Revengers Read online

  Which was something of a problem. When he was alone, his mind went places he didn't want to go. Fond memories of playing cards on the Outsider, memories of Kaivon being shot, dreams of Mr. Hand whispering in his ear, and an urge to check the news even though he hated seeing it. He had managed to evade the news since the current cycle of partying began, but it continued to weigh on him.

  He was stretched in the warm, sunny, glass-topped veranda of his mansion, listening to some distant Varanid-human dance music in the background, with a glass of lyrefruit wine in one hand, a collection of incense cylinders by his side, and a female Petaur asleep on his lap. Ahead of him, a group of Petaurs, and a few humans and Varanids, were scrambling about in the trees and zero gravity area. A shuttle floated nearby, its entire side opened up to reveal a bar and several private cabins.

  Someone had left an open tablet under his chair. Or perhaps it was his. He couldn't remember. He reached out with his tail, slid it towards him, and picked it up. After a few seconds of looking through it and finding nothing interesting, he looked up the news:

  GLABER WAR: UPDATES.

  Retreat of Glaber Fleet.

  New Albascene Nation offers medical aids on both sides.

  Kurkroth attacked by Varanid fleets.

  He read it again, then closed the newsfeed and threw the tablet back down. He added another incense cylinder. He finished his wine. He looked at the tablet again.

  Then he stood up, pushing the bewildered sleeping Petaur aside.

  “Okay,” he shouted. “Get lost! (Oh, by the Abyss – active broadcast.) Party's over! Go away! Yes, all of you. Go on, get out. Actually, you know what, take the bar shuttle if you want. You can have it. Just go!”

  The partygoers dispersed pretty quickly. There was a brief argument of the bar shuttle, but that left too.

  The nice thing about having fake friends, Mero thought, was that they didn't bother you by getting worried when you started acting erratically.

  When they had all left, he overturned his chair and, as he stalked across the garden, threw another in the pool. He stared at it for a few moments, then turned and headed back inside to his bulkwave.

  He jabbed at the console, putting in Rurthk's contact ID. His hand hovered above the call button as he stared at the screen.

  What would you say to them? “Hey, I have millions but I'm unhappy.” “Oh, by the way, I betrayed you. Sorry about that.”

  He swept the call away and growled. “Stupid idea,” he muttered to himself, walking away from the bulkwave. He pulled out a few of the healthier fruits from his larder, ate them joylessly, and then passed out in the hallway.

  Chapter 15: In The Air

  Back home, Olivia stood outside the entrance to her father's mansion and looked out across the estate. The dome was invisible at this distance. The landscape of gardens and sculptures and statues looked empty, lonely, devoid of all activity. She was alone.

  She took a deep breath and headed inside.

  On the journey back she had been wracking her brains trying to think where else she might find a stun-prod. All she could come up with was from one of her father's bodyguards. And there was no way she could get close enough to take it without them noticing.

  With a sigh, she headed up the marble steps and went to her bedroom.

  And there, a thought struck her. She might find a way out of this after all.

  She raced to her closet, and started digging through clothes. Right at the back were the things she hadn't worn in years. Untouched, frivolous clothes. With any luck, her target should still be there.

  “Come on, come on,” she muttered. “Please be there.”

  Beneath layers of denim and cotton, her hand bumped against something solid. She wrenched it out. It was a small jewellery box, lined in silver and mother of pearl. Her heart in her throat, she opened it. After searching through a chaotic mass of tacky earrings, bangles and necklaces, she found a little cardboard box.

  She couldn't help the smile spreading across her face as she opened this and peered inside.

  It was filled with tiny red capsules.

  Her father's early attempts at controlling her had been cruder. He'd started with sedatives. When she realised what was happening, she'd starting stashing them instead of taking them.

  She checked her tablet. Dinner was in a little under three hours. That would give her enough time to do some research and work out a dosage calculation. Her net connection was still being watched, of course … but pharmaceuticals were one of the areas her father had asked her to research. She sat at her desk and got to work.

  *

  “Some of the Varanid murals are incredibly beautiful,” said Eloise. “Sukone just had bad taste.” She grinned at Dr. Wolff. “See, that's the problem with a life in the sciences. You don't have the time to appreciate culture.”

  “Now who's making hasty generalisations?” said Wolff.

  Eloise picked up her tablet. “Oh, look, no time to worry about that now,” she said. “We're almost there.”

  Wolff sank back, his face obviously paling even in the weak light. “Oh, god,” he murmured. “I had almost managed to forget.”

  “Don't worry,” said Eloise. “I'll be beside you all the way. All you have to do is step out of the shuttle and activate the parachute before you hit the ground.”

  “It's the first part where I might have a problem,” said Wolff.

  “Then I'll push you out.”

  “Oh, well, in that case …”

  Eloise took two silvery and two dark grey cubes out of the bag.

  “You did the same with the Outsider, didn't you? When Mero rescued Olivia the first time?”

  “Yes, but then I was in the ship.”

  Eloise shrugged and handed him two of the cubes. “This one's the parachute, and this one's the invisibility cloak,” she explained. “It mimics the optical and heat properties of the Martian atmosphere. Activate it when you're ready to jump, and not before.”

  “Because it'll block all body heat from escaping and quickly break down, I know,” Wolff grumbled.

  “So just think about that,” Eloise said. She extended straps from the grey cube to put it on her back, then pulled at the other cube so it came apart into tightly-folded, thin fabric.

  Wolff glumly did the same. He put the parachute on first, then fumbled with the cloak, trying to find which side should go outside. When he tried to sweep it over his shoulders, it slipped out of his grasp.

  “Are … are you feeling alright?” Eloise asked. She wobbled slightly and put out a hand to steady herself.

  Wolff looked at her. His eyes widened. “No!” he said. “There's … there must be something in the air.”

  Eloise reacted almost immediately. She went for the hatch and tried to open it. Her movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. “Damnit,” she muttered. “Come on!” She tried again. “It's locked,” she said in realisation.

  “Then we've …” began Wolff. But before he could finish, his muscles gave out on him. He slumped back awkwardly. “ … Been caught,” he muttered as he fell unconscious.

  Chapter 16: A Common Enemy

  “Shit. Shit!” growled Rurthk. He leapt up and grabbed his gun, then quickly checked the rest of the ship's sensors. As far as he could tell, Laodicean was the only one in the spaceport.

  On the other hand, he could easily have backup hiding nearby.

  On the tail, as the Petaurs said, if Laodicean was capable of hiding, why had he just walked up to the Fire Strider?

  Standing at the console, Rurthk wondered if he should just take off. But if Laodicean could find him here, going elsewhere on Mars didn't seem like it would help.

  He was still considering the options when Laodicean spoke.

  “Rurthk, I am alone. I want to talk.”

  Rurthk growled. It could be a bluff. But …

  He hit the comms to broadcast audio outside the ship. “Why are you here, Investigator? Really?”

  “It is not Investig
ator any more. Simply Laodicean. I'm acting alone.”

  Rurthk paused.

  “First, we should talk about how you can hide better. If I can find you this easily, so can others.”

  I hid from you well enough before now, Rurthk thought. “Let's stop messing around,” he growled. “What do you want, Laodicean?”

  This time it was Laodicean's turn to pause.

  “I want to join you,” he said.

  “What?”

  “We share a common enemy in Vihan Yvredi. I want to help you take them down. Rurthk … there is no one else I can turn to. I have no allies, no one else I can trust.”

  Rurthk stopped transmitting. “The bloodline strikes me down,” he growled in Glaber.

  Outside, Laodicean waited patiently.

  Rurthk transmitted again. “No,” he said. “You're shit out of luck, my friend. Like hell am I going to let GEA – even former GEA – on my boat again.” He stepped away from the console and growled, then turned back again. “Your lot should have been on Mars fixing this, not me! I even offered to help. Thanks to you, one of my crew is dead.”

  “Who?” said Laodicean.

  “Kaivon.”

  “You are right,” said Laodicean. “I hold some responsibility for not listening to you earlier. Kaivon should still be alive. I am sorry.”

  Rurthk stared at him. No one else I can trust. A faint chill went through him. “Where's Illipa?” he said.

  “Dead,” said Laodicean. “Killed by Blanks.”

  They were silent together. Eventually, Laodicean turned, and his globe of water began to float away.

  “Wait,” said Rurthk. Telling himself he would regret the decision, he opened the airlock. “You'd better come aboard.”

  *

  Bearing a dropper in her pocket and the jewellery box under her arm, Olivia descended the stairs. The low gravity required one to do so in a slow, graceful sort of dance. At least if one wanted to be proper. Olivia had always preferred loping down four or five steps at a time, aided by the banister. But right now she was playing at being formal.

  She put the jewellery box on a small table at the entrance to the dining room, then headed inside.

  Her father's servants moved quickly and quietly, laying down plates and pouring wine. Everything offered the smells of roast chicken. Her father had entered moments before her, and was just about to sit down.

  “Catherine,” he said. “I'm glad to see your punctuality improving.”

  She swallowed. “Thank you, father.”

  She slid the dropper out of her skirt pocket, trying to keep her movements natural, and looked around. The wine in its bottle was inaccessible – and there was no way she could reach over to her father's glass without him noticing.

  “Come now, sit down,” her father said, and she realised she was hesitating. As she took her place, someone set down a crystal water jug between them. That was it. She steadied her grip and reached for it.

  Before her hand was halfway there, her father took it. He didn't even seem to notice her. The muscles in her jaw tensed.

  Then she saw the gravy boat.

  Her father was still pouring water. This was her window. She reached out and put the contents of the dropper in the gravy. Then, to make the motion seem at least a little bit natural she took it and poured gravy across half her plate.

  They swapped water jug and gravy boat, and then set about their dinner.

  Her father began with the same routine: “How was your day?”

  “Good. Good, I think,” she said.

  “What did you do?” He cut away a piece of gravy-laden roast chicken.

  She still had no doubt he was tracking her. She decided she may as well own it: “I went down to the museum again.”

  He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Again?”

  “You know your collection of models?”

  Her father nodded. He still hadn't eaten the chicken.

  “I really like the colony rocket. You know the one?”

  “The big one?”

  She had to make it look like she was eating too, she realised, and went for the gravy-free portion of her plate while nodding.

  “It's an antique,” said her father. He paused to – finally – eat the piece of chicken. “I'll take it out for you, if you'd like.”

  “That'd be nice,” she said.

  “Now, I take it you've seen how the markets are responding to the Glaber War. Tell me, what do you predict will happen?”

  She rattled off a few answers.

  Her father nodded. “Now, how about the …” He blinked a few times, then stared at her. “No …” he said, his frown darkening

  Then he slumped forward and planted his face in his dinner with a bang.

  She stared at him for a few moments, then began to giggle. “Oh god, oh god,” she muttered to herself between bursts of giggles, trying without success to calm herself. She paced back and forth a few times. Her father liked to eat in peace. She wouldn't be interrupted for a few minutes yet.

  She strode back to the hall to grab the jewellery box, then crossed the dining room to her father's side. She paused, turned back again, and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “I'm sorry,” she said.

  Then she went out the door behind him and turned left.

  Her father liked to keep his personal shuttle close by. It was at the end of this corridor. Halfway down, in a small alcove, his bodyguard sat. Below close-cropped, sparse blond hair, his grey, cold eyes fixed on Olivia. His hairy, giant arms were folded, but he seemed ready to spring into action.

  Olivia met his gaze. “He just needs me to get something,” she told the bodyguard, walking past.

  He stared at her for a moment. His nostrils flared. Then he gave a tiny nod.

  And that was it. She'd made it! She walked briskly down the rest of the corridor. At the end, it was connected directly to the shuttle.

  The insides were richly if tastelessly decorated in white leather, velvet, and mahogany panelling. Grinning, she set down her jewellery box on a small table and settled in the front seat.

  Then her smile vanished. She looked helplessly over the console. She slammed the heel of her hand against her forehead repeatedly, punctuating the motion by hissing, “Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”

  A plain panel on the console was waiting for input.

  Her father's shuttle was DNA locked. Of course it was. She should've known. She did know! But she was too caught up in her escape to realise.

  She looked back down the way she'd come. The only way was to drag her father here into the shuttle.

  Past his bodyguard.

  Without getting caught.

  Chapter 17: Escape

  Eloise woke with a gasp. Something brought her to her senses immediately, some acidic sensation that seemed to scour away the fluff in her head. Being doused in freezing water would have been no more effective.

  Beside her, she heard Dr. Wolff cry out too.

  She scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could to find herself in a cell.

  Three of the walls, the ceiling, and the floor were all made of some smooth, dark grey polymer. The remaining wall was a sapphiroid panel, looking out onto another chamber where two men wearing black sat calmly watching her.

  “Welcome back,” one of them said.

  Eloise glared at him, her mind working. Judging by the gravity, she was still on Mars. That was good. She patted down her pockets. As she'd expected, they were empty. Wolff had finished groaning with his head in his hands. She helped him up.

  “Now,” said their guard, “I don't suppose you'd like to tell us what you were doing sneaking into Mr. Chase's estate?”

  “This is Mr. Chase's estate?” said Eloise, eyes wide. She turned to Dr. Wolff. “Did you know that? I didn't know that.” She turned back. “'Cause, oh man, did we mess up. I thought this was the Tharsis Funfair. You know, 'Most Exciting Place in the Solar System'?” She made a show of looking around. “You must be right, though.
This place doesn't look like much fun.”

  The guards looked at each other, and the one who hadn't yet spoken picked up a small controller and tapped it. A moment later, the cell was filled with an ear-splitting screech, nails down a chalkboard squared, so loud it made ears hurt. Eloise couldn't hear herself speak, let along think against the noise. The guards barely reacted. Presumably they were insulated from it. It lasted for three or four seconds before the guard shut it off.

  “You had parachutes, optical sheeting, the stolen ID card of a legitimate employee, and several illegal hacking devices on you,” said the guard. “Do you want to try again?”

  “Would you believe we're really eager to see the museum?” said Eloise.

  This earned them a ten-second blast of the screech.

  “I should tell you, in case you think you are safe,” said the guard, “that we are not part of official Martian Law Enforcement. We work for Mr. Chase, and have no higher authority. You have no rights here. No one knows you are here. Understand? We can do whatever we want. This is just the beginning. And if worst comes to worst, we can simply say you died in that shuttle.”

  “Is … is that supposed to impress me?” said Eloise.

  Dr. Wolff glared at her. “Must you antagonise them?” he hissed.

  Eloise shrugged.

  “We'll see how impressed you are in a couple of hours,” the guard said as he and his companion stood up.

  They walked out of sight, and a few moments later the screeching began again. This time it didn't stop.

  *

  Olivia walked back from the shuttle and smiled at the bodyguard as she passed him. He responded with a brief nod and watched her go past.

  When she was in the dining room again, she paced back and forth for a few moments, wondering how to play this. She could pretend she was hurt too … but bad acting might give her away. In the end, she just decided to lever her own very real anxiety.

  “Help!” she cried, running back into the corridor. “Quickly, please! Something's happened!”