Rath's Reckoning (The Janus Group #3)

by Piers Platt

  Too shallow – and I need to move onto the inward side of the pylon.

  She swam deeper, breathing from her suit’s integrated air supply, and then used her arms to pull herself the final few feet into position. From a pouch on her chest, she uncoiled a loop of det-cord, arranging it in a rough circle on the side of the pylon. Then she set the timer, and kicked hard for the surface, placing the bulk of the pylon between her and the explosives. She waited just below the waves for several seconds, and then felt a pressure wave whip through the water column.

  Paisen descended again, and as she neared the pylon, she felt the pull of a current tugging her downwards. She paused, treading to stay in place, and watched as air bubbles boiled out of the circular hole she had blown in the hull. When they stopped, she flipped on her headlamp, and entered the hole.

  Looks like I nailed the location.

  A flooded hallway stretched away from Paisen on either side. Sealed hatches, each labeled with a letter and number, lined the hall. Paisen stood up, and found her head in a pocket of air trapped along the roof of the hallway. She waded along the hall until she reached a central intersection, then made a right, continuing until she found a closed hatch. With some effort, she opened it, bracing herself with an arm on the hallway’s handrail as the water rushed past, flooding the room beyond.

  Paisen was surprised to find the room lit, with emergency pads along the ceiling producing a soft, green glow. She kept her headlamp on, however, and pushed her way over to a control panel. The electronics of the panel were no longer operating, but at the backup station, she found what she was looking for: the manual emergency controls, a confusing array of dials and levers. She ducked her head underwater for a better view and set to work.

  Two minutes later, she swam back out into open water and ascended to the safety ladder, before climbing up to a small landing far below the main platform. She stripped off her helmet and air tank, situated her Forge more comfortably on her back, and drew a compact auto-rifle from a holster along her thigh. Paisen switched to infrared vision, unfolded the rifle’s stock, flipped the weapon’s safety off, and started climbing.

  She saw no one else on her ascent, but heard the Hurasu blast past the platform as she neared the top level, and listened to a volley of rifle fire in response as the bright yellow craft disappeared back into the night.

  Thanks, guys – keep them looking up.

  The ladder ended at the edge of the platform. Paisen paused below the lip, unhooked a thumb-sized drone from her belt, and set it against the ladder. On touching the hard surface, the drone sprouted six legs, and then followed Paisen’s wireless order, scaling the pole of the ladder until it stopped just below the edge of the platform. The drone crept, slowly, over the edge, and then stopped again. Paisen connected to the drone’s live feed and studied the view, locating the guards and the nearest hatch into the platform’s super-structure. Her route planned, she recalled the drone, pocketing it. The she slid herself silently up onto the platform. The guards remained focused outward, searching for the Hurasu. She stood quickly and jogged past the burning air car, behind a set of cargo crates, and through the open hatch.

  Rifle at the ready, Paisen climbed one more set of stairs, stopping at the top next to an open doorway. She could hear voices arguing inside the room. She took out the drone again, set it against the wall, and watched as it crept to the top corner of the doorway, before stopping just inside the frame. Paisen watched as it scanned across the room, using its laser designator to mark each occupant in turn.

  One, two … three, four, five.

  Paisen accessed her auto-rifle’s ammunition selector from her neural interface and switched to Stun – Guided. She matched each round with its designated target, then fired all five in quick succession. The rounds arced out of the barrel, hooked left through the doorway, and struck home. Paisen was close behind them, but a quick check of the room showed that her work was complete – all five men were unconscious, either on the floor or sprawled across consoles. She collected their weapons, stepped out onto the balcony briefly to dump them overboard into the sea, and then walked over to the central computer station and sat down, setting her rifle on her lap.

  Warning, the screen told her. Power plant coolant levels inadequate. Core damage / melt accident likely in less than seven hours.

  I know, Paisen thought. That’s what happens when you dump the coolant out of a nuclear reactor.

  She sorted through several tabs, then tapped on the screen. Outside, banks of floodlights flicked on, bathing the facility in bright, white light. On the platform below her, the guards taking cover turned to look back at the control center, shielding their eyes. Paisen keyed the microphone for the PA system.

  “Listen up: this fight is over. I have captured the command center, and that gunship is standing by to release air-to-ground missiles targeting your positions, on my order. Drop your weapons over the side and move to the middle of the platform.”

  10

  Fusoria’s sun had just appeared over the island by the time all of the facility’s personnel had gathered on the main platform. They sat in orderly rows in the early dawn light, Paisen standing over them, rifle in hand. Mikolos brought the Hurasu into a hover over the edge of the platform; Rath, standing at the open back ramp, talked him in for the landing. Rath hopped off as the craft set down and jogged over to Paisen, with Beauceron in tow.

  Paisen waited until the craft’s engines had cycled down, then she pulled one of the staffers to his feet, and raised her voice.

  “What’s your name?” she asked him.

  “Modsu Lem,” he said.

  “And your responsibilities, for the benefit of the medical personnel who may not know you?”

  “I’m the supervisor of this facility.”

  “Mr. Lem, what’s the status of the power plant?”

  Lem closed his eyes and swallowed. “You dumped coolant. We’re going to have a meltdown in four to six hours.”

  “Is the situation reversible?”

  “No.”

  Paisen gestured around the edge of the platform, where the lifeboats hung from their hoists, their hulls ripped and holed from cannon fire. “The air car’s destroyed, so are all the lifeboats. And in four to six hours, the nuclear core below us will melt. It will breach the walls of its containment area, and hit cold seawater. That will create steam – radioactive steam – which will build up inside the hull, and then explode once the pressure reaches a certain point. What happens to this facility at that point is anyone’s guess. But I can assure you, you don’t want to be here to find out.”

  She paused, letting the news sink in. “That means this ship,” she jerked her thumb at the Hurasu, “is your only ticket off this platform. But first, we need some answers. And if we get anything less than one hundred percent cooperation, we’ll take off and leave you all here. Is everyone clear on that?” She looked across the silent crowd. “Good. Mr. Lem, you’re up first.”

  She brought him into the Hurasu’s cargo hold, out of earshot of the crowd. Rath and Beauceron followed.

  “We should separate the others,” Beauceron noted. “You have to keep witnesses apart during interviews.”

  Paisen glanced over his shoulder at the crowd. “How are we supposed to separate that many people?”

  Beauceron sighed. “Let’s just keep an eye on them and make sure they’re not talking to each other.”

  “Fine. Sit,” she ordered, pointing Lem at a cargo pallet strapped to the ship’s metal deck. He sat.

  “Describe to me, in detail, what operations this facility has responsibility for. Keep in mind that I’ve been trained to detect when people are lying, and your answers may decide the fate of everyone on this platform.”

  “Uh, we’re responsible for all phases of Selection and Training for the … well, the Group. The Guild, you know?”

  “I’m familiar with the Guild,” Paisen told him.

  “Right. Potential guildsmen land on that island – we
call them ‘candidates.’ There are eight there right now, and our Selection Team monitors them and communicates with them via drones. Those that pass the course get flown here.”

  “And those that fail?” Rath asked.

  Lem squirmed and looked away. “Group policy is that failed candidates are terminated. But I didn’t write that policy—”

  “What happens if they pass?” Paisen interrupted.

  “If they pass, they come here. We have medical staff – a new group just rotated in, in fact. They rehabilitate the candidates, and equip them with cybernetic implants. Then they go on to Training Phase. The candidates, I mean … not the medical staff. Training takes anywhere from six to twenty-four months, depending on the candidate. Some get more training, some get less.”

  Rath and Paisen traded a look. “Why?”

  “It’s based on their competency scores during Selection and Training. Exceptional candidates get extra training. The Group grooms them for tougher assignments, the higher profile ones. There’s a ranking system.”

  “And after they finish Training?”

  “They’re flown back to the island launch pad, and the shuttle takes them up into orbit. I don’t know what happens to them after that.”

  “Where’s the control room?”

  “The communications center? Up there.” He pointed across the platform at the raised super-structure.

  “No, not the comms center,” Paisen shook her head. “The control room. Where the techs and supervisors monitor contractors on missions.”

  “I don’t …,” Lem faltered, looking between the three of them. “We don’t have one of those. It’s just training here, we don’t see the candidates at all after they leave.”

  “How many total personnel are here?” Beauceron asked.

  “Including me? Eighty-three. No, eighty-four – I forgot one recent addition.”

  “There are eighty-three out there,” Rath confirmed. “Headcount is on the lower end of what we thought.”

  “They could be hiding others,” Paisen noted.

  “Everyone’s on the platform,” Lem assured them. “We just took headcount before … while you were attacking us. There’s no one hiding.”

  “Are there any contractors in Training, down in the lower levels?” Rath asked.

  “None right now. We just shipped several off a couple days ago.”

  “Where’s Group Headquarters located, then? Somewhere on the island?”

  Lem shook his head. “I don’t think so – there’s nothing on the island except the compound where we in-process candidates. But I could be wrong. I’ve only been over once or twice, for flights in and out.”

  “Then where are they?” Rath asked.

  “Headquarters? I don’t know. We communicate with them over the interstellar link, but they’ve never told me where they are. I don’t need to know, so … I don’t know. And I don’t ask. Questions are kind of against company policy.”

  “I bet,” Paisen spat. “Do you have access to Group financial systems? Payroll?”

  “No. We don’t deal with payroll at all, we don’t even have a budget – supplies just arrive when we need them.”

  Rath checked the clock in his heads-up display. “How long until the response team gets here?”

  “What?” Lem asked.

  Rath frowned. “You radioed in a distress call on your interstellar comms when we first arrived in system. How long until someone gets here?”

  “Think carefully,” Paisen warned.

  Lem’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. You knocked out our communications link before Headquarters told us their ETA.”

  “What’s protocol in this scenario? What’s the composition of that team, and where are they located?” Paisen asked.

  “I don’t know, honestly. They made it sound like they were sending someone, but it wasn’t clear who, or from where.”

  “You don’t know much, do you?” Paisen pointed out.

  “I’m telling you everything I do know. Honestly.”

  “We’ll see,” Paisen said. She pulled Lem to his feet. “Go sit over by the landing pad, on your own.”

  “I’ll take him,” Beauceron said.

  “Fine.” She pointed her chin at Rath. “Find us someone else to talk to.”

  Rath jogged down the ramp and wound his way through the seated crowd. He recognized no one, but he had only interacted with a handful of staffers during his visit, and most of those had been medical staff, who had undoubtedly left years ago.

  “You,” he pointed at a woman. “What’s your job?”

  “I’m a nurse,” she said quietly.

  “Surgeon,” the man next to her reported.

  “Systems maintenance.”

  “Nurse.”

  “A doctor.”

  “Drone operator,” the next woman replied.

  Rath pointed at the Hurasu. “Go talk to my friend.”

  They interviewed ten different members of the staff, including a project manager, an administrative clerk, a supply officer, and even a doctor and a nurse, for good measure. All echoed Lem’s story. As the sun rose higher in the sky, Rath, Beauceron, and Paisen met on the Hurasu’s ramp.

  “What’s our time looking like?” Rath asked quietly.

  “The facility computer predicts containment breach in ninety minutes, at most,” Paisen said. She jerked her head at the group of interviewees over on the landing pad. “Did you get anything else out of them, Beauceron?”

  “Evidence against the Guild? Yes. I recorded all of them talking about how they were recruited, how they were brought here, their compensation package, what they know about Guild operations—”

  “And Headquarters?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “I don’t want to believe them, but … we’re running out of options,” Paisen admitted.

  “We’re running out of time,” Rath corrected.

  “I know. But I don’t want to leave empty-handed.”

  “We’re not,” Rath argued. “We struck a big blow today. With nowhere to train and equip them with implants, the Group is going to be out of recruits for a long time.”

  “Annoying the Group is not the same as shutting them down, or getting our money.”

  Beauceron opened his mouth to speak, but Paisen brushed past him, heading for the seated captives.

  “I need an answer to one simple question,” she told them. “Your colleagues have been reluctant to cooperate, and they’re putting all of your lives at risk as a result. So I’m putting it on all of you. Where is Group Headquarters?” Paisen paced along the front rank, hand on the grip of her slung rifle. “As soon as we learn that, we can load everyone up and get to safety … and we’ll be on our way.”

  A fresh ocean breeze gusted over the platform, and Rath saw a number of the people shiver with cold.

  “No one? Nearly a hundred employees of the Group here, and not one of you knows anything other than what happens on this godforsaken rock?” Paisen asked.

  “Most of us are new here, and they don’t tell us,” a doctor called out. “We’re just here for six months, then we rotate home.”

  “Suit yourself,” Paisen said. She turned and strode back toward the ship.

  “Wait!”

  An olive-skinned young woman wearing a bathrobe struggled to her feet. “I don’t know where it is, but I think I know someone who does.”

  Paisen beckoned her forward, then walked her into the Hurasu’s cargo bay. “Explain,” she said. “Quickly.”

  “I’m not an employee here, I’m a prisoner. My boyfriend and I discovered something … one of their secrets, by accident.”

  Beauceron made as if to speak, but Paisen waved him off. “Keep going.”

  “They brought me here as punishment. They wanted to kill me, but I … know someone, someone with a lot of influence over the organization. He made them bring me here. If you get me out of here, I’ll take you to him.”

  “And he knows where Headquarte
rs is?” Paisen asked.

  The young woman bit her lip. “I think so.”

  Paisen shook her head. “No deal. Tell us who this person is now, or we leave you.”

  “How do I know you’re not just going to leave me here after I tell you?”

  “Either way, we need to start evacuating – now,” Rath said. “If she’s bluffing, worst case is we just gave her a free ride off-world.”

  “No, worst case is she’s a plant: she signals the Group when we come out of FTL, and tells them exactly where to find us,” Paisen retorted.

  “They want me dead,” the young woman said. “And I wouldn’t know how to signal them, anyway.”

  “She’s a risk, I don’t like it,” Paisen said.

  “She’s the only lead we’ve got,” Rath said.

  “What do you think?” Paisen asked Beauceron.

  He started in surprise. “You’re asking me?” He looked at Paisen, then the woman. “Bring her, definitely.”

  “You’re on babysitting duty, then. Watch her like a hawk – take her up front to the lounge.” She watched them disappear into the ship, then took Rath by the arm. “We should launch, now.”

  “What? We need to start ferrying these people to the island, like we planned.”

  Paisen set her mouth in a tight line. “There’s a response team inbound, ETA unknown. If they arrive before we launch, they’ll have the element of surprise and a significant altitude advantage on us. I don’t want to spend a minute more on this planet … so let’s just go.”

  “No,” Rath shook his head. “I’m not leaving them here to die.”

  Paisen’s eyes grew cold. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking this is a committee.”

  “It will take three trips, an hour at most,” Rath told her. “I don’t want all of them on my conscience as well. We’ve got enough black marks in our book as it is.”

  “Didn’t your training avatar teach you that developing a conscience gets you killed?”

  Rath grinned. “I didn’t get as much training as you did, remember?”