Sean-Michael Argo - Carrion Duty

This was as good a place as any, Rhett thought, it was just right, in fact.

The bounty scrapper removed the auto-doc and let it fall to the floor before he collapsed to his knees.

The convict released his grip on the pistol, and it too clattered across the ground plating.

The cor-sec trooper pulled off the gloves that had never quite seemed to fit and discarded them.

Then the man lay on his back amongst the dead as he succumbed to the pain and blood loss from his own wounds.

All debts were paid.

Rhett’s arrangement had taken everyone by surprise, none more so than John Kratos himself. Rhett Calibos had no family outside his fellow Vultures, but Captain Estrada dutifully honored the fallen scrapper’s wishes.

Rhett’s final message for John had been a simple one, that John was trying to leave war behind, and that he shouldn’t be punished for making the brave choice.

The former salvage marine was a man of Grotto, and reacted coolly to the news of Rhett’s post-mortem generosity. He had quietly packed his few belongings during the voyage back to Andromeda Station, and it appeared to his comrades that he was as accepting of his newfound freedom as he had been of his indentured bondage to the Six .

No sooner had they towed the slave ship back to the yard than a ship with Augur Corporation ident codes took possession and paid the bounty. Within an hour of reaching the station the cursed ship was towed off into the darkness. There was much in the way of traffic about the station as multitudes of companies and individuals sought to rebuild and re-settle the orbital community.

The Vulture Six docked in the temporary hangar bay to take on fresh supplies and drop John off before they ventured back out for the next bounty.

Captain Estrada had Bella Mons working overtime on finding the next score and he had several leads promising enough to warrant the swift turnaround. There was no rest for the bounty scrapper crew of the Six and after what they’d endured over the last several weeks they were all eager to return to work. The reward for the slave ship had filled everyone’s accounts, and there was nothing like success to fuel one’s thirst for more.

“Your crew doesn’t even want to leave the ship for supplies, paying extra for it all to be delivered,” said John to Captain Estrada as the hatch lowered and the cargo plank extended to allow both men to exit the ship and enter the hangar bay.

“People loved this station, it wasn’t just Calibos,” said the captain, his voice heavy. “I think they would rather not see it for a while. Give Andromeda some time to heal, maybe give themselves a little more time too. We’ll rendezvous with a headhunter barge in a few days anyway, lots of empty seats to fill.”

“ Six has had a rough time of it, sir,” said John. “We call it early retirement in Grotto and we don’t drink to the dead, but I’ll find some mescal for Calibos. I promise.”

“It occurs to me that lives take on a sort of momentum, and the longer one holds the same course, that force becomes more difficult to change,” observed Estrada as he tapped the signature authorization on his tablet and transmitted John’s indentured term fulfillment notice along with the full amount from Rhett’s compulsory savings account. “I don’t think Calibos would have known how to switch off, probably would have just viced himself into oblivion.”

“He struck me as a man who knew himself, even the ugly parts,” nodded John as he walked down the cargo plank onto the floor plating of the hangar deck. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

“Well, he gave you a gift, John Kratos,” said Captain Estrada as he extended a hand to the former marine, who shook it. “Shortest Vulture tour I’ve ever heard of, hope you make the most of it. This place will be needing repair staff for months, and plenty of cor-sec positions open, too.”

“When I was a marine I always preferred the torch to the gun,” observed John as he looked out over the hangar deck, taking in the sight of all the repairs still underway aboard the beleaguered station. “The universe could do with one less trigger man.”

Captain Estrada smiled and said nothing, then after a moment he turned and walked back up the cargo plank, the hatch closing after him.

John Kratos looked once more at the hangar deck as work crews busily continued to mend the station.

“This is the job,” John said out loud to nobody in particular, and entered his name and salvage credentials into the first labor terminal he saw on his way to Tae Mae’s for the promised mescal.

The Anointed Actuary breathed deeply and savored the musky scent of the aromatics that gently simmered in the shallow infuser. He walked quietly across the lacquered wooden floor and then sat cross-legged upon a small cushion near the far end of the modest chamber. On a low table in front of him rested a pair of data-gloves, which paired with three projectors that were embedded in the table itself. He took another measured breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out slowly as he reached out to pick up the gloves.

The Actuary flexed his fingers as dozens of micro-dermals slid into his skin, connecting his mind and body to the system. Several hundred meters below the modest building of wood and stone that surrounded the room was a reinforced titanium chamber which housed the system’s prime server. Through this miracle in computing, the Actuary was able to examine every scrap of data collected on his target.

He initiated his session, and his body shuddered as his mind and senses were flooded with information. It took him the space of several breaths to bring the data stream under control as he compartmentalized his mind in order to cope with the sheer volume of sensory input. The tempest of three-dimensional images being displayed by the projectors began to sort into a series of six clusters. Gently the Actuary raised his gloved hands to pull one cluster closer to him.

He was about to begin his quarterly cogitation of Kratos 12, which was no small undertaking. For a single mind to hold in its grasp the totality of a planet’s socio-economy took a prodigious amount of energy and discipline. Once he began the process the Actuary would not eat or sleep for several days as he willfully slowed his metabolism to cope with the demands of the project.

Kratos 12 was a thriving industrial metropolis in the Kratos system, and responsible for seventy-two percent of the system’s gross domestic productivity. This was in no small part due to the active life bonds imposed upon the many billions of citizens. Despite the successful unionization of the Reaper Corps and an overall reduction in emphasis of the life bond as a central debt product of Grotto Corporation, those bonds still existed and represented a tremendous commercial interest. This was to say nothing of the manufacturing and shipping interests upon Kratos 12, in addition to the increased flow of spoils from the Ellisian trade war that had infused the Kratos system and much of Grotto Corporation at large.

His duties required him to cogitate those systems that existed within his mandated fiefdom, though as he performed his obligations he bought up a seventh cluster.

He had personally encrypted that particular data stream, using a series of symbols that had relevance only to him, and considering how removed he was from society, only his most loyal attendants would have the slightest chance at cracking the code.

The system logged everything he did while communing with the interface, as much a digital check against any single Actuary going rogue as the assassination protocols followed by the bodyguards. By dividing his mind and engaging with both his clandestine endeavor and his required cogitation the Actuary could pursue his quest in secret. The mental and physical stress of such a thing may rob him of vitality and lifespan, but he calculated that these were acceptable costs to incur. The stability of corporate civilizations cost much in the way of sacrifice from those human beings which lived within them, and no one, even the Anointed himself, was exempt from its price.