Messenger

by James Walker

  He pointed.

  “I'll take care of it,” Pierson said, and departed.

  A minute later, he was back, now toting an extra pistol in his other hand. He gestured to the P.S.A. agents. “Your friend is waiting for you. Now beat it. Don't bother returning to your vehicles. I slit the tires.”

  One of the agents exclaimed, “You're making us walk through gang-infested territory with no weapons?”

  “Better leave now, while I'm still in a good mood,” Pierson replied.

  “Are you sure it's OK to let them go?” Eliot asked.

  “What will they say?” Pierson replied. “That they ran into a group of illegally armed colonists? This entire district is crawling with them. They can't tell their superiors anything they don't already know.”

  “You're the boss,” Eliot shrugged.

  Pierson sent the P.S.A. agents off, then returned to the parking lot. Once he was back, he and Eliot made their way over to the lanky man. Cena started for the woman, and Vic followed behind.

  “Are you all right?” Pierson asked. “Did they hurt you badly?”

  The instant Pierson and Eliot drew within range, the man sprang to his feet, grabbed Pierson by the wrists, and squeezed, forcing him to drop his guns. Eliot jerked his pistol up and fired, but his opponent kicked the gun out of his hands, causing the shot to miss. In that instant of distraction, Pierson tackled the lanky man, and all three of them fell to the ground in a heap.

  At the same time, the blonde woman's foot lashed out and knocked Vic's gun out of his hands. Cena leveled her gigantic revolver at the woman, who immediately grabbed Cena's wrist and pulled her in close to grapple her.

  As the two of them struggled in close combat, Vic ran to his gun and swept it off the ground. He tried to take aim at the woman, but she maneuvered Cena into his line of fire. The next instant, Cena flew toward Vic and struck him with the force of a cannonball. Their guns flew out of their hands as they fell to the ground in a tangle.

  They scrambled to their feet and found that their opponent had already crossed the distance to them. They spread out to either side of their diminutive enemy and attacked her with a flurry of strikes. She deflected every attack with practiced ease, then caught Cena's forearm, pulled her down, and leapt onto her back, knocking her to the ground.

  Vic lashed out with a low kick, intending to sweep the woman's legs out from under her. She used Cena as a springboard to leap over Vic's kick, her forceful jump taking her all the way over his head. As she dropped upon him, he tried to punch her in midair, where she could not dodge. He could only watch in astonishment as, still airborne, she caught his forearm with both hands and used his arm as a pivot to swing around and strike him in the side of the head with her heels.

  The force of the blow almost knocked Vic out. For several moments he could do nothing but lie on the ground with stars dancing in his eyes. Finally, as his vision came back into focus, he saw the woman grabbing a shoulder holster and pistol off the ground and strapping them on. Cena lay at her feet, moaning in pain. Behind them, the lanky man stood with one foot planted on a prone Eliot, while simultaneously keeping Pierson pinned in a submission hold.

  “What the?” Vic pushed himself into a sitting position, then his head swam and he fell onto his back. “Who the hell are these people?”

  “They're obviously augments,” Pierson grunted. “No ordinary human can pull off these kinds of moves.”

  “Then why were they getting beaten up by a bunch of P.S.A. agents?”

  “They were probably programmed not to fight back,” Pierson said. “Augments aren't always popular with their normal comrades. I'd guess the P.S.A. agents lured them out here and then sprung a trap. We walked right into the middle of an internal Union tiff.” He craned his neck to look up at his captor. “Well? Am I close?”

  The lanky man flashed Pierson a bloody grin. “You know an awful lot about it for some random street punk. And just who the hell are you? It's illegal for ordinary citizens to be possessing firearms, don't you know.”

  “We're just your friendly neighborhood do-gooders,” Pierson replied. “You know what they say. No good deed goes unpunished.”

  “Oh, a smart-ass.” The man gave Pierson's arm a twist, making him groan in pain. “I've got a major score to settle with those pizza wipes, but that can wait until later. We got ourselves quite a catch here. Why don't we take them in for questioning?”

  “Why bother?” the blonde replied. “They're probably just random thugs.”

  “And why would some thug know so much about Union augments?” her companion demanded.

  “It's not exactly a secret that we're enhanced with special programming,” the woman said. “It's not a hard guess that we'd be configured not to attack our allies. Agent Hans figured it out, didn't he?”

  The lanky man looked down at his captives. “I still think it's suspicious. For all we know, these guys could be a bunch of SLIC wipes.”

  “So what if they are?”

  The man looked at his partner in disbelief. “Did those pizza assholes hit you in the head too many times? What the hell did we even come down here for?”

  “There is such a thing as gratitude,” the woman replied. “If they hadn't intervened, we'd be dead. If we take them in for questioning, they'll probably be executed. I don't want that on my conscience.”

  Her companion hesitated. “But if they are SLIC, we could find out the location of...”

  “SLIC's days are numbered,” the woman said. “It won't be long before they crumble. We don't need to consign our rescuers to torture and death to make it happen.”

  “Dammit. You sure know how to suck the wind out of a man's sails.” The lanky man gave Pierson a shove, causing him to stumble and fall.

  The blonde looked at each of the rebels in turn. “I don't know if you're insurgents, or just street thugs,” she said. “But if you are with SLIC, then please take my advice: Resign. Go back to your normal lives. All you're accomplishing with your actions is disrupting the peace and order of society.”

  Vic replied, “I can't believe you can say that with a straight face after a bunch of your so-called peacekeepers just tried to gang-rape you.”

  He could tell by the look on the woman's face that he had struck a nerve. “Just stay out of our way,” she said, her voice strained, then turned to her partner. “Let's go.”

  The augments departed. Once they were gone, the rebels returned to their feet, groaning in pain, and recovered their weapons.

  Cena said, “Then next time I say, 'Oh look, someone's in trouble. Let's go help them,' please just shoot me.”

  “Gladly,” Eliot replied. He winced and grabbed his side.

  Pierson's expression was thoughtful. “Did you hear what the flagpole said, though?”

  “He said a lot of things,” Eliot answered.

  “You need to learn to pay closer attention,” Pierson said. “From the way he was talking, I don't think they were P.S.A. The agency doesn't use many augments, anyway. I think they were with T.U. Spacy.”

  Understanding began to dawn on the faces of his comrades.

  “Looks like you're getting it,” he said. “A pair of Spacy augments who came to Hongpan in pursuit of SLIC forces. I can't be sure, but we might have tangled with those two before.”

  “You mean,” a glimmer of anger appeared through Eliot's pain, “we just saved our worst enemies? We should have let the pizza bastards kill them both.”

  “But,” Cena said quietly, “I couldn't live with myself knowing that I left anyone to be raped and murdered—even if they are our enemies.”

  Eliot had nothing to say to that.

  “This is just speculation,” Pierson said at last. “In any case, we need to get back to base, before something else happens. Can you walk?”

  Vic and Cena nodded. Eliot took a step, then stopped and grimaced.

  “Are you all right, Harper?” Pierson asked.

  “Side hurts,” Eliot wheezed. “That bastard got m
e good.”

  “Here, let me help.” Pierson lent Eliot his shoulder for support. “I know it's tough, but we've got to move.”

  “What about our escort mission?” Vic asked.

  “We're in no shape for that now,” Pierson replied. “We'll have to hand that job off to another team and hope they have better luck than we did.”

  “What about him?” Cena nodded at the corpse of the P.S.A. agent who had tried to draw on them.

  “We're too weak to carry a body,” Pierson replied. “Let his comrades come back for him if they want. Otherwise, I say let the rats have him.”

  Cena knelt beside the body and said a few silent words over it, then returned to her companions with an apologetic shrug. Without further debate, the ill-fated escort team began limping their way back to base. A few hours later, the sun set on an abandoned parking lot, empty save for a pile of pistols, several blood spatters, and a single rat-eaten corpse.

  30

  “I see,” Commander Koga said, his voice the texture of cracked ice.

  Koga was presently seated behind the desk in the study of his luxurious V.I.P. suite. Omicron and Lambda stood before him, covered in scrapes and bruises, their clothes in tatters.

  “Give me a moment.” Koga swept the comm off his desk and began dialing a number. “We'll show these thugs what happens when they mess with T.U. Spacy.”

  After a few rings, a perky secretary picked up. “You have reached the office of Executive Director Nimh. What can I do for you?”

  “This is Commander Koga. I want to speak with the director.”

  “I'm sorry, but Director Nimh is occupied with important business at the moment. If you can tell me the nature of your inquiry, I'll inform him that you called and—”

  “It is extremely urgent,” Koga said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I wish to speak to the director immediately.”

  The tone of Koga's voice seemed to warn the secretary against arguing. “Um, just a moment, Commander,” she replied. “I'll patch you through.”

  The comm rang for a long time before Ridley finally picked up. The words “Sound Only” appeared in place of the usual camera feed.

  “This is Director Nimh,” came Ridley's voice. “This had better be important.”

  “Oh, it's important, all right,” Koga said. “Are you aware, Director, that several of your men assaulted two of my officers today, including a rape attempt and threat of murder?”

  There was a long pause. “Perhaps you should tell me the details,” Ridley said finally.

  Koga related the entire incident as it had been reported to him. The augments had amended only one detail in their report, claiming to escape the P.S.A. agents on their own initiative, so as to omit any mention of their rescuers.

  “I see,” Ridley said once Koga had concluded his report. “But your officers are unharmed?”

  “They have minor injuries,” Koga said, “but nothing serious.”

  “I'm relieved to hear that,” Ridley said. “So Agent Hans was the chief instigator? I'll order a full investigation. I promise you, Commander, that if this report is accurate, the agents in question will not escape justice.”

  “I'd like something better than empty assurances, Director.”

  “I'm a man of my word.” Ridley sounded affronted.

  “Not good enough,” Koga said. “At the very least, I want these agents suspended from active duty until the investigation is completed.”

  “Of course,” Ridley said. “That's standard procedure on a case of this gravity.”

  “Keep me posted on the investigation's progress.”

  “I will.”

  Koga terminated the connection and tossed the comm back on his desk. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temple. Finally, he opened his eyes and regarded the officers before him.

  “I don't have much confidence that anything will be done about this,” he said. “You two need to be able to defend yourselves in case something like this happens again. I'll contact the maintenance team and tell them to temporarily modify your programming to suspend the prohibition against attacking allies.”

  Omicron's bruised face twisted into a satisfied smile. “Thank you, sir.”

  *

  Vic sat on a cot in the infirmary, flinching occasionally as Esther probed his injuries. Finally, she took out a jet injector and applied it to his wrist. Then she consulted in whispers with the two medics who were assisting her, and finally addressed her patients.

  “Well, I've got good news for Major Cutter, Sergeant Northwood, and Corporal Shown,” she said. “Plenty of bruises and abrasions, but none of your injuries are serious. I've given you all an injection of regen serum. You'll be good as new in no time.”

  Then she turned to Eliot, who was sprawled on his cot with bandaging wrapped around his torso. “Not quite so rosy for you, I'm afraid. You've got three broken ribs. I can speed the recovery process with regular injections, but you'll have to take it easy for a while. No strenuous activities until I say it's OK.”

  Eliot managed a grin despite his pain. “So that augment bastard bought me an unscheduled vacation. Guess it's not so bad after all.” He winked at Esther. “Especially with you looking after me, gorgeous.”

  Esther rolled her eyes at him. “Tough luck, Sergeant, but I'll have my hands full working on the Cage.” She gestured to the medics. “But don't worry, you'll have these gentlemen to take care of you.”

  “What a buzzkill,” Eliot sighed.

  Esther turned to the other three. “Well, you're all free to go. Honestly, against a pair of Spacy augments, you're lucky you got off so easy. If they were really trying to kill you, they could have torn you apart with their bare hands.”

  They thanked Esther and got to their feet. As they started to leave, another soldier burst into the infirmary, flush with excitement.

  “He's here,” he exclaimed. “They've brought Professor Harris.”

  “That's convenient timing,” Esther said. “Let's go meet the esteemed professor, shall we?”

  Esther accompanied the others to the lift. They arrived, along with Childers, Guntar, and Tinubu, just as the elevator finished descending. The lone car parked with the other automobiles and disgorged its occupants, four escorts and their charge.

  Professor Harris was unmistakable. He was a mousy man with a pencil mustache, deeply receding hair, and thick glasses, meticulously dressed in formal attire. He looked around the cavern nervously, then his searching eyes fell upon Childers and the other senior officers.

  “Professor Harris.” Childers shook the professor's hand. “Thank you for agreeing to help us.”

  “I hope you appreciate what an imposition this is,” Harris replied. “I raised a few eyebrows among my colleagues by requesting emergency leave, and I'm taking a terrible risk to my person by coming out here into the lawless satellite districts.”

  “We wouldn't have asked if it weren't a matter of grave importance,” Childers assured him.

  “Well, the sooner we can get this over with, the better.” Harris removed his glasses, wiped the lenses, then placed them back on his face. “You said you have some sort of device with strong security measures that you're having trouble cracking? Go ahead and take me to it, and I'll see what can be done.”

  “Of course. Right this way, Professor.”

  Harris accompanied Esther and the senior officers out of the storage compound. Vic followed a few paces behind, and Cena jogged after him.

  “Hey,” she asked, “are you sure it's OK to follow them?”

  “They aren't telling us not to,” he replied.

  The group made their way through the mobile base's encampment, navigated through the adjoining warren of constricting passages, and emerged in the storage cavern that contained the Cage and its attached computing hardware.

  Vic took a long, hard look at the Cage, but he could feel nothing from it at the moment. It sat silent as a coffin, a stark contrast to the humming machinery that surrounded it. L
ooking at it now, it was easy to convince himself that the visions he had experienced were nothing but products of a strained mind. But no; he refused to believe that. Otherwise, what had all his suffering been for?

  Harris walked up to the Cage and circled it a few times, scrutinizing it. “It's covered in some kind of hieroglyphics,” he noted. “Any idea what they say?”

  “They're verses from ancient Theran mythology,” Esther replied. “They contain many references to Saris, the old deity for whom the planet was named, but beyond that we don't know what significance they have. I've done thorough analysis to see if they contain some sort of clue to cracking the security, but that's come up negative.”

  “This device has awfully peculiar stylings for something stolen from a Theran research lab,” Harris observed. “Well, let me have a look at the security, then. I presume you're using this terminal to interface with it?”

  He moved to the main console and input a series of commands. After several moments, he began muttering.

  “Ah, yes. You were right, these aren't standard security protocols. Offhand, I'm not sure what encryption technique they're using. It seems to be some sort of custom job. Really quite peculiar, I can see that whomever developed this protection was brilliant. Now, what do we have to work with? Processing power seems adequate. Software tools? Yes, this will do. You seem to have the basics covered.”

  He turned from the console to address the rebels. “It will take some time, but I believe I can crack the security on this device. You—ah, what was your name? I believe General Childers mentioned you in our correspondence.”

  “Esther Klein,” Esther replied.

  “Dr. Klein. Yes, of course. I can see from the setup here that you have some competency in this area. Your help will be most useful. But the rest of you,” Harris waved his hands at the others, “I can't work if I have a gaggle of amateurs flitting about asking inane questions. Please, give me some space so I can work properly. Go on. I'll keep you informed of my progress.”

  Esther went to help Harris, and the rest of group departed the chamber. Guntar whispered, “Is this going to be all right? The good professor seems to be a couple hands short of a clock.”