Selena

by V Guy

  “It’s sad,” said Malik, observing the conflagration in disgust. “They’ve lost you completely—no you, no keepsakes, no home. I’ve already closed and drained your hidden accounts, using the information contained within your pitiful mind. Did you believe your family should be left unscathed when other people are afflicted? Examples must be made, real consequences must be understood, and penalties must be enacted. You could’ve proceeded with your life, building a burgeoning criminal empire with your greatest competition eliminated, and I would’ve left you alone. But you couldn’t do that, could you?”

  Vest sneered, his only available act of defiance. “Monologuing?”

  Malik peered in indecision at the helpless family. “I’m talking myself out of killing them. It’d be best if you didn’t interrupt.”

  The man’s breath caught as he realized his gaff. “What about me?”

  “You’ll be the first of many examples.”

  ***

  The Dread Lox was an establishment of money and debauchery, where deals shady and underhanded were made. Only the most capable of the least inhibited frequented the business, and it was a prime haven and market for their services. Those who lived in darkness loved the night; the bar remained open to service them. This evening held a typical crowd that was clientele of the lowest denominator, lurking in the booths, shadowing the tables, and stalking the bar. Loud music and vibrant strobes vainly attempted to bring life to the interior.

  Double doors opened from the cool evening to touch the stale air, but no one noticed. A large form passed through the entrance untouched, unheard, and unseen. Patrons meditating on their alcohol focused ever more over their brews, people in conversation became especially lost in each other’s words, and customers working their devices were deeply enraptured by their entertainment. Normally alert and attentive guests experienced a sense of languor and distraction, their minds occluding their senses as they awake-dreamed of more engaging thoughts.

  Those people moving between tables and billiard tables unconsciously shifted their passage to allow an intelligence of greater capacity to pass, while the bartender chose that moment to enter the storage room. Patrons sitting on bar stools felt an unnatural, unknown, unusual, intense terror come over them, and they clutched their drinks like lifelines. A chill touched their minds. Soon after, it touched everyone.

  An angel of death had passed through their midst, leaving them unscathed, and they emerged from their many dark reveries with a sense of relief. When their senses recovered clarity, a new, fresh, tangible horror spread; even the most hardened individuals recoiled, the imagined danger having suddenly taken substance. People cried in panic, scrambling, falling, slipping, knocking over chairs and tables, and stumbling to escape. The bartender abandoned the premises, fleeing through the doors at a full tilt. He stopped ten meters outside to turn and curse. He fearfully approached the entrance, shook his head in disbelief, then delivered another string of profanity.

  A message had been given. Malik clung to the side of the opposite building, watching. His mental influence, cycled through the patrons, had been key to his surreptitious entry and exit, care and planning left his passage unmarked, but no touch was necessary to secure the cascade of terror within The Dread Lox.

  Tichner Beach’s attackers had been based out of this bar, calling it home on frequent occasions. Now it would be their permanent resting place. Their cleaned, familiar, disembodied heads had been evenly staked along the surface of the bar, even the ones recovered from the burned Monitor. The sniper’s head was stationed at the bar’s end.

  Malik dispassionately observed the scene unseen, his heart weary and sore. He popped his joints, stretched, the large pack used to transport the heads folded into a much smaller one, and he brought his observation to an end. The night was still young.

  ***

  Ten of Vest’s closest associates would perish that night, ranging from men and women the equivalent of enforcers to those who were secure messengers. None of them would be heard or seen again.

  The team that watched Preston’s family was hung from a railroad trestle, their corpses gutted, and their viscera left to rot and desecrate the gorge beneath them. Regular beat cops had been Vest’s points of contact, but they would communicate no longer; their minds had been reprogrammed to understand and speak only gibberish. The talkative officer in the service of Evaline Investigative who initially spilled the information had entirely lost her capacity to remember, but she remained entirely capable of processing information; she understood her new malady with distinct clarity.

  Pathfinder returned to Porter Field early in the evening, replacing the decoy. Equipment would be checked, refreshed, refueled, and another departure would soon follow. Malik alone performed the macabre deeds; his crew understood his need for decisive and visible retribution, yet they deliberately kept their distance. The initiates would never know. His final action was the delivery to Elena’s family of a heartfelt, anonymous apology, her ashes, compensation, and an expression of intense gratitude.

  ***

  There was one person who would eventually know everything, and that person, St. Gale, was largely ignorant. She met Kilam on the command balcony within Spring City, striding with determination to his position.

  “I’ve received some disturbing reports from the south,” she said, crossing her arms. “Where were you? Why did you miss the interview? What were you doing?”

  Every aspect of his retribution was complete, but nothing could cleanse him of the grief or the deeds. Kilam paused as he contemplated his fresh emotional wounds.

  “I asked you a question.”

  He slowly turned; his expression was downcast. “I was tending a friend.”

  Her eyes flashed. “You’ve been doing more than that.”

  “Whatever do you mean? I arrive somewhere every day to fill your ears with information, dramatically transforming the Evaline law-enforcement landscape. Did missing one day dampen your momentum?”

  “Where were you?” St. Gale’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t in Silas today, were you?”

  Kilam turned to observe the Grand Bazaar, his mind a reality away. “You need to control your information better, but you don’t. Since you can’t, our discussions are complete. I’m done. Send your officers to gather and stable me until Marina Kay appears.”

  She scowled. “A redhead looking like your owner, a short woman resembling one of your crew, and one other woman were seen on video passing between a set of restrooms when the surveillance quit. Less than ten minutes later, the dead bodies of five men were discovered. Five minutes after that, automatic weapon fire and explosions were reported to the north.”

  He was incredulous. “Are you implying that three women went on a stroll, first to kill five men at the restrooms and then to start a war later up the beach? Were they wearing battle gear, carrying a string of grenades, and toting rifles when you first saw them?”

  Her expression hardened. “You’re missing my point.”

  “They did that stroll at least six times without killing anyone—watch the legacy surveillance. Why should they have considered the seventh trip different? Three young women deliberately knocked out camera feeds to kill five, bigger men? Are you quite serious?”

  “You were there.”

  Kilam grunted in exasperation. “One of those women was killed. If I had not arrived, all of them would have been.”

  “What about the men? Their lives mattered, too.”

  “When you wanted details concerning the warehouse massacre at Hia City, they were provided. You went further, collecting surveillance, tracking my master, and discovering the people who protected her. That information got leaked. An interested party took that data, tracked their families, and blackmailed one of the protectors into relating Serena’s movements. Those five men, first at the restaurant and then at the restrooms, were present because of that information. The remaining antagonists were backups should every protector arrive. You are the one who killed
that woman, you are the one who killed those men, and you bear that guilt.”

  Choices shifted and transitioned behind St. Gale’s eyes, the reality and consequences of her investigations causing her to pause. Her visage slackened as she considered her culpability, yet she was resolute. “Warn me the next time a friend falls ill. Otherwise, show. If you don’t, you’ll be sleeping on hay.”

  37: Exit

  Day 783: Pathfinder

  “You’ve been remarkably quiet,” said James, moving to Malik as he examined equipment installation in the port fuel pod. “This still needs a lot of time, time we never seem to have.”

  Malik examined the equipment. Construction and installation of the equipment was slow, but they were seeing definitive, positive progress. “I’ve sought the last of Kroes’s agent contacts and delivered the information concerning them, surreptitiously connected with four of Vest’s known criminal competitors and discovered people of similar dispositions to investigate, and checked two more officials for St. Gale.” He looked at James and sighed. “And that’s just what’s done during the nights, enmeshed with my sessions with the initiates.”

  “You tweaked the breach parameters.”

  Malik returned to his examination of the equipment. “We can now cross most star gaps within an hour, instead of five. Time is too valuable to waste.”

  James paused. “How are Liola and Serena?”

  “Safe in a new home.”

  “Then why are you troubled?”

  Malik squeezed through the small hatch to maintenance then rubbed his shoulder’s soreness. “St. Gale discovered more of my actions from last week and wasn’t particularly pleased. While your futures have seen an upturn, mine has not.” He climbed the ladder to the cargo hatch. “Get the others to the simulator. I’ll check on Helen.”

  James made a sympathetic smile and nodded. Malik lay above, first touching the entry chime, then entering the quarters Helen and Evelyn shared. Helen stood as he entered.

  “Have we arrived?” she asked, sitting. When he shook his head, she lowered her eyes and folded her hands in her lap. “Well, I’m ready.”

  He glanced about the quarters; the two women had kept the berthing very tidy. “Do you have sufficient clothes? Do you have enough toiletries? With all the women on board, some very fashionable and comfortable outfits have been programmed, and there’s an extensive variety of custom soaps, fragrances, and lotions you won’t get elsewhere.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t need much. Having once been designed to flit among the elite, my tastes have changed. Some of those accouterments now seem offensive.”

  Malik smiled. “I’m elite. Am I suddenly repulsive?”

  “No,” she replied, making a shy, crooked smile. “But your life is too similar to my old one. You lack a choice.”

  “But not you.” He settled to the floor. “Are you certain there isn’t anything more I can offer? Do you need me to watch for you?”

  “You offered me a life,” she replied, considering him. “That’s enough. Will you continue the downloads?”

  “This week is the last one. I’ll respond to Kroes as if it were just discovered. Further conditioning would require cleverness.”

  A relieved smile touched her face. “And that you are. I hope you aren’t angry.”

  “Why should I be? The purpose for helping was to offer freedom, which you’ll soon have.”

  “And which you never will.” She rose and ran her hand gently along his lower jaw. “What will happen to you?”

  He shrugged. “Auction. Death.”

  She shook her head, and her expression hardened. “You’ll live; you’ll prosper.”

  “Are you suddenly seeing the future?”

  “I’m willing it to be better.” Helen made a sad smile. “Will you tell everyone goodbye for me?”

  He made a grunt. “Come with me.”

  Helen looked at him in confusion but followed nonetheless. The ship was quiet, a result of night falling upon the vessel. Those awake were typically on the bridge. He skipped that location and entered the forward entry passage where he waited before the sim. She cocked her head and scowled. She understood.

  “What?” asked Malik. “You’ve come this far.”

  “I’ll get you for this.”

  He gestured for her to enter. “You’d better hurry, because you won’t be around long.”

  Helen narrowed her eyes but followed his prodding. The hatch opened, revealing everyone on board.

  “You were instrumental in freeing these women,” said Malik, motioning. “They wanted to show gratitude and affection, the commandos wanted to give a fellow soldier a proper send off, Evelyn appreciated having another non-initiate woman onboard to bunk with, and James thinks of you as family.”

  The flood of well wishes was accentuated by a variety of beverages, snacks, and loud music. After the presentation of gifts and the reception of commando bear hugs, the party started. The initiates steadily approached their own freedom and celebrated with her as well as for her. Dancing, games, and an unusually liberal quantity of alcohol was appreciated. The commandos had demonstrated toward the agent a rare, genuine affection that would never have been shown, and guaranteed Helen would always be a part of the team.

  After several hours, James returned to the bridge. Evelyn walked with a lightheaded Helen to their quarters to help her pack the gifts.

  Helen stopped again, pondering her future as she had done when Malik was present. “Will you be all right?”

  Evelyn sat on the opposite bed. “We’ll be insanely busy. All the women will eventually leave, and the parties will shrink. Some of them already want to leave. I’ll probably be last.”

  The woman gave her an enduring, meaningful hug. “You’d better keep talking to me.”

  Evelyn strengthened the embrace. “Who would I complain to? Malik just gives me more to do, saying it makes me better appreciate the old freedoms.”

  Helen laughed and pulled away. “He’s a workhorse and slave driver. How much longer do you have?”

  “We’ve more two weeks for nerve trimming. Infertility reversals start next week and will continue for two additional weeks. There’s a light in the distance, even if I can’t yet see it.”

  “Like mine?”

  Evelyn became pensive. “Like yours. It’s time to go—we’ve arrived.”

  She escorted Helen to the cargo deck and the Rumbler staged in the passage. She placed the luggage into the rear compartment. Malik waited nearby.

  Helen pondered the surrounding bulkheads. “I guess the moment has arrived.” She hugged Evelyn one last time and quietly entered the hovercraft with Malik.

  The corridor darkened, the Rumbler advanced, and she and Malik were soon free. They dropped toward Turin’s nightside, the sun setting unnaturally swift behind them. The craft touched atmosphere, descended in wide, downward corkscrews, then dropped into a steep angle. They leveled at three kilometers above ground. After a short distance, the Rumbler descended to a small townhouse located at the edge of a sleepy community. They were cloaked, but Helen still glanced about in concern.

  “How clear are we?”

  “Your new name is Helen Jessica Gray,” replied Malik. “The chip in your arm matches the name and the genetics, you have a traceable history, and an active medical file is open. You constructed the job, academic and social history, and know them. All that’s left is for you to embrace them.”

  “A new life,” mused Helen, quirking her lips. “What about for you? What’s planned?”

  “I already know what’s happening.” He remotely activated the home’s garage and slid the craft into place; the door closed behind them. “You no longer need to exist in the shadows.”

  “And you do?”

  Malik’s eyes took measure of the shelves on the wall to his left, while his mind processed the future. “When this is done, all I will be is a piece of livestock with a history.”

  “But you’re more than that.”

&nbs
p; He sighed as he squeezed from the craft to enter the equally tight garage. “People are shallow and easily frightened. They can’t see beyond the epidermis because it requires effort and causes discomfort.”

  She gathered her baggage as he unlocked the door, following as he climbed the steps and entered the townhouse’s hallway.

  “It has been fully furnished,” said Malik, motioning, “but you are free to make changes.”

  The first batch of luggage was dropped on the landing. “Just as you promised,” said Helen. “Just as requested. How did you mask the deliveries?”

  He glanced at her. “A realtor completed the purchase, supposedly representing a godparent of yours; be certain you show appreciation. She also assigned someone to oversee the delivery of the new furnishings. Your identification has been verified, your credit has been established, and your financial backing is secure.”

  “Just like a real person.” She chuckled softly. “It feels strange.”

  Malik smirked. “I’ll bring the rest of your things.” When he returned, he placed contact information on the desk. “Down payment on a vehicle has been made, but you’ll need to cover the rest, just as with the house. They’ll deliver it tomorrow.”

  “You’ve taken care of everything,” said Helen, exploring her new kitchen. “Thanks for the party. I don’t know what to say.”

  He watched her, his eyes misting. “We appreciate you.”

  She ran to him and gave him a long embrace, burying her head into his flank. “I wish I could give you a new life.”

  “Just make this a good one.” He let the embrace linger then pulled away. “You know how busy I am. I don’t have enough time to spend it hugging pretty women.”

  “But you hugged me?” she teased. “Who needs the knight, when they can have the dragon?”