Authors: Joel Shepherd
It was true, to a point. But for him to go back to the League, especially now that he knew what he did, could be suicide. They might monitor his changed behaviour, piece together the clues and decide him to be a liability, like all the others. There
was
no choice. The path was already chosen.
And then Mahud rolled her over and gazed wonderingly into her eyes as he entered deep inside her and it was a full ten minutes before another single, coherent thought crossed her mind.
Vanessa Rice sat on the sofa in her Santiello apartment, watching the news on TV while eating an early lunch of samosas and sauce. She wore her operational fatigues, drab-green slacks with pockets, utility belt, T-shirt under her regulation jacket. Her field boots were the second-smallest size the CSA had on inventory. Her guys often asked her which school-cadet she'd borrowed them from. She frequently replied by leaving a boot-print on one or another backside.
The TV news spoke of absolutely nothing but the present constitutional crisis and the tumultuous events that surrounded it. There were legal experts dissecting the constitution, political debates between Union and Progress Party representatives over whether Dali was justified in taking his extraordinary step, and much excited speculation as to how it all fitted into the picture of the broader investigation into the 'Parliament Massacre', as it was now being called.
Vanessa found it disturbing to watch, and spent much of her meal frowning as she chewed. It was disturbing because it revealed just how little the media actually knew about any of these matters. She lost count of the number of times that CSA operational policy was misrepresented, or the extent of the President's powers exaggerated, or events in the Federation/League conflict taken way out of historical and political context.
Vanessa had never considered herself much of a political expert. Only now, watching the media's feeble efforts to make sense of the turmoil, did she realise just how much political knowledge she possessed and took completely for granted. It was a part of her everyday awareness as a SWAT unit leader. Political differences spilled into civil rights council debates, which in turn governed how much force she could use under specific situations, which in turn determined many of her operational considerations. It governed privacy laws, thus controlling CSA taps on network sources. It governed legal and procedural rules, the evidence required for an arrest and the legal framework within which her unit's operations were contained. However much she tried to focus solely on the tactical concerns, she could never entirely escape the political context. Strange how she'd always ignored the implications, and derided politics as something that neither concerned nor interested her.
And the media, she thought as she bit into another crispy samosa, was about fifty percent business-oriented. Everyone knew that. Business or 'human interest'. Truth was, as Hiraki had said, nothing much ever really happened in Tanusha. The stock market rose, the city expanded, high-life celebrities went to court over divorce proceedings and occasionally some underworld types killed each other in brief, spectacular gun battles, some of which Vanessa had seen first-hand — three times she had participated in directly. But none of this had prepared the local media for the sudden explosion in constitutional, legal and historical complexity that everyone was presently up to their necks in. Some of the interviewer's questions were laughable.
No damn wonder she'd wanted to join SWAT, Vanessa thought sourly as she finished her last samosa, wiping her fingers on her fatigue pants. It was a refuge from entrepreneurial greed and blind self-importance. A place where respect was earned, not bought, and big issues really mattered. Vanessa loved Tanusha, but sometimes she longed for a population transplant.
Her audio implant beeped warningly and she pulled a headset from a jacket pocket. Equalised through the implant, finding the matching frequency ... and frowning when she failed to recognise it. Serious encryption. Seriously clever too, and subtle ... she searched, but found no clue to its origin. Audio only though. It should be safe. She received and felt the pattern tune into alignment with a tangible, melding click...
"
Nice implant Ricey
," said a familiar voice in her ear. "
I think I recognise the pattern. When did you get it done
?"
"Cassandra?" She sat fully upright, silencing the TV. "Is this connection safe?"
"
Should be. I'll take my network interface back to the League and ask for a refund if it isn't
." She sounded, Vanessa thought, to be in a most inappropriate good humour. "
What are you doing
?"
"Right now?"
"
Yep. I'm sitting by a window watching the view, if that's any help
."
"I'm watching TV and I've just finished eating lunch," Vanessa replied, feeling slightly perplexed. "Where the hell are you? And more importantly, why are you in such a ridiculously good mood?"
"
Just got nailed
," the GI replied. Vanessa could hear the grin in her voice and laughed in surprise. "
You should try it some time
."
"I'd love to." With great sarcasm. "I only saw you about twenty hours ago — your genitals must work like a heat-seeking missile." Happy laughter from the other end. "Who with?" A short sigh. Prelude, Vanessa thought, to something more sober.
"
His name's Mahud. I was his squad commander back in Dark Star
."
"Oh." Humour faded. "So he's a GI?"
"
Yeah. High model. Nice guy, you'd like him
."
"I'm sure. Tell me everything."
"
Is that a tactical request, or do you just want to get off
?"
Vanessa smiled. "Business first. The rest can wait."
"
If you say so. Well first, obviously, he survived what the rest of my team didn't. Seems my superiors wanted to keep a few higher models for special operations during peacetime. Like this one. He was the main tactical coordinator on the attack to kill the President
." Wow. Vanessa felt the breath catch in her throat. And wondered, in an instant of sudden fear, if Cassandra Kresnov was truly as sensible and stable as she seemed in person.
"
He knew nothing about me
," Sandy said firmly, as if reading her mind through the linkup. "
He's a very loyal guy. He's never known anything but service to the League. I've tried to fill him in on everything that's been going on, but it's difficult. He's still working with them, lying low. I don't want him to get upset or nervous in case they see his behaviour changing. But he can't leave now without alerting them that I'm onto them
.
"
He knew I was coming here when he accepted the mission. I think that's part of the reason why he wanted to do it, to see me again. He just never guessed I was the reason for the mission in the first place
."
Vanessa could feel her brain starting to race. The implications were enormous. One of the main people in the FIA operation, potentially about to turn over. Or maybe he could be their mole. Give information to the CSA. Help them capture the bastards. Good God, what an opportunity!
"
He says they
do
have infiltrator software in Tetsu — he was using it for a covert search during our raid there, seeing what we were up to. He found some traces of the stuff I was using when I was helping out Intel, searching the database and showing them what to look for ... League software, he recognised the key-codes immediately, knew there was only one person who could use it like that. Which is how he knew to send Cody the message
."
"Do you trust him?" Vanessa asked.
A pause.
"
Where I'm concerned, yes. With my life
." Another pause. A deep breath. "
The rest of it, politically ...I dunno. I don't want him to get hurt, Ricey. I only just found him again. I cant put him into anything too dangerous
."
Vanessa could hear the emotion in her voice. Jesus. Who would have thought that the League's most dangerous, advanced GI ever brought to life would turn out to be such a mass of emotional dramas?
She knew what she ought to do. What the CSA would no doubt like to do, given the chance. Use this Mahud to give them the rest of the FIA team on a platter, no matter what else it cost. Ibrahim would not like it, but Ibrahim knew where his priorities lay. Ibrahim would sacrifice Sandy's friend to get the others, no question. Damn. And she could suddenly see, at that moment, why Sandy had contacted her and not Ibrahim. It was trust that Sandy was showing. Trust in her. But her priorities ... lay where? What the hell was she going to say?
"Where is he now?" she thought to ask.
"
He's gone out to a rendezvous point. Nothing serious, just a head count and review. I'm at his apartment. Rented under a false name, buried under a mass of encrypted transactions, you'd never find it unless I told you. The encryption they're using lets them make all kinds of network transactions without anyone seeing. Very corporate
"
"Did he tell you whose?"
"
Nope. I'm not pushing. I'm just happy to have found him. He'll have to make his decisions for himself
."
"Yeah ... no, I agree. Damn. It's a tough one, isn't it?"
"
Tough on you too ... hey, I'm sorry to drop this on you, I know it's a problem at your end. Like right now you're wondering if you ought to push me for more information to bust some asses right now, or leave me here and wait to see if I can come through with something more substantial
."
Vanessa sighed. "Yeah. Well shit, I'll have to tell Ibrahim at least as much as you've told me ..."
"
That's okay, I want you to. Just... leave Mahud to me. I need to do this my way. And if I push him before he's ready, he might just bug out on me. Just give me some time, huh
?"
"Sure." Vanessa smiled reluctantly. "Sure I will. I'll recommend that much to the boss, too ... it's the best lead I've heard of so far. I think he'd recommend you keeping your head down for now. We want the top people. I reckon he'd want you to stay with Mahud until he's ready to give them to you."
"
I hope so
."
"So," Vanessa sighed. Stretched out her legs, leaning back in the sofa. "You really like this guy, huh?"
"
Not the way you're thinking
" The humour was back in her voice. "
I think he's more like ... I dunno, d'you have a brother
?"
"Two of 'em," Vanessa replied with a smile. "Small difference though — I haven't screwed either of them, and I'm not gonna start."
"
Oh hell, you know what I'm like — even if I had a real one I'd probably be screwing him too
." Vanessa grinned. "
No, Mahud's ... he's just nice. I think so, anyway. Maybe he'd scare other people, I don't know. But you'd be surprised just how harmless he can be
."
"No I wouldn't be, I've got you as a measure."
"
I'm not a good measure, Ricey. I'm not a good indication of anything, GIs least of all
."
"Yeah, the rest of them probably all make a lot more sense than you do, Cassandra." Another frequency bleeping. Vanessa recognised this one immediately, and her heart rate rose fractionally. "Sandy, I'm getting an emergency call, I gotta go."
"
Sure Ricey... take care, huh
?"
"You too. I'll be seeing you." Click to static. Readjust to new frequency, then a fast, reflexive tuning. It was code, no words, sending as soon as she connected. She noted it down with little surprise, made a few fast, mental translations with the help of her implant, then disconnected as it began to repeat.
She refolded the headset into her jacket pocket, went straight for her gearbag on the table and strode out the door, heavy weight of rifle, armour harness and attachments thumping against her back as she went.
The shots started when they were only halfway in. Vanessa thudded sideways into the nearest mall-side, the glass shattering with a crash across her armour. The remaining few civilians screamed, ducked, fell or ran, amid yells from her foremost team to "
Get down!
..." another second and she discerned that the shots were not directed at them, and darted forward instead, dodging between panicked and scrambling civvies, yelling at them to keep moving in the other direction, away from the firing.
"
S-5, under fire, random cover, targets are moving
." That was Kuntoro. Tac-net had him mapped and she figured his position clearly enough as she ran, tac-sim postulating firing positions from available audio and topographical data ... she dodged past the last of the civvies, Devakul already up and running ahead, armoured, lithe and weapon-ready, heavy feet pounding over the brick-paved walk, dodging café tables and chairs upended in the recent rush. If she'd had time, she would have sworn. It was no place for a firefight. But she had no time ...
"S-2," she snapped, "move, grid-fiver, seven, level three and four, keep it blocked, we can't let 'em through ..." The mall opened to an indoor food court, Devakul skidded for cover behind a corner and potted indoor palm ... ducked in abruptly as fire blew the palm to bits, tile fragments showering amid shredded greenery as Vanessa cut left, still sprinting, hurdled an umbrella-shaded table that crashed over, then ploughed through an angled shop window that afforded her a right-angled view across the nearest port of the food hall. Saw nothing moving, propped on her left arm amid still-falling debris, rifle ready, fire ripping past Devakul's position ... Devakul held his rifle around the corner and fired by remote-sight in short, popping bursts. She heard the launcher's muzzle-pop even as she rose, and ducked fractionally before the grenade hit the wall not four metres in front with a shock that nearly knocked her over.
"Central!" she yelled on all fours amid the showering dust and debris, "they are
armed
, full military-spec, get me everything you've got and all civvies
out
! This is a fucking war!" And for her team, "People, watch for civvies, no random firing, this is a shopping district, not a battlefield!" Or at least it had been.