Dissonance: Aurora Renegades Book Two (Aurora Rhapsody 5)

by G. S. Jennsen

  I understand.

  He changed into better clothes and ran a comb through his hair, then left the apartment.

  Morgan, Mia, heads up. I’m working on a plan to counter OTS. I’ll have more in a few hours.

  Thali’s Lounge hosted all sorts of patrons. Confrontations were frequent, and just as frequently brief thanks to the vigorous bouncer presence. In this respect, it was generally recognized as neutral ground, suitable for meetings by individuals and interests who might have conflicting alignments.

  He’d made several acquaintances who were heavy into the local warenut scene, two of which had Prevo’d themselves in the last several days.

  He chuckled to himself at the realization the term had already become verbified.

  One of those acquaintances—not Prevo’d quite yet—knew everyone and everything that happened in The Avenue sector. Devon was hopeful he had an ear to the ground of, if not OTS activities on Pandora, groups that would.

  He found Pablo Espino at a tall table on the edge of the dance floor and slid onto the stool opposite him.

  “How’s it hanging, Prevo-dude?”

  “Hanging.” His eyes surveyed the room.

  In a far, shadowy corner, a couple was having a vicious argument. The redness at the base of the male’s neck signaled an elevated heart rate and overabundance of adrenaline; he was on the verge of losing his temper in a physical manner. Devon piggybacked onto the bouncers’ comm channel and drew their attention to the altercation.

  On the dance floor, a stunningly gorgeous woman’s dance of provocation had drawn the rapture of half the men and several of the women in the club. Her form-fitting scarlet silk dress minimally covered perfect skin the color of cappuccino.

  He was close enough to sense her heart rate with some degree of precision, and it was a steady 76-81 bpm. Her moves were deliberate. Calculated. She was in complete control of her actions, as well as the actions of many of those present.

  At the end of the long bar to his right, another woman was in far less control of her faculties. Sweaty skin, dilated pupils. She stumbled off the bar stool and was barely rescued from the floor by a bouncer, who proceeded to hand her off to the guy accompanying her and escort them to the door.

  Three men and a woman sat at a table across the dance floor. Drinks waited untouched in front of them as they huddled in intense conversation.

  He jerked his head in their direction. “Who are they?”

  “Damn, Devon. You don’t miss a thing, do you? I don’t know the guy in the thousand-credit shirt, but the girl’s head of OTS here. The other two are some of her cohorts.”

  He cracked his neck. “What’s her name?”

  “Uh…Faith, I think. Not sure on the last name, but maybe it starts with a ‘P’ or a ‘Q.’ ”

  Quillen. Faith Quillen. The name had been in Annie’s databases. Before he got kicked out of the Alliance—another reason Devon wasn’t sad to have given them the finger—Richard Navick had identified her as a possible OTS cell leader. And here she was, sitting a few meters away from him in a sketchy club on Pandora.

  Devon studied her. The barely noticeable tapping of her feet suggested impatience and perhaps a lack of discipline, but quick, sharp eyes suggested intelligence as well. Mostly, however, she diligently watched her companion in the expensive shirt. The one Pablo didn’t recognize.

  He is in charge.

  He is.

  The young man’s clothes indicated wealth, and a lot of it, which fit Navick’s profile of the OTS leaders. His external demeanor was contrived and abrupt. Not a guy you wanted to kick back and party with.

  Devon concentrated until he detected the carotid artery running down the man’s neck. The pulse raced much faster than Faith’s did. The man was either very agitated or very passionate about the cause. The cause being destroying Artificials and killing Prevos.

  Faith leaned in closer across the table, and the man turned his head and scanned the room until his gaze froze on Devon.

  Devon didn’t flinch, instead meeting his stare calmly.

  What are you doing?

  Picking a fight.

  I strengthened your muscular structure so you could properly defend yourself from attacks, not so you could start them.

  I didn’t start it. He did, when his little clique started killing Prevos.

  The man pushed his chair out and stood. His focus did not leave Devon as he wound through the dance floor, not even when he passed centimeters from the woman in the scarlet dress. Behind him, his pals followed more hesitantly.

  He stopped two meters away from Devon’s table. “You’re an abomination. You haven’t the right to flaunt your depravity in public.”

  Devon took a slow sip of his drink. Set it down.

  The man’s mode of speech was crisp, overly accentuated and carried a slight Earth European accent; his features bore the perfection of expensive genetic enhancement. All indicators of excessive wealth. The room was dark and strobing dance floor lights played hell with the optics, but he took the best image he could of the man’s face using his ocular implant before responding.

  “This is Pandora. Artificials aren’t illegal here, much as Earth might want for them to be. And neither am I.”

  “You think a flimsy thing like political boundaries will protect you? You think you’re safe here?”

  “I think I’m safe everywhere.”

  “How dare you be arrogant! How dare you—”

  Faith put a hand on his arm. “This isn’t the place to cause a scene.”

  “I decide what is and isn’t the place. This freak needs to learn some respect, then he needs to die.”

  A bouncer appeared at their table, as if by chance. Funny, that. “Is there any trouble here?”

  Devon adopted a fearful expression. “Yes, sir. This person threatened my life.”

  The bouncer scowled at Devon. “Son, did you ever think it may not be the best idea to flash those eyes in a place like this?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize.”

  “The hell you didn’t—”

  “As for you four, out. Now. Everybody here except you is just trying to have a good time, and violence does not encourage having a good time.”

  “But—”

  The bouncer towered over Devon’s adversary. “Out, before I see you out.”

  Faith grabbed the man’s arm and tugged him away. “Come on. We have bigger things to concentrate on.”

  Did they, now? Devon gave the bouncer an ingratiating smile. “Thank you, sir. I’ll see about getting some shadewraps, if I can find some which will let me see in a place as dark as this.”

  “Good idea. You need to be careful, with things the way they are.”

  With things the way they are. Such a loaded, foreboding statement, but he’d brood over it later.

  He turned to find Pablo shaking his head. “I should’ve known when Noah vouched for you that you were sure to be more trouble than you were worth.”

  “Come on, Pablo. You understand the danger OTS poses, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, yeah. They’re a nasty bunch of pendejos with weapons. Shit, this is going to get ugly no matter what, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is. Give me a minute? I need to take care of something. I’ll be back.”

  Pablo groaned but waved him off, absolving himself of responsibility for whatever followed.

  Devon.

  I know what I’m doing.

  Do not get me killed. It is not in my ten-year life plan.

  Not to worry, it’s not in mine either.

  He strolled through the crowd—it was swelling as the hour grew later—and eased out the door. He looked left, then right, and picked up four infrared signatures.

  He headed to the right.

  “Something told me you’d be stupid enough to follow us.” It was the leader’s voice, but it didn’t come from the closest body.

  A meatier hand attached to a bulkier arm reached out from the shadows to grab his a
rm. The next instant Devon’s hand was wrapped around the guy’s throat; he jerked and spasmed as electrical current coursed through him. After several seconds he went limp, and Devon let him drop to the ground.

  “He’ll live, but he’ll need a few replacement cybernetic parts. And a new eVi. Anyone else?”

  The leader drew a Daemon and shot Devon in the chest. Devon merely glared at the man as his recently upgraded, custom shield easily dispersed the energy. “Please. You will have to do much better than that. You could try blowing up my apartment building—that’s the kind of destruction you cowards excel at, isn’t it?”

  He sensed the attack from behind two hundred forty-seven milliseconds—an eternity—before it came and ducked beneath the swing from the other male lackey.

  He grabbed a shoulder as the guy faltered forward, delivering a solid jolt of electricity as he shoved him to the ground. “Don’t do that again.”

  “Dammit, J—” Faith cut herself off. “Your mother will murder you and me if you die in an alley on Pandora. Remember the damn mission.”

  The response came through gritted teeth. “The mission is the elimination of monsters like him.”

  “Yes, preferably without them eliminating you.”

  Devon and the leader had stared at one another throughout the exchange, but the man had positioned himself between Devon and the busy thoroughfare beyond—too close to potential witnesses, too far for Devon to reach him.

  Now the man blinked and reluctantly nodded. He and Faith cautiously backed toward the street.

  Before they turned to disappear, he stopped to sneer at Devon. “Humanity will not tolerate your existence for long. We won’t let you rule us. You’ll see.” Then they rounded the corner and slinked away.

  If you try to follow them, I will incapacitate you here and now.

  I’m not…. He rolled his eyes and went inside.

  Besides, we now know several things we didn’t know before tonight. We know one of the leaders of OTS, if not the leader, is a young man and indeed notably wealthy. His first name starts with a ‘J’ or ‘G,’ and he’s a sycophant to his mother—who, given the money angle, is probably someone of repute. Also, he’s from or was educated in Europe on Earth. And most importantly, we know what he looks like.

  Annie sighed in his head. I suppose we do know those things. It would be enough to begin a cross-referencing analysis if I had access to my databases, but I do not. Shall I send the information to Richard Navick?

  Nah, I’ll tell him in the morning. Or his morning, which I guess is in around four hours. I want to see how he’s doing anyway.

  He eased onto the stool beside Pablo once more and smiled blithely. “I think I’ll grab another beer. You in?”

  21

  ANESI ARCH

  PANDORA STELLAR SYSTEM

  * * *

  MIRIAM MET RICHARD AT THE DOOR to the suite she’d rented. His broad smile and warm hug were so welcome. She’d missed him.

  He drew back but kept his hands on her shoulders. “It is beyond good to see you.”

  “You’ve no idea. How are you?”

  “I’m…things are a mess again, you know.”

  She scrutinized him more closely. She thought he’d settled into his new job, relatively speaking, but now dark circles and deep lines around his eyes weighed down his features. He appeared more troubled than the last time she’d seen him.

  “I do. But you’re okay?”

  “I am. Most of the time.”

  “And Will?”

  “Glad to have me with him, if currently somewhat angry at the rest of the galaxy. He’s fine.”

  “I’ll accept the cryptic answers for now, but you are not off the hook. Thank you for coming here so we could meet in person. I’m afraid the things we need to discuss can’t be trusted to even an encrypted comm system.”

  “No, they can’t.”

  His voice had taken on a darker tenor; she gazed at him in increasing suspicion. She’d given him only the slightest indication of why she wanted to meet, but she had given him an indication. “What are you here to discuss?”

  “Not what you expect. I realize you want to talk about Winslow, the new government, OTS and everything else happening at home, but first I need to tell you something. And you’re not going to like it.”

  There was quite the deficit in good news these days, it seemed. “Then let’s get drinks and sit.”

  “Excellent idea.”

  When they’d moved to the chairs, a small table separating them, he took a long sip of his drink—she hadn’t overlooked the fact he’d mixed it strong—and stared into the glass.

  “Richard, we’ve known each other for forty-four years. Whatever it is, just say it.”

  He exhaled slowly and set the drink down. “It’s regarding the First Crux War—more specifically, the day it began and how it did so.”

  Miriam stood at the window, hands clasped in a vice-grip at the small of her back, eyes shut to the stars outside.

  They killed their own civilians. Murdered seventeen people in cold blood, and in so doing manipulated us into a war that killed hundreds of thousands.

  Richard’s voice came from somewhere behind her and off to her left. “There’s essentially zero chance Caleb knows. He didn’t know his father had been a Division agent until after they returned from the portal space late last year. He learned of his father’s past directly from Graham, and Graham was ignorant of this mission until now.”

  “It wouldn’t reflect on him if he did. Children should not be made to bear the sins of their parents.” Her voice came out pinched and taut from the strain of keeping control.

  She’d meant the words, for what meager amount they mattered. Even at her angriest she wasn’t vindictive enough to try to make this about Caleb.

  “No. But he doesn’t know. This is the Federation’s single most closely guarded secret.”

  Breathe in through your nose. Hold. Out through your mouth. “Little wonder.”

  “You don’t have to play stoic with me, Miriam.”

  She opened her eyes and glanced over, surprised to discover he now stood beside her. “And I appreciate that. But if I lose control now, I might not get it back again.”

  “They believe they had their reasons, but I’m not sure—”

  “Oh, I understand their reasons perfectly well. It was a brilliant strategy which put the Alliance on the defensive from the first hour. Distracted the politicians, muddled the objectives. I remember those early weeks of the war. It was a chaos of confusion, shouted accusations and blame shaming. Honestly, if it had gone any other way, we very well could have stamped out the rebellion inside a month.” And David would not have died.

  He regarded her in slight surprise and significant curiosity. “Would you have done it? If it was the only chance to win a war?”

  “No—and they did it to start a war they could win, an important distinction. But I knew others who would have. Breveski, Giehl. Slippery beast, morality in war.”

  “No kidding.” He dropped his chin to his chest. “Talking about this leaves me sick to my stomach. I thought long and hard about leaving Division. But…Graham wasn’t involved, and…we have to take the world as we find it. With the state of things, I suspect I can do the most good on Seneca. Given I can do zero good on Earth.”

  She nodded jerkily; he wasn’t wrong. “Yet Chairman Vranas was involved. Eleni was involved. Not merely involved—at the center of it. I trusted her. I confided in her. I called her a friend….”

  Her voice nearly broke. Control. “And it feels like she may as well have been David’s murderer.”

  “She wasn’t. More than two years and countless decisions on both sides separate the events.” He shook his head sluggishly, as if searching for better platitudes. “It was twenty-six years ago. People change, grow wiser. They learn from their mistakes.”

  “Of course they do. Strangely, that doesn’t so much help right now.”

  “I agree.” His shoulders
dropped. “Look, there’s really nothing else to be said. It is what it is. You had to know—I couldn’t live with myself if I kept it from you—but we should probably focus on the crisis at hand.”

  She gave him a tight grimace. “I’m afraid I’m a bit peckish. Would you mind terribly seeing about having some dinner delivered?”

  “Not at all.” He squeezed her shoulder and left, understanding what she meant was that she needed a few minutes alone.

  She moved to one of the chairs and sat down, then dropped her elbows to her knees and her head into her hands.

  She should turn around and go back to Vancouver. Find another way. There were limits to even deals with the devil, lines which should never be crossed.

  Curse Pamela Winslow and her cabal for forcing Miriam to cross them all.

  It wasn’t fair.

  She’d always interpreted ‘unfair’ as meaning a challenge existed to surmount, and considered those who used it as an excuse to be indolent, over-entitled or simply cowards.

  Maybe she was now all those things…but dammit, it was not fair that she be put in such a position.

  “Did you ever consider doing anything with your life other than serving in the military?”

  Miriam studied David over the rim of her glass of Cabernet. “Not seriously, no.”

  “Your father’s influence?”

  She laughed lightly. “You’d think, wouldn’t you? And possibly at first, in the margins, though he was far likelier to have driven me away from the military than to it. No, I’ve always felt called to military service. It displays the characteristics I admire: it embodies structure and order. There are rules and clear direction and a chain of command which must be respected without question. The institution is a rock. It signifies certainty and security, for those it serves and those who serve it.”

  Her mouth clamped shut. Why was she so eager to be honest with him, to spill her innermost dreams and desires in response to his casual questions? People called her taciturn for a reason, but when David Solovy was in the room, reason was nowhere to be found.

  He retrieved the bottle and refilled her glass. “Yet you don’t seem to have any qualms about giving orders instead of taking them.”