Home World (Undying Mercenaries Series Book 6)

by B. V. Larson

  “Cover story? I don’t know right now. I tend to make those up on the spur of the moment.”

  He twisted up his mouth and shook his head in disgust. “It’s a wonder you get away with anything. Blame Turov. That’s your best option.”

  I considered it and immediately rejected the idea. Turov was a better ally than Winslade could ever be. Why rat her out?

  “Good idea,” I said with a bright smile. Lies are always told best when you smile. “I’ll do that.”

  “All right then. We’ll part ways—but don’t try this kind of physical nonsense with me again, McGill. I decided to help you on this occasion for the good of our world, but next time, I won’t tolerate such gross insubordination.”

  “Right Primus. My apologies, sir.”

  We separated, and I let him save face by not laughing behind his back. I’d already made an enemy out of him—all over again. There was no point humiliating the guy further. That might just make him hell-bent on revenge.

  It just so happened that Central had an old-fashioned public library. There was pretty much no need for physical books these days, but some people still liked them as decorations, the way some folks like to hang swords and spears on their walls.

  The library was big and musty. There were no windows, so the place seemed dark to me. I wandered around the chambers while an elderly man watched me sourly. It seemed like he had me pegged as an obvious book-thief.

  That gave me an idea.

  “Hello sir,” I said, approaching the librarian. “I’m investigating a rash of thefts on this floor. Have you had any—”

  “It’s about time they sent someone!” the librarian said, jumping to his feet. “But why send a member of Varus? Is it because you people are all too familiar with the art of stealing?”

  I blinked twice before I forced a smile.

  “That must be it,” I said. “I’m here to investigate your reported losses. Have you got an inventory report?”

  “What? Am I hearing rightly? Is it possible you’ve lost everything I’ve sent in?”

  “Afraid so.”

  He growled and began digging in his desk. “Here it is. I always make a hard copy. Always.”

  I’d expected a computer scroll, but I could read print on paper if I had to. I looked it over carefully. The paper rattled in my hands. I almost tore the sheet as I was unaccustomed to handling anything so delicate.

  Three titles were listed: Flowers for Algernon, Les Fleurs de Mal and Planet of Flowers.

  “Huh,” I said, unimpressed by any of them. I looked them over for a moment while the librarian’s eyes darted from me to the list and back again several times with growing impatience.

  “Sounds like they’re all about flowers,” I said at last.

  He snatched the list from me and made a sound like an angry cat.

  “None of them are about flowers,” he said. “What kind of a fool have they burdened me with?”

  “An officer who’s trying to help. If you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on outside, sir. This place is likely to be burned to the ground in a few days.”

  Pinching his lips together so tightly they turned white, I watched him pace around. “It’s the pressure. It’s getting to me. There was a man—a ghost. He took the books. I saw him do it. He even gave me the finger before he left.”

  He turned to face me.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” he demanded. “That’s why I left him out of the reports.”

  I began to grin slowly.

  “I do believe you, sir,” I said. “What’s more, I really, really want to catch your book-thief.”

  -54-

  The librarian and I set up a sting. It was based on two things—books about flowers, and the fact that Claver would suspect my involvement the moment he saw me here.

  My part was the easy one. I sat in a comfy chair and fell asleep. The librarian suggested it, and I for one thought he was a genius for coming up with the idea.

  While I napped, he piled up every book in the place that had some kind of reference to a flower in it. Then he closed up shop and left.

  I ate half a sandwich and answered complaints on my tapper for about an hour. Then, I tried to read a few of the books. Several were Shakespeare, because apparently plenty of his stories had characters named after flowers in them.

  It was Viola from Twelfth Night that did me in. I was snoring before I knew it.

  A prodding in the belly woke me up with a snort. It was Claver, and he had a pistol in my face.

  My instincts saved me. Some people, when they’re startled and faced with death, will confess, beg, rage or whatnot. Not me. My first move is almost always to play dumb.

  “Claver? What are you doing here?” I asked fuzzily.

  “McGill…” he said, taking a bite of the sandwich I’d left unfinished on a stack of books. “This isn’t your usual haunt. And I know that the librarian isn’t the sort to attract your attention.”

  “Well…” I said, sitting up and rolling a crick out of my neck. “I like to read at night. It makes me fall asleep.”

  He chuckled briefly. “That part I believe, but such reading! Shakespeare? Tolkien? Classics of a dozen sorts. Why so many books, if all you want to do is fall asleep? Wouldn’t any single title do the job?”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. The muzzle of his weapon traced my every motion. It seemed to be tracking my nose.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I was just looking for something good.”

  Claver shook his head. “Such a pathetic effort. I’ve always heard that you were the best liar on planet Earth. You’re disappointing me.”

  “Now hold on,” I said, “I never said I was the best. Hell, you’re a much better liar than I am.”

  “Thank you. But let’s get back to the matter at hand. You’re here, in my home-away-from-home, reading books about flowers. Let’s put aside your opening fabrication and call it an embarrassing failure. Why are you reading these books?”

  I shrugged. “Orders, I guess.”

  “Ah! Now we’re getting somewhere! Someone sent you here, didn’t they? This idea didn’t come to you on your own.”

  “Maybe not,” I lied.

  In my vast experience, the best lies involved elements someone else pushed you to admit. When a man suggested a lie and had to badger you into confessing it was the truth, he never disbelieved it afterward.

  “Good, good,” Claver continued. “Give me a name, please.”

  “I’ve been ordered not to.”

  He looked angry for a second, but that passed.

  “Even if I threaten to shoot you?” he asked.

  “Won’t do much good. I’ll just come back tomorrow.”

  “Really?” Claver asked, and he lifted an object into my sight. It was the Galactic Key.

  Startled, my hand went to my pocket. Claver’s gun made me freeze again.

  “You left it on the table in plain sight,” he said, tsking. “Don’t you even remember?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said.

  “You know,” he said, “you’re not the only one who knows how to perm a man with one of these. In fact, if I remember correctly, I taught you how to do it.”

  I sat silently, watching his gun and his demeanor. He was tense, but he was trying not to show it.

  “It was Winslade,” I said. “He sent me down here. He wanted to know what you were looking for in these libraries.”

  Claver nodded sagely.

  “A good play,” he said. “Plausible, and almost believable. But I don’t buy it. Turov did this. She’s the one you’ve always favored. She’s led you astray. You really have to stop letting your dick rule your mind, boy.”

  I squirmed. Claver was tricky and smart. As he was fond of pointing out, I couldn’t keep up with him in the brains department. My only hope was to be even trickier than he was. That was going to be a tall order.

  “All right,” I said, “you got what you wanted—a name. Now, let’s sha
ke hands and go back to bed.”

  He chuckled. “No, I don’t think so. You’ve done as I’ve asked, yes, but I can’t have you helping my rivals. I can’t allow this sort of thing to go unpunished.”

  “What? You’re going to shoot me anyway?”

  “Afraid so. You see—”

  He never got out another word. My hand, which was still in my pocket, had already uncapped an anti-personnel grenade that I had in there. When Claver had indicated he was going to shoot me regardless, I’d depressed the detonator button and let her rip.

  We were both blown to kingdom-come. All that was left behind was a pile of shredded books with blood on every page.

  -55-

  Thinking outside the box. That’s what I excelled at in these situations—even blowing up the box if necessary.

  When I was revived, I came off the gurney snarling and clawing at my eyes. I knew I had to get to Claver before anyone else did.

  “Don’t let him escape!” I shouted at the vague, blurry forms that surrounded me.

  “Did we get a bad grow here?” asked a familiar, gravelly voice.

  “I don’t think so…”

  “Adjunct McGill,” Graves shouted at me. “Stand down! That’s an order.”

  It took me a second or two to realize what was going on. I turned toward Graves, breathing hard. He had a pistol in his hand and steel in his eyes, but I didn’t care.

  “Centurion,” I said, “we have to find Claver. We have to find out where he’s being revived.”

  “What did you do up there in the library?” he demanded.

  “Well, right at the end I died.”

  “I know that. What else happened?”

  “Claver,” I rasped. “Claver happened. He was practically in my lap. Check the rosters. If he’s being revived, it has to be under guard.”

  Graves stared at me for a few more seconds then grumbled under his breath and lowered his weapon.

  “I must be out of my mind to trust you again, McGill,” he complained.

  He stepped to the nearest computer. The bio specialist manning it made indignant noises, but he ignored her.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Graves said. “Looks like Claver was slated for revival twenty minutes ago—he’s in the oven now.” He wheeled on the bio specialist. “Who authorized this revival? The signature field is blank.”

  “I don’t know, sir,” she said, flustered. “I’m not in charge of the queue. Alterations have to go through—”

  “Turov,” Graves said, cutting her off. “Turov or Winslade. Come on, McGill, walk it off.”

  I tried to obey. I pressed myself into clothing, but my shirt ended backwards and inside out. By the time I’d figured that out, we were in the hallway.

  “I was told you’d committed suicide in the library,” he said. “Normally, my policy is to leave suicides in their tombs for a week or more as punishment. But I had to find out what you were really doing. The person you were with—you’re claiming that was Claver?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmm… There were body parts for two, but all scorched and shredded. Everyone had assumed you’d met up with a woman and things had gone badly—as they so often do when you’re involved.”

  “Things are bad, sir, if I’m right in my assumptions. Real bad.”

  Then I filled him in on some of the basics. I asked that we go back to the scene of the crime first, because I wanted to find my key—it was tough Imperial-made monomolecular material and should have survived the explosion.

  But Graves was adamant that we be there when Claver was born again instead. We rushed to the correct revival room and pushed our way past the bio people who squawked about regulations.

  There he was, sitting, up the minute we got there. He appeared to be in much the same mood that I’d been in when I’d come alive again.

  “That was dirty pool, McGill,” he said when he saw me. “You’ve never been one to fight fair.”

  “Neither have you, Claver,” I said.

  “You’re under arrest,” Graves told him.

  Claver chuckled. “You’d better check my status on your tappers before you try that.”

  Frowning, Graves did check his tapper. His eyebrows rose. “This is unusual.”

  “See? I told you.”

  Graves turned toward me. “We’ve been ordered to recycle this man immediately.”

  “What?” Claver exclaimed, looking from one of us to the next. “By whose authority?”

  “Imperator Turov’s,” Graves said. He turned toward the nearest bio. “What’s the procedure?”

  “He’s not a bad grow—”

  “I know that. What do you do in special circumstances?”

  “We have a sedative…”

  “Now hold on just one frigging minute!” Claver shouted. “You can’t be serious. You’re telling me you have authorization to execute me? What about my rights?”

  “Recycles have been litigated. They’re not technically the same thing as an execution. Anyone who’s been alive less than an hour can be recycled without a court order.”

  “You’re bluffing.”

  Graves looked at him with pitiless eyes I knew all too well. “I don’t bluff.”

  Claver thought about that for a moment.

  “No,” he said at last. “I don’t suppose that you do.”

  “Are we going to do this the hard way or the easy way?” Graves asked him.

  Claver’s eyes were wide now, and they were darting all around the revival chamber looking for a way out. They landed on me.

  “McGill, I have information you might find useful. Step in and help out a buddy, will you?”

  “What’s the matter, Claver?” I asked. “Did you forget to set up an alternative body somewhere?”

  “What do you want? What do you need?”

  I snorted and crossed my arms. “Nothing from the likes of you. I’ve got the teleport suits, that’s tech enough.”

  “No! No it’s not. You don’t know half the secrets of those suits. I could help you gain full control over them.”

  “That would turn you into an upstanding citizen,” I said, “wouldn’t it, Centurion?”

  Graves still had a hand on his sidearm. “I don’t know. I’ve got orders.”

  “From that witch Turov?” Claver asked. “She’d as soon perm all of us and spit on our graves.”

  “That may be,” Graves said, “but I have my orders.”

  “Wait! McGill, I’ll show you how to program the teleport suits. You’ll be able to jump anywhere, and you won’t need the key to bypass the security system anymore.”

  “What’s this about a key?” Graves demanded suddenly, looking at me.

  Shaking my head and throwing my hands up in the air, I did my best to look clueless.

  “I don’t know, sir,” I said. “Maybe he is a bad grow. I’m thinking we should get to work on that recycle right away.”

  “All right, hold on,” Claver said quickly. “You two clearly don’t have the key. If you have one it really helps to operate these suits safely, but we can do without.”

  Graves looked at Claver, then at me, frowning. He knew he was missing something. I kept my face completely blank, and that seemed to fix it. Graves turned back to Claver.

  “You’ve got less than an hour to show McGill something useful. After that, you’re going into the chute, dead or alive.”

  He walked away, and after the bio people cleaned Claver up and put him in irons, I was given his leash.

  It wasn’t a situation I was happy about. Claver wasn’t a nice pet to lead around. He was more like a snake than a hound dog.

  The second we were out of earshot of the bio people, Claver lifted his manacles up to me and shook them suggestively.

  “What?” I asked him.

  “Take them off!”

  “I don’t even have the keys.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got the Galactic Key, don’t you, you big dummy?”

  Grabbing up hi
s chains and giving them a tug that sent him staggering, I let him know who was boss. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

  Our first stop was the library. I was given an earful there.

  The librarian was in rare form. He scolded me like I was some kind of vicious vandal. I was accused of every library crime I’d ever imagined—and a few I hadn’t.

  “How dare you come back to this shrine of learning? Are you here to gloat? That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “Uh… no sir. I’m here to look for an object of my property that was inadvertently—”

  “You can check the lost and found box,” he hissed. “Oh, but wait, that was burned to ash! I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look around all the same.”

  Snarling and spitting, he let me pass. Claver followed irritably.

  “McGill,” Claver said, “if you tell me what you’re looking for, I’ll tell you what I’ve been looking for in this library and all the others.”

  For the first time in the last hour, he had my full attention.

  “All right,” I said, “I’m looking for the Galactic Key.”

  “Ah, of course. You didn’t have time after your revival to retrieve it. What do I get if I find it for you?”

  “Nothing,” I said, digging around among the charred books. “But you can tell me what you were looking for anyway, like you promised.”

  “Very well. I’ve been searching for an old text. I very much hope you didn’t destroy it.”

  “Something to do with flowers?” I asked him.

  He stared at me unhappily. “Have I been so transparent?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Yes… it’s a book about flowers.”

  “Okay… but why do you need something like that? Are you feeling sad?”

  He laughed. “There’s supposed to be a book about the Mogwa—an old book that explains how they operate as a culture. Its title has some sort of floral reference. The book is supposed to get some things wrong, but—”

  Before he was finished talking, I cut him off and pointed at him. “Wait a second.” I hopped out of the debris field and went into the nearest bathroom. I made my way to the last stall in the corner and found something I forgot I’d left in there.