Sons of Abraham: Terminate (6 page)

              “Gotta move,” he snapped, taking he man’s weapon from the holster. 

              Janys stepped over the pile of bodies, trying to catch up with the Sargent.  Her muscles were still sore from the attack on the Parasus moon, begging her to lay down and rest for a week.  Her training kicked in, forcing her body to be silent as she moved in boots in stride with the Sargent.

              “What the hell?” she whispered.  “Why would they kill us?  We didn’t do anything wrong.”

              “You’re not looking at it right,” he muttered, turning the corner to the right and continuing down the long hallway.  The building was only half finished, leaving several of the floors incomplete, their support beams, wiring, and air ducts exposed to his view.  He grabbed her arm, ducked between two of the support beams, and closed in behind a scaffold. 

              “You need to think like them,” he whispered.  “Think about it for a minute.  How many people just LET those harriers land and enter the facility?  There wasn’t any blood in the Tower until we put it there, so it’s possible those scientist hopped right onto those harriers willingly.  Yeah, maybe there was a gun to their heads, but we can’t think like that right now.  It’s way safer for us to assume that they went on their own desire to leave.  That means they were in on it too.  Hell, the whole company might be in on this Janys, have you thought about that at all?”

              “No, I’m not buying that,” she whimpered.  “We have to tell somebody.  We can make a call to the Parasus guards and have someone pick us up.”

              “No good.  Isom and his people might be in on it too.  I doubt it, but we can’t risk it.  Earth is our only option, but for now, we need to get off this planet.”

              “Well, we have to get out of the building first.  You got a plan for that yet?”

              “No, but this place being incomplete is a blessing.  Doubt they have cameras on every level yet.  They’ll figure out what floor we’re on soon enough, so I suggest we drop down another level or two.”

              They broke from the unfinished hallway, stepping between clusters of cables that hung from the ceiling.  Behind them, the elevator dinged, causing Bearden to grab Janys by the arm and pull her behind another girder. 

              Footsteps stomped on the floor.  The pair held their breath as the oncoming group broke up.  Some of the footsteps went to the left of the elevator, the others took to the right, towards the hidden fugitives.  Bearden knelt down, one blue eye peering around the support beam, catching a figure passing between the frame of the unconstructed hall.  He waited for a second, then turned to Janys and held up three fingers.  She nodded, her pale eyes locked onto his in determination. 

              The group of suited men rounded the corner.  One continued down the hallway while the other two split up and stepped between the support beams to either side.  They stepped in unison, guns raised to eye level, a finger ready at the trigger.

              Janys closed her eyes, forcing her lungs to slow down their intake of oxygen.  Her body had spent its adrenaline at the Tower, leaving her exhausted and barely able to move.  To her advantage, her nerves were turning cold, a steel will to live forming in her hands as she turned off the safety to her pistol. 

              The floor was silent, save the three sets of footsteps that slowly closed in around them.  They could fire their weapons, each taking out one of the oncoming men, and hope to catch the third before he got a shot off.  That possibility would only lead to the other group closing in on them as well, forcing them to retreat to the stairwell, hoping that another set of suits with guns hadn’t already set to guard the exit. 

              The man in the hallway was only ten feet away now.  Bearden could feel the fine bits of construction rubble shifting under the man’s dress shoes as he turned left to right, scanning for a target.  The flanking men were keeping pace, each making certain to stay within the visual range of the group.  Bearden’s mind calculated odds, realizing that he would have to risk the other group knowing their location.  There was no way to take down the three without a single shot being fired from them, nor from the attackers.  If he waited any longer, he would lose what advantage he had over their pursuers.  He turned, motioned for Janys to take the left.  She nodded, then held her breath as the Sargent slid to the hallway.

              Bearden fired the first shot, piercing the skull of the man in the hallway.  The man’s eyes were opened wide as a second shot fired, with Janys sending a bullet through the chest of the man to her left.  The man fired as his body fell back, the shot crashing into the beam in front of the duo.  Bearden stepped out and waited for the other man to cross the series of beams between the hall and the room.  The flicking debris informed him that the man was retreating.  Bearden turned to the hall, his gun aimed to the right side when a shot was fired, the burst of light coming from his left. 

              Janys stepped out of the room, entering the hallway, motioning for the Sargent to head towards the stairs.  Sounds of running footsteps crossing the elevator urged them forward as they trekked the long hallway, then through the door to the stairwell in the far left corner.  Janys had just passed through the doorway when a bullet smashed the center of the door, lodging itself into the wall behind it. 

              They stomped down to the next floor.  Bearden shoved the door open to exit the stairwell, but grabbed Janys by the arm and led her down the next flight of stairs.  Footsteps overhead smashed down on the stairs.  A smaller, more agile suit saw the door closing.  He skipped the last three steps, slid across the slick floor of the landing, and flung the door open.  Two more suits closed in.  The last was short, but heavy, fallen back several paces from his quicker comrades.  The door was almost shut when his chunky fingers reached out for the handle.

              Bearden took advantage of the group’s separation, racing up the stairs, grabbing the matted hair of the fat man’s head and smashed his face into the corner of the door.  The man fell to the floor in a heap, his gun smacking the floor, echoing down the stairwell.  Janys closed in behind as Bearden threw the door open, catching the second man still searching the hall of the next floor.  He fired two shots, hitting the man in the spine and the neck.  The man fell, his body still trying to turn to the sound of the first shot as his legs collapsed beneath him.  Bearden ducked down and waited for the smaller man to return.  The untrained guard raced around the corner, both hands in front of him as his mind sought a target.  By the time his eyes focused on the large form kneeling in the doorway, Bearden had already squeezed the trigger and dropped the small man onto the floor. 

              The duo salvaged what they could from the bodies, pulling unused clips for their pistols and a set of key cards from the small man.  They followed the hall, choosing to take the stairwell opposite of the one they’d used as a trap.  Bearden smashed the door open, his gun aimed up the stairs as Janys covered the other landing.  The duo moved on, taking the next flight of stairs.

              They stopped at the next floor, number eighteen.  Bearden swore as the room was closer to being finished than the other two floors above, realizing that the next floor or the one after would have cameras hooked up to a monitoring station. 

              “Oh that’s a bitch,” he muttered.

3 CHAPTER THREE

                Tana had excused herself, leaving Agent Calloway and Commander Dayne alone in his office.  The two men made small talk for several minutes, but business started to lift its ugly head, demanding for their attention.

              “I assume you wish to talk to the prisoners?” Bastiian offered.

              “That’d be smart,” Nathan replied.

              Bastiian nodded and led him from the office.  They continued down the long hallway of light stone walls, passing several men in gray armor.  Each man stood to the wall and gave a deep bow to the Commander as he passed.  Nathan wasn’t sure if his back could have withstood a lifetime of such gesturing.  They passed several rooms, then reached a tunnel that led to the next floor.  Nathan had expected stairs, but he didn’t object as his legs were cramped from too much sitting. 

              “You were disappointed when you met me,” Bastiian started.

              Nathan’s mouth fell open in protest, but he couldn’t find the proper words to counter the Commander’s suggestion.  He closed his mouth, still searching for something to say as the Commander closed his eyes and nodded.

              “I assure you, I am not insulted,” he continued.  “My armor is far more famous than my body, perhaps even my name.  The armory is on the way to the prison.  I will gladly show you.”

              Nathan nodded as the tunnel leveled out.  They passed several large openings, each with rows of glass chambers.  Most were empty, but a few held the gray armor that Nathan had seen the newer recruits wearing.  The next chamber had one blue armor, with seven empty glass shelving units.  They reached the next room on the left.  The Commander pressed his thumb to a tiny pad on the wall, forcing the door to open. 

              The heavy wooden door pushed open from its frame.  Bastiian shoved it the remainder of its journey, leading Nathan into the single chamber.  There, in the middle of the room, stood the gold and white armor of the Commander.  It was perched on a glass shelf system, divided by the size of the armor it contained.  The helmet was on the top shelf, its gold trim basking in the spotlights of the room.  The chest piece rested in the middle, the center unhinged, waiting for its wearer to need it.  Gantlets rested in narrow shelves to each side, two golden boots on the floor, and two sets of leg cover in the middle. 

              They circled around the glass unit, allowing for Nathan to see the remarkable set from every angle.  The light glistened off the gold trim, the white seemed to absorb it.  On the back of the unit, a cape was hung, cloth made of fine golden silk.  His eyes went up, catching sight of the tail of hair that laid from the top of the helmet, flowing down the back to the base.  On the wall next to the glass unit rested an enormous shield, colored the same as the armor, and with fine etchings around the trim.  They appeared to be the same symbols he’d seen outside, leaving him to guess what language they were written in.  Finally, a holster held a golden pistol, larger than any single-handed weapon Calloway had ever seen.  A spotlight rained down upon it, the gold shining in its wake.

              “How long does it take to put it all on?” Nathan asked, resisting the urge to touch the golden gun.

              “That depends on the call,” Bastiian laughed.  “For a ceremony, it doesn’t take long enough.  For an emergency, far longer than I care for.”

              Nathan joined in the laugh, picturing the man having to wear the heavy armor every time there was a new market being opened in the city, or some dignitary receiving a new title. 

              “Is it heavy?”

              “It is, but I’ve trained since I was a boy to wear it, so I’m quite used to it by now.  In fact, I feel rather naked without it sometimes, like leaving your arm in your bed each morning.”

              “Where’s the power cell?”

              “Being recharged.  It usually sits behind my shield when it is in storage.  It had plenty of charges left in its cells, but my superiors insist that it be checked after every use.  Can’t have a dead Commander due to a faulty power cell I suppose.”

              Nathan nodded and stood up straight.  His mind pictured the fear a common criminal must feel when their bullets are seen orbiting around the Commander’s shield, moments before the golden gun is drawn upon them.  He knew that the crime rate was low on Eden, but now he was starting to understand why.

              “Shall we?” Bastiian asked, gesturing towards the door.

              Calloway followed the Commander out of his personal arms room, and further on down the long tunnel.  The reached a thick, metal wall, its frame reinforced with thick beams, and four guards standing watch over the entrance.  They each gave the same bow as one pressed a button on the control panel in front of him.  Heavy locks broke free as the doors slide inside their frame, grinding as they inched open. 

              The air smelled stale as it blew through Nathan’s hair, blowing brown locks off his forehead.  The Commander stormed into the hall, plate glass cells lining each side, each reinforced with a metallic frame.  Each cell held two men, none of which looked to be from Eden, based upon their attire.  A few recognized Calloway’s uniform, practically throwing themselves upon the glass as he passed.  Their mouths opened, but Nathan could not hear their cries as the glass was too thick to allow sound to penetrate.

              “These are the prisoners you see, all seven of them,” Bastiian informed him.  “There condition is the same as we found them.  It seems they are slavers from Mesa, traveling here to fetch the, in their words, unspoiled young women from our villages.”

              “How exactly did you get them to tell you?”

              “I assure you, Agent Calloway, that none of these men have been tortured.  They’ve seen, with their own eyes, the power that gravity can unleash when it is properly harnessed.  I merely had to mention how we execute slavers on Eden.  That seemed to loosen their tongues quite nicely.”

              “So what will you do with them now?  Will there be a trial or shall I take them to Mesa for sentencing?”

              Bastiian laughed, sending a chill down Nathan’s spine.  He wasn’t sure what to expect when he left Earth, but having the Commander laugh at the notion of either a trial or transferring the prisoners did nothing to make him feel at ease.

              “We shall do no such thing,” he laughed.  “They will be executed of course.  We do not condone slavery on Eden, Agent Calloway.  The execution will be made public for all to witness what happens when you break the laws of our Queen.”

              Nathan looked to the prisoners, understanding why they were so eager to see an Agent from Earth.  He stared at the prisoner before him, noting the desperation in his weary eyes.  The Agent could only imagine what horror awaited them at the hand of the Commander and his fellow Overseers. 

              “Then why did you call me here?” Nathan snapped, turning to the Commander.  “Why drag me all the way out here if you’re just going to kill them?”

              “I’d thought that’d been obvious.  Please walk with me, Agent Calloway.”

              Nathan was becoming sick of having his title and last name used in every sentence, but he followed the Commander out of the prisoner cell.  The heavy doors slammed close behind him as Bastiian led him back to the front entrance of the Overseer stronghold. 

              “The times are troubling for our people,” Bastiian started, staring up at the high sun.  “By that, I mean ALL of our people.  Eden, Earth, Mesa, Parasus, and all of the planets.  This attack by your Cybers is only the tip of the blade.  Whoever is behind these attacks has a vendetta against you, as well as sinister plans in their hearts.  I believe we should work together to end this threat before their plans see fruition.”

              Nathan followed his gaze, catching the faint hum of motored traffic.  As he was yet to see a vehicle on the streets, he was left to ponder where he was hearing the noise.  Above him, and to the right, a long stretch of stone and metal reached high into the sky, reaching around buildings, and held firm by beams in the streets.

              “Where are your transports?” he asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.

              “Above us,” Bastiian replied.  “Those are roads up above us.  Our transports stay high above the streets, allowing for pedestrians to walk safely amongst the markets and storefronts.  It also helps with the noise, though we do limit the amount of traffic that passes through the kingdom.”

              Nathan raised a brow, wondering what would happen if two transports collided above and fell to the street below.  To the best of his knowledge, there were no less than fifty people on a street at any given time.  Any accident resulting in a falling vehicle could lead to several casualties.  He shook off the thought, returning to the matter at hand.

              “I don’t see how these slavers are connected with the Cyber attacks,” Nathan informed him.  “I appreciate the thought of every planet working together, but you’re losing me.”

              Bastiian dropped his head, focusing his gaze upon his guest.  His features cast shadows on the lower half of his face and neck, displaying the fit state the Commander kept himself.  Nathan stepped closer, not wishing for the passing crowd to eavesdrop on their conversation.

              “An attack on the Earth, especially that of a military courtroom, encourages other aggressors to follow suit.  Somehow, I doubt that the slavers arriving on my planet are a mere coincidence.  They see that a small group is able to thwart an entire government, and their balls swell to twice their normal size.  Had the attack not occurred, then the likelihood of these slavers coming to Eden may have been reduced.  I will not allow for my Overseers to be seen as weak, Agent Calloway.  We managed to avoid the loss of life this morning, and the deaths of these dogs maybe prevent more casualties in the future.”

              “But there were lives lost,” Nathan snapped.  “You personally killed two men this morning.  Just because they weren’t from Eden doesn’t mean that their lives meant nothing.”

              “Their lives MEANT nothing.  In all your travels, how many slavers have you come across?  Dozens?  Hundreds?  If you were raised on Eden, you would not feel so compelled to holster your weapon when logic dictates that you should fire.”

              “They’re prisoners, not wild beasts.  They should be returned to Mesa.”

              “Mesa has no laws opposing slavery.  Your mentioning of their return to their home world is an insult to the women they tried to take this morning.  Do you know what would have happened to those young girls?  They would be sold, Agent Calloway, to the highest bidder.  Their tender flesh would have been molested for months, perhaps years before their owners grew weary of the sorry state their bodies would reach, and then they would sell them off as slave labor to a mining colony or some small factory.  The youngest girl they would have taken was ten years old.  Does the blood not boil in your veins when you imagine some fat, disgusting slob having his way with a ten-year-old girl?”

              Nathan thought back to the Koranth sisters, the youngest being groomed to please the late Lord Elsmere.  His blood had boiled then, but his position had prohibited him from acting upon his urge to kill the foul man.  Deep inside, the Commander’s words rang true, but his training and upbringing had led him down a more civilized path.

              “Don’t play coy with me,” Nathan snapped.  “I know your sources told you about Lord Elsmere.  Is that why you asked me here, to draw upon my sympathy about the sex slave trading?”

              “I assure you my sources have said nothing,” Bastiian informed him.  “However, I would like to hear this story.”

              Nathan thought about it, wondering whether or not it was professional for him to discuss such matters.  A voice told him that he could trust the Commander though he hadn’t a clue as to why.  Somehow, that same part of him urged him on, begging for him to tell the Commander just how awful the man was.

              “Joseph and I were called to Parasus to investigate a crime,” Nathan started.  “What we didn’t know was that the late Lord Elsmere wanted us to travel to Mesa to retrieve his property.  Somehow, the man conned a father into using his four daughters as collateral for some business loan.  I suspect that Yomiel was forced into the agreement, but we had no way of knowing without more evidence.  I just stood there, watching him parade those young girls, nearly in their birthday suits, as if they were objects that he owned.  Somehow, Joseph found a loophole in the common law and Mesa.  Sure, they allow slavery in the markets that line the shadows of their cities, but they pucker up real nice when it comes to an MA referring to the common law.  He got them back to their father, somehow, and I’m guessing you know of his trial.”

              “So, let me see if I’ve understood your story.  This Joseph, this Cyber, did what the human could not by freeing those poor girls from a horrific man, who forced their father into signing their bodies away.  Joseph, or the champion of the MA’s as I will now refer to him, was then brought to trial for his actions.  Do you not see the sorrow in that statement?”