The communicator crackled into life: “Unregistered vessel, this is flight control on The Gamulon. Your access codes are incorrect. Landing on Earth is denied. Remain in orbit and transmit your codes again.”
Surrana opened a channel, clearing her throat and adopting a gruff Andelian accent. “Go to hell, you damned imperialist running dog. This is an Andelian vessel, and we’ll land wherever we damned well please.”
She cut the channel with a smile, gratified to see several warnings light up on the console. “That was fast work, boys,” she murmured. The Gloabon space station had multiple weapon locks on her already, and there were three fighter craft speeding toward her. Zorello’s ship had pretty good armor, but it wouldn’t withstand the might of The Gamulon for long, especially now that she’d switched off the shields. She was tempted to turn off the automated countermeasures as well, but that would look suspicious. Instead, she maintained an approach that would take her into Earth’s atmosphere, and using a set of coordinates that she’d dragged up from a deep memory, she readied the zinger.
“Warning!” the ship’s speakers blurted. “Incoming torpedoes. Impact in five seconds. Abandon ship. Abandon ship.”
My pleasure, Surrana thought. She took Zorello’s bolt pistol, tucked it into her belt, and then activated the zinger.
As the transport system took hold of her, Zorello looked up, his hand on his head. She gave him a friendly wave, but she could see that the ship’s warnings had cut into his consciousness. “Oh shi—” he began, but as the ship vanished from her view, Surrana could only imagine the missiles slamming into the hull, engulfing it in a searing explosion.
***
Surrana dropped into a crouch the moment she rematerialized, but she wasn’t seriously concerned that she might be detected. The layout of the GIT compound sprang to her mind, complete and fully formed, and her instincts told her that she was safe. If all had gone well, the courtyard in which she found herself was a quiet place at the northern edge of the compound, and a quick glance was enough to tell her that her memories had not let her down; her point of arrival was perfect. The main buildings were protected by a shield that would have prevented her zinger from operating, but no one had thought to shield this enclosed area.
She was alone, and the small courtyard was not overlooked in any way. Behind her, the only entrance to the yard was sealed with a tall, solid steel security gate. There was a single CCTV camera, but there would be plenty of blind spots, and anyway, it was doubtful whether anyone would be paying much attention to its view of dumpsters and crates of waste for recycling. Something told her that courtyards like this were much the same across the galaxy—unloved and unregarded—and she instantly felt at home.
Surrana checked her bolt pistol then crossed to a windowless wall, laying her hands against its smooth concrete surface. It wouldn’t be the easiest wall to climb. The only ledge was at least six floors up, but this was where she needed to be. She was on the edge of the compound and necessarily so, but if she could get to the roof, the other buildings were close enough together to give her free reign.
She turned, letting her gaze roam across the walls as she picked out a route. To her right, a drainpipe was the obvious place to begin, and she sidled up to it, staying clear of the CCTV camera. Then her ascent began in earnest. The pipe didn’t run all the way to the roof, but once she was high enough, she leaped sideways, grabbing the mounting bracket of a light fitting for just long enough to swing upward. Her feet found purchase on an electrical junction box, and she pushed herself out into space, her body turning. In a moment, she’d be within grasping distance of the narrow ledge on the sixth floor. No! She’d mistimed her jump, her muscles cheating her of the power she needed. She hadn’t gained enough height. Stifling a scream, she clawed the air, stretching every sinew taut, the scar on her right arm burning. Her fingertips brushed the ledge, but it was not enough. Her body slammed into the wall, and then she was falling. Falling.
Surrana centered herself, letting her muscles flow, allowing her body to prepare itself for the inevitable. She righted her posture, just in time, then landed firmly on her feet, her strong skeleton taking the brunt of the impact, her flexible joints absorbing the forces that would’ve shattered a human’s legs. Again, she told herself, grabbing the drainpipe and swarming upward. This time, there were no mistakes, and in seconds, she was on the ledge. From there, the wall’s surface was ridged with decorative masonry, and it was a simple matter to reach the roof.
Checking for cameras, Surrana ran lightly over the rooftop, her feet scarcely making a sound. When she reached the edge, she knew she would make the jump to the neighboring building; she didn’t even slow down. Landing smoothly, she changed direction, making good use of the long building to take her farther into the GIT compound. The next building was separated by a larger gap but its roof was lower, and she cleared the gap with inches to spare.
Slowing a little now, she headed for a squat, anonymous block, and her steps faltered. Surrana stumbled to a halt, a nameless fear clutching at her stomach. Turn back, she told herself. It was a mistake to come here. But she had to go on. She knew that a great wrong had been done to her. It went beyond mere imprisonment although that had been bad enough. No. A crime had been committed against her spirit, and she must have redress. Deep within her, a craving burned for justice, and though she couldn’t visualize her final destination, she was certain that the path lay within that building.
Retracing her steps, she readied herself, then she turned back to face the squat building. She ran hard, her fists pumping, her breath rasping in her throat. Her heart pounded as she reached the edge, and then she was airborne, her arms still cycling as she flew through the void. Her landing was heavy, clumsy, but she moved on fast, racing to the access hatch that she knew would be there. The hatch was locked, but its simple mechanism was no match for her brute strength, and with one decisive kick she forced it inward. Below, a narrow corridor lay in darkness and she dropped into its welcoming shadows.
Surrana strode along the corridor, searching every door until she found the one she was looking for. I’ve been here before, she thought, pushing the restroom door open. The room was empty, and Surrana studied her surroundings, the bitter tang of disinfectant stinging her nose. This was a place where humans dealt with their bodily waste, hiding away in shame and embarrassment, fearful of being discovered, as if their normal functions were a terrible secret that they must bear alone.
The room had two entrances on opposing walls. She had entered via a little-used maintenance corridor, but the other door was larger and would no doubt lead to a more populous part of the building.
Perfect. This would be an ideal place to lay in wait. Selecting a cubicle that seemed cleaner than the others, she locked herself in and prepared to wait. Keeping her eyes wide open, she began her meditation. Her breathing deepened, her body replenished its energy, and time passed.
***
The restroom’s door creaked as it swung open, but Surrana was already prepared. She had detected the approaching footsteps some time ago. A woman, she thought. Average build–for a human. Silently, Surrana stood, holding the cubicle door still while she slid the lock open.
The woman was humming under her breath, a tuneless rhythm borne of tiredness and frustration. The restroom door swung shut. In seconds, the woman would be locked inside a cubicle and reaching her would mean extra noise and delay. Timing was everything.
Surrana slipped from the cubicle, knowing exactly where the woman would be. She raised her fist to shoulder height and assessed her target. The woman, dressed in a white lab coat, was reaching for a cubicle door. She was middle-aged, her hair neatly tied back, and though she had a straight back, her shoulders were rounded, perhaps from long hours hunched over a lab bench. She half turned as if sensing movement from the corner of her eye, but Surrana struck, landing a sharp punch to the side of her victim’s head. The woman spun around, her eyes wild, but then she fell, arms and legs splayed out
untidily across the hard white floor tiles. The back of her head met the floor with a dull thud, but there was no blood. Surrana had judged her blow perfectly. The woman would be stunned for a moment, nothing more.
Working quickly, Surrana took the woman’s lab coat, her security pass, and all her personal possessions, then she heaved her back into a cubicle, sitting her on the toilet. The woman stirred, her eyelids fluttering open, and Surrana leaned in close, clapping her hand across the woman’s mouth. “Don’t call out. Stay silent and you will not be hurt, understand?”
The woman nodded.
“Good. I’ll leave you now, but I will be just outside the door. If I hear the slightest whisper from you, or if you attempt to escape, I will come back in here, and you don’t want that, do you?”
The woman shook her head, but there was panic in her eyes.
“Oh, for flek’s sake,” Surrana muttered. “Do as I ask and you’re in no danger. None. Get it?” She removed her hand from the woman’s mouth. “See? I’m leaving you alone. Calm down. Breathe. Tell me your name.”
“Greta. Greta Markham. But listen, I’m just a scientist. Nobody important. They warned us about this kind of thing, but I–”
“What kind of thing?” Surrana interrupted. “You were expecting me?”
Greta shook her head vigorously. “Hell, no! I know what you are, of course, but–”
“How do you know me?” Surrana demanded.
“I’m…I’m on your project. I’m with the THISTLE team. But it wasn’t my choice. It’s where they put me.”
“And what is my project?” Surrana asked. “Tell me.”
“It’s a study to see what you’re capable of, to see what you can do.” Greta swallowed. “I didn’t want to work in this building, but they said it would be okay. They said they’d changed everything, fixed the problems, tightened the security.” She paused. “They even made us take a training course. Threat management, they called it.”
Surrana studied her for a moment. “This training course–it wasn’t very good. Was it, by any chance, taught by a man?”
“Yes. Several.”
“Men in boots? Tactical vests? Armed up to the eyeballs?”
“That’s right,” Ellen said. “How did you know?”
Surrana’s expression softened. “In my profession, I’ve met a lot of those men. And when I say met, I mean, captured, tied up, and locked in a cell. You get the picture. Arrogance is a weakness. To protect yourself, what you need is intuition, intelligence, vigilance. In my experience, when it comes to humans, females are better at these things than males. Remember that.”
“I don’t think I’ll be forgetting this any time soon,” Greta said, “no matter how hard I try.”
“Fair enough.” Surrana stretched herself up to her full height. “The project is on this level, right?”
Greta blinked, doubt pinching at the corners of her eyes. “But, you must know.”
“Refresh my memory,” Surrana growled. “Tell me how to get there.”
“Turn left out of here. Go through two doors, then take the second door on your right.”
“Security? Any guards?”
“Not on this level.” Greta chewed on her lower lip, clearly wishing she could give a different answer. “My pass will get you through the doors, but…you’re not going to hurt anyone, are you? People have families. We just work here. We’re not monsters.”
“That remains to be seen.” Surrana drew her bolt pistol while keeping her gaze locked onto Greta’s. “I said that you’d remain safe, and I meant it, but the deal is off if you try to raise the alarm. I have your ID, and I will be able to find you. If you cross me, no one will be able to protect you. No one.”
“I won’t move. I promise.”
“Promise,” Surrana sneered. “To your people, the word means less than nothing, but, on this occasion, I will trust you to keep your word.” She stepped back, closing the cubicle door. “Lock this door.” She listened as the bolt slid home with a decisive clunk. “Goodbye, Greta Markham. If all goes well, you won’t see me again.”
The only reply was a stifled moan, and Surrana marched from the room, Greta’s lab coat draped over her arm. I must be going soft, she told herself. Even if Greta stayed put, she might be discovered at any moment. But the woman had done nothing to threaten her plans, and it seemed right to let her live. Is this part of my code? she wondered, but she could find no answer in her fragmented recollections of her former life. Zorello had told her that she’d deliberately suppressed her memory, but the idea troubled her more and more. Why would she have left herself so vulnerable, so disoriented? It didn’t make sense. But the answers were here, somewhere inside this building, and she was getting closer to them all the time.
She met the first security door and presented Greta’s pass to the scanner. It unlocked instantly, and she hurried onward, repeating the process at the next door. Camera! There was no avoiding the corridor’s single camera, and attempting to disable it with her bolt gun would attract far too much attention, so she sprinted forward. The door she needed was only a few yards away, so she’d only be on camera for a fleeting moment, and she knew how lax human security guards could be. They would be prepared to prevent unauthorized entry on the lower levels, but they wouldn’t anticipate an intruder arriving from above.
Surrana pressed her ID card against the door’s touch panel, but there was no metallic click. Instead, the panel glowed into life, displaying all ten digits accompanied by the letters A to F. Shim! The door needed an access code to unlock. Perhaps Greta had deliberately withheld that nugget of information, hoping that Surrana would enter the code incorrectly, triggering an alarm. But as Surrana studied the display, a sequence drifted into her mind: 42A56B72C. Yes. That was the sequence. She must’ve discovered it during her escape. She tapped the code in quickly, holding her breath, and a message appeared on the door:
Access Denied. Remain in Place. Security Personnel Have Been Informed.
“Oh, well,” she muttered. Perhaps the humans weren’t as lax as she’d thought. They’d obviously changed the code since her escape, but that needn’t concern her. The security guards would hardly be worried by someone making a mistake on an entry pad; it probably happened all the time. But if she couldn’t walk into the room, then the time for stealth was over. Aiming her bolt pistol, Surrana sent a single round into the lock, and though the crack of fracturing metal boomed unnaturally loud in the stark corridor, she didn’t flinch. One kick was enough to send the door shuddering inward, and then she was inside, sweeping the room with her pistol.
“No!” Surrana lowered her weapon, her heart jerking in her chest. It had been a very long time since she’d known true fear, but it came to claim her now, cold dread pouring through every vein. “No, no, no.” Surrana stepped into the room, her legs heavy, her steps uncertain. But she could not help but draw closer to the room’s only other occupant.
The Gloabon lay still, her mouth and nose covered by a clear plastic mask, and her eyes closed. Cables and tubes formed a tangled tracery across her chest, and though her body was covered by a single sheet, her arms lay atop the white cotton. And there, plain to see on her right arm, was a bright red tattoo, a single word picked out in bold letters: Surrana.
CHAPTER 14
GIT Experimental Vessel The Wasp
Brent glared at Vince. “Will you just stop it? You’re driving me nuts.”
“What?” Vince glanced up from the workstation where he’d been hunkered down with Ellen for some time.
“You know damned well,” Brent snapped. “You’ve been humming that damned Stewart tune over and over.”
“Yes,” Rawlgeeb added from between clenched teeth, “and you may recall that I have asked you to stop on thirteen separate occasions. Thirteen.”
Vince shrugged. “Sorry. I was concentrating on the scanner. We’re finally getting somewhere.”
“Definitely,” Ellen said. “We’ve tracked the salvage ship, but you’re not goi
ng to like this one bit.”
Brent joined them, peering down at the console. “What is it? Did they fly through an unfashionable system? I know how you youngsters only like to be seen in the right places. We all know about those exclusive nightclubs on Pluto.”
Vince groaned. “For the last time, Brent, I know I made a mistake, do you have to keep bringing it up all the time?”
“You bet I do,” Brent replied. “For God’s sake, who buys real estate on Pluto? It isn’t even a planet.”
“Yes, it is,” Rawlgeeb said, appearing at Brent’s side. “We recategorized it some time ago. I shouldn’t really tell you this, but the Gloabon Government are planning to build a huge data processing facility that’ll occupy most of its surface. Apparently, there are all kinds of financial advantages. As an independent planet, Pluto will be able to set its own tax laws, and the Andel-Kreit Coalition won’t be able to touch them. Income derived on Pluto will be tax-free, and since a year on Pluto is so long, the fiscal year will be extended. Earn a dollar on Pluto today and it won’t have to be declared for another two hundred and forty-eight years, by which time, inflation will have made it almost worthless.” He beamed. “I do hope you kept that real estate, Vince. When they start building the facility, the value of your investment will skyrocket.”
“What?” Vince glowered at Brent. “You made me get rid of it, you idiot! I could’ve been rich.”
Brent rolled his eyes. “Don’t you believe it. Somehow, I don’t think the title deed would’ve stood much scrutiny. I hear the courts take a dim view of contracts drawn up on the backs of cereal cartons. Especially when they’re written with a purple felt-tipped pen and signed with a gobbet of saliva.”
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