“No, sir. She was on the other side of the ship, safely tucked away in Shuttlebay Three.”
“Good. You and Commander Mullenhoff make preparations to take Kite and scout the Cor Caroli system ASAP. I want you on your way within eight hours.”
“Me?” exclaimed Mullenhoff. “I’m not a co-pilot.”
“We don’t need a co-pilot,” said Nyondo. “We need an engineer’s eye to take a look at the Massang Threshold.”
“Then you need a physicist,” insisted Mullenhoff.
“I know, but I’m fresh out of physicists. All I have is you, Commander,” Pettigrew said forcing a smile and trying to hide the fatigue from an extraordinary day. “If there’s nothing else, I’m sure everyone has a busy evening ahead of them, I know I do. Dismissed.”
After they had all grabbed their datapads, mobiles, and a last item from the desert tray, Pettigrew found himself alone with the only person that hadn’t budged, Uschi Mullenhoff.
“I’m sorry, Uschi, but I really need you to go with Nyondo. You would be—”
“That’s not why I stayed,” she interrupted. “Despite what happened today, I’m asking you to keep an open mind about letting Harradoss and his followers go.”
At this point, Pettigrew might have screamed at anyone else, but he had known Mullenhoff a long time. On many occasions, she had acted not only as a loyal subordinate, but a valued advisor. Perhaps this was one of those instances when a devil’s advocate wasn’t necessarily welcome, but needed nonetheless.
His old friend continued, plainly wanting to speak her piece. “Twenty-three dead today. How many more at Cor Caroli? Twenty-three thousand? A hundred thousand? I understand the implications of the Massang crossing over to the Otherverse, but if you allow them to, history will play itself out just as it already has. Maybe this is how it was meant to be.”
“And the millions who die in the Otherverse because I do nothing here?”
“Their millions, not ours. Chaz—you can’t save everyone!”
He wanted to be angry with her. He wanted to be outraged, to ask her why she would even consider siding with Harradoss after everything that had happened today. He wanted to give her hell, but couldn’t. Uschi Mullenhoff was not the enemy, and by now, thousands of his fleet’s own men and women were probably asking themselves similar questions. They all deserved a better response than defensiveness and knee-jerk indignation.
Mullenhoff rose from her seat. “I’m just asking for you not to dismiss the idea out of hand. And now, if you will excuse me, sir, I have a mission to prep for.” She turned in a crisp, formal manner and walked toward the door.
“Uschi,” he called out, stopping her just short of the hatchway. “At Cor Caroli—be careful. You and Nyondo see what you can and get out. We don’t have much time. Whatever happens, it’s going to happen soon—very soon.”
15: Safe House
ArcoSoleri
Planet Pontus
“Have a nice day, folks,” said the housekeeper on her way out—the smiling, overworked, underpaid, two eyed, one nosed, real person of a housekeeper. After the cycling escapade, hotel management had kindly agreed that their suite would be attended to by human staff only. It was one of the only positives to come out of the whole biking incident—that and still being alive.
In the custody of the Prosperity City police for two standard days following the Great Chase, it took no less than the Sarissan ambassador to negotiate their release. As Carr guessed, the police platform that was destroyed from orbit by Dagger had indeed been commandeered. Four people posing as a maintenance crew had seized the facility to direct the androids, and lost their lives in the process. Thankfully no one else was killed. Most of the wreckage fell harmlessly into the empty stadium, but nine civilians suffered various injuries as random debris showered onto the surrounding streets. The Sarissan government agreed to pay for all of the damages, and Carr and Sanchez were supposedly restricted to ArcoSoleri for the remainder of their stay on Pontus.
“Well, it’s been a few days now,” said Sanchez lingering over her coffee and the remains of breakfast. “I think it’s time to get out and about again. I don’t want to be cooped up in this building forever.” Sanchez was the claustrophobic sort, even in a two-hundred floor arcology.
“You can’t go anywhere,” reminded the visiting Beckman, who lounged on the living area sofa. He had been called in to help more directly with the investigation since they were temporarily grounded by the local authorities.
“The Pontians are really angry over of the platform fiasco,” he said before gulping at a morning drink. “You go out into the city and you’ll cause another diplomatic blowup. Let the active professionals take care of this. Honestly, why don’t you two go back to Earth, back to your nice, peaceful retirement?”
Carr walked by the sofa, grabbing Beckman’s empty rocks glass as he passed. “Would the active professional like another mid-morning whiskey?”
“It’s safer than having automatons shooting at you.”
“Beckman, you’ve been in the game long enough to know that if someone’s not shooting at you, you’re not doing your job,” Carr joked. Offhand, he would guess that no one had ever shot at Beckman.
“By the way,” Carr went on, wanting to get this off his chest, “where were you during the whole android chase? Ever since we arrived on Pontus, you’ve been creeping around, tailing us, but when the action heats up you were nowhere to be found.”
“I had something else to take care of that morning, so I took the day off,” said Beckman defensively. “Look, I’ve been tailing you to watch your backs, seeing as how you are new to Pontus. I was only trying to help.”
“I was only trying to help,” mocked Carr. “Bullshit. You were following us to collect information. We do all the work, then at the last minute you one-up us by swooping in and grabbing the prize.”
“No, no—you got me all wrong,” the man protested, only to be interrupted by Sanchez.
“Beckman, we’ve been given a job to do by the Empress, and we’re not leaving until it’s done. You aren’t the one she called to the Palace, and you’re not the one with an Imperial Aegis in your hand.”
Sanchez sprang to her feet and moved behind the OMI man. Leaning in, she placed her hands on his shoulders and squeezed tight. “You need to do one of two things: either help us or get the hell out of our way. Which is it going to be?”
“Help,” yelped Beckman. Carr wasn’t sure whether he was answering the question or making a plea.
“Great. Then start by checking on that list of chemists Frank gave you.”
Beckman began to rise, but Sanchez shoved him back down into the couch. “And Beckman, if you show up here tomorrow morning, pissing and moaning and drinking up our good whiskey, I will personally shove one of those rocks glasses so far up your fat ass that it will take at least three surgeons to remove it.”
He slowly looked around at her as she raised a hand and extended three fingers. Squeezing his shoulders hard one more time, she gave the man a firm pat before releasing him.
“Now, go.”
“You got a scary wife there, you know that, Carr?” mumbled Beckman as he scrambled to his feet and hurried for the door. “Really, really scary.”
Carr turned to his mate after their colleague’s hasty departure. “A little cranky this morning, aren’t we?”
“A little,” admitted Sanchez, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I think maybe this mission is starting to get to me.”
Carr knew the feeling. The last few days were a study in failure. When they returned to ArcoSoleri from police custody, the pair went straight to Level 122 and the Happenstance Room searching for Yunru Lin, but came up empty. Three days and dozens of queries later, Lin was nowhere to be found. One place they hadn’t checked out was Beetle Dash’s brothel on Level 144. Lin might be holed up there, but the place was bound to be thick with Beetle’s goons so they decided not to chance it.
The hunt for Bettencourt,
the former Gerrhan admiral, was going no better. Carr insisted that if they found the source of the man’s medication, they would also find the man. It turned out that the drug, Walzirin, was exclusively produced by a Galbanese pharmaceutical firm. That meant dealing with an import, which added another layer of Pontian bureaucracy to wade through. So far, their findings had yielded no one likely to be a former member of the Commonwealth High Command.
Carr sat down in the spot Beckman had vacated. Sanchez, still standing behind the sofa, treated him far better than their recent guest. She bent over and wrapped her arms around him, kissing the top of his shaven head.
“Frank, we’re spending a lot of time and effort on finding Bettencourt. You sure it’s worth it?”
“If you have any other hot leads, I’m all ears. An ex-leader of the Commonwealth would have a powerful motive to join forces with anyone that opposes the Empire.”
“Even aliens? We aren’t just dealing with someone who hates the Empire. Whoever this is, they are working against humanity itself. I guess it’s just hard for me to wrap my mind around the notion that any human being could conspire with the Massang.”
“Well, someone is. I’m guessing whoever it is thinks they are making a deal. If the Massang win, maybe they will be put in charge of the human colonies. A collaboration government, something like that.”
The door chime rang and Sanchez was standing, so she moved to answer it. Carr’s glance fell to a black case laying on the coffee table.
“It’s Beckman,” he shouted. “You rattled him so much he forgot his mobile.”
Turning sideways on the sofa, Carr watched as Sanchez opened the door. He heard a familiar female voice coming from the hallway.
“We need to talk.”
Sanchez smiled at the woman, but he knew this particular smile. It was her ‘screw you’ smile and sure enough, his wife clenched her right hand into a fist and cocked it back. She suddenly stopped, however, her hand dropping slowly to her side. Moving away from the door, Sanchez backed into the living room.
Yunru Lin entered the suite, pistol in hand. Shutting the door behind her, she motioned for Sanchez to move to the sofa.
“No, no, Carr—don’t get up on my account,” said Lin straightaway as he began to stand up. “As a matter of fact, I like you sitting right where you are for now.”
Sanchez’s eyes narrowed. “You said we needed to talk. OK, let me throw out a topic. Let’s talk about the overlook at Flower Bank Park.”
Pain seemed to cross Lin’s face—not remorse, but a surge of physical pain.
“I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t my doing.”
“Funny, the voice on the message sounded a lot like you,” said Sanchez sarcastically.
“Forget about all of that. I came to warn you. You’ve got to get out of here,” said Lin urgently. “You’ve got to get out right now.”
Carr wanted to stand, but Lin held her weapon like it was an old friend. She knew what she was doing. There was something else, too—a look of wild desperation in her eyes.
“Your acting skills are wearing thin,” said Carr. “The hotel greeter, the abused lover, the newfound friend. Just how many roles—”
Lin wobbled on her feet, letting the pistol dip a few centimeters. It was all the opening Sanchez needed. She sprang at the girl with lightning quickness and in one neat move the gun was in Sanchez’s hand and Lin was on the floor.
“Nice work,” said Carr as he rose.
“Not really, she crumpled on her own. There’s blood soaking through her shirt, here on the right-side. I noticed it after she came in.” Sanchez pulled Lin’s shirt up exposing a deep slash across her side.
“Stabbed,” said Sanchez, stroking the other woman gently on the arm. “Lin, what happened? Did Beetle do this?”
Lin seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness as she looked up, trying to find the voice addressing her. “Beetle?”
“Yes, Beetle. Did Beetle do this to you?” repeated Sanchez. “I swear, Frank, if he cut her like this…”
“Dead. Beetle… is dead,” said Lin, grimacing as she spoke. “We got hit… upstairs on One Forty-Four. We got hit. They killed everyone—Beetle, the girls… Coming for you next. Must leave. Must…”
Sanchez examined the wound closer. “I think this missed the vitals, but she’s lost a lot of blood.”
“Hang on to that pistol,” said Carr as he moved to the kitchen to retrieve one of the weapons they had snuck past the hotel security scanners. “You heard the lady, we need to get out of here.”
“Frank, she needs help.”
“Don’t worry, we are taking her with us.”
“And just how do you propose we do that? I suppose we could call Beckman for backup.”
“Can’t, remember? He left his mobile over there on the coffee table.”
“Hold her,” said Sanchez as she ran to the bathroom to grab some first-aid supplies. As he cradled Lin in his arms, Carr thought furiously about their options. Grabbing a pillow from a nearby chair, he slid it under Lin’s head and fished his mobile out of his pants pocket.
“What are you doing?” asked Lin as she looked up at him.
“Getting us out of here,” he said, giving her a wink. I hope… “Registration desk—and hurry, please.”
Sanchez returned, kneeling beside them holding a bundle of sterile-naps, gauze, and medtape. “Who are you calling?” she asked, going to work on Lin.
“He said if we ever needed anything… Besides, I pride myself on spotting folks that might be susceptible to a good bribe. Yes, I need to speak with Mr. Birch. Tell him it is urgent.”
* * * *
Thankfully, the OMI safe house in Prosperity City was not located within ArcoSoleri, nor inside either of the other two arcologies. It was a modest single-family dwelling situated on the edge of town, the type of place that made a sane man wonder why anyone would ever want to live in one of those hundred-story nightmares.
“Thank you,” said Yunru Lin taking a cup of hot tea from Sanchez. She wiggled herself up higher onto a pillow and sniffed at the drink. “Smells delicious,” she smiled taking a small sip and cradling the cup in her hands. It was a cool late autumn day, a good day for hot drinks as Carr and Sanchez sat next to her bed.
“Time for a talk?” asked Lin.
“Time for a talk,” confirmed Carr. “Jangsuvians? Essadon? Pontus?”
“Pardon me?” asked Lin, feigning a puzzled look.
Carr smiled. “Just trying to guess who you work for. You’re an operative, a professional—I’d bet this month’s pension payment on it. What’s your real name and who are your masters?”
“Just so you know,” interjected Sanchez, “I have Pontus in our little two-person pool.”
Lin grinned and looked away for a moment. Watching her stare at the opposite wall, Carr guessed that she was thinking over how much she was willing to tell.
“My name actually is Yunru Lin,” she began, pausing when she saw doubt in Carr’s face. “It really is, and I’m afraid you lose your bet, Etta. I’m with the Gerrhan Commonwealth Intelligence Bureau, or at least I used to be, back when it existed. Back when the Commonwealth existed…”
“Before our lot wiped you out,” said Sanchez, testing Lin’s level of resentment.
Lin rolled her eyes. “Your lot, my lot—a bunch of politicians and corporations lining their pockets under different flags, that’s all. My loyalty is to a man, not a flag.”
“Admiral Bettencourt,” ventured Carr.
“Yes, but he’s not the person you are looking for,” Lin said emphatically. “The person that ordered the attack on Beetle and his crew… The person that helped to destroy Kolo Khiva—he’s the one you’re after. He’s the traitor, not Bettencourt.”
Sanchez tried to put the next question delicately. “Yesterday’s attack—can you tell us what happened?”
Lin’s expression registered surprise. “Yesterday? Etta, how long have I been sleeping?”
“Alm
ost sixteen hours.”
The woman composed herself and spoke in a low voice. “I walked in on everything, while it was still happening. At first, I thought the screams were, well, you know—it was a whore house. There was always a lot of screaming for one reason or another. I saw Beetle lying on the floor. His throat had been slit. Then, I spotted another body—Max, his second in command. And then another. I knew I had to get out of there, so I ran back to the private lift thinking no one had seen me.”
“But someone had,” said Carr.
“Yeah, someone had. I don’t know where he came from. He must have been hiding in the foyer as a lookout or something. Suddenly, he was just there. The guy tried to blindside me with his knife, but I dodged it.” She paused for another drink of tea, sipping slowly. “We struggled and somewhere along the line I got careless.” Lin moved her hand across her bandaged side. “But I got him. It took me a few seconds, but I finished him off before he had a chance to finish me. That guy won’t be killing anymore girls, I can tell you that. When I finally got into the lift, I realized the bastard stuck me worse that I first thought. Sorry, I was losing blood fast and didn’t know where else to go. Thanks for helping me.”
Sanchez smiled at her. Carr kept a straight face, thinking how best to gently nudge her for more information
“Did Beetle work for the Admiral?” he asked.
“Beetle worked for himself,” said Lin contemptuously. “The fool might be alive today if he hadn’t tried to play both sides off against the other. Beetle Dash was a pig. As far as I’m concerned, he and those goons of his got what they deserved. As for the girls, that’s something else. Five innocent women are dead because of Beetle. I hope he rots in Hell.”
“I thought Beetle was your boyfriend,” said Sanchez, probing.
“Beetle was my assignment,” Lin answered tersely. “I hated him.”
Carr rubbed the back of his neck, stood, and walked over to take a quick look out the window. The safe house was in a lower-class residential district, but everything was tidy and well-kept in the neighborhood. The homes were in good repair and the streets free of clutter. It was a stark contrast to the three arcologies, the great monuments to so-called civilization.
Starhold's Fate Page 15
