by C. G. Hatton
Christ, how did he answer that?
‘No.’
She sent sharp and clear, ‘LC, listen to me. We have to go. How do we get you out of there?’
He pushed himself to his knees. ‘I don’t know. Where’s Hil?’
‘Trying to get you out.’
He could feel what she wasn’t saying. They were going to have to bug out without him. Or risk getting caught. They had less than an hour to get clear and they were trying to get to him when they should have been getting away.
‘Go,’ he thought, blinking away the fog, eyes watering and chest so tight he couldn’t breathe. ‘Sean, listen to me. Go. Please go.’
‘Didn’t you hear me? There are Bhenykhn ships incoming, LC. We’re not leaving you here. What’s happening down there?’
‘Sean, just go.’
He forced himself to stand and turned, staggering towards the vault door. It slammed shut as he reached it. He flinched and sent a targeted blast into its mechanism, punching the release, and getting a shock back that shot into his chest and threw him backwards.
He tumbled, crashed into a table and sent boxes and ancient artefacts flying. His head was spinning, eyes sore, dizzy, disorientated, sprawled on his back. He sat up, abs straining, and sent another blast, stronger, right back at it. It dissipated before it reached the door.
He suddenly felt the concentration of the hive on him, intense, pushing him down, hurting as badly as if a shaman was holding him down with its staff pressed into his chest. The Bhenykhn were scanning ahead, coming for him and assessing who he was with, what use they could be.
His heart thumped faster as he realised what they were doing.
He rolled to his knees and switched focus. ‘Hal, get Sean the hell out of here. They know her. Don’t let them use her against me.’
‘We’re not leaving you behind, LC,’ the big man replied. ‘How do we get into the damned vault?’
‘I don’t know. But Hal, listen to me, get her out of here. They want me alive. Go. I’ll find you. I swear. I’ll find NG and we’ll get back to you. I promise. But I need you to take Sean. Now. Because I can’t do what I need to do if they can hold her against me.’
He could feel the conflict in the former marine. Sean was arguing with him, yelling at him, yelling at Hilyer.
‘Sean, there’s no way out,’ he thought to her. ‘You want to help me? Go.’
‘LC, don’t do this. I…’
‘I know,’ he sent, pressing his hand against his eyes. He sucked in a breath that hurt his lungs. ‘Go.’
‘We’ll find you,’ Duncan sent.
‘I know.’
Then it was quiet.
LC sat back on his heels, trying to breathe against the pain in his chest, staring at the door. The gun was still in his hand and he held onto it, forcing his breathing to calm, heart rate to steady.
“How touching that they’re trying to rescue you,” Spearhead whispered into his mind, a shard of ice that buried deep.
“How the hell are you even doing this?” LC said out loud. He tapped the side of his head in frustration. “I don’t have a fucking implant anymore.”
The room fell into absolute darkness.
It had been so long since he’d been in the dark, he almost fell backwards. He blinked, blind, breath catching, casting around desperately to find some trace of light somewhere, anywhere.
Spearhead was screwing with his mind.
“You don’t know, do you?” it whispered, sending a shard of ice into his heart. “Luka, child… you’ve been mine since the day we met.”
LC concentrated, working steadily to shut out the hive, then stood, cautious, holding the gun loosely down by his thigh.
“What the hell did you do to me?” he said, stomach turning.
“You’re so smart, I thought you would have guessed.”
He didn’t want to guess.
“You want me?” he said instead, out loud, refusing to think, refusing to give it that space inside his head. “Why? What the hell do you want with me?”
He walked forward, careful, kicking aside crap he couldn’t see.
“Oh Luka, you are not that naïve.”
He couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out. “The virus? You’re either working for Anya and playing chicken, gambling that Anya can get people in here before they do.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Or you’re working for the Bhenykhn.”
“What do you think?”
He couldn’t believe Spearhead was working with the Bhenykhn. He was having to concentrate to breathe. He turned and walked back to the door.
“You can’t leave,” it said.
“You can’t keep me here.”
His knees buckled with the intensity of the pain that hit.
He curled up against it but it was relentless. He felt himself starting to go under. He let the gun drop, fighting the pain, reacted without thinking and connected to the AI, with no hesitation, reckless, having to force his way through to it as though he was wading through treacle without even knowing how he was doing it.
It had been a while since he’d been embedded so deeply inside an AI domain. It was cold, stark, logic strings spinning. He tracked a monofilament of silken thread through the chaos, winding its way through the neural pathways, following the link back, aggressive, punching through layer after layer, dodging traps and burning deeper and deeper, furiously chasing the connection and blasting into the core, feeling the AI recoil, taken by surprise and reacting…
Spikes of pain seared into his head.
LC fell back, thrown out on his ass, the shutters slamming closed as Spearhead shut him down, taking hold of his mind again.
“You don’t seem to understand, Luka…” it said, increasing the pressure. “I control your whole system, every motor function, every neural pathway, every synaptic response. Your mind may be your own but your brain, your nervous system, your body, belongs to me.”
LC pressed his palms against his temples, gasping.
He reached out, needing to know that the others were leaving. He sensed their lifesigns up in the palace still, dammit. They were going to run out of time.
‘Sean?’
‘LC…’ she breathed and she was cut off. Gone like she’d never been there as the pain hit again, hard, sending him tumbling backwards.
“Fuck you,” he shouted out loud as he sprawled, skidding through piles of stuff, and hitting the wall.
He couldn’t sense Sean anymore.
“Halon is so unforgiving,” it whispered.
LC scrambled to his feet. “No,” he yelled. “For fuck’s sake. You don’t have to kill them. You have me.”
“Too late.”
Chapter 25
“Spearhead…” The Man frowned. “Now that is a name I thought never to hear again.”
Sebastian regarded him with hooded eyes, not quite believing the sentiment.
“Our old nemesis,” he said. “The one entity in this entire galaxy that came the closest to breaching the defences of the Alsatia and bringing down your vast empire.” He dismantled the firing mechanism, setting each piece in a neat row. “And yes, I thought it dead. I know Anderton and Hilyer thought they’d killed it. Did you know it was Order?”
It wouldn’t have surprised him if the Man had confirmed yet another lie but the Man said, “No,” ponderous, nothing obvious in his tone or deeper within his mind to suggest it was a lie.
Sebastian looked up. “That it surfaces now… when the Bhenykhn invasion is at full force? Not just working against the humans it despises but working with the aliens? I don’t believe in coincidences. And I don’t believe you have been as oblivious to its presence as you are making out.”
•
The pain vanished, sight returning. LC backed off, devoid of all emotion. He couldn’t sense any life signs at all, not in the palace, not as far as he could scan. Nothing human anyway. The Bhenykhn were still there.
But he hadn’t felt any punch of black v
oid against his chest.
She hadn’t died. He would have felt it.
“Such a shame,” it said.
LC rested his head back against the cold wall.
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
“Believe me or not, what choice do you have, Luka?”
“How am I even hearing you?”
“Ah, that would be telling.”
He could feel the hum of the hive entering orbit, ships descending fast. He half wanted the Bhenykhn to take him. Make the mistake of taking him to the same place they were holding NG and then the damned aliens wouldn’t know what hit them.
The voice that cut in was warm, seductive. ‘Really, LC? Miya luchik, do you really think it could ever be so simple?’ Anya’s whisper crept tendrils around his mind as if she was caressing his thoughts. ‘You’re mine, LC. You always have been. And I want you back.’
He froze.
Did everyone have a direct link straight into his head these days?
‘Give yourself up to me, LC, and no one else needs to die.’
His heart was thumping.
‘I have your queen of hearts right here in my crosshairs, LC,’ she murmured inside his head. ‘Do I need to kill her to show you how serious I am?’
Anya laughed, gentle, teasing, like they were teenagers again, and she was leading him on, the way she used to, coaxing him to skip out and hit her favourite nightclub haunts, even when they’d been grounded.
‘I heard about the Alsatia,’ she murmured inside his head. ‘I wish I could say it was a pity but, you know what…? Good riddance.’
‘Anya, as much as I would love to see you again, ’ he thought back, ‘I really don’t believe you’re here.’
‘You want me to show you? Nice operations vessel you have here. Is your darling Evelyn on there?’
He shut his mind into neutral.
“Screw you, Spearhead. I’m not falling for it.”
He stood in the centre of the vault and turned slowly. He’d spent ten years at the guild, at least five before that on Kheris, breaking into places. It wasn’t often that he’d ever needed to break out of anywhere, but hell, it was the same principle. He looked up and round. He could feel a hum of energy resonating below his senses. The virus was feeding off it. He followed it, focused on it until it became a glowing line, and tracked it.
He closed his eyes, working by remote, and walked back to the vault door. He placed his hand against it, gentle, palm flat against the cold metal.
Spearhead was watching. The damned AI was curious so he gave it a show. He tore apart the molecules of the door mechanism, sent them spinning off into dust, and pushed it open.
“Impressive,” the AI said.
“Not as impressive as this.” LC walked forward. He reached out and hacked into the ventilation system, reaching the life support systems of the palace and sending a query spiralling into its midst that reset all the parameters, hard and fast, shutting down any possible routes anyone could use to bypass or impede what he was doing. He felt Spearhead respond, racing him to it, as he was racing the Bhenykhn who were getting close fast, the AI holding off stopping him outright because it wanted to see what he’d do. He went faster, cheating, drawing in energy that he used to fry the paths he was taking behind him, setting traps of his own and taking control of the vents. An access hatch overhead opened with a clang.
“Very nice. I always knew you were special, Luka, but that’s enough for now.”
Spearhead shut him down with one blow.
LC flinched. Opened his eyes. And triggered the feedback he’d set up in the background, a volt of pure energy right into the heart of the source AI core.
Another shockwave of intense energy hit his chest and threw him backwards.
He fell. Hit the floor badly and rolled, staggering to his feet, trying to make it to the vent.
The elevator door opened, the stench of dank leafmold wafting out as figures pushed through.
LC looked up. Beams of light hit him full in the face, guttural grunts echoing and heavy footsteps pounding towards him. He turned and ran, jumped for the open hatch and caught hold with one hand, trying to hoist himself up. Something hit him, hard, hefty weights impacting against his ribs, his legs as a chain whipped around his waist, dragging him down. He lost his grip and fell.
Huge hands grabbed him, talons digging deep, hauling him to his feet, the smell of damp and heat overwhelming. Something that felt like a gun barrel was pushed into his ribs, the power in the weapon humming through his shirt. He struggled as they restrained his wrists, chains clanking, and got a punch in the back of the head for his efforts.
Spearhead took hold of his mind. “Not smart, Luka. You can’t beat me, I thought you’d learned that last time.”
“We did beat you last time,” he thought, forming the conscious thought as if he was sending it through an implant, no idea if it would hear him, “and you did fall for it. And whatever the fuck you’re doing, I’m going to find you and shut you down for good.”
It laughed. It had heard him and it squeezed maliciously.
“I could just paralyse you, let them carry you out the door. In fact I could make you walk right out to them while you are nothing more than a spectator, but somehow, this seems so much more… satisfying.”
He breathed through the pain, shallow, lungs prickling, and only vaguely aware of the palace complex powering up around them.
They pushed him into the elevator and took him to the surface, a hell of a lot easier getting up than it had been getting down.
They marched him through the palace and out through the huge doors into a biting wind, snow swirling, the icy chill taking his breath and whipping away his body heat in a vicious flurry, every inch of exposed skin stinging.
He kept his head down, a fierce downdraft of engines circling close, the noise cutting through the storm.
They pushed him forward and dragged him to a halt out on the terrace as the Bhenykhn ship landed. He raised his eyes, blinking snowflakes and struggling to breathe through the pressure pushing against his chest, watching as the ramp dropped, releasing a billow of rancid air. Hulking figures loomed from the dark inside. They trooped down the ramp and lined up, forming a guard.
LC squinted, an armoured hand heavy on his shoulder, Spearhead mocking inside his head.
Another figure emerged from the alien ship. Slight. Human. Bundled up in cold weather gear but fair hair escaping in strands that whipped about her face, startling blue eyes glinting bright in the pale light.
She stared back at him as she walked down the ramp, flanked by massive stinking alien warriors who bowed their heads to her.
A sickening chill turned in his stomach.
She stepped off the ramp into the snow, pulled aside her hood, and unwrapped her scarf with a flourish.
His chest was a hollow pit of numb cold.
Anya.
She nodded. One of the bastard aliens hit him hard round the head. And he wasn’t aware of much else until he came round on the floor, sprawled, half leaning against a wall. Manacles still around his wrists. His head felt woolly, eyes hurting, vision blurred.
“It’s a neurotoxin,” she said softly, leaning in. “It suppresses your special abilities. I’m sorry, but we don’t want you hurting anyone.”
We?
They were on the alien ship. He could feel the motion, the steady hum of the engines. Steady as if they were in orbit or deep space. It was hot, the stench cloying, overwhelming.
“Anya, don’t…” His eyelids were heavy.
He couldn’t think straight. Dammit, this was frustrating. He jangled the manacles, half-heartedly reaching out as if to blast the mechanism and getting nothing other than a stab of pain behind his eyes.
Anya was kneeling beside him, her hands on his legs, a look on her face that was somewhere between immense satisfaction and something bordering on lust. She reached a hand to cup his cheek and leaned forward to kiss him, lips soft, the scent of her perfume s
harp. She pressed hard against his mouth, her other hand reaching to the back of his neck, holding him there.
He couldn’t move, hands bound as they were, struggling to pull away, to object.
She pressed harder, biting down on the edge of his lip.
‘I love it when you fight me,’ she murmured inside his head.
She was inside his head. Holy shit, she was right inside his head.
‘No need to hide it anymore now, is there? And I must say, you have quite a reputation, my love. Imagine what we can do together.’
‘You killed Mendhel,’ he thought, woozy, not even sure she’d hear.
She did. Of course she did and she fired back, ‘Well, my love, you did kill my mother.’
She hadn’t let up pressing her lips against his, her tongue gently caressing. He kept his mouth firmly shut, eyes closed.
No one knew about Arianne. About what he knew had happened.
Her nails pressed into the back of his head, her thoughts cold as she sent, clear and derisive, ‘LC, you have no idea how much I know.’ She released him, abruptly. ‘Look at me.’
He wasn’t expecting the slap, her cold fingers stinging against his cheek. He let his head fall. It was hard to reconcile this young woman in front of him with the sophisticated fifteen year old who’d flirted with him when he was fourteen, playing him and Hilyer off each other, leading them a merry dance to all her favourite drinking holes deep beneath Aston’s bustling city streets. She’d charmed both of them. And now she’d played them. She’d played them all.
‘Look at me.’ She sounded angry. She grasped his chin, delicate fingernails raking his skin, and lifted his face.
He blinked open his eyes, barely able to focus. He managed a half smile. Almost laughed. “It was never about the package, was it?” he managed to say.
“That damned package.” She smiled. “No, it was never about the package. It’s always been you. It’s about time you realised that.” She kissed him again, hard and fast. ‘You’re mine,’ she thought, direct. ‘I killed that slut Olivia Ostraban, I killed your little girlfriend on Kheris…’