A Family War: The Oligarchy - Book 1

by Stewart Hotston

  The Hound rose from behind a stack of crates. He nodded. The third man was no longer a problem.

  Helena remembered Edward; he was still in the building.

  She went back into the foyer and spotted him; his face was pressed up against the glass doors that led into the heart of the building. He was still conscious, taking feeble shallow gulps of air as he struggled to enter an access code.

  She retrieved the grenade which was still sputtering puffs of poison and threw it outside.

  The Boy stepped away from the door as she approached. Helena gently took hold of Edward by the hand and led him out. He kept his other hand over his mouth, his eyes watering as the gas stung them. They had only reached the halfway point when he stumbled, his free hand rushing out to stop himself falling. Resting for a moment on one knee, he tried to stand and failed. Helena pulled him up by the hand and slung him over her shoulder. He wasn’t very heavy.

  “I’m okay,” he croaked.

  When they were outside, she gingerly placed him onto the ground so she could examine him for injuries. Her Secondary AI could not specify what was wrong, nor was it confident that the gas was responsible for his weakness. Something was muddy under the surface.

  The Hound was standing calmly nearby as if waiting. Denholme was somewhere off to the right, trying to cover her, but not willing to come too close lest the Hound decide that he was, after all, going to kill them all.

  “Is that him?” asked the Hound.

  Helena was puzzled. Why couldn’t the Hound identify his quarry?

  She nodded. The Hound turned away and looked to the north.

  Helena’s stomach rumbled grumpily. She was famished. Her Secondary AI informed her she needed to replenish eight thousand calories: ideally within three to four hours. She sighed; there was no knowing how long it would be before they might eat again.

  Denholme approached after a little while and stood a few metres away, waiting.

  “What’s he been doing?” she asked him, nodding her head in the direction of the Hound.

  “Nothing,” said Denholme. His ‘Ma’am’ had fallen by the wayside. She did not know what to do with him. It was far too late to reprimand him for a lack of discipline, she owed him too much. A friend of a friend was an educational psychologist. When Helena got back, she’d have an informal chat and get Denholme humane treatment. Having made up her mind to get him help when they got home, if they got home, she put him from her mind. He would soon be back serving the Oligarchs to the best of his ability.

  Somewhere on the edge of perception, she heard the thrumming of engines.

  “Shit.”

  The Hound did not move. He was a consummate assassin but not a soldier. She was neither a soldier nor an assassin. If Indexiv brought more than a handful of Normal troops, they’d be done for.

  She ran back and grabbed the unconscious soldier’s energy weapon. She disliked rifles, but if they were going to have to fight it would give her the best chance.

  The ground vibrated beneath them and, over the ridge to their immediate north, a hover jet burst into view. The ridge of the dune collapsed into a cloud of sand in the jet’s wake, tumbling down into the depression where they were standing.

  Denholme covered his eyes, but the Hound walked out towards the most exposed part of the outer enclosure and waited.

  The jet did not attempt to fire on them. Recovering from her initial flinch, Helena punched the air when she saw the insignia. The jet belonged to Euros.

  She lowered the rifle as the jet settled down. The Hound waited for the gangway to open and dashed inside. A moment later four Euros special forces’ troops emerged and began to head towards the edge of the base, away from Helena and Edward. Denholme looked at her and she nodded. He walked, alone, towards the jet.

  Helena helped a wheezing Edward to his feet and they hobbled towards the jet. Johannes had known much more than he let on, and the Hound was probably his doing as well.

  She felt an irrepressible urge to be aboard the plane and on her way to London. She shook her head, to clear her mind of the strength of the feeling, and remain objective. As if by command it receded. Her Primary AI expressed its surprise at her self-control.

  Four soldiers jumped to the ground before it landed, scattering in all directions.

  As the jet landed a fifth figure stepped onto the sand.

  “Helena!” came the shout. She looked up to see Adam, her cousin, Johannes’ eldest son, waiting for them with a wide proud smile across his face.

  Chapter 9

  HELENA WASN’T TO be persuaded about leaving with her cousin. After ten minutes of pleading with her she finally relented, pushing herself to emerge from the protective shell she’d put herself in. Stepping onto the jet made her feel more vulnerable than anything which had come before; she could feel the scabs threatening to fall away. It was the presence of the Special Forces troops he’d brought that convinced her that getting on the jet was the better option.

  Adam was intrigued by Edward, but the young man did not respond to his questioning. Edward recovered a little once the jet was in the air. The pilot took them far out over the Atlantic before turning north.

  Adam had sat with the pilot for take-off, then unbuckled and head back into the passenger compartment of the small plane. The compartment was designed to carry three people in comfort, with both Denholme and the Hound, they were forced to stand in order to fit in.

  Adam ignored Denholme as if he were no more than unused furniture. Helena stared at him with dismay when he ordered him to stand in the intersection between cockpit and passengers so he could talk to Helena more easily.

  ADAM USED AN activation phrase that allowed the Hound to sleep for the duration of the flight. Rex immediately curled up, purring as he fell straight into a deep sleep. Helena guessed it was the first time since they’d deployed him in the hunt for the boy that he’d been allowed to rest. Hounds were engineered to stay awake for months at a time, but their owners often treated them with sleep as a reward for completing jobs successfully.

  “The Hound was deployed here before the war began,” said Helena to Adam.

  He nodded. “Johannes believed he’d be needed.” He looked at her, “Was he?”

  “He tried to kill me,” said Helena.

  Adam laughed. “You know that’s impossible.” Helena shrugged her indifference to Adam’s incredulity.

  “He was in situ for six weeks.” Adam gazed fondly at his sleeping form. “He deserves his rest.”

  “How’s your father?” asked Helena, above the flat din of the engines.

  “Better,” said Adam. “It took several days for the wounds to heal. He’s lucky to be alive.”

  “Why did you come?” asked Helena.

  “What do you mean?” asked Adam.

  “You know what I mean,” she said.

  Adam shook his head. “If you mean the timing, the Hound had instructions to summon the jet once he was sure you had located the boy. It took us nearly an hour to get to you. We weren’t sure whether the area was clean.”

  “Why did you come?” asked Helena icily.

  “I realise you’re suspicious, but really,” Adam held up his hands in an attempt to reassure her of his good intentions. “There’s no need to worry. All the corporations have agents amongst their peers. Johannes trusts his family but few others right now. Indexiv infiltrated Euros on this particular matter more than three years ago, reaching out to Normals and ourselves. Johannes wanted to be absolutely sure you weren’t a sympathiser.”

  It was Helena’s turn to shake her head, none the wiser.

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, wishing she knew even enough to bluff a knowing silence.

  “Indexiv has been trying to get hold of the boy for nearly a year. They’ve been moving towards their solution regarding the Normals for a hell of a lot longer than that.” He sighed. “Hels, you know me. We grew up together. Your brothers used to torment both of us. Trust me.”


  “Why?” asked Helena.

  “Because I’m here and you’re safe.”

  Safety is relative, said her AI.

  Helena frowned and looked at Edward. He was sleeping, no doubt trying to deal with the bloodshed he had witnessed today.

  “What is he?” she asked. “He’s certainly not one of us.”

  “He is, but his parents agreed to him having a special function for the company.” Adam moved forward, checked the boy’s pulse. “He’s genetically tied to the datastore. For the last two weeks, since his key was triggered, he has been dying. He’s only got a few days left.” He sat back, apparently satisfied that Edward wasn’t going to expire before they got back to London.

  “When he dies, the information contained in the datastore will be locked in there forever. If we’re to persuade Indexiv to call off their little war, to come back to the table, the company needs the information contained within.”

  His story made sense, but she couldn’t figure out how it had gotten so out of hand that they’d been forced to rely on her for such a terrifyingly dangerous mission.

  “What exactly do we have to talk about with Indexiv? The genocide they’re undertaking is the end in itself. It doesn’t lead anywhere, or rest upon anything.” Helena was no more pleased about the situation now that she understood it.

  “Johannes used me,” said Helena. “Humiliated me.”

  Adam rolled his eyes, “Humiliated? Are you serious? This is war, Hels. One individual hardly matters. You know better than to think anything he’s done is personal.” He brushed his fingers though his hair. “Besides, there is no genocide. Not yet, at least.”

  “Adam, I have four older brothers on Earth who were all trained for what I’ve just survived. Why didn’t Johannes arrange for them to be here instead of me?”

  “Ours is not to reason why,” said Adam.

  Seeing he wasn’t interested in understanding what Johannes had been trying to achieve she asked, “How much longer has he got?”

  Adam shrugged, “I’ve no idea. I don’t even know how the key works, let alone the way it’s linked to his health.”

  “You mean he’s dying because of the datastore?” asked Helena.

  “I guess so, like I said.” He refused to elaborate further.

  Denholme muttered something under his breath.

  “Excuse me?” asked Helena.

  “Nothing,” came his response.

  Helena turned back to face Adam, who was looking at Denholme with distaste.

  Then, as if getting the better of himself, Denholme spoke. “OK, you want to know what I said?” The two Oligarchs looked at him in silence. He took it as assent.

  “I said, ‘typical’.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Helena. Adam sighed as if Denholme’s comment had been completely predictable. She looked at him, what did he know that she didn’t?

  “You wouldn’t. You’re an Oligarch. You sit here discussing the death of one of your own as if he were an appliance whose usefulness was past. There’s no anger at life wasted, no compassion for his suffering, for the years you’ve experimented on him.” He took a breath. “As for what you think is OK for Normals.” With a force of will he stopped talking, his face unsettled, struggling between anger and fear.

  Helena sat there stunned. What had happened to him? She looked down, avoiding the gaze of the two men sat next to her. What was he thinking in talking out of turn?

  Besides, she thought, what does Edward’s life have to do with it? What does it matter if he dies to save thousands? If the Company can preserve its position in the longer term.

  Did he ever have a choice? asked her AI. Did any of the dead of the last few days choose to be part of the world your people made?

  Helena wasn’t interested in that discussion, didn’t have room for it. Instead she switched to a different tack, If Denholme expresses sentiments like this there is going to be little I can do to ease him back into service. It’s simply too destructive an attitude.

  She lifted her head and saw Adam watching her. He smiled as she caught him measuring her up.

  Her AI piped up that it was because he was suspicious of her: it is likely he regards you as having gone native. She frowned at this, mainly because it made sense.

  For a moment, she considered having her AI left alone and not repaired when they landed, but even a cursory medical would spot its degradation. If she hid the AI’s state from the Company, it would make things even worse once they inevitably discovered the issue.

  “Hels, is anything wrong?” asked Adam, sensing her introspection.

  “My AI,” she said, “It’s been playing me up since I was captured by Indexiv.”

  Adam’s eyes went wide with horror. You don’t know the half of it, she thought.

  Taking a breath, Helena asked her Secondary AI to let her emotions have their way as she told the story of her journey from the Amazon Fell for the first time. If she were to recover from the mental trauma, it would be important to let her system run its course. There was no mechanical fix for a damaged spirit.

  Adam listened incredulously while she related what had happened. He gasped when she described how the Hound had rescued her. As far as Adam was concerned, it had been an action outside of Rex’s mission parameters.

  He hadn’t needed me to get to Edward after all, she concluded. What else has the Hound been told that Adam isn’t privy to? The last things she mentioned to Adam were the dead bodies in her interrogation chamber, how they’d been stacked, how children had been executed with their brains smashed out against walls.

  Adam shook his head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’ve not seen anything like that. We’ve been watching Indexiv pretty closely, as you’d imagine.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Helena, although she knew exactly what he was implying.

  “Hels, are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure,” she snapped back. “I killed someone to try to stop them.”

  He held up his hands defensively, and she recognised the scent he was giving off as that of someone under stress, someone who couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Denholme’s smell was of barely contained anger. His gaze flashed between the two Oligarchs.

  “Look, I’m sure you’re right, but from what you’ve told me, your AI is playing up, you’ve been physically tortured. Abused. There’s no reason to exclude the possibility that the reason your AI is screwed is because Indexiv were fucking with that at the same time.”

  Helena could feel the fear suddenly expressed by her AI. It was not something she would have recognised if she’d been asked to describe it ten days ago, but as it washed around the inside of her head like a wave, Helena had no difficulty in identifying the emotion. The AI was shouting that it was okay, that it had not been tampered with.

  If it had been human, she would have believed it. Adam was confusing her. How could Euros have seen nothing of what she had experienced?

  “How do you explain Noenieput, or Swakupmund for that matter?” she asked.

  Adam looked bewildered. “What?”

  “How do you explain it?”

  “I know what you’re asking, but what do you mean? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. We didn’t fly over it; we came in from the western Atlantic.” He gestured out of the window.

  “Everyone’s dead.”

  His eyebrows knit together for a moment. “There’s an easy way to settle this,” he said. Adam got up and activated a terminal adjacent to the cockpit entrance. Helena joined him. Denholme’s outburst faded into the category of trouble to be dealt with later.

  Adam logged into Euros’ satellite surveillance system and searched out Swakupmund.

  “Here we are,” he said with a little satisfaction. He quickly zoomed in until the detail revealed dogs roaming the streets while birds perched on roofs. He slid the view over the town stopping as he found an individual.

  “They can’t all be dead then
,” he said, without looking at Helena.

  She looked at the figure in disbelief, then noticed the uniform, the weapon held at ease. “He’s a soldier.”

  Adam squinted at the screen. “You’re right. Well that explains it.”

  “What exactly?” asked Helena, not knowing what to expect.

  “No wonder the town’s fled, there’s a war on.”

  “Find them,” snapped Helena impatiently. “If the whole town’s just upped and gone it shouldn’t take long.”

  “You know we don’t have time for that,” said Adam. “It would take hours to find a group of a few thousand roaming the countryside. Besides, who says they all left together?” He stood back from the screen and caught Helena’s look. He shifted uncomfortably as she continued to stare at him.

  “Hels, you’ve been under a lot of stress, just looking at you I know you’ve not eaten or slept in too long. Since the Amazon Fell probably.” He paused and she said nothing. Nodding to himself, he continued, “Let it go. I understand how you could have come to that conclusion, but I just don’t think it’s possible. Indexiv have begun their sterilisation program but there’s nothing insidious going on, I promise you.”

  Her shoulders slumped. She fell back into a chair, deflated.

  Sterilisation was distasteful, in light of what she’d seen it was probably an outrage she’d never perceived before. However, it wasn’t illegal. The way Adam said it made her think that Indexiv would be concentrating on the unproductive, those who were already fully redundant. Just as Schmerl had said during the negotiations.

  Yet the evidence of her own eyes refused to go away. They aren’t content with weeding out the defective, the useless. Actually, they are, she thought. To Indexiv the useless and defective were all non-Oligarchs.

  And Oligarchs who don’t agree with them, said her AI.

  Adam tried to look understanding. Helena despised him but she said nothing further; whether he was persuaded by her experience was irrelevant. The person who needed to hear about what she had seen was Johannes.

  Adam looked as if he were about to say something. Helena folded her legs and looked down at her tattered clothes. No amount of technology could preserve those violently stressed rags. They told the story of the last few days in every stain, rip and smudge. Adam thought better of what he was going to say, instead allowing Helena to sleep. The next few hours passed in silence.