by James Cox
The door opened onto a short hallway which Ferrel was checking for surveillance. None of them had found anything concerning the house's layout. According to what Ferrel had found Juch employed no live-in servants but that didn't mean the house was empty.
“Clear!”
Micah slipped past Ferrel moving as quickly as he dared. At lowest gain the mercury would provide minimal concealment at best but Micah now needed speed. He held a Blackout-loaded needle pistol ready as he began sweeping rooms. By the time he finished, all rooms empty, Ferrel had jacked in to a dataport.
“Clear,” reported Micah, “And secure. I didn't check electronics.”
“No need,” said Ferrel, “and no cameras. They might tattle on something Juch doesn't want told. Basic doors and windows, though. I killed their external link but they'll let us know if someone tries to come in.”
Micah nodded and synced his handterm to the monitors.
“Tollison's logged in,” said Ferrel, somewhat tense now, “This is cagey. Very cagey!”
Micah checked his chrono against how long it should take Juch to arrive at the Dome.
“Give it four or five. That much can be covered.”
Ferrel nodded and Micah looked at Kidwell.
“Shall we dance?”
Micah and Kidwell began a thorough search of the house. Micah didn't know exactly what he sought but training had taught him how to evaluate what he found. After three of the allotted four or five minutes elapsed Ferrel joined them.
“I didn't get much data.” Then, to forestall Micah, “But I did leave plenty. If Tollison has two working brain cells he'll find evidence. Won't take but one and a half to trace it back here. I just wish I'd had time for Ludurz or Norril.”
“We'll hit them later,” said Micah, “And harder, once we have some soft spots.”
Their search of the house turned up nothing. Juch owned some expensive paintings and knick-knacks, several of which bordered on erotic but nothing past. He also had an impressive and varied library but again nothing noteworthy. The three League agents ended up in his basement workshop.
“Feces,” swore Kidwell, “Minus the paintings and statues - art, you understand - this place is bland as the hydrogen band.” She re-examined the workbench. “Hrm. Looks like leather and woodwork. You think he makes chairs?”
Micah shrugged. “Could be. He'd be a fool to keep anything off-Firstly where it would be easily found. Might not even have it here. Besides, that was secondary and low-sigma.”
Kidwell nodded. Ferrel, who'd been tracing electrical circuits started examining the workbench microscopically.
“Clever!” said Ferrel, “But not clever enough! This is a false wall. Help me find the candlestick.”
Micah and Kidwell joined Ferrel. Micah managed to find the hinge tracks when Kidwell located the candlestick. A small switch hidden behind one of the legs caused the workbench and part of the wall to slide forward and aside.
“Well,” said Kidwell, “That answers that question.”
A large bed dominated the the center of the small space. A bed covered in soft and exotic fabrics. A cooler and rack nearby held an assortment of rare wines and liquors. From the far wall hung straps, manacles, chains and sundry similar devices.
Micah thought hard as they searched the small room. They found no material usable to blackmail the other Firsts but Micah saw an opportunity.
“Charlie, how long will it take you to bug this room?”
“Thoroughly or don't-pass-a-germ?”
“Just thoroughly.”
“An hour forty-five. Maybe two. I don't have my full kit.”
“Do it. Hardfiber the feed into the datanet. I think I can set up a hidden passive encryption tunnel.”
“I can do that,” said Kidwell, “But not for entertainment!”
Micah scowled at her. “Please note the well-hidden don't-spy-on-me equipment! Ten credits says Juch and Tollison discuss their business here. It would fit the profile.”
Kidwell grinned and nodded. “I'll take that bet!”
***
By midnight they'd evacuated Juch's house. Tidying up after their search took a long time but Micah insisted. Several servants arrived not long before dark and Juch arrived not long after. Micah heaved a sigh of relief when they began cleaning the place and preparing the First's dinner. Their presence lessened the likelihood of a meeting with Tollison and surely covered any traces Micah might have missed. He and Kidwell retrieved the peripheral equipment while Ferrel restored the gate security. No massive arrival of Brethren said their mission succeeded!
Chapter 15. Old Demons
Micah woke early the next morning only to find Kidwell up. She presented him a set of well-refined rumors and several new additions they'd spend the day spreading. Most of them centered on a simple theme: First Orris.
“I'm recording sixteen channels now,” she said, “Charlie, is there any good way to filter commercials?”
Ferrel pondered. “I can try. Just delete what doesn't match a consistent pattern. Give it a few minutes of content and the AI should be able to get rid of 'em.”
“No. I want to keep the commercials and lose the content.”
“Why do... Never mind,” said Ferrel, “Micah, I think you lovebirds may be spreading your gossip without me today. This isn't going to be easy.” Then with a glance to Kidwell, “But still possible, I say!”
“Slib, Charles. Micah my one eternal and true love...”
Feces! thought Micah.
“With your permission I shall work the crowds alone today. A thought struck me last night. I'll be needing interiors and warm bodies on the UNA building. Can you do that?”
“Nonexistent notice,” replied Micah, “But yes. By tomorrow?”
“Preferably by closing time tonight. We may be paying them a visit.”
***
Gaining access to the Unity News Agency building was easy. And it was impossible! Most of the first floor was public access; busy men and women scurried about asking questions of one be-desked person or another. Another part housed a massive public display detailing UNA services and how to acquire them. The rest of the area housed the impressive UNA archives: holocasts, information and historical data. Entry into the non-public area was strictly controlled by polite security and other workers.
“Hello, brother.”
Micah carefully didn't tense for combat. He'd been working his brain on how to get past the first floor whilst perusing the brag section.
“Hello, brother,” bowed Micah.
“My name is Ivan LeMarsh. May I assist you in some way?”
Micah thought fast. LeMarsh wore a finely-tailored suit and an access badge.
“I am Mark Flint, brother. I was examining your wonderful displays.”
“Quite closely, brother Flint. You've roused my curiosity.”
And suspicion? wondered Micah. “Forgive me, brother. I am from Glory In The Light and I had business here in Unity.”
“Truth. A considerable journey. Have you an appointment?”
“No, brother. My family lives a fair distance from the city proper. We often watch your 'casts. But for them we would live in ignorance of what passes in the Triumph.”
“You flatter us, brother. Truth!”
Micah saw his means of escape. “I... I simply wished to visit the UNA, brother. Please forgive my presumption.”
“Presumption, brother? How so?”
“I did not know the UNA was so... grand.” Micah looked downward. “I should leave, brother. I do not wish to waste your time.”
LeMarsh placed his hand on Micah's shoulder before he could walk away.
“Nonsense, Brother Flint! You've completed your business, yes? Most praiseworthy! Come with me, then!”
LeMarsh guided Micah toward one of the guarded portals. Micah tensed a bit; beyond that door he might need to unleash mayhem.
“You say your entire family watches UNA?”
“Yes, brother. Even aside from
the news your 'casts are most inspiring!”
“Then, Brother Flint, you shall have a tale to tell when you return. Truth!”
At LeMarsh's nod one of the guards handed Micah a red badge with 'Visitor' marked clearly across the front. Micah relaxed and hid his smile as his erstwhile host escorted him into the bowels of the building.
Alongside LeMarsh Micah played every millimeter the awed tourist. He met personages, some of whom he recognized from the 'casts he'd seen and others who worked behind the scenes. He toured the studios, the pre- and post-production rooms, the stages and the lounges.
“How long are you here, Brother Mark?”
“My linear leaves at six, brother.”
LeMarsh smiled and led Micah to the building's refectory. “Then do us the honor of breaking bread with us!”
Micah did not decline.
The meal, less bland and more plentiful than ordinary fare, followed a meditation from Page Ytric, Fourteenth to the Circle, Unity.
“Few are the days,” said LeMarsh, “that we are not honored by one from the Dome to guide our way.”
LeMarsh followed the meal by showing Micah the private archives and the actual machinery used to holocast. Micah took careful note of locations and security, both living and mechanical. Its relative scarcity surprised Micah until he realized that the building would never truly close.
“We must ever be prepared, brother,” said LeMarsh after showing Micah a small gym, 'fresher and sleeping area, “News does not follow our schedule so we must follow it!”
Apart from his cover Micah enjoyed his tour. He'd not given much thought to holocasting on a planetary scale.
With the sun heading for the horizon LeMarsh escorted Micah back to the first floor. Micah held a bag stuffed full of pictures, most autographed, brochures, informational literature and sundry other odds and ends a large business might use to impress its customers.
“Thank you, Brother LeMarsh,” said Micah with as much gratitude as he could muster, “I am grateful and honored by the hospitality you have shown me!”
“It was my honor, Brother Mark! Please return if ever you are in Unity again.”
Micah knew for almost-certain he would.
“May your journey be blessed in the Light and in the Unity,” finished LeMarsh.
***
“Heaven's flames, Micah! What happened to you?” Kidwell's curiosity turned to astonishment as Micah spilled his goodies on the table. “We thought they'd captured you!”
“They did,” replied Micah acerbically, “But I finally escaped.”
Kidwell looked tired. Satisfied, but tired. A haggard and frayed Ferrel slumped in a chair with a drugstick and a mostly-empty glass of vinostim.
“I scouted the building,” said Micah, “very, very, very well.”
Micah grabbed a bottle of ale before starting his story.
“Most impressive, lover!” Kidwell grinned. “You can scratch that bastard blood, Micah. Yours is pure-brewed rube! I don't think I could've done any better!”
“I hope you get the chance,” said Micah, “very soon! Now tell me. What have you been doing today to get Charlie so worn out? If it was real work I want your secret!”
Ferrel raised a finger to Micah as Kidwell handed him a holospool viewer.
“Watch.”
After the first five commercials Micah expected some news. After the first ten minutes he wanted it. Badly! After another ten minutes of commercials Micah wanted to break the viewer but Kidwell kept him seated.
Micah fidgeted where he sat. He didn't really mind pauses in the holocasts he watched. Commercials gave him ample time to rustle a snack, but actually viewing endless numbers of them took a toll. He felt nervous and twitchy and before long he wanted to be anywhere but in front of the viewer.
With an effort Micah summoned the discipline to stay in place. He tried analyzing the content but had trouble staying focused. Not, he thought, that the advertisements encouraged long spans of attention. It didn't help that Kidwell chose only UNA public service announcements. Nor that Unity had or had need of so many public services!
Finally, blessedly the screen faded and stayed empty.
“Well,” said Kidwell, “what do you thin...”
***
Pain! PAIN!!
Micah tried to focus past the muzziness in his head. The wound in his side throbbed and pulsed in counterpoint to his hurried footsteps.
Micah chased the shadowy figure running ahead of him. The shadowy figure with a pulse pistol, he corrected. The man who had killed him. No doubt of that. Micah decided he'd take the sewer-sipper with him before he died.
There had been a fight. Micah knew that. He'd given a good account of himself but the odds, augmented with blasters and surprise, simply overwhelmed him.
But Micah could at least avenge his friends! Trying to picture them distracted him and spoiled his focus but the presence he almost felt warmed him.
A tinge of sadness. She'd been so lovely and he'd never told her. Just a friend, of course, but he'd miss her eyes. Her beautiful eyes.
And the others. His best friends. A part of him...
The man running from Micah outsmarted himself. He turned into an alleyway Micah knew exited two blocks down. Micah caught the man when he ran out. His rapidly-weakening body lacked the strength for many blows so Micah made them count! He finally locked his fingers around the man's throat! Micah knew he'd die soon but by the stars he still had enough for what was... necessary.
Luv ya, hon, thought Micah, Paige...
No. Vera.
Vera? Life leaked out of Micah. The end was supposed to be clear! This was not fair!
Charlie!
Charlie? No! Answers! Not questions!
Master Ko, unable to pry Micah's fingers from his throat, gazed at Micah with death and amusement glazing his eyes...
“MICAH!!!”
***
Micah's vision blurred. His heart raced and slowly, slowly his eyes cleared.
Breath hard and fast. Micah tried to calm the panic flooding through him. He felt as though Flame raced through him. Energized. Ready to fight! Ready to kill.
“M-micah...” gasped Kidwell. Softly. Not shouting.
The room around Micah blurred into the dingy living room in the house they'd rented on Unity.
Unity?
A ragged gasp at breath on his left.
As Micah mastered the fear flooding him details swam into place.
Kidwell to his left, half-levered across a table, his hand tight around her throat. Ferrel sprawled on the floor to his right.
The blaster in Micah's hand centered between Ferrel's eyes, his finger tense on the trigger.
“No,” said Micah, “Holy heavens. No!”
Kidwell, released and collapsing to the floor gasping hard for breath. Before Micah could help her she scrambled out of reach.
“Micah, my brother?”
Micah relaxed his arm and the blaster clattered to the floor. His left side and leg ached horribly.
Micah collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his arms.
“Micah,” Kidwell, speaking gently, “Micah? Are you... You?”
“I... I think so.” Micah spoke without lifting his head. “What happened?”
“We'd kinda like to know, too, my brother. You... You went a bit suborbital on us and started breaking things.”
“I was showing you my subliminals,” said Kidwell, “I was going to ask you what you thought of...” Cautious hesitation, “Orris.”
“Subliminals?”
“In the commercials.”
“Subliminals.” Micah coughed bitter bile. “Subliminals.”
Memories Micah thought handled, impotent. Wetness trickling down his cheeks. Something thudded on the floor beside him. His fist. Pain struck as he hit again. And again. And again! Nothing against the pain he'd caused! Again!
“Micah! Stop it!” Hands grabbing his arm as he raised it.
“I'm sorry. I'm so
rry! V... I'm sorry!” The words choked Micah.
A soft touch on his shoulder. “Micah! What is it?”
Micah took a deep breath, ignoring the sharp pain in his side.
“I've been... I've had subliminals before.”
Hands pulling him up. Kidwell dabbed and wiped at his face with a moist cloth.
“Before...” Micah forced the word. “B-before I joined the Marines.” His brain wobbled with the words but Micah pressed both harder. “I... I was in the 113th. The 113th TAS.”
Kidwell and Ferrel looked at him blankly.
“Commonwealth of Caustik. May liberty reign.” These words more bitter than anything Micah had ever tasted.
Realization in Kidwell's eyes. “Wait. They're...” She bit back the words and let them die.
“The juice troopers,” said Micah, voice starting to steady at last. “Yeah. And... Before they booted me out... I was one of their best.”
***
Kidwell wrapped a flexsplint around Ferrel's arm. He moved gingerly but didn't seem harmed. Kidwell had a wicked bruise developing on her neck; seeing it stabbed Micah like a knife through his heart.
“I never knew,” she said.
“We never knew,” added Ferrel, “You never mentioned it. When Tarwell kept calling on you about Caustik I thought you'd just studied the place.”
“I wish I had, just,” said Micah, “They booted me because my CO was a coward. I'm glad they did! Rutting bastards!”
“Easy, Micah.”
When Micah looked up he saw Kidwell had a loose scarf around her neck. When she saw his gaze she touched it.
“Don't think about it, Micah. This only makes me want to hurt them for doing that to you!”
Finished with Ferrel, Kidwell moved toward Micah. He tried to inch back but she scowled him into place.
“Sit still!” she commanded, “When you came at me I kicked you pretty hard. Just the way you trained me.”
“Mmm.” Micah fingered his side and leg. “Feels like you cracked two ribs and my knee. Nothing serious.”
“Nothing serious?” Kidwell pulled out a long needle of bone glue.
“I've had worse.”
“Micah, my brother,” said Ferrel, “I think we need to talk.”
While Kidwell worked to glue Micah's bones back in place he talked. When she finished she poured him a generous shot of vinostim. Before he finished she poured one for herself and Ferrel, too.
