by Neil Davies
She had it!
Her fingers gripped the barrel of the guard's gun.
It had taken longer than she could afford. She knew that. Desperately, she threw herself over the guard's body and rolled.
The first two shells from Richard's gun thudded with an unpleasantly wet sound into the dead Aksian's side a moment before the explosive charges shattered his rib cage and sprayed blood, bone and tissue in a wide fan on the sand.
Ursa shifted her grip on the gun, closing her fingers over the stock of the weapon, her index finger curling round the trigger.
She rolled onto her side, looking back over her shoulder as another shell exploded a plume of sand close by. She cried out as minute grains peppered her face and hands.
Her aim would have to be guesswork, but she knew she could turn the gun, fire in a reasonably wide arc. Somewhere within that arc she was sure she could find him.
As she opened fire, a further shell hit her ankle, the explosion shattering the bone, leaving her foot attached by the slenderest of bloody tendons. A searing agony coursed through her whole body, too much for her even to scream. She opened her mouth, but no sound escaped. Tears ran down her face and for a moment she thought she would black out.
But she kept firing, as though her trigger finger was part of a separate being. While the rest of her body raged against the pain and loss of her foot, her finger kept pulling, her hand kept sweeping the aim back and forth. And suddenly she realised that he had stopped firing.
She had not seen the first shells hit their target, but now, as she opened her eyes, she saw the last two of her shells tear his stomach apart in a bloody cascade. The sand around him was speckled red. Indefinable fragments littered the desert in a wide circle. At its centre stood Richard, dead even as he remained upright, eyes wide and staring. His right arm had gone, and with it the gun he had been firing. His stomach poured gore down his legs to pool at his feet.
Her gun had clicked empty several times before she finally stopped pulling the trigger. She watched now, in stunned disbelief, as his body folded, crumpling to the desert sand to lie in a disorganised heap.
I've done it. I'm alive!
Her jubilation was halted by another stab of agony from her leg. The heat from the explosion had cauterised the wound, she knew she would not bleed to death, but she could not stay here in the desert.
The air car could be set, with some effort given that her hands were tied behind her, so that it drove her back to the suburbs, but what then? She needed a place to rest, to recover, to hide, and before long she would need a place to eat and drink. And she needed to contact the Inner Council.
She almost laughed. She had never really believed she would live through this, so no plans about what to do afterwards had even been considered. Her Special Forces training had taught her to survive on an absolute minimum. Now seemed to be a good time to put it into practice.
Chapter 28
Loadra sat alone in his suite of rooms aboard the space station 'Armistice'. The officials of Stain had worked hard to provide well for their visitors, and his quarters were luxurious after the relatively cramped conditions aboard the Controller's Space Cruiser. The area he sat in was resplendent with plush furnishings, a generously thick carpet, wall paintings that were, thoughtfully, copies of Earth's Old Masters, hanging drapes that served to conceal the basic functionality of the walls, large armchairs set in a loose circle facing inwards. Elsewhere in the suite there was a grand bedroom and a bathroom that was larger than his whole cabin on the Cruiser. And everything was fitted with the latest technological advances.
He hated it!
He tried to relax into the soft bio-plastic of one of the armchairs, allowing it to mould around his shape, caressing his body, so the publicity said, "with the gentleness of a lover". He tried to ignore the Reagold logo subtly inlaid into the arms of the chair, almost invisible save for when the sitter shifted position and the light glinted off the swirling 'R'. It's effect was almost subliminal, the Reagold logo insinuating itself into the mind, a more powerful marketing tool than any advert or campaign.
Thoughts of the Reagold Corporation were a welcome, if unpleasant, diversion from the even more unpleasant thought of the impending treaty. He pursued them eagerly, almost desperately, remembering one of his tutors at the seminary, a High Priest by the name of Shigra, responding angrily to a question from a student.
The lecture had been on 'The Unholy Necessity Of Technology' and presented a problem that was as old as the Priesthood itself. The basic unholiness of all things technological versus the obvious need for the Priesthood to understand and make use of the same. It was an age-old paradox that many more experienced theological minds than a group of first year students had debated, but it was still considered an important element of a Priest's education. The question had arisen in response to High Priest Shigra's deliberately contentious statement that nothing good had come out of technology.
"Surely an organisation such as the Reagold Corporation has improved many people's lives with its devices?"
Shigra's response made one fact clear to the young Loadra, it was fine to debate technology but the Reagold Corporation was something else again.
"The Reagold Corporation is an abomination!" Shigra's shout had shocked the student body into complete silence and stunned attention.
"Everywhere you go in this galaxy you will see its spawn. You all know the logo, I'm sure. Well, remember it and despise it, for it depicts all that is sinful and unholy in this life. We have spoken before of the heretical beliefs of the Larnian religion on Aks, but let me tell you that the Reagold Corporation is a much greater threat to our way of worship than any heretical faction within our religion. The Reagold Corporation has poisoned more minds with its materialistic heresy than any number of Aksian Missionaries could ever hope to do. We must use technology, our world is a technological world, but beware of Reagold and its insidious ways!"
Loadra smiled as he recalled Shigra's outburst. It had been so unusual, so unexpected, that he doubted any of the students present that day had ever forgotten it. Shigra was a man in total control of his emotions at all time, except for this one memorable occasion.
He glanced at the clock on the far wall. At this very moment the Controller was discussing the final arrangements and details surrounding the signing of this damned treaty with his political and security advisors, and representatives from Armistice's home planet, Stain. Loadra had neither been invited nor wished to attend. He knew he no longer had any hope of dissuading the Controller from pursuing this line to peace, he had realised that some time ago, and now he was fearful for the future.
What good could possibly come from the cessation of hostilities with Aks?
The Controller and the Aksian Leader both spoke of the number of lives lost on both sides, and it was true that many millions upon millions of people had died in this conflict, but what did that really count against the importance of the true Larnian faith? The Aksians who had died deserved to die because of their adherence to their abomination of a belief. The Earthmen who had died had done so in glory, serving the true Larn, and their reward was secure in the Larnian heaven. Many priests had also died in the war, most tortured and mutilated by their Aksian counterparts, but there were always more volunteers. The priesthood did not call for peace, they called for a continuation of the jihad until the Aksian heresy was eliminated from the galaxy. Loadra did not believe that the people of Earth, or at least the majority who were true believers, wanted peace either, but they had been persuaded by the clever rhetoric of the Controller and his politicians.
He knew he could no longer stop the treaty from being signed, but plans were already under way for the period following the treaty. The Larnian Priesthood could not stand idly by and allow their faith to be corrupted by the Aksian heresy.
A High Council had been called in Loadra's absence and a decision had been reached. The Larnian Church on Earth was large and powerful, but its material wealth was lim
ited. There had been a time when the Church could call upon the government of Earth to provide sufficient funds for any project they desired, but as the war had driven onwards, more and more resources from the government were required for its continuance and, consequently, other causes, including the Larnian Church, had suffered. The decision of the High Council had reached Loadra just four hours ago by the secret and secure lines of communication always maintained between the Church on Earth and its High Priests as they travelled the galaxy. Not even the Controller knew of this. Although couched in the official language of a High Council decree, the underlying message was clear: The Church needed additional funds to proceed with the plans for Earth following the treaty. After much deliberation, the High Council had reached the unpleasant but practical conclusion as to the best source of those funds. Consequently, a representative of the Reagold Corporation would be contacting him. The meeting must remain confidential.
The Reagold Corporation! High Priest Shigra's words returned to him once more, an abomination! This was what the Controller and his accursed treaty had brought the Church to, bargaining with an organisation whose very reason for existence the Larnian faith expressly preached against. It was part of the heresy that was the Aksian faith that their church actively embraced the technology of the Reagold Corporation, not out of necessity but out of greed for its luxuries and effort-saving benefits. However, the instructions in the message were clear and had even continued by giving him precise instructions on what he was to offer. Even as High Priest to the Controller of Earth, the highest of all offices in the Priesthood, he was bound to follow the dictates of the High Council.
He turned his head and the light sparked from the Reagold logo in the chair. Pushing himself up in disgust, he strode away from the chair. This whole station reeked of the Reagold Corporation. He was not surprised that they already had a senior representative here.
He glanced at the clock again. Soon now. The message from Reagold's representative had reached him just under two hours ago. Loadra had suggested this time for the meeting because of the gathering currently taking place in the Controller's quarters. He had also suggested using his own room as the location as it was less suspicious for someone to be visiting the High Priest than it was for the High Priest to be seen skulking around the station, entering strange rooms.
He breathed deeply, steadied himself. This was something he must do, whatever his personal feelings. Control. It was of utmost importance. Control and behaviour worthy of the High Priest to the Controller. So much depended on him. The High Council had shown its faith by entrusting this to him, now he must prove that faith well founded.
The soft buzzer of his personal communicator, secreted within his priestly robes, buzzed with the pre-arranged signal. He waited, muscles held stiff with nervousness despite his years of training in emotional control. The buzzer sounded again, a complex pattern, the second signal.
He opened the door to his suite of rooms at the same moment his visitors reached it.
There were six people in total, four of whom were Loadra's priests, dressed in their full robes, robes that concealed the powerful weapons they carried. Of the remaining two, one was tall, muscular, and had the alert look of a trained bodyguard. He was smartly dressed in a loose fitting one-piece suit, obviously tailored to him specifically. Loadra could see no tell-tale bulge of a weapon but he had no doubt that the man was armed. The other was a woman in her middle years wearing, surprisingly, or so thought Loadra, a loose fitting trackover such as those worn by the traders of Sellit and other lower order workers. Her only adornment was a short cape, fastened at her neck with a silver brooch, that came to rest over her shoulders as she stopped in the doorway. In keeping with current popular fashion she wore no makeup and a single chain-link earring which fell from her lobe, almost hidden beneath a shock of near-white hair, fastened to a gold ring surgically implanted in the loose skin of her neck. It was an unfathomable fashion statement popular with the youth on several of the galaxy's more populous worlds, although not, thankfully, Earth. There had even been a report produced on the subject for the High Council to peruse, as there was on anything that might be seen as a threat to the Church's order. It was curious and unpleasant to see this aberration of the young displayed on one of mature years, but then much that passed for fashion originated from Reagold and its damnable fashion design robotics. He should not be surprised that their representative should also act as a walking advert for their products.
"Welcome, High Priest Loadra, to our space station. I hope you are being well looked after?"
Her voice was soft and pleasantly lilting in its accent, but any comforting effect it may have had was lost on Loadra. He had noted and disliked the use of the word our in relation to the station. Was it simply a casual use of the word from one who spent much of her time here, or did it hold disturbing suggestions of the true influence of Reagold? What was the message behind her choice of words? Was it a coincidence that her first utterance should hold such a suggestion of her corporation's power?
He forced his voice to be calm, but refused to fall into the apparent casual and friendly tone she had adopted.
"Things are not entirely suited to my tastes, but then, in such an unholy place, how could it be otherwise?"
If she was surprised or offended by his reply she showed no sign of it, preferring instead to remain silent, a slight smile on her face.
"Now," continued Loadra. "May we dispense with these unnecessary pleasantries and proceed with our business?"
Again she did not speak but waved a dismissive hand towards her bodyguard who withdrew outside the door. Loadra glanced to his priests and they did the same. He closed the door, leaving himself and the Reagold Corporation's representative alone.
He jumped, his finger poised over the door control, as her hand reached for her hip pocket. She stopped and he was convinced her smile broadened slightly.
"May I?" she said, not waiting for an answer but pulling out a small box-like device. "Just a precaution, you understand?" She studied the box for a moment and then slipped it back into her pocket.
She seemed to notice, for the first time, Loadra's puzzled and slightly alarmed expression.
"It's one of our newest devices," she explained, maintaining the same soft and lilting voice she had first used. "An improvement on our previous scanners. I needed to be certain we were not overheard."
A scanner for bugs and other spying devices, thought Loadra, but so small! Despite their hatred of all that Reagold stood for, the Larnian Church would need to investigate this and consider the usefulness of such an easily concealed device.
"The suite had already been checked." He would not let her think he was stupid or naive enough not to have had the place thoroughly scanned.
"I'm sure it had, High Priest, but this latest invention of ours detects so much more."
Loadra did not doubt the truth in her words, but they still angered him. So superior, so confident, so hateful! He suppressed the angry words that threatened and, instead, indicated one of the armchairs in the centre of the room. As she sat, he seated himself directly opposite.
Convention and politeness indicated that he should offer his visitor refreshment. He chose not to do so, preferring instead to push straight on with the unsavoury reason for this meeting.
"You have received a message from our High Council?"
He had not even asked her name.
Tina Harrison, Senior Marketing Executive and, for this specific purpose, chosen representative of the Reagold Corporation, was quietly disappointed at the impoliteness. That he had failed to offer refreshment she could understand, it was obvious that he wanted this meeting as brief and business-like as possible, but to ignore even the basic business etiquette of knowing the other's name was, she considered, unprofessional. She had not met face-to-face with a High Priest of the Larnian religion before, but she had been led to understand that they were courteous and professional, if fanatical.
She pau
sed before answering. This High Priest was nervous, agitated by her presence. She had heard much about the Larnian Church on Earth and how it preached against her employers. She could see the effect this meeting was already having in the mind of this man. Her instructions had been clear, however. The Larnian Church must realise just how much they needed the Corporation.
"My office received the communication, yes. It stated the bare bones of what you need. I am sure you can fill it out."
Need.
Her choice of words was well prepared, Loadra was sure. Not request or even desire but need! He had been instructed to bargain with this representative, but she showed no indication of such flexibility. This situation was a business transaction to her, nothing more. The client needs a product. Reagold Corporation can provide that product at a price. There could be no bargaining in such a straightforward deal.
Facing him now was the prospect of very nearly begging, and that angered him even more. This may well be the hardest single action he had ever been requested to perform by the High Council.
"I would prefer to keep this brief." He felt he rushed his words and forced himself to slow down, speak calmly, reasonably. "The Controller's meeting will not go on forever, and he may wish to speak to me following it."
"The Controller's meeting will go on as long as we need, but I will comply with your wish to keep this brief and to the point."
Loadra was stunned but quickly regained his outward mask of composure. It would not be good for the Church to have one of its leading figures so easily surprised by a mere employee of Reagold. But the meaning in her words had been clear. They had someone in the Controller's meeting, someone who would delay the end of that meeting until they received a signal from this woman that it was safe to do so. Was that person among the Stain representatives? That seemed the most obvious. However, he could not rule out the possibility that there was, among the Controller's own political advisors, a spy for this unholy corporation. That was something he must investigate, later.