Shadow Soldier (The Shadow Saga)

by J. L. Lyon

  “Go on.”

  “A contact of mine in Collins’ camp has confirmed that one of the noble’s servants makes regular trips to the Alexandrian Authorizations Office—trips that coincide roughly with the dates of the suspect withdrawals you provided.”

  301 and Derek exchanged a meaningful look. Despite their enmity, their minds did tend to end up on the same page more often than not.

  “So Collins is paying for some sort of service from someone at Authorizations,” 301 observed. “Obtaining false designation papers for members of the rebellion, perhaps?”

  “Maybe,” Derek nodded. “Collins is a man who worked his way into the nobility through the slave trade, so it’s possible he sees an opportunity for redemption in giving the rebels supplies. However, I’m not sure that’s a clear enough motive to name him a benefactor. Nobles pay people off for trivial matters all the time, believe it or not.”

  “We don’t have enough for a raid, it’s true,” 301 smiled. “But a conversation, maybe.”

  “If we go in too early, we risk tipping him off to the fact that we are closing in.” Derek said. “It should be force or nothing at all, and we don’t have enough evidence to go in guns blazing just yet.”

  “With respect, sirs,” the soldier went on. “My source also said something else…I don’t know if it is significant, but the servants in Collins’ household refer to something called the ‘Zero Event.’ They say that one night he had a meeting with several other nobles, and that when he returned, it was like he was a different person. One servant swears she saw him cry…and I don’t know if you’ve ever met Collins, but…”

  “Not the kind of man to let others see him cry,” Derek nodded. “Who else was at this meeting, this Zero Event?”

  “No one knows, sir,” the soldier replied. “The meeting is not on any official document I could locate. It’s possible the nobles conducted it in secret.”

  “A violation of Systemic law,” 301 said. “Nobles are required to record their meetings and all who attend.”

  “Still just a rumor,” Derek said. “Enough to execute a common man, but not to question a noble. Is there something more?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the soldier frowned. “That was all I could find out.”

  301 saw the same look on Derek’s face that he had seen the previous two times they had come here: a look of defeat. He knew the rules of this world better than 301, but sometimes 301 wondered if he didn’t go a little too far to protect the nobles from negative scrutiny. By his count, they had more than enough to warrant suspicion in Sir Collins.

  “There’s something here, Blaine,” 301 said firmly. “Collins’ nobility does not protect him—not if he is suspected of treason.” He pressed a finger to his earphone and spoke aloud. “Get me Specter Aurora.”

  “Wait, Captain,” Derek said. “Think about what you’re doing. If we barge into the home of a noble and it turns out to be nothing, we delegitimize Specter in the eyes of the nobility.”

  “Specter’s legitimacy stems from the powers of the MWR and the Ruling Council, not the nobility.”

  “Captain,” Liz’s voice came through the earpiece. “What’s going on?”

  “I need your help with something,” 301 said, turning away from Derek and the soldier. “Specter Blaine and I have uncovered a possible lead into the rebellion’s support network. I need you to pull the files on Sir Wayne Collins and see if you can find anything out of the ordinary.”

  “I have a computer right here,” she said. “Give me a second. Anything specific I should be looking for?”

  “His servants have reported strange behavior over the past few months and a possible secret meeting with other members of the nobility. We also suspect he might be using private funds to buy false designation papers from Alexandrian Authorizations.”

  “Sounds like more than enough cause to me,” she said.

  “Blaine seems to think we need more,” 301 said wryly, turning around to give him a tepid look.

  “Okay, I’ve got his file,” she said. “Recorded activity looks pretty sparse over the past six months or so. All I’m seeing are receipt records for his dealings in the slave trade. The most recent high-profile sale was to the MWR, which I assume was for you. No meetings with nobles or members of the hierarchy that I can see…”

  “Alright then,” 301 sighed. “Patch me through to Admiral McCall, I want to take this upline before we make any—”

  “Hang on,” she interrupted. Suddenly he heard her curse.

  “What?” he asked. “Did you find something else?”

  “No,” Liz replied. “But it looks like the Great Army beat you to it. They’re dispatching a battalion to the Collins estate right now with full authority to interrogate him on suspicion of treason.”

  301 felt a rush of adrenaline come over him as he spoke his next words, “Liz, we’re going to have to move on this one immediately. If the Great Army gets there before we do, they might kill Collins before he can give up the other nobles at this meeting. Find the admiral and bring him up to speed on the situation. Then I need you and Tyrell to meet Blaine and I at the Collins estate.” He looked up at Derek, “Where is that?”

  “On the other side of central Alexandria,” Derek replied. “The rest of Specter could be there before we are.”

  “Listen, Liz: do not make yourself known until Blaine and I arrive. I want the four of us to go in to speak with Collins together, and only the four of us. Make that clear to Admiral McCall.”

  “Yes, Captain.” There was a click as she terminated the call, and 301 started for the door, “Let’s go, Blaine. The Great Army is on their way to the Collins estate right now, and unless we make it there before them this investigation is just going to end up being one more dead end.”

  “Then let me drive,” he said with a grin. “I’ll get you there in record time.”

  -X-

  After nearly half an hour of Derek driving through the city at life-threatening speeds, the military Jeep they had borrowed from the palace compound slowed to a stop a few yards from the gate to the Collins Estate. Derek turned off the engine and sighed, coming down from the adrenaline high of the trip, “Well, no sign of the Great Army yet. No sign of the others, either.”

  “Aurora got hung up at the palace for a few minutes,” 301 explained. “McCall wanted to meet with her about something.”

  “Of course he did,” Derek sneered. “I’d like to have a meeting with her myself, if you know what I mean.”

  “You should take that up with her,” 301 replied, then added sarcastically as he scoped out the estate, “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t wondered about it,” Derek laughed. “After all, why call her for help? Why not one of the others, or even go straight to the admiral? To be honest, I’d be somewhat worried if you didn’t think about it.”

  301 shook his head, “I called Aurora because this is an intelligence mission. Say what you want about her other abilities, but she’s probably the best we have in that field. We need her expertise for this. And as to the other thing,” he turned and gave Blaine a shrewd grin. “I don’t have to wonder.”

  Derek’s eyes went wide, and then he nodded as the realization dawned on him, “Oh, right. You two were in training together. But how long ago was that? Three, four years?”

  “One,” 301 said, suddenly getting a strange feeling that he and Derek were bonding. “She received orders in London and I stayed, and that was that.”

  “But you’re both here now,” Derek said. “And you are the Captain. That has to give you an advantage.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I suppose not,” he said. “You’ve moved on to beautiful enslaved brunettes now.”

  At the mention of Grace an odd feeling came over him—a sense of being out of place. He often wondered what she would think of him if she saw the things his job required him to do on a daily basis. Looking
back on all he had done—and on what he was about to do even now—he knew she would not be pleased. To her, he would be nothing less than a monster.

  But this was his life. He hadn’t chosen it—it had been handed to him, and he had done the best he could with what he had been dealt. That night he would go home to Grace, but until then there was work to be done.

  “So,” Derek said after a brief silence. “I hope you won’t take it personally if Dear Liz and I end up sharing a little bit more than training time.”

  At that moment another Jeep pulled up alongside them, with Specter Tyrell in the driver’s seat and Liz in the passenger. Derek turned his head and gave her a smooth nod, to which she replied with a look of utter disdain.

  301 choked back the laughter fighting to burst from his lungs, “Best of luck to you on that, buddy.”

  The four of them stepped out onto the pavement and Liz greeted them, “Hello, Captain.” Her tone darkened and she mumbled like a curse, “Blaine.”

  “Pleased to see you as well, Liz,” Derek smiled.

  “What did the Admiral want?” 301 asked, coming around to where she and Derek stood.

  “To give us these,” Liz handed Derek and 301 a cylindrical object, and 301 noticed that both she and Tyrell carried identical devices at their sides. He knew immediately what they were, though the design was cruder than what he was used to.

  “Spectral Gladii?” Derek asked. “But I thought—”

  “They’re just prototypes,” she explained. “McCall requested them for the final stages of combat training, but he suggested we use them as an added motivator to make Collins talk.”

  “We might need them just to get inside,” Derek said, examining the thin and foreign feel of the prototype. “Especially if our suspicions prove true. If he’s deep in the counsel of the enemy we’ll never get him to talk. The best we can hope for is to recover documentation, and we will only achieve that through swift force.”

  “Can we do that, just the four of us?” Tyrell asked.

  “Please,” Liz replied. “Of course we can. Right, Blaine?”

  “Honestly?” he looked over his shoulder toward the gate. “We’ll probably be lucky just to survive. Collins has a state of the art security detail and a slew of other defense systems I probably know nothing about. But on the other hand, I doubt any of those guards or systems have taken possible incursion by a Spectral-adept into account.”

  “So what do you say, Captain?” Tyrell asked. “Should we call for backup?”

  “No, no backup,” 301 said quickly. “And there’s no need to go in with guns blazing. We are representatives of the MWR. They have no choice but to admit us.”

  “Unless he’s guilty,” Tyrell argued. “He’ll try to run, maybe even kill us to buy more time.”

  “Only try to kill a Specter if you have plenty of time to spare,” Liz said. “Not the best plan for a quick escape. I’m with the Captain on this one. Give Collins some space and make him be the first to get aggressive—he will dig his own grave if he’s guilty.”

  “Alright then,” 301 said. “The Great Army could be here at any minute, and when they arrive our chance to get anything useful out of Collins will have expired. Let’s not waste any more time.”

  The four of them stepped out of the shadows and made their way confidently to the gates. Two stone pillars rose on either side of the cast iron door—the beginnings of a stone wall that surrounded the entire estate. 301 paused for a moment to steel himself and make sure the others were ready, and then pressed the call button.

  A section of the right-hand pillar slid away to reveal a small computer screen, upon which the stern face of an older man—the estate caretaker, no doubt—appeared. He spoke gruffly, as though they were an annoyance he needed to be rid of swiftly, “State your name and your business with the owner of this estate.”

  “I am Specter Captain 301-14-A, a royal representative of the MWR. My colleagues and I have some questions for Sir Wayne Collins, on matters that concern the collective well-being of the citizens of the World System.”

  “You do not have an appointment,” the caretaker commented. “And Sir Collins is a busy man.”

  “I understand that,” 301 said. “However, we will speak with Sir Collins one way or another. Our preference would be that this proceed without violence or loss of life, but be assured that we are well within our rights as Specters to lay siege to this estate until we get the answers we came here for. The avenue by which we receive them I leave to the discretion of your master.”

  The caretaker paused, likely to await orders from Collins—who was undoubtedly monitoring the entire conversation. He sighed as though caving, “Very well. But only one of you may enter the estate. The rest must wait outside the gate.”

  “No,” 301 shook his head. “We will all be admitted through the gate. I will post one man at the door to the mansion. The rest will be present for the questioning.”

  “Then Sir Collins must warn you that a detail of ten guards will also be present at the questioning.”

  “Our line of interest is classified, and cannot be heard by anyone except—”

  “These are the terms, Specter Captain, unless you will agree to ours.”

  301 sighed—they didn’t exactly have unlimited time to bargain. He exchanged a glance with Liz and Blaine before answering, “This is my final offer: one man at the door, with my other two colleagues in the foyer waiting with your guards. I alone will speak with Sir Collins.”

  Another pause, and then the caretaker smiled, “We accept these terms, Specter Captain. You will be received at the inner gate.” The pillar compartment slid shut, and the gates clicked as they unlocked and swung inward, giving them access to the estate.

  301 led the way with Derek and Liz close behind. Tyrell remained back a few paces, constantly looking over his shoulder for fear of an attack. 301 didn’t believe Collins meant to attack them, but he could feel eyes watching their every move, and it did not help knowing that they most likely watched through the sights of sniper rifles. Specters or not, a silent bullet from afar would prove unavoidable, and if Collins wished to kill them this would be the time when they were most vulnerable.

  But then again, he didn’t yet know why they had come. Perhaps he still held on to hope that they believed him loyal to the World System. Perhaps, 301 thought dryly, He isn’t guilty of treason at all.

  Derek must have felt the tension as well. As they passed the halfway point between the outer and inner gates, he whispered from 301’s right, “Weapons out or in, Captain?”

  “They have been forthcoming so far,” 301 replied. “A display of force will only tip our hand and make us easy targets. Let it all play out for now, and wait for my signal. Liz, how long until the Great Army gets here?”

  “The Fourteenth Army mobilized an entire company,” she replied in a whisper. “So with the time it would take to muster their forces and get here minus the time we’ve already lost, I’d say we have ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

  An ominous crash rang out behind them. The outer gate had shut, barring any chance at a quick escape. 301 moved forward in silence and ignored the sensation of his instincts screaming for them to turn back. Visions of his men lying dead all around him, killed after he led them straight into an ambush, flashed in his mind’s eye. Was he now making the very same mistake?

  Fortunately they reached the inner gate without resistance. It opened as they approached, and the man they had seen on the screen stepped forward into the daylight with two heavily armed guards, “I’m going to have to ask you to relinquish your weapons.”

  Derek stifled a derisive laugh.

  “That wasn’t the arrangement,” 301 said cordially. “We understand this to be a meeting of mutual trust. Either we keep our weapons, or your men give up theirs…and since we can’t be sure that you hand over all your weapons and reveal all your guards, we will not lay down our only means of protection.”

 
; “Then we will shoot you.”

  “By all means,” 301 smiled. “Try it.”

  The old man took a moment to weigh his options, and made strong note of the cylinders each of them carried at their sides. Derek’s feet shifted uncomfortably, and 301 knew he planned to strike at the slightest sign of aggression. But then the man shrugged his shoulders and gave in with a sigh, “Very well then, Specter Captain. Follow me.”

  Flashing a triumphant look in Derek’s direction, 301 complied. They strode beneath the arched inner wall and were in shade for a few seconds before they stepped back out into the sun. The front door of the mansion loomed straight ahead and, as 301 expected, the noble’s home did not hold a candle to that of the Blaines. Still, it was more luxurious than any place he had lived before the palace.

  Two more guards—equally armed—waited at the door, and they were hesitant to allow the Specters to enter with the old man. “Step aside,” he said. “These are members of Specter, representatives of the MWR.”

  301 thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in the caretaker’s voice, but couldn’t be certain. The tension of the moment could be playing tricks with his mind, making him wary of things that didn’t warrant suspicion. But then, he had already seen more weapons than he had during their entire time at the Blaine mansion. What did Collins need so much protection from in this, the System’s most heavily guarded city? Something was not quite right.

  “Tyrell,” 301 turned in the doorway. “Stay here and guard the door. Alert us if there are any complications.”

  Tyrell nodded. “Understood, Captain.” The Specter breathed out a sigh of relief as he took up his post, and 301 couldn’t blame him—it was obvious that the four of them were not welcome guests.

  The doors to the mansion swung open at the caretaker’s command, and 301 entered with Derek and Liz close at his heels. He took a moment to observe the foyer, complete with ornate crown molding and a massive chandelier that hung from the high ceiling. Like the homes of other nobles he had been privileged to visit during their hitherto fruitless investigation, the foyer was filled with a significant amount of useless furniture—objects that served no purpose in themselves, but declared the estate’s owner powerful enough to indulge in luxury simply for luxury’s sake. 301 estimated that the foyer was larger than the entire first floor of the Capital Orphanage, in which up to thirty children might live at a time. The thought that this space was never used for anything more than walking from the door to another room made him sick.