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[Nordeck]

 

 

Chapter Three

Do You Know Where You Are?

 

 

Forward-Six

Tribute Region

Deck 30, North Tower

 

 

The three of them sat quietly in the darkened lounge, alone and unsure how to begin a conversation that should have started more than twenty years earlier. The tower they sat in overlooked the rest of the base, with one of the hangar bays just a few decks below them. Mila sat back in a chair, fully clothed for the first time since boarding the Trevani more than a day earlier. Otro was seated off to her side, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees. Gavriel stood against the window with his arms crossed, staring into space. Everyone was avoiding eye contact with each other.

 

“Why does he have to be here,” Mila finally asked, breaking the silence.

 

“Two reasons,” Otro answered. “One, I asked him to, and he agreed.” Gavriel moved away from the window and sat in a chair facing the both of them, looking down at the floor. “Second, he’s the only family that I’ve known for over a decade.”

“‘Family’?” Mila glared at Gavriel. “How long have you been in the business of torturing people?”

 

“He was carrying out my instructions and ceased as soon as he realized that you were my sister,” Otro answered. Gavriel’s face remained expressionless.

 

“That was so noble of you,” said Mila. “And what of the others? How many more do you plan to torture or kill for your… whatever it is you call this savagery?”

 

Otro looked up at Mila. “As many as it takes for us to accomplish our goals.”

 

“‘Goals’?” Mila asked, exasperated. She leaned forward. “What goal could you possibly pursue that justifies the wanton, indiscriminate abduction and torture of—“

 

“Not indiscriminate. Only Ishukone personnel, and their business associates,” Otro said, leaning back as he continued. “Those are my sole targets. The indiscriminate killing is up to the rest of the organization.”

 

“Oh yes, the Guristas. Mother would be so proud,” Mila sneered, getting up from her chair and pacing a few steps before continuing. “What the hell happened to you, Otro?”

 

“Mila, you left before—“

 

“Don’t you dare imply that my decision to leave is the source of this depravity,” she said, raising her voice. “You give no quarter to those raised from broken families, and I would think that you hold yourself to the same standard! You chose this path on your own accord, not because a troubled past compelled you to!”

 

“Don’t flatter yourself, sister,” said Otro, looking deadpan into Mila’s eyes. “We may share the same blood, but you’re just as much a stranger to me right now as the captain of your last ship was. He didn’t know me very well, did he?”

 

“How could you say such a thing? Listen to yourself! I watched you cripple and then destroy a ship with dozens, if not hundreds of people on it! Most of them are dead now because of you!”

Otro kept staring at her and nodded his head. “That’s right.”

 

“My God,” said an incredulous Mila, shaking her head. “When did you become a murderer?”

 

“When did you become a whore?” Otro replied.

 

Gavriel flinched slightly, and Mila’s face turned ashen red. Just when she opened her mouth to speak, Otro cut her off.

 

“Are you, of all people, going to cast yourself among the self-righteous, stand on a pedestal and lecture me about choices?”

 

“How dare you—“

 

“You think I don’t know about you and Satelles Enterprises? About all the ‘madams’ that work for you, flashing their skin to the rich and powerful and then selling the gossip you call ‘intelligence’ like some it’s some kind of tabloid? Are you really going to stand there and preach to me about morality when you earn your keep in life as glorified prostitute?”

 

“My keep in life? The choice I made doesn’t deprive anyone of their life, you imbecile,” she shouted. “What I do doesn’t hurt anyone, least of all me.”

 

“‘Mother would be so proud’,” he shot back. “Don’t look at me that way and pretend that you actually respect yourself. So you’ve made a few isk letting strangers pay you for sex—what is it exactly that you think you’ve accomplished?”

 

Mila was quivering. “I don’t kill.”

 

Otro stood up and walked to the window, watching as a Guristas warship started its approach to the hangar below them. “You have no idea how dad died, do you.”

 

“Oh, here we go. You’re going to try and pin this on—“

“You mean your little intelligence network never revealed the circumstances surrounding your own father’s death? How he died selling drugs to an Ishukone executive? How that same executive shot him dead in plain view of several witnesses, and how Ishukone Watch made sure there would never be an investigation? Or, any surviving witnesses, for that matter?”

 

Mila was caught off guard by that comment. She had looked up the name “Vilamo Gariuishi” once, maybe five years earlier, and saw only his name and the caption “deceased” with a date next to it. Although she had the means to look into the details of his death, the fact was that she chose not to. Otro had just implied that her decision not to dig any deeper—while inherently cold—might have saved her life. Still, Mila remained inexorable.

 

“He died a drug dealer, did he?” she asked. “Oh, that’s perfect. We should have been saying father would have been so proud all this time. I can’t say I’m the least bit surprised, seeing how you turned out.” Mila pointed at Otro as she spoke. “You were too young to understand what was going on, Otro. You have no idea about the things that mother said to me in private, how she absolutely dreaded the move to Fade and didn’t understand why it was so important to your father that he succeeded there. It was completely ego-driven, selfish, and unnecessary, and my mother is dead as a result. That, dear brother, was the worst kind of tragedy, the one that didn’t have to happen, the one that could have been avoided if only he’d taken one moment to consider the risk to others besides his own, selfish, bastard self!”

 

It was Otro’s turn to be caught off guard. “He told me that she supported his decision…”

 

“He didn’t even ask for her opinion, Otro! His desire to appease Ishukone was more important to him than the wishes of his own family! That’s why I left after mom died, because he couldn’t handle providing for anyone anymore, and that by staying I effectively increased the chances of something horrible happening to you as well.”

 

Otro looked very distant as he spoke. “Dad was a good man, he was just trying to take care of his family...”

 

“I’m not saying that he didn’t care for you deeply, and that he didn’t do his best trying to see you rise above the misfortune that ultimately cost him his own life. But I know in my heart that whatever his imperfections and whatever his plans for you were, they did not include turning you into a murderer! I have my own issues with his selfishness and I will always hold him directly responsible for mother’s death, but god damnit, there is nothing about any of this that justifies the path that you’ve taken for yourself!”

 

The room was illuminating softly as the Guristas warship outside approached the hangar. The silence hung momentarily in the room, and Mila caught Gavriel glance towards Otro, waiting for his response. It took another few moments for Otro to speak, which he did very softly at first.

 

“I’ve been doing this long enough now to understand something about killing. You don’t have to shoot a man to take away his life, Mila. You can kill without ever striking your victim or firing a weapon. All you have to do is take away his hope. Take away a man’s sense of purpose in life—the rock that his ego rests upon—and that man becomes the living dead. Ishukone killed hundreds of thousands of people by doing exactly that, and they’re still doing it as we speak: By drawing them out to the deep, where they don’t have to answer to the State or anyone else, luring them there with promises of prosperity and success and then snatching it all away.” He raised his voice nearly to a shout. “Dad was one of them, Mila. Ishukone killed him twice, once by cutting him off from the work he depended on, and the second time with a 10-millimeter slug. But you were an accomplice the first time around. When you left after mom died, that was pushing the knife right out through his chest, you selfish bitch.”

 

Mila glared at him, flush red once again. “Selfish bitch? I’m the selfish one? He dragged us out there for the same reasons as Ishukone—greed! Only you people call it ‘opportunity’! He was doing just fine, we were doing just fine in Isinokka, but he had to push it, he just had to get that bigger paycheck and pat on the back from the mighty corporation! All of this pain over his stupid, egotistical pursuit of wealth and fame! You call me a whore? Look at you, following in your father’s footsteps! You’re nothing more than a Guristas bitch, just like your father was an Ishukone bitch!”

 

Furious, Otro took a large stride towards her and stopped just inches from her face. “You better watch your mouth, sis.”

 

Mila held her ground, sticking her chin out. “Or what? You’re going to throw a temper tantrum and murder me? Go ahead! You haven’t got the balls! Actually…” And with a powerful upward thrust of her knee, backed up with plenty of muscle in her quadriceps, Mila delivered a thunderous kick to Otro’s groin. The air in Otro’s lungs was forcefully expelled in a wet sounding garble, and his eyes bulged from their sockets as the intense pain left him hunched over and temporarily paralyzed.

 

“That was for calling me a whore,” she said, seething. “And this—“ Mila followed up with a well-placed roundhouse punch to the side of Otro’s jaw, sending him to the floor in a mangled heap. “—is for calling me a bitch!”

 

Gavriel exhaled a deep sigh and rose slowly from his chair. “Mila, won’t you please have a seat.”

 

The adrenaline subsiding somewhat, Mila’s right hand was now in extreme pain. She also realized that her left forearm was still encased in a nanosplint. But she still remained defiant. “I love the irony,” she said, shifting her weight and settling into a defensive stance. “A polite practitioner of torture. No, I think I’d much rather stand.”

 

The room was flashing with much more intensity than before as the warship filled the bottom third of the window. Gavriel turned so that his muscular shoulders were square with Mila’s, and spoke softly once again. “Madam Gariushi, I implore you. Please, be seated. Now.”

 

She could see that the man she was facing was more than capable of handling himself. His short, compact, densely muscular frame gave him a low center of gravity, which not only made him difficult to strike, but next to impossible to strike hard enough to render incapacitation. Mila was certainly adept at defending herself, but she knew her limitations, and taking this “Gavriel” person was well beyond her own capabilities. As angry as she was, the sharply contrasting elements of his persona and actions made him strangely desirable. He is a monster, she thought, but a very attractive one. Powerful, yet humble. For that reason alone, she slowly complied with his command to be seated.

 

“Thank you, Mila,” he said, bowing slightly and then squatting next to Otro to lift him back onto the chair. Otro moaned, still in terrific pain and unable to speak. Gently setting him down, Gavriel walked towards the lounge galley. “I must apologize for our lack of hospitality and manners,” he said.

 

“I did not expect any,” she replied. “After all, I am in the company of thieves and murderers.”

Gavriel returned with an icepack, handing it to Mila. “For those sore knuckles. On behalf of everyone who works with Otro on a regular basis, I’d like to personally thank you for trying to straighten out his crooked jaw.”

 

Mila suppressed an urge to smile, and accepted the icepack. “He deserved it,” she muttered.

 

“Yes, he did. And I’m sure that underneath the previous facade of hostility and the present bout of agony which keeps him from speaking, he’s actually quite happy to see you.” Otro looked at Gavriel with a strange look.

 

“He’ll live,” she said. “To kill again someday, I’m sure. Which reminds me, why am I speaking so cordially with you? I believe that I should be crediting you for the transformation of my younger brother into the abomination that he’s become, so why am I not tearing at your throat?”

 

“You already have your choice of perfectly legitimate reasons to take my life, Mila,” he said, sitting across from her. “The foremost being that your father’s untimely death was my direct responsibility, and my greatest failure to date.”

 

Mila’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about…”

 

Gavriel told the story about Vilamo’s violent end, exactly as he had relived it in his dreams a thousand times over. “And so you see, our rules of engagement prevented me from taking the action that might have saved your father’s life, or at the very least, avenged it quickly.

 

“I don’t understand,” said Mila. “Since when do pirates and criminals have ‘rules of engagement’?”

 

“Because as clients, Ishukone personnel are important to the Guristas, almost sacred. You of all people should know that every organization has its procedures and, ah, recognizes the value of customer satisfaction.” Mila’s eyes narrowed again, but she let the comment slide. “Neither Otro nor I knew it at the time, but Ishukone’s relationship with the Guristas went far beyond the drug trade.”

 

“Why do you keep referring to the Guristas as ‘them’? Aren’t the two of you miscreants one and the same with the cartel?”

 

“Mila, you cannot imagine just how interesting these times are with the Guristas and, from what we can gather, Ishukone as well.” Gavriel nodded towards Otro, who was now sitting up straighter but still breathing with difficulty. “Your brother has become the supreme vexation of both organizations. And yes, you could say that he and I have had a kind of falling out with our alma mater. But as far as I’m concerned, he’s well on his way to becoming a legend out here.”

 

Mila’s mind began racing through information that she had committed to memory. A pattern of data emerged that finally made sense, at least insofar as circumstantial evidence to corroborate the story that Gavriel was implying. Over the years, Ishukone shipping traffic had a remarkable success rate in Fade, as opposed to the dismal 20 percent survival rate of its competitors. And of the competitor vessels failing to make port, the overwhelming majority were shot down while hauling construction materials and heavy equipment for both planetside and space operations—everything that a corporation would need to establish a presence this far away from Empire space. The attacks on those vessels had been ruthlessly precise, as opposed to the poorly organized attacks reported by other convoys. But recently those figures had changed drastically, with Ishukone casualties across all of its shipping operations—both inside and outside of Empire space—suddenly skyrocketing. She thought about the final words of the scientist on the Trevani, and cursed herself for not seeing the pattern sooner. I see what baby Otro has been up to lately, she thought. But not why. Noticing the thoughtful frown on Mila’s brow, Gavriel continued.

 

“Yes, Mila, something very sinister is happening out here in the deep, far from civilization and the watchful eyes of Concord and Empire law. I’m almost certain that once you understand that evil, you will view your brother in an entirely different light.”

 

“Wait, why should I care about any of this? I was nearly a victim of all this madness.” Mila got up and began to pace, still holding the ice bag to her knuckles. “Why should I have anything but contempt for you? You claim to have tried to help my father, but you did so by converting him into a drug dealer?”

 

“Hope,” Otro squeaked, with tremendous difficulty.

 

“As damnable as this is going to sound to you Mila, your brother is absolutely correct. Hope made your father a criminal,” Gavriel continued. “Think about that for a moment. A perfectly legal mega-corporation forged in the civilized systems of Empire space reveals its true, corrupt nature far beyond the prying eyes of the institutions tasked with regulating it and protecting us. A man caught in those circumstances can only resort to lesser evils, one crime at a time, trading off little bits and pieces of his soul in order to retain some semblance of hope, of life, and if he’s fortunate, redemption.” Otro grunted while trying to shift in the chair. Mila suddenly began to feel remorseful.

 

Gavriel continued. “Mila, there was literally nothing left for your father. Ishukone promised everything; gave him nothing; and meanwhile he had sacrificed everything. Contrary to what you may believe, Vilamo adored his wife, and loved you and your brother unconditionally. Your mother’s tragic death, followed so quickly with your own disappearance, nearly destroyed him. It was hope that kept him alive; hope that brought him to us; hope of a better life for his son that turned him against Ishukone, and hope that those selfish corporate executives drugged themselves to death with the products he sold to them.”

 

Mila suddenly remembered parts of her past, of her own beginnings in the profession that she chose, and how sickeningly familiar it was all beginning to sound. For the briefest instant, the memory of her first “client”, of how her desperation for food outweighed her burning reluctance to give herself to him, took hold in her mind. But she refused to succumb to the pain, and as she had done so many times before, shut the memory out again. “This doesn’t change anything or justify what you two are doing—”

 

Gavriel cut her off. “You’re right, Mila. In the deep, nothing ever changes so long as those in power are never held accountable for being indifferent to people’s hope. Out here, they answer to no one, and there are no checks or balances to curb their ambitions.”

 

“No, that can’t be true, it’s completely unacceptable—“

 

“Is it really so difficult to believe? Look out that window, Mila. Do you see that starship out there? Are we not gods when we immerse ourselves inside of one, manipulating them as though they were a natural extension of our own limbs? Billions and billions of people scattered across hundreds of worlds, and only the tiniest fraction of them can lay claim to such awesome power. Those ships are the wings of mankind, Mila. And we are at the mercy of those who control them. Don’t you see how that kind of power can be ruthlessly abused?”

 

Mila thought about how completely helpless she felt when the Trevani came under attack. Gavriel recognized her look immediately.

 

“Imagine inflicting that kind of pain on millions of people, Mila. Just to make the value of company stock rise a few points.”

 

Grunting again, Otro pulled himself up, nearly stumbling as he did so. Gavriel rose from his chair to support him, but Mila got to him first. She took his right arm around her shoulder and assisted him to the window. He accepted the help, but kept his gaze on the view outside.

 

“You, your brother, your father and mother, and countless others have paid a terrible price for not acting soon enough. And it is time, far past time, to make those responsible for this excruciating pain to pay for what they’ve done.” Gavriel took a step towards the both of them. “There are hundreds who have joined our fight against Ishukone, Mila. We would be honored to have you with us as well.”

 

Mila looked at the side of her brother’s face, now swollen from the punch she had delivered. Old scars long since healed over were now much more noticeable than when she first saw him. So much pain, she thought, as tears welled in her eyes. When she felt him pull her closer, the dam of emotions that she fought to contain finally let go. It was as though she was grieving for lost time, past sins, and the loss of her parents all at once. Gavriel moved towards the door, pausing just before exiting.

 

“The memory of your parents gives us strength, Mila,” he said, stepping outside. “And my conscience will never accept that they died in vain.” And with those last words, Gavriel quietly shut the door, leaving the two orphans to grieve alone.

Сообщение отредактировал Nordeck: 06 February 2014 - 8:23