Star Sleeper

-1-

“No, please. I have not been backed up into the cloud. Spare me.”

The bot’s voice quivered despite the monotone drawl of its basic programming. Sparks falling from Shakkurru’s ignited pulse blade pinged off the bot’s metallic exterior like synthchimes.

Akio Shakkurru hated when they pled for mercy. He forced his pulse blade through the bot all the way down to the hilt. Stabbing his weapon through the bot caused a sputtering flicker of light to play across Shakkurru’s nanovisor. The bot’s single amber eye bulb went black.

Shakkurru wasted no time. Biting off his glove, he flipped the bot over and pried open the overheated service panel with his bare hand. The panel bit underneath his fingernail. He ignored the pain with a grunt. The burning stench of exposed circuits and wiring wafted into Shakkurru’s face but his visor filtered out most of the odor. He located the ejection button and pulled out the memory drive.

On his nanovisor HUD, a robot icon pulsed as a mechanical voice filled the void of his helmet.

“Memory drive secured?”

Shakkurru held the drive up in front of his face. “Check the feed.”

“No need for cheeky remarks, AS-04.”

Shakkurru wanted to scowl but did not want to give Robutler the satisfaction, so instead he kept his face neutral.

Holograms flitted across the HUD as it identified the drive as ninety-five percent intact.

“Next time work with more care. Ninety-five percent is not perfect. Master Balak will not be pleased.”

“It’s basically intact.”

Passing hovercraft slowed to a halt on the overpass as their pilots witnessed a smoking dead bot and a human clad from head to toe in a skin-tight, matte black exosuit with no identification.

“Get me a lift out of here,” said Shakkurru, relishing a rare opportunity to command Robutler.

“Off the overpass to your right.”

Without hesitation Shakkurru leapt from the overpass, front flipping into open air. After two and a half rotations he opened from his tuck headfirst and brought his arms to his sides. Below him several lanes of skytraffic converged. A blaring alarm went off in his HUD warning him of imminent impact. He extended his limbs out for a moment, enjoying the wind rush through his bare fingers. This slowed his fall enough for Shakkurru to wedge between two flying vehicles. By the time the driver recognized what happened, their blaring horn was a blip in Shakkurru’s audio receptors. He plummeted several hundred meters before a splinter of doubt pierced his confidence.

“Robutler. Exit status?”

“On the way.”

“I’m falling fast. You implied it was right here.”

“Doubting my calculations?”

“No. Just your motives.”

An arrow icon flickered in the lower left portion of his HUD indicating the approaching flyer, his escape. Shakkurru turned upright and double blinked at the HUD, turning on the suit’s thrusters to slow his fall. He slowed just enough to crash into the open seat of the one-man flyer. The flyer buoyed under the impact before leveling out. The hatch sealed and Shakkurru was whisked off toward Galegold planet to report in to his master.

***

As a fourth generation clone and unregistered enforcer, Shakkurru’s existence was illegal eight times over. That did not stop Master Balak from utilizing Shakkurru against his enemies.

From where Shakkurru stood, the V-shaped desk pointed straight at him like an accusatory finger passing judgment. Master Balak Serban sat behind the desk. From there he held meetings with his shareholders, discussed strategies with his directors, and sometimes conducted private discussions, such as this one.

Robutler perched at Master Balak’s side. His amber eye bulb beamed, affixed in the rectangular box that served as the bot’s head and body combined.

Balak spoke, almost whispered, addressing Shakkurru by his code name. “You acquired the memory drive, Star Sleeper?”

Shakkurru produced it from his exosuit storage compartment.

Balak rose with the aid of his cane. The folds of his hand-tailored burgundy tailcoat framed his body to perfection, making him appear taller. His crimson cyborg eye fixated on the drive. Shakkurru wished he could don his nanovisor so there was a barrier between him and the crimson gaze of the unblinking oculus. With the flick of two fingers, Balak sent Robutler over instead. The squat legs of the boxy robot stomped faster than Shakkurru thought possible for how short they were. Robutler’s squarish hand snatched the drive.

“No casualties?” asked Balak.

Shakkurru shook his head. “None but the bot.”

“Witnesses?”

Shakkurru started to say no, but Robutler objected. “AS-04 was seen by no less than nine passersby on a vehicular overpass. He displayed reckless behavior, executing needless stunts.”

Shakkurru gulped. “I only jumped off because—”

Balak held up a hand. “Do not speak unless asked, tool. Do you realize how expensive an aftermarket unregistered exosuit is?”

Shakkurru’s cheeks burned red. Robutler set him up. If the divisive bot had a mouth, he would be grinning in triumph over Shakkurru. His programming was corrupt. He seemed to take in joy Shakkurru’s pain. His fingers constricted into a fist that would have felt better gripping his pulse blade. He could carve Robutler a new mouth, easy.

“Perhaps Star Sleeper’s dampener needs recalibration,” said Balak.

Robutler’s eye bulb flickered imitating a wink. “I’ll make the adjustments while AS-04 is in cryostasis.”

***

Shakkurru sank into the tank as the transparent panel whisked shut. The temperature dropped in an instant as anesthetic mist poured in. He loathed this part. Intense pain wracked his body down to the bone as the cryo chamber plunged to subzero levels. Shakkurru put his mind at ease by reminding himself that he accomplished the mission. He was free from Master Balak and Robutler inside the cryo-cradle. The sedatives kicked in, basking his whole being in warm white light.

Shakkurru smiled.

Now nothing hindered him from dreaming of her.

-2-

The transparent panel slid open. Wisps of fog escaped the cryostasis tank. Akio Shakkurru’s hands grasped the edge for support, while his mind tried to cling to his dreams. Though Robutler controlled the induced frostbite with delicate precision, Shakkurru’s skin still burned like dry ice.

Robutler’s eye bulb flashed in Shakkurru’s face, forcing him to blink. Blurred vision, both from the cold awakening and from the crude interruption of his dream, irritated Shakkurru. The dreams never lasted long enough. How could they? Waking only reminded him she was not really there. He gritted his teeth and arose to his feet to answer his master’s summons.

In silence Robutler led him into the hydrolift. Shakkurru stepped into his suspended exosuit. The matte black armor encased him like the void of starless space. His pulse blade magnetized to his hip while a midsized pump-action pulse rifle snapped to his back. He tucked the nanovisor helmet under his arm until after his briefing.

He eyed the robot trying to catch signs of change. How much time went by? Days? Weeks? Months? It was impossible to tell how long Shakkurru slept.

The high-pitched whine of the hydrolift filled the silence between enforcer and bot until they reached the master’s office.

Master Balak’s pearl-white hair fell almost to his shoulder, longer than the last time Shakkurru spoke with him in person. Was that an indication of how long he had been in cryostasis, or simply a fashion statement? Likely the latter.

Master Balak leaned on his cane gazing past his own reflection out of the high-rise office window down at the hovering megatropolis that was Galegold city. Shakkurru doubted his master saw the skytraffic, the millions of citizens struggling to survive. Balak only saw customers, consumers, the ebb and flow of crypto currency. But he had not awakened Shakkurru because of them.

“My competitors have undercut my profits again with their new business model. The drive you secured last time spelled out their strategies, many of them already implemented. They’ve hired uplifted animals to fill their staff. Very shrewd of them to employ and underpay beasts. I will not stoop to that level. I will continue to employ humans with competitive wages.”

He turned to Shakkurru, his crimson eye shining. “I’ve received word they even have anthro mech pilots escorting their most precious cargo. This is where your mission lies, AS-04. You are to trail the cargo shipment and the mecha to their next checkpoint at the port planet, Strayn IV. While they wait for customs processing, you will have enough time to sabotage their mecha. I want it to appear as if they employ unreliable beasts.

“Avoid casualties. I want to sting their pride, not destroy them. After all, how would I offer them a buyout after their precious cargo goes missing, creating customer dissatisfaction and plummeting stocks?” Balak grinned.

Shakkurru almost shuddered but instead nodded as if interested in the intricacies of business.

“Robutler will assist you remotely as usual, should any issues arise, and to make sure you stay on mission.”

Shakkurru held back a grimace. AS-03 never suffered such scrutiny or supervision. But that was why AS-03 was out of service.

Balak continued. “Under no circumstances can this incident be traced back to me. You do not exist, AS-04. I have other clones on retainment, but I’d rather not waste more time and funds. If the mission is compromised, you can be replaced. My reputation cannot.”

-3-

The one-man flyer dropped through the atmosphere of Strayn IV on autopilot. The flyer slowed as a stratosphere guard ship hailed him. Shakkurru need not respond to the request. Robutler took over, giving the local law enforcement the required credentials to clear the flyer for landing.

The flyer dropped through the clouds into a light storm, descending with the raindrops to the backwater planet. As the flyer parked itself in a docking lot stall, Shakkurru reviewed the mission. Find the mech pilots. Distract them. Sabotage their mecha. Get back to the flyer. Return to Galegold where he would be rewarded with rest in the cryo chamber. Peaceful sleep, full of dreams.

The cockpit itself ejected from the flyer converting into a hovercycle for short distance travel. Shakkurru overrode the hover mode in his HUD, setting the cycle to sportster mode. He liked the visceral feel of grounded wheels. He revved the engine and sped off through the streets.

The pristine elegance of Galegold evaded a port planet like Strayn IV. Star freighters departed from an automated warehouse off to deliver cargo loads. A dark matter distillery projected a hologram boasting the darkest beer in the galaxy. Traffic slowed as he passed a towering meteorite refinery emitting thick purple smoke into the air.

The deeper he delved into the city the bleaker it became. Fragmented mecha components rusted in piles, stripped of any valuable parts long ago. Dead bots littered the streets, no one even caring to remove the mechanical corpses. Strayn IV was barely a quantum leap up from a space dump.

Shakkurru reached the docking lot where his targets parked their mecha and terminated the cycle’s engine. Across the street a neon hologram hovered over to the entrance of a bar called Paw Pints.

Rain drops streaked down cheap alloyed walls over graffiti scrawled in Arabic, Japanese, and English. Beneath the graffiti, a homeless borg held up a corroded copper hand begging for chip creds, an almost outdated currency. Shakkurru walked past the borg, explaining he too had no creds. He waited for the sinking feeling of pity to punch his gut, but it never came. True to his word, Robutler had calibrated Shakkurru’s implanted dampener while he slept in cryostasis.

He touched the side of his nanovisor dematerializing his helmet. He should not have. Rain on Galegold freshened the air. Instead, Strayn IV overwhelmed him with odors of smog, rot, wet litter, and used oil. Shakkurru set his nanovisor to respirator mode so it covered the lower half of his face. The cool raindrops still felt nice. Natural spikes formed as he slicked back his damp black hair.

The low rumble of touring cycles rounded the street corner. A mixed biker gang of anthros, borgs, bug-eyed aliens, and outright lower class humans pulled up to the bar. They parked their bikes a few meters away. Rambunctious laughter arose above the pitter of the rain.

The gang preyed on the homeless beggar, claiming all the chip creds he collected as their own.

One of them, a bald blue alien, scoffed at Shakkurru’s cycle. “Look at this excuse of a bike. Japanese design. Weak.”

She tipped the cycle over.

“Pick my bike up.” The edge in Shakkurru’s own voice surprised him.

A Pitbull anthro elbowed the woman that dropped his bike. “Get a load of this Terran. Wants you to pick up his pathetic import bike.”

The gang leveled hand blasters at Shakkurru. Before he knew it, his nanovisor encased his face and his pulse blade shot into his hand. The blade sizzled in the rain, radiating a marigold glow. The exosuit amplified Shakkurru’s speed such that by the time they registered his blade ignite, he had covered the distance between them, sliced every blaster in half, and disarmed every would-be attacker. Well placed armored punches to necks and kicks to groins grounded the gang. Through puddles they crawled back to their bikes, snarling swear words in several languages, then sped off.

A mechanical voice spoke to him. “Since you handled the situation with precision, I’ll not report it. But proceed with more caution, AS-04.”

Shakkurru grunted at Robutler. “I’ll check in soon.” He forced the feed off. Robutler could always override and resume monitoring the feed if he wanted.

He scraped up the chip creds the gang dropped and gave them back to the beggar.

“That was impressive. You leveled them like they were first gen bots with basic programming.”

Shakkurru looked down and noticed for the first time a grinning tan dog of stout stature with triangular upright ears. The dog wore a jumpsuit uniform with a Strayn IV patch, indicating the stratosphere guard employed him in some capacity.

“Owen Haul’s the name.” He held out a paw-shaped hand.

Shakkurru stared at the paw a moment before realizing the creature wanted him to shake it.

“What’s the matter? Never seen an uplifted Pembroke Welsh corgi before?”

Shakkurru shook his head while at the same time shaking the offered paw.

“My ancestors were a popular breed of dog back on Terra, you see. Once uplifting became possible, humans were uplifting anything and everything just to see what happened. They thought uplifting adorable corgis was a good idea. No sir-ree. Turns out we’re too curious for our own good. And we talk too much.”

Shakkurru only half listened to the yammering dog. He eyed the bar. The mech pilots would enter soon while waiting on Customs, and he wanted to be inside blending in with the patrons by the time they arrived.

“Thirsty? I was heading to Paw Pints myself. One of the better bars on this side of town. Great drinks and appetizers. Want to join?”

Shakkurru wanted to tell Owen to get lost.

But the corgi cocked his head to one side, his eyes sincere. “I’ll buy you a drink if you tell me where you learned to fight like that.”

Shakkurru would look suspicious seated in the bar by himself.

“All right.”

-4-

All manner of upright sentient lifeforms filled the bar. Most of them were anthros, animals uplifted by genetic manipulation. Seeing that the bartender was a buxom anthro hippopotamus in a lilac blouse, it was safe to assume this was an athro bar or, better known by its derogatory name, a zoo bar. Calling it Paw Pints made a lot more sense now. The few patrons that were not anthros were aliens, borgs, or humans. As one of the few humans there, Shakkurru would have stuck out like a cybernetic limb, if not for Owen.

They found seats in a dark corner.

“I’ll get a dog bone and barbeque wings for starters as well as two pints of mahogany ale for my friend and I. Thanks, Plum.”

No sooner had Owen and Shakkurru placed their order did the mech pilots pile into the bar. There were five of them total, all anthros. A short ratman no taller than Owen with an eyepatch pointed to a round table that a flirtatious older couple occupied. “Take that one, boys.”

The uplifted shark, ape, lizard, and crow men shuffled over to the table, guffawing at a private joke. They glared at the patrons seated at the table, patted their blasters, and persuaded the couple to move elsewhere.

“Get a room, why don’t you,” snarled the ratman. Then he yelled at Plum. “And let’s get a round of drinks over here, eh, big girl?”

“Don’t forget grub, Cedric,” said the shark.

“Who all wants grub, besides Hemi? Thoko? Quintyn?” asked Cedric.

The ape and the crow shook their heads.

“I’d sssavor some sustenanccce,” hissed the lizard man.

“Fine. Scrape up some grub for Hemi and Tushar,” ordered Cedric.

Owen bared his teeth. “That’s the problem living planetside on Strayn IV. Us regulars have to put up with out of town scum all too often.”

The ratman shot Owen a black-eyed stare. “What you looking at, pup?” he growled.

“Nothing,” said Owen. Then under his breath, “Nothing of value anyways.”

“Huh?”

“I said, next round of drinks are on me.”

Shakkurru kept his eyes on the table.

“Those guys don’t scare you, right, Akio?” Owen asked, his ears pricked forward. “You could deal with them in a microclick.”

“They will be dealt with.”

Owen chuckled. “What goes around…”

Plum brought their food and drinks.

Owen winked at her, then noticed what she brought. “Crap and cat food? These aren’t the right drinks or appetizers.”

The hippo had already moved on to other patrons.

“Ah, Plum,” Owen sighed. “Gotta love her. She’s a sweetheart. Not the brightest, but not bad on the eyes either, eh?” He elbowed Shakkurru.

Shakkurru did not react.

“What, not into real women with curves? No, wait, let me guess—you’ve got a steady.”

An image of Hanae’s beautiful face flashed in Shakkurru’s eyes. “No steady. We’re not serious.”

“The look in your eyes don’t lie, pal. You’re in love.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s long gone now.”

Owen scarfed the dog food in several bites. “You gonna eat those tentacles?”

Shakkurru pushed them over to Owen.

“I know a guy who knows a guy. Uplifted bloodhound. This guy can track down anybody in the whole ’verse. Literally bred for it. Retired mercenary too. No lie. He could find your long-lost woman.”

“Would not matter. I’ve lived my whole existence in and out of cryostasis. We’re separated by space and time.”

“Sheesh. I don’t envy you.” Owen slurped up a tentacle smacking his lips. “They say cryo users get hooked on the deep sleep like a drug. Dreams become more desirable than reality. That about sum up your experience?”

Shakkurru thought again of Hanae but said nothing.

“I’m sorry for you, Akio. Napping on ice is no way to live. Terran or anthro.”

“I’ve no say in the matter. But cryosleep is preferable to the tasks my master assigns me.”

“That bad, huh?”

Shakkurru nodded. He was glad he had cut Robutler’s feed off. The hypercritical bot would interject if he disclosed too much information. And report it to Master Balak.

“What is it you do anyways?”

“I do what I’m told. I’m a slave.”

Owen nodded. “I see. Me, I’m in the stratos guard. Been there for seven human years. Forty-four dog years. A long time. Half the time I was a mechanic, but now I’m a copilot. I like what I do.”

Across the bar, Cedric squeaked at Plum. “Hey, big girl. You managed to get every single one of our orders wrong.”

Plum squeezed her way through tables that were too close together. Because they had seated themselves at a table too small for them, Plum’s hips brushed two drinks off the table. The glasses exploded on the floor, sending shards and alcohol everywhere.

Plum bent to clean it up.

“By the Terran overlords, woman!” the ratman shrieked. “I don’t know if you belong in a zoo or a circus.”

The bar grew quiet. A few embarrassed patrons cleared their throats, eyeing Cedric.

“What? She’s acting like a beastie who just crawled offa all fours. Am I right?”

Owen got up so fast from his chair that it crashed to the ground. “You apologize to the lady right now.”

Cedric and his crew howled, beating their fists on the table. When they noticed Owen stepping up to them, they all stood.

Shakkurru was not the only one whose hand went for his weapon. But he knew he was the only one who could move fast enough to prevent things from going too far.

“Status report.”

Shakkurru whispered to Robutler, “Not right now.”

Silence on the other end suggested Robutler was scanning the spectacle playing out in the bar.

“All right, AS-04, disengage.”

Shakkurru whispered to Robutler, “I’m not going to—”

The bot cut him off. “Your heart rate is elevated, your hand grips your blade, and you are going to compromise the mission if you get involved.”

Shakkurru wanted to explain that he needed to keep tabs on the pilots to make sure they were out of the picture, lowering the risk factor while he sabotaged the mechs. But Cedric was about to sic his whole crew on Owen. It would not be a fair fight.

The rat smirked at Owen. “Oh, you like her, don’t you?”

Owen’s eyes darted to Plum, but he said nothing.

Cedric elbowed Hemi. “Oh, this is too cute. Lil’ pup wants to dance with fatso here all night long.”

“Come meet me on the floor where you belong,” said Owen.

Shakkurru took two steps toward the conflict.

“AS-04, disengage. AS-04, confirm. Star Sleep—”

“Shut up, bot.” Shakkurru muted Robutler. He would deal with the consequences later.

Cedric leapt onto the table. His whiskers trembled as his buck teeth snapped together. “I know your breed can’t keep their mouths shut. So I’m going to let that slide.”

Owen growled. “Scavenger.”

Cedric whipped out his blaster.

The pulse blade surged to life in Shakkurru’s hand.

A loud pew rang out and a flash of light blinded everyone.

The pulse blade still sizzled from deflecting the blast into the ceiling.

The mouths of the brutish pilots gaped at Shakkurru’s reflexes, too stunned for words.

“Pick on your own species.” Shakkurru let his pulse blade glow for a few more moments while Owen helped Plum to her feet.

“Why don’t we all sssettle down?” said Tushar.

Shakkurru extinguished his blade and went back to the table with Owen.

After a few awkward moments conversation started back up. The bar filled with hushed tones as patrons stole glances at Shakkurru.

Owen’s hair bristled.

Shakkurru patted him on the back. “It’s over.”

Owen snarled. “I could have taken them all. I probably looked so stupid to her.”

“Who? Plum? You stood up for her.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Owen’s ears twitched. “Stray cats! I’d love to neuter those guys.”

Shakkurru did not know if it was the adrenaline or telling Robutler to shut up, but he felt the urge to do something stupid. He leaned in close. “Want to sabotage their mechs?”

Owen’s lips cracked, exposing his canines.

-5-

“This was the plan all along, right? You didn’t just happen to have all the tools to hamper with these mechs?”

Shakkurru ignored Owen.

“That’s a yes then. Well, serves ’em right. Which one do you want to botch first?”

Shakkurru eyed the five mechs. Besides the holograms on his HUD confirming who owned each mech, it was obvious which anthro owned which suit of armor. The first mech he spotted, a gargantuan mass of aqua blue metal, barely managed to fit in its assigned bay and stood so tall it almost scraped the dock ceiling. Every wing, fin, or rudder ended in a knife-shaped edge, from the shoulders to the thrusters. What Shakkurru first mistook for an extra thruster was in actuality a battleship-buster blade. Slow but devastating, the extra-large Powerhouse-class mech belonged to the shark anthro, Hemi.

The next was a slim midsize emerald model, complete with laser shield and particle blade as well as shoulder rifles. A quick but durable Fighter-class mech that fit the lizard man, Tushar.

Thoko’s large orange Artillery-class mech was much like his sapien frame. A rectangular bulk of heavy armor and heavier fire power, boasting a mega cannon in place of the left arm.

Another midsized Precision-class had to be Quintyn’s. Sleek cascading angles, front and rear thrusters of all sizes, reflected it was designed for fast, fluid navigation. Complete with dual arm particle blades and no shields to speak of summed up the crow’s merlot mech.

Which left the grease-black Stealth-class mech—Cedric’s, of course. Smaller than the rest, designed for covert maneuvering, but boasting an array of weapons nonetheless, it included a swiveling Gatling gun mounted on one hip and an ion cannon on the other.

“I’ll cripple the shark’s Powerhouse. You take the lizard’s Fighter. I want to make sure those two are taken out first in case anything goes wrong.”

“No need to worry about the pilots,” said Owen. “Plum promised me she’d drug their drinks as we left. It doesn’t matter what order we tackle them. But I’ll go ahead with the emerald mech, as long as you let me shred the rat’s main circuit board.”

Shakkurru nodded and Owen gave him a thumbs up.

“How do we bypass the alarms?” Owen asked.

Shakkurru produced a small EMP from his exosuit. It had just enough range to knock out equipment within the docking lot for a short period of time, but not much else outside that range. The upside was that it would knock out all of the alarm systems any of the mecha might have installed to prevent theft. The downside was that Shakkurru’s own HUD would be rendered useless as well as some other functions of his exosuit. Which was why it was outlawed in three star systems. For all intents and purposes, Shakkurru and Owen were blind until they completed the job. But if the pilots were drugged then they had nothing to worry about.

Shakkurru went to work, tinkering with practiced expertise. The metal hull of the mech felt cool under his fingertips, reminding him of the cryo chamber. In a way the mecha were like him, lying dormant until under the command of their pilots, their masters. Shakkurru clenched his jaw. Was this the sum of his existence? A destructive weapon that lay dormant until needed, but otherwise given no regard. Even Owen had said as much.

Across the docking lot, Shakkurru eyed the corgi who worked with just as much efficiency thanks to his years as a mechanic. The little anthro hummed a tune as he clipped coils and drained hydraulic tubes. Owen looked... happy. Was Shakkurru happy? He did not know if he could feel joy any longer. He forgot what full-fledged emotions felt like thanks to the implant. Robutler always found reasons to recalibrate him.

He shut off the EMP, checked on Owen’s progress, then unmuted Robutler and checked in with a status report. “I’m disarming the mechs now. The pilots have been taken out of the picture temporarily.”

“Did you beat them all to a pulp? If you compromised the mission, I will need to inform Master Balak at once.”

Shakkurru sighed. “I did not compromise anything. In fact I made an ally.”

“You’re not employing the help of that anthro mutt, are you? Master Balak will be most furious.”

Shakkurru rolled his eyes.

“I saw that. AS-04, you do realize that I am programmed to assist Master Balak and maintain order in all of the affairs he delegates to me.”

“Yeah.”

“So, if you are out of order, I have it on his authority to put you back into your place. By any means necessary.”

He knew what Robutler implied. The red button. They used it as a threat sometimes, when they perceived things on the verge of spiraling out of control. They loved to remind him that he was only one red button away from being put out of service to make way for AS-05.

“I’ve not forgotten you told me to shut up either. I’ve logged it away for later use.”

Shakkurru gritted his teeth. Dampener or no, he hated Robutler.

But he did not have time to respond. The low rumble of obnoxious laughter from a male voice echoed throughout the docking lot. “You ladies really want to see my mech huh?”

“Going dark for a click.” Shakkurru muted Robutler again.

Hemi strode onto the catwalk with two females hanging on each arm. One, a yellow bug-eyed alien, stroked his dorsal fin, while the other, an anthro lioness, tickled his gill slits.

“We don’t believe you’re a real mech pilot.”

“Of course I am. See.”

They reached his aqua blue behemoth. Both women gasped and giggled. “Is that really yours? It’s so big.”

Ice crawled through Shakkurru’s veins. He snuck over to Owen who had a furry finger on the trigger of his hand blaster.

“I thought you said Plum drugged their drinks.”

As if in response, Hemi let out an energetic whoop. “Terrans, I feel good! You ladies want to sit in the cockpit with me? I’ll show you how it all works. Maybe even take you for a joy ride.”

Owen growled. “Hair balls. Plum must have given the pilots uppers instead of downers.”

-6-

The red button loomed in Shakkurru’s mind. He could not let this mission get out of control. Hanae waited for him back in the cryo chamber, but only if he completed the mission. And to do that he would have to sneak back over to where he placed the EMP and turn it on again. That would buy him a few precious clicks, preventing Hemi from contacting his buddies via com link. Master Balak wanted no casualties. That meant he would need to take Hemi down without killing him. But now the buzzed women were an unpredictable factor he had to account for as well.

Shakkurru raised a finger to his lips. Owen nodded and stayed put. Then Shakkurru moved through shadows over to the EMP. His fingers reached it just as Hemi let out a cry of frustration.

“Tushar. It’s me… Hemi. My mech’s acting up again. Your boys didn’t do a thorough inspection. Get down here and take a look.”

The ladies were no longer giggling. The fun died down.

Shakkurru turned on the EMP.

“Tushar? Tushar.”

Shakkurru acted with unreal speed thanks to the exosuit. He jumped back and forth between the Powerhouse mech’s legs climbing higher and higher. If the EMP was off, he’d be able to magnetize to the mech and scale it with ease. As it was, he found ample handholds in the joints of the giant suit of armor. He reached the cockpit as Hemi climbed out of it. Shakkurru used the sharkman’s upward momentum to launch him out of the cockpit. Hemi sprawled out onto the catwalk. Shakkurru pounced on him delivering a series of chops to the mass of flesh where his throat should have been.

“Akio, look out!”

Owen alerted him just in time. Shakkurru dove farther down the catwalk as a blaster pew cut through the air. Out of the corner of his eye he caught both the lioness and the alien woman leveling blasters at him. Shakkurru let muscle memory and training from his previous incarnations kick in. He tumbled into a series of back handsprings. Each flip resulted in several shots fired at him. Each shot scorched the catwalk where he had been.

But then he ran out of catwalk at the end of the dock. He ignited his pulse blade in one hand, deflecting two more shots. Then he extinguished it and swapped it for his pulse rifle. He pumped it and fired. His rifle answered their small blaster pews with a boom.

The ladies ducked back into the cockpit.

More shots pinned the buzzed beauties in the mech. “I’ll cover for you,” barked Owen.

But even the corgi’s cover would not buy him enough time. He had only sabotaged two of the five mecha. Three remained fully operational. A forty percent complete job was a failure, and one that Master Balak would punish severely.

Lost in the thought, Shakkurru did not realize the sharkman picked himself up. With a roar Hemi charged him. He slapped his right palm onto his left arm brace. A fin-shaped aqua pulse blade erupted out of his bracer.

“Ah, stars and starships,” Shakkurru groaned.

Their blades met with a loud crackle. Hemi was the stronger of the two, even against the exosuit. With their blades locked, Hemi’s massive jaw rushed in chomping at Shakkurru’s nanovisor. The teeth punctured the helmet and it faltered, dematerializing, exposing Shakkurru’s face to rows of razor-sharp teeth. Mahogany ale mingled with pungent stale fish breath assaulted his nostrils.

A blaster shot struck the sharkman in the back, burning a hole in his tank top. Hemi yelped and stumbled. Shakkurru dipped into a spinning sweep kick, toppling the aquatic predator. The shark took a nosedive off the catwalk. Silence followed. Then a sickening smack. Shakkurru looked over the edge to see Hemi clawing the air in pain, still alive, but removed from the equation.

Owen returned his focus to the women still stuck in the cockpit.

Shakkurru needed a moment to form a new plan.

But Tushar gave him no time. The sliding doors to the docking lot entrance whisked open. In a matter of clicks the lizard’s cunning eyes took in the scene, put two and two together, and turned right back the way he came.

Shakkurru bolted after him, but Tushar had a head start. By the time the docking doors opened, Tushar was already out of the tunnel and up the ramp that led back up to the street level.

Sprinting to the end of the tunnel, Shakkurru stopped just at the base of the ramp. Blaster shots exploded on the ground in front of him. After his ears stopped ringing, he heard Tushar yelling into his com link.

“I don’t know. I think they got Hemi. I don’t know how many. More than one. Yeah, the Terran in the exosuit. Get out here quick.”

Shakkurru had no time to sabotage the remaining mechs. He needed to escape and try a new course of action. But Tushar had him pinned down. At his back Owen could still be keeping the women at bay, or he could have found another exit and got his little corgi legs out of there. The women could be approaching the tunnel even now. All of his skills had their limits, and fighting in a narrow tunnel with enemies on both ends was suicide. He could direct his hovercycle remotely to his location if his HUD was up. But the EMP range extended into the tunnel. Just his luck that the EMP range ended at the top of the ramp where Tushar waited to blast him.

His only hope lay in getting past Tushar to his hovercycle and hightailing it out of there. And if he was going to follow through with that plan he had mere moments to act.

A paw touched his shoulder causing him to jump.

“Eh, easy pal. Just your bud, Owen.”

“I thought you found another way out.”

“Past the shark that could awaken at any moment? No way.”

“The ladies?”

“Still in the mech. A few close blasts, but I got past ’em.”

Tushar sent a series of warning shots down the ramp.

“How many?” asked Owen, pointing up the ramp.

“Just the lizard, but the rest are on the way.”

Owen grimaced.

“Cover for me. I’ll pick you up on my hovercycle.”

Owen raised his eyebrows.

“I promise. Just cover for me.” He shoved his pulse rifle into the dog’s paws. Without waiting for a confirmation, Shakkurru ascended the ramp. Over his shoulder, the corgi lay down cover fire. About halfway up the ramp, Shakkurru cleared the EMP range and his offline exosuit features powered up. With a few blinks at his HUD, he turned on his mini thrusters, boosting him to inhuman speeds. He jump kicked into the air. His left foot contacted with Tushar’s lizard jaw.

In a few propulsion imbued bounds, he dashed over the unconscious reptile to his hovercycle. He kicked a leg over as he used his HUD to start the engine. He revved the throttle just as Cedric and the rest of the gang charged out of Paw Pints.

At such a close range there was no way they could miss. Blaster pews scored the side of the cycle. With the twitch of his wrist Shakkurru could leave them in the dust, but he could not ditch Owen. He pulled up alongside the ramp and Owen hopped on the back.

“Go. Go. Go,” barked the dog.

They sped through streets past the automated warehouse, the dark matter distillery, and cut through the maze of pipe framed streets in the meteorite refinery in attempts to lose the pilots. There was no way the beasts could track Shakkurru now.

Owen yelled in his ear. “Let’s get this thing off the ground.”

Shakkurru tried, but his HUD showed a hover system failure.

“That little rat shot up the cycle. She won’t fly.”

Going that fast on the streets would draw the wrong sort of attention from local authorities. To truly be in the clear they needed to get on the freeway. Shakkurru set his GPS to find the best route to get up onto the elevated freeway, then used the display on his cycle to access the one-man flyer. It was difficult to do while driving, but he set the flyer to autopilot so it could pick them up. Now they just had to find a good spot to get the cycle into the lift. Otherwise he had no cockpit.

They entered the raised freeway no problem. The ramp ascended high above the port city, just below skytraffic. Shakkurru switched on a holomap so he could see his flyer’s location in comparison to his current location. The flyer was more than ten clicks away. If they could steer clear of trouble for just a little longer, they would be free.

Three mechs flew into view from either side of the freeway soaring alongside the damaged cycle.

Owen took the words out of his mouth. “How did that rat find us?”

Shakkurru used the cycles display to scan the bike and cursed. “One of those shots wasn’t a laser blast. It was a tracer.”

Shakkurru throttled the engine accelerating to dangerous speeds. Traffic forced him to bob and weave. The skyborne mechs kept up with them. The orange mech, Thocko’s, broke away from the rest and zoomed ahead. One shot from his mega cannon was all it took to demolish an entire section of the raised freeway. Shakkurru slammed on the breaks, locking the cycle up. The cycle wobbled then slipped on the slick surface still wet from the previous rainfall. He and Owen fell headlong over the handles and slid on the freeway for a ways before scraping to a halt.

“Oh Terrans,” moaned Owen. “That hurts.”

“Up. Quick.” Shakkurru ignited his blade, trying to follow his own command. Though the exosuit quickened his movement and provided a layer of armor, it did little to cushion against a collision with concrete. He shook off the pain as best he could.

The pulse rifle lay a few meters from Owen. He crawled over to it and got up with a limp.

Thocko parked his mech right at the edge of the drop off he created. Apparently Cedric and the gang wanted to savor the moment, punishing them slowly.

The cement shook as the remaining two mechs cut their thrusters and tested the load capacity of the freeway. The drugs must have really done a number on the gang’s comprehension levels, giving them enhanced bravado.

Shakkurru was cornered but not dead. He did the last thing they anticipated. He turned and charged Cedric’s mech.

-7-

His exosuit amplified his speed. And compared to the mechs he was a small target. Armed with those two advantages plus the element of surprise, Shakkurru was a force to be reckoned with. He bounded up Cedric’s small mech, this time his exosuit magnetized to the hull. As he climbed his drove his blade into the armor, dragging up as he went. He split the first layer of armor open, exposing crucial interior.

One way or another Shakkurru would complete his mission. These mechs would be another Strayn IV scrap heap when he was done.

Cedric swatted a mech arm but Shakkurru backflipped off of him. His mini thrusters sent him in an arc over to Quintyn’s mech. Cedric was so flustered and loaded that he opened friendly fire on his bird companion. Shakkurru crawled like a spider over the sleek merlot surface as Cedric’s Gatling gun tore into the light armor of the Precision-class suit. The birdman’s mech tottered then slumped to the freeway, out for the count. Shakkurru rode it to the ground, then dove behind it for cover. He wanted to laugh but his dampener prevented him. In a matter of moments he had damaged two mechs while on foot.

But his reveling would have to wait.

Cedric took the easy target. He shifted his mech to face Owen who had moved behind the dropped cycle. Even as stout as he was, the cycle offered him little cover. Either Cedric or Thocko could take him out in a matter of microclicks. Not to mention they would destroy Shakkurru’s only ride off the planet in the process.

Shakkurru had no time to cross the distance and attack the orange mech. He doubted that Cedric would fall for the same trick twice. Even drugged, he had to realize the mistake he made in shooting up his companion’s mech.

Still, Shakkurru had to try. Perhaps he could score an attack on the ape’s mech while drawing Cedric’s fire away from Owen. He launched himself at Thocko.

Before he crossed half of the distance between them, heliCOP chopper bots flew into view. Their red and blue flashing lights played across the overcast sky.

“Power down your mech suits, or you will be neutralized.” The mechanical amplified voice of the heliCOP bots echoed across the freeway.

Wanting no part of a firefight between the mechs and local law enforcement, Shakkurru switched his trajectory to meet Owen at the cycle.

Everything went to the scrap pile in a matter of moments.

In his drugged state, Thocko thought he could take on local law enforcement and swiveled his mech weapons on them. The orange suit was heavily armored, but also outnumbered. Thocko finished off the heliCOP bots sending them into spiraling falls, but the downed law enforcement bots were replaced by additional support. The orange mech took to the skies in an attempt to dodge fines and skip jail time.

Cedric’s amplified voice cut through the chaos. “You filthy psycho Terran. I’m going to torture you, then dissect you alive and force your mutt to eat the remains.”

Shakkurru would have met the rat’s threat head on, but his flyer descended onto the freeway, hovering meters away from the cycle. All he had to do was wheel the cycle over and hope that it was not so damaged that he could not get off this forsaken dump of a planet.

“Push, push!” he yelled at Owen. Together they lifted the cycle and edged it closer to the flyer.

Electrical bolts crackled around Cedric’s ion cannon as he charged it up for a blast.

“Almost there,” said Shakkurru, straining to get the cycle rolling.

A flash of light blinded him.

-8-

Electrical currents coursed through Shakkurru. He doubled over, his spine contorting, limbs forced inward, every part of him dominated into the fetal position. Something inside him snapped. The pain grew tenfold as if he experienced it for the first time. He tried to cry out but only drool escaped his lips.

The surges stopped. Shakkurru gasped for air. Whiffs of his own burned hair churned his stomach. When his ears stopped ringing, he heard the boom of a pump action pulse rifle. His rifle.

Owen hefted it, laying cover fire for Shakkurru, though it was too big and not intended for the small paw hands of a corgi anthro.

“Quick, Shakkurru. I managed to shoot into that gouge you cut with the pulse blade. I think his mech malfunctioned. But it won’t last long. Come on, pal.”

Shakkurru took Owen’s offered paw and got to his knees. His body ached from head to toe. The exosuit now seemed like dead weight. And something else held him down. Something intangible. His apathy fled, out of sight. Excitement replaced it. And the foolhardy joy of friendship being tested. And fear.

The electrical surge had fried his implant, making his dampener nonexistent. At least that was how Shakkurru accounted for the sudden flood of emotions overwhelming him. It was almost too much to bear.

They pushed the cycle the remaining meters until it was close enough to inject itself back into the flyer and resume its dual feature as the cockpit.

Shakkurru eyed the flyer and froze. There was only enough room for himself. The hatch opened and before he knew it, Owen shoved him inside. The hatch closed before Shakkurru could object.

“Just go,” woofed Owen. “I’ll be fine.”

***

He need not worry about Owen. But his opponent—that was another matter. Cedric clung to the flyer the same way his pulse rifle magnetized to his exosuit. No matter what maneuvers he performed, the Stealth-class mech stayed one click behind him.

Apparently when Cedric shot the hovercraft feature, he also shut down Shakkurru’s ability to communicate with Robutler via the flyer’s consol. Shakkurru could also not rely on autopilot as that feature was damaged as well. He would have to pilot the flyer off of Strayn IV and all the way back to Galegold manually.

Shakkurru’s expertise lay outside the cockpit. Sure he was an apt driver on the cycle, but Cedric piloted a mech for a living. The rat’s machine was designed for scenarios like this. To make matters worse, Shakkurru’s flyer was not armed to the teeth with weaponry like the Stealth-class suit. In fact his flyer was not even armed at all. An oversight on the part of his master and Robutler.

But maybe Shakkurru could use that to his advantage.

He redirected his course. The console displayed holographic lanes that were clear for leaving Strayn IV. He cut a path across all of the open departure lanes into the crowded inbound lanes monitored by the strato guard. The flyer’s console lit up with alarms. Doubtless the strato guard tried in vain to hail Shakkurru, to warn him he was driving illegally through oncoming sky traffic. But that was the point. By the time they detected his little flyer, he would already be past them. Cedric on the other hand would not be so lucky. His armed and firing mech would draw the bulk of the attention if he dared to even follow.

He dared.

Shakkurru leaned forward in the cockpit biting his lip. He wove his flyer over and under, through and around cargo ships, space freighters, and strato guards alike. Cedric still fired shots at him, but reserved them for clearer openings. Sweat beads ran down Shakkurru’s face. His hands ached from the vice grip he held the joystick controls in. He skimmed the edges of other ships even closer. The console alarm filled the cockpit like an upbeat cyberclub, matching the thumping of Shakkurru’s heart.

He banked hard and Cedric tried to follow. His mech clipped the hull of a cargo ship. Being a much heavier mass, the ship barely moved. Cedric’s mech was thrown into a vicious spin.

Shakkurru yipped in victory, then noticed he was on a trajectory to collide with two stratos guards that were crossing paths, trying to cut him off for detainment.

He celebrated too soon. He was caught. And not only would his master not bail him out, he would engage the red button. Even if Shakkurru was out of range this far away from Galegold, his master would send someone to dispose of him so that none of this mess could be traced back to Balak. If Shakkurru was lucky, Balak would put a bounty out for him. If not, Shakkurru would be facing AS-05. The thought of meeting his double in combat sent chills down his spine.

He shook his head. The stratos guards were closing the gap, but there was still a chance. His options were either to die later in a Strayn IV cell or flirt with death while escaping. He sent all power to the rear thrusters and punched the joysticks forward. At the last milliclick he sent the flyer into a barrel roll. The flyer shot through the stratos ships and into deep space.

***

Shakkurru did not let off of the thrusters until Strayn IV was a blip on the consol. Nothing but stars and nebulas stretched across the horizon. When he finally eased off the thrusters, he also let out a long breath. He allowed himself to ease back in his seat. But he did not feel at ease himself.

Sure, he made it off of Strayn IV alive. He had accomplished the mission. But there had been many witnesses, not the least of which were the mech pilots themselves. As far as he knew none of them were dead. They all had a visual on him at one point in the altercation. With their combined knowledge, they would have a good description of him, his hovercycle, and his flyer.

But space was as vast as it was dark. His exosuit was unregistered. That meant that when other HUDs scanned him, their holographs returned with nothing. And the credentials Robutler provided the Strayn IV stratos guard were fabricated. If Cedric attempted a scan of his flyer during their dog fight, his HUD would have drawn another blank. Shakkurru did not exist. It was a blessing and a curse. Shakkurru drew in a quivering breath. He hoped his nonexistence was enough to appease his master. What he would not give to be back in the cryo chamber. Perhaps this was all a nightmare. Perhaps he slept even now. But the thoughts were not comforting. The edge that the dampener took off of his emotions was gone. His joys and fears bit into him like a poisonous cometcobra.

He recalled his nanovisor had a chunk taken out of it. He could not check in for a status report even if he wanted to. That truth held more significance, though. Robutler had not witnessed the worst of it. That meant Shakkurru was free to embellish or retract incidents about the ordeal in his favor. No need to tell Balak all of the details. He had the whole trip back to think up his report.

Shakkurru told himself that would be enough. It would work. And afterward he could go back into cryostasis and forget all of this mess and rest in peaceful dreams of Hanae.

-9-

Galegold’s city lights cast long shadows across Master Balak’s high-rise office.

Shakkurru arrived at Galegold in the dark of night. Using the building’s com system he informed Robutler of his late arrival. At so late an hour he would be required to wait until morning to provide his master with a mission report. While waiting for the bot to escort him to the cryo chamber, Shakkurru moved over to stand at the window where his master usually stood. Galegold was almost more beautiful at night; all of the buildings and skytraffic emitted a collective array of multicolored lights. A tear fell from his eye.

Why had he returned? Could he not be like Owen, a carefree dog, happy to work a simple job. But Shakkurru’s existence was not simple. The only woman he loved in life was taken from him, separated by space and time. The dreams were all he had left. And despite Master Balak’s disregard for him as a person, this was all he knew.

Eugenic experimentation bred AS-01 for one purpose. Cloning honed that purpose through the incarnations all the way down to AS-04. His emotions were diminished as well to serve that purpose, to make him a living weapon capable of swift destruction. But now years of pent up emotions were surfacing and he did not know how to handle them except for getting a new implant installed. Only then could he return to feeling normal, to hardly feeling at all. Then they would let him return to the cryosleep. He wanted it, needed it bad. Needed her.

A cane collided with his skull. Sharp pain erupted in his head. Shakkurru fell to the ground.

“You botched the entire mission.” Balak spat the words out like venom at Shakkurru. “You’re the focal piece of the Strayn IV newsfeeds. You dodged the local authorities trying to apprehend you, and then returned here.”

“I accomplished the mission.”

“You left a trail of destruction that leads straight back to me.”

The cane came down hard across Shakkurru’s face again.

“You’ve ruined everything. Do you know how many credit bribes I’ll have to divvy out? How many blackmail favors are going to be called in at my expense? My competitors will put me out of business. Years of what I’ve built will crumble.”

He struck Shakkurru again.

For his part Shakkurru took the beating. He had endured beatings like this before. As had his previous incarnations. If he let Balak get his rage out, then Master would see clearly that the situation was still salvageable. Master could then easily recalibrate him with another dampener implant. The new emotions overwhelmed him, threatened to undo him. He held to a hope that after enduring his punishment, Master Balak would make everything right again, restore his peace.

“Robutler, the red button please.”

Robutler emerged from the shadows. His amber eye bulb stared at Shakkurru, not a gig of mercy visible. He held the red button device.

Deep memories from the recesses of his cloned mind caused trepidation to overcome Shakkurru. He shook with fear. There was no going to the cryo chamber. This was the end of AS-04, and the birth of AS-05. But something in him caused him to lash out. He kicked the remote out of Robutler’s metal hands and wrestled the bot to the ground.

Shakkurru eyed his master. “Let me go, or Robutler gets terminated.”

“Stand down, AS-04,” chirped Robutler. “We can come to a compromise.”

Shakkurru pinned him down under the weight of his armored foot.

“We’ll have the cryo chamber prepped in no time,” explained the bot. “The cryostasis will make you comfortable again.”

That struck a nerve. It was all he wanted, to find peace in the cryo chamber. He hesitated.

Master Balak laughed. Whenever Shakkurru witnessed Balak express a positive emotion, it gave him the chills.

“You fool. You think I value this bot. Or even you? You’re worthless to me if you can’t function as intended. Goodbye, Star Sleeper.”

Balak pushed the red button, putting AS-04 out of service.

Shakkurru flinched, waiting for the eternal sleep to overtake him. In some twisted way, it would be better than cryostasis. He would never have to awaken for another mission again. The next cursed clone, AS-05, would be left to deal with the ramifications, the missions, and the endless tinkering with the dampener.

Balak jabbed the red button over and over. His eyebrows contorted in anger, then lifted in dismay.

Eternal slumber did not come for Shakkurru. Balak tried to kill him and failed. He tried to take away the one peaceful aspect of Shakkurru’s life, his dreams. And he did not even give Shakkurru the quick death that was promised.

White hot rage seared Shakkurru. His fingers formed a fist and he bashed Robutler’s eye bulb over and over. The eye splintered, then shattered altogether. Shakkurru reached into the socket, grabbing a handful of internal wiring and wrenched out essential parts.

“System failurrre.” Robutler’s mechanical voice slowed and deepened as he powered down.

Shakkurru hefted the robot corpse above his head and lobbed it out of the window, dashing the glass into a million shards.

Balak’s mouth hung open, his pearl-white hair blowing wild from the sudden rush of wind. Then he bashed the red button over and over. His scarlet cyborg eye whirled on Shakkurru, scanning him.

“Your implant is offline.” The words came out of Balak not with the confidence that Shakkurru was used to hearing, but with a hint of dismay.

For the first time in his recycled life, AS-04 held the upper hand over his former master.

He reveled in the feeling. Feeling itself was a gift. Sure, grief wracked his soul over his lost Hanae, the life they could never have together. But there were other emotions, feelings he never had the luxury of. Until now.

AS-04 had died with the implant. Akio Shakkurru never felt more alive.

He stepped toward Balak and kicked him between the legs. Balak doubled over, all of his weight on the cane. Shakkurr kicked the cane out from under him sending the emasculated entrepreneur sprawling.

Balak’s voice shook. “I’m your master. I’ve cared for you. Calibrated you. Spent millions of credits to refine you, to remake you, when early iterations failed.”

Shakkurru approached Balak forcing him to edge along the shard ridden floor toward the broken window.

“I provided you shelter and peaceful sleep. Kept you safe. You’re mine. I own you.”

Balak’s face paled as he reached the edge of the window and had no space left to move.

“Please,” Balak Serbane pled. “Spare me.”

Akio Shakkurru hated when they pled for mercy.

The marigold pulse blade ignited in his hand.

-10-

“So you’re a free Terran, and you managed to get past my buddies in the stratos guard again. And all just to see if your good ole pal Owen survived. I’m touched.”

Shakkurru nodded. “I’ve never been awake this long though. I don’t like it.”

“You’ll get used to it. The withdrawals will die down eventually.”

Shakkurru shook his head. He could never get used to it. A part of him, the part that had been suppressed by the dampener knew why he longed for the cryostasis. The dreams, though a pathetic substitute for reality, were his only reality. Or they had been. But even his feeble dreams were taken from him. He was free, but he had nothing.

Owen slurped another tentacle. “I love these now. They’re the only appetizer I order.” His com link buzzed with an alert.

“Hey, look at that. Roger got back to me.”

“Roger who?”

“You know. The bloodhound.” Owen swiped his com link to display the message from Roger.

The hologram projected a woman with a heart-shaped face. Goosebumps crawled over Shakkurru’s skin.

“Is that your girl?”

She looked different, her pixie bangs streaked with pink highlights. She had aged, but was not as old as Shakkurru assumed. “Hanae,” he whispered.

Owen barked. “Yes! See, I told you. Roger’s the best.”

Shakkurru snatched the com link from Owen, continuing to stare.

“I’ve got some vacation time on the books I need to use up.”

“And…”

“Let’s go find her. She’s only two star systems over. Last seen on planet Widad.”

Not sixty clicks later, the Terran and his new best friend slid into the cockpit of an emerald Fighter-class mech they picked up at an impound auction.

The cockpit warmed as the temperature adjusted itself. Shivers still wracked Shakkurru’s body as Owen set a course for Widad. Shakkurru eased himself by remembering he was free. A nearby star basked him in warm light.

Shakkurru smiled at Owen.

Now nothing hindered him finding her.

END