4 - Maxon

Maxon

Once the Resistance discovered that while it was exceptional at taking down an empire, it was terrible at governing, it was next to impossible to find someone who had actually been part of it. Culpability was nil. If the destruction of the Empire was a crime, there were no witnesses.

Except for Vance Statner.

“I was a general in the Resistance, you know,” Statner said to Captain Wheeler, Veciennes, and Maxon. Kongh, having crewed on The Arkon for a spell and therefore had his fill of endless self-promotion, busied himself in the engine room. Supersoul was small and old, and sound tended to carry through the poorly insulated walls. Maxon noted that whenever Statner made a particularly egregious claim, the response from down below was the knock of a wrench on metal. Statner so far hadn’t noticed, most likely because he was incapable of stopping his unfettered bullshit.

As he liked to recount (and had done so, by Maxon’s count, twice so far), he made his bones with the Resistance, starting as a pilot and ascending to the rank of general. His quick rise was in part because a military comprised of disgruntled volunteers from a multitude of systems with no formalized training tended to chew through soldiers at a rapid clip and in part because Statner was indeed as hot shit a pilot as he frequently, relentlessly said he was. That the Resistance was treated as the lingering memories of a bad dream was immaterial to Statner. He had been a general, and the more you allowed him to rhapsodize, the closer he came to being the single greatest strategist in military history.

“I’ve heard,” Wheeler said. “Now about the plan…” Statner and one of his crewmembers, a Bellzatorian mercenary who wedged himself in the far corner and nervously chewed on the fringe of his enormous moustache, had been on the ship for over an hour and so far had discussed only Statner’s legacy. The mistake, Maxon decided, was the liberal amount of wine shared.

As if Statner could read his thoughts, he waved his empty glass in Maxon’s direction. Given the size of the ready room, he came close to shaving off Maxon’s nose.

Maxon glanced at Wheeler, who nodded curtly in consent. He poured more wine.

“We had so many different systems, it was next to impossible to keep them all in line,” Statner continued. “The leaders – if you could even call them that – couldn’t run a brothel, let alone a massive government. Every day, there was a new problem, someone bitching about who cares what. And as for their military planning –“

Clank! echoed up from the belly of the ship.

“– they just didn’t get it. You need talent to spot the weaknesses in a fleet as powerful as the Dzengharian’s. They didn’t rule for centuries because they were nice. They had strength, they had cunning, they had training. If they weren’t so damn blasted corrupt, they’d still be in charge and we wouldn’t be here.” He gestured broadly towards the room. Given the cramped quarters, it was amazing that his hand didn’t brush up against anyone.

“But history is what people make of it, and we choose to take down an empire. It’s a bit of a shame that it didn’t work out as intended, but you and I, we’ve both done well by ourselves. I’m shocked it took so long for our paths to cross.”

“And yet here we are,” Wheeler said.

“Here we are,” Statner agreed cheerfully, not catching Wheeler’s tone. It seemed to Maxon that the man assumed his audiences hung on to his every word. That sort of cocky obliviousness was probably why he was such a good pilot. He had no idea that death was always staring him in the face.

“Now you’ve reviewed the data Veciennes transmitted? You’re good with the planetary defenses?”

“It’s nothing. In fact, it’s not much different than the strafing runs we used to do on Terradyne. I can knock out the systems easily enough and deal with any fighter brigade they throw at me.”

Clank! Clank!

Statner paused and cocked his head. “If there are problems with your ship…” he began.

“The ship is fine,” Wheeler countered. “And more to the point, we’re ready. I take it he – “ she motioned to Statner’s burly associate – “ is part of my away team?” Missions like this always had shared crew. It limited the risk of double crossing. Usually.

“Ellis is all yours. I’ll take this one per our agreement.” He nodded at Maxon.

“Our agreement was the standard exchange, not who we exchanged. Maxon stays with me. You’re getting an old friend instead.”

Clank!

 #### 

In the cargo hold, Wheeler checked the guns Maxon had checked, then passed them back to Maxon to vet once again. She had been caught ill-prepared with faulty gear once. That was all it took to instill a solid level of paranoia.

“Why not me?” Maxon asked. He wasn’t particularly eager to spend more time with Statner but was still curious as to why Wheeler picked Kongh. His mentor had left with Statner earlier, glowering and not speaking. Even Statner had caught the sense of grievance, eschewing the usual grandstanding and instead offering a vague promise of not keeping him too long.

“Even if he’s still half as good as he says he is, Statner’s been coasting on his reputation for years. I need somebody there who knows how he operates. If things go south, Kongh’s better positioned there than here. And you’ve got enough experience to lead the salvage op.”

“Got it.” Maxon relieved and eager to prove his mettle.

Wheeler turned to their temporary addition, who was busying himself tying gear down to the skiff. Large enough to transport three people plus spoils, it was what they were taking to the crash site. “Ellis, you got a problem with any of that?”

Ellis paused chewing on his moustache and cleared his throat. “No, ma’am.”

“I stand on tradition here. Make it ‘sir.’”

“Yes, sir.”

Wheeler asked, “How long have you been serving under Statner?”

“’Bout as long as Kongh’s been with you. I swapped in for him, more or less.”

Maxon wasn’t sure, but he guessed Ellis found a place onboard The Arkon by carving one out for himself. Through whomever preceded him.

“What’s your opinion of him?”

“He’s been good to me and the crew. I know you and your man don’t think highly of him, but Captain Statner’s treated us with respect. Sure, his favorite subject is himself, but I’ve seen enough to think he’s earned the right to crow. And he pays fair, or fair enough. Better than I’ve made on other ships, and better than what I could’ve made back home.”

“Bellzator, right? Mining family?”

“Pretty much everyone there is. Would’ve been foolish to bet on anything else.”

“Speaking of betting, you think your captain’s going to turn on us?” Unsaid: Are you expendable?

Wheeler couldn’t have expected the mercenary to answer truthfully but to Maxon, it looked as if Ellis put some thought to the question. “Not that I’m aware of. Captain Statner needs this job pretty bad. It’s been rough out there. He pulls this off, he’s likely to polish his reputation enough to get jobs that aren’t as sideways looking as this one.”

“You think this is a bad idea?”

He shrugged. “There’s not much salvage left out there. At least not what pays.”

“What jobs have you been taking?”

More mustache chewing. “Cargo runs. That sort of thing.”

“That sort of thing?”

“Pretty much. Sir.” Ellis hadn’t been that willing to open up to Wheeler, but now he was outright cagey with details. Maxon could guess well enough that Statner and the crew of The Arkon were running point for some local warlord. It was lucrative business if you could find the right patron but even then odds were high you wound up being an errand boy on a short leash. Pretty easy to wind up with a price on your head if you displeased your boss. Maxon could see how someone as vain as Statner would leap at the chance to start over again. A big score could buy him out of whatever shit deal his ego coaxed him into.

“What about salvage runs? How many have you done?”

“More than I can remember. Left home close to twenty-five years ago. Been doing this ever since.”

“And how many of those involved people actively trying to kill you?”

“About the same. It’s the business.”

“Then you’ll do fine. Once Statner descends into the atmosphere, we’re off to the races.” She activated the comm. “Veciennes, you hear from our legend?”

“The Arkon should be entering atmo in an hour. Maybe less the way he’s approaching. Has he always been this reckless a pilot?”

“As long as I’ve known him, yes,” Wheeler said.

“I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned,” Veciennes replied. “Beginning our approach.”

Veciennes nudged the Supersoul towards the planet. Unlike The Arkon, which was careening towards the planet at a speed that suggested one or more larger, heavily armed ships were in fast pursuit, the Supersoul arced into the upper atmosphere gracefully. The goal was to hide amidst the cover of assorted satellites. Provided all eyes remained on Statner, they’d land without too much of a fuss.