The Soldier: Final Odyssey Page 20

  The clone shook her head. “I don’t know why you’re nervous.”

  “Protocol,” Quillian snapped, realizing she was nervous, very nervous.

  The clone frowned. “What protocol?”

  “Are you serious?”

  The clone stared at the pistol, studying it, finally looking up at Quillian. “Do you plan to kill me?”

  “I want to know why you’ve breached protocol.”

  “If I knew what you were talking about, it would make more sense.”

  “You’re not supposed to appear at Roguskhoi Metals, ever.”

  “Oh,” the clone said, appearing genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

  Quillian gave a quick twitch of her head. “That’s not possible.”

  The clone raised her hands, turning them palm-upward as a sort of shrug. “Sorry, I’m not lying.”

  “Oh, I believe you,” Quillian said.

  “Then why keep aiming that gun at me? It’s making me nervous.”

  “Think about it.”

  The clone scrunched her face and finally shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  Quillian sighed. “Someone tampered with your mind. Think carefully. Do you remember escaping from anyone?”

  “No…”

  “Do you recall what you saw on Helos?”

  “I do. They’re rebuilding since the dreadful nuclear explosion on the space station.”

  “What about the secret tech company?” Quillian asked. “Were you any closer to finding their identity?”

  The clone stared at Quillian as the smile drained away. She—the clone—touched her forehead. “Tech company, yes, I do remember something about it. It—” She looked up. “Why does my forehead hurt?”

  Quillian’s head twitched again. She had no idea. Then she did have an idea, a horrible and ugly one. It made grim sense, and that meant she needed to kill the clone.

  It would seem that Quillian gave herself away. How the clone knew this was impossible to say. One moment the clone sat on the chair with the magazine on her lap. The next, the magazine went flying and the clone was coming at Quillian. The clone moved with startling speed, indicating heightened reflexes, perhaps due to drugs. The way the clone held her hands, her fingers stiffened, indicated the fingernails were deadly. If the clone had started closer and if Quillian hadn’t already been on a hair trigger with suspicions, the sudden attack might have worked.

  The suppressed pistol with the heavy and extended front coughed three times. Each time it coughed, the barrel rose. Each time, Quillian expertly realigned and shot again. They were well-placed shots, the slugs entering center-mass, chest. The 9-mm bullets were slower than usual so they would make less noise. And that meant their mass and velocity were not enough to knock down the charging clone.

  Quillian was the best, but so was the clone. The clone screamed and slashed with her fingers. Quillian was already ducking and dodging to the left. The fingernails missed by less than five centimeters. It was enough, though. From the side and at slightly more than kissing range, Quillian pumped five more shots into the clone.

  That did it. Maybe one of the bullets reached the thing’s heart. The clone staggered to the side, spit blood—a good sign from Quillian’s point of view—and toppled to the side. The brightly dressed clone writhed on the tiles, groaning, spitting more blood.

  Quillian had already popped out the ammo-mag, slamming home another and aimed at the dying clone. From a distance, she asked, “What did they do to you?”

  The clone managed to turn her head. There was blood on her lips and chin. “I…I don’t know why I did that.” The clone groaned as it tried to rise.

  Quillian did not step back, but she switched targeting to the clone’s head. Quillian’s eyes widened in understanding, and she got it, or she was pretty damned sure, in any case.

  “The tech-company androids captured you, didn’t they?” Quillian asked.

  Something happened behind the clone’s eyes. She tried to speak, and then she died, all the air simply leaving her, as she seemed to deflate.

  ***

  The Quiet Room had heavy shielding, meaning no one heard the suppressed gunfire. That was good as far as the clerk was concerned. She was a Durdane II native and really believed that she worked for Roguskhoi Metals. Genuine belief had a way of convincing some people. Because the clerk didn’t hear the gunfire, it meant she could go on living—and she did get the raise. But that was later.

  Quillian didn’t bother cleaning up the mess. She had the techs do that. Other techs took the dead clone to an operating theater. There, the surgeon performed an autopsy to determine the means of turning the clone to the other side. In Group Six parlance, that was anyone else but for Earth Intelligence.

  Quillian remained in the theater, giving the surgeon instructions when he moved too quickly. She forced him to probe the exposed brain centimeter by centimeter.

  “This is odd,” the surgeon said later from behind his mask.

  Quillian stepped to the table, peering down at a glittering object in the bloody brain. It was a cyborg obedience chip, a tiny thing. She’d seen one before back on Earth, the one in Marcus Cade’s brain.

  Quillian’s eyes tightened as facts correlated in her mind. Someone had put this in the clone’s brain. Likely, it was a member of the secret tech company that had sent Rohan Mars, an android, to Jack Brune. That had been years ago now. Group Six on Earth also used such chips. They were extremely rare, and offensive to almost everyone. Director Titus would appreciate acquiring one. He used them on the revived Ultras. But there was something else. If she could capture Marcus Cade—

  Behind her surgical mask, Quillian smiled. If she could capture Cade and bring him back to Earth, she could do so while handing the Director this brain chip. Director Titus could use the chip on Cade, reinstating him into the service.

  That would go a long way to cleaning up her original failure.

  Quillian rubbed her hands together. This was the means to a reprieve for herself. Now, she had figure out where Cade and Halifax had gone. Using the vast resources of Group Six out here in the Concord…

  Quillian smiled like the proverbial wolf. It was time to hunt the most dangerous game.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  THE PRESENT

  Cade kept his word to Chief Arbiter Dragonfeld of Quartz Sector. He did not hijack the sting but departed it at Vologda V. Dragonfeld kept her word to him. No Patrol officials were waiting to take him or Halifax into custody.

  “I consider our freedom a minor miracle against the depressing regularity of human deceit,” Halifax said.

  The two of them ate dinner at the Tangelo Lobster House on the crowded C Level of the Hyperion Blue Space Habitat. It was a huge structure with a vast torus, the space station of Therduim III easily able to fit into one of the gigantic hangar bays. Hyperion Blue orbited the gas giant of Vologda V, a Jovian world rich in deuterium and other balloon-mined substances.

  Halifax ate lobster and crab legs and drank sparingly of an expensive white wine. Cade devoured steak, lobster and bacon-wrapped scampi, washing it all down with one glass of beer after another.

  The restaurant’s lighting was low, and from an alcove, musicians played a soothing piece. Many couples ate dinner together, all of them well dressed and well mannered. Cade stuck out because of his utilitarian space garb. Perhaps some diners believed Halifax a kind boss taking his bodyguard out to eat.

  Halifax wiped his lips with a napkin, belching softly into it. He smiled as he set the napkin on the table. “We’re free of the Patrol, free of the sneaky cyborgs and have evaded any waiting agents of the secret tech company. I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s next on the agenda?”

  Cade popped another tasty morsel into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He suspected the doctor was being pleasant because the man had watched him place the entirety of their money, the credit notes, into a briefcase. It was a tidy sum, given him by Dragonfeld as a going-away present.

&n
bsp; “You’ve helped me here,” Dragonfeld had told Cade. “Now, I want to make sure you make it to Earth. Give ’em hell, Cade.”

  He’d nodded, planning to do just that. Now, he couldn’t remember how Halifax had found out about the Chief Arbiter’s generosity, but the man had. It had considerably changed the doctor’s demeanor.

  Halifax nodded in appreciation as the waiter arrived and took his empty plate. He picked up the wine bottle, pouring more into his glass. Swirling it, studying the clear liquid, Halifax smiled at Cade and took a sip. “We’re three hundred and eighty-two light-years from Earth. That’s still quite a journey. Do we take a starliner the rest of the way?”

  Cade shoved his empty plate to the side. He was feeling good, feeling light-headed from the copious amount he’d drunk. The food on the sting had kept him operative, but it had been less than appetizing. The meal here had been sumptuous and filling.

  A waiter passed, picking up the plate.

  “Well, Cade. What do you think, eh?”

  “About what?” Cade asked.

  “The trip to Earth: how do you propose we go the rest of the way?”

  “You’re joining me?”

  Halifax wiped his lips again with the napkin. “That’s an interesting point, now that you bring it up. Are you sure you want me to tag along?”

  “No.”

  Halifax frowned for just a moment, chuckling afterward. “No, you aren’t sure, or no, you don’t want me to join you?”

  “Why would you want to come?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t. In that case, should we split the money and go our separate ways?”

  “How much do you feel I owe you?”

  “Cade,” Halifax said with a laugh. “We’ve been partners so far. Fifty-fifty sounds equitable to me.”

  “You want half even after you turned on me?”

  “Come now, we’re not going to keep score, are we? I have many complaints against you, but I’m not holding a grudge.”

  “What complaints?” Cade asked.

  “Well, you did run out on me when we left the shuttle. My skin still feels prickly under a hot lamp. If I walked under an open star, I’d likely faint from the pain.”

  “I’m surprised you healed as quickly as you have.”

  “Yes, yes,” Halifax said. “But that’s beside the point. How do we proceed from here?”

  Cade nodded. “Perhaps if you told me what to expect on Earth, I’d feel obliged to split the money with you. After all, the Chief Arbiter gave it to me with the purpose that I cause Director Titus grief.”

  Halifax looked around before leaning toward Cade and dropping his voice. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. It’s not wise. Group Six will become more powerful the closer we approach Earth. You’re a suspicious-looking man as it is. Eavesdroppers might decide to listen in on you on general principle. A wrong word could have fearful consequences.”

  “That’s why we’re talking now. What can I expect on Earth?”

  Halifax rubbed his chin. “You do remember that I’m a Group Six case officer. I can’t just give away trade secrets.”

  “You were a case officer.”

  “Yes. That’s what I told Drang.”

  “It’s not true then?”

  “Not technically,” Halifax said. “I mean,” he said quickly. “Director Titus won’t view it that way. To him: once a Group Six officer, always a Group Six officer.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Well, ah, Director Titus has odd notions concerning loyalty. If a man tries to leave the service and a cleaner catches him, he can expect a coffin-ride into a roaring furnace.”

  Cade stared at Halifax.

  The doctor grinned feebly. “It’s time for me to…well, to run far away into the stellar night.”

  “In other words, you have no plans of accompanying me to Earth.”

  “Cade, how can I? I don’t want to die, certainly not to be burned to death in a fire while trapped in a coffin on a conveyer belt.”

  Cade had suspected as much. Maybe the drink helped to keep him chill. Part of him could have slapped the trickster until he broke many facial bones. Instead, he decided to grill the doctor. “Where does Group Six keep the frozen Ultras?’

  Halifax shook his head.

  Cade frowned. “You’re refusing to tell me?”

  “No, no. I don’t know. That’s all.”

  “How do you think I should proceed once I reach Earth?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Look. Don’t you understand? You’re talking about Earth, about Director Titus. He’s like nothing you’ve faced so far.” Halifax tried to smile. “Talking about him like this is bringing back memories. Cade, the man’s a monster. To cross the Director—it would mean my life.”

  Cade didn’t think Halifax was pretending this time. So, what should he do? Should he split the money and say good-bye? What would Halifax do then? Cade did not snort, but he felt like it. The good doctor, the good spymaster would likely search out the nearest Group Six agents and spill his guts, seeing if he could win more money for himself by turning Cade in.

  And now that Cade considered the future, how was he supposed to storm Earth, grab Director Titus and force the man to free his wife and fellow soldiers? Even if he did free them, would Group Six allow them to leave Earth? Not without a fight, he suspected.

  Think like a spymaster.

  If he wanted Raina and the others, he’d be better served to trade them to Titus for something. What would the Director of Group Six want? The man wanted to strengthen Earth vis-à-vis the Concord. What could he give Titus to help in this area?

  Cade shook his head. He didn’t know. What had he gained so far? Knowledge about the hidden tech company and lurker, which likely meant resurgent cyborgs. Titus used former cyborg equipment like obedience chips, shoving them into Ultra brains to make them slaves.

  “Are you listening to me?” Halifax asked.

  “Shut up for a minute,” Cade said. “Let me think.”

  That might have been the wine talking, but he was onto something and didn’t want to let it go. Titus was a monster. That sounded about right. Why would he want to trade anything to a monster that used cyborg obedience chips like the enemy?

  Cade chewed on his lower lip. No. Maybe the thing to do was to bring a one-man war upon Group Six, against Director Titus. This would be a secret war waged on Old Earth. Halifax wasn’t from Earth, but the man had been there. In truth, if Halifax came, he’d probably be a liability to him, not an asset.

  Cade finally snorted. How could he, an Ultra, bigger and stronger than regular humans, move around on Earth like a spy? He would surely stick out.

  “Are you drunk?” Halifax asked. “You’re just sitting there, staring at nothing.”

  Cade blinked himself out of his reverie. He looked around, noticing a waiter noticing him. This wasn’t the place to strategize.

  Cade glanced back at the waiter. Why would the man have done that? Did the waiter want this table for someone else? Or had Cade given himself away in some manner?

  “I thought an Ultra would know how to handle his wine,” Halifax said.

  Cade focused on the doctor. The little man was his sole asset regarding Earth, meaning Halifax knew more about Earth and Director Titus than anyone else in his vicinity.

  I’m at war with Group Six, and I’ve been acting as if I’m on vacation. This isn’t the kind of war I’m used to, but it’s the one I’m in. Therefore, it’s time to learn—my teacher is right there.

  “Okay,” Halifax said. “Now what have I done? Why are you giving me the stink eye?”

  “Let’s pay the bill and leave,” Cade said.

  “And go where?”

  “We need to rent a room.”

  Halifax shrugged. “Let’s split the money and go our separate ways. That would be easiest.”

  “Yes,” Cade said. “We’ll do that tomorrow.”

  “Why tomorrow? Why not now?”

  “So I can think.�
� Cade yawned. “I drank too much as you said and need to sleep it off before I can think clearly.”

  Halifax eyed him. “Fine, fine. Tomorrow then.” He signaled their waiter and indicated they needed the check.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “Here’s the deal,” Cade told Halifax the next morning.

  They were in Cade’s hotel room, which was part of C Level on the Hyperion Blue Space Habitat. Each sat in a chair across a small hotel-room table from the other. Cade spread out his CUCNs on the table and observed the glitter of avarice in the doctor’s eyes. It was a tidy sum indeed, a surprising amount.

  “Well,” Halifax said, reaching out—

  Cade swept the notes from the table, rolling them into two masses and stuffing them into his jacket pockets.

  Halifax looked up in annoyance. “I thought we were going to split the money.”

  “We are.”

  “Oh.” Halifax tried hard to hide his obvious surprise.

  “After you give me my money’s worth,” Cade said.

  “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You have knowledge I need. I’m willing to pay for it.”

  “No, no, you owe me, Cade. My spaceship was stolen from me in the Therduim System. Think how much I lost because of that.”

  “Do you mean the Therduim System where you sold me out?”

  “Ah. That’s past history. We’re not going to bring that up anymore, remember?”

  “If I’m going to forget about your treachery, you’d best forget about getting anything from me to compensate you for your loss of the Descartes.”

  “That’s a crappy attitude. But…” Halifax eyed Cade. “I can see you’re not going to change your mind. Fine. If you don’t want to split the money now…when do you plan to split it?”

  “Next stop.”

  Halifax frowned. “Next stop where?”

  “The next star system.”

  Halifax blinked in surprise. “Why there specifically?”

  “Because during the next leg of the journey, you’re going to tell me everything you can about Earth, Group Six and Director Titus.”