Ure Infectus (Imperium Cicernus Book 4) (33 page)

But Masozi had risked everything she had in order to play
her part in his game, and he owed her his full attention should matters take a
turn for the worse—an outcome which was more likely than he could have imagined
prior to Agent Stiglitz’s confession.

“Forty nine minutes,” Eve replied promptly. “The whole
city’s covered in a comm. blackout, Jericho; I can’t pierce it until we’re
literally in visual range.”

“Contact the
Zhuge Liang
,” Jericho instructed her
before amending, “
wait
, never mind…I’ll do it.” He
strapped a headset over his ears and activated the secure channel to Captain
Jeffrey Charles aboard the CSS
Zhuge Liang
.

“This is Charles,” his cousin’s voice came in loud and clear
over the headset.

“Captain,” Jericho said, wincing as the medic slipped and
accidentally sliced into his stump, “Abaca’s in comm. blackout for us, can you
confirm?”

“We confirm,” Charles replied promptly, “the whole city went
quiet not long after you were reported captured. We’re guessing they’ve
switched off all the primary comm. relays.”

“We have to consider the possibility of a bomb going off in
Abaca in about thirty minutes,” Jericho said grimly. “And if I’m right it’s
going to be a big one.”

“I thought the bomb was a decoy?” Captain Charles said in
confusion.

“Mine was,” Jericho agreed, “but it looks like our
adversaries have upped the stakes. Once the Adjustment’s made, I’ve been told
that Abaca will die—followed by the rest of the colony.”

“Stand by,” Charles said before severing the connection.
When the link was re-established nearly a minute later, his voice had taken a
hard edge, “Our simulations are suggesting that given Philippa’s thin
atmosphere, we’re probably looking at a bio-agent of some kind. A bioweapon
development facility in the Liberty system was reportedly compromised six
months ago, and it was widely-reported by the state-run media there—and
here—that it was likely an act of corporate espionage. The stolen delivery
system included a surface-to-air, high-altitude introduction device which could
achieve full dispersal in less than an hour.”

Jericho sat back in his seat and processed the meaning of
this latest bit of news. “Clever,” he said grudgingly, “they deploy a weapon of
mass destruction against their own people and then frame Hadden Enterprises for
the crime…”

“It’s just the kind of thing that can turn public opinion at
a pivotal moment like this,” Charles agreed darkly. “It looks like we stepped
in it here, Cousin.”

Jericho gripped the arm of his seat with his lone, remaining
hand and set his jaw. The pain in his stump was actually overpowered by his
anger at not having seen this particular event coming. In hindsight it seemed
so obvious; sacrifice Governor Keno—along with the entire Philippa Colony—in
order to galvanize the Sector’s populace against the only people who were
actually acting in the people’s best interests.

“We can’t look back,” he said, as much to himself as anyone
else, as he knew that hindsight of that kind would lead to nothing but
paralysis. “What are your simulations showing as possible containment methods
available to us?”

“We’re working something up,” the Captain replied
hesitantly, “but it’s not going to look good when we do it. We’ll have to make
low orbit directly over the city and, if we make the necessary modifications in
time, we can detonate four of our antimatter torpedoes in the atmosphere and burn
the methane-laden atmosphere around the city—hopefully preventing a chain
reaction that cooks Philippa’s entire atmosphere off in the process.” The other
man took a breath that was so deep and loud, Jericho could hear it through the
headset, “But to the cameras…it’s going to look like we’re firing on a
defenseless city, Jericho.”

“If it will save lives then do it—fuck appearances,” Jericho
said coldly, momentarily admiring the complexity of the trap they had just
walked into. “They’ve crossed a line, Jeff; this is no longer a game. If we
don’t act to protect these people then apparently no one will.”

“At least we’ll be able to wait until we get confirmation of
the bioweapon’s deployment,” Charles added confidently. “My people are already
working on tapping into local security feeds; we should have access to most of
Abaca’s systems as soon as we’ve made low orbit.

“If you’re certain you can make that determination before
the weapon has spread outside your containment zone, fine,” Jericho said in a
commanding tone, knowing full well what his order meant. “But if you can’t get
confirmation, you cook off the atmosphere around the city—do you understand
me?”

“Jericho,” Charles said hesitantly, “there are over six
hundred thousand people in Abaca who will either burn to death or suffocate if
we’re wrong.”

“And if we’re right there are two and a half million people
outside the city who will die if we let that weapon spread,” Jericho retorted
harshly. “You only abort the launch if you can
prove
the weapon hasn’t been
deployed, am I clear?”

Silence greeted his ears for several long, tense seconds.
Just as Jericho was about to remind his cousin of his orders, Captain Charles
replied, “I understand…and for what it’s worth, I’m afraid it’s the right
move.”

“I have no idea if it’s right or not,” Jericho said grimly,
“but I do know that we can’t be paralyzed by fear of being wrong. Update me
every two minutes via point-to-point tactical packets.”

“You’ve got it,” the other man said crisply, “Charles out.”

Jericho studied the
Tyson
’s instrumentation to
confirm everything was as it should be. Nearly every single system was
redlined, with the engines well past their recommended operating ranges and
nearing their rated failure points.

As the
Neil deGrasse Tyson
tore through Philippa’s
atmosphere, Jericho wondered whether he would have called off the Adjustment in
that moment if he was able. Doing so very possibly would save six hundred
thousand lives, and to Jericho those people were not merely statistics—he fully
understood that each of them was a parent, a child, a sibling, a mentor, a
student, or even a future leader of humanity.

The answer, when he finally arrived at it, made even
his
blood
turn cold.

Masozi crouched in the corner of the secure dressing room as
she awaited the Governor’s concert to reach intermission. The audacity of a
sitting government official—especially one of Governor Keno’s public
stature—
participating in such a gross display of indulgence
was simply mind-blowing.

It wasn’t enough of a reason to kill the woman…but it was
enough that Masozi genuinely thought she might have considered the matter had
she been one of the Governor’s constituents.

The real reason the Governor deserved to die was that she
had knowingly wrought havoc on her people’s livelihoods. Life in the Capitol
City of Abaca was more or less like that in any of Virgin’s cities. The streets
were clean, there were plentiful public amenities, and the structures seemed to
be well-maintained.

But in the outlying areas—some of which Masozi had seen
personally—were atrociously underserviced. It was as if there were two separate
worlds on Philippa: one for the rich and the other for the poor, and that
stratification angered Masozi to the core. The image of the St. Murray’s
patrons with their radiation poisoning had been burned into Masozi’s mind, and
she knew that anyone who willfully encouraged such conditions among the
populace who depended on them to serve and protect deserved to be punished.

Masozi understood that not all people could have equal
access to the finer conveniences in life, and that a person needs to earn their
way on his or her own merits. But Governor Keno, and her family, had
purposefully denied their populace an already-functioning method by which they
could better themselves—and they had done it with the clear intent of privately
profiting off the very opportunity they had just stolen from the people who
depended on them.

As the cheers reached a crescendo in the coliseum above her,
Masozi felt her spine stiffen at the Governor’s audacity. She was literally
profiting from her people’s misery, and her unwitting public was cheering her
for her efforts.

Philippa’s most active generation had been raised in the
very circumstances which the Timent Electorum had been founded to prevent. As
she heard the intermission call echo through the coliseum above her, Masozi
knew that more than at any other point in her life what she had come to do was
not only palatable…it was necessary.

If people like Governor Keno were allowed to continue
abusing their populace then life in the Virgin System would soon devolve into a
caste-based society with the privileged aristocracy sitting at the top—the very
system of ‘government’ which the Sector had been freed from when the wormhole
had collapsed two hundred years earlier.

The minutes passed by at a maddeningly slow pace, until she
heard the Governor’s entourage near the door to the room.

“Showtime, babe,” Eve said, cracking her virtual knuckles
for emphasis. “As soon as the door’s closed you give her hell—don’t hold
anything back. If we’re lucky we can take her before she even realizes we’re
here. Just hit her with everything you’ve got; I’ll transfer power from the
stealth systems to the suit’s other mods if we don’t get her with the first
shot.”

As the door opened, Masozi held her breath when saw a
handful of heavily-armed guards standing outside the room. The Governor—a huge
woman who had apparently not opted for any kind of skeletal reduction during
her gender change operation—entered the room.

As she entered the room, one of her male handlers said, in a
piercing, effeminate voice, “The Governor requires her rest before the show may
resume. Please take this opportunity to—“

The door closed, cutting off the man’s words mid-sentence.
The Governor drew a breath, which she released as a sigh while rolling her neck
around as the mag-locks engaged on the door.

Masozi knew this would be her best chance so drew her left
fist back in anticipation. After drawing a deep breath, she launched herself at
the Governor with a vicious, overhand punch aimed squarely at the woman’s
muscular neck.

Just before her gauntleted fist connected with the flesh of
the Governor’s neck, the Governor brought her forearm up in an inhumanly fast
gesture, blocking Masozi’s blow just enough that it was deflected off target
and struck Keno in the shoulder.

The impact when Masozi’s armored forearm connected with
Keno’s unarmored one was jarring, and unlike anything Masozi had expected to
feel.

“She’s augmented, all right,” Eve said grimly just before
the Governor launched a counterattack. Keno punched low and then brought her
knee up into Masozi’s midsection with enough force to send her flying into the
far wall. She impacted with enough force to send a web of cracks radiating from
the point of impact.

Masozi regained her feet just in time to launch a
counterattack as the Governor brought her foot up in a roundhouse kick aimed at
Masozi’s head. Diving inside the Governor’s guard, Masozi hammered an uppercut
into the woman’s surprisingly hard ribcage. Even with the added strength from
the suit behind the blow, Masozi barely managed to elicit more than a grunt as
the Governor grabbed her wrist and head before trying to throw Masozi onto her
back.

Their combined bulk crashed into the nearby sofa and its
thin, metal frame snapped as the piece of furniture collapsed. Masozi only then
realized that her stealth systems were compromised when she saw that her
gauntlet was flickering between visibility and invisibility.

Governor Keno grabbed Masozi’s armored neck with her left
hand, then postured up and cocked her right fist in preparation for a crushing
blow to Masozi’s head—but Masozi had no intention of waiting for it to arrive.
She grabbed the Governor’s left wrist with both of her hands and pivoted her
hips and shoulders such that she isolated Governor Keno’s left arm between her
armored legs and pulled Keno’s thick wrist against her armored chest.

She barely managed to avoid the incoming deathblow by doing
so, and Keno’s free fist struck the concrete beneath the ruined sofa with a
sharp, cracking sound. Before the Governor could recover, Masozi had strained
with everything her suit-powered strength could muster as she fought to break
the Governor’s arm.

She felt the arm give at the elbow, but the Governor Keno
barely seemed to notice as she had already regained her feet. As she did so
Masozi was turned nearly upside down, and the Governor stomped down into
Masozi’s armored chin once—twice—three times before Masozi finally let go of
Keno’s ruined arm and pushed away in an effort to create some much-needed
space.

But Governor Keno pursued and snapped another, brutal kick
into Masozi’s armor—this one into her left thigh—just before Masozi was able to
get her feet beneath herself.

“Nice armor,” the Governor growled as she pivoted on her
front, right foot. She spun her body around faster than Masozi had ever
seen—even during kickboxing competition—and planted her right foot squarely in
Masozi’s gut. The impact was enormous, and a series of red icons began to flash
on her helmet’s HUD.

Masozi crashed into the far wall and collapsed to her knees
just as the Governor planted a hellacious knee into her armored chest. Another
round of alarms went off in the suit’s systems and Masozi heard Eve say, “We
can’t take much more of this; work your way toward the door!”

The Governor followed the knee strike up with a pair of
crushing, overhand punches delivered to Masozi’s armored head. The displays in
her helmet briefly flickered off before returning, and just as the Governor reached
down with her right arm to grip behind Masozi’s neck—Keno’s left arm now hung
uselessly at her side—Masozi put everything she had into a rising uppercut
aimed at the Governor’s chin.

Keno’s own strike was driven off-target by Masozi’s powerful
punch, as the blow literally lifted the Governor a foot off the floor and sent
her body in a ponderous arc through the air. The Governor’s arm and legs
flailed uselessly as Masozi reached up with both of her hands and grasped the
other woman by the waist.

Keno reached down with her one good arm in a blind attempt
to break Masozi’s grip, but Masozi grasped her opponent’s waist tightly and
drove her body across the small room until they slammed into the still-locked
door.

They crashed into the door with enough force to deform it
noticeably, and Keno’s body briefly went limp. “Grab that conduit—quick!” Eve
said, and a section of conduit which apparently fed the door’s mag-locks lit up
in the helmet’s display.

Without even thinking why Eve would want her to do it, Masozi
leapt up and grabbed the conduit with her left hand. It broke free from its
moorings as her body fell down on top of the Governor’s, and Masozi hammered a
pair of punches into the Governor’s head with her right hand—which, for Masozi,
was her off-hand—and Keno went limp for a fraction of a second from the
repeated, concussive, impacts.

Masozi had taken Eve’s meaning plainly enough when she had
indicated the power conduit, so she grabbed Keno’s chin in her right hand and
tore as much of the flexible power conduit free from its brackets as she could.
Once she had done so—and with her own body straddling the Governor’s—she rammed
the open end of the conduit into the side of the Governor’s head.

The lights dimmed in the room as the electricity in the conduit
coursed through Keno’s body. The surge was cut off after just two seconds—along
with the lights—but that was enough of a jolt for Keno’s body to go through a
series of violent convulsions.

Masozi knew almost nothing about augments—often referred to
as ‘cybernetics’ in popular fiction—but she
did
know that her suit was
already damaged and that it couldn’t withstand an indefinite amount of damage
before it became little more than a shapely, expensive, tomb.

She reached down and isolated the Governor’s right arm using
a maneuver she had seen in holo-vids, but never actually attempted. She locked
her left hand on Keno’s right wrist, and then snaked her right arm around the
Governor’s right elbow before gripping her own, armored forearm with her
gauntleted hand. She then stood and wrenched on Governor Keno’s right arm with
everything she had, and it was more than slightly alarming that the joint
didn’t simply pop out.

She redoubled her efforts just as the Governor gathered her
feet beneath herself sluggishly and attempted to use her ruined, left arm to
grasp Masozi’s waist. Masozi heaved and strained with every fiber of muscle she
had, but the Governor’s shoulder simply would not surrender.

“Fucking…bitch,” Governor Keno slurred just as she regained
her feet, and Masozi knew that this would be her last chance to neutralize the
Governor’s good arm. Somehow, even with one arm, Governor Keno had been
Masozi’s suit-powered match—it was now or never.

Masozi arched her back, wrenched the Governor’s arm up
behind her opponent’s back, and screamed with effort as she saw the display in
her helmet dim. Just as Keno managed to grasp around Masozi’s waist with her
free, ruined arm, the Governor’s right shoulder was destroyed with the sound of
a dozen pieces of metal shearing in unison.

Governor Keno let out a brief cry of surprise, but Masozi
continued to torque on the arm until she had rotated it so far it was nearly
pointed forward. She spun the Governor’s body over using her newfound leverage,
and landed on top of Keno before the Governor’s arm literally came off at the
shoulder in a shower of blood and metallic fragments. Her helmet’s night vision
was still fully functional, so she was able to maneuver herself into position
as the Governor fell to the ground.

“Wait, wait!” the Governor screamed as Masozi mounted her
ruined body and cocked her left hand for what she hoped would be a killing
blow. “I’ll give you ten times whatever you’re getting paid; I’m the richest
woman in the System—maybe even the Sector! You can have everything, just don’t’
kill me. I have two children who need me!”

Masozi had heard it all during her own examinations as an
Investigator, and though Keno was a lifelong politician her words rung hollow
in Masozi’s ears. “You betrayed your people, Governor,” Masozi said coldly, but
for some reason she stayed her hand. She had never actually taken a life during
her time as an Investigator, and had only ever fired a lethal weapon at another
human twice.

“Please,” the Governor pleaded, and even Masozi believed that
the tears now streaming down her cheeks were genuine, “my people need me. They
won’t know what to do if I’m gone—you’re not an assassin,” she added hastily as
recognition seemed to dawn in her eyes and Masozi actually had to process the
woman’s words. “A real assassin would have killed me already…”

Masozi considered Keno’s suggestion that she wasn’t an
assassin, and the truth was she had never fully considered that if she killed
the Governor then that was precisely what she would be. She may have a sturdy
legal leg to stand on if she acted in accordance to the Timent Electorum’s
directives…but she had come to a line she had never even dreamed she would
consider crossing.

“I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement,” Governor
Keno said, her eyes relaxing fractionally as though she was nearly out of
danger, “I’ll make you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams—just think of it! You
can have your own starship, enough money to buy a moon like this one, and an
army of people who will live and die at your whim!”

It was in that moment that Masozi realized who, and what,
the Governor really was—and, by extension what
Masozi
really was. The
Governor and her ilk were solely motivated by their ability to exert power over
others. Keno had let her people suffer and die from poverty while she basked in
the glow of their adoration. Masozi knew that she would continue to deny the
few opportunities for improvement which those people possessed each and every
year she held office—or any other position of power over the people of
Philippa.