Episode 4

Nobody's Innocent

Chapter 2: Assignment Ulixis

I was wolfing down spaghettini al salvia in the cafeteria when Jock walked in and grabbed a plate of his own. A moment later he joined me, his plate loaded with fish and salad. Around us, dozens of fellow employees sat and ate. Some of them were on-base staffers, others were field operators such as ourselves. Everyone was dressed business casual style, in slacks and collared shirts, but the operators were easy to spot. They were alert and their shirts were tighter, often exposing tattoos as well as various implants and bodymods. I knew most of them, but not all. Wardogs Incorporated is a big operation.

“Carbs will kill you,” Jock said, gesturing at my plate. “What the hell is that yellow sauce?”

“Melted butter,” I said.

He shook his head. “Just because we have something in the banks doesn’t mean you should eat it.”

“Shove off,” I said. “I eat what I want.”

He snorted, then indicated my right arm. “How’s the elbow?”

“Better,” I said. “Stiff.”

“You gotta stretch it,” he said.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said as I twirled another forkful of sage-and-butter-drenched goodness.

He grinned and attacked his fish. That was one great thing about the private sector, we ate way better than we had back in the military. Some of the mercs from elsewhere in the sector claimed they’d transferred full-time to Kantillon after tasting the food. It was generally agreed that this base had the best. The autochef couldn’t make meals out of thin air, not yet, but it did have an impressive bank of food items, deep frozen and ready for assembly at the push of a button.

Park and Four-eyes walked in, trailed by Ward. I waved at them. They made their orders and joined us at the table.

Park, like usual, had ordered a nasty fermented dish, which this time appeared to primarily consist of testicles that had formerly belonged to a quantity of male animals.

“Come on, man!” Jock said. “Take that somewhere we can’t smell it. Or see it!”

Park stared at him and without breaking his gaze, speared a misshapen ball, put it in his mouth, chewed deliberately, and swallowed. Jock shivered and went back to his plate of girl food.

Four-eyes ignored the horseplay as he carefully sliced a pork chop into even cubes.

“So, pretty good pay on that last one,” Jock changed the subject.

“Yep,” I said. “I bought another 150 shares of our stock with it this morning.”

“What, didn’t you save any for space sirens and cold ones?” Jock said.

“Not me,” I said. “I have some credits if I need them. Rather have the money working for me.”

“Tom is smart, Jock.” Park said approvingly. “If you survive to retire, you’ll have nothing but a pension.”

“Not me,” Jock declared. “Not with all those sugar babies out there looking for a daddy.”

“Why would we clear out the civilian crew of a corporate freighter hauling mining equipment?” Four-eyes broke in unexpectedly.

“Clear out?” Ward said. “Dude, we straight-up executed them.”

“Whoa, Ward! You going bleeding heart on us?” Jock looked more disgusted than he had over Park’s appalling lunch. “They fought back! Just look at Tommy’s arm!”

Ward shrugged and pushed a fish stick around his plate. “Those guys tried to defend themselves, sure, but they were just a working ship’s crew. Not pirates, not soldiers, not smugglers–”

“That we know of!” Four-eyes broke in.

“They were just normal guys. The last one I killed in engineering wasn’t even armed. He was hiding in a janitorial closet. Only 18 or so. Eyed him on the thermal, shot him. Hauled him out, threw him into space.”

“Yep,” said Jock. “Cha-ching.”

Ward shrugged. “Don’t seem right.”

“Ward,” I said, “you’re overthinking it. You’ve killed lots of people. Did all of them deserve it?”

“No,” he said.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “Everyone deserves it, sooner or later. No one gets out alive.”

Ward shook his head. “I get war. Corporate, territorial, interplanetary, whatever. I don’t get this. This was like playing executioner, not soldier. Come on—we took a civilian ship and killed the whole damn crew. What the hell was that?”

“Low-risk profit,” Jock said. “The best kind. Hey, you take what you can get. That’s the first rule of the space marine: always kill them first. Seriously, though, we were within legal bounds. They had been declared hostile. Don’t go turning dime-dropper on us.”

“Naw,” said Ward, “I won’t. Just bugged me, that’s all.” He took a bite of a fish stick.

He had a point, but when you start identifying with the marks you end by losing your edge. They’re targets that emit cash when hit, that’s all. And I was serious about people. People suck. Even that nice old lady in the apartment next door probably drowns cats in her bathtub or something. Please punch me in the face if I ever get sentimental over the “innocent.” Nobody is innocent.

“Lunch is over,” Four-eyes announced. “We’ve got a briefing.”

“Oh, come on,” Jock said. “Already? We just got back.”

Four-eyes was already walking to the recycler as the notification hit my wristband. Four-eyes’ AI was always a few seconds ahead. Unlike a lot of guys, I didn’t stay jacked 24/7. I saved it for missions. As I dumped my plate in the recycler, I noticed it wasn’t just our squad getting called—the rest of the mercs in the room were clearing, leaving behind the pencil-necks and office girls.

And we’d been summoned to the auditorium, not a conference room. Big thing, then. I hoped it was a raise announcement but probably not. Probably some corporate nonsense about new tax forms.

I took a seat in our company’s assigned seating. Middle right of the auditorium. Squid was already there, along with Ace and Four-eyes. Most of the 120 seats assigned to Kilo Company weren’t filled as multiple platoons were out on missions, but the Bastards were present. That’s my platoon. Best damn bunch of killers in the galaxy. We waited at attention, catching eyes and shrugging, wondering what the deal could be. Captain Marks’s seat was designated at the back of us, but he walked forward and whispered a few words to Squid before taking his position. I saw the master sergeant raise his eyebrows, then shake his head. Jock and Park were towards the back, and I saw Ward towards the front, gnawing a fingernail, obviously still thinking about our last mission.

In a few more minutes the lights dimmed. I looked around the three-thousand-seat auditorium. There were probably four hundred men present. Not bad for an impromptu briefing on such short notice.