by Adams, P R
The surly mercenary took another step forward. “How’d you know—”
“Your last name, Mr. Kofex? Or your family? Both? Hm?” The bald man snorted. “I have the best security available.”
The door to the office opened, and a man in immaculate uniform stepped through. He had fashionably cut black hair and steely gray eyes. His posture was stiff, his back straight. The only thing about his face that wasn’t perfectly proportioned was his nose, which seemed to be slightly askew. It had the look of something recently mangled and reassembled as best as money could manage. “Did someone call for a security expert?”
Riyun froze. His heart pounded in his ears.
Beraga chuckled. “Why, actually, I did call for a security expert. Mr. Molliro, I assume I don’t need to introduce you?”
The immaculately uniformed man sneered. “Riyun and I go way back, don’t we?”
It was almost impossible for Riyun to breathe at that moment, staring at the one who had ruined his career. “We do, Major.”
13
Fury warred with nausea as heat shot through Riyun’s chest. Where there had been fresh, clean air a moment before, now there was the sharp scent of a beast, a man who wrecked lives without regard. A malevolent killer concerned only with his career and status.
The office was big but open, the distance easily crossed. Instinct told Riyun to pull his knife and hack Kozmut down right then. There could never be anything good associated with the man. The fear in Quil’s eyes and the growl from Lonar only made things worse.
Beraga clapped his hands together, shattering the momentary silence. “Ozkyr doesn’t go by rank anymore, do you?”
After a second, Kozmut shook his head slightly.
Everything seemed so far away to Riyun. “How are you, Ozkyr?”
“Doing well, thank you.”
“I had no idea the market for competent security officers was so tight.”
Kozmut flashed a thin smile. “Well, you do seem to have found a job.”
Beraga guffawed again. “I knew you two would hit it off. So, no need for introductions, as I expected. Mr. Kozmut here runs my entire security apparatus, and he does a splendid job. Truly splendid. Everything is crisp and sharp and on time.”
“Thank you, Mr. Beraga. It has been my pleasure.”
Cold sweat dampened Riyun’s upper lip. He had known this was coming from the second he’d seen the apartments—apartments that had been cleaned and organized as if by robot. All his instincts had told him Kozmut was involved.
And he wasn’t going by “Major.” So, even Beraga had limits with his influence. That was surprising; the guild certainly seemed open to external influences. Then again, maybe Kozmut had burned bridges no amount of money could repair.
The unit that looks sharp, fights sharp.
And commits atrocities, even if there’s never any record of them.
But the man knew organization and order. He had to be credited for that. It defined the world for him. He had no business being in war, especially the never-ending Acquisition Wars, yet he’d leveraged his connections and family for a title. There was no telling how many mercenaries had died under his incompetent leadership.
Or how many innocents had been butchered.
And considering all that, he seemed an odd fit for Beraga’s operation. Didn’t he consider himself a self-made man? Wouldn’t a Silver who only succeeded thanks to blood connections run counter to that?
Apparently not.
Riyun shoved his bunched-up hands into the pockets of his duster. “You running the tour, Ozkyr?”
Beraga put a hand on Riyun’s shoulder. “Actually, he will need to accompany us, but I’d prefer to be the one to show you around. This is, after all, my design. All of it. Did you know that?”
“I think I saw somewhere that you sketched it all out.”
“More than sketched. From first sketch to final specs—all me.”
“You must be proud.”
“Like any father would be.” Beraga beamed.
He led them back to the elevator, pointing out offices as he went. “This is the C-suite—all of my senior executives. We couldn’t function without these people, could we, Ozkyr?”
Kozmut nodded. “They’re all involved in everything.”
“Yes. We’re one big team, and it’s the best team. I’ve hired the sharpest minds, Mr. Molliro. All of them.”
There was nothing for Riyun to do but nod. It was like Naru had said, Beraga had mindshare. He had momentum.
And he had money. Lots of money.
They breezed through the third, second, and first floors, at one point stopping long enough to give thumbprints to the nondisclosure agreement. It all seemed boilerplate: no discussing with anyone any of the things that were seen or heard within the compound. It wouldn’t hold up if they found a corpse, and that was all Riyun cared about.
Beraga took them to a different elevator on the ground floor. “The most interesting things we do here happen…” He pointed down to the floor, then the mischievous smile returned. “This is what Zabila worked on with me.”
Worked. Past tense.
Riyun glanced back at Javika. She’d drifted to the back of the group as the tour had proceeded. Her long coat was open, and as she walked, the graceful assassin surreptitiously hooked one side of the coat behind the hilt of her sword. There would be no surprising her. Whoever had killed Dachul—maybe even all four of the investigators—would find no easy target with Riyun’s team.
Well, except for Naru. She was awestruck, staring at the walls, the equipment, and Beraga. At least Tawod seemed to notice, once or twice tapping her shoulder and muttering something to her that brought her back around.
The elevator door opened, revealing a large car with scrapes and scratches. It was the first true indication of any real work being done inside the compound.
Beraga stepped inside and waved for them to follow. “I think you’ll be quite entertained by what you’re about to see.”
It was a tight squeeze, with Riyun pressed between Javika and Symbra on one side of the car and Lonar squeezed into the back corner. Kozmut had never been one for human contact, but he seemed under control if uncomfortable. Maybe it was being pressed against his boss that made it all okay.
After a few seconds, the door opened, and Beraga stepped out onto a metal walkway. “Hurry.”
Riyun didn’t need any encouragement for that. The elevator had felt like a trap. All he could think about during the ride was plunging to the bottom of the shaft. Fortunately, the metal walkway was sturdy, providing a sense of security the elevator couldn’t. Heavy rails guarded the walkway from an open area far below. Riyun tested the feel of those rails, then leaned out enough to see the floor more clearly.
Beraga joined him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
It was, if you enjoyed a more industrial aesthetic. Riyun pointed to what looked like a reinforced concrete wall with a heavy-gauge steel door in the middle. “Is that a reactor?”
“I see I’m not the only one with a research team.” The businessman sounded slightly peeved.
“You’re not drawing anywhere near the amount of power a place like this should.”
“We are extremely efficient. But yes, that’s a reactor. A very special one.” The bald man nodded to his left, where stairs led to the floor below. “I assume you’re not interested in meeting the creatives who work up here in the offices. A man like you would only come here for one thing: Wholesale Fantasy.”
“Wholesale fantasy?”
Hirvok peered over the railing. “That like that one brothel you liked—”
Riyun shot a warning look at his second. “What is ‘wholesale fantasy,’ Mr. Beraga?”
The bald man strolled toward the stairs with an impish stride. “It’s easier to show what it is than to describe.”
Kozmut hesitated at Riyun’s side, eyes tracking the wealthy businessman as he descended. “He’s a showman. You should let him have his
fun.”
What kind of show did the billionaire have in mind? Riyun caught a look from Javika: The assassin was ready for anything.
Anything. If one person could claim such a thing, it was her.
He headed down the stairs, quickly closing on Beraga, who had turned once he reached the floor. There was another reinforced concrete wall opposite the reactor, but this wall had a blue glass door instead of heavy steel. The hallway continued on where the two reinforced walls ended, hooking left and out of sight, toward the beach.
When Beraga stopped in front of the semi-transparent blue door, he turned to Riyun. “Do you enjoy games, Mr. Molliro? I’ve heard you’re a stick in the mud.”
“I can’t say that I do.” Riyun couldn’t make out anything beyond the blue door, except what might be a short corridor and another door beyond. “When your life is full of violence, entertainment can be hard to find.”
Beraga’s fingers tapped at the air, as if he were manipulating a keyboard. He was wired, like Naru, unless he was wearing some sort of virtual reality contact lenses. “I believe you need to find a way to relax in life.”
“When people live hand to mouth, it’s hard to relax.”
A loud hum preceded the door rolling aside with a hiss. Cool air rushed out, followed by a strangely humid, warm gust that reminded Riyun of jungle operations he’d conducted. Those had been some of the worst, some of the most miserable and bloody. Was it possible Beraga had done enough research to know all the horrible memories tied to those times in Riyun’s life? It wasn’t something Kozmut would know. He couldn’t.
The executive smirked and waved to the corridor beyond, where another blue glass door waited. “You still with me, Mr. Molliro?”
Riyun wasn’t sure he’d ever been with Beraga. That was the work of the Golgar Portals, still clouding the lieutenant’s memories, mixing them with reality. He glanced back at his team and took confidence in the solidity of their presence. They had their armor, they had their weapons, and they had their years of experience together.
Most of them. Symbra had experience of her own. And Tawod.
Was it time to send Naru out? She was taking everything in with wide-eyed fascination, but…
Riyun advanced to the second door. “I’m here.”
The executive repeated his VR ritual, and the second door opened. Beyond it was a huge, open room. The walls were solid glass—the same blue as the doors and executive offices on the fourth floor. Air recyclers droned, but the steaming jungle humidity remained.
Or was it being pumped in? Was the executive trying to provoke something?
Riyun could almost hear the strange animal sounds from dark trees strung with vines. To his right, a handful of people in white biohazard suits lifted bodies onto gurneys, leaving behind dark pools of blood.
Blood? Bodies?
He pivoted around to Beraga. “What in the Hollow Hills is going on here?”
In answer, Beraga strolled toward the people in biohazard suits. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
The slender businessman picked up what looked like an oversized walking stick, something Riyun hadn’t even noticed before. The thing was thicker than a cane and had intricate designs carved into its surface. There were gems embedded in it.
Beraga held it over his head with one hand. “Behold, bow before me! For I am power!” He turned to one of the people strapping bodies to the gurneys. “Isn’t that right?”
The person stroked the chin of their facemask, smearing blood on the clear plastic. “I-I think there’s something about incarnate power?”
“Right! For I am power incarnate!”
The bloody-masked person nodded vigorously. “That’s it!”
Beraga guffawed, then leaned the strange staff against one of the gurneys. “It’s a great line. Corny and campy. It’s just what people want!”
Riyun casually made his way to the far wall, each booted step echoing off the glass. He could barely make out stone or possibly dirt on the other side. He turned to his left and looked above, suddenly realizing there was a section of clear glass about twenty feet up, and beyond that were people in lab coats. Most of them seemed preoccupied with tablets or conversations he couldn’t hear, but a few looked down on the room with sour glares, shadowed by two globes of bright light attached to the wall behind them.
The rest of the squad filtered in. Quil seemed to be the first to catch on to the room of technicians above; he looked down disapprovingly. Lonar glared at the biohazard people, slowly bunching his hands into fists before relaxing them. Javika separated from Symbra and Hirvok, who seemed focused on the door. Naru hovered at Tawod’s side, muttering.
Riyun got the hacker’s attention and pointed to the watching men.
After a couple seconds, the young woman shrugged.
Big help.
Javika followed Riyun’s eyes from the gurneys to the observation wall above. “A flagrant display of violence seems bold.”
He had to strain to catch her words. He leaned in. “Something’s going on.”
“Other than murder?”
“That stick.” Riyun nodded at the staff. “Zabila had something like that in her apartment—a wand, about this long.” He held his hands wide enough to indicate the size of the wand.
“Many young women have such things. There is no need for a man.”
“What?” Riyun blushed. “No, like that. Carved and with jewels in it.”
“There are many designs—”
“No. Stop that. I’m telling you it wasn’t like that.”
Beraga turned toward them, once again beaming. “Well? What do you think?”
Riyun’s eyes stayed locked on the gurneys as they were wheeled out. “About murder?”
“Murder?” The bald man turned toward the gurneys, which were almost out of sight. “Ah! The avatars?”
“Avatars?”
“Simulacra. Agents.” He stepped around a pool of blood and dramatically walked toward them. “You don’t think we would risk human lives, do you?”
“I don’t know what you would do, Mr. Beraga. But as far as I do know, five people associated with your company in some way have disappeared. Or died.”
Beraga frowned. “That’s a dangerous accusation, Mr. Molliro.”
“Are you saying you had nothing to do with Aliat Dachul’s death?”
“Aliat Dachul is dead?” Beraga blinked. He seemed sincerely confused. “When did that happen?”
“Sometime in the last three days.”
“I see. That is very unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate? A man is dead.”
Beraga waved Riyun’s words away, irritated. “We have a very clear policy here at Total Rewrite, Mr. Molliro: Do no evil. We believe strongly in those words.”
“What about those simulacra?”
“Hm?” The bald man blinked again, then realization seemed to settle in. “The sim—” He guffawed. “They’re not human. Simulacra. We create them here in the facility. They’re part of the game. You’ll see soon enough.”
“The game?”
“Wholesale Fantasy. What Zabila was working on with me. Remember? Isn’t that why you came to talk to me? Or do you really believe Yola?”
“Believe…” Was Beraga going mad? “Yola Tromon wants her daughter back.”
“Oh, that’s rich. Yola Tromon wants my technology. She’s like everyone else, out to steal what it’s taken me nearly a decade to create. Zabila knew that. She didn’t approve.”
Knew. Past tense. Again.
Riyun thought for a moment he was caught in a dream, something remaining from traveling through the Golgar Portal. “Let me get this straight: You want me to believe I just saw your people dragging off robots. And—”
“Not robots, simulacra.”
“Fine. Simulacra. And you expect me to believe Zabila Tromon told you her mother wanted to steal your technology?”
Beraga let out a slow, annoyed sigh. “Ozkyr had warned me you can be a little
dim, but I had hoped…”
“Maybe you could enlighten me.” Riyun nodded toward Javika. “Maybe you could enlighten all of us.”
The bald man’s eyes jumped from one person to the next. He seemed to be calculating something. “You did sign the nondisclosure agreement.”
“Which means nothing if murder is involved.”
“It’s hardly murder.” Beraga glanced up at the observation wall. “Can you project the primary reality?” He pointed to the wall behind Riyun. “Just let them see.”
One of the sour-faced men who had been watching everything from on high glowered but stepped away.
Beraga waved Riyun and Javika away from the wall and pointed to a spot on the floor. “Here. Away from the sim blood.”
Riyun stood on one side of the bald man, while the Biwali warrior took the other side. Kozmut was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he didn’t like Beraga’s show.
Light flickered within the glass, which gave off an inexplicable warmth. For an instant, Riyun seemed to be looking into the guts of an alien structure full of pulsing lights and shapes. It felt like his hair stood on end, and he thought he could taste one of his father’s stews.
And then the glass changed, replaced by…
It was like standing in a clearing in a dense forest. Thick-trunked trees were off to the left and right, and straight ahead, smaller trees thinned out, until there was only a grassy plain. Overhead, the sky was a cerulean blue, filled with puffy white clouds. Somewhere in the distance, it sounded like a waterfall, mixed in with unfamiliar birdsong and animal calls. The jungle-like smell flooded in.
“How—?” Riyun took a step toward the clearing.
Beraga chuckled. “The game, Mr. Molliro.”
The image faded, taking with it the moist heat and earthy smell of the woods.
Silence fell.
Riyun ran a gloved finger over the glass. Once again, there was stone or sand or dirt or some sort of machinery beyond—not a forest.