Tyra’s eyes got even bigger. “Of the Coretti Brothers?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re responsible for half of the crime on Astralis!”
“More than half on a good day,” Lucien said.
“Why would they want to help you?”
“Because I can take the heat off them for a while.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can in Fallside, after it’s rebuilt, but if that’s not good enough for them, then I’ll appeal to their sense of greed. Alien dictators are bad for business.”
Tyra didn’t look convinced.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have Brak with me,” he said.
“Another cop.”
“A scary cop.”
“What about the girls? What do we do with them?”
“They’ll stay with you at the benefit.”
“And how are we going to explain the fact that you’re not there?”
“Food poisoning.”
“Why don’t you just get an injection?”
“Bad timing. Even injections take an hour or two to purge the toxins.”
Tyra still didn’t look convinced.
“You’re the politician. Come up with something that sounds good to you.”
“All right,” Tyra said. “Fine.” Theola began to complain, squirming in Lucien’s arms. “She must be hungry,” Tyra said.
Lucien passed Theola to her and stood up from the bench. “I’m going to get Brak and go see Joe.”
“Now?” Tyra asked.
“The Corettis are easier to track down at night. They’re usually hanging out at one of their clubs. Meanwhile, start getting that charity banquet organized—and talk to Commander Wheeler, but feel her out first before you tell her about our plan. We don’t need her trying to stop us.”
Tyra nodded, and Lucien leaned in for a quick kiss.
“Be careful,” Tyra said as he withdrew.
“I will,” Lucien said as he went back inside.
“What were you and Mom talking about?”
Lucien froze, and turned to see Atara watching him from the armchair in the living room. She’d turned it away from the fireplace to face the deck. She’d been watching them all this time. Reading our lips? Lucien wondered. Atara didn’t know how to read lips, but without knowing what the Faros had done to her, it was hard to be sure what she was and wasn’t capable of.
“Grown-up stuff,” Lucien said.
“Like what?” Atara asked, hands folded over her chest, looking too grown-up for her age.
Tyra came in then. “I thought I told you to go play in your room,” she said, putting on her best Mom voice.
Atara shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it.”
“I’m going to let you deal with this,” Lucien said, and breezed on through to the front door. As he went, he heard Tyra switch from bad cop to good cop, offering ice cream to distract Atara. That seemed to work, but Lucien couldn’t get over the feeling that he was somehow exposed, like Ellis already knew what they were planning.
He pushed those thoughts aside. Ellis wasn’t god. He couldn’t have eyes and ears everywhere at once. And Atara, even if she could read lips, couldn’t have caught more than a handful of words from their conversation on the deck. Not enough to string together their plot.
They still had the element of surprise.
For now.
***
Astralis
Lucien interrupted Brak just as he was sitting down to dinner—a pile of fresh-grown, uncooked steaks. “Come in,” Brak said, waving him through the door as he bit off a chunk of one of the steaks.
Lucien looked around as he walked inside. There wasn’t much to the place. One small room for a cooking, eating, and living space. A door led to what might have been an adjoining bedroom. Lucien took a seat in an old chair beside the couch where Brak had sat back down to eat.
“Nice place,” Lucien said.
“Liar,” Brak replied, while biting off another chunk of steak.
A holoscreen in front of the couch showed Ellis, making an announcement about the War Measures Act. Based on the color of the sky, this particular press conference had obviously been taped earlier in the day. Ellis was busy promising to use his new political powers to keep Astralis safe.
“You believe this?” Brak asked, pointing to the screen with a bloody hand.
Lucien began nodding slowly. “Power can be good in the right hands. At least he’s getting us back out there with the changes he’s making to the cloning laws.” While he said that, Lucien mimed with his hands, indicating his own eyes with two fingers, then Brak’s, followed by a cutting-off gesture at his throat. Brak got the idea, and his eyes grew dark as the subtle glow of light from his ARCs disappeared.
“Speak,” Brak indicated.
And Lucien did. He explained about Atara’s strange behavior, followed by Tyra’s planted-memory experience with Ellis’s War Measures Act.
“I kill him. I rip out his throat,” Brak said, baring his bloody black teeth in a fearsome display.
Lucien shook his head. “Assassination will get you blown out the airlock with no chance of resurrection. And it won’t do any good, because they’ll just bring Ellis back the very next day. Not to mention he’s not the only one we have to worry about.”
“Then what can we do?”
Lucien explained the plan he and Tyra had come up with.
“Yesss, this could work...” Brak agreed, and absentmindedly bit off another chunk of steak.
“Glad you approve, because I need your help.”
Brak grinned, revealing red bits of raw meat stuck between his dagger-sharp teeth. Blood dribbled down his bony gray chin. He wiped it on a massive forearm. “Where do we start?”
“Now. Tonight. We need to go get a bomb from Joe Coretti.”
“Joe?” Brak’s enthusiasm disappeared. “We’re going to criminals for help?”
“We’re about to become criminals, so getting help from them seems appropriate.”
“I do not think Joe will help us,” Brak said.
“Well it’s our job to convince him.”
“Hmmm. I do not like your plan.”
“Got a better one?”
Brak tore off another giant bite of steak while he thought about it. He chewed briefly, then swallowed. “No,” he decided. “I do not.”
“Then let’s go.”
Chapter 39
Astralis
Joseph Coretti wasn’t hard to find. Lucien and Brak had each spent plenty of time tracking him and his brothers across Astralis, so they already knew all of the Corettis’ favorite haunts.
This particular club, the Crack of Dawn, was located in Sub-District Two, the same district where Brak was currently renting his apartment. As Lucien walked in, he was greeted to a dozen topless girls in thongs, all wrapped around poles, swinging their hips and baring everything but their souls for the men drooling into their drinks around the stage.
This was definitely one of the sleazier joints that the Corettis owned. Music thumped in a fast, primal beat, setting the pace for the patrons’ racing hearts. Illuminated strips lit the floor, but overhead lights were nonexistent—except for up on the stage, where they glared at the dancers from every possible angle. The setup was meant to give the illusion of a private show and to protect the anonymity of the club’s patrons by reducing them to ambiguous shadows.
These guys could have been literally anyone—councilors, lawyers, security officers... even Ellis could have been there, but Lucien didn’t think he’d risk coming to a place like this. If he wanted a show, he could afford to order a truly private one.
As they walked through the club to the back, two illuminated waitresses with hovering trays of drinks wove to intercept them. The waitresses were clothed with clinging, transparent dresses and illuminated by hovering spotlights that followed them wherever they went. The waitresses, one brunette and one blond, sauntered up to him and Brak.
“Hey there
, big guy,” the brunette said while rubbing Brak’s arm. “You look thirsty,” she licked her lips as she said that, and stretched sensuously. All of that was lost on Brak. He leaned into the cone of light projected by her spotlight, revealing his skull-shaped gray face, and bared his black teeth at her. The girl paled dramatically, and her mouth popped open in a silent scream.
The blond actually did scream, and she ran back through the club with her spotlight chasing after her. The commotion was all but swallowed by the thumping music, but a few heads turned from the bar to watch her run. For her part, the brunette was frozen in place.
Lucien leaned into view of her spotlight and smiled reassuringly. “We’re looking for Joe Coretti. You know where we can find him?”
The girl shook her head, and Lucien shrugged. “Thanks, anyway.”
They continued through the club, and this time no waitresses appeared to offer them drinks, but Lucien spied the blond they’d scared talking to a pair of hulking shadows at the back.
After just a second, those goons peeled away from the wall and came to block the way in front of Lucien and Brak.
“We don’t want trouble in here, boys,” one of them said in a gruff whisper that was somehow audible above the music.
“Neither do we,” Lucien said. “We’re looking for Joe.”
“He’s not in.”
“I saw his car out front.”
The goons had no reply for that.
“Look, it’s business. He’ll be happy you sent me.”
“He expectin’ you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then you’re not gonna see him. I suggest you leave. Or stay and enjoy the show. Up to you.”
Lucien grew tired of the runaround. He elbowed Brak in the ribs, and the Gor took a long step toward the two men. He grabbed the one who’d been talking and hoisted him off his feet, letting him dangle by one arm.
The guy cursed and yelped, making a grab for his gun, but Lucien kicked his hand and snatched the weapon for himself. He aimed it at the other goon’s head before that man could draw his weapon.
“You two are dead,” the second one gritted out.
Lucien took his gun, too, and said, “Either you can lead the way to Joe, or we can knock you both out and let you sleep it off behind the bar while we look for him ourselves.”
“I lead you to him and I lose my job. Or worse.”
“Then point the way,” Lucien said.
The man did so, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to a shadowy staircase at the back of the club.
“Thanks,” Lucien said. He passed the second gun to Brak, and the Gor gradually lowered goon number one to the floor. Lucien kept his aim on both of them as he and Brak backed toward the stairs.
He needn’t have bothered, both men turned and ran for the exit, probably thinking to get a head start on whatever retribution awaited them for failing their jobs. Lucien tried not to think too hard about that. He was on the other side of the law now; he couldn’t afford to let his conscience get in the way. At least not yet.
They reached the back stairs and Lucien gestured to Brak, indicating he should hang back. Brak nodded once, and Lucien climbed carefully, watching for more guards as he reached the landing and turned to climb the next flight of stairs. There were two more guards in plain sight, standing beside a thick metal door at the top of the stairs. Both had their weapons drawn and aimed, having somehow seen him coming.
“One more step, and you’re dead,” one of the guards said.
Lucien raised his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot,” he said. “I’m just looking for the bathroom.”
“With a gun?”
Lucien glanced at the slug thrower pistol in his hand, and flashed a grin. “It’s a dangerous joint.”
“Nice try,” the guard said as he descended the stairs. “That gun is Coretti issue, and I ain’t seen you before, meaning you stole it.”
“I’m new,” Lucien said.
“Drop the weapon.”
Lucien let it clatter to the stairs.
A fan of blue light flickered out from a padlock dangling by a gold chain around the guard’s neck. A hidden scanner. It flickered over Lucien’s face and the guard snorted. “Lucien Ortane, Chief of security for Fallside. Brutha, you must have a death wish comin’ around here. I should jus’ shoot you right now. Get myself a nice promotion.”
Lucien shrugged as if he really did have a death wish. That was when Brak made his move. Perfectly invisible but for the gun in his hand, he cold-cocked the guard still standing at the top of the stairs, and the man fell with a thump that blended perfectly with the sounds of the music below. What didn’t blend was the metallic clatter of his gun jumping down the stairs.
“What the—” The guard standing in front of Lucien half-turned to see his partner lying in a heap on the landing.
Lucien kicked the man’s hand, and the gun went flying. Then Brak reached him, and an invisible hand wrapped around the man’s throat, hoisting him into the air.
“Be nice, Brak,” Lucien said, just as the Gor de-cloaked and appeared as a naked gray wall of rippling muscle with even less claim to modesty than the dancers downstairs. Brak hissed in the guard’s face, and the man’s eyes bulged. He batted impotently at the vice around his throat.
“You’re going to kill him like that,” Lucien said. Brak brought the man down and put him in a choke hold, waiting until he sagged. Now safely unconscious, Brak set the guard down gently, and Lucien went to fetch the guard’s pistol, tucking it into the right side of his belt. It was an upgrade from the slug thrower he’d stolen from the guard downstairs.
That done, he patted down the guard, searching for a key to open the door at the top of the stairs, but all he found was an illegally-modified communicator for off-the-grid comms. He activated the device.
“Joseph Coretti, it’s Chief Ortane from Fallside. Remember me? I’ve got a business proposition for you. I’m waiting at the back door on level two of the Crack of Dawn.”
Wordlessly, Brak cloaked himself again and waited. The door at the top of the stairs burst open a moment later, revealing no less than six armed guards. These guys were carrying automatic pulse rifles. A pair of them descended the stairs while the others kept their guns trained on Lucien. As soon as they reached him, they patted him down and confiscated his two pistols; then they scanned him for good measure.
“Satisfied?” Lucien asked.
“Come on,” one of the men replied, as the two of them grabbed him by his arms and jerked him roughly up the stairs. The other four parted ranks and fanned out, making way for them to cross the threshold.
Lucien jerked his arms free of the men holding him. “What do you think I’m going to do without any weapons? It’s six against one!”
“I wouldn’t want to be you right now,” one of the men walking beside Lucien said.
The door swung shut behind him with a heavy boom, and the group led him down a shadowy corridor to another door. Upon reaching it, one man pressed the button for an old-fashioned intercom, and said, “We got him, boss.”
“Bring him in,” a familiar voice replied.
Locking bolts slid aside and they pulled the door open.
Lucien got an eyeful of a private show being put on by three fully naked girls. He glanced away, looking down at his feet.
“What’s the matter?” that same familiar voice asked. “Are you going soft on me, Lucy-lu?” The man snapped his fingers, and said, “Later, darlings.” Bare feet padded on tiles as the girls departed, and Lucien looked up into the grinning face of none other than Joseph Coretti, eldest of the three Coretti brothers. His silver eyes were glazed, and it was easy to see—and smell—why: the air was thick and glittering with smoke from glow sticks. Several smoking butts were still smoldering in an ashtray on the table beside Coretti’s throne-like chair. Glow sticks didn’t just glow from the lit end, but all along their length.
Joseph grabbed one of the longer sticks from the ashtray and took a deep drag
from it. His eyelids fluttered as he did so, and he blew out the smoke with a sigh. He turned the butt around and offered it to Lucien. “Want a taste? Our best batch yet, guaranteed.”
Lucien shook his head. “I don’t smoke. Sorry.”
Joseph frowned and raised his eyebrows. He took another drag while leaning over the ashtray and staring sideways at Lucien. “Why the frek not?” he asked, letting out another stream of smoke. “You haven’t lived until you’ve smoked glow. You officers must have a few kilos lying around that no one’s going to miss. You should roll them up and see how the other side lives. It’ll blow your mind, Lucy-lu.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Your loss,” Joseph said, shrugging as he left his glow stick smoking in the ashtray beside him. “You mentioned you have business to discuss?”
Lucien nodded. “I’d like to help you out.”
Joseph arched an eyebrow at him and smirked. “Weren’t you the guy who spent a year trying to help me out of my freedom? What are you going to help me out of now?”
Lucien explained, and pretty soon even Joe’s witless goons were glancing at each other in shock. For his part, Joseph was leaning forward in his throne, looking equal parts intrigued and outraged. The glaze had left his eyes, and they were suddenly as sharp as Brak’s teeth.
“Frekking aliens!” Joseph said. “You know how much product we lost in Fallside when they blew the place open?”
“I’m not sure I want to know,” Lucien replied.
“So what are you doing here? You should be on your way to arrest Ellis and his alien buddies right now.”
Lucien shook his head. “He’s got control of the military and the government. But what’s worse is he’s got control of the Resurrection Center. If we try to go after him head-on, he could alter our memories and wipe away our suspicions, then all we’ll get for our trouble is a bad case of amnesia.”
“So you’ve come to me for help,” Joseph said, nodding slowly and smiling. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“I do appreciate the irony, yes.”
“What are you proposing?”
“I need a bomb. Something small enough and powerful enough to sneak into the Resurrection Center. I’m going to infiltrate the center with it and hold the place ransom while I find proof that the Faros have taken over Astralis.”
Dark Space Universe (Books 1-3): The Third Dark Space Trilogy (Dark Space Trilogies) Page 55
