Archon's Queen

by Matthew S. Cox

  For an hour, she remained still. Cold from the bricks seeped through her clothes as she studied the pattern of patrol teams circling the grounds. The rain had taken a holiday for the past two days, leaving the wall and the grounds as dry as they were likely to ever be. According to the datapad, the perimeter was rimmed with sensors, which would trigger alarms if they lost power. If she got any closer, her body heat would give her away.

  A private security company operated here, each group consisted of two men and an artificial dog. She had little doubt the hound bot used nightvision and perhaps thermal; the men would be easy enough to get past, but her pseudo-invisibility did not work on things that had no brain.

  She slid to the ground outside; convinced going through the yard would be foolish. Off the property, the only observation occurred at the front and rear access gates. The rear offered the best chance of entry, monitored only by a single live guard. After sneaking around the side, she crouched in the shadow of a disused stable and checked the time on her NetMini. If the information Gordon provided was accurate, a cleaning crew should arrive in minutes. Lord Thompson was a backer of the Labour Party, insisting on providing jobs to people rather than machines. Instrumental in the prohibitive bureaucracy on purchasing non-sentient dolls, he made a public show of hiring real people for every function in his estate.

  A day and a half of research had taught her the schedules of everyone involved with the estate. It brought her back to her time working for Carroll. As odd as it was to plot the infiltration of a governmental residence, it made her feel alive again. She advanced as close as she could, lurking in the shadowy alcove of a building across the street, waiting. Right on time, a white van whirred into place and pulled into a tiny parking lot by the rear gate. Anna squinted at a post-mounted camera pointed at the area, sensing the electricity inside and forcing it away. Three men and three women in white jumpsuits got out. One man, the oldest looking of the lot, moved to the security booth and got into a conversation with the guard. The others gathered supplies from the rear and side doors. A short Indian woman remained at back end after unloading two wearable vacuums.

  The lights on the camera winked out, attracting the attention of the guard to his booth. Anna sprinted across the street during the distraction. She ran up behind the straggler, grasping her around the neck and covering her mouth.

  “Sorry, miss. Need to borrow your coat.”

  A modest shock knocked the woman senseless. Anna shoved her into the van and climbed in on top of her, pulling the doors closed. While the guard punched his monitor station, grumbling, Anna relieved the woman of her white jumpsuit and cap, and put them on. She smirked at the dark-skinned face on the ID clipped to her breast pocket.

  “Oh, this’ll be interesting.”

  The woman moaned as she came to. At the sight of Anna, she cowered. “Please, I have two kids…”

  “Shh.” Anna covered the woman’s mouth. “I’ve no interest in harming you.”

  “Sod it all,” yelled a voice from outside. “Stupid new cameras―oh, wait… there we go. Must’ve been a power cut.”

  Anna spun to glare at the wall of the van: racks of cleaning supplies and maintenance parts. She hogtied the cleaning worker with some spare power cords, earning a harsh glare as she taped over her mouth.

  “Really sorry about this, but a little girl’s life depends on it.”

  Anna slipped out the back doors and adjusted her hat before picking up both vacuums. The other cleaners entered the checkpoint in single file, swiping their ID cards at the terminal before getting waved through. She trotted over to the end of the line, tugging down on the visor. When she got to the machine, she locked eyes with the incredulous security man. Making a brain see a different person was much easier than forcing it not to acknowledge anyone at all.

  Her mind thrust itself into his, forcing her pale face and snow-white hair to turn dark in his perception. She hoped he didn’t pay attention to the faint whimpers and banging in the van.

  That’s right, Nate. I’m Sajala. See me as who you expect me to be.

  The face of Sajala Kaur appeared in hologram to his right as she swiped the card past the sensor. Anna focused on it, forcing the image over herself in his mind. Nate broke out in a cold sweat, shivering. He knew something wasn’t right, but his mind caved, unable to deal with the oddity.

  “Are you all right, Nate? You look a bit peaky.”

  “F-fine… ‘ave a good shift.”

  The gate opened, and she slipped through to rejoin the other cleaning staff. None looked back as they walked in single-file for the servant’s entrance. Anna kept her head down, using the visor to hide from cameras. Once inside the building, she ducked away from them through the first doorway she could reach, into a storage closet.

  “Sajala, why don’t you head―” Silence for ten seconds. “Sajala?”

  Anna flattened into the wall, avoiding the curious man peering through the window. As soon as he moved away, she tossed the hat and slipped out of the jumpsuit, bundling them together and stuffing them behind a pile of boxes. When it sounded like the hallway was empty, she eased the door to the side and peered out. Sudden motion made her gasp and flinch as a pistol cracked her across the head.

  The impact knocked her stumbling back into the closet, where she fell on her ass. One of the estate security people, a tall dark-skinned man in a black suit complete with sunglasses and earbud, pounced on her before the room stopped spinning. He rolled her face down and put the gun to her head.

  “Don’t try anything, luv. Hands behind.”

  Anna gathered herself, focusing on a disabling shock. Before she could deliver it, a strike to the back of her head bounced her cheek off the floor. Her senses returned as the electric whirr of metal binders locked her wrists at her back. Less-than-gentle hands roamed her body, though the contact was brief and professional.

  Fuck.

  “No weapons.”

  “Roger,” crackled a voice from his ear.

  Double fuck.

  “On your feet, lass.” He hauled her up by a fistful of coat. “I don’t suppose you’d care to make this easier on both of us and just tell me what the feck you’re doing here?”

  Anna put on her most innocent smile. “Sorry, sir. Was a dare from me mates. Please don’t tell my parents.”

  He frowned.

  She narrowed her eyes, gazing at his crotch. “Hey… It’s just a ‘armless prank. How bout I give you a gobble and you let me go home? Even?”

  “What sort of man do you think I am?”

  She loosed an exasperated sigh. “A fine, upstanding officer of the law, apparently.”

  He shoved her by one shoulder towards the door.

  “Sorry.”

  The man looked down at her. “You’re a bit past sorry, lass.”

  “No, I mean… Sorry.” She gathered a charge at the closest bit of exposed skin to him: her nose.

  The spark hit him in the face, knocking him flat. Her eyes watered; the jolt left her feeling as though she had been punched. Anna shook it off and reined in her fear. She tensed her arms, pulling the binders tight to her skin. Sparks lapped at the metal as her brain felt its way through the circuit paths within the device. A shape formed as a trace of amber light in her consciousness. She disregarded the complex twist of circuitry and focused on the contact points of the actuator motor. With a little voltage forced into the right place, they slid open.

  It took all her strength to drag the security man close enough to one of the installed shelves and cuff him to it. Smoke peeled from the binders as she overloaded them, ensuring he would be stuck there until someone brought cutters.

  They’ll have called Old Bill by now. I don’t have much time. Gordo’s been neck deep in my ass this long… maybe he’ll delay the cops.

  She ran out, following as best she could recall the map she had been staring at all morning. The hallway led to the kitchen, dark and empty at this hour. At the far end, she fed the head butler’s code in
to the wall panel and gained access to the main part of the dwelling. She moved down a well-lit stretch of lacquered wood floor flanked by miniature marble lions, and slipped behind a dark burgundy tapestry at the sound of approaching boots.

  Two security men tromped by in silence, trailed by snippets of radio conversation going along in their surface thoughts―they were searching for her. She concentrated on them, refusing to allow them to see her. When they disappeared around the distant corner, she left her hiding place and crept further down until the floor turned from decorated wood to thick carpet. The décor was as much an ostentatious display of wealth as his hiring of so many live servants.

  An armored elevator waited right where the map said it would, and the codes Gordon provided worked like a charm. Somehow, he had gotten a hold of a special sequence that also disabled the cameras. No doubt it was a feature Thompson used for clandestine meetings.

  On the third level, a less festive hallway of muted brown wood and royal blue carpet went from the elevator to his private chamber. She sprinted past a library, atrium, and several unlabeled rooms, halting outside the office. After a few seconds of listening to muted voices inside, she rolled up her sleeves and burst in.

  Anna kicked the door closed behind her and raised her hands. A security man on either side grabbed her forearms as the startled Lord Connor Thomson gaped from behind a mammoth black marble desk.

  Anna closed her eyes, sending electricity jumping through where her bare arms made contact with the security men’s hands. Two slabs of unconscious meat fell to the ground, one on either side of her. The fragrance of ozone and boiled cologne entered her nose.

  Lord Thompson raised his hands. “W-w-w―”

  A feat she thought impossible occurred; his face grew whiter as she approached.

  Clutching at his chest, he gasped. “Please…”

  She shifted her hips and sat on the edge of the desk, crossing her legs and smiling at him. “Relax, old bloke. I’m not here to hurt you. I came to warn you.”

  He sagged down in the high-backed chair, struggling to breathe. “W-who are you?”

  “That’s not important.” She peeled one of the leg pockets open; the sharp scratch of the Velcro closure made him jump. A holodisk she dropped in front of him wobbled, spinning ever faster on its way to a halt. “That is.”

  Lord Thompson stared at his reflection upon the silver surface, hand hovering an inch away as if it would burn him to touch it. He swallowed hard and pinched the spindle connecting four stacked three-inch platters. “What’s this about?”

  “The CSB is trying to have you killed. They want to slip their leash… what little of one there is. As far as they’re concerned, I’ve been sent here to kill you and make it look like an accident.”

  “That’s preposterous!” He broke out in a sweat. “What proof do you have?”

  She gestured at the disk. “Oh, don’t give me that look. If I were here to kill you, I’d not be talking. I’m not an assassin.”

  He poked at his desk, opening a small chamber with a receptacle for the disk. A few seconds after the hatch closed, one file appeared on his screen. Lord Thompson poked his finger through the holographic screen, opening it. Blurry video, crisscrossed with faint blue lines, replayed her memory of Agent Gordon’s chat. The point of view was hers, the image smeared away to fractal patterns every time the inhibitor smashed her brain into pulp. Anna looked away, not much caring to re-watch it for a third time.

  When it stopped, Lord Thompson looked at her. “This file… This is quite damning, was this you?”

  Her expression gave it away. She could not explain how James had taken her memories and put them on a holodisk; some ability he had with machines combined with telepathy had done it.

  “There’s no K-N on this video, how do I know it’s real?”

  She looked at him. “My thoughts don’t have a Karsson-Neimand checksum, Milord. It’s a direct transfer from my brain to disk.”

  Staring into old grey eyes, she forced tidbits of the experience into his mind.

  He tensed, grasping his forehead from a phantom inhibitor burn. “You’re a psionic? You don’t have a tag.”

  “I’ll die before I let them put a bomb inside my head. We’re not damned animals. Would you put one in your son?” At the mention of it, his surface thoughts confirmed rumors of the boy’s ability as truth. “I thought not.” She paused a few seconds in search of calm. “A friend of mine believes you are on our side, trying to make things better for us here. Agent Gordon wants me to kill you so he can go on some kind of heretic-burning rampage.”

  Swallowing hard, Lord Thompson edged away from the desk. “I see…”

  “Do you really think I’m going to harm you? It’s what he wants. It would start open season on every psionic in Great Britain. I’ve come to warn you and ask for your help. You have to stop hunting us like wild animals. We’re people just like you.”

  “If… If this is true then―”

  A blaring electronic ring all but knocked Lord Thompson out of his chair and stopped Anna’s heart for a beat. The VidPhone flashed with an incoming call. Paralyzed from the shock, the old man stared at it. Anna leaned over and hit the answer key.

  There was no video feed. After a second of silence, an eerie female voice flooded the room from speakers mounted in the ceiling.

  “Hello Anna… Milord Thompson. You should consider getting down very soon, preferably away from any place you can be seen from the outside.”

  Anna glanced from the source of the voice to Thompson and then to the window. In a building across the street, something caught a glint of moonlight.

  “Sniper!” Anna screamed, diving over the desk.

  She tackled him to the rug, cringing as shattering glass rained down. The crack of a suppressed gunshot chased the sharp ping of a slug bouncing off the marble desk. Anna scrambled onto her knees and dragged him to the right behind solid wall. Panting, she sat with her back to the stone and stared at him.

  “That’s a bit odd, Milord.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “You looked more terrified of me than you do of ‘aving a sniper taking pot shots at you.”

  “I’ve been shot at before… I know how bullets work, but I’ve never been alone with an unregistered psionic.”

  “Other than your son?” She patted him on the thigh. “I’m easier to talk to than a bullet.”

  Two shots tore neat holes through the brickwork between their heads, spraying them with dust.

  He pulled her to the ground. “Nonetheless, I think that fellow outside would like to join our chat.”

  ord Thompson crawled away from the wall, moving on his own as much as she pulled him “Bugger it all, where the hell is the security team?”

  “Sorry about them, Milord.” Anna pulled her sleeves down.

  The men lying on the rug moaned as if in reply.

  Another shot nipped the back of his coat, leaving a tear in a suit worth more credits than Anna had ever seen in one place. She pounced and held him as low to the ground as possible until the plaster stopped flying. The last two shots landed too close, as if they’d been going for her. Shouting came from outside as security teams converged toward the front gate.

  “Guess they’re pissed at me for not offing you.”

  He flashed a grim look. “If they kill us both, they can make up any story they damn well care to.”

  “Bastards.” Anna froze for a moment. “They were gonna say a psionic killed you and kill me anyway. Even if I’d done what they asked, they’d have done the dirty on me.”

  “I do so enjoy politics,” he said, holding up a finger.

  The silence made her think the sniper was either repositioning or fleeing. She hauled Lord Thompson to his feet and made to run with him. One of the security men had recovered and lunged at her. He stiff-armed her across the chest, knocking her back over the marble desk. Unable to breathe, she slid through a landslide of office supplies and small gold statues, and hit
the ground on her front. He seized her from behind in a bear hug, crushing the rest of the air out of her lungs.

  “Get ‘er!” he shouted to his partner.

  The other bodyguard flipped a collapsible truncheon out to length and took aim at the side of her head.

  Lord Thompson barreled forward, putting his hands on the massive arms around her chest. “Stop it, she’s not the threat.”

  The security man’s anger continued to flow through his great biceps into her ribs. Hot breath fell over her head from behind. She squirmed but could not move.

  “Dammit Ben, let her down this instant.”

  The goliath released his grip and she stumbled forward, sprawled over the desk, breathless and fighting to avoid passing out. Between getting pounded in the chest and squeezed, the room spun. Realizing she lay draped with her ass in the air, in perfect view of the sniper, Anna let her weight take her down until she knelt against the cold marble.

  She wheezed, gesturing at the wrecked terminal. “Holodisk―”

  Thompson had been ushered out of the room already by the other man. The one who remained glared at her as if he wanted to finish the job. His surface thoughts focused on anger at being made the fool by such a tiny woman. After a momentary stalemate, he shoved her out of the way and almost tore the desk apart in his effort to retrieve the disk. He smashed his fist into the desk several times until finding the right spot to hit to open the reader. With the disk in his pocket, he grabbed her by the shirt and hauled her to her feet.

  “Look… Ben, is it? We’re on the same team right now, please don’t make me kill you. You’re huge and I’m tiny. My only chance is to toast your bollocks off and I’d really rather not.”