No More Justice – Glen Cheal 
[This is the first piece of fan action set in one of my universes.  The author has requested that I not include his email address, but I will forward anything sent to me to him.  Just how canon this is within the series is up to the reader <shameless grin>.  Enjoy!]
The revolt on Han was to have many repercussions which could not have easily been predicted. One such repercussion was the bill drawn up and passed by the senate concerning cloning. 
On Han, like on many other worlds early on in their development, cloning had been used extensively to bulk out the population enabling the governing corporation to grow a viable workforce in order to plunder the planets bountiful resources. The misguided representatives of the core worlds, blaming the clone stock on Han for the uprising and subsequent war sought to restrict the rights of clones, whom until this point had the same rights as those born naturally. Certain corrupt officials saw this as a rather timely opportunity to protect themselves from the Marshals (who were clones), following a series of high profile arrests which lead to the liquidation of several prominent corporations and great embarrassment to leading senators. On many worlds the bill led to a partite and clones being treated as second rate citizen. Those clones who had accumulated wealth and position found themselves cast out overnight as the Empires clone population found itself being used as forced labour in the most dangerous of jobs for little or no pay and being made to live in squalor. New clones were to be created with a set life span and no ability to reproduce in order to prevent over population and the chance of rebellion like on Han. For the Marshals the bill was their death knell. Stripped of their power and declared outlaw with bounties placed on their heads they were hunted down and exterminated by those whom they had both sworn to bring to justice and those whom they had sworn to protect.
•	Professor Leo Caesius, The Perilous Dawn (unpublished)

They always tell you that it’s impossible to dream. That being in the stasis tubes is not the same as sleep. So why am I having this nightmare? 
People are screaming but there is no noise. Their mouths and eyes are wide in silent terror. Some float bloodied and burnt past me as I stand watching but unable to move. Red warning lights strobe along the wall causing the ghastly scene to play out frame by frame. I am helpless.
A fire sticks to the stasis tubes opposite me, balls of flame in the zero gravity strangely beautiful as it dances slowly through the cabin. Inside I see hands hammering on glass, the occupant leaving smears of blood in their desperation to escape as they are cooked alive. 
Yellow flashes nearby sends a man cartwheeling and flailing in a macabre dance as his torso and legs are separated, splashing rubies in all directions.
A face appears in front of me.   It yells at me, though I hear nothing.  In my periphery I am aware of hands frantically punching buttons on a keyboard next to my head. The face recedes slightly and the man fixes me with a stare. He is familiar to me but I can’t place who he is. He snaps a salute and then he is gone as my world turns black.

My stomach lurches and I fight the urge to vomit. In the darkness my world tumbles and twists. Up becomes down becomes up again. Over and over I tumble and fall. Vertigo punches me in the gut over and over again. Still I cannot move. The blackness takes me completely.

I wake from my nightmare gasping. I breathe a lung full of fresh clean air and open my eyes to blinding light. I slow my breathing to a steady rhythm and try to move. My vision is a blur but my eyesight is returning.  Sitting up far too quickly, immediately the nausea hits me. I lean to the side to puke but due to having no food for a month retch to the point that I can taste blood and bile. I begin to shake and collapse on my back. Darkness comes again.
Grey clouds swirl overhead and drizzle moistens my face. I lick my lips and find it is refreshing. Sitting up again, slowly this time I see the glass canopy from my stasis tube embedded upright in the sodden ground nearby. The explosive bolts having triggered upon the tube detecting a safe atmosphere to breath.  Around the tube like the petals of a gigantic flower lie the scorched remains of the emergency escape pods outer casing. Steam rises lazily from it accompanied by the ticking and hissing noises of cooling as the drizzle takes away the heat from planetary entry.
Carefully I climb out of the stasis tube and stretch my aching limbs. Ordinarily coming out of stasis isn’t as traumatic, but without the medication and nutrients being pumped into me, and with no after care I am weak. I survey my surroundings in more detail. A field, ploughed in neat rows. I am on a farm. There are trees to one side and low walls on the others. My pod has left a decent sized crater. It’s not surprising given the velocity my vomit comet came down at. Running my hand through my cropped bristled hair I think back to my nightmare.
I instinctively look skywards even though I know full well I wouldn’t be able to see my ship. Even on a clear day it would have been impossible to see. I know it’s gone, destroyed. 
Checking my body for injuries I find several bruises but nothing serious. I then run diagnostics on my implants. My wetware seems to be functioning to some degree though I get red warnings flashing across my retinas informing me that various implants are damaged. Given time they should repair themselves. No doubt it is as a result from the rude awakening and subsequent ride down. My enhanced body has coped well. A normal human would be lucky to survive at all being woken without the proper procedures. It’s quite common for a person to suffer brain damage as a result. I conduct a series of numeracy tests in my head and bring forth a set of rhymes which I say aloud. All of it recited without issue. 
Checking the debris of the escape pod I salvage the emergency supplies. Ration bars will keep me going for weeks, though I doubt I will need them as there is sure to be food readily available. The general population despises the nutrient rich algae, which is mass produced across the Empire. With teeming billions it is a vital source of food and without it people would starve to death in their millions. Personally I like the bars, though that’s probably because I’m a clone, a tank an artificial person if you will. I was fed it by the bucket load from a tube before I was born. 
All Marshalls are clones. I was grown to adulthood without the corruption of state school and the ignorant teachings of the government. Funny how those who are born naturally and taught from birth end up being more like clones or drones, puppets to the senates every whim.
My shotgun tells me it’s ok as I pick it out from the pod along with my Tesla pistol. It’s microprocessor linking into my brain and accessing the targeting network. Last of all I put on my long coat and wide brimmed hat, the uniform of my trade. I then attempt to access the escape pods computer systems however my implants are still on the blink and I can’t.
Standing atop the wall I scan about myself. In the far distance I spy a farm house and some barns. I decide to head towards them warily. Farmers are well known for protecting their homes using deadly force if necessary and I wouldn’t be too surprised to be on the receiving end of a thermal shotgun. Rather than crossing the fields and earning the ire of an angry farmer for ruining a crop I opt to use the track and make myself visible to show I mean no harm.
As I approach a small blonde girl of maybe eight years old sees me. She wears a chequered apron over rough work clothes and has her hair plaited. She stares at me for a few seconds before dropping the bucket she was carrying spilling seed which her avian charges pounce on in a feeding frenzy. I brace myself as she runs screaming into the house. Raising my empty hands with open palms facing forward I wait. Sure enough and predictably a man steps out. He is too young to be the farmer. Maybe it’s his son or a farm hand. Typically rugged looking and a decent size he stares at me and in his hands is indeed a thermal shotgun. I note a barrel poking out from an upstairs window, a rifle. Then an older man joins the first. The farmer, a hard man with weathered skin and a determined look on his face. He holds a pistol. I notice the heavy calibre and realize it’s army issue, slightly dated and judging by his stance I see that he has had decent military training.
I wait…When the man speaks he is direct, no nonsense and makes it clear that he will kill me if I do not comply. 
My neural implant informs me that I am being scanned. Again, it’s a piece of military hardware pinging me. I have no doubt it’s the farmer himself. I scrutinize him closer. Despite his apparent advanced years he is well muscled and seems very capable. My facial recognition wetware is not connected to the local LawNet so I have no idea who he is or whether he is a criminal or not. I take a chance due to the fact that I haven’t been killed outright and respond to the scan by pinging back an electronic handshake.  This is a tense moment as I wait for a response.
The farmer’s eyes narrow and his eyes dart to the side. So he has implants. He lowers his weapon and using his free hand indicates to the others to do likewise. Again I note the hand signal is military.
‘Welcome Marshal Wayne, how may I help you?’
The man steps forward and shakes my hand firmly.
‘You have me at a distinct disadvantage, sir.’ I say smiling.
Ordinarily the LawNet would have told me everything about the man. It was silent. This was unusual as even without a dedicated server the most backward systems maintained a communications network which could be piggybacked by the Magistrates Office. Here was like being blind. In fact I didn’t even know where here was.
Having taken me into the farm house and introduced himself and his family, Russell as he tells me he is called, takes me into a side room and indicates for me to sit. The building is strong and rugged with thick heavy beams cut from the local wood. The furniture is made from the same wood it’s hand carved and solid. 
I can see the house is built with a mind for ease of defence, another indicator that Russell is more than the simple farmer he claims to be. 
Russell enters baring a tray with breads and sweet meats. After he places it in front of me he steps over to a cupboard. I naturally tense again but relax as he turns to me carrying two cups. He fills them with a red liquid. My implants detect alcohol. Russell sits with me and nods to the plate indicating for me to eat. He watches me as I feed all the while his hand is toying with his cup as though he is deep in thought. He lifts the cup to his lips and takes a draft of the contents sucking his breath in through his teeth as he carefully places the cup back down. Russell nods to himself as he has clearly come to a decision in his head, then he talks.
‘You will need to eat and rest to get your strength back following EOI. You can stay here for as long as you require. When you have eaten your fill there is somewhere I must take you.’
What he says makes me pause my feeding for a few heart beats. I nod. The Emergency Orbital Insertion was a rough ride down. Russell knows a lot more than I do about my current predicament. The food is hearty and the drink is welcome. No doubt it is a homemade concoction. I feel it burning inside and feel strangely invigorated. When I have finished Russell gets up and removes the empty plates and after a short while returns holding out a storm cloak for me. I don it as he motions for me to follow him. 
Outside it is raining heavier than before and it’s starting to get dark. Electric lamps bathe the yard in a blue tint and I hear the crackle of a now activated electric fence. Russell leads me out of the farm a short distance to a hill. There is a smart white picket fence and grave markers. We enter the enclosure and we step over to a freshly dug grave. Russell turns to me.
‘I’m sorry Marshal. He was beyond my help.’
I turn to the headstone and understanding comes. Deputy Nash was one of my men. He was a good man, strong, dependable and my friend. He had been my number one deputy and had he been a clone like me would have been a great Marshall. His was the face I saw in front of my tube. He saved me before obviously getting himself to an escape pod. Most of the deputies would have been awake during my voyage. Carrying out paperwork and getting leads for the investigation. My cutter had a crew of twenty five. I don’t know if they are all dead or not.  I kneel and place a hand upon the sodden mound of mud, clenching a fistful. I feel a mixture of rage and sadness and thank the rain for hiding the tear that falls from my eye. I have lost men before but this is different.
‘How?’ I ask.
Russell kneels next to me and places a hand on my shoulder. I find it strangely reassuring and imagine he has done this before. He goes on to explain that Nash’s escape pod came down close to the farm several days ago. The pod was intact but Nash was badly burnt from the fires raging aboard the ship prior to his escape. He had been beyond help. Russell reaches into his pocket and withdraws a tin deputy star. It’s Nash’s. It feels cold in my hand as I place it in my own pocket. I thank Russell and stand.
He stares at me with a grim look on his face.
‘There’s more…’
As Russell leads me back to the farm house he tells me that he has hidden Nash’s pod and in the morning will find mine and hide that one too. We shake off our storm cloaks and go back to the room we were in before. He pours another cup of the red liquid and goes to a dresser. He pulls out a small device. It’s a black box from an escape pod, Nash’s I assume. I always find it amusing that it’s called a black box when it is in fact bright orange. It should contain a detailed record downloaded directly from my ships main computer core. I take a deep breath as I am about to find out what fate befell my ship and her crew.
 I open my implants and hook into the black box. A stream of data enters my mind. I sift through the general information detailing the ships passage and search for the point when it came out of FTL. I find that I am on the planet called New Hope in the Eden system. Which in one way is good, I am in the right system as we were due to make planet fall at the next planet along to follow up a lead in our current investigation. A majority shareholder of the Ulanti megacorporation is suspected of high level fraud and withholding money due in taxes to the Imperial senate. I continue to go through the black box record. It takes seconds due to the high end investigative implants I possess. I am stunned by what I find. My ship was attacked. Its assailant was identified easily despite the masked transponder it employed.  The Ulanti vessel was waiting at the system phase limit. Scans identified it as a former Navy cruiser. It’s not uncommon for surplus stock to find its way into the private market but technically it should have been stripped out of all its military grade hardware. This one hadn’t been. My ship had been ambushed. I feel the blood drain from my face. I have seen enough. The evidence is damning. The Ulanti shareholder is clearly involved but worse, they knew exactly when and where we were coming into system. Someone at the Magistrates office must have tipped them off. Like every office, corruption runs deep and it is easy for anyone to be in the pocket of a senator or corporation. What I find next leaves me truly stunned, it is a recording of Nash. He is gasping and clearly in pain but what he says changes my life forever. The Magistrates office by order of the senate has closed down the Marshall cloning facility on Earth, removed the warrant bestowed upon us to carry out our lawful duties and declared all Marshalls as outlaws. I can’t believe it. I immediately think of Father. The man who brought me into this world with as much love as a mother has for a natural born. How will I ever know that he is safe and well.
 I think back to conversations we had where he seemed distracted. I knew something had been troubling him. The Magistrates office was abound with rumours that the corporations had been leaning on the senate to do something about the Marshals following some very high profile arrests recently of board members and company directors linking them and their criminal activities even to the Grand Senators. I had even heard that they were trying to get the genies to limit the life span of new clones. This in itself is illegal as a clone has the same rights to life as a natural despite the carnage on Han and the outcry by normals concerning the clone population there taking up arms. The Marines had dealt with that revolt.  
Russell drains his cup again and stands up. He indicates for me to do likewise before pushing the heavy table aside. Reaching down he throws a rug back and presses one of the floor boards. The floor beneath where the table had been slides smoothly to the side revealing a metallic strong box. The lock is high end tech and encoded to his DNA it looks out of place in such simple surroundings. There is a click and a hiss as the lid opens Russell stands there for several long seconds and turns to me. He looks sad and his eyes glisten.
‘I know what it says. Nash told me before he died…There are sometimes things a man has to do in his life…Things that he may not necessarily be proud of or want to do. Yet, never the less he does them for whatever reasons. For example simply because he is a good soldier and knows how to follow orders. My family don’t know what I am or what I have done or what I am still capable of.
 I was a fool to think that a man can escape his past. I should have known it would catch me up one day. I am an older man now. I liked to think that the years have made me wiser but I now find myself sorely mistaken. I have a good family, a wife and daughter whom I love dearly. However I know, I have always known, that it was but a dream to while away my remaining years peacefully on a farm.
 We are men of action, you and me. I know that look in your eyes and I know what it means. You intend to take on Ulanti. I have reasons of my own to hate them and have no love for them myself. You have no deputies Marshal and I am obliged by law to assist you plus it is my wish to go on one final mission. I left many good friends dead on the battlefields and often wondered why I hadn’t joined them. Now I know why.’ 
Inside the strong box lies an Imperial Army uniform neatly folded. I look at the markings and look at Russell, a Master Sergeant of the elite Rangers Spec Ops. That explains a few things. He is one tough bastard. He would even be a good match against a Marine. Along with the uniform there is a MAG carbine and other equipment.
I look to Russell. In his eyes there is a hint of nervousness. He has put a lot of trust in me. The items before me in the strong box would be enough to expel him if we were Earth side and are still enough out here for a large fine or custodial sentence. But I am no longer a Marshal and have no power.
He waits for my reply. I am surprised to hear my own voice and what I have to say. Russell is right, I have no one left and I am alone. I have no power to deputise him and he no longer has an obligation to help me and he knows this, yet I find my hand in my pocket and holding Nash’s tin star out to him which he happily takes from me. I have to see this matter to the bitter end. It’s going to be messy but I will destroy Ulanti, I swear it on the names of all my deputies. One part of me wants to tell Russell to forget about it and to carry on with his dream life yet I selfishly remain silent on that point.
Together we stow Russell’s stash and talk into the night. Russell is a veteran and has fought across the Empire he doesn’t tell me much and has a haunted look about him when he does recount his past. He decides that he will confess to his family tomorrow over the evening meal. In the morning we will ride out and attend my pod. It is late now and after several drinks and the arduous last few days I have had I take to the cot that has been laid out for me. Sleep comes quickly to me.
I wake several times during the night with a cold sweat, flash backs from being trapped in the stasis tube haunt my dreams. Despite this I manage to have a good- nights rest and am pleasantly awoken in the morning by the smell of cooking. After washing and dressing I venture out of my room. Thankfully my body is recovering well from the emergency waking and subsequent EOI. The benefits of having a cloned body are considerable. I don’t even have a hangover. The same cannot be said for Russell. His eyes are red and he sips a strong beverage.  
‘Morning Marshal, I trust you slept well?’
‘Yes thanks. It’s John. My name is John, John Wayne.’
Russell nods. Adel, Russell’s wife, stands at the stove and shortly presents me with a fine breakfast. Cooked eggs pan scrambled on toast with a side of grilled meat. I am careful not to eat too quickly though, otherwise my metabolism won’t be able to process the food and won’t take the nutrients it needs. Adel, is younger than Russell, assuming that they haven’t had any rejuvenating treatments he is in his early sixties and she is in her forties. She is plain but pretty. Their daughter Millie is out with her cousin Isaac tending the livestock.
Following breakfast Russell and I take a truck out to the fields and I direct him to my crash site. Between us and with the use of the trucks winch we lift the pod onto the vehicles flat bed. After a couple of hours we start the journey back. We take the track to the farm house and as we crest a small hill my blood freezes in my veins. Russell slams on the breaks and I have to brace myself to prevent my head hitting the front screen. My optical implants pick out the scene before me in detail. We are about a mile away and it is clear that Russell has similar implants to mine. He screams. It’s a horrid sound, one of anguish, desperation and grief.
A couple of APC’s in the navy colours of the Ulanti corporations security forces are parked up in the farm yard. But it’s what is happening beyond them that horrifies me. Isaac’s body swings lifeless from the bough of a tree where the bastards have hanged him. To one side in the dirt lays Adel. She is motionless on her back with her skirt up over her waist. It’s obvious what has happened to her. The security troopers are laughing and pointing. I follow their arms and am sickened to see Millie bent over a low wall with a trooper behind her with his trousers down. She is eight years old. Russell is beside himself his head resting on the steering wheel sobbing. I am overcome with guilt as this is surely my fault. They are clearly looking for me. I say Russell’s name several times but get no response. We are exposed up here on the hill. The truck is in the open. The only thing going for us is that again the weather is overcast. The security troopers are no better than the Civil Guard. They are nothing but hired thugs with no discipline and poor equipment. We should be far enough away to remain safe from their small arms but I see the light cannons on their APCs might be another matter. I decide to take action. For the benefit of Russell but more so to steel myself for what is to come I recount the offences committed by the security troopers as I get out of the cab.
‘ Possession of prohibited weapons outside of corporation compounds, trespass on private property, serious and indecent sexual assault against an adult, serious and indecent sexual assault on a minor and murder times two. The evidence before me is overwhelming. Have you anything to say in your defence?’ 
I know that the security troopers can’t possibly hear me yet I follow the protocols for street arbitration.
‘No defence tendered. I take your silence as an admission of your guilt. By decree of his Royal Highness the Childe Roland and the powers invested in me as a Marshal of the Empire I pronounce sentence. Death.’
I take up my shotgun. It’s a versatile weapon and I load eight shells. I engage the shotguns computer with my implants and download the crimes committed and tag the various security troopers so it knows its use is justified. It snarls its acceptance of the judgement issued and goes about feeding targeting data into the shells. It tells me that it is ready. I raise the barrel skyward and tuck the stock into my shoulder. My left hand holds the fore slide grip. I squeeze the trigger and there is a boom as the shotgun expels the first of the eight shells. I rapidly pump the slide another seven times and fire all the rounds and then start reloading. The security troopers are a long way off but the smart rounds have no difficulty homing in on the pre- selected targets due to the extra range I have given by raising the barrel. Flying high the smart ammo begins its decent. The security troopers start to look about unsure of where the report has come from. Then they start to fall. The first to die is the one raping Millie. Due to the high trajectory, the rounds are coming down from above the men meaning, that the first point of contact is the head. All but one of the first eight is a clean kill, the other man takes it in his shoulder and his right arm is torn from his body as his torso explodes. The other sevens heads explode in a fountain of gore and shower their colleagues. Those still alive stand dumbstruck for a few seconds before panic ensues and they start to run about the yard. Some point to the house thinking that a shooter is inside. This is good for me as they are looking the wrong way to see the truck and they are leaving themselves fully exposed on my side of the low wall. I see Millie still bent over to one side as she rolls the corpse of the trooper off her and franticly corrects her clothing.
I hear a slight whine and look across to see Russell has gotten out the cab too and shouldered his MAG carbine. The carbines power coils are warming. He kneels and holds himself steady for a few seconds before slowly exhaling and stroking the trigger. A trooper is pitched forward over the wall with a bloody red crater in the centre of his back. His flimsy body armour no protection to the supersonic dart fired from Russell’s gun. Russell switches target and another trooper falls. It is impressive. I could never hit a target at this distance without the target link and smart ammo. I take no credit for my kills I know it’s all due to the shotgun. Russell on the other hand is displaying pure skill.
A few troopers make a dash to the APCs rear ramp. Unfortunately for them they parked the vehicles facing the farm building leaving the rear exposed to us. With a few more pumps of my shotgun and Russell’s unerringly accurate fire, none of them make it inside. Shortly there is only one man left. I curse out loud as I see him grab Millie by the scruff of her neck and drag her in front of himself as a human shield. 
There is nothing I can do from this range. I have used my last smart shell. Besides I doubt if the shotgun would have allowed me to fire anyway with such a high percentage chance of hitting Millie. I have to get closer. I stow my shotgun and get in the cab. Russell does likewise. He is unwilling to risk the shot. We drive towards the farm house. The man holding Millie is sure of himself he stands his ground. He is also an amateur as he has taken no steps to get into better cover. 
Russell has his foot down. We bounce along the track approaching the farm rapidly. We have little time as I hurriedly tell him my plan. We pass the outer wall. Russell roars defiantly as he slams the breaks hard slewing the truck to a halt. Before we come to a stop I have the door open and in one fluid movement raise my Tesla pistol and fire.
I hit Millie square in the chest. She goes rigid and collapses to the floor screaming. The Ulanti security trooper does exactly the same, his mouth becomes a rictus mask of agony as 50,000 volts of electrical energy arcs through him. The neural muscular paralysis caused by the Tesla pistol is instantaneous. It does not matter how large the target is or that they might be wearing armour. The fact that the guard was in physical contact with Millie was enough. Unlike a conventional stunner the Tesla generally affects only a single target, unless another is touching. Russell and I move fast. We rush the trooper as he moans and starts to move. As effective as the Tesla is, it leaves the target undamaged and has a quick recovery time. I kick the trooper’s weapon aside as Russell pounces on him. I marvel at the self- control displayed by Russell as he trusses the man up. I doubt I would have been able to do it myself given what this bastard has done. I take over with the man as Russell rushes to Millie. The poor little girl has pissed herself. The trooper has done worse though and shit. The Tesla charge can do that, though I think the trooper has shit himself through fear. He has raped and murdered Russell’s family and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows he is living on borrowed time.
Russell takes his daughter in his arms. His eyes are hollow as he turns to me. In that brief moment his look communicates all I need to know. They enter the house and having secured the Ulanti trooper I go about the grim business of cutting Isaac down. The bastards have looped the rope over the tree and tied it to the rear of one of the APCs. Isaac would not have died quickly as he was hoisted up by the neck. He would have been throttled and in agony before passing out and eventually dying. I try to lower him as reverently as I can but he is a hanging dead weight, catching Isaac as best as I can, he still flops to the ground. The rope is tight so I am forced to carefully cut it from his neck. Gently I draw my hand over his eyes and close them. Next I attend to Russell’s wife Adel. She has been raped. Her dress is up and covering her face and her underwear is torn close by. She has heavy bruising on the inside of her thighs and she has bled from her vagina. I pull the dress from her face. Around her neck are further bruises, they are clearly from hands indicating that she was strangled to death whilst her rapist fucked her. Adel’s wrists are also marked from where another guard held her down for his mates. I lift her and lay her next to Isaac.
Having covered Russell’s family using a blanket from the house and stowed the assorted weapons laying in the farm yard, I approach the security trooper. His eyes are wide and he shakes. I crouch next to him and un-sheave my knife. He is in his early twenties. I have dealt with many criminals over my life, some a lot younger than this man. It amazes me the excuses a person makes to try and excuse their actions or inaction. I know what he is going to say before I remove his gag. I am not disappointed. ‘I was following orders’ the amount of times I have heard that before from the lips of cowards who are too afraid to do what’s right. Orders are all very well and good and have their place. However they still need to be lawful. I cut his bonds when I am happy that he is not going to try anything stupid. 
Supervised by me cradling my shotgun the security trooper goes about his colleagues and piles their bodies outside the farm walls. It’s hard work, there are nineteen of them. I have promised the man that I won’t kill him so long as he does what I say. I can’t speak for Russell, though I don’t tell him that. It’s strange the way people react when in this sort of situation. Though he has not been my captive long enough for Stockholm syndrome to take effect the trooper is talking to me as though we are friends. The hard labour and the fact that I have not killed him out of hand play a part in this. I learn that his name is Micah and that he has worked at Ulanti for two years. He was sent with his mates to the farm to search for the escape pods which landed. They were tracked from orbit as they fell. Unlike military pods, escape pods are not stealthy and they would have been squealing data all the way down on the search and rescue channels. Before he realises what he has said he remarks that they had found another survivor whom had been shot by his team. He freezes as his brain catches up with his mouth and he looks at me. I say nothing to him. He sobs and carries on with the task at hand.
After a few hours Russell comes out the house. His eyes are red from crying, but that’s not what I notice first. He is wearing his old uniform complete with helmet and body armour, the heavy pistol is strapped to his thigh in a holster. Given what two of us managed against twenty armed security troopers I can imagine that had he been wearing his kit we could have taken out many more. I am not a fighter, though I have basic combat training and kill when the law requires, my implants are not combat ones either. Russell though oozes menace and he has that cold professional air about him. The armour is slightly dated but still much more advanced than the security troopers or a Civil Guards. It is tight fitting and lightweight as befits the Rangers recon role but is readily able to stop anything short of a plasma gun though unlike the Marines Russell’s isn’t all enclosing. I know what’s going to happen. I had only promised Micah that I would not kill him. I had already passed judgement on him and that was death. 
Russell’s visor slides down concealing his face. Without pausing he punches Micah squarely in the face. There is a sickening crunch and a welter of blood as the trooper’s nose breaks. Micah falls to the ground dazed and clutching at his ruined face. A puddle forms underneath him as he pisses himself. This time he can’t blame the Tesla. Grabbing a fist full of Micah’s short brown hair Russell drags him away. Micah’s hands are scrabbling ineffectually at Russell’s hand trying to break his grip. His feet are kicking out as he is pulled along backwards over the rough ground towards a nearby barn. I stop looking. Not because I can’t bear to but simply as I have more work to do.
I spend the time remaining before nightfall going over the weapons and APCs taking inventory, I access the vehicles on board computers easily and use my implants to recover the information stored on them. I also strip off some of the Ulanti uniforms before I use a tractor to create a mass grave. The navy coveralls and black armour is cheap and mass produced. It may come in useful as I begin to formulate a plan. The afternoon is punctuated by the screams coming from the barn. As evening draws closer the screams become more distorted and bestial before they finally stop. 
Half an hour passes before Russell leaves the barn alone and heads to the farm house. I know not to go after him or to go and see what has become of Micah. Another half hour passes until Russell joins me. He is once again wearing his everyday clothes. Russells eyes are hollow as he informs me that Millies aunt will be arriving soon to take her away and care for her. We use the rest of the daylight to dig graves for Adel and Isaac up on the family plot with Nash. It’s back breaking work as we do it by hand instead of using the tractor but I don’t complain. Russell doesn’t talk much however what he does say surprises me. He tells me that none of this is my fault. I feel differently and am wracked with guilt at having been responsible for destroying his perfect world. He also reaffirms his wanting to help me take down Ulanti Corporation, even more so than ever. There’s more, the Ulanti director himself has travelled to Eden to oversee my demise. When we finish the graves we reverently place the bodies inside. Russell returns to the house and returns a moment later with Millie. She looks different with all that’s happened to her she has changed. She has a defiant look to her which I see echoed on her father’s face. She is so very young yet so strong at the same time, too grown up for her age now. I am taken aback when she speaks to me and all I can do is smile weakly in response when she says ‘Thank you Mr Wayne for saving me.’ 
We have a short service. Adel and Isaac have no coffins and are gently buried with soil. Russell and his family are ‘new pagans’ they follow the circle of life and see death as part of the spiritual experience as their soul re-joins with nature in its many forms eventually until the planet is consumed by the nearby star when it goes super nova and the circle is complete as they become star dust once again. I often wonder about such things however I don’t know why as being a clone officially I have no soul as stated by the papal committee on Earth.
When it is dark and the farm is again bathed in the blue glow from the lighting in the yard Millie’s aunt arrives. Russell speaks with her outside away from his daughter. The look of shock on the woman’s face turns to grief and she buries her face in Russell’s shoulder. After sobbing for a while he gently pushes her away with his hands on her shoulders. She composes herself and wipes her eyes.
I still feel that all this is my fault so I stay outside. I am tempted several times to go and see what became of Micah but I know better. I like Russell and what I am likely to find in the barn may change my opinion. I simply sit staring up into the black sky and at the stars which occasionally shine between the clouds. I am tired and my eyes are heavy.
I don’t know how long has passed when I open my eyes and am surprised to find Russell sat next to me.  He nods a simple greeting at me. Staring upwards into space I find it strange that it still holds such wonder despite the fact that we ply the stars like an old sailor of Earth would the planets oceans. After a while we speak. Russell tells me that Millie has left with her Aunt to a safe location. We both have plans for our next move against Ulanti they are surprisingly similar, though my lack of army training shows but Russell is gracious enough that he simply fills in the holes in my plan without making me seem like an idiot. I tell him of the information I found stored in the APC computer banks and he shares the information obtained from Micah. I do not ask him what he did to extract such stuff. We cover much into the night and then Russell climbs into one of the carriers to use the radio set. I have no doubt that Micah has told him everything he knew but still feel apprehensive as I hear him talking. If the person on the other end of the comms unit has any idea they are talking to an imposter they don’t show it. Then, when he is done, knowing we will have a busy day ahead of us we turn in for the night.
I wake early. Russell is already up. He greets me in the kitchen and we have a hearty breakfast. I can’t help thinking that he has gone to extra effort as it might be our last meal and quickly put the thought aside. It is simply to make sure I have enough energy for what will surely come. Like me, Russell is wearing one of the Ulanti security guards uniforms but with the addition of the Deputy star on his breast. It brings a smile to my lips. Underneath he is able to wear his tight fitting army body armour as an extra layer of protection to the Ulanti guards one over the top. We go over our plans again and then we reposition the APCs in the yard and have to wait. This is the hardest part. 
I sit in one of the navy coloured security carriers. Its rectangular chassis suspended on eight bulbous all terrain tyres makes it an ugly thing, designed to intimidate. The squat turret armament consists of a 30mm cannon with a separate mini gun perched on top. It’s quite heavy duty for what is supposed to be a civilian security service and totally illegal. After an hour and right on time I hear the high pitched whine of an aircraft as it approaches. Russell stands in the open and through my view port I see him wave to the flyer. It makes a circuit of the farm and then comes in to land in the spacious front yard. I take in the view as it bounces gently on its three wheels. The front end is bulbous with a pilot sat in a dome above and behind the gunner. There is a rounded sensor pod and chin mounted gun to the front. It is a fat aircraft that reminds me of a bee. It shouldn’t be able to fly. Behind the pilot and gunner is an open transport area with doors opened both sides. A gunner sits on the open deck with an LMG slung from a harness in the ceiling of the transport bay and behind him holding onto straps are five men all in the same uniform as I currently wear. Above the bay are the stubby wings with jet turbines idling away and finally the tail which is long and flat making it look like this giant metallic bees sting. 
As the turbines begin to wind down the pilot and his mate pop their canopies as Russell approaches. He gives them a thumbs up. That’s my cue. I press the firing stud on the joystick in my hand and allow the fire control computer of the APC to do the rest. All I hear is a loud short burping noise from above me that lasts no more than five seconds. I look back through my viewer at the flyer. The men in the rear compartment simply are no longer there. The mini gun has done its work. Russell is climbing down from the cockpit with his pistol in hand. The pilot and gunner are slumped in their seats dead. Shakily I jump down from the APCs rear hatch and approach.
Blood runs freely out the rear of the aircraft, all that remains of the men on board. Do I feel pity for them? I don’t know honestly. Russell congratulates me but it seems strange given that the praise is for cold blooded killing. Together we heave the pilots out of the cockpit. Both of them have been shot in the face. After dumping the bodies I sluice the rear compartment down washing the gore from the decking and then wipe the front canopies of the pilots blood sprayed across them.
Now that we have completed this stage of our plan we set about preparing for the next phase. Russell again uses the comm’s system to make contact with Ulanti. He feeds them a plausible story saying that the flyer had been involved in a bird strike and that it will return once repairs have been affected. Again they seem to believe him. The rest of the day is spent getting ready.
As night draws in our plan is coming along and is starting to take shape. I have a real belief now that our daring will work. There will be an element of luck but I am confident. We allow ourselves only a couple of hours sleep before rising. It is nearly midnight. Still dressed in the navy uniforms of the Ulanti security unit Russell and I face each other. We shake hands before each getting into the two APCs. I gun the engine and it growls angrily before gradually settling down to a purr. Slowly I begin to apply the power and the vehicle starts to move off. There is a slight tug as the heavy trailer now fitted and being pulled follows. I trundle out of the farm yard after Russell who is leading off into the night.
In the early hours we near our destination. We pass a number of out buildings as we begin to enter the city. The buildings become denser and higher as we approach the centre. We are not challenged at all and our progress goes unhindered. The city is quiet due to the hour and before long we are able to stop. I watch as Russell clambers out the back his APC and manhandles the motorcycle stowed within until it is out on the street. He wheels it into the shadows and before long climbs back into the APC. We continue on a couple more blocks before we come to an extremely tall building. By my reckoning it is the tallest in the city. The Ulanti corporate headquarters for Eden. The glass and concrete beast rises up and the top is almost in the clouds, I feel a sense of vertigo looking up at it. Blue lighting makes the glass construction glow from within. The building tapers to a point high above and red warning beacons glow on the upper reaches.  I continue to follow Russell as we drive our vehicles down the basement access ramp. The heavy doors open automatically before us upon reading the APCs ID. This is proving to be shockingly easy. Sweat beads my forehead and my hands are slick needing continuous wiping. Slowly we drive into the underground parking lot. Expensive corporate cars are parked in neat rows. The cars navy blue finish plainly showing the Ulanti colours to all who see them. Like most corporations they openly flaunt their wealth. Just one of the cars would be more than most people on Eden could afford in half their lifetime. Further along we pass a row of APCs like the ones we are driving and decide to park up. I get out the APC and it feels great to stretch my legs after so long driving. I have slight cramp but that will go in time. I join Russell and making sure that we still look correct in our Ulanti Security Service guises make for the pedestrian exit. The motor pool is quiet as it still isn’t dawn yet and we use stolen swipe cards from the dead troopers to exit a side gate near the entrance we entered by. It’s difficult not to break into a run or to start looking about nervously and it takes a huge amount of willpower to try and remain casual looking. 
Together, Russell and I carefully retrace the route we drove in on and come to the street where the motorcycle was hidden. It’s a simple machine and like cars basic design hasn’t changed for thousands of years. After wheeling the vehicle further away we mount it, Russell drives and I ride pillion. It is not a comfortable ride but it is very fast and I soon find myself passing the city limits.
After a considerably shorter time than we took to get to the city we find ourselves back at the farm. The next stage of our plan requires us to move quickly before the APC s are discovered. I dislike the idea but we pump some stimms into our systems as we have no time to lose. I feel the boost to my body, I want to lie but it feels good. I am tripped and have a surge of energy. I know I will crash in a few hours but if all goes well, Russell and I will be back at the farm by then.
I clamber up the side of the flyers cockpit and into the forward gunner seat. I wince as I notice the smear of blood across the head rest from the previous occupant. Looking about I see the controls are rather basic. Having flown skiffs from my gun cutter many times I easily make out the secondary flight controls which are in place should the primary pilot be killed. The fire control systems are just as simple with a forward HUD and joystick studs for the weapons. I handle the stick and the weapon system comes on line I track the chin gun back and forth. It’s tempting to loose some rounds however I don’t think Russell would approve given the explosive nature of the ammunition.  He climbs up behind me and takes his place in the pilot seat. I feel his hand on my shoulder as he leans forwards reassuringly he squeezes and then pats me. Any other time I might have taken the gesture to be patronising but in this instant I take it as it’s meant. The canopy closes over me. I feel a brief sense of panic which quickly subsides. The turbines begin to spin up to pitch and we slowly lift. It is a little bumpy and Russell compensates. Up and up we hover we tip from side to side and rotate slowly as Russell becomes familiar with the controls. Having satisfied himself we begin our journey. The nose dips forward as we are under way.
The ground goes by at a blur as we cover the distance back to the corporate tower which moments before took hours to travel. Dawn is creeping upon us and soon we will be bathed in light from the systems primary. Up ahead against the predawn sky the tower pierces upwards like a needle trying to stab one of the many stars above. From up here I can see just how imposing the building is. On many backwater planets it wouldn’t be possible to build something like it until they were a stage two or three planet. The tip of the tower glitters as the sun begins to catch it. I look at my watch. Soon.
I hear Russell and the towers controllers exchanging pleasantries over the comm’s unit. Again I find myself looking at my watch. Staring as the seconds count down, tick, tock, tick, tock. The controllers voice changes in my ear to one full of panic. From where I am sat I can just make out the flashes at the base of the tower and the pall of black smoke spilling forth rising and enveloping it. It is quite amazing what you can make from the components readily available on a farm. Throw into that some ordnance and timed detonators and fill some large trailers and APCs and, well, you have some very big IEDs. I look on with a mixture of curiosity, satisfaction and awe but also horror at what I have done. The building lists momentarily and settles. It leans slightly to the side. Flames leap and dance about it and secondary explosions blossom along the sides. As we get closer I realise what I thought was debris falling is in fact people. My stomach tightens as some take their chances and leap from windows and others spill uncontrollably to their doom hundreds of metres below. I want to rescue as many as possible however we are here for one man only.  Our flyer is directed predictably and exactly as planned to the executive landing pad and there, sure enough is our target. Standing hunched and clinging to his aide is the man who ordered my death and murdered my crew. Other security men wave him towards us as they hold back the unarmed workers trying to flee the wrecked building. Automatic weapons fire scythes into the poor bastards who are only trying to survive. The hypno conditioned guards have no thoughts of compassion or mercy as they ensure their charge escapes. The aide bundles the man into the rear compartment of our flyer then throws in a briefcase. Without even looking back at his comrades he then clambers aboard himself and we rise into the air. I reach forward and close the holds doors as we turn tail and run. 
My adrenaline is through the roof, the stimms in my system are keeping me going far longer than I could have done without them. We soar back to the farm as behind us the tower continues to burn and fall apart. I try not to think too much about the deaths I have caused and am only comforted by the fact that those that worked for the corporation are responsible for murdering my friends and colleagues for their own personal greed, and the security troopers are sick sadists enforcing their corrupt will upon the innocent. As we draw near the farm I alter the air mix in the rear compartment slowly enough that the executive and his aide won’t notice. Before long they are both laying on the deck unconscious. Russell banks about the farm in a wide circuit before bringing us in to land. We touch down a little bumpy and the relief washes over me. I am exhausted.
Russell pops the canopy and we both sit there for a few minutes in silence. I hear him climb out and the thud of his boots as he hits the ground. It is daylight now and I just simply remain where I am sat taking in the fresh air. The peace is suddenly shattered and taken away from me in an instant and I jump as a single shot rings out. Avians take to the air in a flock and wheel about before settling once again in the branches of the trees. I know with that single shot the aide is no longer alive.
Russell binds the executives wrists and gags him and I search him, recovering some expensive items including some illegal cigars. Taking a wand I scan him for implants and quickly neutralise them. Once neutralised I go about the grim task of removing the mans subdermal tracker. All executives have them and this man is no different. Located in his left hands little finger it’s easy to get rid of. I go clean through the finger and bone in one attempt using the mans own cigar cutter and his little pinky bounces to the floor. The squirt of blood stops abruptly as I cauterise the wound with the fancy lighter. Russell stands watching, one eye brow raised questioningly. I shrug my shoulders. I don’t think I would have done this normally but the stimms crashing around my body make me less than lucid as they run their course. Together we bundle the executive away and head into the farm house.
Sleep comes easy.
When I awaken it is dark again. I must have slept over twenty hours. Again it is a result of the come down from the stimm’s. I shower and dress before joining Russell in the kitchen. There is a coldness to him that was not there before. This is the first bit of down time he has had since his family were murdered and raped. His eyes look distant staring off at I don’t know what. Not hollow but full of intensity and a focus that is quite frankly off putting. We eat in near silence. There is no bragging about the impossible feat we have pulled off over the last day or any whooping about the massive blow we have struck the Ulanti corporation in this sector. Before we see to the executive we go through his case. I cannot believe what we find. Russell and I are now rich beyond our wildest dreams as we look at the electronic banking cards. We have no idea what to do with the money that quite frankly neither of us really cares about. I siphon of several hundred thousand to an account for Millie. I figure I can use some myself to help fund a rescue mission for other Marshalls in the long term. More interesting are the document chips. My reader has no problem hacking them.
This man has kept a record of all his shady deals and underhand business goings on. I imagine he has them to protect himself as he could use this information to blackmail some very influential people. Various senators have received pay offs and bribes right up to and including the grand senate. I skip through most of it but certain points shock me as to the audacity of this scheming. Payoffs to Imperial household staff to spy on the Emperor and even drug him in order to make him more pliable to the will of the senators who are in the corporations’ pocket. There are plans to remove the Marine Corps piecemeal in order to leave the core worlds susceptible to a coup from corrupt generals.  This cannot be allowed to happen yet I am powerless to do anything about it. I need to get this information to someone who can make a difference. The Marshalls are no more. The Magistrates office is corrupt I especially know this is true due to some of the names listed on the chip. After some deliberating and using my investigative prognostic implants I come to a single conclusion. The Marines Corps. Steeped in traditions that reach back thousands of years they are the one true incorruptible force in the Empire. The chip lists a number of failed attempts to bribe and coerce them. The other chips hold more practical information, security protocols, shipping details and profit projections for the corporation. Having looked through anything of interest it’s time to go and speak with the man.  
The man sits on a simple chair. His hands and legs are bound and he has a gag in his mouth. He stares at me defiantly. There is no fear, only arrogance and ignorance. Russell steps forward and in one swift movement reaches forward and rips the gag of. The executive winces and as soon as his mouth is free starts to spew forth threats which he no doubt believes he can actually fulfil.
Russell and I simply walk out of the room. The man continues with his rant for ten minutes before falling silent. We reenter. He doesn't look quite so bold now. Particularly when i tell him exactly who i am. Interested in only his own survival he is easy to crack. He has no interrogation training whatsoever and also tries to bargain with us promising us riches beyond our wildest dreams. When i tell him we already have all his money and have done as we please with it already he sobs. I have the information i require. The Ulanti cruiser is docked at Orbital two the corporations private station in orbit. The man in front of me is the senior corporation head in the systemand the knowledge at his disposal is impressive. The military would never trust one man with so much information, but this man lives in a world where information and power are everything and they think themselves untouchable. Having so much information with one man just reinforces their arrogance, however Russell and i are thankful. After talking with the man for some hours we have all we need. I return to his briefcase and find the files containing the codes i want now that i have his personal cipher i can use them.
I return to them and tell Russell that the man was speaking the truth, probably the first time in his life. The man nods enthusiastically now we are friends and he has proven his word. His smile vanishes instantly as his lips tremble and he cries as we tell him that we no longer have any use for him. He pathetically tries to struggle against us as we haul him to his feet. Even then the struggle quickly subsides as sobbing takes complete control. In his board room he is a god. Here, with us he is no one. The realisation that he has no power striking him harder than one could believe. We escort him outside to the the tree where Isaac was hanged. Russell binds his hands behind his back. The man looks about as this is the first time he has seen outside at the farmhouse. Defiance finally comes to him and he shouts at us extolling his wordly wealth in comparrison to the meager farm surroundings. I care not for the number of cars or properties he has. Funny how he thinks that telling us of his power means anything to us. His demeanour changes again as Russell places the noose about his neck. He begins to apologise for his outburst and again begins to cry and beg us to let him live, again promising us anything. Russell leans in close to the mans ear and whispers to him. The man instantly stops his babling and when Russell moves his head away the man looks at him. He has an empty look as he silently shakes his head to Russell. I am intrigued as to what Russell said but know that now is not the time to ask. The man becomes strangely still as i tell him the crimes he has committed and pass his sentence. He has time just enough to look me in the eyes and utter the words 'Forgive me' as he is suddenly hauled a foot in the air. Russell has heaved the rope hanging over the bough of the tree and secured it to a stake. The man grabs frantically at the noose about his neck, his legs kicking causing him to sway at the end of the rope. There is an horrific gurgling and wheezing, his eyes bulge and his face reddens and there is the smell of excrement and urine. I walk away leaving the man to die a slow and horrid death.
Russell joins me as we walk to the farm house. The mans thrashing slowly subsiding behind us. I look at Russell questioningly. He looks at me. 'I asked him if with all his power and promises of anything he can give my wife back to me and all the years we should have had to live together.' Strangely i shed a tear. 
Russell and i eat and share the evening together outlining our next move. I explain my plan to tell the marines of the treason and corruption of the senate. Russell tells me of a recruiting station in one of the cities. Travelling there will be no problem and the fact that it is near an orbital landing site is even better. Russell tells me that he no longer wishes to stay at the farm but wants to accompany me. I ask him of Millie. He tells me that his sister will care for her until his return and that they have received the fortune we sent them. I understand him and for his sake as much as mine agree.
Two days later having secured the farm and spread his livestock to surrounding farms we are inbound to the orbital landing site. The codes and clearance from the still hanging executive give us a priority site where we set down. No one questions us as we leave. I would have though that given our recent activities security would be much tighter. It just proves even more how complacent with their power the corporations are. The news feeds blamed an accident in the towers self serving power plant as the cause for the destruction, even now they are in denial and refuse to believe that someone would have the audacity to attack them. The chief engineer for the site who wasn't even there at the time but at home in bed has already been blamed and executed by firing squad.
Russell and i find the Marine recruitment post without any trouble and enter. A grizzled Sergeant with a massive scar down his face and metal plating incorporating a bionic eye sits at a desk. One arm is missing and the sleeve of his uniform tunic is neatly pinned. With the medical facilities available it is not necessary to have such injuries or bulky obvious replacements. It is a statement of honesty to the unwary when they walk into the office. The livies are not real. This man is. 
The sergeant looks up. His remaining eye instantly narrows as he scrutinizes us in our corporation uniforms. His eye burns into me. With his good hand he reaches under his table and pulls out a service pistol, placing it in full view on the desk. The room is silent for what seems an age before he speaks, his voice is like gravel. 'Your'e clearly not corporation fuckwits. They don't have the balls or stupidity to set foot on marine territory. Your bearing says training and the hardwear concealed in your clothing says army. I hope for your sakes this is nothing other than a social visit.'
The Sergeant pings us with his implants. I respond in kind and my implants pick up Russell doing likewise. The Marine nods and indicates for us to sit. ' I should be arresting you both now, shouldn't I? But i can read a man like a book. What does an ex Marshall and an ex Ranger want i ask myself. Risking all to set foot in such a place as this. Sanctuary maybe? I sure as hell don't believe the news feeds about the needles power plant, that was a hit. You?'
Russell gives a slight nod. The marines scarred face turns into what i think is a grimace before i realise it's a smile. ' I also figure if you have big enough balls for that then you aren't pussy enough to need sanctuary.'  
I tense as again he reaches under his desk before he pulls out a flask and pops the lid. He takes a swig then offers it across. Russell takes it and without breaking gaze with the Sergeant knocks back a slug. He passes it to me and i do the same. Whatever the liquid is it burns. Unlike the other two i cough. The sergeant laughs. it sounds like a landslide.
Over the next three hours we explain what has happened and hand over the data we have. We also warn him of what is to come. For a man who has clearly been through hell and back the Sergeant pales and has more liquid from his flask. When we are finished he hands us each a code card explaining that should we need a place of safety the marines will grant it. He shakes our hands firmly and wishes us luck. Assured that the Marine Commandant will hear of this we leave. 
Russell and I find an eatery and have food. We wait until evening before threading our way back through the streets to the landing site and to the control tower section. Using the executives clearance passes we get inside without any difficulty. Once in we head to the orbital communications relay station. A huge dish occupies one side of the control tower complex pointing skywards able to transmit and receive deep in system space. 
Orbital two is in geostationry orbit high overhead. Much smaller than Orbital one it is for sole use of the Ulanti corporation. Only a couple of ships are berthed at one time and and the crewing is minimal. After a brief conversation with the operator Russell hands the woman a card and she begins to send the encoded message we have prepared. Again with details taken from the executives case. Once she is finished and confirms receipt of the message from the docked cruisers computer we leave.
Ten minutes later a new star is born above the orbital landing site. Bright light bathes the ground for a couple of seconds before fading away to nothingness. A meteor shower rains down for the next couple of hours across the heavens. People by the scores look skyward at the event. It looks magnificant and beautiful. Children are heard to 'ooh' and 'ah' at the sight. Shocked parents let them enjoy the view unwilling to spoil the moment by telling them what has actually happened. I feel relief. The cruiser will kill no other Marshalls and my men have been avenged. Justice has been served.