The Ghost Fleet

by Trevor Wyatt

  There’s the plant, right where I left it. I grab it, lift it up, and he meets it face first as he races into the lobby.

  Three down.

  Still moving at speed, I haul the unconscious guards into a utility closet off the lobby and truss them up. They’ll be unconscious for a while; at least long enough for their friends upstairs to find them, asses kicked, here in the cubby.

  I slow down, head back outside, and commandeer their car. It’s locked, but it responds to my override code. Still in Sonali disguise, I flee the scene in my shiny new skimmer.

  Gresh

  The assassin flees across the back streets of the Residential Estate, using the darkness as cover, and I follow after her with my heart pounding to the drums of my possible demise at her utterly cruel side. The backstreets are the slums, where people of questionable characters thrive. Security personnel rarely venture this far, except in times of crisis or to collect a dead body.

  I am totally sure this assassin can handle herself should she be attacked.

  But can I do that for myself?

  We are currently passing through an area where the streets are wider and the houses are receded away from the streets. Most of the houses in this neighborhood are one or two stories tall. The street lights are dead and the houses seemed abandoned. Now and then, I see a couple of people gathered on the lawn, smoking narcotic herbs that are banned in the entire Combine.

  Sometimes, I make eye contact with these groups of deadly looking vagabonds and immediately turn away.

  I know I’m way in over my head. But I have realized that this is not just about helping No One. This is about the Origin Movement. The High Cleric and this assassin are up to no good. I have to help No One find out what exactly they have going on and stop them before it is too late to do so.

  Another reason I’m out here in perpetual jeopardy to my life is because after surviving the Sacred Temple of the Holy Combine, I think I can handle myself. Heck, I know I can handle myself.

  Perhaps, my body is still trembling with excitement as a result of the last “near death experience”, for if they had caught a spy in the Temple, it was certainly death without trial for me. The Temple is that powerful.

  I found it odd that the moment I stepped out of the High Cleric’s office, the entire Temple went into lockdown. I don’t know what happened. My first instinct when the alarms went off was to dive to the corner of the main administrative floor and stay put. I can remember how my entire body shivered under the oppressive weight of terror.

  The assassin had burst out of the office, as though she knew what exactly was going on. In fact, my initial thought was that the fire wall of the Temple’s computer systems had somehow managed to discover an intrusion by the nanites and that they were right then narrowing the search to the point of intrusion.

  Once this hit me, I knew I had to get as far away from the point of intrusion as I could. So I jumped to my feet and fled out of the administrative floor. Lucky for me, there were a couple of other people hurrying about—to what end, I could not tell. I walked past the assassin and the High Cleric who had somehow met in the hallway and made it to the Temple Library in time before the security guards were mustered.

  I was able to hide out in the Temple (I was the only one there) before the security got to the library.

  “Who are you?” one of the two guards assigned to sweep the floor asked, his gun pointed straight at my face.

  The feeling of dread I experienced then is incomprehensible. I never knew the Sonali body was capable of such intensity of feeling.

  “Grrrrrshhhh,” I managed to mutter. It wasn’t exactly my name, but it was close enough.

  The second guard checked his device and then whispered to his partner who held the gun on me. “He checked in through the main doors for some sort of xeno blah blah blah research.”

  The one with the gun returned his acidly wicked gaze on me and said, “Get up!”

  I shot to my feet and almost shat on myself. It would have been extremely embarrassing if I did.

  The guards manhandled me until I was out of the Temple and stumbling across the courtyard to the gates. Night had fallen and I had a difficult time adjusting from the lit up interior of the Temple to the absolute darkness of the outdoors.

  I made it out of the main gates and started back towards civilization when I saw that the assassin lady was ahead of me. There were about three other people on the path towards the small depot of aircars. I was able to recognize her because of the high tech cast she had on her arm.

  Imagine my surprise and relief. It wasn’t over. I got into the same aircar as her and the other people, and we were dropped in the Temple’s sister depot in the Residential Estate. I waited for a full minute before I began tailing her.

  I’ve been following her for close to thirty minutes.

  The assassin comes to a large crossroads with a roundabout in the center. I am maintaining a distance of about fifty yards, using her figure and the tiny light blinking on her arm as indicators of her progress. Once I notice she has stopped, I run out of the road to the nearest building to me. It’s a boxy looking home that has overgrown leaves and dusty walls. I crouch in the bushes, observing the lone figure in the deserted area of the Residential Estate.

  She’s looking around. Could she be waiting for someone?

  I haven’t called No One since I left the Temple. I guess she would be looking for me, after all she was the one who sent me to the Temple. I only delayed calling her until I had something tangible. I don’t think the little time the nanites had before they were discovered by the Temple’s security system is enough time to download vital information. I decided I had to deliver the assassin to No One.

  Now, it seems as though she’s waiting for someone.

  I pull out the communication device No One had given me. It’s a small box with a tiny screen and a call button. It has a small antenna that doubles as a receiver and sender. The miniature earpiece is still embedded in my ear.

  I press the call button.

  “Stand by…” comes a female voice.

  “Gresh?” is the next thing I hear. It’s No One’s voice and she sounds surprised. “Are you alright?”

  “Should I not be?” I ask, a little puzzled. She sounds as though she expected me to be dead. I frown.

  “No, it’s just that when the connection ended, I thought something terrible happened,” she said.

  I sneer. “You left me for dead, then?”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re alright,” she said, skillfully deflecting the question. “Where are you? Do you need help?”

  I don’t reply for a moment. First off, I struggle with the anger burning in my belly. I come all this way, put my life at risk for this damn Terran and the first thing she does when I get into a mild fix is abandon.

  I remind myself that this is not for her. This is for the Movement. For the Cause. I have to press on for the greater good.

  “Gresh?”

  I look up at the crossroads and the figure is gone. My heart climbs my chest. I come to my feet and run back into the road. I look as far down the road as I can, but I can’t make any figure or blinking lights. I edge towards the crossroads, wondering if I’ve been made. My breathing heightens.

  “Gresh?” Now there’s worry in her voice. “Gresh are you okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m tailing the assassin,” I say, then give No One a brief breakdown of what happened after the alarms went off. I get to the crossroad junction when I’m done. The assassin is walking down the road to the right. I follow her. I notice that all the way ahead there are some high rises. Could we be getting back into the thick of the Residential Estate?

  “And you lost her at the crossroad?”

  “I’ve found her,” I reply. “We are heading east towards some high rising apartments—I think they may be apartment buildings… I think she’s taking the long route to—“

  “I’m on my way to you, Gresh,” she says finally. “Stay on her
and don’t get closer than you already are. If she enters a building, don’t follow her in. You hear me?”

  “Right,” I reply.

  “Keep the line open,” she says, “I’ll use it to track you.”

  “How many minutes?” I say, wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

  “Less than five,” she replies, “I’m already en route.”

  “How will I know when you arrive?” I say.

  She chuckles. “Oh, you won’t miss me.”

  Truly, I didn’t miss her. I have only been following the assassin for another three minutes before I see an aircar screaming towards us. We were already in a moderately populated area, pedestrians moving about on the street.

  There was a sparse population of aircars zooming ahead, so no one thought it’s strange, except me, that an air car was descending at an unusually high speed. At seven yards above ground level, people are scrambling out of the way—everyone except the assassin who just looks up, struck still with what I guess is fear.

  I freeze, the light from the car blinding me.

  I watch via squinting eyes as the doors open while the car is still in its downward motion and a figure dives out of the vehicle. At that moment, the assassin turns to run and then she sees me and freezes, even as I feel my heart beat in my chest.

  A rather fetching Sonali woman jumps out and slams into the assassin.

  But her movements are fluid and fast. Cat-like in their grace.

  And no Sonali post-Ascension female can move like that. It’s vaguely reminiscent of what I remember before I was stabbed. When I saw…

  No One.

  No One is now a Sonali?

  The Terrans have a phrase—but it’s more of a question. It goes, “What the fuck?”

  This is an apt time to use it.

  The car’s autopilot system takes over and the car veers off its downward path and comes to a hover where the assassin had once stood. No One subdues the assassin, who struggles to no avail.

  No One looks up at me. She’s panting and smiling. If I didn’t know better I would think she actually got off doing dangerous things like diving out of an aircar.

  I head over to the two.

  “That was a dangerous thing to do,” I mutter to No One.

  No One shrugs.

  “You and I are going to have a little chat, Cookie. And you are going to be brutally honest with me.” No One says to the assassin, who has been grunting under the weight of No One’s knees.

  Then No One snaps the assassin’s other arm.

  I wince. It looks as if a Sonali is harming another Sonali from where I’m standing.

  The assassin screams out of sheer pain. Her scream rends my heart in two. I am about to protest, when No One leans into the assassin and whispers in her ears, “Now, questioning can really begin.”

  No-One

  I pull up the assassin who’s writing on the sandy ground in pain. Gresh is flashing me a surly gaze, but he knows enough not to speak. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, and this is the only way I know how to do so as quickly as possible.

  “We should turn her to the authorities,” Gresh says, following me to where the aircar is hovering three yards away from the assassin’s limp form.

  I look at him in the corner of my eye and say, “And say what? Hey, cops, this is the assassin that murdered the Noble Marshal. Prosecute her.”

  Gresh shrugs, still remaining adamant.

  The aircar’s main door is open. I reach in and grab a cord—I was able to get one while rushing here to intercept the assassin.

  “Look, Gresh, something doesn’t feel right about all of this,” I say. “Now, I’m thankful for all you’ve done so far, putting your life at risk. I think it’s admirable that you didn’t bolt the moment you were free. But we have to milk out the information we can from this bitch.”

  Gresh recoils at my vulgarity.

  I chuckle. “Well, she is, isn’t she? Anyways, you got to let me handle this my way. I’ve dealt with many of her kind. All I need is an hour with her, and we’ll have all we need to find out what is really going on.”

  Gresh hesitates.

  I return back to the assassin. She’s no longer moving. I turn her face up. Her slits are shut tight, though she’s breathing.

  Gresh, who is standing over the both of us, says, “She’s passed out from the pain.”

  I make a face. “Only a snapped hand? Her pain tolerance is really low.”

  “Well, pain is not something we walk out of the door every morning hoping to experience,” he says with a wry smile.

  I laugh. I go about tying the assassin’s hands and legs. Then I look at Gresh, who’s looking down on me with reticence.

  “Hey, what’s going on over there?” a voice says.

  I look behind to the direction of the voice, and I see small knots of people plucking up the courage to approach us. It’s pitch dark, and the light in the area is pretty low, so they don’t really see our faces and I don’t really see theirs.

  “Stay away!” I roar in my best, evil voice.

  The man leading the advance comes to a startling stop. Uncertain of what to do next, he turns to his comrades behind who have also stopped.

  “I still think there are better ways to interrogate her than by ourselves,” Gresh says. “I’ve watched you, No One, and I am terrified of you. I know I won’t be liking what you do to her. I know it’s going to be immoral.”

  I grow out of frustration. “Look, what’s immoral is what these guys are planning, because I assure you it’s not to make Sonali lives well. If the end game is to prevent something terrible from happening, does that not make our actions okay?”

  “The ends do not justify the means, No One,” Gresh says, folding his arms and refusing to see my point of view.

  My right lips twitch when I say, “In this case, it does. No, will you help me get her in the car? My voice isn’t going to keep the neighbors from harassing us any longer.”

  Gresh bends and helps me lift the assassin’s body up. We are able to stuff her into the back of the aircar.

  I get into the front passenger’s seat and motion for Gresh to take the wheels.

  He stops short, looking at me with suspicion. “Why?”

  I roll my eyes. “Must you question my every decision? Get into the damn car and take us to your office, right away.”

  Gresh gets into the car, and we shoot into the air. We race into the normal air lanes, and soon we’re traversing the many skyscrapers of the Residential Estate.

  Gresh is a bit reckless with his driving, and I have to caution him thrice.

  “Why do you care?” Gresh retorts at the last time. “You are the epitome of recklessness.” I hear the anger and bitterness in his voice.

  “I am only reckless when it’s necessary,” I reply. “What you’re doing is plain stupid. If the airway patrol cops see us, they’ll definitely stop us. Then will we be toast.”

  After this little exchange, Gresh’s driving becomes a little better. We cross into the Industrial Estate and fire off towards Gresh’s archaeological lab, which is located not far from the Industrial Layout, where it all began. I find it quaint. The whole Estate is flooded with lights from multiple sources: buildings, streets, and floating light bots.

  Ten minutes later, Gresh is steering the aircar on the street right next to the door of his one-story building. The street isn’t deserted, but it’s lightly treaded, and there’s no police presence, so I don’t give Gresh a flak for being so stupid as to pack right in front of his office, when we have someone tied up and unconscious at the back.

  I hop out of the car and grab the assassin by the wrist. She jolts to consciousness with a scream. Instinctively, I slam my fist into the back of her head, and she blacks out again.

  I chance a glance at Gresh. He’s fuming at me.

  “I had to,” I say in my defense. “Go on and open the door, while I get her out.”

  Gresh alights from the air car and heads over t
o the door. I watch as he looks up and down the street before placing his right palm on the hidden palm reader on the right wall by the door. The door lights up before opening.

  I grab the assassin’s form and heft her onto my shoulder. I make a short dash into the house to reduce our exposure. Gresh locks the door, then comes and helps me carry the assassin up to the lab area. I set her on a chair by the workstations, reworking her binding, so she has little mobility. I know she is going to wake up to an intense sensation of pain with the angle her hands make because they are tied behind the chair, but I don’t mind. It all works to my advantage.

  I send Gresh to get me a container of water. He obliges me, returning some seconds later with one.

  I am about to splash the assassin into consciousness when I hold off. I look at Gresh.

  “Are you sure you want to be here?”

  Gresh nods.

  I give him an unconvinced look. “I can’t have you stopping me when I begin. You can wait downstairs.”

  Gresh's arms are folded across his chest. He doesn’t look at me, nor does he say anything.

  “Okay, then,” I say. I splash the water on the Sonali’s face.

  She jolts awake. First sputtering then almost immediately crying aloud for pain. Gresh’s hands fall to his side as he plans to help her. I interpose myself between them and look Gresh in his slits, showing the anger bristling all over me through my eyes.

  “Stay away, or I’ll make you stay away,” I mutter, speaking every word singly.

  Gresh holds my gaze for longer than I anticipated. I almost think I’ll have to knock him down, then he retreats to the corner of the room. He’s still close enough to monitor my interrogation, yet far enough not to be compelled by his emotions to intervene.

  Works for me.

  I turn to face the assassin, whose face is contorted in intense agony. I feel no sympathy for her…none at all.

  “Look at me!” I roar, and her head snaps up, slits widen in extreme terror.