The Radical Factor (Stone Blade Book 3)

by James Matt Cox

  "Sweep the rest," said Ferrel, "This may take a few minutes."

  Micah checked the rest of the open parts of the house and found no activity, electronic or otherwise. When he finished the easy parts he started unlocking doors. Most of them led to bedrooms with only a few of those occupied. The last locked door was in the kitchen and it was loaded with alarms and monitors.

  Micah neutralized that door carefully, conscious of the time it took him and how quickly Ferrel would have done it. He finished in short enough order, though, and the door opened to a staircase leading down. Micah set his mercury to moderate gain and moved slowly down the stairs. At the bottom he found the last room they saw on the office monitors.

  "Downstairs. Basement. Monitor," commed Micah.

  "Don't worry, my brother," replied Ferrel, "I've squelched all the alarms at the source."

  Micah powered down the mercury and began searching the room. The suit cooled instantly and didn't flash. Two of the walls contained wine racks. These held some small and multi-colored bottles obviously meant to accompany meals. Larger bottles of ceremonial wine made up the remainder; they all had labels consistent with Mekhajan import. Interesting. An anchored-down lockbox contained small bags of gems and jewelry, ingots and coins of precious metal, bundles of currency and a final, more precious treasure: IDs and crypcerts in Dhallac's name and several others. Interesting plus-plus! Next to the lockbox and also anchored to the floor sat a datacore with a cable leading up the wall and into the ceiling.

  "I found another core down here," commed Micah, "Want me in it?"

  "Is the 'transfer active' light flashing quickly?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I'm already in. Is it portable?"

  Micah checked. "Yes, but it's locked to the floor. Umm... Yeah. I found the keyhole."

  "Polar. It's a backup unit and I'm slirping it now. Look for another door."

  Micah found it behind a wine rack. An inspection showed it wouldn't open with the rack in place so Micah left it alone.

  "Thought so," said Ferrel, "That's an emergency escape. Located against the back wall and facing the direction of the starport. It's probably a tunnel or something similar. Don't worry about any more."

  Micah planted a few spiders and carefully locked and re-armed the door. By the time he finished that Ferrel had finished his tasks and planted some bugs of his own. They left the house just as carefully as they entered, reset the security and paused only long enough for Ferrel to set up and conceal the feeder unit for their bugs.

  "How long will it last," asked Micah.

  "Well... Newer model so it can take a better signal and I stuck some extra storage in there. Hrm." Ferrel did some mental calculations. "Should be good for thirty-eight to forty-six hours."

  "Polar."

  Micah sent the recall and the two of them headed for the ship.

  "Double bonusjack," said Ferrel while they shed and stored their mercuries, "Our suspicions are absolutely confirmed! If Dhallac isn't a Mekhajan agent I will eat his library without sauce!"

  "It is the perfect position," said Ionoski, "An under-official in a secret government outsiders don't even know exists. Both power on his own and influence over one greater plus minimal risk of exposure. Add in the fact that the gentle clan of Dhallac has been serving Dhu and the government for centuries and you have the perfect recipe for strings and controls. Any blips, Charles?"

  "Nak. But that's polar. I have data to keep me company."

  "Slib. Don't sleep-deprive cracking it. Again."

  While Ferrel worked Micah again called up the Lan'Quor. This time he worked to correlate what he learned from Dhallac's books with Dhu's writings. He found quite a few minor points of interest and two that piqued his interest completely.

  One of the books Micah captured reported several massive near-battles within and between some of the Esavian worlds. The opponents had ample justification on all sides and Dhu wouldn't have minded the battles at all save that they never happened! There was great disturbance among the people but none of the warriors chosen to fight were held to account. Some unnamed sickness struck a few of them but none lost their marks. A few of them even went on to greater glory fighting other battles without incident.

  That prompted Micah to dig into interpretations in the Lan'Quor. This time he focused not just on the words but on what they might mean under different circumstances. He started a systemic search on the altar of purity and the rituals concerning it. Every great endeavor or undertaking required rituals to purity and most decreed it first. That included combat, which required other altars for truth but none before purity and, if that ceremony failed, no others at all!

  Armed with those facts, Micah dove back into the histories. Fatigue overcame him before he found any answers so he powered down and went to bed.

  ***

  Beefy Brawler sat across the table from Micah and devoured his dessert with more enthusiasm than manners. Sneaky Weak Sally complained, at length and in detail, but he paid her little heed. Naughty Nicole sat beside Micah and across from Sally but every time Micah looked at her she looked away. She wore a yrran'qui hood and veil anyway, so Micah saw nothing of her features.

  "This is good," said Brawler, "You need to dream us up more often. I could get used to this!"

  "It's too rich for you," said Sally, almost whining, "It will dull your edge when you need to fight."

  "I'm fine, woman! Stop nagging me."

  "It might make you sick. You're not used to it."

  Brawler sighed thunderously, licked a bit of icing off the corner of his mouth and rolled his eyes.

  "If you think that's good," said Nicole in a sultry voice, "You should try something from Kandy's. I bet that will really..." She placed her hand lightly on his arm. "please you."

  "You better shut your mouth, vix," said Sally, "Or else!"

  "Else what, vix," responded Nicole, "You'll try to scratch out my eyes? You'll hit me with your handbag? For truth?" She looked at Brawler with open admiration and a touch of lust. "You can't control him forever, you know. You have to let him be," she squeezed his muscle, "himself. He's a sabrefang and not a lap-cat. If you stop a man from being a man you'll break him." She winked at Brawler, who blushed and tried to ignore it. "Then he won't be good for... anything. It's in their nature."

  "I want to break him," said Micah.

  "No, darling, that's not true," said Nicole, "If you break him he'll only come back stronger and madder than before. You thought he hit hard then, do you really want him worse?"

  ***

  Micah sat up, fully awake and frustrated more than anything. He could feel the answers he needed hiding in the shadows of his dreams but he still couldn't grasp them! He checked his chrono. 05:47. Ionoski planned morning meetings with other merchants. Micah showered and headed to the lounge for some strong chog and breakfast. Ferrel arrived not long afterward, mostly awake and ready to tackle his data. Apparently he had slept, despite having a shiny new chunk of it to crack.

  "No blather I slept," he said cheerfully, "Sharpens the mind. Besides, we'll have plenty of time today. Ted's flying without us again."

  "With good reason," said Ionoski, "In case you didn't notice Vera and Katie extracted a lot of nice, juicy information. We'll need to cross-structure and value-check but my money's on good. We're also almost family now so I can't show distrust and disrespect by bringing a bodyguard. I want you to send the order for more wine.

  "We should be able to sell ourselves out soon and I want to come back with more next time. We also need to offload what we have left. I rented a warehouse for longer than our stock will last, given our success so far. While you're about things, Charles, hurry up and collect us some blips."

  "Working on it, O master of trade."

  ***

  "Hurry up and get blips," grumbled Ferrel. He and Micah were busy moving crates of wine into their temporary warehouse. "In a perfect galaxy! What the hades does he think I've been doing?! This isn't an easy path, my brother.
"

  "Then think of dessert," said Micah, "That usually..."

  The sudden shrilling of Micah's comm cut off his words. He and Ferrel checked automatically: neither of them expected an emergency signal!

  "Holy... It's from Ted," said Ferrel, "Level 6 evac?"

  "There's increased activity at the port," said Micah, "Get aboard and get tight!"

  The comms blipped again.

  "Hell's frost! He's about to be captured," read Ferrel as he moved, "Status of Katie and Vera is unknown." He looked at Micah.

  "Start prepping the ship!"

  "Micah..."

  "E-pre now! Do it!!"

  As Ferrel complied Micah scanned for locations on Ionoski, Kidwell and Siffai.

  "Blip from Vera," said Ferrel, "She's not sure where she and Katie are. They're on the run and giving us the wave-off."

  Feces! And the activity in the port had increased.

  "Button up," said Micah, "Charlie, how are GC sensors and ground-track?"

  "Primitive but adequate. We can't leave them, Micah!"

  "Prep, burnit! David, make sure we're secure!"

  As he stepped through the emergency preflight Micah considered his options. Ionoski ordered emergency evacuation. If he could loft the ship right now they'd probably make it. If. Preflighting a ship, even under emergency protocol, took time. Or allowed it! If he tried anything the Esavians would fight. Given. He had three troops plus or minus Kidwell and Siffai, well-armed past anything they would face. The Esavians had overwhelming numbers and that made an effective force multiplier. Still...

  "Gravitics."

  "Online."

  Micah correlated Ionoski's location against the city map. Current position close to the vizier's mansion and moving toward it. That meant they wanted to question him and not over khav and cakes.

  "Thrusters."

  "Minus fifteen," said Ferrel, "Twenty if you want them at full."

  Kidwell and Siffai weren't far from the mansion and they hadn't moved in the last few minutes. No blips meant they were grounded and hiding.

  "Comm and sensors."

  "Online."

  Micah made his non-decision. He composed quick blips to Kidwell and Siffai directing them toward the mansion. He marked and locked several locations on the map. He tapped in three emergency codes.

  "Give me fifty percent thrusters in three," he barked.

  Three minutes. One hundred and eighty seconds and he need every one of them to count now. He ran to the auxiliary hold. If one of the walls was lumpy and thicker than it should be, well, it was an old ship. It had been repaired. Micah undogged four pop-bolts and hit the release. One hundred ten seconds. Easy money! He donned his armor as quickly as ever he'd trained. Thirty-two seconds and back to the control room.

  "Strap down, Charlie. David, do your best in engineering!"

  Both acknowledged automatically then Ferrel caught sight of Micah. Before he could say anything Micah hit the gravitics, thrusters and one other button.

  The ship's mining pods, gutted, sealed and covered for extra cargo space, blew open to reveal the truculent cargo they carried. As soon as Micah lofted above the level of the building in front of him seven short-range missiles fired. Three control points on the port's periphery exploded and caught fire. The other four missiles sought targets within the town.

  When Micah cleared enough distance he fired another dozen big-smites against the port and two more into the town. Four pillars of fire and smoke marked the first four as masses of shocked Esavians scurried around their burning temples, trying frantically to contain the blazes and extinguish them. Micah blew the other mining pod and started charging the pulse cannon within it. Though at best a light weapon for ship-to-ship combat it would more than suffice against soft targets! As Micah hovered over the town he blasted any tempting targets that presented themselves.

  The vizier's mansion sat at the border of a large park. Not his private property since Dhu would frown on that, but close enough for him to enjoy a day of fresh air and sunshine when he so desired. Micah worked out the optimal spot and pointed the ship toward it.

  "Micah..."

  "Give me twenty minutes or first serious threat and blast for orbit. Microjump orthogonal and notify the League." Micah knew the helmet distorted his voice but Ferrel understood the words and Micah didn't want to think too hard right now. "You're in charge once you jump." That would keep Ferrel from trying something foolish!

  Ferrel took the ship as close to the mansion as he could. Micah opened the ramp, hooked on a drop line and jumped.

  Chaos!

  Esavians milled in the distance and not-too-distance, some leaving and others vying for a good view. Some few of them drew their blades but Micah didn't waste time laughing at them. He kicked in his myoboosters and loped toward the mansion's outermost wall. Halfway there an explosion blasted a large breach in it. He had four smites just for such things but Ferrel saved him one! He heard the hiss of the pulse cannon and another pair of big-smites launching.

  Micah's hud blipped and he started along its line. The pulse cannon cut a path before him and he decided Ferrel had lied about his true piloting ability! The vizier's troops finally started to react and Micah saw four of them trying to return fire as he cut them down. The pulse cannon blasted a hole in the mansion and Micah followed it in. The vector in his hud showed a point on the other side of the building itself.

  Micah's hard-learned, hard-trained combat reflexes kicked in. More guards and troops faced him now but they stood little chance against him. Pulse bolts, plasma and lasers flashed in the area around Micah but, unlike his opponents, he had no worries of friendly fire. Nothing mattered now but the mission and whenever something moved aggressively he blasted it by reflex. The mansion itself had caught fire and occasional wafts and wisps of smoke occluded Micah's vision. He did take a pair of hits but nothing serious. He lingered a bare moment in a relatively calm hallway to patch himself and his armor.

  When Micah blasted through the building's opposite wall he saw a group of guards around a hover. The opened fire and Micah dropped, lobbing a plasma grenade as he did. It landed short, as he planned, and when it detonated it sprayed the men with plasma but didn't destroy the hover. By the time Micah reached it several of the men had extinguished themselves and tried to return fire. Micah cut them down.

  Ionoski lay in the back of the hover, bruised and cut but conscious. He mumbled something, or shouted, but Micah ignored it.

  "Scan alpha. Scan alpha. Clear me a path, Charlie."

  Huge parts of the mansion exploded. Micah lay across Ionoski as the fragments peppered down around them. When they stopped Micah stood, draped Ionoski across his armor and kicked his myos to full emergency. More guards appeared and tried to stop them but to Micah they moved in slow motion.

  Two figures stood on the ramp when Micah broke through the other side of the building. He raised his blaster and fanned shots, full open and wide.

  Siffai screamed, then choked it off as the shots sizzled past her and Kidwell and into the guards massing behind them. They scrambled up the ramp with Micah close behind, facing backward and firing. When the ramp closed he handed Ionoski to Siffai and ran for the control room.

  Micah launched the last of his big-smites as he gunned the balky ship toward orbit. A few reds showed on the panels but he had no time for troubles now. He heard Ferrel chattering constantly but none of the words really penetrated. The sky around them darkened and stars started popping out.

  "Microjump ready!"

  Micah heard that. He hit the button and reality faded around them. Micah heaved a sigh of relief when the scanners beeped and cleared. He unstrapped and headed back to the lounge where Siffai and Kidwell tended Ionoski.

  "How is he," asked Micah.

  "Battered and bruised," said Kidwell, herself pale and shaking, "How are you?"

  "I'm polar."

  Micah began pulling off his armor. Pain flared as parts of the armor took parts of him with it. Perhap
s he'd taken more than one or two bad hits.

  Kidwell looked up. "Heaven's flames! No you're not, Micah. Charlie. Charlie!"

  "I'm coming. Phase down. Hang on, my brother."

  "I told you I'm all right," said Micah as he pulled off his chest armor.

  Unholy pain a hundred times worse than any of the rest shot through him. His vision dimmed a moment. His eyes teared and his jaw clenched before he could stop either. Siffai looked up and horror washed over her face. Puzzled, Micah examined the armor. Slippery. Red with bits of...

  ***

  Pain! Horrible stabbing pain!

  Micah told the Esavians pounding him to go away but they didn't listen.

  "Told you so," said Naughty Nicole, "I told you but you didn't want to listen."

  He still didn't but she gave him no choice. The Esavians made way for Beefy Brawler to take his turn. Micah tried to fight but with his injuries he couldn't. True to Nicole's words he did hit harder now, thanks to some egregious insult Micah must have served him. Now every time he hit Micah it hurt and every time he hit the Esavians cheered and celebrated.

  "More," cheered Sally, "Hit him more, my pet!"

  Now the Esavians gathered around Beefy Brawler. They drank wine as he slammed Micah hard onto the altar of pain and pounded him. They drank again and Brawler slammed him on the altar of sacrifice. They drank again, and again, and again. Brawler pounded Micah again, and again, and again. He tried everything he could to make them stop but they never did.

  Finally, blessedly, darkness fell. The fists pounding Micah turned into a continuous litany of pain and he heard Nicole whispering to him as the darkness overcame him.

  Finally. Finally! Things started to make sense!

  ***

  "Agent Stone."

  Something about that voice.

  "Agent Stone! I suggest you wake up."

  Something troubling about that voice.

  "Now!"

  Micah snapped his eyes open. Dim shapes blurred into focus. Something about the room was wrong. Too wrong. Too clean. Too much equipment.

  Ionoski stared down at him, bruises and recently-healed cuts adorning his face and arms.