Awakened

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  “Yes, sir. Target will be neutralized.”

  “Very good. Call me when it is done.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Andus ended the call and glanced over at Jessica, who was visiting. She sat delicately on the sofa, just across the room from Andus’ large oaklon desk.

  She watched him with a knowing look. She’d give him this: when he made up his mind, he got it done.

  Andus leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. It was times like these he wondered if he were better suited to a simple life. The feeling passed a few seconds later, replaced by a feeling he enjoyed much more.

  Power.

  The Old Pan Galaxy Museum, Dalvik District, Just outside Uptarlung

  Joel’s heart was in his mouth as he pulled up to an abandoned museum in a remote district of Uptarlung. The coordinates were bringing him to Molly. He assumed from Oz’s message that she was alive, but he had no idea what state she might be in. And that was now twenty-eight minutes ago, he thought, checking the time on his holo.

  He braced himself as the coordinate finder guided him to the side of the building.

  She must be inside. He stopped the car and practically fell out. Scrambling in the dark for his kit bag, he found it and pulled it out. He took a few moments to strap on his guns and devices. He had no idea what he would be walking into. He did a quick scan for life using his holo.

  One life sign, and it coincided with the coordinates Oz had given him.

  So far, so good.

  He knew better than to be complacent, though.

  Within seconds he had found a side door into the building. There was no keypad. He pulled and it opened. He felt some relief, followed by a wave of suspicion. He had no idea why that door was open. Was it a trap? Was it where Molly’s captors had exited in a hurry?

  His mind ran through the possible scenarios, running the training protocols he’d taught to hundreds of cadets over the years.

  Satisfied he was as ready as he was going to be, he oriented himself. Down that corridor to the right. He set off at a sweeping pace, keeping one eye on the holo and the other on his surroundings. Not that there was much to see in the dark. Legs bent as he glided stealthily, gun trained on one possible threat after another, he mentally designated each area safe as he proceeded and checked off the threats.

  Two-thirds of the way through the corridor he suddenly stopped. He was practically on top of the coordinates Oz had sent him.

  There was light coming from under a door just a few paces ahead of him.

  “Joel? Joel! I’m in here.” It was Molly’s voice.

  Keeping with protocol, he swung in through the door, checking for potential threats. Deeming the place secure, he finally allowed himself to look in the direction of the hostage in the center of the room.

  “Molly,” he exhaled, in relief. “Thank your ancestors, you’re okay!” He ran to her, hugging her and trying to undo her ties at the same time.

  “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I should never have been so reckless about all this. I’m sorry…”

  “Hush, no time for that now. Where’s Paige?”

  Molly had tears running down her face. Joel produced a combat knife from his kit and cut though her bonds as they talked.

  She answered. “I have no idea. Dewitt took her. Oz has pinpointed three locations he might have taken her. I figured we should try his residence first.”

  Once her hands were free, she pulled up an image on her holo, with pins showing the three places.

  “And if she’s not?” Joel asked, wondering about the other two locations.

  “Well, that bar he owns—he’s visited it three times in the last month—is pretty close to the port. Are your boys still there?”

  “Yes, waiting to meet you. We can get them to recon the place, but I’m not sure about their level of combat competence. I’d hate to get them hurt before they really know what they’re getting into.” He admitted.

  Molly thought through Joel’s comment. “Agreed. Let’s have them check it out and call in what they find. Any sign of life, and they’re to stand down.”

  “Roger that.” Joel moved away from the chair where Molly was sitting, giving her space to stand. He flicked open his own holo and made the call to Crash.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Dewitt Residence

  The shock having subsided a little, Dewitt got up from the bed, realizing that he still had cards to play. Even without the Syndicate, he had people who could help him.

  He dialed Judge Simes on the holo.

  It connected, but instead of her voice, the noise on the other end sounded like sobbing. Was she…? She was.

  She was crying.

  “You bastard! You fucking Djöfulsins óskapnaðar drulla! You lied to me! The whole time, all those times we were in bed making plans for the future. You were lying to my FACE!”

  Dewitt sat down on the bed again. The color drained from his face, leaving him gray and drawn instead of his normal glowing blue.

  “Baby, wait. What’s going on? Why are you upset?”

  His holo flashed up with multiple images of him doing the wild thing with any number of women.

  “Baby, what? You knew I had a history!” he protested, his voice catching in his throat. He’d been rumbled. He knew even before he heard her next words.

  “These are all recent. Since we’ve been together. YOU ASSHOLE!”

  The line went dead.

  Stunned, Dewitt tried to stand, but ended up staggering back against the bed. He missed it and half fell, half slumped down against it. His holo screen was blank but still active…a black projection mimicking the space where his life used to be.

  There was no doubt about it.

  He was well and truly screwed.

  Indius Residence, Downtown Spire

  Chaakwa Indius rolled over in bed and groped for her wrist holo. Strapping it onto her wrist with her eyes still closed, she opened her right eye far enough check her caller ID.

  It was the captain.

  “Oh, crap.” She sat up in the semi-darkness, blinked her eyes to wake up a bit, and then accepted the call.

  “Indius. You’re needed on an op.”

  “It’s the middle of the night, Captain. How bad?”

  “Bad enough to shake the fabric of our constitution. This is going to be a big case. I can give it to someone else, if you need your beauty sleep.”

  Chaakwa blinked the remaining sleep from her eyes, and brushed the grit from her smooth Estarian skin. “No, no, I’m on it. Where do I need to be, and who are we taking down?”

  “In the Kensington quarter. Your team is meeting you there. You’re taking down William Dewitt.”

  Chaakwa looked at her wrist holo for a moment in confusion, before asking, “Dewitt? The politician?”

  “The one and the same. We’ve had anonymous intel that seems to check out. Look sharp. Operation details will be hitting your holo momentarily.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Thank you, Ma’am.”

  The holo call clicked off.

  “So much for catching up on sleep,” she mumbled to herself. She took one deep breath to gather herself, and then she was out of bed and into the shower.

  This may be the break she’d been looking for. Ten years beating around the edges of these corporate cartels, and finally they had enough to arrest Dewitt.

  This intel must be good. And with this, she might be able to bring down the whole Health Corp ring and find out who really makes up the Syndicate.

  Uptarlung, Mosfellsdalur District, twenty kilometers from Spaceport

  Crash and Brock pulled up at the coordinates Molly had sent to them.

  “You think this is the place?” Crash wondered out loud, checking out the building in front of them.

  “Sure looks creepy enough,” Brock remarked, hauling his ass out of the car.

  The two crunched through the gravel of the parking lot over to the building they had been directed to. The pale blue s
ignage over the entrance and down the side of the building gave away that this was indeed the right property.

  “Fantasee Island,’” said Brock, reading the sign out loud. “This ain’t no ‘fantasee’ of any normal Sarkian, I can tell you.” His sense of humor, even in the face of danger, made Crash smile. This was the same motherfucker who ordered him through basic training a second time as punishment for dropping his weapon and screaming like a girl on a mission. As he rightly pointed out, he was there as mechanical support, not infantry.

  But that didn’t sway the brass.

  What he never told Brock is that that night when he was shipped off to redo, the rest of the squad staged a march of solidarity for him, and refused to take up arms for any reason for the next week. It was tense for a few days, but when the brass learned it was just for a week, they let it slide. Their reasoning was that they were impressed by their camaraderie.

  When Brock rejoined them eight weeks later, he was never put on infantry detail again. If there were any suggestions of it by the generals or the rota staff who didn’t know, the squad saw to it that he was protected. He was family. And that’s what they did for family.

  That’s just the way it was.

  “So what we gonna do? Head inside?” Brock whispered across to Crash.

  “My guess is it’s all alarmed. Let’s have a look around the back.”

  They walked the perimeter of the building, looking for any signs of life. Seeing nothing suspicious or lifelike at all, they called Joel to let him know.

  “Hi, Joel?” Crash heard the line connect.

  “Yeah. Anything?” Joel asked. Crash could hear a woman’s voice saying something in the background, but he couldn’t make it out. He assumed it must be Molly.

  The boss.

  “No. Nothing. The place seems to be abandoned. There are no vehicles here, so it’s not like there’s likely to be anyone inside. But if we need to get in there, I’m sure we could break a lock or something.”

  “No, I don’t think that’s necessary. Plus, you guys aren’t armed. Stand down. We’re going to go on to the residence, and if there’s nothing there, then we may need to circle back to your location as a possibility. You okay to hang there in case anyone does show?”

  “Yep. No problem,” agreed Crash.

  He heard Molly again.

  “Yeah, Molly says to stay out of sight, though. Just in case.” Joel finished the order.

  “Roger that. We’ll stand by. Crash out.” The call disconnected.

  Crash had his serious face on. He’d been in enough combat situations to know how things can go south pretty damn fast, and all it takes is for one team member not to be giving 110% when it happens for it to end in the worst way possible.

  He got Brock up to speed as they headed back to the car.

  “Maybe we should park up around the corner facing the road so that we see anyone coming?” Brock suggested.

  Crash nodded and pulled the car around, then backed it into the shadows. He got out of the car and went to his trunk. Unlocking it, he pulled up a lower carpet board and reached under it.

  He pulled out a black bag that chinked a little as he closed the trunk lid and slipped back into the vehicle. Brock didn’t say anything as Crash set it in the back.

  Neither knew how long they were going to have to wait. Crash looked at his watch, checking how long it would be until the sun came up.

  Dewitt Residence, Spire

  “And if this isn’t the place? If it’s the bar across town?” Molly asked, as she found a weapon in Joel’s kit bag and checked the settings in the half-light of the car.

  “Well, then we sweep this place, and then get ourselves over there fast.” Joel had slipped into operations mode. Now that he had Molly, he was calm, collected, and focused.

  Molly knew he was right.

  She still hadn’t mastered getting herself into ops mode when it came to combat, though. Her arms and legs always wanted to go limp from the adrenaline. She remembered the crap she had taken in recruit training when her legs had actually given way the first time she was tacked up and pushed into a demonstration op.

  Her cheeks flushed with anxiety and embarrassment even now, just thinking about it. That familiar feeling had returned to her arms and legs the car pulled up to the Dewitt residence.

  She worked her arms to get that shit out of her system. Joel glanced across, knowing exactly what was going on.

  “You never did get that sorted out, eh?” he smiled. “You maybe need me to help you work the adrenalin out of your system?”

  “Now? You want to tease me about this now?” Molly couldn’t believe the timing of these squaddies. Yeah, sure, they got the job done, but why did they always have to start with banter just at the tensest moments of a life and death op?

  I suggest this is a job for stun settings only.

  Why? I want to kill the shit out of that fucktard that tried to murder me!

  There is abnormal activity with the official law enforcement in this area. In fact, yes… There are troops on their way. You’re not going to have time to police your brass. I estimate you have three minutes to get in and out.

  Molly relayed the intel to Joel. “Joel, Oz says we have three minutes before law enforcement is here. Guns to stun only, so we don’t leave anything traceable.”

  “Roger that,” he confirmed. “Stun only.”

  Molly quietly turned her stun setting up to maximum.

  I saw that.

  I’m going to stun the shit out of the asshole.

  Joel parked as close as he could, and the two of them got up and stormed up the steps. Molly suddenly had the sense that there was someone nearby. She stopped in her tracks, one foot on the top step then signaled for Joel to stop.

  She listened.

  Then she pointed to the front door. Joel placed himself tactically against the wall, weapon up and ready to fire at whomever stepped out.

  Molly knocked on the door.

  There was a shuffling, a couple of footsteps, and then the door opened.

  There stood an Ogg in a black atmosuit, weapon clearly held behind his back. When he saw Molly, he immediately tried to slam the door closed, but Molly was faster, and slammed her free hand against it, and then her foot.

  The Ogg shouted something and stumbled back, pulling his weapon on her. Molly dove in, drawing his fire, while Joel appeared in the open doorway and shot the Ogg. The stun hit him squarely in the chest, disabling him.

  “Nice shot, Mr. Dunham.”

  Joel stood in the doorway, paying attention to the surroundings and waiting for the sound of more movement. The look of admiration on Molly’s face didn’t entirely escape him, though.

  There was scuffling upstairs.