Giles Kurns_Rogue Operator

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  Giles grinned. “Less of the old, you!” he retorted. Arlene had turned her back.

  “Hang on,” Giles said. “Before we… er, go back to work… There’s something I should tell you.”

  Arlene turned around, closing her holo again, now a hint of a frown on her forehead. “What?”

  “Look,” Giles started, “I know you think that after I left I just disappeared and never thought about us again…”

  Arlene’s frown dissipated. “Yeah…”

  “Well, that wasn’t entirely true,” he confessed. “I checked in on you now and again. Just to make sure you were okay. In fact, ADAM would send me reports every so often, just so I knew I didn’t have to worry.”

  Arlene frowned again. “Okay. But… why?”

  Giles shrugged. “Because I care. Because even though we sucked as a couple, you’ve always been my best friend. And… I dunno. I just wanted you to be okay. To be happy.” His expression changed from open honesty to his normal dry expression. “Of course,” he added, “when you ended up on the arse-end of Gaitune, I had to question whether you ever had any intention of being happy yourself, but…”

  Arlene chuckled. “Honestly… you know, we were having a moment there.”

  Giles laughed too. “Yeah, I know. I just… I don’t do heavy.” His expression dropped to serious again. “I just wanted you to know, I didn’t forget you. And I do care.”

  Arlene smiled. “Well, thank you for telling me that,” she said gently. “And I know I give you a hard time, and… this does not mean that I want you back in any kind of romantic way… but I really do care about you too. And that’s why no more of the suicide tactics. I couldn’t stand it if I lost you.”

  Giles smiled. “Yeah, I know,” he said, ruffling his hair casually. “I have that effect on women,” he said plainly.

  Arlene laughed. “My Ancestors! If I had something to throw at you…”

  Giles widened his eyes comically. “No. Don’t say that. What with the fireball thing working again!”

  She smiled. “Right, let’s get this done,” she told him, pulling up her holo again and got to work.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Aboard the Flutningsaðili, Level 4, Restricted Access Area

  The lights started to click on in the outside room. Their captors were returning. Anne picked herself up from the corner she had slumped in, accidentally catching a chair leg and making it scrape.

  It brought the other two out of their hushed conversation.

  “Someone’s coming” Lana whispered, getting up from her chair. Brahms did the same, standing to face their kidnappers.

  The wash of yellow lights flicked on in sequence as the footsteps approached. Anne held her breath noticing the sudden tension in the others too.

  She could hear voices. One of them was female. Maybe this wasn’t the people who had put them in there, she thought to herself.

  A moment later a couple rounded the corner. They were human. And they weren’t carrying any weapons.

  The human female was fairly young, but not as young as Anne. The man was big and old, but looked like he was some kind of elite military guy. Anne hadn’t seen muscles like that on a human before. She shuffled back a few paces to try and make sure that she wasn’t going to be roped into any kind of difficult conversation. She’d survived this long by keeping a low profile and listening more than talking.

  The human woman approached the glass, almost as if she knew who the other two were. “That must be them,” she said quietly to the muscle-man. The man jogged up after her.

  Lana moved forward and looked like she was about to touch the glass. Then she pointed down at the access panel as if asking them to let them out.

  The human female started punching in a code, but then the man stopped her.

  “Wait!” he told her.

  The woman looked at him, stunned.

  Lana did the same, glaring at him and then at the woman. She banged on the glass and then pointed at the door panel again.

  The man pulled the woman away and started talking to her in a hushed whisper. Anne couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it was like they were having a difference of opinions.

  After some discussion they returned to the door. The Estarian female called through the doorway to Lana. “Hey can you hear me?”

  Lana nodded.

  “We can’t get you out,” she called through the door. She sounded genuinely concerned as she glanced back over her shoulder. “It’s not safe. For any of us. Are you hurt? Are any of you hurt?”

  Lana shook her head.

  “Okay, we know you’re here. We’ve been looking for you,” she explained. “Help is on the way. We know you’re Lana and that is Ainstel,” she said, glancing at Dr. Brahms. “Who is the girl with you?”

  Anne’s heart leapt into her mouth, suddenly a part of a drama she had been happy to stand an observe, like a fly on the wall.

  Lana glanced over at her briefly.

  “Her name is Anne,” Lana said, trying to be heard through the glass.

  “Anne,” the human repeated. “Who is she? Why is she with you?”

  Lana shrugged. “She won’t talk to us. She says she’ll put us in more danger if she tells us.”

  The human nodded. “We can’t deal with this now,” she muttered to her partner. “We need to get out of here and get Molly to extract us all.”

  They exchanged a few more words, and then the pair left with promises to return and that everything was going to be all right.

  She had heard similar promises before in her short lifetime. She knew by now not to pin any hopes on them. But it did sound like these people had backup on the way. Maybe they would all get lucky and be rescued from this place.

  But then into what? Anne understood nothing of these people, and for all she knew they were just trying to kidnap them for their own purposes. Although they didn’t seem to have a use for her. Particularly if they didn’t know why she was there.

  And if she could keep it that way, then so much the better. As long as she kept her abilities to herself then she might be safe.

  Maybe.

  But then that meant acting normal. Even if she could quiet her mind long enough to get her powers to work.

  Anne listened as the footsteps disappeared again, the lights off after they had gone. Lana and Brahms had started talking again, weighing their theories and speculations.

  Anne slumped back down against the wall to contemplate what she had just heard. She glanced back up to the vent. If only she had a tool.

  Aboard the Scamp Princess

  The Justicar sat in Giles’s pilot console chair for the first time since they had deposited the two adventurers onto the surface.

  “Let’s zoom in a bit more,” he suggested to Scamp.

  Scamp punched in on what they had been monitoring: the terraformed encampment a few kilometers away. Beno’or scratched at his boney-frill around his face. “You know, I think there are two distinct groups with these people,” he said, finally sharing his theory.

  “How do you mean,” Scamp asked, his simulated face simulating a questioning look on the console holo.

  Beno’or glanced over at him. “Well, one of them, this one,” he said, poking his finger into the holo, “seems to be in charge. Everything goes through him. The other life signs keep coming back to him and then going off and doing other stuff.”

  Scamp tilted his head slightly to one side. “Okay…” he said, waiting for the rest of the explanation.

  “Well,” Beno’or continued, “When the freeze hit, it was also like this one had been ostracized. He went off into another area of their collection of huts. He’s remained separate almost the whole time. And he hasn’t been reporting in.”

  Scamp’s visual representation frowned. “But he has had interactions with some of the others,” he said, flicking back through the history of the feed.

  Beno’or sat back in his chair, and rocked himself. “Yes. I noticed that. But nothi
ng with the big guy.” He put his hands behind his head, thinking. “I think we have someone who is probably quite disgruntled. Either he’s isolating himself, or the boss has sent him off, and the others are interacting with him under the radar, as it were.”

  Scamp nodded. “Seems plausible. But so what?”

  Beno’or shrugged. “I dunno. I mean, if we could talk with him he might be of some help. I don’t know. I’m just inferring this from the apparent dynamics.”

  “Which appears to be a valid analysis,” Scamp admitted.

  Beno’or grinned to himself. “So you agree it might be accurate?”

  Scamp shook his virtual head. “No, I said the concept was valid. Not that your statements were accurate. Although…” Scamp’s face flickered for a moment as he ran a new analysis, “I think that there may be merit to your theory, now that I’ve analyzed the data with that in mind. Good job,” he added.

  Beno’or peered into the holoscreen where Scamp appeared to him. “So you think it’s a good idea, but you didn’t think of it yourself?”

  Scamp nodded. “Exactly. Now I have data points to test your hypothesis.”

  Beno’or leaned forward in curiosity. “So you didn’t think to come up with your own hypotheses to test?” he asked, studying Scamp’s reaction closely.

  Scamp hesitated. “Hang on. I’ve finished processing those images for Arlene. Let me send her the results and the translation, and then we can continue.”

  Beno’or nodded amicably, still fascinated by the world he had found himself in since taking this spontaneous sabbatical from the Empire.

  A few moments later, Scamp’s image seemed to animate again. “So your question,” Scamp said, returning to the conversation. “Do I come up with my own hypotheses?” he restated.

  Beno’or leaned forward on the console. “Yes,” he said, confirming that was the question he wanted him to answer next.

  Scamp shook his head. “It’s not something I can do spontaneously. There are an infinite number of theories and possibilities, and to run simulations for each of them is very costly in terms of processing time. There are some hypotheses I’ve learned to formulate based on certain parameters, normally for objectives we need to achieve. But beyond that I leave those kind of creative punts to the organics.”

  Beno’or kept his gaze on Scamp. “That is fascinating,” he said emphatically. “And tell me, how do you know when to pick up a hypothesis that an organic is talking about?”

  The pair found themselves deep in conversation again, this time about the inner workings of Scamp’s processing structures. Anyone who couldn’t hear what they were talking about would assume they were a pair of old friends having an animated discussion about their favorite team.

  Little would they know…

  Cavern, Aibek Moon

  “Hey,” Arlene called over to Giles, her eyes scanning a new message on her holo. “Looks like Scamp has managed a translation.”

  Giles scrambled up from the other side of the cavern, where he had wedged himself between a warming fireball and a wall he could prop himself up against. “What does it say?” he asked, coming over to sit next to Arlene and look over her shoulder at the screen.

  “Looks like the most natural translation was into ancient Estarian,” she explained, reading Scamp’s analysis.

  Giles peered at the screen. “I’m not fluent,” he said sarcastically.

  Arlene smiled at him over her shoulder. “Good job one of us is,” she winked. “And I’m thinking it’s actually a spell.”

  He frowned, taking a closer look at the words. “A spell? For what?”

  Arlene shuffled into a more upright position against the wall she was leaning against. “A revealing spell by the looks of it.” Her eyes darted back and forth over the translation.

  Giles pulled his lips to one side of his face, almost as if he were in pain trying to understand. “To reveal what though?”

  Arlene shook her head as she read. “I’ve no idea. This looks like a mix of Estarian logic with what I can only imagine is Zhyn logic, as if magic had been discovered or built up from first principles without any outside influences.”

  Giles’s mind churned. “What do you mean?”

  Arlene lifted her gaze from the holo and spoke to Giles, who shuffled back a bit so they could look at each other. “Well,” she said, “with thousands of years of trial and error.”

  Giles frowned. “You mean to say that some culture over in this little corner of the galaxy has come to understand magic separately from how, say, the Estarians or the humans learned to use it?”

  Arlene dropped her eyes back to the text. “Looks like it.”

  Giles unconsciously scratched at his sideburns while looking up at the original text on the ceiling. “Wow. That’s…. Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating,” he mused.

  He looked mesmerized, lost in thought at the markings. “So… you think you can perform the spell?”

  Arlene tensed her shoulders and lifted them, with her hands open in a gesture of complete loss. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried this particular brand of magic,” she explained. “I’ll certainly give it a go, though.”

  “Hang on,” he said, holding a hand up, “You said it was a revealing spell. It’s not going to reveal another dimension and suck us into hell, is it?”

  Arlene’s eyes flashed with fear, just a moment before her logical, grown-up brain kicked in. “Nah. What would be the point in that?”

  Giles shrugged. “To ward off and punish tomb raiders?”

  Arlene wrinkled her nose. “How many tomb raiders do you think could tap into the land energy and perform this kind of magic?”

  Giles thought for a moment. “Well, probably not your average looter.”

  Arlene nodded. “So, if anything, it’s a test. For someone who they wanted to find it. If we get it right, we pass to the next level… whatever that might be.”

  Giles still looked concerned, but he nodded. “Well, okay. If you think it’s the right thing to do.”

  Arlene laughed suddenly. “You’re asking the wrong lady. When have I ever been able to resist new magic?”

  Giles buried his head in his hands, this time deliberately being dramatic. “Oh hell. Please don’t say we’ve unleashed ‘Arlene the Destroyer’ again.”

  She laughed out loud. “No. Of course not. But you know, the niggle never really does go away. Ever.”

  Giles was still play acting a little, but a seriousness had returned to his eyes. “I’m not going to regret this, am I?”

  Arlene shook her head, making the holoscreen bigger, and preparing herself. “No… it’ll be fine.” She coughed, playfully. “Really!” she insisted, eyebrows raised. “I’ve got this.”

  Giles rolled his eyes and stood back. “Famous last frikkin’ words,” he mumbled.

  Arlene shot him a look, but then seeing his attention was back on the ceiling, quickly returned her own thoughts to the holo screen.

  Her eyes scanned back and forth trying to piece together the bits she needed to remember. Giles knew from the coaching she had given him way back when they were partners in crime that the most essential components in a spell from any culture were concentration, intentionality and the ability to channel the sensations through one’s whole being.

  That included feeling.

  And also being able to modulate between the different feelings and vibrations with enough intensity for the spell to take.

  It was no mean feat, but one which he had been proud to master at a somewhat rudimentary level.

  Arlene’s eyes stopped scanning the document and flitted more slowly now. She had begun.

  Giles watched as the concentration built on her face. He could sense the vibrations in the room changing. He could feel her pulling energy from the ground, from this strange energetic rock they had landed on. He watched carefully, with both a vested interest and an academic fascination.

  Moments later, as the atmosphere in the cavern seemed to thicken emotionally
, he saw flashes of energy jumping below the threshold of what was visible with his physical eyes, but something that was still able to stimulate his optic nerve and register the movement in his brain.

  He watched as the agitation of the vibrations intensified around Arlene, and the energy she had been drawing burst through the palms of her hands again. She seemed so intent on her focus that he, the room, the place where they were trapped, were of no importance to her any longer.

  The energy shot out of her hands and bounced against the cavern wall. He found himself wondering if there was a particular direction she should be pointing it… but then, he was just a novice. She was the master. She had experienced power he couldn’t even imagine. She knew her way around grimoires of all the human cultures and the shamanic rituals of even the most far-flung Estarian and Yollin traditions.

  If anyone could make this work, it was her.

  He watched as the energy from her hands became visible light. Realizing that he had been holding his breath, he forced himself to breathe as the light cracked like lightning against the wall.

  “Are you sure it’s meant to do that?” he shouted over to her, the sound of the energy almost creating a storm-like wind in the enclosed space now.

  Arlene’s eyes opened and she looked like herself. Giles relaxed a fraction, but she still didn’t answer. He could see her lips were moving, in some kind of chant, or incantation. The energy built even higher.

  The light by this time was too bright to look at. He turned his head away and shielded his eyes with his hand. And a moment later there was a final, louder crack, and then nothing. He turned. Light spots seared on his retinas.

  “You okay?” he called over to her, hurrying blindly to her.

  From between the glare in his eyes he could see she was still alive and standing, though her blue skin had dulled to a gray. “Woah,” he said grabbing hold of her as her legs failed beneath her. “Let’s sit you down.”

  He helped her gently to the ground where she was able to sit up for a moment.