by William Cray
Colonel Cochrane deselected the Com-channel.
“That was damned peculiar,” he said to himself as he leaned back into the chair at his desk. The aroma of a steaming cup of Jiri in front of him activated the habitudinal motion of his hand to the cup, but at the last moment he halted, releasing the veteran cup without bringing it to his lips. Instead he stared at the screen. Confused by the request and the unlikely possibility of coincidence.
Cochrane had a fine office inside the corridors of the station’s internal axial rotation ring. His window was a view of Mars below, along a long silver stalk reaching up from the surface near the labyrinth and chasms far below him. He glanced at the window, seeing the faint reflections of the domes and collectors spotting the surface, the rails running like veins across the planums and into the bulge of mountains below. So far from the surface it was easy to insolate himself from what happened in the squalor below, but today, there had been a call for help.
“Ms. Jones…Could you see if Flight Captain Peligrew has a moment?” Five minutes later the fit young Flight Captain of Interceptors stood before the Colonel’s desk.
The two officers were of different breeds and kept each other in constant awareness of the vast and incomprehensible differences of their chosen professions. Neither passed up an opportunity to goad the other. Captain Peligrew was junior. He was always respectful in his comments on how truly sad he was that Colonel Cochrane was cursed with the ill fortune of being a Marine whose primary goal of professional fulfillment was to burn, pillage and rape with utter glee, regardless of species or genome.
Cochrane pitied the sad coffin like existence of a man who enclosed himself in a flying tube of gel and relied upon a regulated explosion to convey him from one arbitrary point in space to another, where reigning death and destruction on the enemy was conducted through a series of buttons and switches. If you could not hear the laminations of their women, what possible joy could you find in it?
Peligrew’s job was hunting Fast Attack Ships, but he wasn’t on flight status at during this assignment at the Depot. Instead he was relegated to Phobos as Chief of Spectrum, the ranking officer in charge of the stations sensor arrays and near planet probes. Normally, the Colonel would greet Peligrew and the banter would begin, but today, Cochrane remained behind his desk, signaling business.
“Flight Captain, what would it take to realign an H-Band antenna towards the planet?”
“H-Band? Most of our H-Bands are pointing outspin.” Peligrew responded.
Cochrane pointed at the image of Mars occupying his back wall. “I just received an unusual request from Elijah Cole, the Commissioner of the Lunae-Tharsis Constabulary. You know about the bombing earlier today in New Meridian City?”
“Yes sir. About twenty dead, last I heard. Has anyone claimed responsibility?
“No. But I’m sure someone will before long. Anyway, he is concerned that there is a bomb factory being hidden somewhere in the city or on the surface by a Tri-Lum dispersion field and he has asked us if we have a way of spotting it.” Cochrane said.
Peligrew folded his arms across his chest. “Tri-Lum? That’s pretty high-level stuff, not something a simple fanatic would have lying around. Does the Commissioner even know what he’s talking about?”
Cochrane nodded and then apologized, asking Peligrew to sit. “Please forgive me Rob, sit down. We have received a heads up from Fleet that we may be tasked to provide intelligence and communication support to the Martian planetary government for a counter terrorism operation they may have to execute. I just talked to Commissioner Cole and he was concerned about some intel he dredged up in the course of his investigation…” Cochrane paused. “And based on something I came across a few days ago, I am not dismissing his concerns out of hand.”
“Oh, I see. Well...None of our fixed stations are oriented below us. I would have to send out a walker array. By the time the array was prepped and calibrated it would take about twelve hours to amble out there. Maybe a little less.”
“Twelve hours.” Cochrane said. “I haven’t got official clearance yet, and this is strictly off the books, but can you start a H-Band set that direction, without official authorization I mean?”
“Sure, Ok…I can do that. Where do you want it pointed?”
Cochrane held up his cup of Jiri, motioning towards the great red planet on his wall. “Into the city. Right down into the trench.”
15
Weapons Locker
New Meridian City
Hebes Chasma Trench, Mars
With the hum of motors and cogs, the reinforced blast door revolved into the ground, clacking into place with a reverberating snap of holds and clasps, which echoed down the long corridor. Duran jury-rigged the door controls by resetting the passcode authorization. Duran scanned the weapon locker’s perimeter for threats. He had already neutralized the two officers watching the entrance with a silent approach and a quick knife.
Duran stalked down the corridor, sweeping the path with his weapon ready, utilizing the Talon’s optics and sensors to aid in threat detection. His hands shivered in the cold, tightening the grip on the gun, his body forcing his heart to beat faster, directing blood to his extremities against the encroachment of hypothermia after the disorienting, grasping fall into the waters of the reservior. Duran’s left hand was broken and maybe an ankle. He could walk on the ankle, but the hand was almost useless at this point. He hid it in his coat and wrapped it in some skinmend he found in the van. The tiny mechanisms in his body blotted out the pain and repaired split flesh and bludgeoned veins, but he would have to hole up someplace for a few hours and allow his machines to do their work and keep him in the fight. Soon, swelling would make biological mending more difficult, so it was imperative that he not stop until he was able to repair. His equipment at the hotel was undoubtedly in LTC custody and a second surveillance team was probably watching for him.
The approaches to his hotel room were restricted so just getting into the place if it was guarded would be difficult. He couldn’t risk a direct confrontation. He had no doubts he could get to the room, and get his gear even if it were still there, but if he wanted to intiate a fight, he would have simply taken on Cole and the cops he had sent after him on the platform. He jumped off the ledge and into the cold lake below to save their lives. It had cost him broken bones and torn flesh in return.
Now he only had the gun, a few gel-packs and the formidable body the Emperor had bestowed on him. But his throbbing hand had proven he wasn’t invulnerable.
Duran came to the open threshold. Celeste Von Heiden was just beyond it. With the doors to the bunker open, he was the only barrier between them and the city. Between them and the Intruder. If they managed to slip past him, he will have put the city in even more danger. It was a risk he had to take at this point. All or nothing.
Gathering his strength he holstered his weapon. He disguised the limp despite the damage to his ankle. He couldn’t afford to show any vulnerability in the encounter. His outer clothing was still drenched from the fall, and the cold prickled his exposed skin, clinging to him like a tentacle.
Duran entered and looked around the makeshift cell. The temperature was warmer and a mat and blankets had been provided. The food was still untouched, but the mat and covers were neatly arranged in the corner. The pack of cigarettes was crumpled on the floor, empty.
Celeste stood, leaning against the back wall, as Duran walked in. Her head down and arms folded across her chest, dark air obscuring her face in the light. Duran thought she looked shorter as she was barefoot, her stylish black leather boots sitting upright and neat by the mat in the corner of the room.
Duran felt the gentle probing as he walked to the center of the room. The tingling was not a flood this time, more a stream flowing in and around his barriers. Duran had prepared himself for the moment before he entered the room, hoping to stem the flood of mental pressure before she could invade his thoughts. Despite his physical condition, Duran was more confide
nt in this meeting with her, but he wouldn’t underestimate what she could do.
Duran emptied his mind and focused his thoughts, allowing the barriers to change shape and composition to redirect her mental probing.
“Coming to beg my assistance?” She said. The edges of a smile formed in the blue blackness.
Duran stopped in the center of the room, calculating, reaching into his coat pocket with his broken left hand and pulling out the pack of the Tyk cigarettes, kept dry in the sealed redcoat pocket. He opened the pack and extracted one and lit one against the pack then held it out to her. “I came here to find out why you aren’t eating.”
Celeste smiled under the mask of hair. “You lie poorly, Agent Duran.” Taking three steps towards Duran, she reached out for the pack and Duran withdrew it, shaking his head. He held it back out again and Celeste took a single cigarette this time and Duran winked at her.
Duran followed her with his eyes as she circled back around, “You said you would help, now I’m asking for it.”
“Why should I help you? If I do, you are going to kill me anyway,” she said cynically.
Duran tensed. “If you don’t help me, you will die. If it isn’t me, then it will be someone else. I don’t want it be that way.”
Celeste circled behind him now. “What reassurances do I have?”
Duran felt her mental pressure building on him again, “None. You help me, and you’ll live.”
“How? You won’t be able to save you own life, much less mine.” Celeste replied.
“Help me find who I’m looking for and arrangements can be made.”
“As a lab rat in a cell somewhere. You don’t know the addiction of absorbing and experiencing another’s life through the gift.” Her defense was both desperate and inviting. “It’s more potent than any narcotic.” Celeste said acidly, “Whoever has sent you Special Agent Duran, won't let someone like me walk the streets.” She let fly the last column of smoke with an angry push.
“I can protect you.” Duran said, his total mental energy focused on the hiding the lie.
She laughed. “For how long?” Celeste spat out. “Your people will just try to put me behind more walls. I won’t live like that.”
“Maybe not, but that’s why I'm giving you the choice now Celeste. You already know the alternative. Time is running out. The decision is yours.” Duran paused letting his words sink in. “Just tell me where he is, Celeste.” Duran turned to face her but she remained silent. He could feel her searching his mind, gentle fingers rummaging through the files of his life. Duran could feel the pressure building.
Finally she spoke, “I don’t know.”
Duran searched her face for the truth. He had put all his cards on the table. If she didn’t cooperate he would have to kill her, but he didn’t know if he could do it. His hands tensed and he could feel the weight of the Mag-gun against his chest under the redcoat. Duran waited for an answer, waited for an attack, he just waited.
Celeste spoke. “I will have to take you to him.”
“No deal Celeste, tell me where he is.”
“I don’t know where he is, but I can help you find him.” Celeste said.
Duran searched her for the truth. Somewhere inside her was a struggle being waged. Perhaps he couldn’t understand its depths and complexities, but the side that would keep her alive another day had won.
He nodded. “Get your things, we’re leaving.”
“Kari comes with us.” She spouted.
“I can't take her with us.” Duran said.
“She goes with us or you will have to kill me now.” Celeste folded her arms across her chest, circling again towards her mat, already knowing the futile course of Duran’s resistance.
“I thought you said she was dangerous.” Duran countered.
“I can control her. She comes with us.” Celeste demanded.
Duran nodded after another moment. “If either of you attempts anything …”
Celeste cut him off as she stepped in front of him, “Anything…?”
She reached out to him, running her hand back across his chest to the pocket with the pack of cigarettes, pulling them out and taking them with her as she turned.
Duran stared into her eyes as she pouted, mocking him. “I will know it. Don’t test me.”
She looked up at him, hiding her eyes in slits of blue as she peered into him as a human would. “Something has changed. You are hurt and freezing…no one is outside are they? Not even the two you left behind who liked watching me. I was looking forward to raping them with their own perversions. Perhaps something with their dear mummy.”
Duran shook his head. “Shut up and let’s go. We don’t have time for this.”
“You’ve done something to them…haven’t you? I hope you hurt them.”
“They’ll be fine, but we won’t be so lucky if we stay here much longer.”
Celeste cooed in approval. “We have all the time in the world. Once you open these doors, I can take you anywhere you want to go. The only thing stopping us is…you and you’ve taken sides already.”
Duran turned away, “I took sides a long time ago. Just take me to him.”
Celeste stopped abruptly. “He knows you're coming.”
Duran narrowed his. “How?”
“Do you think Eric was alone when he died?”
Duran flashed at the familiarity she seemed to display by using his name. He remembered what Delk had said was in the report about Hansen. Perhaps all of these encounters with Celeste had been choreographed in an elaborate plot. Anger began to surge to the front. “Explain.” Duran barked.
“I thought we were in a hurry Agent Duran. All in good time.” she stalked over by the corner, taking her things in hand and slipping on her boots over bare pale feet.
She threw her hair back, “Let's go. I need a shower and you need to dry off, then I’ll look at your hand.”
They rode in silence in the stolen Lunae-Tharsis Constabulary unmarked van. Spending most of the trip looking for signs of pursuit or surveillance, Duran was finally satisfied they were alone. He had removed or disabled most of the vehicles obvious tracking devices in hopes of isolating the van from the eyes of the LTC dispatch center. Elijah Cole would be looking for the van, but they were forced to use it until he could make other arrangements. They would have been screwed if NMCPD or LTC had done a facial recognition scan check on local cabs and their occupants. It didn’t take long to disable most of the vans communications and remote surveillance systems, along with the vans previous operators, but he could have missed something, so they had to ditch it soon. Celeste had seen the abandoned van and smiled at Duran deviously, recognizing that he was on the run as much as she. Celeste displayed none of Duran’s concern about surveillance. She had given him a destination and they were now arriving. Already, he trusted her far too much.
Duran could feel the uneasiness and tension of Kari as she shifted restlessly in the back seat. Celeste on the other hand, rode with a demure confidence that seemed to calm all of them a little. Duran and Kari were just along for a ride. It seemed only Celeste knew the final destination.
He knew nothing about the two girls, just what he could track down in public records, which in Kari's case, was nothing. She was the weakest link in the fragile chain of trust that Duran was trying to build. Duran’s vigilance waned a little, somehow allowing Celeste’s confidence to buoy him through the dull pain of his untended injuries. To find a measure of trust, he need to know more about them, even if he was forced to betray it in the end.
“How old are you Kari?”
Duran glanced over his shoulder at the quiet girl in the back. She sat on her hands and bit down on her lower lip as she shifted in the seat.
“She doesn’t talk.” Celeste finally said.
“To anyone or just not to me?”
Celeste looked back at Kari who was now staring at Duran through the mirror. “She's never spoken to anyone. She can’t. J
ust part of her variation. It’s not personal, but she thinks you're ugly.”
Duran tried his brokeface smile at Kari through the mirror, but her expression didn’t change; maintaining that intense frenzied stillness she was able to exude. He turned back to Celeste, “How do you know that?”
“We’ve learned to communicate on many levels over the years but now, through our gift, it has brought us closer.”
“How long have you known her?” Duran asked.
“About six years or so. I met her in my building, living on her own, scared and hungry.” Celeste responded.
“You’ve raised her?”
“No. We survived together. I gave her a way to live and she gave me a reason to live. It hasn’t been easy.”
“How did you communicate?”
“It was instinctual at first. Eventually we learned to sign from some old netfiles. But we kind of developed our own version of it, I guess. But after we received his gift, we just communicate through it.”
Duran, sensing an opening, cut to the important question. “How did you two receive this gift?”
“He chose me.”
“Him? The Intruder?” Duran questioned.
“You call him an Intruder but he didn’t have anything to do with what happened on Earth.”
“I don’t understand.” Duran responded. “Why is he here then?”
“I don’t know.” Celeste answered.
“Why did he choose you for this gift?”
“Because I’m different, always have been.”
Duran glanced to the back seat, “And Kari, is she different?”
Celeste looked down at her lap. Her confident demeanor replaced by a far away look, “I taught Kari the gift, but she wasn’t ready … I wasn’t ready.”
“How did it happen?”
“I wanted to share it with her, to let her feel the gift. But I was too inexperienced then… she saw things she shouldn’t have.”
Duran sensed the regret in her voice. He pushed a little further, knowing there was a limit how much he could get from her. If he pressed too hard he could undo the fragile strands being cultivated between them.
