by Andria Stone
Essex instinctively pulled back several inches from the screen at Axel’s heated reply. His mouth hung open while he tried to form a response.
“Take a walk, Von Radach,” Kamryn snapped.
Mark stepped in front of his friend without thinking. “Hit me. It wouldn’t be the first time.” He shrugged, tried to crack a smile. “It’ll hurt, but I can take it.”
Wrath replaced Axel’s olive complexion with an angry red. His eyes were wet, almost brimming with moisture, his breathing quickened. Mark unstrapped his sidearms, left them on the table, and walked out the back door with Axel behind him.
They hadn’t spared since leaving Terra. Axel was different. He’d been twisted into a grieving, vengeful, bull-headed, augmented friend who could kill Mark with one blow.
They squared off in the dirt, circling each other. Mark thought he saw Axel’s famous look flash across his face, the one that meant he was going to kick someone’s ass and enjoy it.
Axel beckoned him to come closer.
Mark shook his head, uncertain whether he should prepare for wrestling, martial arts, or just a plain old-fashioned brawl.
Axel lunged.
Stumbling backward, Mark attempted to right himself. If he fell, it was over. The pounding began. His vest might save a rib or kidney, but not much more. He tried to counter each attack. After Axel’s lightning right cross to his cheekbone, he tasted blood with the searing pain. Mark put every ounce of effort into a ferocious blow to Axel’s solar plexus. Axel bent forward expelling a whoosh of air, grabbing his chest and trying to inhale.
Mark connected with a left hook, but Axel surprised him by countering with a hellacious uppercut that sounded like a tree limb cracking. It made Mark’s ears ring. More blood gushed between his teeth. He sidestepped another swing to spit out a mouthful of blood. He couldn’t remember being hit in the eye, but his vision was blurry. Not used to fighting bare-knuckled, it took a superhuman effort to lift his fists. He glanced down to make sure shards of bone weren’t exposed, finding they were wet with blood.
Axel tackled him again. They hit the dirt, holding on to each other as they rolled, a dangerous move for Mark. Axel came up on top and delivered the hammer.
Lights out for Mark.
***
He regained consciousness as Axel carried him fireman-style into the house.
Axel stuffed him in a chair, rummaged in the freezer, brought over two bowls filled with ice.
Mark watched him out of one eye. “Did I win?”
“Almost.”
“Where is everybody?”
Rayburn came into view. “The ladies are in the other room. I’m certain at least one is praying you’re both still alive. The minute you two stepped outside, Kamryn said a doctor would be needed. One will be here presently.”
Axel put a bottle of brandy and three glasses on the table. He stood in the corner looking contrite, his shoulders bent under an invisible weight.
Under normal circumstances, Mark would pour himself two fingers of whiskey. Since nothing about this situation felt normal, he poured four fat fingers of brandy in a glass, leaving bloody prints on everything. He took a big gulp. It stung the cuts in his mouth, but he swished it around, then swallowed. The brandy’s fire replaced the pain as it flowed all the way to his gut. With a deep breath, he gritted his teeth before plunging each hand into a bowl of ice.
“Damn that hurts.”
A blonde, middle-aged woman came in the back door. She hugged Rayburn, they exchanged cheek kisses. Rayburn pointed to Mark. She set a titanium medical case on the table, spied the brandy, helped herself to some, then pulled up a chair in front of Mark. “I’m Doctor Synthia Hullum. Who might you be?”
“Jekyll.” He gave her a lopsided grin, watching her brown eyes assess him.
She jerked her thumb at Axel. “So, that would make him Hyde, right?”
He nodded, wincing from a needle-sharp ache in his neck. “I need painkillers and nanites.”
“You’ll get what I give you. Be damn glad I even got out of bed at this hour.”
With a gentle touch, she treated his hands, applied NewSkin gloves, undressed him from the waist up, checking for fractures and contusions. He polished off the rest of his brandy while she gathered items from her case. After applying salves to his face, she gave him two injections, which he barely noticed.
The doctor motioned for Axel to take her seat. He’d stripped to the waist, speeding up her examination. She cleaned his blood-streaked face, revealing a split lip and a cut under his left eye. After the application of salves and a bit of surgical glue, he seemed calm, yet his eyes were full of sadness. Hullum administered a couple of injections to his right bicep.
“Both you boys will be out in a few minutes,” she warned them. “I recommend finding a soft, quiet spot where you won’t be disturbed for a while.”
Mark felt woozy when he tried to stand, his rubbery legs offering no support. “Might wanna look at Petra’s wound, too.”
Axel grabbed his arm, pulled it around his shoulders, and steered him to a bedroom.
***
Valerie Parker stood at the window of her condo in an exclusive area called Edenvale. The lights of Meridian’s dome had dimmed to simulate twilight. Her condo occupied the entire third floor, included a southern exposure with a large bay window overlooking a park. Valerie’s taste in furnishings ran to minimalist neutrals with an abundance of chrome and glass. Before her company arrived for dinner, she changed into her favorite metallic orange kaftan, the last birthday gift she’d received from her mother.
Plans for Victor’s release were back on track as she sat across the dinner table featuring real beef steak and Terran-gown potatoes, delicacies on Mars. Her new lawyer sat four feet away. “Our previous attorney suffered an aneurysm before he could negotiate my brother’s discharge. Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Russo. I’ve known a few of the people you’ve defended. A very colorful bunch. I’m certain we can work out a mutually beneficial agreement if you can complete my brother’s release within the next two days.”
The self-possessed young counselor dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “I seriously doubt much can be done in such a short time frame, madam.”
“It’s Miss, and I should caution you about making statements of that nature.” She tapped the screen of a small tablet next to her plate, then slid it toward him. “As you can see, my dear Mr. Russo, the bank accounts belonging to you, your wife, and your mistress have current balances of zero.”
He stared at the screen in disbelief. His mouth opened, yet no sound escaped.
Valerie pushed her plate aside, lacing her fingers together. “If you scan the images, you’ll see your wife and children. Twins, aren’t they? Victor is my twin, so I know you understand how important his freedom is to me. It will do you no good to view this as coercion or blackmail. Instead, accept it as motivation to excel at this task, for which you’ll be generously rewarded. I don’t care how it’s accomplished. I’ll leave the particulars up to you. Just make sure it’s completed in the next 48 hours.” She propped her elbows on the table, spreading her hands. “Am I clear?”
With a scathing look and tone to match, he said, “Yes, Miss Parker, you’ve made yourself abundantly clear. My apologies for cutting this meeting short, but I have enough time to make a prior appointment. I hope you don’t mind.”
Russo made a beeline for the door with Valerie on his heels. She waved farewell, as if they were old friends, while congratulating herself on a superb performance.
Her mood darkened, however, upon remembering Victor’s own stupidity as the reason for his incarceration. In the last few days, everything he’d touched had turned into a fiasco. First, the ill-conceived plan to eliminate Mark Warren in their bakery. Second, the asinine miscalculation resulting in the Citadel being overloaded with weapons. The final debacle culminated when the Terran Military raided the Gemini of a significant cache of weapons.
The role of her MMC contact was cr
ucial to the final countdown of events in Dome 3, but locating him had proved fruitless. If he’d been arrested, she’d just get another poor unsuspecting member of the cyber unit to take his place. Even though he played a vital role, he was replaceable.
Sitting at her screen, Valerie contacted her warehouse foreman in Aurora. “Mr. Seiger, do you remember how we acquired the last military cyber unit operative?”
“I do, Miss Parker. Took pictures of him with a young boy clone.”
“Yes. Do it again. Use a new child. This is a rush job. I need it done today.”
“What if the target prefers females?”
“Fine,” she snapped. “Take one of each, or use both, I don’t care. Send me the file when it’s finished.”
She turned off the screen, thought better of it, and flipped it on again. Governor Bryant was quiet. Too quiet. Suspicious of any deviations in his behavior, Valerie followed a hunch as she accessed his public schedule.
Not good. Everything had been postponed or canceled. Indefinitely. His involvement was paramount to the success of her operation in Dome 3.
While she watched, his schedule page reverted to normal. Hmm…a glitch, perhaps? Her tablet beeped with a cascade of backlogged messages from Bryant, all saying the same thing. A software bug mandated a reboot of the network. A potential calamity averted. She relaxed with an audible sigh.
After pouring another glass of wine, she walked to the window, gazing down on the tiny beings scurrying around unaware of the momentous changes coming soon to their mundane lives.
Once control of Mars was hers, she would leverage the power to fulfill her mother’s dream of colonizing Europa. It must be done without delay, before Terra established a foothold on that distant moon. Finances were never a problem, and she’d stockpiled armaments for the past five years. Recruiting humans, on the other hand, could be challenging at times. Many key people in power had either been brought into the fold with a promise of tangible rewards for their participation, including Mr. Russo from this evening, or they were replaced by individuals who understood the lethal consequences of working against the Parkers instead of with them.
She smiled with the knowledge that her success was imminent.
Chapter 13
A loud clanging awakened both Axel and Mark. They jumped up, alert, ready to attack.
Kamryn stood inside the room with her back to the door, holding a metal pot in one hand and a large spoon in the other. “If either of you ever lifts a hand to the other again, I will shoot the one left standing.”
They nodded, avoiding eye contact. Kamryn banged the pot a half dozen more times as they grabbed their heads with both hands.
“You each get a five-minute shower. We have new intel. There’s food in the kitchen.” She sneered at them on the way out.
Mark hurried to the shower, intent on getting his share of the hot water. The steam washed away his aches and pains, finishing with a chilly rinse to rejuvenate his nervous system. He dried, dressed, and found Axel waiting when he opened the door. They grasped each other's forearms like two male warriors after a conflict, bumping shoulders in passing, which amounted to an unspoken reconciliation between brothers.
A moment later, Axel shouted, “No hot water!”
Mark chuckled, but it hurt, so he stifled it, which hurt even worse. The game of one-upmanship was on again, with Mark winning this round. He joined the others, helped himself to coffee along with a plateful of what might pass for bacon and eggs. It wasn’t. By adding brandy to his coffee, he hoped to choke it down. The recuperative powers of Mark’s shower were being replaced by a small, irritating headache.
Axel walked in looking clean-shaven, bright-eyed, and ready for action. “What’s the new intel?” He started devouring a plate of the same food Mark found unappetizing.
“Governor Bryant has made a full confession,” Petra said, tapping her screen. “He admitted Valerie Parker extorted his cooperation in exchange for not harming his son.”
Axel stared at her. “He’s a politician. How do we know he’s telling the truth?”
“He was haloed for two hours.”
Axel wouldn’t let it go. “Again, are we sure he wasn’t lying?”
Petra looked at Mark. “When you were haloed, could you have lied?”
“No, but I was drugged.”
With a smug grin, she said, “Everyone is.”
Axel swallowed his last mouthful of eggs. “Two hours under a halo and that’s all?”
“Oh, there’s more. To begin with, in the next 48 hours, Valerie’s planning to take control of Mars with a league of backers in every dome to help her. Bryant thinks her plans include a ‘super hacker’ she’s paid millions to, including clones as a bonus. Here’s the kicker: He’s also certain he heard her talk about using Mars as a springboard to continue her mother’s plans to colonize Europa.”
“No, no, no,” Mark groaned. “I thought it ended when I killed Coulter.” He dropped his head into his hands, the throbbing in his temples escalated. “Where’s Ohashi?”
Petra snorted. “She is so pissed. Locked herself in the bedroom to hunt for this super hacker. You know she has this whole ‘I’m-better-than-thou’ thing going, right?”
Kamryn walked in as Mark splashed more brandy into his cup. She scowled at him.
“It’s a painkiller. Medicinal.” He gulped it down and growled, “Petra, what about Clay Bryant, Scarlett, and Rushing?”
“First, all the humans apprehended in the raid were interrogated, not just the Governor. Clay’s been cleared. He was ignorant of his father’s involvement in Parker’s scheme. However, the women’s presence undermined the TMD’s achievement of capturing a ship, cyborgs, guns, and mercs. Word has it both women fought like hell against being subjected to interrogation. The final decision came from General Dimitrios. He said, ‘Interrogation, or stockade and interrogation, your choice.’
“The results proved neither of them had clearance to go undercover. Scarlett’s manner of acquiring rank is also under investigation. She may lose her commission. Rushing may not lose any rank, but there’s little chance she’ll make general, which means she’s ready to kill whoever she finds to blame for her mistake. As of yet, none of them are aware we were involved in the raid.”
Mark’s headache eased a bit. “How many TMD warships are in Martian space? How many are on the way? Can you run some numbers on the size of the Martian fleet? Where are their augmented troops stationed?” He stood. “I’m going to interrupt Ohashi’s isolation.”
He disregarded the hand-written note on the door threatening dismemberment for whoever dared enter. She sat in the middle of the bed, hunched over, fingers skimming across her screens.
“What are you working on?”
“I’ve identified the hacker,” she muttered.
“Already? Who is it?”
“He goes by Savant, which he’s not. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have found him.”
“Unless you’re also one, Ohashi.” Mark gave her a smile of encouragement.
“Nope, just good at what I do. Identifying him is the first step, figuring out what he’s up to and tracking his path is the next step. It has to be communications. Back on Terra, in Venezuela several years ago, some rebels tried disrupting our satellite-based navigation. They were very inventive about it. We stopped them, of course, then they tried to jam our comms, which didn’t work either.”
Axel wandered in to lean against the wall. “Yeah, I remember Venezuela. Hotter than hell. I went five days without a shower.”
Kamryn appeared in the doorway. “You smelled like crocodile crap, too.”
“Crocs were all we had to eat.”
“They were endangered.”
“So were we,” Axel protested. “He was an old soldier with three legs, he took one for his squad.”
Ohashi waved an arm in the air. “Hey, I’m trying to work in here! Everybody out! Go bother someone else.”
Mark went to the door, paused and turned to share a p
arting thought. “You know who he is, Ohashi, but he doesn’t know you.” He winked at her. “I’d say you have the upper hand.”
She gave him a genuine smile before he left.
***
Axel sat on Petra’s right, with Kamryn to her left. They scanned data on Valerie Parker’s credit accounts for the past five years. A pattern emerged over time; small, regular payments made to a company in Dome 2 called U-Stor-It, which showed multiple owners, the current one named Gemini Storage.
They exchanged knowing smiles. The current business name was a red flag. The property schematics displayed a sizable storage warehouse.
“It’s within spitting distance of the spaceport,” Axel said, thinking out loud.
“Convenient, indeed,” Rayburn offered from his vantage point behind them. “Shall we take a ride?”
Kamryn glanced back at Mark. “Are you coming?”
“No, I’ll stay here to keep Petra company. I’m researching a theory.”
Before they climbed into Rayburn’s old van, Kamryn paused to raise an eyebrow as she pointed to the name Hubble-Bubble Plumbing written on the side in faded red letters.
“I use this to haul my inventory around,” Rayburn said. “Nobody ever gives it a second look.”
Under the dome’s filtered daylight, they cruised through light traffic to the industrial area. Surveying the warehouse complex, they found a quiet, unobtrusive parking spot to watch and wait.
Thirty-seven minutes later, a thickset older man rounded a corner and walked up to the gate, using a keycard to enter. He was trailed by a pair of tall, hulking figures.
Axel’s heart rate increased tenfold. He checked to make sure he wasn’t salivating. His left hand caressed the sidearm on his thigh as he watched the two cyborgs entering Valerie Parker’s warehouse—an excellent place to store a stockpile of munitions—with the grand prize being she might be arriving soon herself.
