The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy) (24 page)

He was gasping for breath, his eyes pale in a grubby face, his black hair tousled, his square jaw itchy with stubble. His name was Roy and that was all she really knew about him. It disturbed her that first names were all she knew about most of the people she had spent the last few months with. Only John was different. John she knew better.

Perhaps I’ll know him better still before long.

Angrily she pushed the thought away. She could only truly trust herself, and for that she needed to be in full control of her actions and reactions. She could not allow dangerous desires and emotions to cloud her judgement, the habits and patterns buried deep inside her by her training.

"We thought everyone else was asleep," she said, re-holstering her pistol.

"I've been awake for ages. I didn't see you leave." John came out of the shadows. He didn't like Roy. Roy made fun of him, treated him like a child.

"So, I left a long time ago. Hours ago. What of it
boy
?" He spat the word out, using it as an insult, one he knew would hit its target.

"What have you been doing all this time?" John's voice rose in anger.

I may be young, but I do what the others do. I don't act like a child. I don't expect to be treated like one.

"Easy John, he's only teasing you," said Ursa, her voice relaxed, light. But her eyes studied the man lying, out of breath, on the floor, the way he grinned at John's anger, the way his glance flicked back to the doorway again and again.

What is he looking for? Why is he deliberately goading John? Is it a distraction?

John's question was a good one. What
had
he been doing all this time? And why hadn't he come out past her, let her know where he was going? Why sneak out the back?

"You look nervous Roy," she said, stepping closer to him, reaching out with her hand to help him to his feet.

"Nervous? Not me," he said, taking her hand and pulling himself up.

He's frightened. I can see it in his face. But of what? Of me? Yes! He thinks I know something I shouldn't. Perhaps I do.

"There's a lot of police activity out there tonight. How did you manage to get around without being spotted by the scanners?"

She saw his eyes widen at her question, flick again towards the doorway, and she knew.

Bastard!

She pushed with her artificial foot, ignoring the pain that shot through her leg as she jarred the inexpertly fashioned connections between bio-mechanics and her body's own nerves. His shout of alarm was stifled by her arm slamming around his throat as she pulled him down to the ground once more.

She was aware of John moving towards her, his face pulled and drawn by surprise. She had no time to explain.

Digging her knee into Roy's back, she pulled hard on his neck, feeling, rather than hearing, his backbone snap. She grabbed his head, one hand on his chin, the other tangled in his hair, and twisted. His neck broke with the strangely muted sound of a twig snapping underfoot.

She stood, clumps of hair still clasped in her clenched fist, and snapped at the stunned John.

"Wake the others.
Now
!"

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth between Ursa and the dead man on the floor, and then hurried into the back room.

Ursa limped to the outer doorway, her foot dragging more than usual. She had hurt it, perhaps even damaged it, in the attack. She could only hope it's self-repair mechanism was in better shape than the rest of it.

Cautiously she peered around the edge of the wall into the darkness. Had they been betrayed as she suspected? Was there movement out there? If not, she had murdered an innocent man.

She could hear the others stirring now, staggering tiredly out of the back room. She could almost feel their surprise, their shock at Roy's body lying broken in the dust. She needed proof.

Yes. There. Shadows moving at the end of the street. Police, maybe soldiers. What does it matter?

"They're coming for us."

Her voice snapped the attention of the others away from the dead body and onto her.

"Who?"

It was a man named Alan who spoke. She was not surprised. He had been leader of this small band of rebels when she and John had first joined with them. She suspected he still resented the way most of them had fallen easily into following her rather than him.

"The police. Roy led them here. He sold out." John spoke up, a strength and maturity in his voice that surprised Ursa and most of the men around him.

He's growing up fast
, she thought.
Fear and violence can do that, or destroy you.

"I'm not sure how long they'll wait before they decide their
friend
here isn't going to give whatever sign they'd arranged, but I doubt it'll be long," said Ursa, her mind racing.

Got to keep them moving. Mustn't give them time to think about their situation too much. If panic or despair sets in we might not make it.

"I haven't looked out the back yet, but I would expect them to be there as well."

"We have to presume Roy told them the whole layout here," said Alan, taking control of himself with admirable speed.

Ursa smiled.

He's accepted the situation, realised the need for strong leadership. Good.

If he had doubted her word they would have been lost.

"I'll get the weapons and take a quick look out the back," said John, hurrying away.

More of a man than many,
thought Ursa, a feeling of pride welling up inside her.

She jumped as the sound of gunfire rattled from the rear.

"JOHN,
" she shouted. Had he been hit?

John threw himself back into the room, stumbling, the weapons in his arms clattering on the floor as he dropped them.

"I'm Ok," his voice was shrill, excited, pumped full of adrenaline.

Ursa pulled her pistol from its holster, trying not to think of the terrible feeling of fear and loss she had experienced when she thought John might have been shot. Weapons were being grabbed up from the floor and the armed men were moving into the shadows. She could smell the fear in the room, but no one was panicking. These were not trained soldiers, but they had learned much from the street fighting of the past months.

She looked quickly around the room, catching John watching her. He looked away, busied himself loading the pistol in his hands. She glanced towards Alan, his face grim. She nodded to him, received a brief nod in return. The words did not have to be spoken. Everyone in the room knew the situation.

Whoever was out there was not going to wait any longer.

Chapter 39

Tina Harrison straightened the floor-length gown at the shoulders, watching her reflection in the mirrored wall of the hallway as the almost transparent material undulated with a pleasing liquidity, highlights shifting in the light of the ancient chandeliers above her, running along near invisible seams, catching the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts.

As was currently fashionable among the wealthy socialites of the galaxy, she was naked beneath her gown and she had stared long and hard at its fabric before finally selecting it. Too opaque and it was wasted. Too transparent and it would be considered tasteless and mark her as little more than a whore. It was a delicate balance but one worth attaining for, although she was no longer young, her body was firm, her muscles toned, and all without the aid of the doctors so eager to flatter the vanity of those less fortunate.

Friends had advised her that she should wear something more
business-like
, more
sober
, less
fashionable
, but the invitation had been informal in its tone and, besides, she had heard the rumours like everyone else. The Director was fond of female companionship, and what she lacked in youth she more than compensated for in experience. She felt sure she had made the right choice.

She checked herself in the mirrored wall once again, her near-white hair, styled by professionals just that morning, the single chain-link earring, sparkling in the bright lights, her gown, flowing with each slight movement, caressing a breast here, a thigh there, bringing her nakedness into momentary clarity before undulating away again, blurring her body to suggestive shadows.

Stop it. You're acting like a child on her first date.

She had been like this since the invitation had arrived yesterday. She had not long been home from her assignment on 'Armistice' and the hand delivered message had at first confused and terrified her, only to be followed by an elation so great that she suspected she had not acted sanely since.

An invitation from the Director of the Reagold Corporation himself. An informal meeting over dinner in his private apartments.

For a Senior Marketing Executive it was almost unheard of. With the exception of official public engagements, the Director was seldom seen by anyone but his personal aids, of which there were many, and personal friends, of which, it was said, there were few.

Her eye caught the old clock on the wall. She had read of such things, of course, but she had never seen one before. A clock actually working by
clockwork
. A clock that needed
winding
up
. A pendulum swinging with a purpose, not just electronically controlled for effect. And the ticking... loud yet strangely calming and peaceful. An almost extinct sound, even on the backward planets she had visited in her years as a Remote Marketeer, before her promotion.

The clock. The chandeliers. Genuine antiques, working too.

They seemed strange in the outer office of the Director of the biggest creator and distributor of electronic and biomechanical goods ever seen in the galaxy.

Strange, yet reassuring. The human still exists among the manufactured.

The inner doors, tall and solid (
Is that real oak? Impressive!),
swung open without a sound. A flickering light cast shifting shadows in the room beyond and a strange crackling noise, like someone scrunching paper in their fists, joined the ticking of the clock in the background of her thoughts. She did not move. She
dare
not move. It would be presumptuous. Opening doors did not necessarily mean an invitation to enter.

The Director's temper is almost as legendary as his lust.

"Come in Tina," a voice beckoned from within the room. The words were spoken quietly, but the strength and command in the voice was unmistakable.

As she entered, the source of both the flickering light and the crackling sound became apparent. A real fire! The Director seemed to delight in surrounding himself with those things the corporation sought to replace - the old, the natural, the inefficient.

"Please, sit down."

She almost jumped.

I didn't see him sitting there, hidden by the shadows created by the fire. I mustn't look shocked or surprised. I must be calm and professional.

"Thank you Director," she said, as she sat in the offered chair directly across from him.

Between them, a small table held two glasses and a wine bottle. The bottle was already open, both glasses full.

"Thank you for coming, Tina. I realise you are due some time off after your assignment on Stain. I hope you don't mind me intruding on that time?"

I had a choice?

"No, of course not Director. I was most pleased and honoured to be invited."

She smiled, struggling to contain the fluttering in her stomach, the threat of trembling muscles. She became acutely aware of her breathing, how deep and artificial it sounded. How her chest rose and fell, pushing her breasts against the transparency of her gown. Her nipples were erect.

Fear? Excitement? Will he notice?

"Please, have a drink," he said, leaning forward to take his own glass.

Tina stared. She tried not to but could not help herself. This was the closest she had ever been to the Director. He had an almost mythical status in the ranks of students being educated in the Reagold philosophy, and that awe was never quite lost, even by those nearing retirement age after a lifetime's service to the corporation. She would not be human if she had not wondered what he was like.

He was an impressive man, broad shoulders carrying a head neatly framed by closely trimmed black hair. The face was well sculptured.

Out of granite.

The thought came to her unbidden, but it was accurate. His face did have the appearance of an artist's work. Flawless, strong features. No signs of age, although he was at least ten years older than she. There was little doubt that the finest cosmetic and medical personnel of The Reagold Corporation had been at work, but even with that knowledge it was impossible not to be impressed and attracted by this man.

She hesitated only a second before taking her own glass. She worried that her stare might have caused some offence, but he smiled (
such a charming smile
) and settled back into his chair.

She sipped the drink. Red wine. The taste was unusual and it took her a moment to realise why.

This is not a product of our biomechanics. This is real. The grapes were real!

The expense did not bear thinking about, and she took another sip quickly in case it was snatched away from her. Such luxuries were unheard of for a mere Senior Marketing Executive.

"Forgive me for steering this evening straight towards business, but I would like to deal with the necessities first, if that meets your approval?"

His voice was soft, pleasing to the ears, and she thought she detected a faint trace of humour. Not enough to suggest he was laughing at her, but just enough to suggest a man thoroughly at ease with himself and his companion.

She found herself smiling without quite knowing why.

"That's fine, Ok. I mean, I don't know what the business is but... whatever..." she blustered, tripping over her words, stumbling over phrases like a nervous schoolgirl.