13
“Join me”
According to the Earth calendar, Zaak was now twenty-three years old, but Earth time still seemed foreign to the former Phantasyan. It had taken Zaak longer to prepare for Earth than he’d expected, but he’d been a permanent resident for a few years now. He’d matured into a fairly tall, lean, attractive man. Zaak kept the hanging brown hair of his youth, but he’d seen from locals that the trend was to bleach sections that hung in his face. Many of the fashions common to Earth were perplexing. But, he’d done what he could to blend in, and by watching people his age Zaak picked up on the mannerisms and lingo of his home planet.
Still, adjusting to many Earthy things was difficult. There were the sounds, for one thing – Earth was a cacophony. Then there were the natives. Often Zaak quoted or referenced something these people didn’t remember from their history. The people he encountered had such drastically different personalities, and it was difficult to know how to act from person to person. Also, sometimes it wasn’t possible to tell what a person was thinking from his or her body language, which had always been his easiest way of studying people.
Most of this confusion Zaak could blame on being raised by Trok. However, Zaak often wondered how human he really was. Did being human mean that a person came from Earth?
In any case, what helped most was his fake ID tags. Whenever he wanted, he’d go sans ID tag and be undetectable. Or, he’d wear a tag and clear security like a Dominion operative, gaining access to places ordinary citizens couldn’t enter. He had clearance for all kinds of secure data. And, of course, there was the kronar. Zaak’s ability to tap into Dominion funds allowed him to look even more like an operative, considering he could afford luxury vehicles and posh clothing. No one paid attention to an attractive man with a high level of clearance because everyone assumed he was what he claimed and appeared to be. Even real operatives fell for it.
Life was good.
Because of this wealth, Zaak could’ve lived anywhere on the planet that he wished, but he’d decided on an apartment in Havanahell, formerly Baltimore. He’d been right about Cruelthor’s eastern seaboard region being the best place to blend in, and many advantages came with the territory. For, appearances notwithstanding, Zaak wasn’t entirely focused on living the high life. Oh, no. He had other reasons for establishing a life in Havanahell.
A siren from a patrol machine woke Zaak from a sound sleep. He sat up with a start, still not used to noises other than that of blowing sand. It only took a glance at his sunlit bedroom before he remembered where he was. Zaak crankily ruffled his bleached bangs and flopped back over in bed. A pillow held to his ears worked as a sufficient muffler, and he tried to ignore the blaring patrol machine as it alerted drones of a detected criminal.
Just one night, he thought. I just want one full night’s sleep.
As he rolled over, Zaak’s senses flared. He heard his pumping heart accelerate. With eyes closed, he lay still and heard someone breathing in his room. Zaak flexed his muscles under his covers and prepared to jump on the intruder. He tried to appear like he was sleeping and rolled in the direction he heard the breathing. With a burst of speed, Zaak sped up his roll and leapt out of bed. He slammed into a small person standing against the wall and raised a fist to strike.
“Ahhh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The intruder lifted his arms to protect his face. “I didn’t mean nothin’!”
Zaak lowered his fist, but he kept the teen pinned to the wall. “Are you done whimpering, Nat?”
A few months ago, Zaak had caught Nat stealing food from a vendor, and he’d offered to trade Nat food for information. Nat was a world-class hacker who specialized in accessing Dominion mainframes. Currently Nat was on something, possibly the latest Shfex drug. An undeniable MOB, Nat had yellow, cat-like eyes which darted around the room, not competent enough to focus on Zaak because of the Shfex. His forehead was perspiring. His blond, thin, disheveled hair was damp. Nat most likely hadn’t eaten in days. Despite being famished, the teen had more energy than anyone had any legal right to have.
“What are you doing in my bedroom?”
“I plucked the info you asked for.” Nat blinked his cat eyes. “You said to report back if I found somethin’. I’m just followin’ orders!”
Zaak released him and motioned for Nat to go ahead of him into the main section of the apartment. “So, spill.”
People skills, thought Zaak. I need to work on that.
Nat hurried to obey and walked out the bedroom door, turning to talk. “You know that cha with the weird birthmark ya told me about? Remember the cha you told me to peep?”
Not yet familiar with the Dominion Youth-influenced slang, Zaak took a moment to sort out Nat’s words. “Yeah, I remember. If you won’t get to the point, you can let yourself out. You managed to let yourself in.”
They made their way into Zaak’s bare-bones kitchen.
“No, I found her!” Nat jumped in the air to emphasize his accomplishment. “It wasn’t easy, either. You told me to start by searchin’ for that birthmark, and I stumbled upon records someone else accessed when searchin’ for the same birthmark. The records were from a dermatology office in Capital City. Turns out, a Dominion Youth tried to have her birthmark removed several times, and the office kept the records. Her code name was right there in their files.”
Zaak raised his eyebrows at this development. “Okay…”
“From there, I accessed ID tag records and tried to match any to that code name, but no match. That’s why the Dominion uses code names, though – to hide their operatives’ identities. From what I can tell, this cha doesn’t have known aliases either. It’s like she doesn’t have an ID – she has no profile information, no kronar account, no medical file, nothin’. So, I fished around in more secure Dominion files and pulled out everythin’ I could with that code name. But there ain’t a lot. This cha is more classified than anyone I’ve ever heard of. Every record about her is either auto-wiped or restricted to the highest levels. It’d take Cruelthor’s own clearance to get anythin’ more than what I’ve found.”
Zaak walked to the cold storage and took out three sandwiches for the hungry informant to devour. Still in the clothes he’d worn the night before, Zaak threw on a clean shirt from his laundry hamper on the table. He knew Nat had more. The kid liked to be dramatic.
Nat sat at the table and tore into a sandwich. “What I did manage to pluck were transmissions she’s sent to the Dominion. That’s the other reason I know she doesn’t have an ID tag – she sends the transmissions by using an access code in the public terminals. The transmissions all come in under her code name, and their point of origin is the only way to track her.”
Out with it, thought Zaak. Sand, it’d be so much easier if Trok would just tell me where she is!
“What’s her code name, Nat? Where is she now? How do I find her?”
Food in his mouth, the MOB teen looked around the apartment. “I don’t wanna say any more here.” He pointed to the walls and held his ear.
Zaak reasons that Nat was afraid of his somewhat gossipy landlord. He nodded to the scrawny teen and walked to the door. Following Nat out, Zaak grabbed a jacket and tucked a gun into a pocket. He always took protection, just in case of trouble.
The commerce district of Zaak’s apartment was crowded enough to allow for private conversation without anyone paying attention, but one could never be too sure. The three levels of traffic overhead would interfere with any surveillance devices. On the pedestrian level, colorful shops and vendors lined the sidewalks, attracting more attention than two men sitting for a bite outside a food stopover.
This city’s not bad, thought Zaak. I certainly saw uglier cities in my quest to find a home. Of course, anything but sand is welcome.
Once Zaak was comfortable with their surroundings, he ordered Nat to talk. “What’s her code name?”
“Bullseye.” Nat took a bite from the last of Zaak’s sandwiches. “And there’s mor
e. I found records from an investigation ten years ago when they thought she was working with the Underground. Cruelthor himself canceled her DRK treatment injections while she was under investigation.”
“Did anything come of the accusations?”
“No, but she wasn’t trusted with Elite status. For the past ten years, she’s been constantly under surveillance. I plucked a list of assignments handed out over that time, and her code name was listed under half the assassin operatives’ slay missions. Bullseye marked ten slays in the first two months after she went back to work, and we’re talking about heavy undercover work.”
Yikes, thought Zaak.
“Now, the Dominion’s had her on a mission for a solid year. She’s made little contact, but just last night I intercepted a transmission from the Mainland-Euro. It said she’s returnin’ tonight to Capital City. Cruelthor’s ordered her to deliver some kind of written report, so that means she’ll be in the Capitol.”
At last! thought Zaak. I can finally-
He looked up as a familiar woman crossed the pedestrian street. The woman had dark skin and wore a fire-red wig that hung to her elbows and swung against her reptile-skin coat as she walked. Although a crowd was between them, the woman was obviously watching Zaak. She made a face when she realized she’d been spotted, but she didn’t attempt to run. Instead, she glanced around and stopped on the sidewalk a short distance away.
Nat took no notice of the woman. He had eyes only for his sandwich. “What do you want with this assassin cha, anyway? She owe you kronar or somethin’?”
“Something like that.”
“Whatever you want with her,” said Nat around a mouthful, “watch out, Zaak. This cha is chief.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.” Zaak pressed a red kronar tube into Nat’s sweaty hand, then slapped Nat’s back as he left the hacker.
Nat darted into the crowds with his sandwich.
Zaak walked on down the sidewalk. He soon found the woman taking his arm as if they were good friends. In reality, they’d only met four times. Blaze was a black market dealer who specialized in stolen Dominion vehicles. Zaak had convinced her to give him the heads-up on any shipments before she set up deals with her regular contacts.
Blaze walked at eye level with him, and she looked over with a smile. “I didn’t think you’d be around today.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” Zaak examined her as they passed a drone. “Nice hair. Are you trying to get noticed by patrols?”
“You should talk.” She pulled at his jacket collar. “Cruelthor himself couldn’t afford your wardrobe.”
You’d be surprised what Cruelthor can afford, he thought.
Zaak looked far ahead into the crowd, scanning with his keen eyesight for trouble. “Still, you stand out. That’s not advisable in your line of work.”
“Flush it. Life’s too short to look dull.” With a shrug, Blaze led him across an intersection. “New speeders came in this morning. The Dominion base in South Yor is supposed to receive fifty this afternoon. I made a deal with the shipment coordinator, and he’s manipulated the order list to read forty-five. You interested?”
Zaak lowered his head as a patrol machine hovered over the street. “I’ll take four. When can I pick them up?”
“Why don’t I deliver them to your door?” Blaze snapped her fingers with a knowing smirk. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t tell anyone where you store your collection.”
The location of Zaak’s collection was the main reason he’d chosen Havanahell as his new home. Some time ago, with Trok’s help, Zaak discovered an old military base the Dominion had buried on the outskirts of Havanahell’s suburbs. No one knew the base was still intact underground. Zaak had fixed the energy system to run on internal generators, and it had only taken a few months before the subterranean base was usable again. The fact that Zaak used Dominion kronar to spruce up the place didn’t hurt. His base wasn’t a top-of-the-line facility, but it was far more advanced than anything the Underground rebels had. Endless rooms lined one side of the base, and he’d filled these with tech, weapons training programs, weapons, physical training equipment, and everything else his heart desired. The base had an enormous garage, and this was where he stored his vehicle collection. A hangar branched off this garage, but he hadn’t worked in that area much. On the other side of the base, living compartments post-restoration now looked like any apartments one might find in the cities above, except for the obvious lack of windows. All in all, Zaak figured the base had everything the soon-to-be Kota Warrior team would need.
Blaze knew nothing of this. “I swear, Zaak, you’re one of the most eligible bachelors I’ve ever met, but you act like a hermit. I could set you up with tons of chas if you’d loosen up a little.”
Yeah, I’m an odd duck, he thought.
He forced a smile. “When can I pick up the speeders, Blaze?”
She gave him the time, pecked his cheek, and hurried off into the crowd.
Later that night, Zaak wondered if he really needed the speeders he’d purchased from Blaze. He then scolded himself for letting his thoughts wander. Forcing himself to focus on his current mission, he put the issue out of mind.
By studying architectural layouts of the Dominion’s Capitol compound, Zaak had located Bullseye’s living compartments. He’d left a few computer programs running back at his base, and these had bypassed security, allowing Zaak to sneak inside the perimeter fences. After that, this air duct had been the best way into the building itself. Now, from inside this air duct, he’d been staring down into Bullseye’s room for over an hour. There was no sign of her.
Is she ever going to show? he thought. Nat’s schedule said she had a brief report with Cruelthor, but she should’ve finished by now.
Bonk!
Zaak mouthed a scream. He’d hit the side of his head against the air duct. The spot throbbed, and he caressed his head as he squirmed for a better position. This time he was careful not to create a sound.
Just when Zaak thought he couldn’t remain confined any longer, the door to the room below opened. A woman with dark, shoulder-length hair entered. She wasn’t quite as tall as Zaak, but she was clearly in shape. He watched as she flung her jacket across the room and punched the wall with enough force to rattle the air duct. Although he didn’t know her from Eve, Zaak could tell she was upset. She threw herself facedown onto her bunk, and Zaak saw the Mark exposed where her shirt pulled from her shoulder. That confirmed it – he’d found his sister.
Zaak gripped a gene-repressor collar and carefully positioned himself, preparing to jump down through the vent into her room. He took a deep breath, rolled forward, kicked loose the grate of the vent, and fell to the floor. He jumped to his feet and, in a single move, lunged forward to lock the gene-repressor around the woman’s neck before she could react.
Almost before she could react. As the gene-repressor snapped in place, she pushed off the bunk and kicked Zaak in the stomach, sending him flying against the far wall. His mutate-genes’ effect on his sense of touch allowed him to keep his balance, but she leapt after him, spun, and kicked him to the floor. Zaak recovered in time to grab her leg as she came around, and he pulled her to the floor with him. She kicked and fought, and Zaak scrambled to keep hold of her. He cupped his hand over her mouth.
“It’s okay,” he said as she kicked. “I’m not going to hurt you. You probably won’t believe me, but I’m your brother. My name is Zaak.”
She stopped kicking, but Zaak knew it was a ploy to get released. He wouldn’t fall for that, but he removed his hand from her mouth so she could respond.
“I have enough brothers. I hope you don’t expect me to weep with joy.”
“You don’t remember me? You were six when we got split up.”
“My psychologist says I block out my childhood. Sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry.
“I don’t really care if you believe me right now or not. You’re coming with me.” Zaak sat her up, took
out a syringe he’d stored in a pocket, and stuck the needle in her neck.
She fell limp.
She’ll be mad about that later, he thought. Oh, well. Better to drag her dead weight than have her fight me all the way back through the air duct.
Zaak got to his feet, left her on the floor for the moment, and pulled a chair under the open vent. Then he lifted his sister on his shoulder and stepped up onto the chair. He was careful with her head as he shoved her limp body up into the air duct. Once she was inside, he hauled himself up after her.
Dragging her through the twisting air ducts, Zaak eventually made it to the dark night outside. He looked around the yard but found it empty. With caution, he lowered his sister into the bushes, then jumped out of the duct to crouch in the foliage. His eyesight was sharp enough to sweep back and forth in the dim light, and he saw the area was clear.
With a grunt, he lifted his sister over his shoulder, took a step out of the bushes, and ran with her to the main gate. As he’d expected, all was quiet – the guards were between shifts, and he’d hacked into the security computer so the scanners and cameras were looped. He opened the gate and, without any more trouble, carried his sister out of the Dominion compound.
A short walk later, Zaak used a device on his wrist to deactivate a stealth device, and a hover car blinked into view at the curb. Zaak loaded his unconscious passenger into the vehicle, slammed her door shut, and ran around to climb into the driver’s seat. Once inside, he reactivated the device on his wrist and saw the windshield shimmer. He started the silent vehicle and checked his blind spot like Trok had taught him before speeding away from the curb and leaving the Dominion Capitol behind.
“Eva,” he said to activate the AI program linked to the car, “switch the Capitol’s security system back over to their control. We’re clear of the cameras.”
“As you wish,” said the computer program.
Zaak allowed himself a deep breath and looked at his sister where she slumped against the passenger side door.
The Kota Page 20