Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4)

by G. S. Jennsen

  “Okay, that genuinely was not my doing. The Guides have taken every step available to them short of firing me, and I expect after tonight, that’ll be a given, blackmail or not. In fact, I’m worried my access will have already been revoked, and I won’t be able to get us onto the Platform.”

  “It won’t be a problem. I’ve got special access codes for not only the Platform, but the secure wing where the Guides do their dirty work.”

  “Part of the data Delacrai gave you?”

  “Yes. She’s helping, for now. But if put on the spot in front of the other Guides, don’t count on her to fall on her sword for us.”

  “I definitely will not. By the way, she was wrong earlier, when she said you didn’t appreciate the burden of protecting an entire species.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “We used to call you ‘The Voice of the Asterions.’ Not to your face, not often. It made you squirm.” He started to chuckle, then cleared his throat instead. “From where I stand, psyche-wipe or not, that title has never been more true than it is today. I mean, I used to think it referred to your role as an ambassador to other species, but what is NOIR if not you giving a voice to the people who have none?”

  “I…” her heart swelled with inexplicable pride, but she couldn’t get caught up in this right now, dammit “…thank you. But you didn’t answer my question. What kind of force are you fielding tonight?”

  “You’ve got me, Spencer and four combat-focused dynes borrowed from a hunter squad. But I’m going to have to reduce your number by one more.”

  “How?”

  He glanced toward the door, where Perrin had just returned from checking on housing arrangements for some of the displaced NOIR members.

  “Even if we succeed at rescuing Dashiel and Joaquim by ourselves, we will never succeed at overthrowing the Guides without the support of a large percentage of the Advisors. Now, Maris has a plan for making that support happen, but she needs Perrin’s help tonight to pull it off—sorry, Advisor Maris Debray.”

  “I know who you meant.”

  “What?” Perrin stormed over and got in his face. “No. I have to help with the rescue mission.” Her voice rose in pitch with each word, as it tended to do when she got worked up.

  Weiss placed a hand on Perrin’s shoulder. “She needs someone who can speak with authority for NOIR and who understands your tools and tricks—and someone who can blend in at a cocktail party. You’re perfect for it.”

  Nika groaned. “Advisors and their asinine cocktail parties. How is a party going to unseat the Guides?”

  “It’s merely the ruse she’ll use to get all the Advisors in one place and, conveniently, unable to interfere with our activities tonight.” He returned his attention to Perrin. “Please? I can replace you on the infiltration team, but I’m not sure I can replace you for this job.”

  Perrin gazed uncertainly at Nika. “I want to go with you. But if you tell me to do this instead, I will.”

  Nika hesitated. She was highly skeptical about the usefulness of this ‘cocktail party plan.’ But in truth, while Perrin was competent in a firefight, Nika would feel better knowing she was elsewhere; if nothing else, if everything went south on the Platform, the entirety of NOIR leadership wouldn’t be wiped out.

  “And don’t say you want to keep me safe. That’s not a legitimate reason.” Perrin spun back to Weiss. “Or you, either. You don’t have the right to protect me.”

  “I know I don’t, and I’m not.”

  Nika shrugged. “Honestly, we may be safer on the Platform than you will be surrounded by Advisors. But yes. Do it.”

  Perrin slouched, deflated, but she nodded. “Tell Joaquim—”

  “You can tell him yourself when you see him. Later tonight.”

  “Okay.” Perrin sighed in resignation and turned to Weiss. “Where do I need to go, and what do I need to take with me?”

  After Perrin had departed, Spencer in tow as an escort out of the building, Nika paused running functionality checks on her internal defenses to eye Weiss suspiciously, again. “You’re protecting her.”

  “I…maybe a little. I wasn’t lying. Maris does need her help, and it’s an important mission. But…” he shrugged “…can you blame me?”

  “You like her.”

  “Doesn’t everyone? I mean, I haven’t known her long, but I assume everyone likes her.”

  “Of course they do. Not what I meant.”

  He ran a hand through his hair then grabbed a flak jacket from the stack by the door. “Maybe a little.”

  “If we survive tonight, you and I need to have a conversation.”

  “Now who’s protecting her?”

  “Me. But I’ve earned that right. Now, are we ready to move? My people will meet us on the way.”

  He considered the lab somewhat morosely, as if he were saying goodbye. “We’re ready.”

  47

  * * *

  MIRAI

  THE DOOR TO THE PENTHOUSE opened to reveal possibly the most beautiful woman Perrin had ever seen. Smooth ebony skin accentuated eyes like living orchids, perpetually blooming out from the pupil as white transmuted into violet. Behind a thick silver headband, a wild mane of obsidian curls exploded into the air around her.

  The woman smiled, and the entire room brightened. “You must be Perrin! Adlai told me to expect you. It is such a pleasure to meet you—I don’t care if the circumstances are dire. Please, come in. Rid yourself of that heavy bag and let me fix you a drink.”

  This wasn’t the greeting Perrin had expected. She nodded hesitantly and followed Maris Debray into the expansive loft.

  She was so hopelessly outclassed. She’d bought the nicest outfit she’d dared with Dashiel’s money, a primrose and champagne cocktail dress with layered ruffles that swooshed around her knees, and styled her hair in a cascade of titian ringlets the way she’d seen in the latest vids from the upscale clubs. Even so, she couldn’t feel more like a clumsy street urchin if she had a smudge of dirt on her nose and food between her teeth. What she’d said to Nika was true—no amount of silk and gems could infuse her persona with the level of elegance this woman displayed in her left pinky.

  “What do you prefer, my dear? Sake? Bourbon? Or a glass of wine, perhaps?”

  “Um, wine is fine, but you don’t need to serve me.”

  “Nonsense. Now sit that bag down—anywhere works—and I’ll give you a quick tour.”

  The bag slipped from Perrin’s fingers as she accepted the glass of wine from Maris then followed her through the kitchen area and under an arch.

  “This is my bedroom, and the lavatory is through this door. And…I suppose that concludes the tour. Everything else is out here in the open. Oh, and here’s the door to reach the balcony. We should lock it down, lest someone decide to throw themselves to a temporary death once we tell them the truth in all its ghastliness.”

  Maris paused to study her. “Relax, please. Your dress is spectacular, your hair is magnificent, and tonight you and I are going to change the world.”

  Perrin blushed. “How did you know I was worried about my appearance?”

  “Because you’re clearly a person who expresses herself through her accoutrements. Your hair and your style are your creativity, your art. And I am the Dominion’s foremost expert on such matters.”

  “I guess that’s sort of true. I mean about me. I’m certain you’re an expert.”

  Maris chuckled warmly. “Before we start setting everything up, tell me—how is Nika?”

  “Oh, you knew Nika before? Of course you did, you’re an Advisor, she was an Advisor….”

  “True, and true. But I’ll tell you a secret. Nika and I knew one another long before we were Advisors. I have known her for many thousands of years, and I’ve missed her so these last five. But I feel better now, knowing she’s had you at her side.”

  “The field on the door will act as a one-way barrier: people can come in without interference, but once inside, no one will
be able to leave until you or I deactivate it. Except us. We’re whitelisted.”

  “Perfect.” Maris seemed to always be smiling, yet it always seemed to be genuine and infused anew with warmth. “What about communications?”

  “I borrowed a device from Adlai. It’s a portable version of what they use to block comms in the Justice Center detention wing. Let’s conceal it…” Perrin gazed around the open room.

  “In the flower arrangement, I think.” Maris motioned to the vase of amethyst hyacinths decorating the dining table.

  “Good choice. He also gave me a special bypass code, so you and I can remain in contact with the outside world. The code is apparently one of Justice’s most closely held secrets, so we’re supposed to guard it with our lives.”

  “Adlai can be such a drama queen.”

  Perrin burst out laughing.

  “Don’t tell him I said that, as I don’t wish to hurt his feelings. He’s far too self-conscious as it is.”

  “I won’t.” She placed the device in one palm and touched a fingertip from her other hand to it. “Also, I’m changing the code, since the other Justice Advisors likely know it.”

  “Excellent idea.” Maris stared at Perrin curiously as she removed her fingertip and wedged the small device deep inside the vase. “So easily done? You must be the best slicer in NOIR.”

  “Oh, goodness, no. I’m not even the fourth or fifth best. But the worst slicer in NOIR is better at it than ninety-nine percent of Justice officers.”

  The woman seemed delighted at the notion. “Fascinating! Now, what if someone decides to shut discussion down by stunning everyone into unconsciousness?”

  “Then they’ll find they have a hard time leaving before we wake up, making it a pointless gesture.” Perrin frowned. “Do Advisors routinely walk around armed?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’m a rebel.”

  “Indeed you are. No, most of us do not. But the Justice Advisors have been known to on occasion, and it’s entirely possible Gemina will expect a trap and seek to protect herself.”

  Perrin went over to the bag she’d brought and dug around in it. “I don’t have anything powerful enough to generate a nullation field as large as the main room here. But you and I can ensure we’re impervious to anything less than a point-blank blast.”

  “Oh, won’t Gemina be surprised. I so hope she tries to shoot me.” Maris arched an eyebrow and ran opalescent fingernails along her jaw. “What if I need to shoot her?”

  Perrin stood near the wall, full glass of wine in her hand, trying and she was certain failing miserably to look as if she belonged.

  The loft was starting to fill up with strangers. Normally the first to greet and chat up every stranger she met, here she was a nervous wreck at a complete loss for words.

  This was why Nika never let her go undercover.

  Maris, though, was amazing. And after her initial awkwardness, Perrin had fallen under her spell, just like she imagined everyone did. They were fast friends, then they’d been friends positively forever. It wasn’t true, but when in Maris’ presence it was easy to believe the lie.

  Speaking of, she tried to suppress any outward anxiety as Maris approached her, a brawny man with dark brown hair and a scowl etched upon his features in tow. “I want you to meet my friend, Perrin. She’s a fabulously talented performance artist from Adjunct San. I’m trying to convince her to grace us here on Mirai with her work.”

  Perrin plastered on a smile and offered a hand. “It’s nice to meet you…?”

  “Blake Satair.”

  Her hand froze in midair; she locked down her facial muscles so her smile remained in place. This man had made Adlai’s life a living hell, and odds were quite high he was responsible for orchestrating Joaquim’s kidnapping.

  She could retrieve the small stunner hidden in the inside of her waistband and put him on the floor in two seconds flat. Assuming his personal defenses were only good and not exceptional.

  He accepted her hand for a perfunctory shake, then mercifully dropped it. “Maris does love her starlets.” His gaze shifted to their host. “How long until you get to your big reveal? I do not have time to be here.”

  “It will be worth your time, Blake. Trust me.”

  “It had better be soon.” He pivoted and strode off.

  “You can unclench your spine now.”

  Perrin’s false smile vanished. “I’m not sure I want to. Do you have any knives in your kitchen?”

  “There’s the spitfire I would expect from Nika’s closest friend. Patience, my dear. We’ll set the noose soon enough.”

  Maris placed a delicate hand on Perrin’s elbow and leaned in while she nodded graciously to someone across the room. “It’s time.”

  Perrin silently activated the communications shield. The encounter with Satair had swept away her nervousness and replaced it with focused purpose. She was a leader of NOIR, and she was here to advance a godsdamn rebellion. “We’re now isolated. Or rather, they are.”

  Maris stepped away from her and toward the windows that overlooked the balcony and the city below, deflecting several attempts to snag her attention along the way. Once she reached the windows, she turned and faced the room.

  “Everyone, thank you for coming tonight. I must admit a bit of deceit on my part in luring you here. This isn’t a cocktail party—though I do hope you enjoy the cocktails in your hands—but instead a far more serious affair.” She paused until the tension in the air became palpable. “I’m going to tell you all a story. Then you, each one of you, will have to make a choice.”

  END

  OF

  LINE

  48

  * * *

  THE PLATFORM

  Mirai Orbit

  JOAQUIM’S EYES POPPED OPEN.

  The soft glow of operational equipment created small areas of light in a dim room, but cast the remainder of it into deeper shadows.

  He lay on a flat surface that was more slab than cot, and his wrists and ankles were clasped in restraints. The pressure of a coarse band against his forehead told him his head was restrained as well. The room appeared to be empty, though there were a few corners his confines prevented him from surveying. No sounds betrayed an external presence, however.

  He checked his internal system clock, and his heart sank at the grim news it delivered. He’d been out for a little over three days. In a life that spanned millennia, those three days represented a veritable eternity. He didn’t take the time to question why he’d awakened now; it only mattered that he had.

  The last thing he remembered was walking down the street with Perrin as they returned from the meeting with Advisor Weiss….

  Run.

  Gods how he hoped she’d done so.

  Dark thoughts latched onto his consciousness, but he forcibly set them aside. He needed to finish evaluating his situation, then respond to it.

  Nothing was connected to his port, but he felt certain something had been until recently. The defensive tripwires in his OS had all been triggered, for all the good they’d done.

  His captors had raped his mind. How much had they uncovered? His memories were intact, and on a cursory survey he saw no evidence of his programming being tampered with, but they could have derived everything and copied it out.

  Well, not everything. Otherwise his MAD firewalls would have detonated, and he wouldn’t be awake now. But surely too much.

  He pinged Perrin, then Nika, then Ryan to warn them, but he didn’t expect replies. Wherever he was being held, it was doubtless shielded to block communications.

  So he needed to escape.

  The restraints binding his wrists and ankles were metal, which meant even if he were able to maneuver his wrist blade to the correct angle, he wasn’t going to be able to cut through one.

  He closed his eyes and opened his sensory receptors. The subtle hum of electrons in motion danced across his skin. The restraints weren’t mechanical. They were powered.

&nb
sp; Armed with this knowledge, he ran a quick internal systems check. All his special routines and augments remained intact and functional. Whoever had kidnapped and interrogated him must have been in a hurry.

  He steeled himself; this was going to hurt. With a silent command, he sent an electrical pulse surging out from his skin.

  The natural conductivity of the restraints and slab material ricocheted a portion of it right back at him. His skin burned, and the odor of singed hair assaulted his nose. But his internal defenses warded off the indirect attack and kept it from frying crucial circuits.

  More singeing, this time of circuits that didn’t belong to him—

  The burnt odor of charred circuitry still clogged the air in the apartment ten hours after the raid.

  A breeze wafted through from an open window to move the air inside around a bit, and Joaquim tasted the more organic odor of singed hair on his tongue—

  Dammit, he did not need memories of that horrific day driving him to distraction right now. Cassidy was dead but he was alive, and he intended to stay that way.

  He tested the wrist restraints again…they moved a centimeter. He inhaled and put some muscle into it, and centimeter by centimeter they gave way.

  Hands now free, he immediately brought both of them to his head. The restraint holding it in place was fabric, presumably to allow for precise control.

  Using the blade embedded in his left wrist, he began cutting at it. Twice he cut himself instead, but after a few more slices the strap fell away. He slowly eased himself up, just in case some unseen equipment had locked his port down. But he was clear. He wrenched the ankle restraints up and away and climbed off the slab.