Senior Agent Manion Whist knew that something was wrong as soon as he laid eyes on the operations office. He was a good distance away, lying on his belly as he peered over the embankment of the freeway that ran past the complex. The shaking pocket monocular pressed up against his eye allowed him to identify the VennZech car that Weslan had taken parked outside the main entrance. Waiting next to it were three nondescript vans, with another sitting by one of the side entrances. In the lobby, Whist could just make out a small group of men in tactical gear crowded around the reception desk. Occasionally, figures with weapons walked past the glass walls of stairways or elevator shafts.
Unfortunately, according to VennZech’s security desk, they only had one guard on duty there, and he wasn’t responding to calls.
Whist’s insides twisted like snakes as the combination of the previous night’s drinking session, and naked fear, vied for control.
It had been a difficult morning. Like most others, he had woken in a state of inebriation and crawled out of his squalid apartment in order to reach the Sentinel office in a manner approximately related to punctual.
Weslan had ignored him as he had settled down to a day of blessedly mind-numbing paperwork, and that had made the veteran detective very happy. The spoiled, obnoxious young man was too feverish with zeal and arrogance, and often insisted on renewed attempts to reignite Whist’s belief in the greatness of the League. Such conversations were entirely nauseating, and usually left him with both a headache and a thirst for something strong.
But that day, Weslan had left the office before lunchtime, rambling about security preparations for the expected arrival of the Barrochian army regiment. Whist wanted nothing to do with the affair, and had decided to separate himself from it after the loud and endless row that had followed his learning about how Weslan had gone over his head. Insults to professionalism, career potential and personal integrity slid off the boy’s back as he stormed out of Whist’s office, leaving the senior agent to stew in his own helpless rage.
That had been several days ago, during which he had spent many hours grieving for yet another promising colony that the League was going to destroy under his watch.
But then the explosions had started, followed soon after by the gunfire. Through Whist’s office window, smoke climbed over building tops, forcing him to confront the possibility that the welp had been right the whole time.
A frantic morning ensued, while Rackeye’s meager Sentinel office scrambled to get to grips with the developing situation. As well as coordinating with both police and the incoming regiment, they worked to dispatch their agents to wherever in the city they might be able to do some good.
And then Whist had stopped to ask where in the hell was Weslan? Learning that the young agent hadn’t been answering calls, he had pinged his phone for its location, revealing his trip to both VennZech headquarters, then the operations office. A quick call to the company’s security desk filled him in on the story, and, notifying the duty officer, he had sped off in pursuit.
Now he had seen enough of what appeared to be an extremely dangerous terrorist takeover. Of course, if he had been a goddamned fool for the last few months, then Divine and Weslan had been right about the colonists targeting VennZech. They might want to make a public example of captured employees, steal classified weapons research, or both.
His hands shook as he scooted back behind the embankment and pulled out his phone. A moment of concentration was needed for him to set up an emergency conference call between the Sentinel office and VennZech security. He relayed what he had seen, then felt a jolt of anger, as realization struck him.
“As director of counterterrorism, I will be taking charge of this operation,” he said harshly, before anyone could respond. Hopefully, his years of experience would help him redeem his failure, though if Weslan were killed, he would probably never forgive himself.
“Yes sir,” the VennZech representative said with a note of relief in her voice.
Whist had already gathered that the company’s leaders had vanished with Madam Divine. A sharp inner voice reminded him to maintain his skepticism towards the woman. The pieces were not all fitting together as they should be.
“I want every Sentinel agent who can to drop whatever they are doing and converge on this site,” he ordered. “Have them approach cautiously for covert observation only. And co-ordinate with local police—make sure their perimeter is kept out of sight. It is absolutely imperative that we do not alert the terrorists until we are ready to move in.”
He paused, and gave the listeners a moment to process what he had said. There was one last order he wanted to give, but he knew he would be derided as a conspiracy theorist. On the other hand, did he really care?
“If they’ve got access to VennZech computers, they can probably monitor all our radio traffic. All of you will communicate through private means only, and anyone who fails to obey this order will be arrested for abetting terrorism. Is that clear?”
Kayla found Jess on the building roof, watching over the complex’s gardens that lay between them and the river. She squeezed the young woman’s shoulder and received a grateful smile that failed to hide Jess’s obvious anxiety. They were way beyond anything Ranger school had prepared them for.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“I’ll take over here,” Kayla said. “You go find a place to shut your eyes for an hour.”
Jess shrugged. “I’m okay, Lance-corporal. I got this.”
“Don’t question my orders,” Kayla replied mildly, and shot her a wink.
Jess’ shoulders visibly sagged, and she nodded in resignation. As she turned to leave, Kayla stopped her.
“I want you to know that you’ve done an amazing job today,” she said. “I am really glad you’re here with us, and I will be saying so to Lieutenant Akane.”
“Thank you, Lance-corporal.” Jess said as she blushed.
“I mean it. You’ve kept your head in a very difficult situation. Rest, eat, drink water, flirt with one of those cute Marines, and come back later ready to do more of the same.”
There was a soft giggle. “Yeah, okay.”
As the footsteps faded, Kayla squeezed herself into a seat next to a ventilator and watched the nearby trees. Branches swayed in the breeze, while verdant foliage rustled its endless music. For a moment she was back on her farm, waiting for a critter to try and sneak by her. Even in her youth she could be invisible in the undergrowth, punishing the wildlife with a shot from her bow that left them with a bruise and a bad memory of young girls.
Occasionally she missed the carefree days of colony life. The long hours and exhausting work that ensured their survival fell into a reassuring routine that brought its own kind of peace. Now, looking at the city around her, buzzing with tension, she understood that it had only been fleeting. All colonists knew that the universe never tired of dumping heavier burdens on its struggling denizens. There was nothing to do but fight back until you couldn’t.
A nearby scrape brought her back to reality. Gaz had stepped out on the roof and was scanning around. Kayla found a stone and tossed it at him. He moved to join her, keeping himself low as he checked the horizon.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked. “I was just…uh checking the perimeter.”
“It’s all quiet,” Kayla said. “But I can’t imagine it’ll stay that way. Sooner or later VennZech will want to check on their people. Did you get any news on those troop landings?”
“Within the hour.” Gaz made himself comfortable against the ventilator. “If you get a moment, be sure and tell your people, from us, they’re doing a great job. My guys are impressed, which is not easy to do. Clearing the building went very smoothly, and you don’t often see that with… well…”
“Huh?”
“I mean, absent more information, I have to see you as a mercenary group. No offense intended.”
“Oh.” Kayla thought for a moment. “None taken. That’s pretty much what we are.”
“Okay,” Gaz said, and fell quiet.
The silence continued while they avoided each other’s gazes. Following a frantic effort, Kayla eventually thought of something cool to say, but was cut off as she started to speak.
“It’s not that I’m elitist about the military, or anything,” Gaz said hurriedly. “It’s just, in my experience—which is not extensive—the training and discipline is better than corporations usually provide.”
“Oh, sure,” Kayla said energetically. “I find the same too. But we work with a very… uh, unusual corporation.”
Gaz chuckled. “Yeah, that I can see.”
The silence returned, until Kayla remembered what she had wanted to say.
“I don’t know that I ever saw people standing up to the League like you do. You must get a lot of trouble over it.”
Gaz nodded. “We get chased from planet to planet. The thing is that there are always groups of people, even at the high levels, who have had enough and want to claw back some justice. That usually lasts long enough to get the job done. Then we find somewhere new.”
Kayla looked down. “I never saw the League like that. For me it was always just a gang of heartless idiots, with two exceptions,” she laughed. “And they both needed a gut check to become tolerable people.”
“I can understand why you feel like that. I’ve been angry for a long time too. I have to keep reminding myself that it’s the system that makes them that way. Once in a while, you see genuine humanity shine through.”
“It must be tough when you have to face the darker side every day. Dealing with abused kids is a heavy thing to accept.”
Gaz rubbed his eyes. “It is. You just take it one day at a time. But losing your planet is a heavy thing to accept as well.”
Kayla’s eyes widened as she met his gaze. “Let’s just say that, after this, if you wanted to go on a rampage through the city, I would not be hard to convince.” She gave him a manic smile.
Gaz grinned. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Violence is rarely the answer.”
“My dad told me that the Caldera situation can only end in a fight.”
“Would that be Mr. Fenway?”
Kayla narrowed her eyes. “How’d you guess that?”
“I don’t know,” Gaz said with a shrug. “You have the same mannerisms, I suppose. Though you don’t look like him.”
“He adopted me. My real father died when I was young.” Kayla paused and sighed. “Rayker killed him. Or rather, one of her schemes did.”
“I’m sorry. Judging by his daughter, he must have been one hell of a man.”
Kayla stifled a smile that threatened to sever her jaw. She turned back to the complex gardens and watched them for a moment.
“If you want any chance of making progress with VennZech,” she said. “That bitch has to die.”
“Do you think that’s possible?” Gaz asked, with an expression of sincere doubt.
“I know so. Only… well… you remember the steel pipe, and the burns?”
Gaz nodded.
“She’s probably got twice that kind of capability.”
“That’s awesome,” he said wryly. “I really appreciate all these wonderful revelations you keep bringing into my life.”
Kayla shrugged. “Well, hey, man, if you have other stuff you need to take care of—”
“No, I didn’t say that. Obviously, we’re going to find Milani—”
“Who is definitely with Rayker.”
Gaz gave her an incredulous look. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Pretty simple deduction,” she said. “Tensall’s secretary said he got a call from Divine right as the party started, then something triggered his office lock down, and then something killed all the power.”
“I suppose, given the sophistication of VennZech technology, that would be more than a coincidence?”
“Right? But why would Divine call him right as everything is ready to go? He wasn’t relevant to events in the city, and they sent cars around for all their VIPs anyway.”
“Hmm.” Gaz thought carefully. “Are you saying your friend had something to do with this?”
Kayla nodded. “I think so. She is very clever, and… may have had reasons to want to help you guys out, specifically.”
“Really? Why?”
“That’s classified,” Kayla said with a handwave. “But the thing is that if Rayker was taking El Scumbago, she would probably want to take Milani too. That girl is her leverage over him.”
Gaz nodded. “Definitely not someone she would want to leave in the city, where a bunch of, for example, Marines, might find her, and use her to sow division amongst VennZech’s employees.”
“Exactly my thoughts,” said Kayla, who had, in fact, failed to consider that angle.
“Well then,” Gaz said. “We really need to talk to El Scumbago. Want to go check on the break in?”
“Yes, please.”