The Jovian Manifesto (The Formist Series Book 2)

by Matthew S Williams

  But she did have enough of her senses to know that the next blast would be agonizing. Any more beyond that would likely be fatal. Unable to move, she closed her eyes and waited for it to come.

  She waited...

  And waited...

  Her eyes snapped open. The noise of a firefight continued, but none of it was striking her. Even with the slowed perception of time, it was unreasonable that nothing would have struck her by now. She was immobile and easy picking. Her momentary sense of relief was interrupted when she considered that their attacks might be using this opportunity to target Cheboi again, finishing the job they had started seconds before.

  Rolling her head to her left, she saw that this wasn’t the case. Over in her corner of the room, Cheboi was pulling herself up. Her line of sight was directed at the doorway, which Gallego couldn’t see. But she could hear the terrible noise that indicated the firefight was still happening. Somehow, their attackers were now engaged with someone else.

  She had little time to think about it as Cheboi recovered fully and ran to her side. The woman’s hands reached beneath Gallego’s armpits to pull her up. At the same time, she was voking to Gallego so they could communicate over the din.

  [Get up! We’ve got to get out of here!]

  Gallego’s groggy mind struggled to reply.

  [What’s happening?]

  [No time! Najafi’s dead. We have to go!]

  Cheboi pulled her body closer to the window and set her upright. Gallego was certain she had suffered a concussion, due to what she saw next. In the doorway, four metal-skinned creatures were firing into the corridor and taking cover behind the walls. One of them was lying against the floor, smoke and flames emerging from the exposed flesh on their back.

  Beyond them, several similarly-appareled fighters were shooting into the lounge. The only notable difference between the two forces was their eyes, or the glowing representations thereof on their faces.

  Whereas their attackers’ faces were a mix of silvery skin and glowing red eyes hovering above the surface, the ones standing at the rear had features that were composed of blue, green or yellow light. Gallego even spotted one face bearing a comical expression, and another resembling a skull. She felt strangely awed but became fearful when she realized what she was seeing wasn’t the result of a concussion. It was happening, and only a few meters away from where she was lying.

  She voked to Cheboi. [What the fuck is happening?]

  [Never mind. Just be ready! We’re going for a swim!]

  Gallego looked up in time to see Cheboi aiming her arm up at the lounge’s front window. A simple autocannon formed there, followed by a heavy slug erupting from the muzzle. Gallego was barely able to look in the direction of the firefight and noted how some recognized what Cheboi was doing. Panicked motions followed as they tried to prepare for the inevitable deluge.

  It was too late. The window exploded, sending turquoise water flooding into the lounge. Within seconds, she found herself struggling to right herself in a sea of darkness. She drew in a deep breath, thus reassuring herself that her suit was sealed, and she had air enough to breathe. Indicators filled her field of view that told her that the suit had an ample supply of oxygen, and that her current consumption rate was well within defined parameters.

  It was then that she noticed faint bursts of light beneath her, as if a school of bioluminescent creatures were swimming down there. One look down corrected this impression. Even through the murk of the Aquilean Sea, she could make out the lancing shots of the two forces who were still fighting it out. She drew her arms up and tried to distance herself from them. The farther away she was, the less likely they were to see her. This desire temporarily drowned out the fear that she was adrift in dark water, with no idea of how she would get back to safety.

  The next sensation she got was the feeling of a hand descending on her shoulder.

  [Don’t worry,] said Cheboi. [I’ve got you.]

  THIRTY

  THIS IS MY FAULT.

  The conclusion was as obvious as it was inescapable as Saana looked at what remained of her team, which consisted of Konsou, Henrissant and herself. Together, they stood in the unoccupied bay, where the sea liner had departed only a few hours before. Now they stood there, their suits disengaged and taking inventory of the damages they sustained. Both Konsou and Henrissant looked like she felt. Fatigued, beleaguered, and half-dazed.

  But the sense of failure they felt wasn’t on them. It was on their team leader.

  By now, the remains of Batou and Popov would be floating somewhere in the Aquilean. Due to the way in which they were ambushed, and their vessel scuttled, their remains couldn’t be properly disposed of, which meant they could possibly be retrieved and identified by the constables.

  That was merely the latest in a long line of painful revelations Saana was dealing with. The foremost was the fact that another team, veterans and Extropians from all accounts, had gotten the drop on them. Their timing was perfect, and they executed their plan flawlessly. No sooner had Saana and her team initiated their ambush that the other team sprung theirs. Instantly, the hunters had become the hunted.

  Okran had been the first to fall. The first indication that they were being attacked from behind was her linkup, alerting the rest of the group that she had been hit and her exosuit breached. Batou fell shortly thereafter when the two teams had been fighting it out in the Aquilean, struggling like fools to get clear shots at each other while surrounded by near-freezing ocean water.

  On top of that was the knowledge that their intended targets - the investigator and her bodyguard - had escaped. She had to admire the latter for her grit and inventiveness. She took advantage of the situation, exploiting their momentary confusion to rescue the investigator, and then breaching the hull to magnify the confusion and ensure their escape.

  As for Saana and her team, their escape had a simple manner of propelling themselves back to the port. Once their attackers were also claimed by the waters, the firefight didn’t last long. All participants were equally eager to get out of their salty surroundings. Where their attackers had gone to was a mystery. But Saana and her team had managed to make it back to port under their suits’ power. Their thrusters, normally designed for vacuum and atmosphere, managed to offer enough propulsion to get them back to the port in a hurry. Once they arrived, they slipped in to the same mooring the liner had departed from. From there, it was easy enough to slip through a pressure door and hide away in a maintenance tunnel.

  My fault, she repeated to herself. She understood all too well what the source of her failure was. From the outset, the mission had looked like a cakewalk, a simple addendum to their earlier mission to Ganymede - which had been equally unchallenging. At no point did they suspect that someone might be providing cover for the investigator and her bodyguard.

  On top of that, there was the confusion this created for Saana and her team. Whoever had attacked them, their motivations were clear. They had intervened to protect the investigator and the bodyguard. This alone might suggest that the Cythereans had sent some additional forces to cover their backs - a sensible precaution, given the situation - but Saana had gotten a good look at the opposing team. Nothing about them indicated they were a force attached to the Cytherean Council. They were mercs, plain and simple. Sending such a force to protect government agents felt counter-intuitive, even for politicians.

  Such questions were best saved for later. Saana took another look at their cramped surroundings. The tunnel was vacant for the moment, but sooner or later, some hapless maintenance crew would eventually come. She then looked to what was left of her team and voked an order.

  [Re-engage stealth mode. We make for the ship.]

  [Are we dusting off?] Henrissant asked. The look on his face indicated that he was asking more than if they would be simply leaving the surface. He wanted to know if they were abandoning the mission. Konsou joined in him in looking at Saana searchingly.

  [No,] she replied. [But we�
��re calling this in. The situation has changed, and we need to adjust our tactics. Soon enough, we’ll re-engage and complete the mission.]

  Her team responded with looks of reassurance. As much as they were hurting right now, the fact that their team leader wasn’t admitting defeat was having the desired effect. The shock and trauma of losing some of their own, of being beaten, that had certainly taken its toll. But knowing they weren’t about to give in to it, that was giving them a temporary boost.

  Saana was encouraged by this too. Despite the way she had failed them, they were still looking to her for leadership. She intended to provide it. And she intended to get some answers from their patron himself, the one who had sent them on this mission without preparing them for what they were likely to face.

  Once that was done, they would re-equip and redeploy. Whoever had ambushed them wouldn’t be so lucky from here on out. Now they knew the threat was out there, and they were protecting the investigator and her bodyguard. As such, they could adjust their tactics accordingly.

  Somebody’s going to pay for this, she thought. No more members of her team would be lost.

  THIRTY-ONE

  GALLEGO FELT LIKE SHE as afloat.

  It was a sensation that was beginning to feel terribly familiar. She remembered feeling like she was floating in tar or quick sand, barely able to move but afraid to move too much. Every shift in her body had produced spasms of pain. Then, she’d felt like she was incredibly buoyant, like she weighed nothing at all. She could move again, but the effort was still painful. A few frantic moves did nothing to change the fact that she was floating.

  Now it was different.

  She was floating in blackness.

  Her eyes were open and trained on everything around her. It made no difference. It was like staring into the depths of space, assuming all the stars and galaxies in the universe had winked out all at once. It was a horrible feeling, worse than waking up to find yourself immersed in water. At least there, you could swim in the direction of the surface. At least there, one had a sense of being somewhere.

  Gallego raised her hands to massage away the dull throbbing in her head which matched the aches and pains which emanated from all over her body. She closed her eyes tightly, hoping to will the pain away. This did her no good and made no difference to her surroundings. Whether her eyes were open or not, she was still surrounded by total darkness. Between that and finding herself back in some unidentifiable place, she had no patience at all to draw on. She screamed aloud. “Clio! What the hell?!”

  The soothing, female voice replied, “It’s all right, Veronika. You’re safe.”

  Gallego grunted. “I don’t care! Why do you keep doing this? Who the hell are you and what do you want?”

  “Do you not remember?”

  Gallego was about to shout some more expletive-spiked questions, but her mind was fast becoming more wakeful and clear. She was remembering certain things that had happened recently. More importantly, she couldn’t remember certain things. There was a sense of immediate urgency, followed by a feeling of total helplessness. Then fear... lots of fear.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, reverting to anger. “I know that I’m sick of you doing this though! If you’ve got something to say, say it! Otherwise, let me go!”

  Clio didn’t respond right away. Gallego half expected an image to appear or for some setting to form around her. That appeared to be how the woman who kept reaching out to her did things. Start by dislocating her, then drop her into one strange place or another just to make a point.

  Surprisingly, that didn’t happen this time. Clio spoke again and was remarkably clipped. “It’s almost time, Veronika. You’re almost there.”

  “Where?!” she demanded.

  “Ebla,” Clio spat out hurriedly. “Follow the path, Veronika. It will be laid out for you.”

  GALLEGO BLINKED SEVERAL times. Unlike before - where everything was black, whether her eyes were open or not - opening them now admitted murky light. The blinking status lights on the life pod was the source, sending piercing luminescence through the waters to indicate its position to any recovery craft. Gallego tried her best to avoid the glare, but it was a losing fight. At the moment, all she and Cheboi could do was hold on to the life pod’s rails and wait to be rescued.

  Her head was feeling better, the disorientation receding and clarity returning. Her medimachines were to thank for this, actively repairing any neurological connection that had been damaged from their recent fight. Her newfound clarity was welcome, as it was allowing her to reconstruct everything that had just happened to them.

  Gallego was unclear on a lot of the details, but a few things she was certain of.

  Najafi was dead, that much was clear. Their attackers, whom Cheboi had been anticipating, had killed him. The speed with which they had dispatched him was matched only by their brutality. A single slicing wound to the chest had ended the poor inspector’s life. He had risked his life and his professional standing to reach out to them and protect the lives of the wrongly-accused terrorists.

  Now he was dead, and with that, so were all their hopes of resolving the current crisis. If they ever made it back to Selket, they would have a lot of explaining to do. And the authorities, assuming they even believed Gallego and Cheboi’s version of events, would have some serious damage control to do. It wouldn’t be easy to convince them. Among Retros, recorded memories weren’t exactly accessible or admissible. But Gallego was determined to try. She owed it to Najafi to let his colleagues know how he died, and for what.

  They were alive. That was something else Gallego couldn’t be clearer on. As uncomfortable and tenuous as their current situation was, they had made it out with their lives at the very least. Cheboi was chiefly responsible for that.

  [Thank you.]

  Next to her, Cheboi voked in reply. [For what?]

  [For saving our lives. What else?]

  Gallego sensed a scoff from her counterpart. Her next thoughts were tinged with a degree of sarcasm. [Don’t thank me yet. We still need to be rescued. Whether or not this plan proved to be effective or stupid kind of hinges on that.]

  [It was a good plan,] Gallego insisted, and she meant it. Cheboi’s quick thinking had managed to get them out of harm’s way and send the two attacking forces into complete disarray. Once they had ditched and were in the water, their suits had kept them alive and they’d been able to escape. After a short exchange between the two opposing forces, it appeared that everyone had beaten a hasty retreat. Only Gallego and Cheboi had stayed on the scene, being the only ones who wanted to be picked up by the authorities.

  Here too, it was Cheboi’s quick thinking that had saved them. As soon as the vessel had flooded, all the passengers’ cabins became sealed and ejected. Their floatation devices deployed, causing them to float to the shallowest depths of the Aquilean, where they would be easiest to find. Their beacons and status lights had also begun flashing, letting rescue craft know where they were.

  All that remained was for those rescue crews to show up!

  It was when Gallego and Cheboi both became bathed in bright light that she realized they were about to be pulled from the deep. The lights settled in behind them and Gallego looked over her shoulder. The vessel that was now looking at them was about three times the size of the ejected cabin they clung to. Gallego could only imagine the looks on the faces of the people inside. Tracking down a life pod, only to find two silver-skinned people clinging to its exterior!

  [Looks like your plan was effective after all,] Gallego said smartly. She could sense Cheboi’s amusement and relief.

  THIRTY-TWO

  AFTER VISITING THE Constabulary for the last time, Gallego couldn’t have imagined that the tone could ever get any frostier. She had neglected to consider what it might be like to be hauled in as suspects in a constable’s death. The moment the rescue craft had hauled them in, a dozen constables had been waiting them, armed to the teeth and not in the mood for a discussion. Gall
ego and Cheboi had avoided the worst by surrendering unconditionally.

  Though they had no armaments to surrender, the jig was up as far as their equipment was concerned. Removing the suits had been a bit of an awkward situation, as they were worn directly against their skin. But unlike the constables, Cheboi and Gallego weren’t too embarrassed about disrobing - once a modicum of privacy had been ensured.

  Now they found themselves in a small cell measuring not more than twenty square meters. All they could do was wait for someone who was in an angry enough mood to come in and commence their interrogation. Gallego passed the time by sitting still in one of the two chairs provided and tapping her fingers against the surface of the table. Cheboi, meanwhile, stood in the corner of the room and said nothing. To look at her, Gallego would have surmised she had entered a trance state. She had the option of doing the same herself, but that felt dangerous right now.

  Since their arrival, they had been subject to quite a bit of hostility from the locals, and all because of their apparent Extropianism. Finding them floating in the Aquilean in their exosuits hadn’t helped that much. She worried that being found in a self-induced meditative state would only freak out whoever walked through the door. That wouldn’t exactly make for a less tense interrogation.

  After what felt like years of subjective time, the door to the room opened. Messier stood in the doorway, flanked by two constables. Again, they were heavily armed. Messier hesitated for a second. He seemed confident enough about stepping into the room with them. Gallego guessed that he was wondering whether to bring the armed escort with him. This was confirmed when he eventually told the officers to stay outside.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s not like they’re going anywhere,” she heard him mutter.

  Gallego took this as a good sign. In the corner, Cheboi had brought herself out of her trance state and was now standing in a parade stance. Messier took one look at her and offered her the chair that was on his side of the table. As soon as she was seated, he began.