Story #361 - Regen

Regen

“Can the process be accelerated at all?” The councilman’s face lit up, and it took all of Keno Darkan’s control not to throw back an insulting reply. He had been warned that the councilmembers were not to be trifled with, while in the same breath told what wonderful work he’d done. The implication had been clear, however – despite his progress in the field of technical regeneration he was still expendable if the right people complained.

The councilman in front of him was one of those people; Rellin Tralo had risen from the ranks of a common citizen to the position of councilman in a very short span of time and had the backing of both religious zealots and liberal firestarters – no mean feat for any politician.

“I’m sorry, councilman Tralo,” Keno said slowly, “but any faster and the entire matrix would de-stabilize. We want to present you with a healthy and powerful army to win the war, not one that will self-destruct after the first battle has been fought.” He knew a large measure of Tralo’s support came from his aggressive stance regarding the war – no one was more vocal in Chambers than the thin man about defending planetary freedoms and pushing the invaders back into black, empty space.

Of course, Keno knew full well that it was his planet that had invaded first and the strikes now were only retaliation. Most citizens knew the same but chose to ignore such information in the face of constant news reports from the front lines – colonies at the outer edge of controlled space that were under heavy attack from Nalbis ships. Each day a new horror appeared on monitors across the globe, fresh destruction for citizens to endure.

“That’s just fine, my boy,” Tralo said with a broad smile. He was younger than Keno and most of the others in the room but had a way of seemingly wise and elderly; a combination of ill-fitting sweaters, owlish glasses and a slow gait made the guise almost believable. Even more senior members of the council by term of service deferred to Tralo, nodding in unison as he spoke. “We’re all proud of your efforts. You’re helping to secure a future for our world and its colonies,” his voice rose as he turned, one fist raised in defiance, “and your innovations are to be commended! You are the highest form of patriot, the most noble of men. You sacrifice, you endure. You are the future.” It was a pretty speech, but Keno knew it wasn’t really for his benefit - there were always cameras recording, always photos being taken wherever Tralo went. The councilman needed to make a good impression, no matter the circumstance.

The man and his retinue filed out, and Keno felt a sense of calm return as he leaned in to tweak his droid’s circuits. He didn’t enjoy showing off his work to direct superiors, let alone those with political leanings. Though regenerative cybernetics meant good men and women wouldn’t have to die in service to their planet, he had no interest in the technology he’d developed being perverted into a weapon of colonization rather than repulsion.

“It won’t work, you know,” a voice came from the shadows. “They’ll discover what you’ve done soon enough.”

“I’m well aware of that, Burnaby,” Keno said acidly. “And I don’t care. Tralo and his cronies can scream all they want but the damage is already done – it’s in the base-level programming, now, and all through the regen circuitry.”

“That won’t matter.” His former assistant came sweeping out of the back work area, face drawn. “You know that. Once they discover what’s happened you’ll be given two options: remove what you’ve done or facing the firing squad.” Tralo had implemented the archaic punishment for “traitors”, a term that was often used to cover those who disagreed with his ideas in public.

“Then he can shoot me,” Keno spat out the words. “I won’t change the programming.” The army would function just as intended, respond to any attack and let Tralo take back the colonies, but any attempt to use the regenerative technology for aggressive action would lead to refusal of the battle-droids to cooperate; under duress they would simply shut down.

“I know that,” Burnaby said as he moved closer. “But you’re not the only one Tralo can lean on. I’m not sure I can endure without some kind of encouragement.”

Keno let his hands drop and turned to face the shorter man. Burnaby had been “reassigned” after several conflicts with higher-ranking members of the technology consortium, and while he had always been a capable assistant he didn’t share Keno’s views on the state of society and its disturbing shift to a more confrontational space policy.

“I beg your pardon?” His voice was ice. “What exactly are you saying?”

“It’s a simple solution, Ken,” Burnaby turned out an oily smile. “You give me the last bit of detail I need to make regen technology work in my field, and I get rich. You get the benefit of knowing that your little side-project is covered no matter what Tralo sends my way.”

The arc-spanner was in Keno’s hand without thought and he drove forward, thumbing the contact as it touched Burnaby’s chest. A guttering scream escaped the short man’s lips and then he slumped forward, eyes open in shock.

Keno moved quickly, before emotion had time to catch his action, dragging Buraby’s limp form across the lab to the scrap-metal liquefier. In moments the body was nothing more than a bubbling mass, one quickly scoured away by intense heat.

He frowned slightly and then moved back to the line of droids, more tools coming to hand. There was no doubt the murder would be found out, eventually, much as his modifications to the army. Tralo would be furious and a firing squad was the likely conclusion, but the work had to be protected – flesh and blood beings were monsters by nature, but those constructed of metal and circuit could be something more.

Something better.

- D

Story #360 - Officer Palin

Officer Palin

The thrum of engines underneath him always made Theta Zane feel more comfortable; the sense that he was moving forward instead of standing still, even for a moment.

Though the merchantman his ship had captured put up something of a struggle, her captain eventually saw reason’s light and provided the cargo he carried in exchange for the lives of his crew. Just as Theta told Caldor’s magistrate, he preferred to end encounters without the need for bloodshed and was willing to negotiate so long as his basic demands were met.

“Take her out, Captain?” His First, Pruck, asked as the Deltarra’s power spooled up to full strength. “The Bri’lan Cluster, perhaps?”

Theta shook his head. “Core worlds. We’ve had slim pickings for a while now and I want the men to see real reward for their effort.”

“You’re sure, Captain?” Pruck’s tone was hushed. He’d learned the value in speaking his mind on the Deltarra; unlike other pirate captains, Theta valued the opinions of his subordinates.

“Yes,” he said quickly. “I won’t be steering back toward Caldor any time soon, but that doesn’t mean we have to avoid all of the hot spots.” Though he’d been cleared of any wrongdoing thanks to his heritage, further aggravating the Caldorran authorities was a recipe for disaster.

“Aye aye, Captain.” The First knew when to hold his ground and when to back down – anything involving profit meant Theta would not change his mind.

A few moments and they were away, lightspeed drive throwing the ship forward into a distorted bubble of space-time. Theta had never taken the time to study the drive’s mechanics but made sure he always had the latest version running in his engine room. Escaping authorities was just as important as the initial approach to a target vessel, and speed often made the difference between a massive payday and possible prison time.

He smiled as the viewscreen blurred and his stomach spun in a familiar, sickening lurch. The Core worlds were ripe for plucking.

***

Five days and they’d already taken eight ships, all with cargo bays stuffed full of legal goods and hiding places stuffed with things no so legal. The Deltarra’s entire crew would see a substantial take once they made port, something that kept them happy and loyal.

“Captain!” The Comm officer’s voice broke through Theta’s self-congratulatory thoughts.

“Yes, Flinn?” He asked slowly. “What is it?”

“There’s a ship hailing us, sir – Caldorran!”

Theta sat up in his chair, glancing up at the viewscreen and coming fully alert. They were a long way from Caldorran space, and there was no reason any of the Union’s ships should be anywhere near his, let alone hailing it.

“Answer it, Flinn – let’s see what our Union friends want.”

It took him a few minutes to place the wavering image that appeared on the screen, and even a fine-tuning of the rez bandwidth had little effect. Muscular and unshaven, the man staring across black space had a sour look on his face and a clenched jaw. He did not speak as the channel firmed.

Keeping silence close also appealed to Theta, and he allowed himself to simply watch and wait, letting his mind trail over those he had befriended and angered in years past.

“I told you it wasn’t over, Zane,” the man finally grated, each word seemingly dragged out of him by force. “I’ve lost everything because of you, and now it’s time for you to pay.”

“I’m sorry –“ Theta began, but cut off as memories surged. “Palin!” He said with a broad smile. “I’m surprised they let you out of prison.” The last he’d seen of the officer was the larger man being bodily forced from a courtroom to face justice for his contempt. Judge Rita had been quite unhappy with his attempt to interrupt legal proceedings, and Theta expected the authorities to come down quite hard on their rogue enforcer.

“They didn’t,” Palin sneered. “I wasn’t about to be held thanks to a mockery of justice – one that you perpetrated, Zane!”

“Took you rather a long time to break out, don’t you think, Palin?” Theta replied with a smirk. “I’ve been out tooling around the galaxy for the last two years, and I haven’t heard a thing from you. I’d expect someone so hell-bent on my destruction could do better.”

Gloating served no real purpose but he didn’t care; the officer had decided to make an issue out of something beyond his control, and Theta wasn’t about to dignify it by admitting any kind of equality, any form of parity.

“Oh I’ve been busy, Zane, working hard to make sure that once I found you there would be no getting away.” Palin raised both arms and gestured at the cramped cabin surrounding him. “Do you like my little ship? It’s not much to look at, but I’ve packed it full of Thermio and it’s ready to blow on my command.”

“Flinn!” Theta bellowed. “Cut the channel! Pruck – hard to port!” Thermio had a reputation for destroying small moons – while the Deltarra was well-equipped, there was no way it could take that kind of punishment.

The viewscreen resolved to a more distant view, one quickly obscured by Palin’s speeding ship. It was too fast, too small – there was no way to avoid what was coming.

Theta jammed down the emergency call button. “All hands!” He screamed. “Abandon ship!” Even as words burst from his mouth the ship shuddered and began to scream, it’s Opsteel coating torn open by igniting Thermio. He was on his feet and herding crewmen out the escape door when the bridge lights went and the ship listed hard to starboard, throwing him to the deck.

Lights flashed and klaxons sounded, but he was trapped - his body wouldn’t respond though his mind urged it. A final look at the viewscreen showed a small green planet looming ever-larger as gravity caught the crippled Deltarra and pulled it down.

A less than stellar end for the notorious Theta Zane; one fitting perhaps, for Palin.

- D