by Isaac Hooke
“I’m not coming until you tell me who you are,” she told the newcomer.
The man hesitated, then raised his hands to lower the black hood.
He was square-jawed, with an aristocratic chin and high cheekbones. He had a shaven head.
She recognized him instantly. He had been in the very first flashback she’d ever had, while observing the Parliament Building through Gizmo’s camera feed. In her memory, he’d been wearing a golden medallion around his neck, above white robes, with a red, tasseled rope girthing his waist.
Do not fail me in this task, my Dagger, the man had said to her in the memory.
Seeing the recognition in her eyes, he nodded, and lifted his hood once more. Then he turned around and entered the thin passageway beyond.
She’d looked up images of Khrusos, so she knew this wasn’t him. But was he truly a friend, like he claimed?
The incoming plasma attacks made up her mind for her.
“Follow him!” she said.
She remained in place, holding off the attacks while the Wardenites crawled past her one-by-one into the passageway that had opened.
When the last of them had gone through, she backed inside after them, and the door automatically sealed behind her.
10
The door behind Rhea began to glow red in the center from the impacts it was taking on the other side, and she quickly backed away. As she moved farther away from it, more doors began to seal behind her, further fortifying the passageway and ensuring the escape of her and her companions.
She spun around to face the forward direction. The roof of the corridor was low, almost brushing the heads of the taller members of the party and wasn’t any wider than the employees-only passageway she’d just left, so that she and her companions were forced to travel in single file. She gazed past the Wardenites.
“Where are we?” Rhea asked, projecting her voice toward the black-robed man who guided them.
“The secret underground passages of Hongton,” the man at the fore announced. “The robots cannot come here. They’re programming won’t allow it.”
“Doesn’t seem to stop them from firing at the wall…” Will commented.
In the distance, the corridor was dark, but overhead lights activated in turn as motion sensors detected the advance.
“Who made this?” Horatio asked.
“The Martian government designed this place for its officials, in case of an attack,” the man explained. “It connects all the major government buildings and leads to a series of underground bunkers. I’ve coopted one of them for us.”
“Won’t the city’s AI know we’re here?” Rhea asked. “Considering the robots watched us enter…”
“It will know,” the man agreed. “However, it will not reveal this knowledge to anyone. This is part of its programming and is meant to prevent betrayal in the event the city falls. Would you want the AI of your city capable of revealing your hiding place to the enemy? You’ll also notice there are no cameras in these halls. No one knows we’re here, and the only way we’ll be discovered is if we stay here long enough to encounter the weekly inspectors. That gives us a few days.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Will said. “If I was part of the city’s security operation, and I knew the AI wouldn’t report on anyone who fled into the underground tunnel system, this would be the first place I’d look.”
“Yes, except no humans are part of the city’s security team,” the man said. “Everything is handled by machines. It’s the law here, in fact: robots are impartial, and can’t be bribed or otherwise corrupted. They’re the perfect law enforcement officers. There are, of course, a handful of party officials who know about these tunnels, and they’ll put two and two together. It’s possible they might even come looking for us in here. But since they can’t bring any robot bodyguards with them, I doubt it. More likely they’ll send in bounty hunters, of a cyborg ilk. And we may have to face such bounty hunters at some point, this is true. Or these party officials might simply decide that we’re better off left alone. I suppose we’ll see. It really depends on how long we intend to stay here.”
“Where are you taking us?” Rhea asked.
“A safe place,” the man replied. “Somewhere less claustrophobic, where we can talk.”
The group continued through the tight corridor, which occasionally turned right or left ninety degrees. Side passages began to branch off, but their guide ignored them, at least at first. Finally, he turned down one such passage, and took stairs down into darkness. Overhead lights kicked in when the motion sensors detected them.
The stairs opened into a wide room. Lights activated, revealing an auditorium of sorts. Seats were set in neat rows along a sloping floor to a stage below.
The steps continued downward, forming an aisle between the seats. The robed man started to lead them down this walkway.
Rhea glanced at Horatio. “Keep watch in the corridor outside.”
Horatio nodded, then climbed back up the stairs and out of the room.
Meanwhile, she and the others followed the robed man to the stage.
He beckoned toward the chairs. “Have a seat.”
The man crossed the stage, sitting behind a desk next to a podium.
Rhea and her companions seated themselves in the first row next to the stage.
“So, what now?” Brinks asked.
“Now he’s going to tell us who he is,” Rhea said.
From behind his desk, the man glanced at the Wardenites in turn. “Are you sure you want to do this here, in front of your companions? Perhaps we should ask them to leave, for a little while.”
“They are in my deepest confidence,” Rhea said. “They’ve been with me through thick and thin. Anything you say to me, they deserve to hear.”
He pursed his lips, then: “My name is Burhawk. I am your mentor. I trained you to be what you are.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And what am I?”
Burhawk stared into her eyes, unblinking. “President Khrusos’ most skilled assassin. At least you were, once. He sent you to dispatch his greatest enemies. You helped him consolidate his power.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Rhea said. “Considering I’m a hated Ganymedean.”
“He captured you when you came to Earth with the others of your moon,” Burhawk said. “Like the remaining prisoners of war, he wiped your mind. But when it became obvious you still retained certain fighting skills and abilities, despite the wipe, he assigned you to me. And I trained you as an assassin.”
“I don’t believe it,” Rhea said.
“Why do you think you have muscle memory for swords and throwing knives, and all the acrobatic skills an assassin might need?” Burhawk nodded at the weapons that hung from her hips. “Did you have the same muscle memory for those pistols, or did you have to learn them from scratch?”
She didn’t answer, but he did have a point. She remembered the countless hours spent training on the pistol, whereas she had needed no training whatsoever for the X2-59. She instinctively knew how to use the bladed weapon.
“That’s only because I’m a Ganymedean warrior,” Rhea said. “We have weapons that are similar.”
Burhawk nodded. “Your Ban’Shar. But still, think about it: how similar is an X2-59 to the energy weapon that is the Ban’Shar? The weight and feel are completely different. The former has some actual heft in your palm—you can feel its position even with your eyes closed. Whereas the latter is almost weightless, and if you’re not keeping track of its every movement, you’re liable to slice off one of your own limbs.
“I’m the one who trained you on the bladed weapons. That has nothing to do with your warrior heritage. Why blades? Well, for one thing, we didn’t have access to Ban’Shar. For another, you were an assassin. Swords and throwing daggers are the assassin’s weapons, easily forged from common metals after entering a city. This allowed you to subvert the weapons ban common to most big cities and settlements. As a former Ganymedea
n warrior, it was easy enough for you to adapt; you took to the sword readily, as the forms were similar to what you learned wielding the Ban’Shar, even if the weight was drastically different. It took me only a few weeks to turn you from Ganymedean warrior into Khrusos’ personal killing machine.”
“So this is why she called me the Dagger of Khrusos,” Rhea said. “Veil.”
“That would be why,” Burhawk agreed.
Rhea cocked her head. “If you’re my mentor, someone who trained me to be the Dagger of Khrusos, doesn’t that mean you serve him?”
“I do, or I did,” Burhawk agreed. “But I’m retired now. You’re part of the reason of that retirement, in fact.”
She waited for him to explain, but when he didn’t, she told him: “In the hallway outside the secret tunnel, when I told you I wanted to get to the palace, you said I would die. I responded that I could take on an entire army. And then you claimed I said that ‘the last time.’ What last time?”
“You tried to kill Khrusos,” Burhawk said. “It’s a long story.”
Rhea gestured toward the empty auditorium. “We have time.”
“Some.” He leaned back in his chair on the stage and set his palms down on the table. “We wiped your mind. We filled the void with very specific indoctrinations, training you not only to be an assassin, but to follow the orders of Khrusos without question. Your every quiet moment was spent reflecting on how grateful and devoted to Khrusos you were. Despite all of this, eventually Khrusos began to lose control. Eventually, some of your memories began to come back.
“It started little by little at first, as sometimes happens to those who have been wiped. Everyone’s brains are wired slightly different after all, so it’s not guaranteed the wipe will catch every memory, especially for someone like you, a Ganymedean: you’re part of a human population that has lived away from Earth long enough to have evolved almost into an entirely separate sub-species. So it’s not surprising the wipe didn’t entirely take.
“These memories were triggered by certain sights and smells, and slowly, over thirty years, you finally put together who you were. You kept it to yourself, hiding it from even me. But then you reached a tipping point. I don’t know what it was, you never told me. It could’ve been something Khrusos said to you, or some memory that triggered. Whatever the case, you tried to assassinate him for it. And failed.
“That was when he ordered your destruction. You fled to Earth in a shuttle craft. But his men caught up with you, boarding your vessel before you could land. You fought bravely against those who came to take you in, but eventually succumbed. You fell, hurtling from the craft, your body shattered, plunging into a canyon. I was there, watching in my own craft inside that canyon: Khrusos ordered me to witness your death. But when you fell into that rocky defile, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I didn’t have the heart to let you die. Though I called you Dagger, you had become the daughter I never had. So I accelerated and managed to scoop the remnants of your body out of the air with my craft. Then I fled, undetected by the others.
“I reported to Khrusos that you were slain, your body lost in the canyon. He ordered me to find it. I ignored that order, and instead hid you. When I could not produce your body, Khrusos informed me that I no longer was in his employ. When I returned to Mars, I was never to set foot in the presidential palace again. That was fine with me. I had grown weary of this work. In any case, back to you… you were unconscious after the fight. I stabilized you as much as I was able, and arranged another memory wipe, because I knew that otherwise you would only return to try again. When it was done, I destroyed the robot that applied the wipe, then I set you down in the ruins next to the closest city, near a pair of salvagers I’d sighted in the area. When they took you, and I saw that you were safe, I departed.”
Rhea stared at him for several moments after he finished. “So you’re the one who wiped my mind? When I was unconscious, and basically dying, my body ripped to shreds…”
“It was for your own protection, and frankly I shouldn’t have bothered, because here you are,” he said. “I thought I’d have at least another thirty years before you arrived. I was wrong. I’ve been following your career closely, ever since you made a name for yourself in that Hydra attack. I’ve even tried to help you, now and again, so I suppose it’s not surprising that you’d find your way here so quickly.”
Her brow furrowed. “Help me? How?”
“Do you remember, when you penetrated city hall, a lone drone dropped a pistol to you?” Burhawk said. “And then, when you were scheduled to be chipped by the mayor, your binds magically opened? That was me, in both cases.”
“So that’s who it was…” she said.
“Yes,” he told her. “Just as I’m helping you now, by stopping you from continuing down this path.”
Rhea studied him. “Except you can’t stop me. I have to see Khrusos. I need to make him understand I won’t have his assassins hunting me down for the rest of my life.”
“It’s not Khrusos who wants you assassinated,” Burhawk said offhandedly.
“What?” she said, sitting up. “Of course it is.”
“No, you’re mistaken,” Burhawk insisted. “My contacts in the palace tell me he was amused more than anything else when you first cropped up in the slums outside Aradne. Imagine that, his Dagger had become the Warden, Defeater of Hydras, Protector of Rust Town. According to my sources, he was no longer angry at your betrayal, and wanted you back. I’m not sure what he planned… keep in mind, he doesn’t know you’ve been wiped. Perhaps he intended to mind-jack you.
“Either way, I believe he expected you to return of your own accord, at the very least to try killing him again. But when you didn’t, I think he grew impatient, and ordered your arrest to accelerate the process. He might have thought he was protecting you as well, because I’m sure he’s heard about the attempts on your life by now.”
“So wait,” Rhea said. “You’re certain he didn’t place a bounty on my head?”
“I am,” Burhawk told her. “I’m good friends with the man who took over my position as Liaison to Assassins. He assures me Khrusos has laid no bounties on your head. Personally, I believe the president regretted his hasty decision to have you executed in the first place. He often spoke of you fondly, so I can imagine he misses you.”
“So, if it wasn’t Khrusos, then who is it that wants me killed?” Rhea asked.
Burhawk shrugged. “You’ve always been hunted by assassins. Since the day you started working for Khrusos you became a target.”
She shook her head. “Well, this was all great and everything, but I still need to talk to Khrusos.”
“Why?”
“First of all, I want to see if I can convince him to sign a deal with the Europans for access to Ganymede’s water,” she said. “Second of all, I want to know why I turned on him. Why I tried to kill him. Unless you can tell me.”
“Ah.” Burhawk smiled sadly. “As I said, I don’t know. You fled after your failed assassination attempt, and when I found you, you were unconscious. I decided your reasons didn’t matter, since I would be wiping your mind shortly anyway. It would also prevent me from having to lie to you if you ever confronted me about it, like just now. But if Khrusos tells you, it will only make you want to kill him all over again. You know that, don’t you?”
She stared at him for several moments, then tapped her chin. “You said I was captured when I came to Earth with others from Ganymede. What was my original mission?”
“That I don’t know,” Burhawk replied. “Only Khrusos can tell you that.”
“There you go,” she said. “Another reason why I must see him.”
Burhawk sighed. “Obstinate, stubborn Dagger.” He spat the words as if he was cursing. “Well, if you’re really intent on doing this, then at least accept my guidance.”
“You’re going to betray your former boss?” she asked.
“What he’s doing to Earth, what’s he’s done…” Burhawk sho
ok his head. “No one deserves to maintain power after such atrocities. He led us into a war we could not win and gave up when the water could have been ours. He’s a fraud. A sham. I used to idolize him. I realize how misguided I was. I stayed on, serving him all these years, only because I hoped the Khrusos I had met in my youth would return. But he’s long gone, replaced by the twisted, power hungry thing that now sits on the High Council. He will doom Earth. By the time he dismissed me, I was more than ready to go. This is why I will help you. Why I have helped you.”
“So, it’s settled then,” she said. “You will visit Khrusos. And you will help me.”
Burhawk stood up. “I will help you. But bring your Ban’Shar. One of you will die during the meeting.”
“We’ll see,” she said. “I’ll need to know what sort of defenses Khrusos has at his disposal in the palace. I’ll also need to know where he is, inside.”
“It’s not hard to find him,” Burhawk said. “He’s essentially taken over the entire palace. The Martian Paramount Leader doesn’t even live there anymore. As for defenses, I’ll tell you what I know. But before we do any of this, there’s someone else I want you to meet, first. Someone who might change your mind.”
11
Rhea followed Burhawk and the others through the winding corridors of the secret underground passageway. He paused next to a storeroom containing several black robes. He distributed them to the party.
“Put these on,” he said.
Rhea swapped her existing hooded cloak for the robe, and let the hood hang low over her head. The others likewise donned the fabrics.
“Disable your comm nodes,” he said. “That way there’s no chance of your IDs being scanned. Oh and, wear the hoods of the robes low, like your Warden and myself. After your little scuffle at the terminal, the city’s AI will be watching for your faces.”
“Won’t we stand out, wearing these?” Will asked as he raised his hood. “Unless everyone dresses this way.”