Time Siege Read online

  “You should retreat to safety,” Eriao said, leading Elise by the arm. “This is no place for the Oldest.”

  Someone above threw a spear that clattered against the back wall. Someone on her side threw one back, bouncing it harmlessly against the barricade. Men and women shouted up and down at each other as the space between the two groups shrank. Long spears jabbed downward at them, daring them to get closer. She felt helpless as her guardians moved up the stairs.

  “Stop!” she yelled.

  No one paid any attention to her. She grabbed Eriao by the collar and screamed in his ear, “Pull back!”

  “Oldest?” For a second, he looked uncertain, as if he were going to disobey her order. Then he nodded. He turned toward the two teams. “Back to the bottom of the stairs. Inform the other stairwells.”

  Elise signaled Rima closer. “Tell Franwil we’re packing and crossing the bridge. We leave tonight.”

  “It might not be better there, Oldest,” Eriao warned.

  “It can’t be worse than this,” she replied. Elise didn’t know if standing down was the right call. She just knew that attacking definitely felt wrong. In any case, she was the Oldest, and this was her decision to make. She only hoped that it was the right one.

  TWELVE

  A SOLUTION

  James felt a thump on his face; he chose to ignore it. A few more followed, but they felt distant and light. He stayed within this colorless womb, floating in blissful awareness of being unconscious. In the distance, he could hear the buzzing of voices, soft, irritating, but easily ignored. He couldn’t feel a thing. The numbness, he relished it. He had somehow lost all sense of time in here as well, wherever here was. It was ironic, he thought, to have that happen. He had spent his entire career, most of his life, in fact, keeping track of time. Now that he had let go and stopped worrying about it, he felt so free.

  He hiccupped and suddenly had trouble taking in a breath. That was strange; he shouldn’t be breathing at all. However, as he continued to choke, his sense of time returned. He could tick the seconds that he was drowning. His body spasmed and he woke.

  James opened his eyes and saw a steady stream of water pouring onto his face like a waterfall. It went into cavities it had no right to go up and he sat up choking and coughing. He waved his hand up to ward the water away. Instead, the downpour came down even harder.

  “Cut it out,” he sputtered.

  He stood up and slipped, falling back into the shower and banging his already-throbbing head against the wall. With a growl, he reached up and grabbed the first thing his fingers got close to, which in this case, was the front of someone’s shirt. His eyes focused and he saw a grizzled-looking thug holding him down. They were trying to drown him! James clawed at the man’s arms and face desperately, but was too weak to buck him off.

  His would-be killer looked to the side. “You want me to keep going?”

  “I guess you should let him up,” a voice replied. Wait, that sounded like Grace.

  The water spout stopped, and rough hands hauled him to his feet. He wiped his eyes with his wet sleeve and tried to stand, slipping once more as he shivered in the freezing water. Someone threw a towel at his face.

  “Is there anything else, ma’am?” the thug asked.

  “That will be all, Mr. Jae. Thank you for your assistance, and please give my regards to Mr. Hubbs. For your troubles.”

  “Yes, madam.”

  A few seconds later, Grace and James were alone in their residence. She looked livid. “A bunch of Puck Pirates, led by a snot of a man who called himself Hubbs, dropped you off unceremoniously at our doorsteps. He muttered some nonsense about using up your one strike, and that we had until the end of the week.” She put her hands on her hips. “Tell me he isn’t saying what I think he’s saying.”

  James nodded glumly, though inside he was relieved. That meant Grace had no choice now but to agree to go home. “Guess we’re wrapping it up.”

  She saw through him, as she always did. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, for once you didn’t fully screw things up. Something interesting fell in my lap.”

  “Is it an Orion cruiser ladened with Titan sources? Otherwise, I think we’re up the abyss with our options.”

  Grace smirked. “Remember that chron database access hack I was playing those three bids on? Well, one backed out. One abruptly left the colony last night—something about being involved with a string of exo-chain robberies. The last, now without any competition, is trying to lowball the price. The seller is pissed and just wants to get it off his hands without losing scratch. It’s a pretty good deal, so I decided to buy it for our own uses.”

  “That really doesn’t help us,” James replied. “Read-only access hacks are uncommon, but it’s finding a salvager who can run the jobs that’s the hard part.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Grace said. She sat down in the chair on the other end of the room. He could tell when she was exceptionally proud of herself, which she actually was quite often. Usually she deserved it, though. “I had a client come to me the other day. A particularly unpleasant gentleman. He was on leave from his job and wanted a bulk supply of various narcotics to distribute when he returned to his place of employment.”

  Grace paused as James stripped off his wet clothes. She leered, and all of a sudden, he was her pet back on the High Marker again.

  Blushing, he turned his back to her and pulled out a set of dry clothing. “Go on.”

  “Well, pet,” she purred. “I arranged for the sale of the narcotics and as I was making sure it couldn’t get traced back to me, I found out that my client is a prison guard on Nereid. Something about all this rang a bell. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.”

  A memory nagged at James as well. Then he realized what she was getting at. He spun around. “No!”

  Grace had a wicked grin on her face. “Yes, James. Yes.”

  “I’m putting my foot down. There has to be another way.”

  She shrugged. “You can put your foot down if it makes you feel better, pet. There is no other option, especially now that you’ve gotten us kicked out of Bulk’s Head. In fact, since I’ve already spent most of our scratch purchasing the access hack, the plan’s already in motion. The guard’s transport is leaving in two days, which gives us just enough time. I paid to have him followed. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  James stomped and dragged his feet a couple of times as he emphasized his displeasure with Grace’s plan, but, as always, it was useless. Eventually, he resorted to just saying no over and over again until Grace mentioned Sasha and promised to find a doctor from the past who could help her. Reluctantly, he capitulated.

  A few hours later, after he had sobered up, he found himself back in the Drink Anomaly, staring at a large individual sitting in a corner booth. He still hated the idea, but Grace had bashed his head in with her logic and twisted his heart with shame. In the end, he realized it was a good plan—their only plan, really—no matter what his personal feelings were for this.

  The guard was drinking hakash, a mineral-based liquor popular with the outer colonies. James couldn’t stand the stuff; to him, it tasted like dirt. James ordered a hakash of his own and brought it to the man’s table. He slid into the bench across from the guy and studied his target. He was older, large and heavyset, the kind of guy who would need to pay for two seats on a transport. He also looked hard as metal. The multiple scars on his head told James he had a history of violence. The way his eyes shifted constantly told James even more.

  The big man wore a gray meshed body-conforming uniform that adjusted to its wearer. James wondered how intelligent the clothing was. Probably not too much, considering how low-tech the guy’s job was. Still, it was something he’d have to take into consideration. No bands on his wrists, no firearm, either, but he had a holstered melee weapon, a pain stick or an electro jag knife.

  The guy didn’t react when James invaded his space. He simply took another sip of his hak
ash and studied James, a potential new threat. He didn’t try to act friendly or puff his chest out. James appreciated the honesty. The two men sat in silence, waiting for the other to make the first move.

  After a few minutes, the gray-uniformed man must have noticed that James hadn’t touched his drink yet. His body noticeably relaxed, and he downed the rest of his hakash. He placed the empty cup off to the side and leaned back as James pushed his forward. The guy sniffed his newly acquired drink, lifted it up momentarily toward James, and then took a sip. James appreciated that sign of respect as well. He sort of liked the guy. Pity.

  Once the big man put the cup down, he nodded. “Son? Nephew? Lover?”

  “Son,” James replied.

  “Name?”

  “Let me buy you another drink first.”

  For the next few hours, James chatted the man up. His name was Raets. He was a veteran of the Crimean Conflicts of 2502 and 2507, both times on the losing side, which was pretty interesting, because picking the losing side twice in a five-sided war required the wrong kind of extraordinary luck. It could also mean outcomes meant little in Raets’s financial decisions. He was a mercenary in the truest sense.

  Raets took up security after the contract expired, resorting to more lucrative work escorting low-level wealthy who could afford only one or two guards. Those were generally the most dangerous of security assignments, since the lone bodyguard was usually the first mark to take out in any hit. He left that line of work in 2510 after a string of attacks by the Saturn’s Ring Bandits left his employer airlocked out into space and him held prisoner for two months. When the security company refused to pay his ransom, the Ring Bandits made an arrangement with him directly. Now he worked as a guard for the Amazon Corporation.

  Raets wouldn’t go into details what that arrangement was, but James had a pretty good idea. The Ring Bandits were one of the largest and most active pirate groups, rivaling the Puck Pirates. They had tens of thousands of men operating throughout the solar system, and thousands rotting throughout the penal colonies. No doubt he worked guard for the Ring Bandits more than he worked for Amazon. He had taken leave for the past month to make his annual visit to his family on Mars and was on his way back to Nereid. He was scheduled to hop on the next supply freighter departing for the penal colony.

  By the time the Drink Anomaly closed for the night, one hour before it was to reopen for the morning, James had studied his target nonstop for almost four hours. He believed he could talk the same way Raets did, imitate his mannerisms, and use the same vocal tics the man used. James’s paint band had long finished copying the man’s features. All he needed to do now was acquire the small details, the nuances that made Guard Raets, Raets.

  They were kicked out of the bar and walked together down the corridor to the general residents’ quarter, James trailing just a few steps behind the unsteady Raets. The big man held his liquor relatively well, considering how much he drank. James had sent him nine hakashes and who knew how many he had drunk before James arrived. Raets favored his right leg slightly and had a tendency to swing his arms when he walked. He also tended to hug the wall, which was fairly typical of someone working security.

  Raets side-eyed him as they stopped in front of his residence unit. “Why are you following me? I don’t fuck men in case you’re wondering.”

  “Just making sure you get home all right, friend,” James said. “After all, you’re my contact to my son. Can’t let anything happen to you, now can I?”

  Raets’s eyes narrowed. “You never told me the name of your boy. What do you want exactly? Something smuggled in? A letter? Look, jackass, give me a name and tell me what you want to give him.”

  James shrugged. “The package is large. I’m sure it’ll cost me significant scratch, but I’m sure it’ll be worth your while. Can we arrange a time tomorrow for me to show you?”

  Raets’s eyes narrowed. “Hang on a second.”

  He opened the door to his residence and disappeared inside. A second later, James doubled over as something hard rammed into his abdomen. The initial pain from being stabbed gave way to even more pain as volts of electricity coursed through his body, sending him stumbling backward. Raets charged out of the dark residence, holding a pain stick in his hand. He brought it down on James’s crown, knocking him down to the ground.

  “You almost had me going, jackass,” Raets said. “Then I realized you actually don’t give a shit about anyone in prison. Let me give you a piece of advice. Next time you try to pull a con like this, the first thing you do is ask about your son’s welfare. Shit like how’s he doing? Is he eating enough? Is he anyone’s bitch? Whose cock is he sucking?”

  Raets kicked James in the stomach, hard enough to bounce his entire body off the ground. James’s head smashed against the far wall as the pain stick clipped him behind the ear. “Otherwise, it comes across like you don’t give any shits. Who do you work for? Internal affairs? For Amazon? Did the warden send you?” The pain stick flew at him again. This time, James brought his forearm up just in time.

  The impact jolted his entire body; he hoped he hadn’t broken a bone. For a second, he considered powering on his exo, but he refrained. It hadn’t come to that yet. Bulk’s Head security would detect the exo within seconds in this residential area. If security came sweeping down on them, he could lose the mark. The risk of being detected was far too high. Also, a small part of him was still hoping he wouldn’t have to kill Raets. The man was technically innocent, though with each passing blow, James was starting to care less about that.

  Raets swung the pain stick again, no doubt intending to finish this one-sided affair and crack James’s head open. James swung his head to the side at the last second just as the stick came crashing down, striking the grating hard enough to chip metal. He grabbed Raets’s arm and yanked, pulling the man off balance. With both hands on the man’s wrist, James leveraged himself to his feet, and the two struggled for control of the pain stick.

  Raets was strong; far stronger than James. The two banged back and forth along the walls. Without his exo, James didn’t have the strength to just pry the pain stick away. Raets must have noticed.

  “You’re painted up, jackass,” Raets snarled. “That or you are weak.”

  He swung to his left and threw James into the wall. Then he swung right and did the same to the opposite wall. Sensing James’s grip slacken, Raets lifted his arm up and threw it down, trying to slam him onto the ground. Instead, James got his feet under him planted against the wall and pushed off, barreling them both into Raets’s residence.

  Off balance, Raets pivoted right and tried to swing him off. James’s body destroyed two levels of shelves and swept the contents off a third. He swung his legs around and managed to scissor Raets’s head between them. He squeezed them together as he clung to Raets’s arms. The big man, mouth full of James’s thigh, roared and charged, smashing him into the wall.

  James thought he heard a rib pop, but kept pushing his legs together. Raets smashed him into the wall two more times before he began to weaken. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he dropped to one knee, and the two of them crashed onto the floor. The big man continued to paw at James’s legs until he finally went limp.

  Gasping for breath, James pulled himself from underneath Raets. He stumbled forward and closed the door before anyone walked by. The neighbors had most definitely heard the ruckus, but in this sort of place, no one stuck their head out and asked for trouble. By the time he got back to the unconscious man and checked his pulse, Raets was already stirring. The last thing James wanted to do now was go another three rounds with the giant. For a second, James considered just killing him. It would be merciful and painless. It was also tactically the right decision.

  James wrapped his hands around Raets’s neck. A quick twist would end it. He stopped himself from following through. The guy, no matter how crooked or bad, was just trying to get by.

  “Black abyss,” he muttered. “You’re losing your
edge.”

  That wasn’t quite true. He was in denial. He had lost it months ago. A year ago, he wouldn’t have cared whether or not he killed Raets, that Tier-5 Mong or those monitors. Now, he just couldn’t stomach it anymore.

  James unhooked his cryo band and linked it around Raets’s wrist. Within a few seconds, the big man was snoring lightly. He took the next hour combing through the apartment and stripping Raets of his uniform. Using the real thing would give him a lot more flexibility if needed. When he was finished, he left the residence, giving Raets one last look. The cryo band would have enough power to keep him asleep and sustained for two weeks. That should be long enough for James to get to Nereid and finish the job.

  “Sleep tight, big guy,” he said, hurrying back to the studio.

  He found Grace packing when he returned to their residence.

  “You look like shit,” Grace said. “At least more than usual.”

  “Hello to you as well.”

  “Did you find what you needed?” Grace asked.

  He held up Raets’s duffel bag. “I leave in two days. Wait for me at the Kuiper Belt. I’ve already put in the exact coordinates in the Frankenstein. Are you sure you’ll be all right piloting her?”

  “Really, James? Did you just ask the Mother of Time if she could pilot a vessel she designed and built?” she scoffed. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  James had his doubts. The Frankenstein was difficult to control, built from a hodgepodge of ships not known for their maneuverability. “I guess we’re set then.”

  Grace smirked and tsked mockingly. “Oh pet, I always knew if you didn’t change your ways, you’d end up in prison.”

  THIRTEEN

  339

  Inmate 339 walked through the narrow passageway, his eyes alert and constantly scanning the shadowed crevices on both sides. His feet felt every uneven bump and groove of the etched stone, worn down by years of daily traffic. He had been walking—bouncing, more like, in this reduced gravity—through the lower subsections of the prison, known as the dungeon, for the better part of an hour now.