Ronin (The Pike Chronicles Book 3) (4 page)

“Daddy, when is Anki going to be here?” asked Alina, Captain Seiben’s youngest daughter.

“Soon, sweetheart,” said Seiben, sitting at a table in their assigned quarters, across from his wife.

“It’s taking so looong,” said Alina, curling her lower lip.

“I know. It’ll just be a little bit longer. Why don’t you go play with your toys?”

Alina sighed, gripped her doll tighter and walked away.

“She’s not the only impatient one,” said Darla. The look on her face told Seiben he was not going to like the direction this conversation was heading. Unfortunately he couldn’t think of any reason to leave the table. Not without making things worse. He would have to sit still and take his medicine.

“What do you mean, darling?” he asked, trying to soften the coming assault.

“What do I mean? How can you ask me that?” said Darla, her face turning red. “I’ve been staring at these terrible symbols for weeks now. How long are we supposed to endure life on board this horrible ship?”

“I’m sure it won’t be for much longer,” he said, trying his best to sound conciliatory.

“That’s what you said last week,” said Darla, raising her voice. “And the week before that. I am about to lose my mind in here. Can you understand that?” Of course he could understand. She was practically screaming at him.

“I’m not happy about it either, darling,” he said, keeping his tone calm and apologetic. “But what can I do about it? It’s not like I can take over the ship and fly it wherever I damn well please.” He heard the frustration creep into his voice and cringed. That was a mistake.

“Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you? I know you’d rather be back on one of your long hauls again, far away from your family.”

“You know that’s not true. I merely meant that I’m not the one making the decisions here.”

“No, but you can persuade Jon to push harder. He has influence with the Colonel. He can make them take us there.”

“I bring it up every time I see him. I’m doing what I can.”

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

“Of course I am.”

“No, you’re not. You know what I think? You’re hoping we don’t ever make it to New Byzantium. You’d rather be on a spaceship. Even if it is as awful as this.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“All I know is we’re suffering and you don’t care.”

An alert sounded. Jon, Breeah and Anki were at the door, saving Captain Seiben for the moment from Darla’s wrath. He knew it would resume later, but for now there would be safety in numbers. He jumped out of his chair and headed for the door. It slid open and he welcomed his three guests.

“Anki,” yelled Alina, waving for the little girl to come and play with her. Anki’s face lit up as she rushed towards Alina and her toys. In seconds the two were happily chattering away, inventing some new game to play.

Jon smiled and shook Seiben’s hand, his grip controlled, but still powerful enough to make Seiben wince.

“I have good news for you,” said Jon, still smiling.

“Great. I could use some right now,” said Seiben.

“We’re heading for New Byzantium.”

“What? Really?”

Jon nodded, grinning like a boy.

He felt like hugging the overgrown bastard. “That’s great,” he said, excitedly. He turned to Darla, who still sat at the table with a sour look on her face, “Did you hear that, honey? We’re going to New Byzantium.”

Darla’s face brightened instantly. She got up from her chair and practically ran over. “Are you serious?” she asked, her face betraying a hint of apprehension.

“Yes, said Jon. New Byzantium is our next destination.”

Darla leapt at Jon, throwing her arms around his thick neck and screamed. Jon laughed, placing a hand to his ear, a hopeless attempt at protecting his eardrum from Darla’s high pitch.

“Come, let’s sit down while Jon can still hear,” said Seiben, comfortable in teasing Darla now that the matter was resolved. The group walked to the table and sat down. He liked it much better to have his wife smiling beside him. He rested his hand on her knee and she left it there, glancing his way to let him know the argument was over.

“So, what are your plans for New Byzantium?” said Jon.

Darla answered. “We’ll find some temporary lodging and then look for something more permanent. After the years at the station I can’t wait to have a house and a yard again.”

“That sounds nice,” said Jon. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy there.”

“What about you?” said Darla, a mischievous look in her eye.

“What do you mean?”

She looked at Breeah and said, “You should think of joining us. Settling down. New Byzantium is a free world. A democracy. The corporations don’t govern there.”

“That does sound lovely,” said Breeah, looking at Jon, who seemed a bit uncomfortable now.

“I don’t know. We’re still looking for the Hermes crew,” said Jon.

“And then?” said Breeah. “What happens after you find your crew?”

I… I’m not sure,” said Jon.

Breeah shook her head. “We could do it, you know. We could settle down and make a life there.”

Seiben chuckled, enjoying the show. He preferred Jon to himself on the hot seat. He figured he might as well earn some extra points with Darla while they were at it. “It’s nice on New Byzantium,” he said. “There are lots of good schools. Anki would love it.”

Jon shot Seiben a threatening glance, and Seiben had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. The reality was that while he may be having some fun at Jon’s expense, he did think it was the best option for him. He could see that Jon was happy with Breeah and Anki. Why not make a life together? He could put all the fighting and killing behind him. He could start fresh.

“Why don’t we have a look around when we get there and then decide?” said Jon, waving the white flag.

Breeah smiled, nodding her head, the look on her face seemed to say, ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’

Jon lay awake in bed, Breeah soundly asleep beside him. He thought about his situation, considering New Byzantium and whether or not the Seibens were right. Should he put everything behind him and start a new life with Breeah and Anki? He believed that was what he wanted, to have a family again. But could he live life as a civilian? He had spent his whole life fighting. He knew nothing else. Perhaps he could secure a position with their military, or their police force. It was a possibility.

What about his crew? They were out here because of him. They were relying on him. How could he just abandon them? They deserved something better than living aboard a Chaanisar ship. What if they had the option of settling down on New Byzantium as well? Would they take it? They might. After all, they couldn’t stay on board this ship. Or could they?

The Chaanisar ship did have a jump system. He felt the symbiont inside him jump on his train of thought. It pushed the thought further, and Jon suddenly became aware of its intention. The symbiont wanted him to seize the ship. The thought stunned him. Seize the ship? He hadn’t even considered it. The thought was crazy. Even if he wanted to, and he wasn’t entirely sure he did, it had a full crew of Chaanisar soldiers on board. Each one of them augmented with Juttari technology. He didn’t have enough Marines to try something like that. It would be a suicide mission. So why would the symbiont even suggest it?

I thought you were some kind of master strategist
, thought Jon.
All I see is a crazy alien
.

The creature responded with the same thought. Seize the ship.

How? We’re outnumbered, and outgunned. It’s impossible
.

A realization struck him, and he wasn’t sure if it was his own, or the symbiont’s. He quietly got out of bed, careful not to wake Breeah, and walked to the adjacent room. Once there he accessed a network console. When they boarded the Chaanisar vessel he had allowed the AI access to the Chaanisar systems, but ensured it only used the access Bast had given him, and refrained from attempting to access anything more. The Juttari systems were sophisticated and he didn’t want the AI to call attention to itself, or trigger any alarms. In reality, the AI was military grade, and had been created with digital warfare in mind. That meant it could hold its own against the average Juttari defenses. It was also capable of learning, adapting, and evolving, which was part of the reason Jon allowed it to access the ship’s network in the first place. Even without attacking the ship’s defenses, it could still study them. It could analyze network traffic and learn. If Jon needed it to mount an attack in the future, it would be better equipped to execute. Right now, however, he just needed some questions answered.

“AI, what is your impression of the Chaanisar network and its defenses?” said Jon.

“The network is hardened and robust, Captain,” said the AI.

“Assess your probability of success if you attempted a network takeover.”

“The front line defenses would be easily overwhelmed. I could tunnel deep into their systems before being detected.”

“But you would be detected?”

“Most definitely, Captain.”

“What are the chances of success after detection?”

“By that time, I would be firmly entrenched within their network. The Chaanisar would launch counter-measures and attempt to remove my presence. I do not believe they would be successful, however the tactic would slow my advance deeper into their systems.”

“The Chaanisar would be alerted to the attack and move against us.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Have you been analyzing the network traffic?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“How are the Chaanisar accessing the network?” He didn’t know why he asked this question, but he felt it was somehow important.

“They often interface directly with the ship’s systems.”

“Interface directly? What does that mean?”

“They are using their brain chips, Captain. They are effectively making themselves nodes on the network.”

Jon felt the symbiont’s prodding. Its message suddenly became clear. The symbiont had been maneuvering him towards this realization. It was a clever little monster.

“AI, what if you didn’t attempt to takeover the ship’s systems, but attacked the Chaanisar brain chips instead?”

“This tactic would have a high probability of success. I would need to attain the proper security level, which wouldn’t pose much of a challenge. It would be relatively easy to infect them.”

“Infect them?”

“Yes, Captain. I would behave like a virus. I would replicate myself onto the Chanisaar’s brain chip, then continue to the next one. In this way, I would still exist on each brain chip after they disconnected from the network.”

“I see. And once you infect their chips, would you be able to control their actions?”

“Yes, Captain. I could lie dormant for as long as required, then activate myself and take control. All infected Chaanisar could then be controlled remotely.”

“How would you control them if they weren’t on the network?”

“A back door would be created that could be activated through any signal. If they are capable of receiving a transmission, they can be commanded.”

Jon felt the symbiont’s excitement. It urged him to command the AI to initiate the takeover. He wasn’t ready, though. He would be enslaving the Chaanisar in the same way as the Juttari had. Wouldn’t that make him the monster? These Chaanisar rescued him and his crew. What if they were sincere? What if they truly just wanted their freedom? Their humanity?

Lies, the creature whispered. The Chaanisar were a threat, just like they’d always been. This was an opportunity to strike first. To gain the upper hand while he still had a chance. He had the element of surprise. He could take over the ship without firing a shot. How many atrocities had this crew committed? Who was he to absolve them of these crimes? They were not worthy of his compassion.

Perhaps not
, thought Jon.
But I am not a slaver. I am not Juttari, nor Kemmar. Whatever the Chaanisar are, they were once human. I will give them a chance to be human again.

He felt the creature growl its displeasure. No longer able to enforce its will through torture, it had to accept its role as a mere adviser.

Most of all,
thought Jon.
I am not like you. I’m still human.

Jon stooped and stumbled as he walked through the muddy street, feigning drunkenness. His hood hung over his forehead, the darkness obscuring his face. His hands remained under his cloak, hidden from view. The evening was wet and cold. He looked no different than anyone else in town. The guards had noticed him, but did not seem overly concerned. The ruse worked so far. As he neared he performed again. This time he pretended to lose his balance, taking several steps toward the men and then falling face down at their feet.

“What the hell is your problem?” said one of the guards. “Take your sorry ass away from here before you get hurt.”

Jon took his time moving, lying in the mud, waiting for the inevitable reaction. He didn’t have to wait long. One of the guards stepped into him with a kick to the side. A powerful blow, Jon took most of it on the arm, careful to protect his ribs. He moaned in pain to satisfy the guard, in reality happy the guard had not chosen his face.

“Are you stupid or something?” said the guard, towering over him. “Get up and get out of here while you still can.”

“Ok, I’m getting up,” said Jon. “Please don’t hit me again.” The guards laughed as he slowly rose.

Anger coupled with hate inside him, the fury raging like a tempest. He despised these men. These traitors. Collaborators who would sell out their own kind for personal gain. Worse than the Juttari, death was too merciful a verdict for them. Unfortunately, tonight death would have to do.

Jon’s hands moved imperceptibly under his cloak. He felt the hard wooden handles and wrapped his fingers around their familiar length, freeing the twin knives strapped to his belt. Rising to his feet he slowly turned to face the two men. Raising his head he took a look at their faces, hoping to find some clue to explain why a man would side against his own kind. Of course there was material gain in working with the Juttari. One received many privileges and luxuries. All while the rest of humanity suffered. Was that all it took? Money? Status? He couldn’t accept it. There had to be something more. Something deeper he hadn’t understood. Yet as he gazed at their faces he saw nothing but greed and a lust for power.

“Go on! Get out-”

Jon’s cloak flew around him as he spun, one blade slicing through the first man’s throat in a clean, fluid motion, while the point of the other knife slid deep into the windpipe of the second. Both guards’ eyes went wide as they fell to their knees. The first tried to call for help, but could only manage gurgling sounds as the blood streamed from his wounds. The second gripped his throat, trying in vain to stop the hemorrhaging. They both collapsed onto the mud.

Jon crouched above them, watching the life drain from their eyes, “Consider yourselves lucky. This death is too good for you.” As he got up he let out a soft whistle. More cloaked figures appeared and ran toward him out of the darkness. They rushed past into the Governor’s compound. One of the men stopped, looked at the guards and then at Jon. It was his father. His eyes held a mixture of sadness and pride, but he said nothing, for there was nothing to say. He only nodded and gestured for Jon to follow.

They entered the Governor’s grounds, clinging to the shadows to avoid detection. There would be many more guards, and they would have to maintain the element of surprise for as long as possible if they hoped to succeed.

The Governor lived in high style, his home a study in extravagance. Beyond the gate was a large courtyard, bordered by a palatial two story building. The building wrapped around the courtyard in a horseshoe shape, with a second floor balcony that ran the entire length of the structure. Crouching behind a tree, Jon’s father pointed to a guard keeping watch on the balcony. Jon took off, moving in a crouch, hiding himself from the light.

When he made it to the corner of the building he started to climb. The decorative carvings provided easy grips for Jon’s hands and feet. Growing up he had always been an agile climber, and often tested himself on the many rock faces near his home. Scaling the side of this building was not difficult, though the wetness of the stone forced him to take more care than usual. A lifetime of climbing and constant training had given him powerful fingers and a vicelike grip. His hands would not slip. He glanced down as he climbed, the autumn wind blowing his unkempt hair out of his face. There were still many guards down there. His father watched his progress, waiting for Jon to remove the sentry on the balcony. If unsuccessful, his men would be seen as they moved.

They all relied on him. Just one mistake and he would unravel the mission. One error would see everyone killed. His father had tried to reassure him before the mission began. He told him how well trained and skilled he was. How he showed more natural talent than anyone he had seen. How this was his opportunity to put that talent to use. That was why he had Jon deal with the outer guards. That was why Jon would be the one to take the Governor himself. This was not his first mission, nor was it his first kill, but tonight he took the lead. Tonight he left childhood behind. Tonight Jon was the tip of the spear.

His stomach tightened as doubt began to creep into his mind. He took deep breaths to calm himself, in through his nose and out through his mouth, just like his mother had taught him. He reached for another crevice, gripped it with two fingers and pulled. What if he wasn’t ready? What if they all died because of him? He knew he had the training, but what if he hesitated, or made a mistake? He pushed through the questions and found the strength to beat back the anxiety, if only for a moment.
One step at a time
, he thought.
Just focus on this one task
.

He looked back to the guard on the balcony. The man turned to face him. Jon froze. For a long, torturous moment he held his breath. His heart stopped beating. Time stood still. The man looked straight at him. He could swear the man was looking into his eyes. He was going to sound the alarm. The mission was doomed.

The man cocked his head and took a few steps forward, still staring directly at him. Jon let go of the wall with one hand and reached for one of his knives. He pushed his chest against the corner of the building, his knees straining as he squeezed them into the stone. The man continued his approach, but did not raise his energy weapon. Was it possible he couldn’t see him? His face seemed to question what he saw, but had begrudgingly decided to double check. He came closer, his free hand casually dropped to his belt. What was he reaching for? Jon couldn’t make it out. Was it another weapon? A communication device? Was he about to warn the other guards? The man pulled the object free of his belt and raised it, pointing it directly at Jon. A flashlight.

The slender blade struck the man perfectly in the eye, penetrating the paper thin bone of the socket and burying itself to the hilt in the man’s skull. The force of the throw sent the man careening backward onto the stone floor. He hit with a thud. Jon cringed. He looked back to the courtyard, but the guards hadn’t noticed anything out of place. He waited to be sure, but the guards continued to stand their ground, giving no indication that they heard the man fall.

Satisfied, he looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with his father. He flashed the hand signal, indicating the sentry was dead. Relief spread across his father’s face and for a moment Jon thought he saw the hint of a smile. His father signaled the rest of the men and the courtyard came alive. Jon waited and watched as the dark figures flowed through the shadows, the gleam of steel flashing in the night. Throats were slashed. Hearts pierced. Judgment passed. They were reapers tonight. For the guilty there would be no escape.

Moments later the resistance owned the bloody courtyard. Jon climbed onto the balcony, pulled his knife out of the dead guard’s skull, and broke into a run. He had studied the layout of the compound and knew which window led to the Governor’s bedroom. His job was simple, get to the room and seize the man. With no alarms sounding Jon fully expected to find his target snoring in bed. All he had to do was get to the room.

A door opened up ahead and a guard stepped out onto the balcony. Jon threw his knife without breaking stride, the point piercing the side of the guard’s neck, severing his carotid artery. A few strides later and Jon had reached the man. Sidestepping the spraying blood, he grabbed the knife’s handle and yanked the blade forward, cutting through the windpipe. He kept running, barely registering the sound of the man dropping to the floor behind him.

He reached the Governor’s room and slowed to a stop beside the window. The light was still on. The Governor wasn’t asleep. A man was yelling inside the room. He peeked through the window, to assess the situation. There was no bed in the room, rather it looked more like a living room with a couch and several chairs. It was the wrong room. He breathed easier when he saw the Governor. The man was pacing back and forth, his massive belly swinging from side to side as he moved. Jon wondered how his skinny legs could support all that weight. It was clear that the Governor was the one yelling, but who was he yelling at? Jon peered further into the room and spotted another man wearing a uniform. Then two young boys standing and crying. The boys looked to be about four or five years old. Fresh recruits for the Chaanisar. They appeared to have just been taken from their families. That must be why the Governor was awake at this hour.

Jon struggled to stifle his anger. He had a job. The target was the Governor. But what about the boys? Who would help them? There would have to be a change of plans. He backed away from the window and looked over the balcony to his father. He signaled the change and requested help. Even at this distance the disapproval on his father’s face made Jon flinch. Nonetheless, his father issued a silent command of his own. Two men bolted from their positions, and began scaling the walls like giant black spiders. The two hit the balcony and raced to Jon’s location. When they approached Jon recognized his two cousins, Jason and Michael. Both were older, well into manhood and sporting thick black beards.

“What’s going on?” whispered Jason, eying Jon suspiciously. He knew what his cousins were thinking. Was this a mistake? Was Jon too young? In over his head?

“The Governor’s not asleep, and he’s not alone,” said Jon, holding his cousin’s gaze. “There’s another man and two boys in there. We need to save the boys.”

“What?” said Michael, an incredulous look on his face. “That’s not part of the plan. We’re only here for the Governor.”

“And we’re going to get the Governor, but I’m not leaving those kids behind.”

Michael exhaled sharply and looked in the direction of the room.

“You know as well as I do what’s going to happen to those boys,” pleaded Jon. “The Juttari are going to turn them into Chaanisar. I can’t let that happen, can you?”

“No,” said Michael, resigned to his fate.

“Ok,” said Jason. “You’re the lead, so lead.”

Jon felt a surge of pride, but successfully kept it in check. “We can’t go through the window, like originally planned. We’ll have to hit the room from the inside. The other man is armed, but I didn’t see any weapons on the Governor. There might be guards in the hallway outside the room.”

The two men nodded and Jon led them back to the door the guard had emerged from. The three hooded men stepped over the guard’s body and the pool of blood covering the floor.

“Damn cousin,” said Michael. “Did you have to make such a mess?”

Jon ignored the comment and approached the glass door. He held up a fist as he scanned the corridor on the other side. With an all clear they headed inside. They crept up to the end of the corridor and stopped. Jon peered around the corner and saw an empty hallway. No guards. Their luck was holding up. He signaled to his cousins and the three moved, quietly rushing down the hall towards the Governor’s room.

Jon could hear the Governor yelling as they neared their destination. He was quite the blowhard. They flanked the door. Jon reached over, gripped the doorknob and turned it. He felt the latch release and gave the door a nudge, allowing it to swing open. The yelling stopped.

Blades flew into the room followed closely by the three cloaked figures. The uniformed man crashed into the wall as three knives struck him, two in the chest and one in the face.

“Help! Guards! Help!” cried the Governor, his voice a panicked screech.

Jason reached him first, pressing a sharp edge against his throat. “You will be silent, or you will die,” growled Jason.

The Governor nodded his head frantically and stopped shouting, but the damage was already done. Michael put away his blade, shouldered his energy weapon, and ran to the door.

Jon crouched in front of the two frightened boys and smiled. “We’re going to get you out of here. Get you back to your mom and dad. But I need you to do as I say. Ok?”

The two nodded, still frightened but becoming hopeful.

“Good. Now things are going to be a little scary until we get out of here. I want you both to stay low and stay behind us.”

“Jon, we need to move. Now,” said Jason, shouldering his own energy weapon.

“Ready?” said Jon, looking at the boys. The boys wiped their tears, trying their best to look like little soldiers. Jon smiled reassuringly and headed for the door. He gripped the stock of his weapon and prepared for battle.

Jason approached from behind with the Governor in tow, already tied and gagged. “One wrong move and I’ll put an end to your piss poor life. Do you think I’m lying?” The Governor shook his head. Jason then looked to Jon, “Lead the way cousin.”