The Great Game

by O. J. Lowe

  “Go on,” Brendan said. “Let’s hear it.”

  Wilsin glanced around to ascertain their location, just another spotless white stairwell and he didn’t like this. They’d been up a few of them already and they made good places for ambushes. The higher ground was key, all it’d take was for the hostiles to wait them out at the top and they’d have a clear shot as they came up. Still, one more. They were on the fourth floor. Bravo team would have more fortune descending from the roof.

  “So, they’ll be watching the door, right? Presumably. Why don’t we find another way in? Examine the room above, see if there’s something we can exploit there. Or throw some stun grenades in through the window. Didn’t Chaos Two come up with some wall crawling gloves?”

  “Didn’t bring any with me, Alpha Two,” Noorland said. “Sorry. Nice idea though.”

  “We’re nearly at the engagement zone, Alpha team,” Derenko said. “What is your position?”

  “Fourth stairwell,” Wilsin replied. “Be with you when we get up there. Had a little fly in the stew, had to take time to swat it.”

  “We don’t have time to check the room above, Alpha Two,” Brendan said. “Next time bring any ideas like this out at the briefing.”

  “Sorry Control, it only just occurred to me,” Montgomery said, sounding apologetic. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get this done.”

  Doctor A. B Mwarumari. Administrator Director.

  That was the sign Wilsin saw on the door across from them, shut tight and probably locked if they had any sense. Bypassing it would take time, time that the hostages wouldn’t have if they tried to storm in there. When the shooting started, they’d be the ones most at risk. Six of them stood around outside, more than a little uneasy. They’d regrouped swiftly enough; he couldn’t help but wonder how many they’d not accounted for around the hospital. Or maybe the last of them genuinely were locked in that room.

  “Chaos team, we need numbers,” Derenko said into his comm. “Can you get them for us?”

  “Negative Bravo One, too many variables,” Anne said. “For an exact number anyway. Best guess, five hostiles, twice as many hostages. Everything looks the same through the thermal scope.”

  “I’d second that guess,” Noorland offered. “My thermals are better than hers, I can make out at least four, maybe five or six sets of weapons in there. Double that for the hostages. They’re sat out in a semi-circle around the Administrator’s desk. Everyone looks to be towards the back of the room except one guy… Wait, he’s coming for the door. He’s coming out!”

  “Take cover!” Brendan ordered, a redundant order by Wilsin’s reckoning given that half the team had scattered away already, not out of fear but out of a desire to keep their presence secret. He didn’t rush, just pressed himself against the wall the same side as the opening door, he could hear the twist of the key and he hoped that the door would at least be closed before he had to do something to neutralise the threat.

  Their luck was in, he saw the hostile come out, saw the door close and heard the lock click shut before he was on him, hand over his mouth and he was dragging him away with great difficulty because the guy was strong. His struggles threatened to break Wilsin’s grip, he felt teeth tearing at his hand and he grimaced. Both hands were busy, one over his mouth, one around his neck and the hostile’s elbows were trying to swing back and catch him painfully in the side. He applied pressure to the neck, squeezed harder, trying to find the sensitive nerves that would pacify him.

  Then Aldiss appeared out of nowhere, sprang into view and clocked the struggling hostile square on the jaw with a vicious right hook that snapped his head back and brought it lolling to a rest across Wilsin’s shoulder. Reluctantly he let him drop, stretching out his arms as he did.

  “Nice hit,” he said amicably. “I had it under control.”

  “Course you did,” Aldiss grinned. “Now it definitely is though.” He shook his fist, flexed his fingers to retrieve the feeling in them. “You’re welcome, mate.”

  “Think they heard that?” Wilsin asked, reaching down to his belt for a pair of restraints. He took one of the unconscious hostile’s wrists, secured the cuffs to it and then did the same to the other wrist.

  “Well we haven’t heard shooting or threats yet,” Aldiss replied. “So, I’d say we’re in the clear for the moment. I don’t know how much time we do have. If he was due to report back in any time soon, they may suspect something.”

  “Then we should move sooner rather than later,” Derenko said, appearing from around the corner. “We need a plan to get in there, we need one now.”

  They turned, saw Leclerc crouched down next to the lock, examining it thoughtfully. If he had any thoughts on what they were talking about, he didn’t share them for a few moments. Montgomery glanced over at him, then back to Wilsin and Derenko with a bemused look.

  “Not a complicated lock,” Leclerc said. “Old style key. Not an electronic lock. Probably for security purposes. Can’t be hacked. Could probably be bust open with one solid hit. Makes it obvious if someone’s been in there.”

  “At the same time, it does the job,” Harper said. “There has to be a way…”

  Wilsin broke away from the group, moved to stand behind Leclerc, glanced at the lock and stroked his chin behind his mask. She was right. There had to be a way…

  “Chaos One, come in!”

  Anne, lost in the moment staring through her scope, jerked out of her reverie in surprise and looked up at Noorland, still focused on the same spot she had been.

  “Go on Bravo One,” she said. “What do you need?”

  “Can you see inside that room? What’s happening in there?”

  She sighed. It had been that question or variations of it that had been asked several times since the mission had started and it was starting to grate on her ever so slightly. This wasn’t what she’d planned to do today. Not even close. “Same as before, just with one less guy. Curtains are still shut.”

  “Does the window look reinforced?” Wilsin asked. “Do we have any data on that?”

  “Shouldn’t be,” Okocha said over the comm. “If it is, they didn’t include it on the blueprints of the building.”

  “You want me to open fire into the room?” Anne asked. “I can’t eliminate them all before the hostages get hurt. Couldn’t do that even if I could see in there.”

  “We have a plan,” Derenko said. “All we need from you is one shot. And it needs to be a good one.”

  “One of your best,” Wilsin offered, slightly unhelpfully she thought as she heard his voice. “You get it wrong and it’ll be disastrous.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Anne asked, emotion out of her voice. At least she couldn’t feel the terror of the hostages from over here. That’d be distracting. She wasn’t going to feel any sorrow from them either because they were all going to be fine. Nobody was going to die and she was going to do her bit in ensuring that was the case.

  “We’re going to supply you a target,” Derenko said. “And we need you to hit it dead on.”

  “It’s a small target,” Wilsin continued. “If the curtain’s closed, you won’t be able to see it and if the room is filled with hostages, you need to avoid hitting them as well. Think you’re up to it?”

  She almost laughed. “Could you do it? If you could, then feel free to come over here and put your credits where your mouth is. If you can’t, then get that target for me.”

  For several long minutes, nothing happened. It didn’t bother her. It was the sniper’s lot. Sometimes you had to wait for hours, maybe even days in the same spot without moving. She somehow didn’t think it would take that long this time. Whatever they were doing, they had to move quickly.

  She didn’t hear anything over the comms from them, just kept her rifle scope pointed in on the room, controlling her breathing. In and out, in and out, inhale, exhale, inhale and exhale. Noorland kept quiet but she could tell he was as agitated as she was trying hard not to feel. This whole situation
was draining on everyone but that wasn’t an excuse. It was something that they needed to get right.

  “Alpha team, Bravo team,” Noorland finally said. “What’s happening down there? Are you nearly in position?”

  “Nearly,” Derenko said. “Should be on your scope in a few.”

  “Hey, you try scrounging up something like this in a few moments,” Harper quipped. “Mind you, you’d probably be good at it, Chaos Two.”

  Anne could imagine the look on Noorland’s face, the smug prideful look that she’d seen so many times before. At the same time, he was entitled to it, given the abilities he had with mechs and techs. The guy was a genius, she had to admit it.

  And then she saw it, faint but very slowly blinking into existence. At this range, it looked like little more than a dot but it was growing by the second, a small red smudge against the blue of her thermal scope. If she hadn’t been looking for it, she might not have seen it.

  “Think I see it,” she said. “Want to tell me what I’m shooting at here, Bravo One?”

  “The target,” Derenko said. “You can hit it, Chaos One. Good hunting.”

  She wasn’t worried about hitting it. Strangely enough, that never entered her mind. No, what worried her was what might happen if she did hit it. What would come next?

  “Back at you,” she said. “Alpha, Bravo team, I’m going to take the shot. Move quickly, whatever you do. You won’t have a lot of time. I’m going to take it in five. In four. In three. In two. And…” She squeezed the trigger, felt the kick of the oversized weapon back against her shoulder and she hoped her aim had been true.

  Stun grenades in hand, Derenko and Wilsin heard the end of the countdown and looked at each other. Moment of truth. She was right. They would need to move quickly. They didn’t hear the shot; they did see the door fly open in a manner it probably hadn’t been meant to be used. It opened inwards, a shot hitting it from outside the building wasn’t going to do much good. Anne’s shot had been good, straight through the lock, but it hadn’t been what had gotten it open. The small amount of thermal breach they’d spread over the lock had done that for them and it was that that threw the door open. Thermal breach grew hotter and hotter the moment it was applied; they’d spread some around the lock in hopes of giving Anne a target. Normally it simply grew hotter and hotter until it burned through the lock but it was also incredibly volatile, hence the resulting explosion from her shot.

  Wilsin had set his grenade to explode on impact, he leaned around the doorway and tossed it in, ducking out the way as the disorientating sonic boom shattered through the space, Derenko doing the same, mirroring his movements. Then the teams were moving in, Montgomery and Harper, Aldiss and Leclerc going in, firing with pinpoint accuracy on anyone holding a weapon.

  By the time Derenko and Wilsin had retaken up their Featherstones and entered the room, Aldiss was already shouting how it was clear. Wilsin saw the hole in the window where Anne’s shot had come through, saw that some of the hostiles had been facing in that direction. That had served its purpose. A twin pronged attack on two fronts where one might have failed to achieve the necessary results. As far as he could tell, nobody was hurt, the hostages all looked fine.

  “Everyone remain calm!” he bellowed. “This is Unisco!” Just for the benefit of some of the people there, he repeated it in Vazaran. Regardless of linguistic abilities, it was something they were trained to be able to repeat in any of the main languages of the five kingdoms. “You’re safe now.”

  Weapons were kicked away from the hands of their fallen wielders, pulses were checked to see who was still alive and only then did they start to free the hostages. All in all, David Wilsin decided, not a bad day’s work to have participated in.

  “Unbelievable!”

  The roar went up from the crowd around the stadium and Theo just stood there in shocked silence as he stared out at the battlefield in front of him, the carnage left behind still lingering heavy on the stone. Atlas was breathing heavily, was covered in cuts and scrapes, the scales slathered in blood but at least the anklo was still up and moving.

  Which was more than could be said for Gamorra. The spannerhead lay there, not moving, eyes not seeing but so much less in death than it had been in life. Sharon, to her credit, didn’t bat an eye. If she was bothered, she didn’t show it. Some part of that stung him.

  She should be upset. Why was she not showing more emotion? The verdict was in, she was out of spirits and he’d beaten her fair and square, he’d beaten the favourite and yet she appeared unfazed as she strode out over the field towards him, pausing only to kneel and pat Gamorra on the neck before bringing it back to a crystal.

  “Well folks, that was that and what a result! What a shock on the cards! Theobald Jameson pulls off the shock of the tournament so far and defeats Sharon Arventino five spirits to six on the day. On a day when it’s all been put into perspective on events across the island, we’ve seen a fiercely competitive bout and perhaps it might not be remembered the way it should because of what’s gone on, but in this commentator’s opinion, the match of the tournament so far.”

  She was in front of him now and he could see the sorrow in her eyes. Sharon offered him a hand and he took it to shake. She managed a weak smile at him. “Don’t let anyone diminish this victory for you, Theo.” At least she hadn’t used his full name. That was a relief. “You deserved it. Good luck in the next round. May fortune guide you on your travels.”

  At least she’d lost with grace. He didn’t even have the heart to rub it in. Against someone else, he might have tossed it back in their face. Yet with her, it just felt like it would be churlish to do so.

  The victory was what mattered. He’d won. Nobody could take that away. Anyone who tried would have seriously problems. Still, looking around the adoration and the sheer force of glee billowing down from the watching thousands, Theo decided he was just going to enjoy the moment for once. It felt like a waste not to.

  Chapter Forty-Three. This Dream We Have.

  “When you keep having the same damn dream, do you really want it to come true? Feels like it spoils the surprise somewhat.”

  Ruud Baxter.

  Time has no meaning in the land of dreams.

  She’d had this dream before. Here she was again, same place she’d been a thousand times before in her head, and for the thousand and first time she knew she was happy to be here. It was a day she’d always wondered when it would arrive. And why shouldn’t she be happy for it?

  It was her special day after all. All eyes would be on her and her soon-to-be husband as they formally declared their love for each other. Her father wasn’t here admittedly. Of course, he wasn’t. She could barely recall Canderous Arventino’s face, she could just remember the mindless rage and twisted fear that had contorted it the last time she’d laid eyes on him. Instead John Jacobs had her arm, walking her down the aisle, fulfilling the role of father of the bride as the music played around them, light melodic music from Burykian silver tamborlutes.

  As the two of them approached the altar, it rose in its melody, somehow sounding in time with the click of her heels on the floor of the chapel. A great statue of Gilgarus and Melarius stared down above the zent and the altar. The lion and the tigress, Melarius more prominent as the goddess of love, birth and marriage. Sharon allowed herself to raise eyes to it, a silent prayer passing her lips with a smile as they moved through the centre of the throngs of adoring people watching them. Friends and family of both her and Nick, people she knew well, people she’d love to get to know further and close friends whom they hadn’t been able to invite quickly enough to the wedding.

  The guest list read well, like a who’s who of the spirit calling world. The groom and his best man were just two of them, Nicholas Roper and Wade Wallerington both wearing tuxedos, Wade grinning, Nick smiling calmly as they awaited her. Her maid of honour, Gemma Holtby, a smiling sight in summer yellow stood waiting, Sharon knew she’d been trying to catch Wade’s eye. He looked bett
er, not like the pictures from when he’d been involved in that attack at the Quin-C, not a trace of scarring remained and his eyes were as vivid bright as ever.

  Faces she recognised through the crowds as they made it ever closer included Peter, David Wilsin, Vassily Derenko, Fank Aldiss, even Terrence Arnholt. Her own side, well some of those faces it felt like she hadn’t seen for ages. Blank faces, happy for her but vaguely vacant as if they were devoid of something. That sent a little shiver up the length of her spine, she couldn’t quite place it, even if she should be able to. Allison Teserine, Julius Hong, Luke and Darren Maddley…

  But not him. She stole a glance around, a little hurt that he hadn’t deigned to attend. She’d invited him after all, even if it might have been difficult to arrange communication. Maybe he hadn’t gotten it. He would have been here if he had, surely.

  Still he wasn’t and that was that. After today she’d be closing that chapter of her life for good. Before the new could truly begin, the old had to go. For the final time, she looked nervously down at her dress, pure cream white with black and red trim across the hem and around the waist and conceded finally, reluctantly to herself that she looked fine. It felt unusual with her hair up, twisted and teased into a three-foot-tall style held in place with copious amounts of invisi-pins and styling cream. At this point, she felt she could hit it with a hammer and it wouldn’t budge.

  Finally, she reached the steps to the altar and slowly turned to John. He smiled at her, she smiled back even though he couldn’t see it underneath her veil and he let go of her arm.

  “You look beautiful, darling,” he said, before turning up to the tall zent, the man resplendent in his purple robes. He looked down at the two of them through thin spectacles and as he met the priest’s gaze, John cleared his throat.

  “I, John Jacobs, hereby relinquish the responsibility of this woman from my household,” he said. She heard the note of amusement in his voice. Yes, it was archaic but that was just one step away from traditional. Her father had been Serranian. Her mother was from Canterage, just like her future husband and so it had been arranged for a traditional Canterage ceremony. Which unfortunately meant that bit, but right now she couldn’t care. She felt giddy with excitement. It was closer to happening.