by Mel Odom
“I am not certain. I have open parameters in my assignment.”
The final warning whistle blew and the train lifted above the mag-lev rail, rising only a few centimeters. Gusts of ionized pale orange dust jetted out from underneath, roiling around us in a large cloud. Vibrations ran the length of the train. With another blast of the klaxon, the train started accelerating.
“Aren’t you curious about what my job is?”
I knew Brad would keep hinting until I asked. They had to disseminate information because public relations were their primary code. “Yes.”
“I’m going to be a blackjack dealer at the Lorilei Casino. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”
Everything was a “wonderful opportunity” for a Brad. I searched the map and found the casino nearly three hundred kilometers away. The gambling establishment was located outside the Bradbury colony, not inside the megapolis. That was curious.
“You are not working inside Bradbury colony?”
Brad’s smile never failed. “No. The Lorilei needs a skilled blackjack dealer. It is the perfect job for me. I will be the best they have ever seen.”
“You have worked as a blackjack dealer before?”
“Many times.” Brad stood easily with his hands behind his back, swaying to the smooth rhythm of the mag-lev train. “Most recently at the Savoy Casino in Gullivar colony. Until my reassignment.”
“Why were you reassigned?”
“It was a personal matter.”
I nodded and turned my attention back to the landscape, watching as Gullivar colony and the outlying domes quickly receded behind the train. At the speed we would be traveling, we would arrive in Bradbury in little more than an hour. A hopper couldn’t travel as fast, but a military jet could cut that time in half. The time frame still allowed a lot of things to happen within a colony before the military could scramble to deliver help.
The Martian army was still spread thin around the colonial settlements. Protecting all of the colonies all of the time was difficult, and rooting out all the terrorists from the cave systems tunneled through the Martian mountains was even more so. The terrorists that manifested every year made controlling the situation impossible.
Brad shrugged and continued speaking as I knew he would. I was not invested in his “personal matter,” but I was someone that could be potentially swayed to his camp.
“I was having an affair with one of the high rollers at the casino,” Brad said. “Part of the special services package I’m capable of providing, you see.”
I knew about that tendency with Brads as well. “She became disenchanted?”
“No. The casino owner discovered our liaison. She said that I had been compromised by my affiliation with the casino client.”
“You were not?”
Brad smiled and shook his head. “Of course not. Blackjack is a game with rules. I would never break those rules.”
I realized that was true. The casino owner should have known that as well. “The casino owner should have known that. I do not understand the problem.”
“I also had a liaison with the casino owner. She was…proprietary in that regard, which doesn’t make much sense to me. My liaisons with each of them did not overlap, and I was capable of servicing both.” Brad shook his head again. “I will never understand human conventions in the matter of jealousy.”
A Brad wouldn’t. They weren’t programmed for monogamy, either. Monogamy was a special add-on feature that Haas-Bioroid charged extra for because the trait had to be so deeply embedded in neural channeling that a unit had to be practically wiped to be cleansed of it.
During my career at the NAPD, I had learned that humans claimed to value such a trait highly, but oftentimes broke that covenant with each other in marriage and in business. Shattered trust was a motivation that put bodies in the morgue and filled the courts with cases.
That made me think of the trust Mara Blake had instilled in me, written into my core through a neural copy of her murdered husband. Whoever had taken her was somewhere on Mars. I was certain of that. Everything kept tracking back to mercenaries from the chimera unit under John Rath.
I stood there in the wind at the back of the train, but as I peered at the red landscape, I was suddenly swept into a memory of another time and place—and the second time Simon Blake had met Mara Parker.
Chapter Nine
Captain Blake?”
The woman’s voice surprised Simon Blake as he stood before a holo screen showing the rocky shores of a dead Martian lake. He remembered hearing the sound of an approaching hopper earlier, but he had ignored it because no alarm had been raised and because he had a logistical problem to solve that John Rath had given him. The mercenary group operated independently on separate tasks, trusting each other to do their job.
But he turned when he heard the address, and I turned with him, sinking into his point of view.
Mara Parker stood at the entrance to the dome-shaped transplas hut. The heavy curtains over the entrance moved slightly, then stilled as the airlock cycled.
The hut’s interior was climate-controlled, heated by its own solar skin and heat-amplifying cells. Even so, the space held a bit of a chill. Simon preferred working in a cooler environment because he believed it kept his mind sharp.
As Simon, I wore combat fatigues digitally patterned to allow me to fade into the desert landscape. A large caliber slug-thrower hung from my hip and a laser rifle was canted against my work table within easy reach.
“Miss Parker.” I registered Simon’s surprise at seeing her there and it felt like an alien thing to me, but I knew it for what it was.
She wore a camo coverall that fit her from neck to ankles and I could tell from the fabric weave that it was designed to be bullet-resistant. The material would absorb kinetic energy and become rigid and concave, presenting a rounded surface that would encourage a bullet to go elsewhere and resolve the potential for possibly damaging hydrostatic shock. She carried a helmet, dangling it by its chinstrap from her fingers. Her hair was pulled back and her makeup had been applied with a light touch. Simon thought she was beautiful.
“What are you doing here?”
“Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?”
“Not for a millisecond.”
She smiled. “Well then, I am in the neighborhood because I came to see you.”
“Does John—Colonel Rath,” I hastily amended, “know that you’re here?” Rath wished to be known by his title among anyone outside our unit.
“Do you think I could fly a scramhopper in here without him knowing?”
“No.”
She smiled again. “I’d be scattered across Mars.”
“Or burned to slag.” I knew Rath had positioned laser cannons around our encampment. He wasn’t a man to take chances. I was surprised Rath had allowed her into our base.
Then Simon cursed to himself because he knew that as soon as Mara Parker cleared the zone, the camp was going to pick up and move. Mentally, he began making a list of how he was going to pack everything away, and to make certain he got something to eat before they humped out of the area.
“Not a pretty image, is it?”
It took Simon a moment to realize she was still talking about her potentially disastrous ending from an attempted invasion. “No, not a pretty image.”
Mara waited for a moment, then pointed to my workstation. “Do you think I could sit down?”
I nodded, trying to keep up with all the changes. “Of course. I apologize.” Out of habit, Simon had already blanked the PAD sitting on the workstation. I picked it up and slid it into my thigh pouch.
I motioned her to the chair I’d been sitting in, then stepped over to the side and picked up the dome’s only other chair. I flicked my wrist and popped the release button and the seat unfolded.
Mara gazed at the chair’s skeletal frame. It was little more than a plate-sized disc with four legs attached. “It doesn’t look very comfortable.”
“I
t’s not, and it’s not supposed to be. The colonel reminds everyone who gripes about them that they’re work equipment. If a soldier wants to rest, he—or she—has a rack. Though those aren’t very comfortable either, unless you’re practically unconscious on your feet.”
Gingerly, she sat.
Simon felt a little ill at ease, and I knew that discomfort was caused by Mara’s presence. “I wish it was more comfortable. For your sake. I’m used to it. But it’s the best I can do. These collapsible chairs are easy to hump to the next twenty when the time comes. You appreciate them more then.”
“I suppose so.” She drew in a breath and let it out. “Do you have coffee?”
“I have a caffeine-sub drink, ma’am, but you don’t really want to drink it unless you want to be wired for action for the next twelve hours.” I reached into my pack beside the workstation and fished out a liter-sized water bladder that hadn’t been touched. “I have water. Loaded with electrolytes. It’s not tasty or cold, but it is wet.”
“Perhaps I should be offering you a refreshment, Captain Blake. The scramhopper I flew in has a few amenities.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m good.” I looked at her. “You flew the scramhopper into our camp?”
“I did. Does that surprise you?”
“Yes.”
“You work with women soldiers.” Mara frowned a little then, as if she wasn’t certain of herself or maybe wasn’t sure of what she was thinking. “Surely you don’t think I’m incapable of piloting a small aircraft.”
“I don’t think you should be alone, ma’am. You were kidnapped and held for ransom not even four months ago.”
“Three months and eleven days.” Her mouth tightened and her nostrils flared a little. “That experience isn’t going to be something I easily forget.”
“No, ma’am. I suppose not.”
“In fact, that experience has been a life-altering episode for me.”
I waited, not knowing what to say, but I was trying to figure out how she’d found our base. Chimera Team was stalking people who were high in the Martian terrorist hierarchy, men and women who were responsible for the deaths of hundreds and the destruction of millions of credits of Earth corporation properties.
“After I was taken, I became aware that the security people I had protecting me were woefully inadequate for the job.”
“Working security is a hard detail,” I said. “I prefer hunting people more than protecting assets. Protecting someone is difficult. There are often too many variables.”
“You appear to be good at protecting things. And people.”
“You’re talking about rescuing you?”
“I am.”
I shook my head. “A rescue isn’t much different than what we’re doing out here.”
“Hunting people?”
“Yes, ma’am. We planned on bringing you back alive, but in order to do that, we had to hunt—and terminate—the people holding you. We did.”
She blanched a little at that, and I realized I had spoken too baldly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think too closely about what I was saying.”
“No. That’s fine.” Mara looked away for a moment and pulled a strand of hair from her face. “You were very clear about your methodology.”
“I could have been a little more circumspect.”
“Actually, I appreciate the honesty. How much do you know about me?”
I thought about it and shrugged. “You develop neural channeling for bioroids. You run your own corporation, have a seat at the big table whenever you sit down with Haas-Bioroid. I could tell you your birthdate, height, weight, that kind of information.”
“But you don’t know that much about me.”
I recognized the distinction she was trying to make. Or maybe Simon Blake did and I merely mirrored his understanding. “No, ma’am. I do not know much about you as a person.”
“I’m developing some cutting-edge software in a cutthroat business, Captain Blake. Most android development corps would like to get their hands on what I have.”
I nodded again. I knew that. That had been in the package Rath had given to us pre-op.
“Haas-Bioroid paid for my recovery. Did you know that?”
“Colonel Rath doesn’t loop us in to all the details of an op.”
“Normally you don’t do rescue?”
I hesitated before I answered, then realized that Mara Parker was smart enough to have checked up on that before she said it. “No. We don’t. Normally we destroy targets.”
She stared into my eyes. “So what made this instance so different?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask the colonel.”
At that, she laughed aloud.
I felt Simon’s ears heat up, which was a strange sensation to me. I’d heard Shelly talk about the physiognomic response, and I had seen it in people we questioned, but I had never felt it. In fact, it would have been impossible for me because I didn’t have ears as such. I had aud receptors built into my head. It was a phantom sensation at best.
“Wait.” Mara took me by the wrist and her hand felt warm against my chill skin. “I wasn’t laughing at you.”
I wanted to believe her, but I could tell that Simon didn’t quite feel so generous.
“I was imagining what it would be like to ask Colonel Rath any of his business. He plays things close to the vest.”
That was an understatement. No one in the unit knew exactly how many angles John Rath played at any one time. In the past we had undertaken missions thinking we were supposed to achieve one impossible goal, only to find out that it had been a feint so another team could manage to succeed elsewhere. With John Rath, the left hand never knew what the right hand was doing. In fact, there was no way to know for certain that those were the only two hands he had.
“Then I really have to ask how you found us,” I said.
“Colonel Rath invited me.”
“Why?”
“Because I had made it known that I wanted to talk to you—and him—again. It took me three months to make that happen. While you were in the hospital recovering from your wounds, having remodeling done by nanobots and gene-modded tissues vat-grown to replace what you’d lost, I wasn’t able to get anywhere near you.”
“I wasn’t aware that you had tried.”
“I did. Several times. Rath prevented me.”
I nodded. “It’s understandable. He has a no-contact rule with previous principles.”
“Principles?”
“People that we have protected. People that we have worked for.”
“Why?”
“Because people lie to us, ma’am.”
Mara leaned back a little, but the smile never left her face. “That sounds a little jaded and cynical.”
I grinned at her to let her know no hard feelings were felt. “That’s how it is in the business. People make the mistake of thinking they can buy us. Pay for our blood. Pay us to die for them.”
“Don’t they?”
“Rath chooses who we bleed and die for.”
“And he’s always right?”
“It’s not about him always being right.” I spoke as Simon put his thoughts into words. “It’s about finding something you believe in. Someone you believe in. You can believe the holos. You can believe the newsrags or the nosie of your choice. You can believe in whatever religion most appeals to you. But at the end of every day, you have to put your faith somewhere.”
“So you put your faith in John Rath.” It was a statement, not a question.
“I do. I choose to.”
She looked at me as if weighing me somehow. “What makes him so special then?”
I smiled at her and shook my head. “He’s John Rath. He succeeds where others fail. Most importantly, he keeps us alive. And he never deserts us.”
“Never?”
“Not once. I’ve seen him standing tall in the middle of firefights I was certain we weren’t going to get out of aliv
e.”
As I sat inside Simon Blake, I suddenly realized I could see those memories of John Rath like they were my own. Which, in a sense, they were. The colonel had always been there on every battlefield. He led charges and, when it came to it, he was the last man to retreat.
For a moment, we were silent in the hut. I heard the wind, constant and howling, whipping by the camp, whistling through the foothills of the mountains where we’d buried down.
“Did you ever find out who was behind my kidnapping?” Mara looked at me.
“No, ma’am.”
“Did Colonel Rath?”
“If he did, he didn’t tell any of us.”
“Would he keep such knowledge from you?”
“Of course. He only tells us things he is certain we need to know. There was no reason to know who had kidnapped you. Our business was done with your recovery.”
Mara shifted on the seat. “I have come to have…strong suspicions that the people behind my kidnapping were from Haas-Bioroid.”
I considered that. “It doesn’t make sense. They paid to get you rescued.”
She smiled, but there was no humor in the effort. “Within a few days of my return to my offices, an NAPD investigation turned up electronic tracking devices that led them back to a man who worked deep inside Haas-Bioroid.”
“Who?” I felt Simon Blake’s protective urges swim to the forefront. They were a lot like the same programming that I was coded with.
“A man named Harlan Bernobich.”
Simon searched his memories for any mention of the name but came up empty. I filed Bernobich’s name away for later research. “I don’t know him.”
“I thought you might have heard his name. He turned up dead less than a week after I was freed.”
“How did he die?”
“The NAPD says that he killed himself.”
I studied her. “You have reason to doubt that?”
“See how cynical you are?” She smiled. “I’ve hired a private investigator to look into Bernobich, but I don’t expect to get much. When Haas-Bioroid decides to conceal something, it pretty much stays invisible.”
