The Renegade: Science Fiction Anthologies, #4

Introduction

This is the fourth book in the Scifi Anthologies series that started with The Newcomer. As ever, I have had the privilege to choose a collection of great stories from both new and established authors.

Every story in this anthology has a renegade as a central character. Some are born rebels, some forced into it to survive, while others make the choice on principle.

#

Master Sergeant Aali Issawi and his Gamma Team are used to tough assignments against the enemy. But when they are ordered to assist a space station manager deal with their own citizens, it quickly becomes a matter of Conscience.

John Sinclair has blackmailed his way into a high-profile one-way mission. He will be the First man sent to the stars. Sometimes, things don't work out how we expect.

Alex Kane was forged into a weapon during the War against the Tahni, but when wars end, weapons are abandoned, and Alex is adrift. He’s set on committing suicide when his old commander recruits him for one final mission, to find and take out the last of the Tahni Imperial Guard cyborgs, who’s gone from infiltrating human military bases to running a ruthless street gang. Will hunting down an old enemy help Alex find the road to his own Atonement?

Jasmine is a steampunk inventor, a cosmetician, and a gene-hacking Stepford Florist. And then there’s her real job: exposing evil corps and dodgy clinics. When she is tipped off that something morally dubious is happening at the city’s most luxurious high-tech spa, she takes it upon herself to investigate, and discovers a whole lot more than she bargained for.

The president of the United States doesn't want to give up his office. He is a ruthless ruler, some might call him a Tyrant. He will stop at little to hold on to his power indefinitely.

On your average day, Boaz MacIntyre's hands are full aboard the Refuge 7 space station. The place is full of killers, after all, and as Lawkeeper, it's his job to enforce the rule of Live by the Ten at all costs. But when pirates harbouring a grudge manage to break onto the station, all bets are off.

In a S.A.D. world, Deidra's job is to make sure everyone is happy. When her Receiver starts acting out, he makes her see that maybe there's more to it all than just contentment.

Chamo has just done the impossible. She’s infiltrated and hacked the largest, most secure database in the empire. As she is escaping, a new opportunity lands in her lap. A legendary technomage is being held prisoner somewhere in the facility. A rescue without a plan is a sure way to end up captured or dead, but success would mean immeasurable fame and fortune. Besides, the Chameleon never could turn down a challenge.

Conscripted into a penal unit to battle a race of intelligent machines, notorious pirate and mass murderer Philip Valis soon realizes the enemy are up to something far more insidious than he ever anticipated. It is a sudden Learning Curve, but he’s the man for the job.

Alex Hale comes across a derelict ship belonging to mutineer Jan Breck. There's a price on her head. Her beautiful head. Will he turn her in and claim the reward? It’s all part of A Pirate’s Life.

In science, discoveries are like doors, and some doors should never be opened. For Dr Lang, his discovery became his greatest hope, and his worst fear. He must consider the Needs of the Many.

#

And so, on to the stories. I hope you enjoy...

-o-

Conscience

by Alasdair Shaw

The corridors of the Wandering Ash echoed with staccato clangs as the railguns opened up. Master Sergeant Aali Issawi stepped out of the way of a crewman hurrying along the corridor. The longer Captain Jansen spent in friendly space, the twitchier he got, and the more frequently he called these drills.

Another crewmember ran past carrying a large medical pack. The grin on his face showed that, like the others, he enjoyed the break from monotony the exercises brought.

Issawi scratched his bearded chin as he considered the coming mission. It felt like Gamma Team Seven had been sidelined, relegated to internal policing. And the jobs had carried an undertone that unsettled him; the Republic military was supposed to uphold the tenants of democracy, not quash freedom of speech. At least this one seemed to be clean.

He fingered the green scarf that poked out from his collar, reciting under his breath one of the lines from the Qu’ran that was printed on it in tiny white characters. Show forgiveness, enjoin what is good, and turn away from the ignorant. If only the officers sending him orders would stop acting like the ignorant ones.

Adopting the no-nonsense stare shared by all senior NCOs, Issawi opened the hatch in front of him and stepped into the briefing room. His team braced up in their chairs, not the ramrod precision of newly-minted Marines but the casual respect of brothers who’d been through hell together. Waving them back to ease, he leant on the lectern and activated the wallscreen with a thought through his Electronic Interface System.

A rotating representation of a tall space station appeared behind him. This is Ariadne Station, one of ours. Population: almost ten thousand. Core function: residence for asteroid miners and gateway to the Parquin Zone.

The sixteen-strong Gamma Team looked back at him intently, no doubt simultaneously scanning through what they could find about Ariadne through their inner vision. The instant access to data was one of the things that Issawi loved most about the EIS implants. That, and being able to read whenever he caught a free moment. He was halfway through the Culture series right now, filled with wonder at the idea of benign sentient machines. If only such a thing were possible...

It seems that Security have lost their grip on the station. We’re being sent to hunt down an organised group of terrorists who carried out a series of attacks. Issawi called up images of two uniformed men so they floated alongside the image of Ariadne. Captions marked them as the station manager and the chief of security. The station top brass will know we’re there, but other than that we’ll be operating under the radar. We’ll work on our detailed plans en-route, but for now, does anyone have any questions?

A blond with a burn scar on his left cheek raised a hand.

Yes, Franks?

Do we know how embedded this group is within the population?

Issawi sniffed, knowing exactly where Franks was going. Give any of them a clear enemy and there’d be no problems. Put them in a situation where innocent citizen and sworn enemy lived together, and the stress levels went through the roof. Unknown. But if Security hasn’t been able to collar them, I expect they’re home-grown.

Several soldiers shifted in their seats. Another raised a hand.

Marx?

When are we getting a mission in Congressional Space again? Fighting the real enemy?

Whenever Marx talked about fighting the real enemy, Issawi couldn’t help but expect him to talk about the rich industrialists and oligarchs. This is supposed to be an easy tour, give us time off from the front line. I’m sure we’ll be back in the thick of it soon enough. And for now, HQ was worried enough by the reports coming out of Ariadne to send a Gamma Team, so it’s likely to get pretty hot.

Marx grinned, revealing discoloured teeth, a proud symptom of mineral deficiencies on his home planet. Just point me and drop me.

#

The Wandering Ash drifted towards Ariadne Station, attitude thrusters banging occasionally to fine-tune the final approach. Despite the outward appearance of a freighter, she packed the weapons and armour to stand toe to toe with a destroyer. That was unlikely to matter on this mission, but the captain had made good use of it extracting Issawi and his team from many hostile systems in the past.

From his office on the training deck, Issawi listened in to the ship’s comms. Despite their shared missions, the crew and his team kept very much to themselves. Other than the captain and the shuttle pilots, he didn’t know any of the ship’s complement well. Sure, they were invited to the usual celebrations and chill-outs, but a frostiness remained.

"Ariadne Control, this is Wandering Ash requesting permission to dock."

"Wandering Ash, Ariadne Control. We have your codes. You are cleared to Gate Nine."

Issawi pulled up the schematics. Gate Nine was on a closed docking arm, reserved for official traffic. Not exactly the undercover entrance he’d planned, but it would make getting their hardware past customs a lot easier.

As the team filed off the ship and into the wide corridor of the docking arm, a handful of men in drab brown clothes hurried up. The blue-armoured Security officers surrounding them eyed the newcomers with what could have been apprehension.

^Our welcoming committee don’t exactly look welcoming,^ sent Marx.

^Reckon it’s coincidence, or do they always dress in the same colour?^ Sergeant Khan stepped slightly out of line, glancing around. ^It looks like they’re wearing some sort of unofficial uniform, especially the one in tunics.^

^Can it.^ Issawi halted a few paces short of the Security cordon. Master Sergeant Issawi, Gamma Team Seven. We’ve been sent to assist you with your little terrorist problem.

One of the dignitaries stepped forward, easing a Security officer out of the way with the back of his hand, and scowled at Issawi. I’d hardly call it ‘little’. It’s an organised dissident group prone to acts of violence.

Something about the man had Issawi’s hackles up immediately. Facial recognition confirmed he was the station manager, though there was surprisingly little on his personnel file for someone in that position. My apologies. It was simply a turn of phrase intended to put everyone at ease.

Khan and a couple of the others idly wandered over to pointedly study things on the walls. The station manager’s head flicked from one to another and he appeared to shrink. Yes, well. I’m Liska, and I hope you are able to help clear out this nest of malcontents.

I’m sure we will. Issawi put on a practised warm smile. Now, if you could share what you know with us, we can get started.

Liska nodded. My Security chief will transfer what we know to your ship. Make sure you check with us before you act on anything. Wouldn’t want you targeting the wrong people.

Khan prodded a loose panel with his toe. ^Reckon they’ve got informants they’re protecting?^

We will need to know all the details of your current operations. Issawi rubbed his beard, trying to work out why the station manager gave him a bad vibe. We wouldn’t want to replicate work you’ve done already.

Of course.

^Looks like Security has a decent presence here. Why can’t they take them down?^ sent Franks.

Issawi shook Liska’s hand and turned back to the Wandering Ash. ^Maybe the hostiles are seriously tooled up? Doesn’t matter. We’ve got orders, we follow them.^

#

Issawi leaned back in his chair, feet crossed on the rail that separated his elevated platform from the rest of the workroom. Text scrolled up his inner vision, detailing the crime reports shared by Security. Every now and then, he selected a report and sent it to one of the clusters displayed on the wallscreen.

That’s a lot of reports of political dissent, observed Franks.

Khan nodded. If you dig down, you’ll see that a lot are petty things like graffiti.

One of the report clusters on the wall expanded and splintered into sub-groups.

Franks snorted. So, they’re padding the figures. That doesn’t help.

That’s enough. Issawi caught Franks’ eye and held his gaze for a few seconds. He had to keep them on-message, but it didn’t feel good. The corporal was quite right; the more he looked, the more it looked like Ariadne Security was lining people up as scapegoats for its own failings. Anyone found a target worth pursuing?

An image of a man appeared on the wall, a metal bar raised in his fist. He wore the typical course garb of a station worker but with a mottled purple scarf covering his face.

Marx swung his chair around to face into the room. This guy has been at the centre of several rallies.

Issawi smiled. As soon as he’d got the data copied across to the Wandering Ash, he’d had the AI draw up a list of targets. Having his team independently finger one of the same people added to his confidence.

Why’ve Security not dealt with him? Khan frowned. They brought him in for questioning a couple of times but released him without charge.

Let’s ask him. Issawi replaced the clusters of reports with a floor plan that filled the whole wall. Here’s his registered apartment. Build me a strike plan.

#

The last green light came up in Issawi’s inner vision. All his men were in position and ready. He took a breath then sent the ‘go’ order.

A crump signalled the breaching charge going off in the next corridor. The Security officer standing next to him made to move forward, but Issawi blocking him with an arm. ^We wait until my team calls us in.^

Rapid-fire shots echoed down the corridor. Issawi streamed the video from the point man’s shoulder camera through his EIS. The movement was steady, controlled. Pairs of rounds into each clear target.

^Six shooters in first room,^ reported Khan. ^All down. Moving on.^

^Understood.^ Issawi missed being in the action, but liaising with the locals was more important. He switched the feed to the new point man as he stepped through a doorway.

A man and a woman were busy smashing data chips. The woman raised a pistol and went down with four holes in her chest. The man paused, hammer half-way up.

Put the hammer down, ordered Khan, stepping into the edge of the video feed, his carbine aimed at the man with one hand, his other held out in a calming gesture.

After a couple of seconds, the man gingerly placed the tool on the table.

Step away from the desk.

He complied, head hung. A Gamma stepped in behind him and grabbed his thumbs, pulling them behind his back. Another moved in and locked restraints on his wrists.

^Location secure. No injuries. Seven hostiles dead, one in custody.^

^Thank you, Sergeant.^ Issawi beckoned the Security officers to follow him. ^On our way.^

As they approached the breach, two of his men ducked out of the hole. Franks gave him a thumbs-up. ^Cake-walk. So much for them being hardened fighters.^

Issawi grinned and entered the first room. A handful of outdated weapons had been cleared to the far corner and two of his team were doing a final sweep of the bodies for booby-traps.

^This one wants to talk,^ sent Khan. ^As soon as he realised we were military, he asked for protection.^

Issawi raised an eyebrow. ^Interesting.^

He turned to the Security officers who’d followed him into the apartment. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here. They haven’t finished the primary check for bombs in the next room.

Without waiting for an answer, he strode on and closed the door behind him. ^Someone make sure the goons don’t follow me.^

Their captive sat on a bed. Two Gammas kept their weapons loosely trained on him from separate corners of the room, while Khan sorted through a pile of data chip fragments. ^They did a good job with these. No way we’ll be able to pull anything off them.^

^Couldn’t be helped.^ Issawi regarded the prisoner. I understand that you asked for our protection?

All we want are the basics of life. The man looked up hopefully. Affordable food, water and air.

Issawi looked at the woman’s corpse, with her sunken eyes and pallid skin, and wondered if the man had a point. Is that what you were protesting about?

He nodded.

^You think he’s the mastermind?^ Khan placed his pad on the desk and brought up the images of the dead. As the computer matched them to records on the station database, it added information about them to the display.

^No.^ Issawi glanced at the pictures. ^Did you manage to trace any links between them yet?^

^They’re all suffering from diseases of malnutrition, all have records for minor theft, all live in the lowest levels of the station...^

^So, they’re poor.^

^Exactly.^ Khan shrugged. ^There’s one other thing. They are all members of the same congregation. Led by a Pastor ... Jane.^

Issawi took another look around the room and came to a decision. ^Marx? Get the prisoner secured in our brig. I don’t want him left in the hands of Security. Khan and I are going to talk to this pastor.^

#

The Mission turned out to be a collection of apartments joined together by crudely-cut holes in the walls. As he stepped across the threshold, Issawi’s EIS informed him that a damping field was reducing comms range. He pulled up a window in his inner vision and scanned the details: his enhanced comms were coping, but normal devices would have been out of reception.

Hello. Can I help you? A tall, thin woman stepped out from behind a filigree screen with a friendly smile.

Pastor Jane? Issawi noted the woman’s practical trousers and shirt and the look of strength, despite her years.

She nodded, turning to sort silverware on the altar. What can I do for you?

We’d like to talk to you about one of your flock. A Mister Dominic Rezio.

Jane hesitated as she put a chalice down. Straightening, she bunched her silver hair into a ponytail and fastened it with a band from around her wrist. What about him?

He was arrested today on suspicion of involvement in a terrorist cell.

The pastor’s eyes flashed as she turned to face Issawi, her whole demeanour hardening. On whose say-so?

^Not ‘on what evidence’, notice,^ sent Khan.

Issawi judged her mood. There was worry there, but he didn’t get the feeling it was for herself. That doesn’t matter right now. We’re seeing what people can tell us about him, trying to establish his motivations.

I hardly know him, so I can’t speak for him specifically, but I know that many in my flock are unhappy with the trampling of rights on Ariadne.

Issawi perched on the end of a bench. I’m listening.

It used to be different here. When the new mineral resources were found in the system and they opened up the route on to the Parquin Zone, money flowed into the station. They moved it from orbit around one of the planets to be nearer the mining facility. The money cascaded all the way down to the lower levels. It was a time of optimism. They even changed the name from Arancha to Ariadne, hoping for a break from the troubled past.

It’s not like that now. Issawi watched her eyes for any sign of deceit.

No. The people at the bottom are treated like dregs. They are denied common human needs. The money’s still coming in, but it’s not reaching them.

Anyone take particular offence at that? Go beyond the normal complaining?

Jane snorted. If they did, I’d hardly tell someone like you.

I never told you who I was.

No, but you didn’t need to. You had me at first, I’ll admit. I’m normally good at reading people and I had you down as someone of faith until you revealed yourself to be an agent of the corrupt regime.

Khan stiffened. Issawi chuckled and sent him a warning to relax.

It is true that I was called here by the Ariadne station manager. But I report to people much higher up. Do not confuse me with anything that is happening locally.

She narrowed her eyes. Are you practising?

He touched his scarf, a gift from his father when he found out he was dying. I believe. And I observe what rituals I can.

Then perhaps you aren’t one of them.

Issawi opened his arms in a big shrug. What made you decide to be a pastor?

To help people. Not just alleviate their physical distress, but their mental anguish too.

Issawi studied her face. Fierce, proud eyes stared back. I’ve known plenty of people drawn to that noble vocation. They all chose to be medics, or counsellors, aid workers, all sorts of things. But the call to become a pastor is heard by very few. My father was an imam, I know what it entails.

Jane canted her head, apparently seeing him in a new light. A sparkle deep in her eye hinted at a fond memory. Ever since I was a child, I’ve loved Midwinter. There was something about celebrating all that’s good that attracted me. I guess that at first I didn’t get the deeper significance, but the importance of community and kindness grew on me. When I was about thirty I came to realise that the gap in my life could only be filled by guiding others to see it too.

God loves the doers of good. I am honoured by the insight into your heart. Issawi rose and held out a contact card to her. I think we’ve got enough background for now. If you do think of anything about him, please get in touch.

One more thing. Khan pointed to one of the transmitter nodes for the damping field. Why do you block comms?

Jane smiled. I think that when people are in a house of God they should focus on the here and now, not be off on the network.

Issawi’s father’s voice came to him, bemoaning the fickle attention of the young. Thank you for your time, Pastor. We’ll leave you to finish getting ready for the service.

#

Issawi coughed as he entered the darkened training hall. His team sat on a collection of crates and barrels