Sol Arbiter Box Set: Books 1-5

by Chaney, J. N.

  “Are you asking to tag along?” asked Andrea with a hint of indulgence and irritation at the same time.

  Raven shook her head. “I can provide overwatch. If I see anything suspicious through my scope, I might be able to put a stop to it before it even gets off the ground.”

  Andrea nodded. “Alright. Get in position tonight, both of you. We need to get Yeun covered before anyone can make a move on him.”

  “Be careful not to make any assumptions here,” Veraldi warned us. “All we know so far is that something is going on. We don’t know what it is yet. We don’t even know who all the players are.”

  “That’s right,” said Andrea. “At this point, our goal is to find out what’s really happening here. We can’t do that effectively if we assume we already know. If this is real, we’ll put a stop to it. If it’s a fabrication, we find out by whom and to what end. Everyone clear?”

  Thomas looked over at Andrew and raised an eyebrow. “Coming?”

  Andrew sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, Thomas. I’m coming.” He walked across the apartment, and the two of them disappeared into Thomas’s room. I’d thought it was strange that someone as distant as Andrea would share an apartment with anyone, but given Thomas’s personality, it was probably so she could keep an eye on him.

  Raven turned to me. “Do you have your car?”

  I shook my head. “I took the maglev.”

  “I’ll give you a ride over there.”

  4

  I followed Raven to a sleek black coupe parked a few streets away. I recognized the make. Some of the car’s design resembled my original work for the company. It was strangely nostalgic to see.

  “Nice ride,” I said, and Raven threw me a funny look.

  “Thanks,” she replied at last as she gestured the doors open. “I wouldn’t choose something so conspicuous, but then that fits our cover as Inspectors General, doesn’t it? They want to be seen.”

  Raven was stylish too, but I knew what she meant. “Yeah, they do seem to cultivate an image, don’t they?”

  We climbed in, and I set our destination.

  Raven took a seat beside me. “It’s an intimidation thing,” she commented as the car pulled into the flow of traffic. “Like those giant drop suits the Arbiters wear. It’s the appearance of power, when in reality they don’t have much of a way to exercise it.”

  “Big bark to hide the small bite.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.” She pointed to my left. “Could you pass me that?” She indicated a black canvas bag on the opposite seat.

  “I don’t think Section 9 is much different,” I said, surprised at the weight as I picked up the bag. “I think it’s just human nature.”

  She took it and broke the slip-tie binding the zipper closed. “What do you mean?” she asked, pulling out what I recognized as the upper receiver of a gauss rifle.

  “We’re a covert unit,” I explained, “but it seems like everything we do is loud. I don’t think that’s an accident, not entirely. Because even if no one knows who we are, they’ll know we exist. That’s a kind of intimidation.”

  Raven didn’t look away from me as she deftly assembled her rifle. She seemed to be reading my face as if she wasn’t sure if I was serious.

  “The things we do move history, Tycho,” she said hesitantly. “Nothing at that scale is quiet. If it frightens our weaker enemies to inaction, then all the better. We’re not trying to be known.”

  “But if even half of what Solovyov or Katerina claimed is true, then the Eleven managed it with no one even aware of them as a concept.”

  Ivan Solovyov was one of the Eleven, the cabal of immortals who had existed for some eight centuries. They were Section 9’s greatest threat and had somehow captured the loyalty of our old field commander Katerina Capanelli.

  Raven’s reply was a simple “If.”

  She had a point. Neither Solovyov or Katerina were a reliable source and, if anything, they had something to gain by fabricating a narrative.

  “So even if they were telling us the truth,” I said, “it’s an incomplete picture.”

  “Exactly.” She smiled. “To an outside perspective, we’re just as opaque. I’m sure the Eleven are responsible for things just as messy and loud as Mars or Venus was for us. We just don’t know they were involved. The Inspectors General chase data brokers and cypher replicators, normal stuff that makes sense. Section 9 is up against something older, something…” She paused to find the words.

  “Mythological?” I offered.

  “You make it sound cliché.” She laughed. “Good versus evil, angels against demons, is that it?”

  “I think ‘demon’ is a fundamentally accurate descriptor for the Eleven, yes.”

  “Did Tycho Barrett just call me an angel by proxy?”

  It was my turn to try to read her, but I couldn’t pierce her warm smile and gentle eyes. City lights streaked by as the car drove through the night, and we sat in a comfortable silence.

  The car came to a stop two blocks from the address. “What happened?” I asked, a little confused.

  “We’re as close as we need to be,” she said, wrapping her rifle in a gray cloth. “I have it programmed this way. The car never takes me directly in front of my destination. You can set a route of no distance to force it to stop where you’ve marked.”

  We got out of the car, and Raven looked around to orient herself. “Edward’s apartment faces south. If I take the roof there”—she pointed to a building on the adjacent block—“I’ll have a clear line to both of you and most of the street.”

  “All night? It’s going to rain.”

  “You’re sweet, Tycho,” she said and shouldered her weapon. “Will you make contact with the target tonight or just observe for now?”

  “Is there a field kit in the car?”

  “Of course. In the lower storage.”

  “Then I think I’ll observe. Making contact right now might rattle him.”

  “Alright, I’m sending you the keys.” My dataspike chimed in my ear as the file came through.

  “Be careful with my nice ride,” she said with a wink before turning on her heel and walking away.

  I climbed back into the car and set it to circle the block to give me a sense of the area I couldn’t get from my map. Edward’s building was exposed on the north side, but it was fenced off. Not that it would present an obstacle to an Augman or android, but it was at least something to limit an extreme attack. To the east and west were green areas with high visibility, making them similarly unappealing. The building’s entrance was to the south, the same side as the windows to Edward’s apartment. If a threat was coming, it would likely be from that direction.

  Raven’s indicator on my map was bright blue before I’d gone full-circle, meaning she was a significant distance above me. I keyed up my dataspike.

  “You’re already on the roof?”

  “I’ve done this ten thousand times. I have eyes on the target, too.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “It’s zero dark-thirty, Tycho.”

  “Point taken,” I said, setting a route of no distance in front of the building. “So is our guy a restless sleeper?”

  “Doesn’t look like he is,” she replied. “But he’s smart, if not expressly law-abiding. He has a sidearm under the bed.”

  “That’s interesting. What about in the adjacent units? Does anything stand out to you?”

  “No, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary so far. Did you find the field kit?”

  I shifted over one seat and checked the storage compartments. “I saw it, I just wanted to hear your opinion.”

  “You enjoy the sound of my voice that much?”

  “That’s the main reason, yes.” I took the field kit out of the lower storage and opened it. “Like the dulcet tones of an aria in my ear.”

  “Flatterer.”

  “Alright, I’ll stop.”

  “I didn’t say that. Keep going.”

  * * *
>
  That was the last thing I remembered before opening my eyes at the sound of Raven’s voice. “Eyes up, our man’s leaving the building.”

  The monocular from the field kit was in my hand. The fatigue from the last two days must have caught up to me as I watched Edward through the night. I blinked my vision clear and tapped to wake the car’s interior display.

  Early morning blue-gray light filled the car’s interior as the street view loaded in. “You didn’t miss much,” Raven said. “He got up seven minutes ago. Seems to be in a hurry. Brought his sidearm.”

  “Understood.” It was early in the day, but I could already see dozens of people passing by. Any one of them could be a potential assassin.

  “I’ll make contact, but it’s going to be fast.”

  I climbed out of the car and crossed the street as Edward stepped out of his building and took a furtive glance around. The sudden shift in his posture was a clear giveaway, but for the most part he did well in playing casual when he noticed me. He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall a few feet from the entrance as I walked up, not once turning to face me directly.

  I used the building’s call box to play into his cover, placing a request for entry with Edward’s apartment that I knew would go unanswered. To an observer, it would be a convincing justification for the next few minutes.

  “We weren’t supposed to see each other again,” said Edward. “Why are you here, Jean-Paul?”

  “I’m here to keep you safe.”

  He exhaled sharply. “Having you near me tells people I’ve done something to warrant protection. You’re making me a target. I thought we had an understanding.”

  “That’s one way to look at it. Another would be that it shows you’re backed by the full internal affairs branch of the NAS.”

  “Excuse me if that doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “Look, if there’s a real threat, it’s better than coming under fire alone. Take my word for it.”

  Edward was quiet for a long time. I stepped back from the call box and took a few circling, lazy steps as I looked up at the apartment windows. It felt a little much, but performance was about exaggeration and I needed to sell the fiction.

  “Alright,” Edward said. “I don’t have the time to argue. We’ll do it your way for now. I have somewhere to be ten minutes ago. Let’s go.” He pushed off the wall and began walking down the block.

  I followed after a few steps. I subtly gestured to open my tunneling service and requested a channel with Edward’s dataspike. After a few seconds, a green notification appeared in my view.

  I subvocalized a question. Aren’t you on leave?

  That doesn’t mean I don’t have work to do. I need to go to Westminster for a deposition with the Ministry of Justice.

  Unlike the de facto hegemony of the outer worlds, Earth was a strange patchwork of overlapping sovereignties. It wasn’t that unusual for an employee of the Sol Federation to have to attend a deposition for the North Atlantic States. Terran litigation was often a farce in that way.

  You’re going to a government facility with an illegal weapon?

  His response was delayed. They don’t ask for documents, just that you surrender it while on the premises.

  Another notification appeared in my view, a red warning that the secure tunnel had dropped. I motioned to reconnect but the request was refused. Something about my question must have angered Edward, or maybe he was still irritated with the idea of being shadowed. I decided to let him work through it on his own, and I swapped channels to contact Raven.

  We’re taking Edward’s vehicle to the Ministry of Justice. Any sign of trouble?

  She didn’t respond.

  Raven, are you there?

  No reply. I stopped walking and checked my dataspike’s network connectivity. I tested the local network cell and had 80% stream loss. Looking around me, I noticed people on the street seemed to be reacting to the same. A man on the opposite block removed his dataspike and held it close to his eye, turning it slowly between his fingers. A young girl had removed hers and was trying to give it to the older woman holding her hand. Occasional interference is always a potential issue, but it could also be caused by deliberate action.

  Edward must have sensed I was no longer right behind him. He stopped walking and turned to face me, then he glanced around undecidedly before walking closer.

  “Why’d you drop?” he said. “My car’s right there.”

  “I didn’t. Something’s wrong. Which one’s yours?”

  “The blue Mialto.”

  I looked past him and saw the vehicle. It was parked about a dozen meters away, between two sedans and plugged in to the public charger. I wasn’t sure what it was about the car that set me on edge, but I felt an overwhelming sense of dread and an irrationally strong desire to get away.

  I shook my head. “Forget it, we’re taking mine instead.”

  “Why?” Edward looked like he was halfway between annoyance and exasperation.

  “I can explain when we aren’t in a kill box. Now move.”

  We took maybe three steps before everything was consumed by blue light and intense heat as the car exploded behind us. My lungs flattened and I was lifted off my feet, battered from every direction by something unseen and unyielding. Streaks of color filled my vision, and all I could hear was a deep roar like the crash of an ocean stretched out for an eternity.

  I shut my eyes and surrendered to physics until, eventually, I had the vague sense that I was finally still. I’d come to rest face-down on the sidewalk, and I took a few breaths before finding my footing. I planted my palms and tentatively pushed myself off the ground, anticipating the searing pain of shattered bones before remembering that most of them were made of graphene now.

  I got to my feet and drew my sidearm.

  “Edward!” I called out.

  “I’m here,” he answered, stumbling to his feet from the grass five meters away.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so, no.”

  I waved him over and took stock of the situation. Edward’s car was gone, and in its place was a black crater filled with twisted, still burning metal. All of the first floor windows on both sides of the street near the blast had been blown out, and the plasticrete facades had been scarred by thrown debris. As my disorientation faded, I became aware of people screaming. A severed arm pooled blood at my feet. Across the street, an older woman cradled half of a young girl’s body, while the rest of her bled onto the sidewalk two meters away.

  The threat against us was no longer theory.

  “We need to get under cover,” I told Edward.

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  “Stay low and hug the wall.”

  I didn’t think it was an accident that the bomb went off when it did. Someone was watching, and the decision to take my vehicle instead of Edward’s had forced them to act. Wherever that assailant was now, they were probably in a position to make a direct attack. Our best chance of survival was to get somewhere defensible. I put my hand on Edward’s shoulder and guided him back toward the apartment building entrance.

  We’d traveled less than half the distance when gunfire powdered the plasticrete wall ahead of us.

  “Contact right!” called Edward.

  I grabbed his arm and practically threw him a few feet forward. “The foyer! Just run!”

  Another burst of shots cut through what was left of a shattered window behind us. We didn’t have much ground to cover, but exposed and on foot it may as well have been measured in light minutes.

  Three more bursts raked across the doors of the entrance, but Edward didn’t back off. He had the door unlocked as soon as he was in range, and he waited until I was through before jumping in and slamming it shut behind us. Another burst of fire struck the door, and wispy cracks like spider’s webs radiated from the impacts.

  Edward stood his ground, looking almost quizzically at the fracturing glass doors. “I think the sho
oter’s using 7.62,” he said.

  “That won’t hold,” I called out. “Find cover.”

  “Third floor. And he’s burst firing, so it’s not a bolt-action. Probably a battle rifle.”

  “Who gives a shit. We need to get to the north side of the building and—”

  “Fuck that,” Edward said, then he drew his weapon and ran through the front door before I could stop him. I scrambled to my feet and ran after him.

  What he was doing was incredibly stupid and wildly reckless. On the other hand, that made it unpredictable and gave his plan—whatever it might be—a real chance of success.

  Edward sprinted across the street, with me not far behind and gaining. There were no shots as we crossed, and while that was great for our short-term survival, it could mean the shooter was anticipating our entry and was already getting into position.

  The apartment complex across the street had a meter-wide strip of greenery, which was blocked off from the sidewalk by a two meter high fence. Edward had already scaled it and was lowering himself on the other side when I caught up to him.

  I bent deep at the knees and jumped, and I sailed clear over the fence, landing in front of Edward on the other side. “Stop,” I demanded.

  If he was surprised, Edward didn’t show it. “We can get in through the broken window,” he said. “There’s a good chance he hasn’t made it out of the building.”

  He was right about that, and as idiotic as it was to bring my target into harm’s way, this was still a chance worth taking.

  “Alright, stay behind me,” I said.

  I cautiously moved across the grass toward the window. When I reached it, I quickly leaned in and back out for a view of the adjacent wall to the left and right. Satisfied there was no one waiting for us, I cleared some of the glass with my forearm and vaulted through.

  Edward followed a moment later.

  “You saw the shooter on the third floor?” I whispered.

  “Yeah, five windows down from the left.”

  I nodded and moved toward the stairwell. It reminded me of Bruges and the assault on Section 9. Here I was again, facing an unknown force around blind corners. And just like in Bruges, the solution would have to be speed.