11. Murder by Right

In the movie and in some books written about the history of the Titan, we see the usual clichés of the pre-Cale crew of the Valkyrie: militaristic Korso, double-dealing two-faced Preed (well, these two are closest to the truth), scientifically off-tangent Gune, and tough-chick Akima. Oh yes, there's the gun-smuggling, RPG-totting me which I will not discuss here. If you think the topic of merequires further embellishment, wait for my next book.

So these scholars have touched the surface. Some books want to explore the living, individual histories of the sorry bag of misfits that was theValkyrie, but so far it seems a lot of people have information only on Korso. I guess being in the military means they keep a history of you; and last I checked, most people seem to write a lot of fanfiction on him too.

But my focus here is on Akima. Remember how I described her when she first came on board? There was a time when she eventually shed that naïve, we're-doing-this-for-the-human-race mindset, and became completely emotionless, almost as mechanical as Korso (who never looked at her again) and – if she won't kill me for revealing this – somewhat hedonistic. But this change did not happen overnight though. It was the cumulative effect of the many things mentioned before: the deaths of her two mentors, the atmosphere of hate and discrimination, Ishaq's departure and Korso's indiscriminate advances.

And one other thing: her first kill.

Her firsthuman kill.

If you want to talk about the turning point, that would be it. After thatevent she was never the same again, and slowly, the girlish smile she wore, her pleasant attitude, disappeared; she talked less, swore more and eventually, after that event I observed, she was on the bridge almost all the time.

That was the turning point: the day she turned into the Akima Kunimoto we know so well.

And the day she lost her innocence.

Storytelling is a bloody business. But the truth must be told.

The turning point came sometime in 3041, close to a year after we had joined the Valkyrie, and long enough for our constant cargo dealing, contraband smuggling and violent people to become routine to us.

The logic went like this: because we dealt with such sensitive cargo, which could range from thermonuclear devices to actual human artifacts, or the once-in-a-lifetime treasure from some distant planet, our trips were dubbed by Korso himself as "risky" (an understatement again: hazardous would be more apt). Operating costs were insanely high. And so, Korso took all kinds of questionable loans from human and alien creditors alike.

So in this particular scenario we pulled in to New Johore, where our problems began.

Some of you perhaps can take a hint: New Johore was one of the more volatile colonies. Early in the drifter years the tiny, dense congregation of just a dozen old dumpsters was already notorious for its lawlessness and so-called rule by force. But because it orbited between Ambrin-12 and Solbrecht, it was the last stopover before any pilot entered territory without seeing a friendly human face. Still to Korso, the more chaotic, the better.

We received permission to dock at a berth from the colony's trade control, and Akima navigated New Johore's haphazard berths and larger ships to settle the Valkyrie in a corner berth. Why this is significant you will understand later. Korso gave us a brief on our duties. Gune and I were to guard the ship – fucking typical ­– while the rest made a delivery of something like a hundred thousand mortar rounds we'd flinched from a Kaplaruian military vessel (don't get me started on that one). What drifters needed mortar rounds for in a tight, bustling colony, I didn't want to know. We make deliveries, not ask questions. Ethics is not part of the business agreement, Korso would remind me.

The plan was damn simple. Deliver, get an invoice, get the money and depart within the hour for D'Armara, our pit stop. Nothing could go wrong. Or at least nothing was supposed to go wrong.

But things went wrong from the moment they stepped into the port. As I stood guard with a rifle and Gune fooled around on the bridge, I watched them haul the cargo for no less than ten metres when they were confronted. They appeared from the crowd; and when they appeared the crowd, sensing troubled, started to disperse. But mind you, these were humans, so I thought they were just another crack bunch of Korso's money-hungry creditors.

I observed them from my position, in the arch of the main deck door of the Valkyrie, wondering first why they never said a word when Korso was negotiating interest with them, and then getting uneasy because they had surrounded Preed, Korso and Akima. I was thinking: should I intervene? I shouldn't have wasted the thought. Because I barely turned away when they began fighting.

As I saw them lunge at each other, I knew a rifle like mine wasn't suitable – they were roughing it out, battling melee fist to fist, kick to kick. Which means those thugs wouldn't stand a chance. Preed's height, Korso's bulk and Akima's plain speed meant I didn't think they needed help. But as the fight waged on, someone shoved Korso into the mortars and a crate opened, scattering those deadly shells out onto street. Then I saw the blinding flash of a silvery metal I knew was a knife,

"Guys, get back here!" I remember yelling. For extra effect though, I loosed several rounds overhead.

I saw them dislodge themselves from their aggressors who, in the disorganization, were screwing themselves by tripping over each other's feet. But both Korso and Akima were not fast enough; one came from behind, and took Akima by her shoulder. To my utter shock, his free hand was curled around a knife as long as his arm. Protective instinct took in; I raised my rifle, peered through the scope and went for the trigger.

But through the scope everything went into a still frame – you know, like in those weird moments of danger when life is supposed to pass before your eyes. Well for me, it tends to pause. And it wasn't my life anyway. Still, it was Akima's, and I didn't care if my aim was bad, I didn't want her to get cut up by another human –

Although the exact opposite took place. The thug pulled Akima back – she snaked away – he overreached – she caught the hand holding the blade – he wrenched it back – and Akima directed it straight through his throat. It was a wrong move within a wrong move.

But Akima, completely stunned, was bounded away by Korso. And I took that as my cue to open fire. The first few rounds hit the mortar shells and no one came for the retreating figures of Korso and Akima after that.

"Go!" Korso shouted. When he reached the closing door, I would imagine he flung Akima into me – because their combined weight sent me reeling.

And I remember swearing.

Things were happening very fast. But do remember these were humans we were fighting against, not Drej. Korso had headed straight to the bridge. Before I could even get to my feet, I felt the Valkyrieshift and force itself free from its berth. I managed to dash to the bridge in time. Only to see watch Preed single-handedly use the Valkyrie's pulse cannons to blow all the other ships berthed around us free. The wreckage of a half a dozen ships swept across Korso's monstrous figure in the cockpit as he accelerated and spirited us away out of New Johore.

Korso and I argued a lot. But nothing could beat the quarrel we had once he stepped out of the cockpit seat. I confronted him and probably went "what the hell…what the fuck?" and he gave me his sickening nonchalance, with a trademark accompanying sentence: "I bloody hell saved our sorry asses today."

This was his version of what happened: the delivery of contraband armament was for a local 'magistrate' of the drifter colony, who had requested arms to fend off a territorial feud. But by the time we berthed, that supposed 'magistrate' was no longer in the realm of existence, replaced by his enemies, who so happened to meet an unassuming Korso, a too-smart-mouthed Preed and, at least according to Korso, a too-hot-to-resist Akima. And that's where everything started.

Whether I believed Korso or not is not the issue. I knew long before this incident he was capable of murder without emotion which, incidentally, was a strong quality in Preed too. So I, as always, walked away from the argument.

And found Akima where I left her. Completely stoned still.

To console someone who's first taken a life is not easy. I've seen too many young kids with guns shrug off a life like a bullet, and continue living as if taking a life meant nothing. But watching Akima turn to me and say, "I took a human life right, Stith? A human," was – I hate to say it – painful. For me.

She was sitting stock-still and upright. She was staring away from me. She was blinking with a freakish consistency. She was unaware of the blood of the man's life she took hanging onto her nose and neck. She was not herself. It was the only time I saw Akima truly breakdown.

And what was I to do?

"Akima? Listen, it wasn't your fault."

"That guy shouldn't have. And you know it."

"If you didn't kill him, you'd be the one with the knife in your neck."

"Ok. Stop it. You're freaking me out."

"Akima?"

"Akima, talk."

"I said: talk!"

When she didn't, the only sane thing I could do was bring her back to her bunk. I didn't see her for two whole days. Fortunately for her, Akima's shell-shocked breakdown was discussed at length by our concerned captain and his sympathetic first-mate. The assholes. Because it soon turned into a storytelling session on when and whom their first kills were. And from that little talk, I guess I knew better than to stay.

And I would know better than to say what happened when Akima emerged later. I hated seeing her cry, but I could not avoid the things she was mumbling over and over again.

Grandmother should've taught me better – she should've taught me not to take a life – she should've taught me better – she should've taught me, Stith – because I'm guilty – I'm a murderer – I'm a murderer – I took a life, Stith –

I took a human life!

The second time Akima had the opportunity to take a human life, she had the final decision whether to pull the trigger. In D'Aramara we caught a human girl who was guilty of passing on information on our whereabouts to the Drej and other planetary authorities. Korso, not wanting to do the dirty work for once , left the job to us. When she turned to seek my thoughts, I could see what had happened on New Johore blaze fiercely in her eyes: the mistake, weakness and breakdown. But factor in an extra year fighting Drej and human-haters, the choice wasn't surprising.

She shot the girl in between the eyes.

"What a damn mess," Preed commented.

"Shut up."

The look on Preed's face was priceless, like he'd been burned by a probe. But Akima was unreadable. When I did ask her later, she looked at me and said, "if I tell you, will you think of me any differently?"

That was a rhetorical question. Of course not.

"I'm doing what's right for the human race to survive."

"At least for now."

"Right, Stith?"

NOTES:This chapter is a year overdue. The idea popped into my head during a Saturday & I decided to quickly add it to the story before I'd forget it. So there you go, another chapter, for an old story, a very shrinking fanbase. Rarely anyone else posts or updates their TAE stories anymore.

On another note, I will end this fic soon. There'll be 2 more chapters – maximum. I will wrap up with Stith's conclusion & maybe 1 more chapter on Preed and/ or Korso. Haven't thought about it yet, but I hate leaving work unfinished. Especially this one, which took me a long time to think up.

Thanks for reading this!