by Jake Elwood
One of the detectives held up a hand. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions first, Miss."
Liz sighed and sank back onto the bed.
At first Joss let his words and Liz's responses wash over her, but after a few minutes something piqued her attention. She wanted desperately to stay in her warm cocoon of apathy and self-pity, but she found herself focusing on the interview in spite of herself.
"You already asked me that," Liz was saying, a clear warning in her voice. "Don't ask again."
The detective stared at her, nonplussed. Then he said, "Have you ever heard of the Sons of the Dawn?"
Liz gave him a bland look. "Are they a synth band?"
"No." The detective wore a hint of a grin now. "They're a terrorist organization."
Just like that, Joss felt her stress fall away. The mention of terrorists should have had the opposite effect, she supposed, analyzing her own reactions through force of habit. There was something in the man's tone, though …. She looked closer at him, taking in the details of his stance, the bright red flash of his necktie, the way he held his data pad. His face was in profile, so she had trouble reading his eyes, but she could see enough.
"They operate locally," the detective was saying. "They don't like it that a corporation basically runs the entire planet. They want to 'liberate' Mercury. By making life hard for everyone who disagrees with them, of course."
Joss tilted her head, trying to understand what her subconscious was telling her. There was no single thing that she could identify, but a dozen subtle signals were screaming to her that there was something off. The detective wasn't lying, not exactly. But he didn't quite believe everything he was saying, either.
"Never heard of them," said Liz. "Do you think those were terrorists? What would they want with Joss?"
"That's a good question," the detective said. "I'd love to know the answer, too." He gestured around the room. "This attack fits their MO. Masks, light body armor, a small team using unorthodox tactics."
Joss glanced at the other detective. He was an older man with a bristly mustache, staring blank-faced at a painting on the far wall, looking bored. Whatever was going on, he was oblivious to it. His tie was gold, she noticed. Not quite the deep gold of the Telemachus Corporation, but close to it. He wouldn't be a corporate employee. Was he trying to subtly identify himself with the corporation?
She thought of the first detective's red tie. Was he subtly advertising his indie leanings?
"To recap," the detective said, "you jumped from one balcony to the other, found two men grappling with your friend, and engaged them in hand-to-hand combat."
Liz nodded.
"They climbed to the roof, you followed. You chased them across the roof, they jumped into the back of a hotel flitter, and they flew away."
"That's right."
"And you never saw their faces?"
"No."
Joss felt her ears prick up. She's lying. Why? Oh, what does it matter? Can't they question her somewhere else? I just want to crawl under the covers and pretend this awful day never happened. Her heart wasn't in the sentiment, though. In spite of herself she was growing curious, and her melancholy was seeping away.
The detective began to lead Liz through a long, dull series of questions about where she'd been on Mercury and whom she'd seen. Joss took the opportunity to study the man. He was Liz's age, or a little bit older. Maybe thirty-five, she decided. Not much fashion sense. He wore his sandy hair in the no-nonsense, low-maintenance style that was common among spacers, cropped quite short with no particular styling. He had a round, open face and didn't seem cynical enough to be a cop. She rifled through her memories, trying to remember his name. Hancock? Hammond, she decided. Detective Hammond.
"You already met a representative of our sister organization at the port, I believe."
Liz didn't answer, just curled a lip.
Hammond chuckled. "Just between us, that's how I feel about O'Rourke, too.
"I wish you'd seen some faces," he added. "I'd like to know who exactly it was. Those Sons of the Dawn people are dangerous."
There it is again. What is that in his voice? Not duplicity. Ambiguity? Joss put a quaver into her voice. "I don't know why some terrorists would be after me. What do they want?"
He gave her a searching look. "They object to the Telemachus Corporation. That's the major investor in Dawn City. All of Mercury, really." His eyes bored into her. "Have you had any dealings with Telemachus?"
He just told me something really important. I can see it in his eyes. I just don't know what it is. "Not that I know of," she said. "What do they do, besides run Mercury?"
He shrugged. "They have some interests in the outer planets. You guys came in recently from Saturn, right?"
Aha. That's it. He's trying much too hard to seem offhand. "Yes, we did," she said, aware that Liz had gone still on the bed. "We didn't have any dealings with large corporations, though."
"I see," Hammond said.
I'm losing him. I just blundered. Somehow. But how? Everything in his body language and tone of voice told her that she was in more danger right now than she had been when the two men had tried to drag her onto the balcony. But why? What the hell is going on?
"I don't think I can tell you any more," said Hammond, and pocketed his data pad. There was real regret in his voice. "Let me know if you think of anything else, or if you see anyone suspicious. In the meantime, keep your balcony door locked, and you'll be fine." There was something hidden behind his eyes, though. A sadness, tinged with shame. He didn't think she'd be fine at all.
I need to know what's going on. He's turning away. Damn it, I need more time! I can't tell him about Enceladus. She glanced at Liz, who stared back at her with a dangerous glint in her eyes. There was a clear warning in the pilot's expression. Keep your big mouth shut.
Liz watched helplessly as Hammond turned his back. The other detective stirred, and the two of them started for the door.
"Wait," said Joss, and Hammond turned back. Is that relief in his eyes? Is it because he knows I'm about to incriminate myself? That wasn't it, though. Hammond had the look of a man on the hook with his own conscience, and hoping for a reprieve.
"There was one incident," Joss said. "On Enceladus. There was a corporate facility there, and a derelict ship. We landed and looked for survivors. But everyone was dead."
Hammond gave her a long, searching look. At last he said, "I'm sure it's not related. I don't think Telemachus ever had a facility on Enceladus. In fact, I'm sure of it." He turned away and followed the other detective into the hall. Then he leaned back into the room. "You need to leave Mercury," he said. "Go back to the outer planets. In case they come after you again." Joss was certain he wasn't talking about the Sons of the Dawn.
The door hissed shut behind him. The instant the two of them were alone, Liz turned on her. "What the hell, Joss! Are you suicidal? Are you trying to stick all our heads into nooses?"
"No."
"Well, what the hell did you think you were doing?"
Joss squared her shoulders and looked Liz in the eyes. "I think I just persuaded him to spare our lives. For now, at least. But we need to get off Mercury."
Liz gaped at her. "What? What in space are you talking about?"
"Did you see how he walked?" Joss demanded. "When he left. The tension was gone. Most of it, anyway. He made a decision. Because I told him about Enceladus."
The other woman just stared, and Joss grinned. "You know ships, Liz," she said. "And you know about hitting people. You're very good at it." She glanced at the gauze covering Liz's knuckles. "Thank you for that, by the way."
Liz gave a dismissive wave with one bandaged hand.
"I know people," Joss continued. "Hammond is a good man in a bad situation."
Liz made a frustrated gesture, clutching the air in front of her as if she were strangling an imaginary Joss. Then she winced and rubbed her injured knuckles. "So you told him about Enceladus?"
Joss shook her head. "He already knew. And he was going to report us to his bosses in the Telemachus Corporation. But now he won't. At least, not right away."
"What?" Liz sputtered. "And you get this from what, exactly?"
Joss gave her a helpless shrug. There was no way to explain the countless signals she had picked up, most of them unconsciously. "It was written all over his face."
For a long moment the two of them stared at each other. Finally Liz said, "All right. Whether you're right or not, Mercury's getting a little too hot for comfort. I'm going to call the captain." She stood, then glanced down at herself. "Actually," she amended, "I'm going to go and get dressed. You are going to call the captain."
Liz headed for the door, and Joss sank back in her chair. "What a day," she muttered, staring at the blood on the carpet. "What a day."
Chapter 4
"This is Pacer. How can I be of service?"
Chan smiled at the boy's greeting. Liz was right. He was going to come to a bad end. I hope I don't hasten that end tonight. He dismissed the thought. "Pacer. This is James Chan. You brought my two crew members and me to the Caduceus a few hours ago."
"Oh, right! Mr. Chan. You were with that pretty lady. What can I do for you?"
"I need to get in touch with the Sons of the Dawn."
The phone went silent in his hand.
"You don't have to tell me anything," Chan reassured him. "Just talk to them. Tell them I want a meeting. Tell them I'm the captain of the Stark Raven. They know who I am."
"I don't know," the boy said doubtfully. Then, his voice so phony even Chan knew he was lying, "I really wouldn't know anyone like that."
"Cut the crap, kid. Pass the message along. There's fifty bucks in it for you. Oh, and meet me at the end of the tunnel to the hotel if you want to get paid. I don't think I'll be on Mercury for long."
His phone rang in well under ten minutes. The voice on the other end was electronically scrambled, barely comprehensible. "Mr. Chan?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
"Call me 'Uncle'," the garbled voice said.
"We have things to discuss," Chan said curtly. "Things best not talked about on the phone."
"Yes," the voice said after a pause. "When would you like to—"
"Right away," Chan interrupted. "I don't want you to have time to prepare more nasty surprises."
"Very well." There was another pause. "Go to Noburu's All Night Pharmacy. Do you know where it is?"
"I'll get directions."
"Excellent," the voice said. "Wait in front of the pharmacy. You will be contacted. Come immediately, and come alone." The mysterious caller hung up without waiting for a reply.
"Cheap theatrics," Chan muttered. "Watch old movies much?" He pocketed his phone and stood. "Time to straighten a few things out."
It was midnight when Chan left the hotel and headed across the hotel grounds. He found Pacer, looking jumpy as a cat on a new station, loitering at the arch where he'd dropped them off. The boy gave Chan terse directions to the pharmacy, then pocketed his money and hurried away.
Chan watched him go, then headed out into the streets of Dawn City. The sun hadn't moved, of course. More of the windows were covered by blinds. Otherwise, nothing had changed.
Dawn City was a strange hodgepodge of covered and exposed areas. The front of the hotel opened onto a tunnel big enough for skimmers or large ground vehicles. Steelglass plates in the tunnel ceiling let in enough light to navigate. There were very few electric lights in a city so close to the unrelenting furnace of the sun.
Every part of the city could be reached by tunnel or covered walkway. A person in a vac suit could take a much more direct path, if he was willing to put up with the hassle of cycling through locks.
Chan chose the indoor route. He strolled along in shirt sleeves, taking in the ambience of the city as he walked. He went from a broad tunnel lined on one side with store fronts, most of them closed, to a hallway that took him under an apartment building. Rare electric lights burned in the ceiling until he reached a staircase that led him to a steelglass-enclosed walkway that followed the roof of another building. The walkway was lined with shutters that could be moved from one side of the path to the other as the sun moved through the sky. Mercury's rotation was extremely slow, making moveable sunscreens perfectly practical.
He walked through a dark shopping mall, descended to ground level to skirt the edge of another residential building, and came at last to a sprawling complex known as the warren. A hundred or so small businesses, each with a second-floor apartment, formed five long blocks separated by covered corridors. Most of the businesses were closed for the night, windows covered by shutters bright with graffiti. He saw photos of missing people printed on paper and glued to walls or shutters, and sketches and paintings brushed directly onto the walls.
A handful of businesses were open, and Mercurians wandered through the warren alone or in small groups. The crowds were small, but there were enough people to provide a bit of cover.
He reached Corridor C and glanced down the length of it. The lights of an all-night pharmacy shone about half way down, and he headed that way. His instructions were to loiter in front of the pharmacy until he was contacted, but Chan had other ideas.
His eyes scanned the corridor as he walked, looking for shadows, looking for a nook where a paranoid man might hide. A young couple came out of a café near the far end of the corridor, holding hands and giggling together. They strolled toward Chan, and he kept an eye on them, wondering if they could be his contacts. If they were just pretending to be lovers out for a stroll, however, they were doing a very good job.
He almost missed it. The man glanced sideways, over the top of the girl's head, and for a moment he stiffened. A moment later she tugged at his arm and he returned his attention to her, forgetting whatever he had seen.
Chan followed the direction of that brief gaze. There was a gap between a restaurant and the shop next door, a narrow, shadowy opening that hardly looked wide enough to conceal someone.
Bingo.
He passed the pharmacy, moving to the left-hand side of the corridor, hugging the front of the restaurant to keep himself invisible to the watcher hidden around the corner. Too late he thought to glance across the corridor and check for reflections in the windows across the way. Blank steel walls alternated with panes of glass too brightly lit to provide reflections, and he relaxed slightly. He was still hidden.
Adrenalin flooded his system, narrowing his vision, making his hands tremble, and he fought it. He took slow, measured breaths, concentrating on his lungs and diaphragm, and the grey circle around his vision gradually receded. He was close to the sweet spot that imminent danger could provide, when the air seemed to sparkle and time slowed down. He glided up to the corner, feet silent on the tiles beneath him, and heard the low whistle of someone breathing just centimeters away.
One last quick scan showed no one in sight but the two lovers, a good sixty paces away, their backs to Chan, absorbed in each other. Chan took a deep breath and stepped around the corner.
A man stood in the narrow gap between the buildings, turned slightly sideways so his shoulders would fit. Chan had a quick impression of a fleshy face and two small eyes that went wide with shock. Then he slammed into the man, driving him backward.
The man – 'Uncle', Chan assumed – tripped on his own feet and fell, and Chan lunged after him. Uncle landed on his back, and Chan came down on his chest. Chan felt a rush of air on his cheek, smelled onions and cloves as the breath left Uncle's lungs.
Despite the impact, despite the shock of it all, Uncle fought, one hand clawing at Chan's throat while the other hand fumbled at his waist. Chan used his left elbow to pin the clawing arm against the wall, shifted his hip so he pinned Uncle's other arm against his stomach, and wedged his right forearm under Uncle's chin. The sound of the man's breathing became suddenly louder, strained rasps as he fought to fill and empty his lungs.
Uncle buc
ked and squirmed, and the arm pinned against his stomach slid down several centimeters. Chan took his forearm from the man's throat, brought a knee up and sank it into Uncle's stomach, then reached down between their bodies and caught the man's wrist as Uncle pulled a small laser pistol out of his belt. For a long, frantic moment they strained against one another, and then Chan brought his left arm slashing down against the man's gun hand. The gun clattered to the tiles, and Chan shifted around until he had a knee on the weapon.
For long moments they continued to struggle, but Chan had the advantage of position and momentum, and at last he managed to get Uncle's right arm across the man's chest and push Uncle's left arm down over top. After that Chan was able to lean down and keep both arms pinned. He stayed like that, catching his breath, the two of them panting and glaring at each other. Uncle was short and portly, his face red from exertion, his dark eyes almost vanishing in the folds of his fleshy face. He gave a last, fruitless heave against Chan's weight, then sagged back and said, "What the hell do you want?"
"You're going to tell me what's going on, you bastard."
The man's voice was hoarse with the strain of breathing with Chan's weight on his chest. "You could have just asked, for chrissakes!"
"You roughed up two of my crew," Chan said. "I'm not in a trusting mood."
"We roughed up your crew?" Chan had the impression Uncle's almost-hidden eyes were rolling in disgust. "One of my boys might be permanently crippled. The other one's lost three teeth, and his nose is broken."
"They're lucky Liz was tired," Chan said. "What was that stunt with Joss all about?"
Uncle's voice turned sullen. "You didn't give us our cargo. I figured we needed a bit of leverage."
"Your cargo was supposed to be spoiled," Chan reminded him. "Rare plants, remember? I didn't see a point in bringing it late." He sneered. "It was only when you came after Joss that I knew you lied to me."