by R J Johnson
“Looks like it’s already giving us orders,” she said.
He left the other armbar in the bag and looked at the one left to him by his father. He was nothing, if not sentimental. He looked at the directions on her armbar and then up at the scattered skyscrapers around them.
“We’ll need an aerotaxi or something,” he said. “I wonder what passes for that on Venus?”
Emeline looked up and her jaw dropped. “I’m guessing, those.”
He followed her gaze and his eyes widened.
Above them, people were riding in what appeared to be clear crystal bubbles. They floated up and zipped off across the massive UN complex. Much like the aerocycles back on Mars, the crystal bubbles appeared to fold out of the walls that lined the Venusian colony.
“You gotta be kidding me,” he said. Meade swallowed thinking of what it must look like when looking down at the storms raging below them on Venus’ surface. His stomach was already doing flips thinking about it.
“Come on,” Emeline said. “I think we can hail one over here.”
She pointed to a sign labeled “AZURE” that contained a photo of the crystal ships.
“Gotta admit,” Emeline said. “The Venusians have style.”
“Speak for yourself,” he said, trying to ignore the nausea.
“Give me some of that money,” she said, reaching for the envelope.
He handed it over knowing she’d do a better job taking care of it than he would. She took the bundle of bills and peeled off a stack, handing the rest back to him.
“Be right back,” she turned on her heel and began negotiating with the livery man.
Meade opened the folder again and found a file with a photo of a man he recognized. His eyes went wide, and he gasped in shock.
“Hey,” Emeline called out. “Come on, our ride’s leaving.”
The face in the photo of Meade’s first target was the same face he’d seen lying on a table back in Dr. Hahn’s laboratory on Mars.
They weren’t here to assassinate a few politicians. The professor and his wife were replacing high-ranking officials on the Coalition Council with clones they were growing back on Mars.
The photo fluttered out of Meade’s shaking hands when he it finally dawned on him what the professor was up to on Venus.
They were here to ignite a war.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Hotel California
Meade didn’t tell Emeline his suspicions about their real mission while flying to their hotel in the translucent vehicle that zipped through the Venusian city for two good reasons.
For one, he was too busy trying not to throw up.
The “bubble-car” (as residents on Venus referred to the vehicles), were small, but roomy vessels that floated through San Angeles taking residents to their destinations. Hundreds of the translucent vessels were on the flyway as the bubble-car they had hired brought them to the expensive hotel where the professor had reserved two rooms for them.
The second reason he hadn’t told Emeline about his suspicions was that he didn’t really have anything other than a gut feeling at this point. And those had been known to be wrong on occasion.
Meade stuffed himself in the rear of the vehicle, putting as much distance between him and Emeline as physically possible. He knew he would feel a lot better once they were separated by a wall and there was no chance of him accidentally unleashing the powerful nanites designed to kill her.
“You all right back there?” she called back to him from the front. Emeline was busy admiring the view they were afforded by the clear hull of the vehicle that separated them from the elements. Clouds, thousands of meters high, swirled all around them in different shades of green, yellow, and blue as the sky painted a brilliant scene.
“Feelin’ a little airsick,” he said weakly. Truth was, as much as he hated space travel, he never thought it was possible there might be anything worse. The clear laminate that surrounded them was meant to give riders a thrilling view as they traveled across the city, but his stomach seemed to miss the point.
Emeline on the other hand, was peering out the windows, admiring the view with her usual lust for life. “You’re missing the show.”
“I’m fine back here,” he replied. He swallowed, trying to remain focused on the horizon. That helped him feel marginally better, but not by much.
“You’re such a wuss,” she said, throwing him a look of disapproval. He didn’t care. He was long past that.
“Yeah, well…” he trailed off. He was finding it difficult to come up with a decent retort. “Next time we have some time to ourselves, I’ll take you to the Martian zoo and we’ll check out the snake experience. How’s that sound?”
She frowned. “That’s not funny Meade.”
Emeline was deathly afraid of snakes, spiders, and all sorts of other creepy crawlies from the Homeworld. That didn’t keep him from threatening the occasional date at the Martian Zoo when he needed a trump card.
“Will you let me die in peace back here? I promise I won’t drag you within a klick of a snake,” he said, holding his stomach. “Please tell me we’re almost to the hotel.”
Emeline checked her armbar which displayed their route. “Two minutes.”
“Thank God,” he said, closing his eyes. Two minutes sounded like a manageable amount of time to keep himself from vomiting.
By the time their bubble-car came in for a gentle landing in front of their hotel, he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep his promise to stay vomit-free. But, once they were safe on the ground, he leapt out of the vehicle, doubled over, panting as he valiantly tried to keep from retching.
“You gonna make it? Or do I need to call a medic?” Emeline asked, her voice thick with sarcasm.
“That’s the love and concern I’ve grown to expect from ya,” he said, spitting on the ground.
“Oh, knock it off. You’re safe now, you big baby,” she said. “Come on, let’s go get checked in.”
Almost automatically, she reached out for Meade’s hand to help him up and he nearly took it, but stopped himself at the last second, recoiling in terror. She looked at him confused for a moment, and quickly drew her hand back, her face growing red.
“I’m… I’m sorry…” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to…’
“Yeah, well,” he grunted and got back to his feet, brushing his pants off. “We’ll have to get used to not touching each other. It’ll be like the good ol’ days for ya.”
But the joke didn’t reach his eyes.
“Sure,” she said, trying to get in on the humor. “Before you know it, I’ll be able to lug your heavy ass around like nothing ever changed.”
“Here’s hoping,” he said.
They moved closer to the hotel entrance, keeping at least six feet worth of distance between them. The extravagant hotel they were staying in was located near the center of the city, and it towered over most of the skyscrapers located there.
They approached the foyer where dozens of people dressed in some of the finest fashions offered by Coalition and Consortium designers, were filing in and out.
“Well, aren’t they a well-dressed bunch?” he remarked.
“Yeah well, if we want to fit in, we ought to find some better threads too.” She pointed at his shirt and jacket that was still stained with dust, blood and other less recognizable substances. “You look like shit.”
“You’re right,” he said looking down at his clothing. He stuck out like a sore thumb in his outfit – especially compared to the rest of the folks in San Angeles. “We ain’t exactly the high point of fashion over here.”
He pointed to what looked like a well-to-do clothing store adjacent to the hotel. “We should split up. I’ll check us into the hotel, you buy us something that will help us fit in.”
“Why don’t you look for something for us to wear? And I’ll check us into the hotel?” Emeline fumed.
Meade gave her his best hangdog look. “You really want to trust me with the fash
ion side of the mission?”
She groaned and shook her head. “I’d best find you most uncomfortable when I get back. Because if I find you on the bed snoring your life away while I’m busy buying you something, I’ll be pissed.”
He touched the brim of his hat as a salute. “I wouldn’t dare think of it.”
He handed the rest of the money to her. “Professor said he had us all set up in there and I can’t think of anything I’ll need this for.”
Emeline approached him, hesitating as she drew close. He held himself perfectly still, tensing his body to be ready to jump out of the way of any misstep. He tossed the stack of cash to her and she caught it easily.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, her eyes watering. She wouldn’t let him see her cry, he knew. She would wait until he was out of sight.
“It’ll going to be all right, we’ll get through this, because we’re together,” Meade said. “We’re unstoppable when you and I get together. Right?”
She smirked at him and then turned on her heel, marching quickly toward the clothing store.
He watched her go for a moment, and then turned toward the hotel check-in counter wondering how life always managed to get so crazy for him.
Probably best not to think about it.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Shadows on the Cave
The hotel the professor booked for them was specifically designed for diplomats and people of vast material means – and it showed.
The moment Meade stepped into the hotel, his jaw dropped to the floor. The lobby was decorated in what he could only describe as ‘Garden of Eden.’
Everything was green, with plant life of every shape and size covered the lobby, creating a mix of smells that he’d never experienced before.
He walked through the lobby on a small stone path, almost bemused by the multi-colored flowers, vines and shrubbery that surrounded the entire lobby. The other patrons at the hotel didn’t seem to notice. They were filing in and out of the hotel as if it were something they saw every day.
For his part, Meade hadn’t seen anything this green since the arboretum on Rosetta.
He began to make his way through the dense forest walking on a moss-covered path until he reached what he assumed was the check-in desk for the hotel.
He nodded politely to the Asian woman behind the counter. “Good day, I’m here…”
“Yes, of course Mr. Meade,” the woman beamed, handing him a brochure. “Professor Benson told us you would be arriving today.”
“You know who I am?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“Our systems are designed to greet each customer individually based on their armbar IP,” she said, nodding to entrance of the hotel. “What do you think of the computer’s choice for your lobby?”
He glanced around, somewhat confused, “My… lobby?”
“The computer generates a customized lobby for each of our guests,” she said, smiling. “Based on your public social profile, our algorithm chooses something welcoming and peaceful. Many people expect a generic hotel lobby and that’s what they see. But, if I might say, I find the computer’s choice for you especially breathtaking.”
“You mean none of this is real?” he asked, glancing around at the greenery.
“It’s real enough,” she said. “A series of holographic projectors have been installed around the lobby. If I were to deactivate your login, the room would return to normal.”
She pressed a button on her keyboard and the greenery vanished, replaced with a dull, non-descript room about the size of a tennis court.
“This is what I see most of the time,” she said.
She pressed a button on her armbar, restoring the paradise lobby for them. “I prefer your version.”
“So do I,” he said looking around, soaking in the view.
“Your room has been paid for through the next week, but I understand that may be extended,” she said, returning to business. “I can have our people bring your luggage up to your room.”
“Fraid it’s just me, myself, and I for now,” Meade said with a grin. “There’s another check-in coming, Emeline Hunan. She’ll be along shortly. You’ll take care of her?”
The receptionist dipped her head, “It will be my pleasure.”
“Thanks,” he said. He began to move toward the elevators when he paused and looked back at the receptionist. “Sign yourself a big tip, I ain’t paying for it.”
The receptionist tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement, looking grateful.
He turned and headed for the glass elevators. He swallowed and shook his head. Why did everything around here have to be see-through?
Grumbling to himself, he got into the elevator and was about to press the button for his floor when a contingent of security people stepped in and physically removed him from the lift.
“Hey!” he tried struggling, but it was no use. Whoever these thugs were, they had plenty of muscle behind them.
That’s when he spotted the tall man making his way through the lobby talking loudly to a hologram projected out of his armbar. He squinted, there was something familiar about the man.
Whoever he was, the security gorillas who pulled him out of the elevator were apparently working for him. The man elbowed his way through the wall of security and stepped onto the elevator.
“Wanna try that again now that I’m paying attention?”
The guards didn’t say a word, turning away from him and ignoring his challenge. They pushed the button, calling another elevator and got in, turning around and staring the Martian detective down as the doors closed.
As the elevator doors were closing, he realized who the VIP was.
It was the Coalition’s Secretary of State, Rex Mercer.
His first target.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The First Casualty of War
Meade hoped to have more time to plan his attack on the Coalition’s secretary of state but stumbling across the man like this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.
He looked for the stairs and spotted them on the other side of the lobby. Meade raced for the door and began sprinting up the steps, taking them two at a time. He had no illusions he could keep up with the high-speed elevator, but thanks to the hotel architect’s apparent obsession with windows, he might be able to spot where Mercer and his goons were staying.
When he reached the fourth floor, he paused, placing his face up against the glass trying to get a good look at the elevator that was still climbing its way toward the top floor of the hotel.
Finally, the car slowed, stopping at one of the upper floors of the massive building. The car paused for a few moments, before finally retreating to the lobby.
He marked the floor where the elevator had stopped, knowing that had to be where the secretary of state and his lackeys were staying before the treaty renewal in a few days.
Now all he had to do was get up there.
Meade opened his armbar and brought up a 3D schematic of the hotel. He examined the image floating in front of him, searching for an alternate route to Mercer’s floor.
He didn’t have a lot of options. Security for the Coalition’s Secretary of State was tight, and he thought it unlikely he could get anywhere close to the man’s hotel door before he was stopped by Coalition MPs.
There was also the matter that had been gnawing on the edge of his conscious all day. What if he couldn’t go through with the professor’s plan of murder and mayhem?
He always said he would take a bullet for Emeline, but he never thought about whether he might fire a bullet for her. Especially at someone who had done him no wrong.
After all, that’s what Rule #8 was for:
Don’t hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it.
That rule, among others, had served him well over the years. Compromising the code would have consequences. It always did.
There was also the fact that Meade didn’t know whether the professor would keep his word at the end of this
whole thing. Truth was, the man might dispose of him and Emeline once he accomplished the mission. But he didn’t really believe that.
People like the professor and his wife treated life as one transaction after another. If Meade accomplished the professor’s missions, then he had no doubt the man would remove the deadly nanites currently swimming through his blood.
He tried refocusing on the 3D model in front of him but gave up when his mind wandered back to Emeline.
Meade knew he couldn’t keep arguing with himself. It didn’t matter who Mercer was, or why the professor wanted him gone.
Emeline was all that mattered.
His decision made, he concentrated on his next task – how was he supposed to get up there? The penthouse suite was located fifty levels above his own room and security ahead of the treaty renewal was tight. It was unlikely that Meade could gain access with a wink and a smile.
Climbing was out of the question - the shimmering glass that made up the exterior of the hotel didn’t offer many things to hold onto.
An aerocycle could take him the rest of the distance, but that wasn’t exactly a low-profile way to get in. There were too many windows and too many people behind them that would be wondering why a man was riding around outside their hotel. It wouldn’t take long for Coalition security to show up and blow his aerocycle out of the sky before asking any other questions.
He looked again at the elevator, an idea forming in his head. One that didn’t seem particularly appealing, but it wasn’t like he had any other options.
Meade approached the elevator doors and began pulling on the right side until the gleaming silver doors slid apart.
The elevator shaft opened before him, and he could see the clouds churning over the hellacious surface below. It was a beautiful, if deadly sight.
He swallowed, trying to ignore the fear and moved into the elevator shaft, grabbing on to a rung of a service ladder.
