to enforce Orionis law in the Outer Rim changed the
Archangel’s
mission. Instead of constructing a mothership to reunite humanity, Orionis was building a weapon that would cast a long shadow over the entire system.
‘You think they’ll attack us first?’ asked Sig.
Vladric’s eyes answered the question.
‘We will take that ship,’ he said, ‘or die trying.’
Slowing its breakneck speed, the tram approached the platform of Delta Lab. The sprawling facility was sixteen hundred metres beneath the surface, built inside an ancient magma chamber. This was the heart of Ceti’s research and development; it was also where most of the narcotics it sold were manufactured. Long assembly warehouses crewed by men and machines loomed beside the group as they exited the tram; many of the captains charged with hauling the product to distributors hovered nearby, supervising how the contraband was packaged before being stowed on their ships.
One of them broke away from his companions and began marching directly towards Vladric. The guards quickly intercepted, but he persisted.
‘Commander Mors, may I have a word?’ he said.
‘Mind your tone and stand aside,’ Sig snapped, catching a faint whiff of alcohol.
Vladric raised a hand.
‘What’s your name,
captain
?’ he said.
‘Lazrel, sir,’ the dishevelled man said. Desperation was in his eyes. ‘Atticus Lazrel.’
Sig would have warned that this was a bad time, but it was too late.
‘Well, Captain Lazrel,’ Vladric said. ‘How can I help you?’
‘Sir, I’ve served Ceti for years,’ Atticus said. ‘I’ve never questioned anything asked of me. Not until now.’
‘What have we asked that imposes such a burden?’
Released by the guards, Atticus straightened up.
‘There’s a food convoy en route to Ironbound Prospect,’ he said. ‘I’ve been given orders to raid it.’
The Prospect was an asteroid colony on the Inner Rim side of the Belt. Although Navy patrols generally thinned the further one travelled from Eileithyia, any sortie inside the Belt was risky. The burn time from Zeus to Hera was three weeks; the return trip could take twice as long, depending on what was stolen and how much fuel remained. If Atticus Lazrel was instructed to target this convoy, it was either because he was a highly skilled captain, or because his commanding officer was intentionally setting him up to fail.
Sig had a strong suspicion it was the latter.
‘Ironbound,’ Vladric began, ‘is the property of Merckon Industries, correct?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Atticus said. ‘They get three shipments per year. The first was lost to privateers, the second to engine failure. I’ve been ordered to take the third … Ironbound can’t produce its own food. I have family there. They’ve been rationing for weeks and will starve if that shipment doesn’t get through.’
Atticus waited for sympathy.
‘Sir, my
firstborn
is there,’ he implored. ‘Vladric, please.’
Sig held his breath.
‘You realise those supplies are needed here,’ Vladric said, without a single trace of emotion. ‘And that Merckon refuses to negotiate a trade agreement with us?’
‘They can’t resupply,’ Atticus insisted. ‘That should be enough reason to consider other options.’
A smile surfaced beneath Vladric’s blank stare.
‘You see, Sig?’ he said. ‘Do you trust the men in your command?’
‘With my life,’ Sig repeated.
‘Would you trust this one?’
‘No,’ Sig answered.
Vladric turned his glare back to Atticus.
‘Don’t despair, Captain,’ he said. ‘We’ll bring your family here, and share their firstborn food with us ghosts as well.’
Atticus looked relieved.
‘Thank you, Command—’
‘I’ll also send more firepower to ensure our victory and the safe transport of your loved ones to Brotherhood, where they will begin their new lives with Ceti – after you’ve been executed for treason.’
The blood drained from the man’s face.
‘
What?
’
Sig
Archangel’s
mission. Instead of constructing a mothership to reunite humanity, Orionis was building a weapon that would cast a long shadow over the entire system.
‘You think they’ll attack us first?’ asked Sig.
Vladric’s eyes answered the question.
‘We will take that ship,’ he said, ‘or die trying.’
Slowing its breakneck speed, the tram approached the platform of Delta Lab. The sprawling facility was sixteen hundred metres beneath the surface, built inside an ancient magma chamber. This was the heart of Ceti’s research and development; it was also where most of the narcotics it sold were manufactured. Long assembly warehouses crewed by men and machines loomed beside the group as they exited the tram; many of the captains charged with hauling the product to distributors hovered nearby, supervising how the contraband was packaged before being stowed on their ships.
One of them broke away from his companions and began marching directly towards Vladric. The guards quickly intercepted, but he persisted.
‘Commander Mors, may I have a word?’ he said.
‘Mind your tone and stand aside,’ Sig snapped, catching a faint whiff of alcohol.
Vladric raised a hand.
‘What’s your name,
captain
?’ he said.
‘Lazrel, sir,’ the dishevelled man said. Desperation was in his eyes. ‘Atticus Lazrel.’
Sig would have warned that this was a bad time, but it was too late.
‘Well, Captain Lazrel,’ Vladric said. ‘How can I help you?’
‘Sir, I’ve served Ceti for years,’ Atticus said. ‘I’ve never questioned anything asked of me. Not until now.’
‘What have we asked that imposes such a burden?’
Released by the guards, Atticus straightened up.
‘There’s a food convoy en route to Ironbound Prospect,’ he said. ‘I’ve been given orders to raid it.’
The Prospect was an asteroid colony on the Inner Rim side of the Belt. Although Navy patrols generally thinned the further one travelled from Eileithyia, any sortie inside the Belt was risky. The burn time from Zeus to Hera was three weeks; the return trip could take twice as long, depending on what was stolen and how much fuel remained. If Atticus Lazrel was instructed to target this convoy, it was either because he was a highly skilled captain, or because his commanding officer was intentionally setting him up to fail.
Sig had a strong suspicion it was the latter.
‘Ironbound,’ Vladric began, ‘is the property of Merckon Industries, correct?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Atticus said. ‘They get three shipments per year. The first was lost to privateers, the second to engine failure. I’ve been ordered to take the third … Ironbound can’t produce its own food. I have family there. They’ve been rationing for weeks and will starve if that shipment doesn’t get through.’
Atticus waited for sympathy.
‘Sir, my
firstborn
is there,’ he implored. ‘Vladric, please.’
Sig held his breath.
‘You realise those supplies are needed here,’ Vladric said, without a single trace of emotion. ‘And that Merckon refuses to negotiate a trade agreement with us?’
‘They can’t resupply,’ Atticus insisted. ‘That should be enough reason to consider other options.’
A smile surfaced beneath Vladric’s blank stare.
‘You see, Sig?’ he said. ‘Do you trust the men in your command?’
‘With my life,’ Sig repeated.
‘Would you trust this one?’
‘No,’ Sig answered.
Vladric turned his glare back to Atticus.
‘Don’t despair, Captain,’ he said. ‘We’ll bring your family here, and share their firstborn food with us ghosts as well.’
Atticus looked relieved.
‘Thank you, Command—’
‘I’ll also send more firepower to ensure our victory and the safe transport of your loved ones to Brotherhood, where they will begin their new lives with Ceti – after you’ve been executed for treason.’
The blood drained from the man’s face.
‘
What?
’
Sig