The Sword of Sophia

by John Bowers

  “Is your name Watanabe?” Hans asked with a smile.

  “Yeah. Who the fuck are you? I don’t know any Hans Norquist.”

  “Norgaard,” Hans corrected.

  “What the fuck ever. What do you want?”

  “I’m looking for Myoko Watanabe. Is she here?”

  “She’s not here. What do you want with her?”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “I might. Answer the goddess-scorn question!”

  Hans took a deep breath. As much as he hated them, he was getting used to hostile encounters in this job.

  “Mr. Watanabe, I’m with the Vegan Elite Guards, and I have a war—”

  The door flew open and the young man charged, straight-arming Hans off the stoop. Hans hit the ground on his back, half stunned by the attack. But Watanabe wasn’t finished. He charged Hans and kicked him before he could sit up, screaming obscenities.

  “You fucking traitor! You’re no better than the SE! I’ve heard of you bastards—turning against your own kind!”

  Near panic, Hans rolled to the side in time to avoid a second kick that was aimed at his head. Watanabe missed his kick and was thrown off balance, giving Hans time to use his VYC training—he swept a leg around and knocked his attacker’s feet from under him, causing Watanabe to land on his back with a grunt. Hans leaped up and drew his sidearm, standing over his opponent before he could recover. Norma moved in from the other side, her own weapon aimed and ready.

  “Look here, yew slant motherfucker!” she snarled. “Yew tell us where yewr slant mama is at before I blow yewr fuckin’ head off!”

  Hans stood shaking, sweat rolling off his brow. He panted with exertion and fear—it was the first time he’d encountered a situation like this.

  “Fuck you, you Confederate cunt!” Watanabe snarled, and Norma kicked him in the face, breaking his jaw. He fell back with a scream.

  “You didn’t have to do that!” Hans gasped. “He’s only trying to protect his—”

  “He was gonna kill yew!” Norma shouted. “I woulda shot him already except I was afraid I’d hit yew! Git inside and look for his mama. She’s prob’ly hidin’ under the bed.”

  Still shaking, Hans headed into the house, a pistol in one hand and a torch in the other. He knew he was enforcing the law, but somehow it seemed a little like overkill to go to these lengths just because the woman had failed to appear for Domestic Companionship. He felt a little bit like a bully…and he didn’t like the feeling.

  Friday, 28 February, 0200 (PCC) – Reina, Vega 3

  Valyn Kristensen was stunned when she saw Pierre Minore’s name on the data merge. She had just told Erik about him on Monday. And now he was dead.

  Just like Nils Jenssen.

  It was quite a coincidence, but she didn’t carry the thought further than that.

  Ten minutes before noon, Maj. Marlow stopped in front of her desk.

  She looked up with trepidation in her eyes. He was a friendly sort, always joking with the office girls, even giving them presents, but when he curled his finger you had to go. Some of the girls didn’t seem to mind all that much, but Valyn was still new to the routine, and seeing him standing there turned her stomach to lead.

  “Do you have any plans for lunch?” Marlow asked before she could speak.

  “Lunch?” Her voice sounded hollow in her own ears. “Uh…”

  “Just lunch,” he said, and winked.

  “I—uh, no, I…don’t have anything planned.”

  “Then I would appreciate your company for the noon meal.” He grinned engagingly.

  “All right. Yes, sir.”

  “Ten minutes,” he said, and headed back to his own office.

  Twenty minutes later they were seated in a crowded sandwich shop, surrounded by office workers in business suits and tight skirts. The erotic scents of Vegan perfumes competed with the smell of baking bread. Because of Marlow’s uniform, they were given a dark booth slightly separated from the other diners.

  “Anything you want,” he told her. “Don’t even look at the price.”

  She smiled nervously. “Actually, I’m…not all that hungry.”

  Marlow set his menu down and met her gaze, his own eyes serious. “Look, I know this uniform scares the hell out of you, but just relax, okay? We’re not going to have sex—this is just lunch. I’m sorry about the other day. You were a new girl and I called you in, but I won’t do it again. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

  I wish I could believe that.

  “I met your dad,” he told her. “He’s a good man. An honorable man.”

  Valyn blinked in surprise. “I know.”

  “He’s a patriot, and I can respect that. He’s also loyal to his family, and I respect that even more.”

  Valyn didn’t know what to say, or if she was expected to say anything at all. She picked up the menu and studied it. Marlow did the same, and a few minutes later they ordered. The tea came almost at once.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” he said slowly, stirring sugar into his teacup. “I need some advice.”

  Valyn stared at him in astonishment.

  “You want advice…from me?”

  He nodded.

  “But why?”

  He grinned at her.

  “I’ve been watching you. You’re a hard worker, conscientious. Dedicated. I feel like I can trust you.”

  “I-I don’t understand.”

  Brandon Marlow glanced around the restaurant to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. The babble of voices created a background hum, and he lowered his voice, leaning forward slightly.

  “I’m in love with a Vegan woman,” he said.

  Valyn almost laughed. “You’re what!”

  He grinned self-consciously.

  “Sounds crazy, doesn’t it. I mean, I’m SE, and SE can do anything it wants. Right? Any woman on the planet is mine for the taking. And I go fall in love with one particular woman.”

  Valyn felt herself relax a little, intrigued by this development.

  “How can I help you?”

  “She doesn’t love me back.” He shrugged and held out both hands. “That’s it. What do I do?”

  She stared at him as if he were crazy. Did he really want an answer?

  He laid his teaspoon down and sipped from the cup, his eyes on hers.

  “You can be candid,” he said. “We’re friends here. You can say anything you want.”

  Valyn puffed her cheeks.

  “Well…the first thing you can do is take off that uniform. If a fox wants a chicken to love him, he has to pull his teeth first.”

  Marlow grimaced. “I knew you’d say that. But that’s not an option. The SE is my job, my career. I’ve got too many years invested to quit.”

  Valyn shrugged. “Then find a Sirian woman.”

  His brow wrinkled slightly. “No chance with a Vegan woman?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t speak for every woman on Vega, but if it were me, the uniform would be a total firewall. Nothing you said or did would ever get past it.”

  She gauged his reaction to that—he stared at his teacup with a frown. She continued.

  “Even if you did take it off, it might not work. The fact that you’re a Sirian is bad enough, but the fact that you’re SE, past or present, tilts everything against you. It would be a rare woman who would ever trust you with her feelings, never mind her body.”

  He sighed unhappily. “I bring her flowers, I bring her wine, I helped her get a job…even got her glamour apartment at a quarter the going rate. I’ve got her a full exemption, one hundred percent protection, and I’ve never tried to lay a hand on her. I only kissed her once…and she pushed me away.” He looked into Valyn’s eyes with the expression of a lovesick school boy. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  The whole thing seemed surreal to Valyn, and yet she almost felt sorry for him.

  “Well, Major, if you’re determined to try, then give her as much space as she needs. And give
her all the time she needs. It probably won’t make any difference, but if you don’t do those things, I guarantee you it will never work.”

  “That’s it?”

  She shrugged. “Without knowing who she is, that’s all I can offer.”

  He pinched his lips and nodded slowly.

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  * * *

  Valyn had dinner with Erik again that night. After leaving the University Café, Valyn went to Temple. Erik walked along beside her, but remained outside while she went in. The priestess had spooked him the last time he was here, and Ingrid Klaussen had echoed her words. The whole thing about Sophia’s sword was a little unsettling, because he had no idea what it meant or what it had to do with him.

  He was nearly frozen when, twenty minutes later, Valyn emerged. She put her arm through his and kissed him, then they started walking back toward her apartment. The street was icy, the sidewalks all but deserted.

  It was well into the evening, almost ten o’clock. Valyn’s apartment was a half-hour walk. In spite of the cold, Erik was in no hurry. It was pleasant to be with Valyn, to feel her pressing against him. They had only made love once and he didn’t want to press the point—that one time had been a violation of her faith, an emergency of sorts. If she wanted to continue that part of their relationship he was fine with it, but it had to be her desire, not his.

  “I saw something strange today,” she said casually as they sauntered along.

  “Yeah? What was that?”

  “Remember that lawyer I told you about? Pierre Minore?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “He was murdered last night.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Yes, and it’s really odd—that’s two men in four days.”

  “Why is that odd? There are probably murders all the time. We just didn’t know about them until you got access to the data.”

  She nodded. “You’re probably right. But what’s odd is that I mentioned both men to you and in a day or two they were dead.”

  Erik gazed down the street.

  “You didn’t mention the first one to me until after he was killed,” he reminded her.

  “Not by name. But I told you Ingrid had been raped, and then he turned up dead. And now Minore.”

  Erik laughed. “Are you suggesting that I killed them?”

  She turned her gaze directly on him. “Did you?”

  It’s the only thing I’m really good at. Killing people.

  “I wish I had.” He gave her a squeeze. “Would it bother you if I did?”

  She was silent a moment. It was too dark to see her face, but he avoided her eyes anyway.

  “I’m not sorry they were killed,” she said finally. “But if you had done it, I think what would bother me would be the danger you put yourself in.”

  “I used to kill people for a living,” he said.

  “That was different.”

  “No, that was dangerous.”

  They walked half a block without saying another word. They reached an intersection, it was clear, and they crossed.

  “You did, didn’t you?” she asked quietly.

  He didn’t answer directly.

  “Erika Sebring came to see Birgitt the other day,” he said.

  “Erika Sebring? The news reporter?”

  “Yeah. You remember her?”

  “Of course. She interviewed my dad several times. I saw on the computer that she’s back in town. She was missing for years.”

  “She told Birgitt that Jacquje is dead.”

  Valyn stopped walking and turned to him. She placed a hand on his arm.

  “Erik, I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. “I think we already knew it, but it’s good to know that she’s not a slave somewhere.”

  Valyn hugged him, and he pressed his face into her silky blond hair. They turned and resumed walking.

  “Give me some more names, Valyn.”

  “What?” She looked startled.

  “You see the names every day. You see what they’ve done. You know which ones deserve to die. Just give me the worst ones; there’s no way I can get them all, but I can punish the worst ones and throw a little fear into the others.”

  Valyn placed a hand over her face, then made the Sign of the Cult.

  “Oh, dear goddess!” she whispered. “It’s true!”

  “What? What’s true?”

  Her breath came rapidly now as adrenaline surged into her blood. Her breath frosted the air in a fog.

  “The priestess asked me about you,” she said.

  “When?”

  “Just a few minutes ago. She wanted to see you.”

  He frowned. “What for?”

  “She had a message for you. She quoted that passage again, and told me to tell you to go and fulfill your destiny. I didn’t know what she was talking about, but now I do.”

  “I still don’t know what the hell she’s talking about.”

  “It’s you, Erik. It’s you. You are the Sword of Sophia!”

  The sword of Sophia went forth and slew many, and the invader was sore vexed. But the sword was broken, and the faithful wept.

  —The Scroll of Sophia, Passage 137:5-6

  Book Three: The Sword of Sophia

  Chapter 19

  Monday, 17 March 0200 (PCC) – Reina, Vega 3

  FADE IN

  INT – ROYAL HOLO NEWS ANCHOR DESK – EVENING

  Kelly Nobel sits at the anchor desk gazing directly at camera. She is young, sexy, blond, and struggling to look bright. If the beauty of Vegan women can be rated from one to ten, she is easily a nine. Her stunning face, however, is eclipsed by the amount of cleavage she is showing.

  Kelly Nobel

  Good evening. Reina Constabulary and Sirian Elite Guards are investigating the latest in a string of murders that began late last month. Three more victims have been discovered over the weekend, running the known body count to eleven. From the scene of the latest grim discovery, Erika Sebring reports.

  CUT TO

  EXT – SOPHIA TOWERS APARTMENT BUILDING – EVENING

  Erika Sebring looks sharp even in a heavy overcoat. Behind her, whirling colored lights flicker against the apartment tower and uniforms mill about.

  Erika Sebring

  Kelly, residents of Sophia Towers called authorities a couple of hours ago after hearing screams from an apartment suite on the third floor. When constables arrived they found the entrance unlocked and a dead man lying on the floor.

  (a beat)

  As usual, constables and the SE refuse to release any details of the killing, but RHN has learned that the victim, identified as 44 year-old Charlie Cooper, is a Sirian citizen, a civilian contractor who oversees a construction crew for Confederate military projects. He has been on Vega a little over two years.

  (grimly)

  While authorities will not speculate whether the killings are related, this is the eleventh known homicide victim found over the last three weeks, leading many to believe a serial killer is on the loose. So far all the victims have been male, most have been single, and all have been over forty years of age.

  (a beat)

  From Sophia Towers in downtown Reina, this is Erika Sebring.

  FADE OUT

  * * *

  The SE conference room was a bright, attractive room with a nice view across the center of the city from the twenty-fifth floor. A pale winter sun shone through the tinted windows, dissipating the gloom that had hovered over Reina for the last month. For once, the sky was clear and the city sparkled under a layer of frost.

  The atmosphere inside the room was less sparkling. Col. Paul Royer, commanding all SE forces in Reina, was livid. His subordinate officers sat around the conference table—Capt. Croswell, Lt. Rice, and Maj. Marlow. A pot of coffee rested in the center of the table; everyone but Royer had a cup at hand.

  “I want to know who gave authority for that newscast!” Royer demanded, his jaw muscles clenched. “We’re going to have a goddamn panic
on our hands!”

  “I cleared the story, Colonel,” Capt. Croswell said cautiously. “It only seemed—”

  “All by yourself?” Royer snarled. “You didn’t clear it with me first?”

  “He brought it to me,” Brandon Marlow said. “I backed his decision.”

  Royer glared at Marlow for a moment, wavering. Marlow was only a major, but he was popular with SE High Command; he had a war record, and Royer did not.

  “I wish you had checked with me,” he said, backing off a little.

  “I would have, sir, but the story was timely. Colonel, we feel the public needs to know this guy is out there. We kept the details to a minimum.”

  “Why do we give a fuck if the public knows? Why do we even care what this guy is doing?”

  “Colonel, most of the men he’s killing are part of our pilot program, the guys who signed up for Sirianization. Every time he kills one of them we’re losing data. The public doesn’t have a clue about any of this, but we think the others in the program need to be alerted, so they can take precautions.”

  “The latest victim was a Confederate citizen.”

  “Yes, sir. But nine of the victims were in the program.”

  “All right, the damage is done. The public has been warned, so let that be the end of it. No more reporting on this, am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir. That was our plan. There’s something else, Colonel.”

  “What’s that?”

  Brandon Marlow sighed. “Sir, this last victim was holding three Vegan girls in his apartment. Little girls, around ten or eleven. They’ve already been returned to their parents, so the word is going to leak out.”

  Royer turned purple. “Why were they released?” he roared.

  “The neighbors had already seen them. The Constabulary got there ahead of the SE, and they didn’t secure the girls before the neighbors saw them. At that point it was too late.”

  “God damn it!” Royer breathed heavily to control his rage. “Did the girls see the killer?”

  “No, sir. They were locked in a bedroom until the constables let them out.”