Stealing Light s-1, page 6
part #1 of Shoal Series
Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme, she subvocalized, rattling the words together in her panic.
‹I am registering a stage-one intrusion alert.›
Remember me to one who lives there, she continued.
Somewhere inside the Piri, carefully hidden higher-level systems were coming alive as Dakota spoke her own secret code phrases.
‹Second-stage intrusion alert: I am alerting the appropriate registered senior personnel. Further intrusions on higher-level autonomous functions will be severely-›
She once was a true love of mine, Dakota finished in a blur as Moss leaned in towards her ear.
‘Your connection’s cut,’ he said. ‘Now it’s just you and me.’
‹Hello, Dakota.›
Dakota’s heart skipped a beat.
Create a distraction, Piri. Anything.
One of Moss’s fingers stroked her ear, and she winced at the stench of his breath. Then he suddenly stood bolt upright, but kept one hand resting on her shoulder.
‘Sir?’
Dakota twisted around further and saw Moss seemed to be talking to the air, one finger to an earlobe. She guessed he was speaking to Bourdain.
‘I just received an automatic alert, sir. Comms report receiving warning of a terrorist threat through a secure police channel.’
Moss nodded to the empty air. Dakota could almost hear the sound of her heart trying to bludgeon its way through her ribcage, her hands gripping the chair.
‘It’s a secure channel routed through the Consortium Outer System Patrol offices,’ Moss continued, for the benefit of his invisible employer. ‘They’re claiming an unmanned helium dredge has been programmed to alter course and hit the Rock within the hour. No details beyond that, at the moment. And given the number of guests we now have in the Great Hall…’
‹Dakota, I have generated a false police warning and routed it through the Rock’s alert systems.›
Piri, I love you.
‹You’re welcome. Does that mean you would like me to fuck you on your return?›
Please.
Bourdain reappeared a moment later, so clearly he hadn’t gone far.
‘It’s still only an automated alert,’ Bourdain snapped. ‘I need someone human to tell me what’s going on.’ He reached up and tapped his earlobe, looking over Dakota’s shoulder. His eyes gradually unfocused, and she guessed he was seeing and hearing someone on his technical staff as if they were standing next to him.
‘Tell me what’s happening,’ he suddenly demanded of the empty air. His expression got grimmer. After a moment, Bourdain shook his head, clearly unhappy.
He appeared to suddenly notice her, as if he’d forgotten what had only just taken place in his office. ‘This isn’t over,’ he told her, venom in his voice. ‘Hugh, come with me.’
She heard Moss shift away from behind her. ‘Stay here,’ he warned her. ‘Don’t make it any worse for yourself than it already is.’
They left, closing the door as they exited.
She was on her own.
Almost.
The bead-zombies remained standing on either side of her, like frighteningly detailed statues. Dakota realized, with a start, that neither Moss nor Bourdain had yet given them any orders, and without directions they were about as dangerous as a pair of well-muscled vegetables. She sat there frozen for a couple of seconds more, filled with sick fascination at the steady rise and fall of the zombies’ chests as they hovered beside her. As they would wait, for ever, or until instructed to go elsewhere.
Dakota stood up carefully, ready to bolt if either of them so much as twitched a non-sentient muscle in her direction. A wave of nausea swept over her and she leaned against the back of her chair just in time to stop herself from collapsing.
‹Systems indicate,› the Piri Reis informed her, ‹that you might require medical attention.›
The bead-zombies remained as impassive as ever.
Thank you, Piri. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You saved my life.
‹Comment noted.›
Can you please, please get me out of here?
‹It may take several seconds. The local security systems have a high level of encryptions
Somewhere inside Bourdain’s Rock, the Piri’s offensive routines were subordinating the systems that ran the asteroid’s primary computer networks, forcing them to channel erroneous information to Bourdain’s technical staff.
Even so, it wouldn’t take Bourdain long to realize that Dakota was the cause of it all.
She went to the door and tugged at it experimentally, unsurprised to find it locked. Come on, Piri.
‹Please wait. Please wait. Please-›
She rattled the handle for the tenth time in as many seconds, and suddenly the door swung open. She peered out into the corridor beyond, knowing her problems were far from over. All she’d done was find her way out of his office. Now she had to get past Bourdain’s security set-up, and safely off the asteroid itself, and that was going to be an entirely different challenge.
She touched her lips and her hand came away sticky with blood. Dakota closed her eyes and thought hard. If she tried to find her way back to Piri in her present battered state, she’d just be making herself easier for Bourdain’s security to spot.
A frantic search located a bathroom some way along the corridor outside Bourdain’s office, but fresh despair filled her when she saw herself in one of the mirrors. Blood smeared her mouth and chin from having bitten her tongue.
She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and soaked it under a tap, then began cleaning the gore off her face, her hands shaking so badly she kept dropping the tissue, cursing as she bent down to retrieve it. And all the while, she pictured Bourdain or Moss coming back to look for her, while she stood here defenceless.
A few moments of effort and she still looked deathly pale. Not the best image to present, but it would have to do. Fortunately her dark t-shirt made the bloodstains less noticeable.
She edged through the door at the far end of the corridor and found the party was still in full swing. She waited a moment, composing herself, then stepped forward, fresh neurochem flooding into her bloodstream. By a miracle there was no obvious sign of either Bourdain or Moss.
She cut a straight line through the first of the sequence of caverns, heading for the Great Hall and the antechamber beyond, and after that the docking bays.
Can you locate Bourdain?
‹Yes.› There was a pause as Piri negotiated the Rock’s databases. ‹He is at the very far end of the Great Hall from your current location.›
What’s he doing right now?
‹He is speaking with the man named Hugh Moss. Wait. Wait. They are now returning. They will reach your current location in approximately two minutes.›
Dakota found her way past a group of whores cavorting lasciviously in a cushioned depression in the floor, busily servicing a dozen male guests. Meanwhile, harsh and brutal music pounded from hidden speakers. She picked up traces of euphorics from the sweat of the onlookers around her each time one of them brushed against her bare arms. This contact generated tiny, unwanted bursts of pleasure in her body as she passed by.
Two inebriated men lurched eagerly towards her. One of them she decked without warning, pausing just long enough to grab the other on either side of his head, before lowering him to the ground and kneeing him hard in the stomach. He curled into a foetal ball and twisted away from her, gasping in agony.
She was only distantly aware of drunken cheering in her wake; the euphorics were starting to affect her senses. Got to get out of here.
She hurried on into the next chamber, where the female mogs were located. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a male whore copulating with one of the caged creatures on its plinth, for the benefit of a roaring crowd. The sight goaded her on with renewed and grim determination.
Dakota emerged at last into the Great Hall, but didn’t pause for a second. She brusquely pushed her way into the deepest, densest part of the crowd in search of cover, ignoring the startled stares her passage provoked and a few knowing looks cast toward the door she’d just come through.
‘Welcoming hello, meeting you please?’
Dakota stumbled to a halt, as one of the Shoal-members drifted up close to her. None of its human, Consortium bodyguards were anywhere in sight.
She blinked in surprise, studying the creature more closely. The bubble of water in which it floated extended perhaps two metres in width, and the anti-grav units holding it above the marble floor took the form of tiny metal discs placed at equidistant points around the containment field.
The Shoal-member itself possessed about half the body mass of a human, but its shape was that of a large chondrichthian fish. Rainbow-hued fins and tail wafted within the surrounding waters, and the several tentacles it used for manipulation extended downwards from its belly region, while the gills appeared as long dark slashes halfway along its torso.
Other, much tinier, non-sentient fish darted around it and, as Dakota watched, a few of the creature’s tentacles lashed out to ensnare a clutch of them, stuffing them greedily into its ancillary mouth. The alien’s translation and communications systems failed to disguise the cracking and chewing sounds as the fish were messily ingested.
‘Pleased to meet you too,’ Dakota said insincerely. She glanced around to see if she could catch sight of either Moss or Bourdain. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me-’
‘Miss Dakota Merrick?’
The Shoal-member had her full attention now. It wasn’t conceivable the thing was working for Bourdain rather than the other way around-or was it?
No, of course not. Concorrant Industries couldn’t survive a day without the beneficence of the Shoal’s technology and expertise.
‘Hungry fish swimming for minnows,’ the Shoal-member’s translation software informed her, more than a little obscurely. ‘A shallow pond. Mr Bourdain seems unhappy. Safety in numbers. Co-operation is key.’
She didn’t have the time for alien riddles.
‘I’m sorry, I really am in a hurry.’ She began to move away.
‘Small and alone in deep water, more likely to be consumed by predators,’ continued the alien, rather less obscurely, floating along beside her as she strode rapidly through the hall. ‘A free lunch. Some feed from skin of larger fish, live. Safety in numbers, in survival strategies. Two is better company than one.’
‘You…?’ She had the uncanny sense the creature was offering to help her. ‘How did you know my name?’
‘Shoal know all,’ the alien replied mysteriously. ‘What is dark to you is light to us. Clarity itself. Shoal hold open book of dreams, waiting to be read. All locks are broken with Shoal science, all secrets laid bare. You dart through deep waters with Mr Bourdain, yes? He attempts to force words from your head. Where Mr Bourdain is concerned, many smaller fish get eaten, and much blood is spilt.’
Dakota finally caught sight of Bourdain and his sidekick out of the corner of her eye, and she quickly ducked around the other side of the alien’s floating bubble. She was pretty sure they hadn’t seen her yet. The creature inside it swivelled to face her once more, while the bubble itself floated along by her side, matching her steady progress towards the main exit.
She knew it was impossible to read human emotion into the alien’s face, but she couldn’t help but believe that it looked amused, somehow.
‘You know what happened to me in Bourdain’s office?’ she enquired, then started to move faster, almost breaking into a jog. People around them stared as they passed. ‘Is that what you’re telling me? How do you know?’
‘Affirmation most appropriate answer. Shoal know all.’
‘Look, Bourdain is out to kill me, and I don’t know why.’
‘Shoal is thinking affirmation. Much tail-thrashing, much gnawing at deep waters. Query, Miss Merrick…’
It took her a moment to realize it wanted to ask her a question. She kept darting glances from side to side, feeling deeply vulnerable from the lack of anything even resembling a weapon with which she could defend herself. It took a great effort of will not to make a dash for the antechamber; with the alien floating along beside her, she was drawing too much attention to herself.
‘What?’ she snapped, wondering if she should simply make a break for it. But Bourdain would surely have placed security teams at every access point to the docking bays. Yet she saw nothing menacing as the tall archway leading out of the Great Hall drew closer.
But of course, she thought furiously: mounting an impromptu security operation to catch her right in the middle of a public extravaganza like this would draw far too much attention for Bourdain’s comfort, especially after all his recent legal troubles. And with so many witnesses…
She had to remain calm. She kept moving forward, briskly. Her arms and neck were already damp with sweat.
‹Dakota, I am being scanned by the primary local defence systems.›
Can you deal with it?
‹For the moment.›
Keep me updated and prep for launch. I’m on my way.
She quickened her pace again, willing herself not to start running. In the meantime, the alien kept pace with her, which had her cursing under her breath. It was as good as having a giant flashing arrow pointing straight towards her, for the benefit of the dozens of people already watching their progress with bewilderment or amusement.
‘Late to explain sorry sincerely. Embarrassment, as of revelling in self-fouled waters. Query: your craft is filled to capsizing with darkly operating systems, all unheard and invisible to dry-floating-island’s listening machines. If discovered by your Consortium, these non-legal modifications would consign you to ocean-bottom darkness for eternity, far from the common shoal, and with the loss of your craft. Follow?’
Darkly operating systems? And then it hit her what the Shoal-member was telling her. It knew the Piri was rigged with illegal black-ops modifications.
‹I am registering massive systems intrusions. Initiating defensive measures.›
‘What are they doing to my ship?’ she demanded of the alien.
‘Please to be curious,’ the creature replied. ‘This Shoal-member’s scent glands recognize the presence of much else that is questionable recently residing within the belly of your craft. For instance, to be enquiring as to means whereby Miss Merrick came into possession of GiantKiller?’
‘I don’t…’ Dakota’s mouth worked uselessly for a moment and she almost stumbled. ‘Did you say GiantKiller?’
‘Pleased to be affirming this.’
For the briefest moment she forgot about Moss and Bourdain. ‘You’re telling me I had a fucking GiantKiller on my ship?’
‘Shoal is pleased to note contrition arising from this unfortunate issue. Much unpleasantness. Human phrase “children playing with matches”, curiously apposite, with apologies and humour. Dealing in such non-leased, highly restricted goods is most non-Consortium behaviour, resulting in banishment for all concerned far from surface waters, chained upside-down in deepwater cell for eternity. A sorry end.’
Shit. ‘I didn’t know,’ she stammered. Somehow she found the strength of will to keep moving, despite a sudden weakness in her legs. ‘I swear, I didn’t know.’
But then, she reminded herself, she hadn’t wanted to know. She’d deliberately and carefully avoided so much as speculating what might be contained within the Piri’s cargo hold. Which was exactly why she’d spent the long days and nights of transit between Sant’Arcangelo and Bourdain’s Rock in a state of sustained borderline panic.
Dakota enjoyed a moment of personal re-evaluation, as if she could step outside herself and witness the events of the past several months for the very first time. And in that instant, she knew she was back where she’d started, that all her efforts had come to nothing, and she would never receive the rest of her much-needed money, ever, from Bourdain.
She balled her hands into fists, forcing the nails hard into the flesh of her palms, finding some kind of solace in the sudden flash of pain it brought to her.
Piri? What’s happening?
‹I have initiated further emergency defensive software protocols. I am awaiting further instructions.›
‘Shoal-member has suggestion.’
Dakota stared at the huge, fish-like creature floating in its ball of brine and wondered again if she could read amusement in its bulging black eyes.
‘Suggest away.’
‘Safety in numbers.’
‘You said that already,’ she snapped.
