by C. G. Hatton
NG rubbed a hand over his eyes. Martinez was also thinking that she missed Banks and it was hard to be close to that raw emotion.
He looked up. “Shit happens, right?” he said and she laughed.
They sat quietly after that until Arturo came to join them, cane tapping along the stone pathway. He sat and smiled at them both. “Beautiful evening, is it not? It was the Imperial Advisor for Trade you wanted to see? Yes?” He placed a board on the table. “It would seem that he wants to see us too.”
The information listed on it was a typical request for contact from a potential client to the guild, relayed through multiple sources, originating from Earth, encoded and seemingly from the Emperor’s Advisor for Trade himself.
Martinez took the board. “Is this for real?” she said.
“Looks like it.” NG looked to Arturo. It felt bad to have to read the old man for any deception but there was no such thing as coincidence. There was nothing there to doubt. “Can you set up a secure livelink?”
“Of course.”
“Do it. Let’s hear what His Excellency has to say.”
The temple grounds were peaceful, a gentle cool breeze chiming the bells, carrying the scent of incense from the fires. NG stood, breathing in the faint narcotic and wondering how easy it would be to walk away. Just leave. Vanish into the shadows like the assassin on Redgate, drop all responsibility and disappear.
It had been hard to leave the warm sanctuary of Arturo’s place and fly half way around the planet to take up the trail but they were so close now. Advisor Trent had spoken to Arturo briefly, requesting a meeting with the head of Thieves’ Guild operations. Arturo had laughed and said he didn’t know what the esteemed minister could possibly mean. The guy had flushed. It was impossible to read thoughts through the long distance link but the body language was unmistakable. “I know NG is coming to Earth,” he’d said curtly, uncomfortable, nervous and looking over his shoulder anxiously. “And I know that I’m next. They’re going to kill me. I want to come over. I’ll tell you everything but you have to protect me.”
They’d stayed up the rest of the night planning. The Advisor had specified a time and a location, the Temple of Heaven. No weapons, no surveillance, the only time he was allowed privacy. Arturo’s people in Beijing had identified some old, disused subway tunnels that ran nearby. It wasn’t great but with only a few hours to gather reconnaissance and come up with a plan, escape through subterranean tunnels was the best of their limited options. Martinez had argued against it, thinking it had to be a trap, and offered to take a team to grab the guy, but that wasn’t the point. NG wanted thirty seconds of Trent’s time – that was all – there was no way he was going to risk an extraction if someone was trying to kill the guy. “Fast in, fast out,” he’d said and Martinez had muttered, “Didn’t you say that last time?” Arturo hadn’t joined the argument. He’d arranged a team of six agents and the logistics necessary to get into Beijing and out again. With Advisor Trent if possible, with the information they needed if it wasn’t.
If it went to plan, they’d be back in RDJ inside six hours and away from Earth in eight.
NG watched the flow of people through the courtyard. It was quiet despite the numbers, gentle laughter mixing with the sound of bells and soft words floating on the breeze.
There was only a slight stir in the throng as the Advisor for Trade walked into the grounds of the temple surrounded by an entourage of armed bodyguards. It was routine, a ritual he honoured every week, and they honoured his right to enter the temple alone. Martinez and four of the six agents were positioned around the grounds, the other two in the tunnels. Only NG was unarmed and he was waiting casually by the entrance to the temple.
Trent spoke briefly with his guard then walked alone across the courtyard to the steps. He didn’t make eye contact until he reached the top then he looked desperately at NG, turmoil churning in his stomach and naked fear tearing at his mind. NG read what he could through the distress. Trent was convinced the Order had already posted his termination. A’Darbi led indirectly to him and that kind of breach in the chain wouldn’t be tolerated. He knew it was only a matter of time and he knew his superiors couldn’t fail to see the connection. He was pre-empting his fate and almost scared to death that he couldn’t avoid it.
If it was an act, he was a damned good actor.
NG glanced at Martinez. He was the briefest touch away from reaching deeper into the organisational structure of the Order.
He took a step towards the Advisor.
A single sharp crack tore through the peace and tranquillity. The high velocity round hit Trent in the head, he jerked, gone in that instant, body slumping to the stone paving.
NG moved automatically, lurching forward and catching him as he fell. There was nothing but cold void. He knelt there for the briefest of instants, feeling a wave of shock flow over the people watching.
Someone screamed.
He started to stand but something hit him in the back of the head, low down at the base of his skull, a punch of dissipating energy that snatched at his nervous system. FTH. He shook it off but another impact drove him back to his knees.
He could hear footsteps pounding up, feel a dark panic rising.
Martinez sent, “NG.”
“Go,” he managed to send back. “Get back to the guild. They need to know what’s happened.”
Another FTH round hit him in the back. The intense pain that flared fed the darkness and NG was pushed roughly into the background. He felt himself turn and stagger to his feet, watching the scene through a mist. He saw himself grab the first guard to reach him with a hand around the throat, squeezing and destroying the mind in a single stroke. He dropped the husk to the floor and spun to the next. More bodies were pressing in and he inflicted excruciating pain and agony on every ounce of flesh he managed to touch.
NG watched, struggling to gain back control. A rifle butt smashed into the side of his face, sending his senses spinning. His knees buckled and a weight hit his back, driving him down to the floor. They were screaming at him not to move, twisting his arms behind his back, malicious sons of bitches who had just seen their charge eliminated right in front of them, team mates drop dead all around them. A vicious kick landed against his ribs and he was thrown back to the fore, the mist gone, but he couldn’t do anything then but concentrate on breathing.
Another blow hammered against his head.
He closed his eyes and sank into an oblivion that was far more welcoming than the darkness he’d been drowning in.
Chapter 15
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Surely we could whisper in the ears of the powermongers as easily as they, if not more so. Why do we play such games with thieves and rogues? We made the decision to make our stand here, why do we let others walk openly in those corridors through which we sneak in shadow?”
The Man placed another log on the fire, drinking in the warmth of the glowing embers. “To do so would set us directly at odds with the Order.”
She leaned forward in her seat, earnestly, firelight flaring in her eyes. “We are at war with the Order.”
He met her gaze and raised the stakes. “We are at war with a race of beings that will destroy every planet in this galaxy should we allow it to happen again.”
•
The cell was cold. NG sat quietly, controlling the pain, dealing with the internal injuries the best he could. His wrists were clamped in manacles, safetycuffs that were attached to a device at the centre of the table. They’d given him water to drink but no food, Earth hospitality at its finest, and after four or five rounds of interrogation it was getting harder to bounce back.
They’d brought him to a secure facility, off world. Two armed guards were in the cell watching him now, another two outside the door and more watching through the monitoring system. They weren’t taking any risks. And as far as he could tell, they were Imperial Security, no hint of the Order yet. But if it was the Order that had assassinated the Adv
isor, they wouldn’t be far behind in realising who the ISA had in custody.
The door opened and a medic walked in. NG didn’t move but cast his eyes up to look at the surveillance camera tucked high in the corner of the cell wall. The woman who had been supervising his incarceration was watching remotely from an adjoining room. She was uneasy. She wasn’t Order but that didn’t mean they weren’t pulling the strings somewhere in the background.
The medic set his case on the table. He pressed an autoinjector against NG’s neck then took hold of his arm. They’d already been through this. He felt the cocktail of drugs hit, more potent than anything they’d hit him with so far, and didn’t move as the medic took another blood sample, filling ampoule after ampoule from a vein in the crook of his elbow.
NG kept his gaze fixed firmly on the camera. They were watching his stats remotely. He could sense the woman staring at him, thinking that this was her career on the line, why did this have to happen on her watch?
The medic finished up, packed away his kit with care and walked out. The drugs had a variation of Banitol in there, inhibition relaxant, strong and potentially lethal from the size of the dose they were giving him. He let it flow for a moment then neutralised it fast.
“We’ve taken him to level five,” she sent through a secure connection to someone. NG listened in easily enough. “Nothing. He hasn’t even flinched. He hasn’t said a word except to ask for Jameson. You want me to go to six, I want clearance from the Executive.”
“He knows about the JU?” the someone sent back.
“Apparently.”
“Who the hell is he?”
“We have no idea. Every ID check we’ve run has come back negative. He isn’t on any list. He’s carrying recent gun shot wounds, one serious, and he has a Senson Six.”
“Wintran?”
She hesitated. “We don’t know.”
NG closed his eyes and let his heart rate start to drop. It triggered an alarm. If they let him speak to Jameson, he was clear. If that spooked them, he was done.
“Get Jameson in here. Shit, the colonel is pissed enough as it is, let’s give him another headache.”
They sent in a medic to make sure he wasn’t going to drop dead and then left him alone to wait. It didn’t take long. He felt Jameson’s anger approaching as soon as the colonel entered the facility. He had troops with him. The JU didn’t do anything by halves.
Jameson stopped outside the door. “This had better be good,” NG heard him say.
The woman’s mind was both fraught with hope that Jameson would take her problem away and anxious that she’d screwed up by bringing in the JU before they knew anything more about this charge they had in custody.
The door opened.
NG looked up. Jameson took one step inside the cell and grinned. “Oh my, you’ve just made my day.” He snapped at the woman, “Get him loose for Christ’s sake and send all your records to the JU. You’ve never seen this guy, we haven’t been here and you know nothing, understand?”
She nodded, relieved, and the cuffs popped open.
Jameson was wearing a tuxedo, medals gleaming in neat rows, immaculately starched white dress shirt, black bow tie undone and hanging round his neck in that casual formalities over for the night way. He’d been drinking but it had been a while ago. His men were in full combat readiness, chameleonic body armour shifting patterns as it adjusted to match the surroundings. They formed a cordon around Jameson and NG as they marched, NG trying to keep up and not struggle too badly. It was possible he’d just jumped into a worse situation but anything had to be better than being locked up and waiting for the next session of interrogation. Jameson’s mood was difficult to read and what he was picking up made NG’s head ache even more than it had been. The colonel was pleased with himself, and not just because he had NG in his pocket now, that the Thieves’ Guild owed him big style. There was something else there.
They walked out of the secure facility without ceremony and straight onto a drop ship, engines running, crew meeting them as they boarded. They left the troops in the main terminal and Jameson steered NG into a forward compartment, gesturing him to take a seat. It was good to sink down but the rumbling of the ship as it prepared for takeoff rippled through every aching and torn muscle. He shifted awkwardly to get comfortable, aware that Jameson was watching, the colonel settling into a chair opposite and smiling as he hooked the restraints into place.
“Incredible,” Jameson said, smug, the smile turning into a grin. He leaned forward. “So does this mean the Thieves’ Guild is taking on assassination contracts now?”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Not what the report says.”
“Jameson, I didn’t even have a weapon on me.”
“The official report says you did. They’ve matched ballistics.” Jameson’s tone changed, serious now. “Can I ask why? What did Advisor Trent have to do with anything?”
NG leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was too tired to argue.
The engines fired up for launch, the rumbling deepening as it took off and accelerated hard.
“You said you’d talk to me, NG, so talk. This is a real shitstorm and you’re right in the middle of it.”
NG opened one eye.
“As it happens, I’ve just been speaking to one of your boys,” Jameson said. “We know who sent them to raid our base.”
NG didn’t need to read it from his mind. “Zang.”
Jameson nodded. “Hilyer turned up on our doorstep and turned himself in. He’s leading us to them. I’ll be damned if we don’t get Zang and the damned package back. What does Trent have to do with anything?”
The drop ship pulled a manoeuvre that sent NG’s stomach lurching. He faded out for a second.
‘Don’t tell him a thing.’
He had no intention to. He was reading loud and clear from Jameson’s mind that the warship they were on their way to dock with was going to Winter after Hilyer and Zang.
Jameson laughed again. “Shit, I always knew you were a tough bastard, NG, but level five? Jesus, most people don’t make it past three.”
They docked amidst a chaotic clamour of battle-preparation. NG shut it all out. Jameson had told him to wait on the drop ship so he waited, listening in as the colonel briefed a team to escort their guest to medical. “Give him the VIP treatment,” Jameson sent through a tight wire and the marines laughed, thinking that they understood fine well what their commanding officer intended. Jameson paused as he realised their intention and added, “No, you fucking morons, I mean look after him.”
NG held in a smile, sensing the discomfort of the JU marines as their sergeant snapped a “Yes sir” in reply.
The staff in the warship’s medical facility were more gentle, settling him into a secure bay before they undocked. NG lay back. He had no choice but to comply, go for the ride and get what he could while he was here. He didn’t need to break into any systems – he just needed to listen in to the thoughts of every technical operator, specialist, researcher and officer on board and he could get the JU’s most intimate secrets. Nothing he hadn’t done to Jameson, many times. But there was no harm in getting up to date. He closed his eyes, let his energy levels recover and set to work.
Jameson called for him to be brought up to the bridge as they approached the Wintran facility. NG dressed slowly, still sore, most of the damage healed. He’d been careful not to heal the superficial injuries, leaving the bruising and abrasions. He was in enough shit as it was; a miraculously fast recovery wouldn’t do him any favours in this company.
The tension in the warship was rising, the anticipation of battle heightening emotions to an edge that was difficult to share. On the Alsatia, each section had its own characteristics and distinctive aura – Legal curt and factual, Media imaginative and inspiring, Acquisitions daring and irrepressible, Science reckless and curious. Never on board the guild’s cruiser was there such a mass brewing of raw aggression.
NG followed his es
cort through the warship and shut out the onslaught, fighting a darkness deep inside that wanted to revel in it.
“I thought you’d want to see this,” Jameson sent privately, gesturing him to come stand at his side.
Hil had offered Zang, LC and the package to Jameson, all wrapped up neatly in one place. Knowing Hilyer, it would never be that simple. There was no way he’d hang LC out to dry. Jameson didn’t care. He wanted Zang to pay. If he didn’t get the package, he’d carry on hunting down LC and Hil until he got it. But in the meantime, the colonel had been given a target and he was planning total annihilation.
“I want Hilyer out alive,” NG sent.
Jameson smiled. “You’re in no position to make demands, NG. This is my show. You get to sit back and watch, my friend.”
They all knew fine well the implications of this attack – an Earth force assaulting a Wintran colony – and they were committed to it. Zang had attacked an Earth facility first so it was justified. That’s what they were telling themselves. NG wasn’t convinced and whatever the hell Hilyer was planning, the kid wouldn’t have done it lightly.
Bombers were already bombarding the colony, drop ships on their way down to the surface with troops. NG watched coldly. It went against everything the Man had been working for, striving to keep peace and steady advancement within the two power bases.
Jameson was a calm commander, controlled and confident. NG stood next to him, close enough to touch. He could reach out and give the colonel enough doubt to call a halt to the assault.
‘Too late,’ the dark voice whispered deep inside. ‘The attack has started already. Even if Jameson pulled back now, the damage is done. Earth just declared war on Winter and there’s not a damn thing you can do.’