Chapter 24 - Perspective and Principles

  Darius lay prone on the warped floor of an empty apartment, the cold seeping through his jacket as he peered out of the shattered window. It felt like no matter how he shifted, there was always something digging into his side.

  The frigid air drifted in through the window, a reminder of the planet’s thin atmosphere and its stubborn refusal to hold any natural warmth. The view was dizzying—below, layers upon layers of urban life descended into a chaotic tangle of cramped streets and flickering neon.

  The Imperial garrison was located closer to the heart of the residential sector, ostensibly so that response times would be as low as possible. Unlike the edges of the sector, here, the buildings stretched upwards instead of outwards.

  Darius had always thought it was an odd design choice – pockets of skyscrapers at the heart of each sector, with the average height of the buildings gradually getting lower the further you travelled from the centre. Then again, he was hardly a city planner, so presumably there was a good reason for it.

  For all their size, these mega-complexes were often riddled with empty apartments, a natural consequence of a world where construction was cheaper than occupancy. Still, it worked in their favour. It hadn’t taken long for Harlan and Lena to find the perfect vantage point—an abandoned unit with an unobstructed line of sight to the garrison below.

  From here, he could see all the way across to Exeter Station’s main shipyard, where he worked what felt like a lifetime ago. It was oddly nostalgic seeing it now.

  “I don’t get it,” Lena’s voice broke through the stillness. They had decided to watch the garrison in rotating pairs, making sure they had eyes on it constantly. It might make sense to do things this way, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with the boredom. Not to mention the unspoken tension in the air.

  Darius didn’t look back. “Don’t get what?”

  “Why you don’t care.” She shifted slightly, and he could hear the tension in her movements. “You hate the Empire. I’ve seen it. I know it. So why not join us? Why not fight?”

  Darius sighed. Apparently, the tension wasn’t going to remain unspoken. Telling the others about his decision to act as more of a contractor/mercenary instead of properly joining the cause hadn’t exactly gone down well. It was a necessary step, he knew, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  Tarek was opening derisive, stopping just short of calling him a coward but making sure that the concept was conveyed quite clearly. Corin took the news fairly well, actually – not to say that the man was happy with his decision or anything, just that he seemed to understand.

  Lena… Lena was hurt. Even in the short time he’d known her, it was obvious she was the kind of person who got attached quickly. She believed in people, in causes, in doing what was right—and she’d believed in him too, at least for a little while. His decision to stay on the fringes, to work with the Freeholders but not become one of them, clearly felt like a betrayal of the values she held closest.

  He sighed again. This conversation was not going to be easy. “I never said I didn’t care. I just don’t believe in throwing myself into a fight I can’t win.”

  “That’s a load of crap,” Lena said bluntly, her words cutting through the frigid air like a blade. “If everyone thought like that, the Empire would roll over everyone without a fight. People have to stand up to them. It’s the only way things change.”

  Darius pushed himself into a seated position, leaning against the window frame. He met her gaze for the first time, seeing both the frustration and the hurt behind her words. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, Lena, but the Empire already has rolled over everyone without a fight. Hell, they didn’t even really need to – the Empire is the only reason colonies like this exist in the first place.”

  He raised a hand, forestalling her objections. “I’m not saying that everyone should just give up, or even that there’s no point in fighting at all. Maybe I’m wrong, and if enough people got together, they could change the system. I’m just saying I’m not willing to throw my life away for a future that may or may not ever happen.”

  Lena blinked, taken aback. “That’s… selfish.”

  “Yeah,” Darius said, shrugging slightly. “It is. But it’s the truth. Everyone dies, Lena. It’s the one thing you can count on. A cause won’t save you, and it won’t stop some Imperial grunt from ending you on a whim. The only choice you get is how you live before that happens.”

  “And that’s how you want to live?” Lena shot back, standing to begin pacing across the room. “Alone? Running away from anything that matters, anything that could help others?”

  “Am I?” he asked, not rising to the provocation. “Running away, that is? I’m here. I’m helping. I’m even going to be helping out going forward; the only difference is that at the end of it all, I’ll have gotten something in return for my time and effort.”

  “So that’s what this is all about, then. Money,” she said, her voice quieter now.

  “And what’s wrong with money?” Darius countered, not bothering to mention that he technically was working for parts, not money. “You think people go to work for the joy of it? Everybody needs to survive, Lena, that’s just life. When you really think about it, even you’re getting paid by the Freeholders – it’s just in terms of supplies and equipment. You think these fancy new optics are cheap? They certainly don’t sell implants that can subvert security systems from the corner store. That’s an investment, and in return, they expect you to fight and maybe even die for them. I’m just being more upfront about the whole process.”

  Lena didn’t have an immediate response to that. “That’s a pretty cynical way to look at the world,” she settled on.

  “Maybe,” Darius admitted. “But it’s not about being cynical – it’s about being realistic. I’ve seen what happens to people who live for someone else’s dream. My brother died for the Freeholders, or something like them. You think it made a difference? It didn’t. The Empire’s still here. My family got torn apart. And the only thing his sacrifice accomplished was teaching me that I don’t want to go out the same way.”

  Lena looked away, her gaze drifting to the cracked window. For a long moment, she said nothing. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, more introspective. “I don’t know if I can understand that. Not completely.”

  “You don’t have to,” Darius replied. “I’m not asking you to agree with me. But I’m asking you to accept it. This is how I’ve decided to live my life. And just because I don’t see the world the same way you do doesn’t mean we can’t work together.”

  With nothing more to say, Darius settled back down by the cracked window. The chill of the warped floor pressed against his chest as he brought the binoculars to his eyes again.

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  {Your perspective is… pragmatic,} Echo’s voice broke the quiet, crackling in his head. {Yet it does seem to reflect a narrow scope. The mark of a truly advanced species lies in its ability to cooperate and rally around ideals greater than individual survival. While your approach minimises risk, it also forfeits the potential rewards of collective action.}

  Darius let the binoculars sag as he stared flatly out into the distance. Great. Now the glorified calculator in his head was lecturing him on morality.

  Just what he needed.

  – – –

  Darius rubbed his hands together briskly, enjoying the heat washing over him from the safehouse’s struggling environmental systems and briefly considering the merits of installing a portable heater in the abandoned apartment they were using as a lookout point. He dismissed the notion a moment later. His limited supply of credits might be burning a hole in his pocket, but frivolous spending was why he had so few credits to begin with.

  He snorted softly. With a bit of luck, this whole ‘running from the law’ thing might actually give him the motivation needed to kick some of his worse habits.

  Behind him, Lena sniffled a little as she kicked off her shoes and scurried over to stand under the vent spewing hot air into the apartment. Well, more like ‘slightly warmer air’, but it felt good anyway.

  “Anything to report?” Harlan called from the living room.

  “Nothing new,” Lena called back. “Three patrols left a little later than usual, but as far as we could tell it’s because the garrison was never designed to cater for so many extra enforcers.”

  “Good news then,” Harlan said, poking his head into the short corridor leading to the front door. “The more they fall behind schedule, the less attention they’ll pay to inconsistencies.”

  Darius followed Lena into the living room, blinking in surprise as he saw what looked like a model of the garrison sitting on the table. Arts and crafts supplies were scattered haphazardly across the remaining available space.

  “What is this, a school project?” he asked, amused.

  “Planning,” Harlan retorted smoothly. “This is a scale model, as accurate as we can manage.”

  Darius leaned closer, examining the model. It was fairly large, taking up the full width of the table. Sure enough, it seemed to be a fairly decent recreation of the building he’d spent the last six hours watching, though the inside of the building was hollow and empty.

  From memory – not to mention the rough measurements he’d guestimated using the rangefinder built into the binoculars – it looked like the model was built to scale. He raised an eyebrow and turned to Harlan.

  “You know, they have these fancy new machines called ‘dataslates’,” he started sarcastically. “Using some kind of wizardry, you can even make drawings on these newfangled things. I could show you later, if you like? Might end up with less glue in your hair.”

  “Hilarious,” Harlan deadpanned back at him as Lena giggled in the background.

  “Laugh all you want, but there’s a reason I went to the trouble. A physical model gives you something tangible. You can walk around it, manipulate it, see things you might not catch on a dataslate. Besides,” he added with a smirk, “not everyone’s brain is wired to think in two dimensions. This makes it easier for the team to visualise what we’re up against.”

  Darius snorted, picking up a stray glue applicator from the table and inspecting it mock-seriously.

  “Right, because I’m sure Corin’s going to be staring at this thing, thinking ‘Gee, I’m glad we glued a cardboard turret here.’” He dropped the glue stick and grabbed a dataslate from the cluttered couch. “Echo, you awake? Got a little project for you.”

  {Always,} the AI replied in his mind. {What do you require?}

  “Can you whip me up a detailed 3D model of the garrison? Scale, layers, patrol routes, vehicles—everything you can extrapolate from what we’ve seen so far.”

  {Processing... Complete.}

  Darius blinked as the dataslate in his hand lit up, displaying a crisp, rotating model of the garrison in intricate detail. The outer walls gleamed faintly under the dataslate’s glow, while tiny figures of patrolling enforcers moved in meticulously plotted paths. Even the cargo transports were represented, their trajectories and parked locations mapped out with helpful labels.

  Lena whistled low, leaning over his shoulder. “Uh, wow. I keep forgetting your VI is so advanced.”

  Harlan’s jaw tightened as he stared at the dataslate. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Darius grinned, holding up the slate so it rotated to display the front and rear gates. “I don’t know, Harlan. It’s got fewer cardboard pieces, but it seems pretty functional. And look—no glue in your hair!”

  Harlan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as Lena outright cackled at his expense. He stepped back from the table, his posture somewhere between defeated and begrudgingly impressed. “Fine. It’s impressive. But I’m not scrapping this thing,” he said, motioning to the model with a stubborn tilt of his chin. “I’ve already spent six hours building it, and I’ll be damned if I let a glorified toaster make it obsolete.”

  Darius smirked, handing over the dataslate. “Suit yourself, Picasso. Think of this as a reference, then. Unless you want to add moving parts to your version.”

  Harlan snatched the slate with a grumble but began studying it intently, looking between the screen and his model with a disgruntled expression on his face.

  “Oh, before I forget,” he called before Darius or Lean could slip off to do their own thing. “This works well for the outside view,” he said, gesturing at the model on the table and pointedly ignoring the dataslate in his hand, “but we’re going to need more than a visual layout if we want to hit the garrison cleanly. We’ll need the actual floor plans.”

  Darius shared a glance with Lena. “Uh, and how do you propose we do that? Can’t imagine the Empire just leaves those lying around.”

  “Actually, it’s easier than you think,” Harlan replied. “Keep in mind that this isn’t some secret, off-the-book facility – technically, any member of the public can just walk in the front door and get access to at least some of the building. The back rooms would be off limits,” he allowed, “but you get the point. Regardless, the garrison wasn’t built by the Empire itself. It would have been contracted out to a construction company. And construction companies? They keep detailed records. Permits, blueprints, that kind of thing. All the data we need.”

  Darius frowned dubiously. “I don’t think the construction company would be willing to just hand over the floorplans to any of their projects though,” he pointed out.

  Harlan and Lena shared a glance before giving him such a pitying look that he flushed without fully knowing why.

  “What?” he asked defensively.

  “Should we tell him?” Lena smirked.

  “Maybe when he’s older,” Harlan jibed.

  It took far longer than Darius was comfortable admitting for the penny to drop. “Ah,” he said lamely.

  “Yes, ah,” Harlan chuckled.

  “In my defence, I haven’t been a criminal for very long,” Darius muttered weakly. “It’s hardly surprising that breaking and entering isn’t the first thing that I think of.”

  “I think it’s sweet!” Lena said brightly, not helping in the least.

  Darius groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Fantastic. Glad my naivety is so endearing to everyone.”

  Harlan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Alright, enough bonding. Let’s get to work. Lena, I need you to start digging into which construction company built this garrison. Once we know who’s behind it, we can narrow down where they keep their records.”

  Lena saluted with exaggerated flair. “On it, boss. Shouldn’t take me too long—these big contractors love showing off their Imperial contracts. Good PR, terrible for staying off our radar.”

  “Great,” Harlan said, turning his attention back to Darius, who already looked like he regretted staying in the room. “As for you, once Lena finds the company and locates their offices, you’ll be in charge of getting the actual information we need.”

  Darius blinked. “Wait, what? I’ll be in charge?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “But… I don’t know anything about breaking into places!” Darius protested.

  Harlan leaned casually against the table, arms crossed. “I know,” he said, not unkindly. “But you wanted to be more of an independent contractor, didn’t you? This is part of the deal. You get the freedom to pick your jobs and get paid for them to boot, but you’re also expected to handle them with minimal outside help. Can’t have it both ways.”

  Darius opened his mouth to protest, but Harlan raised a hand to cut him off. “This is an opportunity, Darius. Low-risk, straightforward, and exactly the kind of mission you need to get your feet wet. Think of it as cutting your teeth. If you really need help, you’re welcome to ask, but… well, it’s not going to look good on your resume, is all I’m saying.”

  Darius gnawed on his lip as he mulled it over, finally slumping forward in defeat. “Fine. But if I get arrested, I’m putting you down as my emergency contact.”

  Lena snorted from across the room. “I’ll make sure we bake you a cake with a file in it.”

  “Appreciated,” Darius muttered. “Guess I’d better go find my thermal gear. The only thing worse than breaking into a corporate office is doing it in the cold.”

  “Spoken like a true professional,” Harlan said, grinning as Darius headed for the door. “Good luck out there, contractor.”