The Expendable Few: A Spinward Fringe Novel (30 page)

“Let me go free on a world where I have half a chance of starting over,” Remmy replied. “I’m thinking I could go pretty far if I get involved with organized crime somewhere, so find me a big city, and I’ll need start-up money, in local currency. Tell Freeground I’m dead. Oh, and sooner rather than later. I hear this ship is marked by the Order.”

“We’ll be pulling into a port in about two weeks,” Doctor Anderson said. “There are a couple hundred cities that should be ripe for a crime wave.”

“Speaking of ripe, I think that data you’re looking for is ready,” Remmy said. He let a smirk creep out. “I can connect to the Fallen Star, but there’s no way I can hack into the vault computers.” He held up his hand in a reassuring gesture as Doctor Anderson crossed his arms. “So it’s a good thing that I made a copy of Marcelles’ data collection chip, then put it in a little scan resistant pouch.”

“Where did you hide it?” Anderson asked.

“Give me about five minutes with that toilet and I’ll get it for you,” Remmy replied. “Might be ten though, those provision bars are pretty dense.”

The cloak ship in which Lucius Wheeler approached the Fallen Star was perfectly visible on sensors thanks to the storm of magnetic fields in the asteroid belt. Mary and Clark stood on the landing deck, watching the sleek ship approach through the energy barrier keeping the atmosphere stable.

“I’m leaving after we deal with this,” Mary said. She waited for his response, trying to read him all the while. He’d dropped the armour he carried since he emerged from the issyrian pools for the last time. He looked almost human again, but was hairless. The bone structure of Clark’s skull was off; there were inhuman spines and ridges just under the skin. She could even see them through the Freeground style vacsuit he found in their stolen shuttle. She could get used to all of it. What she couldn’t accept was how impossible it had become to read him.

“I’ll miss you,” Clark replied flatly. “But I saw it coming.”

“Did you?” She turned towards him, letting some of the anger she had been holding for days, weeks, seep through the cracks. “From what I’ve seen recently it doesn’t even look like you’re interested. We just lost Izzie and I didn’t see you so much as flinch.”

“I took revenge,” Clark replied. “She was the only thing that kept me connected to humanity.”

“Really?” Mary retorted hotly. “Then why the fuck did you let her believe that everything you felt for her ended when Omira erased the Freeground programming?”

“That’s not what-”

“Not what you told her?” Mary shouted. “I know, you told her you still loved her, but you kept drifting away. She was in my arms crying at night when she should have been in yours.”

“I didn’t know,” Clark replied calmly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m still not making a dent here, am I?” Mary looked to the nearest issyrian soldier. “Next time you’re in the pool with him, make sure you say goodbye for me. I don’t think human speech even computes anymore. Excrete it for me.” Mary returned her attention to Clark. “So this is me, saying goodbye. I can’t wait for this wanker to land, I’m sure you can take care of it.” She stared at him for a moment longer before turning away and striding towards a slip ship. “Why the hell do I have to remember you like this? It’s worse than seeing you in a casket.”

Clark didn’t let her see how her last jab injured him. It was the only thing in her rant that did. He remembered his friend Mary as if it were a fading dream, the person who was standing beside him the moment before was a shade. Anything that had to rely on speech to communicate seemed so distant, humans were the worst. Mary could never live up to the memories he had of her, and he would never feel close to a human again.

One of the issyrians near him had a gift for understanding human emotion, for recognizing their moods, and the emotions she translated from Mary in the air between them spoke of pain, anger, and sadness. ‘Stop’ Clark requested in return, using instinct and scent. The issyrian felt the command and obeyed. There was a point, she was trying to tell him that Mary was leaving and would never return.

He didn’t bother telling the pair of issyrians behind him why he wanted that to happen. Humans would never matter to him the way they should. He would put any issyrian’s life before anyone else’s because they understood family better than any other race. They were chemically bonded and everyone knew their place in their House. He was starting a new House of his own, it was a clan of warriors. Humans allies would be nothing more than cannon fodder. Mary would do better on her own.

As the hatch to Mary’s slip ship closed, Wheeler’s ship landed. The main hatch opened as soon as the ship settled in position and Wheeler was at the forefront, walking towards him with a smile on his face. “You know, when I see a prediction come true with no deviations or complications, it still amazes me. It’s like there’s a tutorial running in my brain for days at a time.”

“What are you talking about?” Kipley asked from his right hand side. He carried a thick-bodied pulse rifle with two secondary solid ammunition clips jutting from the top.

“I’ve got a few extra memories,” Wheeler said, poking at his temple. “Some of them haven’t happened yet.”

Kipley fixed him with a look of frustrated confusion before shaking his head. “Never mind. The longer I back you up, the closer I am to giving up on straight answers.”

“And you’ve only been working for me a few hours,” Wheeler laughed. He finished crossing the distance between himself and Clark then offered his hand. “Good to see you again. Clark, wasn’t it?”

“What do you mean, you have memories of the future?” Clark asked.

“Someone looked into a very old machine and saw this meeting. Then a maniac killed him, and someone gave me his memories as part of a trade,” Wheeler said. “It took me a while to unlock all of it, especially the visions of the future, but I’ve got the key, and this moment right here is on the record.” Wheeler looked over his shoulder to watch Mary’s slip ship lift off and begin reversing out of the landing bay. “I saw her, and you know what? Collins, the former owner of my extra memories, was worried about where she’d end up because he thought she could be trouble.” Wheeler looked at Clark and nodded. “I know within a pretty high certainty where she ends up. I’ll tell you if you hear me out.”

“How can you know that?” Clark asked, irritation boiling to the surface. “There’s no such thing as fate.”

“Dead on, no such thing as fate,” Wheeler agreed. “But there is certainty, and I know for certain that she’s so fed up with pulling the trigger that her sword is about to be bent into a plow. Within the year she’ll sign up with an organic farming colony and will probably have dirt under her nails for the next thirty years.”

“Then?” Clark asked.

“Who knows? I’m impressed that Collins checked her out that far into the future. She must have made one hell of an impression.”

He still didn’t believe Wheeler, but the prospect of never seeing Mary again caused a momentary pang. However, Clark found it easy to re-focus on the task at hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Wheeler said. “Now, I have a proposal for you and your crew.”

“Tell him to sling that rifle and I’ll hear it,” Clark said.

“Like hell,” Kipley replied. “With all these fucking freaks?”

“You’ll do it,” Wheeler said. “We’re surrounded anyway. I bet there are a dozen issyrians we can’t see. They’re shape shifters. For all you know you’re standing on one.”

Kipley looked around nervously, sidestepped, then slung the rifle. “Right.”

“I’ll keep this short,” Wheeler said. “You have this ship, the knowledge of who knows how many researchers, the best framework lab in the galaxy, and you’re a fresh model yourself. I can get you in touch with the top people in the Order of Eden. I know the Order needs some of what you’ve got, and it’ll be enough to save several issyrian worlds from forced human re-colonization. I can even save Uumen from getting nuked to bare rock.”

The issyrians behind him and others hidden around the landing bay all signalled one sentiment at hearing Wheeler’s offer. It was a pure, unrestrained ‘yes’ so powerful it nearly knocked him to his knees. “You can do this?” Clark asked. He tried to use what he learned, to train his senses on Wheeler so he could feel a lie if it came. It was difficult to focus.

“Gladly. I’ll gain favour with the Order, and you’ll save millions, maybe billions, of your new people.”

YES, said the pheromonal sentiment of every issyrian in range. Clark forced himself to breathe, their demands weighing on him. “Order the humans to start evacuating Uumen and leave the solar system. If Uumen is safe in seven days, and all the Order of Eden is gone, then you can set our course. You stay aboard the Fallen Star all the way there and until the deal is finished.”

“With these squidies? No way!” Kipley burst.

“Shut it,” Wheeler hissed. He turned to Clark. “You have a deal.”

“How are you going to get this heap out of here? It’s buried in rock,” Kipley asked, probably looking for a way - any way - for him to leave the Fallen Star.

“The hull can repel everything attracted to it,” replied Shillae, the sensitive issyrian. “We will rise from these stones as though they were as insubstantial as pod silt. What will our destination be once Uumen is safe?”

“Pandem,” Wheeler replied. “The throne of the Order of Eden.”

The blue light streaming in from the transparent wall at the fore of the main observation area faded away as they emerged from hyperspace. Remmy barely took notice of the half dozen slip ships launching from the front of the Sunspire as he poured himself a glass of outlawed scotch.

He raised the glass to the ten inch tall hologram of Isabel hovering over a small comm button. He was issued the new comm unit, a simple chip that was small enough to be housed in anything from jewelry to a vacsuit, when everyone else got theirs. He didn’t know why. His name had been wiped from all duty rosters and he was listed in the general manifest as Able Crewman.

“I didn’t get to know her,” Davi said as he took a seat at the table across from him with a Naganto ale in hand.

Remmy waited until the point in the recording when Isabel realized she was being recorded and laughed, putting her hands up, then he downed the contents of his shot glass. It was real alcohol, contraband Scotch. Why his ancestors drank the stuff after other inebriant drinks became legal, he’d never know, but Isabel deserved a traditional toast. He casually took Davi’s ale and washed the scotch down. “To people who deserved to outlive me,” Remmy said as he put the half-emptied pint down.

Davi didn’t even bother complaining about his stolen ale, gesturing at a passing ensign for him to fetch another. The ensign smiled and nodded as he passed. “I think you’ve got that in the wrong order,” Davi told Remmy. “You raise a glass, toast, and then drink.”

Remmy stood, regarded the off-duty crewmen filling the forward observation area and raised the mug he’d stolen. “To everyone who should have outlived me!” he shouted so loudly that, despite a crack in his voice, it was startling. As all eyes turned in his direction, he was about to take refuge in his mug. That’s when they began raising their cups. Whether they contained water, juice, or something more potent, it didn’t matter.

Somber nods and faces that seemed to know how he felt regarded him as the toast was quietly repeated throughout the room. “To everyone who should have outlived us!” Davi repeated as he accepted a full mug from the ensign. Without hesitation he drank to the toast and sat down. Everyone in the observation deck followed his example, even Remmy. “You’re not alone,” Davi said. “I lost a lot of people, a few friends.”

Remmy didn’t know what to say, so he made due with muttering, “thank you.”

They sat quietly for several minutes before Davi stood and announced he would get them something to eat. Before he was a few steps away from the table he was stopped by a pair of soldiers. “We’re under orders to escort you to the Captain’s ready room, Lieutenant,” the taller of the two said. “Is that Remmy Sands?”

“Nope, no Remmy here,” Remmy said into his almost empty mug.

“Would you please come with us quietly, Crewman?” the soldier said.

“Well, you said please, so I guess I will just this once,” Remmy replied. “I’m a little drunk, though,” he warned, popping the top back on the bottle of scotch he’d traded copies of contraband news feeds for. “It might take a few drinks for the Captain to catch up.” He smiled at the nearby snickers as he followed the soldiers.

The ready room was well decorated, but it didn’t look like Captain McPatrick was the one who moved in, at least, not the stern Captain McPatrick who stood behind his desk. Pictures of the First Light crew and of the ship when she was doing that tour were on the wall behind the desk. This was still Terry Ozark McPatrick’s office, as far as appearances were concerned. The decision to play the fool as he faced the current Captain McPatrick and Doctor Anderson seemed to come naturally.

Remmy placed his bottle of scotch right in the middle of the captain’s desk then let himself fall into the most comfortable seat in range, a lounger occupying the corner nearest to the entrance.

Doctor Anderson cocked his head at the bottle, smiling a little. “Thank you, Remmy.”

Remmy casually saluted and nodded in response. “Just hoping you’ll join me in celebrating my exit from the service.”

“I might, at that,” said Captain McPatrick, whose tone carried no levity. “You are the only member of your team who hasn’t been declared dead or missing in action.”

That got Remmy sitting straight. “But Mary and Clark are out there. Isn’t the Sunspire chasing them right now?”

“While I’d like to clean up Clark Patterson personally, as a matter of family pride, that would take this ship into dangerous territory,” Captain McPatrick replied.

“Family pride?” Remmy said.

“He’s a younger cousin, distant enough to be off the books, thank the stars,” McPatrick said. “The last thing my family needs is another disgrace. I was hoping Clark would actually do the opposite, maybe bring some honour back to my line, but you know what happened instead better than anyone.”