Syndicate's Pawns

by Davila LeBlanc

  “Not like we got any leverage we can use, boss,” Mikali added quickly.

  Domiant stepped past both Niko and Mikali and held down the button to the bridge’s intercom. “I am addressing the ship’s pilot, correct?”

  “You are not getting past those doors,” came a stubborn reply. The voice that spoke was modulated and electronic, almost like a Machina’s. Unlike those abominations, though, this voice was rich with emotion.

  “Infinite hump me sideways!” Mikali cursed before Domiant could even formulate a response.

  “You just seem to be a source of bad news today, Mikali.” Domiant gave her a cold stare. “What is it now?”

  “The armory airlock hatch was just opened, boss. Someone got off the ship,” Mikali explained.

  “I was under the impression that everyone had been taken care of.”

  “An impression shared by me as well,” Sopherim added as her hand clasped the hilt of Pax Slayer. An action that was not unnoticed by Mikali, who puffed up her chest in a false display of confidence.

  “There was the sickly Thegran—­she made her way down to the lower levels. I figured the gas would—­”

  Mikali’s excuses were interrupted by a string of Domiant’s curses in Wolven. “You stupid soulless waste of living flesh!” He took a moment to regain his composure then turned to face Sopherim.

  “I need you to go see if there are any more unaccounted for pests that Mikali, in her baffling incompetence, might have forgotten to dispose of.” It was everything he could do not to order Sopherim to strangle Mikali.

  As if reading his mind, Sopherim looked to Mikali then back to Domiant. “Consider it done, brother.” She turned on her heels and walked away. Domiant then faced Niko. “You step out of the ship, find whoever got out. If it was the sickly Thegran, you are to capture her and bring her to me unharmed.”

  Niko cranked the safety release of his ultra-­carbine. “What if she ain’t alone?”

  “Feel free to use any excessive force you wish on her companions. I don’t care, as long as she remains intact. If she is damaged you will have to deal with my mother—­are we clear on this?” Domiant could not read Niko’s facial reaction beneath his crimson helmet. While the brute might have had little to no respect for Domiant, he was probably less than keen on finding his name inciting the darker graces of Ynarra Kuaro.

  He merely nodded with a violent eagerness to his stance. “Won’t harm a hair on her sick head. Can’t vouch for any of her friends, though.”

  “Good to hear. Now get going!” Niko walked away from Mikali and Domiant, a spring of joy in his step at the prospect of hurting someone. Well, he had not been hired for his skills as a diplomat, that was for certain.

  With these two challenges being dealt with, Domiant could now focus on the problem at hand. He pressed down the button to the bridge intercom once more. When he spoke his voice was polite and calm. “Pilot, I commend you, like your captain, for your courage. But even you must realize that your cause is lost.”

  “I can wait you out. From here I can still seal off the medical bay, thus securing the rest of the crew. You have no leverage,” came the pilot’s reply.

  “You are very much mistaken in that fact. Mikali, would you be so kind as to let the pilot have eyes and ears inside life-­support.” Mikali pushed a ­couple of buttons on her wrist guard.

  “It’s done, boss.”

  “Now you might see both of your machinists in there. They can both hear me.” Domiant looked to Mikali’s wrist gauntlet, now projecting a holographic image of the security feed. A Thegran man with a heavy red beard and an old Wolver woman were standing there with dazed looks on their faces.

  “This is a message for the ship’s machinists. I want you both to kill one another in the slowest way possible.” Domiant watched the feed as the two both visibly struggled to resist the order, but as it had been with Captain Morwyn, their efforts were in vain. The Thegran man grabbed the Wolver by the throat and started to strangle her while the Wolver grabbed a heavy wrench from her work belt and started hitting him in the head with it.

  “Now if you let me in right now, I give you my word that I will let them both live. If you don’t, I am going to let them kill each other and then I’m going to order Mikali to set fire to your life-­support and destroy your power core. Everyone on this vessel will perish without exception. Oh, you might survive this, but I will make it my mission to make sure that no one else does.” Domiant released the intercom button and waited.

  On the video feed, Domiant could see the Wolver woman gasping for air as she continued striking her Thegran companion in the head. On the third strike, the doors to the main bridge slid open and Domiant could now see the pilot, a thin cloner woman, standing in its center, with various wires grafted into her desecrated body.

  “Thank you, machinists, you may stop what you are doing and sit.” Upon hearing his words, both the machinists immediately stopped what they were doing and sat back down. Domiant stepped onto the bridge with Mikali and Chord in tow.

  “The Infinite erode you both,” the clone pilot said.

  “The Infinite erodes us all without exception, you stupid clone,” Domiant replied. Mikali fired a stun charge at the pilot, who went limp. As Mikali made her way to the bridge’s consoles she was giddy with excitement.

  “Boss, I can access their astro charts. Not to mention all the Patrol Intel we’ll be able to glean.”

  “Do what you have to, Mikali.” Domiant crossed his hands behind his back and savored his victory. His was the superior mind, his was the superior will, with his tools he had claimed his prize. The Jinxed Thirteenth was now the property of Domiant Kuaro Nem’Uldur.

  Part 3

  AMBITION’S GAMBIT

  CHAPTER 27

  JESSIE

  We can be so brilliant when we choose to be. And equally as horrible as well. Is it any wonder, then, why the Machina are confused with regards to us?

  —­Gruemor “The Owl,” Alexandran scholic

  20th of SSM–11 1445 A2E

  Jessie didn’t really know what she was hoping to accomplish by boarding the enemy ship. In fact, there were some very good chances that both she and Phaël could wind up getting themselves killed. Better that, thought Jessie, than capture. Their foes were all calculated players, and had managed to control the game since the beginning. Therefore, the best way to regain the upper hand was to act in an unpredictable manner.

  Her emergency lifesuit was a wonder to Jessie. It was light and the limbs were fully articulated. She could even look over her shoulder, a feature not available in her day. A heads-­up display was projected on her transparent face guard, and while Jessie was still struggling to read Pax Common she was able to figure out which counter indicated her remaining oxygen and her heart rate.

  “Above” them, as if it were their skyline, was the green, purple and blue gas giant world of Moria. Thousands of years ago, her version of Humanity had made it all the way here, from Earth, with none of the wonderful technology now readily available in this time. Jessie wondered, briefly, if Moria had a different name now. Yet another question among a never ending and ever growing list of questions that Jessie would have to find answers to.

  “Eyes on the prize, cowgirl,” Jessie said to herself as she and Phaël ran alongside the hull of the Jinxed Thirteenth, hoping to board and seriously damage an enemy vessel. Jessie couldn’t help but find the situation incredibly odd. She was a former engineer, a gear head and a glorified maintenance person. Yet here she was, armed with her customized plasma cutters and a bag full of murder balls. From engineer to pirate. Jessie wondered sardonically what her next career choice would be. Right now, the Covenant equivalent of a desk job was sounding like a thrilling prospect.

  Before them both, ­coupled to the Jinxed with a leather-­like tube, was the Althena. Phaël pointed to the tube then to Jessie’s b
ag. “Good idea,” Jessie said.

  They made their way to the tube and Jessie dropped to her knees, unfolding the clasp of her bag and pulling out two of the dozen or so spheres Phaël and she had reclaimed from the medical bay. “Let’s see how well you like the taste of your own shit,” Jessie said to the Althena in English as she handed one sphere to Phaël.

  Phaël deftly pulled off the safety seal from it, making sure to keep her thumb pressed down on the release trigger. She held up four fingers on her hand then pointed to the Althena and made a jumping motion toward it. Jessie could already tell that she wasn’t going to like this.

  “Ready?” Phaël asked as she placed the grenade beneath the tubing.

  “No.” Jessie promised herself to keep this little story a secret from her daughter.

  Phaël released the button, gracefully leapt off the Jinxed Thirteenth, and caught onto the edge of the Althena. Jessie followed suit close behind, counting down from four. She looked over her shoulder and saw the silver sphere spring open, unleashing what appeared to be a spring loaded laser whirlwind.

  The monofilament wires sliced through the hide of the docking tunnel as if it were nothing and Jessie could see air being sucked out and red lights flashing on the Jinxed Thirteenth and the Althena alike. There was little time to celebrate as she turned only to realize that she had miscalculated her jump entirely. She was falling past the Althena and was glad to see Phaël running just beneath her.

  She extended her arm toward Phaël, who tossed the end of one of her whips toward her. Jessie reached out and barely managed to catch it. She quickly wrapped the end of the vine around her wrist. Before the rope could go taut, Phaël tugged on her end, softly pulling Jessie back toward the Althena and the safety of a stable surface.

  Jessie positioned herself to land magboots first onto the ship’s hull and braced herself. As she collided with the hull, she was glad that her lifesuit absorbed the majority of the impact. Phaël rushed over to Jessie and helped her up. “The Huntress doesn’t get you today.”

  Jessie breathed in deeply and accepted Phaël’s assistance as she helped her back up. “She has better things to do.” With the tube weightlessly flapping, Jessie and Phaël could both now make out the ship’s entrance.

  “I really want to hurt these humps.”

  Jessie had never really considered herself a violent woman. As a matter of fact she had been one of the many active protesters against Earth Gov’s saber rattling toward the Venusian colonies. Despite her earlier pacifism, Jessie was learning that her tune could change with incredible speed. She, too, shared Phaël’s desire, not just to beat their foes, but to make them hurt. Jessie figured that being the target for a team of merciless criminals would no doubt have a similar effect on anyone else.

  Phaël and Jessie cautiously made their way toward the Althena’s entrance. As they made their approach a panel opened itself from the hull, and what appeared to be a jet-­black, arm’s-­length crane lowered and unfurled itself in front of them. Phaël let out an angered hiss and rushed toward a nearby heat vent panel, catching Jessie’s hand and dragging her along.

  “Well, fuck!” Jessie didn’t need anyone to explain to her what this was. Even in her time, several ships had come equipped with intrusion countermeasures, the number one being the good old reliable autoturret.

  The turret opened fire. Jessie and Phaël were fortunate enough to find cover from the incoming volley as they both ducked behind a nearby heating vent panel. Jessie could still feel the heavy impact of the turret’s relentless flurry of firepower hitting the small bit of cover they were lucky to be sharing right now.

  “Is there any move these assholes did not anticipate?” Jessie shouted, and slammed her fist in frustration on the Althena’s hull. There was nowhere to go. They were pinned, and like Phaël would have said, properly humped.

  CHAPTER 28

  MORWYN

  None of your secrets are safe from us, Prefect Silenus. Carry on your warmongering towards my ­people and we will make sure that they are exposed for all to see.

  —­Vrex Ai’Zahul, Kohbran gene lector

  20th of SSM–11 1445 A2E

  “Morwyn Soltaine, my name is Zanza Ai Karai, and our thoughts are now one.”

  Floating in total darkness, Morwyn felt completely powerless. He was still in his body still aware of his thoughts, memories and personality but he knew that he was not alone. There was someone else sharing his mind with him, a stranger whom he could feel riffling through his memories as if they were files in a computer operating system. This place was lonely, dark and cold.

  “What do you want with me?”

  The feeling of powerlessness and fear was suddenly overshadowed by an impression of comfort and compassion. “Time is short for both of us, Morwyn Soltaine.”

  Where Zanza’s voice had been void of any warmth and compassion in the real world, it now sounded kind, sweet and quite friendly. “What are you talking about?”

  “Domiant and his crew do not suspect that I am not what I claim to be.”

  “And what do you claim to be?” Morwyn was still suspicious of the voice. None of his past training had prepared him for a psionic. This could very well be a trick; an illusion to keep him distracted while Zanza riffled through and acquired all of his memories and secrets.

  “I am not a criminal, Morwyn Soltaine.” Zanza spoke through the fog and darkness. “And I apologize to you for this. Rest assured that I will not read what you have not given me permission to. Your secrets and mind are safe.”

  “I do not believe you.”

  There was a feeling of disappointment that was not his own suddenly flowing over him. And he knew in that moment that Zanza was sharing her emotions with him. He did not know how she was doing it, only that she was. Amongst those feelings was an impression of purpose, community, loyalty and a code. Morwyn knew that he would come to trust her.

  That thought seemed to please Zanza. “I am a gene lector assassin, a Covenant sanctioned legal operative sent out into the cosmos to protect my home.”

  “And just where is home?” It was only fair that he know where his interrogator hailed from.

  “Here.” Suddenly an image flooded itself into Morwyn’s mind and in the real world his hands balled up into tense fists. A tree, huge, easily the size of a small moon, and on it Morwyn could recognize structures, building and homes. It was being pulled through the endless sea of stars by what looked like a pair of giant gray-­skinned eyeless serpents. Morwyn recognized the City Tree and two serpents as Leviathans, the largest living bio-­organisms in the known cosmos.

  “That is Karai, largest City Tree in the universe and my adopted home.” There was a feeling of safety and belonging when Zanza spoke. “The Leviathans are always moving, pulling the City Trees and the hundreds of thousands of my ­people throughout the endless seas.”

  “Yes, I have read about them,” Morwyn replied.

  “Then you must know what happens when a Leviathan is killed.” The image of a far smaller tree suddenly replaced Karai; this one was awash in flames. A Leviathan floated limply by its side with veritable seas of blood oozing out and forming giant bubbles around it. “That was my first home, Morwyn Soltaine. Foriel, city of starlight and love.”

  “By the Infinite.” Morwyn watched in horror as he realized that what he thought was debris floating about the tree was actually countless bodies of dead or dying Kohbran. He could feel the pure fiery hatred, the desire for blood, the need for vengeance filling up inside of him, and he knew that those feelings, that fire, were Zanza’s.

  Part of him wanted to howl and mirror the naked pain and outrage flowing through him, but before he was overwhelmed by the astronomical grief of having lost every single person he had ever known and loved, he was once more transported to the dark quiet place.

  “I have spent my entire life training and begging the fates f
or vengeance. I know that someone within the Syndicate contracted out the destruction of my home. My quest has taken me far from Karai, but I managed to infiltrate Domiant’s crew because I know that at least two serving under his command were involved in the death of my first home and family.”

  There was a long silence, and Morwyn could tell that Zanza was waiting for him to answer. “I believe you. So what do we do now?”

  There was relief and satisfaction in Zanza’s voice. “I cannot allow Domiant to claim your ship or the last living Human. He is a dangerous foe and will do everything in his power to use her as leverage to become a more important piece on the Syndicate’s board.”

  “We can stop him together.”

  “It will not be that simple, Morwyn Soltaine. I cannot risk breaking my cover. I have invested too much time and energy toward my goal to have it lost because of our fated encounter.” There was a heavy aura of loneliness emanating from Zanza’s voice. Morwyn could not help but feel sorry for her. He could tell that the feeling was appreciated by Zanza.

  “I am going to set you free, then you will have to do whatever it takes to capture and arrest the crew of the Althena.”

  “There is going to be a catch.”

  He knew that in the real world, Zanza smiled when he thought this. “Yes there is. In order for me to preserve my cover, I am going to make you forget this entire exchange ever happened. I am sorry.”

  “No wai . . .”

  Morwyn blinked and rubbed his sore wrists. He was alone in the gravity rings, which were now active and rotating once more. The Kohbran criminal Domiant had called Zanza was passed out at his feet. His jaw was sore, as if it had been struck. Her hands were bound with plastic zip-­ties and Morwyn stared at the heavy obsidian stun-­stick in his hand. His ser­vice blaster was holstered and he shook his head. The memories of how he had broken free were foggy, due to the Somapoline laced into the ship’s air.