by Cary Caffrey
"Seeg, we know bugger all about this place. He could be anywhere."
"This is it, Suko. I know it. He'll be there. Wereme, Jones—whatever his name is—he didn't go through all this for us not to find him. And if the chairman's right, if he really wants us where he's strongest, then that's here."
Miranda turned and leaned on the desk. "I can have five tickets booked on the TGV to New Shēnzhèn tomorrow morning."
"No," Sigrid said. "We're leaving tonight. I want to see this factory, Ms. Kane. I want to see it as soon as possible."
Miranda considered the order. "They'll still be expecting Catherine Cartwright. I'll need to reschedule—it might take some time, but that shouldn't be a problem."
"Good. I'll trust you to make the necessary arrangements."
"Trust?" Miranda said. Sigrid caught the bemused grin. "I was starting to wonder if that word was even in your vocabulary. Looks like we're making progress."
"Just…get it done."
"Of course."
"So what's the plan, anyway?" Leta asked. "How we play it?"
"We'll need transportation," Sigrid said. "Something faster—and more practical."
"Right. Practical. No worries. Got just the thing in mind."
"Leta…"
Leta held up her hands. "Hey, it's me!"
With that, the girls were on their feet, readying themselves, preparing.
As they did, Sigrid took Trudy by the arm, leading her aside. "Sorry, Trudy. Not you. You're staying here."
"What!" Trudy's lip practically quivered at the announcement. "How come I have to stay? Sigrid, don't leave me behind. I want to help."
"And you will help. I need you to be our overwatch. I want you to use Miranda's satellites to monitor us from here—you can coordinate with Selene and the Morrigan, and…" Sigrid turned to look at the Council chairman; he was busying himself, pouring another drink. "… and you can keep an eye on him. If he tries anything, if he even looks at you funny—"
"Kill him?" Trudy asked hopefully.
"Well, I was going to say restrain him. But that will do."
While Sigrid and Trudy combed over the map, plotting their insertion into the factory, Miranda slipped away into her bedroom. Taking care not to make a sound, she closed the door behind her, leaned heavily against it, and let out a very long, slow breath. She was alive—by some miracle. But she was painfully aware this mission was only just getting started.
Slowly, she began the arduous task of undressing, struggling to pull off the heavy work clothes. Every muscle in her body ached. Her leg throbbed where the Tansho girl had cut her; the wound wasn't deep, but would need tending to. Leaning on the dresser, Miranda caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was a filthy mess, thoroughly exhausted, spent, yet those girls out there seemed none the worse for it, and ready for more. Even Novak, and she'd been stabbed, carved, and damn near electrocuted. How these girls managed was beyond her. They were driven, completely single-minded in their determination. More than that, Miranda was convinced: they were very, very dangerous.
Miranda spied the en suite, was tempted by the bath, but she doubted there was time. There was too much to do.
Opening the dresser drawers, she began pulling out clothes for the operation. It was time for Catherine Cartwright to be reborn. She took out the green skirt and blouse, laying them flat—winced as she felt the hand clamp onto her shoulder, strong fingers digging deep into her neck.
She hadn't heard the girl come in, hadn't heard Suko come up next to her.
Suko leaned toward her, her hand like a vice on Miranda's shoulder, squeezing hard.
"Do you know why you're coming with us on this operation, Ms. Kane?"
Miranda struggled against the grip, but it was useless. "Sigrid needs me. She needs my help. She trusts me."
"Sigrid might trust you, but I don't. I'm only allowing you to come for one reason. If any harm should come to her, if you betray her, I'll kill you."
Miranda opened her mouth. "But Ms. Novak—"
"—will not be able to stop me. Remember that, Ms. Kane. Cross her, and I'll kill you. Do you believe me?"
Miranda swallowed, slowly. "Yes. Yes, I believe you."
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Machines
October 18, 2348
Major Karl Tarsus walked quickly toward the med-lab; the footfalls of the two soldiers at his side in their mechanized armor echoed through the corridor. He reached the end, pushing through the double doors with such force they banged hard against the wall.
A sea of medical beds lay in neat rows. Seventy-two beds in all, all of them occupied, all of the subjects on them fully unconscious, deep in their sleep cycle. They would remain this way for two hundred and sixty hours, nearly two full weeks. This latest group was entirely female. Tarsus didn't need to ask why. Things had not gone well for the men. He shuddered at the memory, the images of their twisted corpses still fresh in his mind.
The technicians in the lab looked up sharply as Tarsus passed between them; none so sharply as Dr. Farrington, who stormed toward him.
"You can't be in here," Farrington said. "You'll disturb the cycle. We can't risk waking them, not yet."
Tarsus pushed past him, nearly knocking him from his feet. He wasn't here for Farrington. It was Jones he was after.
Harry Jones stood at the end of the last row. He was hunched over the silvery form of the cryochamber—the very same one brought from earth. Tarsus doubted he'd left the thing's side since he arrived days earlier.
Jones didn't bother to look up, continuing with his work. "Are they all dead?" Harry Jones asked.
"One survived," Tarsus said, furious. He knew that Jones was fully aware of what had happened in Portside. The question was only meant to embarrass him.
"And the information?" Jones asked. "Was it retrieved?"
"No, the transmission was cut off at the source. But this—this could have all been avoided."
"Oh?" Harry Jones finally turned away from the chamber to face him. "And how is that, Mr. Tarsus."
Tarsus shot a look back at the rows of beds, the subjects resting there. "You should have given us more."
"Yet you assured us the three you sent would be enough. As to the others, Dr. Farrington says they're not ready."
"They're not," Dr. Farrington spat. "The sleep cycle cannot be interrupted."
"We don't have a choice," Tarsus said. "They're coming. It's only a matter of time. The betas will have to be brought online."
"How many?" Harry Jones asked.
Tarsus stared back at the rows of beds. "All of them."
Farrington threw his arms up in frustration. "Do either of you have any idea what it is we're doing here? It took a team of Kimuran technicians nearly a decade to integrate their systems into their subjects. It is a slow, painstaking process. It's also completely inefficient. What took them ten years, I can now accomplish in weeks. Is that not fast enough for you?"
"You haven't accomplished anything yet, Doctor," Harry Jones reminded him. "You have yet to bring one subject successfully to activation. Or have you forgotten?"
"Which is precisely why you can't interrupt the cycle," Farrington shot back.
"We need this group," Tarsus said. "We need them now."
"No." Farrington shook his head. "Impossible. They won't survive. Not all of them. It's too soon."
"But some will survive," Tarsus said, pressing his point.
"Then take Wolsey's. Take the alphas. I'm sure he's managed to keep at least a few of them alive."
Tarsus banged his fist against the lid of the cryochamber—an action that didn't go unnoticed by the man at his side. Tarsus was frustrated. Furious. Tired of this whole affair. Tired of explaining military operations to a group of lab-coats.
But it was Harry Jones who came to his aid.
"Dr. Farrington," Harry Jones said. "I think we should heed Mr. Tarsus's advice. Activate them. Do it. And do it now."
CHAPTER TWENTY
The
Factory
October 21, 2348
"The checkpoint is up ahead," Miranda said. "You better pull over here. Once we cross that street, security will pick us up. They don't appreciate any unscheduled traffic."
Sigrid pointed to a free spot at the side of the road; Leta pulled on the steering column and guided their car—a sleek, black limousine—into the waiting space. Where Leta had found the limousine was one question, but the chauffeur's uniform was something else. The black outfit was easily two sizes too small, the scant material struggling to contain Leta's feminine curves. On the bright side, Sigrid supposed the guards might be less likely to scrutinize their falsified gate passes.
It was dark now and starting to rain. Small droplets splattered against the windshield. Few street lamps appeared to be working here. The ones that were lit cast long shadows, leaving most of the street in darkness. There was very little ground traffic and even fewer pedestrians. That would be a problem. With no crowds to blend in with, any guards watching the streets would surely see them coming.
They could go no further.
Sigrid checked her sidearms again and pulled the straps of her weapons belt and harness tight. From here she would proceed on her own.
"You don't have to do this," Suko said. "I'm not happy about you going in alone."
"Trust me. Neither am I. But, since I'm the only one who can do this…"
Sigrid engaged her shroud, shimmering and disappearing beside her.
Miranda let out a startled yelp, clutching a hand to her chest. Sigrid allowed the shroud to fade. Her point had been made, but Miranda continued to stare. "I'm sorry. I don't think I'll get used to that. And only you can do that?"
"For the moment." Sigrid keyed her comlink, testing the connection. "Trudy, are you with us?"
"I'm here. I've got a perfect view. I'll be with you all the way. Oh, and tell the agent this tech rocks."
Sigrid chuckled. "I'll tell her, Trudy. Stand by."
"Remember," Miranda cautioned. "These corporates are paranoid bastards. They might be expecting Catherine Cartwright, but they're not expecting the rest of you. You'll only have a moment to upload our security clearance. If we're not logged into the system, all hell's sure to break loose."
"Don't worry, I'll keep to the schedule," Sigrid said.
"Good. Because once we're at the gate there's no turning back. I'm afraid our fate will be in your hands."
Suko leaned toward Miranda, who had no choice but to lean away. "She said she'll keep to the schedule," Suko said. Then she turned to Sigrid. "But, ah, don't be late. Our fate is in your hands."
Sigrid patted her cheek. "Don't worry. I'll only be a moment. If the security system is as Agent Kane described—"
"It is," Miranda said.
"Then I'll see you inside. Be ready."
Suko grabbed her by the collar and pulled her briefly back into the car, just long enough to plant a firm kiss on her mouth. "Now, no dying while you're in there. You know I'll kill you if you do."
"I love you too."
Sigrid closed the door and stepped away from the curb, moving into the shadows at the side of the road even as she engaged her cloak. The walls of the factory enclave loomed ahead of her—twelve meters of blackened, filthy permacrete. Guard towers framed the security gate, more appearing at intervals along the wall. Sigrid saw the men at their posts, walking their patrols in the street. Armed with assault rifles, they carried these slung ready on their chests. Despite their fearsome appearance, the guards strolled the grounds casually. Sigrid sensed their boredom, and they took little care to scan the grounds around them.
But the guards were not her concern. Her scanners picked up the array of automated detectors that lined the perimeter. Sensors embedded in the ground fed a constant stream of data to watchful eyes, scanning and analyzing. Any person or vehicle not in the system or properly authorized would set off any number of alarms.
The rain fell harder now, a rare summer shower that turned quickly into a torrential downpour. Water was already pooling along the ground. Sigrid took care not to disturb the standing water in the larger puddles. The gates were just ahead—one guard post and only a handful of men on duty.
Her infrared scans picked up the wandering tendrils of the motion detectors, and she took care to keep clear. The guards would not see her, shrouded as she was, but a simple splash or misstep could raise the alarm.
Sigrid felt the gentle nudge in her head—Trudy calling her.
"Trucks."
Sigrid heard the warning and stepped back, retreating further into the shadows. A pair of hulking ground lorries trundled up to the gates from the inside, drawing the focus of the guards away as they tended to the drivers. The break in the monotony was over all too quickly as the guards waved the trucks through.
The two transports exited the metal gates and thundered toward her.
Sigrid took care to keep out of their way. Stepping to one side, she pressed her back up against the retaining wall, giving the behemoth transports as wide a berth as she could. Invisible or not, the cloak would do little to protect her should she be squashed beneath the trucks' two-meter-high, studded wheels.
Nor did it save her from being thoroughly soaked. Sigrid had to stifle a scream as the first of the transports found the largest of the puddles in the road and sent wave after filthy wave of oily water crashing over her.
"Nice," Sigrid said.
Sigrid waited until the trucks turned the corner ahead before moving on. Her PCM warned her of the drain on her systems; she had never held the cloak this long, but she required the services of the program for just a few seconds more.
The last of the barriers was ahead. The walls near the gates were lower here, standing only five meters tall.
Sigrid unslung the thin cord at her waist and attached the grappling claw to the hook on the end. With a quick spin, she tossed the claw upward, gently guiding its trajectory toward the top of the wall five meters above her. In a blink, she was up and over, scaling the wall in three easy strides before lowering herself to drop silently down into the factory complex beyond.
The hook and line retracted automatically, coiling back into her belt. Only then did she allow the cloak to fade.
Here on the inside, Sigrid was confronted with the true nature of the factory's design. Everything from the thick walls topped with razor wire to the suicide-netting slung beneath the armored windows of the tenements—it was all designed to keep the indentured workers in rather than keeping the riffraff out.
The factory enclave was little more than a forced-labor camp, a thoroughly enclosed and self-contained community. The workers were housed in company billets, shopped at company stores, and consumed the company's goods—paid for, of course, with the company's own corporate currency. All this to ensure the workers would never free themselves of their indebtedness to their masters.
Sigrid knew how easily she might have ended up in such a facility. She would have, had Lady Hitomi not found her.
These places were ugly, bleak and thoroughly depressing. Sigrid was eager to be rid of it.
Even as Trudy chimed her warning, Sigrid's sensors alerted her to the two guards approaching from the other side of the tenement.
There was little room between the perimeter wall and the bricked wall of the tenement and nowhere to hide. The guards were close now; she saw them shuffling around the corner, walking towards her. It would be a simple matter to dispatch them. But there was no need for violence. Not here. These guards were no threat.
Still drained from the recent use of her cloak, Sigrid leapt up, grabbing hold of the lowest rung of the tenement's escape ladder more than a meter above. She hoisted herself up, swinging her legs up and over her head into a simple handstand—and instantly regretted it. The crumbling mortar that held the ladder and fire escape in place gave way, sending a shower of pebbles and dust down.
The ladder creaked and groaned; Sigrid was certain the whole thing would come crashing down. She cursed her
clumsiness. She should have scanned the soundness of the structure.
But neither of the guards noticed. They continued their patrol, passing by beneath her, not bothering to look up even as more of the crumbling mortar gave way. She couldn't help but wonder at the training of these men. Her Academy instructors would not have tolerated such lackadaisical behavior—nor her own recent clumsiness, she reminded herself.
Something caught her eye. Steadying herself, she climbed from the ladder to the metal steps leading up the sides of the tenement. Again, she saw it—the movement inside. Two small eyes peered out at her from behind the armored glass of the window.
It was a child! They were employing children as laborers.
Sigrid climbed further up until they faced each other. The child seemed unperturbed at the sight of her, with little interest in raising the alarm. He was a boy of no more than eight or nine. He stared at her, his face pressed up against the glass. Sigrid raised her hand and waved. The boy waved back.
There were more children inside. Sigrid scanned the dormitory. She counted over eighty children crowded into this room alone. They lay stacked on narrow bunks, with little room for anything other than lying absolutely flat.
These children would live here, grow up here. Sigrid knew they would die here. And there was absolutely nothing she could do. She had a mission to perform and a schedule to keep. The others would move on the gate in less than seven minutes.
Silently, Sigrid vaulted over the railing to land back on the ground. The guards were long gone, and Sigrid made her way quickly through the maze of buildings, back toward the security tower and the main gate. She only needed to engage her cloak once as she reached a crowded intersection. More trucks and men moved about here; Sigrid avoided all of them. If anyone had bothered to look closely, they might have seen the briefest of shimmers, one more stray shadow lost amongst the traffic. But no one did.
There was a door on the main level, but the open window on the third floor proved more tempting. Sigrid scaled the wall easily, pulling herself up and over the sill.
Only once she was inside and certain she was alone did she allow the shroud to fade. But she couldn't rest. Moving quickly down the hall, she found the room she sought. Two security men manned their stations as they monitored traffic in and out of the main entrance. Neither of them looked up as Sigrid entered soundlessly behind them.
