by E. R. Torre
That was unlikely. All defects were found and fixed. The last thing the Epsillon Empire needed was to be blamed for any harm to a Phaecian Overlord.
Unless…
Could someone on board the Dakota have deliberately sabotaged the Xendos?
It wouldn’t be beneath some to take advantage of the situation…
The Newscorp screen darkened before returning to the initial news items.
B’taav didn’t notice. He mind was back on Inquisitor Cer.
If the Xendos was lost, so too was she.
B’taav experienced much during his life. He saw many good –and bad– people die well before their time. He mourned for some and not at all for others. Death was an integral part of his profession.
Yet he found it hard to accept this.
How can you be gone?
B’taav struggled to focus.
It was difficult to put his sorrow into words. His stomach tightened. His eyes closed.
No.
He couldn’t believe she was dead. The feelings within him were strong. Somehow, he sensed Inquisitor Cer was still alive.
Impossible.
And yet…
B’taav felt a growing anger.
You deal in facts, not feelings.
So many thoughts poured through the Independent all at once. Tentacles of conspiracy, worries about what would happen next. He thought about the people following him and wondered if the loss of the Xendos was the first step in the elimination of those associated with the Argus mission. If that was the case, Maddox and Nathaniel were also in danger. They were the only people to have actually been on the Argus…
If they were all being targeted, who would have the desire and, most importantly, the means to do so?
Merrick.
Jonah Merrick, B’taav’s employer and the head of the powerful Merrick Enterprises, was the only person with the wealth, the connections, and the political muscle to pull something like that off. If he managed to destroy the Xendos in Phaecian space, then what could he do here, on his home turf?
B’taav’s body tensed. He turned, suddenly aware there were eyes on him.
She sat in the table beside the entrance to the Berkeley Hotel’s Café. Her outfit was black formfitting leather. Her pale green eyes were on him. He knew her, though not very well.
Latitia.
B’taav met her briefly on Merrick’s personal shuttle craft shortly after completing his first mission for the Industrialist and just before being sent to find and destroy the Argus.
As during their first and only meeting, Latitia’s eyes did not waver.
B’taav reached into his jacket and gripped the handle of his weapon. She did not react.
If she’s here to kill you, why is she sitting there, fully exposed?
B’taav released the weapon. His hands returned to his side and he walked to her table.
“We need to talk,” she said. Her voice was as cold as her stare. “We don’t have much time.”
19
B’taav and Latitia retreated to a table deep inside the empty Café.
B’taav placed an order on a touch screen monitor and entered payment information. Shortly afterwards, a waiter showed. She carried a small tray with a blue liquor. She offered B’taav and Latitia a well-rehearsed smile before placing the drink down.
“Onian Skyfall,” she said. “Anything for you ma’am?”
“No thanks,” Latitia said.
The waitress nodded.
“And what about you, sir?”
“Thank you, no,” B’taav said.
The waitress lingered beside the table. After a few seconds Latitia reached into her pocket. Her action made B’taav stiffen. Latitia smiled and shook her head. Her hand came out of her pocket. She held a silver coin and gave it to the waitress.
“Thank you,” the waitress said. She walked away.
“Don’t you believe in tipping?” Latitia said.
B’taav took down his drink.
“You know, once upon a time… a hell of a long time ago, I worked at a dive not all that different from this one,” Latitia said. “I had the pleasure of serving assholes like you on a daily basis.”
“Did Merrick send you?” B’taav said. “Did he get to the Xendos?”
“No to your first question and I don’t know the answer to your second, though I can understand your suspicion.”
“The crew of the Dakota went over the Xendos. If the ship had any problems they would have found them. Unless they were more interested in planting them.”
B’taav ordered another drink. Latitia pressed a button on the touch screen, cancelling the order.
“There isn’t time for that.”
“If you aren’t here for Merrick, then why are you?”
“There are things we need to talk about.”
“I don’t have anything to talk to you about.”
“If you’re still bothered by what happened at Salvation—”
“There was no need for more deaths.”
Latitia sat back.
“The man waiting for you at your apartment on Salvation was named Sullivan. He was wanted on multiple worlds for everything from pedophilia to smuggling to drug abuse. His last job before Salvation was to get rid of the head of the Worker’s Union in Sentai. Sullivan found his target regularly dropped his daughter off at a primary school each morning. So he bought some explosives, set them up, and waited for his target to show. Sullivan got his man… along with twenty children. After that, even the few friends he had didn’t want anything to do with him. Merrick was after Sullivan’s employers. Even with Merrick cleaning house, you think he would let the papers know his employees and a piece of shit like Sullivan were in bed together? If I didn’t kill them, someone else surely would have.”
B’taav considered this.
“You used to work for Octi, didn’t you?” Latitia asked.
“You know I did.”
“You left them because they hired people like Sullivan,” Latitia said. “Merrick is no better than any other industrialist.”
Latitia smiled.
“So here you are, trapped and restless. You want to do what’s right but the people hiring you always have other ideas.”
“Why are you here?”
“You’ve been looking for a way out and I’m offering it. Only things won’t be easy and you’ll face danger. But you’ll be under no obligation and you will do what’s right. Best of all, you’ll do this under your own free will.”
“I must be really desperate,” B’taav said. “Because I’m still listening to this fairy tale. What do you want me to do?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
They left the Café and walked into the Hotel’s lobby. At the courtesy desk they requested a private desert transport.
“We’re going to the desert?” B’taav asked.
“Yeah.”
“What’s there?”
“You’ll see.”
Moments later, the vehicle arrived at the Hotel’s entrance. B’taav entered the transporter’s passenger compartment while Latitia took the driver’s seat. She disengaged the automatic driver.
They sat for a few seconds.
“What are you—?” B’taav began and stopped.
B’taav followed Latitia’s gaze. She was looking at a familiar cruiser parked across the street.
“Who are they?” B’taav asked.
Latitia drew a slow, deep breath and said:
“After finishing the job for Merrick on Salvation, I realized I was being followed. I froze out a couple of fixers that tried to get too close to me while on my way to Onia. I thought I was free. Guess not.”
“They’re Merrick’s?”
“I’m not sure, though it’s certainly possible,” Latitia said.
“They followed me from the Port here,” B’taav said. “Looks like they’re after both of us.”
“You still want to come?”
“At this point, it doesn’t
look like I have much choice.”
The men across the street turned their cruiser on. Headlights shined on the road. The cruiser’s passenger then pulled a large fusion rifle from the back seat. He loaded it, not caring if Latitia and B’taav saw him do so.
“Then we better get moving.”
20
Latitia drove out of the Hotel’s parking lot and into the dimly lit streets. The cruiser behind them did the same. The two vehicles moved along slowly.
“They’ll make their move as soon as we reach the decay,” Latitia said.
To get to the desert, they would have to pass the decay. B’taav reached for his fusion gun.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said.
The tires of the rented desert transport abruptly squealed while creating a cloud of smoke. Despite her bulk, she roared down the darkening street, gaining speed.
Their pursuers sped up as well. Their cruiser was made for city driving and would be difficult to lose.
“Two against two,” B’taav said. “Even odds.”
The lumbering transport was on a straightaway and building speed. The few other vehicles around them fell back until there were none. The streets grew very dark.
“We’re in the decay,” Latitia said.
The cruiser gained on them. The man in her passenger seat lifted his fusion rifle. He aimed.
Latitia spun the wheel violently to the left and the desert transport entered a narrow road. The oversized tires bounced as they passed a series of abandoned buildings. No lights came from any of them.
B’taav looked back at the cruiser. The rough road forced them to slow.
“We get to the desert and they can’t follow us,” B’taav said.
A fusion blast slammed into the rear of the Independents’ transport, scorching the trunk and sending a shower of sparks. A chunk of metal ripped and clanged away while smoke filled her interior.
“We’re too far away,” Latitia said. “We have to take care of them now.”
B’taav leaned out of the transport’s side window and aimed his gun at the cruiser. His weapon roared and delivered a strong kick. Projectiles hit the cruiser’s windshield and left large round cracks. The man in the passenger seat twitched wildly and fell back.
B’taav’s aim was true. At least two of his shots hit the man.
“One down,” B’taav said.
B’taav aimed at the driver. Before he could fire, the pursuing cruiser sped up and rammed them. The force sent B’taav back into his chair.
“They’re getting desperate,” B’taav said.
The Independent again leaned out the window and aimed. The pursing cruiser shifted to their left, making it hard for B’taav to see his target.
B’taav swore and slipped back into the desert transport. He moved to the back seat and had a clearer view of the driver. He aimed his weapon and was about to fire when he stopped.
“What in Hades?”
The man in the passenger seat, the man B’taav knew he hit twice, was up. He lifted his fusion rifle.
“Turn!” B’taav yelled.
Latitia did, sending B’taav flying against the side door. The fusion blast barely missed them, its heat scorching the side of the desert transport before incinerating a rusted light post.
“The shooter’s back up!” B’taav said. He shook his head. “Even with a force shield, the impact and heat should have taken him out!”
Latitia swerved back and forth along the road but the Independents knew it was a matter of time before their luck ran out.
“What’s happening?” Latitia yelled.
B’taav looked up and over the edge of the rear seat. The cruiser’s passenger –the man that should have been dead– was taking his time aiming his rifle. His fingers tightened on the trigger.
“Hang on!”
Another blast slammed the desert transporter’s rear, completely shattering the back window and ripping the tailgate. B’taav felt the intense heat and was bathed in glass and sparks.
“Shit!” Latitia yelled.
She slammed down hard on the brakes, surprising her pursuers. Their cruiser smashed into what was left of the rear of the desert transport.
Latitia pressed hard on the accelerator and pulled ahead. The cruiser’s engine belched white smoke but remained mobile. It gained speed.
“They’re still with us,” B’taav said. The interior of the desert transport was exposed. “Another fusion blast and we’re done.”
“Hang on,” Latitia said.
Latitia took another turn. She spotted an old building and took another, even sharper turn. The desert transport jumped onto a cracked sidewalk and bounced against brick stairs. It was momentarily in the air before her wheels dug in and she climbed up and up. The desert transport crashed through a wooden double door, sending splinters in all directions as it burst into an abandoned building. The brakes locked and the transport made a half turn before skidding to a stop. The driver’s side door faced the building’s destroyed entrance.
“You ok?” Latitia asked.
“Yes.”
“Get out.”
B’taav pushed his door open and Latitia followed him out.
The interior of the building was bathed in darkness. B’taav heard the flutter of bird’s wings somewhere high above and looked up. Despite the heavy shadows, he noticed the building’s high arched ceiling. To his side and around him were rows of wooden benches. They faced the building’s rear. That area was made up of an elevated platform and a dusty dais.
“We’re in a church,” B’taav said.
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Latitia said.
The sound of tires squealing was heard coming from outside. The pursuing cruiser came to a stop at the foot of the stairs and her passengers emerged. Each carried a fusion handgun and hurried to the church’s entrance. Their movements were very, very fast and eerily quiet.
“Either they have augmented limbs or are using some kind of adrenal enhancer,” B’taav said.
“Get to the other end of the dais,” Latitia said.
She bent down behind one of the wooden benches and waited.
B’taav made it to the dais and hid behind a large wooden chair. At one time, the church’s High Priest offered sermons from this lofty perch. Sturdy though it was, it could withstand at best a couple of fusion blasts before being vaporized.
The interior of the church grew very quiet. The destroyed front door looked out at the dark street and the emptiness beyond. There were no people around and no help to come.
B’taav’s attention turned to Latitia. He looked through the benches and pews and tried to find her. She was nowhere to be seen.
B’taav frowned.
The silence was thick and hinted at the violence to come.
B’taav checked his fusion handgun. He thought of the cruiser’s passenger and wondered if his weapon would be effective against them.
How the hell are you still alive?
There was a commotion on the far end of the church. Besides its shattered entrance, B’taav saw someone move from one shadow to the next. It was Latitia. She moved quickly, but not quickly enough. A fusion blast roared from the darkness and clipped her left leg.
“Latitia!” B’taav yelled.
He raised his weapon to fire but a powerful hand clamped down on it. B’taav tried to fight the grip yet, incredibly, was unable to move. Whoever held him spun B’taav’s body around like a marionette before slamming his chest. The blow knocked B’taav off the dais and sent him sliding between the pews.
For a moment, B’taav blacked out. The padding in his clothing took much of the force of the blow yet the wind was knocked from him. Had he not worn protective gear, his insides would be liquid.
B’taav shook his head and looked back at his attacker. He gasped.
The man had two large fusion blast wounds in his head. One ripped apart his right cheek and revealed broken and charred teeth. The other blast hit him above his left eye and exposed dark
matter. Blood and ooze filled the gory wounds, yet the wounds… moved.
It was as if they were slowly closing.
“What the hell are you?” B’taav said.
The being was instantly at his side, its speed beyond astonishing. B’taav tried to pull back but could not. The man grabbed B’taav by his neck and for a second the Independent felt a flash of heat –an electric shock– in his attacker’s touch. That heat spread through his body.
“What…?” he managed.
The being stared at him through a single dead eye. His grip on B’taav’s throat tightened until the Independent could no longer breathe. The man’s terrific wounds continued moving, closing.
With what was left of his strength B’taav raised his gun and jammed it against his attacker’s jaw. He fired once. Twice. Three times. Blood splatted from the man’s face and flesh was torn away but the man remained still. The heat B’taav felt turned into a dark, bitter cold and he was no longer in control if his body. His hand dropped to his side. His gun fell to the floor.
B’taav could barely keep his eyes open. He knew this was the end…
A blinding burst of light flashed from somewhere behind them.
The thing holding B’taav turned its head ever so slightly. Its grip relaxed and B’taav dropped to the floor.
The man stood still, his remaining eye alive now, taking in the darkness and searching for the source of that light.
B’taav coughed and gasped for air. He regained control of his body and reached for his gun. He again fired at his attacker, this time aiming for his heart. The fusion blasts sent the man stumbling backwards.
For the first time the shots appeared to have an effect on him.
It, not him.
The creature fought to regain its balance. Its movements were jerky. Mechanical.
You’re a machine.
The creature’s eye was on B’taav.
The flesh that made up its face was almost entirely ripped away, revealing a dark underside. That matter was like heavy, gelatinous water. The creature reached out, intent on grabbing B’taav.
The Independent rolled away. As he did, he felt more chills. The creature’s touch had done something to him. Strangely, B’taav knew he had done something to the creature.