Syndicate's Pawns (15 page)

 

Part 3

AMBITION'S GAMBIT

 

CHAPTER 27

JESSIE

We can be so brilliant when we choose to be. And equally as horrible as well. Is it any wonder, then, why the Machina are confused with regards to us?

—­Gruemor “The Owl,” Alexandran scholic

20th of SSM–11 1445 A2E

J
essie didn't really know what she was hoping to accomplish by boarding the enemy ship. In fact, there were some very good chances that both she and Phaël could wind up getting themselves killed. Better that, thought Jessie, than capture. Their foes were all calculated players, and had managed to control the game since the beginning. Therefore, the best way to regain the upper hand was to act in an unpredictable manner.

Her emergency lifesuit was a wonder to Jessie. It was light and the limbs were fully articulated. She could even look over her shoulder, a feature not available in her day. A heads-­up display was projected on her transparent face guard, and while Jessie was still struggling to read Pax Common she was able to figure out which counter indicated her remaining oxygen and her heart rate.

“Above” them, as if it were their skyline, was the green, purple and blue gas giant world of Moria. Thousands of years ago, her version of Humanity had made it all the way here, from Earth, with none of the wonderful technology now readily available in this time. Jessie wondered, briefly, if Moria had a different name now. Yet another question among a never ending and ever growing list of questions that Jessie would have to find answers to.

“Eyes on the prize, cowgirl,” Jessie said to herself as she and Phaël ran alongside the hull of the
Jinxed Thirteenth
, hoping to board and seriously damage an enemy vessel. Jessie couldn't help but find the situation incredibly odd. She was a former engineer, a gear head and a glorified maintenance person. Yet here she was, armed with her customized plasma cutters and a bag full of murder balls. From engineer to pirate. Jessie wondered sardonically what her next career choice would be. Right now, the Covenant equivalent of a desk job was sounding like a thrilling prospect.

Before them both, ­coupled to the
Jinxed
with a leather-­like tube, was the
Althena
. Phaël pointed to the tube then to Jessie's bag. “Good idea,” Jessie said.

They made their way to the tube and Jessie dropped to her knees, unfolding the clasp of her bag and pulling out two of the dozen or so spheres Phaël and she had reclaimed from the medical bay. “Let's see how well you like the taste of your own shit,” Jessie said to the
Althena
in English as she handed one sphere to Phaël.

Phaël deftly pulled off the safety seal from it, making sure to keep her thumb pressed down on the release trigger. She held up four fingers on her hand then pointed to the
Althena
and made a jumping motion toward it. Jessie could already tell that she wasn't going to like this.

“Ready?” Phaël asked as she placed the grenade beneath the tubing.

“No.” Jessie promised herself to keep this little story a secret from her daughter.

Phaël released the button, gracefully leapt off the
Jinxed Thirteenth
, and caught onto the edge of the
Althena
. Jessie followed suit close behind, counting down from four. She looked over her shoulder and saw the silver sphere spring open, unleashing what appeared to be a spring loaded laser whirlwind.

The monofilament wires sliced through the hide of the docking tunnel as if it were nothing and Jessie could see air being sucked out and red lights flashing on the
Jinxed Thirteenth
and the
Althena
alike. There was little time to celebrate as she turned only to realize that she had miscalculated her jump entirely. She was falling past the
Althena
and was glad to see Phaël running just beneath her.

She extended her arm toward Phaël, who tossed the end of one of her whips toward her. Jessie reached out and barely managed to catch it. She quickly wrapped the end of the vine around her wrist. Before the rope could go taut, Phaël tugged on her end, softly pulling Jessie back toward the
Althena
and the safety of a stable surface.

Jessie positioned herself to land magboots first onto the ship's hull and braced herself. As she collided with the hull, she was glad that her lifesuit absorbed the majority of the impact. Phaël rushed over to Jessie and helped her up. “The Huntress doesn't get you today.”

Jessie breathed in deeply and accepted Phaël's assistance as she helped her back up. “She has better things to do.” With the tube weightlessly flapping, Jessie and Phaël could both now make out the ship's entrance.

“I really want to hurt these humps.”

Jessie had never really considered herself a violent woman. As a matter of fact she had been one of the many active protesters against Earth Gov's saber rattling toward the Venusian colonies. Despite her earlier pacifism, Jessie was learning that her tune could change with incredible speed. She, too, shared Phaël's desire, not just to beat their foes, but to make them hurt. Jessie figured that being the target for a team of merciless criminals would no doubt have a similar effect on anyone else.

Phaël and Jessie cautiously made their way toward the
Althena
's entrance. As they made their approach a panel opened itself from the hull, and what appeared to be a jet-­black, arm's-­length crane lowered and unfurled itself in front of them. Phaël let out an angered hiss and rushed toward a nearby heat vent panel, catching Jessie's hand and dragging her along.

“Well, fuck!” Jessie didn't need anyone to explain to her what this was. Even in her time, several ships had come equipped with intrusion countermeasures, the number one being the good old reliable autoturret.

The turret opened fire. Jessie and Phaël were fortunate enough to find cover from the incoming volley as they both ducked behind a nearby heating vent panel. Jessie could still feel the heavy impact of the turret's relentless flurry of firepower hitting the small bit of cover they were lucky to be sharing right now.

“Is there any move these assholes did not anticipate?” Jessie shouted, and slammed her fist in frustration on the
Althena
's hull. There was nowhere to go. They were pinned, and like Phaël would have said, properly humped.

 

CHAPTER 28

MORWYN

None of your secrets are safe from us, Prefect Silenus. Carry on your warmongering towards my ­people and we will make sure that they are exposed for all to see.

—­Vrex Ai'Zahul, Kohbran gene lector

20th
of SSM–11 1445 A2E

“M
orwyn Soltaine, my name is Zanza Ai Karai, and our thoughts are now one.”

Floating in total darkness, Morwyn felt completely powerless. He was still in his body still aware of his thoughts, memories and personality but he knew that he was not alone. There was someone else sharing his mind with him, a stranger whom he could feel riffling through his memories as if they were files in a computer operating system. This place was lonely, dark and cold.

“What do you want with me?”

The feeling of powerlessness and fear was suddenly overshadowed by an impression of comfort and compassion. “Time is short for both of us, Morwyn Soltaine.”

Where Zanza's voice had been void of any warmth and compassion in the real world, it now sounded kind, sweet and quite friendly. “What are you talking about?”

“Domiant and his crew do not suspect that I am not what I claim to be.”

“And what do you claim to be?” Morwyn was still suspicious of the voice. None of his past training had prepared him for a psionic. This could very well be a trick; an illusion to keep him distracted while Zanza riffled through and acquired all of his memories and secrets.

“I am not a criminal, Morwyn Soltaine.” Zanza spoke through the fog and darkness. “And I apologize to you for this. Rest assured that I will not read what you have not given me permission to. Your secrets and mind are safe.”

“I do not believe you.”

There was a feeling of disappointment that was not his own suddenly flowing over him. And he knew in that moment that Zanza was sharing her emotions with him. He did not know how she was doing it, only that she was. Amongst those feelings was an impression of purpose, community, loyalty and a code. Morwyn knew that he would come to trust her.

That thought seemed to please Zanza. “I am a gene lector assassin, a Covenant sanctioned legal operative sent out into the cosmos to protect my home.”

“And just where is home?” It was only fair that he know where his interrogator hailed from.

“Here.” Suddenly an image flooded itself into Morwyn's mind and in the real world his hands balled up into tense fists. A tree, huge, easily the size of a small moon, and on it Morwyn could recognize structures, building and homes. It was being pulled through the endless sea of stars by what looked like a pair of giant gray-­skinned eyeless serpents. Morwyn recognized the City Tree and two serpents as Leviathans, the largest living bio-­organisms in the known cosmos.

“That is Karai, largest City Tree in the universe and my adopted home.” There was a feeling of safety and belonging when Zanza spoke. “The Leviathans are always moving, pulling the City Trees and the hundreds of thousands of my ­people throughout the endless seas.”

“Yes, I have read about them,” Morwyn replied.

“Then you must know what happens when a Leviathan is killed.” The image of a far smaller tree suddenly replaced Karai; this one was awash in flames. A Leviathan floated limply by its side with veritable seas of blood oozing out and forming giant bubbles around it. “That was my first home, Morwyn Soltaine. Foriel, city of starlight and love.”

“By the Infinite.” Morwyn watched in horror as he realized that what he thought was debris floating about the tree was actually countless bodies of dead or dying Kohbran. He could feel the pure fiery hatred, the desire for blood, the need for vengeance filling up inside of him, and he knew that those feelings, that fire, were Zanza's.

Part of him wanted to howl and mirror the naked pain and outrage flowing through him, but before he was overwhelmed by the astronomical grief of having lost every single person he had ever known and loved, he was once more transported to the dark quiet place.

“I have spent my entire life training and begging the fates for vengeance. I know that someone within the Syndicate contracted out the destruction of my home. My quest has taken me far from Karai, but I managed to infiltrate Domiant's crew because I know that at least two serving under his command were involved in the death of my first home and family.”

There was a long silence, and Morwyn could tell that Zanza was waiting for him to answer. “I believe you. So what do we do now?”

There was relief and satisfaction in Zanza's voice. “I cannot allow Domiant to claim your ship or the last living Human. He is a dangerous foe and will do everything in his power to use her as leverage to become a more important piece on the Syndicate's board.”

“We can stop him together.”

“It will not be that simple, Morwyn Soltaine. I cannot risk breaking my cover. I have invested too much time and energy toward my goal to have it lost because of our fated encounter.” There was a heavy aura of loneliness emanating from Zanza's voice. Morwyn could not help but feel sorry for her. He could tell that the feeling was appreciated by Zanza.

“I am going to set you free, then you will have to do whatever it takes to capture and arrest the crew of the
Althena
.”

“There is going to be a catch.”

He knew that in the real world, Zanza smiled when he thought this. “Yes there is. In order for me to preserve my cover, I am going to make you forget this entire exchange ever happened. I am sorry.”

“No wai . . .”

M
orwyn blinked and rubbed his sore wrists. He was alone in the gravity rings, which were now active and rotating once more. The Kohbran criminal Domiant had called Zanza was passed out at his feet. His jaw was sore, as if it had been struck. Her hands were bound with plastic zip-­ties and Morwyn stared at the heavy obsidian stun-­stick in his hand. His ser­vice blaster was holstered and he shook his head. The memories of how he had broken free were foggy, due to the Somapoline laced into the ship's air.

Clasped in Zanza's left hand was her rebreather. It would fit over his mouth and nose. In her present condition, Morwyn figured that Zanza would not mind if he borrowed it from her. Before slipping on the rebreather, Morwyn felt beneath his impact vest into his uniform breast pocket and pulled out his small silver flask of brandy and took himself a stiff sip.

The brandy was like a small fire down his throat, but it helped wash away the soreness and pain from his encounter with the Wolver Blade Dancer, Sopherim. He slipped the mask on, holstered his sidearm and silently made his way out of the grav ring. Enough was enough; it was time to reclaim his ship.

 

CHAPTER 29

PHAËL

The key to hunting as a pack is dividing the prey's attention. If they do not know where the next attack is coming from, they will be unable to defend against it.

—­Rolyan Jingo Nem'Ador, Master Blade Dancer

20th of SSM–11 1445 A2E

T
he repetitive impact of pulse round fire against her cover was a familiar feeling to Phaël. She silently gave praise to both the Huntress and the Living Green for the good fortune of cover, as it was giving her time to think. Jessie's mounting panic was plain to see on her face. She might have been a very courageous woman in her day, but Jessie was no soldier; she had not fought in wars. This was probably her first time in a real firefight.

Phaël, on the other hand? She had known violence almost her entire life. This was not her first time facing technological nightmares. It was easy to become reliant and almost complacent when machines could do the work and the thinking for you. That included, no doubt, this mindless sentry gun.

Was it dangerous? Yes. But dangerous did not mean smart. The Living Green would never bless these deadly contraptions with the only real tool the Wolvers and the rest of the Humanis for that matter possessed, and that tool was intelligence.

A Humanis shooter would no doubt have stopped firing and waited for Jessie and Phaël to try and break cover. Not so with this soulless machine. Phaël also knew for a fact that there was no way the turret could target them both.

She looked to Jessie and they both knew staying here would only lead to capture, death or worse. Phaël made a running motion with her fingers, pointed to herself going one way and Jessie going in the other. Jessie's eyes went wide with apprehension, but this didn't prevent her from pulling out her two plasma cutters and letting out a ready grunt.

There was no need for a countdown. As one they both jumped out of cover in separate directions. As predicted, the autoturret stopped firing as it tried to lock on a target. Phaël sprang toward it and cast out both her whips, binding it in place. Jessie rolled along the hull and managed to engage her suit's magboots. The autoturret struggled to break free from Phaël's vine whips; the machine's efforts were wasted as Jessie took aim with her weapons and fired two purple plasma bolts at it.

Jessie's shots found their mark, striking the turret at its base and severing it cleanly from the
Althena
. The sparking turret floated away from them and Jessie hooted a “hoorah” as she rushed over to the ship's main airlock. As to be expected, the entrance was locked.

Jessie quickly began to examine the airlock entrance and found a panel she could unfasten with the tools on her fingertips. “I think I can open this.”

“Machina Chord could do this in seconds.” Phaël watched their flank, making sure no one was coming for them.

For her part Jessie was adjusting the fingertips of her gloves into the proper tools she needed for the job. “That's great.” Her tone was curt; Phaël figured that she did not appreciate being compared to a machine.

The tall shape of Niko, encased in his crimson combat armor, suddenly stepped out from the torn remains of the walkway. He was carrying a heavy looking Thegran carbine and when he spotted Jessie and Phaël at the entrance of the Althena he leapt off the
Jinxed
and landed a few steps away from them.

“I need more time,” Jessie said, not once taking her eyes off her work.

Before Niko could say or do anything, Phaël leapt at him. He was big and her initial assessment of him was that he would therefore be slow. It was a mistake and one that almost cost Phaël her life. He quickly sidestepped her, catching Phaël's heel in a vise-­like grip and slamming her violently onto the
Althena
's hull.

Phaël grunted in pain as she felt more of her stitches snap apart. Stars peppered her field of vision, but her hands were already reaching for her vine whips. There would be time enough for pain when she was done sending this brute to meet the Huntress.

He pointed the barrel of his heavy carbine at Phaël. “Dead or alive, flex girl, you will be my personal play-­toy when this is done.”

If he had used his ranged weapon at a distance, it might have been a threat to Phaël, but this close? Perhaps not all Humanis made as much use of their intelligence as she had been led to believe. Phaël lunged up with a kick, slapping the gun away from her before wrapping her other leg on his trigger hand.

Niko easily deadlifted Phaël off the ground but was unable to shake her off as she wrapped her second leg around his trigger arm. He tried to punch her with his free fist, but Phaël merely used his captured limb as a lever and flipped onto his shoulders while keeping his gun arm pointed upward and away from both her and Jessie.

Niko grunted aggressively as he struggled to get her off his shoulder. He tried to grab her once more, and Phaël dropped off his shoulders behind him, doing a handstand while still not releasing his gun-­arm. Had the humping fool just dropped his weapon and tried to engage her using his combat augments, he would no doubt have bested her. Or at least posed more of a threat.

Like most Kelthans she had come to know, Niko thought that his weapon was what made him dangerous, rather than the other way around. Because of this, Phaël was able to grab one of her whips and bind his gun-­wrist. Before he could react, Phaël released his arm and pushed herself past and between his legs. As she did, she quickly kicked him behind both his knees, where his armor would no doubt be at its weakest.

Niko let out a surprised yelp as the impact of her blows caused him to stagger down on one knee. Phaël did not let her momentum die down as she quickly tied both his gun-­arm and leg together with her vine whip. Like a captured beast, Niko tried to pull himself free from his bindings, although it was doubtful to Phaël that his task would be easy. Her vine whips had been bred by generations of Breedmasters on Uldur to be as durable as diamond wire rope. This didn't mean that Niko wouldn't be able to undo the knot as he still had a free hand.

“You would have done better without this.” Phaël kicked the carbine from out of Niko's hand, caught it deftly with her foot and hurled it into the void with all the might she could muster.

“You humping dog!” Niko shouted as Phaël cartwheeled out of the way of a wild backhanded swing from his free arm.

Phaël looked past her shoulder to see that Jessie had finally managed to open the airlock. She could feel blood trickling down her back. Niko was already trying to unfasten the knot to his bindings. This was not the ideal setting for a fight. Alone, Phaël didn't think she could best this man. With Jessie, however, in close quarters where his superior size and strength would count for nothing?

“Catch us if you can, abomination.”

Phaël spun around and ran toward the open entrance, where Jessie was waiting for her. Niko managed to break himself free just as Phaël made it onto the
Althena
. Jessie pulled a lever and the door closed itself between them and Niko. Two large pulse pistols were in his hands, mechanized from pressurized holsters in his wrists. He started firing at them in rage, but his pulse rounds bounced harmlessly off the airlock door. The airlock began to repressurize itself and Phaël took a moment to catch her breath. They were inside the enemy nest; it was time to wreak some havoc.