Wrath & Redemption

Dedication

As always, Special thanks to the entire staff of 4 Horsemen Publications.

Also, a big thanks to Bayou Pen 2 Paper for all your insight!

And a big thanks to our DeviantArt, and IRL followers. You’re what keeps us going! Keep following the Northwest Passage with us!

Prologue

S o, are we done? Or do you want to play ‘Ring around the Rosie’ a fi fth time?

Sarah rested her head against the cell’s concrete wall. Thus far, she’d accepted two things that seemed to be ever more certain about her life. The first was that even her best efforts to do good would eventually land her in a jail cell; the second was that Alexa would always have to bail her out, even if it wasn’t her fault.

It was her fault this time, though. And after all that had gone down, she was on the edge of deciding to declare this reaming the two cops were giving her certainty #3.

If I were lying, don’t you think I would’ve come up with a better story? she said, looking neither of them in the eye. A vague impression then dawned upon her, which she decided to test. Or maybe you’re just hoping I’ll slip up so that I can cover up for shortcomings on your part?

What are you trying to say? the male asked testily.

Well, she’d definitely hit a nerve.

He was a hybrid like his companion, both of them human and Felyan crossbreeds, but his shorter ears could still flatten like any Felyan’s. And he’d growled just as deeply when she pissed him off, Sarah noted with amusement. The way he so blatantly lost his decorum, he must have been a real handful for the chief.

Just tell us again. The female laid a hand gently on her partner’s chest. Her tone was far less abrasive. Sarah watched as her tail looped upon his. Hybrids were prosaically common on Tophanavar, but she did overhear that these two were a married couple. That was a bit more unusual for blues in their line of work. But it did make their good cop/bad cop routine almost adorable. Still, Sarah didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she watched the commercial playing on the tank across from the guards’ desks on the other side of the force field: an animated depiction of a Gestalt battle, the two titanic, humanoid machines duking it out over Tophanavar’s airless, cratered surface, coupled with animated text that advertised the G1 charity expo that was scheduled to begin tomorrow. She’d bought tickets—not that she thought she’d need to, with Alexa arriving as a combatant. She just didn’t want to be a charity case. Besides, her sister usually gave her free tickets to any matches she was in, but now, she was fairly certain that she wouldn’t be quite so charitable.

Touchy now, isn’t he? Sarah remarked at last. She gestured vaguely to the bad cop but kept her eyes trained on the holos in the background. Of course, I expect nothing else from blues missing the forest for the trees. You answer a call for a silly bar fight, then find little old me, and not your real target.

And just what do you mean by that? Good Cop’s voice was becoming strained, Sarah noted with mirth. Naughty, naughty. Good cops keep their cool.

Describing it all again… Sarah said, heaving a protracted sigh. I was just doing a favor for my sister. She attempted the impossible task of making herself comfortable on the cushioned slab that even calling a bed would be considered excessively generous. No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.

What favor? Bad Cop said.

Your real target, as I said.

What real target? Bad Cop looked like he wanted to bash his way through the force field and try to pummel the answer out of her. She really hoped he would try. The roughing up might certainly be kinky from a certain perspective, but to be honest, the really painful stuff was her sister’s thing.

Someone you need to worry about a hell of a lot more than me, Sarah said.

You’re not going to tell us, are you? Good Cop’s ears sagged with the dry look she cast her way.

I’m not at liberty, Sarah answered with a shrug. My sister will have to tell you about it. Clan business.

Like Alexa would tell you anyway, Sarah thought. Though these blues were amusing, she could not help but feel a sense of frustration at this unnecessary detour. And the fact that they seemed to show no real recognition of what she was talking about was convincing enough of their ignorance of the real situation. But that didn’t stop her prey from being one of the biggest dangers in the colonies. The Doctor was wanted on five Alliance systems; there were orders to shoot her on sight in the Imperium, and the Pirate Clans had bounties on her head that could buy a planet. And so, she was more than happy to do the Clans and her sister a favor by ferreting the bitch out. The disappearances in Risstown, with victims turning up either dead or violently ill, weren’t exactly the Doctor’s M.O., but things went a lot deeper than this. Still, her going deep undercover to try to find out whoever had been behind it had proved to not be one of her best ideas.

We’ll certainly be looking into that, Good Cop said, her tone more contrite.

She must’ve looked up my rap sheet, Sarah thought. They would certainly have had records on past arrests and bails paid and by whom. It must have been pretty humbling to learn that their suspect was related to the Pirate Queen.

Bad Cop cut into the conversation with a hiss of such annoyance, it reminded Sarah of a death adder.

Enough with the games! he snapped. Just get back to telling us what happened at the bar.

Right, right. Sarah rolled her eyes. The pimp tapped me on the shoulder—

And that’s where you slammed his head into your wine glass? Good Cop asked.

No, he’d first been trying to sweet talk me into going into business for him, Sarah explained. I didn’t realize they were so touchy about freelance call girls in Risstown.

They are when you horn in on their territory, Bad Cop replied.

Well, I’ll brush up on my underworld etiquette next time, Sarah sneered back. Besides, I’m not that kind of lady.

So after that, you slammed his head into the wine glass? Bad Cop said, gesturing to move the conversation along.

Yes.

Then you grabbed him and dragged him into the restroom…

…and you proceeded to— Good Cop continued, opening a note holo, —beat the shit out of him, and then tossed him out the window … and you expect us to believe that he survived a three-story drop into an empty dumpster?

Sarah shrugged. Why not? I did, didn’t I?

It was the third time she recited it, but it did not stop her from wanting to physically facepalm at her own explanation so hard that it would cause a singularity. Still, it was better than having to explain the actual truth: how she gave into her baser instincts, and just so soon after having spotted the elusive Doctor. Or at least that was what she looked like. Sarah had taken plenty of pictures and videos, which the blues had confiscated along with the rest of her evidence. The only evidence they didn’t have was the body of the pimp, which the impact with the wine glass had unfortunately killed. Thankfully, her digestive system was an efficient way of getting rid of evidence; though she found the bones distasteful and hard to keep down. Once that unpleasantness was finished, she’d made her escape through the window. There was enough blood on her to suggest some roughhousing and that the pimp had run off instead of having been made into her next meal. Without a doubt, these blues had expected more to this story, and Bad Cop most certainly wanted to nail her for murder. Good luck with that.

She only wished that they had known more about her actual target. Alas, no one on this asteroid had much of a clue as to the nature of the devil that walked among them or the worst one that was soon to come.

So, are you satisfied? Sarah said. If you don’t mind, I’ve grown rather enamored with staring at this wall for the past eight hours. She paused, then grinned slowly. She posted bail, didn’t she?

Good Cop made a sigh that carried with it a tone of utter defeat.

Yes. We received her money transfer. It’ll be fully valid once she arrives at the spaceport tomorrow.

Good. Maybe now they would leave her alone. Now if you don’t have any more questions, kindly sod off.

Sarah watched as the blues exchanged dissatisfied looks, then ambled away. Good Cop, however, took several seconds longer than her colleague to leave, dropping her mask of false compassion and fixing her with a gaze whose suspicion spoke volumes more than any words. At last, however, even she left.

Sarah, a bit unnerved at Good Cop’s actions but nonetheless satisfied that neither was the wiser, closed her eyes. She wished she could somehow will Alexa here a day sooner, but at the end of the proverbial day, it was best that she arrive when she would. Yes, she would be pissed about the situation, and understandably so, but her work would not be in vain. Her sister would at least be happy about what she was able to find. And the best part was that she wouldn’t be alone.

Alas, if only her reputation for getting things done came with an assurance that she could do it neatly…

Alexa probably wished that too.

One

Planet Siberna

Million Man Stadium

The damage icon flashed in Xerx’s field of vision immediately after Tiberius ’ sledgeham mer blow.

Well, that’s a new stabilizer, he thought with chagrin, shaking off the stinging system feedback. Even here, safe in Imani’s insulating nanofluid-filled cockpit, the impact had nearly rung his bell. He could practically hear the announcer’s electrified chatter to the crowds, thinking that Artemis’ beast of a Gestalt had done some serious damage. The truth was that Imani was holding together surprisingly well in spite of Tiberius’ superior strength. But even though victory could still go either way at this point, Xerx wasn’t one to get ahead of himself. Neither he nor Artemis had put in enough damage to tip the scales significantly in either direction—unusual for an opponent who was known for her brutality.

And then he saw it.

On the analysis screen, a mote of red was growing deep inside of his opponent’s heavily armored chassis. Xerx grinned. He must have squeezed in a lucky shot in his last series of blows, causing a core-damaging breach in the casing somewhere. If the increasing heat readings were true, it was only about a minute more before Tiberius would go into emergency shutdown. He mulled this over in his head. He could continue the fight which seemed to be well in his favor or just toy with her at this point and wait for the proverbial clock to wind down. He’d win outright against Artemis for the first time.

But on top of his optimism, Xerx could not shake a niggling bit of suspicion. As fond as Artemis was of sticking sharp objects in vital places to finish the match as quickly as possible, it was puzzling that she had not been fighting in any way similar to her style. What was she playing at? Not that he wasn’t thankful for the reprieve, but to drag out this fight for so long, the little pink-haired witch had to be up to something. She’d only been resorting to physical blows after exhausting her scant long-range ordinance with useless missile strikes that Imani’s low sensor profile could easily evade. Not like her at all.

In the end, he decided that toying with her would just be goofing off. Wasn’t that old Earth saying, Go hard or go home?

Tiberius pressed into the gap between them, and Xerx pressed on the control rig. Imani made a sweeping block of the next incoming right hook before landing a smart kick to his opponent’s midsection. If he hadn’t been submerged in the breathable, oxygen-rich nanofluid, he believed that he would be sweating. But the way things looked, Artemis was having a tougher time of it. That was encouraging. With Tiberius bleeding out, as it were, her controls had to be downright sluggish. He watched the titan stagger back, then fall into the fake nanofab building husks of the stadium’s battleground simulation, demolishing them further from their war-torn disarray and buying him some time. Still, Xerx could not help but take note of the hulking Gestalt’s sword scabbards. They were there, as well as its smaller blades, still sheathing their unused blades. Were her controls merely stuck? That was certainly a possibility.

Xerx shook his head. Matches weren’t won by second-guessing oneself after all. And so he closed the gap, pushing Imani into a flat-out run, deciding to finish it, while Tiberius, who was down but certainly not out, struggled to lift himself from his prostrate position in the rubble. The Gestalt made a wild swing at Imani’s head sensors, which Xerx caught mid-blow, then used the momentum of his charge to push him deeper into Tiberius’ small impact crater.

Broke your robot? Xerx teased over the comm as he brought Imani down to a straddling position about Tiberius’ waist. He spun up Imani’s vibroknife option. The slot in her arm opened and ejected the weapon into her gray-black steel palm. Artemis, taciturn as ever, gave no reply as his trustworthy Gestalt raised her arm into the air, his targeting sensors registering their prize.

Well, then, winner’s bonus, here I come!

Neela’s voice broke into the coaching comm line, frantic. Kidege! Look out! She’s—

Xerx’s heart nearly burst out of his chest as his cockpit gave a shuddering heave that reminded him of that crash landing that he and Neela made in the Reckless’ hangar mere days ago. The lights in the cockpit suddenly turned red, coinciding with a shrill whistle. He could feel the pressure of the nanofluid changing as his vision focused beyond the surrounding holo-screens, to the sight of webs of bright light which surrounded a massive slim object that tapered into sharpened edges.

A blade.

Shit… Xerx whispered, almost certain that he’d added urine to the slowly draining nanofluid. His vision focused back on the holograms in his field of view. Each was now banded with a red banner with flashing white writing.

EXECUTIVE SHUT DOWN. COCKPIT BREACH DETECTED. TIBERIUS CORE DEPLETED. MATCH = DRAW.

Draw? Xerx’s voice nearly cracked amidst the sounds of Imani’s power systems cycling down. Unable to use the primary controls for anything now that the judges had forced their override, Xerx slammed his fist on the purge button, inhaling deeply. He then exhaled once the internal ballast drained the remaining nanofluid that had not yet seeped out of the damaged cockpit, forcing the remainder of it from his lungs. For a moment after, he gagged on the trace amounts left in his sinuses and windpipe, which created a sensation that was not unlike accidentally snorting water in a swimming pool. Once his fit had passed, he pulled the two levers that loosened the hatch. Beyond, he could hear the sounds of a clearly hostile audience, along with the announcer, beside himself as he attempted to placate them. The ladder extended as the emergency hatch cracked open, allowing the muffled jeering to become thunderous as Xerx climbed up into the perpetually hot Siberna sun…

…and found himself face-to-face with Artemis, who was sitting on her haunches atop Imani’s spinal segment beside the intersection where her shoulder plates began. The woman’s intense green eyes stared at him, unnervingly reminiscent of Nemesis, though hers had been yellow. The memory of that recent protracted battle aboard the Reckless sent an unwelcome shudder down his spine.

You damaged my power core, Artemis said.

You were on the ground and unarmed, Xerx said, though he felt his confidence wavering with even these words, …weren’t you?

Artemis smiled, brought her closed fist into Xerx’s view, then opened it to reveal a transmitter diode. It opened up a holo of the match’s local broadcast, which featured an aerial shot of Imani and Tiberius. Imani, as she was doing now, was holding her vibroknife aloft, while Tiberius’s fist was buried partway in the glacis plate that protected the cockpit pod inside Imani’s chest. From behind that closed fist, Xerx spied a hidden blade projecting at an angle and sinking into the jagged fissure.

You aimed for my cockpit? Xerx said, incredulous.

I wouldn’t have ripped it out, Artemis replied, sounding almost innocent.

No, she probably wouldn’t have, Xerx mused. Only one pilot ever did that intentionally, and it was bad enough that ripping out an opponent’s cockpit was considered by the G1 Leagues to be a dick move at the best of times and desperation at the worst. He assumed that this had fallen far into the latter category. He sighed. Not ripping it out really was something of a courtesy, considering how expensive that kind of damage was to fix.

Looks like we’ll be sharing the prize money, Xerx said flatly.

Mmhm, Artemis nodded, otherwise silent and looking like she had never been happier. It was the most disarming look she had amidst all her facial piercings.

I guess I should at least be happy that we’re getting something out of it, Xerx said to his wife as he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel about his waist. He’d tried to maintain a positive attitude about today’s match, but he could not shake his lingering pang of annoyance. After all, half is better than nothing.

Now try telling that to our crew, Neela said. She was sitting on the bed as he passed her by on the way to the dresser.

Geez, twist the knife, why don’t you? Xerx replied. Besides it’s not like I threw the game. And yes, I know you tried to warn me.

I never said you did, Neela replied. And yes, I did.

Then why make fun of me about it?

For a moment, his wife seemed taken aback, but then her expression turned contritely pensive.

I … think that perhaps I was a bit more sanguine than I intended, Neela admitted after a tiny fluster. But winning less off of this fight shouldn’t really be a problem for us, should it?

Xerx fished out fresh underwear, then a shirt and pants from the dresser. Well, the trip to Tophanavar is all expenses paid, round trip, he said. And I’m sure we can pull some job from Alexa if she’s not too busy afterward. But that’s a big ‘if,’ seeing how Tyger will be there.

Ah. Neela shook her head with a rueful grin. "He’s going to try to hide