Rogue-ARC (42 page)

I realized at once he hadn’t known as much as he let on. He’d lulled me into talking.

“You were in charge of the entire operation?” He prickled as he asked it.

Liquid nitrogen chills, phosphorus burns, high voltage jolts and earthquake tremors hit my nerves all at once. I wasn’t worried about dying. I was worried how long it would take me to die.

Then part of me decided, if that would appease them, at least I could die with a clear conscience.

“I was. I was directed to plan, train, insert and await, and then after the attack and occupation of our system, I was ordered to implement.”

“
This was done in anticipation?”
he fairly shouted.

“Wasn’t your own attack? Four million on our planet, wasn’t it? Does the number of zeroes matter?”

I realized that “zeroes” could refer not only to the hordes killed, but to the insignificant people making up those hordes. Except I knew that no one was insignificant to themselves and their friends.

This asshole felt some kind of moral superiority because “only” millions had died on his government’s orders, and he hadn’t done it personally. No one had. They’d pushed buttons. I’d been angry and belittling of them when I mentioned our bombardment controllers to Andre, but here was the other side, where that was considered perfectly acceptable. For me to engage personally was dirty.

Is there really much difference between shoveling shit and handling it?

I suddenly didn’t know how I felt, or how I should feel. I wanted to feel justified, I wanted to feel remorse, and I wanted them to at least share some of that remorse. They did strike first, they did cause the deaths of near four million people, but they wanted to use me to let them claim the moral high ground.

I was not going to be anyone’s poster child or talking point.

I stared back at him and waited for him to tell me I was going to die, or just have me coshed and hauled off to be tortured. I no longer cared at all, about anyone on any side. We were all murderous fucking criminals, we were all pawns, and I suddenly knew why Randall was doing what he did. It just didn’t matter, and a few more dead assholes of the class of people who implemented this stuff was no loss to the human race at all. It might even be a benefit.

I wasn’t, and never had been the person to do such things myself, but I had never pretended that I really cared about dead politicians and spammers, and in this case, I’d been correct. No one should care.

Then I remembered back to the surgery on my arm and the artificial opiates that had obliterated my memory for most of a day.

I understood why people would do that. One could be alive, and just not there. When life was too hard and death too easy, massive amounts of drugs could destroy you temporarily, so you could try it again later, reliving and escaping the world in turn.

He intruded into my philosophical musings with, “How do you rate your odds of stopping him?”

“Good,” I said. “Better now. He saw fit to expose our past, which he had no need to do. It’s a panic reaction because he believes my odds are good himself.”

“Meaning you want me to let you out of here.” He almost snarled.

I said, “That’s entirely up to you, sir. If you don’t, he keeps killing for quite some time. If you do, I can probably stop him.” Maybe. Maybe I could stop him. Maybe they’d let me go.

“Will you?”

“I haven’t chased him halfway across space to ask for a date.”

“And after that?”

“I go home and tell the universe to go fuck itself again.”

He stared at me, considering.

So I asked, “This seems to be a bit personal for you, too.”

He continued to stare, then nodded, “I drew second camera duty for that team,” he said. “I was backup medic, backup right, and backup camera. I had to do all three in a matter of two minutes. I know what kind of carnage is involved, because everyone I worked with died in those two minutes. My best friend had his throat ripped out.”

“Two of mine got riddled with bullets, and I have to stalk the remaining one down personally,” I said.

“Then I will release you to do so,” he said. “I’m going to implant you with a tracer that is also an explosive. You may have it deactivated at any jump point station at our office. If you mess with it, it will blow a hole through your carotid artery. That won’t bother me at all.” His expression was completely dead.

A medic came in with an insertion gun, and we each nodded. He leaned over and shot me in the left side of the neck.

Son of a bitch, that hurt like a dogfucker.

The medic left while I watched blotches swim in front of my eyes and rubbed my neck in pain.

“What if I have to turn around?”

“You tell us, and we’ll escort you. I prefer risking a death here to letting you remain.”

“Tactically, I can’t fault you,” I said.

“You will also give us all the intel you have. Now,” he said.

Blackmail and veiled threats of death. I probably didn’t know anything critical to current ops, I’d die before I’d talk about mine, and what he asked was perfectly reasonable.

I said, “It mostly came from your files, but I’ll turn over what I have. I can’t do it here.”

“Can she?” he asked, flashing an image of Silver.

“She can,” I said. “She’s also obviously younger, recent, and is not part of my outfit. She’s support only. Is she in custody?”

“Yes, she is nearby. She said nothing.”

Really? Good woman.

“She knows nothing about the past. She’s my technical expert.”

“As your ‘technical expert’ falsified chips that are supposed to be impossible to fake, hacked into our police nets, changed IDs and disabled two officers when apprehended, naturally I’m not going to trust that.”

“I don’t expect you will,” I said. “Do you need anything else?”

Now that I was equipped with a bomb he controlled, he finally let his emotion show in a grimace of hate.

“No. I’ll book you semi-official travel with codes that ensure you won’t be harrassed. Get off my planet.” He fairly spat it at me.

I said, “You’ve got the events on Caledonia, Mtali, Novaja Rossia, and here. You’ve got the fight I had with him at Station Starlight. You have all that video. You have the assets you confiscated, which are serious violations of our intel and I wouldn’t let you have if I didn’t have to. I really am serious about the threat he poses, and I suggest you take it as seriously as you did fifteen years ago.”

“Very well,” he said.

I eased back from the table and headed for the door. He didn’t bow, rise to open it for me, or acknowledge me other than to follow me with his eyes. Another cop opened it for me, and there was still a whole squad of them.

“Mister Vandler,” I said as I reached the door. I turned to face him and met his eyes.

I said, “I am sorrier, and more ashamed of those events than you can imagine. I can’t undo the past. I can only proceed with the future. That future requires that I kill a friend.”

“I would like to feel sorry for you,” he said. “If you die, I’ll consider it a small balance of justice. If you live, I’ll consider it fair that you feel that remorse, and know the hatred that exists here. I would strongly suggest you never return to Earth after this.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

With that same blank expression he said, “I wish you luck killing your friend.”

He meant that to be cruel, and I understood him.

“Thank you,” I nodded, turned and left.

CHAPTER 25

They took us directly
to the spaceport, past all security, and delivered us, with only the clothes on our backs, to a flight bound for the Freehold. That wasn’t where I wanted to go, but we didn’t have much choice at this point.

Once in orbit, we were able to shop, with a very blatant escort loitering near us, and more obviously armed guards outside them. I made sure they could see my movements, so they didn’t get happy with a trigger by accident. If they did so by intent . . .

We settled for basic clothes, a bag each and new phones. I hope they enjoyed the ones we’d left with them. Without a proper access code the first time, they should have completely slagged the memory cores. It was possible they disabled them, removed the cores and tried to crack them. If so, they’d have only the information we had on Randall. Everything related I’d pulled and scorched before we’d started our departure.

At the jump point, I warned Silver. “We need these things out of our necks. They may want to kill us, or just screw up and do so by accident, so sorry. I may need to intimidate someone into responding. I could need your help. That could be dangerous.”

“I have your back,” she said.

It was good to hear that, but I really didn’t want to have her die over something silly.

We sought the UNBI office. Their receptionist was young, probably a college boy doing intern work. He recognized it as important, and relayed the information. They let me sit twenty minutes before coming out.

The woman who came out tried hard to put on the bureaucrat face, but it didn’t work. She looked us over and hesitated.

“Mr. Destin, I have your file here. What do you want us to do?”

“I want you to disable this bomb in my throat,” I said, pointing at the faint scar.

“I’m not sure what authority I have to remove devices implanted by a higher echelon.”

“Because they said you should,” I tried reasonably.

“Yes, I saw your load. I need to confirm that with them, though. This will take some time.”

“Then I will sit in this chair until you have that information,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to have any doubt of my whereabouts, being the dangerous man I am.” I gave her a stare. Silver tapped her foot and managed to match the glower.

She disappeared into her office. Three minutes later, someone came out with medical gear, swabbed my neck, sprayed an anesthetic, slid in a probe and pulled out a capsule. They did the same for Silver. She winced. I hadn’t.

“Thank you,” I said, and stood and left, Silver at my heels.

She clung to me for a moment.

“I’m playing the girlfriend role for a moment. I was really worried about you there.”

“So was I. Yes, it could have been ugly for both of us.”

She said, “I don’t want to be melodramatic. I nearly died.”

“You did. At least twice. We are really not welcome here.”

“I know,” she said, and was quiet.

After we vacated the government’s office, though they permeate everything, like a bad smell, I said, “So now we can figure out which way to hop. I want to get aboard a non-UN ship fast.”

We didn’t have a choice. A ship’s officer met us in the waiting room. They apparently paid fare for us on an Earth ship bound for the Freehold. It was a luxury commercial liner

“Good day, Mr. Destin. I’m Third Officer Kwan. I’m directed to make sure you are very comfortable in your cabin for departure.”

I could have taken him out, but I suspected there was a squad with weapons behind the door, and that they had orders not to worry about collateral casualties. We were leaving on this ship and heading in the direction of home, at least for now.

“I accept the situation, sir. Please show us to our stateroom.”

He smiled as he said, “Please go ahead of me to your right. Dock Four.”

We preceded him with enough distance to minimize advantages. I could have taken him, but unless I planned to start a battle in the station, or immobilize everyone aboard and fly it myself, no cards. Even then, the current route would definitely take us to a system where Earth had warships.

It was aggravating, but inevitable.

We got VIP passage through the gate, aboard ship, and into a stateroom. It was better than basic, but not first class. No complaints. Kwan sat with us until they undocked, then said, “Enjoy the trip,” and left.

Silver and I gripped each other in comfort, release, aggravation, exhaustion. My own apprentice had run an end-around past me. I’d been IDed, my past dug up, and I hated the universe.

“I have to message the boss,” I said.

“This is an Earth ship.”

“Yeah, can’t be helped. I’ll be discreet.”

I assumed they read the message, and I assumed they knew the background, but I kept it in phrased language. I wasn’t going to compromise even an outdated code, and without context, it should be safe enough. I sent, “No luck. Intercepted. Regrouping.”

Then all we could do was wait. There was nothing we could access on the nodes without compromising more, apart from watching the news.

I became more distraught as it went on. The combination of age, refreshed post-combat stress, distance from my daughter and the ongoing wear of the mission had gotten me. I couldn’t do any more. I’d only succeeded in hurting Randall’s arm, blowing his cover, killing his assets and destroying his main patron. Good stuff, all, but he was still alive and still operating. We are just that hard to take out. Naumann was going to have to bite the bullet, send an entire platoon, and accept the visibility.

Insystem, I felt a bit better. They were on my territory now, and I was pretty sure my word could hold this ship. Not that I needed that. The crew had been keeping an eye on us, but relaxed somewhat now.

We were off fast enough to satisfy them. I needed to get groundside fast, find better intel and decide if I was going to bother with continuing, take the kid and disappear again, or try to settle back down. None of it appealed.

One thing bothered me. We presented immunization declaration, and it was accepted. No test was done. It used to be standard that everyone was tested for bloodborne pathogens before system entry, including diplomats. Inviolable law. Apparently, it had been reinterpreted so a doctor’s declaration was sufficient, and they didn’t check on the status of the doctor too much. I’d hoped we’d have a confirmable DNA trace on Randall. No such luck.

We boarded a Skywheel shuttle and headed for the surface and Jefferson Starport.

Quietly, but without worrying about mics, I told Silver, “First thing is a hotel. Discreet. I can’t rush home and we can’t rush on base.”

“Understood,” she said.

At least here it was easy. We were down without luggage to worry about; we’d pick it up later from claims. We were outside in hot, bright summer Iolight in seconds after debarking. We took a cab to the Renaissance and checked in. All they cared about was the cash and our polite request for a third floor room. That would slow any potential attackers, and I could jump it if I had to.