“Sorry about the interruption, commander,” Arthur said. “Rushmore caught me off guard.”

  “Rushmore himself? Have you broken cover?”

  “No, I think it was coincidental,” Arthur said. “My cover is secure. No one in this clan is suspicious of me.”

  “Good. You were saying, regarding the bandit prisoner?”

  “Most members of the clan were at least passively accepting of his execution. Many actively encouraged it,” Arthur said. “Given their history with bandits, it’s no surprise.”

  “I could care less about the opinions of the clan,” Howle said. “What about Rushmore himself?”

  “The other’s opinions are his opinions. He’s a blank slate,” Arthur said. “If he has any thoughts of his own, he keeps them to himself. He follows whoever’s kind to him like a lost puppy.”

  “Which could serve our purposes,” Howle said. “Decent observation, lieutenant.”

  “There is one problem,” Arthur stammered. “The authority figures in the clan. Hartwell and his daughter, Giza.”

  “The political dissident, yes,” Howle said. She had assembled a file on Hartwell not long after they’d crossed paths. He and his wife had been arrested about two decades ago on multiple charges of illegal protesting. “I’m surprised. I’d expect such a flagrant anarchist to be more violent.”

  “Perhaps his time in this hellhole has made him appreciate law and order,” Arthur said. It had certainly done so for him. “The daughter is the larger problem. She's more impulsive, rebellious. She hasn't explicitly said or done anything to show terrorist leanings, but I'm worried what influence her mindset might have on the asset."

  “Hmm. Thank you for the appraisal. That will be all, lieutenant.”

  “Understood, commander,” Arthur said. “See you in a few days when I get out of this hellhole.”

  Veera hung up on him without another word. Arthur looked at his communicator for a few seconds before hiding it safely once again.

  “Hey? Anybody there?”

  Arthur Reynolds nearly had a heart attack for the second time that day. Thankfully the voice was distant.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I’m here,” Arthur said. “What is it?”

  “Need a hand moving something, can you get over here?”

  “Just a second.”

  Arthur double-checked the security of his hidden pocket and then headed out, pacing a few rooms down into the storage facility. He entered the room and saw someone tugging on a mountain of coiled cable that refused to budge. After a bit more struggling, Shinji stood and wiped his brow.

  “Oh hey. Arthur, right?”

  “Yes. Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

  “Shinji. But don’t bother remembering, any luck we’ll be back on Earth in a few days, right?”

  “Hopefully, yes,” Arthur said. “Did you need help?”

  “Yeah, Rushmore asked me to grab him another one of these cable-launcher things,” Shinji said, as he slapped a hand against the metal mechanism. “Problem is, this one’s got like two tons of rope still threaded into it.”

  Shinji gave the long cable another tug to emphasize his point. Arthur had seen Rush carrying a device just like this only moments ago, so Shinji’s story made sense.

  “Just need someone to hold it loose long enough for me to get the cable out,” Shinji said. “Then the damn thing’ll be light enough to carry out in one hand.”

  “Makes sense. Do you know how to do that?”

  “Yeah, just get on the end there, grab that lever and give it a squeeze when I give the word,” Shinji said. Arthur raised an eyebrow, then grabbed the lever experimentally. Nothing happened.

  “What? Don’t trust me?”

  “Just making sure I know what to do, is all.”

  “Sensible man,” Shinji said. Arthur got into position. “And don’t worry, that really is the release lever. The firing button is this one.”

  Shinji pressed a button, and a metal cable got launched through Arthur’s ribcage with enough force that the bones were pulverized before they had a chance to break. The cable kept going and embedded itself in the wall behind him, pinning Arthur in place. With one of his lungs reduced to pulp instantly, he couldn’t even gasp in surprise, or in horror, as Shinji approached and leaned on the cable that had impaled him.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about this, lieutenant,” Shinji said. “I doubt you ever really knew what you were getting into.”

  Shinji stood up and turned his back on the dying man. He’d always expected killing a Republic soldier for the first time would feel better.

  “You were never going to go home anyway,” Shinji said. “It’s just not how they do things.”

  The message was little comfort, no matter how true. Arthur never heard it anyway. Shinji double-checked to make sure there was no pulse and then left the room. He made a beeline back to the Junkers, grabbed a crate full of weapons, and found Liam sorting some of the other guns they’d salvaged on his own.

  “Liam. Anyone asks, I’ve been bringing you crates of weaponry for the past ten minutes.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I’ve been bringing you crates of weapons for the past ten minutes,” Shinji repeated. “Am I clear?”

  Any defiance drained out of Liam in about ten seconds.

  “Fine. And what’s been happening while you’ve been bringing me crates?”

  “I have no way of knowing, I’ve been bringing you crates,” Shinji said.

  He went to grab another weapon crate, to lend more credence to his story, and by the time he got back, the Junkers had already gone into a frenzy. Apparently there was a man down. Shinji put his crate down and acted surprised. Some people ran away, while others ran in to try and help. Liam approached the fallen crate and watched the panic set in alongside Shinji.

  “What did you do?”

  “I eliminated the competition.”