The shuttle had been flying over the surface of Tynan II for about an hour before any of the crew spoke to me. “Here you are, sir,” said the guy in charge, and even though he had all the politeness Star Command could drill into a flyboy, you could tell he wasn’t happy about having someone from the Intelligence Force on board. What the hell, I wasn’t happy about it myself.

I peered out of the window. “Where the hell are we?”

“We’re about two miles out of Shanti base, sir,” he said. “We’ll drop you off there. You have a room at the base booked.”

I grunted. “For how long?”

“For however long it takes, I presume.” He turned to the controls. “We’ll be returning to … up there.” He hoisted his thumb to the ceiling. I knew he meant the Star Command ship floating above this godforsaken wasteland of a planet. “Just let us know when you need a pick up.”

I looked at him intently. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

He didn’t even react. “I’m in Star Command, sir. I don’t have an opinion on anything.”

*

An hour later I’d been booked into the Ground Force Space Base, known as Shanti, and had been shown to the visitors’ centre. Like everything else on Tynan II, it wasn’t much — a bed, a chair, a basin. That was okay. I had everything I needed with me. One thing in particular.

I dropped my heavy backpack and zipped it open, retrieving a long case from it. I put it on the bed and flipped the locks. I’d barely got it opened when she started.

“About time, you asshole. I was beginning to think you’d left me for some other weapon.”

“After all we’ve been through together? Not likely,” I said, picking up the gun’s pieces and beginning to slot them together.

“So, who do we kill and when?” the gun asked, a little too eagerly.

I clicked the gun into place. I’d cleaned her well before leaving the starship. “Some local nasty. He’s been leading the Brocs on raiding parties. And soon.”

“Soon’s a little hazy for me, Kiran. In the hour soon or in a week soon?”

“Couple of days. We’ll need to travel. He has a base out here somewhere. Probably in the desert.”

“Aw crap. There would have to be a desert involved, wouldn’t there? I still have nightmares about that firefight on Sikara.”

“You’re a gun, Lucy. You don’t have nightmares.”

She fell suddenly silent, like she usually did when I made references to her being … not a her. After a minute or so she said: “You look like crap, Kiran.”

“Been a long trip here.”

“Nah, it’s not that. Been hitting the survival shots again?”

I was silent.

“So how much longer do you think you can keep doing this, Kiran?”

“About as long as you.”

The gun snorted. “I’m a gun, Kiran. I’ll outlive you.”

She might, at that.

*

It wasn’t a good night. I’d got too used to the everlasting darkness of space. On this planet, with its three moons, night barely existed. I lay on the bed and looked at the ceiling.

“So, tell me about your childhood, Kiran.”

I groaned and rolled over, to where the gun was standing propped up next to the bed. “No more psychological evaluations, Lucy.”

“Sorry, Kiran, it’s part of my programming. When I sense your sleep and stress patterns falling below a certain level, I’m impelled to ask.”

“I know. But I’m fine.”

A pause. “Seriously, though, what’s troubling you? I’d like to know. For our relationship.”

“What relationship? You’re a gun, I’m a shooter. I pull your trigger, you fire plasma bolts.”

“I think it’s a bit deeper than that.”

I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.

But damn it, she was right.

*

A gun.

A frigging gun.

She was my companion, my therapist, my sounding board. Hell, since I’d had to kill Sam Green when he turned out to be a double agent, she was my only friend.

Yet what did I really know about her?

Not everyone in Intelligence Force had an AIR (artificial intelligence rifle, if you have to ask). Only the elite killers. Guys like me.

I never knew why they gave me a gun with a female personality. Something must have showed up on my psych evaluations, but they never told me what. They never told me anything.

But there was Lucy, as she named herself, garrulous, flirtatious, foul-mouthed, and one heck of a fine shot.

There were stories about the AIRs. That their intelligence wasn’t that artificial at all. That somewhere inside the sleek casing was a hidden chamber with a human brain inside. Or that they’d inherited the souls of deceased IF officers. Or even they’d been magically transformed from humans to weapons.

Who knew? Not me.

I did always wonder why she clammed up when I asked her about her past.

*

Flashes.

Flashes of the past.

Or no, not the past, not my past, just —

A woman.

A girl. Blonde hair. Eye patch.

A fire.

The Brocs.

I woke up suddenly, not in a panic, just in the sure knowledge I didn’t want to dream any more.

See any more.

*

A dull day. 


“What are we waiting for, Kiran?”

I looked up from my PDA, where I was playing solitaire. “Sunset. We’ll travel by night.”

“It will be sunset in one hour and 22 minutes.”

“That’s when we’ll go, then.”

I went back to my game.

“Kiran, have you eaten lately?”

“I’ll get to it right after this game.”

“Your blood sugar is getting low.”

I looked at her.

“Probably. I’m assuming,” the gun said.

I sighed, and turned the PDA off. “I’ll go now, then.”

I locked the room and wandered down to the mess hall. I ate … something. I’m not sure what. It looked like a green chicken curry, but it didn’t have to be.

After that I found a restroom. I locked myself in a stall. From my pocket I retrieved a little case. Inside was an epi-pen. I loaded it up and looked for a muscle.

The survival shot. Once it was in my system I wouldn’t need to eat, drink or even crap for about a week. I thought that would be enough.

I hoped that would be enough.

*

The main difference between night and day on Tynan II was the temperature. It baked during the day and was fairly pleasant at night. On this side of the world, anyway. Not for the first time I wondered why the Alliance was putting so much effort into keeping this miserable backwater in its hands. I know, I know, mine is not to reason why.

The sun glinted on the horizon. I’d walked in this desert … who knows how long. I’m sure Lucy would, so I didn’t ask.

I stopped and hoisted my backpack off, leaning the gun against it.

“Sun’s coming up, shit brains.”

“I know, I know,” I mumbled. I pulled out the Enviro-Tent and began to assemble it.

“We’ve got four hours and 16 minutes until we reach our destination.”

“Later. Tonight.” I opened the tent flap and began to drag the backpack inside. I propped Lucy up against the entrance.

“You’re on guard duty,” I told her.

“Fan-fucking-tastic. I get all the best jobs.”

*

“Kiran? Wake up.”

I groaned. “How long have I been asleep?”

“One hundred and eighty-three minutes.”

“Not long enough.”

“Yeah, well, your life’s not gonna be long enough if you don’t wake your ass up. We got company.”

That did the job. “Brocs?”

“About a mile from here. North-west. So I say we go south-east. Avoid trouble … what are you doing?”

I folded the Enviro-Tent up and began to stow it in my backpack. “What does it look like I’m doing, Lu? Track those Brocs and charge up.”

“Track the …? You’re not going after them? I read 15 of them.”

“Good,” I grunted as I hoisted the backpack on my shoulders. “More to kill.”

“Kiran, this is not the smartest idea you’ve ever had.”

“Did I say it was?”

“As your gun, I must inform you I will be lodging an official complaint with Intelligence Force, as set out in ordinance 24-5. Because you’re being a real fucking asshole right now. In fact …”

“Shut up, gun. Or do I have to use the silencer?”

It’s amazing just how sullen a weapon can be. After a brief sulk Lucy pointed to where the Brocs were travelling.

*

She was right. Fifteen. Of course she was right. A gun can’t lie.

The Brocs. They weren’t really called that, of course. Their real name had about 20 consonants and way too few vowels for easy pronunciation. We called ‘em Brocs on account of the brain case atop their ugly heads, which made them look like heads of broccoli. They were tall, strong and slick.

Thankfully, their hearing was poor.

I was on top of them before they realised. I hoisted Lucy in my hands. I didn’t need to aim. I didn’t need to fire. Lucy did all that for me.

We’d offed half a dozen of them in about a minute.

They were fast, though.

The fight was over in three minutes. I had four blasters pointed at me. They didn’t have Lucy’s intelligence or power. They didn’t need them. They’d do nasty damage. Hell, at this close range there might be only a couple of charred bones left of me, if they used them.

They didn’t use them. After some discussion — at least, that’s what I took the rapid clicking noise to be — they pointed to me. No, not me. Lucy.

I got the message and told her to power down.

As her light went off, they gestured to me. This way.

I went for my backpack, but they gestured no. Leave it.

I walked behind half the group, with half behind me. The half with blasters.

*

As it turned out, we weren’t going far. As the sun came up, we were walking to a small outpost of buildings. They were behind a fence, which itself was ringed with cloak-posts. They’d effectively keep this location hidden from remote sensors.

I was ushered into a tiny room and the door was closed behind me. They didn’t bother to take Lucy. That was typical of Broc arrogance.

This place, though — this place didn’t feel like something the Brocs would build. They were desert dwellers. They enjoyed the heat. And this place wasn’t hot. It had an artificial climate that was bordering on the chilly.

“Lucy?” I said softly.

There was a moment’s silence, then the gun lit up. “Holy crap, Kiran. Where are we?”

“About a mile away from where we were captured. Some sort of base.”

“What’s with the ‘we’, paleface?” the gun snarked. “You were captured. I’m just an innocent bystander in all this.”

“Right. I’m sure that will make all the difference to them.”

“Seriously, shit-for-brains, what were you thinking? There’s a patrol of Brocs out there, and you decide to go run after them. And then you run straight at ‘em! Of all the stupid, hare-brained schemes! It’s almost like you wanted to get captured!” A split second silence. “Oh hell, what am I saying? Like you wanted to get captured … Oh fuck, Kiran, don’t do anything stupid, okay? I mean, more stupid.”

I opened my mouth but at that moment the door swung open. To my surprise a Chircachic stood there — five feet tall, blue, hooded. It nodded at me, then gestured at me. Follow me.

I picked up Lucy. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

“Sure. If there’s a later.”

*
We were led to another Chircachic, in some kind of large room. It was part office, part clubhouse. A couple of Brocs stood around, but the cold was making them sluggish.

The Chircachic started chirruping at me. After a minute or so the translator collar I wore had enough material to work with. Its robotic tones droned out a translation.

“Cool gun, man, but you’re gonna have to put it down, okay?”

I blinked. Somehow I always expected aliens to speak like villains in Victorian melodramas. “What if I don’t?”

“Then we’d have to kill you. Sorry about that.” The Chircachic bared its teeth, too white and too even, in what I assumed was an attempt at a grin. I lowered Lucy to the ground.

“So,” the Chircachic said, “so weird for a human to be out in the desert, let alone hunting Brocs. We haven’t seen too many humans around here — Star Command did some looking around a year or so ago, gave up pretty quickly. So, whatcha doing, man?”

“Research,” I said.

“Hmm. Go on.”

“There’s been raiding parties on the bases for a few years now. I’m trying to figure out where they’re coming from.”

Another attempt at a grin, followed by a tortured squawk that may have been a laugh — confirmed a second later when the translator went “ha ha ha”.

“Well, this is your lucky day, good sir! You’ve found it! Chircachic Headquarters on the planet Kulik.”

“Kulik? This is Tynan II.”

“In your language. In mine ‘Tynan’ sounds like word for ‘sex toy’, did you know that? So we’ve called it Kulik. Home of the salt.”

Ah, that explained a lot. This planet didn’t have much, but it did have the salt. For some races, a tasty additive to food. For others, a high that people would pay through the nose for.

“So, you’ve been conducting raids here to steal salt?”

“And to keep Star Command away. Make it all too much trouble for them. I mean, to humans, the salt is just … salt, you know?” The Chircachic slowly closed and then opened one eye, which I took for a wink.

I sighed. “And this base of yours has been kept pretty well hidden. The cloak-posts. I bet you’ve got other deflector technology, haven’t you … I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

“Crap, man, apologies. I’m Huit Senwa.” He bowed.

“Kiran. Just Kiran.” I looked around. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. Interior decoration is a hobby of mine.” Again the attempt at a smile. “Glad you like it. I mean, since we obviously can’t let you leave.”

I nodded. “Of course not. I’d just lead Star Command right here.”

“Oh, yeah. That would be bad. So we’ll just have to kill you.” Another grin. “I understand my friends here are pretty upset with you. I mean, they’re usually fairly chill, but apparently you killed their brothers.”

“Death by blaster, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe. Or we could use the Grey Box. You know what that is?”

“Not a clue.”

“Separates you into your component elements. You’d be useful after your death. And it’s painless. Well, mostly.”

By now one of the Brocs was definitely snoozing. I assumed they weren’t use to being in the cool for this long.

“Or,” I said carefully, “I could be hit by a radium strike from a Star Command ship in orbit.”

The Chircachic stared. “Where did that come from? Dude, you said it yourself. This place can’t be seen electronically.”

“No,” I said. “But I can. Tracer signal implanted in me. Powerful enough to get through any jamming. Makes me a human GPS.”

“You crazy fucker, what the hell are you talking about?” He looked behind him at the Brocs. “Guards! Seize him!”

Finally talking like a real villain. “Gun!” I barked. “Time?”

“Ten forty-three hours,” Lucy replied. “Hey Kiran, this is the something stupid I was talking about.”

I grimaced. “Sorry, girl.”

The Chircachic was waving wildly at the Brocs. “Guys!” he screamed. “Wake up!”

That’s when the first flash of light hit. There was surprisingly little heat in it. The sound didn’t come for at least three seconds later.

I dived for a nearby table and rolled under as the radium strike hit. Not that it would do much to protect me.

As if in slow motion I saw the Chircachic vanish, along with the Brocs. The ceiling of the room vanished too. Then the walls blew out.

The second strike hit about 50 metres away. I saw dozens of panicking aliens trying to run, only to be swallowed up the light.

And then I saw nothing else.

*

“Kiran?”

I felt rather than heard the words. Lucy could talk in my head sometimes. We didn’t do that much, partly because she enjoyed speaking out loud, but mostly because it hurt like a mother.

“Kiran? Wake up.”

“This is getting to be a habit, you waking me up,” I said.

Tentatively I moved my arms. Only one responded. Legs — nothing.

“Star Command is flying down to take in the view,” she said.

“Nice of them.”

“So hold on, okay?”

Hold on? Hold on to what?

“Sorry, Lu. I think this might be it. Thanks for all the good times.”

I couldn’t feel much pain. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Kiran? I’m not supposed to tell you this, but … I’m not just your gun. I was your …”

Darkness.

*
And there was light.

Where was I?

Some kind of lab.

Wait, how was I seeing this?

A voice said, “Online capability, sir.”

“Ah. Thank you, doctor. Well, hello, gun. I’m Commander Stirip.”

Something in me jumped. “Sir!”

“Welcome to the ranks of Intelligence Force, gun. Ready to go?”

“Of course, sir!” I was a gun, after all. An essential part of the fight against … against …

Someone.

Everyone.

Just let me at them.

“Very good.” And I saw him, in his high command uniform. “We’ll have a partner for you very soon …” He paused.

“I think we’ll call you Frank.”