Children of a Dead Earth Book One (24 page)

Benson sighed.

Benson cut the link and leaned back in his chair. Well, that went nowhere. The snake that ate its tail. The tablet taunted him to dig deeper, but he put it back in the drawer. Its secrets would have to wait until after he and Chief Bahadur had hammered out a plan to make sure the only exciting thing about Game Six was the Mustangs trouncing the Yaoguai.

T
hey agreed
on final security arrangements with only ninety minutes to spare before push-off. This didn't leave Benson much time to get his constables up to speed, but they took to the new protocols without much complaint.

The Mustang fans, for their part, were as predictable as ever. Despite the fact it was not even 09.00 Avalon Time, fans arrived well-lubricated after pre-gaming in one park or another. One unfortunate young man didn't make it through the security line before he popped, sending a cascade of tofu-chicken wings, tortilla chips, guacamole, and a fountain of cherry-infused vodka spreading throughout the compartment. He was sent home while men with vacuum packs attended to the mess. Vomiting in micrograv was a quick way to lose friends.

The Yaoguai fans streaming in from the other entrance had the twin disadvantages of getting off work several hours ago, and being of predominantly Asian and Middle Eastern lineage, meaning they had even more time to drink, yet less natural ability to process it. It wasn't long before the line from Shangri-La bogged down under the new and unfamiliar set of rules.

Benson waved at Korolev. “Hey, Pavel. Float over and help Bahadur clear his backlog, will you?”

“Sure thing, chief.”

Benson grabbed a handhold and surveyed the scene with satisfaction. His constables were handling things well with little help. The fans, for their part, were being patient about the additional layers of security. After the sabotage, everyone understood the need.

The fact the series had been allowed to continue had been a minor miracle in and of itself. The crew had pitched a fit. Many members of the council agreed with them, arguing it was too risky in light of the threat to assemble so many people in one place. Others felt it was a waste of manpower to assign so many constables to police the crowd when they should have been looking for the terrorists. But in the end, it was generally agreed that the threat of cancelling the last Zero Championship and the thousands of irate fans that would result was at least equal to the threat of the saboteurs. The status quo was upheld.

Players began filtering into the stadium from the locker rooms to the cheers of spectators already in the stands. “Stands” was something of a misnomer, considering the entire volume was in micrograv and everyone had to strap their feet to the walls to keep from floating away. Then again back on Earth, people used to sit in the stands.

It was Korolev.

say
? Scan her plant. You're supposed to be doing that anyway.>

Benson's eyes snapped up to the far entrance, but he couldn't spot them. Korolev and the girl were a good two hundred meters away and surrounded by other spectators. Still, the list of people it could be was awfully short.

Benson set his feet against the bulkhead, adjusted his body, then pushed off hard. Flying a straight line in micro was easy. Flying the
right
straight line was a skill, especially over such a long distance. He wasn't quite as fast off the push as he'd been back in his playing days, but he was still moving fast enough that he could hear the air rushing over his ears. A knot of spectators recognized him as he passed and started chanting.

Benson waved to them and smiled, trying to look nonchalant. The far side of the compartment quickly became the near side. Air resistance had cut a fraction of his momentum, but he was still moving at a good clip. He timed his flip just right so that his feet clanged against the bulkhead instead of his face.

“Over here, chief!” Korolev shouted up to him. Benson spotted him, Chief Bahadur, and a slim, raven-haired Asian girl floating to the side of the line of spectators. It was Mei, just as he'd assumed.

Benson pushed off more gently and floated down to meet them.

“What are you doing up here?” He pitched his voice low so only the four of them could hear.

“You know her, Bryan?” Bahadur pointed a finger at the young mystery woman.

Benson nodded. “We've met. Her name is Mei. She's from the basement levels.”

Bahadur's face hardened. “She's one of the terrorists?”

Benson put up his hands. “No, a different group. They're from Shangri-La.”

“My module?” Bahadur's voice took on a steel edge. “How did you know this?”

“Because I visited their camp. They're harmless, Vikram.”

“And when were you going to tell me this, Bryan?”

“I'm sorry, but if I'd told you, you would've had to go after them. They helped me, so I had to help them.”

Bahadur was incensed. “We're supposed to work together, Bryan! How would you feel if I went poking around in Avalon and didn't tell you about it?”

“It's not Mei and the other Unbound we have to worry about. It's Mao and his group, they're the threat.”

Mei perked up. “Who Mao?”

Everyone looked at her, but Benson was the first to answer. “Mao, the leader over in Avalon. The one who sabotaged the reactors two days ago.”

Mei shook her head. “No Mao.”

“No Mao?” Benson repeated.

“No. Kimura-san. We broke the ship. I say no more, he try to kill me but I escape.” Mei pulled up her shirt, revealing three deep slashes on her flank. They were untreated and fresh enough to still ooze blood. Benson winced, gripping his forearm in sympathetic pain.

“Huang attacked you, didn't he?”

Mei nodded.

Benson held up his sutured arm. “And me, yes?”

Mei nodded again.

Bahadur strained to keep his voice down. “Harmless, are they?”

Korolev broke in. “She needs stitches.”

“He lied to me, Vikram. I was trying to protect them.”

“Protect them from what, the Codes? You're supposed to be a detective!”

“Listen to me!” Mei stopped the growing fight in its tracks and even drew some looks from the line of spectators queued up for the game. Benson reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder, hoping to calm her down, but Mei threw it off and pointed an accusatory finger at Benson and Bahadur. “You argue like old couple. Something bad happening.”

“What's happening, Mei?”

She took a deep breath. “Kimura do something under the lake. Told me to be lookout, but I run. Huang almost catch me twice, but I hide. Always win hide and seek.”

“The lake in Shangri-La?” Bahadur asked. She nodded.

“What's he doing to the lake?” Benson asked.

Mei shrugged. “He not tell me, but bad. Worse than turning the lights out.”

Benson's mind raced. What could Kimura want with the lake? Poison the water supply? That didn't make any sense. Any poison could just be processed and filtered out again. Unless he was going to sabotage the water reprocessing facilities while he was at it?

“Great. We have to get down there.”

“She needs medical attention,” Korolev said.

“Fine, Pavel, take her down to Sickbay over in Avalon. Take her to Doctor Russell, no one else. Do you understand?”

“Yes, chief.”

“Good. Tell nobody about her. She's under protective custody as of right now, so stay with her. I may need to ask her questions, and you'll be the only connection I have.”

Korolev nodded and turned back to Mei. “Miss, if you'll come with me, please, we'll get those cuts looked at.”

Mei looked up nervously at Benson and put a hand on her belly.

“It's OK, Mei. You can trust Pavel. He's a good man and will protect you until I get back.” Benson grabbed Korolev's collar and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “Make sure Doctor Russell knows that she's pregnant.”

Korolev's eyes went wide with shock. He looked at the young girl, then back to Benson.

“But she's just a kid.”

“I know.”

“It's not, you know, yours?”

“What? No! Why would you even ask?”

“Well, she asked for you, I just thought maybe… never mind, it was a dumb question.”

“You got that part right, at least. Go now, quickly, but try not to attract attention.”

Korolev shrugged. “A pregnant teenager with no implant, who would find that interesting?” He gathered up Mei, who was having a difficult time orienting herself in micro, and headed for the lifts on the far side of the compartment.

Benson turned his attention to a fuming Chief Bahadur. “We've got to stop him.”

“No,
I
need to stop him. I think you've done quite enough already.”

Benson put up his hands. “Look, I was tricked, that's obvious now. And I should have come to you in private about what I found.”

“You should have trusted me.”

“It wasn't about trust, Vikram. I didn't want to put you in a hard spot.”

Chief Bahadur pointed towards Korolev and the girl as they floated away. “And where am I now?”

“I said I'm sorry, OK? We have to figure this out, fast. I've actually met the man, and I've been down in the basement levels recently. Can you say the same?”

Bahadur frowned, but shook his head.

“You need my help, Vikram. We can fight over the other stuff later, yes?”

“Oh, we will.” Bahadur looked around at the thousands of spectators already packed into the stadium. “We need to cancel the game and get everyone out of here.”

“No!” Benson brought his voice back under control. “No. You'll incite a panic. They're safe here. Sending everyone back down the lifts will just clog them up and make them vulnerable to whatever Kimura has planned. The fewer people in Shangri-La right now, the better.”

Understanding spread across Bahadur's face like the dawn. “So, open the flood gates and go get the bad guys? It has the advantage of simplicity.”

“That's me in a nutshell. Can we get on with it?”

A
fter an argument
that lasted exactly as long as a lift trip from the Zero stadium down to the deck of Shangri-La, Benson and Bahadur decided to split their efforts. Bahadur would take a lift full of constables to the lake, while Benson would take a handful of his own men to the waste water reclamation facility in case Kimura had something else waiting for them.

The lift doors opened. A small queue of spectators milled about, waiting for their turn to get in the car. They walked a short distance away to wait for the rest of their team. Benson looked over at his friend. “Nervous?”

“You'd be a fool not to be.”

Benson nodded. “I didn't have enough time to be nervous. Kimura's man Huang jumped me from the shadows. He was tough, but I wasn't armed. Is it safe to assume that you know how to use that kirpan of yours?”

Bahadur pulled the ceremonial Sikh dagger free of its sheath and ran a careful finger down the blade, checking its edge. It wasn't much of a stabbing knife, but the blade ended in a wicked curve that would make short, brutal work of any exposed flesh it came across. Bahadur's hands went through a series of well-practiced movements, one kata flowing smoothly into the next before the tip of the knife slid quickly and effortlessly back into its sheath with a
snick
.

“Very safe.”

Benson nodded, glad it was one knife he wasn't going to be on the wrong side of. He only wished it was sharp enough to cut the tension that had built up between the two of them.

“He's going to try to ambush you. Don't let him. Watch the shadows and check your corners. Keep your distance, make him come to you.”

“And this Huang is his only fighter?”

Benson shrugged. “He's the one Kimura sent after me, and I'd bet my left nut that he's the one who pushed Laraby out the lock. Kimura probably has others, but Huang is his most dangerous.”

“I understand.” The lift doors slid open again and disgorged a dozen hopped-up constables ready for a fight. Benson was afraid they were going to get more than they could handle.

The inescapable fact was, their men and women weren't trained fighters. For as long as humanity had been living on the Ark, the gravest threat any constable had faced was the occasional crazy person armed with nothing more deadly than clubs or carving knifes. The 3D printers had an enormous catalogue of firearms schematics that they were locked out from producing, and advanced algorithms scanned incoming requests for patterns that suggested someone was trying to get around the lockouts.

Cadets were drilled in hand-to-hand combat with a focus on Krav Maga for its brutal efficiency, but once they were issued their stun-sticks, most constables seldom set foot on the mats again. They didn't see the need.

Recent events had taught Benson better. He took a few moments to drive the point home to anyone who would listen and hoped it wasn't falling on deaf ears. Then they split up into their assigned teams.

Chief Bahadur reached out his hand. “Good hunting, my friend.”

Benson took it and shook it firmly. “Watch your back.”

Bahadur nodded, then marched off in the direction of the lake with his men trailing close behind.

Benson turned to his own men. “OK everyone, plant links only from here on out.” His small unit of three constables nodded understanding and opened a temporary link network.

Benson asked. They sounded off.

He and Bahadur had agreed on the ride down that it would be best to move overland and get as close to their targets as possible before entering the basement levels. They'd also decided not to inform command of their movements in case whichever floater had been helping Kimura's group caught wind of the operation and blew the whole thing. Bahadur had required some convincing on that last point, but the threat of ambush had brought him around.