by Jan Domagala
“Don’t worry about it. It’ll all work out fine, trust me.”
“Are you kidding me?” she said, her voice going up an octave.
“Take it steady now. We’re just going to go there, be nice, have something to eat, ask a few questions then leave, okay? Easy, right? No worries,” Stryder said, his voice low and calm.
“Oh easy, yeah, easy? You think you can just waltz into a club, walk right up to the owner and ask him if he knows of anyone hiring any muscle?” she said her voice still at a high pitch.
“Why not?” Stryder asked seriously.
“Oh, this I just have to see. In fact if I wasn’t actually going to be there, I’d pay money to see this,” she said finally, her voice returning to normal.
“There you go then, you should thank me. I’ve just saved you some money and got you ringside seats,” Stryder said keeping a straight face.
Hardy looked across at him and for a moment couldn’t make up her mind if he was joking or serious until she caught the mischievous glint in his eye.
She suddenly found herself laughing in spite of her exasperation, and said, “Oh you’re a funny guy. If nothing else, this should prove to be a night I won’t forget in a hurry.”
“I know how to show a lady a good time,” Stryder said smiling.
“Yea, well let’s not go doing anything stupid to get ourselves killed ’eh? I’ve got a feeling we won’t get much chance to enjoy this dinner date and I’m not going to let a little something like you getting yourself killed get you out of taking me for dinner. You got that soldier?” she said, the last four words delivered like a mock drill sergeant.
“Copy that, sir,” Stryder replied, saluting.
12
Norsky had entered the codes into his computer, giving him access to the Col Sec satellite. Within seconds he had the locations of each and every Recon Delta man or woman on the planet. The number was staggering, he had no idea there were so many stationed there.
It took some time to scroll through all of them until he found the one he wanted – Stryder. He was still with the woman Hardy and they were on the move.
The detail from the satellite was impressive and he couldn’t help being a little amazed. It gave clear visual representation of their real time locations and when he saw where they were, his blood ran cold.
The Golden Palace was owned by Abraham Bane and it was Bane who had given him the name of the gangster Alexander Brown, supplier of the ill-fated team hired to get Stryder.
Why were they at that particular club? Did Stryder know he’d been there, was he looking for him? Was his cover about to be blown?
When he’d got his breathing under control once more, he tried to reason it through. It was safe to assume that Stryder knew those guys were local guns for hire. It was also safe to assume that he knew they must have been recruited, and it was a well-known fact that nothing happened on Celeron without Abraham Bane knowing about it. Would Bane know who he was? Doubtful, but he could tell Stryder what he looked like and no doubt the club was full of monitors that would have recorded their meeting. As much as he’d disliked the idea, he’d had to agree to the meeting, as Bane never made a deal unless it was face to face. How had he explained it? Oh yes, if the deal went south he would know who to come looking for.
Was Stryder there to ask Bane who those goons worked for? Possibly.
Would Bane tell him? Doubtful, but could he take that risk?
He had to do something, but what? Then an idea began to form in his mind.
It was well known in gangland circles that Alexander Brown coveted Bane’s position as top dog in the underworld. He would probably embrace any chance to usurp him and the loss of five of his men might be just the incentive required for what he had in mind.
Through his NI he contacted Brown.
* * * * *
General Sinclair was just about to go to dinner at his hotel when his NI tingled. His Interface automatically informed him that it was an encoded transmission.
“Go ahead,” he said, the NI automatically encoding his reply.
“Captain Reynolds here, sir,” came the reply. Reynolds was in command of the Col Sec starship on which Sinclair had arrived and which was in orbit around the planet.
“What is it Captain?”
“Sir, we’ve been monitoring comm chatter and it seems that someone has accessed one of the communication satellites but not the civilian ones, this was a Col Sec satellite, sir.”
“That’s not too unusual. As you know we’ve quite a contingent of Marines planet side, so I assume there’s something more.”
“Sir, whoever it was covered their tracks which means it was unauthorised. They input the Recon Delta codes. They now know where all the Recon Delta Marines are on Celeron, sir, but they concentrated on just one.”
“Captain Stryder,” Sinclair said, his blood running cold.
“Yes sir, but it also means no Recon Delta Marine is safe anywhere. Someone’s just painted a bull’s eye on every one of them.”
“I’m aware of that Captain. This is one monumental mess. How the hell did this happen? How did they get hold of those codes in the first place?” Sinclair said, his anger flaring but keeping his voice under control. “Captain, I need whoever you have available from Recon Delta immediately. It would take those already on the ground too long to get in place, your people can get there quicker by shuttle. Stryder is going to need serious back-up and I can’t rely on the local Constabulary being up to the task,” he added as he thought through the problem at hand.
“Aye sir, I’ll send the best we have.”
“Order them to Captain Stryder’s location, I’ll meet them there personally,” Sinclair said. Then he broke the connection.
This was dreadful. How in the entire galaxy had the Alliance got hold of those codes? They were supposed to be the one item in Col Sec security that was inviolate and yet, somehow, someone had got hold of them. The two main questions he needed answers to were, ‘who?’ and ‘how?’ The ‘why?’ was obvious, the ‘how’ would become clear too, once they learn the ‘who’.
That would have to wait though, for the time being they had more pressing matters to attend to, like keeping Stryder alive.
* * * * *
Stryder and Hardy found the club with no problems. The Golden Palace was lit up like a Christmas tree with flashing lights around the doors and windows and the club’s name on the front, high above the entrance in letters three feet high.
“Tasteful, I must say,” Hardy said as they approached the entrance.
Stryder said, “Abraham Bane was never known for his subtlety.”
“Seeing this it’s no wonder why,” she added.
A doorman, a well-muscled individual who looked like he’d been carved out of solid rock, showed them in. Once inside they were shown to a table by the Maître d’. The interior decor was a little more understated than the exterior appearance. The lighting was subdued with wall lights giving off just enough illumination for the customers to see what they were doing. The floor was home grown oak panelled and the large bar ran the entire length of the room. Tables were dotted around and a dance floor was over on the opposite side to the bar, situated just before a modest stage where a small band accompanied a young woman singing. All in all quite tastefully done, they both thought as they walked to their table.
“Is he here?” Hardy asked once they were seated and the waiter had left them with the menu to peruse.
Stryder had quickly taken in every single face in the large room on his way over to their table. He’d done it without appearing to allow his gaze to wander away from his partner for the evening, even though the lighting was subtle and subdued. He didn’t know how he’d managed to do it; he just knew he had.
“Yes, he’s in a private booth over by the far wall in what I can only imagine is the VIP area,” he replied never taking his eyes off hers. “Third booth from the right,” he added.
“But you’re sitting with your back to
them, how can you possibly know that?” she said, quickly glancing over his shoulder to where he’d said.
“Careful, don’t let them see you checking them out, not yet at least,” he said.
“How did you know where they were? You didn’t take your eyes off my ass the whole time we walked over here, so you must know this place already. How often have you been here Kurt?” she asked.
“Including tonight?”
“Yes.”
“One time, tonight, and what makes you think I was watching your ass?”
“You’re a guy.”
“Well it is a mighty fine ass.”
“So you admit it, you were watching my ass the whole time we’ve been in here.”
“I’m not watching it now, am I?”
“Only because I’m sitting on it. Go on Kurt, tell me. How did you know?”
The smile faded from his face as he pondered her probing question. How much could he tell her? Could he trust her? Should he let her into his little secret and if he did would she be able to handle it or would she freak or worse still inform the General?
He wasn’t sure if he was ready just yet to inform Sinclair, unsure of where his future would lead once the General knew.
One thing he was sure of though, and the realisation hit him like a ton of bricks, was he could trust her! He didn’t know how he knew, he just knew.
“What? What’s the matter Kurt? What’s troubling you?” she asked becoming concerned.
“I’ve a confession of sorts to make. You know how I told you about the project on Outpost Station Five, the one that failed?” he said easing his way into it.
“Yes, I read the report once my clearance got upgraded.”
“Well, I wasn’t quite accurate when I said in my report that there were no changes.”
“Go on, how inaccurate were you?”
“Well, my speed, strength and stamina have all increased like the reports stated, but by a bit more than they realised. Up until now I’ve not been able to quantify by just how much, but that’s not all.”
“Go on, I’m listening.”
“My other senses have all increased, my hearing, my sight, smell and touch; in fact all of them. I can walk into a room and almost instantly know details about all the occupants in that room. The main change though, the one I’ve kept to myself, the one the project was set up for, was a success, a total success.”
“Your immune system, they increased it?”
“Yes, now I’m more resistant to toxins and disease but something else too. Simple cuts and abrasions heal almost instantly while anything larger or more serious takes a bit longer. Again, I’ve not been able to quantify this either. I don’t know all the science behind all this, I just know it worked.”
“I saw your face heal almost immediately back at your villa. I thought I was seeing things at first, but that explains so much,” she said quietly. She looked at him, smiling and said, “So that’s how you knew so much about where Bane was, even though you were staring at my ass the whole time.”
“It’s a nice ass.”
“Nice? A second ago it was a mighty fine ass, now it’s just nice. Are you going off me already Kurt?”
“No, I…” he stammered then saw the mischievous glint in her eye and knew he’d been had. He smiled then said, “You don’t seem fazed by what I just told you, why is that?”
“I was fazed, one minute I’ve a mighty fine ass and then it’s just nice.”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Yes, I do, but it’s no big deal.”
“Excuse me? Would you mind explaining that? This whole situation is because of the results of that project. The Alliance wants to duplicate it, Col Sec wants to reproduce it, everybody wants it and the only viable specimen they have to work with is here,” he said tapping his chest. “So it is a big deal. There are so many potential advances we could make with this, but as with any great discovery, someone always turns it around and uses it for harm.”
He looked at her allowing his guard to drop and she saw all his anguish, all his fear come flooding out.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said finally.
She glanced down at her hands then up to look him in the eyes once more, taking that moment to process it all.
She said, “You know Kurt, there are some things we’re not meant to know.”
“Are you saying I should keep this to myself?”
“I can’t tell you what to do, that’s a decision only you can make, but whatever you decide I’ll back you up all the way if you want me to. What I meant was that there are certain things that we shouldn’t tamper with, we’re not Gods. We’re mortals and what they’ve done to you and would do to others is beyond the realm of mankind.” She looked away for a moment then turned to him once more, “But hey! That’s just my opinion, what do I know right, I’m just a grunt, a Marine?” she said and her smile was back in place, a little shaky, but it was there.
Stryder looked at her and realised his feelings for her were just a little deeper than friendship.
“Let’s order, I’m starved,” he said with a smile. He knew then that whatever he decided, whatever he did, he would not be alone. This woman would stand by his side through thick and thin.
“Me too,” she said and they both looked at the menu.
13
Norsky arrived at the Golden Palace and injected himself with a short-term dose of facial reconstruction nanobots, the effect of which would be temporary but dramatic. They would work on the soft tissue in his face altering his appearance to whatever design he had pre-programmed into them. Nothing too drastic, but different enough so he wouldn’t be recognised from any mug shot data file.
He was admitted into the club and shown to a table close to Stryder and Hardy. He took great pleasure in the knowledge that he was within earshot of them and they had no idea. From his vantage point he could watch what was about to happen with complete impunity.
The call he’d made to Alexander Brown had had the desired effect. Knowing that the five men he’d supplied had all been killed had incensed Brown. Bane supplying his name was even worse, almost like it was his fault, but finally knowing that the killer would be at Bane’s club eased him a little. It was a chance to get revenge, kill the guy responsible and if Bane’s club got trashed, even better. It was all good.
Norsky could see no downside to this. Stryder was obviously capable, having taking care of five local thugs, but then he would expect that of Recon Delta, they were supposed to be the best Col Sec had. Now he had the chance to see him in action, so that when it was time for him to make his move against him, he would be better prepared. And, if in the process he kept the two main gang leaders at each other’s throats, perhaps start a little turf war causing a little unrest in this city, then that was good too.
The Alliance would be pleased.
Stryder and Hardy seemed content to remain at their table waiting for their meal. So far they had made no move to contact Bane or even appeared to know that he was there. Perhaps he was wrong, perhaps they were just out for dinner and not there to see Bane after all. It would be a while before Brown arrived, plenty of time for him to enjoy himself first. The club had a reputation for serving excellent food, no matter who the owner was. He looked at the menu and decided to order.
* * * * *
They had both enjoyed their dinner; the food had been excellent. Stryder had opted for Beef Bourguignon with local vegetables whilst Hardy had chosen Rack of Lamb. To wash it down they had chosen a half bottle of Savary Rose from a local vineyard. It had an excellent reputation and supplied all the clubs, restaurants and other outlets on Celeron and recently had also begun to supply off world after winning a prestigious wine tasting contest.
The two of them had declined any starters opting to go straight to the main course, not knowing if they would be interrupted.
“What happens now?” Hardy asked once the waiter had cleared their plates away.
“
Now it’s down to business,” Stryder replied.
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“It’s time I asked Mister Bane a few questions,” Stryder said as he calmly got to his feet, turned towards the VIP area and started walking over to where Bane was seated.
Hardy was at his shoulder in seconds and, slightly surprised, he glanced at her as she said, “What, you thought I’d let you go over there on your own? Hey, we’re a team, where you go, I go,” which brought a smile to his lips.
“Okay, partner, here we go,” he said as they continued across the floor.
* * * * *
Norsky had almost finished eating when he saw Stryder and Hardy get up and walk towards Bane.
“Oh shit!” he thought as he checked the time. Brown should be here by now, where the hell was he? He needed to do something to stop them from getting anything from Bane, but what?
* * * * *
Before Stryder and Hardy reached the VIP area, they were stopped in their tracks by a huge man mountain.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he said placing a hand the size of a shovel on Stryder’s chest.
Stryder looked down at his chest where the beefy hand was placed, then slowly looked up at the man standing before him making eye contact. He had to look up slightly for the guy was at least five inches taller than him.
“Over there, I want to talk to him,” Stryder said glancing past the man mountain to where Bane was sitting.
“Mister Bane sees no one while he’s having dinner, unless they’ve made an appointment, and you don’t have an appointment,” the guard said.
“Oh, he’ll see me,” Stryder said confidently.
“I don’t think so,” the guard said with a smirk.
“Why’s that?” Stryder asked.
“Simple, to see him you’ve gotta get past me.”
“Is that all?”
“Never gonna happen,” said the guard leaning his face closer to Stryder’s adding menace to his words.
