Those troubled waters seemed to resonate with what Riordan sensed of this world: that it was even more grim, more brutal than Earth’s actual nineteenth century. But regardless, this was home now, at least for a while. Maybe a long while, Caine reflected. So I’d better get used to it, at least until I kill one of this imaginary planet’s most powerful imaginary men.
Caine frowned. Imaginary world or not, being an assassin was a damn lousy business. Unfortunately, he couldn’t just accept that role; he had to excel at it. Or he would never see Elena again.
Riordan sighed, recalled a resigned lament muttered by the Brits among the Lost Soldiers, and now a favorite expression of their present day commander, Bannor Rulaine:
In for a penny, in for a pound.
Chapter Fifty-Two
JUNE 2124
DUSTBELT, ZETA TUCANAE
Bannor Rulaine stared out the pitted window at the equatorial dustbowl that was the least attractive, and thus safest, region of Zeta Tucanae Three. There was nothing to see except swirling curtains of grit and sand. As usual.
He glanced at his wristlink, instead. It was the same one he’d worn four years ago, back when he and the others who now called themselves the Crewe had started traveling with Caine Riordan. Back when they had left Earth to take the fight to the Arat Kur homeworld. And back then, who could have guessed that would be the simple part of this job?
The entry chime brought Bannor’s awareness abruptly back to the wristlink that was still staring up at him: 1356 hours local. She’s four minutes early, Rulaine thought. The military version of right on time. He stood. “Come in.”
The prefab panel slid aside revealing a person he’d never met in person but about whom he’d come to know quite a lot over the past week: Ayana Tagawa. She stopped in the doorway, eyes widening slightly when she discovered her new CO already standing. She came to attention. “Colonel Rulaine!”
Bannor waved away the formality. “Captain, in this outfit, we’re pretty relaxed about titles and rank unless there are bullets or bombs inbound. Normally, I’d just sit you down for an introductory chat, but we’re already late for a meeting. Come with me.” He led her out the still-open door.
A short corridor brought them into the cavernous warehouse where Bannor and his team had managed to spend two years hiding in plain sight. Robots crisscrossed the dirty flooring, piling spoor from a central excavation against the walls before returning for another load.
Tagawa cleared her throat. “Colonel, those piles of soil…”
“Reinforces the walls against the wind.” Bannor shrugged. “Not an uncommon precaution here in the equatorial zones. We get some pretty ferocious dust storms. But the real reason for all the dirt up here is because we had to dig down there.” He gestured toward the central hole being covered with false flooring. “We’ve created a sublevel to hide the cold cells of both the Lost Soldiers and the Cold Guard. Stuck Puller down there, as well.”
Tagawa frowned. “After you finished your subcontracting missions at Epsilon Indi, I know you went entirely off the grid, but—”
“We didn’t just go off the grid, Ms. Tagawa. We shut down for six months before any of our cells reactivated. Since then, we’ve been reconsolidating.”
“I’m sorry. I do not know what you mean by that.”
Bannor nodded. “After Turkh’saar, the Slaasriithi dropped teams of us in four different places. With over three hundred cold cells, there was no way to store them in one place, not right away. We sent a clandestine survey team out here to find a bankrupt facility in a dismal place.” He looked around. “Perfect hideout for us.”
“I presume the survey team was led by Captains Wu and Phillips?”
Bannor smiled as they entered the warehouse’s transition chamber to the outdoors, sealed the door behind them. “What gave that away?”
“They are well liked yet not exactly well known on the main world. They use all the regional slang, know every local detail.”
Bannor nodded. “They ought to.” He opened the outer door. They emerged into a twenty-kilometer-per-hour haze of dust-thick wind. “When they got to this system, Zeta Tucanae was the tail end of the Big Green Main. Zeta Tucanae Two—called TouTwo then, Rainbow now—barely had a population of thirty thousand, most on government ‘trailblazer’ contracts. Now, with nine-point-four shift ranges on most of the ships that come out this far, Rainbow gets about eight thousand new colonists a month.” He smiled into the gale-force grit. “So most of the locals consider Peter and Susan to be original settlers.
“Peter stays in the shadows because his personal data is all over the grid and hot as hell. But Susan’s last ID dates to 1942, so she doesn’t have to keep her head too low.”
Bannor led Tagawa toward an unpressurized hab module as they approached the far side of two windswept landing pads. “But Earth bureaucracy will be right behind the new settlers, bringing a brand new postwar database. At that point, having no ID will become just as bad as having the wrong ID.”
“So you are on borrowed time.”
Bannor nodded as they went through the hab module’s outer hatch. Once the vents had sucked away most of the dust, the inner door sighed open. Captain Christopher “Tygg” Robin smiled down at them. “So this is the new talent, boss?”
“Yup. We’ll do the introductions later.”
“Right.” Tygg led them along the module’s single, central corridor. “Our visitor is getting antsy. He’s concerned about being detected.”
Rulaine couldn’t help smiling. “As cautious as ever. Is everyone assembled?”
“Everyone on the list, boss.”
“Colonel,” murmured Tagawa, “Captain Phillips told me I would meet the team’s leadership today. Is that—?”
“Change of plans, Tagawa. Susan is satisfied you are who you say you are. Your contact protocols on Rainbow were perfect, no one is tailing you, and we know you don’t have an embedded bug.”
“How could you know that?”
“Because you were medscoped while you were snoring through your second night in the bag; Peter Wu doctored your tea. So welcome to the team, Tagawa.”
“When will my duties begin?”
“Right now. I need your intel-trained eyes and ears at the meeting we’re about to walk into at the end of this hall. Because unless I miss my guess, our visitor could be changing our lives here. In a big way.”
“And who is our visitor?” she asked.
Bannor opened the door. “Him.”
Seated at the far end of a table that was too big for the small room, a Dornaani rose from a makeshift, species-friendly seat. “Hello, Ms. Tagawa,” he said. “I am gratified to meet you. My name is Alnduul.”
* * *
Ayana Tagawa bowed, sensed the room was crowded, then realized why.
It wasn’t because six humans were seated cheek-by-jowl around the table. It was due to the two-meter monster whose bulk took up almost a fifth of the available space: a Hkh’Rkh. Because of his height, he was bending at the waist, as if poised to consume the other occupants in a single gulp.
Ayana realized that her breath had caught in her throat. Annoyed, she exhaled sharply. She had faced death, lived on a razor’s edge for over a year among the Ktor, but she had never been in the presence of a true exosapient. And Hkh’Rkh, the most daunting species of all, were particularly imposing in person.
The being’s head—if you could call it that—swiveled toward her, completely contiguous with its pony-neck. Black, pupilless eyes poked outward from under the bony protective ridge that was its streamlined skull, the only irregularity in the widening column of muscle that blended into its broad, barrel-shaped torso and spine. Patches of fur ran along the crest of its shoulders and the ridges of its conventionally jointed arms, forming a spiky stripe that narrowed down to nothing as it reached the tip of a tail shaped more like a caiman’s than a mammal’s.
But the greatest surprise was what emerged from its mouth: a trembling black garter-snake of a
tongue, followed by wholly understandable words. “I am pleased to meet you, Ms. Tagawa. I am Yaargraukh. It is good fortune for us all that you passed Captain Phillips’ security checks. Your skills and training make you a most valuable addition to our team. I bid you welcome.”
Ayana nodded an acknowledgement. “Forgive my initial reaction, Yaargraukh. I did not anticipate meeting a member of your species.”
The black tongue swished. Amusement? “I suspected as much.” His tongue stilled. “Although that, too, was a test.”
Bannor slipped past her, nodding. “The people in this room probably have humanity’s most diverse and extensive experience with exosapient species. Although as I understand it, no free human has spent more time with Ktor than you.”
One of the humans seated at the table—a youthful man of medium build—nodded at her. “That’s why Captain Phillips was so thorough in vetting you. We had to be sure you didn’t have a permanent tail.” He smiled. “I’m Duncan Solsohn. Glad you’re with us.”
“As I am honored and grateful to be among you. Had Commodore Riordan not directed me here, I suspect I would be dead by now.”
Strangely, her mention of Riordan prompted all eyes to turn toward the Dornaani. Eventually, Duncan, still smiling, said, “Our assessment agrees with yours, Alnduul; neither Olsloov nor your shuttle has been spotted. But why did you enter CTR space via Tau Ceti? That system has a lot of traffic.”
“As I intimated, Captain Solsohn, time was of the essence and that route was the swiftest. Due to my precarious status as a Custodian, I may soon be unable to protect Caine Riordan.”
A women whose lithe fitness recalled Ayana’s own, threw up a hand in dismay. “And you think any of us can help him? How?”
Alnduul touched his fingertips together. “Prior to making planetfall, I put a proposal before Colonel Rulaine and Major Solsohn: to bring a group of you to join Caine Riordan as assistants, aides, possibly expediters.” He noted the restless reactions around the table, turned toward the woman who had spoken. “I understand your reservations, Ms. Veriden, but such a plan would relieve many of your group’s problems, as well. During my journey here, I had occasion to scan relevant communications among certain terrestrial governments that remain highly motivated to locate you or, more narrowly, the Lost Soldiers. However, since the Consolidated Terran Republic never had access to the Lost Soldiers or the cryocells in which they were transported, the governments in question remain unable to track them. So, their new focus is upon those of your team who belonged to, or conducted operations for, the Institute of Reconnaissance, Intelligence, and Security.”
“Damn IRIS alums, again,” Dora Veriden groaned with a roll of her eyes. “You spooks will be the death of us yet.”
Alnduul’s large eyelids cycled rapidly. “Ms. Veriden, your own arm’s-length association with the Institute has resulted in your being included in that group.”
A plain-looking middle-aged man in a light blue Commonwealth Survey and Settlement Office duty suit patted her arm. The sympathy seemed both genuine and ironic. “If you can’t beat ’em…”
“Shut up, Karam,” Veriden muttered.
“Yes, dear.”
Bannor, who remained leaning against the wall since there were no seats left, raised a quieting hand. “Look, Alnduul’s plan could be a triple win. Those of us whose IDs are on the intel grid need to leave the CTR. If we do, the rest of you remain much harder to find. And once the Crewe is in the Collective, we’ll be in place to help Caine. Although”—he glanced at the Dornaani—“I’ve got the same reservation as Dora. I can’t see how we’d be of much use to him on your turf.”
One finger on each of Alnduul’s hands raised. “Those of you associated with IRIS are a formidable and—forgive me—markedly aggressive group, one that would disincline any Dornaani who might think of further obstructing Caine Riordan’s quest to find Elena Corcoran. Our technology may require some familiarization, but your diverse and adaptable skill set will more than compensate for any temporary loss of efficiency.”
Bannor nodded thoughtfully. “Still, there’s one drawback if everyone from IRIS leaves.”
A short, somewhat stocky Asian man nodded. “There won’t be many people left who were born into this century.”
“Less than a dozen of us by my count, Pete,” agreed the man Dora had called Karam. “And almost no one who’s familiar with the way CTR spooks operate.”
Bannor nodded. “So while leaving helps everyone here stay hidden, it also reduces their ability to see trouble coming.” He rubbed his hands together in what Ayana read as frustration. “The goal was always to get us all over the border, into the new landgrab systems. But Alnduul’s offer may be the best we can do right now, because after three years, I still haven’t found a way to make that happen.”
Ayana allowed several seconds of silence to elapse before she raised her chin. “I do not mean to be impertinent, but have you inquired if our esteemed guest might be willing and able to do us the honor of providing such assistance?” She kept her eyes on Bannor.
Who looked sideways at Alnduul.
Who allowed the fingers of one hand to droop. “If I had the means to transport your personnel to a safe haven, I would already have offered it. Unfortunately, my own predicament precludes such action, Ms. Tagawa. As I informed Colonel Rulaine and his officers prior to planetfall, I must appear before a board of inquiry immediately after transporting them. The process and outcome is likely to be more akin to one of your courts martial. If so, I will be unable to assist myself, let alone anyone else.”
Ayana inclined her head. “When such leaders act in opposition to their sworn duties, they compound injustice with disgrace.”
Alnduul’s eyelids flickered twice. “I am aware that you have suffered a similar fate, Ms. Tagawa.”
She offered a shallow, sitting bow, aware that the other eyes in the room were now fixed on her. “And like me, you may be compelled to seek refuge from superiors who would make you a scapegoat for their own failings and dishonor.”
“I cannot. I have taken an oath.”
Tagawa held Alnduul’s gaze. “So have I. However, in violating their own oaths of service and honor, such leaders dissolve the obligations of those who were oathbound to them.”
The eyes in the room swiveled toward Alnduul.
Who stared at Ayana for a long moment. “That is a perspective worthy of lengthy consideration, Ms. Tagawa.” He turned to Bannor. “Colonel Rulaine, once your team is reunited with Caine Riordan, I will seek a means of evacuating your entire command.”
Bannor nodded, looked around the room, was answered by more nods. “I guess all that’s left is to finalize our departure roster.”
Duncan grinned. “Actually, Missy Katano and I have already come up with a list.”
One of Bannor’s eyebrows raised slightly. “That was fast.”
“That’s because a lot of it was inevitable.” Duncan glanced at Katano, one of the few Lost Soldiers who was not, in fact, a soldier. According to Susan Phillips, she’d been an intel liaison between the covert operatives and commandos operating in Somalia at the end of the Twentieth Century. Since Missy now managed the group’s logistics and information distribution without flaw, Phillips considered her to be worth her weight in gold. Literally.
Katano started ticking names off the list. “We started with the IRIS must-go’s, Colonel. That means you, Duncan, Peter, Newton, Dora. Next…”
“Hey, Missy!” shouted diminutive Miles O’Garran from out in the corridor. “Forgetting someone, maybe?”
She smiled. “And Miles,” she added. “We realized that Ms. Tagawa had to go, too, so—”
Bannor held up a hand. “Whoa and wait a minute. No offense to Ms. Tagawa, but she just got here.”
“And she’s too hot to stay,” Duncan countered. “She spent a year with the Ktor, knows they’re human, that they’ve been abducting our people, and that they started scheming to bring us down before we split the atom. Bes
ides, if her meeting with Caine ever comes to the attention of our pursuers, they’re going to follow her trail. Hard.”
Ayana bowed slightly toward Bannor. “I would be honored to accompany you. And I have a debt of gratitude and honor to repay to Commodore Riordan.”
Bannor shook his head. “I know Caine. He wouldn’t want you arriving here, finally safe, only to run off and risk your life helping him.”
“Honor is weak if it shuns risk,” she replied mildly, staring into the colonel’s hazel eyes.
* * *
Bannor was surprised by Ayana’s frank, unwavering gaze. She might be a child of the neo-Edo traditions, but for all those formalities, she was no wallflower. Hell, if she were a little closer to my age, I just might… Christ, stop that! “Okay, Ms. Tagawa: you’re in. Who else?”
Missy Katano was ticking names off her fingers. “We figured Yaargraukh was a logical choice. No offense”—she added, leaning toward the Hkh’Rkh—“but you’re really traceable if anyone ever sees you.”
His thin black tongue popped out, snapped back in. “I quite agree.”
Missy smiled, went back to the list. “We’ve got to get Katie Somers out of CTR space, too.”
Dora Veriden frowned. “Somers? Who’s she?”
“One of the Cold Guard.”
Tagawa frowned. “Your pardon, please, Ms. Katano, the ‘Cold Guard?’”
“Elite troops thawed out of cold sleep to help on Turkh’saar.” Missy turned to Dora. “Katie’s a specialist in drones and cyberweapons. Her higher clearance puts her intel signature way above the background noise.”
Bannor frowned. “That’s a pretty big group, Missy.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, but it gets a little larger, sir. You should really have a grease monkey and a trigger-puller, too.”
Marque of Caine Page 40