Dark World (Undying Mercenaries Series Book 9), page 17
I stepped in-between the posts. A shimmering, pink-white haze hung in the air there, and I felt an odd shiver in my molecules as I passed through.
In that moment, I ceased to exist.
-24-
Effectively, the gateway deleted my existence from the orbital complex and added it to the lower decks of Nostrum an instant later.
It was a weird feeling, but one I’d experienced before. I’d never liked it—the whole thing was kind of creepy if you asked me.
I knew enough to understand I wasn’t being “transported” from one place to another—not in reality. Instead, I’d been disintegrated and then rebuilt again, molecule by molecule, in a remote location.
My usual approach to disturbing technology like this was to think fixedly about something else. If you thought about what was really happening to you—well, it would be damned hard to march into it.
In that way, I likened it to cliff-diving. You just had to convince yourself everything was going to be fine—then you jumped out into space.
“Adjunct?” the guards asked me on the far side. “What’s this all about?”
They were Varus veterans, and I thought I knew one of them. I showed him my tapper. Winslade’s order was clearly printed there.
The noncom frowned. “Gold Deck…? Wasn’t Winslade busted down to centurion recently?”
I shrugged. “Sometimes, ranks change quick around here,” I said. “How long have you been a vet?”
He looked at me suddenly, his eyes guarded. “Um… three years. Since Blood World.”
“Right, well… things change quick in Varus.”
The two noncoms exchanged glances. They cleared their throats.
“You’re good to go, sir. Gold Deck can be reached down this—”
“I know the way.”
I left them scratching their heads. I didn’t look back, and I didn’t hurry. Part of the key to barging into places was maintaining the illusion that you were completely calm and belonged there. Just doing that kept most questioners at bay.
Arriving at Turov’s office, I almost made it to the door—almost.
“McGill!” a voice boomed.
It was a familiar voice.
My hopes sank as I turned to face Primus Graves.
He looked me up and down appraisingly. He must not have liked what he saw, because his expression was highly dubious.
“McGill, what the hell are you doing on Gold Deck?”
“How’d you find me, sir?” I asked, faking a smile.
“I had a watch put on your whereabouts. Imagine my shock when you traveled from the factory complex to this ship in an instant’s time—without authorization?”
“Oh, I have authorization, sir.”
“Like hell you do. I’m the only one on Gold Deck you could possibly be here legitimately to see—and I don’t remember you making an appointment. Are you bucking to be busted down to veteran next?”
Telling Graves that Winslade had sent me wasn’t going to buy any happiness. Not with this man. He knew Winslade just as well as he knew me.
No… Graves had to be given a solid reason before he’d let me keep on walking.
At this point, I feel something needs explaining. If I have one gift that never seems to fail to impress, it must be that of improvisation.
Under normal circumstances, my mind seems to move like a turtle in a snowstorm. But when the pressure is on, it can occasionally flip into high gear. It’s an in-born thing, or so my mama says.
Without skipping a beat, I fished the tiny tube Winslade had given me out of my breast pocket. Tipping it gently, I tapped at the far end until the fly-sized spy drone crawled out into my palm.
“What the hell is that?” Graves asked.
“This is how he did it,” I said.
“How who did what?”
I lowered my voice and leaned closer to Graves.
Frowning, he leaned back immediately. Graves liked his personal space. He especially didn’t enjoy close proximity with any man.
“Sir,” I said, quietly. “Do you remember when Winslade produced that video of Turov in a compromising moment?”
“How could I forget? You starred in it, and you shamed the whole damned cohort that day.”
“I could argue that point, but that’s not why I’m here.”
I nudged the spy-drone, and it crawled about an inch closer to Graves.
“This is how he did it.”
Graves stared at the drone for a second, and his face contorted as he caught on.
“You mean he lied? About hacking into Central’s security system?”
I smiled tightly. “What do you think is more likely, sir?” I asked. “That Winslade suddenly grew some mad hacking skills—or this?”
“Right…” he said, staring at the drone. “So… you’re going to show this to Turov?”
Without answering, I gently stuffed the drone back into its tube and put it away.
“Do I have your permission to continue, sir?” I asked.
Graves looked indecisive. “All right. But keep me out of this cloak-and-dagger bullshit, all right?”
“Will do. Thank you, sir.”
He turned away in disgust, like I was a suspected plague-carrier, and hustled away.
There was only one more barrier between me and Turov’s office.
The pretty-boy in her outer office had his feet on his desk and his eyes on his tapper.
He swept up to stand when I walked in, but immediately relaxed again when he recognized me.
“Oh… it’s you. What do you want, McGill?”
“To see Turov, of course.”
He flicked his hand at me. His eyes were already back on his tapper. “Are you blind? It’s four pm. She left early today. If she hadn’t, there would have been a crowd to fight past.”
He was right, of course. I hadn’t thought of that.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
His lips twisted sourly. I got the feeling he didn’t like a little friendly competition.
Stepping back out, I walked down towards the private quarters sector of Gold Deck.
Another veteran stepped forward suddenly. “Where are you going, sir?” he asked.
“Damn,” I said. “There are more guards up here than there are troops in my unit on the front line.”
“There’ll be one more of them when you turn around and head back to the line, sir.”
This vet was stern. I checked out his name: Veteran Alders.
“You know what, Alders?” I asked him. “You should have joined Hegemony.”
His face reddened. For any Legion Varus man, those were fighting words.
“In fact,” I continued, you remind me of a hog I once knew in Newark Sector. He had a petty job which he made out to be a big deal, too.”
The wannabee-hog drew his nightstick, which was a shock-rod in reality. He switched it on.
“Listen, McGill—yeah, I know who you are. You’re trouble, and I’m not supposed to allow—”
Veteran Alders had made a critical error. He was waving that shock rod right between the two of us, in what he imagined was a threatening manner.
What I saw was a man who had a very loose grip on a dangerous weapon. To inform him of a possible safety violation, I reached up to steady his hand.
Alders jerked it back, away from me—and just as suddenly as I’d reached for his wrist, I let it go.
The shock-rod jerked up and tapped him—square in the mouth.
There was a loud cracking sound, like when some rookie gets himself snapped hard in the ass by a towel.
Whatever sanctimonious speech the vet had been about to give me ended right there. Gagging and toppling back, he hit a steel wall and slid down onto his butt. He landed hard. His face was red and full of pain.
“Oooo!” I said. “That looked bad. Let me help you up.”
Alders roared incoherent sounds like a wounded pig as he swatted an arm at me. His words had come out quite garbled due to his swelling lips and tongue.
“What’s going on out here?” a female voice demanded.
I turned around.
Turov had opened her private door. She was wearing a silk, hip-length white robe—some might have called it a kimono, but I knew real kimonos were longer.
“This hog here,” I began, “excuse me, I mean Veteran Alders—had an accident with his baton, sir. I was trying to help him up, but he’s feeling embarrassed and—”
The vet had balls, I’ll give him that. He lashed out at my knee caps.
One would think that with my being turned away and distracted by the sexy appearance of our legion’s high commander, he’d have caught me unawares.
But part of my brain was always ready for trouble. Just go and die a few hundred times. You’ll probably grow some surprising new survival instincts, too.
I lurched back, but he managed to brush my kneecap. I almost buckled and fell, but I caught myself.
Angry, I faced the vet.
“So, you’re not done yet?” I asked him.
Alders struggled to his feet and slurred at me carefully—drooling. “Nope. I’m going to shove this baton up your ass and run down the batteries.”
I went into a fighting stance, and so did the vet.
“Stop it!” Turov shouted at us.
We both hesitated and backed away a step.
“Tribune, this intruder—” the vet began.
“I know what he’s doing,” she said in a disgusted tone. “He’s a serial intruder.”
“I’m under orders to—” he continued.
“That’s right,” she interrupted again, “and I gave you those orders. I thank you for your service, but you’re dismissed in this instance.”
Alders looked at her in surprise.
“Dismissed, sir?”
“That’s right. Go have your ears checked. Dismissed.”
Glaring at me, he switched off his shock-rod and stalked away down the passage.
“You’re a good sport!” I called after him. “But you still missed your calling. You’re a born hog!”
“Shut up and get in here,” Turov ordered me.
I did so, and she closed the door with an angry motion.
“Damn you, McGill!” she said. “I told you to visit me at some point, but this is absurd. You can’t barge up here to Gold Deck! We’re in the middle of a military campaign!”
Blinking for a moment, I caught on to what she was suggesting.
“I get that, and I purely understand. But, as long as I’m here…”
Galina crossed her arms over her breasts and stared at me.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “Get out.”
I shrugged. “Okay. My information can wait until this is all over with, I suppose.”
Two steps. That’s as far as I made it toward her door. When I tried to touch the lock and open it, a very thin arm barred my way.
“What information?” she demanded.
“I thought you weren’t interested.”
Her lips were pursed into a tiny rosebud of pink.
“Are you seriously trying to blackmail me into a sexual encounter in exchange for vaguely hinted-at information?”
“I would never dream of such a thing!” I said, looking aghast.
In truth, I hadn’t been suggesting such a bargain. Often, people who naturally entertained devious motives of their own imagined I operated the same way. All I’d been doing was trying to tease her into letting me stay in her office for more than ninety seconds.
Galina heaved a sigh, which made her kimono stretch open a little. All this talk of sex had my mind and eyes wandering.
Turov noticed, and she slapped me a good one.
“Get your mind up here,” she said, pointing to her face.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Now, tell me your information. I will judge its worth.”
“Uh…”
She laughed. “Did you seriously think I would offer you favors for whatever shopping list you have to show me?”
“No, sir. But I do think you’re interested in busting open Winslade’s harassment case.”
Her eyes revealed her true thoughts then, for a second. They lit up like a kid’s who just found the golden egg on an Easter hunt.
Quickly, she buried that. But I’d seen it, and I knew I had points to spend with her. Lots of them.
“Should I stay, or should I go?” I asked her. “It’s your call.”
Galina made a flicking motion toward her couch.
I headed to her bar, first. She had a limited selection, but the booze was top notch. I selected a Kentucky bourbon and poured us each a double.
She sighed, took the glass I offered her, and sipped it.
“All right,” she said. “Talk.”
“Well, it all started—”
Galina lifted her hand to stop me again. “Wait a second. Aren’t you supposed to be on the front line? With your unit, down on the complex?”
“That’s right.”
“This could be construed as desertion of your post,” she said sternly. “I should have you flogged.”
I shrugged disinterestedly. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
She sipped her drink, studying me like a cat watching a tiny creature it wanted to murder.
“All right,” she said at last. “Since you’re here, bothering me, you might as well talk.”
“I have something to show you. Something small and probably illegal.”
I took her hand, and she squawked a little, but then I showed her the tiny vial in my other hand.
“Let go of my hand! This is assault, McGill!”
“Trust me for one second more…”
Staring into my eyes, she stopped struggling.
I poured the bug-like mini-drone into her fine white palm.
“Gah!” she said, tugging again. “An insect?”
“Don’t move!” I said quickly.
She froze in alarm. “Will it bite? Are you trying to poison me with this?”
“No, no,” I laughed, still cupping her small hand in my larger one. “It’s a drone, see? A spy drone. It’s probably filming you right now.”
“A spy…?”
Galina leaned forward, peering closely at it.
“This disgusting thing is artificial!” she declared.
“That’s right.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Well, how about you look into its eyes, and say: ‘Hello, Winslade.’”
That was when she finally got it. Everything flashed into her mind at once, and her soft pretty face twisted up with emotions.
First, I detected amazement. Then her features swiftly transformed into rage.
Lastly, a cold, calculating expression won out as she realized what I’d brought to her—and why.
“Put it back in its tube,” she said. “Gently.”
I did so, taking my time to nudge it back into its home. Then, I handed the tube over to her.
She lifted it up and threw her drink down her throat. She stared at the black, crawling thing inside the tube. Her face was full of malice.
“James…” she said softly. “You did well. You’re hereby forgiven for smiling when I was demoted. After this disastrous campaign is over, I’ll see that you get your rank back.”
“Okay,” I said. “What are you going to do to Winslade?”
“I’m going peel off his balls and boil them in hot oil— separately.”
That made me frown a little. After all, I didn’t think Winslade deserved more abuse. Sure, he was a first-class weasel, but he’d helped me get up here to Gold Deck in good faith. He’d already been demoted, and I couldn’t honestly say he should be treated to anything worse.
But now wasn’t the time to worry about Winslade.
“Galina?” I asked gently. “Would you like a refill?”
She smiled, still looking at the captive drone in her hand. She handed over her glass, and I poured a healthy dose into it. A triple, if I had to guess.
I sat beside her, and my hand wandered to her bare knee.
Reflexively, she put her hand on top of mine, and I froze.
Then she sucked in a deep breath, downed her whiskey, and she lifted her hand again.
“You’ve earned it,” she said, “and so have I.”
With that, she let me touch her.
Soon, I was able to verify beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wasn’t wearing anything else under that soft, white kimono of hers.
-25-
I ended up spending hours with Galina Turov. We hadn’t been together like this for years.
It was kind of strange—a little like going home again.
Along about midnight, I finally remembered why I’d come up to Gold Deck in the first place.
Galina was preening, getting ready for bed—to sleep, that is. She hadn’t yet thrown me out. Normally, she always did that after she grew tired of my attentions.
“Tribune?” I asked while she applied countless lotions and brushes in the bathroom.
“What is it, James?” she asked.
“When are you calling for reinforcements?”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she came to the door of the bathroom and gave me a weird look.
“Who said I was doing that?”
“No one in particular,” I lied. “Everyone’s just assuming—”
“Well, they’re assuming incorrectly. Legion Varus has a mission to perform. We don’t run from battle and call home for help the moment we reach stiff resistance.”
“Uh-huh. I guess that makes sense. We can wait until the Vulbites push us right off the platform. That would make it look like a legit need to Central.”
Again, there was a pause before she responded.
I knew I was pissing her off something terrible. It was only a matter of time until she went off like a firecracker.
However, when she came out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of her bed, opposite me on the couch, she wasn’t raging. She looked thoughtful. Her eyes were slits, staring at the aqua carpeting which she’d installed before leaving Earth.
She was thinking hard.
“Graves has talked to you, hasn’t he?” she asked at last.
