Heist

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Heist Page 14

by Ell Leigh Clarke


  Jade wasn’t convinced. “You, too? I thought at least you might be reasonable on this,” she shot at him. “What about that sword you all are obsessing about? Aren’t you even a little worried Amroth’s going to get it back over this?”

  Olofi looked across to Shango. “Seriously, we need to tell her.”

  Shango said nothing, only replying with a pensive expression while he chewed.

  “Tell me what?” Jade pressed him. “Seriously, are you guys still holding out on me still?” She slammed the countertop with her tequila bottle.

  Shango glanced between the two of them and the nodded. “The technology behind the chip they’re using on Thralldom’s slaves is not intended for androids,” he said. “They are the most logical group to prototype the technology, but that is merely the beginning.”

  “The beginning of what?” Jade asked in clear exasperation. “Is this another revolution talk? Because honestly—”

  Shango assertively spoke over her. “We’ve received irrefutable evidence that there is work underway to adapt its software into a corteX app.”

  That was enough to bring Jade to silence, overwhelmed with thoughts of the implications of something like that. In her time on Sparta station, she’d seen corteX apps used for all manner of questionable activities. They were often accused of being used for mind control, but that usually referenced advertising programs or other corteX-directed marketing tactics. The idea that one could actually sap her of her will was something that chilled her to her core. “An app?” she asked. “Who would it be distributed to? LaPlace soldiers?”

  Shango’s lips curled into an expression of disgust. “Blackfriar’s intelligence as well as our own indicates that their intention is to distribute it as a global corteX update.”

  “Mandatory,” Olofi added. “Pre-packaged for any corporate or Federation-integrated systems.”

  Jade felt breathless even imagining it. “That’s…”

  Loco finished her sentence. “Fucked. Totally fucked. That’s Cardboard’s goal. Every living thing, alf or Iwa or human, all fucking drained dry until they’re as bland and boring as he is. Except he’s the only one who gets to call the shots.”

  Shango lowered his head in somber agreement. “That is LaPlace’s ultimate goal. To forcibly subjugate all sentient life. To render themselves the sole arbiters of all things, while all beneath them are rendered mere tools.”

  Jade didn’t want to believe it. In her past life she wouldn’t have believed it. But that only made her all the more sure it was true. If an app like this was possible, it would be impossible to warn the billions who would be immediately exposed to it. Even if they were warned, few would do anything to stop it. CorteX technology was so deeply integrated into daily life. She knew that if she’d still been on Sparta today, and someone warned her about a danger like this, she would have brushed it off as a mad conspiracy theory.

  And she would have been sapped of her will, rendered a zombie like all the others.

  “Okay,” Jade decided. “You’re right. You’re all right. This needs to be stopped, no matter what.”

  All three of them met her eye with a knowing nod of approval. The way they all looked at her made her somehow feel, for the very first time, like she truly was part of the crew.

  “Okay, so just tell me what I can do to help.”

  +++

  Aboard the Odysseus, Edge of Klaunox-Orion Sector

  Bentley stood beside Svend on the bridge of the Odysseus, looking out at the main screen and the image of Thralldom it showed from its long-range visual sensors.

  She was dressed in a new outfit, a well-fitted one-piece suit in black and blue that they’d put together for her. It integrated Shango’s battle weave into a garment that also used the protective qualities inherent in the androids’ uniforms. Her belt held two compact blasters of the sort Svend had sported, hidden on the last mission, and the designer epaulettes on either side seemed like they would have been useful hiding spots for a few bit-tools, if she’d thought to ask Shango for a few.

  “How’s the new gear feeling?” Svend asked her. “Ready for the fight of your life?”

  “Please,” Bentley replied with confidence. “I’ve literally been fighting for my life for as long as I can remember. This is just the first time I’ll have a real army backing me up.”

  “I’ve been waiting for this day for so long,” Svend reflected. “Honestly, now that we’re this close, I’m not sure how I should feel. It still almost seems unreal.”

  “It is unreal,” Bentley told him. “Until the job’s done, anyway. Let’s do this thing and then worry about that stuff later.”

  Svend looked appreciative. “I’ll drink to that,” he said.

  “For all the good it’ll do you. Genetic quirk and all that.” She winked at him.

  Barnabas called from his workstation. “Captain. We’re being hailed by the Zion. Short range sensors place them in close proximity.”

  “Extend our welcome,” Blackfriar ordered. “And a boarding tunnel.”

  Bentley felt nervous about letting the rebels board the ship. On one hand, they were going to be integral to the mission, and the footage of them in action had shown that Ivor’s bravado wasn’t all false; they were highly effective in close combat. On the other hand, that meant that with the Odysseus’ tunnels uplinked to their ship, they could just as easily decide to turn those skills against the androids in retaliation for Ivor’s humiliation.

  To her relief, only two men entered the bridge, and neither was Ivor. Nikola was the first of them and, though he had that same determined fury she’d never seen leave his eyes, he didn’t bear an expression of hostility, at least not towards the denizens of this ship. The man beside him was a towering, square-jawed fellow, well over a head taller than Nikola, who was by no means a short man himself. He stood close behind his captain with shifty eyes, carefully guarding him.

  “Captain,” Nikola gave a quick, functional bow to Blackfriar when he approached.

  Blackfriar saluted him and responded in kind. “Captain.”

  With the formalities out of the way, Nikola’s shoulders relaxed and he actually smiled. “You know, you could have told me from the start that we were busting up Amroth’s chops here. I could have pulled a few brothers and sisters out from across the system for an op like this.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment,” Blackfriar respectfully answered him. “But the Zion will be more than sufficient for our needs. Anything more would raise unwanted attention.”

  “Oh, believe me, I know all about that shit,” Nikola replied. “And speaking of which, I’m sorry my son turned out to be such a fuck-up on the recon. The kid’s a top-class fighter, believe me on that, but his head’s always in battle.”

  Blackfriar shook his head dismissively. “Think nothing of it. I am only glad to have your strength with us now.”

  Nikola clutched a closed fist to his chest. “You’ll get that in spades, believe me. We’re gonna make this right. And once we’re through with this LaPlacian cesspool, maybe we’ll make Klaunox a bit more right, too.”

  “One can only hope,” Blackfriar said. “Best of luck to you.”

  Nikola’s grinned widely, showing his teeth. Even that somehow made him look more dangerous. “Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” he said. He turned to Bentley and Svend, looking them up and down. “You two are with me for this,” he motioned to them. “Come on, we’re going to need to get you ready for action.”

  “With you?” Bentley sounded unsure of the prospect of boarding the rebel ship, in spite of the captain’s newfound friendliness.

  Nikola looked at her cock-eyed. “Well they’re not exactly going to roll out the fucking red carpet for the two of you after the last stunt you pulled now, are they?”

  Bentley looked over at Svend, then back to Nikola. “Are they going to let us back in at all after that time?” she asked. “I sure wouldn’t.”

  Nikola laughed at that and turned away to walk towards
the airlock. “Oh, don’t worry, we’ve got that covered. So, are you coming or not?”

  “Right,” Bentley said. She began to follow him.

  Svend hung back momentarily and approached Blackfriar with a serious look. “Captain,” he began. “I…”

  “No,” Blackfriar stopped him. “Not yet. Not until our brothers and sisters are freed.”

  Svend couldn’t hide his disappointment, but obediently bowed. “Yes, sir,” he said, before turning and making haste towards the airlock after Bentley to board the Zion.

  +++

  Thralldom Space Station, Edge of Klaunox-Orion Sector

  “Are you sure this’ll be enough?” Bentley stared at herself in the mirroring screen app on the Zion’s bridge. She adjusted the bold red wig on her head until it stayed firmly in place. Her lipstick matched, and she was sporting glittery eyeshadow. But the woman she saw staring back at her just looked like Bentley in a wig.

  “Don’t get your panties in a knot over it. The makeup throws off the sight scanners,” Nikola explained from his command station. “Everything else is color matching. The new ID we’ve fitted to you will cover the rest.”

  “Their security system just seemed so sophisticated,” she said doubtfully. “It’s hard to believe they’d be fooled by a simple disguise like this.”

  Nikola grunted in what could have either been amusement or frustration. Given his rough-hewn face it was hard to tell the difference. “Let me tell you a little something you learn quickly after a few years locked in asymmetrical warfare,” he said. “The more money and tech your enemy has to throw at his problems, the worse prepared he is to deal with someone who knows how to operate low-budget and low-tech. They expect universal IDs and corteX logs to handle everything. Hell, if we don’t succeed, that attitude might even see its endgame. For now, though, we know how to kick them in the balls. Don’t stop and worry if they decided to start wearing a cup.”

  Svend’s own outfit made him look no less dashing, but in a decidedly different way. His short blonde hair was covered with a wig of a long, black braids, and he was dressed in a silken one-piece suit with an intricate flowing pattern on it that supposedly also assisted in defying identification.

  They had already docked at the now fully repaired gates to the Thralldom casino, and Nikola hastily made his way from the bridge exit. “Let’s do this thing,” he said, not looking back to see if the others followed.

  The entrance was noticeably less breathtaking the second time around to Bentley, likely tarnished with the memories of running for her life and getting in a violent shootout. She also felt nervous on the approach, especially knowing Svend’s android status for certain. Even remembering how the sensors failed to pick it up the first time, she still experienced palpable relief when the hosts’ scanners found him fit to pass. She was next, and she took a deep breath, staring directly into the corteX interface.

  “Welcome to Thralldom, Lady Grey,” the hostess amicably answered. Bentley felt like she could breathe again, and she stepped into the first level of the casino.

  Thralldom was no less bustling than when they’d last entered it. If anything, the crowds were larger now, with some of the dice tables so densely packed that it was impossible to see the goings-on at them, even standing up close.

  Bentley glanced around in disbelief. “You’d think a firefight, a full lockdown, and a fucking warship crashing through the front gates would have chased off some customers for at least a few days,” she said.

  Svend chuckled. “You’d really think so, wouldn’t you?”

  Nikola glanced back at them. “For these rich assholes? Fat chance. They’re so addled on the shit their money buys that they crave a dose of reality,” he said. “Even when they don’t fucking know it. Bet you half these folks are actually hoping some crazy shit goes down again today,” he smiled gleefully in the strobe lights again, his eyes gleaming as he spotted a mark at a less-occupied table. “Good thing we’re not gonna disappoint them, huh? Let’s go give ‘em their money’s worth.”

  Unlike his hotheaded son, Nikola proved a prodigiously effective gambler. He’d claimed it came from the sense for danger he’d honed from years of fighting and infiltrating Federation forces. That sounded suspect to Bentley, but she couldn’t argue with the results. The money he’d amassed at the table alone looked like more than what the proposed payment for this job was going to be, and he recklessly raised it one more time before he was stopped for an invitation to the next floor. With a flair for the kind of grandstanding that got people moved up quickly, he bought a round of drinks for the entire floor on his way out while he took an entire entourage up to the next level with him, carefully padded with a few unaffiliated hangers-on to make the group look more organic when he led his selected squad higher up into the casino.

  The second level showed no signs of the gunfight that had raged through it. Bentley tried to take a moment to enjoy the starry scene with Svend the way she had before. She found it harder this time, though, knowing what was coming, and she found that her companion was equally reserved with the weight on his mind. They both instead stuck close to Nikola as he worked the room with a magnetic and aggressive passion.

  “You’re good at this, huh?” Bentley whispered to him when the crowds had become busy enough around them that it gave the illusion of privacy.

  “Like a fucking chemist is good at mixing drinks,” Nikola answered, his disdain for the adoring casino goers flashing across his eyes just for a split-second when he looked at her. “Morale is everything in battle. But inspiring it out there is actually hard. In a party it’s a fucking cakewalk.”

  “Couldn’t teach that to your son, though,” Bentley quipped, but with immediate regret when she saw the look it earned her.

  “Can’t be taught,” he said. “Not to anyone. Gotta learn that shit for yourself.”

  It wasn’t long before they’d been brought up to the relative peace of the third floor, and that was where the two of them parted ways.

  “This is your post,” Nikola told her and Svend as they sat at their old spot at the bar. “Both of you. Wait here for the signal.”

  “What’s the signal?” Bentley asked.

  Nikola had already begun walking for the backstage hallway. “Oh, you’ll know it,” was all he gave her.

  Bentley and Svend looked at each other for a moment, recalling how recently they’d been in this exact position.

  Bentley smiled fondly. “Buy a girl a drink.”

  Svend just laughed and raised his hand to wordlessly summon them a round.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Third Floor, Thralldom Space Station, Edge of Klaunox-Orion Sector

  The building tension at the bar was thick in anticipation of the oncoming attack, even just between Bentley and Svend. Both of them knew they needed to act casually in order to keep up appearances, but even Svend only sat quietly, carefully sipping on his whiskey sour, as though there were any possibility he could get drunk. He seemed lost in thought, only glancing at Bentley every few moments.

  They stared back at one another wordlessly. She missed the pleasant, carefree banter they’d shared here on their last visit. More than that, she missed seeing that impish smile on his face.

  Bentley forced the awkward silence to an end. “So… uh,” she said. “What was it you wanted to talk to your captain about?”

  Svend looked as though he’d been awoken from a trance. “Huh?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

  “Before we left. There was something you wanted to say to Blackfriar, but he told you to wait until we got back.”

  Svend stirred the ice about in his drink and then took another miniscule sip. “Oh, that. It’s complicated. You’d have to know a lot about the both of us for it to make any sense.”

  Bentley forced a smile. “I wouldn’t mind hearing about it. You’ve listened so much, by now you pretty much know my entire life story as far as I do. But I still feel like I know barely anything about you.”

&nbs
p; Svend’s lips curled up briefly before going back to neutral. “And I’d love to tell you all about it, too. At least the parts that wouldn’t put you to sleep. But…” He looked around the room and then back at her. “Not here, not now.”

  Bentley sighed listlessly, but gave him a single, understanding nod. “Wrong time, wrong place,” she concurred.

  A glass was placed next to Bentley from the other side of the bar. “Your drink, madam,” the bartender said. She looked up at him. He was obviously an android, with slender, mechanical fingers that dexterously cleaned a glass while his golden-hued eyes stared back at her.

 

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