Liege-Killer

by Christopher Hinz

Nick brought Rome back to the darkened office.

  “Gillian adapts quickly. He’ll probably be ready to assemble another team fairly soon.”

  Rome frowned. “It’s probably best if Gillian rests for a few days. He should stay here in our building and recuperate.”

  Nick shrugged. “He may want to go out, walk the streets.”

  Rome kept his voice casual, “I think he should stay put. Reemul might be waiting for another shot at him.”

  “Probably. But if that’s the case, the Jeek won’t let a little thing like E-Tech headquarters stop him.” Nick’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “Ahh. You’re not worried about Reemul. It’s Gillian.”

  “Yes.”

  Nick smiled. “Gillian would not betray us. Believe me,”

  “You don’t know what he’ll do, Nick. Not really. He’s just learned, after all these years, that he’s not a human being. His tway—his Paratwa—might be dead, but his feelings are alive again. He may start thinking about how human soldiers murdered his other half and how he was manipulated by E-Tech into turning against his own kind.”

  “No,” said Nick calmly. “Gillian is one of us now.”

  “I’d rather not take the chance that you’re wrong.”

  Nick frowned. “All right. I’ll ask him to stay put, at least until after we raid those temples. But you’re wrong about him. Gillian is not a Paratwa anymore. He’s a human being.”

  Rome did not answer.

  O}o{O

  Paula gauged her footsteps with care; in the lightened gravity of this section of the Costeau colony, too much sprightliness of gait could send her crashing up into the ceiling. Jerem seemed to be having no problems in the corridor’s sub-G environment. He walked evenly at her side, boots cracking loudly against the worn plastic floor, his blue eyes focused straight ahead.

  They had spent the last ten minutes undergoing a gut-wrenching series of lateral and vertical movements inside an unfettered elevator. Paula had no idea of their actual position within the mad scheme of the pirate colony. The hospital of the Alexanders was apparently located within a building that plunged across the entire diameter of the cylinder. She knew only that they were high up, close to center-sky; the lessened gravity made that obvious.

  Her son’s mop of tangled brown hair had been trimmed, and looked neater than it had in months. The haircut had been given two days ago, at Jerem’s request, by an aging Guardian barber. The man had bragged that he was also responsible for cutting the hair of Councilor Augustus J. Artwhiler.

  Paula tried to catch Jerem’s attention with a smile, “I guess you could do some pretty good freefaller tricks in this gravity, huh?”

  “Only if I wanted to.”

  Their week-long captivity by the Guardians, in Irrya, had not been as bad as everyone had warned her it would be. Even the Guardian captain who had grilled Paula and Jerem throughout the week had been reasonably gracious in providing for their needs. Because of the brutal slaughter of Guardians in Kiev Alpha, official interest in Paula and Jerem had waned. No one seemed to care much anymore about their encounter with Smiler and Sad-eyes.

  But their captors had shown a remarkable fascination with Jerem’s encounter with that man—Gillian. And it was during one of the interrogation periods that her son had first broached the extent of his adventures on Sirak-Brath.

  Paula had been mortified. An almost insane anger had overwhelmed her; the thought of Jerem taking scud made Paula want to strangle the old woman who had forced her son into addiction. She had demanded that the Guardians arrest Miss Vitchy immediately.

  The Guardian captain, just before ordering their release yesterday, had promised that his people on Sirak-Brath would look into the possibility of action against the scud woman. Paula had heard enough bureaucratic jargon in her time to know that Miss Vitchy had nothing to worry about.

  Jerem asked, “When can we go and see Gillian?”

  Paula sighed. She felt distressed enough over her son’s relationship with this E-Tech man; she had no intention of willfully seeking Gillian out, no matter how Jerem felt about him. Gillian had saved her son from the clutches of Miss Vitchy, and Paula was grateful. But that did not change things.

  “Jerem, I’ve told you at least five times so far. We’re not going to be shooting all over space looking for this man.”

  “Why not?”

  “And I’m getting tired of this argument. I’ve explained my feelings to you this morning during the shuttle flight. This Gillian works for E-Tech and he has something to do with the hunt for this creature. I don’t want us involved with him. Period.”

  Jerem whined, “Then I’ll go look for him myself. That’s better than staying here with you in this stupid pirate colony.”

  Paula restrained an urge. She knew the urge was wrong, and she knew that such urges in the past had led to much of the current troubles between her and her son. Nevertheless, she truly wanted to smack him.

  The hospital corridor opened up into a central hub. A tall, white-garbed nurse sat behind a circular desk. The man looked up from his data monitors as Paula leaned against the counter.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re here to see Aaron Ramos.”

  The nurse pointed down one of the eight corridors that fed into the hub.

  “Room five-seven. Aaron is allowed thirty-minute visits. As little excitement as possible. If he begins to tire, please leave at once.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jerem followed Paula down the dimly lit corridor. The door to room five-seven slid open with a touch to its sensor panel.

  Aaron lay on his back, buried up to his chest under a thick layer of sheets and blankets. Paula was thankful that the hospital room overflowed with modern apparatus; she had half-expected a pirate medical center to resemble an antique exhibit. Even the permeating Costeau odor was absent here, hidden by the strong smell of disinfectant.

  The bed was motorized and contour-adjustable. A life-support system hung from the ceiling, complete with microcams and bodily-function scanners. A vital-sign bracelet encircled Aaron’s left wrist. Opposite the bed, a thirty-inch monitor was tuned to an orbital control channel; a stream of shuttle departures and arrivals flashed across the screen.

  Aaron looked up as Paula entered. The scarlet tattoo squirmed across his face; a wolfish grin spread from ear to ear.

  “About time you got here, woman.”

  Paula pushed off the floor and hopped ten feet in the lightened gravity. She landed at the side of the bed. She gripped Aaron’s hand and squeezed.

  “Ouch, woman! Remember, I’m an injured man. I’ve got a shattered leg, cracked ribs, and I ache all over. Not to mention the hole that’s been burned through my shoulder.”

  Paula fought back her tears. “They say you’re going to be all right.”

  “They tell me I’ll survive.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about the accident. I’m sorry about Grace and Santiago.”

  “Accident?”

  She nodded. “When the Guardians released us yesterday, we called Sheila at orbital control. She told us about the three of you being caught in that shuttle explosion.”

  Aaron grunted. “We were caught, all right.”

  He looked her in the eye and told her the truth, about their brief training under Gillian and about their unsuccessful encounter with the Paratwa.

  Jerem, listening from the doorway, moved closer. “Is Gillian all right?”

  “Yes. I hear he only suffered a minor injury.”

  Paula sighed. She felt as if nothing could surprise her anymore, It had been three weeks since that fateful day when they had witnessed Bob Max’s murder, a primal event that seemed to have somehow linked her to the fate of this Paratwa. Everywhere she turned, the creature seemed to intrude upon her life.

  Jerem stepped closer to the bed. “Gillian fought the Paratwa?” There was awe in his voice, and pride.

  Aaron squinted. Paula sensed anger, though Aaron kept his tone level.<
br />
  “We fought. We lost. My sister and Santiago died.”

  “I’ll bet ya Gillian was too quick to be caught!”

  The anger flashed openly. Aaron’s tattoo rippled. “You should have more respect for the dead, boy.”

  “Don’t call me ‘boy’.”

  “Jerem!” Paula snapped.

  Her son turned to her with a look of pure wrath. But he remained silent.

  A faded grin touched Aaron’s face. “So, boy. You think you’ve done some growin’ up. You think Sirak-Brath has made you tougher and stronger.”

  “Gillian made me tougher and stronger.”

  “Did he, now? Well, he’s tough and strong, no doubt about that.” Aaron turned slightly, winced with pain as his shoulder touched the bed. “Do you like hunting and killing, boy?”

  Jerem sneered. “As much as you do.”

  “Oh? You think I liked fighting that creature, risking my life?”

  “You did it, didn’t you?”

  Aaron nodded. “I did it because it had to be done. Sometimes you have to stand up to evil. Sometimes you have to make justice.”

  Jerem said nothing.

  “Do you think I’m tough, boy?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Tougher than the Paratwa?”

  Jerem shrugged.

  “Well, I’m not. I was burned straight through the shoulder with a Cohe wand and I was thrown out a window, three stories up. The fall almost killed me—I was barely conscious. But I remained awake long enough to see the Paratwa come flying out of that building and chase after Gillian.”

  Aaron suddenly reached out. He gripped Jerem by the arm and yanked the boy closer to the bed. Jerem squirmed, trying to break the pirate’s viselike grip.

  “I was scared, boy. I thought the Paratwa was going to finish me off, but it didn’t. I survived only because I lay there on the sidewalk and pretended I was already finished. I played dead, boy, hoping that the bastard wouldn’t kill me. And do you know why?”

  Aaron pulled Jerem toward him until their faces were only inches apart.

  “Do you, boy? Do you want to know why I lay there, playing dead? Do you want to know what I thought about? I thought about your mother, and about how much I was beginning to care about her and about how good she’s made me feel. And I thought about never seeing her again and that scared me. A painful death—that I could accept. What I couldn’t accept was never seeing your mother again.”

  Paula let go of her emotions. Tears coursed down her cheeks. Aaron released Jerem. The boy backed awkwardly away from the bed, his face twisting into a deep scowl.

  Aaron squeezed Paula’s hand. “I love you, woman.”

  “Typical of a Costeau,” she cried. She leaned over the bed and threw her arms around him. Gently, aware of his pains, she hugged him.

  “I must be a fool,” she sobbed. “I only seem to fall for Costeaus.”

  “You’ve got good taste, woman.”

  She stood up, used the corner of Aaron’s bedsheet as a handkerchief. She wiped her face and then turned to her son. Jerem stood in the farthest corner of the room, his arms clutched tightly across his chest.

  Aaron spoke quietly. “Tough and strong is good, boy. We all need that. But we need a lot more. You can’t carry your anger with you forever. You’d be wise to think about that.”

  For a time, Jerem stood in the corner, silently frowning. Finally, he took a tentative step toward them.

  The door slid open and the male nurse charged into the room.

  “Aaron! The news! It’s all over the spectrum!” The man rushed to the monitor and switched it to one of the major freelancer channels.

  A young woman in a green blouse, seated behind a multiconsole desk, was reading:

  “Less than an hour ago, a squadron of shuttles, believed to be from the clan of the Alexanders, attacked and took control of three Church of the Trust burial temples on the surface of the planet. Early reports indicate that fighting has taken place between temple personnel and the Costeaus and that casualties have occurred.”

  Aaron shook his head. “Have we gone mad?”

  The nurse threw up his arms in a gesture of helplessness. “They’re saying that the Lion ordered the attack. They’re saying something about finding secret installations buried under these three Church temples. The Colonies are in a total uproar! But the worst part is that Artwhiler went live two minutes ago and announced that he was sending a fleet of Guardian ships to surround our colony. They’re threatening to blow us up if we don’t immediately withdraw from the surface!”

  Aaron tried to sit up. His face twisted with agony. Paula gently pushed him back down.

  She chided. “You’re not going anywhere. I don’t care if the universe is ending. You’re staying in this bed.”

  The nurse nodded, “You can’t help, Aaron. You wouldn’t get ten feet without collapsing. That shoulder...”

  Aaron glared at them but remained under the covers. “What are we doing about the Guardians? Have we sent our ships out?”

  The nurse shrugged. “The Lion has ordered us to take no action.”

  “No action? We should fight!”

  “Shh!” hissed Paula.

  The breathless young freelancer continued. “We have another special announcement, this time from E-Tech headquarters here in Irrya.”

  She spun sideways, whispered to someone off camera, then turned back. “We’re picking up the E-Tech feed. We’re going live to the office of Councilor Rome Franco, director of E-Tech.”

  Franco’s aging round face faded in over the image of the young freelancer. The councilor nodded to someone off camera, then began speaking in a clear, solemn voice.

  “A short time ago, the clan of Alexander initiated an offensive action against three Church of the Trust burial temples scattered across the face of the Earth. This action was carried out with my full consent. It was at my urging that the clan of Alexander attacked these three temples.

  “The specific reasons for the attack shall be made clear very shortly. For the moment, I can only say that I and several of my executive staff made discoveries indicating that these three Church of the Trust burial temples harbored a grave threat to the peace and security of all the Colonies. The nature of this threat made it vital that the temples be raided without delay. Because E-Tech has many loyal members of the Church of the Trust, and because extreme secrecy was of utmost importance, it was decided that an outside agency should carry out the actual assault.

  “A short time ago, after being made aware of the nature of this grave threat to the peace and security of the Colonies, and under my direct orders, a shuttle fleet from the clan of Alexander descended to the Earth’s surface with the purpose of establishing complete control over the temples located in Finland, Western Canada, and upon the Shan Plateau.

  “This assault has been successful. These three temples have now been secured. Thankfully, no Church of the Trust personnel have been seriously injured. But, tragically, there have been fatalities among the Costeau raiders. And when I say tragically, I mean the word with all my heart, for the clan of Alexander has done something for which we in the Colonies may someday owe them a great debt of gratitude.”

  Franco paused, then stared intently into the camera.

  “A short time ago, Councilor Artwhiler ordered the Intercolonial Guardians to launch a counterattack against the three temples that have been secured. Councilor Artwhiler also gave orders that the home colony of the Alexanders was to be surrounded and destroyed if the Costeaus did not immediately retreat from the Earth’s surface.

  “I urge that Councilor Artwhiler refrain from such terrible actions. I urge that Guardian forces everywhere be given orders to hold off until the evidence of this grave threat against Intercolonial security is fully revealed. We expect, within the next several hours, to make clear the reasons for this unprecedented attack against the three Church of the Trust facilities.”

  Aaron managed to prop himself up. “Alexander
s attacking burial temples under E-Tech’s direction! I don’t understand such madness. But I do know why Franco has gone public. Artwhiler and the Guardians—they’re actually serious about destroying our colony!”

  Paula squeezed his hand.

  Franco continued. “At this time, I have one final announcement.” His voice grew even more solemn.

  “E-Tech Security has issued a warrant for the immediate arrest of Bishop Vokir of the Church of the Trust. There are presently four charges drawn up against Bishop Vokir and at least fifteen more charges are expected to be issued within the next twenty-four hours.

  “Bishop Vokir is presently accused of murder, conspiracy to commit murder, genocide, and conspiracy to commit genocide. If you have any knowledge as to the whereabouts of Bishop Vokir, please contact E-Tech Security.

  “Thank you for your attention.”

  The picture jumped back to the profile of the young freelancer. Her mouth hung open. She was apparently too stunned for words.

  Paula shook her head in disbelief. “Bishop Vokir ... murder and genocide? What’s this all about?”

  Aaron looked grim. “I don’t know. But we’d better hope it’s resolved before Artwhiler carries out his threats.”

  O}o{O

  Rome sat alone in his darkened office.

  If there is a point of no return, we have gone far beyond it. We are committed. There is no turning back.

  He had not yet wanted to announce E-Tech’s role in the temple raids. He had certainly not wanted to force a confrontation with Vokir before they had clear evidence to use against the bishop. But Artwhiler had left him no choice.

  The Guardian commander intended to regain control of the three secured Church temples at any cost. He had surrounded the colony of the Alexanders with a fleet of armed shuttles. Minutes ago, when Rome began his live transmission, Artwhiler had been preparing to launch dual attacks—against the temples and against the Alexanders’ home colony. Thousands of innocent people were being threatened.

  We made a mistake. We did not think Artwhiler would react so aggressively.