Threads of Canor: Sector Bomb

by Simon Woodington

  Chapter Eleven: Seige of Castlegar

  “I'd love to open this with 'fine mess you moron',” Reggie Castlegar began. She regarded Aaran from within a two way encrypted transmission screen. Doctor Dryfuss had graciously permitted access to his office which employed military grade measures for occasions such as ours.

  Aaran's shoulders slumped, then she yawned fiercely. “Brow beat me some other time. The attempted breach was a warning shot, and somehow Avalon's got his claws into my KnightsMage?”

  The glyph was explicit. Reins had explained the facts with all the subtlety of a Nova cyborg. The grist in the mill has no expletives for the process, and thankfully neither had Aaran ... yet. Avalon was exploiting the young, inexperienced Squires being trained by the KnightsMage to start another war by courting their fleeting hearts and minds.

  “That's the easy part. We're used to fighting wars. Shrouds back from the bleak? We aren't prepared for it, and we don't even know why they're targeting average people.”

  Aaran held up a small tablet device and tapped it with a finger. “According to Sonata's digging every member of the Brainhaulers was an average person until Shrouds gave them better deals for their wishes.”

  “Masurani knows all about that, doesn't she?” Reggie suggested.

  “Bobby Shattering does, but he's powdering space. I know, I watched Ayani eject his ashes. She'd be the first to talk to.”

  “Then she'll be the first you talk to. Angel City's in enough trouble without us losing valuable military assets,” Reggie agreed. “And now we know who almost vacated the Twin Cities into space.”

  “No, we don't.”

  “Then - what?”

  “The Brainhaulers are paying for terrorists, hiring stooges and making lots of noise. Individually they're troublemakers, but when you slip all the ingredients into the stew...”

  Reggie frowned again. “Tastes great. Some kind of propaganda? Stand alone complex? What is this about, Aaran?”

  “There's no historical precedent. Call it guerrilla warfare on the cheap, if you want. Ideology, philosophy, religion. Boils down to what they believe when they've not got another hook for their ID. Half the kids even believe they can restore Canor to its former glory. It's not names, Reggie. No names. Avalon might not even be the mastermind.”

  “I'm just looking at the steps of this dance, Aaran. Where do we put our first foot?”

  Aaran looked up at me, but I wasn't sure what to make of the slightly pained expression. “We rally the troops. By every indication Janus is on the outside now, and we have no reason to believe there won't be another shot at the shield.”

  “All right. Tell me about Laston Pilcrow.”

  “He's finished. Sonata reduced him to a paraplegic. We have the digs on the Brainhaulers because she decided not to ace his sorry carcass. If you work the 'haulers we'll find out who implanted a breathing shard into him. You have someone?”

  “Esuna and Mishan. They'll get the briefing from Patsy in a few days. We need time to minimize our losses beforehand. Aaran.”

  “What?”

  Reggie took a breath. “Zia Cordan was found in Breakhaven. North of the old Screaver plantation.”

  “All right. What've you got her doing now?”

  “Border patrol. We've had a few shrikes testing the integrity of our defenses.”

  Aaran nodded decidedly. “That's bad timing. No breaks?”

  “You know her. Tougher than ever. Zia will hold them back. We'll send Naritha in a few hours to back her up. Isuna's already holding ground, so Zia's just doing spot-checks.”

  “Someone's getting antsy. Avalon still has a lot of allies,” Aaran breathed. She paused. “Oh. Okay. Now what?”

  “Bowles has put in a request to be your full time driver.”

  Aaran grunted and folded her arms. “Anything else? Jisuruka turn a new leaf? Masurani getting divorced? Now's the time.”

  “You'll accept?” Reggie bypassed Aaran's bluster as a matter of course.

  “I don't need a driver.”

  “Dryfuss says you need a driver. How's your arm?”

  “I need a driver. She'll do. Loyal as a foyen, tough as a screaver. Benefits?”

  “We've signed and submitted the contracts. The Crown transmitted approval an hour ago. David's upgrading her implant is first order of business.” Reggie paused a moment, scrutinizing her old friend. “When did you see Yale?”

  “I haven't.”

  “Why'd I dig him out then?”

  “I haven't been planetside yet. He can't get up here. Why are you asking me about this?”

  “You're missing him.”

  “Not your business.”

  “Bullflak it's not. Tell me you're not missing him.”

  “I am missing him, but how's asking going to help me? Reggie, get off my back. Let me get planetside and see him. We're wasting time. Thanks for the concern.”

  Reggie hinted a smile. “Alright. All right. Just so's you know, I don't hold debts against my champion. You get that.”

  “J'have to say it?” Aaran heaved a lungful of air and glared sardonically at the screen. I angled my head to check because I thought she might be doing just that. I was right, and it amused me to see it. “What's so funny, Buddy?”

  “It is reassuring that you also understand the meaning of stress,” I explained quite simply.

  She mock smiled and smacked me in the back of the head. “Twit.”

  Reggie laughed. “You're a pair. Meet me when you're planetside, and don't forget Pilcrow. That armored cruiser should do...”

  “You're not understaffed.”

  “...I'm understaffed.”

  Aaran huffed. “When he's safe to move. Maybe meantime I can sneak another nap.”

  “See you in a few hours.”

  “Your champion bows,” she said. “And scoffs.”

  Reggie signed off with a pleased grin. Aaran stood and unbalanced in my direction. Catching her, I murmured my worry for her health.

  “Help me find a bed,” she told me, and refused any prompting for more details. Until: “Look, my artificial leg took a hit, and it's been … troublesome. Dryfuss can't help, he's not skilled. It's probably just mechanical.”

  Rounding a corner, Timothy Dryfuss declared: “There is a disparity between the control logic of your limbs. How is your vision?”

  “A little blurry,” she replied, admonished. Timothy waved a hand toward the bed in his office and I guided Aaran there. “You mean David should've replaced my leg, too?”

  “I'd be happier if you would consult me about these matters. Your nervous system is a delicate network. Are you testing your limits recreationally or as an excuse to go all cyborg?”

  “I didn't-”

  “Close your eyes,” he directed. “Buddy, sit down beside her. If she moves, restrain her. Listen to me, Aaran: Asren-Beckdrew Syndrome is a consequence of haste. The articulation you enjoy can only be replaced by a brain implanted processor, which is unnecessarily invasive. Furthermore, the influence of your guest is not fully appreciated.”

  “Her guest?”

  “Yyone. Aaran Yyone. She's my mirror soul,” Aaran said. “Joined the party by some weaving she performed when her soul shard shattered. Has all kinds of gifts and wishes bestowed upon her by some Pillar great.”

  I puzzled over this. Was she being deliberately obscure? In every likelihood this was uncomfortable and unwelcome conversation. “That isn't-”

  “Can't make me talk about it...” she yawned.

  “It's best you slept. Buddy, Marlene and Sonata want to see you. Why don't you go?”

  “That may be-”

  “Go. I'll be here.”

  “Yes, Aaran.”

  Just a dozen beds, a small closet of supplies. This field hospital was a mismatch for the event. Aaran knew this, but did not appear concerned. Her behavior worried me. By the time I had crossed to the treatment ward, I “had worked up a lather” about the confusion of the mission's stated goal and its impl
ementation.

  I considered transmitting a inquisition glyph to Representative Castlegar, but before I reached a decision, was standing before Marlene. Sonata and she had spread cards over a tray and were trading them after asking if the other had what they needed. Sonata was winning.

  “Buddy, come over and give me a hug.” I'd learned not to wait. Marlene looked exhausted, and I felt charged to extend every courtesy to her. Sonata smiled at me and touched my shoulder before I unwrapped my arms from Marlene.

  “How are you,” I asked.

  Marlene's hair green-gold hair was thin but wavy and short. Most of it was bound in surgical wrapping. “Displaced. There are thirty girls who were shipped planetside without single thought to their health. What do you think of that?”

  I felt my lips flatten. “I think Aaran will have her noise out of joint if you tell her that. Marlene, what is the extent of your injury?”

  Knowingly, she smiled, then handed Sonata the ace of hearts she asked for. “Core Rescue will be even less impressed. It's a little much to ask of your employer. Some brute knocked me over and I scratched my scalp. Doctor Dryfuss put in a few stitches. Now stop that.”

  “I choose not to.”

  “That's quite sweet. Please see if the Council has made a statement about the threat. That's a nice jacket. Real leather?”

  “Thank you. I—don't know if it is. I will see if I have access.”

  She nodded and turned her attention to Sonata. There are comforts I miss on occasion, and in this case I was re-associated with the comfort extended to me by the sea of knowledge returned to my horizon. The Council was abuzz, naturally.

  “It seems they are deriding the Crown for allowing Talon to kidnap their girls. They never professed any concern about their welfare before the incident, so it is a obviously a political tactic. Razor has disavowed any knowledge of their attempt to claim independence.”

  “Why is that? Was Katsu Fenora ratified as Representative?”

  I nodded. “Yes. She is now Third Seat Representative to the Crown. You suspected this would happen.”

  Marlene held fanned cards below her lower lip. She lowered them. “I did. Katsu opposed the Drima from the very beginning. Was your employer angry at her?”

  She perceives Aaran as being angry with most people. This is a fair assessment, in my opinion. “We determined that her ex-husband decided to co-chair.”

  “Buddy, you've explained many things to me, just now.” She smiled again. “The credits and influence ... Horash is a gunpike at point. Oh! Sonata told me you were hurt. You look fine.”

  “I was transporting first-aid goods to Aaran when the attack hit Sector 9.”

  “You were in the … you could have been killed!” The distress in her voice and the way she placed her cards down was a significant comfort to me. “Buddy, tell me more!”

  I relayed the event in a level of detail she expected. Marlene has just one implant, and relies upon external devices to process data and communications, so she could not interpret glyphs or digital transmissions. As a journalist she takes pride in organizing, planning and implementing stories for mass media consumption. In the end she slapped my shoulder angrily.

  “I should ground you both! Have David install some protocol or something … that was a code black zone and Sonata you knew it! Little girl, putting your brother in danger just to save a little face is not acceptable!”

  We both apologized. Then we apologized again. A few more after that, until eventually her emotions subsided. Sonata promised to be more forthcoming and protective, and I promised to be more discerning. Marlene wanted us to protest, so we did, defending our professional lives moreso than in past.

  “I chose not to kill a man today, Mama.”

  “Laston Pilcrow. I know all about him,” Marlene remarked casually, as though he were a tailor.

  “Uhm... that's classified information!”

  “Sonata, he is a terrorist and a coward. I always know about them, especially when my dearest is given a mission to terminate one of them.”

  “Mama, you amaze me. No network and you still...”

  “Now how does that make any sense?” she asked smugly. “I've known since you began the mission, and you can't trick me into telling you how. Not this time, clever girl.”

  Sonata chuckled. “Okay. I won't.”

  At that moment I received a ping. It was Aaran. I excused myself and accepted the transmission. [Buddy, ride's here. We're taking Pilcrow. He's doped up and offlined. We'll need Sonata. I'm walking alright but I don't trust my balance.]

  [Doctor's orders?] I replied.

  [Stuff a chunk in it, wise guy. How's Marlene?]

  [You're asking me out of personal courtesy,] I answered.

  [Exactly. I give a shard about your feelings.]

  [My apologies. She is offline, well informed and very healthy. She is also a marvelous comfort. She was dismayed that you allowed me to come to harm.]

  [Now you're giving me a hard time. I pulled you out of that rubble, bucket head. Don't make me regret it. You've got five minutes before we depart.]

  [Yes ma'am.] Marlene welcomed me immediately back into the fold and invited me to play the next round. I had to defer the game, but committed myself to play in the near future. Watching Sonata sweetly win was another comfort I had not recently experienced, and I treasured the moment.

  “Mama, you're not coming back with us?” Sonata inquired with genuine charm.

  “I've more work to do.”

  Sonata nodded gravely, and gave her a lengthy hug. The hospital foyer was cool and tidy, unaffected by our activity. Bustling around the room was a young private in janitor greens. He greeted us with the sheen of the AOC's PR scheme: A bright smile and no apparent worry.

  “You're Rely's little brother?”

  “Little brother? Where'd ya scare that up, the records? Pardon me. I am Shale Shale. Same first name, same last name.”

  “Really?” Sonata chimed. “That's a lie.”

  “You are smart. Pretty, and smart. Checkin'. Some robots can't tell the difference.”

  “That's also a misnomer. Referential logic is a … we're good at it. You're not hiding anger?”

  He plunked mop into bucket and snorted, shaking silver-black haired head. “I'm going to tell you? You're androids. Don't care you're wellmeaners, you crashed Canor.”

  Sonata crept up beside him and brought her mouth close to his ear: “Then why am I so attractive to you?”

  He started, legs and arms flying akimbo, spilling his bucket with a clatter and splash. Rely looked up from her tablet and chided him less than gently. “You'd better get on with your superiors, Gatling Shale. You're slow. Get on!”

  “Yes ma'am!”

  That seemed to sort him out, but we were a little disconcerted afterward. Sonata and I privately bantered the subject before Aaran's arrival. Bowles had Pilcrow on a mobile bed alongside. Gatling had, by then, sopped up most of his mess.

  “Nice rest,” she asked. Apparently she had taken time to freshen up and looked considerably more attractive than I had previously noticed. Even more in dress uniform with understated stud earrings and matching silver-black eye patch. “Buddy?”

  Aaran chuckled. “Good work, Bowles. We'll get on just fine. Let's go.”

  “Yes?”

  “Brother, we're going...” Sonata sighed, pulling me by the arm toward the door. “I guess you have a new friend.”

  What was wrong with me? I followed Sonata outside and began a visual sweep of our surroundings in pursuit of a threat assessment. The road to the hospital entrance was a semi-circular curve, and there lay an unpopulated strolling park within its parameter. I gestured for Sonata to stand near the tail end of the cruiser while I watched the opposite end of the street.

  Aaran was not needlessly dishonest. Civilians were relocated to safe zones and kept in place until just an hour ago. Pilcrow cannot have known that; all access was thoroughly restricted and logged. Even so, we could not use beacon
s to track foot traffic.

  I amplified my hearing and indicated that Sonata do the same.

  [You're a little sluggish, brother. We're clear for one thousand feet. Are you certain this was safe?]

  [Exactly? Nevermind. Laston has no connections to suggest external threat-]

  There was a muffled grunt, followed by the dull report of a low power firing mechanism.

  [Buddy!] It was Aaran!

  I shunted my audio input back down to normal levels as the snapping of two vertebrae and a pained groan were preceded by a body thumping against the armored casing of the cruiser. I practically leapt to the open back end, careful not to overbalance myself.

  Sonata held Laston's severed forearm in hand, his neck broken, head twisted dramatically to one side. Bowles was holding her head and pushing off the cruiser to her feet, looking around with fire in her eyes. Aaran lay face first on the pavement, blood pooling under her stomach.

  I transmitted an emergency request directly to Doctor Dryfuss, who ran out of the hospital just seconds later with Nurse Shale in tow. “What happened?!”

  “Aaran is wounded, Pilcrow is dead.” Sonata answered coldly. “Do not move her. Her spine is severed.”