Selena

by V Guy

  “And if he wasn’t?”

  “Then he left home without his personal comm. I found his contact codes, broke several providers’ records, found him, then tracked his device.”

  She shook her head. “You’re thorough.”

  “Time is too valuable to waste. Get ready.”

  The Rumbler settled next to the patio, and Helen disembarked. The home was thoroughly at rest when they arrived, thanks to Malik, and was equally restful when she returned.

  “This wasn’t one of the forgetters.”

  He frowned. “No.”

  “I don’t like this life.”

  Malik piloted the craft toward home. “That’s a healthy response.”

  She scowled. “He had children.”

  “Many people have children; most of those people don’t seek other people’s deaths. Serena is Martin’s child and Serena may want children. How do we decide whose family deserves a parent or a child? How do we treat those who don’t care?”

  Helen shook her head in distress. “I’m not sure. I just know I don’t want to do this anymore.”

  ***

  Tuesday evening started with Malik’s return from questioning and the immediate launch of Pathfinder. They arrived at the military base in the early evening Catricel time, dropping into the hangar once assigned to them. The Rumbler and an associated trailer were ready and waiting; once the ship landed it made immediate departure with James, Borislav, and Bomani on board. The remaining commandos were prepared, with four Spyders out and ready for use.

  “Let’s get going,” said Malik, approaching and examining the equipment. “We have less than two hours.”

  Arturo, Makaha, and Li moved to their bikes.

  “Where’s Helen?” asked Arturo.

  “Differentiation program,” replied Malik, evaluating their preparations. “Makaha, Arturo. Search the garrison for any memory device you can locate. If you can activate a terminal, copy the contents. Li, you’re with me.”

  “And we are…?”

  “Searching the palace. Be mindful. As you well know, the grundluns have moved in.”

  His exhortation sent the three commandos back to gather additional magazines. Arturo and Makaha mounted their bikes and set out.

  Li snickered as they left. “Only spiders seem to bother commandos.”

  “They are big spiders,” said Malik, smiling and engaging his camouflage. “See you at the palace.”

  Li arrived first, stopping his bike well clear of the web-strewn main entry. “You do know commandos aren’t immune to their venom,” he said when Malik arrived. “And we’re supposed to be invulnerable to most everything.”

  “I’m certain I could program an immunity,” said Malik, striding by. “Give you claws, fangs, venom, eight eyes, and perhaps the ability to spin silk?”

  “Well, that’s a bit extreme. I’d have settled for the fangs.”

  Malik approached the wide entrance and grinned. “That’s doable.”

  “That’s a big tunnel.” Li slowed as he viewed the web. “I think you’ve chosen the biggest grundlun here.”

  “Helen said they blocked every entrance. We might as well use the front door.” Malik sized the web and the sculpted entrance it covered then strode forward. A stroke along one of the outside tendrils sent a vibration into the shadows. Rhythmic stroking provoked a responding test vibration. Malik smiled.

  Li drew his sidearm.

  Malik repeated the strokes, adding an urgency to his “struggle.” Another return stroke followed, and he increased the agitation until a massive spider shot forward from the darkness. Grundluns were relatively slow-minded creatures, but they were physically quick; this one was within a half meter of Malik’s foreleg when it was mentally halted. Catricel’s rats had well sustained it, and it was huge. Malik’s control directed the massive spider to one of the nearby supply buildings, allowing the commando a chance to clear the entrance.

  Li grimaced. “Can we expect babies?”

  Malik expanded his sense then shook his head. “We should grant ourselves a safe area anyway, should it decide to return.”

  Covered walkways to the right and left and were burned clear of webbing, but the path forward was manually accessed to avoid damaging the ornate structure. Li strode forward, uncovered the access panel, and broke the encryption. The door opened to an aroma of cool, dry, fresh air.

  “Nice,” he said. “The environmental controls are active. Britton must have tapped the base’s BELEN supply for his emergency generators.”

  Malik pondered the expansive hallway and nodded in agreement. “This is good. If the governor’s special item exists, it’ll be here. Check the first three floors. I’m going to the top.”

  Li moved down one side of the hallway. Malik advanced to a wide, ornate staircase that rose to the second level, split to separate sets of spiral steps, rejoined at the third floor, then spiraled again as a solitary rise to the fourth. A set of heavy doors on the fourth floor led to a short tunnel that opened to a staggering sight.

  The fourth floor’s surface rose above and behind him in a hillock of life as a dazzling, sculpted mound of trees, shrubs, and blooming flowers. Horticultural bots had faithfully pruned and tended the life, cleaning bots ensured the remaining structure was kept pristine, and air recyclers kept the humidity agreeable. The governor's palace had been badly damaged during the war, but that ancient grandeur was well subservient to the current opulence.

  Black marble columns climbed four levels to meet in arches at the ceiling. Intertwined in the stones’ grain were vines of pure gold, growing to the ceiling and blossoming at the columns’ crowns. Royal-blue and olive-white tiles covered the expanse of the ceiling in a mosaic. Polished, white marble blocks below his feet were cushioned with sections of gilded rugs, matching the ceiling’s design. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered the place extensive lighting during the day. When night fell, large chandeliers provided illumination.

  Malik paused for a moment to appreciate the area. Even during the coup to kill Britton, he had never entered this chamber. He remembered the collection from Britton’s interrogation, but nothing matched standing in its midst. Although corrupt and wholly lacking in integrity, the governor’s appreciation for culture was solid; he showed unexpected, remarkable good taste with his acquisitions.

  Antiques and sculptures were located strategically amid the columns, either as centerpieces within the free blocks of stone or tasteful boarders along their edges.

  He canvassed the space, examining the numerous pieces. Identification, authorship, lighting, protections, and histories were appropriately provided. Items were placed in exhibits when multiple presentations advantaged the whole, while others were set among different styles to distinguish them. He made note of their presences, lingering before each as an attentive museum patron, and was two-thirds through the cavernous chamber when Li reported in.

  “Governor Britton’s office and private quarters are on the third floor. I believe I’ve located items that might qualify.”

  Malik glanced around the room, entranced by the extensive display. “As have I.”

  27: Contracts

  Day 736: Evaline, Silas; Xist, Cheonia

  Weekday nights encompassed scrap retrieval trips and elimination of another of Serena’s antagonists. The next weekend was busy with Fate surgeries, data acquisition from ship repair yards and maintenance facilities, and additional slave counseling sessions.

  A trip to Olympus allowed Malik to corner and question the higher-level operative Schmidt fingered. A late return to Evaline permitted a brief meal and rest, before his predawn departure to a quiet lakeside. An unobtrusive spot was found to wait for morning. A woman and her small dog approached two hours later, sat on a small bench near the water’s edge, and waited. The beagle sniffed curiously in Malik’s direction. It became alarmed, but its barking was brief.

  The woman glanced worriedly at her dog. “What did you do to her?”

  “I convinced her I was fri
endly,” he replied, his multi-tonal voice meriting the dog’s favor.

  Lily St. Gale, the director of Evaline Investigative, deliberately kept her gaze on a pair of ducks cutting wakes across the water. “I need you to stop killing people.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Her expression hardened. “You’ve a way of moving unseen; Kroes told us enough of that. All of those people were somehow impacted by your actions.”

  He grunted in disgust. “Lots of people have died across Evaline. Of the ones I impacted, more than their number have been affected by my actions. Am I responsible for every suspicious character that falls dead? Maybe a year ago possibly, but now?”

  “You are,” she said, setting her jaw. “All of them were directly related to the operations exposed by your information.”

  “Then stop the leaks. Problem solved.”

  She stiffened, turning her head partially toward his voice. “We’re dealing with those issues.”

  Malik made an incredulous laugh. “Trials? Investigations? Is that your method of ‘dealing’? Those processes are cumbersome, but only a moment is required for one of them to command a death or an abduction. Multiple teams have been sent to murder my master, multiple teams have died, their bosses have been exposed and neutralized, and the informants have been identified. It’s tidy and concise, unlike your approach.”

  “My approach is legal.”

  “And their approach isn’t, which means my response must be equally decisive. You wouldn’t have indicted them.”

  “Well, not anymore we aren’t.” St. Gale’s eyes flashed. “How can we make examples of their bad behavior if they keep dying in advance?”

  He made a scoffing chortle. “How can these clandestine interviews continue if my master gets killed, and I’m taken into custody under significant public scrutiny?”

  St. Gale glanced around her, checking for other, early morning risers. “Stop the killing. These cases are key to unraveling their motives and their operations.”

  Malik shook his head. “I’ve already interviewed them and understand those issues. Unlike your interrogations, which are laced with deceit and misdirection, I can assure you that my information is completely reliable.”

  Her alarm grew. “Interviews?”

  “Yes. I can tell you what they received as gifts on their fifth birthdays, where they had their first kisses, and what happened to people that crossed them. The actions against Serena were indicative of those.”

  “How could you do all that?” Her heartbeat quickened and the air chilled around her. “How could you know those things?”

  Malik scrutinized her. “Where do you suppose the information you’ve followed, originated?”

  St. Gale stared forward and her countenance fell as she considered the ramifications. “Everything we’ve done is illegal.”

  “Nonsense. I tell you the location of something. You find it. The guilty would say the revelations were cheating; I call them quite-legal short cuts.”

  She pondered the distinction. “We’ve stopped some of the leaks, but others will continue. Nothing can be done to stop the information already released from spreading. Enough people know some of what we know and will insist upon your eventual censure. You’ll never again have any sense of freedom. If a connection is made to you concerning these deaths, then your life will end, too.”

  “I’m already destined to be a slave of Dibbin’s wife. My life is already over.”

  “Killing isn’t how we do things.”

  “It’s how I do things. I was designed for that sole purpose.”

  She paused, sighed, and turned away. “You’ll force me into actions I don’t wish to do.”

  A low growl pierced Malik’s tooth. “I have ten more cops you can investigate, or would you prefer I dealt with them my way?”

  St. Gale shook her head, her frame seeming to deflate. “Ten?”

  He made an unconscious nod, unseen to her. “Two were old buddies of the culprits, four actively fed information for cash, three noticeably obstructed cases because of blackmail, and one killed two witnesses out of love. There were also links to a mayor and an Evaline council-woman.”

  She withdrew her comm and activated it. “Give them to me.”

  The data transitioned their devices, the link was broken, and she examined the data. She frowned as she scrolled. “The killer?”

  “Marilyn Key. To her credit, she was a good cop when she wasn’t dispatching informants. Still, she thought it was exciting and fun justice, much like a game.”

  “Motivation?”

  “She and the man in question were lovers. He had several other liaisons about which she was unaware.”

  St. Gale paused. “Anything else concerning the council-woman?”

  “Her appointment was supported by his money. In return, she granted contracts and shielded him.”

  “Do you know of them?”

  “I can tell you what I’ve learned, but the information is no more legitimate than my testimony of Dibbin.”

  She opened a fresh link. “Transmit them, along with the name of the council-woman and the mayor.” After receiving the data, she scowled. “She received an award last year, that cursed…who else was she shielding? What other favors has she granted? Was this a unique relationship?”

  After an extended silence, St. Gale stood, her eyes narrowing in anger. “Interrogate the woman but don’t kill her. She holds leadership in several committees and seemed astonishingly uncorrupt until now. If she’s crooked…”

  The statement was aborted, her lips forming a thin, straight line. She shook her head in disgust. “And to think this morning started beautifully. Come on, girl. Malik, someone will be waiting at the Curve for today’s chat. Contact me directly if you discover anything else relevant.”

  ***

  Spring City evening was as dark as any city on World One, but the world showcase shone like a beacon. Magic and pitch-fed torches glowed at every building post and street corner. Revelers and musicians touched the air with energy and life, while the masses filled the streets and shops like the copious aromas from numerous delis suffused the air. Kilam observed the throng with a measure of satisfaction. Empire happiness had spiked in the capital city and noticeably rose in communities located within a radius of four territories. Part of the allure was the knowledge that this place was for them and them alone.

  And a few foreigners. One of those interlopers steadily worked her way through the crowds, winding through kiosks, exhibits, and stages. Kroes arrived at the palace wall, passed unhindered through the heavily armed guards, and took the passages that brought her to Kilam’s command balcony. She had initially entered the plaza with a determination and focus, but her mindset was thoroughly disrupted by the time she arrived. Two assassins appeared and followed her until she reached Kilam’s immediate presence.

  “Still don’t trust me?” asked Kroes, turning to observe one of the women. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

  He turned away. “I’m a survivor because my guard never falls. You don’t need it; you have an organization behind you.”

  Kroes sneered and made a wide motion with her hands. “This is only a game.”

  Kilam shook his head. “Much like my life, a hazardous strategy game. Why should I stop playing when I’m actually in one?”

  She made a derisive grunt as she considered the statement, approaching the terminal to watch the crowds below. “The last two times I’ve exited, I’ve left hungry. You’ve made upgrades—the sights and smells are strongly alluring. No one else can see it, no one else can reach it. Why go to this much trouble?”

  “It’s my world; I want it to be real. The taste, aromas, and food textures are genuine, exactly as they would in the real world. Even my beer reduces inhibitions, although the effects wear off upon disconnection. Some herbs make you drowsy, and one fruit brings intense pleasure. It’s pricey and hard to get because it quickly sells out.”

  “An import?”

  He nod
ded.

  She shook her head in disbelief. “Drugging your own people. I suppose you’re here in anticipation of the next assignment?”

  “I’m present regardless.” He gazed at her as if she should have known better. “Waiting for you would be a waste of time; you give no advance notice and randomize your appearances.”

  “I occasionally have other things to do. Don’t you?”

  He made a dismissive sigh. “I’m speaking with law enforcement, performing remote nerve removal on each of the Fates, assisting in upgrades on Pathfinder, and examining collated data, among other things. You have no inkling of how busy I can be.”

  Her eyebrows rose in appreciation and she whistled. “Oh, I wish I could do that. I suppose you’re still looking for Selena?”

  “It’s an arduous process.”

  “And Salient?”

  “During my spare time.”

  Kroes paused, wondering what minuscule period qualified as “spare” to Malik. “When will you investigate Whitford?”

  Kilam glanced her direction then placed a projected data device into an interface. He motioned with his head to a similar interface near her. “Pertinent content from Schmidt’s superior has been sorted and indexed. Names and visual data have been inserted at the appropriate places.”

  “You’ve already gotten it?” she asked, her eyebrows rising. “Does he still live?”

  “Of course,” replied the indignant Kilam. “You intelligence types have become easier to unwind and restring. Everyone uses the same strengthening routines and encryption algorithms. He never had a clue, but that night was his best night of sleep in ages.”

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “Best?”

  “Sure. People don’t generally question things that make them feel good.”

  A frown of uncertainty formed on her face. She considered a reply, squelched it, and instead examined the information. “There’s a group that decided his actions.”

  He nodded. “Implying multiple sources. Six people participated in the review.”