The Sac'a'rith (2 page)

“On the contrary, I did not miss. I hit my target perfectly.”

“Why?”

“I hate slavery.”

He definitely could not be from around here, then. In the years since the fall of the Empire, slavery had steadily increased. As the economy collapsed, more and more people were sold to pay off debt, and now it was a normal part of life. I would guess almost everyone either was a slave or owned one these days.

“Then I guess I owe you my thanks for making me a fugitive,” I said.

“A free fugitive,” he said.

“Yeah. Well, I’d better get a move on. I will need to be clear of the area before anyone finds this mess,” I said. My clothes were soaked in Donovan’s blood, which would make it difficult to avoid notice. I would have to get back to Donovan’s place before anyone found the body and take
everything I could carry. After that I would have to get transport off this planet before anyone connected any dots back to me.

“Like I said, I am a problem-solver. Come to work for me, and I will take care of this,” he said.

“Work for you?” I asked.

“Yes, I travel in rough circles and could use a good fighter by my side,” he said.

“A bodyguard, then?” I asked.

“Something like that. I fix your problem here and you work for me at normal mercenary rates for a year. Deal?” he asked.

I had another very real problem: I was poor and it was unlikely I could steal enough from Donovan to last long. That made me a poor, escaped slave and a murderer on the run. My chances of making it alone ranged from slim to non-existent. I really had no choice. “And after the year, what then?”

“You either stay in my employment or leave: your choice,” he said.

I looked back at the body of my former master and realized I was trading one kind of slavery for another, but this one had an end date. One year and I would be free with a decent bank account. “Sure, I’m game.”

“Then let’s rewrite history, shall we?” he said and quickly went to work. First he connected a device to the store’s computer system and activated it; meanwhile I helped him to pile all three bodies in the center of the room. Then I remembered the meek man and asked, “Where’s the storekeeper?”

“He ran off,” he said, “before you came out of the back room.”

Once we had all the bodies together he placed an incendiary device on top of them and started the timer. “Let’s move,” he said as he disconnected his device from the computers. “I assume there is a rear exit?”

“Yes, this way,” I said as I led him out the back. We hurried down the alley just as the store caught fire.

“That fire will destroy all evidence of the fight. Those men are not likely to be missed any time soon,” he said. “As for you, we need to get you some clean clothes. Do you know a good place that does not ask questions?”

“This way,” I said. I led him through back alleys to be sure we stayed clear of any prying eyes. “That shop there, across the way.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Wait! If I step out there without a collar, people will notice,” I said.

“That’s fine. I bought your freedom two days ago when I hired you. We had the collar removed just this morning at Marty’s,” he said.

“But … ” I started.

“Just follow my lead.” He smiled and walked towards the store.

I shrugged and obediently followed him. Once inside the store I got some stares but ignored them as he bartered with the shopkeeper for some clothes much nicer than I was accustomed to. It was not long before my blood-soaked clothes were tossed into an incinerator, and I was dressed in something more befitting a rich traveler. I felt silly walking around in such fine clothes, but they did make it look more credible that I was accompanying this man.

“Come, we need to get to the spaceport before too many questions are raised about that fire,” he said and we headed across town. This planet was a dry, dusty place that very few people ever visited. The spaceport was a fairly small affair, used mainly by locals to escape the desolate world.

“Not good,” I said as we approached the gate. Not only were there extra guards on duty, I knew several of them. I had even fought with one of them in the slave pits. They knew that I was Donovan’s property and would no doubt be suspicious.

“Don’t worry. Stick to the new version of history and leave the rest to me,” he said.

As we approached the gate two of the guards went for their weapons. The third stepped forward and said, “Stealing a slave is a serious crime around here, mister.”

“How dare you accuse me!” said my new employer, flashing an ID card in the guard’s face. The guard went pale and fell back a step.

“John, it’s okay,” I said. “I am with him now.”

John tried to gather his composure and said, “Sorry, sir, but I am just trying to do my job. I need to do a quick scan of his ID and then I can be out of your way.”

“After that insult, you’d better make it fast,” said my new master, crossing his arms.

“Of course, sir,” said John with a stutter.

It was all I could do not to react when he scanned my ID. The screen showed my history, and it clearly indicated my purchase from Donovan two days previously and the removal of my collar this morning. Somehow he had really done it; he had rewritten history. I could not imagine how he achieved it. The ID cards were encrypted and secured at the highest levels with biometric encoding so that no one other than the correct person could use them. They were linked to a galactic database that was left over from the era of the Emperor, whose technology was greater than that which we had today. To change an ID like this should have been completely impossible.

The look of surprise on John’s face was priceless, but he and the others moved quickly to get out of our way and let us through. Once past them we headed towards the rear end of the spaceport, the section reserved for only the largest craft. Eventually we reached his ship, which was in the most remote part of the spaceport.

We quickly boarded and he immediately called for clearance to launch. His vessel was not at all what I had been expecting, but it did explain the reaction of the guards at the gate. It was a top-of-the-line trade hauler with the markings of the Resden Consortium on its side.

This region of the galaxy was officially part of the Phareon Kingdom, which was formed decades ago at the fall of the great Empire. The ruling party had been slow to seize power, and several major consortiums rose up to fill that power gap. The government still operated as if it owned and controlled all of the systems in this region, but the reality was that these consortiums held the actual power in many areas.

In this section of Phareon the Resden Consortium was all-powerful, and no one dared stand up to them. Even without my new history the guards were not likely to have stopped us. The consortiums usually tried to play nice with the government, but this was only for the look of things and not from any respect for official authority.

Once we were safely underway I turned to my companion and asked, “So, what should I call you?”

“Narcion will do,” he said. “I assume you want to keep the name Zah’rak?”

“Yeah, but how do you know it?” I asked.

“I scanned your DNA when I created your new history,” he said.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Like I told you, I’m a problem-solver. People hire me to fix things for them and pay very good money for it.”

“Yes, but this ship and your ID? Those aren’t for sale,” I said.

“Everything is for sale if the price is right, and the right price was collecting the ship.”

“What do you mean?”

“Someone managed to steal this ship, and the Resden Consortium wants it back. They gave me this ID plus a rather large sum of money up front to collect it. I stopped on your planet for some supplies en route to deliver it.”

It made sense that they would not want one of their ships being used by someone outside of their own number, but Resden had plenty of power themselves: why would they need outside help? I decided not to challenge his story just yet, until I knew more about what I had gotten myself into.

“So we deliver this ship, they pay up, and then what?” I asked.

“Then on to the next contract, whatever that turns out to be,” he said.

“I see,” I said.

“Now, your record said you were a pilot. Can you fly this thing?” he asked.

“This? It’s largely automated. A child could fly it in his sleep,” I said.

“Be that as it may, we will be crossing some dangerous space soon where the Resden Consortium has no authority, and we cannot risk leaving the helm unmanned. We will need to sleep in shifts.”

“You are taking us into the Zeta sector, then?” I asked with astonishment.

“Yes. They don’t want anyone to see the exchange, so they’ll meet us out there,” he said.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” I replied.

“Good; you shouldn’t,” were his parting words as he left the bridge.

I assumed he wanted me to take first watch at the helm, so I spent some time familiarizing myself with the controls. Once I had done that, I checked our route and saw that he had us flying directly off the map into uncharted space.

We traveled for three days beyond the end of civilized space, well into what was commonly called the Zeta Sector. This was not really a formal sector; it was just the general name for uncharted space. When the Empire ruled this area it established strict borders which no citizen was allowed to cross, and it was illegal to even make maps of the region. With the fall of the Empire and the rise to power of the various consortiums, very few people had the resources to travel out here, so the area remained largely unpopulated.

This made it a very good place for those on the run from whatever passed as law enforcement in any given area. There was not much in the way of resources, at least not that anyone had found, so these outlaws took to piracy along the borders of the various territories to keep themselves supplied. No one in civilized space knew what lay out this far, and most had no desire to find out.

As Narcion came up onto the bridge I said, “One more jump and we will be at the rendezvous coordinates.”

“Excellent. Can this ship scan that far ahead?” he asked.

“No. It seems that whoever designed this spent far more time on its armor than anything else.”

“Well, that could be very helpful. Plot our exit to come up at least a thousand kilometers shy of the rendezvous. That should give us a little time to react.”

I plotted the course and then said, “You are not expecting this to go well.”

“I have lived through enough deals of this kind to be suspicious,” he said. He strapped himself into the pilot’s seat and continued, “When we come out of jump space I want them to think I am alone, so let me do all the talking.”

“Yes, sir.” I was beginning to understand his personality, which was secretive; he told me very little. I was used to this, having been a slave for so long, but it did not sit well with my inquisitive nature.

“Engaging jump drives,” he said as we entered the azure timelessness of jump space.

Coming out of jump space has a disorientating effect that pilots affectionately call “post-jump hangover,” as it feels a lot like the morning after a heavy night. This means that a pilot is temporarily incapacitated for as much as a minute after a jump. During that brief time, the ship’s computers have to make all the decisions.

Once the post-jump sensation had passed, I saw in front of us what was obviously a trap. A small fleet of ships were arranged in a circle around the rendezvous site. They must have noticed us, as they were just beginning to turn in our direction.

Narcion turned on the communication system and called out a series of codes, which I assumed identified us to the approaching fleet. “There is a distinct lack of response,” I said.

“It appears so. Time for Plan A,” he said.

“Plan A?” I asked.

“Power up our weapons and target their leader.”

“Yes, sir,” I said as I followed his orders, “but we are a hauler, not a battleship. It might be wiser to jump clear while we still can.”

“Not at all. I promised to deliver this ship, and that is what I mean to do,” he said with a smile as he roared the massive engines up to full power and made for the approaching fleet.

As we neared the fleet he repeated his message several times, each time without response. I was starting to worry that his plan might not include our survival.

“Zah’rak, set the weapons to full auto and head to Cargo Bay Three.”

“Yes, sir. What do you want me to do when I get there?”

“You will find my personal cruiser there. Board it and get it ready to fly,” he said.

Now his plan started to make sense. I quickly set the guns to full auto as he had ordered and ran down to the cargo bay. There I found his ship, unlocked. It was a small, light, fast attack cruiser, perfect for an escape run. It had no specific markings on it of any kind and from the outside looked very plain. It was not the kind of object you would notice, nor would it stay in your memory. It was the perfect kind of craft for those who did not want to draw attention to themselves.

I released all the docking clamps and boarded the vessel. Once on the bridge I powered up all its systems and charged its weapons. I did not have any real combat experience in space, but I figured it could not be all that much different to fighting on the ground. The trick would be to stay calm and watch for attacks at any angle.

It was not long before I saw Narcion board the ship on the security cameras. Once he was aboard I locked down the ship, depressurized the cargo bay, and aligned the cruiser for launch. Since it was in a cargo bay and not a normal spacecraft dock we would have to open the bay doors and fly out instead of using a launch tube.

“Good work. Now we wait,” said Narcion as he took the co-pilot’s seat on the bridge.

“For what?” I asked.

“Right now the hauler is winning the fight out there, but it won’t be long till the larger ships engage and start taking down our weapons. Once that happens, they will send in their smaller ships to attempt to breach our hull with boarding parties. That is when we will launch.”