A rush of anger flew over Harkonnen’s face. “You insignificant rat. You can’t threaten me!”
Alden pressed the blade against his neck and felt it sink into the man’s skin. Alden had to admit that he was surprised the blade was still sharp. Pity he hadn’t taken this good care of himself.
“What are you doing? Stop it!” His fear gave to terror as the reality of the situation set in. “I don’t know where he is, no one does! Get that away from me, it hurts.” He swatted at the blade, but quickly dropped his hand back to the ground for support; one arm wasn’t able to hold up all his weight.
“Tell me what I want to know and this will all be over,” Alden responded.
“All I know is that he’s been shipping massive amounts of weapons from the colonies in exchange for computers, circuits, wiring, and raw metals. In limited quantities, he could manufacture all of that stuff on his own, but to meet the size of his demands I’ve been forced to pull resources from every nation and source I can find. Whatever he’s building up there…it’s massive!”
“How do you move the resources back and forth?”
“I work through a middle man—one of those lunar nuts, if you catch my drift.” He attempted to smile.
“Stop wasting my time! How do I find him?”
“His real name is Thereon.”
Feeling a sense of pity, like watching a fly caught in a web, Alden removed the blade from Harkonnen’s neck. With the most even temperament he could muster, Alden said, “Why are you helping him? He’s a butcher.”
The man shrugged as well as he could. “Have to make a living, you know. Plus the arrangement keeps me protected.” He was struggling to reach the source of the cut and stem the flow of blood down his neck.
“You’re not even worth killing,” Alden uttered. “Tell me how to find Thereon.”
He was struggling to catch his breath and sweat was rolling down his brow. “You can probably find him at the Green Dragon pub in Apollo City, on the market level.”
“Thanks.” Alden chucked the sword into one of the walls as he walked out. He grabbed two sub-machine guns off the floor and slung them over his shoulder. Emerging into the now-deserted club, Alden grabbed on to the railing and flung himself over the top. He sailed to the ground and landed with a thud on the dance floor. The lasers, fog and strobes still covered the room, but that was it.
The remaining guards had fled along with the dancers. Even the bartender had disappeared. A quick scan of the room showed no other exits so he made his way back to the entrance. He’d need to find transportation up to the lunar surface. Bursting through the exit, he was instantly bathed in the glare of a giant spotlight. Alden had been relying heavily on his ability to see in the dark and now he was completely blind. It took a moment for the filaments in his eyes to adjust to the light. He was now able to see dozens of police cars and several Special Forces vans. They formed a half-circle around the club exit. Hundreds of red dots fluttered around his body.
“THROW DOWN YOUR WEAPONS.” The announcement came over the loud speaker. “IF YOU DO NOT SURRENDER WE WILL OPEN FIRE.”
Alden was about to duck back into the club when the spotlight went dark in a shower of glass and sparks. Several bombs detonated amongst the cars and officers. Alden did a quick roll to the side of the area flinging the sub-machine guns in front of him with the same motion. Gunfire erupted in every direction.
He ducked behind one of the cars as the Special Forces fired in his direction. Sticking a gun up over the hood, he squeezed the trigger, spraying the squad cars and windshields in a hail of bullets. The officers dove in all directions. He jumped to his feet and sprinted around the side of the club.
He was in a narrow alleyway. At the end, a metal ladder traversed the side of the four-story building. Alden moved toward it only to be blinded by a small light a few yards in front of him. It looked like a motorcycle. As expected, an engine roared to life. The machine flew toward him. His instinct was to shoot, but something inside pressed him to wait. He stepped to the side just in case. The motorbike slowed to a stop beside him. The rider was clad in black leather. “Jump on.” It said in a computerized voice.
In the distance soldiers could be heard preparing to assault the alleyway. “How can I trust you?”
“What choice do you have?”
That was good enough for him. Alden grabbed hold, and jumped on to the bike behind the rider. He’d barely touched the seat when the bike shot forward down the alley. They were bathed in light as several Special Forces bikes and a few cars came around the corner. Bullets ricocheted off the brick walls around them.
Alden held on to the rider’s waist with his left hand, and fired at their pursuers with his right. The anti-gravity drive on the nearest squad car exploded. It crashed to the ground in a pile of destruction. It also served to block the alleyway from foot traffic.
They were running out of space, ahead of them was a sealed entrance to a warehouse. Instead of slowing, the biker punched the controls and they vaulted through one of the giant windows on the side of the building. They landed inside the decrepit space and swerved through several heaps of trash. The driver pointed towards a control panel next to the only open door at the other end. Alden raised his gun and fired. There was a shower of sparks as the door started to close.
Several more crashes echoed through the building. Alden turned;multiple hover bikes had followed them through the building. The massive hangar door was almost shut. The driver leaned over and laid the bike on its side. Alden grasped onto the driver to maintain his balance and then followed suit, leaning into the ground. Sparks flew as the metal skidded over the concrete. They passed underneath the closing door and Alden could feel the rush of air and dust billowing up just behind him as it made contact with the floor. The driver popped the bike back up, flew off the loading dock and gunned the accelerator.
“Where are we going?” Alden yelled over the roar of the engine.
The driver glanced back slightly and said through the same modified voice, “Out of the city, it’s not safe.”
“Who are you?” Alden’s head whipped back as the driver jumped a small curb and headed up a ramp and onto the freeway.
Insinuating towards their wrist decks the driver said, “A mutual friend sent me.”
Alden thought back to the original communication he’d had with the stranger over the device; the Council is compromised. 27 people dead. How did he know he could trust that person? What if they were playing him? If they had really been attempting to capture or kill him, they would have asked his location. Instead they helped him get the information he needed. Then his mysterious friend sent someone to back him up.
At the moment he was short on allies. If this person was willing to help him find the stolen fusion reactor and the person responsible for killing Father McKinley, then that was all he could ask. If they had wanted him dead, they could have done it already. Whoever was communicating with them wanted him to find Darar Khasim. If that was the case, then their goals were aligned for the moment and that was enough.
Thereon. Green Dragon Pub. Apollo City. His whole life had been spent training for missions on the lunar surface, eliminating terrorists and protecting Council interests. He thought back to the holographic vids he’d seen in the school. A giant canyon came to mind, cutting through the lunar surface. He remembered that nano-carbon windows that lined the interior rock walls, providing sunlight and views for the inhabitants burrowed inside. Charges placed in the corners would dislodge the windows and neutralize any threats inside. It was the first city established on the moon and the volunteers had been forced to build under the surface in order to protect themselves from solar radiation.
Giant helium-3 mining rigs and large sub-surface structures lined the upper edges of the canyon wall. They had served as the first processing facilities for the resource before being loaded onto transport rockets for energy back on Earth. It was the oldest lunar colony and, as a result, the territorial government ha
d been established there, where it remained to this day. Council weapon stashes were located on the 2nd and 7th levels, which also doubled as the military offices and barracks. Both would be good locations for backup if needed.
The city lights faded away, replaced with the spotty glow of the sprawling suburban hills. The bike dipped off the freeway and down one of the narrow off-ramps. The streets were deserted and only the occasional lamp lit their way. Every house they passed was completely dark—energy rationing. A sleek police car shot across the street just a few blocks away.
The rider swerved the bike into one of the side streets and sped down several more blocks before turning into one of the driveways. They coasted past the side of the house and around the back. The driver stopped, killed the engine, and then dismounted. “Follow me, we have to get out of sight.”
The rider turned and walked up to the back door. Using its wrist deck, it hacked the security settings and then pushed forward into the darkness of the house.
Twenty-seven people had perished on the Island. Was this another trap? Alden tightened his grip on the sub-machine gun’s handle. If they were going to kill him, they’d have to do better than a suburban house. Alden moved towards the back door and then disappeared inside.
The augmentation in Alden’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. His other senses were greeted with a thick stale smell that hung heavy in the air. As he moved into a large family room, he realized he was alone. To the left, the basement door stood ajar. Dust covered every inch of the house, but it looked like the owners had left at a moment’s notice. Several dried wine glasses stood on the coffee table, untouched. A plate of decaying food rested between them. A family portrait hung over the fireplace. What had happened here? He was trained for situations like this, but the slightest chill crept up his spine. He turned the safety off the weapon as he walked further into the room.
“You won’t need that.”
Alden swiveled around. The black rider had emerged from the basement.
“No one’s home.” They moved past him towards the large windows that faced the street. It grabbed hold of the curtains and pulled them shut, hiding their presence from prying eyes.
“What happened here?” Alden watched the stranger with intense focus, waiting for a single movement that seemed out of place. “And why are you still wearing a helmet?”
The biker pulled a tiny device out of its jacket, pressed a button and then set it on the table next to the rotten food. The room instantly filled with the green glow of artificial light. For the first time, Alden could start to make out the biker’s figure; curved hips, wide chest, thin frame.
“I’m wearing the helmet because not all of us can see in the dark.” It tipped its finger against the black facemask. The helmet retracted into itself and disappeared into the back of the rider’s jacket. Long black hair fell around the rider’s shoulders. She had full lips, a soft curving jaw line and haunting green eyes. “And I knew that no one was home because there was an SCA sign in the window.”
“Excuse me, what kind of sign?”
“Suspicion of Collusion Act. It lets anyone looking for the inhabitants know they’ve been seized by the government on suspicion of colluding with another nation. It provides a phone number that may or may not be working and the understanding that you will probably never see them again.”
“Can they do that?”
“They can do anything they want, they’re the government.”
“You still haven’t told me who you are,” he added with a blatant undertone of suspicion.
“You’re kind of rude, aren’t you? Don’t forget who saved you.”
Alden was taken aback. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that, but I could have handled that situation myself.”
The rider just stood staring at him for several moments in silence.
Alden sighed. “Thank you.”
Finally she responded. “Kira.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Kira.”
“Nice name.” Alden smiled. “So, do you always rescue people?”
“No. People pay me to move things from one location to another, usually when they don’t want the government to find out about it.”
“So you’re like a smuggler then?” Alden asked his eyes narrowing a bit. “Do you work for Harkonnen?”
“That pig? I wouldn’t work for him if the Three Nations Treaty depended on it. I work for myself.”
“Is everyone a smuggler?”
Kira shrugged. “The government controls all available energy and as a result that means they control most industries as well. It was a nice way of breaking down the old capitalistic system without having to blatantly seize it. Don’t they teach you anything on that Island?”
Alden returned a sharp glance. “How do you know about the Island?”
“Only enough to know that you’ve just confirmed it exists.”
He was getting so desperate for answers that he’d walked right into that one. He had to be more careful.
“We have a mutual friend, and I owed them one.”
He studied Kira for a few moments, trying to figure out if she was lying or not. Lifting up his wrist deck, he said, “So who is our mutual friend?”
“Not sure, had mine hacked. Almost had the thing wiped, but it’s turned out to be a rather…profitable friendship.”
Hacked! Was it possible he wasn’t even communicating with anyone from the Council? His deck had to be more secure than hers. Had the Council hacked her deck, thrown her a few contracts to keep her happy and built her into an agent without her knowledge?
“I don’t even know if it is one person. It could be many,” Kira added.
“You blindly follow the orders of some anonymous entity?”
“It brought you here, didn’t it?”
Alden kicked himself; she had him there. “So, what does our mystery friend ask you to do?”
“It’s not really like that. More of a support structure, I guess you could say. On occasion they ask me to do things.”
“That sounds ominous. Do you think it’s possible it’s the Council?”
“Possibly. I did one job for them where I airlifted a Council battalion out from a tight spot. In return, I received access codes to the air defense regions between the Three Nations. Now I’m able to move my goods around unencumbered.”
“So, do you think it would be safe to say the Council is our mutual friend?” Alden asked.
“I don’t really care.” Kira shrugged. “If they are, then they’d know I’m not very fond of them. But you know what they say, the enemy of my enemy.”
“That’s an odd expression. What do you mean?” Using someone that didn’t like you was a risky choice for a spy; they’d be the ones most likely to betray you.
“It’s just a saying, don’t worry about it.”
“No, I mean what enemy do you share with the Council?” Alden asked.
“My father was a diplomat for the Alliance. He was visiting a Council base when a bomb went off. It had all the traits of the lunar terrorists, but they never took credit for it. I think that’s why our mutual friend put us together. They know that I’ve been hunting Khasim since I could walk.”
“He also killed someone that was close to me. What do you know about Khasim?”
“All I can tell you is that every major terrorist attack in the last thirty years has been attributed to him in one form or another. Rumor is, he has a different cosmetic surgery every few months. He could be right next to you and you’d never know it.What do you know about him?” For the first time he sensed genuine interest.
Alden wasn’t ready to share what he’d learned in the Island briefing room. “Just what I was able to coerce out of the club owner. Apparently he’d been smuggling for him. He has a contact in Apollo City, at the Green Dragon Pub. It’s not a lot, but it’s a start.”
Her eyes grew wide. “We have to leave immediately! There’s a transport departing first thing in t
he morning for New Tranquility. From there it’s just a two hour shuttle ride to Apollo City.”
Alden felt a growing suspicion. “Why the hurry? I’m sure there will be another flight.”
Kira shook her head. “The growing instability on the lunar surface and escalating attacks has reduced passenger space travel to a mere trickle. It’s nearly impossible to get a flight off-planet these days. There may not be another commercial flight for a month. How long have you been on that Island?” Kira asked.
Alden ignored the jab. “Why don’t we just take your ship?”
Kira shrugged the comment off. “We can’t.” She turned and walked for the stairs that led to the second floor.
Alden stepped in the way, blocking her exit. “Why?”
She turned and looked off towards the blinds she had closed a few minutes ago. “It was impounded by the Alliance military. I was able to escape but now I can’t get back.”
“I thought you were close with the Council. Can’t they help you out?”
“It’s not like that. Plus I don’t even know if that’s whom I’m communicating with. I don’t reach out to them, they reach out to me.” She brushed past him and headed up the stairs; the leather constrained, yet accented her movements as she climbed. A distant light swept over the drapes.
“So, how are we going to secure a seat on that flight?”
“I know a few people who won’t mind us borrowing their clothes…” Her voice trailed off as she moved beyond the top of the stairs.
What was her angle in this whole mess? He wasn’t sure if a single answer he’d received had been honest. Walking across the living room he eased the curtain aside. A police car slowly cruised down the street, hovering a few feet above the ground as it moved. Looking into the distance he couldn’t see anything but darkness.
The Last Revolution Page 10
