Hostile alliances, p.13
Hostile Alliances, page 13
part #3 of ShadowTech Series
“No point. They’ve moved operations up to Metis.”
“But they’ll have all the research notes there. We can destroy them.”
“They’ll have copies.”
“Maybe not of everything. And…and if we take out that facility, they can’t use it to work on something even worse, can they? That makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Deva turned, looked at Wrench. He jerked back like he’d been slapped, then he turned to Chiron and nodded.
“It cuts them down,” he said.
Chiron shook his head again. “It’s too risky. After what happened at the warehouse, they’ll be wary. And it’s a high-profile target. They’ll have it protected, possibly by one of the Eves themselves.” He leaned forward, and reached down to brush his trousers, hand disappearing beneath the table. “Sorry. If we attack the facility, we risk losing too many people.”
“Then why bloody tell us!” Deva slapped the table. Her glass shook. Liquid splashed the back of her hand.
“That…was a mistake. I’m sorry. But we’ll find something for you, Deva. We don’t want to lose you.”
“Right. Because I’m an asset. I’m a tool at the bottom of a drawer, aren’t I?”
Lise leaned forward, hand stretching out, ready to speak.
Before she uttered a word the door behind Deva opened. Kit swung into the room, out of breath.
“What is it?” Chiron said.
“Party.” She took a long breath. “There’s a party coming. Reckon they might want this room.”
Chiron nodded. “Thank you.”
The server looked around, at Lise and Wrench, then at Deva. She gave a pained smile, like she wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words, then left.
The door clicked shut, then clicked again as locks engaged. Deva shivered.
“We need to leave,” Chiron said. “Immediately.”
He turned to the red hanging and pushed it aside.
Brice
The door wasn’t locked.
Brice stepped from the room, wearing the clothes Joy had returned, clean and fresh. He had his pack, too. No way was he leaving that behind.
There was a narrow corridor, the walls some kind of tough plastic, streaky grey. Other doors led off, and Brice reckoned these were the rest of the crew quarters. Third door along, as he’d been told, was a shower area—separate cubicles, with a drain in the middle of the floor. It wasn’t the open set-up he’d expected, but still didn’t give as much privacy as he would’ve liked.
He couldn’t imagine Storm using these facilities. She’d have a separate shower room, off her quarters.
He carried along the corridor, rocking with the swell of the water, listening to the creaking of the hull. And the noise. There were voices, individual streams, but it all merged into an ocean of words and thoughts.
Brice grabbed the wall, closed his eyes for a moment. Found the strength to carry on and pushed through a door, into a kitchen.
No, a galley. That was the word, wasn’t it? Rows of work-surfaces, equipment that kind-of looked like it was used for cooking, sharp knives stuck to magnetic strips. And at the far end, through a wide opening, were trestle tables and benches.
He wasn’t alone. There were two of them. One was male, tall and thin, with long hair tied back tight. He stirred something in a large pot over heater-rings, washed in steam. The other was Joy.
She had her back to Brice as she tapped on a wall terminal. But she turned, saw him and smiled.
“You’re up, then.”
“Just about.”
He wiped his brow, wondered how Joy and the cook coped with this heat.
“Food helped?”
He nodded. “Thanks.”
“Her orders. Grip should’ve got it ready—covering, while Mouse here took a break,” and she jerked her head, to where the tall man continued to stir whatever bubbled away in that pot. “Wouldn’t put it past that sod to add something of his own to it, if you know what I mean. Wouldn’t be the first time, would it, Mouse?”
The cook grunted, and grinned.
“Few years ago, Mouse caught Grip over the pot, trousers half-mast, pistol in hand. Personal pistol, if you get me.”
Brice nodded again, trying to rid his mind of the mental image. “Here?”
“Nah. Different tour.”
Brice turned to Mouse. “What did you do?”
“Do?” Joy laughed—the sound was out of place, but pleasant. “You think they call him Mouse because he roars? Mouse here waited until Grip finished, tipped the broth away, washed the crock, started again. Had to be inventive with supplies. Isn’t that right, Mouse? Way I heard it, you found a few little stowaways, added them to the mix. Usually throw vermin over, but Mouse here can use them, can’t you? Another reason for the name.”
Mouse grinned again, and Joy’s smile was friendly, her eyes sparkling.
Brice realised that talking—or listening to talking—helped keep the noise down. It didn’t take it away, but lowered it so that his head no longer pounded.
“Mind you,” she continued, “one of the uppers saw what happened, laid down the law to Grip. Didn’t go down well—the runt tried to torch the ship in port. Only just got away from a lynching.”
“And your captain knows all that?”
Joy laughed. “Aye, she knows, and still took him on. Reckon she wanted to give him a chance, thought she could turn him around.”
And her inner thoughts told Brice that Storm was an idiot for taking him on, that Grip had grown worse. Joy would be happy to see the back of him.
“Anyway,” the woman said, “you get hungry, give me a shout. Or Mouse here. We’ll rustle up something. No fine dining, but it’ll fill ya.”
Her tone sounded genuine, but Brice concentrated on her noise. She liked people, but there was something deeper. She couldn’t stand Grip, and the feeling was mutual. But Brice had stood up to him. If she kept Brice on-side, she’d have protection.
Bribery. Food for services.
Brice smiled and nodded. “Thanks. Feeling groggy, though. Could do with some air.”
“Aye, that’ll be the waves. Still green, ain’t he, Mouse? Takes a while, first time. You get up top, watch the waves. Sounds daft, but it’ll help.”
“Sounds good. Through there?” Brice pointed to the far end of the galley, past the tables and benches.
“Door at the far end, then climb the rungs. Busy up top, though. She’s running maintenance.”
Brice read Joy’s thoughts, and voiced them. “Don’t reckon Grip’ll appreciate that.”
She smiled, showing a small gap between her front teeth. “Nope. My advice, steer clear. He don’t take kindly to being beaten.”
“I will. See you around. You too, Mouse.”
Mouse grunted, and his head jerked in what might have been a nod.
But the man’s thoughts were clear. He wanted Brice to stay safe, just like Joy did.
And there were more thoughts bubbling beneath the surface, some friendly, others darker.
Joy reckoned this mouse didn’t roar, but Brice thought he might if he was pushed far enough.
Brice walked past Joy—and she didn’t move aside as much as she could, just so happened to let her arm dangle by her side, her fingers brushing his leg. He stepped quickly, before she could grab or pinch.
It would only have been in fun, but Brice didn’t want that kind of attention at the moment. Not when he could already hear the voices from the deck, could already read the bitterness that simmered just beneath the surface of this crew.
He passed the tables and benches, and left the warmth of the galley.
Deva
Chiron held the door open. “Come on!”
Lise darted through, followed by Wrench. Deva ran around the table.
As she passed Chiron a crash sounded from downstairs, followed by the stomping of heavy boots. Chiron forced himself behind her, and slammed the door. It clicked locked.
The corridor beyond was dry and narrow, and the only light came from a torch in Wrench’s hand.
“Lucky he brought that thing,” Deva muttered.
More light burst behind her. “He’s not the only one with a torch,” Chiron said. “Keep moving.”
She ran, between the two bobbing lights. There was a loud bang from behind the door, accompanied by raised, angry voices.
“Kaiahive?” she said between breaths.
“Most likely.” Chiron was right behind her, his voice loud in her ear. “But they can’t follow us in here. Door’s on a timer-lock.”
“So that server’s stuck there?”
“It’s where she works. She’ll be fine. And she’s smart. Won’t let the company know we were even there.”
Except that they already knew, didn’t they? Why else raid the place at this time?
Wrench killed his torch, but there was a glow ahead now. It grew, became daylight that streamed through a clear panel in the roof. There was a ladder. Lise climbed, pushed the panel open.
It was raining, and Deva opened her mouth, let the drops that streaked down her face run into her mouth, cooling her. She clambered up the rungs, jumped onto the roof.
Lise was by the edge, looking down. She turned as Chiron climbed from the passage and closed the panel.
“Surrounded,” she said in a hoarse whisper.
Chiron nodded. “Alternative route, then.”
He jerked his head toward a large structure that pumped out steam through a grille at head height. A tube, about a metre in diameter, extended from it, crossing over a small alley to the roof of the building next door. The metal surface shone in the rain.
“Won’t it be slippery?” Deva asked.
“Not inside.” Chiron grinned, and flicked at a panel Deva hadn’t noticed. The panel dropped down to reveal a large, open space.
“It’s a fake?”
“Kind of. System’s condensed, works in less space. Just watch out for the pipe above you—gets a touch warm.” He waved a hand toward the space. “Lise?”
The woman climbed in, making far too much work of it. Chiron signalled for Deva to follow, and she swung up. Wrench clambered behind her, followed by Chiron.
They crawled, as fast as Lise let them. Deva tried not to think of the two-storey drop beneath her.
Lise stopped, and kicked open a panel. With a grunt she clambered out. Deva followed, onto the roof of the neighbouring building. Shouts rose from the street, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass.
Wrench climbed out after her, followed by Chiron. He closed the panel.
“We head to the end,” he said, pointing to the far edge of the building, must’ve been a couple of hundred metres away. There were more vents, and a few doors in small structures, but nothing else—they kept their roofs clean in Enapoli. “Then we split. Wrench, we’ll take the inside route, head to the north. Lise, you take Deva down the emergency stairs and make for the burrow.”
Lise nodded and ran off. Deva stumbled after her.
What else was she going to do?
She heard Wrench ask something, his voice low—would they be safe, or something like that. Didn’t catch Chiron’s reply, but when she looked over her shoulder they were already by one of the doors, ready to enter the building.
Deva caught up with Lise—the woman moved surprisingly fast when not clambering into pipes. “The burrow?” she asked.
“Alternative entrance to the base. It’s like a maze. Even if we’re spotted going in, it’s unlikely any unfriendlies will find their way through.”
“Makes sense. This going to take long?”
“Depends how fast we move. Be quicker without conversation.”
That could’ve come out sarcastically, but Lise’s tone was all business.
They reached the far end of the roof, and Lise climbed over the parapet, onto a rickety metal staircase. Deva followed. The whole structure creaked, and rust flaked off where Deva rubbed the railings.
“This going to hold us?”
Lise didn’t answer. Her shoulders did something that might’ve been a shrug, and she continued pounding down the steps, metal ringing. Deva did the same.
Her heart slowed when they reached the street. Lise strode off, not bothering to check if Deva was with her.
There were a few people around, minding their own businesses—they only glanced at Lise and Deva, didn’t make any moves towards them. A few vehicles drove past—a couple of noisy buggies, a sleek black carriage that moved so silently it seemed to appear out of nowhere, and two trucks. They were nowhere near the size of the Aethon, but still large enough that Lise and Deva pressed themselves to the buildings as they passed.
The rain didn’t let up. Clouds hung low, hiding the stars. Deva didn’t bother looking up, but concentrated on her boots as they splashed through murky puddles.
“How much further?” she asked, after they’d been walking—if that was the right word for this kind of pace—for a good half-hour.
Lise didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed Deva’s arm and pulled her through a door in the wall to their left.
Behind the door was a short passage. It looked like an alley, but had a roof.
“We’re being watched,” Lise said.
Deva spun, but Lise had already closed the door.
Lise shook her head, pointed up. “The company have people in buildings round here. Not agents, but ordinary folk they pay for information.”
“So they’ve seen us?”
“Don’t let it bother you. They’ve been watching us for a while now.”
Deva thought back, to Chiron taking Wrench into the building. “What about the men?” she said. “Are they being watched too?”
Lise shook her head. “Situation like this, we split up. One group takes the faster, inside route, the other goes on the streets, draws the eyes.”
“So we’re the decoys?”
Lise shrugged. “Chiron reckoned you could handle that better than Wrench.”
“So this was planned?”
“We talked possibilities, before the two of you turned up. But we’ll be fine, so long as we keep moving.”
She pulled away, trotted along the alley. Deva followed.
“They can get through the door?”
“They’re Kaiahive. They can get anywhere they want.”
“Even the base?”
“If we skimp on security. So we’re vigilant, and we’re careful.”
There was something about Lise now. She was…stronger. The way she talked, it made Deva believe she was almost enjoying this.
The alley turned, ended in a flight of stairs. Glow-strips overhead lit their way.
Two storeys down, Deva reckoned. Then into another corridor, dry but wide. Lise slowed to a march.
“I liked your idea,” the woman said.
“What?”
“Destroying the research centre. A place like that deserves to be annihilated. Anything that cuts the company down is a win.”
Deva frowned. “Then why didn’t you argue for me?”
“Because Chiron’s right—it would be too dangerous. Now’s not the time. We don’t know enough.”
“So we learn more. Put a team on surveillance, get sources inside to push.”
“It’s not that easy. Sorry.”
And that last word sounded genuine. But Deva wasn’t sure if Lise was sorry to let her down, or sorry that they couldn’t get rid of the research facility.
The passage turned, and sloped up. They reached a door. Lise opened it, and they stepped out into the rain, then along more streets. Deva was lost. The streets all felt the same, even if some had stores and others had residential properties, even if some were wide and others so narrow the buildings seemed to loom overhead, threatening to touch.
“You want to destroy that thing?” Lise asked, out of the blue.
“What thing?”
“Eve. The new monster.”
What kind of stupid question was that? “Of course! You saw what she did.”
“Yes. I’ve also seen what your friend’s capable of.”
“They’re not the same.”
Lise remained silent for a while, then said, “But you heard what Chiron said. There’s no point destroying the facility when the research is over, and it’s too dangerous anyway. So forget the whole idea, okay?”
Lise sped up—didn’t break into a run, but it was close. Deva stumbled along behind, until she found her own pace. She breathed hard, too hard to talk.
Which was the bloody woman’s idea, wasn’t it? Didn’t want to talk, so she made sure Deva was too tired.
It didn’t stop Deva from thinking, though.
Kaiahive needed to be brought down. If the Heralds kept waiting until they had ‘enough’ information, or waiting for the ‘right’ moment, it would never happen. Every day they wasted, the company grew stronger. They had that Eve now—no, Chiron had said there were more, hadn’t he? If they waited too much longer, how many more would the company have? And even though the research for that project might’ve finished, what else was Kaiahive already working on?
And Chiron wasn’t willing to step up. He didn’t want to risk losing any more Heralds.
But Deva wasn’t a Herald. Oh, she’d told him she was all in, but that was only for missions. She was helping out, that was all. Chiron wasn’t in charge of her.
She could do whatever the hell she wanted.
As she raced after Lise, through the city’s streets, Deva smiled.
Ryann
The man was Brenten Sanna, and from the start he insisted Ryann use his first name. When they shook hands his skin was warm, and he held on for too long, his fingers rubbing against her wrist. But she smiled as if she enjoyed the touch.
“Your company comes highly regarded,” he said. “I’ve had my people look into you, and I have to say I’m impressed. But I prefer the personal touch. Business should always be about people, don’t you think?”
He leaned in, and Ryann caught the scent he wore—masculine without being overpowering. Worn on someone else, she might have found it alluring.
