Guardians of Paradise (Hidden Empire)

by Jaine Fenn

  ‘And who would that be?’ Jarek suspected, even as he spoke, that it was a pointless question.

  Her smile confirmed his suspicions. He found himself torn between fear, admiration and irritation. But he didn’t have time for games. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘The person who told me what your company is up to is the one I want information about.’

  ‘What makes you think I am in possession of such information? ’

  Putting more assurance than he felt into his voice he said, ‘I am quite positive you are.’

  She paused for a moment then said, ‘What if I were to tell you that this person may well be in the same location as the other individual you referred to?’

  ‘I’d say that’s unlikely.’ Nual’s last message had said she was trying to raise credit in order to fund a mission to Tawhira-ngai’s facility; she didn’t expect to be in a position to try and make the run until tonight at the earliest.

  ‘Then I fear we may have reached an impasse.’

  Was that a hint of smugness? Had she decided it was no longer worth continuing the call because she’d traced it? Were men with stun-batons and heavy boots about to kick his door down? As evenly as he could, Jarek said, ‘Not regarding Taro sanMalia we haven’t. Get him out when you go in on your other business, and I’ll provide the plans of Tawhira-ngai’s base to make your little mission go more smoothly. That way we both get what we want.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Medame Ruanuku. While Jarek was still mastering his surprise she added, ‘But on one condition: you accompany my team into the complex.’

  Jarek had every intention of going in himself; it was the only way to ensure they would also rescue Taro when they went back. However, he understood her own motivation for asking him along too. ‘Yes,’ he said ‘and if I do, I expect your hirelings would be on hand to witness any nasty accident I might have during the mission. So now might be a good time for me to explain about the “insurance” I’ve organised. If I don’t regularly check in with a certain independent party, then the information I have about you and your business associates will go out to everyone I can think of who might be even remotely interested. Getting me killed would be a sure way to find out just what your fellow corporations think about you trading with humanity’s old enemies.’

  ‘I see,’ said Medame Ruanuku tightly. ‘Then perhaps it might be safer if you didn’t accompany my team.’

  ‘I think I will come in, if it’s all the same to you. I’m sure your people can keep me safe,’ Jarek said cheerfully.

  ‘What if I said that having you along would be an unacceptable risk?’

  ‘Then I’d say the deal’s off. If we don’t do this my way, then I will have no choice but to take my offer elsewhere - and then to release everything I’ve got on you. After which I will simply disappear.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Though he’d been relieved when Medame Ruanuku accepted his terms, ten hours later Jarek was having second thoughts. He’d got nothing like enough rest, and fatigue still gnawed at him. Some of the others in the aircar - all hard-looking mercenary types - were giving him looks that made it clear they weren’t sure what he was doing on their mission. They had a point.

  They looked pretty tough, but the local honour system meant they were armed only with heavy-duty dartguns. This tapu thing managed to be both anachronistic and adaptable; the locals harked back to a bloody warrior culture back on Old Earth, but attitudes and practices that would’ve resulted in brutal battles between villagers armed with stone axes made for mayhem and genocide once you brought corporate politics and hi-tech weaponry into the equation.

  When the aircar picked him up at the harbour, he’d been introduced to the mission leader, a heavily built woman of mixed blood called Quin, and to Yenemer, a lithe, dark-skinned young man heading the team of three who’d been detailed to search for Taro - and Nual, if she really was in there. He’d heard nothing from her since the last rerouted message. It was possible she was dead. He wasn’t sure how streetwise her years in Khesh had left her, but she’d been pretty naïve when he’d met her. Her unnatural advantages could also make her arrogant, and she might easily have fucked up without even realising it.

  The aircar was uncomfortably crowded with twenty mercenaries plus him and the driver packed into a space designed for a dozen people. The mercs were professionals, and most of them passed the time napping or in silent contemplation. A couple of the younger ones were chatting to each other, from which Jarek gleaned that though there had been rumours of a mission like this for a few days, in the end it’d come together in a rush. Jarek suspected his delivery of the plans to Ruanuku-ngai was responsible for that. There was also a feeling that the gloves were off now, despite the lack of obvious lethal weaponry. One of the youngsters said whichever ngai was funding the run must be pretty desperate to go in mob-handed like this, a comment which got him a stern look from Quin.

  Shortly after that she stood up. ‘Listen up. Those of you who were on the original mission know how that went down; the rest of you will have read your briefing notes. This time, there’s no storm to give us cover, so they’ll know we’re coming. More importantly, there’s no one inside to turn off the shield, so we’ll have to trash it to get through. Fortunately our transport has had a few non-standard mods, so it’ll be up to the task.’ She nodded at the driver, who flashed her a tight grin. ‘However, remember that we are still subject to the rules of tapu. Fatalities must be avoided if at all possible. I hope those of you who follow the Lord of the Sea have prayed for understanding from Tongaroa.’ This last comment was delivered with the same serious expression as her short briefing, and afterwards she sat down again.

  Silence fell until the driver called out that they’d been detected. After that, a few of the mercs bowed their heads and muttered under their breaths. Ahead, the island’s shield was a pale dome glowing in the darkness.

  The growing tension made Jarek want to fidget. He looked at his hands and practised the simple breathing exercise he sometimes used to calm himself during transits. Count in, two, three . . . wait . . . count out, two, three.

  ‘Everyone brace!’ called the driver. ‘Shield impact in five . . .’

  Jarek looked up. ‘Four . . .’ The view ahead, filled with silver light, suddenly dimmed as a shade slammed down over the screen.

  ‘Three . . .’ The mercs hunkered down in their seats, and Jarek followed suit.

  ‘Two . . .

  ‘One . . .’

  Even through the shade, the screen flared brightly. The aircar veered, then shook. The internal lights went out, and Jarek instantly went from apprehensive to terrified. Without power they’d crash - were they still over the sea or were they going to hit the island? It was pitch-dark in here, and it felt like they were falling—

  The internal lights came on and his stomach bounced back up to hit his diaphragm. Relieved sighs came from all around.

  ‘Right, people,’ barked Quin, ‘helmets sealed and active.’

  Jarek pulled his visor down and the chin-guard up, locking them together. The cabin was reduced to readouts and heat-signatures. People sub-vocalised call-signs to each other to check their coms. Jarek himself had trouble speaking around the control unit that slotted under his tongue; the thing tasted cold and metallic and he kept having to swallow to avoid triggering his gag reflex.

  ‘First surface team ready to roll.’

  Two men unbuckled and headed for the door. The aircar touched down and the pair of mercs jumped out as soon as the door opened; the aircar took off at once. The fast put-down was repeated a few seconds later. These teams would rig up gas canisters to pump sleep-gas into the surface air intakes; after that they’d make their way inside as a rearguard.

  Those left in the aircar formed up, with Jarek near the back. He glanced across at the screen to see a rough mass that his helmet didn’t register as a target - trees, maybe? - and a blocky structure, a building of some sort - that did. Then they were down and the door opened.
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br />   Sealed tightly in his suit, Jarek’s only impression of the world outside was darkness overlaid by readouts. He was carried forward in the wave of jogging troops, heading for the building.

  After about a dozen steps he felt like he’d suddenly run into mud. His body grew unbearably heavy, and an excruciating vibration sang through his gut and jaw. His ears began to ring. He tried to keep moving, but whatever it was, it was affecting everyone. Then, abruptly, the sensation went from unbearable to merely uncomfortable.

  Quin’s voice came over the com. ‘Hold your positions, team.’

  He’d just worked out that his suit must be counteracting the effect when Quin added more urgently, ‘Damp visual!’

  Unfamiliar with the suit’s controls, he was almost too late: at the same moment as his view went dark, something thin and bright shot overhead. A fraction of a second later a muted light burst into life ahead of him, followed by the rough brush of a concussion wave.

  ‘Everyone all right?’ asked Quin. Presumably everyone was, as shortly afterwards she added, ‘Carry on!’

  They set off again, and this time, as there were no more nasty surprises, they reached the building and the forward team went to work on the heavy main doors.

  Jarek used the brief pause to com Yenemer. ‘What just happened back there?’ he asked.

  ‘Sonic cannon. They must’ve installed it since the first run. Good job we brought missiles, though we’ve definitely broken tapu now.’ Yenemer sounded quite excited at the prospect.

  Jarek was beginning to think he’d made a serious mistake coming along. Just because the rules forbade lethal combat, it didn’t mean he couldn’t get killed.

  A small explosion marked the end of the doors. The two advance teams ducked inside, Jarek’s unit following behind. His helmet overlaid the dark enclosed space of the building with the internal layout, no doubt taken from the files he’d provided. He saw two heat signatures lying on the ground; others, tagged as friendlies in his helmet display, were heading for a stairwell. Shortly after they disappeared down the stairs Yenemer called a halt. ‘Guards with netguns have set up an ambush below. We’ll need to wait for the men on point to clear the way.’

  ‘What about the gas?’ Jarek’s helmet indicated that the air outside was no longer breathable.

  ‘They must’ve managed to suit up before it hit.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Now they weren’t in immediate danger Jarek found that his breath sounded surprisingly loud in his ears. As he dialled down the audio damping he heard a two-tone alarm from outside. It felt both absurd and fucking terrifying, the four of them waiting poised at the top of the stairwell in their ridiculous suits. At least he was too wired to feel tired.

  Yenemer’s voice came over the com. ‘We’re clear. Move out.’

  At the bottom of the stairs one of the mercs was freeing another from what looked like a giant ball of string, hacking the threads with a definitely lethal-looking knife. Another team member was down, with a liquid heat source - blood - seeping out from under the body. The defenders must be using something heavier than tranq ammo. Further up the corridor three more unconscious bodies lay sprawled, two armoured, one displaying the absurd sartorial combination of sleeping clothes and a rebreather.

  They picked their way past, heading for the research labs. The other teams moved off to the accommodation section, where their target was most likely to be found at this time of night. There was a good chance Tawhira-ngai had already worked out this was a repeat of the original, failed, mission and now they would be concentrating their resistance there. Jarek briefly wondered what made the man they were after so important that Ruanuku-ngai were willing to go to such extreme lengths to get their hands on him. He’d probably never know.

  His team advanced by the numbers, checking corners, taking turns on point, moving as a tight unit. Jarek made sure he kept up and didn’t get in the way. He checked doors as they went: the locked ones still showed red; though there was a chance that the mercs might be able to disable the central security, it wasn’t their priority.

  They came across two dead or comatose guards who had succumbed to the gas, then, round the next corner a civilian, a woman in a suit who’d passed out with her hand on her wrist-com. According to the plans, a lot of the security was com-activated and as Yenemer removed the com, prising the woman’s limp fingers off it, Jarek was quietly relieved that they hadn’t had to hack out someone’s implant.

  Two more junctions and at last they were in the right area. They used the appropriated com to open locked doors and started checking rooms, most of which were laboratories or workrooms. One lab held a couple of scientists who’d been working late and now lay sprawled on the floor. Other than that, everywhere was deserted. Two of the doors had DNA scanners; they’d come back to those if they had to.

  Yenemer’s voice came over Jarek’s com. ‘Quin says they’ve got the primary target. We need to get a move on here; there’s a good chance Tawhira-ngai is flying in reinforcements.’

  Now they tell him. ‘Right.’ His team’s orders were to keep him safe and ensure he got the individual he was after. It had to be his call if they bugged out.

  ‘We do have an alternative for the doors that won’t open,’ said Yenemer carefully.

  ‘As in, something that’s a little against the rules, like that missile earlier?’ asked Jarek equally carefully.

  ‘Correct.’ Yenemer wasn’t a local, and apparently he was less concerned about the whole ngai honour thing.

  ‘Then at this stage, I’d say “Fuck the rules”.’

  ‘I hear you.’

  They split into two teams to speed up the search and checked the last few remaining com-locked rooms first. When that proved fruitless, they met outside the first of the DNA-locked rooms and Yenemer produced a mesh bag of eyeball-sized silver globes. He pressed one into the centre of the door and it stuck there.

  ‘Everyone back,’ he cried, and once they were safely round the corner, he made a complex cutting gesture with one hand.

  There was a muffled bang, and Jarek felt a faint tremor. They returned to find the doorframe blackened, the door a buckled rectangle burning on the floor. The room beyond was another lab, with nothing of interest in it.

  The second door they blew led into a short passage with another door at the end, this one a pressure-door not dissimilar to the ones on Jarek’s ship. He didn’t much like the look of that, but they were out of options.

  The small room beyond contained a couple of workstations and what appeared to be a silver-grey coffin, wired up to more machinery. Jarek approached the coffin cautiously. It had a clear lid. Inside, lying on white padding and clad in a blue hospital gown, was Taro. His eyes were closed and his skin was as pale as the cushioning around him.

  Jarek called the team’s medic over. ‘Is he dead?’ he asked her, careful to keep all emotion out of his voice.

  The medic examined the machines carefully. ‘No, just in deep sedation.’

  ‘Can we move him?’

  ‘I should be able to unhook him safely, though this is rather an odd set-up.’

  ‘Odd how?’

  ‘Well, it’s an auto-surgery and isolation unit - battlefield tech.’

  ‘Just do your best,’ Jarek said, and left her to it. The mercs were standing around awkwardly. ‘Any of you good with comps?’ he asked.

  When one of them raised a hand Jarek pointed to the main workstation and said, ‘How about we download everything we can from that while we wait.’

  ‘If you like; we’ll have to pass on a copy to the patron.’

  ‘Fine by me, as long as I get one too.’

  The man nodded.

  After a few minutes, the medic called over, ‘I’m opening the box now. I’ll put a rebreather on him, but he’ll be out of it for a while. We’ll have to carry him.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said Jarek. He hoisted Taro over his shoulder. The boy weighed even less than he expected.

  Getting out was e
asier than getting in, and the rest of the mercs were already waiting nervously in the aircar. They were barely on board before the driver took off.

  The other team had succeeded too: the aircar’s med-bay was already occupied by an unconscious man. Jarek lowered Taro to the floor and removed the rebreather. The medic came over and checked him out.

  ‘Is it safe to bring him round?’ asked Jarek.

  ‘Should be. Might take a while.’ She gave Taro a shot.

  After what felt like an hour but was probably only a few minutes the boy’s eyelids fluttered, then opened.

  ‘It’s all right!’ said Jarek. ‘You’re safe now.’

  For a moment Taro looked distraught. Then his gaze cleared and he began to shiver. Jarek grabbed a thermal blanket from the medic and wrapped it around him.