Renegades

by Thomas Locke

  “Which would put the entire system within Tiko’s reach,” Nicolette said.

  Logan said, “General Brodwyn didn’t allow us to come because of the Assembly.”

  Nicolette looked confused. “But she’s certain we will fail.”

  “The general doesn’t care what happens to us,” Vance said, his humor gone now. “If we confirm Tiko’s plans, we have succeeded. Whether we live or die is unimportant.”

  Linux did not actually smile, but humor tightened the seams around his eyes. “And I thought my own situation was dire.”

  16

  Commander Taunton led Sean and Dillon back across the circular forecourt and into the main plaza. They were followed by the silent Advocate. Taunton noticed the direction of Sean’s scowl and said, “Cylian risked her position to alert me.”

  Sean stifled his protest. But he wasn’t satisfied. Not by a long shot. Dillon apparently agreed, for he muttered, “She could have warned us. Should have, in fact.”

  Taunton replied, “I specifically directed her to keep you in the dark. If Kaviti had even suspected what I planned, he would have found a way to block my entry.”

  Dillon did not respond.

  Taunton indicated the people who watched their progress across the plaza. “As it is, I was able to alert allies within the Assembly. As did your assigned Advocate. Too many people know about this travesty of justice now. Kaviti can’t pretend it didn’t take place.”

  Dillon asked, “What will happen to him?”

  “Forced retirement, I hope. At the very least, I’m expecting a public rebuke.”

  Sean exchanged a glance with his brother. Dillon was equally unimpressed. “So, you’d be happy with a slap on the wrist?”

  “Actually, I would. Quite satisfied, in fact.”

  Dillon protested, “That joker locked us up. He did his best to strip away our futures.”

  Taunton pointed them between two buildings that looked like Grecian temples on steroids. The paving stones and the sides to all the buildings were etched and colored with the planetary emblems of a hundred and nineteen worlds. “You’re free,” he replied. “You are both reinstated. In fact, in the eyes of many your status has been elevated.”

  Cylian spoke for the first time since addressing the tribunal. “Not to mention how Kaviti’s faction has been handed a public censure.”

  “Precisely.” Taunton’s goal was a stone bench overlooking the chest-high wall rimming the cliff. Dillon had never been here before, so he did what every first visitor did, which was gape. Beyond the wall was a six-hundred-foot drop, down to a ribbon of beach the same color as the stone plaza. The largest ocean on Serena stretched out before them.

  Dillon whistled at the drop. “What’s to keep people from taking a dive?”

  “There’s a shield rimming the whole plaza,” Sean said.

  “For real?”

  “It’s too far out to touch, but if you toss a stone it will spark.”

  Dillon caught Sean’s expression and said, “Elenya brought you here?”

  There was no need to tell them how he and Elenya had selected a bench farther along the rim as their very own.

  He waited until Dillon had taken a seat beside the commander. Then he said, “What did you mean by Kaviti’s faction?”

  Taunton jerked his chin at Cylian. “Tell them.”

  She settled against the wall beside Sean and said, “Within the Assembly there is a secretive group seeking power. Kaviti is one of their more outspoken members.”

  Taunton told Dillon, “There’s a great deal more at stake than the arrest of you and your brother.”

  Sean realized Dillon was the focal point. Sean felt jarred and bruised by the day’s events, not to mention the jail time. He preferred to have this chance to step back and observe. Taunton’s words confirmed his suspicions that the commander had not involved himself in order to correct an injustice. The false imprisonment of two brothers was not something that would attract this man’s attention. Taunton wanted something.

  Taunton continued, “I represent a faction that is troubled by how some within the Assembly believe they are above the law. Thanks to Cylian, we have transformed your shadow trial into a public display of their abuses. We are in the process of preparing for a very real and very serious—”

  “I accept,” Dillon said.

  Taunton leaned back.

  “You brought me here to sell me on the idea of helping. Fine. Save your windup. I’m ready.”

  Taunton exchanged a glance with Cylian. “Actually, it was the Advocate who alerted me to your potential.”

  “Your files are most impressive,” she said.

  “Right now, I need an individual with your character, combined with a warrior’s training,” Taunton went on. He looked at Sean. “I am certain there will be a role for you as well.”

  Sean shook his head. “I’m not really interested in enlisting.”

  Cylian frowned in disappointment, but Taunton said, “Your sentiments are understandable, given what you’ve just been through. Perhaps in time you will reconsider.”

  Sean doubted it. “Maybe.”

  “I will count that as an affirmative.” Taunton pointed out over the cliff. “Be so good as to tell me what is missing from this scene.”

  Dillon frowned at the request. But Sean knew what the commander meant. “No storms, no tides, no waves, no currents,” he said. “Serena has no moons.”

  “Correct.” Taunton waved at the endless sheet of blue. “Visitors see this and think, ‘How peaceful. How calm. How safe.’ But down below the surface, monsters roam.”

  Dillon said, “I thought the Serenese monster was a myth.”

  “That is as intended. Centuries ago, the sea beasts were expunged from public records. It was a futile and silly act. History has been rewritten by people who prefer good publicity to the truth. The monsters were considered a threat to their concept of idyllic superiority.”

  Cylian said, “Serena has not known war in two thousand years. They claim to live in peace with all things. The Serenese people like to assume that they discovered the ancient records because Serena is the center of the human universe.”

  Taunton snorted his disdain. “Back in the age of seagoing vessels, the monsters preyed upon isolated ships. Convoys were never touched, so it was easy to ignore the few survivors who spoke of beasts so large they consumed entire vessels in one gulp.” He pointed out beyond the stone wall. “These supposedly calm waters are a fitting metaphor for today’s Assembly. On the surface, all is orderly and tranquil. But down below, hidden by shadows and legal design, monsters prey on the weak and gather strength.”

  “Kaviti,” Sean said.

  “He is most certainly one of them, but less powerful than he wishes. Others see him as a threat to their secret ways. He is pompous, and he reckons he should be supreme leader. He was easy prey. The ones we suspect are in control may use this as a means of disposing of him.”

  Sean asked, “Why are we here?”

  “I and a few concerned others are bound together in a struggle to uphold the Human Assembly’s founding principles.” Taunton’s gaze never left Dillon. “It is not too late for you to retreat. The task I have in mind could cost you everything. Hunting such a secretive enemy is not without dire peril.”

  Dillon replied, “It feels like I’ve spent my whole life waiting for somebody to speak those words.”

  Taunton nodded. “Go back to the Academy and pack your bags. You will only be returning there to teach.”

  17

  Logan opted to bivouac his crew in the empty militia headquarters. The structure was far too big. The public rooms were intended for squads five times their own size. But if they were successful, the space would come in handy. Plus there was only one main access point, broad double doors at the top of three wide stairs. A second portal was intended for deliveries and protected by the same steel shutters that were locked down over the two front windows. At the rear of the building, a trio of
hydroponics sheds flanked the cavern wall. The gardens were full of ripening fruit and vegetables.

  They set up camp, prepared a meal, and gorged themselves with the deliberate intent of people who did not know if they would ever eat again.

  Logan then set the first teams in place. Their practice sessions had been based around ten teams of four, five on and five off, plus spotters that Logan now set on the headquarters roof, by the Havoc tunnel mouth, and farther along the main thoroughfare. He had intended to use Vance as leader of one shift and Nicolette for the other, but they’d asked to take part in the first series of random strikes together.

  Every team was to operate within sight of another, linked all the way back to their headquarters. When they moved anywhere, they would maintain visual contact with the next unit. As he checked their comm links, Logan repeated the words he hoped were imprinted into all their brains. “Our first aim is not to capture every single enemy. We strike, we disappear, we remain safe. And the primary goals of these first sweeps are . . . what?”

  Nicolette and Vance responded for their crews. “Sow uncertainty and fear.”

  “Hold for my signal.”

  Logan now wore three communication rings. One was connected to his teams on an open link. There was no specialized link for his officers—everyone heard it all. They were frontline troops operating in tandem. Logan intended to reward trust with trust. Another comm ring connected to the ship, the third to Linux. All three worked through the same earpiece, which meant his crew could hear Logan code in the ship and ask to speak with Hattie.

  When the skipper came online, Logan asked, “Is this a secure link?”

  “You think I’d use anything else?”

  “I have a message for General Brodwyn.”

  “Speak.”

  “Everything she fears about Clan Havoc is true,” Logan said. “And more besides.”

  “Noted.” There was an instant’s hesitation, then Hattie added, “Good hunting.”

  He coded in the link for Linux, and when the old man answered, Logan asked, “All your men are pulled back?”

  “As you requested.”

  “The merchants’ private guards know to remain inside?”

  “They have been warned.”

  The link connecting Logan to his team glowed. “Stay ready for my alert. I have to go.”

  Vance waited for the line to clear, then reported, “We have identified two Havoc teams working the market.”

  “You’re sure they’re Havoc?”

  “No question.” Vance’s voice held the languid air of a man who relished danger like another might a fine meal. “I’ve watched them shake down a merchant with my own eyes.”

  Nicolette reported in. “A military transport has just emerged from the Havoc tunnel.”

  Logan felt a slimy claw grip his gut. “Give me the details.”

  “I count fourteen militia armed to the teeth, plus driver and officer up front. Okay, a second transport has now appeared.”

  Logan took a long breath. It all came down to this moment. And already his plans were in tatters. “Vance, you are to hold.”

  “But they’re—”

  “Do not move. Nicolette, wait for my arrival.”

  Logan could not be everywhere at once, but he could try. He had kept Sidra in reserve, and when he turned to her now he saw the grin of a feral cat.

  She asked, “Where to?”

  “This time,” Logan replied, “we run.”

  When Logan arrived at the spotter’s position on the thoroughfare, he found the beginning of one nightmare he had not anticipated.

  Nicolette gestured as the third transport trundled past below them. “They’re coming in force.”

  “They’ve changed tactics,” Logan realized.

  Three transports jammed with armed militia did not make a full-scale invasion. But it was a declaration of intent. Logan fought down a surge of panic as a third transport emerged. The second troop carrier held eighteen plus the driver and officer up front, the third twenty.

  Logan coded in his link. “Vance.”

  “Here.”

  “Bring your entire team back to the forward position.”

  “But what about the enemy we’ve identified—”

  “Every second counts. Come now.”

  “On our way.”

  They were positioned on a flat roof fronting the main avenue. A waist-high wall ran around the rim. Behind them were an open-air kitchen, two long tables with benches, and several sleeping pallets. Nicolette was prone on Logan’s left, her head up just high enough to see over the stone lip. “They must have been planning this for a long time.”

  Logan turned to Sidra. “Alert all the off-duty teams. Bring them here as fast as you can.”

  “On it.” She vanished.

  Logan’s senses were on ultra-high alert and his heart raced, yet he maintained a steady intensity. He noted the relaxed savagery in the Havoc militia’s expressions. They did not expect any opposition. Why should they? Every incursion they had made thus far had been met by silence and retreat. The duke was upping the stakes, pushing Linux harder. Pressing the advantage. The intended message was clear enough. Surrender and survive.

  Logan said, “We take the last truck first. Nicolette, your team takes out the driver and officer. Freeze only. Then all the other teams seize hold of the troops.”

  She squinted. “We don’t remove them?”

  “No time.” Not for binding them or for explanations. “On my mark.” He waited for her to give the orders, then said, “Go.”

  At the scrape of footsteps, Logan glanced around and saw Vance and his team fill the space behind. He motioned his second officer forward, then turned back in time to see Nicolette’s top two ghost-walkers reach out and pin the driver and officer where they sat.

  The transports were not moving swiftly. Logan assumed their speed was part of the overall strategy. They traveled at hardly more than a walking pace, allowing fear and panic to spread before them. The third truck ambled on for a bit, then veered slightly and finally nudged into the next stall on the avenue’s right side. The officer in the middle truck was alerted to something wrong when the stall’s central pillar gave with a loud crack, and the front awning draped itself over the truck like a dusty blanket.

  The second transport halted. The first continued on a bit, then stopped as well. The two officers stood in their respective seats and turned around. They stared back to where the third truck remained trapped halfway inside the stall. There was no motion from it. The second truck’s officer shouted something. The militia began readying to disembark.

  “Vance—” Logan stopped in mid-command because Vance was already positioning his teams.

  A few heartbeats later, activity around the second vehicle was immobilized. The militia froze as they descended from the rear hold, the driver was fixed in mid-turn, and the officer surveyed everything without protest or motion. Now it was only the first truck’s officer who shouted.

  Sidra reappeared beside Logan. “Three teams are here. The fourth was asleep. They’re coming.”

  Logan pointed to the militia now spreading out from the first transport, approaching their silent team. “Nicolette, have half your team freeze the troops on foot. When that’s done, send the others down. Start binding them—ankles and wrists.”

  When she departed, Logan waved Vance forward. “Have your team take out the first transport.”

  Nicolette slipped back into position beside Logan. “Smooth as silk.”

  Together they watched as the troops on patrol halted in their tracks, and the first transport became as motionless as the others.

  Logan said, “When the soldiers are bound, all crews should start shifting them to the holding pens inside the militia headquarters. After that, we go hunting.”

  18

  Their new headquarters served as a staging area. The captured Havoc personnel were bound ankle and wrist and mouth, except for three who breathed with difficulty. The tri
o was warned if they made any sound they would be punished. But the surprise assault left the entire company very subdued.

  The headquarters’ three large central chambers became jammed with fifty prone bodies. Logan’s teams shaped them into blocks of ten, with little avenues separating them. Everyone who was not out hunting helped. Groups of ten prisoners had their hands and feet and mouths released. They were taken on breaks, then sent back to the floor. Logan shifted those on guard duty every hour or so.

  And still more prisoners kept arriving.

  They worked through the day shift, then the night, and another day. Aldwyn held to a standard Cygnean day. Since there was neither day nor season, the shift of hours hardly mattered.

  Logan and his teams were both exhausted and too exhilarated to stop. Spotting the Havoc crews proved easier than expected, as they had been chosen with an intention to intimidate. They were big and they swaggered. They moved in twos and threes, dressed in dark shirts with the Havoc knife-slash on their shoulders. People shied away from them, creating tight circles even in the most crowded lanes.

  Vance had an idea, swiftly adopted by Nicolette’s teams. When a Havoc crew was identified, the teams’ first task was to locate a private space. A Havoc pair or trio was gripped from the waist up, and air was cut off, which rendered them powerless to struggle. They were walked down the lane or into the empty stall. There they were bound and then shipped back to join their fellows in the holding pen.

  Logan jumped back and forth. Wherever the action was fierce, Sidra took him. He said very little to the frontline teams because he did not need to. The squads performed beautifully. He complimented Vance and Nicolette as they continued to sweep up the Havoc forces, and did so on the open comm link.

  His teams started showing a new air of confidence. The radio chatter became terse, quick fragments shared by people who trusted one another. Go there. Three in the alley. One caught. Who’s on two and three?