“At the End of the Day”

A Starrlight Venturer story by Doran Eirok

Written July 2012

* * * * http://starrlightventurer.deviantart.com/ * * * *

As a member of the Alliance’s covert Ghost Fleet, Arcos sel Brin had found himself in many exotic and diverse locales. The known universe was a big place, and the nature of the missions the Penumbral Sword tended to get assigned meant he was likely to see many more before the end of his days. However, if asked, the Veros homeworld was most definitely not a place he would’ve expected to ever find himself, at least not alive and more or less in his right mind.

To understand just why his current posting was so unlikely and, in his own mind, more than a little bit suicidal, some historical context is required. Arcos was a member of a species called the Argothae which visually resembled more than anything else a bipedal version of the western-style dragons from Terran mythology. The resemblance, as well as the presence of very similar creatures in the Argothae’s own mythology and spiritual history, had given rise to a lot of speculation about some sort of past link between the two races, or an ancient spacefaring species that had found its way to both worlds and inspired the dragon myths, but so far it remained only speculation.

Like dragons, the Argothae appeared largely reptilian with long muzzles adorning their faces, pronounced ridges over their eyes, long pointed ears, a pair of bat-like wings at their back above a tapering lizard-like tail, and clawed hands and feet. Like humans they walked upright and stood about the same height, though their feet remained digitigrade; shaped to walk on the ball of the foot like the hind legs of most quadrupedal Terran creatures. Unlike some of the dragons in Terran mythology however, the Argothae were by and large a very peaceful, calm, and meditative people. Their culture was something that was easy for a lot of humans in particular to admire, and in some cases resent just a little. It wasn’t the case that the Argothae were ‘superior’ to humankind in any particular sense, but a number of social and behavioural issues that humanity had spent most of its history struggling with, often violently, seemed to come easier and more naturally to the Argothae. Instinctively, the dragon-like race had a knack for finding a balance between self-interest and altruism that had resulted in a social history that was generally quite peaceful and prosperous. From a human perspective it was easy to see these people as blessed somehow, yet their almost unanimously friendly and easygoing nature made it difficult for most people to bear any real hostility toward them. While not officially a member of the Alliance quite yet, negotiations toward this end were in their final stages and many close ties had begun to form between the Argothae and the Alliance in the eight years since first contact. As such, it was not uncommon to see the odd Argothae adventurer serving in the Alliance military now and then, either having joined up directly or transferred from Argothae Star Command as Arcos had done, eager to get a broader perspective of the universe.

The Argothae’s advantages, seeming to stem from the way the Argothae brain was ‘wired’ so to speak, had served the race well through history. A sense of natural creativity and diversity about on par with humankind’s had driven them along a comparatively peaceful path of technological development, and the only war of any particular note that the Argothae had been forced to fight was against an external invading force rather than against their own. This external force had been the Veros Star Empire.

* * * *

The Veros were reasonably close galactic neighbours to the Argothae, and bore a similar reptilian phenotype. Where the Argothae tended to remind most humans of dragons from their mythology however, the Veros bore more of a similarity to extinct tyrannosaurs. They walked upright like Argothae and Terrans, but were very muscular and heavily built and usually stood between seven and eight feet tall. The Veros’ cultural history, nearly a polar opposite to that of the Argothae, was one filled with violence and conflict. Planetary scientists and sociologists from both the Alliance and the Argothae had managed to form a fairly solid theoretical explanation for the nature of the Veros over the years; the species’ homeworld that bore the same name was by and large a comparatively barren and arid planet, with essential life resources like food and water existing only in small, isolated oases. This environment evolved species that faced the greatest competition from their own members, giving rise to intense and unstable dominance hierarchies. The Veros and other species that evolved on their world ended up consistently as robust, aggressive creatures with a powerful instinctive drive to overpower and dominate any being they could, be it of their own species or another.

Unfortunately for most races living anywhere near Veros space, this primal drive shaped nearly every aspect of Veros culture as the race evolved sapience. When the Veros began to organize into a society, it was a society based on social status through the domination of weaker beings, such that the common Veros citizen believed it was his right and duty to subjugate his fellow being. When the Veros began to build structures, they were structures designed to either violently defend their own positions or forcibly conquer others. And when the Veros took to the stars, it was to seek out new beings that could be enslaved to drive the Empire’s war machine and satisfy their insatiable need to exert control over all that could be found.

The Nairos, a race very similar in appearance to the Veros but having evolved a smaller and slightly weaker size and the misfortune of growing up on the same world, were understandably the first to suffer. The Tavi, a peaceful and diminutive race of brightly-coloured, tree-dwelling bipedal lizards who were just beginning to explore space when the Veros Star Empire found them, were the second. The Argothae would have been the third had their peculiar approach to technological development not caught the Veros off guard and allowed them to defend themselves against the onslaught.

* * * *

The Argothae people and world have always given an outward appearance of peace and relaxed life, with technological development being deceptively unobtrusive. Argothae cities were built within the environment rather than despite it, countrysides were left largely natural, agriculture was based on the natural biodiversity of a given ecosystem, and heavy development like industrial centres or spaceports were heavily placed belowground or designed with small footprints. Seen from space, the planet didn’t flaunt the level of technological sophistication that the Argothae in fact possessed. So when the Veros encountered the Argothae and began an invasion, seeing them like the Tavi and Nairos as simply one more race of small and weak future slaves, they bit off more than they could chew.

The Argothae fought back fast and hard, driving the Veros first off their world in a matter of months and then pushing their Empire back through the stars. While usually content to live and let live, the Argothae were greatly disturbed by the discovery of the Tavi people and the way their entire civilization had been enslaved simply to sate an instinctive desire. The fleets of Argothae Star Command, quickly growing now that the usually relaxed dragon-like people had near-unanimously adopted a cause worth fighting for, helped the Tavi liberate their world and formed an alliance to push the Veros back ever-deeper into their own space. The Veros had the advantage of a culture built for war and massive, sturdy fleets, but their design and strategies lacked creativity and adaptability, and their development had reached a plateau some decades previously. Against the Argothae the Veros could only fight a war of attrition, while steadily losing ground to surgical strikes, clever tactics, and constantly updating technology.

As the Veros Star Empire shrunk back to its core colonies and homeworld, the Argothae-Tavi alliance began to ease off. Many Tavi in particular thirsted after revenge for fifty years of cultural enslavement, and while the Argothae philosophers and leaders understood this they also came to better understand the evolutionary context that drove the Veros. The great debate began of what the best course of action would be. If the Argothae kept pushing the war and invaded Veros, it was widely agreed that doing so would diminish the Argothae people and turn them into something they could no longer take pride in. If they simply ended the war and left the Veros to their own devices, instinct would combine with a seething lust for revenge and the Veros would remain a constant threat to everyone. As unlikely an option as it seemed, the decision was made to attempt a diplomatic way forward.

From the Veros perspective, instinct and indignation battled with the inescapable knowledge that the Argothae were simply the stronger force in terms of space warfare, and they could not win against them. While a majority of the population still clung to the only mindset their race had ever known, the Veros were not without some more progressive minds that were capable of fighting their way into leadership positions and listening to the Argothae call for peace. As a culture, the Veros were reluctant, stubborn, and bitter, yet the momentum was just beginning toward eventually pushing past its evolutionary baggage.

* * * *

It was after all this drama had unfolded in its own little corner of space, about five years after the ceasefire, that the Argothae and the Alliance made peaceful first contact with one another. The way the Argothae/Veros/Tavi region (or ‘lizard space’ as it became jokingly known to members of the Alliance) was dominated by sapient reptilian species became an interesting puzzle for the scientists, leaving many to speculate, as with the Argothae’s dragon connection, if there were some interstellar relationship guiding co-evolution or a common genetic ancestor. Again, like the dragon connection, no solid evidence had yet presented itself, so it remained an interesting puzzle and nothing more.

The friendly Argothae and the cautious Tavi both opened negotiations with the Alliance and moved down the path toward probably joining it in the future, while the Veros remained largely bitter and insular, disinterested in having much to do with the newly discovered galactic community. All the same, they did allow the construction of an Alliance embassy on Veros alongside the joint Argothae and Tavi one. The Argothae themselves welcomed the chance for some assistance in negotiating the continuing peace with the Veros, the development of their culture toward a more cooperative one, and the ongoing push to liberate various Tavi and Nairos slaves who were still being held captive by most of the more conservative and powerful Veros Warlords.

* * * *

After all of this was where Arcos came in. Of the many colours that his people came in, he was a dark green example with close-cropped silver hair. His parents had both served Argothae Star Command and seen actual combat against the Veros Empire, while Arcos had joined up just as the war was coming to an end. All the same, he had cut his teeth as a data analyst and marksman for ASC on board a light destroyer that had done its share of cleanup work after the war officially ended. Plenty of Veros Warlords had gone rogue when the ceasefire orders had come down, taking their ships or small fleets and becoming wandering pirates out to keep living the old ways. Even today, over thirteen years since the end of the war, Tavi transports and freighters especially lived in terror of being captured by one of these gangs, so soldiers like Arcos had been doing what they could to police the shipping lanes and try to root out these renegades.

Arcos himself had managed to distinguish himself not just for being a good shot at range with an Argothae pulse rifle but particularly for his analysis skills. When it came to software and databases, especially dredging through them to find bits of important information, he’d become quite talented. During his days on the destroyer he had been the primary ‘spotter,’ finding suspicious shipping logs and flight plans and sensor readings that led his crew to anomalies that more often than not turned out to be Veros renegades. A year ago however, his skills had gotten noticed by someone in the Alliance, and, long story short, he’d been offered a job with them. As it turned out the job was a position on board one of the Alliance’s mystery-shrouded ‘Ghost Ships,’ in this case the Penumbral Sword. Arcos hadn’t been sure what to make of the oddly secretive offer at first but had ultimately accepted it, the opportunity seeming frightening yet too exciting to pass up. He’d wanted to see the universe and be part of the interstellar community, and accepting a special invitation to a covert operations position in the Alliance seemed like the perfect chance.

Of course, Ghost Ship duty wasn’t without its downsides. If he or his crew bungled a job, they could immediately become disavowed and labelled as renegades if making them scapegoats was the most politically convenient option. The idea of being hunted down and killed by the government you worked for was not a pleasant one, but most Ghost Ship workers just took it as extra incentive to do a good job. The full extent of this situation had caught Arcos a bit off guard once he had been ‘hired,’ finding his official status in the ASC database listed as ‘retired, whereabouts unknown’ and discovering a bit late just how close to the edge of legality and sense the Ghost Fleet operated, but by then it was a bit late to change his mind. At this exact moment, the downside that concerned him the most was the exotic and often unexplained nature of the missions they could get assigned to, such as, to use a random example, finding himself assigned to a job on the Veros homeworld despite a long history of something less than friendship between his people and theirs.

Normally Arcos would do his work from the relative comfort and safety of his workstation on board the Sword, but this mission required a more hands-on approach and Arcos’ species presented him with a convincing reason to be the one on the ground. While Argothae were understandably not common on Veros, the embassy housed a number who were currently absorbed with the ongoing diplomatic process to locate and free slaves taken during the war. It was a simple enough forging job to sneak Arcos into one of the diplomatic teams, giving him the opportunity to see to this mission personally, even if that wasn’t the way he and his colleagues tended to operate most of the time. Part of their job was to be adaptable, after all, and the balance between data dredging and possible combat this mission called for was a balance Arcos could manage better than the Sword’s next most likely option. Said second option was Silar, the ship’s engineer who hailed from a species of tech-empaths that possessed the ability to form direct mental connections with computer systems. It was an incredible ability that Arcos was sometimes jealous of, and would’ve made the analysis component of this mission a good deal easier, but Silar’s species tended to be physically frail and unsuited to combat, leaving Arcos the ideal choice. Some unobtrusive cybernetic implants still allowed the Argothae to form a neural link with computer systems, which, while lacking the natural speed and elegance of Silar’s abilities, did help streamline the analysis process.

Negotiations between the Veros, Argothae and Alliance had reached a delicate yet hopeful stage, with a group of the more powerful Warlords seeming willing to finally sit down and talk. It was all meant to culminate at a particular conference in a couple days, and according to the Sword’s orders there was concern over a possible assassination attempt or some other form of disruption to the conference. As such, Arcos’s assignment on the ground was to take an active role searching through Veros communications to try and uncover and stop any mischief before it could begin. This he did from an unassuming computer terminal in the basement of the Argothae embassy under the guise of a low-level clerical assistant. The conference of course had a dedicated and capable security team that were already on high alert, but while they were drawing the attention of any potential terrorists, Arcos could act as the knife in the shadows they wouldn’t see coming.

* * * *

Arcos had been at the post for three days now, meshing easily with the rest of the embassy staff by being friendly but quiet, and usually deeply absorbed in his work while officially reporting to a non-existent diplomat that was stationed off-world. In actuality he reported to Eri Val Nairen San Sheear, the Iridian captain of the Penumbral Sword. The Sword was holding station in the far reaches of the Veros system, somewhere in the darkness between the outermost planet and the system’s Oort cloud. The ship would avoid detection out there, but the embassy’s high-tech communications array included a tightbeam transmitter that allowed Arcos to report his findings twice a day.

So far he’d had blessedly little to report. The Veros comm network was of course alive with plenty of discontent and bitterness, and more than a few comments about the horrible things many of the citizens would like to do to the Argothae and Alliance diplomats as well as the Veros ‘traitors’ willing to turn their back on the old ways, if given the opportunity. However, Arcos was experienced enough to be able to spot the difference between impotent complaining and actual threats, with a little bit of research.

Recently he had finally uncovered a lead that looked like it might represent an actual threat to the diplomatic conference, and was focusing his attention on gathering as much information as possible on it. This particular line of investigation had begun with one of the many conservative, pro-slavery message boards on the capital city’s datanet, when one of the users caught Arcos’ attention. Unlike most of the angry ranters, this user had only posted a handful times and otherwise kept to observing. His few posts however were dark, eloquent, and intelligently written, and his account was highly active with browsing and reading the various conversations.

On a hunch, Arcos dug a little deeper into this individual’s activity. He turned out to be a former Battalion Commander named Rekhis. He had some impressive military victories under his belt and gave the appearance of someone who was uncharacteristically crafty for a Veros. His history and skills made it look like he might have been capable of pushing his social standing up toward Warlord status had he chosen, but had held himself back for some reason, possibly preferring to avoid that much notice. Arcos became increasingly suspicious, digging deeper still and sifting through any available fragment of data the network had to offer that could be linked to Rekhis. The embassy clerical terminal itself wasn’t the most advanced of machines, but a combination of Arcos’ neural link, pocket computer and a holographic eyepiece acted as the real interface, one he was very experienced with. The terminal itself didn’t need to provide more than a conduit to access the network, and it was more than capable of that.

Arcos finally struck real substance when some cross-referencing managed to tag Rekhis beginning to frequent a neighbourhood of the city in just the last couple days that housed a high-end club frequented by the Veros Warlords who were due to attend the upcoming talks. Additionally, he managed to navigate his way through a few false fronts for business transactions and trace a few materials orders to the former commander; materials that could be combined in a certain way with more common ones and the right training to produce high-grade explosives. All this together was enough to raise Arcos’ warning flags. He assembled his findings into a packet and set up a secure tightbeam to the Sword through the embassy’s comm array, sending the data and awaiting a response. Within a moment he had one, the blue-scaled face of the ship’s captain appearing on his eyepiece.

“What’ve you got for us, Arcos? Looks like you’ve found a lead?” Captain Eri’s appearance, like that of most Iridians, was something that had taken a little getting used to, but Arcos had managed to do so quite well during his year of service on the Ghost Ship so far. The single androgynous gender that Iridians possessed was a marked difference from many dual-gendered species like humans and Argothae, and their perceptive but pupil-less black eyes conveyed emotion less obviously. Despite these traits, Arcos had come to know his Captain as a confident yet warm and easygoing superior that had a knack for inspiring both friendship and loyalty.

“Yes sir. I’ve uploaded all my findings on the target for you to confirm, but I’ve got him taking material shipments that could be used for bomb-making, as well as recently starting to frequent the area near a favourite club of our Veros diplomatic interests.”

“Certainly doesn’t sound good. Any idea of the timetable?”

“I can’t say for certain, but the material shipment arrived yesterday afternoon, and based on my research it’d probably take around a day and a half to two days to manufacture all the ingredients into an explosive compound. So it could theoretically be as soon as late tonight. From past behaviour it’s likely our Warlord-diplomats will be at the club then.”

“And if you know that, our target knows it.” Eri stroked her chin thoughtfully, black eyes flicking from side to side as she skimmed over Arcos’ research report on Rekhis. “It all looks pretty convincing. Hard to be absolutely certain without catching him in the act, but... give me your recommendation, Arcos. How sure are you about this target?”

This time it was Arcos’ turn to hesitate, putting his thoughts together carefully for a couple breaths before giving an answer. “I’d say 90 percent. Until we have fully solid evidence there’s always the possibility of it being some suspicious coincidence, but... I’m not sure if it’s worth taking the chance with something like this, Captain.”

The Iridian nodded again, pausing only a moment before replying this time. “90 percent is good enough for me in this case. I trust your analysis. I think it’s time for you to get out from behind the computer and go visit the target. If you can gather information to increase your certainty then do so, but otherwise... I’m authorizing a kill.”

Arcos swallowed, and nodded. In the line of duty he’d killed before, certainly, but an assassination was still new territory for him, and the ethical haziness of it still gave him difficulty.

Eri’s gaze softened a little, or at least her facial muscles relaxed in the way that Arcos had come to associate with being analogous to what would be a softer gaze in a species with more expressive eyes. “I know how you feel, Arcos. But you know the business we’re in, and on this mission it’s even easier to see the importance of it than usual. Our job is to do what must be done, not necessarily to feel good about ourselves and sleep soundly at the end of the day. We’re in the business of prevention, not due process.”

Arcos nodded again, more firmly this time. “I know, sir. And I understand that this is something that can’t be dealt with via the usual authorities or a longer investigation for a host of reasons. I’ll do what I must and report in when it’s done.”

The Captain nodded. “I’ll await word,” she said, then logged out of the call. Arcos knew the Captain was sending her best wishes and hopes with him, but wouldn’t risk jinxing anything or shaking his mental state by wishing him good luck in so many words. Saying simply that she would await word from him was her own way of conveying her confidence in his abilities.

The Argothae needed to be calm and focused for the next part. Taking one last look over the available data to be sure he hadn’t missed anything, he signed out of his terminal and stood up to prepare. In the interest of not raising suspicions and making it through security checkpoints around the city, he was forced to do this mission without the combat armour or pulse rifle he’d really prefer to have on him. Instead, his civilian clothes consisted of a long brown robe-like shirt with slits and panels arranged to accommodate his wings, simple trousers similarly designed with a sleeve for his tail, and a pair of soft leather boots shaped to fit his paws and possessing openings for the claws on the end of his toes.

The only weapon he’d been capable of sneaking through planetary and embassy security was a tiny energy pistol. It was compact enough to hide in a hand and the power cell was small enough to be mistaken for that of a watch or pocket computer by security checkpoints. The trade off was that it only held enough charge for five shots, at least when calibrated such that each shot would be powerful enough to mean anything through the thick scales of an angry Veros. Arcos tucked the small pistol into an ankle holster hidden away inside the loose cuff of his boot, and headed out of the relative safety of the embassy and into the Veros capital city, feeling entirely too lacking in heavy armour and weapons for comfort.

* * * *

Veros architecture was a study in rugged practicality. One of the challenges that the native races had been forced to content with besides the scarcity of basic resources was that the planet was, tectonically speaking, a bit cranky. Regular earthquakes had led to a building style involving trapezoidal shapes, heavy structural beams, and small windows. Veros technology of any size was never elegant or graceful, but one did have to admire the crude reliability of it, and the angular structures that towered above the capital city centre were impressive in their own way.

Guided by his pocket computer, Arcos navigated his way to the club his research had uncovered as a favourite place for some of the younger Warlords to wind down in the evenings. By their usual schedules, the ones of diplomatic importance probably wouldn’t arrive for another hour or two yet, giving Arcos some time to scout the surrounding neighbourhood. This district was on the edge of the city centre, dominated by large and impressive buildings where the upper classes lived and worked, though a few blocks farther on the buildings became lower and more populated by upper-middle class citizens. The great plumes of smoke and steam from the city’s industrial districts loomed on the horizon, but even the Veros had sufficient standards to relegate them around the city’s edge.

Arcos’ walking path was determined by information updates he was being fed from the city network in real time, tracing any transactions or security feeds that could provide an updated location on his target, Battalion Commander Rekhis. His last hit had been about twenty minutes ago, when Rekhis had exited a public transit station several blocks away, so he could already be in the area. Arcos began to scout around the back of the building housing the club, generally keeping to side streets and alleyways for two reasons; these were the places Rekhis was most likely to be found planting a bomb if that was his plan, and it kept Arcos from attracting too much attention from hostile bystanders. Legally he had every right to wander around in the city these days, but plenty of Veros wouldn’t pass up the chance to assault a lone Argothae on the street, be it for theft, murder, or something worse.

Arcos perked up his long, pointed ears as his pocket computer chirped an update at him. Rekhis had just purchased a drink from a street vendor only half a block behind the club. He was close, and Arcos turned to make his way there quickly. His intention was to sneak up on Rekhis and shadow him for a while, quietly observing until he could ascertain what he was up to. If he could confirm terrorism in progress, Arcos would go in for the kill.

He had to be close. After a minute of hurried walking Arcos found the food vendor and began to scout the immediate area. He knew the Veros vendor was unlikely to respond to an Argothae questioning her about her recent customers with anything other than a scathing look, but just a bit farther down the quiet street was a narrow alleyway that looked likely. He hurried to it and crept around the corner, peering ahead.

The alleyway was dark and quiet, and at first glance empty of people, only holding a few trash bins and discarded containers. Arcos was about to move on when he caught a glimpse of movement; a shadow moving against the wall he’d initially taken to be a dead end. He entered the alley, realizing it turned a right angle rather than stopping at the far end, and that someone was down there. Arcos’ soft boots kept his footfalls silent, though he had to work to keep his toeclaws from clicking on the stony ground. As he grew closer to the corner he heard movement, rustling and a bit of soft grunting, like somebody struggling to unpack something.

The shape of the buildings that made up the alleyway might have affected the acoustics in ways that Arcos misjudged, making him think the sounds were coming from farther around the turn than they were. Whatever the reason, he made a critical mistake as he peered around the corner. He emerged too far, and rather than sneaking around to find Rekhis some distance down the narrow alley, he found himself practically nose to nose with the enormous Veros.

Like his public ID photo, Rekhis’ scales were thick and dark grey, with a mottling of black splotches down his back. He was dressed in casual clothes, which for a Veros still meant thick garb of tough leather and metal bands, and a heavy pair of boots, digitigrade and toeless like Arcos’. Both Veros and Argothae froze for a single moment, each as startled as the other. Rekhis however was crouched on the ground, halfway through pulling some home-made contraption of packages and wires out of a large backpack. Arcos’ brain read it all in that instant; the device was definitely a bomb, and one of the alley walls was the back of the club. The fact that Rehkis was crouching to unpack it was the only reason Arcos was gazing into his dark red eyes instead of staring at his chest, as the Veros was close to eight feet tall when standing. Huge, even by Veros standards.

Both Arcos and Rekhis were warriors. Both froze for only that instant, before reacting to the discovery of the other. Unfortunately, the extreme close quarters gave a rather profound advantage to the massive Veros Commander and terrorist, who rose swiftly to his feet and brought a clenched fist with him. The uppercut struck Arcos under the jaw, causing his vision to explode with stars once as the fist impacted him, and a second time as his body slammed back against the far wall of the alley. Rekhis roared in anger and charged at him, fully intent on continuing his assault, and it seemed only by dumb luck that Arcos was able to duck to one side to avoid the next punch, even while coughing and sputtering.

The Argothae struck out with his clawed hands, trying to fall back and gain at least a metre or two of distance between him and his enemy so he could draw his weapon. Rekhis’ scales and armoured clothing were both too thick for his claws to even be felt however, and the tight quarters of the alley left him no room to manoeuvre. Arcos was smaller and a lot quicker on his feet but he simply had nowhere to go. He managed to dodge two more punches that were powerful enough to dent the metal plating on some of the walls, but that was when he made the second rookie mistake that he could only hope he’d live to chastise himself for later.

He’d become distracted by the Veros’ powerful arms and been too focused on evading them, but Veros warriors had other natural weapons. Arcos’ relative size meant that Rekhim’s powerful jaws were a less immediate concern, but he failed to notice the muscular leg until it was striking out at him, a massive boot slamming into his stomach and kicking him flat against a wall. To say Arcos was winded by the kick wasn’t doing it justice; he felt more like he’d been run over by a small moon and had every molecule of air pressed out of his body. He’d fallen to the ground without realizing it, and when the boot struck again on the side of his head his vision exploded into red and yellow sparks of pain. Blood roared in his ears, drowning out everything else and giving the brutal fight a soundtrack from Arcos’ perspective that made it feel like he was deep underwater. In a strange way it was almost calming, giving his mind a kind of dazed serenity as he was dimly aware of his body ending up on its back, the Veros standing over him and gazing down into his eyes with a triumphant, enraged, and utterly hateful look. He felt disconnected from reality, feeling like he should somehow be more concerned about the reptilian foot being lowered and pressed firmly against his neck, closing off his air passage.

Arcos struggled uselessly for breath, his vision starting to darken as his grasp of reality became steadily more distant. Disconnected parts of his mind reflected on the situation, one voice sadly resigned that this was the end, one voice terrified at the prospect that rather than simply never waking up, he might wake up to find himself captured and enslaved in some secret basement lair, spending the rest of his days suffering whatever dark tortures this Veros could devise to inflict on him. As his struggles grew weaker and his vision faded more, he knew that either way this was his end, and he found himself disappointed in a strange, detached way that this was all his life had amounted to. He’d expected to make it longer than this, do more good in the universe, maybe fall in love someday.

But there was one last voice that hadn’t had its say yet, a distant but powerful and insistent one. Arcos thought he perceived it as a mix of many voices from his past; his mother, his father, his first drill sergeant from when he first enlisted in ASC, the destroyer commander he’d served under afterward, and finally Captain Eri whom he currently served under. That voice was screaming at him as if from across a chasm, reminding him that it wasn’t over, that he was a warrior and letting it all end here was unacceptable. Hearing Eri’s voice in particular sparked one important thought that made all the difference. In a single flash he remembered that he served aboard the Penumbral Sword, he remembered his current mission, and he remembered what was at stake. And he remembered that his weak, battered body struggling beneath the boot of a sadistic Veros terrorist was probably the only thing standing in the way of a new interstellar war between the Veros and the Alliance.

And he remembered that he had a gun.

In a final, desperate act of defiance, not knowing or caring whether he would survive past it, but knowing that he had to stop Rekhis no matter what, Arcos gave one last struggle and curled his leg up enough that he was just able to reach into his boot and draw out the tiny pistol. His Veros enemy was so focused on suffocating him and swept up enough in his own aggressive instincts that he failed to notice the danger. With his vision almost completely gone and his coordination well below any ideal state, Arcos pointed the gun upward at the dark blur standing atop him and squeezed the trigger five times in rapid succession, channelling every bit of strength and willpower his entire life contained into that one action.

There were five flashes of light and five muffled pulses of sound to Arcos’ ears. And then that was all he had in him. He felt his arm drop to the ground, the spent pistol skittering away along the stone tiles, and his entire body relaxed as his vision and awareness both faded to darkness and silence, one quickly after the other.

* * * *

The next thing Arcos perceived were incoherent and dim blobs of light, and dull, throbbing pain. These things took what felt like an eternity to resolve into any greater detail, and annoyingly, the pain decided to do so first.

To summarize, everything hurt. His entire body ached in some new and exciting way he’d never felt before, to say his throat felt raw felt analogous to describing a neutron star as ‘having a little weight to it,’ and he was pretty sure his jaw was now absent at least two or three teeth.

His sense of taste decided to join the party next for some reason, and the unsurprising message it relayed was that his mouth was full of blood.

Hearing slowly made itself known as sound started to fade from the deep-water pulsing of blood in his ears to the lighter and more airy sound of ambient city noise, distant and somewhat muffled by the alley walls.

He realized then that his vision was resolving itself finally, and he was indeed still in the alleyway, though he had no concept at all of how much time had passed. He tried to move, groaned in pain, and tried again after catching his breath for a minute or two.

Sitting up was out of the question for the moment, but he was able to turn his head to try and assess his surroundings. Lying a short distance away was the body of a Veros, Rekhis, giving a few final twitches before going still. Arcos blinked slowly in disbelief, and redoubled his efforts to drag his abused body into a sitting position. By half-clawing his way up the nearest wall and ignoring the searing pain in his chest he was eventually able to do so, and from the new vantage point he could see the fatal injuries.

By some miracle beyond sense, he’d done it. Rekhis’ body sported four small entry wounds ringed by plasma burns. One in his upper chest, one in his throat, and two under the jaw going upward through the skull. The fifth shot must’ve missed and hit a wall or gone skyward, but four seemed to have done the trick. Rekhis was dead.

Arcos closed his eyes and murmured the most fervent prayer he could think up on a moment’s notice. Then, reminding himself he wasn’t totally done yet, he shakily crawled his way along the ground. He checked Rekhis’ pulse for certainty, but he was indeed dead. He then continued on to the backpack and half-unpacked bomb, inspecting it carefully, first visually and then with his pocket computer which had somehow survived, and confirmed that it hadn’t been armed.

The battered Argothae gave himself permission to breathe for a moment then finally, sitting against one of the alley walls and just trying to recover a little. When he was able, he activated the link he’d set up between his pocket computer and his embassy terminal, tapping into the embassy’s tightbeam array. Lifting the device to his muzzle, he contacted the Sword.

“Arcos to Sword. Please come in.” He startled himself by hearing just how gravelly and broken his voice was.

Engineer Silar’s gentle voice was the one to answer his call. “Sword here. What’s your situation, Arcos? You don’t sound great.”

“I don’t feel great. Going for consistency today. But I can report mission success. Target neutralized. I need an evac at my location if possible, I got a bit roughed up in the process so send a medic if you don’t mind. And somebody for bomb disposal.”

“Acknowledged. Is your location secure?”

“Only moderately. Alleyway in a relatively quiet area of the city centre. The road nearby is big enough for a shuttle landing if you can make it quick, but there were shots fired and I’m not sure if it attracted any attention.”

The Captain’s voice took over on the comm channel. “Eri here. We hear you, and we’ll get in orbit and have a shuttle down to pick you up within five minutes. Grolnn can track your location by your computer. Silar, can you hack planetary traffic control and clear us for orbit and shuttle insertion?”

“Already half done, sir.”

“Good. Good job down there, Arcos. I’ll take your report when you’re back on board, for now just sit tight. We’ll have you home soon.”

“Thank you sir.” Arcos ended the call and lowered the computer to his lap, panting heavily. Even holding his arm up to talk on the comms for a minute felt like running a marathon. He eyed the entrance to the alleyway, hoping no one would get curious and hoping the bins littering the passage would hide him and Rekhis’ body from view if they did.

Eri was true to her word though, and the universe seemed willing to cut Arcos a break. Within five minutes he heard the familiar hum-whine of Alliance-built electrogravitic generators overhead, and shortly thereafter the alley entrance served as a frame for the sleek curves of a delta-class shuttle landing in the street. There was some commotion and shouting as the side door opened, one of his human crewmates in combat armour brandishing a plasma rifle and barking at Veros bystanders on the street to stay clear. Two additional figures hurried down the alley toward him; the human solider Jeremiah Cole Hawkins, recognizable by his familiar ponytail and the bandanna around his neck as he went straight for the bomb, and the Sword’s human chief medic who was named Paul, usually just went by ‘Doc,’ and never gave a last name.

Doc crouched by Arcos and looked him over, then gave a sarcastic but good-natured snort. “I thought you said you needed a medic. What’s wrong, did you stub your toe or something? You look fine. Hmph, thought dragons were supposed to be tough.” The bald and bearded medic winked and started helping the Argothae to his feet, Arcos chuckling weakly and looping an arm around Doc’s shoulders. The two started back toward the shuttle, Arcos limping a bit due to what felt like a broken rib or two.

“When you’ve got him secured I’ll need some help with the body,” asked Cole, as the soldier usually was known. Finishing up his work on the bomb to make sure it was properly disarmed and made safe, he zipped it back up into Rekhis’ pack and hefted it onto his shoulders, following Doc back to the shuttle. The Veros-sized pack looked a bit comical on the human’s back, but it was a credit to his strength training that he didn’t show the weight of it much.

As Doc settled Arcos into one of the shuttle’s jump seats and strapped him in, the Argothae gave a weak wave to get Cole’s attention. “My pistol too... dropped it at the scene.” The solider gave a nod, securing the bomb pack before hopping back out of the shuttle with the doctor. The two hurried down the alley again to clean up the scene while the other soldier, Arcos thought it was Kyle but hadn’t gotten a good look, kept guarding the shuttle and held a growing crowd of curious and annoyed Veros from getting any more curious. Grolnn, the Sword’s Ursa shuttle pilot, craned her thick, furred neck back from the pilot’s seat to regard Arcos with all six of her eyes.

“You look like hell,” she cheerfully observed. Arcos chuckled, which quickly descended into a light coughing fit.

“Ow,” he grumbled, wincing. “Just another day at the office, right? Nice to see you too, furball.”

Grolnn gave a grin, displaying two rows of predatory teeth, before turning back to the controls. A short while later, Doc and Cole returned dragging Rekhis’ body. Doing their best to keep the body out of sight of the street, they muscled it into the shuttle’s cabin and secured it to the floor. Arcos relaxed into his seat, swallowing nervously as he looked over the dead Veros who had come within a micron of ending his life. Seeing the look, Doc gave Arcos a gentle pat on the shoulder and said nothing as he strapped himself in beside the Argothae.

“Kyle!” shouted Cole, leaning out the shuttle door with a plasma rifle of his own while his companion marine fell back and hopped on board, allowing the restless Veros onlookers to advance now that there was nothing left to see. “Go,” Cole then said to Grolnn, the bear-like pilot powering the engines and vaulting the shuttle skyward as the doors slid closed. The two standing marines clung to a handhold mounted in the ceiling until the ascent became smoother, then fell into seats and strapped in.

As the shuttle climbed to orbit, Cole tossed the tiny used pistol at Arcos, landing it in his lap. “Here you go. Next time try to keep track of your weapon, hm?” the soldier suggested with a grin.

Arcos gave a soft chuckle, keeping it gentle this time to try and avoid more coughing or pain. “Next time send me with an assault weapon and full body armour.”

* * * *

The flight back to the Penumbral Sword was uneventful, especially in comparison to the rest of Arcos’ day. He took the time to just relax, letting the realization that he was actually still alive soak in, and half-closing his eyes until the familiar sight of his ship came into view.

As Ghost Ships went the Sword probably held the prize for the ugliest, since unlike most of its fellows the ship took a slightly different approach to stealth. Rather than shrouding the exterior in sleek and expensive sensor-dampening metamaterials, the Sword’s exterior was a battered and discoloured mess of girders, plates, and bolted-on components that expertly presented the facade of a mid-sized cargo ship that had been in operation for several decades past its sell-by date. Stealth only came into play under the skin, with sensor scramblers and false emitters disguising the functional and high-tech interior and systems that were technologically on par with many of its sister ships. The ability of the ship to hide in plain sight and come with its own excuse to fly just about anywhere there could be capitalist interests was a huge advantage in some missions.

Grolnn took the shuttle into one of the Sword’s cargo hatches and landed it gracefully. As much as Arcos’ military training urged him to get up and make himself useful, Cole and Kyle were met by a few more crew members to take Rekhis’ body and bomb off to be disposed of safely. There wasn’t much of anything for Arcos to do, and a wordless look from Doc’s grizzled face made it clear that the only thing Arcos was doing was going directly to sick bay. He yielded and allowed himself to be escorted there, settling into a bed while the Doc started to look him over in more detail.

The Captain found her way to the sick bay a few minutes later, her blue-scaled form adorned in her usual choice of a sleek jumpsuit under a long ex-military coat that had had the emblems and rank removed. Arcos had never been sure if she had actually served in the Alliance military or just liked the look; while she had the air of efficiency and practicality that military types like himself always did, she carried herself with an ease and grace that one didn’t tend to see in veterans. Eri waited for Doc to finish his examination and get Arcos started with some tissue regenerators and splints, then sat beside the bed. She listened quietly while he gave his report of the events, as detailed as he could make them, her expression remaining largely unreadable. At the end she stood up and placed a hand on Arcos’ arm, somehow exuding a sense of warmth and safety despite her enigmatic face. “You did great, Arcos. And I’m glad to have you home safe.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze and then headed out.

* * * *

Arcos was due to spend the next couple days in sick bay, just to be safe. None of his injuries were life-threatening and just needed some time to heal. Laying there as the ‘night’ shift began and the ship’s ambient lights dimmed, he had little to do but reflect on the mission he’d just done. He thought back on his actions today, back to philosophical conversations he’d had with friends and family members and colleagues over the years, and especially back to what his Captain had said to him earlier.

Our job is to do what must be done, not necessarily to feel good about ourselves and sleep soundly at the end of the day. We’re in the business of prevention, not due process.

Well, here he was, at the end of the day. He wasn’t sure how to feel about himself entirely. ‘Happy to be alive’ was currently topping the list as one would expect, and really he’d come out of this mission pretty easily, from an emotional turmoil point of view anyway. The instant he’d rounded that corner he’d seen the bomb, and it had become absolutely certain that Rekhis was up to exactly what he was suspected of. He’d been a terrorist and he was going to bomb a club, killing several rare examples of high-ranking Veros Warlords willing to sit down and discuss peace and emancipation. If he’d succeeded, the peace process would’ve been set back years if not ruined completely. Remaining Veros leaders would refuse to come to the table, either out of rage at the Alliance and Argothae for allowing it to happen, or out of fear of it happening to them. It might well have driven the Veros back to war, even if it was a fight they knew they couldn’t win. If they decided to go down fighting, they could do a lot of damage to the galactic community before they were done.

But Arcos had won and foiled the plot. Victory, mission accomplished, confetti and cigars for all. He wondered what he would’ve done if he’d turned that corner and seen something else, if there hadn’t been an obvious bomb being set up, if things hadn’t been clear. The straightforward and clear nature of this mission was the exception rather than the rule in the Ghost Fleet, and Arcos would almost certainly find himself faced with much harder decisions in the future. What would he do then? Would he just blindly follow the order or would he hesitate? Would that hesitation cost lives? Would following the order?

He had no answers. Today he’d prevented an atrocity and he could feel good about that, at least. As he laid back and closed his eyes, he drifted off to sleep in a matter of moments. Maybe it was exhaustion rather than self-righteousness, but at the end of this day he slept very, very soundly.