by Gary Jonas
Thorne’s information from the underground also said Dirion’s place was in the direction she was headed. It made sense. She needed a place to hole up.
Twenty minutes later he was parked across the street from some run-down apartments. He pulled back the nanite just before she entered the building. If Dirion was like most oracles he would have surrounded himself with scanners and security systems. No sense in letting him detect Brock’s observer.
He lowered the window on his floater and released more nanites to circle the building in case she took a back way out.
Sighing, he clicked his comlink. Time to report to Thorne’s people and earn his keep.
On the outside, the shabby apartment building looked like any other in this part of town. Built in the booming days of early exploration, it had once housed the best brothel in the sector. Now the building was abandoned except for the top floor, which was occupied by one man—Dirion. Sai felt reassured as she entered the familiar home of her adoptive father. If anyone knew what to do, he would. He had taken her in from the streets years ago after her parents died and left her alone.
She eased her way along the hallway. It was covered with peeling, water-stained wallpaper, but she knew that beneath the shabby façade lay sensors, scanners, probes, and automatic weaponry. There was enough security gear in the building to outfit a corporate stronghold. If Dirion didn’t want to see you, you’d best stay well away from his home. It was a deadly mistake to come uninvited.
As far as she knew, she was the only one who ever visited Dirion. He dealt in information and handled all his business over the Grid. Dirion was the best freelance oracle on Raken, a powerful man, but in person he was vulnerable.
Sai opened the door to the inner sanctum. In the dim light, she could see him sitting on the cybernetic throne that permanently connected his mind to the Grid. A ring of neural probes encircled his bald head like a crown of thorns. His pale, nearly nude body was horribly emaciated, ribs sticking out in sharp relief. His limbs were vestigial organs, unfeeling and unused for decades.
“Hello, my little Sai,” came Dirion’s voice from hidden speakers. “I’m relieved to see you. I was afraid you wouldn’t make it.”
Sai collapsed into the dusty chair opposite him. “I take it you picked up on the mess over at Tyree’s?”
“Who could miss it? The Grid is buzzing about it.”
“Who were they?”
“Nebulaco Security.”
“Damn,” she said. “I can’t believe they’d waste their heavy hitters on little people like me. Even risking trouble with the Confed to do it.”
“You obviously have something they want very badly.”
“Director Casey had something on everyone. There’s no telling what it is.”
“Do you have the package with you?”
“Yes.” She opened her jacket and removed a black case.
“Can we open it?” Dirion said. “If we defuse the issue by releasing the secrets on that datastore, we can possibly get the heat off.”
“No. It’s sealed and code protected. The contents would be destroyed if we tried to open it. Nebulaco might want the data destroyed, or maybe this is vital data they need. Either way, I know the intended recipient wants what’s inside. I’d have corporate security plus the client after me at that point. I have to finish the run somehow.”
“Without knowing to whom it should be delivered, that could be a problem,” Dirion said. “But let’s examine what we know and see if we can extrapolate an answer.”
Sai smiled. Dirion was true to form. Always the analyst. “We don’t know much.”
Dirion chuckled. “But we do. We know that at one time this information was most likely in the possession of Frederick Casey, the deceased security director for Nebulaco.”
“True,” Sai said.
“We know that just prior to his death, Casey was implicated in a scheme involving piracy of Nebulaco trade shipments. Supposedly, Casey’s subordinate, a man named Vincent Maxwell, intercepted some communications that exposed Casey.”
“And then Casey killed himself,” Sai said.
“An implicit confession to some. But dead men can’t mount a defense against any allegations, whether they’re true or false.”
“So how does this relate to the datastore in the courier pouch?”
“A dead man has no interest in further protecting himself, so I doubt it’s evidence against Casey. A dead man has no need to increase his riches so I doubt it’s more information for the pirates. What would a dead man want if he were falsely accused of a crime?”
Sai considered it for a moment. “Vindication? Revenge?”
“Very good. The logical conclusion in my estimation is that the contents of that pouch detail the truth about Thorne and the piracy against Nebulaco. But not the whole truth. If Casey had all the answers he wouldn’t have waited to act. But he was close enough to be a threat, so he was removed. I’m sorry, Sai. But this information is hot and they won’t stop until they get it.”
“It’s not your fault. I accepted the risk of working with Casey, running his data operations here and there when he needed my touch. I have to see this through. Let’s look ahead. What do I need to do first?”
“First, I may have identified your intended contact. I have a report that a man named Mike Chandler was taken into custody at the scene. Nobody else was arrested.”
He pulled up a holo image of Chandler. Sai nodded. “I saw him at Tyree’s. He saved my life.”
“He’s a freelance operative. They’re holding him in lockup, so he’s likely undergoing interrogation. I’m putting a tracer on the data and sending you his comlink info. If his status changes you’ll get an update. I believe he may have a powerful ally, but at this point, since he’s in custody, he isn’t a viable option. You can’t complete the drop to him.”
Sai began to pace the room. “So who was he working for? Who was the end customer? I need to get this thing off my hands.”
“Odds are it’s one of the corporate lords at Nebulaco. They could make the most of the data and act on it within the corporation.”
“But it was Nebulaco Security who attacked me. If it’s going back to the corporation anyway, do you think I can just contact them and give it back?”
“There’s a power struggle going on. Their own security director either killed himself or was murdered. They wouldn’t think twice about taking the pouch and then silencing you. We have to get the package to the lord who’s trying to get it, but we need to figure out which one. If you go to the wrong person, this could blow up in your face.”
“More than it already has?” She sighed. She felt as if she were being buried alive by the reality of the situation. Why was this happening to her? Why wasn’t anything ever easy? “Okay then, what’s the plan?”
“Let me check the starport databanks for transport. We need to get you off Raken.”
“To go where?”
“Anywhere but here for now. You can lay low until I determine to whom the package needs to go.”
“Do a search for Hank Jensen. He’s the pilot I traveled with earlier today. He’s an arrogant bastard, but I trust him.”
“Trust is rare. Searching now.”
As Dirion sent his senses through the Grid, Sai got up to go to the kitchen. “I don’t suppose you have anything to eat in here anymore, do you? I’m starving.”
“Sorry, all intravenous. I didn’t bother restocking after you left the nest. Of course you’re welcome to a vein full of saline with lipids and glucose on the side.” Dirion’s voice followed her to the speakers installed in the kitchen.
“No, thanks.” Sai poured a glass of tepid water and drank it while Dirion’s circuitry hummed around her.
“I think I’ve found your ship. Hank Jensen is still in port. I’m showing that he just made a credit purchase at the Silver Dollar Saloon, a spacer club in the Warehouse District.”
“I know where that is.”
“You’ll need so
me traveling money,” Dirion said. Sai heard a faint hum as a credit stick ejected from the side of Dirion’s chair.
She walked over and took the stick. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Take it. I wish it could be more.”
“Thank you. I never seem to be able to tell you how much I appreciate you. I love—”
An alarm sounded from one of Dirion’s communication stations.
“Sai, you need to leave … now,” Dirion said. “I’ve been monitoring the security channels. There’s an attack squad coming this way. They have orders to kill, and they know you’re here.”
EPISODE TWO
CHAPTER FIVE
Angus Brock sat in his floater, parked in the shadows outside the stronghold of Dirion the oracle. The nanite observers he had placed around the building were still functioning and had reported no activity since the girl had gone inside. She was trapped.
He watched a sleek black sedan float to a stop at the curb. Four men clutching pulse rifles piled out—a Nebulaco Security heavy weapons squad. That didn’t take long, he thought. The flow of communication between Thorne’s underground network and corporate security was efficient. Why was Thorne so interested in Nebulaco getting this girl?
When they began marching straight for Dirion’s building, Brock cursed. No combat sense at all. They were going to screw it up and get killed. He couldn’t just let it happen without at least warning them. He exited his floater and rushed toward them.
“Hello there, officers!”
They froze and turned to face him.
He put on his most innocent grin. “I’m just a concerned corporate citizen trying to help. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I just thought you might want to know that building over there is owned by an oracle.”
There was no reaction.
“Oracle,” Brock repeated. “As in stronghold. As in you might want to be a little more stealthy.”
One of the men approached him. “Listen, bud, we don’t need some civilian telling us our job,” he said, stabbing Brock in the chest with an armored finger. “You need to back off and get out of the way.”
Brock put both hands up and stepped back. He read the name stenciled on the man’s breastplate armor. “Sorry, Lieutenant Larson, just trying to help.”
Larson spoke into his comlink. “Red Team Leader to control. We are executing. Okay, men, let’s go!”
Brock waved. “Have fun, Sparky!”
The team rushed across the street and into the building with little more than a cursory weapons check. Brock leaned against a light pole, cleaned his fingernails, and waited for the show. He knew it wouldn’t be long.
A few minutes later, he saw lights flashing in the windows of the building as apparently random pulse-rifle rounds shot every which way. He heard faint screams. Shortly thereafter, Larson staggered out of the building, his face covered with dirt and blood from numerous wounds, uniform in tatters.
“Gee,” Brock said. “Did he put up much of a fight?”
The man dropped to his knees, spent pulse rifle clacking to the pavement beside him. He spoke into his comlink. “Control, this is Red Leader. Red Team is gone. We need backup and medical. Send Blue Team to my location.”
Brock knelt next to Larson and helped him apply direct pressure to a bleeding flesh wound on his lower leg. “As I was saying, Lieutenant Larson, oracles are known for heavily defending their bases of operation. Perhaps you might have been better off calling for backup before you stormed the building like a complete idiot.”
“Fuck you.”
“No thanks,” Brock said. “Personally, I would have stationed men around the building to make sure no one could escape, then take a couple of guys and apply a few well-positioned shape charges. Eliminate the targets without risking the traps. But that’s just my opinion.”
Another team arrived about ten minutes later along with three ambulances. They ran to Brock and Larson.
“Here’s the situation,” Brock began.
The Blue Team leader ignored him. “What happened, Larson?”
“It was a trap. I figure the best thing to do at this point is to apply a few well-positioned shape charges. We’ll blow the bastards to kingdom come!”
Blue Leader nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. “Right. Come on, men!”
Larson struggled to rise and go with them. Brock tapped him on the shoulder. “Make sure you use concussion charges instead of that incendiary stuff or you’ll have an inferno on your hands. This whole block will go up.”
Larson shoved him. “Don’t tell us our business. We’re professionals.” With that, he limped into the building behind Blue Team.
Brock shook his head and leaned against the pole again to watch the circus continue.
Fire exploded into the night sky, the building burning uncontrollably as Sai shouldered her way through the large crowd already gathering to watch the spectacle. A short-haired woman clutching a young boy blocked Sai’s path. The woman pointed and gasped as the fire progressed.
“I’m glad we don’t live there,” the boy said.
Sai maneuvered around the mother and son. An empty pit opened in her stomach. She would never see Dirion again.
“Move aside, people!” a voice called over a broadcaster. Emergency vehicles tried to lower themselves to work the blaze, but the crowd didn’t seem to notice them. The people stood entranced by the fire.
Sai pushed her way through the throng, tears blurring her vision. She looked back at the destruction wrought on Dirion’s home. The entire top section of the apartment building had blown up. Nothing remained above the fourth floor.
Earlier, Dirion had given her instructions and hurried her out the back exit to the stairs that led down to the street. As the door had shut behind her, she’d had no idea that moments later the building would erupt into flame.
Dirion was dead. He was gone. She reached out and braced herself against the wall of the building closest to her.
His death was all her fault. She had led her pursuers right to him. She nearly doubled over, but she had no time for tears. No time for grief. Dirion wanted her to forge on. All she had left was her life, and even that wouldn’t last long if these people didn’t get out of the way. She had to get off Raken.
As she struggled through the crowd, a face caught her attention. It was the security man from the bar who had first spotted her. He watched the blaze progress along with his men, all still wearing their trench coats.
Sai moved on, trying to keep low and out of sight. Just as she reached the corner she heard one of them shout, “There she is! All units, this is Green Leader. The girl’s alive!”
Damn! She turned the corner, hoping to outrun them, slowed as they were by the crowd. She started toward a muddy back alley, trying to lose herself among the onlookers. But they were watching the fire, blocking her path. Frustrated, panicked, she tried to push between two large men.
“Watch it, lady,” the biggest one said, irritated.
“Then move!”
He turned sideways and let her pass. “You have a problem,” the man said.
Sai slipped into the shadows and ran past trash incinerators and winos, hearing the thunder of booted feet running behind her.
“She went this way!”
Energy bolts slammed into the walls around her, spraying her with debris. She rushed down an alleyway, diving for the first doorway she saw. It was locked.
“She’s in that alcove!” They were closing in.
Sai pulled the whisperblade from her jacket pocket and activated it, plunging the plasma-edged weapon through the lock, easily melting and cutting the deadbolt. She kicked the door open and hurried inside. She shoved the door closed, but it couldn’t be secured. Damn.
The dark room was dusty and filled with old furniture. In the dim light she spotted a workbench off to one side. She dragged the bench over to hold the door closed. With the door blocked, the room was pitch black, her eyes not yet adjusted. She moved through the r
oom, sweeping her hands before her to try and find another exit. She hit a wall at the same moment the guards began pounding on the door.
She moved faster along the wall and found a staircase just as energy bolts pierced the door, sending slivers of wood flying. Sai rushed up the stairs to the roof. These buildings weren’t spaced too far apart; perhaps she’d be able to jump to safety.
The squad pushed through her barrier and began searching the lower level.
“Here’s a stairway,” someone said.
Sai cursed. A stack of chairs stood on one of the landings. She kicked them over to slow their progress and continued climbing.
When she finally made it to the roof, she found it old and in disrepair. It sank slightly under her weight. Carefully, she tiptoed to the edge and peered over. It was a long drop.
She hurried around the perimeter of the roof, searching for some way down. No luck. Across the way, the roof of the Bryant Hotel was her only chance of escape, but she wasn’t sure she could make that jump.
She heard the men coming up the stairs. She was out of time. She activated the whisperblade and prepared to throw. Her cyber-psi senses reached out to touch the weapon’s control circuits and she activated the flight controls.
She threw the blade, sending it sailing to cut deeply into the roof behind her, further weakening the structure. She controlled its path, manipulating its tiny repulsor beams, making several passes. She heard the squad tossing the chairs out of the way as they climbed.
At her mental beckoning, the whisperblade returned to her hand. She hoped it would be enough. “It’s now or never,” she whispered. She moved back, took a deep breath, and glanced toward the doorway from which the first of the men burst onto the roof. She ran toward the edge of the building and jumped.
Time suspended as she flew through the darkness. She landed hard, her momentum carrying her into a shoulder roll.
She glanced back and saw the rest of the squad pour through the doorway, heedless of the weak roof. She turned and rushed toward a door on the far side of the hotel. Suddenly, she heard a crash as several of the men fell completely through. The others froze where they were, then took aim at Sai on the other roof.