“You could say that.” The mover’s six big wheels bounced slightly when they rolled over debris in the road. All around them the ground was torn up and barren. “Your boy’s not very subtle. He’s been working with the rebels for the last four months, openly calling himself the Misty Man. Same as the code name you told me.”
They crested a small rise, and Leeger tensed up when he saw sudden motion. Four legs, steel-wool fur, short tusks, and long tails. He recognized them as a family of the local scavengers before they scattered. The parents were the size of large dogs, and several smaller ones scrambled across the road with them. One of the adults was carrying something in its mouth and, just before they disappeared into the darkness, Leeger thought he saw what was left of a human arm.
“Misty Man wasn’t his code name.” A face appeared in Leeger’s memory, a beautiful girl he’d never met, who’d murdered the head of the Celestian government. “One of our contacts called him that, because of the way he’d appear and disappear.”
“That contact wouldn’t have been the bitch who started this whole thing, would it?”
“Emma. Her name was Emma.” In his mind Leeger watched the slave girl die again, waving the bloody knife the Misty Man had given her. Standing on Horace Corlipso’s balcony, screaming into cameras that broadcast the assassination all over the galaxy. Flying off the high perch, riddled with bullets. “And no, we had nothing to do with her.”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it? Anyway, our Misty Man is one of the smartest of the rebel commanders. Everybody else is busy killing and burning, but ol’ Misty understands that this fight hinges on food.”
“The Celestians never produced enough to feed themselves, even in the good times.”
“You got that right. Mining planet, not a farming planet. And now, with this chaos, food’s the top commodity. All the stocks got looted or destroyed months ago, but Misty knows the army has to feed its troops. First he got good at wrecking their supply convoys and blowing up their warehouses—even on the big bases—and then he waited until they overreacted. Brought in three times the food they’d ever need, all of it combat rations. That’s when Misty and his people switched up on them. Hijacking the convoys instead of ambushing them. Cleaning out the supply dumps because there just ain’t enough troops to guard it all.”
“Any truth to the rumors that he’s been playing Robin Hood?”
Worthel gave him a long look. “Already knew he was focusing on the food supply, huh? You got some good spies working for you.”
“I did.”
“Yes, Misty’s not greedy. He sells some of the rations—gotta pay for the bang-bang and the boom-boom and the what-have-you-seen—but he sneaks a lot of it into the refugee camps. And every time they slip in, they leave with a fresh batch of recruits.”
“What about the camps? They as bad as they say?”
“Depends on your point of view.” Another look, this time a broad grin inside the beard. “Desperate people, caught in a hopeless situation. You’d be surprised what the women are willing to do for a meal.”
“No. I wouldn’t.”
The desolation slowly took on a littered look. Burned-out vehicle frames started appearing off to the side of the track, surrounded by smashed containers and broken machinery. Here and there the shell of a small building popped up, and soon after that they entered the grounds of what had once been a thriving mine. The complex itself was underground, but the surface was still covered with miles of big-bore piping designed to move miners, raw ore, and supplies. Though broken in numerous places, the forest of dirty metal ran off in all directions.
The mover slowed to take a turn at a particularly broad pipe, this one rising vertically from the ground. Someone had taken the time to scratch a symbol of the slave revolt onto it, and Leeger studied the image as they passed. Made up of different-sized triangles so that just about anyone could replicate it, the etching formed the silhouette of Emma the slave girl, brandishing the knife she’d used on Horace Corlipso. Someone had fired several slugs at it, scoring the stout pipe and marking the girl’s body.
“Ironic,” Leeger muttered.
“We’re here,” Worthel announced, topping another rise before driving into a bowl-shaped depression. Three other movers were parked there, and several armed men in fatigues and body armor were lounging near them.
“Not much of a perimeter,” Leeger observed while sliding out onto the orange dirt.
“It’s a laager, like I said. We’ll be heading into the danger area from here.”
They crunched across the ground toward the others, who stood up in a loose group. Ten in total, after three more climbed out of the vehicles. Lots of bandannas and expensive gear, and no two weapons the same. Leeger was about to comment on the value of interchangeable ammunition when he noticed the mercenaries’ too-relaxed posture. Even if they were foolish enough to believe in such a thing as a safe place, the imminent mission should have had them at least a little keyed up. Scanning the sky just above the surrounding berm, he noted the skeletal frames of broken mining platforms not far away.
Leeger braced himself for what was about to happen, but even so it felt like he’d been struck by lightning. Fire raced across his entire nervous system, and a flash exploded in his eyes. Though temporarily blinded, he felt his limp muscles giving way and dropping him to the dirt. He didn’t stay there long.
“Get his weapon, search him, and then put the ties on him.” Worthel gave the commands in a bored fashion, as if this was a standard practice for the group.
Several hands turned him onto his back, a lifeless arm flopping across to smack him in his nose. Leeger barely felt it, or the rough tugging as they yanked off his helmet and goggles, removed his torso armor, and went through his pockets. The stun weapon they’d used had been on a low setting, and feeling was coming back to his limbs when they tied his arms to the grill of one of the movers.
“Thought this guy was supposed to be smart.” His vision finally returned, and Leeger saw Worthel and two others standing in front of him. The rest of the mercs were back a way, grinning.
“I’m sure he used to be,” Worthel answered. “But this is what happens when you become a house cat. You lose all your instincts. Ain’t that right, Leeger?”
Strong fingers clamped down on his jaw, lifting his head. Worthel’s face was close to his own, goggles off.
“I know you’re wondering what we’re doing, so I’ll tell you. It’ll make this whole thing move faster. Ya see, we couldn’t help wondering why Reena Corlipso’s spy chief would pay us so much to hunt down one raggedy rebel leader like the Misty Man.
“So we contacted some of the Celestian honchos and asked if they knew anything about Misty. And boy did they ever. It seems he ran a spy ring here, before the place went to shit, and he left just before Horace took the Big Step.”
The bearded face came even closer, the eyes wide in mock astonishment. “Imagine that. Misty set up the assassination, and here we are, being paid to kill him. We’re just a bunch of stupid hired guns, but we do figure things out every now and then. You and Reena pulled Misty out of here, but then he got away from you. So now you really need him dead.
“Don’t look that way, Leeger! This is actually funny. Ya see, what’s left of the Celestian government already knows you did it. They just need proof.” The fist swung in out of nowhere, striking Leeger in the left side of his face, stunning him again. “And what better proof than a confession? You’re gonna tell us everything about the assassination, and we’re gonna send that video to the high-and-mighties behind that big wall in Fortuna Aeternum.
“They’re gonna pay us a fortune after seeing that video, and then we’re gonna hand you over to them.”
Leeger shook his head to clear it. “You need to get away from here right now.”
“What? You gonna try and tell me you’re not alone? That there’s a rescue force circling over our heads, ready to swoop down?” The entire group laughed. “Don’t even try it. We’ve
got the latest sensing gear on these trucks, and there’s nothing anywhere near us.”
“That gear tell you what’s under the ground?”
“Nothing down there but the rebels. They coming to save you?”
“No. But they are homing in on the transmitter in my boot heel. They’ll want to know why it’s been sending the Misty Man’s recall code ever since you picked me up.”
Goggles on the figures arrayed behind Worthel started swinging around uncertainly. Their leader frowned for a moment, and then gave a short laugh.
“He’s bluffing. Good try, Leeger. Ace, you got the camera ready?”
“I trained the Misty Man myself. And you’ve been in one place for far too long. By now his people have had a good look at you from all those busted platforms. They’ve identified me like he told them to, and called it in. You bug out now, you might make it.”
“And what are they gonna do with you? Take you and your transmitter to their hiding place?”
“If he’s their leader, they’ll have plenty of hiding places. And the transmitter’s going to be worthless once I’m far enough underground.” Leeger sighed. “It’s too late, anyway.”
“Watch this.” Worthel spread his arms and turned in a circle. “See that? Nothing happened. Watch, I’ll do it again.”
He was in mid-turn when a bullet smashed into his forehead. Blood and brain matter erupted from the back of the bandanna, but he stood there for an instant longer with a look of idiotic astonishment. Leeger fought to get as close to the ground as his bonds allowed while an angry ripping sound boomed across the depression. The gunfire flashed from different points in the night, rising until it sounded like one long burst. When it stopped, all of the mercs were dead.
Orange figures raced out of the night, weaving past the vehicles. They wore no body armor and no goggles, and two of them ran straight for Leeger. The muzzle of a Scorpion rifle was inches from his cheek, its owner pressing up against the mover to limit his exposure. The other one took hold of Leeger’s wrist before snipping the tie that held him on that side. A different restraint was slipped over his hand, and then his free arm was twisted up against his shoulder blades. Leeger turned as directed, the remaining tie was cut, and then his hands were firmly secured behind him.
The other figures were quickly stripping the dead of goggles, armor, weapons, and ammunition. Figures moved inside the vehicles, looting them as well, and then tongues of fire appeared as they hopped out. In moments the trucks were ablaze, but Leeger had been blindfolded by then. Stout muscles gripped his arms, and he half-ran, half-floated with them as they trotted off.
The Misty Man had turned orange. And lost an arm.
When the sack was yanked from his head, Leeger was sitting on the floor of a small underground room. Not far from the spot of his capture, the rebels had passed him down a hole that smelled of a recent explosion. He guessed they’d used a breaching charge to create the new tunnel exit, muffling the noise somehow. They’d jog-trotted him several hundred yards along a horizontal mine shaft and then lowered him through another hole, a process that had been repeated several times.
Leeger squinted, despite the low light. “Hello, Misty.”
“Hugh.” The former assassin leaned against the wall, facing him. What was left of his hair was shaved almost bald. His clothes were worn, but his boots were new. “How long do we have?”
Before Leeger could respond, a voice spoke behind him. “We smashed his locator.”
“He’s got another one, believe me.”
“We’re too far down for anyone up there to get a signal.”
“Exactly.” The Misty Man stepped closer, wincing when he squatted. “How long do we have, Hugh?”
“Two hours. They don’t pick up my signal again inside of two hours, they’ll collapse this whole complex from orbit.”
“The whole place?” An orange hand grabbed Leeger’s shoulder, pulling him half-around. Shorn head and young eyes, but a face that was aged. “This complex goes for miles.”
“He knows that. And he knows how far we could move him in two hours. So it’s more like an hour, if that.” The one-armed man looked past Leeger. “Get ready to leave.”
Boots scraped against dirt, scattering rock flakes, as several figures exited through a rectangular doorway reinforced with heavy metal.
“So what is this? Some kind of cave-in shelter?”
“Yes.”
“Not very well stocked.”
“It never was.” Misty stood, his remaining arm swinging to balance him. “And no, you haven’t found our HQ.”
“I doubt you have one.”
“Right again. So why are you here? Why broadcast my recall code, knowing it would draw the sharks?”
“The shitheads I hired weren’t getting the job done.”
“And what if they had? What if they’d managed to kill me?”
“I would have paid them off. A deal’s a deal.”
“They were about to sell you to people who were going to torture you half to death.”
“That’s why I’m not crying over them.”
“You knew you wouldn’t get to kill me, so why come?”
“The Celestians are going to capture you eventually.”
“Not likely.” A head tilt toward his empty left sleeve. “And even if they did, who would believe my confession? I was never anything but a worker bee.”
“And what are you now? A king?”
“You have any idea how many of these bands are running around on this planet? Thousands. I’m just a guy who came late to the party.”
Adjusting to the gloom, Leeger’s eyes picked out an etching on the wall, more veneration of the martyred Emma. “Do they know you got their slave saint killed?”
A heavy blow struck the back of his head, knocking him to the dirt. Apparently not all of the rebels had departed.
“Stop it,” the Misty Man grunted at the shadows, before helping Leeger back into a sitting position. “They know everything I did to that girl. And they know that’s why I had to come back. Why I had to join them.”
“Funny, you told me you wanted to save what was left of your network.”
“Not the first time I lied to you, Hugh. Besides, I knew they were already dead.” He narrowed his eyes, inspecting his captive’s face. “You all right?”
“Up until this very moment, I figured you’d kill me. But now I think you won’t. You want to tell me something?”
“So that’s why you’re here. All your eyes and ears are gone. You need your old spy to tell you who’s winning.”
“Yes.”
“Tell Reena that the rebels will eventually triumph. They outnumbered the citizens three to one before the assassination, and now it’s even worse.”
“You counting all the Force soldiers that have come here to fight you?”
“Of course. Half the Celestian units mutinied as soon as they got home. They’ve been training the rebels ever since.”
“You haven’t got any of the technology Command’s got. They’re in orbit and in the skies, which means you’re stuck underground.”
“You know what all that tech, and this war with the Sims, has done for the Force? It’s made them lazy. They’ve been fighting an enemy who can’t understand a word they say for so long that they don’t know how to fight someone who can. You should hear how Force units use the radios; no codes, no encryption, and we monitor every bit of it.”
“They’re fielding scramblers, along with other precautions.”
“So what? We know their tactics, their formations, their supply systems. When we put the deserters back in their old uniforms, we can travel anywhere we like. We’re not stuck underground, even though it’s our biggest advantage. Their systems can’t track us down here, and the few times they’ve come below they got massacred.”
“So why aren’t you winning yet?”
“That’s easy. Not enough food, not even with what we’ve stolen.”
“Is that what you
want me to take back? Ask the Chairwoman to send you rations?”
“No.” The Misty Man leaned forward. “Did you see any of the scavengers running loose on the surface? Look like they’re half rat, half hog?”
“Yes.”
“They were hunted almost to extinction during the peace, but they’re starting to come back. They’re incredibly hardy, and they can eat almost anything. If somebody started shipping more of them here, dropping them off in the middle of nowhere, they’d multiply quickly. They’re good eating.”
“Shipping them from where? Some other part of the planet?”
“They’re not from here—they’re native to Dalat.” A crooked smile cracked the orange. “I’m sure Reena could arrange it. If she decided to make friends with the side that’s going to win.”
“I’ll take it back to her.”
“Good.” He waved his one hand, and Leeger was pulled to his feet. “They’ll put you back on the surface. Rest assured this part of the mine will be empty long before that. Just in case you’re tempted to collapse it anyway.”
The bag came down over his head, and Leeger was being led to the door when he heard Misty’s voice again. “Hugh? I’m surprised Reena let you off of Earth. If she’s so worried about me getting caught, that must go double for you.”
“She doesn’t know about this part of my trip.”
“The rest of that trip must have been really important.”
“It was. It is.”
“Don’t let it get in the way of our deal.”
Chapter 7
A guttural roar filled his ears, and teeth like giant nails bit into his leg. Matted, stinking fur was in his nose, and he was off the ground again, his body twisting impossibly, being yanked to and fro, hearing only the echoing growls of the predator that was killing him.
Jander Mortas came out of this torpor slowly, the drugs releasing him with reluctance. His vision was blurred, and the room’s dim light wasn’t helping. His throat felt roughened, and he needed water, but first he had to know. Sliding his hands around, he felt crisp, clean sheets and then the retractable bars of a hospital bed. Remembering the jaws that had clamped down on his left leg, crushing the bone and tearing the flesh, he stopped moving. After a time he shifted his right leg, relief flooding over him when he felt his bare foot against the fabric.
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