3.1 Friends and Dependents

1 – Friends and Dependents

The pulse of the gravity drive woke Hector from a deep sleep, and he lay in his narrow bed, looking at the plasteel ceiling, trying to remember where he was—who he was. For a fleeting moment, he was on his Imperial Guard unit’s old dropship, the Confidence, and he almost leaped from his bunk, afraid he’d missed a muster call. The fog of sleep drained from his mind, though, and he remembered.

He remembered he was Hector Valerius now, at least to everyone other than himself and Evie, his aura system’s AI. He was on Maidensong, Gladia Ventress’s ship, and they were probably taking off from Mars, en route to Sojourn Station in orbit and, from there, to an asteroid field near the Jovian System. He yawned and checked the time on his AUI: 0455. Evie noticed his mental activity and spoke to him:

//The technicians finished with their repairs, and Gladia didn’t waste any time taking off.//

Hector noted a blinking icon in the corner of his vision. “The updates are finished?”

//Partially—the upgrade from Critical Eye to Apex Trance is complete, and I was able to begin your archetype transition sooner than I anticipated. I would expect it to complete in the next five hours.//

“Show me.”

Evie knew he meant the new ability, so she opened the window for him with a readout:

//Apex Trance – With an infusion of aura, you will effectively double your Perception attribute for a short time. As your Perception value transcends natural limits, you will experience moments of precognition, easing transition into the heightened mind-state of a battle trance. Cost: 5 aura per second.//

“Damn. As I feared—expensive.” With a pool of only 56 aura and plenty of other costly abilities to manage, Hector didn’t see himself using the new ability in a fight anytime soon.

//Hopefully your new archetype will open some avenues for intentional aura pool enhancements.//

“Yeah, hopefully.” Hector turned onto his side. On his back, the grav-drive made him feel like he was repeatedly sinking and falling. “How long?”

//Mae says they’ll spool up the impulse drives after breaking orbit.//

Mae was the ship’s AI, and she’d been instrumental in Hector’s efforts to retake the ship from Gladia’s distant cousin, Balus. The thought reminded him of his situation, and he rolled over to his other side, restless and irritated by how his mind wouldn’t settle. He was building a mental flowchart, tracing a path from himself through Gladia and Frederick Ventress, then to Loyal Ventress, her brother.

Through Loyal and his connections to Lucien Vigilant—Hector’s old comrade-in-arms and his chief betrayer—and to Alistair Ventress-Dane, Hector hoped to begin his bloody path of vengeance.

There are just so many damn steps in between.

//And it’s lucky there are, because you’re in no shape to challenge either of those men.//

“True,” Hector muttered. He let his mind drift to things closer to home; he thought of Lemon and her kid brother and how he’d gotten her mixed up in Gladia’s rebellion. He thought of Sass and how he’d promised to mentor her, but was he really doing her any favors by dragging her into the whole mess? There were so many people that he’d connected with, so many people who were relying on him for one thing or another, that he almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

What the hell kind of revenant am I? I claw my way out of death to find vengeance, and instead I’ve built a damn network of friends and dependents?

//Perhaps Fate had a different plan for you—//

“Don’t you start, Evie! Don’t you start throwing Fate in my face, too! Don’t I do that enough?”

Evie was silent for a while, and Hector thought maybe he’d cowed her, but then she spoke again. //You can’t blame me for being influenced by you. You believe things, and that makes me want to believe them.//

“I don’t believe, though—”

//You can tell yourself that.//

“Empirebedamned,” Hector growled, reciting one of Decanus Troy’s favorite curses as he threw himself over on his other side again. By then, his blanket had wound itself around his left leg, and he kicked violently, trying to free it. When he was resettled, he thought about Troy for a while—a man who’d mentored him when he was new to the Guard. He’d known him only for a few months, but the old soldier had left a solid specter in Hector’s memory.

The memories of those old days were relaxing compared to his current situation, so he kept his focus on those times, trying to picture every member of his first fireteam—easy—then his first squad, which was harder. He’d just remembered Fabri-Trooper Hamza’s name, an image of the dark-haired tech scrawling nicknames on all his drones, when he finally drifted off to sleep again.

It felt like seconds later when Evie woke him with a soft chime, gradually increasing the tempo until Hector grunted and opened his eyes. “What?”

//Gladia would like to meet with you—if you’re up.//

“Do I look like I’m up, Evie?” Hector threw his legs over the side of his bed and sat up. Evie knew it was rhetorical. She also knew he wasn’t upset. There was no way in hell that Hector would want to be seen as lazy or even “sleeping in.” He was dealing with Royals now—people with access to resources he needed. Respect and standing were on the line.

His clock said it was six in the morning, so at least he’d managed another hour of sleep. “Tell her I’m on my way. Where is she?”

//The bridge.//

Hector threw some cold water on his face, chewed a dental tab, then applied some deodorant. Feeling more awake, he put on his only clothes—a borrowed House Ventress uniform that Gladia had given him. Another thing I need to buy.

On his way out, he glanced at the suitcase beside his built-in dresser. He’d checked the contents the night before—three items, each worth enough to make him wealthy by most people’s standards, though one of them—the drive-core cipher—was on another level altogether, assuming the ship it activated still existed.

As he strode down the corridor to the elevator, he mentally queried Evie: How many fold-enabled ships does House Ventress have?

//Three, according to the Martian pub-net. They could be under-reporting for strategic reasons, though even with only three, they have more than most of the other Great Houses.//

What about the Emperor—House Lautrec?

//Seven, two of which are capital-class.//

The Carolina and the Sanriku?

//Yes, the same as when we were last alive.//

Hector nodded. The point was that if he got his hands on a space-folding ship, he’d instantly be elevated into a very exclusive club. The amount of freedom such a ship represented was enormous—freedom to act, to hide, to pursue.

I just need to ensure I’m strong enough to keep it.

//And do you think Gladia will go along with that?//

Hector stepped into the elevator and touched the selection for the command deck. She had better. She needs me for her own plans, and I’ll make sure she continues to see me as essential.

//So you agree with the philosophy of the Ventress splinter faction? The rebellion against the Empire?//

Hector snorted. I believe it will probably replace one dictator with another, maybe more well-intentioned, one. You and I know that intentions only go so far—only last so long.

//Do you think they’ll succeed?//

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Doesn’t matter, does it? I’m just riding their wake, looking for my vengeance along the way.

//But you believe the Emperor was ultimately responsible for the slaughter of House Conti.//

As the door opened and Hector exited, walking toward the door marked BRIDGE ACCESS, he nodded. True, Evie. I guess, at least in that regard, their rebellion will succeed because I will kill that man, even if it takes my dying breath to do it.

The door opened at his approach, and Gladia turned from her command console to smile his way. “Good morning, Hector.”

He nodded, glancing around the bridge—seven stations, but Gladia was the only person present. “Morning.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you?”

He stepped closer, eyes on the viewscreen that, at that moment, was displaying a stunning view of the green-striped, ruddy orange curve of Mars’s landscape. “Nope.”

She followed his gaze. “We’ll dock with Sojourn in seven hours.”

“Must be a lot of traffic.”

“Well, Maidensong isn’t the largest ship around, but she requires a class-B berth, so we’re in a queue. It’s fine, though; transit will take a couple of hours, and I thought you’d probably want some time with your team. The reason I called you here was to give you this”—she reached into her pocket as she spoke, withdrawing a slender silver disc—“and to discuss your compensation.”

Hector took the disc, eyes widening slightly as he realized what it was—a potentia bank. “From Lux?”

“That’s right—your share, which was precisely half. The rest will go to Flint when he’s awake.”

“He doing all right?”

Gladia smiled, nodding. “Thanks to you. He won’t be conscious for a few days, but I’m looking forward to that conversation.”

Hector slid the disc into his pocket, and Gladia laughed—a genuinely mirthful sound—as she shook her head at him.

“Don’t you want to know how much it is?” When Hector didn’t respond immediately, she laughed again. “Over three hundred units! Can you believe Lux had so much potentia sitting free? He must have killed his way through the rift before Balus called him home.”

Hector smiled, but it wasn’t at her words; it was at the thought that he was sitting on over a thousand units himself. Still, another three hundred was a welcome boost; he intended to burn through his cache as quickly as possible. “Well, that’s good news.” He shrugged. “I need it.”

“I would say you do. Speaking of which, Sparling’s coach is meeting us at Sojourn—according to Iris, he’s rather irritated at your demand to train aboard the ship. I don’t think she’s told him where we’re going yet, either.” Gladia smiled, her porcelain-smooth skin creasing in a series of tiny lines around the corners of her mouth. “I’ll let you break it to him.”

“Not a problem.”

“You seem surly,” Gladia said, tilting her head. “Trouble sleeping?”

Hector sighed and rubbed his chin, frowning at the sandpaper-like stubble he found. He glanced at his sleeve and deflected the question. “I need some new clothes.”

“Oh? So it’s the uniform making you grumpy?” Hector didn’t nod, but he didn’t deny the accusation, either. Gladia snorted softly. “Well, I’m sure you’ll have time to pick up some new personal effects on the station. Speaking of which, I contacted a broker who’s friendly to my family—to our side of it. His name is Xan Silver. He didn’t make any promises—gold-class aura systems aren’t easy to come by—but if any are to be had on Sojourn, then he’ll make them available to you. I’ll have Mae send you his address.”

That bit of news brought a smile out of Hector, and he said, “Thanks.”

“Mind you, I’m giving you access to my credit line with Xan, but only for one aura system.” She lowered her voice, even though they were alone. “I have a rebellion to fund.”

Hector shook his head. “I only promised the one, but I have some crew who could use some upgrades.”

“Well, that’s what your operating account will be for. I’m going to have Mae give your AI access to an Imperial bit-vault with some funds. I’m sure you have your own resources, too.” She arched an eyebrow in question, and Hector nodded.

“Sounds fair. You have a training facility my team can use? I’d rather not get them mixed up with your own troops.”

“There’s a palaestra on deck three. Mae can give your people access.” She laughed, though there was a derisive edge to the sound. “As for my troops? I have two security personnel, Hector—not counting Flint.”

Hector watched as a small shuttle, burning a long, orange chemical plume, passed across the viewscreen. When it was gone, he looked at Gladia and said, “You’ll have my blade if you need it, as long as we’re together, and that will go for my people, too. If things go as I hope they will, that may change when we reach our destination.”

Gladia shook her head. “No, it won’t change so soon. If you really have a fold-ship hidden out there, then I won’t let you leave me behind—nor Iris. You’ll need to bring us back to Mars with you so that we can continue our preparations for…the Games.” He knew she meant a lot more than just Hector’s participation in the Tharsis Games. After he killed the Governor of Mars, there’d be battles to fight, resources to seize, and the Empire’s retaliation to prepare for.

He didn’t argue—just nodded and turned his gaze back out at the starscape displayed on the viewscreen. Gladia continued to look at him, and he could feel her eyes, feel the weight of her unasked questions. Before she could muster the courage to ask any of them, he said, “I’d like you to put Melanie Mathews and Lemon on that account you promised.”

“Did you know Lemon’s father was West Korhonen?”

Hector looked at her. “Was?”

“Well, I don’t have access to Whisper Rock’s prisoner manifest…I suppose he could still be alive.”

“What did he do, anyway? Lemon told me he spoke out against the Empire.”

“Oh, he did more than that. He tried to organize a worker’s union—held rallies, gave speeches. He was the real deal.”

“So? Why’d the Empire step in? That’s usually a job for the company.”

“I looked him up; he spoke about a lot more than simple workers’ rights. He held rallies about representative democracy and imperial overreach. I’m not surprised the Governor cracked down.”

Hector arched an eyebrow. Told you there wouldn’t be much difference between the current Empire and whatever she and Freddy want.

//Ask her what she means.//

“Not surprised, huh?”

“Oh no. If you knew how many times Lautrec agents have tried to kill me…” She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head. “Let’s just say that Balus wasn’t the first.”

Hector turned toward the door. He wanted to go and meet with his people—he wanted to drain that potentia bank and finish his archetype update. Something made him look at Gladia again, though, and ask, “Is that what you want? A different kind of government? Some kind of democracy?”

She smiled. “Something like that. Loyal has big plans, and I hope he’s successful. Let’s leave it at that for now, shall we?”

“Happy to.” He nodded toward the door. “I’ll meet with my people now.”

“I’ll have Mae alert you when we’re nearing port. I hope you don’t mind, but Iris wanted to accompany you to meet my broker. She’s after a few things.”

“More the merrier.” With that, Hector strode to the door, daring it to open too slowly, but it was quick enough, and he passed through without breaking stride.

//Shall I contact the others?//

“Yep, but tell Lemon to let Kit sleep. Call the meeting in the mess hall for everyone else—not optional.”

Twenty minutes later, after taking a walk around the ship to kill some time and give everyone a chance to wake up and get down to the mess hall, Hector strode through the arched opening and scanned the tables. He was a little relieved to see his people all together at one long table. Part of him had wondered if the folks from the rift would self-segregate.

They were all there, though, and they weren’t even sitting in cliques. Kristy was right in the middle, talking animatedly with Sass; Orin was beside her, laughing; Lemon was leaning her head close to Paige, listening to her ramble on about something; Demon and Mathews were sitting at the far end of the table, neither speaking as they worked on their food.

Then there was Ling—the former rift collection tech was sitting at the near end of the table, his plastic prosthetic leg held out straight, and his cane leaning against his thigh. He was staring at Kristy, listening raptly to whatever she and Sass were discussing. If Hector had to guess, they were talking about him.

He knew several of them spotted him standing there, but they didn’t stop talking or call out—maybe because they didn’t want to irritate him, or maybe to show they didn’t think they had to. Hector didn’t mind; his primary goal for the day was to integrate the two groups, and it looked like it was already happening. He walked over and stood at the head of the table, near Ling, staring until everyone—Kristy was last—grew quiet and looked at him.

“Good morning,” he said.

Everyone reacted to the simple statement differently. Kristy snorted a quick laugh and glanced at Sass, but Sass wasn’t looking.

“Morning, Hector!” she replied brightly, and Hector was surprised to see that her skull tattoo was hardly visible.

After that, everyone else followed suit in one way or another, from Orin’s quick, “Morning, Boss,” to Mathews’s hooded glare and nod.

Hector nodded. “From now on, we’ll meet in the training bay at 0800. We’ll all do some exercise together, and then some of us will commence combat training while others will depart to work on other tasks. We will stay busy, though. Life on a ship can turn to shit very quickly without discipline, and we won’t let that happen.”

He ran his eyes over everyone’s faces, ensuring they gave him some kind of acknowledgement, even if it was only to look at him. When he got to Mathews, he paused, frowning. She looked like hell—dark circles, wan complexion, hair a mess. Maybe she felt the grav-drive, too.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Listen, we’re going to hit Sojourn Station in a few hours, and that means we’ll have some time to stock up on gear. I’ll be taking Sass to meet someone about an aura system.” He paused, smiling as Sass made a slight choking sound and sat up straight. “The rest of you will split up into two teams. Lemon, I want you, Ling, and Paige to come up with a list of non-combat-oriented equipment we might need. Mathews?”

He waited until the rift-team commander looked at him, something that took several seconds longer than he’d expected. “Yeah?” she finally asked.

“You’re in charge of purchasing guns and armor.” He jerked his thumb at Ling. “Some cybernetics for this guy, and Orin needs a new aura system—something on par with what you and Kristy are running.”

“Oh, hey, boss!” Orin lifted a heavy hand, shaking his head. “You don’t need to do—”

Hector cut him off. “You’re running rust-tech, Orin. We need you ready to do the job.” A thought occurred to him, and he looked at Demon. “What about you?”

The strange, quiet man shook his head, his dark eyes impassive. “No thank you, sir.”

Hector thought about arguing, but he had his hands full as it was. Instead, he looked at Mathews and said, “Help him pick out some weapons and armor.”

She nodded. “On it.”

“Do we use the account—” Lemon started to ask, but Hector shook his head, pointing from her to Mathews.

“You’re both getting added to a new operating account. Make sure you send receipts my way.” He tapped his temple. When she nodded, Hector looked up and down the table. “Any questions?”

Kristy raised her hand.

“Yeah?”

“Like, I’ve never been to Sojourn, but I follow a guy who does custom mods, and he’s stationed there. Can we have any free time?”

Hector nodded. “Yeah. I’ll get a departure schedule from the ship’s AI. When I see what the timeline looks like, I’ll assign some personal leave.” Kristy grinned, exposing her too-long pointed canines, and Hector had a feeling she was about to get a new helmet—at least. He looked around the table and tried to muster a friendly smile—judging by the reactions, he failed. “Now, if that’s all, I’m starving.”