In the year of 2287, humanity had taken its seat among the stars. Well
established trade routes with other worlds allowed for easy commerce, and even the borders of the once tense Terrans were eased, and opened. Aliens, as a result, were more common on Earth colony worlds, and on Earth itself. Granted, they were not numerous as the human race was, and they were also not eager to put down any roots, themselves, and settle on an Earth world...but as many an optimist would say, it was a start.

Mighty starships sailed between the stars, some of them as legendary as the mighty warship Enforcer, and some as humble as the police vessel Peacekeeper. In the depths of space between the stars, many a thing could happen to a careless traveler, and ships like these vessels were there to keep them safe. The Earth Protective Security Force was always there. EarthSec, to the common people, and even to many of its members.

But while many ships were out there, protecting the peace and gaining fame among the masses that would insure them a place in the annals of history...there were other ships gaining an altogether different reputation. One of infamy.

One such ship was the Raven.

So named for Edgar Allen Poe's terrible, "nevermore" chanting bird, the Raven was little more than an oversized fighter. With a cockpit large enough for two, and a hold that was spacious just enough to have a cage, and a more conventional glass-sealed cell mounted in, and a corner walled off to serve as living quarters for the infamous man who flew the ship. He was a man whose name was whispered in terrible fear, in the dark streets. A man whose reputation would cause brave man to tremble and fall weeping to their knees, should word arrive that they were his next target.

He was a man championed by none.

He was a man wronged by many.

He was a man, seeking justice.

Lazarus.

Thomas Chen leaned back in a plush, authentic leather seat, and took a long sip of his perfectly iced beverage with a contented sigh. This, he decided, was the life.

One of the more lucrative crime lords in Red Sector, Chen managed to avoid capture by the authorities by the use of false trails and reports of his whereabouts, or by bribing (or killing, as the case may be) those who actually knew where he was. He made it quite worth their while not to know where he was.

He sighed again and set his drink aside on a small, but expensive, glass table that rested beside his favorite seat. Slowly unbuttoning his shirt, he began to remove it as he turned his chair on its swiveling base and stared out the windows.

Windows took up an entire wall of his personal lounge, allowing him a view not only of his front courtyard, but of Luma City, beyond that. It was a city he knew quite well, and looked upon fondly. It brought back memories of his early days in his trade, when he had run first his neighborhood, then the city...and now, he was on top of a major crime ring. The Obsidian Syndicate. So named after the substance he'd chosen to have his artificial right hand made out of, after losing the first one to a bounty hunter.

His lip curled in a malicious grin. He remembered that bounty hunter well. The fool had sought to bring him in alive, and in return he had shot the man in the stomach, intending to leave him to his slow, painful, inevitable death. But the hunter had proved stronger than Chen had expected, and slashed outward with a knife that he had in reserve, for when his rifle was taken. A few wild slashes, and Chen's hand was gone.

Chen shrugged out of his shirt and raised his glass, "Here's to you, fool. Guess you lost that bounty."

"Sir?"

Chen turned. Standing by the door was Daniel, Chen's personal servant. He was the single man Chen trusted. So old, and sacred, was their friendship, that Chen would have trusted his life unhesitatingly to this man, should the need arise.

"Come in, Daniel," Chen said, "What is it?"

"I heard you speaking, and I thought you might want something." Daniel said in quiet, measured tones. That was all he ever used though...

"No, No," Chen replied, taking a sip of his drink, and absently trying to remember what it was. Tasted like iced tea, of some sort. Probably a local blend, judging from the flavor, "No, I was just getting a bit nostalgic. Recalling the origins of this," he waved his stone hand in the air for Daniel's attention, then settled it back across his naked stomach, the cool stone feeling good in the humid air.

"Ah yes," Daniel said, kneeling beside Chen and scooping the crumpled shirt off its resting place on the floor, "I remember that. That was many years ago. "

"I know," Chen replied, "There was nothing more to it than that, however. As I said, just remembering the past."

"Yes, sir."

Chen returned his gaze to the window, and studied his courtyard in the pale moonlight. It was, he couldn't help but notice, very pretty.

Taking a long gulp, and savoring the sensation of the liquid sliding down his throat, he settled the glass on the table again, and said, "Would you like a drink, Daniel?"

"Thank you, no. I am not thirsty."

"It's a hot night. You must want something."

"I had a glass of water shortly before I came in here, actually," Daniel said, "But if it will make you happy, I shall have a glass of...whatever it is you are having."

"Good," Chen glanced sidelong toward Daniel, who was just opening the closet, rumpled shirt over one arm, and stepping inside. Reaching over to the table again, Chen tapped one of the buttons on the small control pad nested beside the lamp, and waited for the servant he had just summoned to appear.

Sure enough, a moment later, he could see the outline of the man in the doorway.

"I require another drink. Two glasses. At once." Chen ordered.

His servant remained standing there, unmoving, seemingly uncaring.

"At once," Chen said again, louder, "I am hardly interested in games, right now, boy."

"Neither am I."

The harsh voice made Chen's skin crawl, and he watched in horror as the body of the servant suddenly tilted over and crumbled on the ground. Now fully visible by the lamp-light, Chen could see the charred black remains where he'd been shot squarely through the chest.

Standing in the doorway was a muscular frame...the source of the voice.

The voice was fairly deep, and had a grating aspect to it that set a shiver up Chen's spine. The man stepped full into the room, and was soon illuminated by the lamp as well as the dead body.

Chen inhaled sharply, and hissed under his breathe, "Lazarus..."

"Yes," the black-garbed figure in the door said, "And I have come for the bounty on you."

Chen stumbled to his feet, the purposely clumsy action hiding a rapid pressing of the big red button on the control pad, summoning security. All he had to do was keep himself alive until they got here...

"How much is it?" Chen asked, feeling naked without a weapon, or a shirt, in his possession.

"Three million credits," Lazarus said, "For you alive. One million for proof of your death, and your obsidian hand."

"Then I shall pay you five million," Chen stammered, "More, if you wish. To ignore the entire bounty."

"I think not," Lazarus replied, "Breaking a contract is bad for business," He paused, then added, "If you wish to hire me for a job and pay me the five million, I will be glad to accept."

Chen opened his mouth to quickly reply, but Lazarus added, "...after I have completed this assignment, of course."

Chen swallowed, and took stock of the situation.

Lazarus stood a little over 1.5 meters tall. He wore black armor that protected him without limiting his flexibility. On his armored chest were mounted three red spheres, evenly spaced, a smaller one on each side of a larger centered one. Mounted on the underside of his forearms, and the front of his calves, were long glass-like panels, with a reddish gradient pattern in them.

Chen knew the stories. He knew there was more to the armor than just a suit.

According to stories he'd heard, Lazarus was a ravaged man under there, and the suit was more his own body than anything else. Limbs replaced with mechanical versions of themselves, all kept going by the suit's systems. He was almost inhuman, and superhuman all at once. He was absolutely lethal, and always successful. Expensive, too. He was the bounty hunter to be called if one absolutely wanted their prey. Mistakes were rare. And even his mistakes were usually fatal to his target.

Thomas Chen swallowed heavily with the feeling of a dead man.

All of this went through his mind in the one terribly cold silence that passed after Lazarus had last spoken. Chen drew himself up, determined to not be reduced to a whimpering little man, and declared, "You surly realize that you cannot escape here alive. I have alerted security, and they shall be here momentarily. I've heard the stories about you, Lazarus, but even you cannot hope to take on thirty armed mercenaries."

"I doubt the need will arise," Lazarus said, "They would not wish to die for you."

"Don't be so sure," Chen admonished, feeling sweat break out across his brow and down his spine, "I don't think they would be the ones dying tonight."

Lazarus began to reply, and then suddenly stopped and whirled about. Lunging out of the closet, silent as a wraith, came Daniel. He lashed out and slammed the heel of his foot squarely into the back of one of Lazarus' knees, driving him down to the ground. With a powerful might, he followed it up with a slammed elbow into the base of Lazarus' skull, driving him further down to the ground.

It would have rendered a lesser man unconscious. But Lazarus was back on his feet in an instant, and turned toward Daniel.

Daniel was crouched in a combat stance, a knife in his hand, making slow circles in the air with the blade.

"Leave, bounty hunter," Daniel said, "Or die."

"You are well trained," Lazarus commented, ignoring the ultimatum entirely, "And loyal. I shall therefore, give you the chance to put the knife down, walk out the door, and shut it behind you. I shall not touch you. Nor kill you."

"I will not run from you," Daniel said, his voice of a deeper nature than Chen had ever heard, "You were warned."

"So were you."

Daniel lunged forward, knife aimed for Lazarus' side, but Lazarus sidestepped with a graceful ease, and grabbed Daniel's wrist, twisting it precisely enough to loosen his grip on the knife and let it slip to the floor. From his side, Lazarus snatched a sleek black sidearm, placed it squarely under Daniel's jaw, and pulled the trigger.

Daniel died instantly, and painlessly. Chen was at least grateful for that.

The doors burst open, and suddenly hell burst in, arriving in the form of almost a dozen armed mercenaries. They saw Chen, saw Lazarus, and without a moment's hesitation, the squad leader shouted, "Fire!"

[This is not good, Adam] a voice that only he heard said tonelessly.

I know that. We'll survive. Adam Caid - Lazarus to the world - thought in reply to the computer ensconced inside him. The computer, networked through his human-machine body was like having a second set of eyes, ears, and a whole plethora of senses not available to most people, throughout his body. Cables, running beside capillaries. Human intelligence, in commune with artificial intelligence. Synthesis. A wonderful, and lethal, combination. The artificial intelligence was known as Mex (M.E.X.) and was possibly one of the most advanced computers in existence.

Caid leapt forward, aided by mechanical enhancements in his legs that supported, and strengthened him. He sailed through the air, extending arms as though he were flying, and slammed into four of the mercenaries, bringing them tumbling to the ground in a mess of arms, legs, and weapons. He arched his back, rolling to his feet, and whirling about with confiscated compact rifles firmly gripped in each hand.

As Caid ran sidelong, he squeezed the triggers and poured a steady stream of fire across the room. Many of the shots simply smashed through windows, scorched the walls, shattered ornaments, and generally wrecked havoc. But there were also a number of shots that struck their intended mercenary targets and sent them flying back into the ground, dead or wounded. Either way, out of the fight.

There were only three or four left, and his rifle barrels clicked and stuttered, empty now. Tossing them aside, he switched his sideways motion into a forwards one and charged.

One of them managed to get his pistol out of its holster in time, and he fired off three shots. Two whizzed by Caid, but the third slammed into his chest, just below the largest of the red spheres in his chest.

Pain seared his nerves, and mentally he heard, [Exterior damage to chest sensors. Interior damage minimal. Slight processor damage. I am effecting repairs. It would help if we were still, however.]

I'm not stopping, Caid thought, Just do what you can.

[I already am.]

All this went on in the space between heartbeats, and Caid leapt toward the trio standing by the shattered remains of the doorway. He slammed his heel into one man's chest, blowing him backward. As he continued onward, he exteneded his right arm outward and it slammed into the second man's throat, tumbling him effectively. When Caid landed, he slammed the palm of his hand hard on the man's chest, knowing the wind out of him. He was already weak and off-guard. The blow put him unconscious. The first man who had been struck with Caid's foot was already out cold, his head having struck the wall with a great deal of force.

The third man whipped his rifle around, but Caid was in front of him in an instant. He grabbed the barrel with one hand, and began to slowly twist.

The man tried his absolute hardest to resist, but Caid forced the rifle upward...around...until it was pointing back at him.

Caid smiled grimly beneath his mask, and squeezed the trigger. The man's corpse struck the ground with a lifeless thud.

He took the rifle from the dead man's hand, pulled the clip out of it, and tossed it against the wall with a clattering noise that was thunderous in the now silent, dead, room.

Thomas Chen was standing, almost quivering, by his seat. When he saw that everyone was dead and out of the fight, he swallowed visibly and reached for the now useless control pad on his table.

Standing behind him was a lithe-figured woman, in a form-fitting black jumpsuit with shining boots that came halfway up her calves. She had fiery red hair, long and wavy, that was pulled back in a tight pony tail and hung down to the bottom of her shoulder blades. On her belt were a pair of knives, not too long, but long enough to be dangerous. They were, Caid suspected, some type of throwing knives. Strapped about her waist, tied around her thigh, was a gun holster with weapon firmly placed within.

"Nicely done, Lazarus." Chen said, voice quavering oh, so slightly. He was trying his hardest to be brave, "But now, I grow weary of you."

"And I, you," Caid said, "I'm beginning to consider accepting the bounty on your hand, and the proof of your death. You are almost more trouble than you are worth."

"Finish him," Chen growled to the obviously dangerous woman behind him. He turned and walked away, leaving Caid to face down the woman.

He studied her, and mentally activated his heads-up display, which superimposed itself over his sight. From all outward appearances, his eyes went from black parts of the helmet to glowing red. Not only were they an excellent tool...the intimidation factor was certainly nice.

"I've heard so much about you, Hunter Lazarus." the woman said, "I shall tell your final tale after I have killed you. I'm sure someone would pay highly for your corpse."

Lazarus made no move. He simply stood there and said, “Perhaps.”

“Now,” She smiled grimly, “We see who is the best.”

“Hardly a fair fight,” Caid replied, nodding faintly toward the dagger that was sheathed on her belt, “You’ve a weapon, and I have not. Unless you prefer I shoot you.”

She laughed and withdrew the dagger from her belt, extending it toward him hilt-first, “Here. I’ve no need of that to prove I’m better. Use it. It’ll do you no good.”

“If you insist,” Lazarus took the dagger from her…

..Then flipped it over, caught the tip of the blade in his hand, and hurled it at her with blurring speed and a powerful throw. It whistled faintly through the air, slammed into her chest, and protruded faintly from her back.

She gasped, almost as though she didn’t comprehend what had just been done to her. Slowly, she looked down at the dagger, her hand rising slowly to touch it a bit. Then, she looked up at him, her jaw hanging open in astonishment.

“Dishonorable…” She gasped faintly, almost inaudibly.

“Sensible,” Lazarus corrected, “I don’t need to prove myself to you. Especially not anymore. You should appreciate it.”

She fell over onto her back, the moonlight glittering off the handle of the dagger, the only thing visible outside of her chest.

“Then again, perhaps not.” Lazarus turned his gaze coldly away from her, to regard Thomas Chen with just as much interest as one might show a small bug about to be stepped on.

Chen was now standing with his back against the glass of the widow, his false hand scraping against it absently. In his other hand, he held a small pistol, designed to be hidden. It only had a few shots, not really large enough for much more than that. Then again, it was designed to be a last ditch weapon, for use on an opponent who is caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of a weapon.

Lazarus was never off-guard.

“Stay where you are, Lazarus,” Chen said, his voice now audibly trembling in fear, his weapon-bearing hand shaking a bit.

What’s the strength on that pistol? Caid thought, focusing his gaze on the weapon to allow Mex to easily scan it.

[Thirty-Five P.V. maximum. Something that small could not manage anything more, Adam.] Mex replied an instant later.

Not a problem then.

[No.]

Slowly, purposefully, Caid began to stride toward Chen, saying nothing aloud, making no move for his own weapon, and doing nothing but walking.

“Stay back!” Chen shouted, “Get out of here!”

He’s beginning to panic.

[I believe that is what you would call an understatement.]

Chen yelled, an entirely incomprehensible sound, and squeezed the trigger, sending two shots straight toward Lazarus. One missed entirely, scorching the wall over by the door. The other one struck Lazarus squarely in the chest, and he chalked up the aim to sheer luck.

It didn’t even slow him down. A spider-web grid flared to life, glowing an electric blue color as his personal defense grid absorbed the energy and channeled it into replenishing the systems that the fight had run down a bit. It affected him not at all otherwise. He kept walking.

“Leave! Damn you!” Chen roared at him, pumping the trigger for all he was worth.

There were apparently only four more shots left in the pistol, and not a single one of them even touched Caid.

This was when Lazarus discovered there was one more shot left.

Whirling about with the speed and agility of a man half his age, full of panic and terror, Chen jammed the barrel of the blaster against the window, squeezed the trigger again, and blasted a hole right through it.

A blaster shot would hardly shatter the window, in follow-up, Chen swung his artificial hand into the glass, using the dead limb like a battering ram. It only took a few blows for the glass to give way.

Screaming unintelligibly, Chen ran out of the window, bare-chested and puffing from exertion he was unused to. The footing on the balcony outside was precarious at best but he apparently thought it better than being inside with the bounty hunter.

Of course, the window wasn’t about to stop Lazarus.

He stepped out onto the balcony, surprised to find Chen already a fair distance away, halfway up a ladder that led from the balcony to the rooftop. Not wanting to fall behind, Lazarus made haste across the balcony.

He was able to move quickly, since Mex knew when to guide him a bit and when to just let him be. Here, Mex took over most of his leg functions and kept him moving quickly and deftly, without the danger of falling that human inaccuracy might cause, getting him to the ladder easily.

By the time he did, however, Chen had scaled the ladder completely and was pulling on it with all his might, grunting with effort.

With almost inhuman speed, Lazarus began to scale the rungs of the ladder. Chen glanced down at him, yelped, and pulled harder.

When the horrible sound of stressed metal giving away rent the air, Caid realized what Chen had done.

The ladder bent dangerously backward as the top fixings gave out and it began to bend under Lazarus’ weight. Smiling smugly, Chen stared down at the bounty hunter who was hanging on a ladder that was now none too stable.

“Farewell, Lazarus!” Chen called, confident once more, “You were a worthy foe!”

His confidence faded extremely fast when, quite suddenly, Lazarus jumped straight up, off the ladder, and moved far too high for any human, landing with a faint thud on the balcony, just in front of Chen. He stayed balanced on the rounded edge perfectly, as though gravity held no sway over him.

Chen yelped and tried to stumble backward, but it had all happened to fast for him to actually react at all. Caid caught him by the throat with lightning speed, holding him immobile as he stepped down from the edge.

“I’ve wanted to meet you again for a long time, Chen,” Lazarus said, harsh rasping voice sending chills down Chen’s exposed spine.

“Agh….Again?” Chen was gasping for air, clearly having difficulty because of Caid’s hand, but he made no move to loosen his grip.

“You do not remember me?” Lazarus asked, emotionlessly.

“N-No…” Chen choked and gurgled, pathetic sounds from a full-grown man of his position.

With his free hand, Lazarus slowly reached up…slowly unfastened his helmet with a hiss of trapped air…and slowly pulled it away to reveal his face, lit by the moonlight alone.

Chen gasped, and this time it was not because of his closed windpipe.

“You!” He yelped, “But…But I….But I…” He could barely make his words audible.

“But you killed me?” Caid looked at him, his ice-blue eyes as cold as space, his sandy hair sweaty and stringy, hanging about his forehead, his jaw covered in three days’ worth of stubble.

“I shot you!”

Adam Caid nodded, “You shot the hotshot bounty hunter who thought he could take you out. And you very nearly did kill me. If it weren’t for this suit, and these systems…I would be dead. I would not be here, about to kill you.”

“Lazarus…Lazarus…Please!” Chen’s eyes glistened, and Caid realized with utter contempt that the larger man was on the verge of tears, for the realization of his own death had clearly sunk in, “It was business! It was you, or me! You would’ve done the same thing!”
“Of course,” Caid replied placidly, “But I would have finished the job, and you would have been dead.”

“Please don’t kill me,” Chen was pleading desperately now, “Please don’t kill me! You can have anything you want. Anything.”

When Lazarus paused, almost as though considering, Thomas Chen felt hope flare in his chest and he pressed, “You can have more money than you’ll know what to do with! Power! Women! Ships! Anything!”

“How much money?” Lazarus said, a moment later, thoughtfully.

“As much as you want!” Granted, it was a promise that would probably put Chen out of business…but if it kept him alive, he could always start over. It would be worth it, “As much as you can ask for!”

“Twenty million,” Lazarus said as he pulled his helmet back over his face, sealing it in place once more and leaving a cold and impersonal bounty hunter clasping Chen by the throat once more.

Inwardly, Chen balked at that steep price, steeling himself to carefully show no trace of his reaction on the outside. He nodded vigorously, desperate to keep his life, and said, “Of course! If we just go back inside, I’ll transfer it right away…”

Lazarus released his throat and slammed the heel of his palm hard into Chen’s chest, knocking him back. Off balance, and now winded, Chen landed hard on his backside, the rooftop leaving his bruised. He gasped for air and felt hope flare in earnest within, for it was starting to seem like he would actually live through this.

Bounty hunters… he thought contemptuously, Their biggest weakness is always money…

From a small pouch on his waist, indescribable from the rest of his outfit, Lazarus pulled a small, sleek, black pad with a small blue-tinted screen. He thumbed a switch and worked it with one finger for a moment, paying absolutely no attention to Chen at all. For a brief second, Thomas Chen considered making a break for it…but no…somehow, even though Lazarus wasn’t looking at him, he knew the bounty hunter was still paying attention. He wouldn’t catch this one off-guard.

Lazarus handed Chen the screen and said in his raspy voice, “You’ll do it here. Transfer the money to that account, and do so now.”

Chen didn’t like that at all. Something about it just worried him. But he could see very little choice presented in the matter, and so he took the screen in hands that were trembling from cold, adrenaline, and fear. Slowly, carefully, he began to enter digits, accessing his accounts and setting up the transfer. He tried to do it as slowly as possible, as though he were unfamiliar with the controls that were present, hoping to buy himself enough time to come up with a way out of all of this.

“Faster,” Lazarus growled a second later, and Chen realized he hadn’t caught the bounty hunter quite off his guard as he’d thought.

The growing unease in his mind was only becoming worse, but he obeyed the command and began to work the controls with the deftness of someone who was quite used to the setup, and handling money.

A minute later, the screen beeped and then beeped again. Chen held the screen back out to Lazarus and said, “Transfer’s complete. Happy now? You’re a rich man.”

“Hardly,” Lazarus retorted, studying the screen intently once more as he verified the numbers. Apparently pleased with what he saw, the hunter shut down the screen, sealed it back inside the pouch once more…

…And drew his sleek, black pistol, aiming it squarely at Chen’s forehead.

“Whoa, wait a minute!” Chen protested, the unease growing into full-fledged terror, a knot clenching his internal organs into painful bunches, “You said you’d let me live! I gave you the money.”

“Thank you.” Lazarus said calmly.

“You said you’d let me live!” Chen repeated, coming to his feet, quaking in terror where he stood.

“So I lied.”

“You can’t! That’s dishonorable!” Had Chen not been in a state of sheer panic, he might have realized how entirely stupid his argument sounded, “When word gets out of this, you won’t get a job anywhere in thirty systems around here!”
“Who is going to speak of it?” Lazarus countered, “You?”

Chen opened his mouth to reply…and then closed it as the reality of the situation sank entirely into his mind.

“The bounty says dead or alive. It’s less for you dead.” Lazarus inclined his head faintly, “Thank you for more than covering my losses. You have made my vengeance profitable.”

Chen took a step back. Then, he took a second. Irrational thoughts ran rampant through his mind.

Maybe he could run away. Maybe he could wrestle the weapon away from Lazarus. Maybe he could dodge. Maybe…

Lazarus took a long stride forward, wrapped one hand around Chen’s neck again to keep him stationary, pressed the weapon against his thudding heart, and fired a single shot.

The shot burned clean through him, and dimly Chen was aware of it scorching the ground behind him. Pain seared through his body, his extremities now going numb.

Lazarus released him, and he fell backward, now too weak to hold himself up. Pain ripped through his back as he landed, his bare skin pressing against the scorched spot on the ground. The pain only lasted a second, however, and soon the blackness that was creeping into his vision engulfed everything, the pain included.

***

Four hours later, as Adam Caid’s vessel, the Raven, sailed away from the planet that he’d just exacted revenge upon, Adam Caid lay within his small, Spartan chambers aboard the vessel, entirely failing to sleep.

“Is something troubling you, Adam?” Mex asked, his voice shattering the silence that filled the vessel. When aboard the Raven, Mex downloaded a copy of his program into the ship’s memory banks, as a safety measure in case he were ever damaged. There was always a backup. Once that was done, he usually tended to just stay linked with the ship, running it the same way that he functioned within Adam’s body. Instead of his voice being a whisper in Adam’s mind, it was instead audible over the ship’s intercom, the monotone voice coming over like any other human voice might.

Adam found that he was actually thinking about that for a long moment, before admitted aloud, “You know, I don’t know. Just can’t sleep, I guess.”

“Would you like a sedative to help?” Mex offered, able to inject such things as sedatives, pain-killers, adrenaline, and a few other drugs directly through the suit that Caid could never remove.

“No, that’s not necessary,” Adam replied, “I’m sure I’ll doze off in a bit.”

Silence. The ship’s engines rumbled a bit, audible because Caid’s quarters were located in the aft of the Raven, adjacent to the prisoner cells. With his suit keeping the temperature at a comfortable level, Adam had no need of a blanket, having only a cot and a pillow to rest on.

“You are disturbed by events on the planet, earlier?” Mex asked, the question sounding almost like a statement, as though the artificial intelligence already knew the answer to the question.

Though the computer interfaced with Adam’s mind, he could hardly read the man’s thoughts. Rather, he was only able to respond and pick up on specific images, emotions, or thoughts that Adam directed in a certain way toward the computer. Therefore, Adam was surprised when Mex had picked up on thoughts that Adam hadn’t shared at all yet. He shouldn’t have been though. After five years, Mex knew him almost as well as he knew himself. Sometimes better.

“I thought it would feel different,” Caid replied after a moment’s thought on the matter.

“How did you expect to feel after killing Thomas Chen?” Mex asked.

“Happy,” Caid returned, “Free. Different.”

“And how do you actually feel, now that it has been done?”
Adam thought about it for a moment and when he replied, he didn’t like his answer much.

“Not different. The same as before. It was no different than any other bounty. No different than anyone else I’ve killed.”

“May I share a thought with you, Adam?” Mex asked, and Caid could have sworn the computer sounded thoughtful.

“Sure.”

A pause, then…

“I am not surprised at your emotional status.” Mex stated.

That intrigued Caid enough for him to prop himself up on his side, his naked hand holding his mask-free head off the bed, “Why not, Mex?”
“Consider for a moment how long you have been in this business now,” Mex said by way of beginning an explanation.

“Five years,” Adam supplied, almost surprised at how long it had actually been since the fateful incident that had destroyed what he had been, and turned him into what he was, “Six if you count the year before I got shot.”

“Six years, for this particular instance,” Mex returned, “Six years in what has ultimately proven to be something of a hazardous business.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Adam mused, “Go on.”

“When we were within Thomas Chen’s private chambers, you eliminated an entire group of guards who came to stop you. Have you given them a second thought since the incident?”
The question had not been one that Adam had been even remotely expecting and he replied hesitantly, “No.”

“What about the young man who attempted to defend Chen? Have you given him a thought since striking him down?”

Slowly…Slowly…Adam was beginning to see where this line of questioning was going, and he said again, “No…”

“And what of the young female hunter whom Chen ordered to eliminate you?”

He sighed and again, Adam said, “No.”

“I take it from your sigh that you see where I am leading this conversation,” Mex said, and despite having an entirely toneless voice, it sounded to Caid’s ears as though there were genuine human emotions present.

“You’re saying that none of it phases me, regardless of who it is, what they mean, or how much they’re worth. Right?” Caid glanced toward the grate mounted in the corner of the room, just by the door, from which Mex’s voice emanated. It was as close to glancing at his robotic companion that Caid could get.

“That is precisely what I am saying, Adam.” Mex replied.

Adam sighed again and glanced at the table that rested along one wall of his chambers. Upon it, there rested his small portable computer screen, his custom-made pistol…and a black artificial hand, carved from pure obsidian. A hand that had once been attached to the wrist of Thomas Chen. The hand that was demanded as proof of his death.

“Think I did the right thing, Mex?” Adam asked, glancing away from the hand, toward the grate, then back at the hand. It was standing on the flat end of the wrist, the fingers pointing upward.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Mex said, softly, “I am not programmed to make such judgments, Adam. I am sorry.”

“It’s alright. I think it was rhetorical question anyway,” Adam sighed and laid back down, now staring at the darkened ceiling above him.

“How far are we from Bolin?” He asked, a second later.

“Four hours, seventeen minutes, and forty seconds,” Mex replied, prompt this time when the question demanded only such simple information and nothing more.

“I think I’ll have that sedative now,” Adam added, “Wake me up before we enter the system, will you, Mex?”

“Of course, Adam,” Mex replied. Underneath the surface of the suit, Adam felt a faint prick against the lower part of his neck, and suddenly it seemed as though there were lead weights weighing his eyes down until he could no longer keep them open.

He dropped into a blissful, dreamless sleep a moment later.

***

When he awoke, some time later, it was not at the sound of Mex’s flat voice, calling his master back to consciousness as he’d been bidden to do.

Rather, it was because the Raven suddenly jolted violently and threw Adam to the hard deck, which he tumbled down onto in his tired state.

He awoke quickly, though, as someone in such a business as his was liable to do. In fact, he’d barely struck the ground before he was onto his feet, dashing for the door.

“What’s going on, Mex?” He called aloud, dashing through the cargo bay and into the cockpit where he slammed himself into the pilot’s seat, mounted squarely in the middle of the cockpit with windows wrapping above him, stretching all the way down below his stations, until they met to form the nose of his vessel. It provided him with a break taking view, something that could be very useful if space combat were necessary.

As Mex spoke to him, it seemed that space combat had just become necessary.

When Mex spoke, it was within Adam’s mind and that was the first indication that they were indeed in trouble. Even when it was just a pirate vessel, Mex still spoke aloud. However, he quickly retreated back into Adam’s mind when the ship-wide channels might be needed for such things as alarms and system alerts.

[There was a ship lying in stealth mode, waiting as we approached the system. When we came into range, they began to fire at us and launched half of a squadron of fighters. The fighters have not yet reached us.]

What kind of ship? Adam asked as he wrapped his hand around the joystick that was mounted directly at his right hand, settling his left hand over the switches that controlled weapons, defense grid strength, and targeting.

[It would appear to be an EarthSec Meridian-class patrol ship, though I was unaware of such a vessel assigned to this sector.]

Are you sure they were waiting for us, Mex?

[Not at all. But their reaction time after our arrival within sensor range was fast enough to lead me to the suspicion that we were their intended target.]

Handle the sub-systems. Keep us in one piece, Adam thought, grimly as he jerked the Raven hard to the port, and down at an angle, dodging a pair of heavy laser blasts that roared through space directly above his vessel. The fighters were closing rapidly, and soon they would be upon him, sending the Raven into the middle of a chaotic battle.

[I shall endeavor to do so, Adam.] Mex said, falling entirely silent as he usually did during a battle, so as not to distract Caid unless the information he had to present was absolutely vital.

The fighters came in, hard and fast, clearly bent on destruction. Six of them now buzzed around the Raven as Caid did his best to keep from being blasted to bits, while at the same time cycling through the targets his computer presented, looking…looking…

There! One of the six fighters was going a bit slower than the others. Though he couldn’t gather a reason for the lessened speed, be it a newer pilot, a damaged ship, or some other unfathomable reason, the ‘why’ of the matter was unimportant. The only thing Caid was interested in was exploiting it.

The Raven was an amazingly agile ship, thanks to the relationship between Mex and Adam Caid. During combat, the walls between Adam’s thoughts and Mex’s were a good deal thinner. Even as Adam began to haul the joystick around, swinging his light freighter around in a circle as he fell on the tail of the slow fighter, Mex had fired thrusters that sent the ship wheeling about in a far tighter spin that should have been possible for a vessel its size.

The magnetic fields around his ship were strained by it, and Caid gritted his teeth as he was pressed back into his seat, forcing his now-watering eyes to stay open as he watched the screens and view ports.

Just like that, it was over. He was now sitting on the slow fighter’s tail, gaining on him rapidly due to superior speed.

[Target locked.] Mex informed him.

Smiling grimly, Adam squeezed the triggers, and watched.

From the two forward-mounted heavy laser cannons, brilliant red shells seared, lighting up the Raven for a brief moment until they’d sailed farther away. In the blink of an eye, they had traveled the distance between the Raven and the fighter. A brief second after that, the fighter was nothing more than a hunk of fast-moving debris.

His Comm crackled for a moment, before coming entirely to life. A voice filled the cockpit, deep and menacing and all business.

“This is the ESV Warlock to the Raven. You are ordered to power down your engines and prepare to be boarded. Resistance will result in destruction.”

[Want to reply?] Mex asked after the Warlock’s message had ended, the Comm crackling as they waited for Caid’s reply.

Adam, in response, shut the Comm off and left them hanging in silence.

Mex, I want you to take command of the two turrets, Adam thought, Keep us clear.

[As you wish,] Mex paused, then added, [Do you intend to eliminate all of them.]

I killed one as a warning, but they’re not taking the hint. I don’t want to eliminate them all. That’ll cause more trouble than we need right now. Just keep them off of us. I’m plotting an escape course.

Maneuvering the joystick sideways, he angled the Raven about, to make good on his thoughts. With one hand, he kept the vessel flying straight, letting Mex not only operate the two rotating turrets that the Raven possessed, but also warn of any incoming fire that Caid needed to dodge.

With his other hand, he worked the station just to his left, plotting a course and scanning the system. Nearby, there was an asteroid field which seemed to circled just outside Bolin’s orbital trajectory. Most of the rocks were moving fairly fast, according to scanners, and the entire field had been labeled as an extreme hazard, to be avoided at all costs and conveniences.

It was the extreme hazard warning which prompted Caid to set a course directly for the field, setting his vessel to full throttle and burning across space, away from the fighters that were seemingly quite surprised when their prey vanished.

[They appear to be quite determined, Adam,] Mex piped up, once they’d been underway for a minute or so, [The Warlock’s fighters have retreated into the hanger. The Warlock itself is on an intercept course with us.]

How fast, Mex?

[Extremely fast. They shall overtake us in thirty-five seconds.] If Adam hadn’t known better, he thought he might have detected a hint of grim worry in Mex’s thought-voice.

How long until we’re within the field?

[Thirty seconds. It shall be cutting it close. We shall be within weapons range by that time.]

Caid nodded, pleased with the risks. They were acceptable, and survivable. Ahead, now becoming visible through his view ports, the asteroid field began to loom into existence.

The rocks were indeed massive and spinning about, much as the computer’s databanks had stated. Even as he watched, for just the briefest of moments, two massive lumps of stone slammed into each other and shattered into countless smaller rocks, all of them sailing on new courses throughout the field.

The seconds ticked by slowly, and yet seeming to go too fast. Soon, they were practically upon the asteroid field.

When the timer ran down to ten seconds, Caid found that he had to begin actively dodging. The asteroid field itself had perhaps expanded a bit, because though there were not the massive boulders such as were present just ahead…there were still many smaller ones, all of them ready to batter the Raven and its occupants senseless.

“Raven, you are ordered to power down your engines and come to a halt immediately. Proceeding further shall warrant your immediate arrest. Further resistance shall prompt your destruction. Reply, at once.”

This time, however, Caid didn’t close the channel when they were done issuing their terse ultimatum. Rather, he toggled the ‘reply’ switch and said, “This is the pilot to ESV Warlock. May I ask what I’ve done, exactly?”

“Negative,” the reply came back, angry as ever, “You will power down at once, or be destroyed. You are under arrest.”

“I got that. Thank you,” Caid flipped the channel closed, wrapped a hand around the flight stick and another around the throttle lever.

A second passed…and then, he was in the asteroid field itself.

All around him, massive rocks were sailing, a million times worse than the most unbearable hail storm imaginable. Rocks the size of warships loomed near, and he found that it helped to be so closely linked to his ship and his computer, in such a situation. Lasers flashed about him as he circled around a massive moon-sized lump of space debris, and for a moment he thought that Mex was still firing the turrets, blasting rocks that got too close.

All to quickly, he realized that Mex was indeed firing those guns…but they were not the source of the blasts that sailed past him.

He checked the aft sensors, and sure enough…there was the Warlock, coming around the boulder and pouring laser fire toward him.

All around him, rocks were blasted into smaller bits, many of which peppered his vessel. The defense grid flared as it absorbed what little energy was generated by the sparks, which came from the rocks hitting the Raven. Mostly, though, they just rattled Caid around and bounced his ship a bit.

[Adam, there is something wrong here.] Mex said, and this time there was no mistaking the worried undertones in his voice.

Aside from being shot at, I assume you mean. Caid thought wryly, though it was entirely the wrong situation for such thoughts.

If Mex got the wry tone in Caid’s voice, he made no mention of it. Perfectly serious, the computer replied, [Apart from that, yes. This Earth vessel should not have pursued us. That is not standard procedure in such an instance as this.]

Maybe we really pissed them off, Adam thought, but even as he formed the words in his mind, he knew they were incorrect. Indeed, those were Earth procedures. The Warlock should have gone to Bolin and waited for any sign of his emergence from the asteroid field, summoning reinforcements to give chase only then. Pursuing him into the asteroid field itself was dangerous to put it mildly, and suicidal to put it accurately.

Mex also didn’t argue, already aware that Adam concurred with his opinion. He stated further, [I have also observed that the model of the fighters which assaulted us are outdated. They are almost forty years old.]

There was absolutely no way to refute that statement, and Adam responded with the logical conclusion.

They’re not EarthSec vessels then.

[I believe that is an accurate assessment.]

Then we’re through running, Caid declared mentally, easing the joystick about and throttling up a bit as he looped around a fairly large rock that spun in its place, flipping the targeting computer back to life and choosing the Warlock itself as his target this time around.

He barreled around the lump of rock, and nearly went straight down the Warlock’s throat. Had it not been planned, Caid probably would have wound up slamming the Raven into the Warlock’s stem. Just as he was about to impact upon the larger ship, though, Caid pulled up a bit until he was racing along the vessel’s hull, raking fire along the way. At such close range the Defense Grid couldn’t handle all the energy being poured into it. Gouges began to appear in the hull, the ship now bleeding gasses and flame out into space. Like a beast wounded from a thousand small bites.

The ship’s turrets responded with an angry barrage of fire, and slowly it tried to limp around and bring the undamaged parts of the ship to face the Raven, hoping to stave off the chances of further damage being done to the already weakened areas. From the lower holds, fighters spewed forth into space, only five of them now.

In his wonderfully efficient way, Mex already had the gun turrets aboard the Raven angled and ready. As the fighters made their way clear of the Warlock, he was pouring a stream of fire right into their path. Three of them were blasted into oblivion before they could even gather their bearings. The remaining two were, suffice to say, a good deal more cautious.

That is to say, they were cautiously avoiding the Raven and were now escorting the Warlock as the larger ship began to turn away from Caid’s ship, retreating out of the asteroid field and trying to make for faster getaway speeds.

Caid had no intention of letting them.

He quickly switched over to his missiles systems and hovered his targeting crosshairs over one of the escorting fighters, listening to the rhythmic beep slowly draw itself out longer and longer until it was a stead tone. His crosshair’s green color vanished, replaced by fiery red, and Caid squeezed the trigger, sending a missile out from each side of the Raven, hurtling toward the left-most fighter.

It wheeled about and dived, stupidly enough, underneath the Warlock, as though that would protect it. The missiles followed doggedly, and though they failed to destroy the fighter…they did rip a rather nasty chunk of the Warlock itself to shreds.

As Caid closed on the larger, retreating vessel, Mex used computer-precise shots to slowly and surely eliminate the gun turrets, targeting them the moment they made themselves noticeable by firing a shot which Caid was easily able to dodge. Soon, the entire topside of the Warlock was stripped bare of laser turrets. The trio of engines in the aft of the ship flared brighter than ever, and Caid casually nudged up his own throttle to match speed with his fleeing target.

In a vain heroic effort, the second of the two fighters suddenly roared across the top of the Warlock, straight at the Raven with guns blazing. In a complicated series of maneuvers, the pilot of the fighter not only dodged Mex’s shots, but also did a rapid-fire alternation between lasers and missiles, sending a mixed barrage of both toward Caid.

Fortunately, due to the speed with which he preformed such an action, there was no time for the missiles to lock on. They sailed through space with all the targeting abilities of the lasers they were flying with.

Ignoring the larger ship, Caid grimly set his jaw and focused entirely on dodging and weaving his way through the field of lasers and missiles, moving in such a way that was not entirely unlike the maneuvers he’d been performing just minutes earlier, within the asteroid field.

Sadly, his luck did not hold as well as it had before. He was rocked violently about, thrown against his restraints repeatedly as a trio of lasers and two missiles slammed into various points along the Raven’s hull, setting off a myriad of warning klaxons and causing something in the aft of the ship to rumble, explode, and then fail altogether.

When Caid took notice of his speed dropping slowly, he thought in alarm, Mex, what’d we lose back there?

[We lost the cooling pipes for the second and third engines, Adam. I attempted to shut them down with all due haste, but I regret to say I was not fast enough. The third engine exploded, and the second overloaded itself and shut down. Our speed is dropping to fifty percent as we speak.]

Not good, not good…

Adam angled his fighter about and found his luck repaid him quickly enough. The fighter, having made it’s head-on run toward the Raven with a fair degree of success, was now looping away for another run. It was in the process of wheeling away when the Raven turned to land squarely on its tale.

Adam got a good deal of pleasure out of raking laser fire back and forth across the mysterious fighter’s aft sections, leaving it as little more than a fireball careening through space, rapidly cooling into a chunk of melted metal.

His throttle indicator ceased dropping, now halted at fifty percent, as Mex had predicted. Scowling angrily in silence at it, he glanced over at the readout that showed information on the Warlock.

As he’d feared, the larger vessel, wounded and slowed though it was, was already putting a good deal of distance between itself and the Raven. Given the distance between them, and the condition of the Raven, Adam quickly realized there was absolutely no hope of pursuit.

He sighed and slumped back in his seat, and only then was he aware of the pain in his back, and the sweat on his forehead.

“That could’ve gone better, Mex,” Adam said aloud, startled at the raspy sound of his own voice, for it had been some time since he’d spoken aloud.

“Indeed, I believe you are correct,” Mex replied, his voice once more coming over the speakers, rather than through Adam’s thoughts, “At our present maximum attainable velocity, we can reach Bolin in two hours, nine minutes. Shall I plot a course and pilot us there?”
“Please do,” Caid replied, “How well does our Comm system work right now?”

“Blessedly, it was not damaged in the slightest. It is functioning perfectly.”

Caid nodded, glad for at least one bright spot in an otherwise dismal situation.

“I’m going to contact the spaceport on Bolin and ensure us use of repair and refit facilities. I don’t want to waste any more time than we have to down there.”

“Where shall we be going next, Adam?” Mex asked, not a hint of curiosity betrayed by his robotic voice.

Adam watched his targeting computer in a somber mood as the Warlock vanished from sensor range, the computer shutting itself off.

“We’re going to hunt down the Warlock, Mex,” Adam Caid declared, “I want to know who they are, and why they were waiting for us.”

“And then?”

“And then,” Lazarus finished, “We make sure it never happens again…”