Stone Blade

by James Cox

  “Clear,” said Ferrel, “There's some circuitry in the wall but nothing offensive. Shall we see what we have?”

  They adjusted their mercuries to project light, dim but sufficient for their nightvee gear.

  Micah and Ferrel found and modified several security monitors while wending their way through the near-darkness. Their next objective lay three klicks from the port and Micah wanted to reach it before midnight. The objective itself, a sewage plant, made Micah glad of the mercury's chemical filters. They shouldn't have to swim through the muck. Micah hoped.

  ***

  “Phew!” Ferrel wrinkled his nose when he shed the mercury. “Now that I'm out of it I'd almost rather still have it on!”

  Micah chuckled, enjoying the cool but malodorous night air. They didn't have to swim through sewage but they hadn't missed it by much. The mercury suits folded into very small bundles so securing and burying them took not long at all. Before long two full and proper Unity citizens stood beneath the stars.

  “Game of Imperium before beddie,” asked Ferrel.

  “Certainly,” replied Micah, “Shall we?”

  They located the narrow road connecting the sewage treatment plant to the town and started along it, eyes and ears alert for traffic. Before long the small road merged with one larger and that one merged with one larger still. The two walkers kept far enough off the road proper to fade into the darkness should someone else happen by.

  The hostel's night clerk eyed Micah and Ferrel warily.

  “It is late, brothers.”

  “We are just arrived from Glory in the Light, brother,” said Micah, “It was a long journey but one blessed with good travel. I am Jacob DuProis and this is my brother Solomon.”

  Glory in the Light, the town Ferrel used for their identities, lay a good distance away.

  “Be welcome, then, brothers. Matins is at six and Call at five.”

  “Thank you, brother. We take honor in your hearth and home.”

  The man nodded, piety satisfied if not curiosity.

  ***

  Joachim Frond examined the report before him.

  “Page Velvert your suspicion borders on sinful.”

  Velvert stood respectfully with hands folded and eyes downcast and devoid of expression.

  “Yet not unjustified, I trow,” continued Frond, “You are certain the system has been compromised?”

  “As much so as I can be, First. There is no direct evidence but the attempts were made and the ones we blocked were exceptionally sophisticated. I believe our security held but I cannot be certain of it.”

  Frond's mouth tightened. “What of the legation's systems?”

  “We could not penetrate their outer defenses, First.”

  “Even with a locally internal connection?”

  “Correct, First.”

  Frond pondered this.

  “If I might suggest so, First, might it not be well to query the League computers for information concerning their sinners?”

  “How do you propose that, Page Velvert, when the League net has you blocked so firmly?”

  “By forcing their hand, First.”

  Velvert explained and Frond's expression warmed slightly.

  “Not yet. Hold your plan ready but do not execute it. For now continue your surveillance and other projects.”

  “As you command, First. Blessed be the Unity.”

  ***

  Morr stood before Velvert's desk. He arrived during the Fourth's conference, Velvert's assistant would not say with whom. Morr fretted at the length of his document but Velvert's orders were specific: report all information.

  “You have done well, Morr.”

  “Thank you, Fourth.”

  “And you set yourself a severe penance.”

  Morr turned cold inside. He gave himself the lightest penance he could, in good conscience, but still he felt soiled.

  “Yes, Fourth. I thought...”

  Velvert looked up and Morr knew he'd overstepped himself.

  “Your zeal, Morr, is a lesson to all. But you must temper it with the task you have at hand. When we have expunged this foulness from our midst I shall set you a proper penance. Until then, continue your work.”

  Morr felt a burden lift from him.

  “Thank you, Fourth! Blessed be the Unity!”

  ***

  Morr walked back to his office with a light heart and a happy spirit. He didn't detail the methods he used gathering information or the baseness he endured. He knew it would not shock Velvert but the Fourth had more important matters to attend. Still, the Fourth made time to reassure Morr and that meant a lot. Morr intuited an ocean of information to be had, he'd simply redouble his efforts to acquire it! As he approached the drab building of his Order Morr hummed his favorite hymns. Oh yes, the League scum would pay! Dearly!

  ***

  Micah and Ferrel shadowed Morr carefully. Their erstwhile host seemed surprised to find them awake for Call and even more so when they deferred breakfast until after Matins, an act of piety many deemed excessive. After a long sermon and a short meal they set out for the Order of the Shroud.

  “Shadow,” said Ferrel.

  Micah nodded and added the man to his mental list. Morr now had two people following him, all with the cold-eyed look of Brethren.

  “Cover,” said Micah. Bodyguards. That made their job both easier and harder.

  When Morr entered the Order's gates Micah and Ferrel settled into an outdoor refectory nearby. They opened copies of the Writ of Triumph and, to all appearances, joined the dozen or so others meditating upon the words of the Unity.

  ***

  “Boring, boring, boring,” said Ferrel, “Think Ted got it wrong?”

  “Not likely. You want to try his office tonight?”

  “Nah. If Ted is right, and I believe that harder than you do, he'll be up to something. Perhaps not on office time, though.”

  Morr and quite a few others emerged from the building. None spoke and Morr turned toward his dormitory. Unsurprisingly, Morr did indeed walk into the plain, square building he called home. As the group entered, the Brethren trailing Morr departed. An Initiate announced vespers and several of the folk standing around the building headed in. Micah and Ferrel joined them.

  The service was longer and the hymns more numerous but nothing else set this apart from Matins. Morr sat near the front with the others who lived in the building and Micah had no trouble keeping him under watch. The man did nothing whatsoever suspicious and when the service ended he started for the building's refectory.

  “Will you break bread with us, brother?” An Initiate asked this of every departing person.

  “Yes, brother,” said Ferrel, “With thanks in humility for the hospitality you have shown.”

  No one spoke during the meal, which followed another sermon, or 'meditation.' The meal consisted of crusty bread, hard but very tasty cheese and a bland, thick and filling stew. Morr ate neither quickly nor slowly and did not converse with those around him. After the meal Micah and Ferrel left the area, only to return by a more circumspect route.

  “Bad point,” said Ferrel, “After six hours instaskin itches!”

  “Double-plus. You still think he'll be out tonight?”

  Ferrel shrugged. “He made a report today. We don't know how often that happens but he struck me as the type to want his information thorough and organized well.”

  “He struck me as the type who'd make up in quantity what he lacked in cognitive ability.”

  Ferrel chuckled. They set their limit at half an hour before midnight but didn't have to wait that long.

  “Target,” whispered Micah.

  Morr left his building by a side entrance, dressed now in a long, thick robe and stooping to hide his height.

  “Starport?”

  “Or downzone,” said Micah. When Morr didn't appear instantly he and Ferrel took the time to visit the fresher and change faces. Instaskin did indeed itch but reapplication helped alleviate that.
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  Morr walked toward Anathema but detoured before arriving there. Micah and Ferrel found themselves in a dismal part of town; one scarcely better than the downzone itself.

  Few roamed the streets and those who did walked furtively with their eyes downward. Where Micah thought to feel hostility, anger and resentment he saw only hopelessness and despair. He saw neither graffiti nor bangers but did find several businesses he'd not expect outside Anathema itself.

  “Interesting,” said Ferrel, “Unity does have a dark side. Apparently they can't keep it all inside the downzone.”

  Morr entered a building taller than the others around it but distinctive in no other way. Micah knew instantly what clientele it served by the ladies standing outside the doorway. After giving Morr time to clear the entrance Micah and Ferrel entered.

  The main doorway led to a large, dimly-lit room obscured with a haze of smoke and the scent of strong liquor. Micah glanced around warily. Morr sat in a corner booth, pointedly not noticing the activity around him. Micah walked hesitantly to the bar and sat. Ferrel followed and sat where he could view the parts of the room Micah couldn't. They each had sight of Morr and he looked quite disgusted.

  “Hello, brother,” drawled a voice close to Micah, “Thirsty?”

  “Y-yes,” stammered Micah.

  The lady rubbed herself suggestively against Micah.

  “How 'bout a snake, Joey,” she called to the barkeep.

  “You got it, Liss.”

  After fumbling with his wallet Micah managed to extract a bill that made both Liss and Joey smile. Joey made it vanish and handed him a fair amount of change. Micah sipped his drink. The liquor was rough but he'd had rougher. He gasped for effect.

  “Mmm...” said Liss, “I like a man who can handle his... snake.” She then lit a strong drugstick and licked her lips. “You want to earn a penance, brother?”

  “I... I think I just did.”

  Liss laughed lightly, dipped her finger in Micah's drink and licked it off slowly. Micah carefully didn't laugh. To anyone not familiar with the - real - drug's effects Liss' green-tinted tongue would spell emerald ecstasy. Intelligence training covered this as well as a multitude of other drugs an agent might encounter. A neural enhancer and reputedly the most erotic of such, em-ex only stained the lips and tongue with massive doses.

  “Having fun, brother?” asked Liss.

  “Y-yes,” whispered Micah, letting his eyes widen a bit. Morr hadn't moved but Micah might need to soon!

  “Then pick your penance. Or your pleasure.”

  “Easy, sister,” said Ferrel, voice tinged with mischief, “Don't scare him away. It's his first.” Then he handed her a bill.

  “Wonderful,” drawled Liss, “Then I'll just stay here a while.”

  With Liss not looking directly at him Micah managed to watch Morr. Another man joined him, one visibly apprehensive. Micah couldn't hear the conversation but Morr handed the man an envelope and the man handed back a small package. One of the ladies brought Morr a glass of wine. He scowled at it, her and the other man but finally took a sip. The others left and Morr relaxed.

  Micah turned his attention to a pair of men entering the room. They didn't have on their uniforms but he had no trouble identifying them. Brethren! Half the folk in the room stiffened and looked away. Two of the ladies in the lounge sauntered up to the Brethren, took their arms and led them toward the stairway at the back of the room. Everyone in the room relaxed. Except Morr; his face darkened and the wine in his glass rippled with the anger shaking his hand.

  “Don't worry 'bout them, baby,” whispered Liss, “They get what they want and we do what we do.” With that said she dipped Micah's finger in his drink and started licking it.

  Morr glanced about the room, his gaze coming to rest on Micah. Micah tensed, visibly, and looked down. He shifted nervously. He didn't think Morr made him but still...

  “Don't worry, baby,” said Liss, following his glance and shift, “That's just old Sour-Pants. He needs his pizzle waxed but Boss won't let us.”

  “Oh. He doesn't look happy.” Micah calmed when Morr looked away.

  “He never does,” said Liss, “Do you?”

  “I... I am. Now.”

  Morr finished his wine, rose and walked toward the door. Ferrel gave him a slow count and followed. Micah cursed his partner silently and began extricating himself from Liss. She resisted!

  “Aww... Already, baby? I was just getting... warm.”

  Micah tossed down the rest of his drink and made a foul face. When he stopped coughing he handed Liss two more bills. She smiled, took his hand and helped him make them disappear.

  “All right, baby,” she said, smiling, “You come back soon.” Then she pulled him in for a kiss.

  Micah caught up to Ferrel some seven or so blocks toward Morr's dormitory. Micah took the time to change faces after he left Liss. Just in case.

  “Welcome back, Mister Master,” said Ferrel with an audible grin, “Are you fast or just lazy?”

  “Bottomfeeder! Next time you're the soggy.”

  “Micah, my brother, I'm not that good an actor!” Ferrel turned serious. “Sour-Pants.”

  “Yeah. You see what he got?”

  “I think it was a spool. We'll know for sure next time, though. While you were attracting and amusing eyes I dropped some spiders.”

  “How many?”

  “Three. One for the office, one for the bar and one for the booth.”

  “Can they get a charge?”

  “Likely. If Morr does go to bed now we can come back and fine-tune 'em.”

  Morr did indeed return to his home and Micah and Ferrel soon stood in a dark alleyway behind the brothel.

  Ferrel sat carefully and donned an electronically complex visor. Micah positioned himself to guard Ferrel, pulse pistol drawn. Ferrel would be emitting signals soon and anyone with appropriate gear would have a strong trace.

  Micah had trained with spiders but Ferrel was an artist. The basic model comprised a microcircuit transmitter, a fiber-optic camera, an induction cell and an elegant drive mechanism. Spiders could be dropped at a convenient location and guided into place later. The power cells wouldn't last more than a few dozen meters but that usually sufficed to locate a power cable; from that the induction cell could trickle a charge forever. Outwardly the spider resembled some chitinous insect. If crushed or molested it would catalyze into a sticky goo.

  “Done,” said Ferrel.

  “Already?”

  “Yeah. I placed the feeder here. We should have six hours of pix before I have to blip it.”

  “Power?”

  “They'll run forever. I got all three next to a cable!”

  “Polar. Should we blip Ted tonight?”

  “Unless you can think of a reason not to.” Ferrel handed Micah the visor. “Report's there.”

  Micah read the report quickly and found nothing to add. Ferrel was as thorough as he was talented. Halfway back to their hostel Ferrel reached into his pocket. After a moment he nodded to Micah; the condensed, encrypted and compressed report had blipped to Ionoski. Though traceable, the signal lasted milliseconds at the longest. Not nearly long enough to trace. Only too well did Micah recall the lab where he tried.

  ***

  The next evening Morr led them to another house of dubious business. This one more concerned with liquid refreshment. Ferrel dropped another spider but with some doubt.

  “I have a sinking feeling,” confessed Ferrel, “Signor Morr's information may exist solely on the spools he collects.”

  “Ideas?”

  “None yet. Let us see what tomorrow holds.”

  Morr had almost finished his wine when, after a disbelieving look, he shrank back into his booth.

  Micah didn't recognize the man. Ferrel snapped a few quick holos. The stranger sat at a particular booth, waved at a waiter and relaxed. Before long the waiter brought out a bottle and a shot glass. The man pulled the cork, sniffed it with a connoisseur's air and po
ured himself a shot. He consumed the first quickly and the second with considerable relish. The third he swirled in the glass, warming it.

  “I'm going to set the spider now,” whispered Ferrel, “I'll take Morr, you take Sr. Mysterious.”

  Micah nodded and Ferrel left. After a minute Micah saw a brief motion where Ferrel would want the spider. The stranger had downed his third shot and visibly considered a fourth. Micah nodded to the bartender.

  “I'll have what he's having. Looks good.”

  A risk, but a small one. The liquor had a sharp taste but not a bad one. For wine it was strong and Micah's first sip tingled as it went down.

  “Good!” said Micah.

  “Should be,” said the barkeep, “That's prime 'stim from Humble Piety.” He lowered his voice. “Not many places in town as can get it, either, if you take my meaning. Not one other, in fact.”

  “I have some friends.” Micah slid a bill across the bar.

  The barkeep smiled and handed Micah a pair of small bottles and not much change.

  “Bring 'em by, brother,” said the barkeep, “Or take home a bigger one.”

  Micah smiled and slid the change back. Now finished with his immediate drinking the stranger left. Morr huddled further back into his booth.

  “Thank you, brother,” said Micah.

  The stranger led Micah on a merry chase. He slipped the mostly-full bottle beneath his robe with practiced ease, walked casually and made a serious effort to check his trail. Old business for Micah but it roused his curiosity greatly. Estimating the price of the large bottle based on what Micah had spent made the liquor expensive. Expensive enough to make the stranger fairly wealthy.

  After a time the stranger boarded a hoverbus. The quality of surroundings improved considerably before the stranger debarked. He left the bus at the Circle station, almost within sight of Unity's capitol, the Dome of the Circle. From there he chose a street most luxurious by Unity standards. Though he passed several patrols of Brethren the stranger took no notice of him nor they him. The stranger finally entered the grounds to one of the largest houses on the block. Micah memorized the address and kept walking, he dared not investigate further. After a while he circled back and holocast the house from all angles.

  A vibration at his wrist caught Micah's attention. He checked his chrono and saw the outer band pulsing. Message from Ferrel: home now. Micah set aside the puzzle of the stranger and sent Ferrel a reply: in transit.