“Hmm,” said Benkei, considering it. “That could work. Once that ship’s away from the city and they’ve got the data, they’ll have no reason to track down who stole it.”
Amelia thought it over, attempting to reconcile her utter distaste for the idea with her understanding that it was likely the only way they’d get out of the city in a form other than hot slag.
“No time like the present,” she said, punching Alain’s contact information into her slate.
She took a deep breath as the slate dialed him, her fingers drumming on the table. Benkei, Sam, and Sasha shared looks, all of them wondering what Amelia was hiding from them regarding this former boyfriend.
After a time, Alain picked up, his face filling the screen, a busy scene of New York officers moving here and there in the background.
“Hey!” Alain said, his face lighting up as he realized who was calling him. “What’s up, Doolittle?”
The group at the table looked at one another, Benkei mouthing “Doolittle?” to the other two, Sam and Sasha shrugging.
“Hey,” she said, dragging out the word. “What’s going on?”
“Not much. Things are kind of crazy here right now, actually. We had a breach in one of our labs, and…” He cut himself off mid-sentence. “Well,” he said. “We’re just kind of hectic here right now. But I can spare a minute or two.”
“About that,” said Amelia. “Was the breach related to some sensitive information. Some data, maybe?”
Alain’s eyes narrowed, and he shot a quick look around him to see if anyone was listening in. “What are you talking about? How do you kn—” Then a wave of realization crossed his face. “Hold o…” he said, removing the slate from where it was mounted and taking it to what appeared to be a nearby supply closet. “Tell me everything. You have no idea how insane things are right now. They’ve got the goddamn Basileus over the Hudson River, if that doesn’t tell you everything you need to know.”
“We were on a mission, is all,” said Amelia, regaining her usual ease. “We were doing a little, ah, light lifting. But we didn’t know what the data was.”
Alain sighed. “I’m guessing you didn’t call to gloat,” he said.
“No. I want to know what would happen if you, you know, just happened to end up with the only other copy of the data besides the one that got send to Icarus.”
“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“That’s gotta be worth at least a medal,” said Amelia.
Alain took in a long breath through his nose. “Just to be clear, you’ve got the data, and you’re ready to give it up? Right?”
“Right.”
“And what do you get out of this?”
“We get to leave the city in one piece once the Basileus takes off.”
Alain appeared to think it over, shaking his head at the situation that Amelia had gotten herself into. “You think to maybe screen your clients before you go signing up for any goddamn job?”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time, Sarge."
Alain sighed and looked away, appearing to think the situation over. “Here’s the deal. Where are you right now?
“The shittiest bar in Queens.”
“You’re in Queens? You weren’t kidding about laying low. Anyway, that’s perfect. There’s hotel in…Sunnyside. I’ll send you the address. Just go there, and I’ll meet you in an hour.”
Amelia let a smile cross her face. “Thanks, Al.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just try not to start any interplanetary incidents on the way there.”
With that, the slate screen flicked to a glossy black.
“Off to another safehouse?” asked Sasha, his mouth about to wrap around a greasy burger dripping with cheese and grilled onions that he had evidently ordered while Amelia was in her call.
“Yeah, but something tells me this one won’t have the same view of Lower Manhattan.”
The four companions finished their drinks and headed back out into the dirty air.
CHAPTER 19
The apartment was just about what they were expecting from a hideout in Queens. It was one large room, with brown walls covered in water stains, carpet that’d seen far better days, and a bed that none of the crew was willing to chance sitting on. It was lit with a thin, orange glow from the ceiling above, and the smell of the space was stale, like old water with the faint trace of rotting meat. The saving grace to the place, if one could call it that, was the large rectangular window that looked out onto the dense packing of buildings just outside of the high-rise where the hotel was located, the garish violets and tangerines of the advertisements outside now blurry through a spattering of rain that began to fall as they entered.
“Nice place,” said Benkei.
“It’s gross,” said Sam, scrunching her nose as she looked the room over.
“Can’t beat the view, though, said Benkei, strolling over to the window and looking up. “If you’re into urban blight and lack of sunshine, that is.”
“Well, we’re not living here,” said Amelia, almost flopping onto the bed but thinking better of it at the last moment.
Sam took a seat on the dresser and Sasha pulled out the desk chair, flipping it around, and took a seat, her legs straddling the back.
“What’s the deal with ‘Doolittle’?” he asked, his tone blunt as always.
Amelia felt hot red rush up her neck as soon as the words left his mouth.
“Yeah!” said Sam. “What’s the dish on that?”
“Please, guys,” said Benkei, turning away from the window, the rain trailing on the pane behind him. “Let a girl have her secrets.”
“It’s a stupid pet name. That’s all,” said Amelia, having no desire to discuss the subject further.
“Aw, that’s so cute!” said Sam, a wide smile breaking out across her pale face.
Amelia’s hand shot to the back of her neck, and she felt the red spread up her neck and to her jaw.
“Are you blushing?” asked Sasha.
“No!” said Amelia, the word shooting out of her mouth.
“No, you are,” said Sasha, fishing a packet of mixed nuts out of his pocket and tearing them open. “I can see the red.”
“Can we drop this, please?”
“Fine, fine,” said Sam. “I just think it’s adorable.”
“It’s not,” said Amelia.
Before the conversation could continue, a knock sounded at the door, the rapping of the knuckles pounding against the hollow wood.
Amelia shot up, thankful that the questioning was over, and peered through the peephole. Through the fisheye of the glass, she saw that Alain, his hands clasped behind his back, a pair of mean-looking men at his sides.
“Everything good?” asked Amelia through the door.
“It’s fine. Just let me in,” came the muffled reply.
Amelia opened the door, Alain and men who appeared to be bodyguards following in behind him. They were dressed in simple civilian clothing, no sign that they were with the military other than their confident, purposeful bearing.
“Woah, what’s the muscle?” asked Amelia.
“Protection, of course,” said Alain. “Queens isn’t exactly the safest part of the city, if you haven’t noticed.”
“We did,” said Benkei.
Amelia introduced the crew to Alain, the two military men saying nothing.
A moment passed.
“So,” said Alain, clapping his hands together. “You have the data?”
Amelia pulled the slate containing the data out of her pocket and held it in both hands, the gray, smooth surface of the screen of the device catching the dull, orange light overhead. She extended her hand to give it over, but pulled it back just as Alain reached for it.
“Passage out of the city?”
“Passage out of the city.”
“No questions asked?”
“No questions asked.”
Then Amelia thought for a moment. “Why don’t you tell me abou
t this Geff guy, first,” she said. “I want to know who, exactly, I’m adding to my list of ‘people to kill’.”
Alain looked away for a moment, as if contemplating just how much information he should give out. “How much do you know about the situation here in New York? Any of you?” he asked as the two men he arrived with leaned against the wall behind them and crossed their arms over their barrel chests.
“New York’s an independent state,” said Sasha, dumping the last crumbs of the mixed nuts into his mouth.
“That’s right. We’re an independent state, and we have to fight every day to keep it that way. But New York has more money and power than entire regions of the former United States, and everyone around us would love the opportunity to annex us. We’re small, relatively, so they all think it’d be an easy job. But we prove them wrong.
“Geff, in case you hadn’t figured it out by now, isn’t some mere merc lowlife – no offense – looking to gain a little extra power by getting hold of the Azari cannon. He’s the high general in charge of all military operations for the Chicago Confederation.”
The crew all fixed their eyes on Alain as he revealed this information.
“Right. The Confeds have had their eye on New York for years, but they know we’ve got enough of a military to make taking us over a prospect that would they’d have a hard time justifying. We’ve spent the last few years building the most advanced navy on the continent, and while they’ve got us outmatched in terms of number, we’ve got them beat in terms of firepower. They might be able to beat us in a shooting war, but we wouldn’t make it easy for them.”
“And that’s where Azani comes in,” said Benkei.
“Exactly. With a weapon like that, he’d be able to bring the city to its knees. We’d be able to take it out, probably, but not before fighting off their entire navy in the process. In the time it’d take to do that, he could take out every super scraper, shipyard, and factory in the region with that damn thing.”
“But he’s got the other copy of the data,” said Amelia.
“Right,” said Alain. “And we’ve got some time before he’ll be able to get the cannon online. Hopefully, more than enough for us to launch a strike on Icarus and take him into custody. He has to use the cannon from the array itself, so we might even be able to just beat him there.”
“Then that’s it,” said Amelia, looking into Alain’s eyes, her gaze moving over his familiar features, feelings she thought long passed rising in her.
“That’s it, then,” he said, returning her gaze, his voice dropping as he looked into her eyes.
But before the moment could drift into several, he snapped his gaze away and turned around. Putting Amelia’s slate in his pocket, he then slipped his own out and spoke into it, “I got it. Move in.”
“What did you just say?” demanded Amelia.
But before Amelia could get an answer, the two men with Alain slammed into her slim frame and knocked her onto the bed, the stale smell of the sheets rushing up into her nostrils as the men held her down. And looking beyond them, she watched as a handful of men in civilian clothes burst into the room, tackling Sam, Benkei, and Sasha to the ground.
“What the hell is this?” shouted Amelia, struggling under the weight of the soldiers.
“Sorry, Doolittle, but the entire Navy’s looking for you. I can’t just let you go.”
“You fu—” cried Amelia as the men clapped a pair of durasteel cuffs onto her skinny wrists.
As they pulled her off of the bed, Alain looked at her with rueful eyes, his hands behind his back, his shoulders squared in military posture.
“Take them into custody,” he said, his voice laced with sadness as the squad marched the crew out of the dilapidated, lonely apartment.
CHAPTER 20
The slim, white body of the New York Navy shuttle cut through the night sky, the city below a glittering span that twinkled like the endless black above, the ship flying in silence toward the Basileus, which hung in the air above the Hudson River like a shimmering, dark blade. Amelia and the rest of the crew were seated on a cold, steel bench, their arms and legs bound in durasteel cuffs.
Her coal-black hair draped over her blue eyes, Amelia fixed her gaze on Alain, who, sitting across from them, seemed to be making a point not to look at her.
“I can’t believe you’d do this,” said Amelia, her eyes narrow. “Would it’ve killed you to just let us go?”
Alain said nothing at first, having ignored her up to this point. But now, it seemed as though he couldn’t help but respond to her needling.
“Actually? Yeah, it might’ve. If any of the higher-ups found out that I met with the people who stole the data and I didn’t turn them in, that’d be grounds for a court martial, at least. That might even be treason, who the hell knows?”
Amelia said nothing, considering his words as the shuttle flew in silence.
“New York doesn’t fuck around,” he said. “Things are all spic-and-span in Manhattan, but the military is brutal. The order comes at a price, and the price is that the power that separates the city from the rest of the solar system can’t afford to go easy on anyone.”
“I’m not gonna forget this,” said Amelia.
“Well, you’re going to have to learn to live with it.”
The trip continued on, Amelia and the rest of the crew saying nothing as the shuttle made its way to the Basileus.
“Shuttle 994, you’re cleared for docking,” sounded a voice through the ship’s speakers.
Through the slim window of the shuttle, Amelia watched as the flagship of the New York fleet grew larger and larger. The ship was impossibly huge, and now that she was seeing it up close, she could make out the rows and rows of weapons that lined the broadside of the ship. She couldn’t tell exactly what it was packing, but she estimated that this ship alone had more firepower than an entire Federation fleet.
The shuttle slowed as it docked with the Basileus, pneumatic hissing sounding as it landed, followed by a thunk as the shuttle’s feet touched down.
“Sorry,” said Alain, stepping out of the now-open shuttle doors.
The military men on board grabbed the crew by their arms and led them off the shuttle, and into the sleek, steel, and massive dock of the ship. Amelia looked around, noting the dozens of black-and-red-clad soldiers and officers in just this space alone. She was considering a break-out, but with how many crew members the ship held, she began to realize that it would be an impossible task.
Alain returned to their sides, and with a point, instructed the soldiers to proceed forward.
“Where are we going?” demanded Amelia.
“You’re going into custody. But first, we’re making a stop at the bridge.” He paused before speaking, “The Admiral wants to see you.”
CHAPTER 21
They continued their march, leaving the dock and heading into the wide corridors of the ship, their procession drawing the attention of the crew wherever they went.
Amelia’s stomach tightened as soon as she heard that she was going to see the admiral, and it had yet to settle.
Admiral Anteford Galena was the head of the New York fleet, and his was a name that Amelia had been long acquainted with since her time in the Federation. Galena was a brutal, uncompromising officer, the type who’d blast a highjacked freighter to pieces before negotiating with the pirates on board- a strategy that Amelia had witnessed more than once.
During her deployment during the Sector War, Galena – a rear admiral at the time – was in charge of the fleet that Amelia and the rest of her Geist squadron were attached to. Amelia had operated under Galena’s specific orders on several occasions, running operations from assassinations of colonist officers and government officials to sabotage. And no target was off-limits in Galena’s eyes. They’d run ops on civilians as part of the Federation’s efforts to demoralize the colonies, to teach them that nothing was out of the reach of the Federation military.
And when the war started to
turn against the Federation, these tactics only grew more desperate and brutal.
Amelia shook her head, hoping to banish the memories of this time in her life that now threatened to flood back into her thoughts.
The crew, Alain, and their military escort stepped into a large elevator, the walls steel, a red digital readout indicated on what deck they were currently. Alain pressed “B” for the bridge, and the elevator began its silent ascent to the peaks of the ship. The elevator slid to a stop after a minute, and the doors slipped open.
The bridge of the Basileus was long, with a steel walkway flanked on both sides by crewmen and women at computer terminals, their monitors lit up with various information, the text on the screen a deep, ruby color. Above them was a clear roof that angled downward toward the second tier of the bridge, an area accessed by the stairs at the end of the walkway. The night sky above gave the roof the appearance of being painted black.
With a poke in their backs by the escort, the crew proceeded down the walkway and toward the stairs. Once they ascended, they were greeted with the sight of a rotund man in a tight-fitting admiral’s uniform, the black the color of pitch, the red the color of fresh blood. And as they reached the top of the stairs, the tallest buildings in Manhattan and Jersey rose into view, the lights of the city an ethereal glow.
“Galena,” said Alain. “They’re here.”
The rotund man turned on his heels in a slow, deliberate fashion, and Amelia took a good look at him. He was a fat man with a round, pinched face and a head shaved clean aside from a small, black ponytail at his crown, his features giving his face the appearance to Amelia of a pumpkin.
His face was terribly familiar to Amelia, and he was just as unpleasant to behold as he was back when she was serving under him. The only difference between him then and now was ten years’ worth of wrinkles and about seventy extra kilos of fat around his already-soft midsection.
Dangerous Data (The Meridian Crew Book 2) Page 9
