Rikas Marauders
Page 136
Alison heard random words fade in and out before her mind fully returned to consciousness. At first, they didn’t make sense, but after a while, she was able to piece them together.
“Active defenses…make…. Different. Maybe SMI-3? Found…port. Try…pline?”
The words twisted around, nearly forming meaning, then not, then coming back again.
Suddenly Alison realized what was happening, and tried to sit bolt upright, only to find that she couldn’t move. Seconds later, a voice came into her mind, sounding soft and gentle, but tinged with a note of humor.
Now that her mind was mostly in order—barring the throbbing headache from what she suspected must have been an EMP of some sort—Alison realized that the person talking was Finaeus, the Transcend scientist who had upgraded the mechs to their Mark 4 versions.
The words stopped for a moment, and Alison wondered if that was all, but then Finaeus’s recording said one more thing.
Alison wondered what she would have done without that gentle admonition to play it cool. She told herself that she probably would have, but she still appreciated Finaeus leaving the message to calm her nerves.
Like all the mechs in the Marauders, her greatest fear—the one she never spoke of—was being chipped again.
Stars, I sure hope he did this right.
With Finaeus’s message complete, she considered the ramifications of being captured by someone with the means to chip her, until she realized that speculation was pointless. She began to focus on the sounds in the room around her.
There was no telltale hum of a starship, but there was the sound of air movement. It didn’t seem like it was coming from a ventilation system, and as she concentrated, it became clear that it was the sound of wind blowing outside a window.
OK, I’m planetside.
After cycling her helmet’s optics a few times, she realized the reason she couldn’t see was because something was over her head. It was more than just a simple covering. It was blocking all EM, though, strangely, not sounds.
Of course, the secondary pickups on my arms…. That’s how I’m hearing. Huzzah for being a Mark 4.
Alison reviewed the system checks her body was running through and realized that, while her GNR and all her limbs were still in place—another benefit of being a Mark 4, only she could trigger limb removal—her ammunition had been removed. Her drones were also all fried.
She could still fire an electron beam with her internal batteries, so whoever it was that she could hear shuffling around in the room with her was either very brave, or very stupid. Or maybe some of each and well compensated.
“I can tell you’re awake,” the voice said suddenly. “Your EM signature changed. I don’t know if you’ve realized this or not yet, but I’ve put a Discipline chip in your head. I came across some a few years back. Never thought I’d have a use for them, but hung on to them anyway. Good thing I did.
“I’m going to remove the EM dampening sheet, but if you try anything, I’m gonna give you a walloping dose of Discipline, you got it?”
Alison nodded, and a moment later she sat up and lunged for the speaker—a tall man who looked half jubilant and half terrified.
On her HUD, the pain-o-meter showed Finaeus’s face scrunched up in agony, though Alison felt nothing. Knowing she had to play the part, she froze and then doubled over, miming pure anguish.
“Well looky there,” the man said as the fear fled his face, to be replaced by a smug grin. “I’ve got my own pet mech.”
The pain-o-meter changed to show a winking Finaeus again, and Alison straightened and stared down at her captor.
“Can you speak?” he asked.
“Yes, of course,” Alison replied.
The man had been standing partially in shadow, but the moment he stepped closer, everything that had happened over the last two months suddenly made a lot more sense.
Whoever this guy is, he’s a damn close relative of Alice’s.
From the shape of the nose, cheeks, and brow, to the curling sneer of the lips, the man before her was just a gender and a few small differences away from looking just like Alice.
She suspected brother, but he could be her son as well—which meant someone would have had to have slept with the wicked witch.
The man regarded her for a moment, a hand rising to his chin. He was about to say something, when a woman stuck her head in, this one with red skin, her golden eyes and the lines on her skin glowing brightly in the darkness.
“We might have a lead on Lorne,” she said.
“OK, Illumine,” Jaka said absently and waved her off before looking back at Alison. “So you have to do whatever I say, right?”
“Well, I don’t have to, but you can make me wish I did,” Alison said, trying to mix the right amount of morose defeat with simmering anger.
“Like when you tried to take a swing at me just now.”
“Yeah,” Alison replied. “I’m not a remote control robot, I still have to do things, you just control punishment.”
The man—who Alison was pretty sure was Huro—nodded slowly. “OK, I get it. Seems a bit sloppy, but I guess I can see how it would work in a military setting.”
Alison didn’t reply, and Huro suddenly let out a laugh.
“What If I told you to go out there and kill Illumine?”
“I don’t think you’d have to use any Discipline at all to prompt that,” Alison replied.
“I suppose not,” Jaka said as he looked her up and down. “Not that I’d do it; you and your people killed a lot of my girls up on the Falcon. I’m not too happy about that. Luckily, Del was around and took you down.”
Alison shook her head as she regarded the man in front of her, wondering how he really thought something like this would play out.
“You’ve made a pretty stupid mistake, Huro.”
“Look at that, you figured out who I am! Does the mech want a cookie?”
“What kind do you have?”
Huro frowned as he took a step closer. Alison considered reaching out and crushing the life from the man. It would be easy. He’d be dead before any of his girls realized what was going on.
But Huro represented a connection to Alice, and she suspected that Lorne was the contact that had met with the lieutenant colonel in the Silver Train Diner.
Does Huro not want to be found by Alice? Does he even know it’s her that is looking for him?
“I thought mechs didn’t have faces,” Huro said after a moment. “You’re certainly a pretty thing. Not as good-looking as my girls, but I wonder if we could get you fixed up to look like one of them. Now that would be hot.”
“Huh,” Alison grunted. “Thought you’d be in it to sell me. Make some quick credit.”
“Maybe down the line,” Huro said as he stepped back and looked her over again. “But things are going a bit sideways in Iberia right now. Your friends are making a real mess up on the station, and I think it’ll only be a matter of time before they come looking for you.”
“I guess you’re not as dumb as you look,” Alison said, then grimaced in pain as the indicator on her HUD showed that Huro was hitting her with a mild dose of Discipline.
“No nee
d to be a jerk…what’s your name?”
“Alison.”
“Nice name for a piece of hardware,” Huro said as he turned away and walked out the door. “Come along, let’s see what Illumine wanted to show me.”
Once he’d turned away, she took the opportunity to examine the room she’d woken in to see that it was small, likely a bedroom before being converted into a med station. The next room confirmed that this was not some sleek hideout, as it was obviously an apartment’s mainspace. Through a door to the right, she could see a kitchen, and on the left was a san.
“What do you have, Illumine?”
“I’ve been reviewing feeds from around Chusa, looking to see if we’ve got any company coming, and I found him. Lorne. He was down near Lorde street, and the woman was with him.”
Huro stepped closer to the array of holoscreens that Illumine had arrayed in front of the room’s sofa. “Did you get a visual on her? Who is she?”
“I didn’t,” Illumine shook her head. “She keeps her face covered, and those glasses create some soft of distortion that messes with the facial recognition systems.”
The gang leader turned from his red-skinned accomplice and stared into Alison’s eyes.
“Do you know who she is?”
Alison made a split-second decision and decided not to reveal anything about Alice. If they really were related, the last thing she needed was for them to team up.
“No clue, she never showed her face to me.”
Huro turned on Alison, his eyes hooded with suspicion, and her pain-o-meter spiked.
She fell to her knees, hoping that her groans and moans were convincing.
“Seriously?” Huro asked. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
Alison gasped and nodded frantically.
“Jaka.” Illumine placed a hand on his arm. “Please. Is that necessary?”
Huro glared at Alison, and then the pain stopped. “Damn mech.”
“Damn squishie,” Alison shot back, glaring at him as she rose.
A trickle of Discipline was sent her way, and the Finaeus face made a mock grimace and then stuck out its tongue.
“Watch your tongue, mech.” Huro’s eyes narrowed as he regarded her. “How’s about you only speak when spoken to?”
Alison nodded meekly, while Illumine spared her a brief look of concern before she turned to Huro. “I don’t like that thing. You know those mechs were all crazy, right?”
“Maybe. I don’t think this one is. She’s just a pig-headed fool. I’ll make her one of my girls soon enough.”
“If you say so, Jaka.”
The man placed a hand to his chin once more and then blew out breath. “Well, we have Del downworld. Let’s send him on another hunt. This time for Lorne and his friend. But I want them both alive.”
A golden-lipped grin appeared on Illumine’s face. “This should be good.”
AMBUSH
STELLAR DATE: 12.23.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Chusa District, Cerulean, Malta
REGION: Iberia System, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
Despite their curiosity regarding what one of Mill’s Marauders was doing on the streets of Chusa in the middle of the night, Yakob and Tremon remained in their apartment until morning.
Yakob’s fear of a wide-spread police sweep didn’t come true either. It was unclear why not, but Tremon suspected that the continued chaos on the Maltese Falcon had caused the surface forces to keep their options open.
Getting into a street fight with the Huro Girls while they could face an attack from above was not wise. At least, that’s what Tremon and Yakob had arrived at after a healthy debate.
Though the police had not made a sweep, the streets were uncharacteristically empty throughout the night, with the residents remaining indoors, waiting—just like the police—to see what was going to happen next.
Come morning, nothing dire had occurred, and a few of the district’s denizens began to appear outside. Some likely looking for whatever opportunity there was to be had in the unrest, and others going to work—if their employers were the sort who opened no matter what.
The two men were amongst those venturing out, and as Tremon followed Yakob onto Lorde Street, he couldn’t help but notice that Flora’s Den was open, and a few patrons were entering.
That wasn’t too surprising; he’d never seen Flora’s close, not even when there was a shootout inside a few months back. What was more surprising—and telling—was the lack of Huro Girls anywhere on the street.
That was a first.
Yakob had a small apartment rented there. It was a studio, and they’d be sleeping on the floor, but it was better than being just a few blocks from where Jaka Huro operated at a time like this.
They made good time down the street, and for once, Tremon managed to suppress his urges to speak with those they passed. In all honesty, it wasn’t too hard to pull off, since everyone about that morning had a look of determined isolation about them.
When they reached Avonlea Boulevard, traffic on the road was nearly non-existent, though there were a few more pedestrians out and about. Some were milling around the steps leading down into the maglev station, and when the pair of men arrived, they saw why.
At the top of the stairs stood a group of police officers, arrayed behind a makeshift barricade and denying entrance. A man in the crowd tried to push his way past the barricade, but a low power shot from a pulse rifle set him back on his ass, and the crowd quickly dispersed.
Tremon nodded in agreement, hoping his knee would hold out that long, and walked silently alongside Yakob until they came to the next maglev station entrance. There, they overheard one of the cops telling a woman who was desperately trying to go down so she could get to work, that all the maglevs in Chusa District were offline.
< ‘Offline’ my ass,> Tremon said sourly, hoping the woman wouldn’t lose her job, whatever it was.
A block later, they turned down a narrow street that cut diagonally across a few kilometers of city and would get them to Jordan Street faster. Tremon was doing his best to stay alert, but found his mind wandering, perseverating on the events that had occurred on the station above. While the presence of Alice on the planet and mechs on the station hinted that the Marauders were here, the attack did not seem like a well-planned military strike. If the mercenaries were really focused on taking the system, they would have hit multiple installations simultaneously, and then followed those strikes up with an inbound fleet.
Other than unconfirmed reports of fighting at a Nietzschean base on The Moon, there were no other indications of a larger force moving into Iberia.
Those thoughts brought him back to imagining what would happen if the Marauders did show up and liberated Iberia. Despite wanting to do the right thing, and wanting the best for his people, the idea near
ly caused Tremon physical pain.
He’d spent so much of the last five years trying to forget his part in the war—or at least dull the memory of it—that he’d never even considered the idea of taking up the torch again.
What soul searching he’d done had led him to believe that he didn’t have the spirit for it anymore.
He blinked and shook his head, reminding himself that he needed to pay attention to his surroundings. He glanced around and spotted a man and a woman walking in the same direction on the far side of the street. Their arms were intertwined, and their heads were lowered, though he could tell by the slight head movements that both were keeping their eyes peeled.
Then the woman turned and glanced in their direction, causing Tremon to nearly swear aloud.
For a moment, Tremon wondered what Yakob really thought of him. The man was normally personable enough, but sometimes he said things that made it seem as though he thought Tremon was little more than an itinerant child he’d been saddled with.
Yakob glanced at Tremon, and his eyes narrowed.
Tremon nodded, but didn’t give any other reply, once again wishing that he really understood Yakob’s motives. The man said he served Tremon out of loyalty, but so far as Tremon was concerned, there was nothing of value to be loyal to.
Still, they’d formed a strange bond over the years, and mostly enjoyed one another’s company.
Suddenly Yakob tensed. Not a lot, but Tremon had learned the man’s subtle signs: a slight shift in his shoulders, nostrils flaring ever so slightly.