by C. G. Hatton
NG laughed. “Yeah, try it. They’ll have you back in chains before you can blink.”
It was weird but the adrenaline was addictive. He’d forgotten how much he’d enjoyed running tabs. You felt invincible. Invisible.
He could feel LC looking at him sideways, wanting to know when, when the hell had NG run tabs?
“A long time ago,” he said, flashing back to the moment he’d said that to Martinez when she’d put two and two together. He shut down the memory abruptly. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
They turned into a side corridor and triggered a motion sensor he spotted a fraction of a second too late. He tried to move, tried to grab LC and get out of there but it was too late. The device detonated, the blast hit and he fell, out cold again before he hit the floor.
Chapter 8
“We have more than this galaxy to consider,” one of them said. “Let us not forget that.”
He almost snorted. How could they? In all this, the looming threat of the Bhenykhn was a constant reminder that there was more than this galaxy to consider.
He looked along the line. This appointed council of representatives was becoming more self-centred and delusional than it had ever been. He could see the insanity sparking in their minds. The scale of existence they had come to stand for was immense. It crossed species, time and space. The Bhenykhn were the enemy simply because they had destroyed his kind. Who was to say they didn’t have the right to do so? Survival of the fittest.
“Do not deny that this galaxy,” he said, “has the best chance of standing against the Bhenykhn. Given the cascading torrent of events that spilled from that one spark of human greed and paranoia, they have managed to seed potential far greater than any we have ever achieved.”
•
It was dark. Dank. Leaf mold and decay.
He was standing at a crossroads, turning from one direction to the next, breathless, chest heaving, warm blood flowing down his neck, down his chest, black walls looming high all around.
He didn’t know which way to take…
He blinked and gasped, a blinding headache pounding hammers into his skull, a lingering chill in his lungs. The Senson was sending an intermittent, “Come in, 402… Speak to us, 402…”
He rolled to his side and blinked again, squinting to focus and saw dark figures pulling LC to his feet.
His gun was just out of reach. He mustered enough energy to shift it, grabbed it and scrambled up, about to fire and stopping, yelling, “Hey,” instead.
One of the figures turned, gun up, aiming it right between his eyes.
Pen Halligan.
NG let his grip on the gun relax, letting the trigger guard spin round his fingers, and dropped it. He held up his hand, took a chance, moved to untie the chinstrap on the helmet and tipped it off his head.
Pen laughed harshly. “I see I’m not the only one who can’t stay dead.” He gestured with the gun. “Get over here. Stay in front of us and don’t try anything. You understand?”
NG nodded and walked forward, engaging the Senson. “Control, be advised, Pen Halligan is here.”
“Roger that, 402. We’re trying to get to you. Is situation still Felix Amber?”
A guy he recognised as Yani had his hand firmly on LC’s shoulder, up ahead, steering him forward.
“Kind of,” NG replied, picking up mixed emotions from the kid.
Pen shoved him into moving. “So what happened to you?” he said.
“Got stabbed in the heart,” NG said. “I died. Thought I’d go with it. What about you?”
“Shot in the head. Seemed convenient to be dead for a while.”
“That seems to be the in thing,” NG muttered and got another shove in the back.
Pen leaned close and whispered harshly, “We’re here for LC. Don’t forget that. You have screwed up really badly, NG. You care to tell me what’s really going on?”
‘NG, he needs to know,’ LC thought. ‘Tell him.’
‘Not here.’
When he didn’t reply, Pen pushed him forward, thinking the damned Thieves’ Guild deserved everything coming to it.
Control was still talking across the Senson. “Don’t be a smartass, 402. What’s the situation?”
He cut the connection. Christ, it was shit not to be in command any more. He’d forgotten how shit.
LC glanced back at him, concerned.
‘Go with it,’ NG thought to him. ‘You’re right, Pen needs to know so let’s not fight them. They have a way out so just go with it.’
It was slick, years of bribes and dealings in play as they moved out. Pen and his guys laughed their way past the blockades and guard stations as if they were old buddies with the guys working them. They probably were.
The security detail were withdrawing, leaving the building to the Earth forces, and simply scanning anyone who left through the single basement exit they had open. As they got close, Pen’s guys switched up a gear. NG caught a hint of their plan at the same time as LC but with no time to react. Pen didn’t pull his punch, hit the arm right across the break and NG could do nothing but bite down on a gasp as he stumbled, watching through stinging eyes as Yani popped a punch into LC’s back, right where the kid had a gunshot wound. LC dropped.
“We got wounded,” someone yelled and they were half dragged, half carried through the checkpoint, more shouts for medics and an evac.
He didn’t fight it, sussed out which of the bodies around him were Pen’s and considered contacting Control but reached out to Duncan instead. ‘Hey, you still here?’
‘Outside. We got evacuated and they’re holding us. I’m tracking you. Who the hell is Pen Halligan?’
‘Complicated,’ he thought and stopped, struggling with the pain for a second as he was lowered roughly onto a stretcher. “Arm,” he managed to breathe, “broken arm.”
Whoever it was thumped him on the chest and muttered, “Yeah, you’ll live.”
‘Control wants to know if you need extricating,’ Duncan sent.
‘Negative. Pen won’t hurt LC. Tell Control that 402 is quitting.’ The stretcher was lifted, vehicle doors banging close by. LC was right next to him, getting the same treatment. ‘Get Evelyn out of here and follow us. Get a ship on standby. I’m bringing Pen in. And get Morgan to tell the Alsatia that the Man wants Quinn in special projects asap.’
The doors were slammed shut and the vehicle moved, siren wailing. Someone waved a wand over him as he lay there, keeping him down with one hand on his chest and slapping a patch over the Senson before they let up.
NG sat, bracing himself against the motion as they bounced fast along a rough road surface. Pen was in there, Yani and another guy, all armed. A woman dressed as a medic was tending to LC, hooking him up with an IV and taking vitals.
“Thanks for the rescue,” NG said. He regarded them with curiosity. He could take them all down, right now. And they had no idea.
Pen looked at him, undisguised hostility, his voice a low growl. “You want to tell me now what’s going on?”
“Not here.”
Pen’s face was pure stone. “No?” He was thinking he could stop the truck and throw NG out into the dirt.
LC was trying to fend off the woman. “Pen, wait. Christ, Elenor, I’m fine, leave it.” He struggled up to lean on one elbow. “I stole a fucking virus, Pen. That’s what’s going on. They want it back. Every fucker in the galaxy wants it because…” He stopped, knowing he’d gone too far and glancing at NG with something like an apology darting into his mind.
“Because…?” Pen was standing, holding onto an overhead handrail with one hand, gun still in the other.
The truck made a turn, fast, wheels skidding.
There was shouting from the cab.
‘NG,’ Duncan sent, the connection faint, ‘LC, get out of that truck. Control is tracking a gunship that’s bearing right down on you. They’ve got a missile locked. You got that? Get out.’
The driver must have spotted the threat at the same time. Someone banged
on the cab and there were more yells as the truck slewed to a stop.
They scrambled out and ran, hot dry air hitting his lungs for a second before the missile hit, heat and debris billowing into them and throwing them off their feet.
NG rolled. He felt the driver die, getting a double hit of black void amplified through LC. The gunship roared overhead and banked, the guild ship following it coming in so low he could feel the heat from its engines. Another missile flew and the gunship exploded, black metal scattering from the flaming ball that hit the desert floor.
NG lay for a second, catching his breath. He blinked, squinting up into a perfect blue sky and bright sunshine. His chest was hurting. He couldn’t feel the arm any more. ‘Need that extrication,’ he thought to no one in particular, feeling the heat on his face and thinking a cold beer would be nice right about now.
Leigh and Duncan were with the extraction team that came to get them. Special projects so no need to panic about anyone else seeing him. By then, he was sitting on a dusty outcrop of rock, resting his arm in his lap, leg stretched out to ease the ache in his knee, enjoying the sunshine. Leigh ran up, looking at him with dismay.
Duncan stopped and crouched next to him. “Control want to put 402 up on charges.”
NG raised his eyes. “Tell them good luck with that, 402 is KIA in that wreckage.”
“Evelyn will be upset. She liked 402. She’s having nightmares, y’know. You should tell her.”
She wasn’t the only one having nightmares.
“Is she remembering?” Straight after the battle on Erica, he’d talked to her for three hours in the Man’s chambers before wiping her memory. It wasn’t fair on her, he knew that, but…
“It isn’t fair on her,” Duncan said. He glanced at the others and looked back. “We’ve picked up Jameson.”
“Why didn’t he send us a warning?”
“Says he tried. Listen, bud, you bring Pen in now, along with Jameson, there’s no reason why Evelyn can’t be in on it. And seriously…” He stood and clapped NG on the back, “you need her.”
NG watched as he wandered over to where LC and Pen were talking. The big ex-marine was right. He’d regretted it as soon as he’d done it but events were moving so fast, the last thing they needed was the Assassins after them. They’d put the package of evidence together, sent it to the Alsatia and Evelyn had taken it to them herself. He’d needed to know that she believed it. He was protecting her, and he knew as soon as he thought it, that he wasn’t persuading himself any more.
LC was trying to persuade Pen to go with them. It wasn’t necessary, they wouldn’t give him a choice.
LC glanced back. ‘What the hell is it between you two?’
‘I don’t hate Pen,’ he thought back.
‘He hates you. What did you do to him?’
NG squinted at them standing there. He didn’t want to think about it and he wasn’t about to start talking about it. Life had been a lot more straightforward when he was the boss and no one questioned him.
LC took the hint and shut up, turning back to Pen and introducing Hal Duncan, another former spec-ops grunt from Earth. They’d all get on great.
Leigh was looking at him. She reached for his arm but he flinched away. It still hurt like a bitch. He shut off the pain, tired but reluctant to pull energy from anywhere. He’d never realised how much he drew from those around him. It was too easy, almost second nature.
She wasn’t happy.
“That is going to need surgery again,” she said.
He nodded. She was more than pissed off at him, she was worried about him. The last time, when they fixed it right after they got back, they’d had to resuscitate him. Heart stopped, stats off the scale. Nothing like when he faked it. He’d woken up screaming.
“Will you be okay?”
That was a hell of a question. He ignored it, saying instead, “You wanted another test subject for the virus? It’s Jameson. Let’s see what happens with him.”
She nodded, looking at him, glancing back over towards LC and Duncan, and connections clicking into place as she turned back to him. “You don’t have it,” she said quietly, incredulously.
“Don’t have what?”
She looked at him like she could strangle him.
He shook his head slightly with half a smile. “What gave me away?”
“Your eyes. You have dark eyes.” Incredibly dark eyes, she was thinking. “The virus, it… we don’t know what it does, but it…”
“Doesn’t just affect the colour of their eyes, they can see in the dark.”
“You can’t?”
He almost laughed. “Nope.”
“So how…? And why…?” She was kicking herself for being so dumbstruck.
“Soft tissue is easy to heal,” he said. “It just costs.”
A gleam appeared in her eye, a spark of curiosity burning through the concern. “How do you do it?”
That was the real trick and he’d never been able to explain it. He didn’t know what he did. He just could.
“I’ll show you,” he said. Why the hell not? “Let’s measure it under lab conditions. We probably should have done it long before now anyway.” Although no doubt the Man already had.
There was a shout from across at the ship. “Incoming. Move your asses, people.”
NG pushed himself to his feet. “There’s something else I need monitoring as well.”
Poison was pulsing through his veins.
Movement. A flash of shadow in the corner of his eye.
He spun. Moved. Forced his legs to run, faster and faster, heart pounding, into darkness.
Nothing.
Nothing but cold dreadful darkness, shadows deepening, walls closing in…
He gasped. Awake. A scream in his throat as he jerked upright to sit, to flee, eyes open in an instant.
Someone touched his arm. One of the Man’s medical team with a reassuring, “Hey there, calm down, you’re okay.”
“We’re not okay,” he muttered, a lingering damp chill still filtering through his muscles and joints. He wanted to hold onto the detail but it was elusive, the memory of it dissipating faster the more he tried. It had been the same as always though, he knew that. He was breathing too heavily and he worked to control it, stifle the shakes and widen his focus to the whole room, sucking in the warmth from that touch and the familiarity of the figures in there, the machinery, the beep that was matching his heartbeat.
He lay back down. His right arm was in a cast. Not the kind he could take off so easily.
“What the hell was that?” someone was saying. He couldn’t think straight to recognise who it was. Someone he’d brought over from the Alsatia.
“Not memory,” someone else said. “Not dreaming. Look at the wavelength.”
His breathing started to speed up again.
LC and Duncan were supposed to be there, part of the experiment, but he couldn’t sense them anywhere near.
‘Right here,’ the big man thought. ‘That was one helluva nightmare.’
‘It wasn’t a nightmare,’ LC thought from somewhere at the far end of the room.
He could feel that the kid was close to trembling, trying not to think.
‘What was it?’ NG thought. ‘LC, what was it?’
He didn’t reply.
‘LC?’
‘It’s the Bhenykhn…’ The kid’s thoughts tailed off, tense and uneasy before he added, ‘NG, are you looking for them or are they looking for you?’
Chapter 9
It was not a concept he could so much as utter, not in this company. But he was considering it more and more himself. Doubting everything. The curse of the isolated.
It was one of the commonalities he shared with Nikolai and why he had given the child so much leeway in his reckless and wayward ways.
They were each alone.
Yet these were still his people despite the evolutionary fluke that divided them, the same gulf that separated Nikolai from his own. He looked at the
m, troubled and hard pushed not to look down on them, even though it were they who were sitting upon the raised platform of these ostentatious chambers.
He had been cruel in his dealings with Nikolai and Sebastian. He knew that. He would admit it, even to them. But they each knew now why it had been necessary and it was one hope that he nurtured, that they understood. Survival was programmed into the genetics of every living creature at the most primordial level. They could not give in to the Bhenykhn. For to do that would be to give up on life. And no society could be asked to do that. No matter how dire the threat. However overwhelming the enemy at the gates.
•
Someone was messing with the IV line in his arm. He felt cold. ‘Did you hear them?’ he sent.
‘Not clearly.’ LC was trying to shut down his thoughts, a banging headache pounding hammers into his skull.
‘You’re hearing the Bennies?’ Duncan was thinking, not broadcasting but clear enough to overhear. ‘Jesus.’
NG lay there, knowing that they were all staring at him, eyes inadvertently drawn to the scar on his chest.
It felt like he’d been run over by a truck. Whatever it was, it wasn’t something he was doing intentionally.
Leigh was at his side. “You need to get some sleep.”
He shook his head and half-mumbled, “That’s the last thing I need.”
She put it together, shocked. “You have nightmares like that every time you sleep?”
It was every time he closed his eyes but he wasn’t going to admit that.
“How’s Jameson?” he said instead.
“Alive,” one of the medics said. “Asleep.”
That was something.
“Where’s Pen?”
“Hospitality suite,” Duncan said. “Not happy but he wants to know what’s going on.”
NG unsnagged his left arm and scrubbed his hand over his face. Pen would find out soon enough. That’s what he wanted Quinn for.
He leaned up on one elbow and looked across to where LC was sitting, legs tucked up tight as if he could spring away at any moment, that haunted look in his eyes. The kid had a new implant embedded in his neck. It always took a while to settle in with a new Senson but this was more than that. He was dreading being exposed. It had been tough enough being scrutinised for the regenerative qualities of the virus. The idea of everyone knowing about the telepathy was terrifying. LC had a reputation of never being scared, of anything. Now? Now, he was sitting there, wide-eyed, thinking he could run away and hide, he’d managed it for long enough. And that was a sentiment that was way too close for comfort to his own frame of mind.
