Arthros

  Psychosomatic Output = 10,000 Bio-units

  Synaptic Rank = Unbound

  Arthros climbed out of the fighting pit and scanned the dark horizon for an outline of his HWND. He was itching to get back to The Reckless and study what little data Zero might have found. His interaction with Jericho would have given her enough data for a more accurate scan of his brain.

  He looked around for the HWND; Zero had only left his shoulder a few moments ago.

  “Zero, I’m ready. Where are you?” he thought.

  There was a pause before her voice entered his mind’s ear, “I’m here.”

  The HWND appeared from behind a large outcrop of stone. Its humanoid frame looked around for a moment, before it took a couple of bounding leaps toward him. The pulse engines on either shoulder ignited briefly to give it an extra lift, and the mech easily cleared the distance. It landed in a partial squat directly in front of him, knees flexed to absorb the landing, and the ground trembled from the impact.

  A small lizard close by was startled, and it gave the HWND an angry hiss before disappearing behind a large stone.

  Arthros stowed the Skarthkas and grabbed hold of the HWND’s extended arm. With an athletic swing, he whipped himself around the HWND’s torso, and onto its back.

  Arthros climbed into the cockpit and eagerly pressed himself into the biosynthetic mold. He took manual control of the HWND and flew into the air, breaking through the cloud line. A small, yellow light glowed in his view—a virtual indicator of The Reckless’ position. He shot toward the beacon.

  “You’re certain he is worth it?” Zero asked.

  “No, but he has potential.”

  “As did the others, according to you.”

  He reactivated the somatosensory receptors, and instantly felt the rushing wind on his face as he soared through the sky. It felt good after being in the stagnant pit.

  “The others weren’t unbound, and he definitely has some Klethonian blood.”

  “And that’s enough for you to make a decision?” Zero sounded irritated.

  She was skeptical, which was understandable. There was a limit to what she could compute, and she lacked the intuition that a biological had. Arthros thought back to the human’s confidence in the pit, and his tenacious determination in the Med Center.

  “He has an insatiable desire to be better than he is.”

  “I suppose that could be powerful,” Zero admitted.

  Arthros nodded, “Or self-destructive.”

  “Well, he still needs to survive the integration. His psychosomatic output was terrible regardless of his psymetra limits,” she said.

  Arthros didn’t reply. If the young human had his brain melted like the others, then it would be a disappointing flight back to Hokku.

  Before long, they were back at the landing pad. The Reckless was almost invisible in the night’s darkness. Arthros landed in front of the ship and opened the cockpit door. As the biosynthetic mold loosened, he pulled himself out of it and leapt backward. Even at his height the drop from the massive machine was signanifct, and his feet stung when they landed on the compacted soil.

  He glanced at the small office building on the far side of the landing bay. A small window glowed from its interior light.

  “Stay active. If the workers here reported the killing, a Corpos patrol could be here at any time,” he muttered to Zero.

  “Yes Arthros.”

  He strode up The Reckless’ loading ramp, which was lowered and waiting for him. He filled his lungs with the fresh air circulating through the ship. He was happy to be rid of Kleth’altho’s stench and grime.

  He strode to his quarters at the back of The Reckless, and brushed his fingers against the braided hammock as he walked into the room.

  Soon he would sleep. He eased himself into the chair by his desk, and in response a pale, white globe materialized. It hovered above the desk’s surface, slowly rotating.

  He tapped on a few keys at the desk and the globe changed to resemble Kleth’altho. He touched the hologram's surface, and the image changed again to display his current location. After a few more manipulations, he was able to bring up a view of the fighting pit, and beside it was a list of registered fighters.

  Jericho Hound’s name was near the bottom of the list.

  He touched the name and the information that flashed in front of him wasn’t very helpful—basic statistics of his weight, height, past fights, and a physical description. There was no family history or listed residence.

  Arthros frowned. He flicked his wrist on the screen and the hologram changed again, back to an image of the pit. He typed Jericho’s name on the surface of the desk. He didn’t come up in the registry.

  “Zero, cross-reference the statistics from the fighter registry with the citizen registry of all humans with the first name Jericho.”

  “Done. There are four matching the same description—two recently deceased, one in a region on the other side of the planet...”

  “And the fourth?”

  The holographic image shifted, and the portrait of a young boy stared at him—the childhood version of Jericho.

  “That’s him.”

  “There is no record of him existing past age seven.”

  “Well, the corporations aren’t famed for being great record keepers,” Arthros admitted.

  “No, but any purchase would have automatically updated the registry. Kleth’altho citizens are required to wear chips,” Zero reminded him.

  Arthros’ spines quivered, “Someone removed it.”

  “Removal of chips is considered a federal offense.”

  He tapped the tips of his teeth together as he stared at the child’s face—a wide smile, eager eyes, and shaggy red hair.

  Someone wanted this little boy invisible.

  “Must have been his parents,” he said quietly.

  “His mother, a torpe addict, was recently admitted to a clean house in the neighboring region.”

  He narrowed his eyes as the image shifted to a woman. Her skin hung loose on her face, and it was covered with open sores and scabs. Her eyes sunk deep into her head, and her chapped lips were scarred. Her hair was the only healthy thing about her appearance, and it shone like spilled blood.

  “And his father?” Arthros asked.

  “A pledged slave—engineer division. Lucas Riley.”

  The woman’s face changed, replaced by the portrait of a skinny man, with neatly cropped blonde hair, and aged skin. He shared the same, naturally defiant expression as Jericho. Arthros leaned closer to the image. There was something very familiar about the man.

  “Riley…” The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t remember why. Perhaps he had met the human before, though he didn’t recognize his face.

  “Strange, Lucas Riley is recorded as a pledged slave, but the name Riley was added years later. Additionally, he was brought into slavery outside of a pledge year,” Zero noted.

  That was rare, but it did happen. Criminal cases were the only exception. He was more interested in the name.

  A sudden thought struck him, and a pit formed in his stomach. “What was his name before?”

  “Redacted, unauthorized information,” Zero replied.

  Arthros snorted. He was a HWND Commander. There wasn’t any information that was unauthorized from him. Before he could pry, the hologram flashed and chimed out a warning. Arthros let out a groan.

  “Incoming transmission. It’s the Admiral,” Zero warned.

  He smoothed the spines on his head and took an irritated breath. “Put her through.”

  The hologram shifted and a Hokkonian face appeared. Her grey skin was pale and speckled with dark spots. Her white eyes stared at him coldly, and he was sure her spines would be erect if it weren’t for the decorated cap she wore on her head.

  “Admiral, I thought I specifically requested not to be contacted on my vacation,” he said in an amicable tone.

  The Admiral snorted, “Any requests were denied the moment you deactivated your locator. You’re lucky I didn’t send a unit to haul you back the moment you went dark.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  He flashed a dangerous smile, “We both know how that would have gone.”

  The Admiral’s nostrils twitched, and she gave him an irritated glare. “There’s been a perimeter breach.”

  He raised a hairless brow, “And? We have countless every day. Just send the nearest patrol to intercept.”

  The Admiral’s face twitched, “I did. They were…eliminated.”

  He froze, “A full patrol?”

  “Half.”

  “Half of a Navy patrol?” he ventured.

  Please let it be a Navy patrol.

  The Admiral clenched her jaw, “No, HWNDs. wo Novawolves.”

  No!

  “We haven’t lost a HWND in over four years!” he leaned back in his chair, and it creaked under his movement. “Where?”

  “the Storm, along Kleth’altho’s border.”

  He scoffed, “That’s impossible. There’s nothing coming out of there.”

  She shook her head, “There was. Remember that scout ship we intercepted a week ago? I was just going over the incident report when I got the news of a perimeter breach.”

  “So, you sent a couple of HWNDs to check it out.”

  She nodded, “Second division—Sratho and Mladios. They were good pilots.”

  Arthros cursed, he knew them. Sratho was a good-natured soldier, and always kind to Arthros’ division despite their races. Mladios he never cared for, but it still hurt to lose pilots.

  “You’re sure they’re dead?”

  The Admiral nodded again, “We got the termination message from their AI. I want you to go check it out.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and knuckled his forehead out of frustration. “My vacation just started. Send a full patrol. They’ll have a better shot at it than just one pilot.”

  She gave him a flat stare, “Don’t fish for compliments, Arthros. It’s beneath you.”

  “I wasn’t–” He bared his teeth and smoothed the spines that threatened to shoot up. “If it’s an order…”

  “It is. You’re the only one who can handle it.” The Admiral signed off, and her image winked out of view.

  He was left staring at the wall behind his desk, working his jaw as he fought the urge to smash his fists into the console. Sure, his trip to Kleth’altho wasn’t exactly authorized, but he thought there was an unspoken agreement. He needed time off. He was going insane on that wretched planet.

  “That is the duty of a pilot,” Zero responded to his thoughts.

  “Don’t lecture me, Zero. Please.” He pushed himself out of his chair and grabbed the Skarthkas that he had leaned against the wall beside him.

  “Load up the HWND,” he commanded.

  He felt The Reckless shift and groan as Zero maneuvered the HWND onto the ship’s back and loaded itself into the holding compartment.

  “I’ve uploaded the coordinates Admiral Zludikai sent over,” Zero said.

  He walked over to the cockpit and collapsed into the navigation chair. A small holographic map appeared in front of him. There was a small, glowing indicator along the Storm’s edge.

  “Has anyone ever been able to traverse the Storm?” he asked.

  “It has been a few generations, but there are records of the neighboring species travelling through to meet for trade,” Zero replied.

  Arthros imagined the phenomenon that was the Storm. The thought of travelling through the torrent of charged energy seemed impossible. “After all these years, they come back just to declare war?”

  “They are only described as peaceful, reserved, and weak.”

  He snorted, “Until now. If they can get through the Storm, that alone makes them dangerous.”

  The Storm was supposed to be impenetrable. With the Sovereignty’s thinning population, they relied on the Storm as a natural barrier.

  “We’ll have to fortify that perimeter,” Zero said.

  He barked out a harsh laugh, “We don’t have the numbers.”

  She didn’t reply. She knew about Hokku’s population problem better than anyone. It was a crisis that the Sovereignty seemed keen to ignore. Once again, their arrogance prohibited them from admitting weakness.

  The Reckless shot into the air as the thrusters flared to life. Within seconds, they were rocketing through Kleth’altho’s thinning atmosphere toward the anchored, orbital gate.

  Rows of individual pods made up the entirety of the gate, and they were tied together by an electromagnetic field. They circled the planet like a ring, enabling them to track all incoming and outgoing traffic across the surface of the world.

  Arthros was lost in his own thoughts and didn’t bother to activate the cloak. Let them discover his presence. What were they going to do? He was too distracted to care.

  The anticipation of a human pilot and the apprehension of dead Hokkonian pilots mixed like oil and water, churning into a sloppy paste of emotion that solidified into a cold, bitter rage.

  Whoever was behind the destruction of the HWNDs would quickly discover just how dire the consequences of those actions would be.

  Within an hour of travel, they arrived at the Storm: an incredible mix of vibrant colors flashing and rolling. The phenomenon extended for many parsecs and the Sovereignty had utilized the natural defense it offered.

  “Scan the area, Zero. I’m at the coordinates but I see nothing,” he said.

  “Nothing.”

  He stroked the flattened spines on his head and tapped the tips of his teeth together. “Narrow the scan to small debris only.”

  “Nothing.”

  The Storm’s constant churning sent dancing lights reflecting off the viewport. If Arthros were in a better mood, he would have enjoyed the beautiful show.

  “Narrow again, as small as you can go,” he replied.

  After a long pause, Zero said, “Scanners have picked up a scrap of metal, measuring less than one square inch.”

  Arthros nodded, “Hokkonian steel?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “They should have done a better job of cleaning up.”

  It didn’t take long to trace the steel’s signature back to the destroyed HWNDs’ core. It was quickly moving back the way they came. Whoever destroyed the mechs had taken the core with them.

  I would have seen something.

  Worry gnawed at his gut as he stared blankly out of the viewport. They weren’t far from their target, but they weren’t closing any distance between them. The unknown ship was as fast as The Reckless.

  There wasn’t a ship in the star system that could outpace an M-42 Novawolf cruiser.

  Arthros felt the ship rock as Kleth’altho’s gravity tried to pull them in. He didn’t realize that they had already made it back. With a flick of a switch, the ship’s anti-orbitals engaged and The Reckless righted itself immediately.

  “Any further and we’ll enter Union space.”

  He grunted. He almost forgot that the Union had a station not far from Kleth’altho’s orbit.

  “Once we’re in range, warn them about what’s coming,” Arthros instructed.

  Within moments, a cube-shaped structure appeared in the distance. He hated the dark green tint of its exterior.

  “I sent a warning code. No response yet.”

  Arthros grunted again, eyeing the star map in front of him. The HWND core stopped moving as it reached the station. The intruder must have been hiding behind the station’s mass.

  “It’s there,” he growled.

  “Still no response.”

  “Of course not.” He dug his fingers into the armrest of his chair.

  The station was famously undermanned, but there was someone onboard. There had to be. He could feel the hum of its life support systems from here.

  He scowled at a friendly greeting that was painted in large white letters, visible on all sides of the cube. The faded words were written in the Union’s universal language, but Arthros could read it well enough. Beneath the greeting was a five-digit combination that made up the communication key for the station.

  “Hail the station on a 49673 broadcast,” Arthros instructed.

  Another pause as Zero tried, “No response.”

  Arthros slammed his fists into the center console, and he could feel his spines fluttering on his skin. “Try again.”

  “Nothing.”

  He let out an irritated hiss. All he had to do was fly forward. He could check behind the station, or even close-range scan the structure. Both would probably allow him to identify the invader. Yet, both options were strict violations of their treaty.

  Patrols required permission to enter Union space, and close-range scans were a violation of privacy. If he wanted to give the Sovereignty ammunition to get rid of him, that would be a quick way to do so.

  “We’ll broadcast on an open channel, then.” He leaned forward to speak into the embedded microphone on the console. “Terminus 14, this is Arthros One, Commander of the eighth HWND division. Do you read?”

  He fought desperately to keep his anger in check. A fight with the Union would only cause problems in the future, but the longer he was met with silence, the more he longed to obliterate the ugly green structure.

  “Terminus 14, this is Arthros One, Commander of the–”

  “Terminus 14, here,” a feminine human voice responded. “How can I help you?”

  She spoke between heavy breaths, but there wasn’t an apologetic tone to her voice. Rather, she seemed annoyed at Arthros for calling.

  “Is there a reason my communication attempts have been ignored?” he asked.

  “Staff change. My name is Cyprus Atik. I’m a Senator. Terminus 14 will be under my command for the foreseeable future.”

  Arthros’ face twitched. Was she lying to him? There were no senators on these stations— certainly not so far from the core.

  “I don’t care who you are. I don’t tolerate my time being wasted. I was tracking a ship; it led me here,” he growled.

  “I’m sorry, sir. Is the Grand Council of the Dromedar Union a waste of your time? I report directly to them, after all.”

  Arthros wanted to crush her throat with his fist at the saccharine sound of her voice. “The ship—I tracked it here.”

  “There’s no strange ship here. Only my Union Cruiser, and a Badger Class 2 shuttle for my crew.” she replied.

  He stared at the indicator; it hadn’t moved from its spot. “I’ll be coming aboard to take a look.”

  “No, you won’t,” she replied calmly.

  Arthros snorted, “You don’t have any right to deny me passage. I’m a pilot.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Commander. Terminus 14 belongs to me now and is considered a sanctuary for the citizens of the Union. If you take one step on board, the Union will recognize your actions as an act of war,” the woman retorted.

  Arthros’ eyes widened, “That’s ridiculous.”

  “As acting captain of Terminus 14, my decisions are my own, regardless of how ridiculous you might find them.”

  For a moment, Arthros didn’t know what to do. He had never experienced this much pushback from another person before, and he didn’t even have the freedom to correct her disrespect. His blood boiled, and his spines erected, but there was nothing he could do.

  “The ship you are harboring is guilty of murder and is wanted by the Sovereignty,” he growled. “You’ll be considered guilty by association.”

  “There is no ship, Commander.”

  The communication went dead, and Arthros allowed himself a few seconds of unbridled rage. He screamed and clawed at the spines that tented the fabric around his arms. He tore at white cloth and bared his teeth in a snarl. He imagined ripping the woman’s head off with slow deliberation. The outburst lasted only a few moments, and when the rage subsided, the floor was littered with the tattered shreds of his clothing. His arms were bare.

  “I’m impressed you didn’t open fire,” Zero mused.

  He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his slit nostrils. “The Union has been stirring up trouble lately. I’m beginning to think she’s been the root cause.”

  “Perhaps. She did speak boldly.”

  He grunted, “We’ll report to the Admiral that the Union is harboring the invader. Then, we can let the Sovereignty figure out what to do.”

  “I doubt you’ll approve of their decision. They often disappoint you.”

  “That’s putting it lightly.”

  He steered the ship around and input the coordinates of Jericho’s pit into the navigation computer. There was a change of plans. Jericho was coming with him regardless of his choice. He didn’t have time to sit around and wait.

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