by M. D. Cooper
The Intrepid’s colonists had left Sol to get away from the spectre of war; they hadn’t signed up for living in a system that was under threat. None except a very few had even known the ship was carrying technology that would make the colony one of the most dangerous places in the galaxy to live. So Isa could appreciate their point of view. But there had to be a better way of reacting than through enacting a military takeover.
Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.
The alarm stopped.
Isa and Curtis from the TBLA had nearly reached the first floor. They rounded the corner that led to the final flight of stairs, only to meet a crowd who had arrived there before them. Forty or fifty people were clustered around the double exit and backed up the stairs to the second floor. The report of weapons fire from the lobby was loud.
When Isa saw the lines of people who were also trying to leave the building, she muttered choice words under her breath. She’d hoped the fight would be going on in the debate chamber. That was where all the politicians were.
She checked the public news feed and found nothing except generic reports. Either no media representatives were present to report on the details of what was happening, or the government or secessionists had managed a media blackout. Either way, Isa didn’t know exactly what to expect if she tried to leave.
“Are you seeing anything on the official channel?” she asked her companion.
“Not much. ISF soldiers and security are fighting it out across most of the first floor. Seems like most of the security guards have been bribed to take the secessionists’ side, and some soldiers have swapped too. Oh wait, There’s more. Holy shit! The legislature’s leader and several upper house members have been taken hostage. The secessionists are declaring they’ve formed a new government, and that Troy is now an independent republic.”
“Terrific,” Isa said. “So what you’re saying is, we could be in for a long wait. Is there any other way out of this place?”
“Not from here. If we could reach the basement, there’s an autocab park that exits onto the main road. It’s possible the fighting hasn’t spread that far.”
“How do we reach the basement?”
“The entrance to the lower stairwell is on the other side of the lobby. But we would have to make it across the space without being hit by stray rounds. I don’t think it’s worth the risk. It’s safer to stay here and hope to avoid becoming involved in the fight. Even if the secessionists win, they aren’t likely to be interested in us. We only need to stay out of the way until it’s all over.”
Isa was inclined to agree. She was regretting her decision to run from the licensing office. Fifty-five stories high above the danger zone, behind locked doors, had to be safer than where she was, one door away from the action.
“Maybe it would be best to go back upstairs.”
“I think you’re right.”
Curtis again accompanied Isa as she began the climb to a higher, safer spot. She was glad that Martin and Jude were at the marine park and Erin was on her space station. All her family should be safe from danger.
Her experiences that day had made up her mind. The family should definitely leave Troy at the earliest opportunity. Aside from the general asshole problem, the planet was obviously not safe—not a good place to bring up a child.
Suddenly, Martin’s voice broke through her thoughts.
CHAPTER THIRTY
STELLAR DATE: 05.25.8941 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Marine Park, Ithaca
REGION: Troy, New Canaan System
When Myrrdan’s agent arrived at the entrance to the marine safari park, several other visitors were already waiting. The tour guide was with the early arrivals, chatting about the park and what the men and women could expect to see. It was no wonder the seven tour participants were there fifteen minutes before they’d been asked to turn up: excitement over the opening of the marine safari had been building throughout Troy for several weeks. These people knew they were privileged to be among the first to see the place.
The agent was not concerned that these tourists would be present at the crucial moment. None of them were undercover security personnel. Apart from the extremely tall, bone-thin, odd-looking woman in tight-fitting scarlet clothes with brilliant green hair, the visitors looked very ordinary, though they had to occupy positions of some importance in Trojan society to receive a tour ticket. They would all die, of course, but so would all the New Canaanites, and then Myrrdan would be the sole possessor of picotech.
The agent gave the code for his ticket to the tour guide. She asked him to wait with the others and left to attend to other business. The agent ignored the friendly greetings of his fellow tourists. He was waiting for something. Time was slipping away. To arrive at the picotech deployment site while the module remained viable, the agent needed to enter the sea soon.
At one end of the entrance area, the mouth of a tunnel opened. Strung across the entrance was a sign stating ‘Staff Only’. The agent looked into the dark hole and then glanced around. The tour guide hadn’t returned. That was good. Of everyone present, the woman was most likely to notice a deviation from the proposed route. It would be preferable, though not essential, if she could be left behind.
Myrrdan’s agent returned his gaze to the tunnel. He was rewarded with the sight of a figure leaving it. Excellent. The mind-controlled park lab tech was working. The man approached the group and immediately recognized the agent. He acknowledged him with a nod.
“Come this way, ladies and gentlemen,” said the tech. “The tour’s about to start.” He walked to the nearest amphibian.
The vehicle’s door concertinaed open, and the tech climbed aboard.
“Isn’t it too early?” asked the strangely dressed woman. “I didn’t think the tour was set to leave for another ten minutes.”
“Maybe we’re only getting ready to leave,” a man in a hat told her. “He probably only wants us to take our seats so we can be on our way promptly.”
The man walked to the vehicle, followed by his wife, and mounted its steps. The other tour participants boarded the amphibian after them.
The odd woman looked around. “What about the guide?” she asked the agent. “Shouldn’t she be here too?”
Myrrdan’s agent shrugged and left her to enter the vehicle himself. He sat at the front, next to the lab tech, who had settled into the driver’s seat.
It was time to leave.
The agent was about to tell the tech to drive the amphibian into the sea when the brightly dressed woman appeared at the door and walked up the steps. Her gaze roved the seats. She selected one on its own near the back of the vehicle and sat down.
The agent touched the control, and the door closed.
“Are we leaving already?” said the man who had spoken to the odd woman. “Don’t we have to wait for everyone else?”
Slightly alarmed murmurings came from the other passengers.
“There are two tours today,” said the tech. “This one leaves first.” He started up the engine and backed the amphibian out of its bay.
“I changed my mind,” said the strange woman. “I’ll take the next tour.” She walked along the narrow aisle between the seats, stooping to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling, and gripping the seat backs to maintain her balance in the swaying vehicle.
The tech ignored her and drove the amphibian forward, toward the ramp that led into the waves.
“I said I want to get off,” the woman insisted. “Stop and open the door.”
“Sit down,” said the agent. “We’re on our way.”
“This is none of your business,” snapped the woman. She addressed the park employee tech. “Hey, stop this vehicle. I said I’ll take the next tour.”
“Sit down,” the agent repeated, rising to his feet.
“No need to get excited,” said the man in the hat. “This i
s supposed to be fun, right?”
The amphibian was traveling down the ramp. In another second, it hit the waves. The vehicle rocked, and the woman staggered.
“Better sit down,” the man in the hat said.
“This is crazy,” said the odd woman. “I only wanted to take the next tour. It’s like I’m being kidnapped.”
“It’s too late to leave now,” the man said with a shrug. “Does it matter which tour you take? Might as well return to your seat and relax.”
Looking deeply disgruntled, the woman wobbled along the aisle as the amphibian lurched in the swell. The propellers had kicked in, and the vehicle was sinking into the water.
The coral reef, which was the first stop on the itinerary, lay directly ahead. The tech drove the vehicle toward the marine structures, where fish in vivid colors swarmed. The tour participants were delighted and chattered happily.
Myrrdan’s agent guessed they were gazing through the windows and pointing, but he was looking straight ahead. The reef held no interest for him. He had to concentrate on controlling the tech so that he would guide the amphibian to the correct spot.
On one side of the view lay the complex that held the marine park laboratories. Movement there attracted the agent’s attention. Wide doors were opening. A submersible emerged through them.
Damn. Where is that vehicle going? Surely not near the site where the picotech is to be used?
The agent hadn’t factored interference of staff from the marine park labs into his plans. He cursed again. Everything had been perfect, each step executed consummately, except for this.
But there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. Only one member of the staff at the lab was under his control, and the agent was sitting right next to him. If another worker wandered into his path, he would have to deal with him or her decisively.
The agent watched the submersible, tracking its trajectory. The vessel didn’t seem to be traveling toward the picotech deployment site.
Good.
He hoped that wouldn’t change. He didn’t like the idea of another unexpected variable to account for in his plan.
The amphibian clipped the edge of the reef, shattering a section of coral. Fragments broke off and spun out before floating away. The fish panicked and were gone in a few flicks of their tails. The passengers gasped and uttered cries of dismay.
“Driver,” someone yelled, “watch what you’re doing.”
Another voice said, “I wish we’d waited for the second tour.”
The lab tech said nothing. An unhappy, troubled mood settled over the passengers of the amphibian. Their chatter melted to silence as the tech drove them away from the coral reef and out into deeper, darker water.
“What’s next on the itinerary?” the man in the hat asked in an apparent attempt to boost the mood.
“Sea mammals,” someone replied, her tone devoid of enthusiasm.
“Awesome,” said the man. “I love them. Wish we could get out and swim with them. But that’s not allowed, right?” The man appeared to be addressing the tech.
“No,” he replied.
“Haha, nevermind. I’m sure we’ll be back when the park’s properly open. We’ll have plenty of chances then.”
“I thought the sea mammals’ area was near the shore,” said the odd woman. “Are we going the right way?”
No one answered her.
The amphibian was driving deeper under the water, and the light was fading. Internal lights in the vessel flicked on, lending the passengers’ skin a pale, ghostly hue.
“I’m sure we’re going the wrong way,” the odd woman muttered.
They were going the right way, according to Myrrdan’s agent’s plan. Exactly the right way.
The agent checked their progress. In another minute, they would arrive at the spot where things would start to get exciting. The agent had a list of actions with rough timings. A couple of minutes lost or gained here or there wouldn’t make a difference, providing everything happened in the correct order.
He looked over his shoulder at the passengers. They gazed out the windows, looking for dolphins, seals, and sea lions. Their stupid faces were expectant, but also perturbed. The agent guessed they were already looking forward to the end of the tour, which was arriving sooner than they thought.
What would the seven passengers do if they knew their lives were soon to come to an end?
The agent was about to find out.
He sent out the instruction to the lab tech. The man cut the engine.
“We’re here,” said a passenger. “Can anyone see any dolphins?”
The amphibian was coasting to a stop and began to drift upward.
The agent sent another instruction. The emergency hatch in the roof of the vehicle opened, and a deluge poured in. Shrieks of terror filled the air. The agent held tight to his armrests as the water swept around his legs. He sent a third instruction, and the vessel’s door opened.
The additional water engulfed the vessel’s interior. The shrieks and screams devolved to gasps, cries, and bubbling, distorted yells. The amphibian was full of scrabbling, clawing hands and feet. Only the agent and the tech remained still. The man sat impassively, held in his seat by his safety belt, as the water rapidly rose up to his chest and covered his head.
When the pressure had sufficiently equalized, the agent kicked off his shoes and swam out of the vehicle, pleased to be free of the clutching hands and the bodies that had buffeted him. His mods allowed him to remain underwater indefinitely, and he was only a little concerned that the same could be true of others in the amphibian, particularly the tech.
There was also the small chance that some of them could be revived after they had drowned. The agent was not prepared to take that chance. If he failed to steal the picotech, he could be identified by anyone who had seen him that day. He had to maintain his anonymity at all costs. Therefore, the park employee and the tourists had to die.
That was not a problem. The agent swam down to the sea floor, where he sought and quickly found a certain group of rocks. The water’s buoyancy made them easy to move, and he revealed the concussive bomb the tech had hidden there weeks previously. The agent removed it and the other hidden equipment that was necessary to his plan.
He swung around to face the amphibian. Lifeless bodies bobbed against the windows. A couple of the passengers had made it out, the strange woman and the man in the hat, though his hat was now floating away on the current. The man appeared to have abandoned his wife.
How ungallant.
The two escapees were quite comical in their mad paddling efforts as they tried to swim to the surface. He would soon put a stop to that, and at the same time, take the picotech guards out of the equation.
The agent activated a grav field around himself and his equipment. Then he set off the bomb.
The effects were spectacular. A visible wave spread out with surprising speed and energy. The grav field deflected the wave, but it crushed everything else it touched. The concussive force struck the two survivors of the flooding of the amphibian and flung them like rag dolls. Their bodies remained intact, but only skin was holding them together. The amphibian shot away and tumbled over and over on the sandy ground.
Confident that the explosion had killed everyone inside the vessel, the agent set out to complete his next task. He deactivated the grav field and set up another item of equipment: a missile launcher. Somewhere on the surface nearby, a gunship floated as part of the picotech security. The concussion wave would not have affected the ship, and it had to be taken out immediately.
The agent set the launcher to target the gunship. He wafted his arms and kicked his legs to swim backward, and then reactivated the grav field. The missile’s guidance system locked onto its target and fired.
In a torrent of churning water, the projectile was gone. All that remained was a stream of bubbles in its wake. Somewhere above, it made contact with its target, and a second shock wave rippled through the water. Broken piec
es of wreckage began to rain gently down, spinning in the aftermath of the weapon’s impact.
The agent picked up his third piece of equipment: a submersible scooter. He could swim a long distance beneath the surface, but not quickly. The motor would carry him to the pico worksite and then onward across the Sea of Marmara.
He checked the news feeds. The attack on Government House had begun.
Things are going well.
Now it was time to get his prize.
* * * * *
Gripping the handles of the scooter, Myrrdan’s agent sped from the destroyed amphibian and the corpses within toward the ocean shelf. If his timing was correct, the first explosion would have hit the guards protecting the picotech before the module had been deployed.
The agent was confident that even the guards’ armor would not have saved them from the effect of the bomb, but caution had gotten him this far, and he was not about to abandon it now that he was so near the prize.
He glanced down at the railgun strapped to the scooter. The weapon fired titanium pellet rounds that were designed for underwater use. He placed a hand on it to ensure it was secure.
Next to it was a mono-edged machete that glinted in the rays of sunshine coming down from the surface. Nothing and no one was going to get in his way.
The only noises the agent could hear were the rush of blood in his ears and the distant, unidentifiable sounds of sea creatures. What he feared most was the sound of a motor approaching, which would only mean someone had turned up to kill him. But the only motor noise he could detect was the sound his scooter gave out.
The water grew colder and darker as the agent approached the edge of the ocean. The liquid chilled him as it flowed through his mouth and down into his lungs. The light from the scooter cut through the darkness.
Something crossed the light beam.
The rush of blood grew loud in the agent’s ears. He swung his scooter for a closer look.
It was a guard.
But the man was floating, his arms and legs limp and his head hanging at the wrong angle. The concussive wave had done its work. If the agent had been able to sigh in relief, he would have done so, but his respiration was only working one way. He contented himself with a slow blink.
