by Allen Stroud
‘In exchange for what?’
Kel leaned forwards. ‘In exchange for a chat with your commander.’
* * *
‘Prefect Kowl, good of you to join us.’
Walden stood up, smiled, walked forward and offered his hand. Bertrum took it instinctively.
‘Doctor, an honour.’
Walden’s smile widened. ‘I agree this might be a surprise, but given our last face to face meeting was six years ago, a visit was long overdue.’
Bertrum blinked. Six years made no difference to the ageless Doctor. ‘You see the other prefects more often then?’ he asked.
‘Only when mistakes occur,’ Walden’s smile faded. He gestured at the chair. ‘Come, I took your seat, you must relax, such a long day for a man with your condition.’
Bertrum’s eyes flicked around the room, as he moved to the seat his gaze settling on the weapons carried by Walden’s attendants. Shock poles and automatic pistols; both easily capable of preventing his escape, but neither particularly quiet. Not the efficient tools of assassins, he thought and let himself hope. ‘I am here to serve as always, Doctor,’ he said.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Walden replied, ‘although, your earlier absence left me concerned.’
Bertrum shrugged. ‘Either you already knew where I was or you will learn shortly.’
‘Where does not matter,’ Walden said, ‘the priority of task does.’
‘The Colonel dealing with the operation assured me everything is in hand and that I had no authority over him, as it is a military situation.’
‘The Colonel has been arrested. His assertion of authority was technically correct, but he witheld important information. His strike team failed.’
‘Failed?’
‘Yes, all five soldiers killed by one man, a Federal security operative onboard the crashed ship. This individual remains at large. Another shuttle arrives soon with Ambassador Graham, who will answer for this man’s presence on our planet,’ Walden leaned in close. ‘What I would like to learn is why he is here?’
‘It has nothing to do with me Doctor,’ Bertrum said and swallowed hard to prevent his voice from betraying his nerves. ‘At every stage I acted as you requested.’
‘Until you made an unexpected trip to meet Prefect Brunan, on the pretext of seeing your wife,’ Walden said.
‘Again, you have this information already, I’m sure you also know what was said.’
‘No, actually I don’t,’ Walden replied. ‘I had my suspicions about Prefect Brunan since your viewscreen conversation. However, the thing that alerted us this evening was your query into the surveillance footage earlier.’
‘You didn’t erase the files?’
‘No I did not.’
Bertrum digested the information and its ramifications. ‘What about Anna? Was she one of yours?’
‘You mean ours,’ Walden said, his lips quirking into a smile without humour. ‘Yes, she and others observed Karsian.’
‘But no one pulled the security footage?’
‘No reason to, Karsian hasn’t had a vistor of note in weeks,’ Walden said, ‘unless you count ...’ something seemed to click for him, his face betraying the realisation. ‘Have you spoken to your wife recently, Bertrum?’
‘No,’ Bertrum said. ‘She wasn’t at home when I arrived.’
‘And that didn’t motivate you into going to talk to Karsian?’
‘Not really.’ Bertrum flinched under the ageless and inscrutable gaze. ‘I’d already planned to go.’
‘I understand,’ Walden said. He looked up and raised his voice. ‘Niamh, authorise a security detail to pick up Leyla Kowl from her last registered location. She’s to be flown here straight away.’ He turned back to Bertrum, ‘My apologies, but I will need to make use of your offices for a little bit longer.’
‘No apologies needed,’ Bertrum mumbled. ‘Everything is yours. Where would you like me to—’
‘I would like you to stay exactly where you are,’ Walden said.
* * *
The walk back to the medical ward tent was a silent one. Pietro followed James, waiting for the boy to explain what he wanted, but the information wasn’t forthcoming. He glanced around at the guard with the antique rifle, no conversation to be had there either.
‘You’re young to be a revolutionary,’ Pietro said at last to James.
‘I have my reasons, like everyone,’ James replied. ‘I had a family, I want them back, I figured this would be the only way to find them.’
‘Been here a long time?’
‘Ten months since they smuggled me out of the execution, Pasion says I’m useful.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ Pietro replied. They were nearing the tent entrance. ‘Look, you realise you’ll probably never find your parents?’
‘Percentages aren’t outcomes, they’re just calculations designed to encourage or dissuade,’ James said. ‘We’ll see when the time comes.’
Pietro shrugged. ‘Okay. What did you want to talk to me about?’
‘I’ll show you.’
James went to the computer and pushed in a button. The antiquated machine clicked and whirred into life; the screen lighting up the dim tent space. James sat in the chair in front, Pietro standing behind. The young boy tapped a string of commands out on the chunky keys and an orange planet appeared.
‘This is Lave,’ James said, ‘or Lave I to give the correct designation.’ He manipulated the image and the planet rotated to focus on the northernmost landmass. ‘You crashed somewhere here, but as you can see, there’s an awful lot of bare ground.’
Pietro had seen plenty of topographical models of planets in Federal briefing sessions. By comparison, this one was crude. ‘You sure this is accurate?’ he asked.
‘Not completely,’ James said. ‘I had to compile the program from scratch and without direct access to satellite data, construct a subroutine to reinterpret library photographs and archive material.’
‘All that must take time.’
James nodded. ‘I’d love access to your Federal computers and the inter-system hubs which’d create this in ten minutes from accurate surveys, but we work with what we can get. The thing to note about Lave is the diffusion of the settlements.’ He pointed to a larger rendering splodge towards the bottom of the northern landmass. ‘Ashoria, the planetary capital and most densely populated area anywhere here. Further away you’ve got Sark Island, Mount Karrack and Agrivale. They’re the major places.’
Pietro eyed the scrolling numbers on the side of the screen. ‘Renner said this world was huge.’
‘It is,’ James replied. ‘The diffuse colonisation programme was quite surprising, but that’s the past. The main logistical point to consider is that the settlements require a robust planetary information network to maintain active communication. That’s why it was so carefully constructed and dilligently maintained. Each of the regions plays a key role in the economy too. Ardu supplies mineral resources; Neudaal, mass manufacture and agriculture; Kadia, the majority of electrical power, generated through tidal systems; and Firstfall, industry and financial services. The whole network is controlled from Lave Station, which is where Walden and his core infrastructure are based.’ James typed a sequence into the computer and a series of dotted lines arced out from the orbiting Coriolis to the planet’s surface. ‘When local LaveSec can’t deal with something, they send teams from the station. With continous monitoring and surveillance, they respond pretty quickly.’
‘What’s your point?’ Pietro asked.
‘Just you can tell why Pasion doesn’t want to commit to random acts of protest. If we did, everyone would be rounded up and transported off-world. There’s rumours of a holding facility somewhere in the system. Afterwards, you disappear to the slave markets of Riedquat.’
‘This network,’ Pietro asked. ‘What’s the day to day use?’
‘Walden broadcasts a continous stream of speeches and news directly from the station on an encrypted beam,’
James explained. ‘It’s law that every street corner, public transport and home has a viewscreen. They can’t turn them off and only certain people can turn them down. The screens are two way, so they also constantly record, spying on the person watching.’
‘Impressive system,’ Pietro said, ‘lets a small group maintain control. Can you hack in?’
James shook his head. ‘I’ve tried, several times. I just don’t have the tools. Plus, if I try anything too risky, we could be located and captured.’
Pietro sighed. ‘Sooner or later somebody around here needs to take a risk otherwise another ninety one years’ll pass before you get your planet back.’
‘Pasion’s no fool,’ James said. ‘He’s waiting on us breaking into the communications grid. The minute we do, we can wake up the whole world.’
* * *
‘Mister Kel’s ship is on approach, sir.’
‘Thank you, Mister Anders.’
Although he was standing in the executive officer’s lounge, Admiral Bryce Jander stared at the digital feed of Heldaban Kel’s Sidewinder with distaste. He’d already read what information Ferris thought constituted a personel file. It could be summed up with one word: Assassin.
However, he couldn’t fault the choice in terms of results. Kel had sent over itemised descriptions for several of their surveillance photos and they corroborated exactly with Godwina’s database. Gradually, Jander was building a picture of the Lave system’s occupants and with Ennis formulating strategies, they were certainly better prepared. Normally this would be the time when I close the book on this kind of exercise, Jander thought. But, there’s something left ... something nagging ...
He wondered if the answer would be on Kel’s approaching ship?
The panel door slid open and Lieutenant Cassom entered, looking flustered. ‘Apologies for this, sir, but he insisted. In the circumstances I made a judgement call—’
‘The right one, Lieutenant,’ Jander said. ‘The ministry will certainly think so when they check the accounts at the end of the tour.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Cassom said, her shoulders straightened and a little of the fluster disappeared.
The comms beeped. ‘The privateer has landed, Admiral.’
Jander pressed the responder. ‘Acknowledged,’ he glanced up at Cassom. ‘Lead the way.’
They walked briskly out of the rotational command hub, two armed security officers falling into step behind them. Both slipped into a pair of magboots and into the exit compartment. Securing straps anchored them all to the wall ports whilst the chamber exited the rotational area of the ship and transferred to the non-gravitational decks. When it was done, Jander activated his boots and continued the trip. The Sidewinder would be secured on the hull landing strip and brought down into the pressurised compartments. In another time, the whole flight deck would have been filled with a collection of manned and unmanned deep space exploration vessels. Scientists would be crowding the space, going over data readings from different missions and planning new ones. All of that had been replaced. Instead, two rows of Eagle fighters crouched staring at each other. Jander wondered sometimes if the change was an improvement. Perhaps the military had robbed the Furnace of her true vocation.
The click and whirr of hydraulics announced the arrival of Heladaban Kel. The Sidewinder descended into a clear space next to one of the mission shuttles. The hull was a neglected mess of scratched paintwork and welding. Jander frowned. Not the kind of ship a paid killer would use. He expected something more threatening.
The entrance ramp came down and a tall bald man clumped out of the ship. He had a worn face, the kind that told a story of hard times.
‘Mister Kel, this is Admiral Jander,’ Cassom said, glancing at them both.
Kel smiled. ‘Nice of you to come out here and greet me,’ he said.
Jander didn’t return the expression. ‘It does mean you’ll have a short walk when you leave,’ he said.
Kel’s smile widened. ‘You want me to explain why I’m here?’
‘Yes, precisely that,’ Jander said. ‘My time is not a commodity for trade, Mister Kel.’
‘Then why did you come?’
‘Because I decided to indulge your request.’
‘Well, I don’t care, you can rationalise it any way you want,’ Kel said. ‘I expect you’ve pulled a file on me, just like the Feds did. How far did you get?’
‘Mister Kel, you’re wasting your opportunity,’ Jander said.
Kel looked at Cassom. ‘Well, it’s good to see I was right about this ship.’ He turned back to Jander. ‘You want all these ships identified, because you’re planning a raid on the system,’ he said. ‘I can put you in touch with plenty of folk who’d like nothing better.’
Jander held the man’s gaze, but didn’t reply. Kel didn’t flinch either. There was something dead in that stare. Jander raised his voice. ‘Escort Commander Kel back into his ship and ensure the vessel is secure before he departs.’
Kel’s smile vanished. ‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘You can’t—’
Jander raised his hand as he heard the sound of an energy pistol powering up behind him. ‘I assure you, Mister Kel, on my ship, I can do anything.’
Chapter 28: The Ambush
Bertrum sat alone in his office chair, the same place he always sat and worked, only this time, he had no choice.
Walden had taken his attendants; their last act, to remove the power cells from Bertrum’s exoskeleton. Without the mechanised servoes, he could barely stand, let alone walk.
So he was left in the dark, to stare at a screen. The activated feed switched remotely between security cameras. Currently it displayed the roof pad, where another shuttle came in to land.
A second window sprang up. The camera remained dark for a moment, but then electric lighting flicked on, showing a prison cell and a man huddled on the floor trying to protect his eyes from the light.
Bertrum sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. Hennel Tallis, the former Imperial ambassador he’d spoken to only days ago, clothed in a torn paper suit.
The lights in the cell hadn’t been used in all the time Bertrum had been in post. Tallis had been a prisoner ever since he’d disappeared in an ‘accident’ years before that.
The cell door opened, a figure entered and grabbed Tallis by the wrists, dragging him out. The camera changed and showed the corridor, lit for the first time in a decade. Through the viewscreen speakers, Bertrum heard the shouts and screams from the adjoining rooms. A second figure appeared and between them, they carried a struggling Tallis past the camera. At the same time, in the other screen, three armed soldiers escorted another prisoner from the shuttle on the landing pad. Bertrum couldn’t remember how long Federal Ambassador Graham had been in post, but bringing both to Ashoria was unprecedented, especially as Tallis was supposed to be dead.
The door to the office slid open and Gramos his aide appeared.
‘What happens next?’ Bertrum asked.
‘I have been given instructions to close the building,’ Gramos said. ‘Doctor Walden wants to discuss the situation without distractions.’ His eyes flicked over Bertrum. ‘I’m sorry, they didn’t mention you.’
Bertrum smiled bitterly. ‘A cripple doesn’t need a cell,’ he said.
Gramos glanced at the screen. ‘At least you can tell what’s going on from here.’
Scant comfort. ‘I can’t change the display. Niamh no longer responds to my voice commands.’
‘You only watch what they want,’ Gramos said. ‘Perhaps that was always the case?’
A flicker caught Bertrum’s eye, the visuals had changed again, a third box appearing in the bottom right, a fast moving image, the terrain below lit by a searchlight. An aircraft heading overland; another box appeared next to it, a satellite map showing a flightpath out into the northern territory. Bertrum recognised the destination marker immediately, the crash site location. The moving blip on the sensor screen reached it quickly and paused, pieces of wr
eckage littered the ground.
‘Move to target location,’ said a voice over the comms.
The aircraft angled away further north and eastwards. Gradually, the altitude increased as hills became mountains, canyons and cliffs. The black and white image from the camera switched to infrared and the speed decreased with the view settling on a blur of heat. Bertrum leaned in close and screwed up his eyes, but he was unable to make out any details.
‘Drone one in position,’ the pilot announced.
‘All teams,’ said the familiar voice of Doctor Walden. ‘Proceed as ordered.’
* * *
The sound of an explosion nearby made Pietro glance up from the screen. ‘What was that?’
‘Nothing planned,’ said James. He got up from the chair and went to the canvas door. When he turned around, his face was ashen grey in the electric light. ‘They’ve found us,’ he said.
Pietro moved towards the opening, but the blank faced guard, Kaspet, stood in his way. ‘You’re to stay here.’
Pietro shrugged, stepped forward and snatched the rifle from him. He thumbed the magazine and emptied the bullets onto the floor. ‘I’ve been itching to do that all day,’ he said. ‘What’s your first name?’
‘Papper.’
‘Well Papper Kaspet, you coming with us?’
Kaspet’s expression broke. He looked sheepish, but nodded. James lifted the tent flap and Pietro walked out into the night.
The scene was chaos. People ran between the tents and other structures, clutching weapons. The chatter of automatic gunfire began almost immediately. He ducked back inside and turned to James. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘They must have followed a trail from the crash site,’ James said. He turned around to go back, but Pietro grabbed his arm.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I have to destroy the computer, otherwise everyone will be compromised!’
Pietro let him go and turned to Kaspet, ‘What do we do?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know!’ Kaspet said, his voice rising and cracking at the same time.
Pietro grabbed his shirt. ‘You must have been given a drill, a plan for this?’