Reavers (Book 3) (16 page)

Henry simply smiled.

“Who’s this?” Angela asked entering the foyer.

“He says his name is Henry,” Cassandra said, eager for the backup.  “Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Henry.”  Angela nodded politely to the odd man.  “Are you a friend of Brent’s?”

“I suppose you could put it that way,” Henry said with a deep smile.

“Then I guess we are all waiting for the man of the hour,” Angela said politely.

“We should join the others,” Octavia said, pulling Henry along.

Angela and Cassandra watched as the odd man disappeared around the corner.  Cassandra waited for Angela to signal he was far off enough for them to talk without being overheard.  After an unbearable amount of time, Cassandra shook her shoulder.

“Sorry,” Angela said as she shook her head.  “I was lost in thought.”

“There is something wrong about that man,” she said as she rubbed her arms, attempting to shake away the memory of the cold stare.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Angela said thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“His emotions.  They aren’t quite right.”

“How so?”

“They are too regular.  I swear you could set a metronome to them.”

“
What
?” Cassandra asked in surprise.

“Angela is a Weaver who perceives emotions through sound,” a voice said from behind them.

The two girls spun around to find Brent standing calmly behind them.

“From the metronome comment,” he continued as he shut the door behind him. “I’m guessing it’s more musical than just random sounds though.”

“Where were you?” Cassandra nearly shouted.

“Sorry about that.  Had some unfinished business at the university.  You are looking well, Angela.  It’s been far too long since our last get together.”

She nodded with a smile.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?” Cassandra fumed.

“The only thing that could upset you this badly is if your parents are here.  Or Cain.  Or perhaps both.”

“They are
all
sitting in the living room,” Angela said as she put a calming hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.

“Which one?” Brent asked.

“You have more than one?” Angela asked in surprise.

“The nearest one,” Cassandra said, still obviously annoyed.  “Plus, a man named Henry has shown up.  Octavia seems to know him.  I don’t like him.”

“I’d be surprised if you did,” he said with a warm smile.

Cassandra had to blink as he planted a quick kiss on her cheek.  Shaking the surprise away, she quickly followed after him as he headed toward the occupied living room.

“You know him?” Angela asked.

“More or less,” Brent said over his shoulder.  “Don’t worry, he’s perfectly harmless.  Mostly.”

The living room was a mad house.  Cain and Rupert were exchanging insults while Abigail tried to rein in her husband.  Martin and Octavia were talking politely, pausing every now and then to laugh at Cain and Rupert’s verbal sparring.  Henry was standing in the corner, watching the scene silently with an unnerving intensity.

“There you are,” Cain said as he gestured them over.  “Cassandra’s dad is a real peach.  How have you endured him all this time?”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” Rupert growled.  “I’m only a foot away from you.”

“He’s only trying to provoke you dear,” Abigail said soothingly.  “Try to calm down.”

“It does work, Dad,” Cassandra said with a smile.  “If he can’t annoy you, he moves on to someone else.”

“I’m hurt,” Cain said in any overly dramatic voice.  “What do you think I am?  A parasite?”

“Never, Cain.”  Cassandra paused for a second.  “After all, that would be an insult to parasites everywhere.”

Angela burst into laughter as he grumbled.

“Sorry for stopping by unannounced,” Martin apologized to Brent.

“No need to be sorry,” he said warmly.  “Your birthday only comes around once a year.”

“You knew he was coming over?” Cassandra asked in surprise.

“That surprises you?”  Cain jumped out of his seat and moved to Brent’s side.  “I bet you he’s got some kind of surprise party stashed away.  He’s always been a resourceful one.”

“Is that true?” Martin asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Being resourceful?  Maybe.  But having a surprise party?  That’s more credit than I deserve.”

Brent winked at Octavia.  Martin watched as the girl quickly left the room.  Moments later she returned carrying a giant cake.

“I don’t believe it,” Abigail said as Octavia set the large cake down on the table in the center of the room.

“I bet it’s his favorite flavor, too,” Cain said with a grin.

Martin hesitantly approached the cake and gingerly scooped off some of the frosting with a finger.  After carefully tasting it, his eyes widened.

“How did you know?” Martin asked Brent while staring at Cassandra.

“Don’t look at me,” she said defensively.  “I’m not sure
I
know your favorite flavor.”

“Well don’t stand there with your mouth open,” Cain said, putting an arm around Martin.  “Take a slice.  This is a party after all!”

Octavia quickly cut the cake and started passing around slices.  She made sure Martin got an extra large slice from where he had taken the sample.

“What is this flavor?” Angela asked after trying a slice.

“I don’t believe it!” Cassandra exclaimed after taking a bite.  “How did you get your hands on this?”

“I made a deal with one of the restaurants near the university.  Had to have it imported from halfway across the Commonwealth,” Brent said with a shrug.

“It’s kiwi, right?” Cain asked.

“You’ve had this before?” Angela asked in surprise.

“A couple of times.  No offense, Martin, but it’s not one of my favorite foods.”

“More for him,” Rupert said as he cautiously placed a bite in his mouth.

“I wouldn’t speak too loudly, dear,” Abigail said with a tiny smile.  “After all, you forgot today completely.”

Cain and Martin both snickered as Rupert silently ate his cake.

“So
this
is how you spend your time?” Henry asked.

“Not a fan of cake?”  Cain pointed to the odd man’s empty hands, folded neatly behind his back.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, who exactly are you?” Rupert asked after swallowing.  “I’ve spent most of my life down at the marketplace, and I’ve never seen you before.”

“There is more to the universe than your diminutive trading center,” Henry said coldly.

“Be nice!” Octavia said sternly.

“Must be a friend of the norm,” Rupert grumbled.

“The
what
?”  Angela turned a stunned expression on him.

“Shut up and eat your cake, dear,” Abigail said as she shoved a fork full in his mouth.

“Brent? 
Normal
?” Cain asked, restraining a chuckle.

Martin opened his mouth to apologize, but before he could get a single word out, Henry interrupted with hysterical laughter.  Instead of scolding him, Octavia cracked a small smile.  The floodgates opened; Cain quickly joined in laughing nearly as hard as Henry.  Rupert wasn’t sure how to react.  Cassandra sighed in embarrassment.  Brent simply kept on silently enjoying the cake.

“So what brings you here, Henry?” Brent asked after the laughter died down.

“I would think that is obvious,” Henry said, sounding a little surprised at the question.  “Your wife of course.”

Octavia quickly elbowed him as the others stared openly.

“What about Cassandra?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“He does not know?” Henry asked Octavia in complete surprise.

The little girl groaned as she buried her face in her hands.

“I think he just let the cat out of the bag,” Cain whispered leaning next to Angela’s ear.

“The question is, what cat?” she whispered back.

Brent turned a questioning gaze at Cassandra.  She shifted uneasily.

“This isn’t the place for this,” Abigail said as she moved between them.  “This was a lovely gesture; let’s not ruin it.  Everyone have some more cake.”

The others didn’t stir.  Abruptly, Rupert yelled out.  Everyone turned to find a small mound of cake slowly sliding down his face.  Without thinking, he grabbed the small remainder of his slice and tossed it at his attacker.  Cain swiftly dodged the flying bit of frosting.  Unprepared, Angela was hit squarely between the eyes by the falling food.  She swiped at her face and studied the cake in her hand.  Slowly her eyes narrowed.

“You’ve done it now,” Cain shouted as he dived behind a sofa.

Her anger written all over her face, she hurled her cake at Rupert.  He ducked at the last minute, with the piece flying over his head and landing on top of Martin’s head.  He quickly took some of his slice and tossed it at her in retaliation.  Within moments the entire group was throwing food, save for Henry who had stepped out of the room at the first sign of trouble.  While the others were disposed, Abigail grabbed Brent and Cassandra and discreetly drug them out of the room.

“Thank you for the . . . unique party,” Abigail said to Brent.  As he chuckled she turned to Cassandra and leaned next to her ear.  “Now dear, take your husband and clear this whole thing up.”

She nodded and hesitantly took his hand.  As she took him back to their room, Abigail returned to what was left of the party.  Even as they reached their room, the sounds of laugher could clearly be heard.  With the door shut behind them and privacy restored, Cassandra moved to the edge of the bed and sat.  She fiddled her hands anxiously.  He took a seat next to her.  Without warning, she leaned over and kissed him passionately.

“What was that for?” Brent asked.

“I just wanted to remember what it felt like, before you started hating me.”

He chuckled as he took her hand.

“Don’t be silly.  I could
never
hate you.”

“How can you say that?  You don’t even know what this is all about!”

“It doesn’t matter.”  He leaned over and kissed her.  “I’ll always love you.”

Tears started to form in her eyes.

“I should have told you from the start,” she said swiping at her eyes.  “I’ve been so stupid.”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not!  I should have known he never would have approved.  I shouldn’t have kept this from you.”

“Who?  Rupert?”

She nodded.

“What does he have to do with anything?”

“I wanted him to approve of you before I told anyone.  I had hoped so badly he’d change his mind and accept the news.”

“What news?”

Cassandra sniffled.  Brent lifted her chin and wiped away her tears.

“Now none of that.  We’ve agreed there would be no tears between us.  No regrets.”

She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly.  As she dug her head into his shoulder she mumbled something he couldn’t make out.  Pulling her back slightly, he stared into her eyes warmly.  A faint smile filled her face.  With a nod to herself, she decided to tell him.

“Brent, I’m pregnant.”

Surveying the data again, Mahoney nodded, accepting the figures.  The mining personnel noticed his content smile and quickly secured themselves.  Reaching into his pocket, he removed the remote detonator.  The silver cylinder felt smooth and cold as he firmly gripped it.  Pressing down on the top of the cylinder sent the command to the charges.  In the predetermined order, the charges released their force and split rocks.  In the distance, Mahoney could make out the small plumes of orange light as they burst through the surface of the asteroid.  For a few tense moments the mining personnel held their breath as the data poured in.

“You’ve done it again, sir,” the mining coordinator shouted in excitement as he waved his pad victoriously.

“Was there any doubt?” one of the miners asked as she joined in the cheering.

Mahoney simply shrugged as he packed up his supplies.  The mining personnel laughed and cheered as they studied the data.  Truth be told, Mahoney was ecstatic.  With the tentative peace between the Shard and the Commonwealth, there was no place for him in the military.  The entire Commonwealth was focused on rebuilding and preparing for the worst.  Mahoney and his kind were born to destroy, not create.  With nothing more than simple charges he could paint a canvas of destruction to the closest of criterion.

Fortunately, while the Commonwealth military had little use for him, several corporations were standing in line for his services - particularly the mining corporations.  Any idiot could throw down some explosives and clear a way to mine on a planet.  However, in space a skilled touch was needed.  Too much force and you could split the asteroid or, even worse, dislodge the resources you wanted, sending them floating into deep space never to be seen again.  Position the explosives in the wrong arrangement or orientation and you could change the asteroid’s orbit or rotation.

“We’ve already transferred the credits we agreed on,” the mining coordinator said ecstatically.  “Congratulations by the way.  I wish you luck on your next job.”

“We all do!” one of the female miners said as she put a hand on his shoulder.  “We’ll be rooting for you.”

“Thanks,” Mahoney said with a smile.

As he made his way from the control room to the docking port, his smile widened.  Today had been his ninety-ninth successful detonation in a row.  The next job would make an even hundred.  Not the record, but an accomplishment to be proud of nonetheless.  As he passed by the workers of the corporation, they would pause and salute.  Not only was he a trooper of the military to them but the man who had just made sure this facility would continue to run for another three years, at least.

His drop pod was prepped and waiting when he reached it.  The pampering wasn’t the attraction of the job.  Mahoney honestly loved the challenge: picking the right explosives, setting them up in the perfect formation, and watching as everything fell into place.  As he entered the black sphere, he found a care package waiting for him.  Settling into the single bench, he waited until after the drop pod had cleared the mining array before inspecting the package.  Arranged with obvious care were a plethora of cookies, some small cakes, and a card.

As he freed the card, it struck Mahoney that the treats had all been hand made.  Each one had the small imperfections that came from human hands.  These hadn’t been purchased; someone had gone through the trouble of actually baking them for him.  As he took a bite out of one of the more appetizing cookies he glanced over the card.  He couldn’t believe it.  One of the female mining personnel had taken a liking to him.

As he read further, the card went on to propose a meeting between the two - a
private
meeting.  Mahoney had been so focused on the card that he hadn’t even noticed the drop pod docking with his ship.  Collecting the care package and tucking the card away safely, he stepped out of the pod and took a deep breath.

The ship was anything but fancy.  It was a worn down thing that in a past life had been used for remote mining.  Mahoney had thought it fitting and snatched it up before it had been scrapped.  The outer hull plating was in poor shape and probably wouldn’t survive if he sneezed on it too hard.  The reactor was on its last legs, and the jump drive was one of the slowest available.  Naturally, all that decreased the price to the point Mahoney had been able to pay for it outright.

As he walked down the worn and beaten central corridor, he studied the side rooms.  It had been designed for a small team so it had plenty of space.  He had converted most of the old crew quarters to storage for his personal stock of explosives.  In the aft the ship had two ports for drop pods and a large storage bay that doubled as disembarkation room for the miners.

To sweeten the deal, they had even thrown in a full complement of suits designed for mining.  Mahoney’s interest in rocks was blowing them up, not digging around in them.  However, the durable suits let him set some of the more tricky charges himself and he was glad for their inclusion in the sale - even if he only needed one of the seven suits.  Thick layers of dust covered the unused suits that stood as a monument to the women and men who had previously lived and worked in the ship.

The decent sized mess hall would have been a tight fit for the old crews, but with just Mahoney it was expansive.  With the wages he earned from the corporations, he was able to dine on nothing but A rations, something that would have been impossible on his old salary.  His old life had been the main reason he had purchased the ship in the first place.  The corporations were scattered all over the Commonwealth.  When one presented him with a job, he often had to travel halfway across the Commonwealth or farther to get to the job.  Back in the military he had to tag along with various patrols as he made his way to the proper world.  The other troopers enjoyed poking fun at him.

Those with in-demand skills would berate him as a sell out while the other demolitionists would harass him for details about his work.  In fact it had been those bored demolitionists who had been the worst.  They would enviously pester him without end as they attempted to drag every possible detail from him.  After a particularly long and grating trip, he had made up his mind to find another means of getting around the Commonwealth.  All in all, Mahoney loved it.  Not only was it a way to get from job to job, it was
home
.

After depositing the confections in the kitchen storage, he headed toward the bridge.  He would have to make sure the next job was nearby.  After all, it wasn’t every day he was asked for a clandestine rendezvous.  As he chuckled at the thought, his hand absentmindedly scratched his right arm.  As he reached the bridge, he was scratching profusely. 

Looking over his arm, he found it covered in insects.  He had never seen anything like them before.  They had long spindly legs that tickled as they quickly shifted over his arm.  In the center of the long legs was a fat juicy center with three large eyes and two drooling fangs.  As he batted them away, he was horrified to find his left arm was equally covered in the insects.  He desperately batted them away as they continued to swarm over his arms.  It didn’t matter how many he brushed off, countless more kept taking their place.

Thousands of the creeping things were coating his arms.  Ripping off his shirt, Mahoney tossed the bug-infested thing against the far wall.  Too many had already gotten onto his hands.  Slamming his hands against the wall plating would crush several of the insects, but still they kept coming.  In horror he realized they were burrowing into his skin.  Panic filled him as he watched several disappear into his skin.  Large lumps betrayed their movement under his flesh. 

Slamming his arms against the equipment and chairs, Mahoney desperately tried to crush the things infesting him.  With all his might he slammed his right shoulder into the wall plating.  A loud cracking sound followed by tremendous pain told him he had just broken his arm.  As he studied the limply hanging arm, he found the insects fleeing it. 

Quickly charging the opposing side of the ship, Mahoney shattered his other arm.  As he staggered about, he panted for breath as the insects started to vanish.  They didn’t hide or flee, they simply faded away.  It was as if they had been made of fog and a strong breeze had taken their form from them.  The sound of clapping assaulted his ears.  Slowly turning, Mahoney found Dante casually leaning against the entrance to the bridge.  He was wearing a Weaver’s uniform and was clapping profusely.

“Well done!” he said as he continued to applaud.  “That was
most
entertaining.”

“Dante?” Mahoney asked through the incredible pain in his arms.

“Nope,” Connor said as a dark smile filled his face.  “No such luck.”

“Who?” Mahoney asked as he tried to increase the distance between them.

Tripping over a low console, Mahoney fell gracelessly on his back.  The high-pitched jingle of metal hit his ears as the contents of his pockets emptied against the metal floor plating.

“Too easy,” Connor said as he started to chuckle.  “A dash of anxiety, a pinch of paranoia, mix in a tinge of fear, and bingo!  Full-blown hysteria.  Normally I’d love nothing more than to finish you off with a nice pistol shot to the chest.  Puncture your lungs and watch as you die gasping.  However, that bony old fool has denied me that pleasure.”  He paused as he produced a short blade.  “While it’s not my style, I suppose cutting you up like a roast will accomplish the same ends.”

The disabled Mahoney scrambled over the console to get away.  The sense of desperation in him was overwhelming.  Connor couldn’t help but savor the flavor.  If he could ever find a food that duplicated that wondrous flavor, he knew he would gorge himself until his stomach exploded.  Quickly closing, he pressed the dagger to Mahoney’s neck.

“Any last requests before I send you on your final journey?” the Weaver asked mockingly.

“Die,” Mahoney hissed.

Connor couldn’t help but burst into laughter.  Suddenly, he noticed he was having a hard time keeping his balance.  As his laughter ended he realized the ship had been shaking slightly.  Turning his attention on his helpless prey, he realized all the desperation had disappeared in him.  There was no fear, no anxiety, nothing but a smug calm.

Thrusting with all his might, Connor plunged the knife forward.  He couldn’t believe his eyes.  As he pushed forward, Mahoney retreated back.  Glancing around, Connor realized he wasn’t standing on the floor plating anymore.  He was slowly floating away from Mahoney who was gently lifting off the floor.  A blaring klaxon alarm filled the room.

“Alert,” the gentle voice of the computer announced abruptly.  “Detonation detected.  Main power failing.  Artificial gravity disabled.  All work crews be advised.”

The Weaver turned a murderous gaze at the free-floating man.  Slowly and with obvious pain, Mahoney forced his arm to pull out from behind his back.  In his hand was a small silver cylinder.  On its side, a circle was glowing an ominous red.  As Connor studied the object, a pie-shaped wedge of light disappeared from the lit circle.

Filled with horror, he understood what was happening.  The idiot had ordered his munitions to detonate.  The countless crates Connor had disregarded as he snuck on the ship were going to explode when the circle went completely dark.  Flailing helplessly, he struggled to get to the ceiling. 

As he reached it, a second wedge of light disappeared - another six to go.  Pushing off the ceiling, Connor floated down the main corridor of the ship.  If he could get to his drop pod, he might still be able to escape.  The third wedge disappeared.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Mahoney push off the floor plating.  His near useless arms pulled him to the side, and he grated along one of the walls.  That idiot wasn’t going to let him leave without a fight.

As the Weaver floated further down the long central corridor, Mahoney made a second attempt.  This time getting his arms in the right position, the trooper flew with incredible speed.  Connor cursed the man’s military training.  As he rolled over, he tossed the knife in his hand at the pursuing trooper.  Unable to stop and with his arms not responding, Mahoney couldn’t avoid the blade.  Connor smirked to himself as the blade hit the trooper’s face and grated along his skin.  Mahoney let out a pained cry as the blade sliced through his skin and eye. 

The fourth wedge disappeared.  A pain filled Connor’s back as he grated along the ancient plating on what had been the ceiling.  Throwing the knife had changed his path.  As the Weaver struggled to realign himself, he noticed a free-floating orb of red fly past him.  Pushing off the ceiling, Connor launched himself toward the docked drop pods.

Glancing behind him, he found the bleeding Mahoney still in pursuit.  As small drops of blood freed themselves from the wound they danced in the lack of gravity.  Like melted wax, the globs of red would warp and melt without the force of gravity to pull them around.

The Weaver cursed that bony old man as he reached for a pistol that wasn’t there.  Mahoney collided against Connor as the fifth wedge faded.  Knocked off course, he slammed against the wall with Mahoney desperately attempting to hold him with his legs.  The two struggled as they floated about randomly.  With certain death looming, the trooper was crushing Connor with all his might.

Struggling against his legs was pointless.  Mahoney let out a scream as Connor threw a punch against his broken shoulder.  His captor momentarily distracted, Connor thrust off the wall and dived toward the drop pods.  As the Weaver finally reached the pod, he spied the red light in the bridge growing fainter as the sixth wedge faded.