Null Sector

[Rudo]

Audio transmission. It sounds like it's between an aristocrat of well-groomed yet unidentifiable origins, and a hoodlum; educated and concise, yet vicious and gruff.

The aristocrat speaks first.

The transmission vectors are secured. Send me the data.

A pause as the aristocrat pours over the numbers and graphs, schematics and maps.

Excellent work. I need more details on patrol routes, logistics, and ship armaments. You are to continue to attempt network intrusions of production facilities and military bases. Test their defensive screens and prod for loopholes.

The hoodlum speaks, his voice an explosion of monosyllabic grunts.

Sir. You must be informed. My presence is known all through Liberty. I am engaged with overwhelming force at every turn.

We agreed this was part of the plan, my boy.

I've been lucky so far. Lost many ships and narrowly evaded capture several times.

I will continue to fund this venture so you can buy even more. This expedition is worth more than that pittance.

If I am captured?

You will be bailed out in short order. Our agents will make sure of it. Your unique skills and implants make you a nearly irreplaceable asset.

A pause. The hacker hesitates.

...if I am killed?

We will lose a sizeable investment of time and credits we would rather continue to see returns on. But in that unthinkable event, we've a backup unit in the wings. His training is nearly complete. Our data must be gathered. The Hackers have been most cooperative in housing and outfitting our venture. What questions they have asked of our operation, I have answered with credits and they have been satisfied.

My family.

A soft chuckle. My boy. They will continue to remain unharmed so long as you continue to remain valuable to us. You claim to be engaged with overwhelming numbers and forces? You are to scan each and every craft in reach. Provide us with ship types. Weapons loadouts. Defensive screens. Fight them and make note of tactics and formations used by both groups and individual pilots. Give me detailed dossiers on pilots and ship crew capacities. Psychological profiling can be gleaned from communications, keep antagonizing them and recording the results. This is the most valuable data of all.

Don't harm them, or I-

The cultured voice hardens. A colder, more threatening tone. They will remain in our custody until your job is done and Phase Two is in motion in Liberty. They will not be harmed. However, we cannot afford to have your loyalty waver, my boy.

The hacker's voice falters, before resolving itself. ...yes, sir. I won't fail you.

The aristocrat's grin is audible through the recording. I know you won't. Keep up the good work, 'Null'. My pet hacker.

---

[Rudo]

My boy! You've outdone yourself today. 'Reluctant' indeed... this is what you were made for!

I didn't want to do it. They... they came at me. I couldn't lose them.

The data is magnificent. She will be happy to hear of your efforts to keep yourself useful, and her alive.

She married me on the promise that I'd obey the law.

A gentle, unsympathetic laugh.

We will rewrite the laws once we've made our presence known. A new order. If you wish, you may be granted a position on our cabinet.

Go to hell.

We're all going to hell, my boy. It's what we do before we sink into the abyss that makes us great.

When this is over, I'm taking her and I'm going to disappear. You will never find us. You will never touch her again. You will never make me steal again. You will never make me kill again.

When this is over, we won't need you to. But think about our offer of gratitude. And chin up, my boy. The sooner you embrace what you are, the happier everyone will be.

I never wanted this. We both know that.

And yet you are so very good at it. Again, my deepest thanks, my pet hacker.

Again, go to hell.

We'll be in touch. Rest up and enjoy a bottle of our finest until then. Your next assignment will be soon, and they will be much less merciful now that you're a labeled 'cop killer'.

I-I never--

I know that. But you are excellent at it, so embrace what you are. And the deep-core scan data on that Phantom? Incredible. Keep up the good work. Good night, my boy.


He climbed out of the cockpit of his Sabre, appraising the thankfully light damage on the armor. The Hacker techs scurried about, manning the controls of the bots that would reload ordinance and refuel the craft, along with filling the finer details in the armor the Nanobots could not repair in space.

By appearance, he was an unremarkable man. Balding and slender, back slightly hunched from too many years of hard work in prison. As his craft was made ready for her next excursion, he stepped into the elevator and entered the code for his personal quarters. A quick jerk and a moment later, the doors opened and he entered his chamber.

On the desk next to his desktop data-processing centre was a dusty bottle of brandy.

He wanted to smash it on the floor. Light it aflame. Use the jagged shards to slice his benefactor's throat. Smash down the universe, burn worlds to ash; only to have her back safe and to live life in peace. He'd killed before. Many times. It would be easy to do it again.

But he wasn't that kind of man anymore. He wished he didn't have to be.

He sat on the bed with the bottle, opening it and pouring himself a glass. He took a sip -- it was smooth and smoky. Its seductive flavor reminding him of easy times, when conscience wasn't a factor, and murder and pillage was what he felt he was made for.

He looked into the mirror at his bed. So much he'd done already, and still much to do before he could stop.

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