An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "Of course you do. The question is whether or not you're going to make the right one."
As I locked eyes with her, the "bad-ass Sanctioner on a mission" voice inside my head screamed at me to maintain my air of sullen hostility, but Jones' reputation, and the fact that she already had me right where she wanted me, promptly silenced it. "I promise I'll behave," I offered contritely, throwing in a "ma'am" for good measure and was instantly rewarded by the field's disappearance.
"Now then," Jones spoke after giving me a moment to stretch stiffened muscles. "Why don't you have a seat and we can get down to business." She indicated the stylish leather chair positioned in front of her desk.
I gave the proffered seat a wary glance then slid cautiously into its cushiony folds. "So what's so special about me and my blood?"
"The fact that both it and you are products of the peculiar environment on planet Kraston," she said activating the holo-terminal sitting atop her desk.
Again her knowledge caught me off guard. My planet of origin was one of many personal tidbits I kept safely tucked away in a deep corner of my mind; where the pain associated with my past couldn't hurt me. I had taken elaborate steps keep it so, though apparently not elaborate enough.
"How is that you know so much about me, Commander Jones?"
"Finding out such details about my recruits is what I do best. Plus you didn't cover your tracks as well as you thought."
My eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"
"Meaning your slight...tampering with the Lazon Orphanage's personnel records wasn't as thorough as you thought."
My jaw tightened briefly. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh I think you do," Jones replied, the temperature of her voice dropping several degrees as her eyes locked with mine.
It was obvious from her relaxed pose that such optical challenges were common but such wasn't the case with me. As the seconds ticked by I found myself squirming under this raven-haired witch's penetrating gaze.
In the end it was me who blinked first. "Fine you caught me." The words of admission left a bitter taste in my mouth. "Though I don't see what the big deal is. I'm sure I'm not the first orphan to attempt to sever all ties with his past."
Jones relaxed into her seat. "No you're not, although your attempt is one of the most ambitious I've ever encountered."
Jones typed in a series of numbers on her keypad and a new image appeared in the holo-sphere; one that I instantly recognized. "Jeremy Arten," she began, and I cringed at the sound of my birth name. "Father, Jerrod Arten; mother…unknown." A curious shadow fell across Jones's face but quickly cleared as she continued. "You were remanded to the Lazon orphanage at age two following the hovercar accident that killed your father and left you partially deaf in your left ear; a handicapped that was finally corrected by the med techs during your indoctrination into the Corp in which you enlisted following your imancipation from Lazon."
Jones pinned me with a hard stare. "Of course that last part was done after you hacked into The Lazon Orphanage's database, deleated Arten's file and replaced it with that of one Artemis Slade; a fabricated adolescent with an appropriately sad back story explaining his tenure at Lazon and, more importantly to you I would imagine, a chronological age that made you three years older than you truly were allowing for your release from Lazon not at age eighteen like the records say, but at the age of fifteen."
Jones deactivated the sphere and favored me with an approving grin. "Given the normal state of overcrowded orphanages such as Lazon, I'm sure such...inaccuracies are common place, but I still consider it quite an accomplishment."
"Thanks," I muttered through disgruntled lips. "So now that you've discovered my secret, what next?"
"We discuss the reason you're here."
My eyebrows arched upward. "That's it; no repercussions?"
Jones gave a negative shake of her head. "I'm sure you had a compelling reason for doing what you did, but your past motives don't concern me."
Again that curious shadow crossed her face, but it cleared as she leaned forward in her chair and pinned me with a hard stare. "What does concern me is the safety and sanctity of the United Systems, and based on your military service record that's a cause you've whole-heartedly dedicated yourself to as well. Am I correct in that assumption?"
Something about her tone made me sit up straighter. "You are."
A look of satisfaction appeared on her face. "Well in that case, I suggest we put the Lazon matter to rest; permanently."
Once again her fingers danced across the keypad and my youthful image (did I really used to where my hair like that?) along with the data associated with it vanished.
"There," Jones said. "All records deleted. Jeremy Arten is now officially a forgotten memory."
Again that pained expression crossed her face as she watched the data in the sphere dissapear, making me wonder if perhaps she had been an orphan herself. I knew better than to ask so I contented myself with another question instead; one that was more pertinent to the moment. "Before we move on, I do have one question?"
Jones's left eyebrow arched upward. "And that is?"
"How did you find out about me? I wasn't just thorough when I altered the Lazon data base, I was very thorough."
"With Lazon's computers you were," she said a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "But not with the backups stored in the electronic brain of your quad's Steward."
Once again I was taken aback. "Old Misses Gateson was a construct?"
Jones flashed me a knowing look. "Most orphanage caregivers are; makes it a lot easier for them to keep track of their numerous charges. That's how I discovered you. When my IT people did a System search for Cranston natives they added the Orphanage Network to their search engine. When the Jeremy Arten anomaly was discovered I had my techs dig deeper and here we are."
Something about her tone made me study her face closer. No doubt necessity had turned the Commander's face into a mask long ago but to a trained observer like myself her mask had cracks; such as slight tightening of her eyes which suggested to me that she was lying, but about what I couldn't figure out.
"Which brings us back to the point of this little exercise," the Commander's brisk declaration broke the spell.
Jones's fingers did another dance across the keypad and the holosphere filled with several images; all human males bearing a remarkable likeness to one another. "These are the Matadaran Brothers, leaders of the Matadaran Cartel. Their territory extends across the Draden, Galen, and Sersei systems. Normally their activities are centered on the sale and distribution of illegal narcotics, but lately they seem to be branching out."
Her fingers moved again and the image of the five, dark-skinned, beady-eyed brothers shifted to that of several young haggard-looking girls and boys. My jaw tightened painfully when I noticed that all of them were wearing electronic restraint collars around their necks.
"This image was sent anonymously to Councilor Jubbal, head of the Adolescent Outreach Program in the Galen system." Jones's voice was laced with bitterness. "Apparently the Matadarans have decided to join the growing ring of child slavers operating throughout Galen and have set up a labor camp on Kraston."
"Well if you know where they are, why can't you shut them down?"
Jones's expression hardened. "It's because of where they are that we can't shut 'em down," she ground out in a bitter voice. "Kraston opted out of the Unification Treaty during the formation of the US and remains to this day an autonomous and restricted planet. The Corp has no jurisdiction there."
"Well can't you sneak someone in?" My voice held a more plaintive note than usual. The thought of a bunch innocent kids being treated like livestock was bad enough, but the fact that a group as bad-ass as the Renegades couldn't do anything about it was downright maddening.
"Unfortunately we can't because of the G6PD1."
I blinked at her statement. "What the hell is a G6PD1?"
Jones
's fingers worked their magic again and an image of a DNA strand appeared before us. "G6PD1 is an enzyme unique to the blood of Kraston natives that protects you from a specific isotope in the planet's atmosphere."
"And what happens to non-natives?"
Jones's jaw tightened briefly. "They die within forty minutes of exposure to Craston's air. That's how the planetary government is able to maintain Kraston's restricted status and why criminals operating there are so difficult to route."
"What about the use of filter suits or something? I'm sure the Corp's tech boys could rig up something that would allow a squad to mount an assault."
"Yes, but not effectively; the filters required are just too bulky and cumbersome to be used in a stealth operation such as this. And before you ask, the enzyme can't be artificially produced or replicated. What we need is an operative native to the planet to infiltrate the Cartel and get us the data we need to shut these bastards done."
A wicked grin creased my lips. "I take it that's where I come in."
"Exactly," Jones said echoing my grin with one of her own. "We've been scouring the System looking for potential candidates. Initially we thought we would have to train said person, or persons. That's why finding you was like a dream come true; provided you're interested of course."
"Oh I'm definitely interested," I growled through clenched teeth, the thought of scores of helpless children being sold into slavery bringing my blood to a boil. "But don't you have to get approval from Sanction Group?"
A pleased expression lit Jones's face. "Already done; Chief Gristal's been notified of the situation and has given us his full support. Your transfer orders from SG to my little band of world-savers have already been logged in the Corp's database."
I squirmed in my seat. "When you say the Chief's been made aware, does that mean...?"
"Command only knows that you're a Kraston native," Jones quickly reassured me. "You're secret's safe."
This produced a flood of relief within me. Despite the fact that I wasn't going to be penalized for my past deceptions, I still had no desire to have my history known. Such disclosures often led to lengthy questions, and I had no desire to revisit my past in order to provide the answers.
"So when I do get started?" I asked eager to begin my new role as a Renegade despite the severity of the circumstances.
Jones must have sensed my giddiness for she emitted a soft chuckle. "Travel arrangements to Kraston have already been arranged. The shuttle leaves one week from today. In the meantime, your partner for this op will be bringing you up to speed on Renegade procedures."
"My partner?" I jumped on her statement.
Jones's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Yes partner; it turns out there's another Kraston native in the Corp. Coincidently she's one of my own." She typed in a short sequence on her keypad and the door to her office slid open. "I believe the two of you are already acquainted?"
I glanced at the doorway and my jaw dropped as Tianna strolled purposefully into the office, her sexy outfit from the previous evening replaced by the Renegades' distinctive black and gray, form-fitting uniform.
"Hello Artemis," she spoke after saluting Jones. "It looks like you and I get to spend some more quality time together."
It took several seconds for me to regain my voice. "So...you're a Renegade?"
"Been one for close to six years, now," Tianna responded. "The Commander figured we'd make a good pairing since we're both Kraston natives. The Matadarans need to be stopped, and a job like this is too big for just one person to handle."
"I see," I uttered, my brain still trying to catch up with yet another twist to this bizarre morning. "And was last night part of your...assessment process?"
A mischievous sparkle appeared in her eyes. "It was. You Sanctioners have a bad rep when it comes to murder and mayhem. I needed to be sure you had the temperament needed for this assignment which is why I shared Brick Town's history with you; to gauge your reactions."
"My reactions," I repeated then stiffened when I noticed the soft glow emanating from her eyes. "You're a Psion!" I recoiled as far away from her as my chair would allow. "What else have you stolen from my mind?"
Psions were those beings gifted, or cursed depending on how you looked at, with various psionic abilities. Some could move starships with just a thought while others could pick your mind clean. I wasn't sure what Tianna's abilities were but I knew I didn't want to be anywhere near her.
"Relax, Artemis," she said with a chuckle for my obvious paranoia. "I'm an empath which means that last night I was reading your emotions."
"Yeah, okay," I replied warily. Her explanation of her abilities lessened my tension but only slightly. Having someone tuned into your emotions was nearly as unnerving as having them read your mind.
Jones cleared her throat. "If you two kids are finished perhaps we can move along..."
Chapter 5
Our first stop after we left the Commander's office was to my hotel where I checked out and retrieved my gear. After that we hopped a fast shuttle to Renegade Headquarters on planet Anya in the Caslo System, where I was introduced to the other three members of the squad.
You heard me correctly; the most lethally efficient group in the US consists of only four operatives, six if you count Jones and my self. I questioned Tianna on this absurdly small number and she just shrugged and said: "We're real good at what we do."
That fact became obvious as I became familiar with my new teammates. The first was Keslar; an Old Earth native with an understanding of computers and electronics that had me wondering if he were some type of bio/mechanical hybrid.
Next came Rafe, our demolition and heavy-weapons specialist who totally lived up to the stereotype often associated with operatives of his particular skill set. Seriously; when it came to bombs, bullets, and lasers this guy was fanatical with a capital F!
The final member of the group was Freya; a Psion who's petite frame and demure manner gave no indication of the awesome telekinetic mind hidden under her intricately braided coif.
For the sake of saving time and space, I'll skip over the various tests each of my new comrades-in-arms subjected me to ensuring that I was up to their lofty standards. Content yourself with the knowledge that I was given a crash course in Renegade etiquette that made my Sanction training seem tame by comparison.
Seven extremely painful days later, Tianna and I found ourselves on a military assault shuttle (MAS) to Kraston. As the monchrome fresco of warp-space filled our viewports, I had time to reflect on my departure from my homeworld. It was hard to believe that it had been fifteen years.
It's funny how life works. Back then I swore never to return to Kraston's lavender hued skies. Now here I was rocketing back to them accompanied by all the memories I'd locked away; some good, most of them not. Life in orphanage could be pretty brutal at times.
Fortunately, Tianna turned out to be a wonderful travel-mate. We spent quite a few hours of the flight in our cabin where my fellow Renegade did her best to convince me that her attraction to me was more than just a case of professional courtesy. I'm happy to report that her efforts were successful.
For my part I made great strides overcoming my pathological fear of Psions; at least where she was concerned. Having a lover attuned to your emotions turned out to be very fortuitous.
"Not that flexing our carnal muscles isn't enjoyable," I said as we lay next to one another during the wee hours of day two of our flight. "But we really need to formulate some type of plan for infiltrating the Matadaran compound."
Tianna contorted her body in a feline stretch. "Right you are, partner." She gave my lips a quick peck then retrieved her tablet from the shelf attached to our bunk and thumbed it to life. "Okay, here's what we know so far," she said, projecting the image of the cartel's sprawling compound onto the bulkhead. "The Matadarans maintain a full military garrison here." She indicated a large structure on the compound's left side. "And I do mean full. Assault vehicles, shock-troops, anti-personnel
weapons; you name it they got it which is why Commander Jones didn't send in our whole unit with guns blazing."
I looked sharply at her. "I thought the G6PD1 was the primary reason."
"The G6 prevents a ground assault, but it's not a factor for a squadron of fighters. Unfortunately the kids are kept in an underground holding cell here." Tianna rotated the tablet and the image shifted to a three-dimensional side view with the numerous levels of the compound, both above and below ground clearly defined.
"Shit," I muttered when I took note of the holding cell's position. "That's right underneath the compound's power core."
Tianna released a bitter snort. "Exactly; any attempt to bombard the compound could cause the core to become unstable, and if it blows it'll level the compound..."
"And kill whoever's being held in the chamber," I finished her sentence. "These Matadarans are some shrewd bastards."
"Yes they are," Tianna answered an odd note in her voice that prompted me to study her face closer.
Her eyes were glowing softly and the set line of her jaw gave her a menacing look; one that I hoped she would never find cause to turn on me. "So how do we infiltrate the place and get the kids out without having to take on their entire army?"
Tianna's expression shifted to one of amusement as she rotated the image again. "By using this," she said indicating what appeared to be a vent shaft that bisected the entire compound. "This is the core's central climate distribution vent. It runs from the core's processors through the entire compound, with smaller vents branching off to all the rooms on the various levels; including the holding chamber." She indicated the spot on the schematic.
I studied the schem for a moment. "Any idea how wide these vents and junctures are?"
"Oh, sorry," Tianna muttered and typed a sequence on her pad. A moment later a multitude of numbers and symbols appeared on the schematic, over laying the compound. "These are the structural details of the entire place.
I whistled in appreciation at the wealth of information the schem gave me. "Pretty impressive amount of intel you've gathered; you Renegades come prepared."
Artemis Slade & The Renegades: Road to Redemption Page 3
