The Bounty Hunter: Resurrection (10 page)

“Lumen Greer? Can you hear me?”

The woman didn’t move or answer. He
had to look closely to see that her chest was rising as she breathed. He placed
a hand on her cheek and pushed her gently. Her head moved as he moved her. When
he let go it fell back to rest on the floor again.

“She can’t be asleep,” he said.
“What should we do?”

“We can’t leave her,” Cass said.
“And we can’t give her back to Spectrum. Nor the police. We should help her.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “But
we should at least try, don’t you think?”

A few moments passed before he
nodded. Slowly, he put his hands under her: his left arm behind her knees and
his right arm under her back. He tried to keep her head resting against him as
much as possible as he walked out of the building. The rain fell on her as he
carried her through the streets toward where Cass had called the ship. By the
time they reached the Brisbane, Lumen’s hair was soaked. The blood and smear on
her stomach was half washed away, the barest scratch remained as if she had
never been shot at all.

* * *

Three days later, Burke was in the
meeting room of his ship.

The main screen displayed the
weather reports for Liveria below them: varying degrees of rain for the heavier
populated areas, and some dry patches for the less densely packed districts. Rylan
sat across the table from Burke. They were silent as they ate.

 The screen changed as the news
program transitioned from local weather back to galactic wide news. Daina Everwood
appeared, smiling as the introduction to the show played out and faded away.

“Our current guest has been the
center of substantial controversy this week after his statements at the Jupiter
summit over the future of the Earth. Senator Rinehart, welcome.”

The camera cut to show Langley
Rinehart instead of Everwood. He nodded once at the camera. His smile was
comfortable and confident. The camera panned back to show the two at the same
time, sitting across from each other at a large news desk. The news ticker that
ran at the bottom of the screen was mirrored in the surface of the table.

“Thank you for having me,” Rinehart
said. “Now, right away, I want to make it clear that I don’t think what I said
should be considered radical or, ‘controversial’ as you said. How could
defending your home ever be looked upon as something negative?”

“Surely, Senator,” Everwood began,
“you appreciate the position of Prime Minister Milish. You have to admit that
the dross are a threat to everyone.”

“Absolutely,” Rinehart replied,
nodding one too many times. “And that is precisely why the most extensive and
advanced network of satellites that has ever been created are currently
blanketing Earth’s orbit. There are multiple battleships in the system of Sol
that have the sole mission of shooting down any ship that attempts an
unauthorized landing on the planet.”

“Many races are still uncomfortable
that the dross continue to live at all. What would you say to them?”

“To have faith in us. Sol is a
restricted system for a reason. There hasn’t been a single incident of dross
escaping Earth or being a threat to anyone since the planet was abandoned. This
new insistence to purge Earth is ludicrous. It’s offensive to every human and
offensive to every member of every race who has love for their home planet.
Furthermore, it shows a distinct lack of trust in our military to thwart any
attempt to capture a dross. It makes me extremely uncomfortable.”

“What of Mars, Senator?” Everwood
asked, keeping her voice neutral. “The loss of Mars was a key topic during the
summit. Some say it’s the clearest evidence that the dross need to be destroyed.”

“The Martian disaster happened
during the war, not after it,” Rinehart glared across the desk. “It’s
disgusting how quickly people forget that fact. We didn’t know what we were
dealing with in those early days. That ship was filled with dross for that very
reason—to take them to a facility for study.”

Everwood straightened her back.
Burke gave the display his undivided attention. He had never seen Daina Everwood
lose her composure.

“That being said,” she began,
“don’t we have a responsibility to the other members of the galaxy? This
shouldn’t be a matter of faith or trust. Many feel that a danger such as the
dross, one that verges close to apocalyptic levels, should be eradicated no
matter what.”

“We have some responsibility,”
Rinehart replied. “We have a larger responsibility to ourselves and to our
history. Earth created us. We were born from that planet. That sets us apart
from other races, and them from us. We never shared a home world. We are
separate.”

“How is that any different from the
antiquated prejudice from Earth’s past? Many people throughout history used
your exact argument to describe people from other continents. Different races
on Earth alone never interacted for centuries. How is that different?”

“Please,” Rinehart gave a short
laugh and smiled. “I refuse to lower myself to even answer that question. The
difference is plain to anyone who bothers to look. Or think.”

“So it’s not about racism for you,
Senator?” Everwood said, her voice level. “You’re pleased about the recent
marriages between humans and their vruan partners?

“I may not understand it, but I’m
very happy for them,” Rinehart answered, his smile too wide and his eyes too
fixated on Everwood’s.

“I’m glad to hear it. Thank you for
joining us, Senator,” she replied, and turned to face the camera.

Burke lowered the volume as the
display changed to local news. He had heard the report from Liveria about the
“string of murders coming to a mysterious end” too many times throughout the
day. Worst of all was the representatives from Spectrum Industries publically
mourning the murdered researchers.

“It’s wrong that they’ll get away
with it,” Rylan said suddenly.

“Maybe,” Burke answered.

“What do you mean?”

“Like Cass said,” Burke watched the
pilot carefully as he mentioned her name. “They didn’t know Lumen and Shaw were
still alive. They thought the implant had made them functionally brain dead. They
weren’t experimenting on them for no reason. They signed waivers.”

“It’s still wrong.”

“I know that.”

Burke cut through a piece of his
steak and forked it into his mouth. He took a bite and was disappointed. The
meat was too dry. It was a new meal he was trying and he was having trouble
with it. Searing the meat wasn’t helping.

“You fought on Earth, right?” Rylan
asked.

“Yes.”

“What do you think about Milish’s
proposal?”

“I don’t,” Burke said simply and
got out of his seat.

He carried his plate to the kitchen
and dumped the food. He put his plate in the dishwasher and left the room. In
the corridor, he looked to the helm and then to the engine room. He walked to
the rear of the ship. Cass’s voice emitted from the ceiling above him,
following him smoothly as he continued to walk.

“You’re being too hard on him,” she
said.

“I’m angry. And he deserves it.”

“It’s not his fault that one of
them died,” she replied.

“His constant comments about the
news aren’t helping that.”

He walked down the stairs and
around the engine. Close as he was, the thrum of the engine was loud enough
that he could no longer hear Cass. He walked quickly to the back of the ship
and entered the small room that they used for storage. With the door closed
behind him, the engine sounded like a distant hum.

Three days earlier, he had emptied
two of the crates in the room and pushed them together. He had taken spare
bedding from the unused bedroom and draped it over the top of the crates. Lumen
now lay on top of them. Cass had directed him through the process of connecting
Lumen’s augments to the ship. He had removed her arms and legs and then taken
off a panel in the ceiling of the room. Close to the engine as they were, it
was easier to find cables that they could reroute and connect to Lumen’s
exposed shoulder and leg sockets.

Burke looked at her and had trouble
seeing a person through the forest of wires and cables that hung down from the
ceiling.

“Have you made any progress?”

“A little,” Cass replied. “It’s
difficult. I’m learning as I go from what I can take from Spectrum’s network. The
link in her brain makes it seem like a computer sometimes, but parts of it
baffle me.”

“What do you mean a computer?”

“The information was transported
between Lumen and Shaw like I move files in my system. Maybe they did this
experiment to improve memory transplants for robotics. If experiences could be
copied from a person and refined for a robot, it would solve a lot of problems
in automation.”

“You’re too far ahead of me,” Burke
said.

“We fight slavers a lot. The reason
slaves are still worth the trouble of capturing is because robot workers
require too much micromanagement. If their programs could be supplemented with
experience from a person, or an AI, that could change things. There’s a reason
I’m so special, remember?” she said like she was grinning.

“Enslaving an AI is just as bad,”
Burke said slowly.

“If this technology improves that
won’t be necessary. Small, precise memories can be used and copied like files.
The robot is now perfect at that task. There’s no need to make a consciousness.
Everyone wins.”

“What does that mean for Lumen?”

“Right now, not enough,” Cass said.
“From what I can gather, she’s hollow inside. It’s like her memories were
dragged out of her when Shaw died. The link severed and took all of her
experiences with it. She’s empty.”

“Brain dead?”

“No. Everything is functioning
properly. She’s like a newborn again, except the maturity level of her body and
brain is causing problems. I could rebuild her memories. Maybe.”

“Maybe? Fake memories?”

“I don’t know, Burke,” Cass stated.
“Wouldn’t rebuilding her into a new person be better than just letting her die?
Just because her memories are gone doesn’t mean the rest is. There’s still a
consciousness in her. What would you do?”

“I have no idea,” he said honestly.
“No matter what you decide, you have my help. You know that.”

“Of course.”

He nodded and turned from the room.
He closed the door behind him and climbed the stairs. He watched Rylan exit the
kitchen and they exchanged a look before the pilot went down the corridor and
into the command room. Burke turned at his bedroom and walked inside.

He sat at his computer terminal and
read through the series of messages he had received, skimming most of them.
There was one of the regular messages from Natalie, a woman who worked at ACU.
She had been the one that taught Burke how to use his aegis when he purchased
it from them. He smiled when he read her message. The momentary peace he bought
at reading her words made him stop. He flipped his contacts on the terminal and
stopped at her name.

“Burke?” her face appeared on the
screen after a few moments.

“That’s me.”

“I wasn’t expecting a call,” she said,
but smiled despite her words.

“I was wondering if you’d be
interested in more than that.”

“Oh?” she angled her head back.

“You mentioned you have some time
off coming up. Do you feel like meeting my new ship?”

“Tempting,” Natalie’s smile widened.
“I need to speak with Cass, anyway.”

“Cass? What about?”

“Oh, you know. Tech stuff. Things
you won’t understand.”

Burke rolled his eyes. Natalie
laughed. He leaned closer to the terminal and, at least for a little while,
completely forgot about what he had done on the planet below them.

The following is
a preview for the next story in the Bounty Hunter series: Soldier’s Wrath.

Adam Bancroft stood in the cargo
hold of the ship and narrowed his eyes at his partner. Burke set the girl down
on the floor. She was unresponsive—she stared blankly at the ceiling of the
room and said nothing as the bounty hunters spoke.

“We’ve done our job,” Adam said.

“I’m not leaving all those people
behind just because we weren’t hired to get them.”

“Geoff asked us to save his
daughter,” Adam spoke quickly. “There’s Kristen. We have her. We’re done.”

Kristen curled up into a ball on
the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Burke looked down and saw that she
had been beaten recently. Her face was a swollen mess. Patches of her clothes
were blotchy with her own blood. Burke set his jaw forward.

“We were one door away from the
command room of the base,” he spat. “You’re going to leave them behind to get
away with this?”