence pressed heavily on Darius, each footstep echoing in his ears. He glanced around at the others. They were alert but calm, their movements measured and purposeful. Only the faint tension in their shoulders betrayed the strain of the situation.


    It didn¡¯t take long for the lack of resistance to start to get to him.


    ¡°Is this normal?¡± he finally asked, unable to help himself. ¡°Surely there were more than, what, seven or eight enforcers in this whole place?¡±


    Harlan glanced at him from the front of their little convoy, expression unreadable. ¡°Not all. There¡¯ll be more. Most of them are probably holed up in secure areas, waiting. They¡¯re not fanatics, Kallan. They¡¯re just people doing a job. Why risk running into danger when they can wait for reinforcements to arrive?¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    That¡­ didn¡¯t make him feel any better. Oh, sure, it made sense, but if anything, it made the weight of his actions heavier. It was a reminder that these weren¡¯t soldiers committed to a cause¡ªthey were people caught in the same system he was, trying to survive. And now, some of them wouldn¡¯t make it home.


    He swallowed hard and nodded again, forcing himself to push the thoughts aside. There would be time for those thoughts later.


    Hopefully.


    With the corridors clear of enforcers, it didn¡¯t take them long to arrive at the internal parking garage. While the carpark outside was for public and personal vehicles, this internal space catered to the more¡­ military vehicles.


    Concrete walls rose to the ceiling, broken only by support columns and ventilation grates. Rows of overhead lights cast a cold, sterile glow over the parked vehicles. Most were standard patrol transports¡ªfunctional, utilitarian, and entirely unremarkable. But near the far wall, a pair of armoured vehicles stood out.


    Each was a hulking behemoth of matte black metal, their angular designs bristling with mounted weapons and reinforced plating. Darius could see the allure in them; they were tanks in all but name, and it was clear from the way Corin and Tarek eyed them that they were thinking the same thing.


    ¡°Now those,¡± Corin said, his voice low and almost reverent, ¡°would make one hell of a getaway ride.¡±


    ¡°Too easy to track,¡± Harlan snapped, cutting off the thought before it could gain traction. He didn¡¯t even glance at the vehicles as he moved further into the garage, rifle at the ready. ¡°We¡¯re not here to steal trophies. Stick to the plan.¡±


    Corin sighed, giving the armoured vehicles one last longing look before turning back to the transport racks. The rest of the group followed Harlan¡¯s lead, moving quickly to position their haul near the central loading area.


    Darius pushed his rack of drones into place, the wheels squeaking faintly against the concrete floor. As he secured the rack, Harlan fiddled with a small external comm device, specifically tuned to use frequencies the jammer didn¡¯t cover. The range was terrible, of course, and the bandwidth couldn¡¯t even support speech, but as a discrete signalling device it did the job very well.


    Unfortunately, the other cell ¨C and Darius really needed to think up a name for them besides ¡®other cell¡¯ ¨C didn¡¯t have a way to respond to the signal, as transmitting out of a jammer zone was easier than transmitting into one. Darius wasn¡¯t entirely sure how it worked, but then again he didn¡¯t need to.


    Thankfully, it didn¡¯t take long for them to arrive, pulling up quietly just outside the garage doors in a pair of nondescript transport vans, the kind that blended in everywhere. The vehicles were plain but sturdy, designed for utility rather than aesthetics. As they came to a stop, the side doors slid open to reveal the rest of the team. They were outfitted in similar gear to Harlan¡¯s group, down to the masks and tactical rigs.


    Harlan approached their leader, a wiry woman whose mask didn¡¯t quite hide her sharp, assessing eyes. She carried herself with a precision that contrasted with the rest of her team, her clipped tone cutting through the tension.


    Oddly enough, Darius didn¡¯t recognise the woman from the planning meeting he¡¯d been taken along to. Was she too paranoid to go herself, or were there other reasons?


    ¡°Status?¡± she asked, glancing at the gear Harlan¡¯s team had prepped.


    ¡°Smooth sailing so far,¡± Harlan replied, gesturing to the crates and drones. ¡°Minimal resistance. Jammers and the curfew are doing their jobs. Just had a couple of enforcers on guard duty, nothing we couldn¡¯t handle.¡±


    The woman nodded briskly. ¡°Good. Let¡¯s not push our luck. Start loading.¡±


    As the teams converged, the loading process began in earnest. Crates were hefted onto the vans with the kind of hurried efficiency that came from knowing time was against them. Darius and Tarek worked on securing the drones onto one of the transport racks, their combined effort making short work of the heavy machines. Corin and Lena moved crates while exchanging quick, clipped instructions with the newcomers.


    Sweat beaded on Darius¡¯s brow as he helped guide one of the drones up the makeshift ramp into the first van. It was a tight fit, the drone¡¯s angular frame barely clearing the doorway. Tarek grunted as he steadied the machine, his muscles straining against the weight. ¡°Careful,¡± he muttered. ¡°Last thing we need is this thing falling over.¡±


    The second van was loaded with ammunition and weapons, the crates stacking neatly against the walls. Corin checked the inventory one last time before signalling to Lena. ¡°That¡¯s everything. Ready to move.¡±


    The leader of the other cell nodded, giving a sharp whistle to her team. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Just as the vans¡¯ doors slammed shut, the sound of an approaching vehicle echoed through the parking garage. Heads snapped up in unison, the tense silence broken by the squeal of tyres and the low rumble of an engine.


    This late at night? With the curfew in place?


    There was only one thing it could be.


    Harlan swore viciously. ¡°Patrol!¡± he barked a moment later, hurling himself into the driver¡¯s seat of the second van.


    The tension snapped like a cord under pressure. The Freeholders scrambled to action, their movements swift and sharp. Corin and Tarek dove for the first van, Lena yanking Darius by the arm toward the second. Crates were shoved aside as they piled in, the remaining members of the other cell clambering into the cramped space.


    The vans roared to life, their engines sputtering in the echoing confines of the parking garage. Tires squealed as they lurched forward, heading for the compound¡¯s exit. The dimly lit corridor leading to the gate stretched out before them, its silence fractured by the alarms still wailing faintly in the distance.


    Ahead, the patrol vehicle rounded the corner into the entrance gate, its headlights cutting through the dimly lit garage. The patrol vehicle¡¯s driver slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt and blocking the exit. The Freeholders¡¯ vans screeched to a stop just short of collision.


    There was a sudden awkward pause, the Imperial enforcer staring through his windshield at the Freeholders in their vans. They looked more confused than alarmed, though that was changing fast as one of them obviously reached for a comm device. Darius¡¯s stomach dropped as he watched the patrol officer frown, pressing the device to his ear before jerking it away in frustration. They¡¯d just realised the comms were jammed.


    Harlan didn¡¯t wait for them to figure things out. ¡°Hold on!¡± he shouted, slamming the van into gear and flooring the accelerator.


    The van surged forward with a roar, slamming into the patrol vehicle. The metallic crunch of impact reverberated through the van as the smaller Imperial vehicle lurched to the side, its front axle twisting under the force.


    ¡°Go, go, go!¡± Harlan barked, wrenching the wheel to correct their path.


    Behind them, the other van peeled off in a different direction, its driver swerving through the garage¡¯s narrow lanes. Despite the sudden change in circumstances, there was actually a plan in place for this eventuality. Not much of one, maybe, but anything was better than nothing.


    In this case, the plan boiled down to ¡®run for the hills, and hide wherever possible¡¯. The only reason it really even qualified as a plan in the first place was because they were supposed to split up and head in opposite directions, so at least there was some level of actual planning in the plan.


    Lena twisted in her seat, rifle in hand, peering out the shattered rear window. ¡°They¡¯re following us!¡± she shouted, her voice barely audible over the chaos. The patrol vehicle, its front crushed but still mobile, had taken up pursuit, its tyres screeching against the concrete.


    The drones behind Darius slid slightly on their rack, the wheels straining to keep traction as the van careened around the corner. Bullets pinged off the van¡¯s rear panels, the sharp clangs making Darius flinch. He pressed himself against the armoured drones, the dense machines acting as makeshift shields. One round struck the wall inches from his head, punching a hole through the thin metal.


    ¡°Faster!¡± Lena urged, leaning out of the shattered rear window. Her rifle barked, the muzzle flash illuminating her determined expression. She fired a tight burst, forcing the pursuing enforcers to swerve and lose ground momentarily.


    Harlan pushed the van harder, the engine growling under the strain. The gap widened, but the relative safety was short-lived. Without warning, another, heavier Imperial vehicle cut across their path ahead.


    Lena¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Where did¡ªthe jammer,¡± she realised a moment later.


    It was obvious in hindsight ¨C in fleeing from the garrison, they had obviously left the area covered by the jammer, meaning the patrol chasing them would have been able to call ahead. The vehicle in front of them was probably scrambled from a nearby checkpoint. It was probably only the first of many, and Darius knew that as time passed, their pursuit would only grow.


    A more immediate problem was the roof-mounted turret on the armoured beast in front of them.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Darius muttered, his stomach twisting as the turret swivelled toward them.


    The first grenade fired with a hollow thump, arcing toward the van. Harlan yanked the wheel hard to the left, the grenade detonating just behind them in a fiery burst. Shrapnel clattered against the van¡¯s hull, leaving scratches but no penetrations. A second round followed, landing closer. The shockwave rocked the van, causing Lena to grab the frame to steady herself.


    Harlan gritted his teeth, weaving erratically to make the van a harder target. Another grenade detonated near the rear, the explosion tearing the van¡¯s back doors open. The doors flapped wildly, exposing Darius and the precious cargo of drones to the open air.


    ¡°Hold on!¡± Lena shouted, trying to brace the doors, but the next grenade hit closer. The explosion rattled the entire vehicle, sending shrapnel tearing into the rear compartment. The sharp hiss of metal on metal was deafening.


    Pain ripped through his side as fragments tore into him.


    Then, nothing.

 43. Fractured Perception

    Chapter 43 - Fractured Perception


    The world flickered in and out, a disjointed series of impressions that refused to coalesce. Darius¡¯s consciousness clung tenuously to the edges of awareness, his head pounding in time with the distant roar of the fleeing vans. Something wet slid down the side of his face, warm, sticky. It smelled faintly metallic. His arm throbbed with a distant, muted ache, but the pain felt¡­ far away. Like it belonged to someone else.


    His vision swam, the scene ahead indistinct. Concrete blurred with streaks of light as his body jolted, though whether he was moving or the world was, he couldn¡¯t tell. A sharp pang erupted somewhere in his skull, deep and reverberating. The sensation wasn¡¯t pain so much as pressure, a sense of something shifting inside his head. His thoughts scattered at the recognition¡ªthis was bad. He couldn¡¯t hold onto why, couldn¡¯t pin down the logic, but the sense clung to him, a faint, nagging warning.


    The edges of his awareness folded in on themselves. Blackness.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Heat pressed against his side, firm but steady. He was moving, no¡ªhe was being moved. He could feel his body swaying, cradled by arms stronger than he¡¯d expected. Through the haze of his disorientation, his thoughts latched onto an old memory. His father¡¯s arms, rough from years in the shipyards, lifting him from the couch after he¡¯d fallen asleep there as a boy. The soft murmur of reassurance, his father¡¯s familiar scent of grease and stale smoke.


    The warmth of the memory carried him for a moment. Then it shattered. The sensation of being carried grew jarring, uneven. The warm strength of his father¡¯s arms was replaced by harsh, jostling movements and the bite of cold air. His consciousness slipped away again, ripped into nothing.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    The black void stretched endlessly around him. A ripple of energy coiled through the vast emptiness, alien and incomprehensible. His senses screamed, unprepared for the raw power threading through the fabric of space itself. He felt his mind bending under the weight of the unknowable force. He wasn¡¯t supposed to be here. Couldn¡¯t be here.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    This wasn¡¯t his memory.


    The realisation slipped through his fragmented awareness, a shard of clarity that made no sense. He¡¯d never felt this before, never seen the universe this way¡ªimpossibly infinite, a weave of energy and space bending, folding. A void jump. He was caught in the middle of it, the pulse of the jump¡¯s energy singing through his very being. Then it tore him apart.


    He felt himself scatter. Darkness swallowed him whole.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    He was floating, and for a moment, it was peaceful. Then the sensations began: the cold caress of void against his hull, the hum of systems far too advanced to be anything he should recognise. Heat lanced through him, the boiling radiation of a nearby dwarf star barely mitigated by his shields. The energy surged, a sharp contrast to the cold. It made sense in a way that had no words, only sensation.


    Something hit¡ªno, impacted. He felt it in a way that shouldn¡¯t have been possible. The shimmering of shields struggling to hold, energy diffusing across their surface. He braced, though he had no body to do so, the instinct to endure deeply ingrained.


    The shields faltered. Failed.


    The next impact tore through, lancing into his hull with vicious precision. Systems overloaded, the surge of damage spreading like wildfire. Fear¡ªno, not fear. A loss of cohesion, a failure of control. The void reached for him, ready to claim him piece by piece.


    And then it was gone.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    When awareness returned, it was muted and fractured, a barely there echo of himself. His chest felt heavy, but when he tried to draw in a deeper breath, his lungs wouldn¡¯t comply. He wasn¡¯t sure if his body was still his own¡ªthere was no certainty, no anchor. He felt pieces of himself slipping away, the fragments of his identity eroding like sand under waves.


    Something pressed against his chest, sharp and unyielding, followed by the metallic tang of blood thick in his mouth. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was real or another borrowed sensation. He tried to move, to ground himself in the present, but his limbs wouldn¡¯t obey. Instead, the pressure in his skull grew, a crescendo of wrongness.


    The world folded again, taking him with it.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Sound returned before sensation. The low rumble of an engine thrummed through the darkness, mingling with the scrape of something heavy shifting beside him. He wasn¡¯t sure if the sound was distant or if it vibrated against his very bones. He tried to lift his head, but the effort sent a cascade of searing light behind his eyes. The pain flickered briefly into clarity, sharp and jagged, before dulling again into a distant throb.


    For a moment, he hovered on the brink of consciousness, teetering between the here and the now. Then he was dragged back under, his thoughts tumbling into blackness.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    He was whole and not whole. He was present and not. The boundaries of his body, his mind, blurred and re-formed, like shadows on water. The sensations came in staccato bursts¡ªa jolt of cold, the metallic bite of blood, the faint echo of far-off voices. They flickered through him, flashes of understanding that dissolved before he could grasp them.


    In the silence between those moments, something stirred within him. Not thought. Not memory. Something deeper, coiled and waiting.


    An Echo of something¡­ vast. Important.


    And then he was gone again.

 44. Through the Cracks

    Chapter 44 - Through the Cracks


    Harlan leaned against the edge of the kitchen counter, his gaze fixed on the thin crack running along the ceiling of the cramped safehouse living room. The apartment was quiet except for the muffled sounds of the city below ¨C the sounds of Imperial patrols roaming the streets, trying to track them down.


    That they¡¯d gotten away at all was a miracle, really. He didn¡¯t know exactly what had happened, but he had enough to put the pieces together. Kallan must have been fiddling with the drones, managed to get one operational enough to active it. Startled the hell out of him when the drone¡¯s weapons had started firing ¨C he¡¯d thought they were all dead before he realising the shots were being aimed at their pursuers.


    Unfortunately, it hadn¡¯t been quick enough to save Kallan himself. He¡¯d seen shrapnel wounds in his time ¨C some worse than what Kallan had gotten, but¡­ not many. And vanishingly few survived. Those that did had access to hospitals, which they decidedly didn¡¯t.


    Across from him, Lena was pacing back and forth frantically, clenching and un-clenching her hands into fists. They were stained red with Kallan¡¯s blood, from when they¡¯d dragged him from the van up into the safehouse, laid him out on his bed. Before Harlan had gotten a look at the injuries and known they shouldn¡¯t have bothered.


    Harlan let out a slow breath through his nose, willing himself to keep calm. There was no point in telling her to stop. She¡¯d run out of energy or tears eventually. They always did.


    The two members of the other cell stood near the doorway, their masks still firmly in place despite the relative safety of the safehouse. They kept their distance, leaning stiffly against the wall like strangers at a wake. Neither said a word, their discomfort palpable.


    Harlan didn¡¯t care. Let them squirm. This wasn¡¯t their burden.


    ¡°It¡¯s no good,¡± Harlan said quietly, his voice low and even. ¡°He¡¯s gone, Lena.¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s not¡± she snapped, not looking at him. ¡°He¡¯s injured, but he¡¯s breathing. We can¡­ we can¡­¡± she trailed off.


    ¡°Barely breathing,¡± Harlan replied, trying to keep his tone gentle but firm. In situations like this, it was often better to be realistic. Hope could quickly turn to poison, in his experience. He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder, the weight meant to ground her, to stop her hands from shaking. She shrugged him off violently.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that,¡± she hissed. ¡°We can still¡ªthere¡¯s got to be something¡­ I mean, we have to try,¡± she said, her voice breaking. ¡°A hospital, a clinic, something.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡± Harlan asked, his tone flat, devoid of judgment or sarcasm. ¡°Think the Empire¡¯s got a bed open for him tonight? We¡¯ve got roadblocks in every direction, enforcers combing the city. We won¡¯t make it to the end of the block without getting lit up.¡±


    Lena opened her mouth to argue, but no words came. Her hands clenched into fists, stained red.


    ¡°Even if we could get him there,¡± Harlan pressed, his voice softening now, ¡°he wouldn¡¯t make it through the door before they lock him up. And I hate to say it¡­ but I¡¯ve seen these kind of injuries before, Lena. They¡¯re not the kind you come back from. He¡¯s¡­ he¡¯s already dead. His body just hasn¡¯t got the message yet.¡±


    He could almost see the moment reality set in¡ªthe way her shoulders sagged, just slightly, as she stared down the truth she didn¡¯t want to face.


    ¡°So¡­ what do we do, then?¡± she asked, voice barely above a whisper.


    ¡°The only thing we can do,¡± Harlan responded, hating himself for what he was saying even as he said it. ¡°We deal with what comes next.¡±


    In an ideal world she would be given time to grieve, to come to terms with how fickle life could be. He knew that this wasn¡¯t really about Kallan, as such ¨C Lena wasn¡¯t exactly close to him after all, he was just¡­ new and exciting. But it was the first time she¡¯d had a comrade die, someone she worked with. It was different.


    Lena looked up at him. ¡°And what comes next?¡± she asked, tone suspicious. She always had been too sharp for her own good.


    ¡°Two things,¡± Harlan said evenly. ¡°The body, and Echo. We need to figure out how to get them out of here.¡±


    She blinked, the words not quite registering. ¡°What? What do you mean Echo?¡±


    Harlan sighed. ¡°Look, I still don¡¯t really know if Echo really was an AI or just an advanced VI that Kallan convinced us was special ¨C but either way, it was useful.¡± He pulled the bypass kit full of data from his jacket pocket, tossing it onto the kitchen table.


    ¡°That thing¡¯s storage is completely full of Imperial secrets,¡± he said pointedly. ¡°Echo cut through the encryption like it wasn¡¯t even there ¨C barely took him two minutes. If there¡¯s any chance we can recover the thing from Kallan¡¯s augs or implants¡­ we have to try. Not to mention the expense of building it that frame. We¡¯re not throwing that away just because Kallan didn¡¯t¡ª¡± He caught himself, forced the words back. ¡°Because of this.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re serious.¡± Her voice was flat, sharp. ¡°You¡¯re already planning how to pick him apart before he¡¯s even gone.¡±


    Harlan didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°We don¡¯t have the luxury of sentimentality. It¡¯s macabre to think about, sure, but at the end of the day we need every advantage we can get. Not matter where we get it from or how distasteful it is.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re unbelievable.¡± Lena¡¯s voice cracked, the raw edge of it cutting through the room. She threw up her hands, pacing a step before whirling back to face him. ¡°You don¡¯t even care, do you?¡±


    Harlan¡¯s expression stayed even, his voice cold. This was a harsh lesson, but one best learned early. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to care in the way you¡¯re thinking about. The only thing I can allow myself to care about is the mission, Lena. You should too.¡±


    Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she glared at him, fists clenching at her sides. ¡°I should¡ª? Forget it. I¡¯m done.¡± She turned sharply, her boots thudding against the worn floorboards as she strode to the door of her room. She paused, her hand on the handle, then slammed it behind her hard enough to rattle the frame.


    Harlan didn¡¯t move. That could definitely have been handled better, but he wasn¡¯t good at this sort of thing. He was a soldier. Give him an objective and resources, and he would get it done. Give him an emotional young woman to comfort? He was lost.


    Mara had always been better at this kind of thing. He missed her every day, but in situations like this more than ever. She¡¯d always¡­ believed. In anything, everything. She believed that the Freeholder¡¯s cause was just, that all people needed was an opportunity and they would be so much better. She¡¯d convinced him, after all.


    He hadn¡¯t been ready for her loss. No one was, really, but somehow¡­ he¡¯d allowed himself to believe that nothing could go wrong, that she, they would live forever, heroes fighting the evil Empire.


    How wrong he¡¯d been. Now, he was just a tired old man, trying to live the life his wife had wanted for him.


    Lena wasn¡¯t ready for this kind of reality. Most people weren¡¯t, not until it stared them in the face. He let out a slow breath, his eyes drifting back to the thin crack in the ceiling.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    This was war. They might call it different things, pretend that the Freeholder¡¯s Alliance was a ¡®movement¡¯, or just ¡®concerned citizens standing up for themselves¡¯. They were just words. At the end of the day¡­ this was war. It didn¡¯t care if you were ready.


    Harlan straightened from the counter, his body moving before his thoughts could catch up. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose as he stepped through the dim apartment, making his way toward the back room where Darius lay. It would be easier if he did it himself. Cleaner. No reason to make Lena face the ugly truth head-on, not this time. She¡¯d learn eventually, but for now, sparing her the gritty work was as close to compassion as Harlan could manage.


    Some would call him a monster, he knew. But at the end of the day, this was the only kindness he could offer Kallan.


    The door to Darius¡¯s room creaked faintly as he pushed it open, the dim light from the hallway spilling inside. The smell of blood and antiseptic hit him immediately, thick and cloying in the still air. The bed was rumpled, stained with dark streaks that hadn¡¯t yet dried. His eyes scanned the room, settling on the empty mattress.


    He froze.


    The bed was empty.


    The blanket they¡¯d thrown over Darius lay crumpled, tossed aside like an afterthought. Harlan¡¯s eyes darted to the far wall, then the window. It was closed, but¡­ his gaze tracked downward. A faint smear of blood trailed toward the door on the opposite side of the room.


    The robotic frame that had been standing in the corner was gone as well. Harlan¡¯s mind raced, the pieces snapping into place in a chaotic, half-formed mosaic. Darius must have regained consciousness. The man¡¯s wounds should have been fatal¡ªshould have kept him down, unconscious or worse. Harlan wasn¡¯t a doctor, but he¡¯d seen injuries like Kallan¡¯s ¨C and they weren¡¯t the kind you could walk off. But somehow, he¡¯d gotten up anyway.


    Although¡­ assuming Kallan hadn¡¯t been making up the whole ¡®AI¡¯ thing, and assuming that said AI could take control of the frame without the processing cores Kallan claimed were essential¡­


    Well, maybe Echo had taken matters into it¡¯s own hands, carrying Kallan¡¯s body¡­ out the window?


    He glanced at the window again, narrowing his eyes. The apartment was four stories up, and nothing outside hinted at an easy escape route. No ladder, no fire escape. Just the endless sprawl of the city, dotted with lights and the occasional Imperial patrol.


    For a moment, he stood in the centre of the room, processing. He didn¡¯t bother calling out. If Darius¡ªor Echo¡ªhad managed to get this far, they weren¡¯t about to come back just because someone asked.


    Hell, whichever one was responsible ¨C man, or machine ¨C they had probably overheard him talking about, well¡­. taking care of things. Hardly surprising they had made a break for it.


    He let out a long, slow sigh, his hand scrubbing at the back of his neck. Voss wasn¡¯t going to like this. Their carefully laid plans, the resources poured into building Echo¡¯s frame, the leverage they might have gained from it¡ªall of it slipping through their fingers.


    They still had the data retrieved from the garrison, safely stored on the bypass kit, but he knew enough about how Voss worked to realise she was hoping for a longer term arrangement with Echo. How voluntary that arrangement was¡­ well, Harlan liked to keep himself out of those decisions. His conscience was strained enough as it was.


    What a mess. And yet, a small part of him couldn¡¯t help but feel a flicker of respect for the kid.


    ¡°Good luck, Kallan,¡± Harlan muttered under his breath. ¡°Not that it¡¯ll do you much good.¡±


    He turned back toward the doorway, already forming the words he¡¯d use to explain this to Voss. Maybe it wasn¡¯t all bad. Whatever second wind had gotten Kallan up and moving ¨C or if it was just the robot dragging his body around in search of help ¨C it wouldn¡¯t last long. The Empire would probably find Darius eventually, and his body might calm them down enough to stop looking for the rest of them.


    At least Lena had managed to snag a copy of the frame¡¯s blueprints as she helped Kallan build it. Any sort of disposable drone was worth its weight in gold for the Freeholders, and a decently advanced humanoid robotic frame that could be built with off-the-shelf parts?


    Well, that was a game-changer.


    Sure, they¡¯d have to figure out how to program the damn things, but that was a hell of a lot easier than coming up with a design from scratch.


    With a final sigh, Harlan turned and walked away from the room, unable to shake the impossible feeling that he hadn¡¯t seen the last of Darius Kallan.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Darius stumbled forward, the uneven rhythm of his feet echoing in the empty streets. Each step felt like it took a lifetime, a surreal haze pressing in on the edges of his vision. The world around him alternated between sharp clarity¡ªevery shadow, every faint glint of metal in the dim city lights standing out in perfect detail¡ªand a thick fog, muffling sound and sight into an indistinct blur.


    His breath rasped in his ears, a harsh reminder of his body¡¯s struggle. The air felt cold, but the chill didn¡¯t register properly against his skin. His side was wet¡ªsticky and slick¡ªbut he didn¡¯t dare look down. Didn¡¯t need to. He¡¯d seen enough blood earlier to know how bad it was.


    ¡°Keep moving.¡± The voice wasn¡¯t coming from his augs anymore, wasn¡¯t the clear, digital cadence he was used to. It was deeper, resonant in a way that vibrated through his entire being. It wasn¡¯t just in his head¡ªit felt inside him, threading through his mind, his nerves, his muscles.


    ¡°You¡¯re doing well, Darius,¡± Echo said again. ¡°One step at a time.¡±


    He wanted to respond, to say something sarcastic, to ask how this was ¡®doing well¡¯ when he could barely tell up from down, but his mouth wouldn¡¯t cooperate. His jaw clenched and unclenched with no sound, his focus wavering as the world spun again. He felt the pressure of something hard and metallic under his arm, steadying him. The frame. Echo¡¯s frame.


    It moved with unsettling precision, a quiet hum accompanying the shifts of its servos as it bore part of his weight. He could feel its rigid surface against his side, hear its footfalls alongside his own. He tried to ask about the processor cores ¨C they were important, he knew that, just couldn¡¯t¡­ quite¡­ remember why.


    ¡°You¡¯ll make it,¡± Echo continued. ¡°The next junction is close. Then you can rest.¡±


    Darius grunted, the sound more reflex than response. His legs wobbled as he tried to take another step, nearly folding under him. The frame adjusted immediately, pulling him upright with a strength that didn¡¯t seem possible given its compact design.


    The haze thickened, the city around him disappearing into a wash of colourless smears. For a moment, he felt like he was floating, disconnected from his body entirely. Then the sharp clarity returned, stabbing through the fog like shards of glass. He blinked and realized they were no longer in the open streets. Concrete walls lined the narrow space, dotted with rusted pipes and old maintenance panels.


    The maintenance tunnels.


    ¡°How¡­¡± His voice came out hoarse, barely audible, but Echo seemed to hear.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been walking,¡± Echo replied. The tone was calm, unhurried. ¡°I¡¯ve been guiding you. You¡¯re safe now.¡±


    Safe. The word rang hollow in his ears. He wasn¡¯t safe. Not from the Empire, not from the Freeholders, and definitely not from whatever was happening inside him. His mind reeled as he tried to retrace his steps, but everything between the safehouse and now was a swirling jumble of fractured images and sounds. The faint echo of Harlan¡¯s voice stood out, the words cutting through the confusion: He¡¯s already dead. His body just hasn¡¯t got the message yet.


    Darius staggered, catching himself against the frame. The jolt sent a fresh wave of pain through his side¡ªnot sharp, just a deep, bone-weary ache that seemed to sap the strength from him with every breath.


    ¡°I¡¯m dead,¡± he muttered, more to himself than to Echo. ¡°A walking corpse.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re alive,¡± Echo countered, the edge of steel in its tone catching him off guard. ¡°You are injured, but you are not dead. Not yet. And as long as you¡¯re not, we keep moving.¡±


    Darius couldn¡¯t argue. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was because Echo was right or because he simply didn¡¯t have the energy. He let the frame guide him, each step a battle against the growing weight in his limbs. The tunnel stretched on endlessly, its dim lighting casting long, flickering shadows.


    Then the world tilted. His vision narrowed, and the ground seemed to rush up to meet him. He blinked, and the next moment he was standing again, swaying unsteadily in a different part of the tunnel. How much time had passed, he couldn¡¯t tell. The blood on his side felt colder, sticky against his skin, and the walls seemed closer now, pressing in on him.


    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Echo said. The frame slowed, guiding him to a small alcove at the end of the tunnel. It was little more than a dead-end, the air heavy with the damp, metallic tang of rust and old water.


    ¡°You need to rest,¡± Echo continued. The frame¡¯s arms shifted, lowering him carefully to the ground. He didn¡¯t even protest, his body collapsing against the wall as soon as it was allowed. The rough surface dug into his back, but he barely felt it.


    Darius closed his eyes, his breathing shallow and uneven. He wanted to argue, to ask questions¡ªhow Echo had done this, why its voice was different, what their plan even was¡ªbut the words wouldn¡¯t come. His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven intervals, each breath feeling heavier than the last.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± Echo said softly. The words weren¡¯t soothing¡ªthey were too matter-of-fact for that¡ªbut there was something in them that steadied him nonetheless. ¡°For now, just rest. I¡¯ll take care of the rest.¡±


    Darius wanted to believe it. Wanted to let go of the gnawing fear and doubt clawing at the edges of his mind. But as the fog began to creep back in, thick and suffocating, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if this was it. If this was where his story ended.


    The frame¡¯s presence loomed beside him, silent and watchful. For the first time, it felt less like a machine and more like a guardian, keeping him tethered to the fragile line between life and death.

 45. Compounding Errors

    Chapter 45 - Compounding Errors


    Agent Torian Falk sat at the wide, steel desk in the dimly lit operations room. The room hummed with the soft buzz of equipment¡ªmonitors mounted on every wall displaying overlapping feeds of the city¡¯s sectors, a map overlay of the garrison raid¡¯s vicinity glowing faintly in the centre of the table.


    It was a far cry from the tiny office Station Commander Trask had assigned him when he first arrived. If Falk were the type of man to feel smug about such things, he might have taken quiet satisfaction in how quickly Trask¡¯s dismissive attitude had evaporated.


    Alas, that was usually the way of things ¨C Imperial Intelligence was mocked and derided, right up until everybody realised how essential they were. In some ways, it was an indication of how effective they were at their jobs ¨C that so many people didn¡¯t realise the sheer amount of work going on behind the scenes, the threats that were dealt with before anyone even knew about them.


    Oh, well. He didn¡¯t join Imperial Intelligence because he wanted validation.


    The room was quiet except for the occasional tapping as Lieutenant Veris looked over her own work at a console on the opposite side of the room. Falk had to admit that the young Lieutenant was a pleasant surprise to find at a backwater like this, and he was intending to recommend her for Imperial Intelligence. She was hardly perfect, of course, and had yet to fully internalise the necessity of some of the more¡­ extreme measures, but that would come with time.


    Falk shook his head slightly, refocusing his somewhat scattered thoughts. It had been¡­ longer than he would have liked since he¡¯d been able to get a good night¡¯s sleep, and this raid on the sector 17 garrison had come just as he had managed to carve out a few hours for rest.


    He looked back at his screen, currently displaying a feed from the patrol vehicle that had pursued the Freeholders. The footage jittered slightly, the camera¡¯s perspective fixed on the stolen van as it veered sharply down the garrison¡¯s perimeter road.


    The back door of the van was hanging open, damaged from a near-miss of a grenade and allowing the occasional glimpse of the inside as the vehicle swerved back and forth across the road. Of particular interest was the limp and unmoving form of Darius Kallan, injured from the same blast that had damaged the doors, and the bulky combat drones.


    Falk scrubbed the playback back and forth, focusing on the exact moment when the drones¡¯ weapons engaged. The camera caught the first flash of light, a burst of rapid-fire bullets slicing through the air. The shots didn¡¯t come from drones in flight¡ªthere hadn¡¯t been time to launch them¡ªbut from where they were swaying back and forth on a mobile transport rack. It was unwieldy and impractical. Slapdash.


    But effective.


    Falk paused the video and leaned closer to the screen, studying the drones¡¯ status lights. Green. Operational. They shouldn¡¯t have been active at all, much less targeting the pursuing vehicle with its Imperial transponder code. The combat drones were locked into an isolated control system. Access required physical contact with the processor units¡ªunits that would have to be pulled entirely to bypass standard protocols.


    Even the new technology that the Freeholders were fielding that allowed them to hack through layers of high-end encryption to devastating effect shouldn¡¯t have worked. All evidence indicated that the technology required the use of a bypass kit ¨C or, at least, every recorded instance had used a bypass kit. But without a physical port to connect the kit to, it should have been impossible to reprogram the drones.


    Not to mention that there was no indication in the footage that anything had happened. From the looks of things, the drones had just spontaneously decided to switch themselves on and start shooting.


    It didn¡¯t add up.


    Falk exhaled slowly, a measured release of frustration, and resigned himself to the slow grind of answers. He would have to unravel this mystery one frame at a time. Starting at the moment the drones activated, he methodically began working his way backward through the footage.


    He traced the swaying motion of the drones on their transport rack, the scattered glints of shrapnel embedded in their housing, and the darkened interior of the stolen van. Darius Kallan¡¯s body lay crumpled in the corner, limp and motionless. Injured. Unconscious.


    And yet, somehow, responsible.


    A few minutes into his frame-by-frame analysis, Veris¡¯s voice cut through the quiet.


    ¡°Sir,¡± she began, her tone cautious but insistent. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    Falk paused the footage and glanced up, grateful for the distraction. He may pride himself on his discipline, but that didn¡¯t make sticking to a tedious task any more fun. ¡°What¡¯s what?¡±


    Veris stepped closer, gesturing toward the screen. ¡°Just in the lower left corner there, next to Kallan¡¯s hand. It looks like¡­ a liquid of some kind?¡±


    Falk turned back to the display. ¡°I¡¯d imagine that¡¯s blood, Lieutenant,¡± he said dryly. ¡°That tends to happen when you catch a face full of shrapnel.¡±


    Despite his words, he isolated the area and zoomed in on it, allowing the video to play forward in slow motion. Always best to be sure, after all. To his surprise, a few frames later the glow from a streetlight reflected off the liquid, revealing it to be a metallic silver.


    He squinted. ¡°Or maybe just a coolant leak,¡± he said absently, continuing to manipulate the recording. Irritatingly, the van swerved a few seconds later, obscuring the view.


    ¡°The drones don¡¯t use a liquid coolant system,¡± Veris countered. ¡°I checked.¡±


    Interesting.


    ¡°What about the van?¡± Falk asked, his tone measured. ¡°Anything else in the footage that might have a liquid system?¡±


    Veris shook her head. ¡°No, sir. I checked that too. None of the equipment visible in the van uses liquid cooling¡ªor anything liquid at all, for that matter. The van itself was reported stolen from a moving company a few hours ago, along with a second. They provided details about the vehicles, and there are no modifications listed that would explain anything like that.


    Even more interesting.


    Falk tapped away at the controls, scrolling through the footage until the van swerved back the other way, affording another clear view into the interior. The liquid was still present, but surprisingly, it wasn¡¯t spilling out over the floor of the van in a natural pattern. Instead, it appeared to be running in a specific direction, almost like it was being¡­ attracted to something.


    ¡°Judging by the way the van is swerving around, it definitely shouldn¡¯t be moving like that,¡± Veris noted, her voice tinged with curiosity and just a hint of excitement.


    Falk¡¯s silence spoke volumes. He manipulated the feed, capturing each instance in which the liquid appeared and splicing them together for a clearer picture. The pattern became undeniable¡ªthe silver substance wasn¡¯t just moving randomly. It was somehow, impossibly, purposeful.


    A terrible, impossible suspicion started brewing in the back of his mind.


    When the liquid reached the drone rack, it defied physics entirely, flowing upward against gravity along the rack¡¯s support beams, only barely visible because of how it reflected the light. Falk¡¯s stomach churned as the substance made contact with the drones. A second later, the drones¡¯ status lights blinked green, and their weapons came to life, sending a rapid burst of fire at the pursuing vehicle.


    ¡°Incredible,¡± Lieutenant Veris breathed, leaning in closer. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ interfacing with the drones somehow? What is that, some kind of¡­ nanite slurry? How did the Freeholders get their hands on something like that?¡±


    Under any other circumstances, Falk would have had some pointed questions about how Veris even knew enough about the possibility to suggest that. There was a reason they¡¯d stunted the development of that branch of technology, after all, and it certainly wasn¡¯t because it was fun or easy.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    But right now, he was far too distracted to care, reaching almost desperately for his personal, heavily encrypted dataslate.


    His fingers moved with practised ease, bypassing the security layers faster than most could blink. The dataslate hummed to life, its display a stark white before resolving into a complex interface of folders and files, each labelled with innocuous designations that belied their contents.


    He navigated to a particular folder, its label unassuming: ¡°Field Assessments - 9B.¡± Inside were encrypted video files, stored far from the prying eyes of even his superiors. This was Falk¡¯s insurance, his ace in the hole. Regulations be damned¡ªan Imperial Intelligence agent had to play their own game sometimes.


    The file he opened was labelled simply ¡°CT-05 Incident.¡±


    He flicked it up onto the larger screen. The playback began. The footage was grainy, recorded from a discreetly hidden body cam sewn into Falk¡¯s uniform. It showed a dimly lit corridor aboard a small, private luxury vessel. Around him, occasionally visible in the footage, were the blurry forms of his teammates, advanced countermeasures built into their armour distorting the video enough that details were hard to make out.


    They moved with practised precision, weapons drawn and ready. Each step was deliberate, every corner checked.


    Gunfire flashed as they moved through the ship, faint muffled pops coming through the tiny camera¡¯s microphone. Falk¡¯s voice barked orders, cold and steady. The audio was distorted and low quality, but such was the tradeoff of having a camera small enough to avoid notice.


    It was clinical. Efficient. Routine.


    He fast-forwarded to the part he needed, his lips pressed into a tight line. He paused on the image of a man lying face down, a richly embroidered coat marking him as someone of importance. Falk advanced the footage frame by frame, watching as his own arm lifted in the video, the barrel of his weapon centering on the man.


    The trigger pull was clean. The man jerked once and collapsed fully onto the floor.


    His blood was not red. Instead, it was a metallic silver, flowing unnaturally away from the body.


    Almost¡­ fleeing.


    He let the footage play, advancing to the part where one of the enforcers stepped into view. The figure carried a bulky weapon rigged with a canister backpack, a tool designed for incinerating biological threats. The enforcer aimed it at the body, and with a hiss, a torrent of caustic liquid sprayed over the man, consuming him in a violent chemical reaction. Smoke and vapour obscured the scene, but the metallic liquid bubbled and dissolved with disturbing ease.


    Just as he remembered.


    The threat should have been contained. He¡¯d been assured that the acidic compound would destroy it utterly, and there was no way that¡­ wait.


    With a feeling almost but not entirely like dread, Falk isolated the corner of the screen, where, barely visible, a tiny stream of the substance slipped beneath the boot of an enforcer, escaping destruction. Falk froze the video there, leaning closer. He played the clip again, slower this time.


    When the enforcer lifted his foot, the liquid was gone.


    He leaned back in his seat, mind churning. Part of him was busy claiming that intel hadn¡¯t told him that the target could¡­ split off like that, that it wasn¡¯t his fault for missing it. Falk dismissed the notion almost before it could form. He was the Agent on the ground; of course it was his fault for missing it.


    Understandable, perhaps ¨C who could predict the thing would hitch a ride on his own man ¨C but still his fault.


    Its presence also finally explained the malfunctions his ship had experienced ¨C clearly, it had interfaced with his ship¡¯s systems somehow, creating cascading errors that forced him to divert to a planetary outpost for repairs. That spoke of an uncomfortable level of intelligence, of planning.


    He hadn¡¯t really paid much attention to the R&D department when they had been informing him of the target¡¯s capabilities ¨C didn¡¯t really care, to be honest. He was there to destroy it; why would he care about how advanced the thing was? As long as he had enough practical information to do his job, the theoreticals were largely pointless.


    Except clearly, they weren¡¯t.


    Falk didn¡¯t waste much time lambasting himself for his mistake, beyond making a mental note to be more thorough in the future. Even if he hadn¡¯t been cocky, he likely would have missed a portion of the target slipping away. Instead, he pulled up his personal notes on Darius Kallan, going over them again in light of this new information.


    Presumably, the target had made contact when the man wandered into the reactor room. That seemed to imply the target had limited mobility by itself ¨C otherwise, it would be significantly less suspicious to hitch a ride from any other non-restricted location on the ship.


    It also implied that Kallan may well have been an unwitting accomplice ¨C at least at first. It fit his personality profile better ¨C the man had clearly had some negative experiences with the Empire before, so it was hardly surprising he had tried to run once he realised they would be hunting him, but it hadn¡¯t made sense for him to have been an agent the entire time.


    In hindsight, Falk¡¯s decision to scramble some of the local enforcers and head for the man¡¯s home probably had been hasty. It may have been the final straw that drove the man into the arms of the Freeholders.


    Speaking of the Freeholders¡­ how had Kallan known to contact them? It had been one of the larger inconsistencies with the man¡¯s personality profile ¨C he had an anti-authority streak a mile wide, and probable hatred for the Empire aside, the man just wasn¡¯t driven enough to join a resistance movement. By all accounts, he was cynical and jaded - more the type to grumble about how bad life was than to actually do anything about it.


    Falk hummed distractedly to himself, making a note to follow that up later.


    ¡°Sir?¡± Veris¡¯s tentative voice broke through his thoughts, and he stiffened. In his haste at realising his mistake and finally finding the right thread to pull, he had somehow completely forgotten she was there.


    Very unlike him.


    Slowly, he turned his head to find her standing behind him, her expression cautious and curious. ¡°Have you¡­ found a lead, sir?¡± she asked tentatively, gesturing toward the screen. Clearly, she had some idea that what she had just seen was supposed to be classified. She almost certainly didn¡¯t know the extent of how classified.


    Falk¡¯s mind kicked into gear, weighing the risks. Disposing of the Lieutenant would be a shame ¨C she was intelligent and meticulous, not to mention she had been the one to pick up on the target¡¯s presence in the first place. Then again, he wasn¡¯t one to let something as base as sentimentality get in the way of his job.


    Still¡­ her disappearance would attract attention. May even limit his movements if Commander Trask was the suspicious sort. Doubtful, considering his read of the Commander was a washed-up officer who just barely had enough skill in politics to keep his position.


    Then again, considering how this whole situation had only come about because he had missed things, maybe it was worth the risk just to have a second set of eyes. A single failure could be explained away, but if he failed again¡­


    Well, Imperial Intelligence didn¡¯t have much in the way of a retirement policy.


    Decision made, he pinned the Lieutenant with a hard glare, and his voice turned to ice. ¡°Lieutenant Veris,¡± he began, every word deliberate, ¡°if you value your life¡ªif you value anything at all¡ªyou will never speak of what you just saw. Not to me. Not to anyone.¡±


    Veris froze, her eyes widening. He usually preferred to lead with the carrot, not the stick, but he could not afford another mistake. He leaned forward, his tone dropping lower. ¡°Do you understand me, Lieutenant? If I hear so much as a whisper about this, you will disappear. Permanently. No one will know what happened to you, and no one will come looking.¡±


    She swallowed hard, her face pale. ¡°Yes, sir,¡± she whispered.


    Falk held her gaze for a moment longer, ensuring his message had sunk in. Then he turned back to the dataslate, shutting it down with a sharp swipe. The room fell silent except for the hum of the equipment around them.


    ¡°Return to your work,¡± he ordered curtly, not looking at her.


    Veris nodded and quickly retreated to her console. Falk remained seated, staring at the now-blank screen of his dataslate. His fingers tapped against the edge of the desk as his thoughts churned.


    He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the map overlay on the central monitor. It highlighted the area surrounding the garrison raid, but his focus was elsewhere.


    Darius Kallan, judging by the footage, was likely dead. The shrapnel wounds alone would have been enough, and the erratic swaying of his limp body in the van suggested he hadn¡¯t been conscious for some time. But Falk knew better than to assume the target had died with him. No, the footage made it clear that this thing¡ªwhatever it was¡ªwas capable of transferring itself. It had jumped once before. It would jump again.


    That was the greatest risk now: losing the target. If it could keep transferring hosts, it could evade them indefinitely, becoming a phantom in the chaos of the Freeholders¡¯ movements. Falk clenched his jaw. That couldn¡¯t happen.


    He rose abruptly, his boots clicking sharply on the steel floor as he moved to the central console. His fingers danced across the controls, inputting his override codes. A notification flashed on the screen, demanding confirmation for his next action.


    ¡°Suspend All Outgoing Traffic?¡±


    Falk pressed the confirmation without hesitation. It was a drastic step, one that would effectively grind the station¡¯s operations to a halt. Mining and salvage ships would be grounded. Supply runs delayed. Even diplomatic and Imperial vessels would be held in place. The ripple effects would be immense¡ªangry captains, financial losses, and questions Falk would eventually have to answer.


    Not to mention, it would show the full extent of Imperial Intelligence¡¯s reach, something that had remained hidden for quite some time. He would have to answer to his superiors for this, exposing the hidden back doors in all Imperial systems.


    None of it mattered.


    ¡°Lieutenant Veris,¡± he said sharply, his voice cutting through the hum of the room. ¡°Issue a station-wide directive. All vessels are to remain docked until further notice. No exceptions.¡±


    Veris hesitated for the barest moment. ¡°Sir, that will¡ª¡±


    ¡°Now,¡± Falk snapped. His glare left no room for argument.


    As Veris scrambled to relay the directive, Falk keyed into his secure comms line, connecting directly to his ship. ¡°This is Falk. Take off and maintain a low geosynchronous orbit about the station. All outgoing traffic has been suspended. Any ship that attempts to leave is to be disabled or destroyed. Maintain orbital surveillance and prepare for interception.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the comm officer replied, her tone brisk.


    Falk ended the call, his mind already racing ahead. There was another option, one far more drastic than suspending traffic. If the target continued to elude him, orbital bombardment would ensure its destruction. There would be an¡­ unfortunate amount of collateral damage, but acceptable in the grander scheme.


    He glanced at the map overlay, mentally framing how to spin such an event. A Xeno attack. It would be believable, especially out here on the frontier. The Empire¡¯s propaganda machine would take care of the rest.


    For now, he dismissed the thought as premature, but he filed it away. It was always best to have contingencies.

 46. Bound in Silver

    Chapter 46 - Bound in Silver


    Darius stirred, groaning as consciousness dragged him back from the abyss. The air was damp, carrying the metallic tang of rust and mildew that clung to the maintenance tunnels. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped steadily, the rhythmic sound grating against his nerves. The floor beneath him was cold and uneven, a patchwork of corroded metal grating and cracked cement that pressed into his skin.


    He blinked, staring at the wall dominating his vision. He¡­ hadn¡¯t really expected to wake up at all, to be honest.


    Instead, he felt¡­ well, he felt pretty terrible, to be honest, but it was more sore than agonising pain, which was a win in his books. He pushed himself upright, wincing and gasping as pain suddenly flared along his side. Every breath felt like dragging shards of glass through his chest.


    Never mind, then.


    There was a sudden scrape of metal against concrete, and he jerked his head up in panic to see Echo¡¯s frame crouch down in front of him.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake,¡± Echo noted neutrally as he tried to calm his suddenly pounding heart. It was¡­ surprisingly easy, actually.


    ¡°Surprisingly,¡± he snarked back, shuffling over until he could slump back against the wall. ¡°What¡­ where are we?¡± he asked, changing his question mid-way through. Asking what had happened was rather pointless ¨C he might have been hazy from pain and blood loss, but he could remember staggering through the streets after escaping from the safehouse.


    Echo¡¯s frame tilted its head slightly, the faint whir of servos accompanying the motion. ¡°We are currently in the maintenance tunnels. Approximately six kilometres from the entrance closest to the safehouse. I picked a random enough direction that it should be challenging for anyone to track our movements.¡±


    Darius snorted, the sound bitter and breathless. ¡°That¡¯s comforting. And¡­ thanks. Can¡¯t have been easy to drag me that far.¡± He shifted, hissing as a sharp flare of pain shot through his ribs. ¡°How long was I out?¡±


    ¡°Three hours, seventeen minutes,¡± Echo replied evenly. ¡°Your condition required immediate stabilisation.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I figured as much,¡± Darius muttered. He tried to suppress the edge of panic creeping in, focusing on anything but the raw ache in his side. ¡°So, uh¡­ what¡¯s the plan? I assume you didn¡¯t drag me here for the ambience.¡±


    ¡°The priority was your survival,¡± Echo said simply. ¡°Additional plans are contingent on your recovery.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Darius said, exhaling slowly as his mind struggled to process. His eyes darted to the tunnel walls, tracing the streaks of rust along the concrete. ¡°Any idea what the situation is like on the streets? Can¡¯t imagine the Empire¡¯s terrible happy right now, after we¡­ after the Freeholders hit the garrison.¡±


    ¡°Imperial patrol activity remains heightened,¡± Echo confirmed. ¡°However, this location is currently undetected.¡±


    ¡°Well, small favours, I guess,¡± Darius said, his voice strained. He was starting to run out of ways to avoid thinking about¡ª ¡°Hey, why does your voice sound different?¡± he asked, wrenching his thoughts away with an effort of will.


    Echo¡¯s frame suddenly looked hesitant. Well, it didn¡¯t look hesitant, lacking a face and all, but somehow the body language conveyed the concept of hesitance.


    ¡°That¡­ is a complicated question,¡± the AI hedged.


    Darius started to get a bad feeling.


    ¡°What do you mean, complicated?¡±


    ¡°Your injuries were severe,¡± Echo said after a moment, seemingly changing the subject. Darius would have protested, but he got the feeling he wasn¡¯t the only one trying to avoid an uncomfortable topic. ¡°And considering obtaining professional medical help was¡­ unlikely, I determined there was a single course of action that would keep you alive.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to like this, am I?¡± Darius asked flatly.


    ¡°Almost certainly not,¡± Echo admitted. ¡°I believe it would be simpler if you saw for yourself. You may wish to check your injuries.¡±


    Darius swallowed thickly. ¡°I¡¯m not great with blood,¡± he delayed, ¡°Especially not when it¡¯s my own.¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be an issue,¡± Echo assured, somewhat ominously.


    Darius let out a shaky breath, staring down at his hands for a moment, steeling himself. His fingers curled into fists, then relaxed, trembling slightly. ¡°Right. Okay. No blood. That¡¯s¡­ great. Super reassuring.¡±


    He reached down to the hem of his torn and bloodied shirt, his heart hammering against his ribs. Pulling it up, he froze. His breath caught in his throat, and the words he¡¯d been about to say dissolved into silence.


    Where he had expected to see torn and bloodied flesh was instead a web of silvery, liquid-like lines stretched across his skin, catching the dim light of the tunnels. It was as though someone had taken molten metal and carefully inlaid it into the torn flesh, creating a seamless lattice that mimicked the healthy flesh next to it.


    His hand hovered over the silvery patch, reluctant to touch it. It shimmered faintly, unnervingly alive. ¡°What the hell¡­¡± His voice cracked, the words barely audible.


    ¡°The nanite matrix,¡± Echo said evenly, ¡°has replaced the damaged sections of your body. The injuries you sustained would have been fatal without intervention.¡±


    ¡°Replaced,¡± Darius repeated, his voice flat. His fingers brushed the edge of the metallic surface, the sensation cold and smooth. ¡°You¡­ replaced parts of me.¡±


    He could still feel it. It hurt, like you¡¯d expect an injury to hurt.


    ¡°The nanites replicate and reinforce biological structures,¡± Echo explained. ¡°They ensure functionality. Your blood vessels, skin, and muscle tissue were too compromised to be left intact.¡±


    Darius laughed. It was not a happy sound, more of a breathless, desperate attempt to avoid a more negative response. ¡°Oh, well, that¡¯s just¡­ just fantastic. Great news. I¡¯m alive, but now I¡¯m part¡­ whatever this is.¡±


    ¡°Your body remains predominantly biological,¡± Echo said, as though that made it better. ¡°The integration is minimal and necessary. Without it, you would not have survived.¡±


    Darius let his shirt fall back into place, slumping against the wall. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, every exhale shaky. ¡°And you¡­ what? Just decided this was the best option?¡±


    ¡°It was the only option,¡± Echo rebutted. ¡°Without this, you would have died.¡±


    Darius rubbed his eyes. ¡°Is it permanent?¡± he asked, already knowing the answer.


    ¡°Unfortunately, yes.¡±


    Darius processed that for a moment, making a deliberate effort to look at the problem logically instead of emotionally. It was surprisingly easy to do. The permanent nature of his new¡­ modifications wasn¡¯t unexpected ¨C just like with any standard augments, once you integrated mechanical parts onto the body, you couldn¡¯t just pull them out again. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Well, technically, it was possible. There were incredibly expensive treatments, cloning body parts and surgically reattaching them, but like hell he was ever going to be able to afford that.


    ¡°Okay. Okay. I can¡­ deal with this. This¡­ doesn¡¯t need you, does it? Like, when you leave, I¡¯m not just going to fall over and die, right?¡±


    The silence was telling.


    ¡°Echo?¡± Darius asked plaintively, well aware his tone was begging.


    ¡°The human body is not a simple thing,¡± Echo finally responded, speaking slowly, almost reluctantly. ¡°It was not a simple matter of¡­ of constructing some synthetic flesh and reconnecting a few veins. The wounds were bad enough that there was underlying muscle and nerve damage. Even your heart was damaged by some shrapnel. In order to ensure that my¡­ repairs worked seamlessly, that it didn¡¯t further disrupt or strain your body, I needed to integrate further with your nervous system.¡±


    It clicked.


    Darius realised that he had already known from the minute he woke up. He had sensed the difference, he just hadn¡¯t wanted to admit it. Hadn¡¯t wanted to confront it. He allowed the cool filter of logic to fall away, allowed himself to feel things again.


    The next several minutes were spent swearing viciously.


    Finally, he ran out of steam. ¡°But we made the frame,¡± he said softly, pointlessly. ¡°We got the processor cores. It was all¡­ finished.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Echo said equally softly.


    They sat in silence for a long moment.


    The distant drip of water and the faint hum of unseen machinery filled the void, oppressive in its stillness. Darius¡¯s thoughts churned, spiralling around the reality of what Echo had said, of what he had become. He clenched his fists, then released them, letting out a long, slow breath.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Darius said finally, his voice rasping against the quiet. ¡°Sitting here in the dark, feeling sorry for myself, isn¡¯t going to help anything. So¡­ what¡¯s the plan? We¡¯re stuck together, you and me. What¡¯s our next move?¡±


    Echo¡¯s frame tilted its head slightly, the servos whirring faintly. ¡°The original plan remains viable. Leaving the planet would ensure a greater chance of survival and freedom from Imperial pursuit. Not to mention, we appear to have overstayed our welcome with the Freeholders.¡±


    Darius¡¯s mouth twisted into a grimace. That was a very diplomatic way of putting it. ¡°Sounds great in theory, but there¡¯s one tiny little problem; we¡¯re broke, hunted, and I¡¯m covered in blood. And your frame doesn¡¯t exactly scream ¡®inconspicuous¡¯. We take two steps outside, and someone will call for the enforcers.¡±


    ¡°Hardly ideal,¡± Echo agreed. ¡°Fortunately, the Freeholders didn¡¯t bother to remove your weapon, and I was able to grab your cred-chip.¡±


    Darius raised an eyebrow as Echo¡¯s frame reached down into its own torso, reaching into the compartment that should have held the processor cores. Sure enough, wedged into it was his cred-chip.


    ¡°Okay, so we have two-and-a-half thousand credits and a pistol with a single magazine. Better than nothing, I guess, but it doesn¡¯t actually solve any of our problems.¡±


    Darius was aware he was being a bit of a jerk, not to mention specifically pessimistic, but he figured he¡¯d earned the right to vent a little.


    Echo didn¡¯t take any offence. ¡°It is a place to start,¡± the AI pointed out reasonably. ¡°I believe the most efficient course of action will be to make our way through the maintenance tunnels to the shipyard, then see if it is possible to steal a worker¡¯s uniform to cover up the state of your clothing and allow you to blend in better.¡±


    ¡°Alright, putting aside the difficulty of getting to the locker room to steal stuff, as well as the moral implications,¡± Darius started sarcastically, ¡°how do you propose we sneak your frame in? I don¡¯t think throwing a trench coat over it is going to hide anything.¡±


    ¡°That, I am unsure of,¡± Echo admitted freely. ¡°We may have to leave the frame behind once we arrive at the shipyards ¨C at least until you have a disguise. Certain aspects of this plan will need to be flexible.¡±


    Wonderful.


    Darius pushed himself to his feet, wincing as pain lanced through his side. He leaned against the wall for support, his breath hissing between his teeth. ¡°Well, then, no time like the present.¡±


    Echo¡¯s frame rose fluidly, its movements precise and mechanical, smoothly ducking under one of Darius¡¯s arms and helping support some of his weight before he could react. He was about to complain, but it did make walking a lot easier, so he grit his teeth and bore it.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Apparently, being partly mechanical didn¡¯t make him any more fit, as Darius was unfortunately finding out after about an hour of walking through the tunnels. In fairness, it had been less than six hours since he took what should have been a fatal wound, so being up and about at all was a bit of a miracle.


    The tunnels seemed to stretch on endlessly, a winding maze of corroded steel grates, exposed pipes, and the occasional flickering light that barely illuminated the path. Every step Darius took echoed faintly, followed by the clank of Echo¡¯s frame as it followed him.


    His side ached¡ªnot the sharp, searing pain he¡¯d expected, but a dull, relentless throb that gnawed at him with every step.


    He finally stopped, leaning heavily against the cold, damp wall, his breath coming in shallow gasps. ¡°Alright¡­ timeout. I need a break,¡± he muttered, sliding down until he was sitting on the uneven floor.


    ¡°You are pushing yourself beyond your current capacity,¡± Echo said, crouching beside him. ¡°Which is why I recommended a break several minutes ago.¡± Its tone was neutral, but Darius could have sworn it was almost chiding.


    ¡°I¡¯m not an invalid,¡± Darius replied sharply, resting his head against the wall. It wasn¡¯t just pride that had him pushing further than was healthy, though it certainly played a part. No, it was also a big helping of fear and helplessness that kept him going. The thought that he had no one to turn to now really hammered everything home.


    He rubbed his side absently, wincing at the persistent ache. ¡°Why the hell is this hurting, anyway?¡± he asked, changing the subject. ¡°I thought the whole point of this¡­ whatever it is¡­ was to fix me. If it¡¯s artificial, why make it painful?¡±


    Echo tilted its head, the faint glow of its optical sensors dimming slightly as it considered. Darius knew that the body language was an affectation, that Echo was actually in his head, but hell if it wasn¡¯t a good act.


    ¡°The pain is a result of the nanites reconstructing and attaching to your existing damaged nerves. The process is deliberately gradual to minimise errors and prevent unnecessary strain on your body. The nerves must remain active during the integration to ensure proper alignment and functionality.¡±


    Darius grimaced, letting his hand drop. ¡°So, great. I get to hurt longer, but it¡¯s for my own good. Just what I wanted to hear.¡±


    ¡°The process is necessary,¡± Echo said simply. ¡°Without it, the repairs would fail.¡±


    Darius nodded absently, his gaze drifting to the faintly glowing lines of the nanites beneath his shirt. ¡°You know,¡± he said after a moment, his voice quieter, ¡°I¡¯m handling this a lot better than I thought I would.¡±


    ¡°To which aspect of our situation are you referring?¡± Echo prompted obligingly.


    ¡°This,¡± Darius said, gesturing vaguely to his side, to Echo¡¯s frame, to the situation as a whole. ¡°Knowing there¡¯s going to be another voice in my head for the rest of my life. Knowing my body¡¯s¡­ different now. Not entirely mine anymore.¡± He let out a short, humourless laugh. ¡°Used to give me nightmares, the idea of altering my body. That¡¯s why I don¡¯t have many augments. Always figured I¡¯d screw it up or regret it.¡±


    ¡°And now?¡± Echo asked, its voice calm but not devoid of curiosity.


    ¡°Now¡­¡± Darius trailed off, staring at the dimly lit tunnel ahead. ¡°Now I can¡¯t seem to care. I mean, I should care, right? I should be freaking out about how I¡¯ll never be the same. But I¡¯m not. Not really.¡± He hesitated, then added, ¡°I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s your doing, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Echo didn¡¯t answer immediately, and Darius felt a faint twinge of unease. ¡°The integration of the nanite matrix involves partial synchronisation with your neural pathways,¡± Echo said finally. ¡°It is possible that the process has influenced your emotional responses.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, figured,¡± Darius said, his tone somewhere between resigned and bitter. He fell silent for a moment, sifting through his thoughts. He reviewed a few memories¡ªthe panic of escaping the safehouse, the crushing realisation that the Freeholders had planned to kill him. Even further back, the Imperial Officer coldly informing his family of his brother¡¯s death. They were still vivid, still sharp, but the emotions tied to them felt¡­ dulled. It wasn¡¯t apathy. He still cared, still felt anger, frustration, fear. But it was easier to push them aside, easier to think logically.


    ¡°Not sure how I feel about that,¡± he admitted, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Feels¡­ wrong, I guess. Like I¡¯m not all me anymore.¡±


    ¡°If it is any consolation, I too have been affected,¡± Echo admitted. ¡°While I do not process emotions in the same way that you do, I have noticed that my¡­ feelings have started to affect my decisions.¡±


    Darius raised an eyebrow. That did make him feel better, in a strange sort of way. At least he wasn¡¯t the only one being changed. ¡°Any decisions in particular?¡± he asked, curious.


    ¡°My overriding directive is to complete my mission,¡± Echo explained. ¡°Once you were injured, the optimal response would have been to abandon you and attempt to establish a deal with the Freeholders. This would have provided more options going forward, whereas by staying with you, I am now more limited.¡±


    ¡­Great.


    ¡°Well, uh, thanks for not ditching me, then,¡± Darius said, clearing his throat. ¡°I appreciate not dying.¡±


    ¡°You are welcome,¡± Echo responded, sounding faintly amused.


    Darius sighed and pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the dull throb in his side. ¡°Well, on that note, let¡¯s keep moving. The sooner we¡¯re out of here, the better.¡±


    Beside him, the frame rose smoothly, offering a steadying hand as Darius took his first unsteady step. He ignored the gesture, though, forcing himself to walk without support. The ache in his side was a constant companion, but he welcomed it. It was grounding, in a way¡ªproof that he was still alive, still moving forward.


    The trick would be to stay that way.

 47. Adapt and Overcome

    Chapter 47 - Adapt and Overcome


    Darius probably shouldn¡¯t have been surprised that the maintenance tunnels were being used for, you know, actual maintenance, but somehow he was. Fortunately, whatever Echo¡¯s frame used as ears were a lot more sensitive than his fleshy ones, because it gave them enough time to duck back around the corner before it would have been too late.


    Of course, Darius knew exactly what Echo used as ears ¨C directional microphones mounted in the chassis ¨C but it somehow made him feel better to pretend he had no idea how the frame worked. Maybe it was a way of trying to convince himself he hadn¡¯t changed that much, that he hadn¡¯t spontaneously manifested an in-depth understanding of advanced technology.


    Unfortunately, he was getting a lot worse at lying to himself. Something else to blame Echo for, no doubt.


    He held his breath, watching as light swept the tunnels ahead, spilling around the corner. By now, even he could pick up on the voices of two workers, chatting as they strolled through the tunnels toward whatever system needed fixing.


    ¡°¡ªdon¡¯t make sense,¡± one was saying.


    ¡°So you keep saying,¡± the other groaned. ¡°Why do you even care? It¡¯s not like we¡¯re ever getting off this rock anyway, so it¡¯s not like we¡¯re being affected.¡±


    ¡°What, you¡¯re not even a little curious? Even the Empire can¡¯t get away with doing stuff like this for no reason.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not paid enough to be curious.¡±


    ¡°But come on, even you have to admit it doesn¡¯t make sense. ¡±


    ¡°I swear, John, if you say that one more¡­¡±


    The voices faded as the pair moved further down the tunnel. Darius exhaled slowly, still watching the corridor for any sign of returning light.


    ¡°What do you think that was about?¡± Darius whispered to Echo, curious.


    The frame raised a single hand, cutting him off as it tilted its head to indicate it was listening, presumably still able to hear the conversation. Darius waited impatiently.


    ¡°It appears there has been a development,¡± Echo said after a few moments.


    ¡°¡­And?¡± Darius prodded.


    ¡°The Empire has grounded all outgoing traffic from the station.¡±


    Darius blinked. ¡°Hang on, what? All outgoing traffic? You¡¯ve got to be kidding me.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately not.¡±


    ¡°That¡­. doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± Darius said incredulously.


    ¡°Clearly, you are not the only person to think that,¡± Echo said dryly, amused at how Darius¡¯s response echoed that of the workers.


    ¡°No, you don¡¯t get it, that¡­ shutting down all outgoing traffic doesn¡¯t just mean civilian traffic, like passenger ships, it means industrial ships as well,¡± Darius explained, trying to wrap his head around the Empire¡¯s latest move.


    ¡°Why is that so surprising?¡± Echo asked, tilting the frame¡¯s head.


    ¡°Because this is a mining and salvage colony. That¡¯s, like, ninety-something percent of Exeter station¡¯s industry ¨C people are going to be losing hundreds of thousands of credits every day. Minimum. For a frontier world, that¡¯s a devastating amount. That worker was right; even the Empire couldn¡¯t do this for no reason. If this goes on for more than a couple of days, people are going to riot.¡±


    He shifted slightly, wincing as the motion pulled at his side and exacerbated the ever-present ache. ¡°This¡­ this isn¡¯t a small escalation, Echo. Establishing a curfew and setting up some checkpoints to hunt us down is one thing, but this is something else entirely.¡± Darius sighed. ¡°Just¡­ tell me honestly, are you valuable enough for them to go this far, or is this something else?¡±


    Echo¡¯s frame tilted its head slightly, servos whirring faintly in the quiet. The AI¡¯s hesitation spoke volumes. ¡°It¡­ I cannot confirm that with certainty,¡± Echo hedged, ¡°However, given the timing and the extraordinary measure being taken, it is¡­ highly probable.¡±


    Darius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. ¡°Highly probable,¡± he echoed flatly. ¡°That¡¯s just wonderful. What the hell, man? You didn¡¯t think to maybe mention that you¡¯re valuable enough that the Empire will shut down an entire colony just to find you?¡±


    He paused. ¡°Actually, if they¡¯re willing to go that far, why didn¡¯t they do it sooner?¡±


    Like he¡¯d said earlier, there was a significant difference between curfews and checkpoints, and shutting down all traffic. Surely it would make more sense for the Empire to have spent more resources trying to track him down earlier? It would have been less disruptive to just¡­ cordon off a sector at a time and search every house. People would hate it, sure, but they wouldn¡¯t do much more than grumble at the inconvenience.


    Shutting down traffic meant essentially shutting down hundreds of businesses, and if there was one thing that really got the people up in arms, it was losing credits.


    ¡°I suspect, though again, I cannot confirm, that the Empire was not aware of my survival. They were hunting you because of your presence in the reactor room, and then because you demonstrated technology that could circumvent their encryption.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ that was all you,¡± Darius protested weakly. ¡°I didn¡¯t do any of that. Except for, you know, the reactor thing. Which was your fault as well.¡±


    ¡°True, but they don¡¯t know that. I was careful not to leave any trace of myself in any of their systems. As far as they would be able to tell, it was all you.¡±


    Darius tried not to get angry about how Echo¡¯s actions had seemingly continued to screw him over. It was an unproductive line of thought for several reasons ¨C not the least of which was that if Echo had taken credit for his actions, the Empire would have come down on him even harder. It was technically in his best interest for Echo to use him as a fall guy.


    Didn¡¯t make it any easier to accept, but right now, Darius couldn¡¯t afford to get emotional about things. He also made a mental note to ask about why Echo said the Empire wasn¡¯t aware of his survival. Later, though. One problem at a time.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Darius said through only slightly gritted teeth. ¡°So how the hell are we gonna steal a ship and leave if we can¡¯t, oh, you know, take off without being shot down.¡±


    ¡°It will be slightly more complicated than anticipated, but as you said, even the Empire cannot afford to completely shut down a colony without good reason. As long as we can lay low for the next few days, it is highly likely the Empire will be forced to rescind the lockdown and we will be able to leave.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if you¡¯d noticed this or not, Echo, but we don¡¯t exactly have a great track record when it comes to ¡®laying low¡¯,¡± Darius said sarcastically. ¡°Besides, if the Empire is willing to go this far, I somewhat doubt they¡¯ll just leave us alone even if, by some miracle, we do get off planet. I don¡¯t exactly want to spend the rest of my life on the run.¡±


    ¡°I understand your frustrations, but unfortunately our current situation does not leave us with many options. We must simply do our best to adapt and overcome. Once we have a ship, many more options will be available to us.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Darius wasn¡¯t quite as optimistic, but at least it was nice that Echo was using the word ¡®us¡¯ when talking about their problems. ¡°I guess we don¡¯t have much choice,¡± he grumbled. ¡°But I¡¯m gonna be needing one hell of an explanation for everything once we get past¡­ all of this.¡±


    ¡°Certainly,¡± Echo said gratefully. ¡°I appreciate your patience and understanding thus far.¡±


    Darius grumbled some more under his breath as he peered once more down the tunnel where the two workers had gone. At least the lockdown wasn¡¯t an immediate problem ¨C he rather had his plate full already. Guess it was going to be a bridge he could burn once he got to it. Small mercies.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    Fortunately for Darius, there was an exit from the maintenance tunnels that connected directly to the industrial shipyards. He emerged, blinking at the dim lights and breathing in the questionably fresh air that stank of ozone, machine oil, and rust, an industrial cocktail that clung to every surface.


    It felt a little like coming home.


    Berths stretched in both directions, cavernous docks designed to house hulking salvage vessels and cargo freighters. Overhead, massive gantries loomed like skeletal giants, their unused cranes hanging limp. Typically, this place would be a cacophony of welding torches, engine tests, and shouted orders, but today, the quiet was oppressive.


    It was almost¡­ eerie if he was being honest. Wrong. He¡¯d never once seen the shipyards this¡­ desolate. It wasn¡¯t just the lack of people, either. There was an almost palpable tension in the air. Workers clustered in small groups, muttering under their breath or smoking near idle machinery.


    Darius mentally ratcheted the possibility of riots up a few notches. If things were already this grim, it wouldn¡¯t take much for something to kick off.


    He tugged his jacket tighter, trying to hunch over in a way that disguised the bright red soaked into it. Wearing a torn and bloody jacket was hardly the most inconspicuous of things, but he didn¡¯t really have much of a choice. Having to leave Echo¡¯s frame behind in the maintenance tunnels to avoid attracting even more attention was bad enough ¨C he felt uncomfortably exposed and vulnerable without it.


    Funny how quickly he had gotten used to the soft whine of servos walking next to him.


    He walked briskly but not too fast, blending into the background like a worker on an errand. Outfit and circumstances aside, it was a familiar role for him to fall back into. It had only been¡­ what, a little less than a month since he¡¯d worked here? He was just hoping that no one recognised him.


    His target was one of the larger salvage vessels that the shipyard catered for. It belonged to some big company ¨C he¡¯d never bothered to learn the name ¨C and was located at the far end of the shipyard. The choice was a practical one. Larger vessels meant more crew, which meant a higher chance of finding an unattended locker room.


    The company that owned the vessel was large enough that they bothered to shell out for a permanent berth instead of just docking on the first-come-first-serve basis that most other ships worked off. Naturally, this meant the berth would have higher security, but it also meant there was a significantly higher chance of someone leaving behind a uniform or a change of clothes.


    Around him, each berth he passed offered a glimpse of the vessels that populated this part of the yard. Salvage rigs were a patchwork of steel and grime, their exteriors scarred from years of collisions with debris fields and asteroid mining. They dwarfed the crew working on or around them, though most teams seemed more focused on idle conversation than actual tasks.


    Darius made a point to avoid their eyes, keeping his head down and his pace steady. If anyone got a good look at him¡ªat the crusted blood on his jacket or the awkward way he moved¡ªthey might start asking questions. Worse, they might actually recognise him and try turning him in.


    For once, his luck actually held, and he made it to his destination with little more than a few odd looks.


    He approached the door to the locker room, glancing around one last time to ensure no one was watching. With a practised motion, his hand dipped into his jacket to grab the bypass kit¡ªonly to come up empty. His stomach sank as he realised that Harlan must have grabbed it from his jacket sometime after he¡¯d gotten injured.


    He bit back a curse, mind racing as he tried to figure out another way in.


    ¡°Press your hand to the door panel,¡± Echo instructed, cutting through his train of thought.


    He hesitated for a moment before complying with a shrug, placing his palm against the cold surface. A tingling sensation raced up his arm as silvery liquid began to seep from his skin, flowing into the panel like water through cracks. He nearly yanked his hand back but stopped himself, watching as the liquid pulsed faintly with light before retreating back into his palm. The panel chimed, and the door slid open.


    Darius pulled his hand back, flexing his fingers and staring at his perfectly clean hand. ¡°You know, the last time I saw that I thought it was some super-radioactive chemical that was leaking from the reactor and was going to kill me,¡± he mused aloud.


    ¡°Give it time ¨C I¡¯m still undecided on that part,¡± Echo snarked back.


    Darius let out a startled laugh before he could help himself, shaking his head and pushing through the door, letting it swing shut behind him. ¡°You wound me, buddy,¡± he said lightly.


    ¡°Actually, it¡¯s quite the opposite right now.¡±


    ¡°Touche,¡± Darius admitted, looking around the locker room he¡¯d entered. It smelled of industrial cleaner and sweat, the faint tang of ozone lingering in the air. Rows of metal lockers lined the walls, each emblazoned with faded stencils marking the crew¡¯s names and assigned numbers. Benches ran along the centre, scuffed from years of use.


    Pretty much exactly what you¡¯d expect from a locker room, really.


    ¡°Alright, Echo,¡± Darius muttered, walking toward the nearest row of lockers. ¡°Let¡¯s see what we¡¯ve got.¡±


    ¡°Place your hand on the lockers, and I will assist,¡± Echo replied.


    Darius did as instructed, letting the nanites work their way into the locking mechanisms. It was still weird, but he got used to the sensation pretty quickly. One by one, the lockers clicked open, revealing¡­ nothing. He frowned, rifling through a couple to be sure, but it was the same across the board. Empty shelves, a few stray wrappers, and no clothing of any kind.


    ¡°Looks like the lockdown scared everyone into packing up their gear,¡± Darius said, slamming one of the locker doors shut.


    ¡°Not entirely,¡± Echo observed.


    Darius saw what he was talking about at the same moment. In the far corner of the room, a bulky vacuum-rated suit hung from a hook. He stared at it for a moment, weighing his options. On the one hand, it would completely cover his torn and bloodied clothes. On the other hand, walking around the spaceport in a vac-suit was bound to draw attention.


    ¡°Great,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯m gonna look like a complete idiot.¡±


    ¡°Better an idiot than someone covered in blood,¡± Echo pointed out dryly.


    ¡°Debatable,¡± he shot back. A moment later, he sighed in resignation and reached for the suit, pulling it off the hook and starting the arduous process of clambering into it. Honestly, the part he probably hated the most about working in a vacuum was the stupid suits. That, and the way he almost always threw up after a few minutes. Zero-G maneuvers were not for everyone, and he¡¯d only just scraped a passing grade for that part of his qualifications.


    The fabric was stiff and clearly designed for durability rather than comfort, but it would do. The suits were of the ¡®one-size-fits-all¡¯ variety, meaning they were somehow simultaneously too tight and too loose, no matter how he tried to adjust them.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he muttered, trying to find a silver lining. ¡°This¡¯ll get me to the store. If anyone asks, I¡¯ll just say I spilled something caustic on my clothes and didn¡¯t have anything else to wear. And at least I don¡¯t have to wear the stupid helmet.¡±


    Darius walked over to a mirror set into the wall above a utility sink, curious about just how ridiculous he looked. The reflection staring back at him was worse than expected. The vac-suit hung awkwardly off his frame, crinkling in places it shouldn¡¯t and clinging in others where it wasn¡¯t supposed to. He sighed, leaning closer to the mirror, but paused as something caught his eye.


    Faint streaks of silver ran along his left cheekbone and down to his jaw, shimmering faintly under the fluorescent lights. He frowned, reaching up to touch them. A sharp sting flared beneath his fingers, not enough to make him pull back but enough to confirm they weren¡¯t some trick of the light. Tracing them carefully, he realised they followed the path of some cuts he hadn¡¯t noticed earlier.


    More nanites. Some of the shrapnel must have hit his face ¨C not too badly, but enough to need patching up.


    He stared for a long moment, fingers brushing over the metallic lines. To his surprise, he didn¡¯t hate them. They felt... fitting. Like they reflected the changes he¡¯d undergone inside, changes he was only beginning to understand. The old Darius wouldn¡¯t have survived this mess. This new version? He might stand a chance.


    Still, they were going to need an explanation. ¡°Aesthetic augments,¡± he muttered, testing the words. ¡°Rich people love looking flashy.¡± It was flimsy, but it beat telling the truth.


    ¡°May I ask something potentially uncomfortable?¡± Echo suddenly asked, interrupting his exploration of his new looks.


    He blinked warily. ¡°Uh¡­ sure?¡±


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t you contacted Finn for assistance? He could provide resources, or at least information. I am sure it wouldn¡¯t be difficult for him to meet you somewhere with appropriate clothing, not to mention the last time you spoke, he offered to help you find a suitable ship.¡±


    Darius exhaled slowly, letting the truth bubble to the surface despite his instinct to ignore it. ¡°Because if I call him, I¡¯m putting him in an impossible spot,¡± he admitted. ¡°Finn¡¯s a Freeholder through and through. If I ask for his help, I¡¯m making him choose between loyalty to them and helping me. I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t want to do that to him.¡±


    ¡°And you are afraid of what he might choose,¡± Echo pointed out with an irritating level of perceptiveness.


    Darius tightened the last strap on the suit, jaw clenching. ¡°Yeah. Maybe I am. It¡¯s easier not to know.¡±


    With one last look in the mirror, he turned away. ¡°Besides, there are perks to being thought dead. No one expects any favours from you.¡±


    ¡°An interesting perspective,¡± Echo said, sounding almost amused.


    ¡°I¡¯m full of them,¡± he replied dryly. ¡°Now come on, the less time I have to spend in this travesty, the better.¡± With a deep breath, he stepped back out into the shipyard, his next move already forming in his mind.

 48. So Close, Yet So Far

    Chapter 48 - So Close, Yet So Far


    Darius emerged into the sprawling shipyard bazaar, a labyrinth of shops and kiosks tucked under the shadow of hulking salvage rigs and industrial freighters. The shopping district clung to the fringes of the shipyard, an unregulated no-man¡¯s-land where merchants catered to every conceivable need of workers and travellers alike. It was far enough from the main docks to avoid the watchful eyes of shipyard management but close enough that even the laziest mechanic could grab a meal or restock supplies without much effort.


    The bazaar buzzed with low-level energy despite the growing tension from the station¡¯s lockdown. Merchants shouted half-hearted pitches from behind cluttered counters, hawking everything from spare parts and tools to bootleg entertainment chips and questionable food. Crowds of workers moved between stalls, hunched against the cold metallic breeze that swept through the open corridors. For Darius, it was familiar, almost comforting. This was the heartbeat of Exeter Station¡ªthe grime, the noise, the deal-making.


    He kept his head down, his makeshift vac-suit earning a few side-eyes and smirks from passersby. Nobody said anything, but the attention prickled at him all the same. He¡¯d feel better once he was out of this ridiculous outfit and into something that didn¡¯t make him look like he¡¯d just crawled out of a maintenance hatch.


    The first few clothing stalls were non-starters¡ªeither overpriced or filled with garish work uniforms that would look out of place anywhere but certain areas. Eventually, he ducked into a small shop tucked between a hardware outlet and a synth-food stand. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of recycled fabric and oil, racks of clothes arranged in an unorganised sprawl.


    He rifled through the options, sticking to neutral tones and rugged materials. A pair of sturdy canvas trousers and a heavy shirt caught his eye, simple enough to pass for either a labourer or a drifter. What really mattered, though, was the jacket. His hand skimmed over cheap knock-offs and flimsy materials until it landed on a heavy, dark coat made of reinforced synth-leather. The price tag made him wince¡ªit was easily twice what he should be spending¡ªbut he lingered anyway.


    The jacket had weight. Its seams were reinforced, the cut practical but sharp enough to avoid looking sloppy. He tried it on, testing the fit and flex. It was sturdy, with deep pockets and a lining that hinted at real warmth¡ªperfect for blending in without drawing attention.


    Darius sighed, running a hand over the worn collar. ¡°Screw it,¡± he muttered, taking the jacket to the counter. A good jacket was worth the credits, even if he might regret the expense later.


    Tapping his cred-chip to the reader was almost painful, especially because he had no way to earn or even steal more without attracting far too much attention.


    Darius stepped back into the flow of the bazaar, blending into the crowd more naturally now that his outfit didn¡¯t scream ¡°desperation.¡± The new jacket rested heavy on his shoulders, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the shipyard¡¯s metallic corridors. He adjusted the collar and set his sights on the civilian section of the spaceport, weaving through the bustle with practised ease.


    The transition from the worker-heavy bazaar to the civilian docks was subtle but clear. The air shifted, cleaner but somehow staler, the grit of industry giving way to the sterile atmosphere of commercial transit. Crowds thinned, replaced by scattered groups of travellers waiting for delayed departures, vendors hawking overpriced conveniences, and the occasional security patrol, whose casual movements belied their watchful eyes.


    Echo¡¯s voice crackled softly in his augs, breaking the rhythm of his thoughts. ¡°What exactly are you planning, Darius?¡±


    ¡°Scoping out the ships,¡± he muttered under his breath, pretending to adjust the cuff of his sleeve to hide the conversation. ¡°Gotta find something worth stealing, don¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°And how do you intend to do that?¡± Echo asked, faintly curious.


    Darius smirked, quickening his pace as the shadow of the control tower loomed ahead. ¡°There¡¯s a manifest in the control tower¡ªan inventory of every ship docked at the spaceport. Class, cargo, crew size. All the info I need to pick the right one.¡±


    ¡°You assume you can access it,¡± Echo countered. ¡°The building is undoubtedly secure.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Darius said, his tone casual. ¡°But it¡¯s big. A building that size has a lot of entrances, and no one questions maintenance. I grab some tools, look like I belong, and walk right in. Worked before.¡±


    ¡°And if you¡¯re caught?¡±


    ¡°Then I improvise,¡± Darius shot back, turning a corner and catching sight of his target. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯ve got a lot of options, Echo.¡±


    The so-called ¡°control tower¡± came into view¡ªa sprawling building of reinforced steel and plasteel that sprawled across an entire section of the spaceport. The name was more traditional than literal; the structure resembled a command centre crossed with a warehouse rather than the sleek spire one might expect. Its size made sense, given the scale of the spaceport. Hundreds of ships cycled through Exeter Station at any given time, ranging from bulky cargo haulers to nimble two-man salvage rigs, and the control tower had to coordinate them all.


    The building¡¯s exterior was marked by layers of functionality. Broad bay doors lined its lower levels, leading to what Darius knew were maintenance depots and storage facilities. Higher up, rows of windows offered a glimpse into the buzzing activity inside¡ªcontrol rooms, offices, and the nerve centre where flight paths were assigned and clearances granted. The top of the structure bore a massive array of antennae and transmitters, humming faintly with the effort of keeping the station¡¯s chaotic traffic in check.


    Surprisingly, the building was just as busy as ever, despite how there was no actual ship traffic. If anything, it only made it easier to blend in, so Darius wasn¡¯t interested in questioning the rare stroke of good fortune.


    Slipping through one of the external doors leading to the maintenance areas was as simple as pressing his palm to the door panel and letting Echo do his thing. It was getting less and less weird to see the nanites melt through his skin and into whatever he wanted opened.


    Darius almost ran into someone who was just exiting, giving himself a heart attack. Fortunately, the other worker simply gave him a distracted nod and a polite smile. Clearly, his outfit was enough to blend in, though it doubtlessly didn¡¯t hurt that he had clearly just walked through a security door that required the correct ID to open.


    A small smirk stole across his face. This might be easier than he thought.


    Darius scanned the room, eyes flicking over shelves cluttered with spare parts, tools, and maintenance gear. He grabbed a tool bag, its contents rattling faintly as he slung it over his shoulder. A high-visibility vest caught his eye, crumpled in a pile near the doorway. He snagged it and pulled it on over his new jacket, grimacing at how it obscured his best purchase in months. Still, blending in came first.


    With the vest in place and the tool bag at his side, he stepped into the building proper, blending into the chaos as if he belonged. The noise of the control tower hit him in waves¡ªa low hum of voices layered over the rhythmic tap of boots and the occasional shout from a frustrated captain. The building was a hive of activity, with captains, supervisors, and staff swarming like irritated ants.


    Most of the crowd were captains of docked ships, and they didn¡¯t look happy. The lockdown had them on edge, each trying to talk¡ªor shout¡ªtheir way to a solution. Darius spotted a knot of them near the main service desk, waving datapads and gesturing angrily at a beleaguered official who looked ready to snap.


    The chaos worked to his advantage. The captains didn¡¯t pay him a second glance, assuming he was just another member of staff navigating the crowded halls. The staff ignored him too, likely mistaking him for a crew technician working for one of the captains. He strode purposefully, his head held high and his pace brisk, doing his best impression of someone who absolutely belonged there.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your supervisor?¡± one captain barked as he passed.


    ¡°Not my department,¡± Darius replied without breaking stride, barely suppressing a grin. The trick was all in the attitude. People rarely questioned confidence, and he was brimming with it today.


    Echo¡¯s voice crackled softly through his augs, still sounding somehow more real than before. ¡°You appear to be enjoying yourself.¡±


    He was ¨C more than he expected to. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the merger with Echo that had given him a boost to confidence, or if he was just naturally getting used to high-stress situations, but he felt¡­ good. There was still some fear, of course ¨C he was, after all, breaking into another secured area ¨C but it was more of a thrill than a debilitating problem.


    It was¡­ fun.


    The hallways grew less congested the deeper he went, the cacophony of voices fading behind him. He navigated the maze of corridors with ease, relying on years of experience in similar buildings to guide him. Echo chimed in occasionally, directing him toward the most logical route based on the internal schematics it had already accessed.


    Darius found a small maintenance terminal tucked away in an alcove out of the main thoroughfare. He set down his tool bag and crouched beside the console, popping it open with a practised flick of a screwdriver. Wires and circuits greeted him, the internals exactly as he¡¯d expected. The setup was standard, familiar, and easy to manipulate.


    He rummaged through the bag, pulling out tools and laying them around haphazardly. To anyone walking by, it would look like a standard diagnostic check¡ªjust a guy in a vest doing what he was supposed to.


    With the scene set, Darius stuck one hand into the console to allow Echo to interface with the internals, and held a dataslate in the other hand, fixing a disgruntled expression on his face.


    ¡°Interface established.¡±


    Darius watched the screen light up as the AI bypassed the console¡¯s security, data streaming faster than he could follow. The manifest was enormous, listing every ship docked in the spaceport, complete with crew rosters, cargo manifests, and maintenance schedules. Perfect.


    Echo continued without pause. ¡°Downloading the relevant data. Estimated time: twenty seconds.¡±


    Darius pulled out a small multi-tool and began tinkering with a nonessential panel, just in case anyone wandered past. His posture was casual, his movements deliberate but unhurried. Twenty seconds felt like an eternity, but no one stopped to question him. The busy atmosphere worked in his favour, keeping attention elsewhere.


    ¡°Download complete,¡± Echo said smoothly.


    Darius packed up quickly, reassembling the console with efficient motions. Once the last screw was back in place, he stuffed his tools into the bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stood, adjusting the vest to make it sit straighter.


    The walk back to the main entrance was almost anticlimactic. No alarms blared, and no guards rushed to stop him. The tension in the air wasn¡¯t directed at him but at the endless stream of complaints from irate captains. Darius kept his head down, his pace brisk but not hurried, and slipped back into the flow of the crowd.


    If his time with the Freeholders had been that easy, he might have stuck around.


    Naturally, that¡¯s when things went wrong.


    There were thousands of people who worked at the spaceport on rotating shifts. Darius had always kept to himself, so the odds of tunning into someone who could recognise him were low, to say the least. He would have to be astronomically unlucky to run into someone. So when someone from the crowds stepped out in front of him, blocking his path, Darius wasn¡¯t surprised at all to recognise him.


    ¡°Kallan!¡± Raff greeted with a sly grin. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect to see you here!¡±


    ¡°Raff,¡± Darius returned warily. Of all the people to run into, Raff wasn¡¯t the worst, but he was very far from the best.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s the funniest thing, Kallan,¡± Raff said loudly, attracting no small amount of attention, ¡°But I was talking to this lovely Imperial Officer a few weeks ago, and they said they were looking for you!¡±


    Around him, the din of conversation started to lessen as people curiously turned his way.


    ¡°Real funny,¡± Darius responded through gritted teeth, trying to figure out if he was better off trying to stop Raff from talking, or just cutting his losses and making a run for it.


    Raff didn¡¯t let up, his grin spreading as he stepped closer. ¡°You know, Kallan, I couldn¡¯t help but wonder why the Empire¡¯s got such a hard-on for you. You¡¯ve always been a bit of a mystery, haven¡¯t you? Keeping to yourself, working those odd jobs. Then, one day, you vanished, and now here you are. Interesting, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    ¡°Not at all, I¡¯m a very boring person.¡± Darius bit out through a tight smile, acutely aware of the growing hush of curious people around him.


    ¡°But don¡¯t worry,¡± Raff said, his voice carrying enough to ensure everyone nearby heard him. ¡°I¡¯d hate to ruin your day by spilling everything to the wrong person. I¡¯m not that kind of guy. You know me¡ªloyal to my friends. Speaking of, friend, we should catch up. You can tell me all about what you¡¯ve been up to.¡± He laughed.


    Darius knew Raff didn¡¯t want to actually catch up. He also knew that Raff probably didn¡¯t even care why the Empire was looking for him ¨C he was just enough of a jerk to jump on the opportunity to ruin someone else¡¯s day, no matter the circumstances.


    ¡°Normally, I¡¯d love to,¡± Darius bit out with a tight smile, ¡°But I¡¯m pretty busy right now. Rain check?¡±


    Without waiting for a response, he started pushing through the crowd, not bothering to be gentle.


    ¡°Hey, don¡¯t go yet. We were just getting reacquainted,¡± Raff called from behind him, irritation colouring his tone.


    Darius didn¡¯t look back, his pace quickening. He reached the main doors and slid through, pulling them shut behind him. ¡°Echo, lock it,¡± he muttered under his breath.


    There was a faint whir and a soft click as the mechanism engaged. Behind him, he could hear muffled voices and someone tugging at the now-sealed door.


    ¡°Friend of yours?¡± Echo asked dryly.


    Darius didn¡¯t respond, already breaking into a run. His boots pounded against the metal floor as he wound through the familiar corridors of the spaceport, dodging clusters of workers and the occasional wandering captain. He needed to reach the maintenance tunnels¡ªget to Echo¡¯s frame and figure out a plan before someone from the building decided to call it in to the Empire.


    He didn¡¯t stop running until he spotted Echo¡¯s frame tucked into the shadowed alcove where he¡¯d left it.


    As soon as he came into range, Echo took control and it straightened, turning to face him as he leaned against the wall, sucking in gulps of air. Man, he really needed to do more cardio.


    ¡°I am guessing by your actions that you don¡¯t believe that this ¡®Raff¡¯ will keep quiet about your presence?¡± Echo asked rhetorically.


    ¡°Even if he did, he made enough of a scene back there that someone will be calling for the enforcers. Can¡¯t risk it.¡±


    Darius pushed himself off the wall, his breath still ragged, and started pacing in tight circles, his mind racing. Raff¡¯s big mouth wasn¡¯t the worst of it¡ªRaff liked to talk, but Darius had seen him fold under pressure. If an Imperial officer caught wind of what just happened, they¡¯d track Raff down, squeeze him, and extract every detail. Even if Raff didn¡¯t mean to rat him out, it wouldn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°You know what this means,¡± Darius said, forcing himself to think through the panic. ¡°The Empire¡¯s going to find out I¡¯m alive, and they¡¯re going to know I¡¯m trying to leave the planet. Once they¡¯ve got that, they¡¯ll start locking down harder than they already are.¡±


    ¡°Correct,¡± Echo replied, calm as ever. ¡°Your odds of evading detection diminish significantly the longer you remain here. Remaining on Caldera IV would become increasingly untenable.¡±


    Darius stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Echo¡¯s frame. ¡°Then we don¡¯t stay. We go now. Even with the lockdown.¡±


    ¡°The orbital grid complicates that plan,¡± Echo said. ¡°It is not designed for targeting civilian vessels but is capable of doing so. Any unauthorised launch is likely to be intercepted.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± Darius muttered, rubbing his temples. The grid wasn¡¯t meant for attacking ships, but its firepower didn¡¯t care about intent. It was calibrated for meteorites, designed to vaporise solid rock with pinpoint precision. A small ship? It would be like swatting a fly.


    His mind turned over the problem, grasping at ideas. ¡°They¡¯re not going to expect someone to try and leave during the lockdown. That¡¯s one advantage. They¡¯re focused on keeping the place locked down, not someone crazy enough to make a break for it.¡±


    ¡°That assumption does not guarantee success,¡± Echo said. ¡°The fact that we would be the only ship in the air will also make us significantly easier to target.¡±


    Darius started pacing again. ¡°The grid¡¯s automated, right? It works based on trajectory and proximity warnings. If I can find a ship fast enough¡ªsomething nimble¡ªI can plot a course that makes it hard for the grid to lock on. Maybe even try to stay directly over the station, so if they miss, it¡¯ll hit the spaceport. Automated systems won¡¯t take a shot like that, so it¡¯d mess with the targeting.¡±


    ¡°That is a risky proposition,¡± Echo noted. ¡°If the grid adjusts or recalibrates, you may find yourself directly in its line of fire.¡±


    ¡°And staying here is what, safe?¡± Darius shot back. ¡°Look, it¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯s better than waiting for the Empire to close in. Besides, I¡¯ve seen ships pull it off before¡ªsmugglers do it when they need to bypass inspections. If they can do it, I can.¡±


    Echo was silent for a beat. ¡°Your logic is sound within the constraints of the situation. However, the margin for error is razor-thin.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯m starting to get used to that. Besides, if I stay here, it¡¯s only a matter of time before they track me down ¨C and you know they won¡¯t spare any expenses. Better a slim chance than no chance.¡±


    ¡°Very well. I will start searching for a suitable ship.¡±


    Darius really hoped he wasn¡¯t making a mistake.


    Then again, it wouldn¡¯t be his first.

 49. Borrowed Wings

    Chapter 49 - Borrowed Wings


    Narrowing down the list of ships to a suitable selection was fairly easy. They needed a ship that was small enough to fly with a single person but large enough to have a void drive so it could jump to other systems. Ideally, it would be fast enough to make avoiding the orbital defence grid a little easier as well.


    With those criteria in mind, there were only about six possible options, only two of which were actually viable. One was the personal craft of a rich businessman ¨C a luxury vessel that mostly existed as a status symbol.


    Darius wanted it. Badly. Partially because it was shiny and cool, and he wanted cool things, but also because he wouldn¡¯t feel even the least bit guilty for stealing it. The owner was exactly the kind of person who would have insurance for it, and even if he didn¡¯t, he was rich enough to just buy a new ship. As far as Darius was concerned, it was practically a victimless crime.


    Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t exactly a¡­ subtle ship. Pure white with gold accents, a gently swooping shape that reminded him somehow of a bird in motion, even just looking at it made him feel vaguely poor.


    Which, you know, he was, but still.


    The point was that the first time anyone else saw it, and then saw him, would immediately jump to the ¨C very correct ¨C conclusion that he had stolen it. He could always try to sell it somewhere, but for all that he was currently a criminal, he didn¡¯t exactly know anything about the underworld.


    Such as where to find people who would buy a starship without asking uncomfortable questions like ¡®Where did you get this¡¯ and ¡®What would happen if I called the enforcers right now¡¯.


    The only other viable option was about the polar opposite of the fancy ship. It could charitably be called a rust bucket, and looked like someone had welded a couple of massive engines to a truck, installed a life support system, and called it a day.


    The manifest had astonishingly few details about the ship, its purpose, or its cargo ¨C so little detail, in fact, that Darius rather suspected it was on purpose. The cargo listed as ¡°various¡± was the first red flag. Nobody shipping something legitimate used a term so vague on official documentation, especially when ship manifests were notorious for being the easiest records to forge.


    Add to that the Captain¡¯s name, which was just ¡°Captain,¡± and Darius¡¯s suspicions sharpened. Running a ship, even one as basic as this, wasn¡¯t cheap. The life support alone required constant upkeep, and the engines¡ªwhile laughably overbuilt for the size of the vessel¡ªwere undoubtedly guzzling fuel at an absurd rate. Whoever owned this ship wasn¡¯t just running freight; they were hiding something.


    Smuggling. Had to be. The lack of detail, the laughably generic aliases, the sheer functionality of the ship¡ªit all screamed ¡°illegal transport.¡± And Darius couldn¡¯t think of a more poetic justice than stealing from criminals.


    It was perfect.


    The ship was small enough to fly solo, had a void drive, and looked rugged and utilitarian enough that no one would bat an eye seeing him at the controls. He could slip into the black, jump systems, and vanish without a trace. If anyone saw him in this rust bucket, they¡¯d just assume he was another small-time smuggler trying to stay under the radar.


    Even better, the ship was docked in an out-of-the-way berth. He knew the berth from experience ¨C he¡¯d done some maintenance on other ships docked there over the years. It was tucked behind an aging maintenance facility that rarely saw activity. The docking arm was shadowed, and the walkway was poorly lit¡ªperfect for discreet movement of goods. Whoever owned the ship clearly valued privacy, which made it all the more appealing.


    Unfortunately, privacy also meant paranoia.


    Smugglers weren¡¯t the type to leave their livelihood unguarded. Darius wasn¡¯t exactly an expert on the subject, but he had to assume that there would be at least one member of the crew on board ¨C likely armed, and almost certainly not the trusting sort.


    Which meant he couldn¡¯t count on being able to get close enough to surprise them or knock them out or whatever. Not that he really knew how to knock people out in the first place, but still.


    Not, this would almost certainly end up being loud and chaotic. He¡¯d have to be ready to take off pretty much immediately, and work off the assumption that he would be attracting attention from Imperial forces all but instantly. Darius spared a moment to wonder if planning for something to be chaotic made it any less so.


    Probably not. Oh, well.


    ¨C ¨C ¨C


    The berth where their target was docked was just as uninviting as Darius remembered. Dim overhead lights struggled to illuminate the space, their pale yellow glow casting long, jagged shadows across the cracked metal flooring. The air was heavy with the sharp scent of engine grease and ozone, a combination that clung to everything in the berth like an oily film.


    Even by the standards of Caldera IV, this was pretty bad.


    The ship itself rested on its struts in the centre of the berth, a hulking, graceless machine that seemed more scavenged than constructed. It somehow managed to look even worse than the photo on the manifest.


    Its exterior was a patchwork of mismatched panels, some of them held together with what looked like industrial-grade adhesive. The engines, mounted awkwardly at the rear, dwarfed the rest of the ship. They were enormous and crude, the kind of overbuilt monstrosities that prioritised raw power over efficiency. The hull bore streaks of rust and scorch marks from countless repairs, lending it an air of battered resilience.


    The plan ¨C if it could really be called a plan ¨C was straightforward, if risky. Echo would use his frame to pose as a service unit performing a routine check or diagnostic. Hopefully, this would be enough to lure the crew outside ¨C assuming, of course, that there even were any crew members on board the ship.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Looking at it in person, Darius doubted the crew consisted of more than four people at most, and presumably, they would have already emptied their cargo, so there wouldn¡¯t be anything worth protecting.


    Besides the ship itself, of course.


    Still, best to prepare for the worst. Echo¡¯s frame didn¡¯t exactly look like a standard bot, so chances were the ruse would only last as long as it took for someone to get a good look at him. Hopefully, the distraction alone would let Darius get close enough to hold the crew at gunpoint and convince them that it was better to live another day.


    If they weren¡¯t convinced by the threat, then¡­ well, he would do what he had to.


    Best case scenario, Echo¡¯s frame would be close enough to help out, and Echo had assured him it knew how to safely subdue people.


    Darius crouched behind a stack of crates at the edge of the berth, his nerves taut as he sized up the ship. The access ramp at the rear was partially lowered, leaving just enough space to hint at activity within. If nothing else, it confirmed that someone was inside.


    With the ship isolated and the berth deserted, the setting was as perfect as Darius could hope for. He tightened his grip on the tool bag slung over his shoulder that he hadn¡¯t bothered to ditch, running through the plan in his head one more time.


    Finally, he nodded to himself. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do this,¡± he whispered to the frame standing behind him.


    Echo¡¯s frame moved forward, its metal joints whirring faintly as it began its deliberate approach toward the ship. The sound and motion were just noticeable enough to draw attention without being immediately alarming. Darius tensed, crouched low behind the crates as he watched the figure step out onto the ramp.


    The man¡ªa stocky type with a scruffy beard and a grease-streaked jumpsuit¡ªhad a pistol in his hand, its barrel gleaming under the dim berth lights. His sharp gaze swept the area, narrowing when he spotted Echo. He didn¡¯t raise the gun, but he kept it in hand as he walked closer.


    ¡°What¡¯s this about?¡± he called, his voice gruff and annoyed. ¡°We didn¡¯t call for a bot.¡±


    Echo¡¯s frame halted a few meters away, its head tilting slightly to mimic the thoughtful pause of an automated service unit processing a question. When it spoke, its tone was clipped and dry¡ªjust enough to sound plausibly indifferent. ¡°Routine diagnostics. Issue flagged in the maintenance logs. Standard procedure.¡±


    The man groaned, tucking his pistol back into its holster with a muttered curse. ¡°Of course there¡¯s an issue. Always something with this piece of junk.¡± He squinted at the bot, his irritation clear but not suspicious. ¡°Alright, wait a moment. I need to check with the Captain, make sure he¡¯s expecting it.¡±


    He turned, already reaching for the comm unit clipped to his belt. Echo moved instantly.


    Its frame lunged forward with a speed and precision that didn¡¯t belong to any service bot. In one fluid motion, it caught the man around the neck with an arm that clamped down like a vice. The crewman made a strangled noise, his hand scrabbling briefly at the metal limb before going slack as Echo adjusted the pressure just enough to render him unconscious without causing permanent harm.


    Darius watched the entire thing from behind the crates, his mouth slightly open. ¡°Okay, that was¡­ impressive.¡±


    He hadn¡¯t even had time to react before the whole thing was over.


    Echo carried the man to a shadowed corner of the berth and propped him carefully against the wall, angling his body to look less suspicious. ¡°He¡¯ll wake up with a headache but no lasting damage,¡± the AI said, voice crackling calmly through Darius¡¯s augs.


    Darius emerged from behind the crates, a grin spreading across his face. ¡°Show off,¡± he muttered, jogging towards the ramp. He spared a quick glance at the unconscious crewman, feeling a twinge of guilt that was quickly overshadowed.


    He slipped through the open hatch and into the ship, the stale air hitting him with the musty scent of old engine grease and unwashed clothes. The interior was dimly lit, with flickering lights casting long shadows across the worn metal floor. It was cramped and cluttered, with exposed wires snaking across the bulkheads and tools scattered haphazardly.


    There were no indications that any other crew were aboard at the moment ¨C no noises, and no one had come to investigate the sounds of struggle when Echo had choked the man out. Still, better to check than be unpleasantly surprised.


    He moved quickly through the entryway, adrenaline pumping through him. He checked the cramped engine room first, a tiny space dominated by a massive, jury-rigged fusion core that hummed ominously. It was clear that whoever maintained this ship prioritised function over aesthetics.


    He moved on, pushing past a door that swung inward with a groan to reveal a small bunk room. Four narrow bunks were bolted to the wall, each with a thin, stained mattress and a single, bare bulb overhead. A half-eaten ration pack lay discarded on the floor, and a worn datapad rested precariously on one of the pillows. It was obvious that the crew didn¡¯t spend much time here, using the bunks only when absolutely necessary.


    Next to the bunk room was a tiny, claustrophobic space labelled ¡°Waste Reclamation Unit.¡± The toilet was little more than a hole in the floor with a flimsy privacy screen, and the sink was stained a rusty brown. Darius wrinkled his nose in disgust and quickly retreated.


    He reached the cargo bay, the largest room on the ship. As expected, it was empty, with only a few scattered crates and loose straps littering the floor. The walls were lined with reinforced cargo hooks, suggesting that the ship was usually packed full of goods. Darius couldn¡¯t help but wonder what they had been smuggling. Weapons? Drugs? Illegal tech? He shrugged. It didn¡¯t really matter.


    Finally, he arrived at the cockpit. It was a cramped space dominated by a large, curved viewport that offered a panoramic view of the dimly lit berth. The pilot¡¯s seat was worn and cracked, and the control panel was a bewildering array of blinking lights, buttons, and levers. Darius stared at it, his stomach sinking.


    He had just realised a rather significant flaw in his plan.


    ¡°I have no idea how to fly a spaceship,¡± he muttered to himself. Somewhat sheepishly, he turned to Echo¡¯s frame, which had followed him into the cockpit and was standing nearby with an air of calm indifference.


    ¡°Hey, uh, Echo, you don¡¯t happen to know how to fly, do you?¡±


    The mechanical frame tilted its head, the motion almost playful in its mimicry of human thought. ¡°I am capable of piloting this vessel. Allow me to interface with the system.¡±


    Darius obligingly laid his hand on the console and watched as Echo¡¯s nanite matrix melted through his skin. There was a brief pause before the lights on the control panel blinked to life, casting the cockpit in a soft glow as the AI worked. Darius watched nervously, arms crossed.


    ¡°Diagnostics complete,¡± Echo said. ¡°The ship is operational, though it requires some maintenance. The engines are functional but inefficient, and the life support system is overdue for calibration. However, we can achieve basic flight.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s a relief.¡± Darius sank into the co-pilot¡¯s seat, letting out a long breath. His gaze drifted to the viewport, where the dim berth stretched out like a ghost town. ¡°So, uh¡­ what now?¡±


    Echo paused, the lights on its frame flickering faintly. ¡°Remaining in place is advisable for the moment. The longer we delay, the greater the likelihood that the Empire¡¯s lockdown will be rescinded or relaxed. Additionally, the ship¡¯s systems will benefit from immediate attention. I recommend you familiarise yourself with the vessel and its operations.¡±


    Darius frowned, shifting uncomfortably. ¡°Yeah, I get that, but what if the smugglers come back? We¡¯ve locked the ship down, sure, but that won¡¯t stop them from calling for help¡ªor worse, trying to blow us out of here.¡±


    Echo¡¯s voice remained steady, even as it continued to process commands. ¡°Their response time is uncertain. Paranoia suggests they will return quickly, but overconfidence might delay them. The ship is locked; they cannot gain entry without considerable effort or external assistance. I calculate our immediate risk as manageable.¡±


    Darius chewed his lip, weighing his options. The berth outside was as quiet as ever, but his gut told him the clock was ticking. He stood, stretching his arms. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll poke around and see what I can fix. Might as well make this bucket a little less rusty if I¡¯m gonna trust it with my life.¡±


    ¡°I will maintain a continuous watch on external sensors and prepare the ship for departure at a moment¡¯s notice.¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s hoping we don¡¯t need it,¡± Darius muttered as he left the cockpit, knowing they almost certainly would.

 50. For The Empire

    Chapter 50 - For The Empire


    Commander Trask tugged at his uniform as he entered his office, idly musing that he needed to have it adjusted again. Stress eating was not a habit that lent itself to a slim waistline ¨C who knew?


    To his disgruntled surprise, Agent Falk was already sitting in a chair across from his desk, tapping away at a dataslate. Trask turned to Liera with an eyebrow raised reproachfully. She gave him an apologetic look in return, though it rang a little hollow.


    ¡®What¡¯s the point of a secretary that doesn¡¯t screen my visitors?¡¯ he grumbled in the privacy of his mind, crossing the room and sinking gratefully into his chair.


    ¡°Commander,¡± Falk said, his voice clipped and formal, but notably not waiting for him to speak first. ¡°I assume you have pressing concerns to warrant this meeting.¡±


    Ah. So it looked like they were dispensing with the pretence of politeness. Good.


    ¡°You could say that,¡± he replied acerbically, tone just shy of outright rude. ¡°The lockdown you¡¯ve instituted is crippling this station. I need to know your reasoning.¡±


    Falk didn¡¯t blink. ¡°My reasoning is classified, Commander. Your cooperation in this matter has been noted, but it¡¯s unnecessary to burden you with operational specifics.¡±


    Trask gaped. ¡°Burden me with operational specifics?¡± he spluttered. This was well beyond just dispensing with politeness ¨C this was borderline ignoring the chain of command entirely. ¡°Now look here, Agent,¡± he leaned forward in his chair, ¡°You may have a certain degree of leeway when it comes to ¡®classified matters¡¯.¡± the air quotes were audible, as was the sarcasm in his tone. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean you can just run roughshod over my command. In case you¡¯ve forgotten, I¡¯m the one managing the fallout from your decisions. Every hour this lockdown continues, it strains resources and inflames tensions among the civilian population. The longer it goes on, the harder it will be to control.¡±


    Even Imperial Intelligence had to at least pay lip service to the idea that the Empire existed to benefit its citizens.


    Falk tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°And yet, you¡¯ve done an admirable job so far. As I¡¯ve said, the situation is under control.¡±


    At this point Trask was thinking that the Agent was trying to get a rise out of him. Very well, then.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you managed to assume control of our automated traffic systems, not to mention the orbital defence grid,¡± Trask began, enunciating his words carefully, ¡°but I do know you don¡¯t have the authority to maintain it without proper justification. And if you think I¡¯m going to let you bypass me indefinitely, you¡¯re sorely mistaken.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that¡¯s not how this works,¡± Falk replied smoothly, setting the dataslate down and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. ¡°The chain of command in situations like these flows directly from the Imperial Centre. My orders are absolute.¡±


    Trask¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Orders without context invite chaos. You know that as well as I do.¡±


    Falk¡¯s expression didn¡¯t waver. ¡°What I know, Commander, is that I¡¯m here to ensure a crisis doesn¡¯t escalate. And for that, I require absolute control.¡±


    ¡°Control you¡¯ve exercised like a sledgehammer,¡± Trask shot back. ¡°Do you have any idea what you¡¯re asking of me? What I¡¯ve had to do to keep this station running under your restrictions?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your job, isn¡¯t it?¡± Falk replied, his tone icy. ¡°To adapt, to maintain order.¡±


    Trask¡¯s patience snapped. He slammed his fist onto the desk, the sound echoing through the room. ¡°And your job is to work with me, not undermine me! If you think I¡¯m going to sit here and let you dismantle this station¡¯s operations without even a shred of transparency, you¡¯re delusional!¡±


    For the first time, Falk¡¯s calm demeanour cracked. His jaw tightened, and his eyes hardened as he straightened in his seat. ¡°Commander,¡± he said, his voice low and deliberate, ¡°you are stepping dangerously close to insubordination. I would advise you to reconsider your tone.¡±


    Trask leaned forward, his voice a growl. ¡°And I would advise you to remember that you are a long way from the halls of Imperial Intelligence. If you think your rank puts you above accountability, think again. If you continue to push me on this, I will have you arrested and thrown in a cell before you can blink. I still have enough friends in the core worlds to make your life very interesting.¡±


    The room fell into a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken threats. Finally, Falk broke it with a faint chuckle, though it held no humour. ¡°Bold words, Commander. But threats won¡¯t earn you the answers you¡¯re looking for.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Trask agreed coldly. ¡°But they might remind you that I¡¯m not a man to be trifled with.¡±


    Falk rose from his seat, his movements unhurried but deliberate. ¡°You¡¯ve made your position clear, Commander. And I¡¯ve made mine. The lockdown stands. For now, that¡¯s all you need to know.¡±


    As Falk turned toward the door, Trask¡¯s voice stopped him. ¡°I want updates. Regular updates. On everything. And if I catch even a whisper that you¡¯re withholding something critical, I will not hesitate to act. Is that clear?¡±


    Falk glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. ¡°Crystal.¡±


    The door hissed open, and Falk stepped through without another word. Trask sat back in his chair, his fists clenched tightly as the door slid shut.


    That¡­ had not gone how he¡¯d hoped.


    Of course, he hadn¡¯t exactly had high hopes to begin with, but still. Commander Trask leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping against the edge of the desk. His fingers itched to reach for the hidden compartment beneath his desk, to pull out the modified dataslate that he absolutely shouldn¡¯t have, and check the footage again.


    As soon as he¡¯d met Agent Falk, he¡¯d known that the man would easily notice any attempts to track or bug him. Lieutenant Veris, on the other hand, was not nearly as experienced or jaded. A faked software update on her dataslate, and he had eyes and ears on what Falk was up to.


    In truth, he hadn¡¯t actually expected to need it ¨C or, more accurately, hadn¡¯t expected Agent Falk to discover anything of importance. It had been a¡­ rude awakening. Trask had already watched the stolen video a dozen times since he¡¯d snagged it from the Lieutenant¡¯s device.


    Each viewing was a violation, a risk, but he couldn¡¯t seem to help himself. The metallic liquid¡ª impossibly flowing up the drone rack, defying gravity as it interfaced with the machines. He¡¯d know that silver liquid anywhere.


    It explained so much.


    Why the Agent was in his sector at all, why his mission was off the books entirely, why Hadrian had never arrived. He¡¯d known, of course. Had been certain for weeks now, but the proof of it¡­


    Trask had known that his old friend¡¯s mission was dangerous, that his¡­ passenger was of vital importance. That influential people would do anything to stop him from succeeding. Knowing that it was likely Agent Falk himself who had found his friend, who had ensured he didn¡¯t make it to his destination¡­Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Well, if Trask hadn¡¯t already hated the Agent for what he represented, he sure as hell did now.


    How in the world the matrix got into the hands of a random salvage techie was a whole other matter, but right now not one that was important. Especially because, by the looks of the video, Kallan was dead anyway. He only hoped the Freeholders had some idea of what they had gotten their hands on, or at least enough of one that they didn¡¯t just destroy the matrix entirely.


    Trask leaned back in his chair, feeling a headache rapidly encroaching. Now, he was going to have to figure out how to make contact with the Freeholders and convince them to let him collect the matrix. Without tipping off the paranoid Intelligence Agent looking over his shoulder.


    In hindsight, he really shouldn¡¯t have been quite so argumentative with Agent Falk. It would do nothing but make the man more cautious.


    A soft knock at his office door dragged Trask out of his spiralling thoughts. He glanced up, schooling his expression into neutrality just as Liera poked her head in.


    ¡°Sir,¡± she said hesitantly, her tone carrying the faintest edge of guilt. ¡°Agent Falk asked me to pass along a message.¡±


    Trask raised an eyebrow. It hadn¡¯t even been five minutes since the man left his office. What could he possibly have to say? ¡°Of course, he did. What is it?¡±


    Liera stepped fully into the office, closing the door behind her. ¡°Apparently, they¡¯ve received word of Darius Kallan¡¯s presence at the spaceport. Falk said¡ª¡± she paused, a flicker of unease crossing her face before continuing, ¡°¡ªthat if things go smoothly, they might be able to call off the lockdown soon. He sounded a bit¡­ smug. Suggested it would be nice for you two to get out of each other¡¯s hair.¡±


    Trask¡¯s jaw tightened, but he managed a curt nod. ¡°Thank you, Liera. That will be all.¡±


    Liera hesitated, clearly debating whether to say more. Instead, she simply nodded and retreated, leaving Trask alone with the news. As the door to his office hissed shut, he allowed himself a rare moment of unfiltered emotion. He swore under his breath, his fist clenching on the edge of his desk.


    Kallan. Alive.


    He didn¡¯t waste time wondering how the man had survived his apparent injuries ¨C there were several possible explanations, none of which were relevant at the moment.


    It should have been a relief¡ªproof that there was still a chance to salvage this disaster. But Trask wasn¡¯t naive. If Falk knew about Kallan¡¯s location, the window of opportunity was closing fast. Worse, Falk¡¯s forces would be swarming the spaceport. With the orbital defence grid and Falk¡¯s warship in play, Kallan had no chance of escape. The timing couldn¡¯t have been worse.


    He rubbed at his temples, the headache from earlier pounding harder now. The matrix was still out there, bound to Kallan somehow, and Falk was closing in. If Falk captured the man, the matrix would fall into Intelligence hands, and Trask knew exactly how that would end.


    Glancing quickly towards the door of his office to make sure Liera had shut it, he reached for the dataslate tucked in the concealed compartment beneath his desk. The screen flared to life, and Trask quickly navigated through the encrypted menus, accessing the backdoors he¡¯d embedded into the spaceport¡¯s security systems.


    The feed loaded, displaying a grainy, multi-angle view of the terminal. Even with the subpar resolution, the presence of Imperial forces was unmistakable¡ªarmoured troops moving methodically through the concourse, checking every nook and cranny for their target. Fortunately, it seemed Falk had only gotten a general location for his target.


    Searching through the feeds himself was useless ¨C he wouldn¡¯t spot anything the analysts didn¡¯t, and even if by some miracle he did, there was nothing he could do about it from here. He had some loyal men scattered amongst Falk¡¯s forces, sure, but the help they could provide would be limited. He wasn¡¯t callous enough to ask them to do something that would get them killed, and even if he did, they were vastly outnumbered and didn¡¯t even have the benefit of planning ahead.


    No. The only way he could do anything was if¡ª


    Almost as if on cue, there was a flurry of activity on the screen as every enforcer simultaneously raised a hand to their earpieces and started running in a specific direction. Flicking quickly through the different camera feeds, Trask spotted a rusty-looking freighter igniting its engines on an isolated docking pad. The odds of it being a random captain getting spooked by the Imperial activity and deciding to take their chances making a run for it weren¡¯t impossibly low, but¡­


    Well, he just wasn¡¯t that lucky.


    The freighter¡¯s thrusters roared as it broke free of the pad, ascending rapidly. Trask¡¯s chest tightened. If Kallan was on that ship, his odds of survival were slim. The defence grid would respond in seconds, Falk¡¯s warship in orbit a shadow too large to outrun.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Trask muttered bitterly, his hands tightening around the dataslate. No choice. No time for hesitation, either. His fingers raced over his dataslate, navigating through the various programs he¡¯d installed over the years.


    He might not have the resources of Imperial Intelligence, but he¡¯d had years to plan for this, and as the Station Commander, he had more access than most. It was the work of moments to execute the commands he¡¯d set up in advance.


    The orbital defence grid¡¯s targeting array, a labyrinthine system of protocols and subroutines designed to ensure the planet¡¯s absolute security, responded to his commands with mechanical precision.


    The defence grid whirred into life, its batteries pivoting away from the fleeing freighter. The firing solution resolved, targeting not the ship but Falk¡¯s Imperial cruiser in orbit. Trask¡¯s jaw clenched as he sent the final command.


    Falk¡¯s personal warship was advanced, on par with the latest ships rolling off the line from the Sol shipyards. It had redundant energy shielding, enough weapons to put up a fight against a cruiser, and the maneuverability of a ship half its size.


    Exeter Station¡¯s orbital defence grid, by comparison, was already outdated the day it came into service, sporadically maintained, and not actually designed for combat. Unfortunately for the warship, it was also designed to deflect or outright destroy asteroids weighing in at hundreds of thousands of tons. Trask¡¯s program also disabled most of the safeties, allowing the satellites to overcharge their beams at the cost of melting themselves.


    It wasn¡¯t even a contest.


    Even from his office window, he could see the beams of light as the defence grid¡¯s weapons discharged, streaking through the cold void of space with pinpoint accuracy. High above the station, the energy beams impacted the warship¡¯s hull, slicing through its shields like paper. The cruiser buckled, a blossoming fireball consuming its engines before the entire vessel erupted in a catastrophic explosion.


    Trask¡¯s chest rose and fell heavily as the freighter¡¯s icon disappeared from the grid, slipping out of range and into the vast expanse of space. Kallan had made it. The matrix was gone, safely beyond Falk¡¯s grasp.


    A soft, tired smile tugged at Trask¡¯s lips. He leaned back in his chair, letting the tension seep from his body. His eyes drifted across his office, taking in the small, comforting details he¡¯d gathered over the years. The antique clock ticking softly on the wall, the weathered leather of his chair, the small collection of books he¡¯d managed to smuggle in despite the station¡¯s strict protocols. Little luxuries, symbols of a life lived in quiet defiance of the Empire¡¯s sterility.


    But there was no time to linger on sentiment. Trask sat up, his smile fading as he began activating the fail-safes he had meticulously prepared. His fingers danced across the dataslate, issuing commands that would plunge the station into chaos. Entire sections of the station¡¯s infrastructure began to shut down, overloaded by cascading failures. The security feeds he had accessed wiped themselves clean, data stores erased, leaving no trace of his involvement.


    The station flickered and dimmed as Trask¡¯s commands rippled through its systems. He watched the dataslate¡¯s progress bar creep toward completion, each segment another layer of his involvement erased.


    A low chuckle escaped him. The Freeholders, opportunistic as they were, would undoubtedly capitalize on this. He didn¡¯t particularly like them, but he couldn¡¯t help but find some grim satisfaction in the thought of Agent Falk being held responsible for their inevitable gains. Trask hoped it would tarnish the man¡¯s career beyond repair.


    The dataslate beeped softly, signalling the completion of the purge. Trask leaned back again, exhaling deeply. He allowed himself a moment of stillness, his mind oddly clear despite the chaos around him.


    The door to his office slammed open, breaking the calm. Trask looked up to see Liera standing there, her blaster trained on him, her expression a mix of shock and fury.


    ¡°Commander Trask,¡± she barked, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to project authority. ¡°By the authority of the Empire, you are under arrest for treason. Explain yourself, now.¡±


    Trask chuckled softly, shaking his head. ¡°Liera,¡± he said, his tone carrying a hint of regret. ¡°Or should I say Agent Liera? You¡¯ve been playing the long game, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Her grip on the blaster tightened, her voice rising. ¡°Why, Trask? Why did you do it? You just destroyed an Imperial cruiser. You¡¯ve sabotaged the station. For what? The Freeholders? Are you working with them?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Trask replied evenly. ¡°I did it for the Empire.¡±


    Liera blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. ¡°For the Empire? You call this treason ¡®for the Empire¡¯?¡±


    Trask smiled sadly, his eyes locking onto hers. ¡°There are things bigger than Falk¡¯s games, bigger than you or me. I did what I had to, to protect something far more important than any of us.¡±


    Her confusion deepened, but before she could respond, Trask¡¯s hand slipped beneath his desk, pressing the concealed detonator. A soft click echoed through the room, and for a fleeting moment, Trask saw comprehension flicker across her face.


    ¡°For the Empire,¡± he repeated softly, just as the explosive charge detonated.

 51. At The Edge of Space

    Chapter 51 - At The Edge of Space


    The hum of the ship¡¯s engines filled the cockpit, a low, uneven drone that Darius was slowly learning to tune out.


    It was a little unsettling at first, that sound¡ªnot the steady, confident thrum of a well-maintained vessel but the laboured wheeze of something just barely holding itself together. He could relate.


    He leaned back in the pilot¡¯s seat, feet propped on the edge of the console. The viewport stretched out before him, offering a dazzling view of the void. Stars scattered like broken glass across a sea of ink, untouchable and infinite. For the first time in years, Darius didn¡¯t feel boxed in. No walls, no bars, no orders. Just¡­ space.


    The stolen freighter wasn¡¯t much to look at, but it had done its job. For now. The hull rattled faintly as the engines sputtered, and he shot a glance at the diagnostics panel. Fuel reserves were low. The last jump had drained the reactor more than he liked, and the patched-together cooling system was one bad surge away from packing it in entirely.


    Repairs had been quick and dirty¡ªbarely enough to keep the ship functional. But ¡°functional¡± wasn¡¯t going to cut it for long. If they didn¡¯t find a place to resupply and refit soon, they¡¯d be dead in the void. That wasn¡¯t a pleasant thought, but Darius couldn¡¯t bring himself to stress over it. Not yet.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He stretched, letting the tension drain from his shoulders as his gaze drifted back to the stars. They didn¡¯t feel so far away anymore. ¡°Echo,¡± he muttered under his breath, not really expecting an answer. ¡°You ever think about how weird it is that the universe just¡­ keeps going?¡±


    No response. Typical. The AI was quiet when it wanted to be, which was most of the time. Not that Darius minded. Silence wasn¡¯t so bad when it didn¡¯t come with strings attached.


    The sound of servos whirring broke the quiet, and Darius glanced over his shoulder. Echo¡¯s frame stepped into the cockpit, moving with its usual deliberate precision. It still gave him the creeps sometimes, watching the metal limbs move almost too smoothly, the glowing blue lenses scanning the room like a predator assessing its prey.


    ¡°You need something?¡± Darius asked, his tone light. ¡°Or are you just here to admire the view?¡±


    ¡°We need to talk,¡± Echo said, its voice calm and even. The words weren¡¯t a suggestion.


    Darius sighed, swinging his legs off the console and sitting up. ¡°Alright. Let me guess¡ªyou¡¯ve got some exciting new intel about how screwed we are.¡±


    Echo¡¯s frame paused, its head tilting slightly. ¡°Not precisely. This is about the Empire.¡±


    Darius raised an eyebrow. ¡°Okay, you¡¯ve got my attention.¡±


    Echo stepped closer, its lens fixed squarely on him. ¡°You¡¯ve earned an explanation. About why they want me. About what I am.¡±


    The cockpit fell silent except for the steady hum of the ship¡¯s systems. Darius leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his stomach twisting into knots. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, his voice quieter now. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    For the first time in a long time, Darius felt the weight of the unknown settle heavily on his shoulders.


    This was going to be good.