Ghosts in the System

[The_gladiator]

He took the water and let her line sit.


Waste of my talents. Somewhere no one knows your name.


Duty or pleasure. He filed both and did not pick.


“We’ll see how the night plays out,” he said. Same words as before. Cheaper now, with the stage lights dropping.


Leon Pilat took the podium. Humble on purpose. Becker had heard the name on enough charity letterheads to know the humility was part of the invoice.


Then the waitstaff.


“Bullshit!”


A few gasps. The room tried to decide whether it was a joke.


Becker did not look at the stage first. He looked at the kitchen doors, the same direction she had tracked earlier, then at her glass, then at her face.


“You clocked those two in white before I did,” he murmured.


He set the water down.


“Gotta hit the head. Shake an annoying rock out of my boot.”


He did not know if she would get the hint: a weapon in the boot, and a cover to retrieve it if this went south.


“I smell a rat.”

 

[WretchRoad]

She had two choices: pretend ignorance or admit she had them in her sights. She, one of the rats, cursed her luck and her good eye for faces.

She recognized them, alright, now that she had a voice to go with a face half-hidden under some expert prosthetics. The two men were at the same Basic training facility as her, but on a different tract. The one who shouted out, he was the shorter of the two, with red hair grown over his ears. The other, she couldn’t see anymore, the taller of the two with tan skin, his green eyes capped with brown contacts.

“I’ve been to a few things like this, I saw one of them pour wine before properly decanting. Seemed odd,” she hoped it wasn’t an over-explanation, that it was enough to keep him from suspecting her.

Danica didn’t pack heat, there wasn’t a place on her body to safely fit a pistol when her dress, and wandering hands, would reveal anything out of place. Instead, she had her silver bracelet. Each bead held a tiny protractable pin connected to a basin full of neurotoxin, a credit to the research and development teams at the Reach.

Leon smiled it off, willing to play on the interruption. “I assure you…” then he stood there, blank stare. A black hole burned between the eyebrows.

She grabbed Becker's arm as Leon went down, thumping against the stage. “Don’t,” she warned.

One by one the doors slammed shut. Another dozen of the staff opened their uniform jackets to display ultra-light armored vests, meanwhile another came in through the kitchen loaded with automatic phase rifles, and handed them out.

 

[The_gladiator]

The disruptor at his ankle was a comforting weight until it wasn’t.


IGA raid. That was the shape it took in his head. Doors slamming. Vests under waiter whites. Phase rifles coming out of the kitchen.


He let her pull him back.


“Friends of yours?” Quiet. A tease. He did not truly suspect the connection. Not yet. Her eye for the two in white had already said she was not just a high-paid escort.


Nothing to see here. He wanted out. No need to get mixed up in stolen artifacts. He was guilty of a great many things. That did not happen to be one of them.


Leon was down. A black hole between the eyebrows. The room had stopped pretending this was a gala.


Becker did not reach for the boot. Not with a dozen rifles in play and her hand on his arm.


“Don’t,” she had said.


He didn’t.


Yet.


Though she didn’t know he had a gun powerful enough to put a hole in a small battlecruiser, she had the right of it: whatever he was carrying was not a match for ten phase rifles and body armor.


Then a crack he had never heard before.


One of the toughs in armor went down. The round punched a hole in his chest and tore a gaping exit on the way through.


Becker had never seen a slug rifle like the Winchester they were auctioning off. If he had to bet, it made a hole like that.


“Should have found that dive bar after all.”

 

[WretchRoad]

Shouts erupted from the armed staff who all turned, guns hitched high, to face the catastrophe of their comrade.

At the same time, Tall and Tan emerged from just behind where Leon had stood to take the stage, half-crouching behind the podium. His speech never broke his lips as everyone shifted with the crack of the rifle, echoing through the hall.

She’d seen holes like that before, ones carved out of space suits by scrap metal the size of a thumbnail hurtling at ten kilometers a second. Like Becker, she connected the dots.

“Remember for next time, yeah?” she remarked under her breath, “I always have good ideas.”

She hadn’t let go of his arm, she was trying to pull him behind the bar.

However that gun was supposed to work, she hoped it carried more than one round, because a crowd of rifles were aimed back at the corner of the room.

An execution and a dozen rifles were part of the plan, but this one was not. She knew that’s all it took for these things to go off the rails.

 

[The_gladiator]

He let her pull him behind the bar.


On the way past a table he grabbed a paper. Something to keep his hands busy. Then he saw what it was and started reading it aloud, because the room had already gone loud enough that sense had to come from somewhere.


“Winchester Model 1873. Chambered in .44-40. Twenty-four-inch barrel. Twelve-round tubular magazine. Nickname: the gun that won the West.”


As if the words had summoned it, the rifle cracked again.


Another man with a phase rifle went down in a bloody heap. Return fire stitched the expensive wood with burn marks and plasma char.


“Those idiots are shooting into some of the galactic elite. Someone is going to die for this. And I don’t mean here in this firefight. I mean later.”


Becker squinted into the smoke, trying to see who was firing on the enforcers. Small. A woman, maybe. He could not be certain.


“If you have such good ideas,” he said, under the next volley, “how do we get out of here before that lunatic uses the other ten rounds and the IGA turns this place into a smoking pile of bodies.”

 

[WretchRoad]

The fact that they got off another round was impressive. They must have had training, or knew the weapon better than anyone else in the room.

“They’re going to run out of shots before the phase rifles,” Danica stated. But if they’re getting one-hit kills, they could probably take out the whole operation first.

Nevermind how he knew it was the IGA, she’d have to ask those questions when they weren’t in a room that was being blasted into a new constellation.

She edged over to peek into the hall, watching people hit the floor, scurrying away like steerage rats from a ship fire. “You’re not worried about your friends?” She asked rhetorically as she searched through smoke and crashed tables. No sign of Green Eyes, who must have abandoned the podium. From the other side of the room a woman yelled “For the Children of Sahur!” followed by shouts and a flurry of phase blasts.

Then, Danica locked on the red head, who was shoving a table away from a door left undefended. He looked like he was about to abandon the fight for a stealthy exit.

“I have an idea,” she nodded toward the door. “If you have a gun.”

 

[The_gladiator]

“Depends why you want to know,” he muttered, already bending to the boot.


“I’m only as worried for my friends as they are for me.” Another mutter. “Kinda pissed about my steak though. Not gonna lie.”


He stood with the disruptor palmed. He did not hand it to her. The snub-nosed weapon disappeared against the black of his trousers.


His eyes followed hers to the redhead shoving the table off the undefended door.


“What’s the move?”

 

[WretchRoad]

The attitude struck her as ice-cold, either he carried a hell of a grudge or he had incredible faith in his friend's abilities. She didn't see them on the floor, so she hoped they made it away from the firing range. They weren't her responsibility, either way. Becker was the target, and now he was an asset. He needed to survive this if he was eventually going to face the IGA.

"We follow the red head and shut that door behind us," she raised her voice over the shouts and gun blasts that were getting louder now. Another crack.

"The gun is in case he catches us following."

In an ideal world they wouldn't have to shoot another agent. In an ideal world this operation wouldn't have gone tits up. She would have settled for an agency where the right hand knew what the left was doing, but expectations only led to disappointment.

Danica flinched as a blast carved through the bar top, filling the air with the smell of burnt wood.

"Ready?" she implored.

She was coiled up and gearing to bolt for the door the moment he said yes.

 

[The_gladiator]

He should have worried about the others. He didn’t. Richardson carried a personal shield. Lani was an agent. Bob he trusted, and Celeste would stick with her husband. Right now the plan was hers.


He took her hand. Not because she was a damsel. Because it would keep them together. Had he known her training he would have put her palm to his back and made her follow every shift. Instead he squeezed once. Go.


He caught the door with his shoulder before it could close and lock, slid it open again, gun leading.


The redhead was already running the hall. Started the mess. Leaving it.


Becker couldn’t resist. He thumbed the disruptor down. A low-power beam lanced out and dropped the man in a heap. Not ash. Every cell firing at once. Out.


“Come on. The bay isn’t far. The Sky Dancer should be able to launch in minutes.”

 

[WretchRoad]

She took the signal, kicking off her shoes as she flew across the room in a half-crouch, lucky not to step on any shattered glass as she trailed after him.

They made it, a sigh of relief right before the gasp. He killed the agent.

Her eyes widened for a second. “You just shot a man in the back.”

She would have called in pro-active, acceptable collateral damage, or even friendly fire if she hadn’t known the man. Reasoning it out made Becker’s actions an acceptable hit before being hit, before the agent noticed them, and yet, “I said shoot him if he sees us.” She couldn’t help but give him grief over it as they flung toward hangar, hand in hand.

 

[The_gladiator]

“Relax. He’s lightly stunned. He’ll wake up with a headache in a few hours.” Dry. Still moving. Her hand still in his.


“Didn’t know you cared so much about the IGA.”


He was surprised she thought he’d just killed a man like that. Then he reminded himself: she didn’t know him.


He dodged them around crates as they came into the hangar bay.


“Those fighters and that squad overseeing the ships are going to be a problem. Come with me.”


He led the way to the back of the Sky Dancer, then looked over her dress.


“You’re not really in clothes to crawl through my engine room. You want me to leave you until I can open a main hatch and pick you up?”

 

[WretchRoad]

A gun runner with a chip on his shoulder for the IGA? Of course she thought he killed the man. She was happy to be wrong, though his accusation was a little too on the nose that time.

“How do you know he’s IGA?” she feigned skepticism. “Nevermind, I don’t care right now. I want to be on your ship and out of here.”

Bunching her skirt tight in both hands, she twisted the hem into a knot high on her hip, revealing the long, lean planes of her legs. The wardrobe adjustment barely covered her black silk panties underneath.

Her glare gave every indication she was coming with him.

 

[The_gladiator]

The legs were nice. He did not have time to admire them. The thought was there anyway—hands sliding up the backs of them, cupping her ass, holding her against him.


No time for that.


“I can smell the IGA from a mile away. They’re the only ones who’d bust a perfectly good auction. There’s always something illegal in them. The IGA can never resist.”


He popped a hatch below the engines and climbed in, turning to lift her after him.


“Watch your head.”


He sealed the hatch behind her and led them through the cold engine room, the galley, the living quarters, into the cockpit. He kept low. No sense being spotted through the glass.


The Sky Dancer was a beautiful ship. A blunted teardrop, wings to the sides and rear, something almost majestic in the lines. He loved her. Same form factor as a lot of G and B transports. His design.


He hit the controls. Engines lit. That got the squad’s attention.


He swore, slapped a button. Shields shimmered up.


“That’ll stop their hand weapons. Now the hangar doors. Strap in, darlin, if you want to make it through this.”


“Sky Dancer to Control. Requesting permission for immediate takeoff.”


“Control here. Are you high?”


“Negative, Control.”


“You know flight logs must be on file at least two standard hours prior to takeoff. Power down or be fired upon.”


“No can do, Control.” Tight. Steady. “Open the doors or I’m going to make a very large hole.”


“My scans say you don’t pack enough punch. And Squad One might want to examine your hold. Possession of Deltrex A14 is illegal.”


“Well, I’ve been breaking laws all day. No reason to stop now.”


He punched the lifters. The ship came up off the deck.


Almost conversationally, to Danica:


“How many vials of Deltrex A14 can you possess before you are eligible to be arrested?”

 

[WretchRoad]

“Sounds like a conspiracy theory…” she muttered when he spouted dissident rhetoric. He wasn’t playing coy anymore. Even less so when he made it clear he was going to break out of the hangar, violating at least a dozen laws and safety protocols.

“They’ll send ships after us!” she shouted as he argued with Control.

“Wait, what other laws have you broken today?!” She looked surprised before he asked her about the A14. She knew where that missing shipment had gone without him saying another word.

“Like, ten or fifteen, I think” she spoke low, cautious. “Why?”

With deft movements she fastened the passenger harness, tight. “Why??”

 

[The_gladiator]

“Great. Just what I thought. Twenty-five vials to a tray. Five trays to a crate. Thirty-five out of forty crates left. That’s about four thousand three hundred seventy-five. Yeah. We’re fucked.”


He growled and punched the com again.


“All right, Control. Enough goofing off. Open the bay doors or I’ll open them for you.”


“You’ll never get through them with those phase cannons.”


“Maybe. What about that senator’s shuttle.”


He thumbed a knob on the yoke. Blue fire lanced off the Dancer’s wings and swallowed a fancy-looking shuttle.


Control’s voice blasted through the speakers.


“He means it. Evacuate all personnel from Hangar Two. Bay doors opening in sixty seconds.”


“Is the mag-con field working?” A second voice. Military. Clipped.


Becker angled and fired again. The controls beside the door went up in sparks.


Control came back. “Negative. Magnetic containment field for bay oxygen is not functioning. Explosive decompression anticipated. Grab air and hang on to something.”


Becker thumbed the com off.


“Didn’t want to hear them anyway.”


He grinned at Danica.


“You ready for this, sweetheart?”

 

[WretchRoad]

Her eyes popped open. “Yes, yes we’re fucked.” It wasn’t just him as long as she sat on that ship, one she didn’t even get a chance to appreciate except for the fact it looked like a custom build, but she already clocked him as the type of man who put his own order to things. It just made it near impossible to take over, if she got the opportunity. And she was looking for opportunities.

She was supposed to get information, she wasn’t supposed to become a fugitive.

When she gripped the armrests, knuckles turning white, it was no act.

Was she ready?

“Fuck you.”

 

[The_gladiator]

“Yes, yes. Later.” Absent. Already flying.


“Would you rather get blasted by the IGA?”


Thirty seconds later the doors banged open after his phase cannons carved through another shuttle. Air blasted out of the hangar and rocked the Sky Dancer.


Becker wasted almost no time. One hand on the stick, the other punching up a star chart that would not have looked like the one she was used to. Jump gates marked, yes—but also the natural hyperspace openings in the area, and where they went. If she recognized what she was seeing, it was an instant suggestion he could travel almost independent of the gates that tracked interstellar movement.


“Two thousand clicks. That’s all we have to go.”


He hit the throttles.


The two fighters he had noted before came roaring after them. Twin crabs, curving claws. The claws spit fire. It splashed off the shields.


“Can you shoot? I mean, unless you have a command code to keep them off us.”


A joke. The irony was how close he might actually be.


“Otherwise you might have to get out and push.”

 

[WretchRoad]

She was committing several felonies just by looking at that map. The back streams and creeks that ran through the ether were an open secret, but no one was supposed to publish them —since they couldn’t be monopolized and controlled by the IGA.

If she had a code, she would have used it. But much like the Authority hadn’t anticipated an ancient relic would derail their false flag op to take out a political enemy, her handlers didn’t think she’d end up in a firefight sitting on top of a pile of contraband. It wasn’t even the kind of contraband she expected.

Questions were for when they aren’t about to die.

It was either expose herself or get blasted to space dust with the lie behind her lips.

The look she gave him was all business. “I can shoot. Do you have a gun station or can I control the turrets from first officer's position?"

 

[The_gladiator]

“You can do it from there. I just don’t have the effort to control the cannon and steer. I’ve got the forward guns. That control there activates the underside turret. That one can shoot back at them.”


A wolfish grin.


“This is fun. Get ’em.”


With that he started evasive maneuvers. He was not going to fly straight and let them hit him. He was not going to make it easy for them to burn them out of the sky.

 

[WretchRoad]

She felt over the controls until she found a familiar symbol, pressed it. The HUD released from above and she pulled it into position as the targeting system lit up. A joystick moved the angle on the screen - the turret control, she decided. And the trigger? A thump resonated from below their feet, missing the pursuers by miles. That didn’t matter. The cannon controls were easier to find.

And he was grinning.

“Fine,” she decided, but a half-smirk was all she offered. “If we’re going to fucking die, let’s go out smiling.”

Adrenaline was a hell of a drug.

“I just hope you have the skills to back up that attitude.”

IGA didn’t get paid enough to die for the cause. The kind of pilots who’d dive head first in a dogfight, however, were a different breed. Tactical zealots who painted death in symbols along their cockpits. She wondered if Becker celebrated destruction in his tattoos.

She fired on the left crab just as her vision blurred and triple-gravity sent the blood rushing out of her head when he pulled evasive maneuvers. Clenching her jaw and straining her neck, she breathed deep and fast to adjust. Left crab zipped back into her sights, still for a moment before careening away in a shattering of twin-cannon fire.

“Move move move!” She yelled.

 

[The_gladiator]

Her first shot was not promising. A pulse of blue light into nowhere.


He held the snark and gave her a minute with the system.


The second shot was good. Very good. One of the fighters blew into a fireball.


The other was better than he wanted. Gray hull, black stripes. The HUD picked up kill markings painted as silhouettes over the canopy.


“Probably some friends of mine,” he muttered.


At her yell—move move move—he sent them into a barrel roll and turned back toward the fighter long enough to launch a missile. It missed. Add discharge of a warhead near the trade station to the list of crimes.


Swearing, he got them back on track for the opening he wanted.


“Almost there.”


He had the acceleration compensator turned down on purpose. He liked to feel the ship, how she was doing. Maybe a little too low. Vision grayed at the corners as he forced them through another hard loop.


“Hold onto your lunch, sweetheart.”

 

[WretchRoad]

“Was that a nuke?!” she shouted with little time to care either way. The second pilot was lost from her sights on both sides and taunting them with steady fire.

In hindsight, it was great fortune that neither of them finished their meals because Becker was absolutely the pilot he implied and the G’s were kicking straight into her core. She fought to keep from blacking out.

The simulations back at training were top of the line, but nothing compared to the real thing. It was borderline painful. It was a rush like she’d never felt. It made her disregard the pilot inside while she lined up a kill shot. Missed.

Then two more crabs emerged from the deep.

 

[The_gladiator]

“I mean, I guess you could call it that. Newer tech. Concussion missile. Payload breaks the bonds of atoms with the force. It’ll explode harmlessly when it reaches range.”


As if to punctuate it, a flash of light bloomed behind them.


He saw the new foes and swore.


“This is going to be close. Real close.”


He sideslipped another blast.


“Mind getting this asshole off me while I save our asses?”

 

[WretchRoad]

Danica blinked as the flash lit up her display.

“Do you mind waiting a god damn second while I—” She tapped the trigger in rapid succession, sending a dotted line of blasts etching through the ace’s wing. “While I do that,” she heaved a breath.

It didn’t put the rig out of commission, but it took them out of the fight.

“Do you want to keep showing off while more catch up or can we get the hell out of here?”

 

[The_gladiator]

“Women. You are never happy with a man’s skill.” A mutter.


Her shots had disabled the closest pursuer. Becker switched to flying straight—then jinked at the last second and slipped them into a hyperspace opening he knew was there. Hopefully their opponents did not.


These were not wormholes. They did not dump you somewhere else instantly. They just opened the road to faster-than-light.


He took a breath. Let it out.


“If they can even find that exact opening, the odds they know where I’m going are not real high.”


He started slapping switches, shutting down the battle-ready systems.


“Nice shooting back there.”


He sat back and turned slightly to face her.


“I think you’re more than what you seem.”