by J. N. Chaney
I keyed it in, and the drones began their descent.
It only took them a few seconds to reach the vehicles, and when they did, the little bots used their onboard flamethrowers to send a wave of fire at the vehicle.
A second later, the first car swerved, cut right, and then flipped, rolling over and over again, so much that I thought it might not end.
The second car didn’t have time to stop. It swerved right and left the road, surviving a few seconds before it hit a bump and spun around, crushing its side into a light fixture.
The third vehicle had time to dodge both its disabled comrades and continue the pursuit of Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine.
Not for long.
All three drones convened on the last remaining vehicle, immediately unloading what remained of their incendiary liquid in a single, bloody burst. The fire covered the glass, blocking the driver’s view, and while I couldn’t see much from all the light and smoke, the result was about to become very clear.
The vehicle slammed into the wall of a nearby bar, exploding dust and debris into the air and sending people screaming into the street.
In seconds, my team veered off into another road, escaping the busy intersection. On my orders, they quickly filed into an alleyway. “Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine, proceed to the evac point. You know the drill.”
“Thanks, Station! That was some amazing work with the drones.”
I cringed at the compliment but didn’t respond. In case of situations like this, we tried to have multiple exit strategies in place. They weren’t always available, especially off-world, but this job had taken place in our city, so we had everything from drones to additional pick-up locations. Once they were out of their vehicle, I’d kill the cab remotely, and the two of them would hike it to another transport. A different make and a different model.
I turned my attention back to the other cars. No sign of movement from the first, but the second had its door open, and I could see someone on the grass, lying on their stomach.
“Sorry,” I whispered. I didn’t know these people, and honestly, I had no idea whether they deserved any of this, but they’d been protecting a very dangerous man, and that had put them here on my screen.
I touched my comm, changing the channel. “Number One, are you there?”
“I am, Twenty-Nine, what’s the status?” Mulberry asked, his gruff voice sounding ragged.
Over the last year, my ranking in the organization had grown, but that was true of almost everyone. Mulberry believed competition bred success, although I didn’t find myself wanting to outperform anyone. I just did what I was told and tried my best. The added rank had happened on its own.
“Complications have been dealt with,” I said. “Operatives are clear and coming home.”
Mulberry sighed. “I want you and the two operatives reporting to me first thing in the morning.”
“Understood,” I answered.
I ended the connection and looked back into the scope. Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine were already on the move, leaving the alley and heading away.
Given tonight’s bungle, I wondered what Mulberry would say to them tomorrow.
Whatever it was, I just hoped I didn’t get wrapped up in their stupidity.
Mulberry hadn’t been kidding about wanting to see us first thing in the morning. I’d barely gotten four hours of sleep before my comm crackled with the old man calling me to his office. Alonso and Bart were already there, fidgeting in the seats in front of the oak desk.
Tension hung thick in the air. Mulberry looked calm, but I sensed an undercurrent of anger in him, simmering just below the surface. I sat as far in the corner as I could manage, trying to stay away from the impending storm.
“Now that we’re all here, let’s get started,” he said. “Alonso, tell me what happened at the target’s apartment.”
I looked away. The sight of the two of them still made me sick.
Alonso sat up straight in his chair. “The schematics said that the best point of entry was through the back, boss. The building didn’t have a service elevator, but it did have a service staircase that doubled as an emergency exit. We took that and—”
“He wasn’t even home!” Bart blurted out. “The intel was all wrong!”
They both looked at me like it was my fault.
I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”
“Well, ain’t it true?” asked Alonso. “The file you gave us says the target was supposed to be home inside his study. We checked everywhere.”
“I see,” I said, trying to keep my calm. “And exactly what time did you arrive?”
They both looked at each other. “Fifteen after seven,” said Bart.
I let out a sigh as my eyes turned to Mulberry. The old man shook his head at the two boys.
Their eyes widened. “But the report said he’d be home!” exclaimed Alonso.
“No,” I answered. “It said eight. He’d be home after eight. He went out tonight with a woman to a show, but we expected him home between eight and nine.”
The two of them were dumbstruck, probably lost as to how they could so royally screw everything up.
I checked my pad. “But that’s not the worst of it,” I continued. “The alarm wasn’t even triggered by his security team or anyone else in the vicinity. It was automatic.”
“What?” asked Alonso.
I blinked at him, looking bored. “You forgot to disable the system. It was a built-in alarm in his study. You tripped it when you went inside. I typed all of this in your file, including how to disable it.”
Mulberry nodded, leaning farther back in his seat as he turned his attention back to Alonso. “Gods alive,” he said, crossing his arms. “You two idiots really butchered this job. Talk about a fucking pair. You’re both suspended for the next month. Docked pay. I’d strip more of your rank if you weren’t already at the bottom of the list, but since I can’t, I’ll just have to find something else to motivate you.”
“B-but, sir!” Alonso begged.
“Out!” snapped Mulberry, snapping his fingers and pointing towards the door.
The pair got to their feet and quickly ran to the exit like they were escaping. “As for you,” said Mulberry, turning his eyes on me. He paused, letting a slight smirk slide across his cheek. “Nice work.”
I smiled in return and gave a simple nod. “Just doing my job.”
“And a fine job it is,” he replied.
I got to my feet, feeling fairly good about myself, and made my way into the hall.
As I neared the corner, heading to my room, I heard a voice call out from behind me.
“Hey, wait up!” Alonso shouted.
My stomach dropped at the sound of his voice and the heavy footfalls of him jogging to catch up with me. I stopped and briefly closed my eyes, trying to compose myself.
“Abigail, hey,” he said, walking up to me. “I wanna word about what you said in there.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Just a word?”
He shrugged. “We’re all on the same team here, but you threw us to the dogs. What’s your problem? What did I do to you?”
“I have a lot of work to do,” I said, not wanting to get into all of this right now. “So maybe another time.”
I turned around, moving to make my exit.
“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it. It’s not like you could do what we do. I heard about how you choked in the field, so they put you on the desk. Makes sense you’d be jealous, I guess. Hey, are you listening to me?”
I was already walking, knowing that if I stayed a second longer, I might do something I’d regret.
“I’m talking to you, you little idiot!” Alonso barked, and suddenly, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder.
He really shouldn’t have done that.
I spun around, immediately bunching my shoulders and bringing my fists up. I let him fall forward, towards me and launched my knee into his belly.
He wheezed, gasping for the precious air I
’d stolen from him. “You fucking bit—”
I cut him off, stepping in close and grabbing his shoulders with both hands, quickly raising him with my side and slamming him to the floor with a firm hip toss.
“I see why you’re Number Thirty-Eight,” I muttered, drawing my sidearm and flicking the safety off with my thumb.
I didn’t always carry my weapon around the complex with me, but I’d been planning to head to the range after the meeting.
Lucky me.
Bart came running from down the hall, but he stopped when he saw his friend on the floor and my barrel aimed at his face. Bart’s eyes widened at the sight of me.
“Back up,” I ordered, and Bart immediately complied, raising his hands and moving away.
“Hey! Okay! Geez!” he stuttered.
“I said back up!” I snapped, and he jumped a few steps away from me. I kept my gun on him until he was several meters into the hall, giving me enough space to get closer to Alonso.
I leaned in and pressed my barrel into his shoulder—the same shoulder that Clem had dug a knife into years ago. “Come near me again, and I’ll kill you both,” I said almost in a whisper. “No one will care. Better yet, no one will know. You’re both already on everyone’s shit-list. Remember that.”
He groaned in response.
I shot a quick look at Bart as he took a step back.
“Oh,” I said just before leaving. “And not that it matters, but I volunteered for the desk.”
I kept my composure for as long as it took for me to go around a corner. After that, I started moving faster, practically running for my room. Our room. The only place I felt truly at peace in the whole world.
Once I reached it, I stepped in and closed the door behind me. I pressed my back into it, sinking down with the gun still in my hand, and closed my eyes.
I wasn’t crying, but that sick, nauseated feeling didn’t lift. I didn’t think it would for a while. It wasn’t for them. They were assholes who were too used to having their own way.
This was something else, and it didn’t take me long to realize that what I had just done—well, it felt good.
A thrill and excitement pulsed through me. Had I missed using this weapon so much that the mere taste sent endorphins through my brain?
Or was it something more, perhaps? Vindication? Retribution?
Justice?
I sighed, leaning back against the door, tapping my head lightly against the hard surface.
“I need a fucking shower,” I whispered to myself.
16
A week had passed since the meeting with Mulberry, Alonso, and Bart, and I found myself back in the field on another case. Mulberry granted my request to leave the compound and the desk, giving me the ability to go outside and perform a little reconnaissance.
There were reports this target spent a few nights a week at a mistress’s residence off-site, so I made a note to find where the woman lived to see if there wasn’t a better shot at him there.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe research and intelligence was my true calling. I liked studying. I liked finding out about the targets. Reading up on the various worlds across Union space wasn’t as good as actually visiting them, but I didn’t have to kill anyone with my own hands, and I also didn’t have to sit behind a desk and stare at a screen.
Instead, I was back in the field, armed with a pad and a camera instead of a rifle, although I still brought one with me for emergencies. This was a challenging job, but I decided I liked it as soon as I started, and I never wanted to go back.
I looked over the complex, seeking out the motion detectors and cameras.
My job right now was to chart a safe path for anyone who needed to infiltrate the area.
Were the patrols infrequent? How many cameras? Did the alarms connect to the city grid? If so, we could hack them. If not, we’d have to get around them. No matter the problem, our people had the resources and knowledge to always get the job done. I made another note about the fence and then moved on.
The security for this building wasn’t available to the public, so it was my job to gather whatever I could and report back.
I found the woman’s address. It was a proper house, which immediately made it a better option. I started looking over the home’s infrastructure. Nothing serious regarding security. It had a simple intruder alarm that alerted the local authorities with a call box located outside the house.
Simple enough to disable.
I leaned back with a scowl. The analyst working this mission should have identified the house as the best option instead of making me run straight for the target’s work building. It would have saved us all some time.
I keyed in the information and sent it back to the analyst. They’d relay the data to the field agent, and that would be the end of it. My job was done.
I got to my feet and took off for the transit terminal. It would take me a few hours to get home, which was why I’d brought my pad with me. Plenty of time to read. This was the best the part.
“Miss Abigail?” came a voice from the other side of my door.
I opened it, just waking up, and scratched the side of my jaw. Standing there nervously was a smallish boy that looked like he was about fifteen years old, with red hair and freckles. Since I didn’t recognize him, I had to assume he was a trainee and fresh off the street.
“How can I help you?” I asked.
“Miss Pearl said Mr. Pryar needs to speak with you. He’s on your personal line,” said the boy.
I nodded. “Thanks.”
He ran off as I walked to the side table and retrieved my comm from the drawer, placing it in my ear while taking a moment to stretch. I connected to the secure channel.
“Abigail, is that you?” asked Mulberry.
I could already tell something was wrong. His voice and tone were off, almost scratchy.
“Yes, it is. What seems to be the problem?” I instinctively pressed at my earpiece to hear more clearly.
I’d seen Mulberry in a lot of moods. Angry, emotionless, even happy on a few occasions. But I’d never heard him sound jumpy, and it made me nervous.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
I saw the door was still open, so I quickly shut it and walked all the way back to my bed. “I am now. What’s going on?”
“It’s Mable,” he said flatly.
I paused at the sound of her name. “Sister Mable?”
I wasn’t sure what else to say. It had been years since I saw her last, but not a day went by that I didn’t wonder how she was doing.
“That’s the one,” he said. “She’s still at the orphanage, far as I’m aware. I need you to find her and bring her to the complex as fast as you can.”
I frowned. “What’s going on, Mulberry? Is she in danger?”
He sighed. “I just had a conversation with one of my old contacts. There’s—” His voice dropped for a second, and I wondered if I’d lost him, but he simply cleared his throat. “There’s a contract out on her.”
My eyes widened. “W-what?”
“She wasn’t always part of the Church, Abby. She used to work with me, even before I started this place when we were young and stupid. We both slipped up, but she went straight, changed her name, tried to live a better life. That’s the real story to it, but someone’s found out about her.”
I tried to process what I was hearing, but it was too much, too fast. Images of the woman I knew raced through my mind, each of them clashing with the revelation before me—she had been an assassin like me and Mulberry. How could someone so gentle ever be a part of this life?
“Look,” he said, his voice calming a little. “I’m off-planet. I can’t get home until tomorrow at the latest, and this hit is supposed to happen sometime over the next three days. I need you to find Mable and bring her back right away. Can you do that?”
I paused for a second. “Isn’t she prepared for this sort of thing? She must have a way out of there.”
“I have reason to believe her safehouse is exposed. I’m sure she could handle herself in the Church, but there will be a team waiting for her when she arrives at the dead drop. We need to get to her before she leaves the church, or we risk letting her walk right into an ambush.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “I follow, sir,” I assured him, already grabbing my shoes.
“Call me when it’s done,” he said, sounding relieved. “Take the fastest shuttle we have.” There was a short pause. “And don’t call the orphanage, whatever you do. The lines are likely being monitored and will only cause us problems. No matter what, we can’t compromise our ability to protect her. That means—”
“I can’t let anyone see who I am,” I finished.
“If they do, you can’t let them walk away,” he replied.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll authorize whatever expenses you make. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going or why. If they ask, have them call me directly. I’ll have my comm with me at all times. Get this shit done, Abby, and do it fast.”
“I understand,” I said, heading for the door.
I broke into a jog on my way to the armory. I picked up a pistol with a suppressor, a few smoke grenades, and my old combat suit. It had been a while since I’d used the uniform, but if there was a team coming for Sister Mable, I wasn’t going to take any chances.
On the way to the shuttle bay, I made a requisition to release one for my use. After a quick authorization from Mulberry, I stepped into the craft and primed the engines. I glanced down at my hip to see the smoke grenade, wondering if I should have brought it but shrugged and decided it couldn’t hurt.
While the turbines spun up, I slipped on my suit and a fresh set of clothes to conceal the armor. Everything was a little more snug than usual, but I didn’t mind it. For whatever reason, the suit felt natural, like I’d somehow missed it.
As the ship lifted off the ground and launched into the air, nervousness washed over my chest, flushing my cheeks. This was the first time I was returning to the orphanage, and the first time I would see Sister Mable—and for some reason, I found that aspect of the mission more frightening than the rest.
