Elite

by Allen Stroud

  My Leonid contact ensures me that everything is ready at their end. I’m having difficulty finding a replacement for David. As a security guard, his clearance level made the job a lot easier. If I can’t find another in the next two rotations, I know a janitor we could trust. Not a safe bet, but it will have to do …

  Awaiting signal. Reg out.

  -- End of transmission --

  Chapter 34: The Terrorist

  ‘Everybody on the floor with your hands behind your heads!’ Jallin yelled.

  The building lobby remained in tense silence as people complied. Gebrial stared at the corpse of the woman receptionist lying face down in a pool of her own blood. Somehow, seeing a dead body here on a pristine-tiled floor was far more horrific than watching people being gunned down at the resistance base in the crater. Perhaps because she wasn’t armed, Gebrial thought.

  ‘We are revolutionaries!’ Bowles shouted. ‘Here to bring the word of freedom to the masses. This act will be the first of many in our struggle. We are here to wake you up and unite the people!’

  ‘Bowles, shut up,’ Harker growled as he came through the doors rifle in hand, Renner two steps behind him with a man and a woman Gebrial didn’t recognise. Harker turned to one of them. ‘Get these people into a secure room,’ he ordered. ‘I want us out of this shooting gallery and into somewhere defensible, quickly!’

  Jallin knelt over the receptionist’s body and removed a bloody swipe card from around her neck. She threw it to Gebrial who caught it instinctively. ‘Time to earn your dues,’ Jallin said.

  ‘What do you want me to—’

  ‘Use the card and get some doors open,’ Jallin pointed at a large entrance to the staircase, near the lifts. ‘Security will lock down everything, but we need to get out of this room.’

  ‘Leave that to me,’ Bowles said. He plucked the card out of Gebrial’s hands and moved to the dead receptionist’s console. ‘Ashoria central security codes’ll override control of the building.’

  ‘We need a way to the regulator room,’ Jallin said, ‘and quickly.’

  Another audible click and the staircase doors swung open. ‘That should do,’ Bowles announced. ‘Six floors up, entrance on the right.’

  ‘Good work,’ Harker said.

  ‘Just the start,’ Bowles said. ‘Building security will be following you on cameras and Ashoria Central will have been notified by now,’ Bowles said.

  ‘What’s the response time?’

  ‘About six minutes, means we have three and a half left to get the power off and find a place to hole up.’

  The crowd from the lobby were being escorted out through the doors in twos by the others. Gebrial counted sixteen terrified faces. ‘Aren’t we supposed to be the liberators?’ she asked.

  ‘Most people here don’t want to be saved,’ Jallin said. ‘They’re Spacers or near enough, with their noses in the trough.’

  ‘Afterwards, they’ll live on this planet too.’

  ‘We haven’t time to offer room service around here,’ Harker said.

  ‘But the woman—’

  ‘Put herself in the way. You still got your slate?’

  Gebrial nodded pulled it out and powered it on. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘You’re right about one thing,’ Jallin said. ‘We must persuade as well as draw attention. LaveSec will block the signature code of your last transmission, so you’ll need to change that if you know how. Once you do, start getting the word out. We’ll put you in with the hostages. You talk to them and see if any can be convinced.’

  ‘Convince them of what?’ Gebrial said. ‘This isn’t even my planet.’

  ‘Right now, it needs to be,’ Jallin said. She checked the magazine of her rifle and thumbed off the safety. ‘Ready to go, sir.’

  ‘Good,’ Harker said. ‘Renner, you lead the way.’

  * * *

  After ten minutes of waiting by the count of chronometer on the wall, Bertrum decided Walden wasn’t coming back.

  The arm functions on the chair were limited, but he managed to turn off the exterior vista and brought up the room lights. There were no voice activated controls and no Niamh audio response system. He knew why, as Walden had said, only I come here and I don’t watch my own speeches.

  Did that mean no recording? No monitoring of any kind?

  Bertrum pulled the replacement batteries from his pocket and clipped them into the exo unit. The servoes vibrated as the system re-initialised. Bertrum had never been so glad to hear that noise in his life.

  Once he’d restored power, he stood up from the chair and went to the touchscreen desk on the far side of the room. He opened up the panel, hunting for a data entry plate. When he found one, he placed the card he’d taken from Gramos on it.

  The system took a moment to initialise before a small holoscreen appeared showing the list of files, one, a video, which he sent to the main display.

  A face appeared, a face he recognised.

  Leyla ...

  She wore a dress he’d bought for her on her thirty-fifth birthday. The living room of their home was in the background. ‘What follows is an executive summary on all technical data we’ve managed to acquire from official sources. This is far from complete, but does give us a rudimentary idea of what Walden’s strategy might be ...’ her voice trailed off and she looked away, wiping her eye, before continuing. ‘At this stage we have no reason to trust any senior figure in the planetary admission ... including my husband.’

  The screen went black. Bertrum leaned on the desk for support. Leyla?

  A new image appeared; a three-dimensional projection of a DNA strand.

  ‘This genetic sample is from a yield on Lave’s main farming region in Neudaal,’ Leyla explained. ‘The same wheat germ stock imported to the Diso system last year. The plant has been spliced with an unusual alien composite.’ Several sections of the projection began to flash in different colours. ‘Aside from the germ, at least three separate organism sequences have been added. Some highly advanced microsequencing is involved, but essentially, these plants are programmed with a maturing culture.’ Leyla’s image reappeared. ‘The most complex of these three organisms is native to Lave. Indeed, because of this, we believe this work cannot be done anywhere else.’

  ‘I believe this culture to be a toxic composite. The processes involved in development were highly complex and must have included substantive clinical trials. Our tests conclude it is unresponsive to standard inoculation methods. Whatever this is, the Diso harvest is in and will be transported by Orange Star freighters to every planet with a Lavian trade agreement. The most effective way of ensuring any toxin reaches a wide number of recipients, is to insert it into the food supply.’

  ‘Alongside this file, you will find detailed testing that supports these conclusions.’ Leyla nodded curtly at the camera. ‘Thank you for listening.’

  The screen went blank.

  Bertrum re-opened the drive index on the holoscreen, checking the list of files. He recognised some from his own personal accounts and the Ashorian prefectorate. His left hand dug into the unyielding plascrete surface of the desk, until he felt a tingling pain in his fingertips.

  Leyla, how could you?

  He realised up until the moment he’d seen her face on the screen he’d thought she was innocent, that Walden had rounded her up as collateral and she’d be released. How long was this going on? Did I ever really know you?

  Bertrum’s hands hovered over the touchscreen. A gesture and two key presses would wipe the drive and destroy all the data. Walden had arrested most of the conspirators, if there were more, he would find them. The alternative was to use the station comms. He opened the panel. Access required an activation, which would be monitored. The room was equipped with both a planetary broadcast transmitter and an out-system messager. He considered transmitting the file to the galactic datanet. It would reach Federal and Imperial agents in minutes, along with everyone else. He’d save hundreds of worlds, but I’
ll be dead seconds later. Bertrum sighed, disappointed in his own hesitation. I’m not brave enough to be a martyr.

  He pulled the drive from the plate and put it back in his pocket. Then he keyed up a station schematic. Walden wouldn’t trust anyone planetside with the traitors. He’ll have brought all the prisoners to the station.

  The detention level appeared on the lowest floor, near the hull of the Coriolis. Bertrum requested directions and a blue line plotted a path for him. He hesitated and glanced around. What am I doing? Even if I got down the stairs, I’d never get off the station. There had to be a guard outside the door and central surveillance on every level.

  But not in this room.

  He glanced at the chronometer. Fifteen minutes had passed since he got up, twenty-five in total since Walden had left. He looked at the door again. Would they come in and check? Probably not, they still think I’m a prisoner of the chair.

  He took a deep breath and began typing instructions.

  * * *

  The cell door slid open, the viewscreen cut out and Pietro glanced around.

  No one appeared at the entrance. He frowned, waited a few seconds and sat up.

  Still no one.

  He swung his legs over to the floor. The centripedal gravity shifted a tiny bit as he dropped off the bed. ‘Hello?’ he called out.

  ‘Mister Devander?’

  Pietro glanced up. The response had come from the cell speakers in the ceiling. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Mister Devander, the door should be open, I need your assistance.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Pietro asked.

  ‘Someone who doesn’t have much time,’ the voice replied, definitely a man, very nervous. ‘Please, do as instructed, I promise I’ll answer all of your questions when I can.’

  ‘How many cells did you open?’

  ‘Just yours.’

  ‘Find James Gibson and direct me to his location.’

  ‘Mister Devander, you’re in no position—’

  ‘You wouldn’t have opened this door if you didn’t know what kind of person I am,’ Pietro said. ‘Unlock James Gibson’s cell and give me directions.’

  The man took a few seconds to consider the demand. ‘If I open the cell will you—’

  ‘No promises, free James then tell me what you want.’

  ‘All right, done,’ the man replied. ‘Prisoner Gibson is one floor down third door on the left. When you’ve found him, I need you to get here to me.’

  ‘Plug in to James’ room,’ Pietro said. ‘I’ll meet you there.’

  He moved out into the corridor and to the end. He touched the activation pad and the door slid open, revealing more corridor. Pietro crouched down and waited, but heard no alert or challenge from a guard. There’ll be cameras though, he thought. The second the cell door opened, this became a race.

  He moved into the next passage and ignoring the lifts, ran to the emergency stairwell. The lights remained dark, perhaps disabled by the mystery voice.

  The zip tie on Pietro’s wrists made things awkward, but for now, it couldn’t be helped. Ten stairs down to the right, a turn and ten stairs back. He found himself at an identical door on the level below, but this time there wasn’t a pad, just a card slot.

  Now what do I do?

  Suddenly the door slid open, to reveal James’ surprised face. Pietro smiled and touched a finger to his lips. The boy nodded. Pietro saw a fresh cut on his forehead, which had bled into his eyebrows. Pietro motioned him back inside and they went to James’ cell.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Pietro asked.

  ‘I’ll live,’ James said, ‘how did you get out?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Pietro said. He stared up at the ceiling and raised his voice. ‘Okay, tell us how to get to you.’

  ‘Take the lift, head down fourteen floors and straight along the corridor to the end,’ the man said, a little calmer now. ‘Watch for security. I’m sorry I can’t—’

  ‘Don’t worry about what you can’t change,’ Pietro said. ‘Lift, fourteen floors and all the way to the end, understood.’

  ‘Please hurry,’ said the man. ‘Billions of people’s lives are at stake.’

  * * *

  ‘What are they going to do with us?’

  Gebrial stared into a woman’s glazed eyes and watched her brush back a lock of hair with a shaking hand, plainly terrified, like everyone else.

  Thirty people in a small open plan office for seven, behind a locked door. There was an attached bathroom, but no windows. Not much like freedom.

  ‘If you stay calm, nothing,’ she replied, offering a reassuring smile, which had no effect.

  ‘You’re one of them,’ a man said glaring.

  ‘Yes, I guess I am,’ Gebrial replied.

  ‘You won’t get away with this, the authorities will stop you!’ said someone else.

  Gerbrial didn’t reply, but pushed past the group into the bathroom. She went to the sink, filled a basin and dunked her head into the bowl. The camo paint darkened the water instantly. She emptied and refilled, dragging her fingers through the tangled mess of hair until most of the black was gone. She went to the dryer, activated it and brushed out as much of the water as she could.

  When she was done, she walked back to where she’d been sat before, avoiding the accusing stares. She heard a muffled thump behind the wall and the lights went off, plunging them all into darkness.

  Someone screamed and everyone stopped talking.

  Gebrial sat down on the floor and put her hand on the pile of dataslates she’d taken from the lobby. ‘I was born on another planet. Where I come from, no one remembers Lave,’ she said softly.

  Murmurs of surprise greeted this and an indignant snort. ‘Must be a strange place.’

  ‘In a way,’ Gebrial said, ‘but not because of that. Travel anywhere in the Core Worlds, across the Empire and the Federation, no one remembers Lave.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘Am I?’ Gebrial asked. ‘I came here and didn’t know anything about your planet and what I found was you people don’t know anything about much else. You’ve been lied to for years and years with all this stuff about being a galactic power, working to a plan, everything made to keep you from seeing the truth.’

  No one spoke this time. Gebrial powered up one of the slates. The light from the screen caught under her chin. She remembered her father shining a torch like that and scaring her when she was young.

  ‘The worst thing is, in your hearts, most of you believe what I’m saying is true. Actually no, that’s not the worst thing. The worst thing is, some of you helped make this happen.’

  The door slid open and Bowles appeared, illuminated by an emergency light in the corridor. ‘You all right?’ he asked.

  ‘Just about,’ Gebrial replied.

  ‘The security team are locked in a separate room. Before we lost power I got a message out on the public planetary network. Hopefully the other resistance cells will find it.’

  ‘What’ll happen?’

  ‘They’ll rise up and join us,’ Bowles said, ‘and after that the people will join us.’

  ‘You’re deluded,’ a male voice accused.

  Bowles shone a torch into the room, but couldn’t pick out the speaker. ‘How many of you have lost family and friends? Had them disappear off the street or woken up to find them gone? You forgot them as well? We want Lave free. No more gates and fences, the poor working to feed the rich!’

  A stony silence greeted his words. Each person picked out by the light looked away. Gebrial frowned. There seemed no stomach for conflict here. ‘You’ve been living a lie, can’t you see that?’

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘Just because you’ve listened to a vidscreen all your life telling you different, doesn’t mean it’s right.’

  ‘Your word against Walden’s,’ the woman who spoken first said.

  ‘You have to decide who you trust,’ Gebrial said. Or, who you’re more frightened of, she thought.

  Ther
e was a muffled noise and a man pushed past Gebrial, reaching for the pistol in Bowles’s hand. For a moment, they grappled then Bowles stepped back and hit him in the head with the grip. The man cried out in pain and fell forwards onto the tiled floor.

  ‘You people need to respect us,’ Bowles breathed. He turned the torch on himself and unzipped his jacket. Underneath were several bulging packs strapped into a belt, wires protruded from them and were attached to a small box with a switch and a winking electrical light.

  Gebrial had never seen real explosives, but from what she had watched in holofilms, she guessed Bowles was wired to a bomb.

  ‘Now you understand how serious we are,’ he whispered.

  Chapter 35: The Escape

  The communications light on the console flashed.

  Bertrum froze. Could it be station security, querying his commands to open the cell doors? He keyed the message onto the holoscreen and saw the ident attached. Someone messaging the room from a ship in the system.

  He opened the transmission, audio receive only.

  ‘Incumbent, this is Elder. Emergency protocol seven is in effect! Cargo is secure, but we have incoming pursuit. I need assistance. Notify all fleet assets.’

  A garbled voice, unrecogniseable as male or female. Bertrum scanned the controls, desperately trying to find some way to do as instructed without revealing his identity. Finally, he found the record and relay command and sent the message he’d received out to a grouped set of ident codes. They had to be the Orange Star Fleet.

  Bertrum glanced around at the door again and checked the chronometer. Thirty minutes had passed since Walden left. The instinctive paranoia that served him so well in Ashoria was beginning to ask questions. What if it was all an elaborate hoax? Being left alone to find out what he’d do. Maybe a special test and they were recording his reponses?

  Get over yourself, he thought. No one’s come back because they think you’re some cripple trapped in a chair.

  The reason Walden had gone had to be connected to the emergency message. Something was happening in the system. Someone is being attacked!