by Wesley Chu
For the past two years, the two had struggled for control of the global Bio Comm Array initiative, one of the most important projects on the Genjix docket. What she had lacked in resources she had more than made up for in small victory after small victory, slowly whittling away the oligarch’s once-vast advantages. Now the two of them stood at nearly equal standing. It was only a matter of time before she marginalized his diminishing power, seized control of the global array and took her rightful place on the Council.
Shura raised her glass of Côte de Beaune to her lips and leaned against the railing overlooking the metropolis’s vast sprawl. Hong Kong was an interesting city. Her gaze followed the constant hive of activity flowing through the streets like blood coursing through veins, the curved buildings that could be mistaken for gargantuan organs, and the many bridges that linked them together. The city was a living, breathing being, not unlike how she envisioned the Holy Ones’ home world looked.
She could just make out the ocean at the tip of the horizon. The last time she had been here, Shura’s division of Genjix soldiers had evacuated the coast just three hours before a Prophus orbital barrage had leveled the southern half of the city. After humanity had lost its appetite for war, the Genjix and Prophus had once again moved their conflict into the shadows.
The Genjix had not only rebuilt the broken parts of Hong Kong, but done so in the image of their home world Quasar. The scars of the Alien World War were now healed with fresh new skyscrapers towering out of the ruins of the devastated island.
For Shura, it was a symbol of what the world was and what it would be once the Genjix fulfilled this planet’s destiny. The northern part of the metropolis, untouched by the war and molded by human hands, was an unsightly cluster of rectangular structures randomly shooting up into the sky like broken jagged teeth. Each building was its own noisy entity begging for attention. There was little symmetry, beauty or flow to those districts, and movement through them was inefficient and messy.
The southern half of the city, the region remade in the image of the Holy Ones, appeared organic, alive. Buildings rose gracefully into the sky, fitting together like tall blades of grass on the plains, forming giant flowing waves like the currents of the Eternal Sea. Bridges spider-webbed hundreds of meters in the air while tunnels underground integrated everything like a giant ant farm. It was a beautiful and awe-inspiring display of divine technology and vision, an island in perfect harmony, a glimpse of the true potential that the Genjix could bring to this world. Before that paradise could manifest, however, the rest of this old world had to be burned away.
Kloos studied the screen wrapped around his forearm. “The dealer has reached the corner unit. They’ve temporarily moved out of camera range.”
“Are the rods with him?”
“Near the side wall. Three of Rurik’s operatives are verifying. He is currently threatening to gut the man for being late for their appointment.”
Shura smirked. “That will go over well with their negotiations. Are my cadres in place?”
“Second team is waiting in the room opposite Rurik’s. The rest are here awaiting your orders.”
Shura looked inside and saw half a dozen operatives in full combat gear standing at the ready. “How many are inside that penthouse?”
“The dealer brought four. Rurik has twenty.”
“Twenty bodyguards? In the heart of Genjix territory?” That man always did love bodyguards. Shura couldn’t risk smuggling this many operatives into the hotel without raising suspicions, but she was confident the element of surprise would even the odds.
Shura measured the air between the balconies and the sixty-story drop below. She drained the last of her wine and let the glass fall. “Very well. Let’s begin.”
The shift fell off her shoulders. An updraft caught it, and it fluttered away, dancing into the clear, blue sky. Kloos held up her one-piece armored suit. Shura slipped it on and pressed a small button at the base of her neck. The suit energized and shaped itself to her body. She refused the rifle Kloos offered, opting instead for her two modified handguns and a baton. The fighting, if it was to come to that, would be close-range.
After she was ready, Shura stepped onto the side railing. The rooms closer to the corner unit had unfortunately already been booked, and she didn’t want to raise any suspicion by leveraging her standing. Traversing the balconies of a skyscraper was not her preferred method of insertion, but it wasn’t the worst either. The two meters between the balconies was an easy jump, but the sixty stories down made things interesting. Especially on the second and third jumps.
Withdrawing her hand from the side of the building, she leaped. Her lead foot touched the railing on the other side, and then she gracefully stepped down to solid floor. She landed softly, one hand palming the floor, the other near her waist.
Two witnesses to your left.
She looked inside the room and saw a surprised young couple, eyes wide, staring back at her. The man was wearing his bathrobe and the woman held several shopping bags in her hands. In the near corner was a pile of gifts. They must have just gotten married at the hotel. How nice. The shopping bags fell from the woman’s hands, and she opened her mouth to cry out.
Shura blurred into action. As one reached for her handgun, the other pulled back the balcony door. She squeezed the trigger twice, carefully placing her shots. The silenced gun puffed twice: one military-engineered electrically charged chloroform pellet striking the woman in the leg, flipping her forward onto her face; the other to the man’s chest, knocking him back onto the bed. Shura reached for the chloroform wraps in her pocket and raced inside. The pellets themselves should get the job done within seconds, but she had to be extra careful neither honeymooner made any noise.
By the time Kloos and the rest of her cadre had extended a bridge and crossed over, both were unconscious and trussed. They would wake with harsh headaches and nasty lacerations from the non-lethal pellets, but they would have her mercy to thank.
“You’re too slow,” she quipped, heading back out to the balcony.
“You’re too quick,” he retorted. “You should let us do the heavy lifting.”
Shura shrugged and placed another foot on the railing, ready to make the next jump. “Try to keep up this time.”
Watch the wind!
That was a surprisingly harsh warning from Tabs, who in all their years together was consistently even-keeled. Unfortunately, the warning came too late. A strong gust crashed into Shura just as her foot left the railing, pushing her into the building. Her shoulders skimmed the wall and the friction soaked up much of her forward momentum, landing just short.
The toes on her lead foot caught the railing, but in this situation that didn’t count for much. Small errors a kilometer above ground made for grave mistakes. For a split second, she was falling through the gap between the balconies with nothing but an unceremonious and rather humiliating death waiting for her, one unbefitting a vessel of her standing. She just managed to snake a hand onto the railing to dangle precariously.
Steady your breath. Use the wall to walk back up.
Years of training and combat in life-and-death situations took over. Shura steadied her nerves, glanced once to the side and then swung her legs over, pushing off as soon as they touched the surface. Her other hand got a hold of the top of the railing and, with a quick graceful swing, she pulled herself over the side and fell to her knees in a not-so-graceful landing.
She took a deep breath. Panic was nothing more than a human response to stress, but just because she had learned to control and harness it did not mean she was impervious to its effects.
When Shura was done collecting herself, she looked up to see a wide-eyed little girl holding a ragdoll just on the other side of the door. Kloos landed behind her a second later. He noticed the girl and pulled out a chloroform wrap. Shura put a hand on his arm and shook her head. She moved a finger to her lips with her other hand and winked, giving the gi
rl a knowing smile. The little girl wrapped her arms around her doll tightly, nodded, and then wandered away from the window.
Shura rose to her feet and smacked him on the shoulder. “You can’t drug little girls!”
“Apologies, Adonis.” He did not sound apologetic at all. “The mission comes first.”
The rest of her cadre soon followed, crowding in a crouch on the balcony. Shura peered over the top and waited as the lone guard patrolling the corner balcony came into view. Fortunately, his attention was focused more on what was outside the building than to the side of it.
“Is the second team ready?” whispered Shura.
Kloos tapped the comm on his wrist and nodded. “Sixty seconds lead time. On your mark.”
Shura studied the lone guard’s movement as he meandered toward her. Her fingers drummed her thigh as anticipation surged through her body. Elder Mother at the Hatchery would be disappointed with her careless lack of body control, but Shura lived for this thrill.
She waited until the patrolling guard turned away, and then put one foot on the railing and leaped, clearing the gap in one quick motion before she was on top of him. A downward kick to the back of his knee dropped him to the ground. She put an arm around his neck and pulled him away from the glass doors while at the same time pushing a chloroform wrap over his mouth. The larger man fought back violently, twisting and throwing his elbow. Shura bent his neck at an awkward angle, cutting off his breathing, and held on tightly as his protests weakened. Once he went limp, she dropped him onto the floor and waved for the rest of her team to follow.
Shura glanced through the window at her perspective audience. “Start the timer. Two minutes.” She took out her compact and checked herself in the mirror.
Kloos frowned. “Is this an appropriate time, Adonis?”
“I haven’t seen my dear brother in over a year,” she remarked with an impish grin. “He needs to know how effortless it is to crush him.”
You are toying with your opponent again. It will be the death of you.
“It’s the small joys that make this dark world tolerable.”
Shura saw a cluster of shadows on the left side of the room, and one near the glass door. She calmed her breathing and then opened the sliding door, strolling into the corner penthouse as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She made it half a step before the nearest bodyguard gave a start and reached for his weapon. One of Rurik’s captains recognized her immediately and barked a warning to her associate, saving him from making a very foolish and fatal decision.
Shura stared the man down. “You should heed Nilaksh’s advice. She’s looking out for you.”
Nilaksh actually gave her a slight bow for the recognition. Being acknowledged by an Adonis vessel by name, even if it was someone considered a rival, improved her standing. Shura took note of the unknown bodyguard’s physical description and filed it to her memory, or rather Tabs did. Shura had a detailed dossier on every member of Rurik’s inner circle, from his allies, closest advisers and bodyguards to the landscapers at his Summer Palace in Saint Petersburg. It was this level of thoroughness that had allowed her to play chess to Rurik’s hopscotch.
The rest of the room, caught off-guard by her sudden appearance, swarmed with activity. Three to her right drew their weapons. Two moved between her and Rurik. Four backed away. One guard to her far left was trying to creep up on her from behind. The rest were just confused.
Shura held her ground, staring each of them down like only an Adonis could. Even if they did not know who she was, they must know what she was, and that made her invulnerable.
Tread carefully. You are severely bending the rules of the Hard Peace. The rules must be observed.
“Bend, not break,” she murmured under her breath. She flashed Rurik a smug smile. “I’m sorry, was I interrupting something? Brother, it has been too long. You look like you have seen better days.”
Indeed, Rurik looked tired. He had aged visibly over the past two years. His left arm was wrapped in a large cast that climbed all the way up to his shoulder, and he moved stiffly. What had he been up to lately?
Stop antagonizing him before he decides to risk shooting you. Countdown at ninety seconds.
Rurik, who was sitting opposite the arms dealer, rose to his feet. Shura noted the slight grimace as he stood. “You have some nerve, Shura. How dare you show your face here.”
“What is the meaning of this, Mr Melnichenko?” Shah, the arms dealer said. “Is this bitch with you?”
Shura filed the man’s words away. She would have to pay him back during negotiations.
“She’s an uninvited guest,” spat Rurik.
“As long as I’m a guest, one way or another,” said Shura cheerfully. “Excuse me, Shah. I believe you were discussing trading my dear brother Rurik several cases of catalyst reaction rods that you acquired from the IXTF. I have interest in those as well. Would you be open to multiple bidders?”
Shah was taken aback, and then took on a sly look. “I think we can come to an arrangement.”
“Absolutely not!” Rurik rounded on the arms dealer, going so far as to reach for his gun. Everyone else in the room drew their weapons and pointed them at each other. All except for Shura, who stood near the center, reveling in the chaos she was sowing.
Countdown thirty seconds.
“What’s the matter, Rurik?” she purred. “Afraid of a little competition?”
“I should just shoot you right now and deal with the consequences,” he snarled, swinging his gun back her way.
The bodyguard who had drawn on her – Shura believed his name was Halston, something like that – reached for his weapon again. This time, Shura was not so kind. Her arm shot out and trapped his hand to his body. Her other hand speared him once in the soft flesh of his throat and then she slammed his head into the wall.
“You should have listened to Nilaksh,” she growled.
Nilaksh got between her and the rest of Rurik’s men. “Put your guns down. The Hard Peace forbids this violence. Put your damn guns away, you fools.”
Her response was a tad too emphatic. Shura brushed her hair out of her face, stood up and then crossed her arms. “Now Shah, where were we? What is Rurik offering you?”
Rurik stabbed a finger in the air at her. “I won’t allow it. The Hard Peace may spare you from injury, but it has limits. Take the Adonis to the next room. If she resists, knock her unconscious.”
Five of Rurik’s bodyguards holstered their weapons and closed in on her. She noted that Nilaksh wasn’t one of them. Shura should consider recruiting the woman to her side after this mission.
None of them individually were a match for her, but five skilled Genjix operatives in an enclosed space was too much for any Adonis vessel to handle. Shura sidestepped the first bodyguard who tried to tackle her. She sliced him with an elbow across his temple. Another came from the side, grabbing her arm. He was rewarded with a punch to the mid-section, crumpling his body to the ground.
More hands pawed at her. They eventually smothered and managed to subdue her. Shura glanced around the room. Everyone was distracted, staring at her tussle as she got dragged down to the floor. Exactly as planned.
“Time, Tabs?”
Five seconds… now.
The front door exploded inward, and her second team poured in. Kloos and the first team simultaneously burst through the windows. Rurik’s guards, who were completely focused on her, were caught by surprise. Shah, eyes wide as saucers, stood frozen in the center of the chaos.
“Stop,” screamed Rurik, throwing his arms out. “Put your weapons down. No one is shooting anyone. You know the consequences. The price of violating the Hard Peace is death.” He turned to Shura, his face painted with fury. “You may have us surrounded, but I still have the numbers. We can’t shoot each other, but I’ll win in a melee.”
“That’s true,” conceded Shura. “It’s a good thing we’re not fighting the Thirty Years War
.”
Shura’s cadres opened fire, catching Rurik and his bodyguards in the middle, making short work of them with a hail of electrically charged chloroform pellets. Within seconds, all of Rurik’s people were in different states of unconsciousness on the floor or slumped over couches and tables. Rurik, splayed on the sofa, groaned as his hand crawled to the parts of his chest where he was struck. The man, in his arrogance, had decided to forgo armor and could now be overdosing from a half-dozen tranquilizers.
Shura waved at the haze of smoke drifting in the air as she stepped over bodies and overturned chairs. Shah’s ashen face followed her path as she came to a stop across from him. She pushed Rurik’s limp body off the couch to make room, and then sat down gracefully, crossing her legs. She motioned for the arms dealer to join her.
Shah hesitated, then slowly lowered himself to her level. A smile broke on Shura’s face as she studied him: early sixties, ex-Revolutionary Guard, muscular with a slight paunch, but surprisingly soft hands. A few seconds ticked by. Slowly, Shah began to match her smile with one of his own. Shura’s arm flashed, slapping him hard across the face and knocking him to the floor.
“That was for calling me a bitch.” The smile was still plastered on her face. She gestured for him to sit back on the sofa. “Now, let’s start over.”
Chapter Six
Laying Low
When I met Ella Patel, I was residing inside a Prophus agent named Emily Curran. I was contacted by the Genjix operative Surrett Kapoor and had come to Crate Town to learn about the Bio Comm Array, which, if true, was the most important initiative the Quasing could have ever attempted on this planet. As you are no doubt aware, nothing went as planned. Emily was ambushed by a Genjix kill squad. Neither she nor anyone in the squad survived the fight. My options were Emily’s cowardly auxiliary or Ella, who at the time had robbed a group of Pakistani gangsters and was hiding in a nearby trash heap.