I saw a Dallian grab a gun off of one of the dead guards. I prepared to shoot him, but I realized his focus was not on me. It was on Taelor.
“You probably should stop that,” Dip suggested.
I may be running for office, but I still don’t want to tell other people what to do.
The Dallian fired the gun, shooting Taelor through the chest and stomach. Taelor fell bleeding to the stage and soon went still. My chances of winning this election were already looking up.
“Anyone who serves the Fathom doesn’t deserve to live!” the Dallian with the gun shouted. Others shouted in unison. I knew I had a winning campaign slogan.
I hopped off the stage and tried to smile at the people around me who were looking at me with encouragement, but I felt like I was already overloaded with social interaction for the day. I headed out of the auditorium and found Diane, Wade, and Sylvia gathered together. I pushed through the crowd to reach them.
“I think that went well,” I said.
“We didn’t discuss you killing the Messenger,” Diane remarked. She was still in business mode, but I could see disapproval in her impassive face.
“We’ll discuss later,” Wade said, trying to lead us through the throngs of Dallians and humans.
Outside, Dallians with rifles were barking orders at the people around them. They were obviously looking for us but hadn’t seen us yet. I looked at the team and motioned to two people nearby, while Wade nodded and headed for another one and Sylvia and Diane picked out two to the left.
I wanted to be careful about firing a gun in a crowd — or at least I was aspiring to be the sort of person who cared about that sort of thing — so I got as close as I could without being spotted. By the time they knew something was amiss, I’d already had a gun to each of their heads and fired, sending bolts through their brains and into the air. I glanced over at Diane and Sylvia and saw two more drop, then looked toward Wade, who now stood alone. Teamwork was working out well so far.
I could see police cars off to the side, with officers standing near them. They must have seen us take down the Baixas operatives, but they were not taking sides right now. I hoped they stayed smart like that. Not that long ago, I didn’t think twice about gunning down law enforcement officers, but now it was going to be one of those stupid moral quandaries.
A vehicle landed a short distance ahead of us. We rushed to it, and Eldan opened the side door. He had offered to help as soon as we got his family to safety, and with his ties to the resistance, it didn’t seem like too bad an idea. I scrambled in after Sylvia, Diane, and Wade. The vehicle lifted off as Eldan shut the door. He sat down and beamed at us. “The Fathom have to be panicking now.” His smile dimmed as a thought crossed his mind. “I wonder how they’ll react.”
“This planet is too valuable to them,” Wade assured him. “They can’t react too harshly.”
“You should praise your team,” Dip chimed in my ear. “That’s part of working with others. You need to be grateful.”
I took a deep breath. “Good job, everyone. Thanks for backing me up in there.”
Sylvia smiled, and not a completely sarcastic smile. “That was a nice speech you gave back there, psychopath.”
Eldan laughed. “I liked it.” People like him were the target audience.
“Still, we need to consider our next move if this whole thing fails,” Sylvia said.
I smiled. “Have some faith in democracy.”
CHAPTER 18
“We still need to talk about you killing the Messenger,” Wade remarked.
I shook my head. “No, we don’t.”
The safehouse we were crashing in was somewhere underground. It was a decently large building — if you’d call it that — but was a bit too crowded for my liking. Eldan was there with his entire family — the Baixas would certainly be after them. There were also a few other Dallians and humans who were working directly with the Galactic Alliance, feeding it intel. That was too many people to not quite trust.
Diane, Wade, Sylvia, and I had taken a table in the large common area to convene and get something to eat. I had really overdone my being social for the day, but this was part of being on a team.
“As far as we know, the Messengers could be victims in all this,” Diane said. I could tell she was trying not to look at me with judgment in her eyes, but this concerned her. And most likely it wasn’t going to be the last thing she saw me do that she’d find questionable. Despite what she knew of me so far, she still didn’t quite understand who she had aligned herself with.
“We’re all victims in this,” Sylvia said bitterly. “Still, if you’re trying to convince everyone you’re a good guy, Rico, maybe you shouldn’t brutally gun down an unarmed woman.”
“I know what I’m doing.” I looked each of them in the eyes, lingering on Diane, with my best serious expression, trying to sell this as sincere. “We need to show that the Fathom are vulnerable, and right now the Messengers are the only visible representations of the Fathom we have.”
“They’re also, as far as we know, the best possible source of info on the Fathom,” Wade said.
“You tried that,” I answered. “You’re not getting info from them.” I again looked them in the eyes, and I could see Diane had calmed a little. “Trust me on this.”
“So we’re going to keep lying to Diane?” Dip asked.
I ignored Dip and stabbed at my food. It was some instant meal that looked like meat and potatoes. A large Dallian name Jere who was running the operation walked over to our table. His fur was dark, streaked with tan. “You know, I was the one they were asking to run against Taelor.” He smiled. “Though I guess that’s not necessary now for a number of reasons.”
“It’s better if you just get your people to support us on the ground,” Wade told him.
“We will do that,” Jere said. “By the way, I thought you’d want to know: Taelor’s widow is taking his place on the ballot. She’s giving a speech now — press only — about the shock of seeing her husband murdered by ‘ruthless criminals.’”
Sylvia laughed. “Oh. The shadowy force murdering millions is going for the sympathy vote.” She looked at me. “Still, you probably shouldn’t murder this one.”
I shrugged.
“How are things looking out there?” Wade asked Jere.
Jere smiled. “‘Kill them all’ seems to be the trending phrase. The unidentified person who killed Taelor is still at large and seems to have a lot of support.” His expression became more serious. “A lot of people seem to be waiting for the word to attack, but the Baixas still have a lot of strength here, and I’m guessing the Fathom are urging them to crack down. I’m not sure how things will go if it all turns violent.”
Wade nodded. “Keep an eye on things and keep us updated.”
Jere left, and I got a few moments’ peace as we ate quietly. It didn’t last.
“So what now?” Sylvia asked as she finished chewing a bite. “We just hope everyone votes for the ‘Angel of Death’ because it will be so fun to poke the Fathom in the eye?”
“I could do some more campaigning,” I suggested.
“The Fathom know where you are now,” Wade said. “I’m sure those after you — the Shade — are coming to this planet — if they’re not already here — and will kill you the first opportunity they have.”
I shrugged. “We can’t just hide away. One of my primary rules: Never look scared.”
Sylvia rolled her eyes. “How are you still alive?”
A foolish urge to smack her rose up, and I let it subside. “If you want to act like the scared, losing side, you’re going to be the scared, losing side. Many times I’ve walked into a situation where the odds were against me, but if I act like they’re the ones who should be scared, they tend to oblige.”
Sylvia leaned back in her chair. “I guess I just don’t get your whole bit. It doesn’t work on me. You’re riding around on this false sense of invincibility, but you’re eventually going to get s
hot in the face, and this whole stupid plan is over.”
I took another bite of the meat. “I’ll try to die spectacularly so you can at least use me as a martyr. But I’m not playing things safe; that’s not how I work.”
Sylvia didn’t look satisfied. Diane seemed to sense this. “Sylvia, you seem quite young, but you’re very good at this. How did you end up as ... an agent for the Alliance?”
Sylvia seemed a bit surprised by the personal question. I thought she was going to snark back, but she seemed to consider things for a moment. “I thought it would be exciting and fun,” she said, playing it as a bit of a joke, though there was some sadness buried there. She took a breath. “My brother did similar work. I was kind of following him. And once you get exposed to the dark underbelly of things — see what’s really going on beneath society — it’s hard to ever let that go. You want to think you can do something about it. That it’s not all pointless.”
“What happened to your brother?” Diane asked.
“He died. I guess as a hero. It all gets kind of murky out here.”
“A little less so when we’re trying to take down tyrants murdering millions of people,” Wade said.
Diane turned to Wade. “And what about you? How’d you end up here?”
Wade smiled at her. It seemed like he had a particular smile he only used for Diane, but maybe I was imagining things. “I served in the Galactic Alliance military. Special forces. Ended up in intelligence, and it was kind of a straight path to here. I don’t know if there’s really much more to it than that. I guess I wanted excitement, challenge, and to help people.” It was a pretty boring backstory. If I had to pick one of the two to be suspicious of, it would be Wade, for that reason. He seemed simple to understand, which is a decent cover.
“What about you, Melanie?” Sylvia asked Diane. “You have to have an interesting story.”
Diane swept some hair from her face while she considered how to put things. “My parents were murdered by a criminal syndicate. I wanted revenge. Got in too deep and completely lost myself. I eventually found my way again and tried to start a new life.”
“You took the identity of a police officer,” Wade said. “Who I guess was actually killed in that accident with the transport that killed a few hundred people?”
There was a subtle change in Diane’s expression at the mention of that ill-fated transport. I think I was the only one who caught it, though it was possible Sylvia did too. I was starting to suspect her unconcerned expression was a cover for her alertness and watching everything.
“Yes,” Diane said. “I worked as a police officer on Nar Valdum. I wanted to try to help people for a change.” Diane wasn’t going to tell them everything. She might have forgiven herself, but most other people probably would not if they knew all the details.
“And then you ran into this guy?” Sylvia asked, motioning to me.
“Yeah. That ... changed things,” Diane said.
Sylvia turned her attention to me, studying my face. “For everyone.”
“What about you?” Wade asked me. “How did you end up the Angel of Death?”
“You should share something,” Dip told me.
Anything I say about me could be used against me.
“Part of trusting others means leaving yourself vulnerable.”
But I don’t trust them.
“You’ve seen what I can do,” I told Wade and Sylvia. “And you have your orders to work with me. Knowing anything beyond that isn’t helpful.”
I dug back into my food, and there was an uncomfortable silence. Well, I was comfortable with it, but I could tell this silence was one of those awkward social things. Diane broke it. “I can tell from experience that Rico is capable of many great things. I think we’re going to be put to the test in all this, and he can take that and not break.”
Sylvia speared a piece of potato with her fork. “Unless he gets a papercut.”
✽ ✽ ✽
I was counting the minutes to bedtime. This was an odd situation for me: trying to relax with other people around. I was certainly done talking for the day, so my main strategy was to sit somewhere in the corner of the common room and try to look unapproachable. I had a handheld computer and read the news, attempting to look like I was strategizing — which I sort of was. Everyone else seemed to think the game plan was to just wait and hope I won the election tomorrow so we could go right to phase two, but I was pretty sure a more active approach would be needed. So I was trying to plan some activities for the next day — and figure out what to do when the Shade caught up with me. I wished I had some bravado there, but I knew if my encounter with them wasn’t well controlled, I was dead.
But on the bright side, if they succeeded, then this was all someone else’s problem.
Being unapproachable didn’t work, as I felt a shadow over me and looked up to see Eldan.
“I want to thank you again for stepping in there and saving my family,” he said.
I set down the handheld and stood up.
“Smile. It’s polite,” Dip said.
I forced a slight smile.
“Ask him how his wife and kids are doing,” Dip suggested.
But I really, really don’t care about that.
“Then try to think about something you do care about.”
I thought for a second and asked, “Why did you get into all this? You have a family. You knew this would be risky for them.”
I didn’t know the Dallian expression for guilt, but I suspected I was seeing it. “I ... I felt I had to. For them. I want a future for them. Not one living under tyrants. I have to believe the Fathom can be defeated. We can win this, right?”
“Give him some assurances,” Dip instructed. “It’s the kind thing to do.”
“We can,” I told Eldan. “Tyrannies like theirs always topple.” I left out that sometimes they rule for hundreds of years first. And, of course, eventually new tyrannies would come to take their place. This just reminded me how pointless this all seemed. Win or lose, eventually there would be another battle — probably over the same things. But here I was, fighting the “bad guys” because it’s the obvious and right thing to do. It was supposed to make me feel like a hero, but I just felt like another dumb cog in a machine I didn’t care about. Much like when I was a hitman for a criminal syndicate.
“I need to plan,” I told Eldan to cut the conversation short. He nodded and walked away.
“If you’re faltering, it might be good to talk to Diane,” Dip suggested.
I can’t always lean on her. I’m either something different from what I used to be, or I’m just not.
“And then what?”
I did look around the room for Diane. I found her smiling and laughing with Eldan’s kids. And seeing her happy somehow alleviated many of my worries. Why was that? Mostly likely some evolutionary social tic still alive somewhere in my messed-up brain.
I noticed Wade with her, also smiling. Smiling at her. My mood darkened a bit. I assumed it was jealousy. Wade was telling the fascinated kids a story, and Diane was smiling and laughing alongside him. It looked almost like a staged portrait of a mother and father and their children ... except the kids had fur. This was what Diane wanted more than anything else, as I understood her. She had foolishly stumbled into this life when she was young, but it wasn’t her. And unlike me, she wasn’t broken in a way that couldn’t be fixed. She could marry, have kids, and live somewhere peaceful ... if she let herself.
“You okay there?”
It was Sylvia. I assumed she saw my staring at Diane and Wade. She wasn’t smirking, though. As far as I knew, it was an honest question. So I gave it a deceptive answer. “I don’t think any of us are okay, are we?”
She walked over and made a motion. I almost flinched but realized it was just a pat on the shoulder. Her expression was neutral, and I couldn’t tell if it was meant sarcastically or as some sort of inept comforting. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and she walked away.
I really hate dealing with people, other than killing them.
CHAPTER 19
“We have some polling data.”
I was still waking up as I read the news. I sat in a chair near the table where Diane, Wade, and Sylvia were all drinking coffee or something similar. I avoided such things — any sort of chemical dependence seemed like extra trouble. The massive Dallian Jere approached us, looking quite serious.
“It’s not good,” I said, still scanning the news.
“No, it isn’t,” Jere said. “Sixty-four percent say they are voting for Taelor’s wife. Of course, they were only polling her and ‘Other.’”
I set down my handheld. “Polling isn’t anonymous, and people are still scared. If people are so scared today that they don’t even trust the voting booths to be anonymous, then we’re in trouble.”
“I should probably get out and vote sometime today,” Jere said.
I laughed. “Don’t bother. Voting is stupid. Leave that to other people. We have more important work to do.”
“Are you making plans?” Wade asked. “You want to share them with us?”
It was still a very new experience for me, working with a team. If I pretended I could trust all these random others working with me, then I could coordinate things at multiple locations at the same time — instead of my usual method of attacking one location and moving on to the next in the chaos. I figured it was easier for me just to come up with the plans and dictate them to everyone else. There did seem to be benefits of getting help from others, but my main fear was that people would not care for my plans and would spend too much time objecting to them. We did not have time for that, and I certainly did not have the patience.
“They’re works in progress.” I turned to Jere. “What information do we have on the Fathom’s activity?”
“They have their people at all the prominent polling places,” Jere said. “If people are going to vote, it will be while the thugs of the Baixas syndicate watch with guns in hand. A new Messenger has sent out a message that the Fathom are there to protect everyone and that things will be peaceful tomorrow as long as things go well today. They’re barely concealing the threat now.”
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