by Paul Barrett
Walking down the hall, she headed to her room. She would wait a few hours until things had quieted down and people were asleep. She had enough preparations to keep her busy until it was time to move.
After slipping through the easily bypassed airlock security, Madrin crouched on the ground and remained still. Her preternatural eyesight picked out every detail in the subterranean darkness. Despite the entire colony’s underground location, it managed to have a pale imitation of day and night, marked by differing illumination. A thin fungus covered the various caverns’ walls. It reflected and amplified the weak light of the nearest star that managed to slip through cracks in the surface or openings carved out for ships. When the star moved to the far side of the planetoid, the fungus went dark, and the inhabitants called it night.
Red’s cabin, far from the hub of commerce, was bereft of the luxury of outside electric light. Pitch black surrounded the dwelling, broken only by the faint lights of the main cavern, which sat at Madrin’s back.
To Madrin, everything appeared as if it were bright day on a salt flat. She didn’t have much to see other than a modest two-story structure, built from dull gray stone carved out of the surrounding cave.
She cocked her head, listening for movement, her hearing augmented by a directional audio amplifier. There had been no real activity for the two hours she had crouched here, motionless as ice. She decided to wait a little longer. She wanted this to be done, but she wouldn’t throw away all caution.
After another half-hour, she had waited long enough. Moving from her crouch, she lay down on the ground. Inch by inch, she belly-creeped across the cavern floor. Lift on the fingertips and toes, rock forward and down, listen, look, repeat. She could almost hear her instructor standing over her.
“Training will keep you alive” he used to tell them. “Do it right every time, or you’re dead.”
Though fingertip crawling was excruciatingly slow, it attracted almost zero attention from people or cameras. Her black clothing had a thermal coating that hid her heat signature and a transmitter to confuse audio devices listening for life signs. She was as camouflaged as technologically possible.
She did not let the tedious pace bother her. Training had drilled into her that real life rarely tolerated incompetence. She listened and looked. Nothing new. Up, rock, down.
She continued this pattern for thirty minutes, covering twenty-five meters at an ant’s pace. As she moved, she wondered why anyone would pump oxygen into such a large area when their front yard was only stone.
Ten meters out from the house, she saw a small infrared beam running across the floor of the cavern. Weak, she thought. Not much of a defense. Then again, Red wouldn’t need much since he was already protected in several other ways. Very few people knew this cabin’s location. Most of those who did had no real reason to harm him.
Besides, there was that nasty doomsday device rumor.
Still keeping her movements small and deliberate, she lifted herself over the beam, avoiding it with childlike ease. Once past that obstacle, she watched for the Knight’s defenses, knowing they wouldn’t trust their safety with Red’s standard security.
As soon as she thought it, she spotted the vibration of the waves.
Ultrasound. Very nice. If the waves were disrupted in any way, an alarm would trigger. Either movement or an object in the path of the waves would do it. Motion sensors were easy. They could be fooled by moving at the snail’s pace she set. Ultrasound presented a more significant challenge. Even with the advantage of being able to detect the waves, Madrin needed a little help to avoid this sentinel.
She reached into one of her many pockets, pulled out a small silver sphere, and activated it. Holding it toward the waves, she gave it a few seconds to tune to the pattern. A minuscule green light informed her when the device had duplicated the rhythm. She could now move through the waves without disrupting the pattern. The handy device was heavily used in the spy and assassin trade. The same corporation that manufactured the ultrasound wave emitters also conveniently sold the equipment to bypass them on the black market.
She resumed her trek, passing through the waves with no problems. She reached the front door and paused. Although she could see nothing on this side, Moran had warned her Red always had an alarm on the front door and the windows.
Rising from her prone position, she crouched and sidestepped, careful to stay below the windows and avoid touching the walls, in case they were wired.
She reached a midpoint of the house where there was a reasonable distance between windows. Going over the engineering plans for Red’s house in her head, she oriented herself to the inside. According to those plans, she stood on the other side of the guest bathrooms. She listened to the wall with her augmented ears and caught the sound of heavy snoring. She allowed herself a grin. Someone’s peaceful dreams were about to be shattered.
She retrieved a small vial from her breast pocket, stepped back a foot from the wall, and gulped the contents of the vial. The acidic taste made her grimace. After a moment, the world turned monochromatic and deep buzzing filled her ears. As instructed, she pictured the wall before her as insubstantial and moved forward. An unpleasant tingling sensation crept over her as she passed through the stone barrier. She thought she saw winged figures in the corner of her vision.
A few seconds after she slid through the wall, color and quiet returned as the elixir wore off and she phased back to normal space. She glanced at the wall behind her and felt a thrill of relief she had moved through as fast as she did. The potion was an expensive and rare mixture, and Moran had only given her one. Had she not been able to use it to slip in through the house’s walls, her job would have been much tougher. She didn’t even want to consider what would have happened if she had returned while still walking through the wall.
She suddenly caught an odor of batras, a pungent herb from her homeworld used in preserving the dead, and wondered why Red would have such a thing. Then she recalled the phantom smell phenomenon Moran had told her about. As she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, she remembered his mention of nausea, too. If he had been this precise the first time I worked for him, I wouldn’t have to be here now.
Her recall of the house plans had been correct. She stood in the guest bathroom, a dull room with dark green walls and teal fixtures. She stepped to the open doorway and listened again. Still no movement, but the snoring had gotten louder. She glanced into the hallway. The likelihood of any further security devices was small, since people needed the freedom to move around their home at night.
The hallway branched off in both directions with a door at either end, three doors on the opposite wall, and two doors on the same wall as the bathroom. According to Moran, Hawk always took the bedroom at the north end of the hall. Wolf had a room specially designed for him at the other end, and the rest of the crew would be in the various rooms along the hallway.
She glided down the hallway, her stealth aided by the simple beige carpet covering the floor. The snoring emanated from Hawk’s room. She reached into another pocket and retrieved a small atomizer. Shaped like an innocuous perfume sprayer, it held a vicious poison. Sprayed into the target’s face, it was inhaled into the lungs, where it rapidly expanded and foamed, causing an excruciating, silent death. The victim’s eyes would snap open in horror, and their mouths would flex as they tried to scream. The fast-acting poison kept thrashing to a minimum. Madrin had access to quicker and less painful methods, but she liked her victims to see her as their killer. She wanted to stare into their eyes and smile at the moment life fled.
As a precaution, she scanned for any alarm devices and found nothing. She pushed open the door and slipped into the room in a crouch. The loud snoring came from an oversized bed placed against the far corner of the room. On top of the bed lay Hawk’s sleeping form. She crabbed toward the bed and then stopped. Something was wrong, although she couldn’t determine what. A closer inspection revealed no heat signature coming from Hawk’s prone bo
dy. Damn.
She spun for the door and ran right into Wolf’s massive frame. How?
Everything went black.
She awoke sitting on the same bed where she had seen Hawk, or the illusion of Hawk, earlier. She had been stripped to her undergarments and couldn’t move, although she could see or feel no physical restraints. Her stomach knotted and head spun. She wondered if she was having a bad reaction to the potion.
The entire crew stood gathered around her. Red leaned against a far wall with his large arms crossed, emotions unreadable on his heavily bearded face. The Pralin that had been shadowing Hawk in the bar was also there, her reaction plain to see; she wanted to rip Madrin’s guts out and hand them to her.
Things looked grim. She felt like a hovertruck had run over her. Still, she hadn’t gotten her reputation and status being a quitter. “Now what?”
Hawk turned a chair around and straddled it, his arms sitting on the backrest. “Why don’t you tell me? After all, unless you can convince Red otherwise, you’re headed for the hole.”
She thought for a moment, fighting back the bile that rose in her throat. “Information,” she said at last. “I want promises in return.” She hadn’t gotten where she was by being loyal either.
“What kind of information?” Hawk asked.
“Let’s not play games. You know what’s going on here. People don’t arbitrarily go after a faction of Force 13 without a reason or cause. Moran has both.”
“We already know that he wants Ship. And my head on a platter.”
“You don’t know why.”
“But we do. I guess I have you to thank for him finding out. Your damsel in distress act was quite convincing. Moran knows I’m a sucker for a pretty lady. Try again.”
“I can tell you where to find him.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
“Promises,” she repeated. “My life and a one-way ticket off this backwater rock.”
Hawk turned to Red. “It’s your call.”
“It’s your life,” he answered. “She’s an assassin and her profile is she works alone, so more than likely no one else except Moran knows she’s here. Therefore, my reputation is safe. The question is, do you trust her information enough to let her live? You’re the only one who can make that decision.”
Hawk turned back to Madrin. “Well? Can I trust you?”
“Yes,” she answered immediately. “I have nothing against any of you personally. Moran offered good money. I don’t owe him anything.” She grimaced as her stomach gurgled, reminding her of its displeasure with the recently ingested contents.
“Fair enough,” Hawk told her. “I give you my word. If the information proves accurate, you’ll be spared the hole and banished. If not…” he shrugged.
The Pralin’s shoulders sagged, and her cat face frowned. “I’ll be in my room,” she told Hawk. With a dagger-loaded glare at Madrin, she turned and stalked out.
“What’s her problem?” Madrin asked when she had left.
Ashron spoke up before Hawk. “She has an even lower opinion of assassins than we do.”
Madrin considered asking him what he thought the Knights were, if not government-sponsored assassins. She decided she was in no position to argue philosophy.
“Information,” Hawk prompted.
“Very well,” she said. “Can I at least get a robe or something? And could you let me go? This position is uncomfortable, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
“Sure,” Hawk said after a moment. Red moved across the room to a closet. Gerard, with a slight hand gesture, released the bonds that held her to the chair.
Rubbing her hands, Madrin said, “He’s on Kalaros Three, Unicybertronic’s corporate home, staying with Salakon. They’re having a…”
She stopped and cried out in pain. Her body shuddered; she doubled over, gripping her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Hawk stood as Laura moved toward Madrin. Wary of a trick, Hawk held up his hand to stop Laura.
Madrin had gone ghost white and drenched in sweat. “I…don’t…know.” She convulsed.
Before anyone could react, Madrin’s stomach started melting through her fingers. Flesh foamed as it hit the floor. She let out a bone-chilling scream as she fell off the bed. It spread rapidly from her stomach; her body boiled off its frame in a pink froth.
“Get back!” Gerard yelled, his arms a flurry of movement.
Compelled by Gerard’s tone, the rest backed away. As one of Madrin’s arms flung out, throwing gouts of foaming flesh toward the crew, Gerard enveloped her in a glittering dome of aetheric energy.
Hawk ducked as a clump of hissing flesh passed him. It struck Ashron square in the chest.
A piece flew straight toward Laura. She flinched as a small hand came into view. Trey had reached out and grabbed the oozing gob just before it hit her face.
He started to smile at her. It changed to a scream of pain and horror as his flesh rapidly disintegrated from his hand. His eyes went wide; his cry became inaudible as the destruction to his hand quickly worked its way up his arm.
Snatching the half-meter-long knife Ashron always carried out of its scabbard, Hawk spun and shoved Laura out of the way. He grabbed Trey’s arm at the bicep and swung the weapon, cutting at the elbow.
As his bubbling arm fell to the floor and sizzled, Trey stared at Hawk with a wide-eyed mixture of hurt and confusion. He went ashen and collapsed. Hawk grabbed the front of the boy’s shirt and lowered him to the ground.
Laura dropped to Trey’s side as she pulled the ever-present medkit from her belt and set to work to stop the bleeding.
Hawk turned at Ashron, knife raised.
“You better get away from me,” Ashron said, backing up.
Lowering the weapon, Hawk asked, “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Ashron crossed his eyes to look through his destroyed shirt at the spot on his chest where he had been struck. His scales had turned a slightly lighter green, and the area felt tender. Other than that he was unharmed.
When Hawk determined there were no further injuries, he observed the dome that contained what had once been Madrin. His stomach clenched. Bubbling pink flesh oozed down the side of the shield wall, rapidly disappearing. Steam rose; a large mass of entrails and skeleton lay near the center.
Hawk had seen enough. “Wolf, grab Trey,” he said, noting that Laura had covered the wounded stump arm. “Everybody out. Gerard, seal the room. Everybody to the decon chamber, pronto.”
The crew moved. Even Red jumped at the sound of Hawk’s voice.
“Decontamination isn’t necessary,” Gerard said to Hawk as he closed the bedroom door.
“You know what that substance is?” Laura asked.
He nodded. “I’ve never seen it until today. It’s called kataverin. It’s a flesh-eating virus that, as you’ve seen, completely consumes any living organism it touches.”
“Not that I’m complaining,” Ashron said, “but how come I’m still alive?” He pointed at the spot on his chest.
“I can only surmise that your top scales are dead and non-porous. The virus must have never had an opportunity to enter your body.”
“Why don’t we need decon?” Hawk asked. “We’ve all been exposed, at least indirectly.”
“It’s short-lived and doesn’t survive in the air. It devours any flesh it touches. If you make contact, you’re dead. Your quick thinking is the only thing that saved Trey.”
“Who we need to get to the sick bay,” Laura turned and headed toward Red’s underground hanger. Wolf followed, carrying the barely conscious child.
“Let’s get back to Ship, too,” Hawk said.
“I’ll be along in a minute,” Gerard said. “I need to get a sample for Laura.”
“I gotta see this,” Ashron said, following Gerard back into the bedroom.
He stared at the crackling energy dome where Madrin once stood. Still sizzling chunks of flesh clung to the sides.
“I thought you said that stuff
was quick,” Ashron said.
“It is if it has oxygen,” Gerard explained. “The dome doesn’t allow oxygen in or out.”
“Looks like someone went wild with a food processor.”
Gerard gave him a disgusted frown. “You’re a sick individual.”
“It keeps me sane.”
“Certainly,” Gerard said, his tone indicating exactly what he thought of that statement.
Gerard moved to the dome and studied its surface. Finding a still active area on the inside face, he spoke an equation and motioned with his golden arm. A bubble pulled away from the dome, bringing the flesh with it. As the bubble separated, the remaining portion of the dome pinched itself closed.
Gerard turned his hand, and the small sphere hovered approximately three inches above his fingertips. The glob inside continued to sizzle and pulse. Gerard brought his other hand up, held it over the globe, and spoke another equation. A hissing issued from the sphere and it changed from transparent to opaque and then solid white. Crystallized condensation formed on the outside and cold vapor rose from it.
“Freeze dried and ready for storage,” Gerard said, standing.
“Do you think that will help?”
“I think it will answer some questions.” He turned and walked through the door, the sphere floating along behind him. Ashron followed, watching the bobbing globe.
27
The Knights Reborn
After a brief discussion, the crew agreed that a return to Kalaros Three was in order. They wanted to make their arrival in a discreet manner. With Red’s help, they secured an empty spot on the Mazil Daqim, a vessel transporter heading for the planet with a load of ships for Unicybertronic’s growing armada. Kasta, the transporter’s captain, was an old pirate gone legit. In his checkered past, he had occasionally found Red’s Tavern a convenient spot to disappear.
“He’s a rogue,” Red had told Hawk. “But he’s an honest rogue. If the pay’s right, he doesn’t ask questions, and once he’s bought, he stays bought.”