“A little early for inquiring on love interests, Doctor?”
“You'll have to excuse me, Marshal. We Aurorans are taught at an early age to seek infinite knowledge. I ask questions plentiful and many times unrestrained. If I say something unstrained, it won’t be as it seems in most cases. Really, I'm sorry. I really wanted to take the opportunity to thank you.” McKenna looked at her and proceeded to put fresh bandages on. “You saved my life in The Games, a generosity I felt until very recently was absent down here.” McKenna chuckled as he put his clothing back on.
“You're an Auroran, Doctor, you didn't need me. I probably got in your way, to be honest, right?”
“No. I wasn't anything more than an attraction. Whether the lion is bested by the gladiator or the lion butchers, it’s always killed for sport. They would've thrown every obstacle until I fell, all for their entertainment. We may be physiologically superior to your species, but we still bleed. We’re mortal.”
McKenna gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, only thinking about the struggle she must have gone through. He strapped on his duty belt and holster and put on his shirt and coat.
“Well, we're not out of here yet, Doctor.”
“Please call me Veena, Marshal. I don’t feel much like a doctor as of late.”
McKenna walked out of the restroom with Veena to see a guard stepping out of a long hallway waving his hand, just in time. The team proceeded down, following the Wordkeeper, to see guard after guard all in a row leading up to the door to the next room, each of them whispering as they watched Kimmy pass by. McKenna walked beside her, looking at her and judging her closely. Her face was filled with contempt, like she had made up her mind.
“Kim?” McKenna said quietly. She looked up at him with the same cold look. He saw the sincerity in her eyes, dropping the playful attitude everyone was so accustomed to.
“Your prize awaits, McKenna,” Kimmy said coldly. He had no idea what to expect from her now. The doors in front of the Wordkeeper opened automatically.
As they stepped through, they heard the clicking of weapon safety switches being clicked off. McKenna assessed and saw twelve armed Wordkeepers with weapons at the ready. At the center of the room were two men, one in sleek light body armor and the other in a fine blue suit. He was smoking from behind the hundreds of info screens floating in the room. He took his hand out of his pocket and stepped forward, clapping as he did so.
“Team Martian Greys, what an honor,” he said. “Each of your contestants tried and true, exactly what the people wanted.” McKenna's team lined up alongside him, all staring down the smoking man. He was well groomed and well dressed. He was older, a touch of grey hair on his beard and scalp. He spoke with a light tone with a touch of the south in it. He wasn't what McKenna expected to find, considering what he had seen of the undercity gangs.
“Hasker, I presume?” McKenna said coldly.
“There are many decoys, impersonators, speakers on my behalf, but I can tell you I am the real deal,” Hasker smiled.
“It's him, that's for damn sure,” Kimmy said with her arms crossed. Hasker began eyeing her from head to toe.
“Kim,” he said quietly. “You've changed your hair. I can only hope your logic has done so as well. Not half-witted like the child that escaped from here.” Kimmy stared him down, not having much for words. “Lindsey, is this her team that you found so troublesome?”
Lindsey stepped toward McKenna, drawing his pistol. McKenna stared at the man, instantly connecting the name with the murder of an ambassador. Lindsey pointed the pistol straight at McKenna's forehead, the rest of the team alerted.
“The man's got a lot of luck, too much for my tastes. Say the word and I'll get rid of him right here—” McKenna maneuvered quickly to the side, grabbing the gun and twisting violently, snapping Lindsey's wrist and sending a straight palm upwards at Lindsey's elbow, dislocating it and then driving his boot to the side of Lindsey's knee, dislodging it. Lindsey screamed in pain as he fell to the floor while McKenna put his knee into his chest while jabbing the gun into his chin. The rest of the Wordkeepers gasped as they raised their rifles.
“Wordhunter Lindsey, you're suspect of the murder of a Council emissary,” McKenna growled. “Care to go on record?!” Hasker smiled as he motioned for the guards to stand down. Meanwhile, Humphries began laughing.
“Yes!” Humphries said, jittering in place out of excitement. “You're the man now, Master!”
“Luck, Lindsey?” Hasker said. “Son of Fortuna, indeed. If you must know, Mister McKenna, Lindsey is one of my top Wordhunters, agents who operate to forcefully obtain information to this organization’s benefit. But Lindsey is what you may call overzealous.”
“I don't associate it with murder, Hasker,” McKenna said while Lindsey winced at the pain below his knee.
“No, perhaps not. Lindsey has a thing or two to learn about discretion. He's told to leave no trace. That doesn't always mean killing the source of information, does it, Lindsey?” Lindsey groaned, not knowing how to answer. “Someone take him to the medics for heaven's sake,” Hasker said to the guards as a couple of Wordkeepers ran over to carry Lindsey out of the room. “Don't look so sore, McKenna. Ambassador Brooks was not a pleasant man. He had been slipping information out of that tower for years, and not always to me, but to anyone who'd pay a filthy credit to him. A rat in every sense. I do recall him setting a warm welcome here on Earth.” McKenna tossed the pistol to a nearby guard.
“Since you’re so forthcoming with motives, how about you explain why you tried to have us killed. Not very sporting,” McKenna said.
“My reasons were my own. To be truthful, I'm glad Lindsey did not succeed in the end. Your guest, that young woman there, is my responsibility,” Hasker said, nodding to Kimmy. “You're strangers in my eyes and I'm her father, an equation that none of you belong in—”
“You son of a bitch, you're no father of mine!” Kimmy yelled, stepping forward, just barely restraining herself.
“We'll conclude any business you think you have with me, Miss Huan-Yue—”
“Don't you dare use my name! To you, I'm just the Hatter, remember?! Or maybe you need a little reminder!?” Kimmy stepped forward, her OPIaA at her side glowing red. The Wordkeepers took a step back at the threat, most of them knowing full well what she was capable of. Hasker stared into her eyes, knowing she wasn't bluffing. He knew her never to do so.
“After your team receives their prize, you can try to kill me, talk to me, whatever you so desire, Hatter. I guess you've earned that much.”
“Retracting your order to kill us then? When the change in mood?” McKenna asked.
“When I saw you perform in the show, of course. When I saw your… relationship with your team here. I've been keeping progress of you McKenna, SOP of any Marshal that decides to come knocking on the undercity's door. Simply put, if I didn't think you had the balls, we wouldn't be speaking now.”
“And just what the hell does that matter? We won your damn game show. It'd be pretty embarrassing for the crowd favorite to not get their prize. Honor, right, Hasker?”
“Truth. But you're not here asking for a cash prize, or the location of a vault full of riches. You're here for much more sensitive information, are you not?”
“And just how do you know that?” McKenna asked. Hasker laughed almost bashfully before taking a bow in front of the group.
“He Who Watches the Web!” Hasker laughed as he waved to all the info terminals. “My business is information from all over this system. I am information. I watch every move my brokers make, so when good old Speakeasy there attempted to access information about a man no one knows, my curiosity was sparked.”
Hasker looked to his remaining Wordkeepers. “Get out!” The Wordkeepers reluctantly turned and exited the room, worried for their boss's safety. “Mister Speakeasy,” Hasker said. “Your reward is just as well. You'll serve as one of my prime brokers. You'll receive your next posting within the hour. So please go and
pack up your fat cat immediately.” Speakeasy smiled and looked to Kimmy, who gave a subtle smile back. She knelt to embrace him.
“Thank you, Speaky, I couldn't have done this without you,” Kimmy said. Speakeasy turned to address McKenna and Roberts.
“Good luck on your ventures, Martian,” Speakeasy said. “And Roberts, you're not a pleasant man. But just take care of your partner.”
Dill gave a half nod as Speakeasy walked out of the room and, as the doors behind him shut, a loud but muffled cheer came from the excited broker. Hasker scratched his face as he watched his awkward broker leave. He walked over to a nearby table stand to put his cigarette out in an ashtray.
“So, who in this party is requesting the information?” Hasker said. The team turned to McKenna, leaving the decision to him. They all knew that they could have any piece of desired information known to man, whether it led to glory or riches, but they all grew to respect the Martian, something he just barely realized.
“I am,” McKenna said.
“Sorry, Mister McKenna, formalities and all,” Hasker said. “But I need to hear you say it. What is the information you wish?” Hasker spoke as if he was reading from a cue card, a formal procedure. Hasker knew what the Marshal was going to ask long before he arrived.
“Everything you know on The Commander, leader of the Golden Bough.” Hasker looked at the Marshal with curiosity as he pulled another cigarette from his suit, flaming it with his lighter. McKenna waited patiently as Hasker took a long drag from the smoke.
“Blacklisted Information. Information not for sale, information I personally deemed dangerous to a stranger who could afford it. But you've earned it. My only concern is what you would do with it.”
“Not your concern, is it? The Games are over, Hasker. We won.”
“The Commander. Very well.” Hasker typed a few commands on his OPIaA to bring up several screens showing operational history of the Golden Bough, known associates, and a perfect still of The Commander's face. McKenna saw the man in the image, someone he had never seen, so he was quick to take a burned image of it; the sunglasses and slicked back dirty-blonde hair were hard to forget.
“I first met him while I was warden at Pluto Correctional. Another lifetime it seems now.” Hasker looked up at a terminal revealing a security snapshot of The Commander in an Earth Federation uniform He glared before moving on to another terminal. “Truthfully, I'm not sure what his real name is. My brokers have acquired many over his career. But back then he was a normal man, and normal men hold their names to good standard. We’re all narcissists at heart, right? Elliot Draeger. Career military. He was with a Federation military science group back then. Top clearance.”
Dill, with his arms crossed, slowly paced between the few images that Hasker had acquired of Draeger, never taking his eyes off his face as he lit a cigarette. Several more screens transitioned over to glimpses on distant battlefields and field hospitals, Mckenna taking note of some theatres being from that of the Solar War.
Hasker took a drag from his cigarette and knocked the embers into his ashtray, very comfortable explaining the file on Draeger as the words glided off his tongue. He himself had studied the file extensively on the Golden Bough and The Commander. “He’s served in every conflict and proxy war you could dig up, both with the Federation and ENF. Combat, espionage, black-ops, cloak and dagger, military science. You could say the man is somewhat of a genius if titles are easier for you. He came to me at Pluto looking for men suffering from odd diseases. External medical intrigue wasn't such a rarity with the prisoners. We had several organizations asking for similar things. Draeger grabbed candidates for his projects on a couple of occasions. Seven years ago, he was operating out of a research station right on the Kuiper Belt’s edge. The station is long gone if it ever did exist. That’s where my history ends on him. That is until three weeks ago.”
“One week before the attack on High Science…” McKenna said as he looked to Veena. She looked to the ground, her chin resting on her knuckle, before nodding. McKenna looked back to an image of Draeger, slowly growing irritated that the image of his face was concealed by his sunglasses.
“I never forget a face, but something in that man's eyes changed from the last I saw him.”
“How?” McKenna asked, still attempting to study the man behind the shades.
“Can’t be sure. He tries to cover them with those shades of his, but I could tell they were void of life, truly a man without a soul. At first he came to me to buy equipment. Cloaking gear, exceptional weaponry.”
Dill turned to Hasker almost in surprise, his eyebrows perking up. “The commandos’ gear,” Dill said. “You sold it to them?” Dill scoffed and looked to McKenna, who could only shake his head. Hasker formed a half-grin, amused that the law tried to grasp understanding. “How long have you been fueling treason, Hasker.”
“Treason?” Hasker chuckled, smoke exiting his nostrils and mouth. “I must say, Interpol can fascinate me even still.” He paced closer to Dill. “No matter how many righteous heroes die, how many bad eggs stink up a precinct, or how many rookies made an example of, righteousness still prevails in the end. Or does it, Detective Roberts?” Hasker looked at Dill and smiled once more before taking another puff. Dill glared at him as he wondered just how much of his own life Hasker knew about. It made him feel vulnerable standing before a man who had access to perhaps limitless knowledge. “I’ve sold to pirates, gangers, cults, paramilitaries. You want to talk morals, Detective, you stow your shit and head topside,” Hasker growled, and just low enough so only Dill could hear it. Hasker walked back to his desk and rested against it.
“It’s common practice down here,” Hasker smiled and motioned his hands to the monitors. “He had the coin, I had the business.”
“Fucking pathetic.” Kimmy scoffed and shook her head. She tried to keep to herself, pretending not to listen to a single word Hasker had to say, but it was impossible not to take in every syllable as she glared at him and leaned against a wall towards the back of the room.
Hasker rolled his eyes and continued. “After some form of professional trust was formed, Draeger approached me with an offer. He spoke cryptically, something I don’t generally appreciate given my line of work. He claimed he had found the way to true freedom, to a species solidified in history and the right-bearers to the stars. To do that he needed one thing to be done first: eliminate the Black Cell. And he found the way.”
The team turned to Hasker with exception of Veena, surprised to hear success. Dill and McKenna looked to each other, both aware how high profile the case would be if they were now on the trail of the cure. Even Kimmy looked to Hasker in disbelief. While everyone had their own goals, aspirations, and allegiances, the cure to the Black Cell spoke on equal ground.
Veena listened tentatively as Hasker continued, carefully confirming what she could in her head, letting Hasker continue. “Quite a bold claim for a virus that’s lingered for centuries,” Hasker said as he shook his head and knocked more embers from his cigarette into his ashtray, almost not believing his own words. “His background gave him credibility but now he has no allegiance to anyone, therefore I wasn't convinced.” Hasker moved to a window further back in the room. Deep underground, he could get a pristine image of the outside like you could topside, but instead, a live feed of the Freedom skyline was streaming on the glass. Even Hasker felt slightly envious of Draeger’s so-called accomplishments. “And then he showed me,” Hasker muttered. “I knew then he was a man of his word when he took his breather off.” He turned around and looked to the others in disbelief and pointed to a building in the feed. “Right there at the top of the Empire Spire, outside. No breather, no worry. Almost like he forgot there was an ancient virus.”
“He cured it?” Kimmy asked as she stepped forward, her interest peaked. “Then why attack High Science? What does he gain from slaughtering scientists?”
“He did reveal that the method behind his demonstration was an experiment, to pu
t it plainly. He wasn’t fully sustained by whatever was in his blood and he began coughing before he put his mask back on. No, I suspect his attack was his way of striking at the Council. Anyone who doesn’t share his vision is his enemy. Truth is, The Commander isn’t interested in a cure or some vaccination. He wants evolution, and the Auroran doctor was key to that.” Hasker pointed to Veena like a showman. “And, as of now, the Council seems to have taken the attack as a fair warning to halt research, although they obviously don’t know why or who from.”
“So why come to you, an information broker?” Dill asked as he took a long puff.
“He knew the kind of influence my organization spreads throughout the system. He can’t receive support from any legal party, so he’s pitched himself to the largest syndicates on Earth, me being his first choice.”
“But your famous neutrality steered him away, I take it?” McKenna said.
“I’ll listen to any offer that comes my way as any man of proper business should. I asked him what a simple man like me could provide. His response was rather dull: an army. He would provide the means for controlled evolution if I could provide him the army for his insurrection, to strike upwards.”
McKenna tried to follow as he attempted to get inside the mind of The Commander. “Insurrection? Against who?” McKenna scoffed.
Hasker smirked as he put his index finger up and waved it to each of them, eager to reveal. “The highest seat of human authority in the Solar System. The Commander wishes to eliminate the Council entirely.” Hasker simply shrugged then, thinking the idea was foolish.
“Hold a tick,” Dill said. “He wants to attack the Council and then what? What does that gain him?”
“He believes the Council to be ill minded, themselves wishing benefits to only those who can afford it. Removing Orintus only to place four just like him in his stead was something he believes is the last straw. It’s not like anything has changed down here. By making us all equal on a genetic level, he will eliminate the rich, the poor, ganglands, crime. With fear of death eliminated overnight, life opens possibilities previously off-limits. And with the Council eliminated, he is free to unite the entire planet to his cause.”
The Bloodlust: (Volume Three of the Virion Series) Page 21
