Selena

by V Guy

  “We’ve no intention of overstaying our welcome,” continued the woman. “After we chat for a bit, we’ll leave.”

  Serena remained defiant, but the voice wormed its way through her memory. She turned to confirm its identity. Liola. “You could’ve knocked, like everyone else.”

  “I wanted to surprise you,” said Liola, motioning the men away. “Besides, if you were followed, they’d have seen us, defeating the purpose of our presence.”

  Serena rubbed her wrists as she looked where Liola motioned; a man lay motionless on the floor. “Who’s he?”

  Liola removed an interface from the man’s head and placed it with a mind box nearby. “He had no ID, but I think he was with the men in the Monitor at the park. All of them were out of towners.”

  “The park?” asked Serena in confusion, thinking back to the vehicle she couldn’t place. “You were at the park?”

  Another nod. “Yeah. We wondered how long it would be before they made an attempt.”

  “Why were you there? You don’t even like me.”

  Liola shrugged, setting the mind box into a terminal slot and flipping a switch. “I was bored. Besides, this helps Malik, and I like Malik.”

  Serena looked at the person who held her and froze. It was the young man from the park. He made a slight smile and walked into the kitchen.

  “Attempt at what?” she asked.

  “Rape, murder, or kidnapping, take your pick,” said Liola. “The rope and weapons meant they probably weren’t interested in your health.”

  Serena shifted from the young man. “And I’m to assume you are?”

  Liola cocked her head as she considered the idea. “Indirectly.”

  The young man emerged from the kitchen with two of her exercise smoothies. He offered her one, which she refused and he placed on the table, then carried one to the front door. A sweating woman entered and gratefully took the beverage. “Thanks, Buddy.”

  It was Fran from the park. Serena stared at her in disbelief.

  “You didn’t want that woman to catch you,” she said, smirking and walking to her duffle to retrieve a towel. “She most definitely tried.”

  Serena was at a loss.

  Fran gave her an inquisitive look. “Maybe she was jealous of your hair.”

  Serena unconsciously stroked her head. She then tried the smoothie.

  “We don’t need to drug you,” said Pierce. “Buddy tried to get it right.”

  “I did,” said the young man. “It’s a good mix. I never considered figs.”

  “They’re not always available.” Serena looked uncertainly at them. “Why are you here?”

  “Because of the guy beside the couch,” replied Liola. “And to deliver a message. Well, several for that matter.”

  Serena sat as far as possible from him. “Let’s start with the guy on the floor. Never mind the ‘what’ of his plans. Tell me the ‘why.’”

  “He was hired to afflict you, along with the others at the park. The person who hired them was a real estate developer who lives five hundred kilometers to the east. His reason for the contract stemmed from information leaked to one of our ex-associates by a law enforcement clerk. That employee was privy to information gleaned from Malik’s interviews. Malik is owned by you.”

  She processed the sequence. “You know this?”

  “I questioned him.”

  “And the mind box?”

  “Malik will question him later. Won’t be many mysteries then.”

  Serena studied the rest of the group. “Why are you here?”

  Scarface shrugged. “He did many of us a massive favor. We’re interested in his health, and we protect you because of that.”

  She frowned. “Ex-associates?”

  “We’re ex-cons, certificate holders. Well, were anyway.”

  “He bought them?”

  Scarface nodded.

  “He’d need your previous owners’ permissions.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Not really. He only needed the transfers to be uncontested. They were.”

  The information told to Serena was more than sufficient for her to see the possibilities. “How are you different from those associates?”

  Scarface motioned to Pierce, who rose and exited, then himself stood and paced to the front window. “Not everyone had as much to gain, and many people had far more to lose. Malik’s interviews have revealed facts previously unknown to much of law enforcement, and those juicy details have claimed the livelihoods of many former customers.”

  “You’re affected, too.”

  “Minimally. We’re little players. They’d rather have the big dogs.” He paused and smirked. “Maybe the middle dogs, because most of the other dogs are dead.”

  “But you’re still players?”

  He shrugged. “Some of us. Most quit.”

  “And the ones that didn’t are a threat?”

  Scarface nodded. “Others will come.”

  Pierce returned with a body bag, and Buddy moved to assist him with the dead man. Pierce and Buddy were meticulous, gathering any small items lost by the man and carrying the corpse out the back door. A cleaning bot moved to catch what they missed.

  “Because of the developer.”

  “And people like him,” said Liola. “Malik has already been informed of this incident. More people than the developer have received leaked information, and other people in the know have been talking or were careless.”

  Serena scowled. “And because of this, I’m endangered?”

  “First you, then potentially my family. Best to catch them here. The rest of the crew are on other planets. Malik thinks the local antagonists won’t explore those options until they’ve exhausted the convenient ones.”

  Serena’s mind spun. “Exhausted?”

  Fran emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water. “Update your door codes—they’re the default. Also, either clean the thumb pad more frequently or get a unit where your prints don’t easily stick. Finally, find a unit whose transmissions don’t bleed. We read yours from two houses down.”

  “What do you mean by ‘exhausted’?”

  “You should hire a professional security service,” added Scarface. “If we accompanied you, we’d certainly get stopped and questioned, and our association would encourage complicating questions. Ex-cons, by definition, live lean existences if they try to stay clean. Speaking of which, some compensation would be appreciated.”

  Serena’s expression hardened as she glanced at Liola. “It’s theft.”

  Buddy shrugged. “It’s reimbursement. We’ve rented a home nearby, traveled here from five hours away, and watched your home and frequented locations, all on meager incomes. We’ve probably saved your life three times already.”

  “Three?” said Serena, making a snort. “Today counts as once.”

  He shook his head. “Yeah. And last Newday counts as second, while a week ago Friday counts as third. We’re barely scraping by.”

  Abashed, Serena lowered her head. “Who’s tracking expenses?”

  “I am,” said Liola.

  “Have you itemized your disbursements?”

  “Of course.”

  Serena presented her device. “Download them.”

  Liola synched their devices to make the transfer, and Serena stood back to examine the information. To her surprise, the tally was reasonable and remarkably complete. “Do you have a credit chit?”

  This was also provided. Serena linked with her accounts, downloaded the funds, and presented it to Liola. She straightened and scanned the room. “Now, what do you mean by ‘exhausted’?”

  “Killed, tortured, captured, used as blackmail,” replied Liola. “Either I or my parents would follow. Malik eliminated a lot of peoples’ disposable incomes, and they’ll want to hurt him back, but they won’t dare approach Pathfinder. It’s watched by law enforcement, the military, the media, and by others more ruthless yet. Finally, there’s Malik they’d have to contend against.”

&
nbsp; Serena glanced around the room. “I suppose you know these people?”

  Liola nodded. “Their pasts are checkered, but they’ll hold true.”

  “And here you are. Will wonders never cease?”

  Liola shrugged. “I’m a little surprised, too.”

  “I could use a running buddy,” said Serena to Fran. “The park is probably my most vulnerable place, and I’m fairly certain you aren’t as slow as you demonstrated. What’s your name?”

  “Elena,” replied the woman. “And no, I’m not.”

  “Good.” Serena took the opportunity to make eye contact with each of them. “I’ll be at the park the same time tomorrow morning. If you can keep pace, that’d be great. If you can push me, that’d be even better.”

  “You paid us triple,” said Liola, screwing up her face. “What are you doing?”

  Serena’s eyes were solidly on the woman, but her focus was inward as she thought of Malik. “I suppose I’m being generous.”

  25: Sweet Dreams

  Day 721: Tania; Evaline

  Schmidt, the man who sent the five operatives to Catricel, lingered briefly as he gazed into the mirror. Shaving, showering, and breakfasting passed in a blur. Only when he received a call on his comm did he pause, reliving the exact moment of the actual connection in exquisite detail. Topics covered in the conversation called forth the precipitating events, and when the conversation was finished, the blur resumed. Such was his arrival at work. Every time he observed a coworker, their shared history rushed forward for examination. Sometimes this past blossomed into an intricate recollection. At other times, little was explored. These encounters came and went, fading to make way for the next one. Dreams were like that. The “now” mattered most and kept bringing new retrospective events.

  A message arrived for him concerning his hovercraft stuck in the shop, mirroring the actual day’s conversation, and he again grew angry, reliving the moment. The tasks of his job followed, correspondences were delivered, and evaluations were tailored. Much like the rest of this oddly accurate dream, some of them elicited an extensive playback of connectivity. Others behaved similarly to his disagreement with the shop, flowing by in a rush of sensations. Seeing his wife triggered a refresh of their relationship, while his two children upped the intensity and bathed him in the strength of his emotions. As with many dreamers, he was acutely unaware of it being unreal. A great relief was felt when he closed his eyes to sleep.

  This blissful disconnection was followed by awakening to the day prior to the one represented by the previous dream, all memories of the following day flittering into mist. Preparations for a day of work, dropping off his vehicle at the shop, traveling to his office, and returning home proceeded in a lockstep duplication of the day it represented. Fewer high-clarity remembrances followed, with only those new people and snippets of information being followed and expounded upon. Bedtime arrived with sweet relief, and desires for the following morning waited patiently.

  His next awakening was another step backward. Except for a few reports and archived messages, the entire day passed in a rush. Night supposedly arrived with its promises, only to usher him into another time-backpedaling dream sequence. Relief of rest preceded another rush of events, which led to the false hope of mental shutdown. As the days of his past continued to surface; they showed themselves and dissolved with increasing swiftness. Dreaming wakefulness and rest cycled in an exhausting parade of deeper memories until coming to a close, replaying the day of his admission into the agency.

  When Schmidt closed his eyes this time, the past had quickly faded.

  The most abrupt call to alertness was genuine, coming with relief and copious amounts of sweat. Light was long from touching the horizon, and darkness reigned within his bedroom. Schmidt was exhausted. He moved to the sink, disturbed and mystified. Remarkable clarity from occasions long forgotten left fading echoes within his mind, causing him to strain in hopes of holding onto them. A washing of his face, a brief trip to the toilet, and a return to sleep followed.

  ***

  Across the street, two cloaked individuals squeezed into a similarly concealed Rumbler. The modified, low-atmospheric hovercraft jumped immediately into the air, heading for Pathfinder and home.

  “Did you get what you needed?” asked Helen, placing her pack on the floorboard beside her.

  “And then some,” replied Malik. “He wasn’t highly placed but did know interesting organizational details.”

  “Which means we’ll be doing this again and again until we find the one in charge?”

  Malik gazed outward. “The jobs are the key to our isolation and relative freedom. Besides, I get to learn about more than just one of their bad decisions. This is the CSA, an organization that has a wealth of them to explore.”

  “What did Norris reveal?”

  “A whole lifetime of unfortunate, tragic decisions. As a man heavily invested in his personal success, much of his focus wasn’t on Central Security policy. Needless to say, he wasn’t the only one.”

  “Did he know Kroes?”

  Malik became pensive. “They were competitors. Both of them were ambitious, and Norris manipulated Kroes’s transfer to the Fleet to remove her influence. She was determined to compensate, moving efficiently through the ranks. The lack of corruption within the First Fleet hierarchy had an unusual and unforeseen outcome; her outlook and motives changed. The mutual dislike between Kroes and Norris grew accordingly, and when she saw him in our brig at Asile, her pleasure was palpable. She easily sliced through the ranks of his CSA coattail-followers after his demise, using the First Fleet’s reputation and power to break the core of their power. Much of that strength still remains.”

  Helen scowled in understanding.

  “Corporate and government influence are now Kroes’s biggest enemies.”

  The Rumbler reached Pathfinder, passing through an area of seemingly empty space to stop in the ship’s entry passage. Light sources next shone, illuminating an unusually quiet ship. Malik stepped free from the craft and began the shutdown procedures.

  “Adjusting is difficult,” said Helen, frowning as she stepped free. “I need time to consider matters.”

  Malik withdrew an instrument from the Rumbler’s side panel, his mind on his many responsibilities after settling the craft. “We’re always busy, and the weekends are full. Sleep. The rest will have the women covered.”

  ***

  Complete darkness blanketed the Rumbler. The hovercraft advanced forward, descended at an angle, then passed through a shimmer into bright daylight. This would be their third weeknight excursion in a row.

  “We’re clear,” said Malik, verbalizing the mental thought sent to Pathfinder. The hovercraft maintained a descent profile as a heads-up display sprang to life. He occupied the rear and right side of the craft, where the seats had been pulled, while Helen served as pilot in command. The ship ascended to space.

  “How many more after this one?” she asked.

  “None, but I’m certain others will arise.”

  Helen veered right to avoid a collision. The Rumbler was cloaked, and the day-side skies were active during the early afternoon. “We’re already busy. Night excursions makes life tougher.”

  “This is why I rotate helpers. You’ll get a recharge.”

  She made an unhappy sigh. “Sleep would be preferable.”

  He smiled as he considered her. “Serena has been either attacked or threatened four times. Considering that I’m the one responsible because of my knowledge, I should occasionally do something.”

  Helen programmed a course correction. “How did you know? How did Serena know?”

  Malik observed the city of Vine as it grew before them. Piloting the Rumbler around the planet would have prevented multiple night missions, but launching the ship and porting the hovercraft to their target markedly reduced the travel time. Vine was the probable location of their next target and also a city of appreciable size. Malik marked waypoints for their searc
h.

  “Some of the ex-cons I bought decided to return the favor. They’ve been protecting her and communicating with Liola concerning upcoming threats.”

  “And you eliminate them,” said Helen, chuckling at the irony. “Sounds like a co-beneficial relationship. Are you sure you aren’t simply eliminating competition?”

  Malik snarled. “I do verifications. Their minds aren’t as rancid as the bishops, but they’re involved enough to target my master.”

  “But they aren’t involved enough to target you at Silas.”

  He grinned, showing teeth. “No, they aren’t. Thus, I must go to them.”

  The hovercraft descended to the treetops and leveled, banking toward the city while showing careful deference to the local traffic. When they arrived at an upscale bar, the craft was positioned above a nearby, overgrown drainage ditch. Malik paused in concentration as he measured the minds of the patrons then withdrew his sense. “Take us to his office.”

  Helen flew downtown to the flanks of a fifteen-story office building and after his instruction, ascended to settle the Rumbler on the tower’s roof. Malik again centered himself and directed his mind outward. This deliberation was longer, and he was pensive when his focus returned to his body. “He’s in a meeting. The room has been reserved for two hours, and they’ve just begun.”

  She observed him as she measured her response. “This is our last stop, and we’re short on time.”

  He returned her thoughtful gaze. “What do you wish? Rappel down the side of the building to his empty office and break through the window, or go through the front door with falsified credentials?”

  She paused. “There could be integrity sensors.”

  “You have the gear.”

  “True. I’d rather not try convincing people in broad daylight of my new access authorization, and people wouldn’t recognize me anyway.” Helen removed her security belts and fished for the necessary supplies. “Don’t let me fall.”