Chương 31: Escalation arc

Who needs enemies with friends like these? Bladeslave saying"So, let me recap." Jason waved his hand for patience. Mat wasn't particularly inclined to give it.

"You woke up on a ship, have no idea how you got there, the owner is waving a gun in your face, and some AI is coaxing you into killing the man. You do, because self defense or whatever, and the AI then steals his soul."

"I have a name," Nova's droid rumbled. Jason shushed him.

"The AI then turns his souls into pretty little perks, and tells you he was made in a lab by LandTech to essentially create gods. You know, what with the whole soul manipulation business."

"That's pretty much accurate," Mat said, pushing his empty bowl away. Slop though it may have been, this slop tasted like chocolate, and was just as healthy as the old version.

"I'm sorry, haven't we gone over this before?" Tobi glared at them both, blearily sipping at whatever was in his cup. Mat was pretty sure it had been purple at some point, but it had since turned a deep blue.

"Can the both of you please shut the fuck up."

"No," Jason replied.

"Anyway, that doesn't strike you as anything even close to strange? Just wake up, share your brain, don't remember a thing, and move on with your life?"

"Well, I did get enslaved shortly afterwards. That focused my priorities somewhat." Jason scoffed.

"And that little trifle of a thing stopped your curiosity, did it?"

"Well, I suppose I could ask LandTech," Mat replied mildly.

"I'll just walk up, patiently explain my story, and I'm sure they'll get right on expositioning the whole thing. No way a massive company like that would ever think to repossess their property, right? And oh, when they realize they'll have to kill me to get Nova out? Well, I guess they'll just give up." Reg raised an eyebrow, sitting down with his own bowl.

"Young Jason was just curious. There's no need for that level of sarcasm."

"I'm not young," Jason shot back.

"But thank you for defending me. Wait, am I young? Wait, no, how old are you?"

"So what is the plan for today?" Reg asked, seemingly ignoring Jason.

"I'm afraid I'm not up for another round of sparring, if that is what you were hoping for. Stef asked me to help organize a large-scale emergency mobilization drill. It'll take the rest of the day." Mat shrugged.

"That's fine. So, has anyone managed to brainstorm a reason as to why LandTech might be after me? One that doesn't sound as batshit insane as the truth?"

"Debt," Tobi suggested, managing to speak through his yawn.

"Debt is always a good excuse." Jason snorted.

"If they send a lawyer, maybe, or a merc or two. Not a killteam whose time is worth four times more than any reasonable amount of debt. If it's an unreasonable amount, then it stops being a good excuse, cause Mat would just look stupid. Worse, he'd look like a coward. Which, you know, he is, but we can't let the common rabble find that out."

"Fuck you too, Jason." Mat contemplated taking another bowl, feeling almost surreal while doing so. Wanting more slop? That was almost stranger than suddenly being in charge of a massive company.

"Anyone got any good suggestions?" Tobi grumbled something, then slapped himself. The man blinked and straightened.

"By Toncon's balls, I need my sleep regulator mod back. Uuhm, sorry Reg. But yeah, I got something. R&D test subject. They fucked you over, so you ran. Not the truth, but somewhat close, and most people will relate with being fucked over by people much more powerful than themselves." That could work. Mat inclined his head, waiting to see if anyone else had a better idea. Reg shrugged, and Bea had declined to eat breakfast with them. Tim had other friends, the wretch. Jason was as useless as usual.

R&D test subject it was. As good a lie as any. Better than what he had come up with, anyway. Tobi drained his cup of mystery liquid, then rose.

"So what's on the planner for the day, boss?"

"Yon needs someone to help oversee the rifle drills. Pretty sure that's just a formality, but you'd be my eyes. Make sure Stef doesn't try to take over, or something." Mat waved off Tobi's sloppy salute.

"Jason, I volunteered you to help Tim. There's been thefts, and—" The door opened, relieving a mildly impatient Bea.

"There's been a murder."

"Of fucking course there has been," Mat complained. He rose.

"Reg?"

"Of course." Mat rose, unreasonably annoyed to have his maybe-second bowl of chocolate slop taken from him. Christ, to think not even a few weeks ago all he needed to worry about was not getting killed. And being the linchpin in freeing both himself, all of his friends, and some sixteen hundred others. So maybe not that much had changed. At least he was officially in charge now. That made it quite a lot easier to dole out justice. Down into the ship they went.

It was kind of strange, moving so freely through the ship. Hallways, meeting rooms both in-use and empty, and even an early morning drill. Mat watched the entire company running through the hall, their captain bellowing out some kind of marching song. Officers ran between groups, shouting this and that. It was surreal. That small wonder died the moment they actually got to their destination, though Bea peeled off before they went inside.

A pair of Stef's soldiers were flanking the door, keeping away a small crowd, and the two women saluted. Mat nodded to them, and already he could hear the voices. Which only increased in volume as the door opened.

"She killed my brother!"

"Because he killed my sister!" Mat slammed his hand against the wall, remembering only at the last second to hold back. The thin plastic still groaned, but a clap of air rushed through the space. The other six soldiers of the squad were inside, and half of them jumped in surprise. The others shot him suppressed scowls. Noah turned, offering a tired smile.

"Herald. There's been a… complication."

"Murder, I heard." Mat looked over the two restrained bladeslaves, a name that seemed to be sticking despite the fact that none of them were slaves anymore. Hell, Jason said some took pride in it. Pride in having survived. Not that he believed everything Jason told him.

"Explain." The man glared up at him.

"She killed my brother!"

"Because he killed my sister!" the woman replied. Mat looked at the corpse. One of the engineers. Throat slit. Christ.

"Just because—" Mat spoke over her.

"Just because nothing. Did this killing take place before the uprising, and in an official deathmatch?"" Yes," the woman bit.

"But—""You've killed people in deathmatches. I've killed people in deathmatches. It was the life, and the consequence of disobedience was death. You know that. Everyone does." She glared up at him before looking away.

"I never fought in a deathmatch." Mat blinked, then decided that didn't matter. The rules were clear. No revenge killings. He flicked his hand at the soldiers, and the woman was dragged upwards. The man too, because from the look of her, he'd punched out a number of teeth. He only spoke once both of them were gone.

"Noah, what's your recommendation?" If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Typically? Death." The man shrugged.

"Murder isn't a small thing, let alone when attacking a civilian. A technicality, in this case, but he was a civilian all the same." Reg sighed, having remained silently at the back of the room.

"Death would firm up discipline, but it won't solve the issue. Things like this are going to keep cropping up. We need a system to deal with them."

"Honor duels," Mat mused. Noah tilted his head.

"To first blood, of course. Let them work out their aggression in a sanctioned fight with proper oversight." Noah shrugged, while Reg put a hand to his chin.

"That could work. It'll need to be handled carefully, or we'll be spending our every waking moment overseeing duels over the smallest things."

"I trust you to manage it," Mat replied.

"What was her name? The killer?"

"Rachel."

"She's fired. Take any mods she has and lock her up until we get to the next station, then kick her out. The rules are clear, and this is a warning. If anyone else commits murder, they hang." Noah nodded once, and Reg offered a small, reassuring smile. Being in charge sucked. Mat had known that. Now he had proof. Reg tilted his head.

"What about the man?"

"Find out if he acted in self-defense or defense of his brother. If he did, double his monthly pay. If he took it as an excuse to beat on someone, dock it." Reg inclined his head, and Noah glanced at him. Mat was sure it was some kind of look, but whatever it was vanished before he could find out. They needed a contract to focus everyone's attention, and they needed it fast. Draxon Four. Mat stepped out of the Challenger onto a new station for the second time. And just like the first, there was a small army there.

This time it was his own. Christ, that's still surreal to think. Ironblade Incorporated was far from the largest military outfit out there. Of course it was. But they had a ship, and a big one. So when they'd arrived, the stationed governor had sent a welcome party. A large welcome party. And bladeslaves tended to respond to intimidation by doubling down. Squad after squad marched from the ship, until nearly eighty of Stef's best were arranged around the ramp in a half circle.

Mat did his best not to fidget and ruin the entire introduction. One that Stef had been drilling her people on for days now. Reg and Noah flanked him, both of them significantly better at negotiation than he was. The twelve-man delegation that greeted them seemed rather nervous. Mat didn't blame them. But then they themselves had brought two dozen of their own people, all armed and armored far more thoroughly than those of Ironblade. One of the women stepped forward. She— Mat wasn't sure what her deal was.

Nine eyes, four arms and with a short layer of fur, he would almost say she was going for a spider look. But her mouth was unnaturally wide and filled with a pair of canines, none of which even began to touch on the fact that she was hovering a few inches above the ground.

"Greetings, Matthias Brook," the woman said. Mat nodded, as if he'd let her speak first rather than get distracted.

"I am Syndral. Ironblade Incorporated is known to us. The governor wishes to ask how long you will be staying." Now this Mat knew how to do. Polite corporate speak wrapped up in the barely hidden desire to kick them the fuck out.

"For as long as it takes for us to get a contract. I need to blood my people, you understand."

"It was my understanding you were bladeslaves." Syndral blinked, a motion then ran like a wave across her face.

"I can think of few more blooded than you and yours. We have watched your fights, Herald." Had they, now? Great. But really, that just meant they knew how he did business. Yeah. Corporate speak. Pretend it's corporate speak.

"We were bladeslaves. Are bladeslaves. That's still being figured out. A proper job will help. Can I be so bold as to assume the governor has prepared a list of suggestions?"

"He has," Syndral replied, a slightly sour note in her tone.

"A corporate vessel is in dire need of an escort, and has agreed to pay you the sum of—" Noah snorted.

"No escort jobs. We're looking for blood, shak-hiak, not a two month vacation." Shak-hiak, shak-hiak. Extreme body modification people, right. Nova had gone over those during his reeducation. Syndral shot the man a glare, then spotted the eighty soldiers behind all three of them. Reg raised a hand, his tone soothing without coming off as prick. A surprisingly hard balance.

"We seek gainful employment," the man implored.

"I'm sure you have some issue that we can take care of? That corporate vessel, for example. They fear being attacked by pirates?" Syndral offered a slow nod.

"They are. A mercenary group that fell on hard times; you know the story. Happens often enough. We have an approximate location, but there's no official bounty. No one wants to pay to remove a problem that isn't hurting them directly." And exterminating the mercs was more expensive than protecting their own interests, even if the total sum was far higher. Corporate indeed. Christ, it was almost as if he was back at work. Just with pirates and space ships instead of shipping manifests and old trucks.

"How about an unofficial bounty?" Mat asked. It seemed the obvious question, but Syndral smiled like he'd been clever. She held up a hand, and Mat lowered his own voice, half turning to Noah.

"What's your read?" Noah offered a small shrug.

"They want to keep us busy. So would I, if nine hundred bladeslaves appeared on my station. Recently freed slaves don't have a reputation of civility, so to speak. But they were too ready. Governor Eerdium warned them." The question of how he knew was easy to answer. The man controlled the Tunneler. All it would take was a single look at the logs they no-doubt kept. But that also implied they had a method of communication faster than what a Tunneler could achieve. Another hole in his knowledge base.

He was getting real sick of those. Nova?

"Busy," Nova answered. Things had been somewhat… tense since the funeral. It didn't help that one party could read the other's mind, but only the one.

"Uuhmn, Information Relays are what you're thinking about. Faster-than-light travel for pure data, which can travel quicker because they don't have to care about squishy humans." Mat didn't even want to know what Nova was busy with. Infiltrating Draxon Four, probably. Nova had taken to hacking after the uprising. Either way, this station's governor wanted them gone, but couldn't refuse them access. That could be helpful. Syndral spoke up some seconds later.

"An unofficial bounty can be arranged. Quite a lot of people would be happy to see things calm down, even if they don't want to pay to make it happen. One million for their removal, another five hundred thousand if you can get it done quickly."

"Done," Mat replied. Thanks to Local Omniscience, he'd seen Noah's shallow nod. Not having to deliberate made them seem more unified, too.

"My quartermaster will be requesting supplies for the journey. It would be helpful if he can cut through the red tape." Reg spoke after Syndral had pointed at one of her people.

"Ethical limits?"

"They're rapists, thieves and murderers," Syndral replied, spitting on the floor. Mat blinked at the gesture.

"Kill them all." Is that… true? Nova sighed.

"What part of busy is so hard to understand? I'll find out once I break past the stations' security. And keep your sarcasm to yourself, wonder boy. You already knew what I was doing." Just don't get caught. Nova's trust issues aside, they did have to confirm the truth. Mercenary work wasn't the work of saints, sure, but if those mercs were just shaking down ships, whole-sale slaughter seemed rather excessive. Now, if they were rapists and thieves and murderers, well.

He would be more than happy for his next perk, after that glut of experience he'd gotten during the uprising. Which yes, that was somewhat worrying, but he could do so much good with power. Even on a small scale, growing stronger meant other powerful people, like this station's Governor, would hesitate to cross him. Growing stronger meant helping Ironblade Incorporated grow, and no company of his would be exploiting its workforce.

"The contract is sealed," Noah declared. Mat blinked. Hadn't he just said that? Maybe not.

"Once drafted and signed, we will begin." Syndral gave a nod, clearly not entirely happy. Neither was Mat. But then such was the nature of compromise. A million and a half credits, even after paying out all the combat bonuses, would secure their financial independence. At least for now. The welcome party turned, then left. Their guards didn't. Mat resisted the urge to frown.

"Noah, have Stef keep a few of her squads out here. I won't be confined to the ship. Reg, could you ask around? I need to know how unhappy, or potentially far too happy, the company is with the contract." Reg hummed in agreement, while Noah simply turned back to the ship. Right, that was that dealt with.

Now to make sure the contract he was going to sign didn't have a bunch of unmentioned clauses, ask Captain Alena if the Challenger was up for space combat, and see if Yon's training initiative had at least made sure the average Ironblade soldier knew how to fight like, well, a soldier. Mat stretched, turning to leave and ignoring how dangerously close that fuel pipe ran to the walkway. Stations, just like ships, tended to be a mess of internal systems. One that Local Omniscience gave him a perfect view of.

Hell, with how thorough it was, he should take up engineering. Snorting, Mat walked back up to the ship. Yeah, just 'pick up' futuristic engineering. Fucking hell, since when was he this arrogant?

"Probably since I turned you into a nascent god," Nova muttered.

"I'm done, by the way. Man, why are so many people having sex? I regret accessing their camera logs. But also, who keeps a camera in their own private rooms? That's fucking weird, is what it is. I'll go dig up those maybe-pirates now." Mat sent back a memory of thanks. He and Nova were fine. Together in a way very few people ever were, but fine. Nova wasn't human, and Mat was still getting used to that, now that the AI wasn't confined to just his brain. Things were, for once, going to plan.

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