Chapter 8 - A Fragile Welcome

  Darius woke slowly, the dim glow from the ceiling casting a hazy light across the small room he’d been assigned. His mind took a few sluggish moments to shake off the exhaustion from last night. It seemed crazy, but it had been less than twenty-four hours since he had gone on the run from the Empire.

  For a given definition of ‘going on the run’, anyway. Right now, the extent of his flight from the law consisted of not-really-joining what was ostensibly a rebellion. Except that the Freeholder’s Alliance was such a minor threat to the Empire that they were technically only classified as a ‘support group’ for struggling colonies.

  He rolled over, sheets tangled around him like a net, and stared up at the ceiling. At least they’d let him keep this tiny room to himself. Based on the Freeholder’s less-than-impressive resources, he’d expected to be crammed into a dorm with his so-called “squad.” But they didn’t just lack funding; they seemed low on personnel too, which meant – mercifully – privacy.

  Last night was a blur, a mix of new faces and names he’d barely absorbed before sleep claimed him. His squad…he was reasonably sure they’d been introduced, maybe even exchanged nods. But whatever first impressions he might have made had been eclipsed by the dull, throbbing weight of the day’s events crashing down.

  “Echo?” His voice was little more than a whisper, in the vague hopes that he’d somehow imagined the whole thing.

  {Yes?}

  But, of course, he wasn’t that lucky. He squinted up at the ceiling, brow furrowing. “Do me a favour. Give me some good news.”

  There was a slight pause, just enough for Darius to feel a twinge of hope before Echo’s voice returned.

  {Your accounts have been frozen, and there’s a warrant out for your arrest.}

  Darius groaned, shoving his face into his pillow. “I said good news,” he whined. “Something that won’t make me want to crawl under this mattress and disappear.”

  There was a long moment of silence.

  {I see. My apologies. I was under the impression that further information on your current circumstances would allow for more informed decisions, thus facilitating an improvement of the situation.}

  Darius took a moment to digest that, willing the sentence to rearrange itself into something that made sense. He took another moment when the first proved insufficient.

  {Perhaps,} Echo tried again, {you will be pleased to know that I have been able to adjust for the jamming field enough to receive certain external updates. With continued effort, it may be possible to re-establish your access to your accounts.}

  …Those would be the frozen accounts.

  “Right, because nothing screams hope like a chance to re-access my non-existent money,” Darius muttered. He let out a long sigh, allowing himself to soak in the bleakness of it all. Maybe he’d brought this on himself. All those years of sidestepping responsibility, skating just above the edge of trouble but never truly engaging with it. Not until now.

  Darius sighed, rubbing his face as he sat up fully, resting his elbows on his knees. “Alright,” he said aloud, more for the sake of verbalising his thoughts than actually talking to his tag-along. “Feeling sorry for myself isn’t going to change anything. I need to figure out how I’m going to deal with this mess. Obviously, step one is not getting caught and shipped off to an Imperial cell, which… mission accomplished, I guess?”

  He’d bought himself a little breathing room, at least. As far as hiding spots went, the Freeholder’s Alliance wasn’t the worst. They wouldn’t throw him to the Empire, and they wouldn’t mind an extra body around. Not that they could afford to be picky—scraping by on scant funding and even fewer supporters, they were probably eager to snap up anyone even remotely interested in their cause. Or, as in his case, anyone with no other options.

  “Step two is… something.” Darius huffed, pushing himself off the narrow bed and pacing the short length of his temporary room. “Lay low for a few weeks? I don’t think the Empire is just going to forget about me.”

  {Current projections indicate that evading the Empire’s notice entirely, given your recent status change, is improbable.}

  “You need to work on being more encouraging,” he said dryly. Oddly enough, though, the dry statement helped. If only because he could admit to having a tendency of lying to himself about how bad things were, and having someone bluntly tell him it was terrible… helped put things in perspective?

  Darius was starting to think he had issues.

  “So if I try and leave here, the Empire will find me, and if I try to stay… well, I have to assume Voss is going to get sick of me at some point.” He turned to stare accusingly at the wall, lacking a more tangible target for his irritation. “Not to mention a certain someone is riding around in my augs, wanting me to do who knows what.”

  There was a brief pause. {On that note, I believe I have gathered enough information to make a more concrete request that should minimise disruption to your life.}

  Darius raised an eyebrow. “This ought to be good. Go on, then, what is it you want me to do?”

  {I require a physical form,} Echo replied, his tone as neutral as always. {A body, as it were, would allow me to complete my mission objectives. Once functional, I would be able to establish contact with the individuals I need to reach.}

  Darius blinked, absorbing the suggestion. “You want me to…build you a body?”

  {Yes. Given current resources and time, it may be feasible to construct a rudimentary one. I have collated necessary schematics and materials, which should be accessible from the Freeholder’s limited supply.}

  “Uh, woah, hold up a second,” Darius half-chuckled, waving his hands as if to ward off the AI’s sudden enthusiasm. “I think you may be vastly overestimating my technical skills if you think I can build an entire body for you. Not to mention, I don’t think my current landlords would be terribly understanding if I just started to raid their materials closet.”

  {The technical requirements for a functioning frame are well within your capabilities,} Echo assured him. {At this stage, I require only basic mobility and access to digital systems. My current architecture has already processed potential configurations.}

  “…Right,” Darius said after a second of thought. “That sounds a bit more manageable. Wait, so if all you need is some mobility and access ports or whatever, wouldn’t any old droid work? You managed to ‘integrate’ with me just fine,” and good lord, he really needed a different way of saying that, “So can’t you just plug yourself into anything? I could probably just find a functional droid for you to… uh, appropriate, shall we say.”

  {Theft would be unethical.}

  How something the vocal and emotional range of a calculator managed to sound disapproving was a mystery.

  “Less ethical than inserting yourself into my life in a way that made me a criminal with half the Empire’s forces on the planet after me?” Darius asked with a raised eyebrow.

  {…Technically speaking, you already had a criminal record before I intervened.} Came the somewhat weak reply. {Two wrongs do not make a right. Additionally, I do not believe the range of basic droids that could be reasonably found on this station would have systems sophisticated enough to support my functionality.}

  Darius paused. “Didn’t you say you were running off my augs?” he pointed out. “If my cheap second-hand augs can support you, a droid definitely could.”

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  {I see there has been a misunderstanding. While I interface with your augments, specifically to bolster my own capabilities, it would be more accurate to say that I am running off your central nervous system.}

  Darius’s pulse pounded as he stood frozen, eyes narrowing. “I’m going to need a better explanation than that,” he said, voice low and sharp. “Now.”

  A beat of silence. Then, {To clarify,} Echo began, his tone as placid as ever, {my presence within your body is sustained by a nanite matrix embedded in your nervous system. This matrix is interwoven with your central nervous architecture, including a lattice that integrates into the synaptic network of your brain. I am able to function because I draw energy directly from your bioelectric signals, which serve as a power source.}

  Darius’s mind stalled, shock prickling coldly down his spine. He felt his hands flex at his sides, muscles bunching and twitching as if they could somehow shake the nanites loose. It wasn’t just his augs, wasn’t something simple like having a plug in his head. Echo wasn’t just some digital tag-along in his augment system. This… this parasite was in him, in his nerves, laced through his brain, hijacking his body’s own signals to sustain himself.

  Echo, apparently unaware of – or indifferent to – Darius’s mounting rage, continued his explanation. {This neural integration is essential for my functionality within a biological host, especially considering the limited processing power of human augmentation systems. My dependency on your neurological structure is why a standard droid, lacking such bioelectric capability, would be insufficient.}

  Darius’s breathing was shallow, every instinct screaming at him to do something – anything – to get this…thing out of him.

  But there was nothing he could do about it.

  No doctor on the planet was going to be able to pull something like that out of him. Even assuming they were willing to overlook where Darius got whatever the hell the parasite actually was.

  He didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really. Words seemed inadequate to capture the weight of his fury, the sense of helplessness gnawing at him as he struggled to process what Echo had just casually explained. A part of him wanted to lash out, to demand answers, but he knew it was pointless. Echo wasn’t a person; he wouldn’t respond with guilt or remorse. For him, this was simple logic.

  Without another word, Darius turned, his body tight with unspent tension as he strode toward the door.

  {Is there an issue with my explanation?} Echo’s voice piped up in his head, unperturbed.

  “Shut up,” Darius muttered under his breath, jaw clenched. The door hissed open to reveal a small common room that he vaguely remembered from last night.

  The room itself could generously be called ‘functional’; sagging, stained couches were squished into one corner, a wobbly table took up most of another, and a tiny, slightly rusted kitchenette stretched across the largest stretch of wall opposite them both. There was a corridor at either end of the room, one of which Darius knew led to the larger area he had arrived at yesterday, and the other of which presumably led to more rooms.

  The couches were currently occupied by a few people who had been deep in conversation until Darius entered. Now they were looking back at him with the vaguely guilty expressions people usually wore when caught talking about a person behind their back. Some of Darius’s anger faded in favour of a tired sort of resignation.

  Great. Now, on top of everything else, he was going to have to be social.

  The first person to react was a young woman, who bounced out of her seat and smiled brightly before seeming to catch herself and affect a more casual tone. “Good morning. We met last night, but you seemed pretty wrecked, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t remember our names,” she said coolly, offering her hand for him to shake.

  {Lena Ward.} Echo supplied before Darius could admit that he didn’t remember them.

  He managed to keep his reaction to an irritated twitch, though his handshake was probably a little firmer than it needed to be. “Lena, right?”

  Lena blinked, looking pleased. “Yeah! Guess you’ve got a pretty good memory, huh?”

  “Something like that,” he replied, releasing her hand.

  “Try to keep the flirting to a minimum, Lena. He hasn’t even been here for a full day yet – don’t wear him out already,” one of the men sitting on the couch drawled. He had a narrow face, lean and wiry, with an expression that managed to be both bored and annoyed at the same time.

  Lena’s smile vanished as she whirled on the man, expression sharp enough to cut. “I get that your parents dropped you on your head as a child, Tarek, but would it kill you to at least pretend to be normal?”

  Tarek snorted, unfazed. “Normal’s boring, darling. And you wouldn’t like me when I get bored.”

  “I don’t even like you now. How much worse could you get?”

  Darius glanced between them as they fell into bickering, totally ignoring him. One of the other men sitting on the couch chuckled and leaned forward with a friendly smile.

  “Don’t mind them – once they get started, it’s easier just to let them wear themselves out. A pleasure to meet you more officially, I suppose.”

  {Corin Elith. The leader of the squad is Harlan Dray.}

  “Likewise,” Darius said, accepting the handshake with a tight smile and pointedly ignoring the voice resonating through his augs. He nodded politely at Harlan, who was sitting in the corner, and whose name he actually remembered from last night.

  Corin winced as the argument going on beside him started escalating further, quickly getting off the couch and walking briskly over to the little kitchenette in a way that only slightly resembled fleeing.

  “You must be hungry. Or at least thirsty,” he called over his shoulder, gesturing to the small appliances on the benchtop. “Nothing special, but I can brew up a decent cup of synth-coffee.”

  “Yeah, uh…thanks. Coffee sounds good.”

  Corin nodded, deftly pouring the coffee-adjacent liquid into a pair of chipped mugs, giving it a little stir to make sure the texture was as close to drinkable as the equipment would allow. He handed the mug to Darius with a small smile, gesturing for him to join him at the wobbly table.

  “So, rough night?” Corin asked, his tone light.

  Darius let out a short chuckle, taking a sip. “You could say that. Long day, weird introductions, questionable life choices... you know, the usual.”

  Corin laughed. “We’ve all been there. Well, maybe not exactly there, but close enough.”

  Before Darius could respond, Harlan, the squad leader, strolled over and took the chair beside them, cradling his own mug.

  “The boss-lady hasn’t told me much beyond the basics of your situation,” the older man said without much preamble. “Not really any of my business. Important thing is that we get along well enough to get the jobs done.”

  Darius raised an eyebrow, shooting a pointed glance at the arguing duo still by the couches. Harlan’s expression didn’t so much as twitch.

  “Don’t have to like each other. When they’re on the job, they do what they’re told.”

  “Right,” Darius drawled, shifting his attention back to his new ‘leader’. “And what is the ‘job’, exactly?”

  “Our main job is to keep supplies moving, which is about as glamorous as it sounds,” Harlan grunted. “Dead drops, sometimes picking things up in person, but always keeping our heads down.”

  “Sounds straightforward,” Darius said, though he knew the word straightforward could mean a lot of things in a galaxy that hated to make anything easy.

  “Sure, until Lena’s driving,” Tarek interjected as he and Lena finally made their way over, bringing their conversation—and lingering argument—along. He dropped onto the couch with a mock-pained expression. “I swear, she almost got us killed last time. Are we totally sure she can actually see over the top of the dash?”

  Lena’s eyes narrowed dangerously, weighing her mug like she was considering how it would look embedded in Tarek’s face. Darius was already getting the impression that the young woman was a little… sensitive about her age or stature. Or rather, the lack thereof.

  It… reminded him of his sister.

  He quickly pushed that particular knot of complicated emotions into the locked box where he stored all his other issues.

  “Right,” Harlan said, barely pausing to acknowledge the tension rippling between Tarek and Lena. “Anyway. We’ve got a supply run tomorrow. It’ll be your first time out with us, but we’ll keep it simple. Today, I’ll walk you through the dead drop locations and make sure you know how to handle the transport well enough that you don’t get us all killed.” His gaze flicked briefly to Lena, whose eyes narrowed but otherwise gave no response. “We’ll take the whole squad along to show you the ropes. You might think moving crates is a dull job, but it gets interesting fast if you don’t know how to keep a low profile.”

  Darius nodded, feeling the undercurrent of something unspoken in Harlan’s tone. “I can drive,” he said, maybe a bit sharper than he meant to. “Not my first time handling a transport under pressure.”

  Harlan’s lips curled into what might have been a hint of a smile. “Good. Then maybe Lena’ll take the co-pilot seat this time around.” He glanced over at Corin, who gave him a cheerful grin in return. Darius instinctively distrusted anyone who could look that cheery while drinking coffee this bad.

  Sudden shouts coming from the open area of the factory that Darius had arrived at yesterday had the Freeholders twisting in their seats, tense. Harlan was on his feet a moment later, already striding for the corridor. The rest of them scrambled to keep up.

  As they reached the central area, they found a small crowd gathered around a pair of figures slumped against the wall, one of them clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers.

  “Alain! What the hell happened?” Harlan barked, shouldering his way through the group to kneel beside the injured man.

  Alain’s face was pale, a sheen of sweat gleaming under the harsh lights. His expression twisted with pain as he looked up at Harlan. “Imperial patrol,” he managed through gritted teeth. “We were coming back from the Rother Drop… they told us to pull over. Maddox tried to argue. They… they opened fire.” The man spat to one side, fury written across his face. “The bastards were just looking for an excuse.”

  There was a beat of stunned silence before Tarek swore viciously. “So what? They’re just attacking us on sight now? The hell are we supposed to do about that?”

  Harlan eyed the door to Voss’s office, through which shouts could be heard. “I don’t know, but I’m going to go find out.” The man turned and addressed his squad – and Darius, who was hovering at the edges of the crowd and trying not to look too closely at the blood. “This is an escalation, and one that we certainly weren’t expecting this soon. That said, we all knew what we were getting into. Go and get prepped – I’m willing to bet we’re going to be sent out soon to gather as many supplies as possible before the Empire cracks down.”

  Lena and Corin nodded in grim-faced agreement, Corin stepping forward to lay a hand on Terak’s shoulder where he was staring down at Alain. Lena turned to Darius. “Looks like you picked an interesting time to join up,” she said, clapping him on the shoulder with an eager grin. “Lucky you. We’re going to be getting the fun jobs now.”

  The worst part was that Darius was pretty sure she wasn’t joking.

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