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- Herausgeber: Laurie Bell
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
Mich Janelle is a disgraced Hunter who wants to find out who set her up for murder.
Zeth Wen made the worst mistake of his life, and now a space cruiser full of children are dead.
Rel Charley was a child of alien occupation and is now a man facing prejudice at every turn.
When the PIs are forced to team up to solve the gruesome murder of a mid-level tech smuggler, no one is happy. But as the clues piece together and the bodies pile up, the three must work together if they are to prevent a shocking conspiracy to kill millions.
As Zeth and Rel face their demons to prevent a bloodbath, Mich must wrestle with a voice that has lived inside her mind since she was locked away, one that whispers … kill them all …
An electrifying sci-fi thriller from the author of White Fire, Boss From Hell, and The Stones of Power series.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
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Blood Fever
Laurie Bell
Published by Laurie Bell, 2023.
First published by Laurie Bell in 2023
Copyright © Laurie Bell 2023
www.solothefirst.wordpress.com
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or
transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or
entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic,
digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or
otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.
Blood Fever
ePub ISBN: 978-0-6455747-4-6
Cover design by Pat Naoum, Red Tally Studios
Publishing services by Mark Furness, Liquorice Light Publishing
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
ABOUT LAURIE BELL
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
OTHER BOOKS BY LAURIE BELL: | WHITE FIRE
THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UNDECIDED
BOSS FROM HELL
THE BUTTERFLY STONE
THE TIGER’S EYE
THE CROW’S HEART
For Gerry
ABOUT LAURIE BELL
LAURIE BELL LIVES IN Victoria, Australia with her partner who she adores. As a sci-fi and fantasy aficionado, she maintains an active blog of science fiction, fantasy, and flash fiction pieces (found at www.solothefirst.wordpress.com). She has had several short stories published in the Antipodean SF e-magazine on www.antisf.com and in Etherea magazine. And of course she has many new books on the go.
Mich Janelle is a disgraced Hunter who wants to find out who set her up for murder.
Zeth Wen made the worst mistake of his life, and now a space cruiser full of children are dead.
Rel Charley was a child of alien occupation and is now a man facing prejudice at every turn.
When the PIs are forced to team up to solve the gruesome murder of a mid-level tech smuggler, no one is happy. But as the clues piece together and the bodies pile up, the three must work together if they are to prevent a shocking conspiracy to kill millions.
As Zeth and Rel face their demons to prevent a bloodbath, Mich must wrestle with a voice that has lived inside her mind since she was locked away, one that whispers ... kill them all ...
An electrifying sci-fi thriller from the author of White Fire, Boss From Hell, and The Stones of Power series.
CHAPTER ONE
“THIS STOP IS D4 PRIME. Passengers for D4 Prime, please disembark in an orderly fashion. This line will now run express to the central planets. On behalf of TS Cruisers, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for any delay in your journey. Thank you for traveling with us today.”
Mich Janelle bit back a groan at the timestamp on her comm unit. D4 Prime’s travel hub time was currently half ten. She was late—really late. The sweat beneath her armpits and her hot, tacky skin raised her ire. Lack of sleep lowered her tolerance. To everything. It put her in quite the feral mood. Not a great mental state for a job interview.
Fleetingly, she thought about rescheduling. TS Cruisers were notorious for running over their posted arrival times. Her hopefully soon-to-be boss would understand. She needed this job. It was the only interview she’d been able to secure. If she didn’t get it ... she shook the dark thought away. She’d get it. She had to.
Grabbing her bag from the overhead bin, she hustled for the exit. D4 Prime wasn’t a big world and she’d arrived at an awkward hour. With luck, she’d get through security quickly. Lack of funds meant she’d have to walk, adding further to her delay.
Moving rapidly down the kinked jetbridge, she eyed the rips and worn edges with unease. It allowed dull sunlight into the gloomy interior. D4 Prime had been hit hard in the initial bombardments and it seemed the local planetary officials hadn’t started drip-feeding the rebuild money into this sector yet. Hardly surprising. In the aftermath of the war, most worlds had prioritized government spaces and medical hubs. Mich stepped over a particularly nasty gash in the bendable smart plastic and headed into the travel hub beyond, pushing past the stragglers, her temper simmering.
When her position in the security check line didn’t move for twenty minutes, she was ready to boil over. She felt every tick of passing time as a pounding beat counting down to her empty future.
At last, she arrived at the stained counter, held out her wrist for her identification chip to be scanned and glared at the green-suited security official. He eyed the projected hologram of her face then tilted his long nose up as he made a show of carefully examining her actual features. She mashed her lips together to prevent complaints about his time-wasting and forced a smile.
“And your purpose for traveling here today?” His wrinkled face scrunched as his gaze tracked the Red Alert line on her ID profile.
Mich knew what it said. She gritted her teeth. “Job interview.”
“Uh-huh. And your permission to travel?”
“Is right there on my hologram, as you can see.”
He sneered. Leaning closer turned his gray skin shiny under the harsh overhead light. “We don’t want troublemakers here.”
She bit back the response she wished she could give and forced out, “Yes sir.” Time ticked away in the back of her mind.
“The name and location of your interview?”
She sighed. “Daeh’s Private Investigators Agency. The interview is for a detective role with the owner, Steven Daeh. And I’m very late.”
The security officer grinned, exposing sharp teeth. “Good luck with that. You have a temporary visitor pass. You don’t get the job, you depart D4 Prime within three days. Understood?”
“Understood.”
He gave her another long, searching look that was probably supposed to be intimidating before waving her along. Mich ran past milling passengers and burst out of the hub into the weak natural light of D4 Prime’s distant twin suns.
“You need a ride?”
Mich glanced at the local woman sitting inside her hovering taxi. Her gray skin appeared almost silver under the gloom of the vehicle’s interior, and her white hair held an oily sheen. Not a flattering light for anyone. Not that the sunlight outside was any better. D4 Prime was a world that never saw darkness and it showed in the depressed facial expressions, gray-tinted skin and heavily shadowed eyes of its native inhabitants.
Unable to afford the fee, Mich shook her head at the driver. Instead, she raised her eyes in search of a street sign. She spotted one, obscured by holographic graffiti. Hell’s spawn.
She called up her comm unit’s holomap and plotted a course, feeling more time ticking away. She turned left and moved off at a fast trot.
#
MICH WRIGGLED IN HER seat and did everything she could not to tap her feet against the worn carpet. Grinding her teeth together, she straightened her back and glared at Steven Daeh’s sallow assistant. He had introduced himself as Sveen and was deliberately moving things around on his desk to avoid looking at her. She assumed he knew. It seemed everyone had heard. Rumors flew faster than interstellar spaceships, and the gossip and innuendo that surrounded her downfall seemed to be whispered wherever she turned.
All she needed was a job. That was the first step to clearing her name. The only step she had.
Her knee bounced in place, betraying her nerves. She stilled it with a grunt, pressing her hand hard into her thigh. He’d sign her. He had to. There was no other result she could accept. She needed the money—yesterday.
Glancing again at the closed door leading to the chief detective’s office, she wondered what was taking Daeh so long. Sitting here gave her too much time to think. Sara McCroy, her assigned psychiatrist, had picked up on her restlessness and had made a point of analyzing it during Mich’s second assessment. An interrogation couched as analysis. Four long hours of torture, and Mich should know—she’d been tortured by professionals.
Focusing her gaze on Sveen, Mich watched him touch each of the figurines leaning against his terminal screen. Clearly a nervous habit. There were eight. The one at the end was rare, if she wasn’t mistaken. Mich searched her mind for the figurine’s name.
“Are you in pain?”
Sara McCroy’s voice interrupted. Mich’s memories flashed involuntarily back to her assessment, sitting in that plain beige office. McCroy’s obvious attempts to get inside her head had been laughable, but she’d endured them. She hadn’t had a choice.
McCroy, a dark-skinned woman with an ample figure, had stared unblinkingly at her and Mich had felt the harsh judgment down to her core. She’d faked scratching an itch on her back to hide her need to squirm. Stop staring.
“No.” Her intention had been to keep all of her responses to McCroy’s questions short.
“You seem uncomfortable.”
“It’s been a long day.” She’d stretched out in her seat to appear relaxed and stared at the empty drinking glass on McCroy’s desk. Fingerprints were smudged all over the glass, turning it smokey, and crimson lipstick stained the rim. Her breath had caught as she’d eyed the smudge of color. Not the same; it’s not the same.
“Mich?”
“What?” She’d glanced back to find McCroy’s crimson lips pursed. The woman blinked slowly. “I asked if your other assessments went well?”
“Oh sure, yeah. They were fine.”
“Were they?”
“Yes.”
“If I don’t clear you, Hunter Prime Marke will not allow you back.”
“He got me out.”
“He did. You’re his responsibility. That doesn’t mean you are not an ongoing risk.”
“Then why get me out?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
Mich remembered straightening in her chair as the dig had hit home. Her eyes had shifted back to the glass. “Yes. I’m fine. Ready to get my life back.”
“Are you?”
I have to be.
Pushing the memories of her exit therapy session on the day she left The Clinic out of her mind, she glanced at the chief detective’s closed office door and sighed. Sara McCroy had been doing her job. Perhaps that was why it had been so hard, watching her dangling the bait, hoping Mich would bite. She’d been aware of McCroy’s probing, felt her twisting fingers searching Mich’s brain, but Mich had kept her out, humming softly. There was no way McCroy was getting inside to see how fractured her mind had become. What made McCroy think she could sit in judgment over Mich, making decisions that would affect every part of her life? Stuck in her little office all day, asking questions she already knew the answers to. McCroy couldn’t possibly understand.
A tune drifted into Mich’s periphery. She pushed it back. Not now.
She caught Sveen staring at her leg and followed his gaze down. It was twitching. Damn it. In an explosion of movement Mich jumped to her feet.
“Ma’am, he is not ready for you yet.” Sveen’s voice sounded harried. What did he have to be stressed about?
She stared him down. A light sheen broke out across his gray-toned face. He swiped a finger beneath his long nose and sniffed, breaking eye contact. “Please sit, I ... I’ll try again.” He tapped his screen harder than required. A flush painted his cheeks. Mich sighed and looked down, examining her hands.
The door to the chief detective’s office opened with a sharp tug, revealing a tall blue-suited, gray-skinned figure. Mich couldn’t hide her flinch at the sudden movement.
Steven Daeh scrutinized her for a long moment. She couldn’t read his expression and that worried her. Inside her mind, she screamed, but she held his gaze. He wouldn’t know her mental state unless she exposed it. Eventually, he gestured for her to enter. He didn’t step aside, so she was forced to brush against him as she passed through the doorway. Her hand touched his jacket and her recoil was dramatic. She cringed at the reaction. Another failure. She was too close to the edge and she was slipping.
Inhaling sharply, she ended up with a mouthful of his cologne—something peppery. At least it wasn’t cinnamon. Still, she held her breath until she was clear of his scent. That damned tune was back dancing in the corners of her mind again.
“Mich Janelle?”
She eyed the man seated at the desk. When had he sat down? “Sir?”
“You are here about the job?”
She forced herself to breathe deeply, expanding her stomach and counting to eight before exhaling equally slowly. Hopefully her face was not as red as the heat blooming in it suggested. “Yes.”
His gaze searched her face for every minute movement, assessing her reactions and drawing his own conclusions. Her skin itched. “You used to work for the central government as a Hunter?”
“Yes.”
“Hunters are well trained.”
“Yes.”
“Why do you want to work here, of all places?”
That feeling of being prey was back. “You know my story.”
“I want to hear it from you.”
She narrowed her eyes, assessing him in return. Steven Daeh’s agency had a good reputation for getting the job done. Daeh himself was reportedly harsh but fair, and also an ex-Hunter. That would either work in her favor or severely against her. “I was a Hunter and now I’m not. I didn’t do what they said I did.”
“So why not go back?”
“They threw me under.”
He studied her. “Tell me about Temok Marke.”
Mich clenched her jaw. She couldn’t help it. Determined, she forced her fingers to relax and worked her jaw open. “My ex-boss.”
“He got you out of The Clinic.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She couldn’t answer that.
She didn’t know the answer to that.
It was the one answer she desperately wanted. She’d lost everything. Her job, her dream, her home. All of it. And even after she got out, she’d still lost everything.
“I have a copy of your file.”
Hell’s spawn. She didn’t speak, but her stomach sank. He knows. She clenched her fists and waited for his rejection.
Daeh sat unmoving, his face emotionless as he recounted her Hunter stats. “You were good. But out there, doubt will kill you quicker than a blade. Do you think you’re up to it?”
She didn’t respond.
“Your reflexes can be retaught. It’s your mental assessment I’m concerned about.”
Damn McCroy. Gripping the armrests of her chair, Mich leaned forward and hissed, “How can Sara McCroy make a judgment on that? She’s an office rat. She has no idea what it takes to be out there. I did nothing wrong.” Mich’s pulse was in orbit. She could feel it pounding like a hammer in her neck, fast and growing faster.
Daeh pressed his hands into the surface of his desk—a sign of frustration? Staring into his face, she spied the muscle of his right eye twitching. “How can I be sure?” he said.
The last thread on her frayed nerves snapped. “So I’m damned by my history? I was framed. But my word is clearly not enough. How can I prove I’m no longer ‘crazy’ when I never was? I need a job. I do good work. I’m fast and I don’t complain—much—and I’ll do whatever spawning job you have on the books that no one wants. You know my training. You’ve done it yourself—yes, I looked you up too. It’s what I do. I can do this.”
“Once a Hunter.”
“You of all people know Hunters are not unbreakable, untouchable or omnipotent. They are not always good. Or right.” She clawed at the armrests on her chair. The urge to run exploded inside her; she wanted to storm out, shouting, “Take the job and shove it out an airlock.” She might be unbalanced—crazy even—but she wasn’t useless. She could still work.
His eyebrows drew together. She was getting all sorts of facial tics and couldn’t read them. Was she reaching him or not? He had been a top-notch Hunter. One of the best. A stickler for the rules and cool as a k-cit in a crisis. Nothing could break his focus. If she wasn’t so angry, she’d be shocked he was showing her anything at all. The mask of Steven Daeh was Hunter canon. A legend, no one broke his mask of indifference. She had no idea what it meant that she had.
“You need a new detective or not?” she asked him.
“I’m inclined to give you a shot.” He paused, during which time her heart sank again. “You will be on a Watch and Report case, and you will be required to check in every day. Keep this with you at all times.” He held out a tracking disk.
She jumped to her feet and slammed her hands down on his desk. “That’s barely better than a desk job.” The tracker meant she didn’t have any personal freedom. Was that typical of probation here, or was it just her? How could she look into her own case if she was on that tight of a leash?
He steepled his fingers, his face a mask once more. “It’s your only option. If you won’t accept that, then you’re not hired.”
She’d take it, of course. It was a start, one she desperately needed. As long as she was out there, she could look into Tripness—kill them all.
The jerk of her head nearly exposed her thoughts.
Her real mission was to discover the identity of the man who had destroyed her life. This way, it would take longer. She wouldn’t get the same resources as a detective on a fully active case. Maybe, with a few successful cases under her belt, he’d give her more freedom, and better access.
Daeh spoke, seemingly reading her mind. “I’ll require a psychological assessment completed every half year.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I was set up. Someone within the Hunters did this to me. I’m not incapable of doing my job. I am not unstable.” She’d keep repeating it until she was blue from lack of oxygen. It was the truth.
“You’re paranoid and you doubt yourself. It’s not a good combination.” And there it was—he didn’t believe her either.
A flicker of doubt danced through her mind, like a shadow projected on a wall. Was he right? Could she trust her own fractured thoughts? She’d hoped this man—this ex-Hunter—might help her. Obviously not.
For now, she’d play the game. Drop the accusations, be a good little low-level detective and bide her time. She’d get the proof herself and expose the traitor to get her justice—and her revenge.
Sitting back down, she said sullenly, “No tests.”
“Then you will remain on Watch and Report cases. I have an agency to run, Janelle. I won’t put my company’s reputation at risk. Do you understand me?”
“Fine.”
But when she asked for the mission details, he hesitated. Holding onto the tablet he pulled from his desk, he stared at her intently before he handed it over. She skimmed through the report silently. There was an image captured from what was probably a street camera of a man with long cherry-red hair that covered his face and blended into his head, arms and any other part of his body not covered by his clothes. She couldn’t make out much of his features other than the thin lips and bulbous nose. A man from the settlement on Shol—the planet’s low temperatures had forced that particular hairy mutation, it made sholans instantly recognizable.
“His name is Yetti,” Daeh said.
“Aptly named,” she said drily.
Daeh’s nose twitched. “You know your One Earth history?”
“Only old fairytales.”
“Well, it’s not relevant to the case. Yetti is a tech smuggler currently living on Ketal Seven.”
An outer spiral world well out from the central planetary systems. Mich realized with a silent sigh that she’d have a long flight ahead of her. She’d have to rent a ship or book passage on another TS Cruisers line. Hopefully Daeh would give her an advance on her first pay chip.
“Find Yetti and report back on who he works for. I want the name of his contacts and anyone he meets with on a regular basis.”
“And then what?”
“That’s it.”
Sounded boring. Still, it would get her far away from her old Hunter circles, the only positive she could see from working this case. Watch and Report. What a nightmare.
Raising the tablet level with her eyes, she winked on her personal eye port and synched to the agency-issued device. Yetti’s file saved to her private storage bank. A flash of light indicated the transfer was complete. She handed the tablet back to Daeh.
“They didn’t take your chip?”
“They deactivated it.”
He nodded. “You’ve had it scanned for malicious software?”
Containing her snort, she nodded. “First thing I did when I got it back on.”
“Then welcome to the team, Janelle, and good luck.”
She forced the request through gritted teeth. “I’ll need an advance on my pay.”
He pointed to her wrist. “Sveen will organize a company identification hologram for you. It includes an expense account. Keep all your tokens. You’ll need to justify every spend.”
She sighed. More tracking. Just great.
“Be careful out there.”
How dangerous could a surveillance mission be? Standing, she nodded, exited the office and headed straight for Sveen’s desk.
At least she was back to work. Her stomach flipped at the unfairness of it all. Don’t show any weakness. Bile rose up in the back of her throat. She swallowed it away and told Sveen that Daeh had ordered she get the identification hologram.
She tapped her foot as she waited. Actually, this was perfect. She’d have plenty of time to research Tripness now, the failed case that had ended in her arrest—kill them all.
The case had started on Planet Five, one of the six central planets that made up the political core of the spiral. Ketal Seven’s distance from Planet Five would cause an irritating delay, but she’d be able to get basic information from the company’s servers. Surveilling Yetti would give her time, and time was all she needed.
Finding the connection between Tripness—kill them all—and the Hunters would be her launching point. Even if it took dissecting the lives of every one of Tripness’s five hundred employees, she would find the link. And when she found it, she would kill them all.
CHAPTER TWO
THE DEPARTURE TERMINAL seethed with passengers making their way off-world. It forced Zeth to separate from his partner, Rel, in order to search for the target.
Zeth raised a hand to scratch his unkempt beard. Wading through the crowd was a mission in itself. Manic laughter, children squealing and the mixed scents of a dozen different restaurants created a barely contained sense of chaos. A red-headed boy in a green pullover hurtled into Zeth’s legs, bringing an unusually violent curse to his lips as the kid’s bag smashed into his junk. The little bugger looked up, blue eyes widening and mouth falling open, exposing his crooked teeth, the front incisor missing.
The boy pointed to Zeth’s chest. “Are you a cop?”
Eagle-eyed scamp! Zeth tugged his ratty jacket closed over his shoulder holster and the glint of the gun there. “No.”
When he and Rel discovered The Spiral Guardians deadline had been pushed up, they’d taken off for the hub, leaving no time to change out of their disguises.
Six months they’d watched the gang, and The Spiral Guardians were finally making their move. Zeth trusted Rel’s intel. He trusted Rel. They couldn’t fail now.
Raising his head as the kid darted away, Zeth eyed the surging crowd. Travelers with trolleys and hovering baggage carriers blocked every door and walkway. In the cacophony of noise and light, it was next to impossible for Zeth to maintain his usual focus. There was a constant bombardment of announcements that flooded the air, flashing in the space above their heads in neon-lit holograms. Calls to inform the weary and the excited of changed arrival and departure times, and advertisements that ranged from Ketal Seven’s stone fruit plantation fruit hamper specials to Tripness’s ‘No questions asked, no job too big or small’ courier services to a sale on pure, crystalized water.
Zeth tapped his earpiece to call his partner, but the resing thing popped useless static into his ear. The travel hub’s communication systems had to be generating a blocking signal. Damn old tech—always created issues synching to the new stuff. It was like hunting through a labyrinth blind, and now deaf. His lack of control over the situation made Zeth twitchy.
Where the hell was Rel? His partner had a gift for technology. The only thing that could have prevented Rel from hacking the hub’s communication signal already would be ...
He must have eyes on the target.
With a sliding movement, Zeth weaved his way through a group of gathered school children. High-pitched voices quickly surrounded him. Directly in front of Zeth, two black girls with emerald tresses squealed and clutched at another girl who jumped up and down, enormous grins splitting their faces wide open.
By the One! Zeth winced at the volume of the next squeal. The rapid chatter died away as he tried to wriggle past.
“Ew!”
“Rank.”
The girls giggled.
Without turning, Zeth scowled. His gaze shifted sideways, catching sight of their smirking faces and, beyond them, the narrowed gaze and furrowed brow of their teacher. As though she’d heard Zeth’s unspoken thoughts, the school marm clutched her tablet to her crimson coat and stared him down. Zeth turned away only to find he was completely surrounded. What a nightmare.
#
“YOU CANNOT LET THIS go on, my dear boy.” Her honeyed voice flowed softly into his ear, wrapping around his confused thoughts and twisting them into a focused point of pain.
“I can’t?”
“Of course you cannot. Speak to the ketallian; his work is good—exactly what you need.”
“Yes. What I need. What you need, right?” He waited, desperate for her answer. She would tell him what to do. She would help him; she had promised.
“Dear boy. It is what she would have wanted. Justice and peace all in one. It will be perfect.”
“Yes.” He sighed deeply. She was right. He stroked the brooch’s surface, etched with her pretty face. She looked so beautiful and full of life.
“You will do it?”
“Yes.” His fingers caressed the face again and the voice in his ear sighed happily.
“Good boy.”
#
WILLING THE SCHOOL marm to take command of her unruly charges, Zeth silently cursed again. He would never find his partner in all of this madness. As he twisted, he caught a whiff of his own eye-watering body odor before another high-pitched scream pierced his ears. Straightening his shoulders, he found himself face-to-face with the furious teacher.
“Get away from the children.”
“Madam, I—”
“The TS Cruisers Express to the central planets boarding gate has been altered. Now boarding from gate eight. All passengers, please proceed to gate eight, your transport will be departing in fifteen minutes.”
Pushing greasy strands of mud-colored hair out of his eyes, Zeth read the nearby gate number—seventy-six—and cursed as a wave of people sprinted for the new gate. They jostled him from one foot to the other as they shoved past.
A man with a fat, shiny face stepped right into Zeth’s path. “Hey, watch it!”
“Sorry, mate.” Zeth raised his hands, though he was pretty certain the larger man was at fault.
The man bared yellow teeth and shuffled around Zeth, growling at the three girls who’d commented on Zeth’s stench. Zeth eyed the angry man carefully, fingers flexing next to his belt, prepared to act if the big guy did something untoward.
The man growled again, before circling the girls, hitching his backpack higher over his shoulder and lumbering away.
Zeth’s surge of adrenalin dissipated. Again he wondered where his wayward partner had gone. He flicked his comm to life and froze as something sharp jabbed into his spine.
“Move!” a deep-throated voice muttered right into his ear. A shove between his shoulder blades forced him forward.
Curse the One.
Zeth didn’t so much as twitch. “Relax, mate. I’m—”
“Quiet,” the voice hissed. “Move.”
Zeth had been made. Somehow the target had targeted him instead. How? He felt a steady pressure build against his spine. If he allowed himself to be prodded into the crowd, he’d be unable to act against his attacker without endangering nearby travelers. Digging in his heels, Zeth became a rock. If this guy wanted him to move, he’d have to up his game. The object in Zeth’s back pressed harder but didn’t penetrate his jacket. Not a knife then. Zeth twisted. The man turned with him, keeping his face hidden. The object didn’t move from the center of his back.
Glancing at the civilians around them, Zeth judged he had sufficient clearance and made his move. He stepped hard on his attacker’s instep, ramming his elbow into the man’s ribs. His attacker grunted. Zeth spun and jammed a fist into the man’s neck.
The attacker, a weedy pale figure, coughed hard. His hands flew to his neck, clawing at his throat as if he could somehow pry his smashed larynx apart. He doubled over.
A woman screamed. Someone shouted, “Get back!”
Zeth ignored them. With sharp, economical movements, he grabbed a fistful of hair and wrenched his attacker up. The man gaped like a grounded fish. Zeth launched his fist into the man’s gut and he retched, eyes bugging. Long scratch marks marred the pale skin of his arms. He dropped what appeared to be a stylus.
A junkie?
Zeth slid his foot behind the man’s leg, grabbed a fistful of shirt and tripped him to the ground. Zeth followed him down, falling to a knee. The attacker stopped moving as Zeth’s weight pinned him down.
With one hand Zeth rifled through the man’s pockets. He removed three wallets, eight charge cards and four identity chips. Zeth’s heart dropped. This guy was not a member of The Spiral Guardians—he was just some random mugger.
“Raise your hands!”
Zeth glanced up and into the barrel of a hub cop’s gun. Moving slowly, Zeth held his wrist out. A hologram of his private investigator identification sprang to life, casting a blue tint over his hand. The hub cop’s weapon didn’t move. Zeth released the mugger’s shirt and spread his hands wide, keeping his right wrist exposed, but not rising out of his crouch. He willed the cop to see past his hobo appearance. “Officer, I’m a private investigator on a time-critical case. I need you to let me go.” The cop’s scanner flashed and beeped affirmative, confirming the hologram was legit.
“So you can attack more innocent travelers? You steal that hologram, son?”
Zeth peered down at his own frayed, threadbare shirt, oil-stained trousers and filthy skin. He understood the skepticism; he just didn’t have time to deal with it.
He gestured to the mugger’s bounty. “Not innocent. Besides, he attacked first.”
The hub cop’s tightly drawn brows relaxed.
Zeth rose to his feet. “You can handle this?”
The cop’s lip curled. “I think I can.”
Turning in a circle, Zeth eyed the crowd that had gathered to watch the drama unfold. Arms were outstretched in his direction, holding up recording devices or comm units. The travelers who had been waiting at gate seventy-six were gone.
“Oh hell.” The hub cop’s alarmed mutter snapped Zeth’s head back, hunting for the next drama.
A heavy-browed man with close-set eyes and an unkempt beard that rivaled Zeth’s sprinted toward them. The officer raised his gun before Zeth pressed down on the barrel. “My partner,” Zeth said as Rel skidded to a halt.
“Got it! Got a shot of the target,” Rel shouted.
Zeth held out his hand, ignoring the twitching cop. Hard as it was to see under the mass of hair, Zeth was sure Rel’s eyes narrowed when the cop’s gun rose again. Zeth shook his head minutely.
Rel’s gaze fell to the unmoving mugger on the floor. Zeth shook his head again. Rel shrugged and held out a wrinkled piece of shiny plastic. One look at the 3D flash image caused Zeth to swear brutally.
“What?”
“I just saw him. He’s heading to gate eight.” With Rel at his heels, Zeth moved like a bot-racer. Lungs bursting and thighs screaming, he ran as fast as he could along the concourse. Thoughts of the three girls and the boy in the green sweater spurred him on.
I had him! He was right in front of me.
Rel came up alongside Zeth as he turned down the docking corridor. Gate eight was at the end, but sealed doors barred their way. The waiting area was devoid of people and eerily silent.
Panting, Zeth paced the length of the window, searching in every direction for the departed cruiser. Rel grabbed his shoulder and pointed up. Zeth followed his partner’s hand until he spotted the fat-bellied cruiser clawing its way to escape velocity.
“Damn the One!”
Rel turned, his face grim. “Maybe he didn’t board?”
Zeth spun again, hunting for a hub assistant this time. “We have to call them. Get them to turn the cruiser back.”
Rel pressed his comm unit to his ear.
A blinding flash of yellow and white light flared above them, lighting the night sky.
Beneath his bushy beard, Rel’s face lost all color. “Res it!”
Zeth’s heart lurched. Running to the window he stared up, his hand slapping at the reinforced glass. “No, no, no!”
“Zeth ...”
He couldn’t look away. The flash of light had faded into a spray of small black objects hurtling toward the ground below. An ear-splitting whoop-whoop tore through the empty boarding area.
Zeth’s voice was soft. “I had him. He was right in front of me.” He’d had the terrorist in his sights. How could he not have seen the evil in those crazed eyes? Those children ...
“Dresh! I didn’t get his image fast enough. I’m sorry, Zeth.”
“He was right there ... I didn’t see ...” Zeth’s chest hollowed out. His stomach jerked and he swallowed back bile.
Rel’s eyes closed and he swore again. Zeth crossed his right hand over his body, uttering a soft prayer to the One, begging Her to look out for the children unjustly sent Her way. He also asked for his own forgiveness. She would be the only one who could grant it.
CHAPTER THREE
MICH SQUISHED HER BODY, twisting in a futile search for a more comfortable position. Surveillance was one of the most uncomfortable jobs in existence, made worse by the fact that she’d chosen to do it. She now had a fully formed hatred of tiny hovercars, rivaling her intense dislike of the rain, squalls, sleet, torrential downpours and showers that dominated the local weather forecasts. Ketal Seven’s gray sky filled her days and her nightmares. It was a pleasant change from their usual content. She tugged her jacket tighter around her chest and slumped lower in her seat. Even with her jacket layered over a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, she was freezing.
For weeks now, she’d followed Yetti on his daily jaunts to cafes, the Ketallian Third University and his favorite bar—not at all ironically called The Dive. She’d watched him escort numerous women out of the bar to his rundown motel room, and out again the following morning. She’d caught short naps when she could, recording while she slept so she didn’t miss anything, and had hacked and cloned Yetti’s comms in an effort to gather intel.
Not that there was anything to miss.
She noted down his meetings with clients, anyone he did business with and any random strangers he came into contact with. There was nothing notable, and Mich was bored.
Surveillance was often boring, it was true, but by now, she was thoroughly bored of being bored. She’d already tried to hack Tripness’s company site—kill them all— and the screen had frozen before the staff page could even appear. The altranet signal here was appalling.
Was this really what she’d escaped The Clinic to do with her life? Temok Marke’s face flashed into her mind, his thin lips pressed tightly together after informing her she was out of the Hunters. Eyes cold, angry at her or at himself that she’d failed her reassessments. Even now, her hands trembled thinking about that moment.
She stretched her arms forward. The sore muscles in her shoulder and neck twinged with discomfort. In her lap was her updated surveillance report. She figured if she had to be bored, she might as well be bored and get her paperwork done.
Mich scrolled back through the tablet’s file. Her eyes caught on her initial description of Ketal Seven. Trell is the 228th island of the 3163 located in the southern hemisphere. Ketal Seven is a planet of islands linked by great bridges that cross the planet’s surface like a child’s game of pick-up sticks. It rains thirty-eight out of every thirty-nine days, and everyone who lives here is miserable. A fact she could attest to. Skein City is the capital of Trell and Yetti’s home away from home.
And her description of Yetti. Yetti Tilscki. Typical middle-aged male sholan. It must be bitterly cold on Shol to have caused such a mutation in the human settlers. Red hair with gray at the temples covers his face, neck and hands. She assumed the excessive hair covered the rest of him just as thoroughly. Fortunately, his neutral-toned clothing saved her eyes from that unwanted sight.
She flicked over to the descriptions of the people she’d observed him meet with regularly. Also the working women he’d met with only once. She’d not seen him spend time with a woman on the regular. The working women seemed happy enough to go with Yetti, though she didn’t understand it herself. The few times she’d got within spitting distance of him, his stale odor and the wafting stench of his well-worn clothing had quickly forced her away. Not a bad technique to avoid anyone hanging around who might pay attention to his business.
Mich stared up at the third level of the budget motel Yetti was staying in. The Skein City Gem was the worst kind of dump. Yetti had an internal room hidden away deep inside the blocky square building with no outside windows. The only reason you didn’t have outside windows was because you were paranoid someone was out to get you—or someone actually was out to get you. Mich was the only one watching Yetti, so paranoid it was.
There was no way to see into Yetti’s room, but she could see the entrance and the outside stairs. She’d know if he left.
The presence of the two women Yetti had brought home with him tonight implied he wouldn’t be going out again. Emitting a sigh, Mich pressed back into the insufficiently padded seat cushion and twisted her body to the right, stretching her left leg out to full extension before doing the same on the left side with her right foot. She scrolled back through her compiled client notes:
#1. Sal “Tiny” Mekaim. Suspected member of The Rebel Killers (TRK). A local and rather violent tech gang. Extensive criminal record. Attached.*
Description: Mid to late thirties. Ketallian native. Five foot nine inches. Pink-hued eyes. Slim build. Tattoo of ketallian bird of prey across back of the neck. Battenhold death mask tattoo on left upper arm. Shaved head.
[Note: Explosives expert. Beta personality. Potentially attempting a coup? Further investigation required.]
Date of meeting: Ketallian Mid Day.
Time of meeting: Ketallian 6:17 rotation.
Location of meeting: Island Mac Four. Cafe Sevens.
Items requested: Unknown.
Items delivered: Island Mac Four. Storage warehouse unit H45. Unidentified tech. Two crates of water (sighted and labeled).
Follow-up meeting: Next K-End Day.
*See appendix eight.
#2. Sinn Faber. Suspected leader of Trell faction of The Spiral Guardians.
Description: Late fifties. Ketallian native. Six foot eight inches. Deep-set pink eyes. Right eye squint. Large belly. Limp—suspected bad right ankle. Shoulder-length graying hair tied back in a low ponytail.
Date of meeting: K-Second Day.
Time of meeting: K-14:05 rotation.
Location of meeting: Island Trell. Behind bar The Dive.
Items requested: “Seven of special six”, “three of special fifteen” and one barrel of salt water.
[Note: Need to break this code.]
Items delivered: Tech? Six crates (unknown). One crate (sighted). [Note: Appears to be random parts for Freer Five spaceship. Is this translation of special six?] One barrel of water (sighted and labeled). Three crates (contents unknown). [Note: Special fifteen?] One crate of plumbing tubes (sighted and labeled).
Follow-up meeting: Next week. Date to be confirmed.
#3. Woman One
Description: Early thirties. Ketallian native. Five foot two inches. Curvaceous. Brown hair streaked with purple.
Date of meeting: K- Fourth Day.
Time of meeting: K-18:00 rotation.
Location of meeting: Island Trell. Picked up from the bar The Dive. Traveled directly to Yetti’s motel, The Skein City Gem, room 308. Female ketallian departed alone the following morning at K-6:20 rotation.
Items requested: None.
Items received: None.
Follow-up meeting: None.
#4. Woman Two.
Description: Late thirties. Ketallian native. Six foot one inch. Pink-hued eyes. Busty. Blond shoulder-length straight hair. Nice smile.
Date of meeting: K-Fifth Day.
Time of meeting: K-18:00 rotation.
Location of meeting: Island Trell. Picked up from the bar The Dive. Traveled directly to Yetti’s motel The Skein City Gem, room 308. Female ketallian departed alone the following morning at K-6:35 rotation.
Items requested: None.
Items received: None.
Follow-up meeting: None.
#5. Kata Bel. Suspected tech dealer.
Description: Early twenties. Ketallian native. Five foot seven inches. Thick build. Pink-hued eyes. Tattoo of the One on left side of the face.
Date of meeting: K-End Day.
Time of meeting: K-10th rotation.
Location of meeting: Island Siple. Third warehouse under Bridge T-168, pylon four.
Items requested: Unknown.
Items received: One barrel of water (sighted and labeled). One small* crate [Note: Handled with extreme care by both Yetti and Kata]. Two large* crates.
Follow-up meeting: None.
*See Appendix fourteen for crate size.
#6. Peal Fivam. Barman at The Dive.
Description: Mid-twenties. Ketallian native. Five foot nine inches. Slender build. No visible body art. Short cropped black hair.
Date of meeting: K-End Day.
Time of meeting: K-15:08 rotation.
Location of meeting: Island Trell. Bar: The Dive.
Items requested: Booze. Top shelf.*
Items received: Water (sighted and labeled). Unidentified liquid in bottles stacked eight by six in six crates. [Note: Booze, presumably.]
Follow-up meeting: Next K-Mid Day.
*See breakdown Appendix sixteen.
She added a new entry for this evening:
#7. Woman Three and Four.
Description: W3: Early twenties. Ketallian native. Six foot. Straight long blond hair (length to mid back). W4: Early twenties. Ketallian native. Five foot seven inches. Short cropped brunette hair, shaved to skull on left side, one tress tinted pink.
Date of meeting: K-First Day.
Time of meeting: K-18:00 rotation.
Location of meeting: Island Trell. Picked up from the bar The Dive. Traveled directly to Yetti’s motel, The Skein City Gem, room 308. Female ketallians departed together the following morning at K-6:56 rotation.
Items requested: None.
Items received: None.
Follow-up meeting: None.
Mich sighed again, breathing fog onto the plasti-glass of the windscreen. Her comm link buzzed as it received the same message Yetti just received.
[Incoming message]: Need delivery. Urgent. Pay triple. Planet Battenhold. Two days. Will confirm location shortly. Confirm. Di.
[Outgoing message]: Confirmed.
No information on what was to be delivered, but to get to Battenhold in two days, Yetti would need to depart tomorrow evening at the latest. Which meant Mich had another budget trip in her immediate future. Just what she needed.
She leaned forward and rolled her shoulders one at a time. This mission would be endless if Yetti didn’t give her something flash-crete soon. She’d started investigating Yetti’s clients to keep her boredom from sending her mind back to the endless nothingness of The Clinic. She hummed softly as she flicked back through her notes to find her entry on “Di”. She added the new delivery instruction:
