Schism of Blood and Stone (The Starfield Theory Book 1) (40 page)

Anna

J's Bar, Magdeborg, Magdeborg Commonwealth

______________

Anna ripped off the black hood that covered Dmitri Filipov's head. His face was bloody and bruised, but his scowl hadn't lessened any either. Anna tossed the hood on a round table nearby and speared Salena's spy with a death glare.

“What are we going to do with you?” She said condescendingly. She pulled up a chair and sat on it backwards, crossing her arms over the headrest. It was a comfortable and familiar pose. This was not her first interrogation.

Filipov's face was already beginning to bruise, a result of the beating he'd gotten after they kicked in the door to her apartment. They surprised Daniela in the kitchen, but she managed a warning shout to Anna. She pulled a gun she kept hidden for just such occasions and killed the Dominion agent who burst down the hall. His companion, being neither intelligent nor careful went to investigate the gun shots and ended up dead as well.

Filipov immediately called for reinforcements, but Daniela had managed to gather the sense of mind to hit Filipov over the hit with a frying pan while he was distracted. Before he had recovered, Anna pounced him and beat him to within an inch of his life.

It was all a blur now. She dimly remembered gagging and binding Filipov then Daniela helping drag him to her car. She distinctly remembered telling Daniela to run for it, they weren't after her, then grabbed Rebecca and made a hasty phone call. But Damien wasn't responding. She realized, somehow, Filipov had been jamming the signal. Desperate, and driving in a panic, she came here.

Here happened to be a bar in downtown Magdeborg. It was old by today's standards, utilizing actual wood for furniture and bare bulbs in lamps. The entire first floor was the bar itself with round tables dotting the entire space surrounding the large wrap around bar in the center. Dozens of colorful alcohol bottles lined the shelves. Only a few patrons were present when she dragged Filipov's unconscious form into the bar followed by a ten-year-old girl. It the terms of mid-morning bar patrons, it was one of the less odd things to happen. The back of the first floor was divided up into private meeting rooms, one of which she had dragged Filipov in and secured him.

Filipov flicked his gaze to the man standing by the door. Anna knew him as John which probably was not his real name anyway. He was a former intelligence operative for House Mason who had become disillusioned with their obsession with wealth and power and looked for work elsewhere. He established this bar, J's, and played poker here with the well established locals. They knew him as Legend Killer for his propensity for knocking out other poker legends, though he preferred being called “LK”, and he was a Starfield Theorist, part of her old network. On Magdeborg, their cell was called the Weathermen.

He never spoke about his former work with any of the locals. To her, he only mentioned a posting he had during his service at a pulsar station deep in House Mason's territory. A super massive star had gone supernova a few hundred million years ago and left behind its rapidly spinning corpse, the pulsar. Planets had reformed around the dead star over millions of years and they were rich in heavy elements. The Masons allowed the Harding Corporation to establish mining outposts and LK served as the liaison between the two sides while also participating in weapons research. If the Masons found out he was still alive they'd come after him for sure. Not to mention the Azuren. A Starfield Theorist with that level of knowledge and a special hatred for both the Masons and the Azuren was dangerous indeed.

LK ignored Filipov's glare and crossed his arms over his chest. He still had the physique of a soldier and the mental sharpness of a trained killer. When he needed to be removed from Mason territory, the Theorist commanders ordered him to Magdeborg. They wouldn't disclose what he had to require such a change and they made it clear Anna was not to know. She recruited him as a Weatherman, keeping an eye on the actions of House Sten and the other noble houses of the Conclave. She had kept him hidden and safe all those years ago, but now he was to grant her the same courtesy.

LK stood over almost two meters with rippling muscles and a permanent five-o'clock shadow. He took to wearing dark clothing, almost like what a spacer might adorn, but without the glowing tattoos. His face was etched like stone, hard and unnerving. At first, she thought his eyes were cruel and cold, but she was quick to realize they were vaults and could only imagine at the secrets locked behind them. He walked with engaging swiftness and purpose, his movements calculated and brief. He wasted no energy on extraneous movement.

“You're making a mistake. When the Archduchess finds out what happened, she'll hang you,” Filipov spat blood. His voice sounded like gravel in a blender. “She knows where I was and when I don't check in, they'll come looking.”

Anna smiled coyly. “It's been a week. Archduchess Salena doesn't care about you. Merely associating with you is too dangerous for her. The more you help us the easier your life will become.”

“I'm not answering anything, bitch,” he snarled and struggled against the trap-bindings that connected loosely between his wrists and heels. Struggling only made the polymer binds tighter. The metal sensed heat caused from the friction of struggle and tightened accordingly. It was an awesome piece of equipment LK had, probably an invention of the Hardings that found its way into the Mason arsenal and then into his.

“You're going to do it, Filipov. You don't have a choice in this matter. At least not any that you'll find agreeable except cooperation,” Anna said coldly.

“I'm trained to resist interrogation and torture. You're wasting your time.”

“I wouldn't be so sure you're safe from
his
interrogation,” Anna said, jerking her head in LK's direction.

Filipov's eyes flicked back to LK who hadn't budged an inch. The twisted man's look meant he was sizing up his options and he just realized that the LK option was probably not one of his preferred outcomes.
He's not as sure of himself as he thinks. He has a weakness!

“What was your mission?” She asked.

Filipov was silent.

“I think that's a pretty key question,” Anna said. “Does Salena always send thugs into people's homes to do her dirty work?”

Filipov narrowed his brow or tried to as the wounds he suffered made such action difficult. “This whole city belongs to House Teton-Sten. Salena can do as she pleases with it.”

“Salena is no Archduchess.”

“I don't see any challengers. The Sørensens attempted to sully the head of House Sten and put a one of their own on the throne.”

“Her days will be numbered. Now again, what was your mission?”

Filipov looked away. “You're a damn fool. Salena would have left you alone if only you hadn't meddled with Damien.”

“Damien's an old friend,” she said flatly.

“And much more than that, I think!” Filipov laughed.

She hit him with more energy than she thought possible. “Pervert!”

“Very few share the bed of Commonwealth royals. Concubines are one thing, but rarely does a royal actually have,” he paused, offering a sly smile, “illegitimate offspring.”

Anna felt an icy hand grab her heart.
He knew!

Filipov raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Oh, did I let that slip. Salena knows all about Rebecca. In fact, I'm sure she's dying to meet her niece. Then she'll kill you and the child. And that stupid bastard, too!” He yelled glaring at LK.

Anna lashed out, striking Filipov so hard that the chair he was sitting in keeled over backwards, spilling the assassin on the floor. “You monster!”

Filipov groaned, but didn't move. The trap-bindings had detected the sudden movement, lost all elasticity and tightened ferociously around his wrists. His arms were now locked behind his back and his feet curled up until his heels met his wrists. Filipov wouldn't be going anywhere until LK eased the bindings with a control. Until then, his muscles would ache and tendons would strain.

Although the bindings had restricted his movement, his mouth was still free. “You know it's true. Damien only accomplished getting you killed. Salena will send Magnus after you. They'll try you as a traitor, as one of Damien's co-conspirators and she'll execute you.”

Anna felt Filipov's blood drip from her clenched fist. “You won't live long enough to see it. I'll make sure of that.”

She turned to leave the room. “Gag him,” she said to LK.

Once she was outside the room, she went to wash the assassin's blood off her hands then she hurried upstairs to one of the booths and collapsed next to her daughter. Rebecca smiled at her and resumed coloring in her book. She was trying to be brave, Anna knew. Whenever she was nervous or afraid, she would busy herself with some mentally intensive activity, trying to ease her mind and find comfort in the work. She was amazing.

Certainly better than me. That rat bastard got to me. I wanted to pump him for information and all he did was get inside my head and crush me
, she thought dejectedly and sighed.

A few men and women were playing poker at a table on the other side of the room. They were Weathermen as well, but they were new, not the men and women she had recruited when she ran the group over a decade ago. Apparently LK had done some house cleaning. They could be trusted, he said. It would have to do.

LK appeared at their booth, but declined to sit. He looked at mother and daughter. “How's the Weather?” He asked, referring to the greeting used amongst the Weathermen.

“Glum.”

“Our guest is
not
happy,” he added.

“Good,” Anna whispered.

Rebecca put down her crayon and looked across at Anna. “Are the bad men going to come here, too?”

Anna shook her head. “No, mommy made the bad men go away. They won't hurt you, I promise.”

Rebecca smiled at that and seemed satisfied with the answer for now. She returned to her work. Of course the coloring books were too young for her now, but it was all she had in the car, left there from years ago along with a box of partially used crayons; most were missing altogether. Half of the book was filled with the work of a six-year-old that she had once praised only as a mother could. The new ones were done with concentrated effort and dark marks, more bold, mature and confident. She'd run out of horses, fairies and houses to color soon.

“That's very nice, sweetie,” Anna said vacantly at the green horse.

Rebecca nodded her thanks and picked a new color.

LK indicated with his eyes that they should step away for a moment. Anna followed him a few paces from the booth.

“Can I get you two anything? I could microwave something downstairs, but the cook's not in so it wouldn't be anything gourmet exactly,” he said.

“No, no, we're fine. We don't want to be a bother.”

LK had slipped into his role as a bar owner pretty quickly. It was quite a step back from whatever sort of intelligence work he used to do, but he didn't seem to mind. He never did explain what he had been doing or what he did to earn House Mason's ire. She knew he was escaping something, he certainly fled to the bottom of many bottles to try to hide from it since then, but he never spoke of it, not even when completely inebriated. But he took his responsibilities here seriously, it was a legitimate business, but LK made it a network center for the Weathermen spies and kept it hidden well.

“We need to get her somewhere safe,” he started. “As much as you won't like to hear it, Salena probably did know what Filipov was up to and she'll want to recover him dead or alive as quickly as possible,” LK said quietly. “He's a liability to her. And Rebecca, if she is indeed Damien's daughter and I have no doubt that you are telling the truth, then she needs to be protected. She's valuable to Damien, to Salena, and to the Theorists.”

“Don't forget, she is
my
daughter, too. My needs for her come first. She is not an object to be valued because of her future titles or roles.”

LK nodded and raise his hands in apology. “I know, I know. She needs to be safe, and this is not the place for a ten-year-old regardless of who her parents are.”

Anna shrugged. “But I don't know where to go. There's no way we can get her off planet. After Damien blasted out of here both Commonwealth and Azuren patrols are stopping ships and searching them. The whole planet is on lock down.”

“I'm surprised you were even still here. I thought-”

She silenced him angrily with a wave of her hand. “It wasn't supposed to work out this way.”

LK cleared his throat. “I'm sure it wasn't intentional...”

When Anna didn't elaborate, he continued. “The resistance movement will likely increase after Damien's stunt. There are still Sørensens and members of the Sten House Guard on Magdeborg. Smuggling activity is also going to pick up in the next few weeks as well.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “How do you know?”

“It always happens,” LK said. “Whenever a tyrant takes power he will tighten his grip on the control mechanisms because he's afraid of the backlash. The Azuren learned this the hard way during the human uprising six thousand years ago. Since then they've altered their approach, remember? This is the Cyclical Power Hypothesis that argues that all human governments will behave like the first Azuren Empire. They fear their populations, therefore, they will seek to control them absolutely. As absolute power grows, so does resistance to it. Resistance leads to revolution and the process starts over again.”