by C. G. Hatton
NG glanced across at them as Martinez quickly pushed her gun into Banks’s hand, closing his fingers around the grip. She pulled out her second weapon, looked up and sent calmly, “NG, get away. We’ll hold them.”
He caught a flash of intention from multiple hostiles moving in and another shot grazed his arm. He flinched and managed to mumble, “No,” feeling the pain mix with that emanating from Banks, then the dark mist descended and it became a blur, snow and darkness, flashes of searching lights, shots and explosions, Martinez yelling and a vague awareness of each punch of void that hit as he turned and fired with perfect precision, one shot, one kill.
It was like he was watching from a distance, sound muted, no control over his limbs. This had happened before but he’d never felt so lost, so far away. He fought to get back control.
“No chance,” he heard himself say, voice cold, calmly ejecting the spent magazine and reloading amidst gunfire and the flash of grenades, smoke mingling with the drifting snow.
Banks took a hit, pain flaring, managing to fire steadily at the advancing troops. “Go. Angel, get him away from here.”
NG felt himself turn. ‘No,’ he thought, a chill settling deep inside that had nothing to do with the storm.
His heart was pounding. A grenade exploded close by, throwing out shrapnel and kicking up the snow pile. He didn’t flinch.
‘Don’t do it,’ he thought desperately.
He glanced back at Banks and Martinez, knowing what he was about to do and unable to do a thing to stop himself.
He could feel that Martinez was torn. He watched as she hugged her partner, tight and fast, whispered something in Banks’s ear, then pushed herself to her feet and ran to him. “Go!” she yelled, grabbing his arm and pulling him away.
He let her, breaking into a flat out run and screaming inside.
When they stopped finally, he sank into a dark corner, awareness coming back slowly. With pain. He could hardly breathe, feeling a fluttering in his chest that was pulsing in agony.
He’d left Banks to die.
‘I left him to die. You weren’t strong enough and we’re still not out of this.’
They were inside a warehouse, dry but freezing cold. Martinez knelt by his side. She lifted his chin and stared into his eyes. She was willing him to come back, as if she knew. It was difficult to focus and she didn’t let go until he’d managed it.
He reached gently and wiped a smudge from her cheek.
That slight movement sent a spark through his chest and he couldn’t help coughing, tasting blood in his mouth, grey closing in at the edge of his vision.
Martinez froze. “Oh shit,” she said softly, “you were hit.” She unfastened his vest gently, inhaled sharply when she saw the damage and pulled a trauma patch from a pouch, tucking it inside his shirt where the armour piercing round had done its job.
He flinched as her cold fingers touched his skin and almost passed out as the sting from the patch hit home.
‘Heal yourself, you fool.’
NG half-heartedly pulled energy from somewhere to stem the internal bleeding, aware that the crushed metal of the bullet fragment within his flesh had shattered a rib.
He looked up. “Who knew we were coming here?” he said, voice ragged.
Martinez secured the vest again. “No one,” she said abruptly, not in the mood for conversation and chiding herself viciously every time she caught herself wanting to look around for Banks.
NG shifted his weight, trying to figure out if he could move. Devon and Evelyn knew. His stomach turned at the thought of it. He’d been sure they were clear. He coughed again and a stab of pain shot through his chest. “Pull it tighter,” he mumbled.
Martinez tugged on the straps. She was cursing, violently, silently, to herself, furious and scared that she was going to lose him too. She fumbled around in her pockets and pulled out an injector, punching it against his neck, three times in fast succession, antibiotics and two shots of Epizin.
He caught hold of her wrist and said, “I’m fine.”
She took a deep breath, looked at the blood drenching his sleeve and reached for another patch for his arm. She looked him in the eye. “We need to get off this shit-hole of a planet.”
NG nodded. “There’s something I need to do first.”
Chapter 14
She shook her head, the disapproval in her mind outweighed by a sadness in her eyes. “I hear in some quarters that Redgate is setting itself up as a new centre of power to oppose Earth and Winter. Could that ever be so?”
“Of course not.” He was quite scathing and didn’t temper it. It was bad enough that Nikolai had disobeyed his direct orders, worse that the boy had almost got himself killed. And to lose one as valuable as Banks was always annoying.
He drank, the wine most pleasurably hot and the drug firing his hostility towards such nonsense as Redgate. “The Order will never let that happen,” he said. “They may be content to watch as despicable characters such as Ballack play their games and will most likely profit from such ventures. But as a new power base? The Order has need of only two adversaries and they are content with the ones they have. Redgate is a tolerated amusement, a source of lucrative contracts, and one that will be quashed in an instant if it is deemed to be gaining any real power.”
•
She helped him to his feet and they turned. A single figure stepped out of the shadows by the door, unmistakable stance, knife in hand.
It was an assassin. NG hadn’t sensed him there, the pain too much of a distraction. Damn, he needed to get his shit together.
Martinez raised her arm and fired without hesitation, the shot resounding through the empty space.
The assassin vanished.
They stood, breath frosting in the chill air.
“Who the fuck is that?” Martinez muttered. “Assassins here? As well as half a fucking platoon of mercenaries? Someone told all these bastards that we were coming here.”
NG was pretty much spent but he wanted to get to Ballack.
“Someone inside?” she asked abruptly, emotions burning. “One of ours?”
It must have been but it was hard to admit. He could feel the assassin now, essence cool and confident, moving round on them. The fighting outside had shifted over to the main terminal, sirens wailing and tanks rolling around the perimeter. There was at least one assassin, a rebel army and a private mercenary outfit between them and the ship.
“Let’s go,” he said, breath catching in his chest as they walked slowly, directly towards the advancing assassin, NG directing Martinez through the Senson. Assassins hated their invisibility to be breached and when Martinez raised her aim and tracked him through the shadows, the guy broke and ran, sly recalculations flashing through his mind.
“Is this a good idea?” she sent. “We should get the fuck out of here.”
NG wasn’t going to slink away so easily. He’d already found Ballack. The guy had a Senson Five, top end for the commercial market. He responded immediately to NG’s request for a link.
NG didn’t reply to Martinez but he included her in the connection.
“NG,” Ballack sent back, “you know, we take care of our guests much better when they don’t lie and deceive their way into our midst.”
“You have a snake in your camp, Ballack,” he replied, splitting his concentration between tracking the assassin and putting one foot in front of the other. He trusted Martinez to watch out for other hostiles. They both had weapons out, a gun in each hand, walking cautiously out of the warehouse. “Tell me who betrayed me and I’ll tell you who it is.”
“I’ll do better than that, NG. I’ll give you an armed escort back to your ship and you can tell me who put this ridiculous price on your head.”
Martinez muttered out loud, “I don’t like this. Don’t trust him.”
He didn’t trust him but Ballack couldn’t afford to make an enemy of the Thieves’ Guild. Not openly. Behind the scenes subterfuge was one thing but outright publ
ic enmity was bad for business.
True to his word, Ballack cleared their way to the ship and followed them on board, leaving his escort on the runway as instructed.
The bulky leader of the Merchants’ Guild put his hands up in mock surrender when he saw Martinez standing there tracking him with a gun.
“All a misunderstanding, right?” NG said quietly, just about managing to stand without shaking, arms folded around his chest, keeping the pain from his face.
Ballack shrugged. “It’s been chaos,” he said. “We’re pulling out, I’m sure you’ve heard. Redgate just isn’t worth the trouble any more.”
“Redgate’s always worth the trouble,” NG said softly, “you just never understood why.”
Ballack smiled. He’d lost and he was trying not to lose face.
“Who was it?” NG asked, needing to know how he’d screwed up and lost one of his best men.
Ballack’s expression was unfathomable. He was a master of manipulation and kept his position in the Merchant’s Guild through a complex mix of deceit, paranoia, charisma and a sharp intelligence to see opportunity and seize the moment. He shrugged again. “Half a billion is bound to bring out the worst in people, NG. People hear about that kind of cash, they’re going to be watching out for you. I’m surprised you risk yourself like this.”
“Business is business,” NG said.
Ballack smiled again, this time a wolf’s smirk of satisfaction. “So who is the snake in my back yard? Let me guess, Newton? Ingarssen? No? Ronson? They’re all snakes, NG. Believe me, I don’t need you to tell me that.”
It was still hard work to concentrate and read anything from the man beyond surface thoughts, hard to do anything much other than standing his ground.
Ballack rubbed his hands together as if that was it, deal done and down to the real business. “Now this little escapade of yours, NG, has cost us,” he said. “There are those who think they can take advantage of any incident on this damned planet. You being here has cost me. I want compensation.”
NG nodded. He was expecting as much. “One of my men died here, Ballack. I want him returning to us.”
“I’ll see to it myself. You don’t look so good yourself, NG. Why don’t you come inside? Hospitality isn’t up to much, I’m afraid.” He paused for effect as a barrage of artillery hits boomed in a thunderous succession outside. “No? I won’t take offence.” He smiled at Martinez before looking back to NG. “Now, I take it this unfortunate incident hasn’t affected relations between our two guilds.”
“Back off, Ballack,” NG said softly. “Stick to what you know best. Leave the acquisitions to us.”
Ballack shrugged, shoulders twitching, smug and self confident as if there’d never been a problem. “We all do what we do best, NG. Survive. You take care of yourself now.”
It seemed to take forever to get to Earth. Martinez tried to protest that he needed medical attention and should go back to the Alsatia but he’d pulled rank and insisted they didn’t have time. He needed to get to Earth.
They landed at RDJ, anonymous documents getting them past customs. No one knew they were coming here and there were no problems getting in despite a heightened security around the old planet. They secured a car and drove out into the city.
It was hot and humid. NG let Martinez drive and wound down the window, feeling the warm breeze on his skin.
She’d watched him like a hawk since Redgate, fussing at the injuries, bitching as she’d cleaned up the bullet wound in his chest and refusing to talk about Banks. “Shit happens,” she’d said, shutting him out. She’d deal with it in her own time and her own way. That was the way his staff worked. It was the way the whole guild worked.
They were stopped at two roadblocks, different IDs and a wad of hard cash getting them through with no questions. They drove up into the hills and at the third roadblock they had to leave the car. Martinez was nervous, more nervous that Devon and Evelyn would roast her alive if she got NG killed, but she spoke to the guards like a native and smiled, and they offered her coffee, laughing and saying she could stay for more if she ditched the white boy.
They had to walk from there, taking it steady up the steep steps. He had to stop half way to catch his breath, chest still burning like it was on fire, and she waited patiently, sitting on the step next to him staring out over the bay, emotions wrapped up cold and hard inside. She didn’t question what they were doing.
“Martinez…” he started.
“Don’t say it, boss. I’m here to keep you alive. I knew the risks when I signed on for this. So did Banks. Move on, keep your head in the game,” she paused and met his eye. “Just don’t let what happened to Banks be for nothing, okay?”
He nodded and she turned away.
A canopy of leafy vegetation wound overhead, thick knotted trunks weaving amongst the green, birds singing, and it was good to be planetside amongst so much life. He’d been too cold for too long and the warm air was easy on the lungs.
‘All I can smell is the putrid decay of the human race. You’re wasting your time.’
He refused to acknowledge the inner voice, pushed himself to his feet and struggled up the rest of the brightly coloured steps.
Arturo was waiting for them at the top, leaning on his walking cane and smiling. The old man was as sprightly as ever and led them along a winding pathway that was half strangled with twisting tree trunks and through to a terrace. There was a table and chairs set out, a jug and glasses waiting.
Arturo waved them to sit, looking intently at NG. “I would swear you get younger every time I see you,” the old man said with a mischievous smile then frowned. “Tell me, how close have they managed to get?”
Arturo was old school Thieves’ Guild, maintaining deep cover on Earth. He didn’t miss much and was thinking that NG was hiding an injury.
“Not close enough to cash in just yet,” NG said softly.
The old man stared for a moment then laughed and reached to pour from the jug. He pushed the glasses across the table, ice clinking. “I heard about Domino,” he said. “Bad business.”
“We know who killed Mendhel now,” NG said, taking a long drink of the liquor. It was strong, rum and lime with sugar.
“Zang. I heard that too.” Arturo leaned forward. “I also heard that Luka is out in the mining colonies. Don’t worry about that boy – he can look after himself. Bastards come back in every day claiming they’ve seen him and no one yet has managed to catch him.” He chuckled to himself again. “What’s the bounty up to now? Eighty five million? And half a billion on you? We live in exciting times, my dears.”
Martinez was keeping quiet. She was just sipping at the Caipirinha. Arturo reached out and patted her hand. The last time they were here, Banks had been with them and he didn’t need to ask to know what was wrong.
The old man looked back to NG. “So what can I do for you?”
“The High Court. I need a way in.”
Arturo raised his eyebrows. “We can manage that. You care to tell me why you want to put your neck into the hands of our dear Emperor?”
Martinez turned in for the night early. It was the first time since they’d left the Alsatia that they were in friendly territory and she was content that he was in safe hands. Arturo kept his place well but subtly guarded, fiercely loyal people who adored the old man and were completely dedicated to the guild. NG had scanned them anyway. They were safe.
He sat on the terrace and watched the moon rise. It had been a long time since he’d been on Earth. He hadn’t given Arturo the full story, just that he needed access to the Advisor for Trade, and the old man hadn’t pushed. He’d patted NG on the back, like a fond grandfather, and headed inside to make arrangements.
It was a warm night, insects humming. The scent of rainforest filled the air. Tiny lanterns cast arcs of soft light amongst the undergrowth. It felt safe and he could almost imagine he was alone with no worries, the weight of the guild and its dramas far away.
‘Don’t b
e a fool.’
Breathing was hard for a second, the pain of the broken rib breaking through his barriers. Christ, I don’t need a reminder, he thought.
‘You obviously do,’ that dark voice warned and the pain intensified.
He concentrated to shut it out, nullify the pain and dampen down the self-doubt.
‘Oh my, have you not worked it out yet?’
His vision started to narrow, darkness closing in.
‘I’m not you, ‘NG’,’ the voice whispered maliciously. It laughed harshly. ‘Pay attention now, Nikolai. You don’t really exist, you know, you never did. And I want control back.’
He was hallucinating. Exhaustion and one injury after another, one assassination attempt after the other, had taken its toll and the rum had tipped him over the edge. He lay back, staring at the stars and breathing slowly, feeling the darkness nudge from within. Every time he’d lost control, he’d been in extreme violent danger, some kind of automatic reaction. He was now lying on a grassed terrace in one of the safest spots in the galaxy on a peaceful and warm night with friends close by and no enemies in sight.
‘You really think? Do you really think I can’t just take over whenever I want?’
NG tried to open his eyes, tried to sit up but he couldn’t move. It felt like he was paralysed, asleep but dreaming that he was awake. He tried to shout out but he had no control. He felt himself stand and pull his gun from the holster on his thigh.
He heard Martinez call his name behind and felt himself turn.
‘Don’t,’ he gasped.
She walked up slowly, cautiously, saying his name again. He felt his finger twitch on the trigger and he fought to take back control, managing to use the pain to snatch himself back from the brink.
Martinez reached out a hand and took the gun, stroking his other arm gently until he snapped out of it, then she led him back to the table and nudged him into a chair.
She was the only person who’d seen him like that and she didn’t judge, didn’t condemn. She was thinking that she’d seen worse in some of the marines she’d served with, guys who clicked into berserker mode in combat and wept and screamed like terrified children in the night when the nightmares began.