“You are deluding yourself Mup. Do you believe these people, these cold-blooded killers are your friends? They are driven by greed and profit, not a search for freedom. I daresay many of them pillage and destroy for the sheer joy of it. That is purely evil. They are agents of destruction and disorder. They are using you just as the Institute does — for your strength, intellect, and agelessness.”
“I fell in love, Fromer. She was the pilot on one of my missions for the Collective. We realized that we had similar stories. Both of us were indentured agents for the Families. We lost our childhood to the calculus of galatic progress. Her brother, another pilot, had already rebelled and joined our cause. She was working for us while she continued serving the Families.”
Fromer winced. He knew this was Lizza.
“Of course, you knew her.” Mup snarled. “When we learned that she was providing you, my friend, with our movements through her brother, she had to die.”
“Mup, I had just contacted her a few days before. She never had a chance to provide me with information. For all I know, she was planning to send me false leads and was still loyal to you and her brother.”
“Nice attempt to defuse the situation. You remain a diplomat at heart. She confessed before I killed her.”
Fromer was puzzled. Did Lizza have a deathwish? Could the impossible position of serving two worlds have been too much for her? He would never know.
“Mup, you are lost. I need for you to surrender and tell your troops to give up.”
“We’re pirates. We serve no one but ourselves. And we don’t fear death. We planted fission charges throughout the canyon. I’ve set them to explode if your troops do not back off.”
“How do I know that you are not bluffing? They taught us well in school. This is a classic negotiation tactic.”
“I’ve rejected that life. Be certain my friend that I’m not bluffing. If you check the manifests of the Deacon, it was carrying five nuclear weapons. I’m sure you know that.”
Fromer had assumed the pirates sold the weapons to the underground markets. Scorching their loot, even in defense, did not seem to fit the pirate code of conduct. Still, the risk of losing the imprisoned passengers of the Stellar, about one hundred soldiers, plus untold amounts of contraband was unacceptable. He spoke into his transmitter and ordered his troops to fall back. Given the poor transmission quality in the crevasse, he was unsure whether he was heard by all. But the sound of fighting outside waned.
“Mup, we will starve you out. There is no winning this conflict. We will keep you confined to the canyon until you surrender. We can wait years if necessary.”
“The passengers of the Stellar will provide some bargaining power. We discovered a Family member among their ranks: Destin Fuerst.”
Fromer was seldom surprised. But there was no information about Destin being on this ship or missing for that matter. “Mind if I check your veracity?”
“By all means check, old friend.”
The Institute Command confirmed that Destin was missing, although he was not listed as a passenger on the Stellar manifest. Fromer also received an encoded message, only visible in his visor screen: DESTROY ENEMY AT ANY COST.
Fromer considered the impossible vision of his friend. They last saw each other nearly 15 years ago at some dull conference in nauron space. No conversations occurred between them. But Mup tipped his hat to his friend and Fromer knew their bond had not broken. How Mup had changed since then. But it wasn’t surprising. The sheer loneliness, the detachment, even the boredom was enough to send the brightest and most fortified into a tailspin. He had struggled himself. But to become a wanton, profit-driven killer? This made no sense. The Mup he knew and, yes, loved, was gone. It was time for Fromer to call his bluff.
Chapter 30 – Fight
Mup was ready when Fromer launched into the air and lunged toward him. Mup stepped backwards into the room behind him. When Fromer landed, the other hybrid had vanished. The cramped space was empty with the exception of a few chairs and a HM interface console. Fromer consulted his visor computer, which revealed a false wall behind the console table. Mup must have slipped through this way, Fromer thought.
After carefully surveying the space for traps and finding none, Fromer walked to the wall. When he touched it, his hand passed through. Holographic image, I will be damned. He gingerly poked through to find stairs leading down into the tunnel network. Mup could have gone anywhere.
He was greeted by a child’s cough in the darkness.
“Who is there? I am Fromer, a member of the Collective Command.”
“Thank God.” An adult male voice responded. “We’re the surviving passengers of the Stellar. Can you get us out of here? We’re dying of thirst.”
Fromer stepped down, still wary he was walking into a trap. In a passageway to his right was a small glowing door — the faint signature of a protective field. “Stand away from the door and cover your eyes.” He pulled a small gun-like item from his pack, aimed it at the door, and a plug of plasma screeched through the air. Upon contact, the door melted and the field disappeared. Fromer cautiously moved forward, his lancet firmly in his hand. One face, then another, and then six were peering at him through the entryway.
At first, one of them screamed, mistaking Fromer for Mup. Then they recognized his uniform — the patch with a red circle for mars and an open hand for zenat. He was an agent from home. Two human children ran toward him and grabbed his legs.
“Careful children. I am going to call in an extraction team. How many of you are there and are there others we should be searching for?”
A bedraggled man garbed in what was once the dress of an affluent mars citizen spoke. “My name’s Destin. There were fifteen of us. They killed the pilot and three crew members. The rest of us are in here. We’re tired and dehydrated, but otherwise fine. Please help the kids first.”
A group of six soldiers plus a shuttle arrived a few moments later. Fromer bid them luck and advanced into the tunnels. He dropped his visor and searched for information in the network of tunnels. A faint trace of warm air and elevated carbon dioxide wafted from one of the leftmost holes. These were taletell signs of a sentient. Given the high readings, Mup had crouched there in the dark, watching, for quite some time.
Fromer called down the tunnel. “Mup, my brother, it is not too late. I can help you. But you have to reconsider engaging the charges.”
He heard a faint, muffled laugh. Mup was playing with him. Fromer advanced quickly and silently, avoiding puddles and gravel and remaining vigilant in the pitch. His visor streamed information about heat and gas levels, which were rapidly rising. He closed in on his quarry. As he neared what appeared to be a blind end, a metallic thud shook him to his core. He looked up to see a massive door coming down. He stepped back and lobbed a plasma charge at the closed portal; within seconds the ceiling was gaping open, inviting him to jump up.
Fromer crouched and released the energy coiled in his legs, rising easily into what appeared to be another building. He spun around in time to see Mup’s lancet blade arcing toward him with a crack of a whip. The blade found Fromer’s shoulder, slicing an inch into his muscle. Blood spouted. No time for pain, Fromer. He crouched again and lept several feet over Mup’s head. As Mup turned, Fromer unleashed his lancet, running toward his friend. Before Mup could react, Fromer’s lancet was lodged in his opponent’s neck. Mup stared in disbelief as he fell to his knees. Blood ran in rivulets between his fingers.