by Eric Thomson
Shortly afterwards, a steady stream of exiles passed by the infirmary’s door. Some simply stared at him for a few seconds before moving on. But others entered and studied the Marine after conferring with Delia Ward in a quiet whisper.
Decker variously saw curiosity, indifference, or suspicion on faces that bore the marks of hard work and privation. But the one face he wanted to see, Ariane Redmon’s, didn’t materialize.
Ward eventually let him drink water to satiation and fed him a surprisingly thick and tasty soup. She even helped him get up and hobble out to the latrine, taking no notice of his unclad state, though she returned his clothes, now clean and dry, later that afternoon. But when he asked if he could take a short stroll, she shook her head.
“Until the council has decided on your fate, you’re confined to this place.”
“And what do you think my chances are?”
She gave him a pained look.
“Valla is close to its population limit, and you came down from the central plateau. Those two factors will weigh heavily in the decision. On the other hand, you’re big and strong, and we always need broad shoulders. Those of former Marines are particularly welcome, both for the harvest and for defense.”
Decker bit back the temptation to ask about other former Marines, such as one Ariane Redmon. That would have to wait until after the council’s verdict. If she wasn’t in Valla, there would be no point in staying.
“You folks have a lot of interaction with the other settlements?” He asked instead.
Ward nodded.
“Of course. We trade, we help each other out, and we pass on any information of interest. All of us live within a hundred kilometer stretch along the shore of the lagoon. It’s the only place where we can harvest sea creatures without risking our lives. Besides, the Correctional Service sends every new exile here — or at least those who don’t end up marooned among the wild ones. That means we have to know which settlements need fresh blood so we can send newcomers to the right place. Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering how many former Marines end up here, and if I knew any of them.”
“Some have passed through the settlements, that’s for sure.” She pointed at a chair. “Sit. I need to change your bandages.”
Fourteen
Commander Hera Talyn almost threw her tablet off the pier in frustration. She had penetrated the Commonwealth Correctional Service convict database with ease, but found no trace of her partner. If she was to believe the records, Zack Decker wasn’t on Parth.
They didn’t even list him as an exile handed over by the Armed Services. Yet Birkenhead’s log insisted its shuttle had dropped Zack on Desolation Island near the main settlement, called Valla, as per standard operating procedure.
Talyn, traveling under a false identity, had landed in Harambee, Parth’s capital earlier that day, after a quick passage from Caledonia aboard a civilian liner. After taking a room in an inconspicuous hotel, she had established herself on the waterfront, less than a hundred meters from the Correctional Services HQ building. Worming her way into their systems proved to be simple, but produced no results. As far as the jailers knew, Decker didn’t exist. Either her partner wasn’t on Parth, or his tracking microchip had stopped working. The latter could only signify unauthorized removal or death.
She preferred to believe in the former, which meant the only way to establish a link would be when — she refused to think of the word ‘if’ — Decker activated the deeply implanted transponder. But it was something he would only do when extraction became the sole and most compelling choice.
“Another operation gone sour almost from the word go,” she muttered to herself. “Big boy had better find her quickly.”
Talyn stood in a fluid movement and tucked the tablet into the thigh pocket of her pants. Harambee was almost on Parth’s equator, but a constant offshore breeze made the temperature bearable, as did the broad-brimmed hat and heat-reflecting clothes she wore.
With nothing to do but wait, and try the Correctional Service database later today or tomorrow, she set off on a slow stroll of the harbor front. Only cleverly designed water skimmers and pleasure boats dotted these waters, protected as they were by the barrier reef that kept larger aquatic predators out. The commercial port, where ocean-going ships docked, sat on the other side of the peninsula. No pleasure craft or swimmers dared go there.
She often stopped, ostensibly to take in the sights, but it was really so she could check for anyone tailing her. Talyn’s polarized sunglasses did more than merely hide her watchful eyes. They also recorded the faces she looked at, keeping track of anyone who appeared in her field of view more than once.
Zack’s disappearance made her edgy, more so than on other occasions when she had lost track of him. It spoke to the lengthening list of events explainable only by the presence of traitors operating inside the most secure offices at Fleet HQ.
And though Talyn was used to working solo, this time she felt inexplicably vulnerable without her partner. Never mind that she also missed his irreverent sense of humor and his skill at making her feel good in more ways than one. If their enemies had infiltrated the Special Operations Section, it meant Zack was the only operative she could trust without question.
After almost three hours of aimless wandering, she passed close to the Correctional Services HQ again for one last try, which also proved fruitless.
On the way back to her hotel, Talyn spotted a small, brightly colored restaurant offering traditional Parthian cuisine. Considering humans had colonized Parth a mere century earlier, the old-fashioned printed menu by the door aroused her interest.
Talyn chose a booth that gave her a clear view of both the front and side doors, dropped her bag on the bench, and removed her sun hat. She was the only customer present, but it was still early. In places like Harambee, restaurants saw little business while the scorching tropical sun still ruled the sky.
A tiny holographic waiter popped up from the center of the polished table and simpered at her.
“Welcome to the Garden of Delights, Sera. What is your pleasure?”
“A chance to read the menu,” she replied. “But you can get me a glass of water in the interim.”
“Of course. Take all the time you need.” The hologram faded out of existence though Talyn fancied the photons making up its smile were the last to go.
Moments later, a short, cylindrical droid appeared at her table, carrying a frosted glass of water. A robotic arm set it in front of Talyn and the machine backed away, gliding smoothly and silently over the tiled floor.
She pulled the printed menu from its holder at the end of the table and studied it for a few minutes. During that time, her eyes flicked up every few seconds to examine the restaurant in greater detail without betraying her interest.
Other than the fact she was the only human being in the place, it seemed quaint, clean, and well maintained, entirely without pretensions. The lack of human wait staff likely indicated this was a small, perhaps even a one-person operation.
Seconds after she placed the menu back in its holder, the little hologram reappeared.
“Has Sera made a choice?”
“Indeed. I’ll have a bowl of your homemade stew, the salad, and flatbread.”
“A fine choice. You won’t regret it. And to drink? We have a broad selection of off-world ales, including an excellent vintage imported from the Shrehari Empire.”
The mention of Decker’s favorite tipple reminded Talyn of her unease, and she shook her head.
“Iced tea will suffice.”
“As the Sera wishes.”
Alone once more, Talyn’s gaze shifted to the large window giving out onto the street. The lengthening shadows and waning light signaled the approach of sunset, and already more people strolled by, emerging from climate-controlled offices and dwellings to enjoy the cooling air.
A middle-aged couple, man, and woman, entered the restaurant, and gave Talyn an annoyed glance as if she had taken their favorite bo
oth. They took one at the opposite end, and the serving droid appeared almost at once with two drinks. Definitely regulars. It returned a few minutes later with Talyn’s food.
The stew was spicy enough to clear her sinuses, but it lived up to its billing while the salad contained slices of native vegetation. Their taste, though exotic, was equally pleasing.
After she had mopped her bowls clean with the last pieces of bread, the hologram returned to offer a choice of desserts. However, feeling replete, Talyn merely tapped her electronic wallet against the table’s reader and paid before slipping out of the booth, pursued by the hologram’s effusive thanks and an invitation to return soon.
Since repetitive behavior was an undercover operative’s worst enemy, she doubted the Garden of Delights would see her again, at least not under her current identity. Besides, at some point, Decker had to turn up, or she’d have to take matters into her own hands. That meant her time in Harambee would be short enough and the planetary capital didn’t lack for eating establishments.
Her hotel was the kind that took anonymous creds and didn’t scan IDs. The downside was little to none of the security offered by the larger establishments; however, Talyn had set her own precautions. As she neared the two-story inn, Talyn slipped on her glasses, the lenses clearing in the early twilight.
With a tap of the finger on one side of the frame, she connected the built-in receiver with the telltales she’d placed on the room’s inner and patio doors.
The latter seemed undisturbed. However, the former was emitting the prearranged signal to show it had been moved. Not by much – a millimeter or two at most – but faithful to its duty, the tiny sensor told her that someone had relocated it.
Perhaps a room service droid had done the deed, but it wouldn’t have bothered trying to replace her telltale in its original position. That would have been beyond the droid’s programming, especially in a second rate hotel that mostly catered to locals.
Talyn tapped the frame of her glasses again and opened a link with the audio/video sensor she had placed in her room. The image projected on the inside of her left lens showed only worn furniture and her travel bag on the dresser. She stopped in the doorway of a store, now shut for the night and frowned. Something was off.
It took her a few moments to realize the travel bag projected a shadow that shouldn’t have been there, not at such an angle now that the sun had set. Someone was spoofing her sensor but had forgotten to update the image after nightfall. A careless mistake.
As was her habit, Talyn had left nothing in the room she would miss. Her spare identities and those for Decker and Redmon were in the bag she carried.
If necessary, she could abandon her lodgings and find shelter somewhere else but would have to reconstitute her wardrobe. Getting new uniforms to go with the Marine Corps identities she had constructed could prove difficult, but not impossible.
However, if someone had penetrated her defenses and attempted to restore the covert perimeter she’d set, that someone merited closer examination. And if necessary, termination.
Zack Decker would have smirked at the compact nine-millimeter blaster she carried in a slim holster under her left armpit. But at close range, it would kill just as well as his beloved Shrehari hand artillery, and she could match him for accuracy with ease. Talyn loosened the blaster, preparing for a snap shot, and then entered the hotel via the main lobby.
It was empty save for a bored woman behind the check-in counter. The lobby’s sole redeeming feature was the refreshingly cold air circulated by an environmental system that hadn’t yet given up the fight against entropy. She nodded politely at the clerk, and then walked down the stone-lined passage leading to the courtyard.
Talyn stopped in the shadows of the arcade running along the hotel’s inner perimeter and scanned the patio doors until she found the one leading to her room. With another tap on the frame, her glasses switched to light amplification mode and zoomed in.
She immediately spotted a dark silhouette on the other side of the transparent pane, looking outward. Logic dictated that there had to be a second person waiting by the hallway door.
The more prudent course of action would be to retreat, switch identities, and leave Harambee, with the opposition being none the wiser. But if her current cover had been blown already, the others she carried might fare no better, and it was too early to use one of the last resorts. Best to have the team tailing her vanish before she moved on.
Slipping past darkened rooms, staying as far into the arcade’s shadows as possible, Talyn made her way around the courtyard. She stopped every few paces to see if the silhouette had moved.
After passing the room next to hers, Talyn flattened herself against the wall and closed the remaining distance while drawing her blaster. She reached out and tapped the door’s glass pane with its barrel.
As she had expected from operatives who forgot to adjust a sensor spoof, the door slid open with a jerk, and the right half of an armed man leaned out.
Talyn stuck her weapon in his face and whispered, “One false move and I’ll flash fry your brains, sugar.”
A voice from inside, also male, asked in a stage whisper, “What’s happening?”
“She’s here,” the first man said. “And she’s made us.”
“Shit.”
A second shadow appeared at the shoulder of the first and the bright flash of a plasma round sliced through the night. Poorly aimed, it singed her left earlobe. A second flash, this one from Talyn’s gun, punched a hole through the bridge of the first man’s nose. She grabbed his body with her other hand, to use as a shield, something Decker had taught her.
“Once chance to live, sunshine, drop your gun and get on your knees,” Talyn said. “You and I need to talk.”
“Nope. Not going to happen.”
Hidden behind the dead man’s bulk, she couldn’t see the other intruder but heard him move away. Then, she heard the sound of the inner door opening. Talyn pushed the body into her room and ran after the second one.
Stepping into the corridor, she took aim at his receding back and pulled the trigger. He went down with a soft thud, his spinal cord severed. She dragged his body back to join the first one. With both doors closed and the privacy curtain set, she turned on the lights and examined them.
Both had the kind of bland face that wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. They could have come from any of the human worlds, be of any age between thirty and seventy, and could pass for accountants or lawyers. Their pockets held nothing of interest and their weapons were of the kind one could buy just about anywhere.
Talyn packed her travel bag and made sure she had left nothing incriminating other than the two dead men. Then, with a last glance at their bodies, she left.
Fifteen
“You may remain in Valla, Zack Decker, for as long as you pull your weight and don’t disrupt the community. Welcome.” Matt Hikaru offered his hand to the seated Marine. “It was initially a close-run thing, mind you. Many are suspicious thanks to your coming out of the jungle. But Delia was most persuasive. She usually is.”
He glanced at the healer.
“Sometimes, I wonder whether she has a sixth sense for people. So far, she’s not steered us wrong.”
Decker gave Ward a curious look. The all too familiar feathery touch of ghostly fingers brushed against his consciousness. Fighting to restrain any hint of surprise, he turned his eyes back on Hikaru.
“Then I owe Sera Ward my thanks,” he said.
“You may thank Delia by making her task as easy as possible. She has consented to be your sponsor during your adaptation period, which will also be a probation of sorts. As soon as Delia pronounces you fit for light duties, we’ll find you suitable employment.”
“Of course.” Decker inclined his head, outwardly the perfect image of calm and gratitude.
But the facade hid his turmoil. The thought that Ward had a Sister of the Void’s empathic talent disturbed him deeply. She wouldn’t be the first rogu
e Sister to cross his path and the previous one had been a criminal as well. A mind rapist of the worst sort.
“Enjoy your first day as one of us,” Hikaru said. “You’re now free to move about the village, but during the adaptation period, you’re not to pass the walls unless you have my permission.”
Alone once more, Delia Ward and Zack Decker examined each other in silence. Sounds of a village stirring to life, now that the sun was coming over the horizon, filtered through the open windows.
“A sixth sense?” He finally asked, a sardonic smile pulling up one corner of his mouth.
“Perhaps we should drop the pretense, Zack. I have a Sister’s talent, and you’re not only able to detect it, but you can also interact with me on a mental level. Although I don’t understand how that’s possible.”
“How did you know?”
“I touched your mind while you lay unconscious. You responded, aware of my presence. It told me that whatever you might be, depravity wasn’t among your many sins. I sensed a good man, an honorable man, one who doesn’t belong here.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a restraining hand. “The others aren’t aware of my talent. I only use my abilities when required, for the safety of the village and its citizens. And then mostly to vet newcomers. I’d be grateful if we kept it that way.”
“Stay out of my mind, and we won’t need to mention it again. Deal?”
She nodded once. “Deal.”
“Why aren’t you in a convent with the rest of the mind-meddlers?”
“Herewith the first lesson for your adaptation period,” she replied. “We don’t inquire about each other’s past. If you wish to share, you may do so, but never ask. What we were, what we did before coming to Desolation Island isn’t relevant beyond what we can do for the community. For example, you were a Marine, and once you’re fit again, we will expect you to take up arms as part of the militia when Valla is threatened.”
“Hikaru didn’t seem shy about prying.”
“That was a different situation. You came out of the highlands, and he’s responsible for making sure we don’t take in someone who’ll slit our throats in the night, or open the gates for someone who will.”