Hostile alliances, p.20
Hostile Alliances, page 20
part #3 of ShadowTech Series
“I forced you?”
He was bloody laughing at her!
She slammed her fist onto the desk. “Stop it! You used me, and…and I’m not happy about it.”
“You used Wrench.”
“That’s not the same. I didn’t lie to him.”
“Not directly. But you led him on, didn’t you?”
“If he has the wrong idea about…about us, then that’s not my fault, is it?”
Chiron tilted his head.
“Oh, come on! He’s like a bloody love-sick puppy. Doesn’t know what he wants half the time. And it’s not like I’ve purposely come on to him, is it? Just been myself. I’m not that kind of girl!”
“Have to agree with you there. Blunt and annoying. A born rule-breaker. And just what we need.”
How could he be so calm about this? “So we’re back to you using me, aren’t we?”
“And you used Wrench. You manipulated Wrench to use Bowen.”
“That’s different!”
Chiron shook his head. “Calm down for a moment. Think. I know you can get that devious mind of yours around this. I told you about the research facility, then said the council would never sanction a direct mission because we had insufficient intel. Lise backed me up, told you she’d love to see the place gone, but only when the time was right. Then you went behind our backs to dig deeper. And, clearly, this is what we wanted. Now, why go about it this way? Why all the subterfuge?”
When he put it like that, things fell into place. Deva leaned on the desk, then sank back into the chair.
“This council don’t want to make a move, but you do,” she said. “You’d get chewed out if you went ahead. But if someone went in off their own back, someone who wasn’t really a Herald, then…then they couldn’t have a go at you, could they? And if this wasn’t an official mission, you wouldn’t even need to tell them about it, would you?”
Chiron smiled. “And there’s the devious mind! Let me explain. Kaiahive—even deep Kaiahive—has procedures, works on a top-down approach. Our cells work independently. Some better than others, admittedly—the cell in Athelios left a lot to be desired, as I’m sure you’ll agree. And while some company agents can do their own thing, they have a culture of obedience. We don’t. So we can move faster, and take more risks. We can do things they can’t.”
“Like get some fool to risk her life to get intel on a research facility.”
“If you want to see it like that. But you had back-up, didn’t you? You trusted Wrench. He helped you get all the data we had on the place, and then you went to work. You figured out a possibility for getting deeper into the lower levels, bypassing security—but you had to be sure. So you took it upon yourself to run a mission. And it worked. Mainly because you didn’t have to follow instructions, and could do your own thing.”
“And all the while,” Deva said, “this was exactly what you wanted. No—needed, right?”
She realised she was smiling.
He nodded. “I knew you wanted a mission. I knew you’ve been burning up to get back at the company. So I saw an opportunity, and arranged for you to take it.” He tilted his head. “That make you feel any better?”
She shrugged. The whole manipulation thing seemed petty now. “Feel better if I can destroy a bit of the company.”
He sat back. “Then let’s hear your plan.”
Ryann
Ryann lay in her bunk, covers up to her neck. When the light from the corridor spilt over her, she turned to the open door.
“Sorry,” Keelin said, closing the door behind her. “Did I wake you?”
“I’m only resting. Put the light on if you want.”
“I’m fine without.”
Of course she was. Even before, she’d had fully-functioning lenses. Now, as a NeoGen, she’d use her other senses just as effectively. Even in total darkness, she’d find her way around and read her surroundings.
She was also quiet. Ryann had to concentrate to follow her actions—grabbing a drink, taking off her boots and jacket, sitting at the table.
“Was the mission a success?” Ryann asked.
“Mission?”
Ryann sighed. “You were gone for most of the day. I assumed you were doing a job for…for the Collective.”
“Yeah. Went okay. Nothing special.”
Ryann focused, reading the fluctuations in Keelin’s trace. It wasn’t indicative of anything in particular, but combined with the tone of her voice, it confirmed Ryann’s suspicions—Keelin wasn’t telling her everything. Not by a long stretch.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m good.” Keelin put her beaker down. The chair creaked as she sat back. “Your day okay?”
“Nothing special.”
Ryann cringed, but Keelin didn’t pick up on the lie. The argument with Annys still bounced around Ryann’s mind, but it wouldn’t mean much to Keelin.
“It would be good to know what’s going on, though,” Ryann said.
Keelin shrugged. “Don’t reckon the Collective works like that. Need-to-know basis only.”
Ryann shuffled under the covers, leaning on one elbow to face Keelin. “Doesn’t it bother you?”
“Bother me?”
“Being kept in the dark like this.”
“Oh, that. No. Just do what I’m told.”
“And you’re happy with that?”
Keelin snorted, and her trace flared red. It was only for a fraction of a second, but it scared Ryann.
“Not the right word,” Keelin said. “You know I’m not happy.”
“Has Annys talked to you about her contacts?” Ryann cringed again—the question sounded far too awkward.
“You mean has she told me she can turn me back?” Keelin snorted a laugh. “Come on! You know that’s not going to happen.”
“She knows people…”
“Right!” Keelin drew out the word, like a knife sliding across flesh. “She knows people who work with the lattice. She knows people who used to be with the company, deep down. And she knows that making me normal isn’t possible. Look at me, Ryann! You think a few tweaks will change my skin? You think some white-coat fiddling with my node will squash this snout back into a face, or make these talons disappear? You think altering my lattice will knock the extra height off me?”
Keelin stood, paced back and forth as she spoke. Through filters, Ryann saw her friend’s fists clench.
“This is me. This!” Keelin threw her arms wide, then ran her hands beside her body. “I’m a monster. I’m a killer. Trying to pretend otherwise isn’t going to help. Only option’s to accept what I am, make the best of it.”
And only now did Ryann catch the tang of blood in the air and see the dark patches around Keelin’s wrists. Only now could she read her friend’s blood-lust in her trace.
Her friend the killer.
No wonder Keelin didn’t want to talk about her evening.
She stopped pacing. She picked up the beaker from the table and took it to the self-clean. Very deliberately, she placed it on the shelf and closed the door.
Then she picked up her boots and sat at the table again.
“Talk to me, Kee.”
“Not in the mood for talking.”
“You know I won’t judge you.”
Keelin shook her head. She pushed a foot into a boot and strapped down the fastenings.
“I only want to help.”
Keelin put on the other boot. She didn’t even look over to Ryann.
“This is hard for both of us.”
“Yeah,” Keelin mumbled. She stood, still not looking at Ryann. “I’m sure it is.” She grabbed her jacket.
“We need to stick together.”
Keelin hesitated, right arm in the jacket, left arm out. She looked to the ground.
“Please.”
The word sounded weak, even to Ryann. In the glow of her lenses, she saw Keelin’s snout twitch as her shoulders dropped.
Keelin shook her head.
“I need some exercise,” she said.
When the door sealed behind her, Ryann flopped back onto the bed. She closed her eyes tight, so tight it hurt.
She didn’t cry, but it was close.
Keelin
Keelin prowled the corridors, seething. How could Ryann be like that? It had taken all Keelin’s self-control to stop herself rushing over to the bed and punching some sense into her. Why couldn’t she see the truth?
She was a NeoGen. There was no going back. She was big and ugly, strong and fast.
She was a weapon.
And weapons needed to be used. Otherwise, what good were they?
That had been a hard truth to accept. Yes, she was a killer. Yes, she enjoyed snapping bones and slicing flesh, she felt good after a decent fight. Being a NeoGen wasn’t only about her appearance. It was what she was inside.
And in doing these missions, she became the Collective’s weapon. They needed Kaiahive agents killed, and she was the tool they used.
But it went both ways. Keelin used these missions. Her body needed the adrenaline rush. She needed to kill. The missions let her channel that urge. If she used that rage constructively—against identified targets, for a good cause—then the pressure wouldn’t build.
Correction—shouldn’t. But someone always said something stupid, right? Like Ryann, wanting to mother her. Like Ryann, floating along, scared to do anything, and wanting to close her eyes so all the bad stuff went away.
Keelin’s arms tightened as she stalked, her fingers balled into fists.
This wasn’t good. She needed to let some of this anger out.
Exercise. That might work. Brice’s idea, kind of. When that moody sod was all twisted up inside, he’d go for a walk, drain the energy that way. A simple walk wouldn’t help Keelin, but a work-out would. Push her body, sweat the hate away.
She controlled her anger, turned, stormed through the base to the training rooms. She didn’t see anyone else—it was too late. Or too early. The only time she could go around without her cloak and mask on.
Keelin barely held herself together, practically ran the last few corridors. And when she reached the training rooms, when she pushed the door open, she felt the trace already within.
Tallia. Great! If it wasn’t Ryann trying to talk away all her problems, it was Tallia and her attitude. The freak with the changing skin. And all that crap about it being a lattice tweak—did she really expect Keelin to buy that? No way! There was something up with that woman.
She was in the far room, the one used for close-combat weapons practice. There were no other current traces, so she was on her own.
Keelin couldn’t recall seeing her train before. She approached, as quietly as she could. Grunts and thuds came from the room. The door was closed, but not locked. Keelin put her hand on the door and pushed.
She peered through the crack, opened the door a fraction more to get a better view.
Tallia was in the centre of the room, on the padding. She wore shorts and a vest-top, her jet-black skin glistening with sweat. She had a knife in one hand and a thin club in the other, and she ran through exercises.
The woman spun and twisted. She thrust with the knife, then slashed. She stabbed out with the club, brought it high, then low. She twisted her body, using her height.
The movements could’ve been random, but Keelin’s sharp eye caught intention. Especially on Tallia’s face. Her eyes were focused, her mouth a thin line.
Tallia ducked low, weight balanced on one leg as she swept the other out, followed through with the knife. It was a combat move—take out the opponent’s legs and cut them deep as they fell. Keelin could imagine how it would work in a fight, and knew that Tallia saw her opponent in her mind’s eye.
For all Keelin knew, she ran a simulator, with enemies showing on her lenses. Keelin had used something similar, back in her original company training. But the system’s reaction time was too slow for her now, and the lag reinforced how fake it was. She found it hard to motivate herself against enemies who were only make-believe.
But if Tallia used a simulator, it worked for her. She pushed up—giving a standing opponent a crack to the knees with her club, then slicing into their stomach. She twisted, elbow up to block an attack, followed through with a raised knee, brought the club down on the back of the head. No, on the neck—a weaker point, easier to do permanent damage.
Tallia spun. She danced around the matting, concentration on her face. She jumped, kicked out. Kicked high, too, high enough to crack an enemy’s nose. And her leg was angled perfectly to drive the heel into the nose, push the cartilage back into the skull. It was possible to kill with a move like that. And the way she kept her leg straight, the force would be transferred to her thigh, wouldn’t put undue pressure on her knee.
After five minutes Tallia stopped. She stood tall, her back to Keelin, and her shoulders rose and fell steadily. The air hung heavy with the musk of her sweat, and the matting was damp.
Because of course she’d recognise Keelin’s trace.
Keelin pushed the door wide, stepped into the room. “Surprised you need the practice. Thought you were supposed to be perfect.”
And Keelin realised she was sussing because her voice would be too ragged. She didn’t want to let on how exhausted she was.
“And you sneak out here in the middle of the night so nobody sees how hard you work, right?”
Tallia turned. Her face wore no expression, but her eyes were small and piercing. She still held the knife and club, her arms loose at her sides.
“Sure you’re not projecting?” she said. “Or did you just want to watch me?”
“Why would I do that?”
“You’ve been there for five minutes.”
“Watching your technique.”
“Impressed?”
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Which is as close to praise as I’ll get from you, isn’t it?”
“You were slowing down at the end,” Keelin said. “Started over-stretching on your back-steps. An opponent spots that, they have an advantage.”
Tallia tilted her head. “If they spot it. And if I haven’t already immobilised them.”
“Too many ifs.”
“You could do better?” Tallia shook her head. “Of course you could. NeoGen. Unfair advantage.”
Keelin felt the anger rise, pushed it down. “Not my choice. Use what you’ve got, right?” She stepped closer to the matting. “Anyway, you going to be long?”
“Why? Didn’t think someone as perfect as you needed practice.”
“Working out helps me relax.”
Tallia opened her mouth in mock shock. “The monster has a flaw?”
Keelin pushed the anger down again. She wouldn’t be riled by this woman.
“Not here to argue,” she said.
Her boot brushed the edge of the matting. She reached down, unfastened them, kicked them off. She slipped her arms from her jacket and dropped it onto the boots.
Tallia nodded, then turned, walked over to the open storage. She pulled out a cloth and wiped the club, then wiped down the knife. Without a word, she placed both weapons back in their respective spots. Only then did she turn.
“Be interested to see you train,” Tallia said. “You’re impressive in the field. But I’m either watching that through a feed, or I’m concentrating on my own problems at the time. Not ideal for studying.”
“You want to study me?”
Tallia shrugged. “Might pick up a few tips.”
“If you can follow what I’m doing.”
“Bad call. Never underestimate your enemy.”
“Is that what you are?”
“Doubt you’d call me a friend.”
“Prefer not to call you at all.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” Tallia backed off the mat, waved a hand. “It’s all yours.”
And the woman was going to stay, wasn’t she? Unless Keelin threw her out—which was an option.
But not a sensible one. No, there was another possibility here. Keelin wasn’t sure she liked it but…but it made sense.
“Got an idea,” she said.
Tallia raised an eyebrow. “First time for everything, I suppose.”
Keelin ignored her. “We spar.”
Tallia coughed, and the surprise seemed genuine. “What?”
“Both of us, on the mat.”
“You think that’ll be a fair fight?”
“Your choice of weapons, against my body alone.”
“That wouldn’t even things up much. They don’t have rocket-launchers down here.”
Was that humour? It didn’t come across as snarky as the rest of the conversation.
“I’m here for training,” Keelin said. “I’ll be selective, work on one limb at a time. Limit myself.” She shrugged. “Still beat you, but it might last longer than a few seconds.”
Tallia stood tall. “You reckon I can’t go longer than that?”
“Like to see you try.”
“Yeah?” She reached back into the storage, pulled out a couple of the training knives—bulky, but with dulled edges, would bludgeon rather than cut. She took a ready position.
Keelin stepped onto the mat. “Let’s have some fun,” she said.
Piran
Piran took a long, deep breath. “You can do this,” he told himself before closing his eyes and pulling data onto his lenses.
Casey was right—he shouldn’t be scared. So what if he understood the Ancients’ code better than others? All this intuitive stuff—that was only his subconscious mind working through problems faster than he could read, right?
But he still needed to be careful. This was high-level stuff. He couldn’t dive straight in. No, he needed to be subtle. Like on the island—he’d figured out stuff by coming at it from different angles. He’d separated routines and played with them, combined them with code he already knew.
