Snippets of barely animated conversation drifted down the corridor; the droning sounds of people beleaguered by circumstance and bereft of caffeine. Hoxley couldn’t do much about the former, but the latter was eminently solvable. Without BOB, the nigh unending torrent of coffee that fueled the crew had abruptly run dry. This left many of them irritable to the point of spacing anyone who looked at them the wrong way. Fortunately, Hoxley had a secret cache of coffee beans for when he needed something more palatable than the mass-produced synthetic trash Starlux peddled as “coffee.”

“May I have some of that, best friend?” Beast asked in his lilting brogue. Hoxley had heard many a Hearthlight halfling with the same accent and surmised his furry friend was born there.

“No, no coffee for you, Beast.”

Beast’s eyes grew large and pitiful.

“Coffee will poison you. Your body can’t process it.”

“Couldn’t you just fix me with your magical powers?”

“No. Well, I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. In any case,” Hoxley said, grabbing a dried piece of liver from a jar, “you have plenty of great-tasting snacks that won’t kill you.”

Beast eagerly snapped up the meaty chunk when Hoxley tossed it. “Mmm, thank you. I would still like to know what coffee tastes like. There are so many foods I’ve yet to try.”

Hoxley smiled as he grabbed the carafe, “Me too. Tell you what, I’ll see if decaf is an option. I’m pretty sure caffeine is the offending chemical for dogs.”

“Isn’t it strange that coffee will kill me, yet all of you can’t live without it?”

“You learn to speak and suddenly you’re a philosopher?”

“What’s a philosopher?”

“I’ll explain later. Let’s just get this to them before they kill themselves or each other. Can you get the door on your way out?”

Beast hopped up and tapped the panel with a paw.

“Okay, remember, no talking in front of them. I’m not ready to disclose any of what’s happening to me yet. Not till I learn more. Odybrix already looks like she wants to toss me out the airlock.”

“Perhaps the coffee will help?”

“Here’s hoping.”

Hoxley stepped into the hold to see Odybrix sitting with her head against the table and Buddy propped up in the seat across from her. Adam sat atop a cargo crate with his eyes closed and Sturdy leaned dreary-eyed against the adjacent wall. Vesper and Annie McClue sat away from the group, perhaps out of a sense of self-preservation. The smell of coffee wafted from the carafe, summoning the dead from their slumber. Odybrix raised her head and stared at the container with unrestrained desire.

“What you got there, Hox?”

“Coffee. Real beans, ground and pressed. Do you want some?”

“I am on the verge of kissing you or slugging you. The outcome depends entirely on how fast you get over here.”

Hoxley stepped over to the table as the others converged like wolves on a fallen deer. He laid out the cups and poured the steaming liquid from the carafe. Odybrix ravenously downed the drink, paying no heed to the scalding temperature. The others followed suit but at a more restrained pace.

Hoxley smiled. “Well, what’s it like to have non-synth coffee?”

“I hate it,” Odybrix said, “give me more.”

Rapid steps rang out from beyond the med bay and the door slid open.

“Someone has coffee?” Zenith asked.

“Yes. Enough for everyone. Even our stowaways.”

“If your terrible and expensive coffee is in short supply, we’re not giving it to any stowaways,” Odybrix said firmly, murder in her eyes.

“‘Stowaways’ would imply that we’re not earning our keep,” Annie McClue said.

“You’re not,” Sturdy said, the rare trace of a smile curling on his lips as he slipped from the cup.

“Oh, I beg to differ.”

“Beg all you want, you’re not getting any,” Odybrix said, starting her third cup.

“I think you’ll change your mind,” Vesper said.

“I think so too,” Ozzy said over comms, eliciting strange looks from the crew, “Want me to play it for them?”

“Please do.”

A visual of Annie set in front of the backdrop of the assault on Levisia appeared on the hold’s display.

“This is Annie McClue, speaking to you immediately after the events on Levisia station, where an alleged assault by bio-terrorists led to the destruction of the station by the Remington Corporation flagship Baronnet. I’m here to tell you that the summary of events presented by Remington Chief Commercial Officer Vaughan Spectre appears to be, at least in part, false.”

The video cut away to a segment of the Remington broadcast displaying the crew’s headshots.

“The allegation is that these individuals subjected the inhabitants of Levisia station to a modified pathogen, originally created by Remington Corp. This is demonstrably false.”

The video transitioned to a montage of Vaelor blasting innocent station goers with green light and their subsequent grotesque transformations.

“This man, known only as Vaelor, appears to be the actual terrorist. As you can see from these scenes, he appears to be using an energy weapon that transforms those it strikes. There is no indication that this was a viral pathogen, as Vaughan Spectre suggests.”

The headshots of the crew appeared again.

“But what of the people he alleges to be terrorists?”

The image cut to a video of the crew embattled in Elysium.

“Here you can see these people, the mercenary crew of the spacecraft Sunrunner, actively fighting against the monstrosities created by Vaelor. As shown in the video, this is not simply a fight for survival. The crew can be seen on multiple occasions saving the residents and visitors of Levisia station from the violent mutants created by Vaelor.”

The video closed with a shot of Levisia being blown apart by the Baronnet.

“So what does this mean about Vaughan Spectre’s reasoning for the destruction of the station and the slaughter of millions of innocent lives? There is no confirmation that a pathogen existed aboard Levisia, and on-site footage suggests otherwise. The claim that the crew of the Sunrunner committed acts of bio-terrorism against the inhabitants of the station is patently false, as evidenced by their actions aboard the station. And finally, there is little information at all about the true culprit, Vaelor.

The destruction of Levisia appears to be an act of a mega-corporation attempting to hide something. In the days that follow, I will bring you more on this story and the mysterious circumstances around it.”

Zenith handed Annie a cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” she said politely. “It still needs some editing.”

“Here’s one for you too,” Zenith said, proffering a cup to Vesper.

“No thanks. I only drink tea.”

“Okay, it’s a counter-narrative,” Odybrix conceded, “but RC is going to throw their bloated corporate wealth on this to push their version of events.”

“I’ve got ins at a few newsrooms throughout the galaxy. They’ll jump at the chance to shove this in Remington’s face. I should be able to broadcast once we stop.”

“Thank the gods for journalism.”

“We can’t broadcast when we arrive at Gemheart,” Adam said. “Right now we’re traveling faster than their accusations. If we broadcast a video when we arrive, we’re going to invite a lot of unwanted attention.”

“Good point. We can make a quick stop at the nearest inhabited planet, broadcast there, then jump again. Stay ahead of the message. Unless they use a MiB,” Zenith said.

“They would need to know where we were going for that to be of any use,” Sturdy countered, “It’s going to take them time to figure out our destination.”

“What’s a MiB?” Buddy asked.

“Message in a bottle,” Odybrix answered. “It’s a transmitter attached to a rocket or projectile, or, if you’re a rich motherfucker with no patience, a mass reversion engine. Whatever lies you’re peddling could make it across the galaxy in a few weeks.”

“If we drop out of rev-space to broadcast it, that will give them a clue as to where we’re going. I say we hold off until after our business on Gemheart,” Adam suggested.

“I’m with you, kid,” Odybrix said, rubbing her eyes.

“Bad night’s sleep?” Buddy asked, then scanned the other weary faces in the room. “I guess that’s a question for everyone.”

“No, I slept well for once,” Hoxley said.

“Good for you,” Odybrix said, “maybe you’re refreshed enough to tell us how you’re connected to all of this?”

“Uh…”

Hoxley let the silence drag, uncertain of how to answer. Did he know the answer? Was he ready to tell them about his abilities? Oh, by the way, I’ve been cursed by a timeless monstrosity. I have vivid nightmares where I’m brutally murdered every night, but the upside is that I’ve got magical wizard powers. Check out this sweet lightning bolt. Beast stared up and tilted his head, as if suggesting that they simply let the cat out of the bag and be done with it. Hoxley stifled the suggestion with a frown, unwilling to commit to that level of honesty.

“The truth is that I don’t know what’s going on,” he said, skirting around a lie. “I’ve never met Vaelor before, at least, I think I haven’t. It’s hard to tell given the mask.”

“Okay, but what about this?” Zenith asked, vaguely motioning to all of Hoxley.

“I assume you don’t mean the entirety of me.”

“The lightning, Hox.”

“I, I don’t know. It’s new, okay? I’ve never been able to do something like this before.”

Beast let out a gentle snort of disapproval, unhappy with Hoxley’s lack of forthrightness. Hoxley frowned down at the dog. I’m getting enough flak from them, I don’t need it from you too. Zenith began saying something when another voice popped into Hoxley’s head.

They’re your pack. You shouldn’t keep things from them.

Did you just speak? I mean, in my brain, not out loud?

Of course.

You say that as if it’s normal!

It is.

“Hoxley?” Zenith said.

“Sorry, can you say that again?”

“I said, if you’re hiding something from us, now would be the time to get it out in the open. We’re up against people who wouldn’t think twice about killing us. We need to know where everyone stands.”

“That’s funny coming from you,” Odybrix said, bringing her cup to her lips.

“What does that mean?” Zenith asked, snapping to face Odybrix.

“The person who’s had the most success trying to kill us is your brother.”

“Vaelor has done something to him. He would never act like this. He’s career military and wouldn’t jeopardize his future, let alone raise a sword at me.”

“He’s tried to kill us twice now. The first time, he opened the dropship like a tin can. The second, he did the same to BOB. Had that been anyone else, they’d be dead—and BOB is hanging on by a thread and a prayer. So what I want to know is, if he comes after us again, are you going to take the shot, or are you going to freeze and let him cut us down.”

Zenith took a heavy step forward and bent down to Odybrix; the halfling’s face reflected in the mirror sheen of her helmet.

“That’s my brother; I’m the judge of whether he’s too far gone. If and when we meet him next, we’re going to drag his ass onto the ship and undo whatever’s been done to him.”

“And if he’s too far gone?” Sturdy asked.

“Then I’m the one who takes the shot.”

“Try not to forget where the trigger is if that beam blade is about to come down on my head,” Odybrix said.

“I might swing the sword myself if you go more than a day without coffee again,” Zenith said, irritated.

“I guess the last order of business,” Odybrix trailed off, pointedly looking at Adam.

“What? Why am I on the agenda?”

“Similar reasons.”

“Loyalties,” Sturdy added, drawing a tilt of the head from Zenith.

Only she and Hoxley knew that their less recent stowaway—the Sunrunner seemed to be amassing a collection of them—was an operative of Lenderan Corporation. Moreover, he had been tasked with retrieving the artifact Vaelor stole and with killing BOB. The former more or less aligned with the crew’s goals, and the latter, well, Hoxley hoped BOB survived long enough for it to become an issue. That said, Sturdy didn’t have any business talking about loyalties. The past twenty-four hours hadn’t afforded much time to sit and hash things out, but the three of them would need to have a conversation soon.

Zenith turned her head to Hoxley as if she were reading his thoughts. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging that they were on the same page, then let out a breath. They’d need to be careful when confronting him, there was the chance he could pull a gun and, knowing his luck, it would be Hoxley that got shot. Gods how he hated confrontation.

“Okay, I get it,” Adam said, “I work for Remington. But what happened couldn’t have been a legit operation. Spectre is trying to cover up something big to protect himself.”

Odybrix leaned back in her chair and said, “I think it would be more accurate to say you worked for Remington.”

“That guy doesn’t represent the whole company. If R&D knew about this-.”

“They tried to kill you, kid.”

“He tried to kill me. And he’ll pay for it.”

“You think anyone flying around with enough artillery to obliterate a fortified space station didn’t get orders from the top? They want us all dead to hide the fact they’ve been conducting some truly fucked up experiments.”

“My mo- Ms. Hargrave wouldn’t allow it!”

“Wait,” Sturdy said, keenly catching the slip-up, “Hargrave? Your mom is Millicent Hargrave? The head of Remington R&D?”

“I, uh,” Adam said, flustered.

“Vaelor stole the artifact from a research facility. You think the person at the top had no idea the company was conducting those experiments?”

Adam pushed away from the table, stood up, and said, “I don’t know what I think, okay?! I just came aboard so that I could find my dad and tell him off for what he did to my mom. I didn’t see any of this stuff when I was leading security for R&D. Were there rumours of secret research? Sure. People made up wild conspiracies all the time. I didn’t think anything of them. And now I can’t set foot off this ship without someone shooting at me or a monster trying to rip my head off. So I’m just trying to keep it together right now while I figure out what’s going on, okay?”

“You-,” Odybrix began.

“I’m as shocked and confused as anyone else. This was supposed to be a cathartic trip where I could meet my dad, ask him some questions, and maybe punch him. I need some space,” Adam said, throwing his arms in the air and walking toward the crew quarters.

When the door hissed shut behind him, Odybrix hopped out of her seat and started walking in the same direction.

“I think he wants to be alone,” Buddy said, warningly.

“Yeah, kid’s got the right idea. I’ll be in the armory.”

“Good talk,” Zenith said curtly, then spun on her heels and walked towards the cockpit.

“It was?” Buddy asked. “Everyone seemed kind of angry to me.”

“I think I’ll head back to the kitchen,” Hoxley said. “Call me if you want help moving around.”

Hoxley collected his empty carafe and made for the safety of the kitchen with Beast in tow. When they were out of earshot of the crew, the dog said, “I think they appreciated the coffee.”


—


Sturdy leaned against a crate in the hold with his arms folded. He took a drag on a half-spent cigarette and ruminated on recent events. Tension could be a positive or negative feeling depending on who you asked and when you asked them. Tension could prime a body for action, spur someone to make a choice in a moment of indecision, and keep someone alert to danger. In contrast, it could wear a body down, lead to bad decisions, and stoke the flames of aggression until they burned ally and foe alike. For him, tension had another use—cover. A crew on edge with each other wouldn’t have eyes searching for a spy. With a low profile, he could wait for the right moment to retrieve the artifact Vaelor had stolen and then…

He thought of the conversation he had with the coffeebot on Elysium. It had demonstrated a keen understanding of how organics thought and how best to put them at ease. That brought up some troubling questions. Had it grown adept at ingratiating itself to the organics around it? Was that ability a precursor to the tragic story Juniper had told him of the last rogue AI? Other AIs, even the ones aboard this ship, were socially capable. That generally meant they were well-built. Was the coffeebot a true rogue AI testing the waters, or was this all a mistake?

There was one question that superseded the others. Did any of it matter? Sturdy had been given an order: retrieve the artifact, destroy the bot. Straightforward.

The doors to the med bay and crew quarters opened simultaneously. Zenith and Hoxley emerged, heads turned purposefully toward Sturdy. Tension crept into his shoulders and the notion that he had eluded their suspicions vanished like vapour in a breeze.

This looks bad. He took note of a slight bulge at the side of the pilot’s waistband. A pistol. They know. His hand twitched as they approached and he stifled the urge to drop it towards his sidearm. They weren’t approaching with weapons drawn, nor did they bring the halfling or the RC soldier. A verbal confrontation then. At least it would start that way.

“Can we have a word?” Zenith asked. The tone suggested that compliance wasn’t optional.

“I know better than to say no to the pilot or the chef. Here?”

“Bridge,” she said, turning to lead the two of them.

Three. Study registered the soft padding of the dog behind Hoxley.

When they got to the bridge, Zenith leaned against a chair and her arms crossed. Hoxley posted up beside the door they had entered but didn’t block it. Even with an open exit, running from them wouldn’t be an option if the conversation went sideways. Assessing the space and threats, Sturdy quickly decided who would have to go down first. Pilot, dog, cook. Zenith had arms training and was a crack shot. The dog would either be confused or attack him—he’d take a bite over a bullet. And Hoxley, while a wildcard, lacked the confidence to overtake the others on the priority list.

“What’s this about?” Sturdy asked.

“Needed to have a word with you now that the dust has settled,” Zenith began.

He couldn’t say with certainty how much the pair had uncovered, but if they knew it all, any response he had would be seen as an excuse or deflection to cover himself. He had to assume they knew it all.

“I was going to say the same to you actually,” he said, opting for a nonviolent resolution to what was coming.

“Oh yeah?” She asked.

“I wanted to speak with you specifically. Well, anyone but Odybrix, given her feelings towards corps.”

Zenith was hard to read behind the helmet, but Hoxley fidgeting nervously, waiting for the answer.

“I wasn’t hired by Remington and I’m not a merc. I’m a Lenderan operative.”

When the consequences of his actions had nearly caught up with him, getting out in front of them often proved a useful tack in the past. That is, if the people receiving the truth were the reasonable, non-murderous type. He assumed that included all of the crew but the halfling. If these two weren’t reasonable, well, a pistol was a good alternative means of communication.

“Intel from one of our people embedded with Remington R&D indicated they had acquired an ancient technology. Its capabilities, if they were known at all, weren’t shared with me. I was tasked with the item’s retrieval.”

There was a tense moment of silence between the three of them. Study saw Hoxley’s hand twitch and watched Zenith’s posture shift. Sturdy breathed slowly, remaining still.

“Anything to add?” Zenith pressed.

“Yes. I made contact with a handler aboard Levisia. She advised me that the Sunrunner was harbouring a rogue AI and tasked me with terminating it.” He gave them a moment to absorb the confession, then said, “I’m not going to kill BOB.”

Zenith was motionless. He knew that she was calling the shots, and that she would be the one to determine the response of the others. Sturdy waited for her to say something, pushing down the urge to over-explain. He couldn’t give her any opportunities to doubt his stated intentions. Any misstep meant a firefight.

“And why not?”

“I’m a spy, not an assassin.”

After another long pause, her posture relaxed slightly and she nodded her head. He had told her what she wanted to hear—that the bot was a person. No doubt a conclusion she had come to herself some time ago.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” She said, placing a hand on her hip, “you’re going to shut the fuck up a out this and not mention it to anyone. I’ll determine when and how the crew finds out who you are. The last thing I want are holes blasted in my ship. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“I also need you to understand something.”

Sturdy heard quick footsteps from behind as the chef and the dog left the bridge. Blinding light filled the room in a flash, bathing his eyes in a field of white. A hard blow to his legs brought him crashing to the ground. As his vision returned he felt the cold barrel of a pistol pressed against his head.

“Give me any reason to think you’re lying, and the next demonstration ends with a hole in your head.”


—


Stupid mistake. He should have anticipated that she’d use the ship to give her an edge. She was the gods damned pilot. With a gesture she could have had one of the AI lock the door and vent the oxygen. She could watch him die from behind the safety of that helmet. Stupid, amateur mistake.

She hadn’t though. She could have killed him in any number of ways, but she chose not to. He’d convinced her that he believed there was nothing wrong with bot—that he wouldn’t kill it. Lies worked best when there was a kernel of truth in them. He wasn’t an assassin. Sure, he’d kill when threatened, but he wasn’t a murderer. Fortunately, destroying a faulty machine didn’t contravene that particular tenet.

He entered the corridor to the starboard side crew quarters, paused, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His thoughts drifted back to Levisia station and a calming tune began to play in his head. The image of the stumpy, relentlessly upbeat robot came to him unbidden. “I function to help others!”

Sturdy scowled and continued towards his room, pausing in front of the room Adam and Odybrix shared. The soldier sat on the bed with his head in his hands. Having no intention of playing ship’s therapist, Sturdy began to step away from the brooding soldier. Adam lifted his head with a sigh and they locked eyes.

“Have you come to offer your stoic wisdom?” Adam asked with uncharacteristic sarcasm.

Sturdy reached for the words that would most expediently end the conversation, but “I don’t care, I’m going to my room” seemed abrupt, even for him.

He settled on, “About Remington or your mother?”

Adam winced at the mention of Millicent Hargrave.

“She wouldn’t let them do this. Someone at Remington crossed a lot of boundaries.”

“Maybe. It could be a rogue agent, or maybe it could be them trying to desperately cover their fuck-up. Does that matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Adam said, disbelievingly.

“Really? Whatever the reason, whoever is behind it, RC wants you dead. It doesn’t matter who your mother is. The corp threw its flagship at you.”

Adam stared at his hands and didn’t respond. Sturdy thought that was a good sign to take his leave, but the soldier spoke before he could leave.

“So what am I supposed to do?’

“Fight. You’re lucky to be aboard a ship where people are willing to fight to keep you alive. If you’re ever conflicted about pulling a trigger, there are people here who will take that burden off your hands, regardless of the target. I’m one of them.”

Adam flinched as if someone had struck him. When he looked up again, the uncertainty and conflict had vanished, replaced with something cold. He rose from his cot and closed the distance until he was inches away, looking down at Sturdy. The bulk of the man often went unnoticed, concealed behind an amiable temperament. That mask hadn’t even slipped in the thick of combat aboard Levisia.

“You see these hands,” Adam said, his open palms hovering in Sturdy’s periphery, “they’ve broken bones, crushed windpipes—taken more than their fair share of lives. If you ever threaten my mother again, I will crush your skull with them.”

A firm hand pressed softly against Sturdy’s chest and in a display of explosive strength shoved him out of the doorway and into the adjacent wall with a thump. The door closed a moment later. Sturdy sighed heavily then walked to his room. He sat on his cot and stared at the wall.

“No more fuck-ups,” he said to himself, deciding to stay in the room until they’d reached Gemheart.


—


“Are things always so tense aboard this ship?” Vesper asked, a few hours after the blow-up between the crew.

“No, not normally,” Buddy answered, “everybody is usually well-meaning, even when they’re threatening each other. They all seem a little shaken up after what happened aboard the space station.”

“And you’re not?” Vesper asked, eyeing the back brace Dr. Jim had strapped on Buddy.

“I’m good at compartmentalizing. That’s what Adam says anyway.”

Hoxley stepped into the hold with a tray of pastries in hand, Beast padding closely behind.

“Are those for us?” Buddy asked, hopefully.

“Some are. The rest are going to ZT.”

Vesper took more interest in Hoxley’s companion than the food.

“Hey boy, come here,” she said, kneeling down. Beast obliged, happy accepting a scratch behind the ears.

“You’re so cute. Do you do tricks?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty useful in the kitchen, actually. He can pull out spices, set the oven-”

“What about normal stuff?”

“Cooking is normal.”

Vesper ignored him and looked at Beast.

“Shake.”

He placed a paw in her hand.

“Great! Lay down.”

He crouched onto his belly.

“Amazing! Roll over.”

He energetically rolled, then sprung up on his legs.

“Okay, now speak!”

Beast slowly turned his head and locked eyes with Hoxley.

“He’s still working on that one,” Hoxley blurted.

Buddy clapped, “Those are great tricks!”

The dog’s ears lowered and his posture shrunk at the sound of Buddy’s voice. It was like watching a child shrink at the sound of thunder. His lip curled exposing a hint of a glistening white tooth. Hoxley put a comforting hand on Beast’s back and gently urged him away before the growling started.

“Is he okay?” Buddy asked.

“Oh yeah, he’s probably just getting hungry. Anyway, better get these to ZT before she steers the ship into a star.”

When they were out of earshot of the others, Hoxley asked, “What is it about Buddy you don’t like? She’s probably the nicest person on the ship.”

“I don’t mean to cause trouble, best friend, but I know the smell of a predator.”

“We’re on a ship full of mercenaries. After Levisia, I think it’s safe to say we’ve all dealt a little death.”

“Not like her. There’s a lot of blood on that one.”