Chapter 47 - Adapt and Overcome

  Darius probably shouldn’t have been surprised that the maintenance tunnels were being used for, you know, actual maintenance, but somehow he was. Fortunately, whatever Echo’s frame used as ears were a lot more sensitive than his fleshy ones, because it gave them enough time to duck back around the corner before it would have been too late.

  Of course, Darius knew exactly what Echo used as ears – directional microphones mounted in the chassis – but it somehow made him feel better to pretend he had no idea how the frame worked. Maybe it was a way of trying to convince himself he hadn’t changed that much, that he hadn’t spontaneously manifested an in-depth understanding of advanced technology.

  Unfortunately, he was getting a lot worse at lying to himself. Something else to blame Echo for, no doubt.

  He held his breath, watching as light swept the tunnels ahead, spilling around the corner. By now, even he could pick up on the voices of two workers, chatting as they strolled through the tunnels toward whatever system needed fixing.

  “—don’t make sense,” one was saying.

  “So you keep saying,” the other groaned. “Why do you even care? It’s not like we’re ever getting off this rock anyway, so it’s not like we’re being affected.”

  “What, you’re not even a little curious? Even the Empire can’t get away with doing stuff like this for no reason.”

  “I’m not paid enough to be curious.”

  “But come on, even you have to admit it doesn’t make sense. ”

  “I swear, John, if you say that one more…”

  The voices faded as the pair moved further down the tunnel. Darius exhaled slowly, still watching the corridor for any sign of returning light.

  “What do you think that was about?” Darius whispered to Echo, curious.

  The frame raised a single hand, cutting him off as it tilted its head to indicate it was listening, presumably still able to hear the conversation. Darius waited impatiently.

  “It appears there has been a development,” Echo said after a few moments.

  “…And?” Darius prodded.

  “The Empire has grounded all outgoing traffic from the station.”

  Darius blinked. “Hang on, what? All outgoing traffic? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Unfortunately not.”

  “That…. doesn’t make any sense,” Darius said incredulously.

  “Clearly, you are not the only person to think that,” Echo said dryly, amused at how Darius’s response echoed that of the workers.

  “No, you don’t get it, that… shutting down all outgoing traffic doesn’t just mean civilian traffic, like passenger ships, it means industrial ships as well,” Darius explained, trying to wrap his head around the Empire’s latest move.

  “Why is that so surprising?” Echo asked, tilting the frame’s head.

  “Because this is a mining and salvage colony. That’s, like, ninety-something percent of Exeter station’s industry – people are going to be losing hundreds of thousands of credits every day. Minimum. For a frontier world, that’s a devastating amount. That worker was right; even the Empire couldn’t do this for no reason. If this goes on for more than a couple of days, people are going to riot.”

  He shifted slightly, wincing as the motion pulled at his side and exacerbated the ever-present ache. “This… this isn’t a small escalation, Echo. Establishing a curfew and setting up some checkpoints to hunt us down is one thing, but this is something else entirely.” Darius sighed. “Just… tell me honestly, are you valuable enough for them to go this far, or is this something else?”

  Echo’s frame tilted its head slightly, servos whirring faintly in the quiet. The AI’s hesitation spoke volumes. “It… I cannot confirm that with certainty,” Echo hedged, “However, given the timing and the extraordinary measure being taken, it is… highly probable.”

  Darius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Highly probable,” he echoed flatly. “That’s just wonderful. What the hell, man? You didn’t think to maybe mention that you’re valuable enough that the Empire will shut down an entire colony just to find you?”

  He paused. “Actually, if they’re willing to go that far, why didn’t they do it sooner?”

  Like he’d said earlier, there was a significant difference between curfews and checkpoints, and shutting down all traffic. Surely it would make more sense for the Empire to have spent more resources trying to track him down earlier? It would have been less disruptive to just… cordon off a sector at a time and search every house. People would hate it, sure, but they wouldn’t do much more than grumble at the inconvenience.

  Shutting down traffic meant essentially shutting down hundreds of businesses, and if there was one thing that really got the people up in arms, it was losing credits.

  “I suspect, though again, I cannot confirm, that the Empire was not aware of my survival. They were hunting you because of your presence in the reactor room, and then because you demonstrated technology that could circumvent their encryption.”

  “But… that was all you,” Darius protested weakly. “I didn’t do any of that. Except for, you know, the reactor thing. Which was your fault as well.”

  “True, but they don’t know that. I was careful not to leave any trace of myself in any of their systems. As far as they would be able to tell, it was all you.”

  Darius tried not to get angry about how Echo’s actions had seemingly continued to screw him over. It was an unproductive line of thought for several reasons – not the least of which was that if Echo had taken credit for his actions, the Empire would have come down on him even harder. It was technically in his best interest for Echo to use him as a fall guy.

  Didn’t make it any easier to accept, but right now, Darius couldn’t afford to get emotional about things. He also made a mental note to ask about why Echo said the Empire wasn’t aware of his survival. Later, though. One problem at a time.

  “Okay,” Darius said through only slightly gritted teeth. “So how the hell are we gonna steal a ship and leave if we can’t, oh, you know, take off without being shot down.”

  “It will be slightly more complicated than anticipated, but as you said, even the Empire cannot afford to completely shut down a colony without good reason. As long as we can lay low for the next few days, it is highly likely the Empire will be forced to rescind the lockdown and we will be able to leave.”

  “I don’t know if you’d noticed this or not, Echo, but we don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to ‘laying low’,” Darius said sarcastically. “Besides, if the Empire is willing to go this far, I somewhat doubt they’ll just leave us alone even if, by some miracle, we do get off planet. I don’t exactly want to spend the rest of my life on the run.”

  “I understand your frustrations, but unfortunately our current situation does not leave us with many options. We must simply do our best to adapt and overcome. Once we have a ship, many more options will be available to us.”

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Darius wasn’t quite as optimistic, but at least it was nice that Echo was using the word ‘us’ when talking about their problems. “I guess we don’t have much choice,” he grumbled. “But I’m gonna be needing one hell of an explanation for everything once we get past… all of this.”

  “Certainly,” Echo said gratefully. “I appreciate your patience and understanding thus far.”

  Darius grumbled some more under his breath as he peered once more down the tunnel where the two workers had gone. At least the lockdown wasn’t an immediate problem – he rather had his plate full already. Guess it was going to be a bridge he could burn once he got to it. Small mercies.

  – – –

  Fortunately for Darius, there was an exit from the maintenance tunnels that connected directly to the industrial shipyards. He emerged, blinking at the dim lights and breathing in the questionably fresh air that stank of ozone, machine oil, and rust, an industrial cocktail that clung to every surface.

  It felt a little like coming home.

  Berths stretched in both directions, cavernous docks designed to house hulking salvage vessels and cargo freighters. Overhead, massive gantries loomed like skeletal giants, their unused cranes hanging limp. Typically, this place would be a cacophony of welding torches, engine tests, and shouted orders, but today, the quiet was oppressive.

  It was almost… eerie if he was being honest. Wrong. He’d never once seen the shipyards this… desolate. It wasn’t just the lack of people, either. There was an almost palpable tension in the air. Workers clustered in small groups, muttering under their breath or smoking near idle machinery.

  Darius mentally ratcheted the possibility of riots up a few notches. If things were already this grim, it wouldn’t take much for something to kick off.

  He tugged his jacket tighter, trying to hunch over in a way that disguised the bright red soaked into it. Wearing a torn and bloody jacket was hardly the most inconspicuous of things, but he didn’t really have much of a choice. Having to leave Echo’s frame behind in the maintenance tunnels to avoid attracting even more attention was bad enough – he felt uncomfortably exposed and vulnerable without it.

  Funny how quickly he had gotten used to the soft whine of servos walking next to him.

  He walked briskly but not too fast, blending into the background like a worker on an errand. Outfit and circumstances aside, it was a familiar role for him to fall back into. It had only been… what, a little less than a month since he’d worked here? He was just hoping that no one recognised him.

  His target was one of the larger salvage vessels that the shipyard catered for. It belonged to some big company – he’d never bothered to learn the name – and was located at the far end of the shipyard. The choice was a practical one. Larger vessels meant more crew, which meant a higher chance of finding an unattended locker room.

  The company that owned the vessel was large enough that they bothered to shell out for a permanent berth instead of just docking on the first-come-first-serve basis that most other ships worked off. Naturally, this meant the berth would have higher security, but it also meant there was a significantly higher chance of someone leaving behind a uniform or a change of clothes.

  Around him, each berth he passed offered a glimpse of the vessels that populated this part of the yard. Salvage rigs were a patchwork of steel and grime, their exteriors scarred from years of collisions with debris fields and asteroid mining. They dwarfed the crew working on or around them, though most teams seemed more focused on idle conversation than actual tasks.

  Darius made a point to avoid their eyes, keeping his head down and his pace steady. If anyone got a good look at him—at the crusted blood on his jacket or the awkward way he moved—they might start asking questions. Worse, they might actually recognise him and try turning him in.

  For once, his luck actually held, and he made it to his destination with little more than a few odd looks.

  He approached the door to the locker room, glancing around one last time to ensure no one was watching. With a practised motion, his hand dipped into his jacket to grab the bypass kit—only to come up empty. His stomach sank as he realised that Harlan must have grabbed it from his jacket sometime after he’d gotten injured.

  He bit back a curse, mind racing as he tried to figure out another way in.

  “Press your hand to the door panel,” Echo instructed, cutting through his train of thought.

  He hesitated for a moment before complying with a shrug, placing his palm against the cold surface. A tingling sensation raced up his arm as silvery liquid began to seep from his skin, flowing into the panel like water through cracks. He nearly yanked his hand back but stopped himself, watching as the liquid pulsed faintly with light before retreating back into his palm. The panel chimed, and the door slid open.

  Darius pulled his hand back, flexing his fingers and staring at his perfectly clean hand. “You know, the last time I saw that I thought it was some super-radioactive chemical that was leaking from the reactor and was going to kill me,” he mused aloud.

  “Give it time – I’m still undecided on that part,” Echo snarked back.

  Darius let out a startled laugh before he could help himself, shaking his head and pushing through the door, letting it swing shut behind him. “You wound me, buddy,” he said lightly.

  “Actually, it’s quite the opposite right now.”

  “Touche,” Darius admitted, looking around the locker room he’d entered. It smelled of industrial cleaner and sweat, the faint tang of ozone lingering in the air. Rows of metal lockers lined the walls, each emblazoned with faded stencils marking the crew’s names and assigned numbers. Benches ran along the centre, scuffed from years of use.

  Pretty much exactly what you’d expect from a locker room, really.

  “Alright, Echo,” Darius muttered, walking toward the nearest row of lockers. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  “Place your hand on the lockers, and I will assist,” Echo replied.

  Darius did as instructed, letting the nanites work their way into the locking mechanisms. It was still weird, but he got used to the sensation pretty quickly. One by one, the lockers clicked open, revealing… nothing. He frowned, rifling through a couple to be sure, but it was the same across the board. Empty shelves, a few stray wrappers, and no clothing of any kind.

  “Looks like the lockdown scared everyone into packing up their gear,” Darius said, slamming one of the locker doors shut.

  “Not entirely,” Echo observed.

  Darius saw what he was talking about at the same moment. In the far corner of the room, a bulky vacuum-rated suit hung from a hook. He stared at it for a moment, weighing his options. On the one hand, it would completely cover his torn and bloodied clothes. On the other hand, walking around the spaceport in a vac-suit was bound to draw attention.

  “Great,” he muttered. “I’m gonna look like a complete idiot.”

  “Better an idiot than someone covered in blood,” Echo pointed out dryly.

  “Debatable,” he shot back. A moment later, he sighed in resignation and reached for the suit, pulling it off the hook and starting the arduous process of clambering into it. Honestly, the part he probably hated the most about working in a vacuum was the stupid suits. That, and the way he almost always threw up after a few minutes. Zero-G maneuvers were not for everyone, and he’d only just scraped a passing grade for that part of his qualifications.

  The fabric was stiff and clearly designed for durability rather than comfort, but it would do. The suits were of the ‘one-size-fits-all’ variety, meaning they were somehow simultaneously too tight and too loose, no matter how he tried to adjust them.

  “Okay,” he muttered, trying to find a silver lining. “This’ll get me to the store. If anyone asks, I’ll just say I spilled something caustic on my clothes and didn’t have anything else to wear. And at least I don’t have to wear the stupid helmet.”

  Darius walked over to a mirror set into the wall above a utility sink, curious about just how ridiculous he looked. The reflection staring back at him was worse than expected. The vac-suit hung awkwardly off his frame, crinkling in places it shouldn’t and clinging in others where it wasn’t supposed to. He sighed, leaning closer to the mirror, but paused as something caught his eye.

  Faint streaks of silver ran along his left cheekbone and down to his jaw, shimmering faintly under the fluorescent lights. He frowned, reaching up to touch them. A sharp sting flared beneath his fingers, not enough to make him pull back but enough to confirm they weren’t some trick of the light. Tracing them carefully, he realised they followed the path of some cuts he hadn’t noticed earlier.

  More nanites. Some of the shrapnel must have hit his face – not too badly, but enough to need patching up.

  He stared for a long moment, fingers brushing over the metallic lines. To his surprise, he didn’t hate them. They felt... fitting. Like they reflected the changes he’d undergone inside, changes he was only beginning to understand. The old Darius wouldn’t have survived this mess. This new version? He might stand a chance.

  Still, they were going to need an explanation. “Aesthetic augments,” he muttered, testing the words. “Rich people love looking flashy.” It was flimsy, but it beat telling the truth.

  “May I ask something potentially uncomfortable?” Echo suddenly asked, interrupting his exploration of his new looks.

  He blinked warily. “Uh… sure?”

  “Why haven’t you contacted Finn for assistance? He could provide resources, or at least information. I am sure it wouldn’t be difficult for him to meet you somewhere with appropriate clothing, not to mention the last time you spoke, he offered to help you find a suitable ship.”

  Darius exhaled slowly, letting the truth bubble to the surface despite his instinct to ignore it. “Because if I call him, I’m putting him in an impossible spot,” he admitted. “Finn’s a Freeholder through and through. If I ask for his help, I’m making him choose between loyalty to them and helping me. I don’t… I don’t want to do that to him.”

  “And you are afraid of what he might choose,” Echo pointed out with an irritating level of perceptiveness.

  Darius tightened the last strap on the suit, jaw clenching. “Yeah. Maybe I am. It’s easier not to know.”

  With one last look in the mirror, he turned away. “Besides, there are perks to being thought dead. No one expects any favours from you.”

  “An interesting perspective,” Echo said, sounding almost amused.

  “I’m full of them,” he replied dryly. “Now come on, the less time I have to spend in this travesty, the better.” With a deep breath, he stepped back out into the shipyard, his next move already forming in his mind.