The Hand of Blue, Part 2
Every Imperial citizen grows up hearing rumors of the Inquisition: the secretive corps of nameless, faceless men and women who travel in and out of Imperial space, snuffing out dissent and upholding the Emperor’s will. To cross the Inquisition is to cross the Emperor himself, and it is the duty of every loyal citizen to cooperate with it to ensure justice and order. To be an inquisitor was the highest honor, going to only the most loyal, skilled, and deadly of operatives. It was a life of absolute devotion to the Emperor and the Empire which he protects.
Turns out, it could also be a side gig which in no way interferes with being a low-down bounty hunter.
I don't think of myself as an inquisitor. I don't call myself one. I don't use it as leverage to get what I want from people (except that one time, and that was a very noble cause). You won't even hear me mention that I work for the Chapterhouse much. If I do mention it, I'll usually just say that I work for Arissa, and keep it at that. I'm not inquisitor material, even though I am one. Technically.
Inquisitors are… well, how do I describe them? Like police officers, except with no limiting jurisdiction. And instead of reporting to the Senate, they report to a specific senator. They root out corruption, but not always in ways that result in a public trial. In fact, very little of what the Inquisition does is ever made public.
Some, like me, are glorified bounty hunters, keeping Arissa’s systems squeaky clean and getting paid extra in the process. Others aren't even pilots- they get chauffeured around and investigate at their leisure. Sometimes, they have an entire staff working for them. Most are solo operatives. Some have spots on planetary counsels. Others live out of a dingy spaceship, blasting away Kumo Crew scum on their own turf. Some are expert hand-to-hand combat specialists. Others are legal geniuses. It takes all kinds to run a proper inquisition, right?
Obviously, I was in it for the cheddar.
My God, I come off as such a mercenary sometimes. Did I say that I was strictly about the money? Of course that isn’t true. Law and order is a good thing, too. I guess. As long as it’s other people getting ordered around and the law leaves me the hell alone, I’ve got no problem with it. So yeah: justice.
Justice, and the state-of-the-art murdership that was included in the deal.
Of course, Arissa didn’t use her connections to get me a Vulture so that I could stare at it and whistle all day. She- through her organization- expected results. It wasn’t long after signing the final paperwork that my first mission from the Inquisition came through.
*Incoming Transmission*
*Source: Kamadhenu System, Shajin Market*
*Priority: Alpha*
I punched the “accept” button on the console, and Gideon Hathaway’s mug appeared a moment later. I hadn’t seen him since he approached me at the bar in Alliance space.
“Good evening, commander. I trust the Vulture is to your liking?”
I smirked at the man staring back at me through my screen.
“Oh, I reckon this baby and I are going to get along just fine. You give Arissa a big ol’ hug and kiss for me, ok?”
“Very amusing, commander. Now- are you ready to go to work as an inquisitor?”
I laughed.
“Go to work? Hell, I just got here! Ain’t there a training video, or something? A meet-and-greet with cake and cookies?”
Gideon raised an eyebrow.
“You really are more pleasant when you’ve just been given a new starship, aren’t you? To answer your questions: no. You were selected for skills you already possess. You are your own agent. As far as working with other inquisitors- that will be rare in your case. I will be your primary contact with the Chapterhouse.“
I relaxed in my seat, still smiling.
“Well, that suits me just fine, Gideon. Whatcha got for me?”
A serious look crossed Gideon’s face.
“Perhaps it would be better if I showed you, commander.”
“Alright Gideon, what did I just look at?”
“That was the aftermath of the first attack from a criminal group that are calling themselves The Children of Duval. They surfaced roughly a month ago, and have been battling Authority in several outlying systems. That particular image is the wreckage of what was a state funeral- barge, escorts,- everything. All suddenly attacked and destroyed. The funeral in question was for the retired Julius Chen, the admiral whom you may recall was responsible for pacifying the area during a Federation-backed coup attempt some 60 years ago.”
I shrugged.
“Sorry pal- dad was the historian, not me. So what’s this got to do with the inquisition?”
“In addition to the usual piracy and murder that one might expect, this group-whoever they are- is quite well connected. Our intelligence on them suggests that they’ve acquired dozens of ships, and haven’t stopped with just attacking funeral processions. Miners, supply ships, isolated colonies- they’ve all been hit in the last month. And then there’s the issue of the propaganda.”
“Propaganda?”
“Yes. Any time the Children of Duval hit an undefended target, they leave behind a broadcasting beacon that plays the same message repeatedly, as long as the battery lasts. Have a listen, commander:”
*General message*
*no encryption detected*
*Message is as follows:
*Citizens of the corrupt and decadent Empire: hear us, for we are the Children of Duval! For too long, you have watched as weak and impotent rulers steered the Empire further and further away from its destiny! The military no longer conquers, Emperors pathetically concern themselves with the welfare of slaves, and the wolves at the gates grow ever bolder!
We, the Children of Duval, do not shy away from action. We do not apologize for strength. The citizens of this system have proven the weakness of the Empire- even your dead heroes cannot be protected at their own funerals! Citizens of the Empire: the time has come to rise up against the weakness that has infected the throne! The Empire must be set to rights, and seize its destiny as the master of all humankind!
For the true Emperor! For the true Empire!*
*transmission terminated*
“So, I’m guessing that you need these guys dead?”
“No, commander. We need their leader dead. A nobody who has taken to calling himself Alexander Duval. We’ve identified his base of operations- a ship, Anaconda-class, named the Manifest Destiny. Destroy it, and the rest of the movement should fall apart. He’s left the backwater systems and has been confirmed as being in Chick Bara, along with most of his followers. Why he’s there, we can’t say. The only thing we know is that this might be our only chance to strike before he does.”
A goddamn Anaconda for my first mission. Probably armed to the teeth, with God knows how many escorts flying with it.
Outstanding.
“So, I take him out, and that’s it? What’s in it for me?”
An amused look crossed Gideon’s face.
“Aside from the gratitude of our lady? Half a million credits. Plus, if you don’t forget to install a warrant scanner onto your new ship, you would be entitled to whatever bounties this man might have accrued. I imagine they would be quite substantial at this point.”
I thought it over.
“Alright, Gideon. You’ve got a deal. One thing, though: Sweet as this baby is, I ain’t flying a stock Vulture against a ‘Conda owned by some right-wing maniac without installing some upgrades along the way. Not unless you’re winging me up with some serious reinforcements.”
Gideon shook his head.
“I’m afraid not, commander. That would jeopardize the plan. We’ve identified a pattern in the way Duval operates: the bulk of his forces concentrate away from his command ship. Then, he waits by himself until a system's forces are fully committed so that he can engage his real target with impunity. An effective tactic, but in this case, one which works to our advantage. A Viper wing of Lavignly’s Legion will engage the bulk of his forces, while you dispatch Alexander Duval himself."
I shrugged.
"So, why me? Can't you just send some Legionnaires after him, too?"
Again, Gideon shook his head.
"We've tried sending fighter groups after him, but their increased signature just alerts him to their presence. By the time they arrive at the proper coordinates, he's already gone. A single ship, however, could approach him and not be detected until it exits supercruise. Then, there's the combat itself: of all the assets we have for this operation, you and your Vulture have the best chance of defeating the Manifest Destiny in a one-on-one dogfight. It has to be you."
Best chance, huh? Not good chance?
“Understood, pal, but I’m still not engaging him without some better gear.”
Gideon looked exasperated.
“Are you seriously asking us to plan this entire operation around you acquiring some new toys for your ship?”
I tried my best to look hurt.
“Of course not! I’m just saying that I ain’t doing it otherwise.”
“One day as an inquisitor, and you’re already trying my patience. You’ve got three days, Commander. I expect you to be docked at Israel Station and ready to fly in seventy two hours.”
“You got it, boss.”
With that, Gideon terminated the transmission.
I jumped to the nearest system with good tech and docked at the biggest station I could find. Would you believe I even upgraded in a Fed system? I figured that the techs there might be more careful, working on Core Dynamic’s newest ship. Or so my theory went.
Thank all the gods that I’d just spent six months doing nothing but trading, because getting the Vulture combat-ready set me back over twenty million, plus an extra fee for having the techs prioritize my ship. Yeah, she was one of the most tricked out rides in the ‘verse, but Jesus. I was damn near broke.
I docked at Israel Station just under the seventy-two hour mark. I didn’t see Gideon there, nor did I meet any of the Legion pilots, but I did see a row of their gleaming white Vipers a few hangers away from mine. Older ships, the Mk 3s, but damn if they ain’t pretty in white.
I had just sat down for a quick meal when I received the notification that it was time to get space-borne again. Son of a b*tch. So, Gideon must have found out that I arrived.
I hated flying on an empty stomach, but a job’s a job.
Once in space, I received the mission briefing, again from Gideon.
*Incoming transmission*
*Source: Chick Bara System, Israel Station*
*Decryption successful*
*Message is as follows:
This is G. You have all been briefed on what to do. Commander M.L.: Thank you for deigning to join us. You will find your target at the designated coordinates. Once the bulk of the enemy forces have been destroyed, transports containing Imperial Marines will re-take the comprised sections of Dalgarno Station. G out.”
End of transmission*
So, The Children of Duval managed to take over parts of an entire space station? And sector Authority couldn’t stop them?
Jesus. I almost felt bad about dallying.
While the Legion made their way to Dalgarno, I began to fly toward the isolated part of the system where intel believed Duval was hiding. I kept on the lookout for an Anaconda being in the middle of nowhere, but…nothing. The occasional trade ship, but nowhere near what a system as populated as Chick Bara normally had.
Nothing about this mission was making sense. Where the hell was sector fleet during all this? What worthless admiral allowed this to happen? How had it fallen to the Legion and a new-jack inquisitor to deal with a band of criminals?
Dropping out of supercruise into the deep-space coordinates, I hit the shield boosters, transferred power to weapons, and checked my scope to see…
Nothing. Not a Goddamn thing.
Sh*t.
Ok Matt, just give it a minute. Let the sensors do their job.
I maxed the sensor’s range and diverted power to boosting the signal. Given that a faint something was better than a precise nothing, I figured that I might as well fly towards the nav marker. Of course, emitting this much signal made me pretty easy to detect, but this wasn’t a stealth mission.
This went on for about five minutes, my sense of pessimism increasing the entire time. How stupid was I going to look when I comm’ed Gideon to tell him that the Manifest Destiny wasn’t where it was supposed to be?
Then I saw it: a tiny glint out of the corner of my canopy. Sensors still weren’t picking anything up, but I hadn’t seen anything else. Figuring that I had nothing to lose, I steered towards it.
It was … something. I saw a few more glints, but nothing else.
Then,
WHOOSH!
The Anaconda lit up like it was on fire, vents opening to release the pent-up reactor heat as its thrusters kicked on full blast. It had been trying to avoid me?
My sensors tagged it immediately, and sure as hell, there it was: the Manifest Destiny. Locking my weapons, I wasted no time accelerating to firing range. The Anaconda was beginning to turn around to face me. My ship’s computer informed me that it had begun deploying weapons.
And why wouldn’t it, I thought. It’s bigger, got more guns, and it’s the size of a damn holoball field.
The comm lit up.
“So, the inquisition doesn’t even fly Imperial ships these days? You’ve stooped to eating scraps from the Federation’s table?”
I keyed back:
“You like it? Besides, I ain’t the one cooking his big, expensive ship to hide from some table scraps.”
That might have p*ssed him off.
The Manifest Destiny opened up with everything that she had.
It was a lot, even though I hit the boosters and managed to dodge most of it. Beams, flak, Gatling guns- it was all flying by me. I pulled up to where I was right behind it, and started laying into it with my pulse lasers.
Je... sus... Christ, did I love this ship. Even with only two guns, the fact that I was able to mount class-3s meant that my Vulture was dishing out more firepower than anything I had ever flown before.
And sweet mother of mercy, she turned faster than anything I had flown except the Green Salsa Avenger. As long as I kept behind that fat-a*s Anaconda, there wasn’t jack sh*t that Duval could do about his shields being battered down into nothing.
Of course, he was smart enough to mount his weapons on turrets, and chasing him meant seeing a constant, unnerving ripple of cannon fire against my shields. The Vulture had a big canopy, and if my shields failed… I was starting to feel a might exposed.
But the Destiny’s shields failed before the first ring of mine were even red, and my lasers were now eating away at the armor surrounding his reactor. Shredded, melted bits of metal began flying into space as my lasers made a glowing pit that led further and further into his hull.
I saw his hull decompress as a whitish burst of air escaped the deck that I had breached. A few of the Destiny’s crew members cartwheeled into space, clutching their throats and eyes.
Too cheap to spring for some Remlocks, huh Duval?
Well *les, that’s what you get for crewing up with a deluded, homicidal maniac.
I held my Vulture in place, blasting deeper into his ship. His cannons went through entire clips firing against my shields, but it was a losing match for him. His reactor integrity reached zero, according to my readout, and I hit the reverse, not wanting to be caught in the inevitable explosion of a reactor going critical.
Except… it didn’t. The Manifest Destiny just slowly spun, dead in space, on fire in some areas and leaking atmo in others.
Whatever damage I had done to the ship, I hadn’t taken out his comms.
It was Duval, in that guttural, gravelly voice of his. He was actually laughing.
“New reactor design, kid. Fortified block, decentralized power matrix, redundant systems. It’s a prototype from some friends of mine. It don’t explode when it gets blasted, see. It just re-routs and puts out half the power. Ten years, these are going to be everywhere.”
I re-sighted my gimballs onto his engines. A few blasts later, they were both slag.
“Well, I guess I ain’t the only one with a new toy. It’s all over, Duval. Power down totally and I might convince the inquisition to take you alive.”
More guttural laughter. And- a liquidy cough.
“That ain’t happening, pup. Barely made it out of the reactor bay when it blew. Even if I didn’t have a piece of my ship run through my gut, the Don would never allow me to live if I squealed.”
That got my interest.
“What are you talking about? Who the hell is the Don?”
More weak laughter. More gurgling. Blood, I presumed.
“Thought I was playing it safe, you know? Hiding out in the black while the Legion took the bait. No escorts, no sig. It’s always worked great… ‘till now. Never thought the inquisition would pick today to finally do something smart.”
I realigned my ship to be facing his canopy. I wanted to get a look at this *le.
Sure enough, there he was. Alexander Duval was an older man, graying blond hair and a scraggly beard. He was slouched in the commander’s chair, and even from where I was watching, I could see the shard of deck plating still impaled in his abdomen. A large red stain had spread over most of his torso. He wasn’t leaving this place, and he knew it. I keyed the comm.
“Why’d you do it, Alexander?”
A short laugh, weaker than before. A little weezing, and then-
“The name’s Gregor. Alexander Duval was just to get the rubes joined up. Past glory this, glorious destiny that- you’d be surprised how many desperate idiots flock to that bullsh*t. I was in it because it was my shot at the big-time.”
More coughing. I could actually make out the blood splattering onto his flight suit.
“And also ‘cuz they’d kill me if I didn’t join ‘em.”
I keyed the comm:
"Who, Goddammit? Didn't join who?"
He reached under his flight seat. He brought out a bolt pistol, the illegal kind that fires uranium slugs.
“You’re a real hand of blue, you know that? I wish I could have seen how you do against them.”
Then it happened.
Alexander/ Gregor tilted his head back, pointed the gun under his chin and fired.
Jesus.
I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at the pirate’s lifeless corpse, wondering what the hell he was on about. Who was this mysterious don that ordered lesser pirate gangs around?
And what the hell was a “hand of blue”?
Almost as an afterthought, I scanned his dying ship for other bounties. Gideon was right- he had been wanted in five other systems, for a grand total of a little over a million.
You’ve been a busy little bee, haven’t you, Gregor?
I re-sighted the Manifest Destiny and held down the trigger until the ship finally reached critical damage. She exploded, the bounty vouchers validated, and I had myself a payday.
So why didn’t I feel good?
Something big was up. An organization that no one had never heard of suddenly had the power to galvanize small-time crooks like Gregor into becoming system-wide terrors. That just doesn't happen. Ships, funding, manpower- those things don’t just appear out of nowhere. And when they do, sector fleet doesn't just sit on their hands like they did.
Nothing about what I had learned was sitting right with me.
Back on Israel Station, I was again found by Gideon, who didn’t even ask for permission to sit down as I was finally getting something to eat.
“You did very well today, commander.”
I replied with a mouth full of synth-steak and gravy.
“I do even better on a full stomach. Just so you know.”
A smug look crossed Gideon’s face. Smug even for Gideon.
“I do apologize about the timing. Nothing to be done. I sincerely regret that stopping a rampaging band of cutthroats had to take priority over your lunch.”
I shrugged.
"Sure you do, Gideon. Sure you do."
Gideon continued:
"...and I hope you understand that Lavignly's Legion will be receiving the media credit for Alexander Duval's demise. They're the more, shall we say, public arm of our lady's forces."
Again, I just shrugged.
"How'd they hold up against the Children?"
Now it was Gideon's turn to shrug.
"Losses were higher than expected, but within acceptable limits. The Children of Duval were better equipped than we anticipated. In the end, the Legion did its part. The Children are destroyed and the station is back in our hands."
I looked down at my food. I had to tell him.
“There’s some things you need to know, Gideon. Turns out Duval wasn’t working by himself. Hell, Duval ain’t even his real name. It’s Gregor. And one more thing: he said that some guy called the Don was making him get people fired up with that propaganda. It just ain’t right. This doesn’t just happen. Not this deep into Imperial space, not without Fleet being able to do something about it. Where the hell were they this whole time?”
Gideon’s smugness had given away to a grave look of concern, even though he had never broken eye contact.
“We know, comm- Matt. We’ve known that for awhile now. And Fleet's lackadaisical response is being investigated.”
I set down my fork.
“So, when were you planning on letting the new guy in on all that? Did it skip your mind? Was it on your ‘to-do’ list? When?”
Gideon sighed.
“Commander, information is on a need-to-know basis. Even among inquisitors. Especially among inquisitors, in fact. It must be, or the risk of security breaches becomes unacceptably high.”
I must have been glaring at him, because he added:
“And you should know that Gregor wasn’t referring to a crime boss when he told you that he was working for the “Don”. No, the word he was using was “dawn”, as in a sunrise. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you at the moment.”
I snorted.
“Well, what’s that to me? What does that even mean?!”
For the first time, I saw a look of worry cross Gideon’s face.
“The Chapterhouse is hoping that it will turn out to mean nothing at all- or at least, become someone else’s problem.”
I looked into his eyes.
“But you don’t think it will?”
He looked back, still worried.
“No.”
I looked back down at my meal. Steak, with potatoes and gravy, washed down with station-brewed beer. I was suddenly not hungry.
“Gideon, you sure know how to ruin a man’s appetite.”
With that, he let out a short, grim laugh, and moved to get up. That’s when I remembered.
“Say, before you go-“
“Yes, commander?”
“Do you have any idea what a ‘hand of blue’ is? Gregor called me that right before he offed himself.”
The smug smile returned.
“It’s a compliment, of sorts. At least, I would take it as such. It means that you do unpleasant work for the government, and you do it very well. No one really knows where the expression came from.”
As he was walking away, Gideon turned one last time.
“Your ship still needs a name, doesn’t it, commander?”
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