Pillars of light and fir.., p.131
PILLARS OF LIGHT AND FIRE: THE COMPLETE SERIES, page 131
Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want you to think of it that way.”
Kai’s brow furrowed. “We got this far. It would be a shame if we stopped now. You haven’t seen the half of it.”
He couldn’t just pretend he didn’t need them. Kai and Ed were truly happy, and he didn’t want to ruin that for them. Don’t be selfish. After being in the Cairn for a few years, it seemed unfortunate to shatter their happiness…
“It hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows, you know,” Ed said. “I’ve been training the new Kin. We have a lot more than we ever had with Avallach.”
“I thought Indiana was training.” Arthur gave Indiana a look. Indiana returned a bored expression.
“She does the advanced training. Mostly grades and ensures the Kin are ready. I do everything I can to get them to that point.”
“You always did like playing drill instructor.”
“The hand and the beard scare the piss out of some of the new ones.”
“Like a ginger pirate Viking,” Kai said.
“Are you helping him train?” Arthur said to Kai.
“Hell no. That isn’t for me. I have a new team.” Kai motioned to the four people around her.
“Ah.” Arthur surveyed the team, made up of Sam Brastius, Lamar Jones, and Ed Tiwaz.
“This is the Crown Guard.”
“Crown? Not Sword?”
“Crown. These are your team members,” Ed said.
Arthur glanced at Indiana. “Bodyguards.”
“Told you,” Indiana said. She took his coffee and sipped it.
Kai shook her head. “A team here to help you accomplish your mission.”
“To keep me out of trouble?”
“It is a bad habit of yours,” Ed said.
“I don’t need bodyguards.” Arthur felt the tremor in his hand. He switched hands when Indiana gave his coffee back. “All Avallach. No new Kin?”
“Do you know any of the Kin?” Indiana said.
“I know Miss Younger.”
Indiana made a fist, as though she intended to make good on her promise to stab someone and wasn’t ruling Arthur out.
“Do you trust them?” Kai asked.
“I feel a conspiracy,” Arthur said, but he had to admit, he liked having his friends around him. How much have they gone through with me? Though they had changed through the years, they were, at their core, his people, his tribe. They sweated, worked, and fought beside him. Sam had even died once. Lamar’s back had been broken in a battle with Arthur’s obsessed clone, Owen LaFayette. Kai had been tortured and used to find out Avallach’s technological secrets. Ed had lost a hand fighting a battle in DC against… Come to think of it, they’d all been damaged at some point. Change comes at a price.
“Wait,” Arthur said, turning back to Ed. “You’re training new Kin. You can’t be training them all alone. Who are you working with?”
“Mara Holt and Kara Doc,” Ed said.
Arthur gave Indiana a questioning look.
“It’s been a few years. You’ve missed a lot,” Indiana said. “The Chevaliers and Paladins and Hounds are just flavors of the Kin now. We belong together and we’re much stronger for it.”
Arthur finished his coffee. “I should go back to the Cairn. It seems like you have everything settled without my help.”
Ed punched Arthur in the arm with his new hand. “Nice try, grumpy old man.”
Arthur rubbed his arm in pain. “Tell me more about the Kin.”
Ed’s eyes twinkled. “Oh boy, is there a lot to show you.”
“Has anyone seen Gal?” And find out what is going on with the Grail. All he’d worked for up to this point relied on the Grail and finding it.
“She’ll be along,” Indiana said, and the set of her jaw with Arthur told him that it brooked no argument.
“I will get to see her, right? She’s still the Prophet?”
“The Crown Guard will escort you to the medical facilities for your screening.”
“You need four other people?”
“I’m feeling extra stabby,” Indiana said.
Arthur held on to this moment when he was surrounded by his friends of many years. “I give.” He set down his coffee mug and the group went to the elevator shaft. The door whisked open and the team entered. Kai smiled at him. “It’s good to see you,” she said again.
“You too.” This felt like much more than just an honor guard or bodyguards. He was overwhelmed by love and devotion for these friends, these companions, this family he’d grown over the last decade. Sure, Kai and Ed had been a part of his life since as long as he could remember, but Lamar and Sam had stuck with him. Kai chose them perfectly. They will keep me going to the end. He swelled with pride at the thought, mixed with profound sadness. I will miss this. And then he thought of the problem of the Templars. He needed to face that directly. He turned it over in his head for a while. There were a number of ways to address it, but the longer he left it to fester, the worse it would become. There was so much left to do! What did Gal know? What should he let her know?
They stopped on a level deep within Perilous.
“We’ve needed to reengineer what was, based on what we’re planning for Avalon. The tower is nearly complete, but the anchor needs to be deeper. From what we’ve gauged from Qabr’s creation”—she pointedly avoided mentioning that it had taken the destruction of Tripoli to create it—“it’s sufficient for what we’ll need.”
“Something I should know about?”
Indiana smiled. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Time for your physical.”
6
Twin Blades
OUTSIDE STAR CITY, MOSCOW, RUSSIAN FEDERATION—
Leto raised his hands and turned around. The bouncer patted him down for weapons. The door opened, and the pulsing beat of the music radiated into the air.
“Good,” the man said in Russian, sweeping his fingers in front of Leto’s finely tailored suit. “Nice suit. English?”
“Gieves and Hawkes,” Leto replied.
The bouncer nodded sagely. The door opened from the inside and Leto strode into the writhing mass of humanity. The beat pressed him against the wall. He scanned the aircraft hangar turned rave. Laser lights and beams flashed over the crowd and screens showed flickers of movie clips or people in various stages of undressing and dancing. I’m overdressed, but it’s better than wearing the uniform.
Leto pushed into the dancing crowd, aware of the mass of bodies against him. Despite the freezing temperatures outside, it was a sauna in here. Leto unbuttoned his coat and jammed his gloves into his pockets. He pushed his manifest down to its minimum, as the enhanced senses nearly overwhelmed him with the sounds and smells of humanity around him. Hands slid over his body, some accidentally, some intentionally. There wasn’t anything to worry about here. If anyone had a weapon, they would be surprised by what would happen.
Towering over all the of partygoers was an old Buran-style space shuttle. Painted over in graffiti, it sparkled with laser beams and black light as people danced on its short wings. It had been partially dismantled or never completed—it was hard to be sure. Officially, there was only one Buran shuttle, so this had to be an unofficial one that had survived the fall of the Soviet Union. Though “survived” was perhaps too kind a word. Naked people danced behind its tiny windows. The living dancing on the corpse of the past. He forged his way to it, then under it; the underside was painted with more lurid images.
“You don’t like the music?” a woman whispered in his ear. She pressed against him. Her fingers slid over his, clasping the hand that held Caliburn.
“It’s not music,” he replied in Russian.
“You’re not dancing,” the woman said, hips gyrating against his. He spun to face Petya Piotrovna Valentinova, a Federation Cosmos augment. She wore a tiny gold dress that flashed and undulated under the strobing lights. Her legs and arms were bare. She grinned. He drove his heat into the manifest, but not too much… as bright as the lights were, the halo around him would be noticeable.
“I don’t dance,” he replied.
“Do you fight then, American Centurion?” she said.
Leto nodded.
She put his hand on her hip and moved with the music. Her hair shifted and changed in the light, and Leto realized she had an ultraviolet wash in her hair that reacted to the bouncing laser lights. He pressed against her, but she pulled away, her hand still gripping his. She had him, he knew. His other self wanted control. No.
“I’m not here to fight. I’m here to watch.”
“I can give you a show,” Petya said, pulling him farther under the belly of the Buran’s carcass. His head brushed the bottom of the shuttle, but Petya had no problems. She was barefoot, dangerous around the rest of the crowd, who wore spiked heels or heavy boots. Her sculpted legs moved with a possessive surety, and she shoved against anyone who threatened their personal space. She’s bait. He scanned the sea of humanity that moved back and forth beneath space whale above him. He’d flown all the way out here to retrieve the Cosmos trio, and they’d said they had a technology demonstration for him.
Petya’s fingers clasped his so tightly he felt Caliburn grinding as she danced and pulled and moved them toward the rear section of the shuttle. Petya occasionally pressed his hand against her body as though he were a lover or her choice of companion for the night. She lingered here and there, patting a man who surveyed Leto with glazed eyes, or sharing a kiss with two women who put their hands on Leto, searching for anything about him. These were the guards of whomever this game was for. Leto was moving into a more dangerous realm, or rather it would have been dangerous if he were powerless. Petya squeezed his sword hand, as if reading his thoughts.
“We’re almost at the show.” She ground her backside against him, a flicker of a smile in the light. Her skin shone with sweat mixed with glitter. How many of the people here were GRU—Russian intelligence? Had he walked into a trap? He felt sorry for the partygoers, but that was the hypersexualized danger they were in. While his hands lingered over Petya’s body, his eyes scanned the crowd.
Forget the crowd. Worry about what is closest. He reined in his senses, letting his eyes move over the people he passed. The path appeared random, sometimes moving back or along the wall, but there was a place in mind for Petya. Petya turned toward him and he studied the planes of her face in the shifting light. She seemed like a chimera, and the body glitter did the same to her features as the ultraviolet wash did to her hair. Was that intentional? Were there cameras here, trying to study his face? The strap of her dress slipped from an angular shoulder. He slid his free hand along her arm to push the strap back up, covering her half-exposed breast. “Nice view?” she said, her head tilting.
He examined the massive drive cones of the Buran, registering her double entendre. They pulsed with light, as though the engines were alive, but bodies danced in the shadow of the bright floodlights strobing and throbbing. Men and women moved in the lights, bodies naked and glowing, and Leto realized that this might be an interpretation of the augments and the God Cannon’s lance effect. Was there a Cosmo up there?
“Alluring,” he said, turning back to Petya, and he almost fell down into the set of stairs that were camouflaged in the dark. Catching himself, he followed her down into the darkness, passing partygoers who were otherwise engaged. She held on to his hand. They turned a corner on the landing and the pulsing waves of the music dropped away sharply. Petya’s fingers slipped into her tiny handbag. They came out with a set of delicate-looking brass knuckles. These were the kactet, the Cosmo version of the focal rings and gauntlets. Her fingers clasped the instrument and slipped into the waistband of his pants. The metal was cold against his skin. She gave him a little pat and led him down the steps into the labyrinth below the hangar. Leto had visions of a caricature of a Russian mob boss at the end of the hall with a cluster of bodyguards showing off ostentatious wealth and having something like a bloody cage match. He shook his head at the foolish thought and they entered into the lair of… a Russian mob boss.
“Welcome, Centurion,” the clean-cut man said behind a plain and simple desk. “Do you like our little party?”
A man patted him down and then did the same to Petya, taking her purse and tossing it onto a table.
“I’ve seen better,” Leto replied. No point in hiding what I am.
“Better how? Better class of people?”
“Better security, better music, better hosts.”
The man laughed. “I like that.” The smile vanished when he switched to English. “You have no reason to be here.”
“I’m not sure why I’m really here, except to meet up with my counterparts.”
“The Cosmos,” the man spat. “They aren’t any better than their GRU handlers.”
Leto raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like them? They are your countrymen.”
“I liked it better when we had the Chevaliers. They were at least well paid and didn’t answer to the government.”
Petya pushed him toward a seat across from the man. Leto settled down and studied the boss. He wasn’t a Russian mobster. He was something the Cosmos wanted removed. Leto studied the room. It was an office of sorts, with yellowed drawings of various components of the Buran.
“You’re looking for the Cosmos?” the man asked. “You’re in the wrong place. No Cosmos here. Why are you really here?”
“I was here for a demons—” Leto began. Something flickered at the edge of his vision.
“A what?” the man asked.
“A demonstration,” Leto continued. He scanned the room, his enhanced vision picking out things in detail. He drew in more manifest energy.
“A demonstration of what? You augments are dangerous to have around.”
“I could be on my way,” Leto said.
That’s when the ghost struck. The waveblade appeared from the man’s chest and he arched back in pain. Petya threw her body over Leto as men shouted around him. Leto tried to get up, but Petya’s hand was down his pants… “Don’t move,” she whispered.
Then she was gone, a waveblade snapping in her fist as she spun and put down the men in the room. Leto sat still as people died with screams of agony.
In seconds it was over, with a score of men lying around the room. Leto shook with adrenaline and surprise. Petya stood before the door, her waveblade at the ready. It was hard to believe she had killed them all, but she hadn’t killed the man behind the desk. A shape appeared next to him in neutral gray. A second one appeared on the other side of him. A helmet hissed as one of them unlatched it and a bald man with lined features looked down at him. “Centurion Director LaFayette?”
The other took off her helmet, showing the sweat-soaked face of Oxana Piotrovna Valentinova, Petya’s twin sister. Her hair was done up in a severe bun, and her eyes had none of her sister’s mischievousness. Blood was splashed across her chest plate.
“Cosmos Viktorov and Valentinova?” Leto said.
“Fantom suits,” Viktorov said, and Leto felt immense heat radiating from the man and the suit. “Has some deficiencies, but we think these will be useful for your team.”
“Who was he?” Leto said of the man behind the desk.
Oxana shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“I’m not sure it does.”
Petya stood down from her duty at the door. “We can leave.”
“Satisfied with the demonstration?” Viktorov asked.
“Useful. Visceral,” Leto said.
“I’ll give details. My team is yours.”
“Petya will escort you to our training cell.” Viktorov picked up the helmet and put it back on. “We’ll leave as we came. Unseen.”
Petya picked up her purse and dropped her focal band into it. She traded looks with her sister, who donned her helmet and vanished silently. Leto could just pick them out, but he had to know where they were. Nice trick. Petya tugged on his sword arm and he followed her back up. With each step he took, he thought of the many lessons the Cosmos had just taught him—the importance of planning, ruthlessness, cunning, and a willingness to follow orders without questioning the reasons why. Was the Russian Federation really handing him someone like this? Or was it a warning to not cross the Cosmos themselves?
* * *
The apartment they entered was nondescript. It was clean, modern, and minimalist, though it seemed of another era. He shut the door and Petya dropped her purse onto the counter and stretched. “It’s been a long time,” she said.
Leto said nothing.
Petya opened a drawer and threw him a handheld device. “Piotr’s already swept this place, but feel free to.”
“That’s all right, Petya. I wanted to hear you say it is all.” Leto smiled. “Cosmo training hasn’t been too bad on you?”
Petya shrugged. “It didn’t kill me, and the Federation thinks Oxana and I are their best.” She was bored talking to him. “She won’t be back for a while. I want to talk to you.”
“I’m right—”
Petya slapped him hard. The shock of it snapped him to full awareness, but not before she kneed him in the groin, her own KE field slamming into his before he noticed she wore her kactet. Caliburn flared and when he came up, her hand was on his wrist and she was pressing her lips to his.
Mordred tasted blood. She’d bitten his lip. “You’ve gotten vicious in your old age,” he said.
Petya licked her lips and threw her arms around his neck. “Much better, kitti.”
He kissed her, then shoved her back. “You really pissed him off, you know.” He motioned with the waveblade.
Petya flicked her waveblade and moved into a feral crouch. “I’ve learned some new tricks, zolotoy.”
“Have you now?” Mordred winced from her earlier attack, but the pain was receding.
She pounced, lunging with her blade, but when he pulled his waveblade up, she moved to the side, the blade coming up. He batted her swing away and stepped into her aggressive attack. They danced across the bare floor, her feet slapping and his soles silent. She was incredibly good. As good as the silver-haired woman he’d faced two days ago. He ducked into her reach, drawing an arm around her waist and throwing her across the room. She toppled over the sofa with a crash. He advanced.
