Authors: Gun Brooke
As she stepped out into the tunnel, Roshan heard only the soft hum from the light fixtures. However, she vividly recalled the evening she’d run into two Onotharian guards who’d found the tunnel’s exit. She shuddered at the memory of how she’d had to deal with them and fought the urge to wipe her hands. Instead she adjusted her back-strap security carrier and walked over to a small cart. As soon as she sat down on the narrow saddle, the vehicle came to life and hovered a few centimeters above the ground.
Roshan’s ankle ached, as did her head, but she shrugged off her pain. It was finally time to take action, and she was full of anticipation regarding tonight’s meeting. A sprained ankle wasn’t going to keep her from playing a part in the ongoing battle. She’d been through worse.
*
Andreia was about ready to call it a day and return home to her apartment in the Onotharian Leadership Compound. Standing at her office window, she could see it in the distance, an impressive two-hundred-and-fifty-floor structure, heavily guarded by force fields and patrolling assault craft. The resistance had tried to destroy the military installations at the far end of the compound numerous times, but so far, nobody had been able to even make a dent in the composite-mixed, concrete-reinforced fortress.
It was like a city of its own within the Gantharian capital, its base covering ten blocks in each direction. It contained every possible type of store, and the residential area hosted Onotharian dignitaries, high-ranking senior military members, and wealthy Onotharians who no longer felt safe residing on their Gantharian property. Andreia had always wondered why they felt that way, since the Gantharian resistance never went after soft targets.
Instead, they attacked military installations and interfered with the Onotharian governmental process, even used self-proclaimed embargos that had thrown some Onotharian merchants out of business, but the Onotharian minority rarely suffered any collateral damage unless they brought it upon themselves.
Andreia walked down to the lobby, stepped into the hovercraft always at her disposal, and asked the chauffeur to take her to her apartment. She had more work to do, but it had nothing to do with her official duties.
The technically enhanced hovercraft hummed louder as it rose above street level and entered the air-corridor that would take them to the two-hundred-and-tenth floor where she lived. Normally, Gantharian hovercraft didn’t run higher than two meters above the ground, but the Onotharian version had flight capability.
The hovercraft flew through the automatic scanning procedure, and a stark green light filled the cabin. The two-tone signal sounded, which cleared Andreia’s identity, and the vehicle jerked slightly as it docked at the door of the airlock leading into her apartment.
“Thank you. I won’t need you until tomorrow morning.” Andreia nodded briskly at the chauffeur. “Good night.”
“Good night, ma’am.”
After the door opened with a faint hiss, Andreia stepped into her airlock. The inside door slid open as the outer closed, and she entered, grateful to be home, even if it would be a while before she could relax.
“Music. Selection, Andreia-Two-Four.”
Soft music, with suggestive drums and the haunting tone of a flute made from the rare penamera trees that grew on the plains of the southern hemisphere, filled the apartment. The sound system, consisting of echo-panels installed throughout the walls, ensured that Andreia could hear her selection everywhere. It also served an additional purpose, as Andreia opened her briefcase and pulled out a small rectangular device. She walked from room to room and furtively scanned each one, pretending to examine her live plants, always careful of the OECS’s paranoid surveillance even of the Onotharat Empire’s most distinguished citizens. Andreia knew a wry smile played on her lips when a thought struck her, and she wondered if the OECS even monitored the twelve chairmen.
Thinking of the visiting chairman sent Andreia’s thoughts to her hostess for the evening. Roshan O’Landha. Once her friend, now not her enemy exactly, she was someone Andreia could never call her friend again, ever. No matter what the Gantharian people believed, Andreia loved her home planet passionately, having been born into this lush, green world forty-seven years ago. Being Onotharian in this society back then had posed no problem; on the contrary, the Gantharians had considered the Onotharians an asset, and the two races had worked and lived side by side for more than fifty years.
Her older brother by two years, Trax had grown up with a different attitude toward his home planet. Often, he’d accuse their parents of robbing him of his rightful opportunities by emigrating to Gantharat two years before he was born. As a child, he’d spoken about moving back to the overpopulated Onotharian system. Le’Tinia had assured Trax that his future would hold glorious moments and that he’d have ample opportunity to lead a successful, influential life on Gantharat. Trax hadn’t believed her but, nevertheless, decided to go into law enforcement after graduation.
Andreia heard the scanner buzz and relaxed marginally now that she knew her apartment was not bugged. She put the scanner back under the handle in her briefcase, where it merely looked like a locking mechanism.
Andreia was astonished, as always, that Roshan, despite her family history, had found it so easy to collaborate on all levels with the Onotharians. Her trading company thrived, and she traveled both globally and intergalactically, making sure her wealth increased at a steady pace every lunar year. How could she have misjudged Roshan to this extent? Certain that her friend would be filled with lust for revenge after her mother’s death and her father’s incarceration, Andreia had studied the reports from the OECS that painted a completely different picture.
At the beginning of the occupation, Roshan had taken over an abandoned company when a distant relative was killed during the first violent month of fighting and restructured the firm to fit her needs. Soon she had attained a seat in the Commercial Lobby and won the trust of many Onotharians. The Gantharians regarded her with disappointment and even open hatred at times. Still, Roshan’s connections and the power that came with her vast wealth seemed to discourage any serious attempts on her life and property.
Collaborator.
The ugly word hung between Andreia and the image of a younger, more relaxed and fun-filled Roshan, sharing a desk with her during their lab sessions at medical school. Their mutual passion for healing and helping people in pain and need had bonded them. “And she was stunningly beautiful,” Andreia murmured to herself as she removed her clothes. Ten seconds later, ionic-resonance set on maximum frequency, inaudible to humanoid ears, had cleansed her body and hair. She pressed a button as she stepped out of the shower stall, and a discreet puff of her special perfume sprayed her.
When Andreia punched a command into barely visible markings on the mirror in her bathroom, it swung open, and she pulled out a case of makeup. Unlike her normal palette, which was gold, orange, and blue, these colors were black, gray, brown, and green. She began to paint her face with a brush: black circles around her eyes, brown to mask her lips, green to hide the olive tint in her cheeks. She’d be wearing her hood, where only her eyes, mouth, and lips showed. And, granted, the light would be muted, but she could afford no risks.
Her curly hair wasn’t easy to tame; it flowed around her shoulders in a shiny cloud, and she had to tie it down with a silicon ribbon to lock it securely in place.
Dressed entirely in black, she wore a long-sleeved silk shirt, snug trousers, and a weapon harness under a wind-sealed tight jacket. Andreia tugged a thin helmet over the hood, to protect her head, before donning a small oxygen mask. A night-visor would also serve to protect her eyes from the wind.
“Lights out. End music.”
The apartment became dark and quiet, and she waited exactly five minutes before she moved toward the airlock. She didn’t use the command to open the door, which would have sent a signal to her hovercraft chauffeur that she needed him. She had long ago overridden that command, and now when she manually attached a suction device and pushed, the door still registered as closed on the security detail’s monitors. At least she hoped so. When doing this, she always held her breath for a while, waiting for the alarm klaxons to blare.
Nothing announced her actions, so Andreia inhaled deeply and closed the door behind her. Now for the more tricky part, she placed the suction device on the outer door, bracing herself for the strong wind this far up.
Cold air and a fine rain hit her face like a thousand needles, and Andreia was profoundly grateful that she wore the visor. She pressed her lips together to protect them as the wind howled and tugged at her like a wild animal trying to coax its prey out of its den. Andreia reached into her jacket and found a small, semicircular fastening device. Preparing to press the button underneath it, she stepped out the half-open door, fumbled for a narrow maintenance ladder, and clung to a narrow pipe on her left as she moved the suction device to the outside of the door and pulled it shut.
She was about to loosen the suction device and place it in her pocket when a strong gust of wind snatched her and nearly ripped her from the structure. As she clung to the pipe she slammed the suction device into the wall next to it and pressed the button, the device holding her just as her feet slipped on the wet bar on which she stood.
She hung sideways in the strong wind for a few moments, trying to regain her footing. The rain made it nearly impossible, and Andreia groaned as yet another strong gust slammed her body against the door.
“For stars and skies,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “I don’t have time for this!” She detested having to resort to low-tech solutions, but this was the only way to leave the building undetected, especially at night. Because Onotharian technicians were about to install biosignature-scanners everywhere, it would soon become impossible to escape even this way.
Andreia forced her body to slide to the right and pressed her forehead hard against the cold, wet surface. Her left foot found the bar again, and this time, she stood steady enough to let go with one hand and reach into her jacket. Pulling out the semicircular object, she placed it against the pipe, pressed the button underneath it, and engaged the magnetic lock. She tested its strength, and, pleased with its grip, she placed her hands loosely around the pipe. “Thank you, Gods of Gantharat. Keep me safe so I can do my duty,” she whispered and blinked rapidly three times. After the night-vision feature in the visor switched on, she placed the suction device in her pocket.
“Here we go.” As she kicked off and removed her feet from the bar, her body plummeted straight down, the filament-wire enabling her to descend at a steady pace. The small object she’d attached near her door was programmed to deliver her safely on the ground, so unless more wind gusts sent her sideways, she’d land in a dark, remote corner of the building, on the opposite side of the heavily guarded entrance.
Almost at street level, Andreia bent her legs and landed softly, then disengaged the filament-wire and attached it to the wall. Unless someone knew where to look, he would never see the hair-strand thin wire.
Andreia scanned the area carefully through her night-vision visor. No one in sight. Time to go.
Roshan pushed the hoverbike to the side, into the shadow of a deserted-looking warehouse. From its appearance no one would guess the technology hidden inside. Warning signs cautioned potentially curious people that the old plant surrounding the warehouse was contaminated and trespassers would meet with certain death.
The tunnel that originated at Roshan’s estate had taken her halfway to the warehouse, and at the end of it she kept a fast two-seat hoverbike. When she was out on these missions, she used mostly back alleys and small dirt roads, to attract as little attention as possible.
Now she locked her bike, pulled an old, coarsely woven blanket from a bag attached to the back of the sleek, leather-like saddle, and covered it. Roshan headed toward the rear of the structure where she pressed her palm against a sensor, hidden under a panel next to the door. A muted purple light scanned her palm print, as well as her heart rate, blood pressure, and blood-oxygen level. Nobody could mutilate a resistance fighter, then use a severed hand to gain access. Only a living, breathing, unstressed person who was in the system could get in. If a resistance member was coerced, and forced to place their hand on the sensor, the scanner would pick up on the elevated heart rate and blood pressure, and alert security to investigate. It had happened only five or six times over the years, and so far no Onotharian agent had gained access that way.
Roshan remembered when she was a rookie how an Onotharian agent had infiltrated one of the other Ganath-based cells and nearly managed to uncover not only their headquarters, but also the identity of several resistance fighters. Eight cell members died while taking the Onotharian agent out. Roshan had never forgotten the incident and was always suspicious of newcomers. An Onotharian with access to dermal regenerators could easily mask as a Gantharian, however, there
was
a way to ensure the true nature of fellow rebels. Though a simple blood sample wasn’t enough, since the Onotharians knew how to make their blood look blue, a scientist of the former Tamanor Laboratories had developed a way to genetically distinguish between the two races.
“Member four-four-alpha-epsilon-four,” a synthetic voice droned, and the door clicked open. Roshan entered and followed a long, dark corridor into the inner, vaultlike mission rooms. She remembered how, as a young, idealistic foot soldier, still reeling from her mother’s death and her father’s incarceration, she had entered the headquarters for the first time. It had seemed as abandoned then as it did now, but she knew surveillance equipment covered every square meter of the premises, and camouflaged guards prevented surprise visits.