Anna crossed her arms, remaining silent. Her eyes held his with a challenging gaze. She didn’t want to lose control of the conversation any more than she’d done so already.
“Because the computer still looks like my sister, as she was, before her death on the Day of White Flame. My sister was unique. I have searched the world for someone like her, so Heinrich can heal. Alas, I only find women like you. He only cares about his revenge, Countess. Go. Be useful to him. If it’s any comfort, you’ve lasted longest so far. Perhaps he’ll change.”
Ernst turned back to his duties, carefully arranging the chambers with movements perfected over a lifetime of service.
As the assassin drone strode silently in his wake and crew hurriedly pressed themselves to the sides of corridors at his approach, Heinrich’s thoughts turned to the Rebels he had delivered to Mycroft.
After that strange energy signature led him to the well-hidden Rebel base in their own world, he’d managed to seize several Rebels. He’d transported most of them to the not-so-tender mercies of Mycroft’s justicars. The leaders he delivered personally to the Royal palace.
The older Asian male stuck in his mind.
Most Rebels he captured seemed resigned to their fates. However, that Rebel remained openly defiant, and took out three soldiers in hand-to-hand combat before being subdued. Heinrich hadn’t managed to extract anything useful from the Rebel, but now he wondered. One of the Rebels they had encountered in both Florida and Rio had been a similarly tall, handsome, Asian man.
“Thalia,” he called as he turned the corner to the last corridor to the bridge.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the AI replied as she morphed into being beside him, gliding down the corridor like a digital wraith.
“Show me the images of the Rebels we transported to the Royal Palace before we traveled to this realm.”
A holographic window appeared in front of him and as the picture of the Rebel appeared, he stopped, examining the image in front of him closely. There was an unmistakable resemblance. Interesting. His father perhaps? he speculated.
He stared at the image for a few more seconds before waving it away and proceeding onto the bridge. Perhaps the crown held someone close to this Rebel team to use as leverage. He filed that thought away for later.
All of the debris from their encounter in Rio was gone, although pockmarks in the walls from shrapnel marred the gleaming surfaces and the remaining glasswork was a spider web of cracks. A number of the control panels and consoles sat dark, their posts vacant. However, the functional consoles gave him thorough knowledge of The Songstress’s condition. Although wounded, she could still serve as the deadly blade he would twist inside the Rebels’ guts.
He immersed himself in the details as crew reported sections of the ship battle-ready.
Before he finished analyzing the ship’s status, Thalia reported that the trace was complete.
“What’s our destination?” He pressed the computer avatar. Countess Anna appeared on the bridge as if summoned, her face a moue of discontent.
“40.7 degrees north, 74.1 degrees west. The city of New York,” Thalia responded. “Population 8.491 million, centered on the island of Manhattan.”
Before the AI might continue, Heinrich held up a hand to silence her. With The Songstress’s kinetic shields and cloaking device operational, there was nothing in the sky that could present a challenge.
“Begin transfer protocols,” Heinrich instructed, leaning forward and gripping the rail around the forward controls. He allowed a wolfish grin to cross his features as he felt the quantum tag of the ship vibrate between the wave forms of matter that held reality together. His thoughts curled inward as the low hum of electronics filled the air, the vibrations growing more emphatic. Small Rebel needles, hiding in a haystack of bloated humanity. I accept your challenge.
Heinrich’s gaze swept the cluttered and seemingly unending cityscape and for a silent moment, he stared. The command ready and resting behind his downturned mouth fell away and he shook his head with a sneer. “Eight-and-a-half million people. All in one city, all living on top of one another. And this is the developed part of the world. That city in the tropics was even more crowded and disgusting. What a ship of fools,” he muttered.
The sheer size of the city below made him want to vomit at the selfish disregard for their own society. At one time, long ago, we were no better. Nigh on a century has passed and these poor heathens still chug along unaware of their own collective stupidity. Everything about this world he’s learned so far grated on his nerves.
Despite the differences, much of this world looked similar. Central Park was largely the same. The northern end of the park held a mix of people. Some wandered, taking in the sights; a large crowd skated on an iced-over pond. A few joggers braved icy sidewalks and weaved between the other pedestrians. All to a backdrop of soft gray, muted tones and the bare branches of trees undressed by winter’s hand.
Back in his own timeline, New York was far smaller, a better city for better citizens. In the midst of this chaotic urban nightmare, the massive park below was a small comfort in an urban world gone mad. How pathetic. Mycroft had been right. They had all been right to trust the First of Five’s vision of the future, distributing centers of population.
Motioning to Thalia, the view zoomed back in on the target area.
Families and single souls filled the park despite the potential for more snow. Heinrich watched young children bundled in jackets and brightly-colored boots playing an assortment of games under the watchful eyes of chaperones.
The Songstress slid to a halt barely 200 meters overhead. Heinrich gave a satisfied sigh at their undetected approach.
The ship’s engines ran silent, hidden behind a veil of refracted light. On the bridge, he examined the view below through a magnified display of the area. Green and blue lines of light illuminated the bridge as Thalia projected a shimmering replica of the park to show the path of the quantum disturbance that the Rebels used for transit. Flickering images of cars and people moved through the air, following the phantasmal terrain.
“I’m unable to pinpoint the signal precisely, Your Majesty, and a simple scan of the immediate area doesn’t reveal them. They appear to be within 500 meters of our current position according to the instruments,” Thalia reported. “With the buildings so close, maneuvering at this altitude will be difficult if we wish to remain undetected. I can swing south over the park and make another approach.”
“Sire. Might I suggest a search of this ‘internet’ they have in this realm? It might reveal something pertinent,” Mr. Delta rasped.
Heinrich looked to Anna and she nodded in understanding. Interfacing with the airborne signals required that they decrease the refraction of the shields. It wouldn’t make them vulnerable to attack, but it would diminish the camouflage effect of the cloak. Anna laid a careful hand on the shield wave dial, slowly changing the harmonics and lowering the cloak enough for Thalia to actively interact with rather than passively scan the airwaves.
As the train pulled out from the station, Snake tugged his baseball cap lower and continued to play. The acoustics down here were awesome, and Sheila absorbed everything from the tread of thousands of feet to the roar of the passing trains.
He didn’t want to be here.
A constant stream of people approached him, saying, “Cool guitar. You know that song by David Guetta?” in New York accents at him. He’d avoid eye contact, shake his head, and keep strumming. Most shrugged and moved on, a couple of them slinging coins and even notes into a tin can placed in front of him.
Snake cast a poisonous glance towards Sarge and China who were nailing their world-class lurkers routine, aided by Mack. The enormous, furry overcoat encircling Sarge made her look like a pissed-off bear while concealing the two parts of her stripped-down rifle. It still made an impressive bulge on one side, which was where China was standing. As a distraction, he was unbeatable.
For men he was just another man
, although he got a few looks. From women, he invariably received a double take. Snake had to admit he was a damned good looking bloke. He exuded a kind of laid-back, knowing sensuality that smoldered in those darkly violet eyes and faint smile. The thermal sweater clinging to his well-muscled gymnast’s figure didn’t hurt either. Snake imagined that almost every woman with a pulse found China desirable.
He could pass as a supermodel lounging around with the mortals before the photoshoot that would immortalize him for posterity. Only after the female voyeurs nearly ran into something would they notice the huge, sexy black woman with the possessive expression standing behind him and hastily avert their gaze.
Mack stood out as the third wheel. Dressed in marginally better clothing than the rest of the team, she hid the bracelets under her clothes and was self-consciously holding her arms behind her back for good measure.
Simmering with anger, Snake made riffs that communicated his emotional state to his watchful companions. He argued vehemently against coming to a populated area. Especially one this populated, but he’d been overruled. The frigate was an indomitable slice of utter destruction that this city wasn’t prepared to contend with.
Twenty-four hours ago, they left Jay in that frigid, nameless meadow outside of White River to hunt down little Xs on a hand-drawn map that was older than any two of them put together.
In the interim, they learned a few things from the video and radio broadcasts in public places and from guarded conversations with people they wouldn’t draw attention to. Some women seemed more than happy to talk to a gorgeous man, even if he did ask odd questions—and China was practiced and smooth at asking questions.
Crystal technology was unknown here. Solar gathering was almost non-existent. These people burned fossil fuels. The entire city reeked of it. A dark film of pollution coated the otherwise shining buildings and a permanent haze hung in the air. And no one seemed bothered by those facts.
Snake was already tired of this dirty city. They’d slept among trash cans and eaten thin soup and bread at a kitchen a homeless man directed them to. It was filled with other tired souls beaten down by life.
No one was homeless in the communities of his Australia. The Royals might be murdering bastards, but no citizens starved on their streets. Despite the grime and overt poverty, he didn’t want death and destruction following him to this metropolis. Most people here appeared to just be going about their lives, such as they were. Maybe their lives weren’t quite what he’d hoped for and remembered from his own world. Facing the positive aspects of the Monarchs’ rule felt otherworldly and not a little traitorous.
People here starved. They lived on the streets. They might even freeze to death in the winter. Yet, there was an ambience of freedom in this place that didn’t exist where he came from. People on the street looked one another in the eye. The colors of red, white, and blue were commonplace alongside stars, eagles, and the word ‘freedom’. They even seemed proud of that freedom. No news of public executions or even public punishments reached his ears.
But here there were no Lifers. To him, that made all the difference.
Snake’s fingers worked of their own accord for a while as his thoughts oscillated between the two worlds. The differences unsettled him. Snake had assumed that it would be Earth much as he knew it. It never occurred to him that one chunk of history would alter the course of the world so drastically.
He’d caught a grainy video that was from Florida. It featured a military base turned into a series of smoking craters courtesy of one Royal frigate. The broadcast cut to the events in Rio and the death toll during their world-famous carnival. They killed over 200 people and wounded hundreds of others in the space of a few minutes in Rio. People in New York were in offices and buildings, unaware of what was coming. But it was just a matter of time before the frigate tracked Sheila’s transit shift.
Snake knew that Sarge intended for the group to hide in this city, ride the trains to make it difficult for the frigate to accurately track them, and have the American military forces engage the frigate again. But the Royals already proved they were willing to take lives. They would do anything to get a hold of them. The destruction in Rio and Florida was just the beginning.
The truly horrifying realization was that Sarge was willing to use these people as a shield and cannon fodder against a vastly superior opponent to increase their own chances of survival. It was as cold as the arctic ice they had endured. And the others backed Sarge despite Snake’s protests.
With the Royals willing to kill innocent people to get to them, and Sarge willing to sacrifice others to avoid them, the erstwhile musician wondered if any dog in the fight was different after all.
Thalia explained that due to the nature of the quantum tag and interference from the city itself, the radius was approximate until the tag reactivated. They would have to search for them. The internet revealed that the park had several tunnels and sub-structures in the target area. In summary, the Rebels could be in any one of half-a-dozen places.
“Also, it is worth noting that we may have been spotted when we adjusted the shields, Sire. There is a possibility that local forces are already being arrayed against us.”
Heinrich acknowledged the AI with a wave of his hand and examined the red area that contained the Rebels. With the cloak restored, they would remain impossible to detect for now. The search area was too vast to bombard and expect to damage the substructures of the city with any definitive effect. The Rebels would engage quantum travel the moment after the first strike. But if the Rebels remained unaware of the ship’s presence, they might have an opportunity to capture one of them. For that, Heinrich didn’t need to level the whole area. He just needed to draw them out into the open for a saturation volley utilizing the lighter weapons.
What is it with Rebels and being underground? All the Rebel bases were. Hiding beneath ordinary citizens was honorless. However, these weren’t citizens of the realm. Levelling the city wouldn’t break any Principles. Given the importance of their mission, he was prepared to do just that. Of course, he needed at least one of them alive. He preferred it to be the Gifted, but acknowledged that she’d be too dangerous to bring aboard. His second preference was the Asian male. “How to make the rats run?” the king wondered aloud to no one in particular.
“Sire, rodents are simple creatures. I suggest providing either a reward to run towards, or a painful stimulus to run from,” Thalia proffered.
Heinrich put a finger to his chin and pursed his lips. “Countess Anna. We need to narrow our search. Remove interference. Put eyes on our targets and take them down.”
With an anticipatory grin, Anna marched past the king towards the door that led below decks. “Sire, if you’ll allow me, I can have drones scour this park area and move into the surrounding streets.” Anna spoke without a glance at the hologram of the ship’s AI. Heinrich nodded his assent.
“Thalia, prepare half-a-dozen drones for immediate drop. I’ll take point. Full combat loadout, ensure stealth systems are running at peak capacity. We must not tip our hand. Countess Anna,” the king commanded almost off-handedly, staying her as she exited the bridge on her way to the neural relay station. “When the drones are in position, I’ll use The Songstress to send out a pulse. That will narrow your search.”
The answering grin from Anna was vicious.
Anna slid back into the comms chair, settling into a seat well-worn to support her contours as the neural net descended from the ceiling during the interface boot sequence. Once inserted, she wouldn’t feel her body at all; she would be the metal form of a Royal assassin drone. Sleek, powerful, and above all, deadly.
She closed her eyes as the neural net engaged and opened silver eyes in the cargo hold as five drones, the maximum that Thalia could control with the shields engaged, stepped down from their charging stations.
After her conversation with the king’s adjutant, she felt an overwhelming desire to hurt someone. These Rebels would do. So the king doe
sn’t feel anything. It’s just scratching an itch. Well, he might change his mind. What was it Ernst said? ‘Be useful.’
Anna strode forth confidently. Robotic arms descended, equipping her metal frame with a jump pack and weapons. The sound dampeners on her feet made less noise than the whirring rotors around her. In tight formation, the drones followed her lead, speeding up as they approached the portside external cargo launch. When the door unlocked with a clang and cycled open, she felt the jump pack vibrate on her shoulders, ready to engage. With one last thought, she activated her personal cloaking device and the effect briefly misted over her electronic vision.
Thalia needed to alter the shields as the drones passed through and Anna spoke loudly, her voice taking on the unemotional, electronic, male tone all drones came with as factory standard. “Jump on my mark,” she ordered, her excitement obscured by the monotone that emanated from the drone. She studied the white landscape below. “Three, two, one, mark.”
All the drones dived in synchronization. The jump packs engaged, wings extending on either side to stabilize their descent and enable them to glide to the snowy ground. She activated the HUD, seeing a three-dimensional wireframe landscape with the position of each drone marked clearly by a glowing red marker as they descended.
The drones touched down, invisible but for the depressions they made in the snow. Anna transmitted her commands. “Thalia, fan out and report any entrances to underground structures you locate. Once we’re in position, alert the king to send the pulse. You know what to do if you see any of the identified Rebels?”
Suffrage (World Key Chronicles Book 1) Page 18