by Cary Caffrey
"So," Marta said, "that's the plan—we run this load straight up the mountain to the Crow's Nest. Then what? There's got to be over three thousand troops stationed there. You can't expect us to take them all on."
"Confronting the Cabal is not your mission, Ms. Kalivoda, only delivering Ms. Novak. Get her to Portillo. She will take care of the rest."
"She will?" Angel said, wagging his thumb at Sigrid. "That's your plan? What makes you think one little girl can handle three thousand troops when those squads of mercenaries you've got traipsing around outside can't?"
Marta crossed her arms, fixing him with a scorching look. "That little girl handled herself pretty well last night. Better than you, Mr. Soiled Himself."
"She's enhanced," Jaffer said bluntly.
As one, Tomás, Marta and Angel—even Sigrid—turned to look at him. Jaffer, for his part, remained staring straight ahead, kneading the whiskers of his chin.
"Enhanced?" Tomás said. "Jaffer, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Jaffer…?" Sigrid said, prodding him. "You…you knew?"
Jaffer chuckled. "I didn't know shit. Not for sure—not until we got ushered in here. But I knew something was up. I saw the way you handled Bins. I've seen plenty of people who were good in a fight, kid, but not that good. And last night? You took a load of buckshot that would have killed any of us. Now, here you are, right as rain."
"Wait, hang on a second." Tomás was waving his hands and leaning in. "What exactly are we talking about here?"
Jaffer ignored him—he was staring at Sigrid, and with a gleaming Cheshire grin that threatened to consume his entire face. "You're Kimuran, aren't you?"
Sigrid nodded and his grin widened, if that was possible.
"Goddamn son of a bitch."
"Kimuran!" Tomás said. "As in the Kimura Corporation? As in biogenetic weaponization? As in genetic reengineering?"
"Alcyone," Marta said breathlessly. "You're talking about Alcyone. But—but we thought those were just stories! Rumors. Something they made up for the newsfeeds!"
"Ms. Kalivoda." The magistrate leveled her finger, pointing pridefully at Sigrid. "You are looking at the result of more than forty years of bio and genetic research. Hundreds of billions of dollars of capital investment. The perfect melding of woman and machine, designed and trained by the top military minds of the Federation of Corporate Enterprises."
"Well, fuck me," Angel said, perfectly echoing what they were all thinking.
"So…does that mean we're really doing this?" Marta said. "We're going?"
"No," Sigrid said. "You're not going. None of you are."
Angel half-rose from his seat. "Now, hold on a second. That's not your call."
"I know what this marquis is after," Sigrid said, "and I know the lengths he'll go to get it. You don't know what you're agreeing to."
"I'm agreeing to one freaking million!" Angel said. "Fuck that! I'm going!"
"And so am I," Marta said. "Jaffer, you know what this could mean for us. All of us! I mean, seriously. One million?"
Sigrid turned to Jaffer, pleading. "Jaffer…!"
Jaffer rose. Standing before her, he placed both of his great hands on her shoulders. "And what about you? Why is this so important to you? Because the magistrate will get you off-world? Sigrid, we'll find another way. I promise."
"It's more than that, Jaffer. The magistrate's daughter—those girls we rescued—this is personal. It's important."
Jaffer nodded slowly. "It is, isn't it?"
"Yes, Jaffer, it is."
"Then it's important to me. We're going. All of us or none of us."
Sigrid shook her head. "Jaffer…"
But it was already too late. There wouldn't be any changing Jaffer's mind—or the others, for that matter. Sigrid saw that. Marta was already studying the tactical map, scrutinizing it, with Angel and Tomás leaning over her shoulder. These weren't the simple transport drivers of the previous night. In Marta she saw a glimpse of the proper military woman she once was, the tactician, the planner. She had a purpose now. They all did. Perhaps this mission was personal for them, as well.
Personal, and with the promise of one million in adjusted Federated dollars. It wasn't hard to imagine what that would mean for them. A life free of running from creditors. A fresh start. A chance.
"I don't get it," Marta was saying. "We know Lars, Magistrate. He's a con artist. A thief. There's no way he could pull off something like this. Gathering all these forces, the resources. He can't have done it on his own."
Lady Godelieve nodded her agreement. "The same thought occurred to us, as well. The marquis was never a threat to the Consortium. At least, not until four months ago. All that changed when this man showed up. Colonel?"
The colonel engaged the monitor with a wave of his hand. The image of the Crow's Nest vanished. In its place, a new image appeared. It was a holo-photograph of Lars Koenig, but this time he was standing next to a new figure. A man. He was thin, and painfully so. And he was looking not at the marquis but in the direction of the camera, almost as if he knew his photograph was being taken.
He was staring right at the lens, though Sigrid knew he was staring right at her.
Sigrid gripped the edge of the conference table—hard. Hard enough to crack its plastiform surface. Shards broke off in her hands, spraying dust and splinters and sending Angel and Marta scuttling back.
"It…it can't be!"
Jaffer sat up. "What? What is it?"
It couldn't be. It was impossible. She'd killed him. She'd watched him burn!
Her hands reached instinctively for her twin sidearms.
"Sigrid, who is he?" Jaffer said, though Sigrid didn't hear him. Her heart thundered in her ears, blotting everything else out. Jaffer shook her, trying to get her attention, but her eyes remained glued to the image. "Do you know him?"
Indeed, she did.
His hair was new, and his face wasn't exactly as she remembered. In fact, he looked a good ten years younger than the last time she'd seen him. That was on Bellatrix.
The first time she'd met him was on Konoe Station. He'd looked different then, as well. There, he'd appeared as an elderly gentleman, thin and frail. But Sigrid had learned his harmless appearance was nothing more than a trick, a clever disguise. And he was anything but harmless.
He went by many names. Smith and Bernat Wereme amongst others. But those were mere aliases. This man, the one talking to Lars Koenig, smiling and shaking his hand, was none other than Harry Jones.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Courier
"Jones?" the magistrate said in disbelief. "As in Harry Jones? Ex-attaché to Randall Gillings, chairman of the Council? I'm sorry, Ms. Novak, but I believe you're mistaken. I know Harry Jones, and that's not him."
The magistrate pulled up a new image. This new photograph was of a much different-looking man. He was older, taller, and even thinner if that was possible. But Sigrid knew these were both the same man.
"That's him, Magistrate. That man is Harry Jones."
The anger welled within her. Until now, the only thing keeping her going was the knowledge that Harry Jones was dead. She'd killed him. She'd launched a missile straight through his fleeing car and watched him burn alive. Her sisters were free of him. No matter what else had happened since Bellatrix, Sigrid took comfort from that one simple fact.
Except he wasn't dead. He was alive.
Blast it, the man was worse than a cockroach. After everything that had happened, here he was again, smack in the heart of things. The holograph floating above the table was proof of that. She'd failed her friends on Bellatrix, and now that failure was complete. Somehow, Jones had fooled her, tricked her, and not for the first time.
It wasn't hard to figure out what he was doing in the company of a man like Lars Koenig either. He was using him, just as he'd used Nicola Kirk on Scorpii and Connor Lachlan on Bellatrix. Lars Koenig might have crowned himself marquis, but she knew it was Jones pulling the strings.
Something else occurred to her then, and a wave of icy chill coursed down her back. Her escape from the southern facility…perhaps she hadn't escaped at all. Was this all some sort of trick? A distraction? Was Harry Jones directing her even now?
Twice she'd had him in her grasp. First on Konoe, then on Bellatrix. She wasn't going to let him escape a third time.
"I'm going to Portillo, Magistrate," Sigrid said. "I'll do what you ask. You won't have to worry about the marquis anymore."
Sigrid turned, striding toward the door.
"Wait!" the magistrate called after her. "Ms. Novak, stop!"
Two guards stepped out to block her way. For a moment, Sigrid considered bowling them aside. But it was Jaffer who stopped her. He reached out and clamped his hand to her wrist.
Sigrid spun angrily about, her fist raised. "Let me go, Jaffer."
"Not until you tell me what's going on!"
"That man…" Sigrid stared back at the glowing image of Jones hovering above the table. Blast it if those eyes of his weren't mocking her.
"Sigrid, if that man did something to you, I swear I'll kill him myself. But, goddammit, you're going to sit down and tell us what's going on!"
"He's right," Marta said. "If this affects the operation, we all have a right to know."
"There is no operation," Sigrid said, "because none of you are coming. This is something I have to do myself."
Angel rose so quickly, he kicked his chair back, knocking it to the floor. "What? So you can take the four million for yourself? Screw that! We're going, sister."
"No," Sigrid said. "You're not." She turned then to face the magistrate directly. "It's him, Magistrate. It's Jones. He's the one you want, not the marquis. He's behind this, I swear it. I know his plan and I know how he works. If he found your daughter, I guarantee you he's found others. He's obsessed with Kimura. He'll tear those girls apart trying to duplicate Lady Kimura's research, and he won't care how many of them he kills to do it."
The magistrate fixed her with a cold stare, and in that moment Sigrid knew the woman shared her rage. "Will he succeed—duplicating her work?"
"Six years ago, I would have said no. But that was before the Independents captured me. Harry Jones had me—he had me for six years, Magistrate! If he's discovered the key to the recombinant, and I suspect he has, then he will have an army to move against you the likes of which the Consortium has never seen."
The magistrate leaned hard on the table, her fists clenched tightly.
"No expense will be spared, Ms. Novak. Weapons. Armor. Vehicles. Personnel. Whatever it takes. All of the Consortium's resources are at your disposal. You will leave in the morning. The colonel will make whatever arrangements you need. Find Jones. Find the marquis. Find them, and kill them."
~ - ~
Thoughts of home, even Suko, vanished from Sigrid's head. In their wake was the singular driving notion: to find and kill Harry Jones.
While Jaffer and the others left to take care of the transports, Sigrid remained behind with the colonel. There was one last piece of equipment she required.
Colonel Bhandari was staring at a data-pad and studying a set of schematics given to him by Sigrid. Streams of code fed across the screen, complex chains of molecules, intricate formulas.
"A stealth suit?" Colonel Bhandari said, and not without some skepticism. "You can't be serious."
"Quite serious, Colonel."
"This looks like nonsense. The random scribblings of a madwoman."
Inwardly, Sigrid smiled. This wasn't the first time her mistress had been accused of insanity. "It will work, Colonel. Trust me."
"How? The power curve alone is off the charts. And there's no power source."
"I'm the source."
"And this material. It's far too light. We could try enhancing it with some armor. Our new ablative shielding will stop a 20 mm round at range."
"It's not about stopping bullets," Sigrid said. "It's about avoiding them. This will be fine, Colonel. Make sure it's ready by morning."
Without waiting for an answer, Sigrid turned on her heel and left.
A fresh winter squall was in full force when she exited the outpost. The streets were being pounded with a steady stream of rivulets. Sigrid was soaked through within seconds, her hair plastered to her face, neck and back.
To her surprise, someone had brought her stolen longspur. It sat parked and waiting for her outside. Water and wind whipped at her face as she drove, blasting through the narrow streets at a suicidal pace. She barely blinked after narrowly missing the back end of a lumbering transport that was too slow to get out of the bloody way.
As quick as the storm swept in, the clouds had parted by the time she reached the paddock where the transports were being held. Great billows of steam rose from her shoulders and chest as she parked her ride and entered through the open gates.
Inside the paddock, Sigrid heard the familiar sounds of powered torque wrenches and arc welders as crews of Consortium mechanics set themselves upon the collection of cargo haulers. Work getting the rigs ready for the mission tomorrow was progressing at a brisk pace. The stench of melting thermoplastics and molten slag hung thick in the air.
Jaffer's rig was hoisted aloft on a massive test stand. All of the wheels had been removed. Sparks flew from giant laser welders as the crew worked on what could only be described as a series of extreme modifications. The entire suspension had been yanked in favor of a much more robust system. Jaffer's homemade armored plating had been removed as well. In its place, the Consortium mechanics were affixing a series of new coverings. While the new armor looked like scraps of discarded sheet metal, Sigrid knew this was only a disguise. The armor was made of a graphene composite, stronger and far lighter than Jaffer's old titanium plates.
Jaffer was waiting for her inside. He had his arms folded over his great chest.
"I guess we know why they had our transports in lockup," he said, jabbing his thumb toward the work going on behind him. "Looks like they started work on this last night. Blast, they knew we were going to say yes even before we did, didn't they."
"Jaffer, I didn't know about any of this. I swear. I didn't even know the magistrate wanted you involved until this morning."
To her relief, Jaffer simply nodded. He even grinned. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out."
"I'll get them to put everything back the way you like it. I promise."
"Hell no! The old girl was due for an overhaul. Did you know they're putting in an entire defense grid? I'm almost looking forward to trying all this out on some jackers."
Sigrid sighed. "It's not the jackers you need to worry about, Jaffer. Not even Lars."
"It's this Jones fellow, isn't it? Don't worry. We can handle him."
"He's dangerous, Jaffer. You can't underestimate the Independents. They are far more than what the newsfeeds would have you believe. And Harry Jones? Why, he might be the most dangerous man on Earth."
"More dangerous than you? Somehow I find that hard to believe."
"Please don't joke. This isn't some group of thugs we're going after. If Jones gets you in his sights, he won't hesitate to shoot, and he won't care how many people he kills trying. I tried to kill him before. Blast it, Jaffer, I thought I had! But Jones…" Sigrid's voice faltered. "Jaffer, that was six years ago."
"When I found you on the highway, you weren't escaping from some factory, were you? You were escaping from him."
Sigrid nodded.
"Well, you're free of him now. You're safe."
"But that's just it, Jaffer. I'm not."
"Sigrid…" Jaffer's brow furrowed in earnest. "Did…did Jones hurt you?"
Sigrid shook her head, thoroughly exasperated. "That's the problem. I don't know! He did something to me, Jaffer. Blocked my memories! The last six years of my life, they're just—gone! Every time I try to remember, all I feel is this blasted spike being pushed through my brain."
"You don't remember? Not anything?"
"Nothing! Bu
t it's worse than that. Ever since I woke up, I can't shake this horrible feeling; I-I think I've done things, Jaffer. Bad things."
"We've all done things we regret, sweetheart. You don't get to lay sole claim to that."
"Blast it, I'm not talking about regrets! You don't understand. Jones has hunted me all my life—me and women like me. He wants to control us, use us as weapons. He's tried before. He tried and failed. But, Jaffer, what if…what if he succeeded with me?"
Jaffer scoffed. "Control you? Impossible."
"Don't be so sure."
Sigrid pulled back her hair to reveal the access port to her PCM hidden behind her ear.
Jaffer leaned in, squinting for a better look. "What the hell am I looking at?"
"It's the access port to my Primary Control Module."
"Primary-con-what?"
"It's a bank of microprocessors wired into the base of my skull. It's designed to control my bionics. Mostly. Jones, well, he must have thought he could access it, repurpose it."
"And can he do that? I mean, really control you?"
"Honestly, Jaffer…" Sigrid shook her head. "I don't know. I thought I killed him. I swear I did. Now I'm not sure of anything."
"Jesus…"
"How can I ever trust myself? I don't want to hurt anyone, Jaffer. I can't."
Jaffer took her chin in his hand, tilting her head up. "Then we'll just have to kill him. He can't control you if he's dead."
"I will. I promise you. But, Jaffer, this is something I have to do on my own. I can't let you risk your life. None of you."
Jaffer's eyebrows raised, and he jutted a thumb back toward his friends. "You think you can stop them from going with you? Try it."
Sigrid stared in the direction he was pointing. Marta, Angel and Tomás were rapt in conversation, overseeing the work being done by their respective crews. It wasn't simple excitement she saw in the truckers, and not the glee of children being presented with a new toy. This was something else. They had a mission. They had a purpose.
"This is going to be war, Jaffer. It's going to be real and it's going to get bloody fast. People will die."
