Chaos Cipher (63 page)

‘
You’re a
fuckin dead man, Fenris!’

‘
Yeah,’ Edge
gasped, safe on the other side of the fence now, brimming once more
with confidence. ‘I’ve been called that many times, Bear. I guess
the problem is that everyone’s incompetent because I’m still here,
pongo.’

Edge pinched
tobacco out of his pouch and rolled himself a cigarette.

‘
Wha’s up,
you done already?’ he asked, popping the roll in his mouth. ‘You
going to climb that thing or you calling it a day?’

‘
Don’t push
it,’ the Bear growled menacingly. ‘I might still let you live. I
just wanna break a few bones.’

‘
See, you’re
not such a bad guy,’ Fenris chuckled. ‘Wanna cigarette?’

Berengar the
Bear roared, and started scaling the fence. Before he could get
over the top, Edge Fenris quickly flicked his cigarette at Berengar
and high-tailed it for the horizon, torn jeans flapping, in the
wind.

*

Pania faced
her mirror with phlegmatic determinism, its reflective corners and
edges scorched by the fires, spreading shadowy charcoal smudges
around it. She worked with the reflective bits to apply the
camouflage optical paints, following an instruction given to her by
Artex. She looked at the print out of where the paint should go on
the nose and under the eyes and spread long lines of the black oily
substance where it was required.

‘
That
bastard!’ She heard Edge Fenris shout as he strolled into
Hangar-Fifteen. He threw down a cigarette and started to approach
one of the burned out lockers. Edge pulled it open, shedding his
torn pants for a new pair of jeans.

‘
What
happened to you?’ she said.

‘
Pierce Lewis
is with Krupin,’ he said, stepping into a new pair of trousers and
zipping the fly. ‘He’s working with the Russians.’

‘
The
Russians?’

‘
The
Russianomai, whatever you call ‘em now.’ Fenris said waving off the
consideration of potential nomenclatures. ‘And they’ve got
Biter.’

‘
What the
hell is he up to?’

‘
A coup
d’état, that’s what!’ Edge Fenris included to mention, ‘heard it
all from Berengar the Bear. That big S-O-B’s playing both sides.
He’s planning to corrupt the militia.’

‘
Ha! Good
luck!’ Pania laughed. ‘Artex is already onto him. He’s informed
most of them to keep an eye on him.’

‘
Good,’ Edge
declared, smoking. ‘Did you pack your suit cases?’

Pania gave
him a steady look.

‘
Do you think
I’m going on vacation?’ she asked.

‘
What’s that,
your make-up?’

‘
Do you want
another kick in the dick?’ Pania smiled. ‘It’s optical camouflage.
The paint blends in with the background so you can
hide.’

‘
Sounds
appropriate.’ He said, leaning forward and offering Pania a
cigarette. ‘I don’t think you’ll be fooling no Blue Lycans, though.
Those mean cretins are stacked to the brim with
technology.’

‘
Yeah, we
mean to stay far away from them,’ she said as he sparked the end
for her and she sucked up the smoke. ‘We’re picking up the kid and
that’s it.’

‘
I only hope
it’ll be that simple.’

‘
You should
tell the federal building what you know about Pierce,’ she
suggested. ‘There’s a good chance he’s working to get the Atominii
involved in this somehow.’

‘
Right,’ Edge
agreed, stabbing out his cigarette.

*

Berengar
trudged through the garden of the Lewis property in search of the
security hound. The alarms had sounded and there was no sign of the
animal. It was only when he reached a part of the perimeter fence
not far from the trees that he saw the animal sleeping in the
grass. He knelt down beside it, listening to the animal’s short
panting breaths. The Bull Mastiff didn’t make a peep. He pulled
back the animal’s eye lids and watched the shrunken pupils roll
unconsciously. Berengar looked up to the tree branching out above
the fence and decided that’s how Fenris got in after feeding the
animal. But he had a plan. He could use this to make Pierce Lewis
look increasingly victimised by Edge Fenris and his motley crew.
Berengar made the call on his Quantic-W.

‘
Yeah?’
Pierce said.

‘
I just found
an intruder,’ he reported. ‘Seems Edge Fenris has been snooping
around your place. He found a way to crack your security
panel.’

‘
He was in my
house?’ Pierce growled.

‘
Yeah,’
Berengar nodded, ‘sorry sir. There’s more. Looks like he killed
your dog.’

Pierce Lewis
went quiet. Berengar waited a while longer, wondering what his
response to this would be, but Pierce’s silence was short as he
eventually spoke.

‘
The man
comes into my home and kills my dog?’ he asked. ‘No more playing
with Edge Fenris. You hear? Don’t fuck around with him anymore.
First chance you get…take him out. Are we clear?’

‘
Oh yeah,’
Berengar nodded. ‘Crystal.’

The call
ended and Berengar the Bear looked at the sleeping dog, almost sad
about what had to be done next. Almost.

-47-

‘C
ontact sighted,’ said the Syridan
RIG’s Corporal Sniper. His dark green cyber-optics focussed on the
Olympian target, following him as he loped along walkways above the
hydroponic gardens. The corporal raised the sights of his sniper
rifle and confirmed a facial scan. Raven’s long black hair made
identification very difficult, the scanners were unable to make an
identity match, mesh imprints struggling to determine necessary
features.

‘
Unable to
qualify,’ said the corporal. ‘Target matches the general
description.’

‘
Copy that,
corporal,’ said another voice through the feed. ‘I’ll notify Alker
immediately. Keep a trace on him. We’re going to need Anton
Regallio’s permission to access the station’s recent passport
clearances.’

‘
Copy, RIG
leader.’

The corporal
stood up, eying along the length of the narrow rifle. He stepped
backwards into the hollow of a tall building looking down on some
of the garden’s structures, keeping an attentive trace on Raven’s
activities.

*

‘
We think
we’ve located our assailant,’ said JD O’ Three, his bald head
glittering even in the faint light of Alker’s lounge.

‘
Where?’ said
Alker, standing from the levitating chair which was left to sway
and bob lightly behind him. ‘I need to see
confirmation.’

‘
He’s
definitely here,’ said the Major bodyguard. ‘I’ve no doubt about
it. It’s him.’

‘
Don’t
forget!’ Kintz reminded, half reclined on one of the sofas, ‘you
need confirmation before you can go and make a bust.’

‘
We’re
working on that,’ said the hulking man. ‘But the problem is that
Regallio has protection on personnel details. We can’t get access
to passenger information of those coming and going from the
station, not without his expressed permission.’

‘
Get hold of
Anton Regallio,’ Alker ordered. ‘Inform him of the situation
A.S.A.P.’

*

When Raven
reached The Royal Twilight again, he checked over his shoulder to
see if he had been followed. There was no trace of anyone, but his
instincts told him something different. Through the wondering heads
and shoulders, the distant sky rail from which the habitat’s
transportation carriages hung led fleetingly to various
destinations. The faraway buildings where huge dome glass reflected
a remote and fragmented sun winked with activity and the
criss-cross of people. The interweaving designs and multiple
layered crafting of sinuous architecture created a complex sea of
traversing roads and walkways and wormhole tunnels. It would be
impossible to spot if he was being watched or not, anyway. Sure
enough, if he was being followed, Avenoir would have already seen
it. Raven turned his head back to the Hotel’s elevator and
disappeared inside.

*

‘
Target is
staying at The Royal Twilight.’

‘
Confirmed,
Corporal. We’re finding a match for your suspect.’

‘
Awaiting
confirmation.’

‘
We have it.
Suspect’s passenger and passport number One, Zero, One of
The Constella Transit
.
Arrived here yesterday from the Cygnus colony of
Kepler-one-eight-six, f.’

‘
That’s our
terrorist. Raven Protos. Have you made a sighting on
Cassandra?’

‘
Negative
sighting on the girl. Don’t worry JD, I’ll find her.’

‘
No more
procrastination. We’ve confirmed the target, let’s make the hit.
Corporal, begin tactical approach. Apprehend the targets, make the
arrest if possible. Alive would be better. But you have my
authority to shoot to kill.’

‘
Yes
Major.’

*

The Syridan
RIG special forces hustled down the hallways, tight against walls,
hunkering at doors and corners and security panels, dissecting each
level and stealing control. They squatted by the automated airlock
doors of deactivated elevators, night sight eyes switching for
targets through the darkened reinforced stairwells, eyes like
emerald stars glowing in the dark, guided laser beams
criss-crossing like a gossamer of corrupted spider webs under black
light. The subtle dull clutter of feet percussive as warm raindrops
distantly ascended the stairs, closing in on the Venster
Suite.

The Corporal
Sniper held back at the end of the hallway. Three soldiers
advanced, their visual world a menagerie of silhouetted irregular
shapes and structures and rifle lens crosshairs. Two of them took
position at the flanks of the Venster suite’s double doors. The
third soldier positioned himself squatting at the front of the
door, rifle pointed towards head height, weapon tight to the
shoulder.

‘
Negative
targets inside,’ said the soldier playing with the door panel.
‘Security feedback says targets left about ten minutes before we
got here.’

‘
Break it
down anyway.’ The leader informed, ‘secure the room. Find anything
you can that may serve as evidence and secure the
perimeter.’

The leader
gave a nod, prompting the crouched soldier to fire his weapon. A
small charge burst from the rifle and the dart clung to the door. A
high pitched detonation warning whistled through the air, ringing
to a peak and then the charge imploded, tearing the doors from
their hinges. The soldiers stormed inside, quick reflexes snapping
their laser sights through the dust in steady radial sweeps. They
surged into the living room, kicking over furniture and tearing
open cupboards and ventilation grills.

‘
Nothing,
sir,’ one of the RIG special forces reported.

‘
Trace their
direction, where did they leave to?’ said the Corporal
Sniper.

Glaring down
the sniper’s lens, the Corporal watched the three thermal
silhouettes fall inside the Venster suite, clearing the rooms like
red and white shadows in a three dimensional blueprint.

‘
I’m
analysing security records now sir,’ said one of the
soldiers.

The door
panels provided them full access to the whereabouts of their
terrorists, a small hologram display field giving them an overhead
mapped readout of the floor they were on. On the map, it was
visible to see their targets shifting down the hallway minutes
before their arrival and then scurry into the Omega Suite at the
opposite far end of the corridor. The soldier turned back to the
others as they ransacked the Venster Suite and then he whistled for
their attention.

‘
Target’s in
the other suite,’ he said.

‘
What is it,
Tucker?’ the Corporal sniper’s voice buzzed in Tucker’s
earpiece.

‘
Sir...target’s been traced. He’s in the Omega Suite,
sir.’

But the
Corporal Sniper would not have time to realise where the Omega
Suite was. Raven’s fist descended like a hammer, flattening the
Corporal’s skull as though it was meat pie. The body twitched and
fired off a few rounds into the Venster Suite ahead and the rain of
explosive ballistics mottled the internal wall and the smart-ammo
detonated out of synchronicity with the deceased shooter, no longer
able to command his ammunition’s terminal velocity, explosions
which jeopardized the hull. Fissures cracked the environment seal
pulling a torrent of dust in through five or six long
ruptures.

Alert,
pressure seal breeched, report to safety points immediately, this
is not a drill:
the Royal Twilight’s
automated systems bleated.

The continued
fusillade shredded one of the three soldiers in its carnage,
leaving only legs and arms to heap in on an eviscerate pink mush of
flesh and clothing, which trailed its way out through on the
torrent of air escaping through the vacuum. A fountain of gore had
sprayed onto another soldier and before he could realise it was the
rounds of the dead Corporal’s Sniper rifle hammering in through the
hotel walls, a stray bullet blasted through the man’s hip reducing
his leg to meat patty, drained on the wash of air swirling through
the bullet holes and out into the void. The next bullet burst his
helmet and his stumped shoulders jetted blood, the head spinning
off to drop somewhere in the distance like a lost bowling ball
missing its pins.