******
The city was called New York, but there was nothing new about it. It was one of the oldest cities on the North American continent of Earth. Following the A.I. War, New York was also one of the first cities to be rebuilt and modernized. Still, its ruined past from nearly a century ago was only barely masked by the pristine skyscrapers that rose up into the skies—skies that bore the same dark haze of pollution that its citizens tried so hard to eliminate when its cause was the calamity of war.
The streets bustled with mobs of people in suits. They went in and out of the buildings, looking like worker ants entering and leaving their nests of tall anthills—at least, that’s how they looked to Daniel Chin.
Daniel did indeed regard them as he would a colony of ants: mindless insects with a single-minded purpose, doing the bidding of their queen. Their reward was to live, eat, and go on another day of foraging and doing whatever the queen commanded. Their purpose in life was to work… and their reward for good work: more work.
He wanted to puke on their feet, stain their expensive shoes with the bile from his stomach. Watch their reaction as the putrid sight and smell of it attacked their senses… and hope to see them purge from pure disgust.
Daniel would laugh if that happened. He would even enjoy being sprayed and covered with their own bile in return—it would all be worth it. He resisted the urge of going up to one of them and beginning such an experiment. On another day, maybe, but today he had important business.
Walking into an office building’s lobby, Daniel knew he looked very much out of place. His drab clothing, short and slight physique, and unkempt facial hair attracted odd stares. Daniel ignored them, as he always did.
Yes, in his line of work, it would be to his advantage to fit in, but he didn’t care. He was good at what he did. So good, in fact, that he could practically announce his intentions before arriving and still complete his mission. His conspicuous attire was as close to an announcement as he would give.
He walked to an empty elevator and stepped in. Although other people stood waiting for an elevator, they did not join him. He smiled, then manually punched in the number for the third-floor suite rather than speak into the panel. The elevator hummed softly as it went up, playing its annoying and happy tune all the while.
Daniel wondered if the music was meant to be a subliminal control device to keep the ants in line. It would not surprise him; the kings and queens of the corporate world would stop at no end to keep the ants happily foraging.
The elevator doors opened and he stepped out into a reception area. A lone receptionist sat at her desk in front of a terminal. She looked away from the holographic display toward Daniel. The look of arrogant disgust on her face was enough to erase any doubt of her feeling toward him.
“Can I help you… sir?” she said.
Daniel gave an exaggerated bow. As he raised himself from the bow, he pointed his right hand toward her. A slight hiss sounded and the woman slapped her hand on her chest. She stood up and looked at him, eyes wide, and mouth gaping. Then she dropped onto her desk, unconscious.
The toxic micro-dart in his sleeve was not lethal, but she would awaken with a nasty headache. He walked over to the reception desk and pushed the panel that unlocked the door to the inner office.
Inside was a large and luxurious work space with various couches and small tables. A man sat at a desk, facing a holographic terminal, with his back to the door. He continued to work the terminal, unaware of Daniel’s presence.
Daniel strolled in, closing and locked the door to the office behind him. As he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his flicker pistol, the man whirled around in his chair, at the same time punching a button on his desk.
“Susan!” he said. “I told you I was not seeing anyone now.”
Daniel wiggled the gun in his hand.
The man’s eyes widened. “Susan! There is a man in here—”
“I wouldn’t waste yo breath,” Daniel said, feeling proud of the strong slum accent in his voice. “Yo secretary’s takin’ a long nap.”
The man raised his hands. “Who are you? Who sent you? I can beat whatever your payment,” he said.
“Maybe I work free, like pro bono,” Daniel said. “You know? Like one’a dem big-shot lawyers?”
“But I have money. I can pay you,” he said.
Daniel kicked the chair in front of him, sending it hurling toward the man, who ducked as the chair smashed against the holographic terminal.
“Oh, I know yo ass has money, Cronder,” Daniel said. “But that ain’t why I’m here.”
“Be reasonable,” Cronder said. “Whatever you want! I have friends that can help you, whatever it is—”
“Shut up, wanker!” Daniel said, pointing the gun at Cronder’s head.
Cronder’s lip quivered and his round face was pale white and dripping sweat. “Please, I—”
Daniel thrust the pistol’s barrel into Cronder’s mouth, shutting him up. Cronder stared up at him, his eyelids quivering.
“You know,” Daniel said as he reached into his pocket then put a cigar in his mouth. The cigar sparked and lit up on his first puff. “Normally I do a little bit’a research on someone before I take him out. But when I found you was a scumbag politician… man, that was as far as I had to read. I could’a done this shit for free!”
He blew a puff of smoke toward Cronder and extracted the gun from his mouth.
“Please, God!” Cronder cried. “Please don’t—”
“Mmmm! That all you gotta say? You a pious man or somethin’? It’s a long trip from here to God’s ears, Cronder. And this is hell—and he doesn’t listen to prayers from the damned.”
Daniel took a puff from his cigar and let out a smoke ring.
“I know why God don’t listen to yo ass, but I don’t want him to know that I know the secret. So I’m gonna whisper it to you.” He leaned forward to Cronder’s ear. “You see—God, well, he’s really confused. He’s still trying to figure whether creating man was a good idea or not. In fact, he so busy trying to figure this all out, that he just has no interest in saving yo ass.”
Daniel back away and raised the flicker pistol to point it at Cronder.
“No!”
“And I can’t say I blame him,” Daniel said. “Give my regards to the Maker. Tell him that until he can figure out what to do with mankind, I’ll keep them coming his way. Oh, and tell him to make a whole lotta room.”
The flicker pistol flashed and the accelerated particle struck Cronder square in the chest, sending him flying back into the wall. When his body finally hit the ground, the scent of burned flesh permeated the air.
Daniel Chin holstered his weapon and left the office.
Chapter 4: Rough Waters
Two hours after arriving at the bar, Julius left the ruffian pilots and made his way back to Merciless Errands. They would be getting into their own ships and joining him in flight soon. He took the familiar umbilical worm, silently bidding the holographic dancers farewell on his way out.
As he entered the shuttle, Julius expected Murdock to be repairing and tuning it. Instead, he found him snoring away in the copilot chair. Julius smacked the back of the chair hard.
“Are the detonators planted?” Julius said.
Murdock shook his head, blinked a few time, and finally straightened up. “Yeah, yeah… they’re set.” He yawned. “And I got the gravitational warp generator almost fixed; there’s a new part I need, though. We’ll have to go on standard propulsion for now.”
“So that’s the best you can do?” Julius asked as strapped himself in.
“Unless you can pull an anti-proton modulator out of your ass—yes, that’s what you got,” Murdock said.
“Fine. Make yourself useful and start bringing the systems online.”
“Yes, affirmative Captain sir,” Murdock said dryly. “How did it go with the recruits?”
“Good so far,” he said. “We?
??ll see for sure soon enough.”
Julius tapped a button on the communication panel. A three-dimensional image of a face began to materialize in front of him, and soon he saw Laina frowning at him.
“Let me guess,” Laina said. “You saved me the trouble of picking up the recruits… or maybe you decided they’re not worth recruiting and are headed back empty-handed.”
“Partially right,” Julius said. “I recruited them. We’re headed back with them.”
“I see,” Laina said. “Then you agree with taking them on?”
“Perhaps,” Julius said. “They’re combat pilots. I didn’t know they were combat pilots.”
“You never asked me,” Laina said. “Really though, I couldn’t care less if they were custodial workers; we need anything we can get. Are you heading to New Las Vegas now?”
“No,” Julius said. “You can send the first wave of crew on ahead. I’m going to take the pilots on some maneuvers before putting down at the Sea Wolf.”
“I see,” Laina said, rolling her eyes. “Try not to get them killed, Julius—we really do need all of them.”
“If they get killed, they shouldn’t be part of the pack in the first place. Julius out.”
Julius cut off the communication, then looked outside at the platform. Several umbilical docking rings began to snake out from the bottom of the platform and began to attach themselves to the recruits’ shuttles. The new pilots were ready to take off.
After tapping a few keys on the panel, Julius could hear the sound of the umbilical docking ring disconnecting from their own shuttle. A slight shudder reverberated as the propulsion engines engaged.
The lifted off the platform, leaving a trail of blue plasma in its wake. The other shuttles also lifted off and joined behind Merciless Errands.
Julius tapped a button on the communication panel.
“Gentlemen, are you reading me?”
“Affirmative, Captain. We read you,” Reece’s voice came back.
“Good,” Julius said. “Activating encrypted conference channel in five seconds: Five… four… three… two… one. Do you copy now?”
“Roger, we’re here,” Reece said. “Should we plot a course to Vegas?”
“No,” Julius said. “We’re not going to New Las Vegas.”
Julius could hear a grumble from the other pilots.
“Well, why not?” Reece said, sounding a bit too whiny for Julius’ liking.
“Change of plan,” Julius said. “Maintain communication silence until further notice.”
“What’s the big deal? It’s encrypted,” Reece said.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to hear your raspy-ass voice, Reece,” one of the pilots said.
Julius muted the conference channel. The pilots would need some discipline. Julius knew that Stromond’s organization was loose around the edges. They did not provide adequate training and drilling for the squadron. The complete opposite if his own philosophy.
Julius entered the coordinates into the navigation system and let it pilot the shuttle. He sat back in his chair and relaxed, or at least tried to. He felt tense—a feeling that seemed to come anytime he was away from his ship. He had come to realize that he only felt at ease when he was on the bridge commanding the Sea Wolf.
It had taken him years to come to the realization. Yet he could not understand why. The thought must have come to Laina as well. She had once commented to Julius that, “The only reason you like this ship so much is because it’s the only thing older than you.”
Perhaps Laina was right; or, perhaps it would take another hundred years before he would know the real answer. By then, though, he doubted he would even remember the question.
Julius stared out into the space ahead of them. His eyes searched for something to look at, an asteroid or a comet, but there was nothing except the many dots of stars to return his gaze, and they did not hold his interest. He turned to look at Murdock. He was sound asleep again. It didn’t sound like a bad idea.
They had been up for close to twenty hours now. He un-muted the conference channel. The cockpit filled with the sound of snoring from the other pilots. He quickly muted the link. Apparently they all had the same idea. A couple hours of sleep would not hurt.