《Twilight Duty》 Chapter 1 A Lords of the Stars Novelette Mattias von Schantz
March 4, 2202, Albur-tar district, Kerrma-non, Jerr ¡°Are you comfortable?¡± The question was asked with heartfelt concern, yet, it made him feel old. Mikhail Johnson shifted in the rattan chair he was sitting in. In the process, a slight feeling of pain shot upwards from his hip. Along with the upper portion of his femur, it had been replaced with synthetic bone made from titanium and ceramics more than three decades ago, after it had been shattered in a bad fall during his pursuit of a terrorist through the slippery streets of the city, one rainy night. The mission had not gone well¡ªafter the fall, the revolutionary had escaped and gone on to kill innocent families in the process, before regular Sunguard forces had managed to take her into custody. He¡¯d been meaning to have it replaced with a new biotic prosthetic for years now, but somehow always found a reason to postpone the procedure. Maybe it was really time to go through with it now. The invention of artificial life more than a decade ago had led to perhaps the most revolutionary upheaval of the Terran Federation since the first field generator was constructed. The biotic cells¡ªmicrometer-sized self replicating computer chips¡ªwere easier to shape than their biological counterparts, given that their genetic code was stored as software programs in flash memory rather than chemically in deoxyribonucleic acid. More than that, they were resilient¡ªimpervious to disease and poison, their metabolic processes independent of oxygen, and capable of entering dormancy instead of perishing when deprived of sustenance. Their lifespans were, for all practical purposes, infinite. They were also stronger¡ªa biotic muscle cell could pull a hundred times the weight of a biological cell without breaking, and a biotic bone was capable of sustaining a hundred times the force that would shatter a biological bone. ¡°Yes,¡± he replied to the middle aged Jerrassian woman in front of him, trying to hide the grimace he realized he had started to make. It was indeed time to do something about that hip now. ¡°Thank you, Kal. It¡¯s really wonderful here.¡± They were sitting at a small wooden table on her balcony, overlooking the busy street below. The summer breeze carried with it the metallic fragrance of the blue-green leaves of the trees lining the boulevard, and the salty smell of the nearby ocean. It was a peaceful scene, with families from the four races walking leisurely along its well kept pavements, some of their children enjoying ice cream in the warm orange sun. As he watched, one of the younglings down below¡ªa Jerrassian cub no older than five¡ªlost the grip of her large red balloon. It slowly began to drift down the street, out of reach of the young girl, but before she even had the chance to realize what had happened and start to cry, a tall Etarian man in blue pants and suspenders caught it and returned it to her. Mikhail smiled. It was all so different now. Had he been sitting here twenty years ago, he would have canvassed the street with suspicion in his eyes, intent on finding anyone acting out of the ordinary. But the reign of terror the Jerrassian Liberation Front had waged on the Terran Federation for half a century was now over. The Sunguard had played an important role in rooting out the terrorists, but so too had the Jerrassian people themselves. While the JLF initially had enjoyed some popular support during Integration, that had quickly waned, and eventually the Jerrassian people had turned on them. No surprise there, Johnson thought¡ªmore than half of the JLF¡¯s victims had been Jerrassians themselves. With no safe place left to hide, the people had turned over the leadership of the Liberation Front to the Sunguard, and with them gone, the terrorist organization had faded away. ¡°I see you¡¯re no longer wearing your stripes,¡± Olem Kal said, indicating the brown leather jacket Mikhail had hung over the backrest of his chair. For more than 40 years, he had worn only his plain gray uniform, with the red stripes along its sides signifying his status as a Sunguard Special Agent. ¡°We¡¯ve been decommissioned for 15 years now,¡± he replied, attempting to sound confident, but his voice betrayed his emotions. He had kept wearing his striped jacket for a decade past its expiration date, but he had always made sure never to wear the trousers, so as not to give anyone the impression he was still an active Special Agent. ¡°How do you feel about having been replaced?¡± Kal asked with an expression of curiosity, knowing her old friend would not be offended by her blunt question. ¡°Honestly?¡± he asked, though it was a rhetorical question. ¡°I¡¯m happy about it. It was the right choice. It doesn¡¯t matter how good we were, or what training we went through. We were still human. If a criminal or a terrorist really wanted to, they could get the same kind of training we had. And Kelar and Jerrassians are both inherently stronger and faster than Terrans, so we were always at a disadvantage. More than once, that cost us innocent lives.¡± ¡°No hard feelings towards the new biotic Special Agents, then?¡± she asked with a laugh. Mikhail shook his head emphatically. ¡°None at all,¡± he confirmed. ¡°That¡¯s not to say I don¡¯t miss the job. But they¡¯re faster and stronger than we were. They can do things we could never do. And more important than that, they¡¯re inherently incorruptible¡ªthey don¡¯t care about race or gender or money or status. They¡¯re in a better position to protect the people and ideals of the Terran Federation than we ever were. They¡¯re saving lives. I could never resent them for that.¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°And besides,¡± he continued with a twinkle in his eye, ¡°it does give me more time to go fishing.¡± They continued their small talk for a while, both sipping their respective drinks. Being Jerrassian, Kal, of course, could not drink coffee¡ªcertain Terran enzymes were toxic to Jerrassian biology and would cause her to vomit violently if she did¡ªbut she always kept beans in her freezer for him in case he came by. Mikhail was no fan of the hot, sweet korta-ben wine she always drank. ¡°Speaking of hard feelings,¡± Mikhail suddenly said, as they watched the orange globe of Tau Ceti starting to set behind the blue-green hills beyond the city, ¡°why don¡¯t you resent us?¡± It was a valid question, and one Kal had been struggling with for years. ¡°I can¡¯t anymore,¡± she said, after thinking about it for close to half a minute. ¡°I did hate you, you know that.¡± Being accused of a crime she hadn¡¯t intentionally committed and sentenced to hard labor under the watchful eyes of the Sunguard was surely justification enough to resent the Terran Federation¡ªand, by extension, the Terrans themselves. ¡°But hating my neighbors is a sin,¡± she continued, fingering the small silver cross hanging from a chain around her thick, furry neck. ¡°It corrupts the soul. It leads to violence and division. Only by forgiving you, like I myself have been forgiven, could I find a path forward.¡± Despite not sharing her faith, Mikhail agreed with her sentiment. He¡¯d seen far too many times the darkness into which hatred had led otherwise good people. ¡°And speaking of neighbors,¡± Kal continued, ¡°how come you never returned to Mars?¡± That was an easier question to answer. For the last 61 years, Jerr had been his home, ever since that first Sunguard mission to the planet. ¡°I love the Jerrassian people. Even during the hardest years of the uprising, everything I did was for the people of Jerr. Not for the People¡¯s Council, mind you, but for the women, men, and children of your world. My world.¡± Amanda had felt the same. The year after First Contact, she had followed him to Jerr, and they had married on top of the white chalk cliffs of the Tober Coast. Together, they had spent the rest of her life on the alien planet. From the avenue below them, the rich fragrance of tovlar-tam and shish kebab was starting to emerge from the nightly street vendors setting up their shops along the alley. As the mouth-watering smells started to drift upward towards the balcony where they were sitting, Mikhail was just about to offer to go down and buy some street food for them, when the bell on Kal¡¯s door suddenly rang. He turned to Kal, who quickly rose from her chair to open the door, and for a moment, he thought he caught a mischievous grin on her face. ¡°Anyone home?¡± an old, dear voice from the doorway asked. Old, but full of life. A few seconds later, High Admiral Jenny O¡¯Sullivan, Supreme Commander of the Sunguard, appeared on the balcony, dressed in jeans and a thick, knitted grey sweater. Mikhail Johnson shot up from his chair as if his pants had caught fire, almost tipping it over in the process. He started to raise his hand in a salute, but caught himself¡ªhe was a civilian now, retired for more than a decade. And besides, for most of his life, he had been a Special Agent. If anything, she should be the one saluting him, not the other way around. But old habits die hard, and he still remembered serving under her as a lieutenant during their first mission to Jerr all those years ago. Jenny saw his discomfort and quickly stepped forward to ease it by pulling him into a tight hug. Clearly, she had had more than a few organs replaced with biotic versions, Mikhail thought, knowing she was now close to a hundred years old. ¡°How are you, my friend?¡± she asked as she stepped away. ¡°Kal heard I was in the neighborhood and told me you were coming for a visit. I thought I¡¯d stop by.¡± By neighborhood, Mikhail knew she didn¡¯t mean the block, but rather the star system. The High Admiral was usually stationed with the rest of the Solar Command in the Sunguard headquarters on Europa. While the two former colleagues reacquainted themselves with each other, Kal brought out a third chair, and a cup of hot Jerrassian tea for Jenny, as well as a couple of thick blankets. Though the night was warm, the evening breeze might be uncomfortable for the two older Terrans. She didn¡¯t want them to freeze, and knowing they both were too polite and too stoic to ask her for anything, she took preemptive action instead. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have to be the bearer of bad news,¡± Jenny said softly. ¡°If you haven¡¯t heard already, Alistair passed away right before Christmas. He went peacefully, with his family by his side.¡± Remembering the former Special Agent, Mikhail grieved. The man had been his mentor for close to a decade following their first contact mission to Jerr, before Mikhail himself had been promoted to the same rank. After that, they had not had much contact with each other. Mikhail had stayed on Jerr, first overseeing regional operations in the Kerrma-non sector before eventually taking on wider responsibilities for the entire planet, while Alistair had moved on to police the new colony worlds. Now, he was gone. ¡°I never met him,¡± Kal said after a brief pause to contemplate the sad news. ¡°I know he was important to you both. What was he like?¡± ¡°Funny!¡± the two Terrans replied, almost at the same time. The moment of jinx was followed by a second of silence, after which they both burst out laughing. It was all very appropriate. ¡°Yeah,¡± Jenny continued. ¡°He could say the weirdest things with a perfectly straight face, just slipping them into any serious conversation he happened to take part in.¡± ¡°And then he¡¯d break out that mischievous smile of his to make sure no one misunderstood him,¡± Mikhail continued. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing he was a Special Agent, with no accountability to anyone but the Solar Council. Otherwise, he would have gotten himself into so much trouble.¡± ¡°You do realize he wasn¡¯t a biot, right? He wasn¡¯t born a Special Agent,¡± Jenny reminded him in jest. ¡°I suspect he did get into trouble more than once before attaining the rank.¡± ¡°And now we know just why he pursued that career path!¡±, Mikhail exclaimed with a laugh. The two women joined him in the joke, chuckling lightly together. Together, they watched the sun set and the night closing in on them. The darkness would come soon enough. Chapter 2 Four days later, the clear summer skies of the past week had been marred by the occasional orange cloud. It was still warm, but a light rain had sprinkled the city during the morning, clearing the air of dust. The smell of the summer rain had refreshed his senses, Mikhail thought, as he walked down the busy street towards the Terran Federation Post Office a few blocks from his apartment. He held a soft package tucked under his left arm, wrapped in brown paper and tied with strings of jute thread. The parcel contained a Jerrassian doll¡ªto a Terran, it held a striking resemblance to a teddy bear. Mikhail intended to send it to Jenny for her birthday. Not to Jenny the High Admiral, of course, but to Jenny, his great granddaughter, far away on frigid Titan. She was really too old for the doll, Mikhail thought, but that didn¡¯t matter. He was almost halfway to the post office, when something at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Mikhail didn¡¯t visibly react, but instead continued walking past the man he had seen, as if nothing had happened. But in the corner of his eye, he had noticed a Terran in his late twenties sitting on a park bench, reading a newspaper. Or to be more precise, gazing just above the top of his newspaper, pretending to read it. Taking a turn to the right, Mikhail entered a street out of view of the man on the bench. He could no longer see the young Terran, but that also meant Mikhail was now free to move without being spotted himself. He took the chance and turned around, hoping to figure out what the man had been working so hard to observe without being spotted. But no matter where he looked, he failed to see anything in the neighborhood that seemed worth staking out. Caf¨¦s and restaurants lined the street, with a travel agency tucked into a corner between two larger buildings. On the sidewalk, street vendors peddled everything from hot dogs to local clay sculptures. Nothing of this struck Mikhail as significant. There were no federal buildings here that could be potential targets for a terrorist strike, and no jewelers or secure storage agencies ripe for the taking by robbers. He quickly walked further down the side street and entered Erik¡¯s Development Thrift Store, picking up a bright yellow shirt as he rushed through it without paying. A quick nod directed at the clerk manning the sales desk made sure she recognized him. He would transfer them the payment for the shirt later. Now using the colorful clothing as in-plain-sight camouflage, Mikhail doubled back toward the park, hoping the man on the bench was still around and taking a chance he would pay more attention to the yellow shirt screaming look at me, and less to his face. When he came around the corner, Mikhail allowed himself to relax. The man was still there, sitting on the park bench, his gaze still focused a centimeter above the top of his newspaper. As Mikhail walked past him again and disappeared into the crowd on the other side of the park, he made a mental note of the geometry of the street in front of the man, and of the businesses located there. Still, nothing out of the ordinary stood out to him¡ªthe only establishments directly in the line of sight of the man were Caf¨¦ Metamorphosis, Travel with Tamor, and John¡¯s Hot Dogs. What did stand out, though, was the tattoo on the wrist of the man: a stylized bald eagle, rendered in the iconography of the Mad Century. The Terran supremacists had arrived on Jerr.
¡°So,¡± Special Agent Rehema Nyasi said as she sat down at the small table, ¡°what did you see?¡± Once he had been out of sight of the man in the park, Mikhail had placed a call to Reagan Base and asked to speak with the current Special Agent in charge of Kerrma-non Sector. The intelligent computer he had spoken to had immediately authenticated him as a former Special Agent and instructed him to go to a nearby caf¨¦, where Special Agent Nyasi, wearing plain clothes, had approached him just minutes later. ¡°The man appeared to be in his late twenties,¡± Mikhail said. ¡°Short, black hair. No beard. Light brown skin. He was sitting on a bench at the western edge of Tomaw Park.¡± Special Agent Nyasi seemed to focus inward for a second. ¡°Got him,¡± she said with a smile. On her way to meet Mikhail Johnson, she had walked through the park, her biotic brain recording every sensory input with impeccable clarity. Now, she had reviewed what she had seen and had matched Johnson¡¯s description of the man with the people she had encountered during her walk. It took her less than a millisecond to upload the footage from her visual cortex to the Sunguard computers through the permanent radio link she had embedded in her brain. The intelligent computers back at base were equally quick at identifying the man, matching him with their records of Terran Federation citizens. Together with the historical data from the Sunguard surveillance grid, they now knew not only who the man was, but also where he had been in the city during the days since his arrival on Jerr. It was one thing to know, in theory, how efficient a biotic Special Agent could be¡ªseeing her in action was another matter entirely. Mikhail was impressed, and simultaneously saddened. How many more lives could he have saved throughout his career, if he had had the abilities of this young woman sitting in front of him now? But this was no time for regrets. In his time, he had done a lot of good for the people of Jerr, and now, that responsibility rested on the shoulders of this obviously very competent woman. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°What do we know of him?¡± he asked. ¡°His name is Jonas Dao,¡± Special Agent Nyasi replied. ¡°Twenty-seven years old, from Caldera, Mars. He arrived here four days ago. He¡¯s been staying at a small hotel called Bob¡¯s, located in the Illmun-ra district. There¡¯s no surveillance available inside the hotel, but we¡¯ve found him in the street footage as he exits the building. Other than going to a couple of different restaurants¡ªall run by Terrans, by the way¡ªhe¡¯s spent all his time in the park.¡± ¡°So whatever he¡¯s up to, it really is connected to this place,¡± Mikhail concluded. ¡°So it would seem,¡± Special Agent Nyasi concurred. ¡°Still, I don¡¯t see the connection.¡± They sat at the table for another half hour, trying out different theories of what was going on. Unfortunately, none of them quite made sense. The best they could come up with was that he was planning some sort of robbery¡ªperhaps him being a racist was just a coincidence. But if that was the case, why would he venture across light-years to this particular spot on Jerr, just to rob a caf¨¦ or a travel agency? Stealing cinnamon rolls or cruise ship tickets wasn¡¯t exactly a lucrative endeavor.
Solving the problem with the man in the park wasn¡¯t really his job anymore, but Mikhail had trouble dropping the case. Whatever Dao was up to, he was sure it would mean nothing good for the Jerrassian people Mikhail had adopted as his own. Whenever his mind wasn¡¯t occupied with other things, he found himself wondering about the intentions of the mysterious Terran. The light breeze had calmed down as the temperatures dropped in the evening. Now, River Taronga lay calm, the only ripples on its surface resulting from its leisurely flow through the city on its way to the ocean and from the occasional fish breaking the surface to catch an unfortunate insect that had accidentally landed in the water. Mikhail sat in his foldable chair on the muddy river bank, watching the float of his tackle slowly move with the water. The fish didn¡¯t seem too interested in his bait today. That was all well and good¡ªin return, he wasn¡¯t that interested in the fish this day, either. The gulls, on the other hand, were quite interested in his success, hoping to find a treat among the leftovers from whatever he might manage to pull from the river. Well, they weren¡¯t gulls, not really, but his Terran brain instinctively thought of them as such¡ªthey were parabirds. At first glance, they sure looked like Terran gulls, with their yellow beaks and white and gray feathered wings. But if you looked closely at them, the sharp teeth inside their beaks and the small claws on their wings quickly betrayed that these were, in fact, not birds at all. Still, if he closed his eyes, the haunting shrieks they made easily could convince him they were. What was Dao up to? What were he and Nyasi missing? He opened his eyes to look out across the river. The skyscrapers on the other side, rising like statues of gleaming blue and silver metal along the far bank, were partially obscured by the evening haze. He loved this city. He hadn¡¯t always felt like that, he admitted freely to himself. There had been a time during the height of the uprising, when he had almost lost hope. For a while, it had seemed like nothing they did mattered¡ªno matter what the Terran Federation did, things tended to go from bad to worse. But eventually, the Jerrassian people had proved all the nay-sayers wrong. They were a proud people, that was true, but they were also strong, kind, compassionate and loyal, and in the end, they had rejected the violence and bigotry of the Jerrassian Liberation Front, and embraced the Terran Federation. Over the years, they had come to see the Federation as their own, taking pride in their contributions to it, making it stronger and better than it had been without them. Together with the Terrans, the Etarians, and the Kelar, the Jerrassians were now the fourth pillar upon which it rested. What was Dao doing here? At the back of his mind, something was nagging at his thoughts, trying to break through. Suddenly, the float dipped below the surface of the tranquil river. It didn¡¯t make a sound, but the parabirds¡ªhaving over the years learned the implication of the disappearing float¡ªimmediately started to shriek in excitement, as they anticipated their first free meal of the day. Mikhail rose up from his chair and lifted his rod with a quick jerk, setting the hook firmly in the jaws of the creature that had swallowed his bait. With a shrill sound, the line was pulled out from the reel as the monster tried to get away from him. This was a fight he would not let it win. When the fish eventually started to slow down, tired from running, he pulled the rod to the side, dragging with it the line which he immediately reeled in, making sure to keep tension on it the entire time. Through the thin strand of weaved carbon fiber, he could feel the thrashing motions of the beast as it tried to get away from him, but he would not let it do so. Slowly, carefully, he brought the fish closer to the shore. Through the clear water, he could see its silvery side reflecting the evening sun as it turned and twisted in the water, its large scales polished like mirrors of liquid metal. Eventually, the animal¡ªa horaub-mor weighing a little over four kilos¡ªhad tired enough that he could bring it within reach of his net. But just as he was about to close in on it, the fish took off again, dragging the line back out with it. He would have to do it all over again. This time, though, reeling in the fish¡ªnow already tired from its first run¡ªwent much faster. A few minutes later, it was swimming on its side in a shallow pool near the shore. With a quick sweep, he caught the creature and lifted it up out of the water, its hungry, yellow eyes staring at him across the light-years, one alien to another. The watery, almost swampy smell of its body filled Mikhail¡¯s nostrils. Victory, at last! In his euphoric state, he had almost managed to forget Dao. Maybe that was what finally allowed his subconscious thoughts about the man to surface. Or maybe it had just been a matter of time before he eventually remembered what his brain had been trying to tell him all day long. Kal! Chapter 3 In retrospect, it should have been obvious. Had he been biotic, he would have made the connection immediately. But his biological brain simply didn¡¯t have the capacity to retrieve any memory of his with the perfect clarity he needed at his beck and call. He knew Kal had been imprisoned by the Sunguard on Caloris Base for several years, and he was aware her time there had been traumatic. Although his friend hadn¡¯t told him much about her experiences in prison, he still knew enough. She had been caught up in a Sunguard raid in the aftermath of a Jerrassian Liberation Front bombing, and despite being innocent she had been sentenced to hard labor along with the actual terrorists. Once inside the prison, her roommates¡ªthe real JLF terrorists¡ªhad taken advantage of her feelings of injustice to radicalize her, indoctrinating her with their poisonous ideology of bigotry and hatred. That is, until something had happened to her that had changed her completely, from the inside out. Mikhail didn¡¯t know what, but it had turned the hateful JLF recruit into the woman he now called ¡°friend¡±. Her roommates. Specifically, Tamor Wren¡ªas in Travel with Tamor, the travel agency on the other side of the street from Tomaw Park. Once he had remembered her name, looking up the former JLF terrorist¡¯s current whereabouts had been a simple matter. She had¡ªtogether with Kal and the rest of their JLF cell¡ªbeen locked up for a few years at Caloris Base on Mercury. But the Terran Federation¡ªand by extension, the Sunguard¡ªdidn¡¯t believe in punishment as a deterrent for criminal activity. From the very beginning, the Sunguard had been founded on two pillars: Codex Inquisitionis¡ªthe doctrine that capturing criminals takes precedence over punishing them¡ªand Codex Vitae¡ªthe principle that intelligent life is sacred and holds greater value than personal integrity. These doctrines served as the foundation of the organization even in the days before the Terran Federation was formed. The remaining two Sunguard doctrines, Codex Praeventio and Codex Vindicta, were only formalized years later, during the Jerrassian uprising. It was easy to see why the inquisition codex was so important, Mikhail thought, as the waitress took his order¡ªblack coffee, a danish, and a punsch-roll. Most career criminals tended to be risk-seekers. If they were given the option of committing a crime that would render them financially independent for life, but there was a 50% risk they¡¯d get caught and sentenced to ten years in prison and forfeiture of their criminal gains, many would still take that chance. Yet, if they instead were told they¡¯d get only a single year in prison for the same crime, but also told with complete certainty they¡¯d eventually get caught, very few¡ªif any¡ªwould make the same choice. After her release from prison, Tamor Wren had switched career paths, from cutting the throats of perceived Terran sympathizers to selling leisure cruises to tourists. Obviously, her relatively short sentence didn¡¯t mean she was now a trusted member of society¡ªon the contrary, every move she would make for the rest of her life would be monitored by the Sunguard¡¯s intelligent computers. Some would call that an invasion of privacy, but to Mikhail, it was a small price for her to pay for the twelve innocent Terrans, Etarians and Jerrassians she had killed during her reign of terror. At least, she still had the chance to make a life for herself. Once again, the pair of colleagues¡ªseparated by time and biochemistry¡ªsat at the small table in the caf¨¦, well out of sight of Jonas Dao. That didn¡¯t matter. Now that they had identified him, the surveillance grid kept a close eye on his whereabouts, and if that wasn¡¯t enough, orbital surveillance also tracked him wherever he went in the city. For now, it was a waiting game. ¡°You could just arrest him, you know,¡± Mikhail said to Special Agent Nyasi with a wry smile. ¡°You have the authority.¡± It was true. The Special Agents had always had wide authority to conduct their business as they saw fit, allowing them to act not just as soldiers and police officers, but also as judges. But with the introduction of the biotic Special Agents their authority had been greatly extended¡ªnow, they also had the authority to create new laws, entirely at their own discretion. Special Agent Nyasi could simply declare it illegal for Jonas Dao¡ªspecifically him¡ªto visit Jerr and then arrest him for this newly created crime against the Terran Federation. And unless the Solar Council or another Special Agent revoked that law, no one would or even could question her decision. Special Agent Nyasi flashed him a faint smile in return. She knew his suggestion hadn¡¯t been meant to be taken seriously. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°I could,¡± she replied with conviction. ¡°But I won¡¯t. Just because I can do something doesn¡¯t mean I should. The power to declare Dao a criminal just for sitting on a park bench is one I¡¯ll hold in reserve for the day when it truly is needed, but this is not that day. For now, my job is to protect and observe. In this case, that means protecting a Jerrassian bigot from a Terran racist, and Jonas Dao from himself, because they¡¯re both still human. Their lives matter, even if both their ideologies are abhorrent.¡± Mikhail nodded to himself. It was, more or less, the reply he had expected to hear from his successor. There was a reason the biotic Special Agents had been granted such extreme authority and so little oversight¡ªthey were, fundamentally, incapable of abusing the powers given to them. Their devotion to the ideals of the Terran Federation was literally written into their genes.
Nothing happened until the following morning. This time, Jonas Dao didn¡¯t travel to the park alone. Instead, he and a young Jerrassian woman wearing a long, thick overcoat flagged down an autocab and traveled from their hotel to the city center together. That in itself was suspicious, Mikhail though. The Terran supremacist had previously taken great care to stay at a Terran hotel and only eat at restaurants run by Terrans. Granted, those establishments catered to non-Terrans as well, but it was clear Dao¡¯s racist ideology had affected the choices he had been making during his visit to Jerr. And yet now, he was travelling in the company of a Jerrassian. Sadly, the mystery was quickly resolved when the pair didn¡¯t sit down on the park bench, but instead entered Tamor¡¯s small shop. Once inside, Dao lifted off the coat of his partner, revealing a small, homemade bomb strapped to the chest of the frightened Jerrassian woman. Outside the reach of the Sunguard grid, and out of view of orbital surveillance, Dao had apparently kidnapped another guest of the hotel where he had been staying. Hidden from prying eyes inside the building, he had forced her to become his human shield as he prepared to commit his act of terrorism. Special Agent Nyasi sprinted effortlessly across the park towards the travel agency. Mikhail followed as best as his aging body allowed. When he finally reached the corner of the street where the shop was located, he was panting heavily, and there was a sharp pain in his left side. Biology, he thought, could be cruel indeed. Being a civilian now, he was obviously no longer authorized to carry a weapon, but that didn¡¯t stop Mikhail from following Special Agent Nyasi into the hornet¡¯s nest. Jerr was his world now, and he would stop at nothing to protect the people who shared it with him. The two Sunguard officers¡ªthe former and the current¡ªtook great care to stay out of sight, hiding behind the corner so Dao couldn¡¯t see them through the large glass windows, plastered with travel posters of white beaches and turquoise seas in exotic locations, that the storefront was constructed from. In silence, Nyasi handed him a neural writer headset. Mikhail removed his grey fedora and replaced it with the sleek, cobalt blue headband. He felt a slight buzzing sensation as the neural writer synchronized with his brain. First, it read the electromagnetic field of his neurons, mapping their locations and functions. Once it had identified how to best interface with his brain, it started to emit a precisely controlled electromagnetic field, which induced weak currents into his neural pathways, effectively prompting the creation of nerve signals indistinguishable from those that naturally occurred in his brain. The surveillance grid had been using a laser microphone pointed at the large windows of the travel agency to listen in on everything that was said in there. Now, the noisy signal from the microphone was cleaned by the Sunguard¡¯s intelligent computers, and fed to his neural writer headset, which in turn injected the sounds wirelessly into his auditory nerve. Mikhail could now hear, with perfect clarity, everything that was said inside the store. Special Agent Nyasi had no need for a neural writer. The sound from the laser microphone was already fed directly into her biotic brain through her radio link. ¡°This is for all the Terrans you killed!¡± Mikhail heard Dao shout from inside the building. The former Special Agent froze where he stood, the cold grip of fear that had haunted him for half a century returning in full force. This wasn¡¯t just an act of terrorism. Dao had specifically targeted Tamor Wren for her actions as part of the Jerrassian Liberation Front all those years ago¡ªand had conveniently ignored her Etarian and Jerrassian victims, instead focusing only on the Terrans she had killed. This wasn¡¯t just terrorism. This was about revenge. At best, Jonas Dao was about to kill a number of Jerrassians simply because they were Jerrassians, which was bad enough in itself. And at worst, he was about to restart the spiral of violence that had plagued the planet for the better part of Mikhail¡¯s life. ¡°When we¡¯re finished with you, none of you pandas will be left to threaten decent Terrans on Jerr!¡± the supremacist continued. Mikhail and Special Agent Nyasi turned to look at each other, a common sense of understanding and dread filling them as they realized the implication of what Dao had just said. We. None of you. Dao wasn¡¯t alone here, and Tamor Wren wasn¡¯t their only target. The Sunguard had kept tabs on all the old members of Tamor¡¯s JLF cell. And the only other former member currently located on Jerr was Olem Kal. Chapter 4 There was fear in his eyes when he spoke, fear for his friend¡¯s life. ¡°Save her,¡± he begged, his voice hoarse from age and adrenaline. Mikhail knew his limitations. Compared to him, Special Agent Nyasi stood a much better chance of reaching Kal before the other member of Dao¡¯s supremacy group could find her. And if they already had her, it would eventually lead to a fight between a biological Terran and a biotic Sunguard Special Agent. Of what the outcome of that fight would be, Mikhail didn¡¯t have the slightest doubt. Kal would be safe in the hands of the young, black woman now standing confidently in front of him¡ªbut only if she was the one to go. He himself, with his aging body decimated by half a century of hard work on the streets of Kerrma-non, would not stand a chance against a young Terran supremacist. And that¡¯s if he could even reach his friend in time. He hoped Special Agent Nyasi would see it his way. She probably wouldn¡¯t, Mikhail thought to himself. That was the whole point of her being biotic: she didn¡¯t care about status or connections. She didn¡¯t value one life above another. She would only be able to save one victim, and it was probably up to pure chance which one she would choose. ¡°I will,¡± she promised, contrary to what he had expected her to say. The compassion in her voice caught him with surprise. The strength of her gaze as she looked into his eyes comforted him. He knew everything would be alright now. Perhaps, he mused, it was precisely because she didn¡¯t value one life above another that she had agreed to save Kal and leave Dao and Tamor to him. Because if, to her, Kal¡¯s life carried the same value as Tamor¡¯s, it didn¡¯t matter either way who she chose to save. And so, she had opted to show compassion and save Mikhail¡¯s dear friend. He took a minute to compose himself, still hidden behind the corner of the travel agency. He steadied his breathing in preparation for confronting Dao. The sun had just cleared the tops of the skyscrapers obscuring the horizon. In the heavens, two birds were calling to each other as they chased one another in a playful hunting display. To the east, a heavy starship was descending towards Kerrma-non Airport, carrying with it the treasures and promises of faraway worlds. He stood there on the pavement, smelling the morning dew evaporating after a long, cold night, as it was being replaced by the dust of the hot summer day to come. This was Jerr. This was his world. His home. Unarmed, he was at a distinct disadvantage here. But he was still a Sunguard Special Agent¡ªperhaps not officially, but in his heart, he would never cease to be one. Despite his age, Mikhail Johnson was still the most formidable enemy Jonas Doa was likely to ever have faced. From the small satchel he had been carrying with him, Mikhail retrieved his old jacket. Gray, unadorned¡ªexcept for the single red stripe running down its sides¡ªit was utilitarian. There were no medals or insignias of rank on it, yet, it clearly stated his purpose to everyone who saw it. It instilled fear in those who would do harm, and brought hope to those in need. Quickly, he donned it on top of his shirt, and placed his old, weathered fedora on his head. Calmly, Mikhail Johnson, Sunguard Special Agent, stepped into the devil¡¯s den. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The young Jerrassian woman¡ªsurveillance had identified her as Lamat Nor¡ªsat in a chair in front of the sales desk inside the travel agency, fear evident in her eyes as they dashed from the bomb strapped to her chest to Jonas Dao standing beside her, and then further on to Mikhail, who had now entered the store with a limp. He locked eyes with her. ¡°It¡¯s going to be alright, Nor,¡± he said, in passable Jerrassian. Though his throat was physically incapable of creating the deepest sounds of the alien language, he was still fluent in it. The accent didn¡¯t prevent the woman from understanding him. The use of the hated native language did, however, prevent the Terran supremacist from doing so. ¡°Shut up!¡± Dao shouted. ¡°If you use bear talk again, I¡¯ll kill her!¡± He pointed to the bomb strapped to her chest to make sure Mikhail understood. The Special Agent raised his hands in mock surrender and nodded. ¡°Let her go,¡± Mikhail said to Dao, now in Interstellar. ¡°It¡¯s Tamor Wren you want, not this girl.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Dao replied, contempt evident in his voice. ¡°And the moment I let her go, you¡¯ll shoot me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m unarmed,¡± Mikhail replied, waving his hands as supporting evidence. ¡°I don¡¯t mean you should let her go without getting anything in return. I¡¯ll take her place.¡± That offer caught Dao¡¯s attention. Using a Jerrassian as a human shield was all fine and good, but the chance to get to kill a Special Agent was perhaps even more tempting. ¡°Here¡¯s what we¡¯ll do,¡± Mikhail continued. ¡°You¡¯ll back off two meters, and then aim your gun at my head. Meanwhile, I¡¯ll slowly remove the bomb harness from the girl and put it on myself instead. Then I¡¯ll sit down, and you¡¯ll let the girl leave the shop.¡± Dao took a moment to consider the new situation before eventually agreeing to the exchange. As the Special Agent lifted the harness off the terrified girl¡¯s neck, she shook her head at him in silent thanks. But if Jonas Dao was the kind of man who was willing to kill innocent people just because of their race, he certainly wasn¡¯t above breaking his word. As soon as Mikhail had sat down in the chair Lamat Nor previously had occupied, Dao¡ªrather than releasing her¡ªordered the girl to the back of the shop. To Dao, she was just a prize¡ªone more Jerrassian he could kill. With a whimper, she sat down behind the sales desk together with Tamor Wren and the customers who had been in her shop when the Terran had invaded it. ¡°Don¡¯t try anything funny, Sunguard,¡± Dao ordered him. ¡°If you attempt to disarm the bomb, it¡¯ll go off. You¡¯ll be dead before you know it.¡± Despite the betrayal, a sense of calm filled Mikhail as he sat there in the shop. He had promised the young girl she would be safe, and that was a promise he intended to keep. Now, by betraying his promise to Mikhail, Dao had forced his hand. A soft voice seemed to speak in his ear. The neural writer he wore, now hidden below his fedora, relayed Special Agent Nyasi¡¯s words to him with perfect clarity and complete discretion. ¡°Kal is safe,¡± Nyasi said. That was all Mikhail needed to hear. He sat up straight in the chair, the small bomb still strapped to his chest. Beside him stood Jonas Dao, his hand gaser pointed in Mikhail¡¯s general direction as the supremacist scanned the room, trying to figure out what to do next. And behind them both, hidden on the far side of the large, solid sales desk, were the eight Jerrassian hostages. It had been a good life, a life lived in service of the Terran Federation, the Sunguard, and his adopted homeworld. It had all been worth it. In the face of what was to come, Sunguard Special Agent Mikhail Johnson did not look away. With a quick stroke of his right hand, he suddenly ripped the cables out of the homemade bomb he wore. The circuitry inside immediately detected the tampering and ignited the blasting cap, triggering the detonation of the main explosive. Within less than a millisecond, the resulting explosion had ripped apart his body, the chair he was sitting in, and the Terran supremacist standing next to him. Protected behind the sales desk, the eight Jerrassians were perfectly safe. In the moment before his consciousness ceased to exist, one final name lingered on his mind. ¡°Amanda,¡± Mikhail thought.