Edge Of The Stars: A Techno Thriller Science Fiction Novel (The Edge Book 2)

by Andria Stone

  Axel laughed. “Like hell.” He walked over to sit in the chair opposite Rayburn, elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “Does the governor’s house have a basement?”

  “Yes, all government buildings do. In case of dome malfunctions, they’re used as temporary shelters.”

  “Well, Dr. Jekyll,” Axel looked at Mark lounging against the front door, “what are the odds of Valerie Parker sitting in a basement full of guns underneath Governor Bryant’s house?”

  Mark flashed a big toothy smile. “I’d book odds of 20 to 1 on that being an excellent supposition, Mr. Hyde.”

  Axel cast a questioning glance at Kamryn for her response.

  “I agree, but you know our boss. He’ll want proof. How do we get in?”

  “May I?” Rayburn exercised caution by using his thumb and index finger to pull an official looking envelope out of his jacket. He passed it to Kamryn.

  She opened it. “There’s a banquet at the Governor’s house at seven o’clock this evening.”

  “It’s too late for you to be added as guests,” Rayburn said. “But spots are available for various bartenders, security, and kitchen help.”

  Axel leveled an unwavering stare at Rayburn. “What’s in it for you?”

  “It’s a matter of simple economics. I’ve built a good business. My preference would be to maintain the status quo. Part of what you’ve told me has already been made public; therefore, I have no reason to doubt the rest. A change in the political landscape means civil upheaval. It will only bring chaos. Businesses will be ruined. If the military is overthrown, lawlessness will ensue, and people will leave. If it cascades to the other domes, as you seem to think, this planet is lost. Any ruler who comes to power in this manner is never a good one, be it king or queen.”

  Axel remained in charge of the questioning. “Will your contact be there tonight?”

  “Yes. She’ll be working in the kitchen. However, you must swear not to involve her in any way. Her husband’s incarcerated, leaving her with a young child to support.”

  “You have our word. Now how do we get there?”

  “I will deliver you to the staffing agency. From there, a van will transport everyone to the governor’s house.”

  When Rayburn remained sitting, Axel asked, “You’re staying until then?”

  “Yes. If you agree, there is much to do. Uniforms and the proper Identification must be acquired.”

  “In that case, we need to bring you up to date. The rest of our team is here.”

  “I know.”

  “What you don’t know is there’s a situation.”

  “Which is?”

  “While we were with you,” Axel explained, “Parker’s men abducted one of our people. When we found her, there was an altercation. The kidnappers lost. One is injured. The other—”

  “Did not survive his injuries,” Mark interjected.

  They escorted him out back, showing him the two men. Unruffled, Rayburn said, “There’s a clinic about a mile away. I’ll bring the van around. If you load them, I can drive us over so you can drop them in the alley.”

  ***

  Everything went as planned. After they returned, uniforms and IDs were delivered with an instructional vid on the proper deportment for various positions. Axel would be kitchen help, due to his prior work experience in the field—plus he was a damn good cook. Mark was qualified as a bartender, because of his drinking history. Kamryn’s past employment of camp counselor/swimming instructor, DEA agent, and armored assault sergeant didn’t leave wiggle room for anything but a security position, which delighted her. The uniforms were gunpowder gray pants and mandarin collared jackets, with a separate triangular crimson medallion worn at the throat for all staff except the kitchen help.

  Rayburn explained, “Everyone is scanned. Any weapons found will be confiscated. Also, the medallions have chips which are activated the moment you cross the perimeter. Your movements will be monitored. It’s their on-site security method of keeping track of employees while you’re on the grounds. A word of caution.” He tapped his ear. “If you’re wearing personal comm units, those transmissions will interfere with the signals being sent by the medallions.”

  “And you’re aware of this how?” Mark asked.

  “During a party, thieves were caught using comms while they burglarized the place.”

  Mark took both medallions into Ohashi. “Were you listening?”

  “Of course,” Ohashi said.

  “Okay. First, you need to put schematics of the governor’s house on our tablets. We need to know every way into the basement. Second, make sure they don’t pick up any interference from our embedded tracking devices. You’ve got half an hour, Ohashi. Make me proud.”

  “I don’t have any of my tools here. What do you expect me to use? A butter knife and a toothpick?”

  “You’re our resident cyber wizard. Figure out how to use your magic wand to make these compatible with our comms and trackers. Or give them a virus. Or—”

  “I got an idea.”

  Mark hugged her. “You never disappoint me.”

  Ohashi pushed him away in fake annoyance. “Don’t get mushy. Go. Leave me alone.”

  Mark winked at her, then took off his shirt, draping it over a kitchen chair before returning to the living room. As Mark picked a uniform jacket to try on for its fit, he felt Rayburn’s eyes on him. Specifically, on his tattoo; an intricate tribal design encircling his right bicep which he and his brother had gotten before Eric’s failed mission to Europa. Rayburn glanced over to compare it with the identical tattoo on Axel’s arm.

  “We’re twins,” Mark said, trying to hide a smile.

  Rayburn’s gray eyes sparkled as he mirrored Mark’s smile. “Indeed.”

  Kamryn returned from the shower, dressed in her uniform. Mark grabbed a pair of pants before leaving to do the same, with a detour through the kitchen.

  “Ohashi, when you get a minute, find out what you can on our new friend, Mr. Gaige Rayburn.” He gave his tablet to her. “Here’s an image I took when he wasn’t looking.”

  She talked while prodding the medallion’s guts with a hairpin. “I already have a dossier on him. Got an image, too, through a crack in the door. I wanted to know who our benefactor was. Just waiting for someone to ask me for it. You’re the first. It’s very interesting.”

  “I need to hit the shower. I’ll leave my comm in. Tell me what you found.”

  “No, leave your comm here. I need to sync it to your medallion when I’m finished.”

  “Okay, Sugarpie.” Mark made a big display of trying to bear hug her again.

  Ohashi flapped her arms at him. “Go take a shower! You smell worse than I do.”

  Mark chuckled to himself. He hadn’t indulged much in annoying and poking fun at the women on this trip. He enjoyed the lighter moments when he could treat them as his sisters.

  Except for Kamryn. Mark would never forget her powerful blitz attack on Axel, followed by the fearless tongue-lashing she’d given him. Her next victim had been the man she’d taken down on Parker’s ship, and Kamryn’s last two victims were the would-be kidnappers laid out in the alley. Today’s body count proved she was just as scary as Axel. He made a mental note to put her on the do-not-mess-with list.

  Ready for a hot shower, he walked into the only bathroom, shucking out of his remaining clothes before stepping under a stream of hot water. It lasted five minutes before turning ice cold. Shivering, he hollered, “Who took all the hot water?”

  “Sorry,” a woman’s voice echoed, sounding a lot more mirthful than apologetic.

  With a few minutes to spare, Mark dressed in his uniform to join Kamryn and Axel in the living room. Kamryn pinned Mark’s medallion at the throat of his jacket as they received a final update from Rayburn.

  “I’ve received no report of any mishaps or problems. Everything is on schedule. In the unlikely event of a catastrophe, you can contact me by tablet at ‘HoudiniMars8’.”

  “Why Ho
udini?” Kamryn asked.

  “Because if you do encounter difficulties, it will either take a miracle or a magician to get you out of there without being arrested.”

  “Okay, we’re ready.” Kamryn put her hands on the men’s shoulders. “Let’s do this.”

  ***

  While Rayburn drove them to the drop-off point, the Terrans studied the schematic on their tablets for basement ingress and egress.

  Rayburn stopped around the corner from the Staffing Agency. “I’ll be here to pick you up when the van brings you back.”

  Mark felt damn near naked. They were going in without benefit of ballistic proof vests, guns, ammo, or grenades; nothing but a single ceramic knife for each of them, hidden in their boots. As far as the medallion, trackers, and comms were concerned, he knew Ohashi had done her best in the time allotted. He just hoped it would be good enough for one of them to slip into the basement and get concrete proof of the weapons without getting caught.

  That was the plan, at least. Easy-peasy.

  After reporting to the agency, they flashed their fake IDs, lining up to board another van for a short ride to the governor’s house. Once there, all staff filed out, passed through security, and were directed to their stations. They all made it through the scanners without being detected. So far, so good.

  Music floated throughout the large, two-story house from an orchestra tuning up in the banquet room. A supervisor sent Axel to the kitchen. Another ordered Kamryn to function as a floating patrol, monitoring entrances and exits. The bar manager chose two-man teams for each of the drink stations. He partnered Mark with a bullnecked Russian named Sergei, ordering them to the east side bar for mixed drinks. Behind them were six tall, thin windows framed in red brocade drapes. From his vantage point, Mark could see one door with a direct path to the basement. Ironically, it was behind the west side bar on the opposite wall, where champagne and wines were being served.

  To begin with, the trio functioned as standard employees performing their tasks. With few people on the floor, none could leave their designated areas yet, for fear of drawing attention to themselves. Mark covertly commed the others.

  “I see one target doorway on the west wall leading to the basement. I’ll try to change stations to get over there.”

  The number of guests increased as the night progressed. Governor Bryant appeared. Mark noted him as the unmistakable recipient of cosmetic surgery—otherwise a paunchy, middle-aged man graying at the temples. He moved through his flock, pressing the flesh with an automatic smile painted on his face. Couples in evening attire flowed into the room, ordered drinks, chatted with friends, or settled at tables.

  Mark mixed drinks with an experienced hand while making polite conversation—until he looked up.

  Shit, shit, shit. His day had just gotten worse by a factor of ten. He could not believe what his eyes were telling him was true.

  Clay Bryant, the governor’s son, walked in with a red-haired woman on his arm. Dressed in a shimmering green holographic gown—which looked as if it adhered directly to her skin, leaving nothing to the imagination—was the one and only, Scarlett O’Donnell.

  Chapter 10

  Mark dropped to his knees, pretending to hunt for supplies while Sergei poured drinks, ignoring Mark altogether.

  “Kamryn heads up,” he whispered over his comm. “Scarlett O’Donnell’s here with Clay Bryant. Stay away from her at all costs.”

  Sergei served Scarlett and Clay. When the small talk between them ended, Mark sneaked a peek over the bar. The couple wandered off to mingle with the crowd. Scarlett clung to Bryant like a magnet. He felt sorry for the governor’s son, knowing she was using him to further her own agenda, not caring one damn bit about what happened to those she left in her wake. With a crooked governor for a father and Scarlett manipulating him, Clay would be in psychotherapy for years.

  He spotted the bar manager, then said to Sergei, “I have an emergency.” Mark caught up with the supervisor, pulling him aside. He put one hand on his hip, striking a pose. “Sergei made a pass at me. I told him I’m engaged, but he’s not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Can you please, please, put me at the other bar?”

  The manager rolled his eyes, escorted him to the westside bar, grabbed the nearest guy, and told him to switch places with Mark.

  He mouthed ‘Thank you,’ batting his eyes as he’d seen his sister do hundreds of times. His new partner, a short Asian named Zhāng, took no notice of him, concentrating on pouring precise amounts of liquid into the stemmed glassware.

  For the rest of the evening, Mark tracked Scarlett’s movements to ensure he remained unnoticed. With his new location, he had the best chance of making it to the basement. All staff members received a short break at some mid-point in the event. When it was Mark’s turn, he commed Kamryn.

  “Keep an eye on this door. Tell me if anyone uses it while I’m gone.”

  He left, intent on finding the basement, taking images of the weapons, and returning to his post without being discovered. Despite memorizing the path, getting there undetected wasn’t easy. He hid in a linen closet to avoid being seen, then ducked into a laundry room for a moment before reaching the correct door leading downstairs. With a growing sense of apprehension, he opened the door. It was pitch black inside. The light on his tablet illuminated the steps to the bottom. He counted them—fifteen—in case he made the reverse trip in the dark. As a precaution, he removed the knife from his boot. Always better to be prepared than caught off guard.

  He circled the underground cavern, astonished at not finding crates of weapons as they had on Parker’s ship. Could their assumptions have been wrong?

  He’d just about given up when a prism of light burst from a doorway. Mark faded into the shadows as a man dressed in mercenary garb, carrying a pulse rifle, shuffled past. After waiting a few seconds, Mark slid down against the wall to look around the doorframe.

  Great Caesar’s Ghost. He pointed his tablet toward the rows of cryopods stacked to the ceiling, taking what he hoped was indisputable vid proof of the governor’s involvement in Valerie Parker’s scheme. Withdrawing into the darkness, his heart worked overtime as he watched the man return and shut the door. Mark retraced his route and sped up the steps, pausing for a moment to replace the knife in his boot before he entered the hallway, nervous sweat running down his face.

  “Kamryn, hundreds of clones. No weapons.”

  “Got it. Now hide.”

  Mark panicked, an intense wave of fear nearly immobilizing him until he recognized the linen closet. He pulled open the door. Grabbing a towel, he used it to wipe the thick layer of sweat off his face and neck, then smeared it on the front of his jacket.

  “Hey, you. What’cha doin’?”

  Mark turned to face the voice, which belonged to a large, barrel-chested security guard. “An inebriated gentleman spilled champagne on my jacket. See?” Mark flapped the towel at the big damp spot on his chest.

  “Get back to your station.” The man pointed to the exact door Mark wanted to use.

  “Sure thing, sweetie.”

  Mark hustled back to the banquet, still perspiring, yet relieved to be among a crowd of people again. He sent the video to Ohashi without looking at it. Mark kept the towel handy to mop his face as his heart rate returned to normal. He didn’t mind admitting spy work was not his forte. He’d much rather Kamryn act as their resident spook. The night could not end soon enough for him.

  Food had been served and plates had been removed as the music grew louder. Mark expected the governor to address his guests. If he had, it must have been during Mark’s absence. An hour of dancing with the last call for drinks were the only portions of the evening yet to come.

  People abandoned their tables for the dance floor. Mark saw Clay guide Scarlett to the far corner. A movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned to see another person who sent a chill up his spine. Could tonight get any worse?

  Olivia Rushing had traded her colonel’s
uniform for a flowing, black, one-shouldered evening gown. He watched Rushing cut a swath through the crowd to Governor Clarence Bryant. They hugged and kissed like old friends.

  “Kamryn, are you seeing this?” When she didn’t respond, Mark’s gut tightened. “Kamryn?”

  “I’m hiding. Rushing waltzed right passed me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Here.”

  Mark turned to find Kamryn standing behind him. A tingling sensation broke out all over his skin. “Don’t do that.”

  A wicked smile crossed her face.

  “Have you heard from Axel?”

  “Not since we got here,” she said. “I’m worried. I went to the kitchen once, but I didn’t see him. Oops, gotta go.”

  He spun back, looking for what might have caused her to leave. Neither Rushing nor Scarlett was anywhere near, allowing him the freedom to worry about Axel. He wanted a reason to make a trip to the kitchen. He spied an antique corkscrew, stuck it in a bottle of red wine, and broke the handle off before pulling out the cork. “Oh, gee. Look what happened.” He rushed away toward the kitchen, throwing an, “I’ll be right back,” to Zhāng.

  In the restaurant-sized kitchen, activity had dwindled to clean up. Five chefs lounged near an open door leading outside while everyone else busied themselves with pot washing and scouring the food prep areas. Mark didn’t see Axel anywhere. He did, however, feel the eyes of a young woman on him, his first thought being she was Rayburn’s contact.

  Her eyes flitted to an open doorway to the left. Mark gave her a slight nod, which she returned. He grabbed the bottle’s neck to use as a club if the need arose while he moved along close to the wall. At the sound of voices, he slowed, found a door, and listened. He picked out Axel’s voice. During a lull in the conversation, Mark opened the door.

  Axel faced him with both hands in the air, backed up against metal shelving which held supplies. A dark-skinned man, his back to Mark, swiveled his head around to look over his shoulder.

  Jerking his right arm down, Axel wrapped it around the man’s neck while his left hand hit the man’s other arm. A large pulse handgun flew up high, spun several revolutions, plummeted downward. Mark dove for it with his hands outstretched, catching it inches above the floor. When Mark got to his feet, the man Axel had choked lay in a heap with a broken neck.