The Bounty Hunter: Into The Swarm (10 page)

“Burke. Burke,” Cass repeated softly. He had no idea how long she
had been trying to get his attention.

He stood and released the faceplate on his helmet. His face was
contorted with anger. He breathed slowly and deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he turned from the mess he had made.

“It’s okay. I understand,” she said, and continued to talk to him,
trying to distract him, as he walked farther into the ship.

* * *

Cass stayed silent while Burke removed his aegis. She said nothing
while he wiped the armor clean of blood and dirt. His movements were slow and
methodical, as though he was losing himself in the repetition of the act.

She reflected on her lie as she watched him. She was often baffled
by his actions and didn’t understand why he would sometimes get so angry. She kept
watch over the mangled corpse of the dross in the cargo hold while simultaneously
watching Burke. She loathed lying to him, even if it was a tiny lie, but hated
seeing him suffer in emotional turmoil even more. She soothed him and then kept
watch, ready to speak up again if necessary.

Burke reassembled the aegis in the armory after it was cleaned,
leaving it unceremoniously in the middle of the room. He worked on cleaning his
augmented leg next, scrubbing at it like it was just another piece of the
aegis. He showered afterwards, washing the build up of sweat from running his body
so strenuously on the planet. Cass thought he appeared calmer when he took his
seat at the helm of the ship. His face immediately tensed when he saw that they
were still high in Earth’s orbit, as though he had forgotten where he was. She
changed the main screen to display the collected data from the recovered drone,
blocking his view of the planet.

“I’ve went over the information several times,” she explained
without his prompting. “I still can’t find any data collected on the dross
except for what it monitored during our battle.”

“Why did it do that? Why did it start recording our fight?”

“I don’t know, Burke,” she said gently. “The drone was heavily
damaged in the fall. Maybe it was damaged further during our run back to the
ship. Maybe it was a glitch or maybe it was intentional. Maybe the drone
collected data on the dross before but it was lost in the crash. Maybe when it
sensed them again when we recovered it, it started gathering data once more.
There are too many questions and variables. I don’t know the answer.”

“So you’re saying we have no way to know if Havard lied to us?”

“ Yes.”

“Brilliant,” he said acidly. “Fucking brilliant. Is there anyway
this data could be linked to the weapon he showed us?”

“Possibly,” Cass said. “The changes to the planet’s ecosystem and
climate could be relevant to the release of a biological weapon like the one he
showed us. I can’t be certain without more information on the weapon.”

“No answers there either,” Burke shook his head. “What should we do
then? I can’t tell if I’m feeling betrayed because of Adam or if because Havard
has legitimately fucked with us. Should we give him back the drone? Should we
give a copy to Viscard? Tell me what to do, Cass.”

A moment passed in silence. Cass was stunned. The big decisions were
always discussed and ended with a mutual agreement. Once again, she couldn’t
understand his actions but was overwhelmed with sympathy for him. She hated to
admit that he was right: he was too biased to make an objective decision.

“I think we should do both,” she said clearly. “Havard wasn’t clear
with us, but that’s not enough to incriminate him. There’s nothing questionable
on the drone that Viscard couldn’t find out himself. I think we can safely do
both.”

She watched as Burke exhaled a long breath and relaxed in his chair.
He said or asked nothing as he prepared the data for transmitting. He hailed
Viscard over the same channel he had received before and then sat back, waiting
for a response. A reply came back within a few minutes and Burke let his hand
hover for a moment over the terminal, ready to bridge the connection.

“Thank you Cass,” he said before he lowered his hand and the older
man appeared on the main display.

“I didn’t expect to hear from you again,” Viscard said, eyes
narrowed.

“Why? Did you think I’d die down there, or that I’d fly away without
messaging you?”

“Whichever one makes you feel better.”

“Ha,” Burke shook his head. “I’m sending you the data but I think
you’ll be disappointed. There’s nothing important on it that we could find.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Viscard replied, looking once again at
Burke as though he was a riddle he couldn’t solve. “How do I know you didn’t
strip part of the data away from this? How can I trust this is authentic?”

“You can’t,” Burke replied simply. “You only have my word.”

“The word of a man with a fake name,” Viscard’s voice rose.
“Although you did survive for hours on the planet. Maybe you really did fight
in the war. What was your name?”

“Goodbye Admiral,” Burke smiled.

“I’ll be seeing you again,
Jack.
”

Burke leaned back in his chair. Cass kept the screen dark, still
blocking his view of the planet.

“Do you want to contact Havard now?” she asked. “It might take a
while for him to respond.”

“No. He won’t explain anything. He wants the drone physically back
in his hands. Even face to face he won’t tell me a thing. You said you’re going
to try to get into their network. We’ll have to wait and see what you find.
Focus on information about other AIs above all else, though. You’re more
important than whatever Havard is doing.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly.

“Of course you will. We’re making sure of it.”

He sat up in the chair and placed his hands on the terminal. He
thought of contacting someone else, and his fingers rested on the keyboard. He
thought of Natalie and how she wanted to talk to him and the possible answers
she might have. He typed the beginning of her name and then immediately erased
it. He shook his head.

He cleared the helm’s display and gave a final look at Earth before
leaving it behind. He could see the boundary of night and day on the surface.
The part of the planet in its night cycle was lost in the darkness. For a few
hours he had been the lone, singular human on Earth. He took no comfort or
pride in that th
ought and turned his head away as he
turned the ship around.

The following is
the first scene from the next in the Bounty Hunter series: Reckoning, the
finale of Series One.

Burke Monrow was unaware of the
intruder on his ship. He and Cass, his AI partner, had been docked inside a
space station for over a month. They were waiting on the delivery of their new
ship, one they had spent the last year saving for, and Burke was becoming
impatient. He paced back and forth at the helm and spoke with Cass.

“How long until it gets here?”

“Three days,” she answered tersely,
her voice emitting from the ship’s walls as fluidly as any person’s. “That’s
one less day than when you asked me yesterday.”

“I’m annoying you,” he stated.

“Only a little.”

He sat at the main computer console
and brought up the purchase invoice for the new ship. Over ten million credits,
nearly all of the money they had, was ready to be transferred once the ship
arrived. It would leave them with a meager amount left in savings but they had
managed to keep the current ship they used as a backup. They had disagreed
about that. They had disagreed about a lot of things when picking out the new
ship.

“We should still sell this one,”
Cass argued.

“And what if we crash? We should
always have a spare.”

“It will cost us a lot every month
to keep a second ship at port. We should save the money instead, and only buy
another ship if we ever need it.”

He shook his head. Cass huffed.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I still say
we should have included extra bedrooms in the ship’s layout. You don’t know
what we’ll need in the future.”

“We’ll never need those,” he said
firmly. “It’ll be just the two of us. No one else will ever step onto this ship
unless I have them in chains for a bounty.”

The intruder shifted silently in
the lower level of the ship, in the engine room. Burke didn’t hear a thing, and
Cass’s focus was solely on him. She had checked the ship’s doors when they last
re-entered the ship and had seen no record of unauthorized access. She felt as
secure as Burke did in their home.

The main screen at the helm
abruptly changed to display an incoming message. Burke sat up and straightened
his back before he accepted the connection. Havard’s face appeared on the
screen and he nodded a greeting to Burke. They had worked together many times
in the past but only twice in the last year; still, they had been the most
lucrative jobs of that time. Over a third of the cost of the new ship had come
from Havard and ACU, the branch of the human government that he ran.

“Another job already?” Burke asked
as he looked up at the screen.

“Actually, no. Something else.”

Burke tilted his head. Havard had
never been social and only ever contacted him about business. The abnormality
of it bothered him.

“I have a gift for you,” Havard
explained. “You recently ordered a new ship.” He immediately raised his hand as
if to halt Burke. “Please, don’t insult me by asking how I found out. The
delivery will be delayed by two days from now. I had something sent to the
shipyard and installed for you.”

“What is it?”

“A present,” Havard smiled. “You’ll
have to wait and see for yourself. Think of it as a token to commemorate us
once again working with each other toward common goals. Speaking of that, I
have a request. Do try to keep what I’ve said in mind.”

Burke braced himself. Nothing was
ever given freely from ACU. They were always equal in their transactions. He
had purchased both his power armor and Cass from their facilities, both at a
fair price. The fact that Havard had decided to break that trend set him on
edge.

“Last time we spoke,” Havard began,
“I offered to purchase back the AI we sold you.”

“The answer is still no,” Cass said
loudly.

“I have a new proposal,” Havard
continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I offered you six hundred million
credits and a replacement AI unit. Instead, one hundred million credits just
for a copy. A full copy of your ship’s systems to be sure we save every file of
the AI.”

Burke scrunched his eyes. He knew
how much Cass would be annoyed that Havard refused to use her name when he
addressed her. He tried to put himself into her position and didn’t envy her
decision. For all intents and purposes, the money being offered was free. A
copy would mean nothing was lost or taken for the payment. The only question
was how the copy would be treated and used, and if Cass could accept those
consequences.

“No,” she answered, and Burke knew
instantly that he agreed.

“Two hundred million,” Havard
offered. “Burke, see reason here.”

“It’s not my decision,” Burke said
and shook his head. “She’s her own person, Havard. The sooner you realize that
the sooner she might warm up to helping you.”

“No deal,” Cass repeated.

“Fine,” Havard said through his
teeth. “Fine. I’ll have to think of something else. Until next time, Burke.
And,” he hesitated, as if he loathed what he was about to say, “
Cass.
”

The connection abruptly ended and
Burke laughed.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever
seen him flustered,” he said.

“I don’t understand why he has
trouble using my name now,” Cass said quietly. “He used it before. Why the
change?”

“The name means something different
now. Before, it was just a label. Now, for him, it’s admitting that you’re a
person instead of a computer program. I don’t think he understands that.”

‘Then I pity him.”

The connection to ACU was still
open even after Havard cut off the conversation. Burke stopped himself from
immediately severing it, wondering if he should use it to talk to Natalie. She
had been the technician that had taught him how to use the power armor he
purchased, and they had kept in contact for a time afterward. He had cut off
that contact since he decided to work alone with Cass, only dealing with others
when it was necessary. Cass had been pressuring him to talk to Natalie for
weeks.

He stretched out his hand and
killed the connection. The screen went blank and then went dark. The lights around
him followed suit and a loud noise shuddered from the ship below. The monitors
in the command room abruptly shut off as all power was lost. A dim light came
through the ship’s windows from inside the station, causing the metallic
surfaces to gleam in the dark. The ever-present sound of the ship’s engine
whirling power throughout the ship slowed and then stopped.