Agalder is humankind’s future world. The planet has been civilized for forty years, and has already had its first major war, the ‘Iron Wars’, which left the world scarred with burning deserts from the bombs and chemical weapons dropped. There is a paramilitary police force, specialized in armed combat, who are in constant struggle against the gangs of survivors.
Copyright 2022 Jason Self j@jxself.org
You can redistribute and/or modify this story under the terms of the GNU Affero General Public License as published by the Free Software Foundation, either version 3 of the License, or (at your option) any later version.
You should have received a copy of the GNU Affero General Public License along with this story. If not, see https://www.gnu.org/licenses/.
The source lives at https://jxself.org/git/?p=universe.git. This HTML page was generated from that on Sunday August 7 2022.
New stories are published each week. I’m looking to raise $200 per month to support this serial. If you wish to support it please visit https://liberapay.com/jxself/donate.
Harlan had been sitting on the edge of the roof for the past hour, waiting for Mellie. She always walked this way after she got off work and he could keep an eye on her. The streets and especially the alleys were dangerous away from APD headquarters. This was about as close as he dared come to the headquarters complex. Too many cameras, too many infrared imagers seeking live sources.
Those few blocks to the complex were safe, particularly for detectives. Mellie was one of the best. She could take down four or five attackers. But sometimes there were more, hiding in the crevasses of the alleys, crouching behind trash disposals, hanging from second floor windows. That’s why Harlan waited. He would not allow anyone to harm her.
Dark brown eyes thoughtful, he sucked on a dopestick, peppermint flavored, while he waited. The mild euphoria helped the time pass. His sneaker clad feet hung over the edge, three stories up. He glanced up at the sky where a myriad of stars twinkled in the night. There wasn’t much light pollution since electricity was a precious commodity on this planet. Neither of the two tiny moons were in the sky tonight.
Rapid footsteps, soft, but firm, came down the alley. Mellie passed underneath his position as he slid back onto the roof. Her head turned right to left as her eyes scanned the area on both sides and in front. She spun suddenly, walking backward, so that she could scrutinize the section behind her. Harlan hugged the shadows, holding his breath. Her eyes flicked over him and went on.
Facing forward again, she continued her walk. An Agalderan rodent, a puvu, which looked a lot more reptilian than mammalian, scurried across the alley in front of her. She ignored it. The animal turned to face the human, its shape a little odd. Harlan moved before he thought, swinging down from the roof to a balcony and from there to the ground in front of Mellie. He kicked the puvu up through the air, pivoted, and threw Mellie to the ground, his body covering hers. The puvu exploded with a loud bang and a hail of nails and staples. Harlan grunted.
Mellie pushed him off and examined his back. There were several holes in his tunic, all becoming bloodier by the second. He tried to get up but didn’t make it.
“You complete idiot!” she snapped. “Now what am I going to do with you?”
“Marry me?” he asked.
She got him to his feet and with an arm draped over her shoulder, they started down the alley again.
Her condo was on the 36th floor. They could take the elevator to the 35th floor but had to walk up to the 36th. Elevators only stopped every 5 floors. Harlan was thankful that it was only one floor.
She had a great view from one of the windows. The other windows looked out on the walls of the adjacent apartment complexes with their myriad windows. Sometimes a person would appear in one of the windows, but most of the time, the windows were closed and shaded.
She made Harlan lie down on the sofa and got his shirt off. He had six holes in the skin of his back. She could see the metal shards sticking out from three of them. Taking out the shrapnel was punctuated by swearing and groans from Harlan. She cleaned the wounds and wrapped his chest. Then she made him a drink.
As she sat beside him, her bright blue eyes evaluated him. She said “I suppose I should thank you for saving my life. But I’m just so mad at you for risking your own life and my cover that I can hardly speak.” She took a gulp of her own drink.
He rolled on his side and looked at her. She was staring out over the lights of the city, avoiding his gaze.
“You have risked everything we’ve worked for. If I had been killed, it wouldn’t have interfered with the plan. But if someone was watching, if someone saw your incredible theatrics, they will be adding two and two and getting 144.” Her voice was rising in volume. “You’re an idiot!”
Harlan looked up at her and sighed. “I love you.” Gently pushing her off the sofa, he managed to sit up with a lot of groaning. “There is no way I could stay on that roof and watch you be blown apart.” He started to pull his bloody shirt back on. “So deal with it.”
She took the shirt from him and opened a closet. Pulling out a bag, she handed it to him. “I bought this for you a while ago. It should fit you.”
He put on the shirt. Looking in a mirror, he nodded. “I have to go. Thanks for patching me up.” He walked to the door. “Oh. You never answered my question. Will you marry me?”
She threw a pillow at him.
Heading back to the same alley where the explosion took place, he came to a stop a block away. There were cops all over the place. He took to the roofs, approaching silently. Lt. Marks, Mellie’s boss was standing by the burn scars on the building. He was speaking softly, but Harlan’s hearing was excellent.
“…know she was here.” He waved a hand at the alley. “She came down from there. She must have been no more than twenty feet from the explosion. We should be looking at her body. But we aren’t.” He looked at his sergeant. “I want to know what happened here and I want to know tonight. Understand?”
The sergeant nodded with a weary expression on his face and turned away. “Yessir.”
Harlan moved away, heading back to the streets and Emerald Hall. Santori, the head of the Resistance, needed to know about this. They might want to pull Mellie back to the Hall. Her cover might be broken. Mellie was right. The plans of the Resistance for reunification of the planet were more important than any one life. Except Mellie’s.
Melandra Kaminsky was the lowest of the low on the totem pole of detectives. At least in Homicide Division. She probably ranked a little higher than a few in Robbery or Vice. But she was new and young and had been naive at times. Harlan had helped her claw her way up the ladder in the department. He was the best man she had ever known. That’s why she had taken Harlan back to her condo. That’s why she was in love with him.
She cursed herself frequently. Why had she picked a damn thief to fall for? Why not one of the detectives? Because the detectives were a bunch of crooked, arrogant losers and she hated them, one and all. For crying out loud, Harlan was the most ethical, moral man she had ever met. Except for the stealing, of course. He was also the bravest, smartest, and most impossible human being she knew.
She had run across him when she was part of Robbery Division. He was supposed to be the best cat burglar in town. He had even robbed the Mayor! So when she showed up for the weekly, sometimes irregular, Resistance meeting, she was shocked to see Harlan drinking a mug of coffee and talking to Santori, the Head of the Resistance, usually called “Boss”. Although she knew there were thieves, even servants and homeless in the group, she had thought Harlan would think himself above the petty politics of Agalder.
She cornered him after the meeting and told him that his position in the Resistance made no difference. She was going to put him away. He just grinned at her and told her she was free to try. Boss came up to them at that point and told her that she was to lay off Harlan. He was too important to the Resistance. Harlan and Mellie both began complaining that she had to do her job or raise suspicions.
Santori raised his eyebrow and asked “You want her to chase you?”
Harlan grinned “She couldn’t catch a hen in a chicken coop.”
Mellie had begun yelling at the thief when the “Boss” silently folded his tents and slipped away. Harlan seemed to enjoy the tirade. When she slowed down, he commented “You have a hell of a vocabulary.” and walked away. And all she could do was sputter.
She continued to try to trap the thief, but every plan she developed fell through. She’d see him grinning at her from across the air shafts between tenements or from the other side of the river.
Then she caught him. Actually he caught her. He was sitting in a chair, waiting for her when she burst into the apartment. She heard a click as the door locked behind her. He ignored her gun and poured her a glass of wine. When she got over being furious, they talked, really talked, for hours. He let her go after kissing her thoroughly. She found that she couldn’t think of anything else than Harlan, much to her annoyance.
She dropped her obsession with the thief and started piling up arrests. Her case clearance rate climbed until it beat everyone else’s. The Mayor gave her a commendation (and groped a feel at the same time). She appeared to be the darling of the department. And now somebody wanted her dead.
When her partner, John Behan, a fiftyish balding man with a paunchy stomach, and two other detectives showed up at her apartment, she admitted to having been at the site of the explosion. She had come up with a story that fit the facts although it was a bit farfetched. Noting the raised eyebrows, she simply told them she’d see them at headquarters and shoved them out of her apartment. They couldn’t exactly arrest her for not being murdered, so they left.
The next morning, she got to headquarters very early, took the first case to come in, and got out before day shift showed up. When she brought in her catch of the day, a wife killer, the other shift had gone home. She kept this up for several days until her colleagues gave up trying to pin something on her for not being killed.
Mellie ignored her partner and his buddies. She wasn’t part of the ‘old boys’ network’ and never would be. She did her work and did it well. The Captain seemed to happy with her. And as she walked the grimy streets of Crater City, she felt a presence at her back and knew it was Harlan. She also felt the ghosts of the hundreds of thousands of people who had died on this planet. It was for those uneasy spirits that she had joined the Resistance. It was for them that she sought justice.
Sam Tavis was an honest cop and had been amazed when he had progressed up the ranks so rapidly. He had expected his stubborn ethics would cause trouble and hold him back at some point. But his immediate superior had been a brilliant man and recognized the importance of having a totally trustworthy subordinate who could be duped into thinking that the Crater City Police Department was free of corruption. That had worked well until the time came when Tavis was faced with an untenable situation: support his boss or let a dozen innocent people die. He had saved the potential victims and his boss had died. The police force was turned inside out to find corrupt cops. Now he had a good group. He was pretty sure most of them were honest.
He was almost totally certain about Mellie Kaminsky. She was as straight an arrow as he had ever seen. But there was something she hadn’t told him. Now she was dodging any questions about what happened in the alley three nights ago. It wasn’t like her and he was worried.
He walked the same route she had that night through the safe zone around the station. He was headed into the dark alleys of Hollowtown, the area to the west of APD headquarters.
But before the condos sprang upward to the sky, there was a large open, empty area. Anything that had been there before was gone.
Looking around, he realized that he was in what had been the Gardens of Callough. He remembered the Gardens, filled with larkspur and hollyhocks, nasturtium and daisies, with fountains and a little stream running along the flower beds. There were dozens of flowers from Earth. There had been some from Agalder as well. The colors had been overwhelming: reds, blues, yellows, purples, greens, and every vibrant shade in between. All gone. The area was blasted. Grays and blacks, dirty browns were the only colors here now. He turned away. It hurt too much.
There had been voting booths here, too, gaily decorated with the purple and green of Agalder. He had voted here, voted for Manchester. She had been by far the best candidate for President of the Republic and had won in a landslide. And then had been gunned down on the steps of the Capitol as she was taking the oath of office, along with her Vice President and dozens of others.
On duty that day, he was standing at the base of the steps, thirty feet below the President-elect. She had stood straight and tall, proud to receive the honor. He had seen the guns coming out. How had they gotten them inside the barricades? He had pulled his weapon and started firing, already knowing it was too little, too late.
Wounded, he had lain on the steps for hours before someone discovered that he was still alive. But he hadn’t cared. Manchester was dead. He had heard much of the talk around him from the invaders. The coup had been a total shock to everyone on the ground. No one, including the security advisors, had ever heard of the group that took over. Tavis had learned later that they were a group of itinerant pirates who saw an opportunity and took it.
Just because they were taken by surprise didn’t mean that the people of Agalder didn’t fight back. They fought. And they fought with a fury and a hatred engendered by the slaughter of Manchester and her people.
The new President wasn’t just wildly popular. She represented the whole history of Agalder. From the lost colony that was almost reduced to cannibalism before it was found to the exploitation by the Xei Empire and the rebellion, through the fall of the Empire and the Iron Wars, until a greatly reduced population on Agalder had banded together to throw out the remnants of the invaders.
Manchester had come from the lowest class on Agalder. A street orphan, she had no idea who her people were. But she had understood the concept of a free society and its ramifications for all the people. She had educated herself and clawed her way upward. In many ways, Manchester had been the symbol of freedom on the planet.
Ten years had gone into drawing up a Constitution, delineating the powers of the government with enough checks and balances to choke a chaupoo. The temporary government had agreed to step down when Manchester had taken office. Everything was going so well. And then the pirates struck. There was a fleet of them. Their soldiers had been off-loaded on an uninhabited island just off the coast. The first clue the people of Agalder had was seeing Manchester shot down. Then the troop carriers had skimmed by overhead. The tanks and JVDs had come rumbling into the city.
Men, women, children, all had taken whatever weapons were available to attack the enemy. For a time the pirates were pushed back by the sheer ferocity of the attacks. The attacks came from everywhere. No pirate could walk alone in the city unmolested. Children as young as six would drop from windows with knives and razors, or spades and forks, whatever could pierce skin, put out an eye, or slit a throat.
But children with box knives and sling shots couldn’t defeat trained men with modern weapons. A lot of people died for nothing, thought Tavis. Yet the Resistance had persisted, Maybe soon they would take back the planet before the pirates destroyed it entirely.
The spirit of revolution in the people of Agalder still flamed. But it had been nearly twelve years since the Pirate Regime had taken over. That’s what Agalder called the usurpers. They called themselves the Democratic Advisory Council of Agalder. He shook his head. They were so good at putting their boots on the natives’ necks. That was about the only thing the bastards were good at. Except of course, for their talent at taking every last cent you earned and their adeptness at making people they didn’t like disappear.
He knew he was crazy to wander these alleys alone, but he had to see for himself. Garbage was piled high along the sides of the buildings. Some people just threw their refuse at the disposal openings and walked away, even if the noisome waste splattered against the side of the building. The openings to the trash disposals weren’t all covered. He shuddered as he thought what could happen if a child climbed in there. Kids got into everything, especially when told to stay away. He remembered his son climbing…
Movement to his right caught his attention and he turned, drawing his laser gun. A shadow appeared farther down the alley. He had started in that direction, moving slowly and carefully when the knife entered his back silently and sliced through his spinal cord. He dropped like a discarded puppet, regretting that he wouldn’t have time to finish his work. He looked at the shoes next to him as a hand reached over him and twisted the knife. Then his eyes saw only eternity.
Harlan was the one who found him. He was heading to his rooftop guarding position the following morning when he saw the body. Thieves had made off with his gun, identification, badge, and wallet, but Harlan knew Sam Tavis. He sat on the ground, legs splayed out, back against the wall and didn’t move for a long time.
Mellie found him in the same position forty minutes later as she walked to work. At first she thought they both were dead. Then she saw the tears on Harlan’s face. He didn’t respond at first when she knelt beside him. Finally his eyes flicked to hers. He leaned forward and stood up.
Looking down at her, he said “Put in the call. Don’t mention me. They’ll know I was here, but say I was gone when you got here.” He didn’t touch her, just turned and fled into the warren of alleys. She watched him go with eyes that were also brimming with tears.
Looking down at the body of Sam Tavis, Jason Marks felt a deep sorrow. His naturally dark eyes were even darker than usual. His thinning hair was blowing in the cold wind that prowled this place. He’d been expecting this for years. Tavis had been an honest cop. And a stubborn one. The man had stood up to mafia bosses and leaders of cartels, to politicians and other cops. He’d never bent. Marks had known this would happen eventually. There were too many bad guys in the world.
He knelt beside his friend and carefully removed the pendant around Tavis’ neck. The chain was gold as was the rim around the stone, a dark brown, clear quartz from the Cairngorm Mountains in Scotland on Earth. He was surprised the thieves who had taken everything else, including his shoes and tie, hadn’t stolen this. But he was glad to see it. Tavis and he had talked about death and the talisman that he now held no more than a couple of months ago. Sam had told him to give it to Mellie in case of his death and to tell her to pass it on to the one she loved. It belonged to her lover, the captain had said. Her lover would be next in line, but he refused to say who the man was or what he was in line for. He did say to pass it on with his blessing and his love, which confused Marks even more.
Mellie was standing by a carryall, a self-operating vehicle that could carry either people or cargo. It would carry Sam Tavis to the morgue.
He walked over to her and in a few brief sentences, told her what Tavis had charged him to do. He gave her the pendant and turned away to a group of detectives, examining a spot next to the body. The men were bent over, talking very softly with each other, looking at recorders that they held in their hands.
“What have you found?” he asked. They looked up and spread out, making room for him. He realized that Mellie had followed him and noticed that they did not make enough room for her. He reached back and drew her into the circle, the others stepping back grudgingly.
John Behan glanced at Mellie, then addressed Marks. “Someone was sitting here for quite a while. Close to an hour. Didn’t move. Just sat there.”
Marks raised an eyebrow. “Do we have an identification?”
“No, sir.” another detective said. “But we should be able to come up with a name within the next couple of hours.”
Marks looked at Millie. “Was there anyone here when you arrived?”
She shook her head. “I thought I heard footsteps running off, but by the time I checked for a pulse, I had no idea which alley to check.”
They all looked at the alleys. Five met in a conjunction, making a space larger than a couple of condos put together. Each of the alleys led off into darkness, three curving away, two leading straight out.
Alex Biggers slammed his fist into a tossed away piece of sheetrock. “Why in hell was he down here by himself?”
Marks looked down at his dead friend, then glanced at Mellie. “I want a name on my desk in the morning.” he said as he stomped off down the alley.
John Behan used to be the rising star of the Homicide Division. He had been young, buff, and ambitious. Before Agalder and especially Crater City had been forcibly returned to the Paleozoic Era, he had been optimistic about his future. He married a wonderful woman and they had talked of having children. But then this world, his world, fell apart. Alys was killed. An accident they said. But she was gone. Nothing left of her but pictures and memories.
One of those memories crossed his mind and he smiled for just a moment. Biggers dropped a file in front of him and Alys disappeared into the recesses at the back of his mind.
Biggers was only in his thirties, while Behan was forty-five now.
“Don’t strain yourself with this one, John.” he said as he swaggered off.
The younger guys considered Behan the ‘Old Man’. Cocky bastard. he thought as he opened the file on his computer. The white screen went black for at least twenty seconds before it stabilized. He grimaced, mumbling “Piece of crap.”
A vid appeared on the screen. A young man with dark hair and dark eyes looked back over his shoulder as he raced up a fire escape that was missing several rungs. He practically flew up to the roof. Dressed in black tunic and jeans, he blended well with the dark building. But Behan knew that face. Harlan. The thief Mellie had been so obsessed with - until she wasn’t. He wondered what had changed her mind.
On the screen, a drone followed Harlan as he ran across roofs, jumped between buildings, slid down pipes, and scaled ladders. The drone was the only cop to keep up with him. Behan wondered why they hadn’t turned loose the robots. Those hounds could have caught him. Of course, they were likely to tear him apart when they caught him. Maybe the bosses wanted him alive and undamaged.
The drone dived and tried to hit Harlan on the back of the head. Harlan, however, wasn’t cooperative. He ducked at the last moment and swung something black. The drone went offline.
Behan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. That man was just too smart and too fast. He knew the city well and rarely ventured into the suburbs. Except that time that he had robbed the Mayor. The thief had stolen a statuette, reported to have been brought from Earth, a fat little guy with his belly button showing, sitting cross-legged with a silly smile on his face. The statue was supposed to be made of gold with jewels in the little guy’s clothes and a big, fat diamond in his hands. Behan’s lips curled upwards. The Mayor had been hopping mad. But the Mayor was an asshole. Most of the force had thought the episode funny, especially since Harlan had been so careful not to hurt anyone.
The Mayor had tripled the security at his mansion. You’d think that when Harlan returned the statue without tripping any alarms, the Mayor would be grateful. No. The asshole went berserk. He’d come screaming into Sam Travis’ office and thrown his hat at the Chief. Behan had been close by and he’d opened the Chief’s door, causing the apoplectic Mayor to turn and stare at him. Behan had ignored the Mayor, asking the Chief. “Problem, Captain?”
Tavis had grinned. “No. But thanks, John.”
Even now, with Tavis gone, that memory brought a feeling of pride.
Biggers came back, a big grin on his face. “I knew it!” he crowed, waving a fax sheet. “The sitter, the person who spent nearly an hour sitting next to the Chief’s body, was Harlan.” He tossed the sheet on Behan’s desk. “I had a feeling that thief was the one. He musta killed the chief. You think?”
Behan ignored the question. The vibration report definitely identified Harlan as the individual who had sat, unmoving, next to Sam Tavis. He spoke without realizing it. “Like he was keeping vigil.”
“What?” asked Biggers. “What’s a vigil?”
“A time spent in prayer or grief, watching over something or someone.” answered Behan. He stood up.
Biggers backed off. “But why would that punk Harlan keep this vigil thing over the Chief?”
Behan ignored him as he headed for the door.
He found Melanie at her condo. He could see that she had been crying when she let him in.
He took off his coat and put it on the couch, then sat beside it. “Mellie. We’ve got to talk. It’s this Harlan guy, isn’t it? You’re in love with him. Are you helping him?”
Mellie’s head whipped around and she stared at her partner, face pale, eyes wide.
Behan watched her. “You know, babe. I’ve got a lot more experience catching out liars than you have. You’re not particularly good at this. You lied when you said no one was there when you found Captain Tavis. Harlan was there.”
He stood up, towering over her. “Wasn’t he?!” he yelled in her face.
Mellie backed up, looking frightened. Her hand came up to her mouth, and for a horrible moment, Behan thought she had a suicide pill. But she was just frightened and he took a deep breath.
His voice dropped to a gentle whisper. “You love him, don’t you?”
Her eyes were full of tears as she nodded.
“Why did he sit by the Chief’s body for nearly an hour this morning? And where is he now?” Behan asked.
“I don’t know. All I know is that he was sitting by the Chief, holding his hand, crying. They had some sort of relationship and Harlan clearly loved him. He saw me and stood up, told me to call for help, and left. I don’t know where he is or where he lives.” She walked to the window, looking out at the city. “I know almost nothing about him except his beliefs. We’ve talked about morality and ethics.” She turned back to him. “He’s a good man, John. And, yes. I love him.”
Behan nodded. “Give him a message for me. Tell him that we need to talk. Soon. And set it up.” He reached out, patted her on the shoulder, and left.
He ran the roofs blindly. The world blurred past as the tears kept coming. He had never felt pain like this and he couldn’t outrun it. His chest was tight and his breath came in short gasps, intermixed with sobs. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. They hadn’t had enough time together, not nearly enough, not since they had started playing their parts in this goddamn drama. His father the Chief of Police, he a common thief. Well, not common. His lips quirked.
It had been nearly nine years since they had been father and son, except for stolen minutes now and again. Harlan sometimes surprised his father in the middle of the night, waking him from sleep for a ten minute chat. Usually scared the hell out of his dad, especially since the Chief lived on the eighteenth floor. But there was a balcony and that made it easy for Harlan, although his father never understood.
He reached his home, an abandoned house on the north side of the city. He had managed to find a bed and a chair and a table. Home was always a temporary abode. He moved his residence frequently and kept it simple. Now he sat at the table and stared at a wall, not thinking, mind totally blank.
It was hours later when he woke up. He had laid his head on the table and fallen asleep. The pain came crashing back down and he grunted. But it was time to find out what happened. In a little while he would sudz, depilate, and change clothes. There were people to visit.
Alfie Gallagher didn’t have a lot of friends. Not necessarily because of his job, his work for the Syndicate. It was mainly because Alfie was a miserable excuse for a human being. He was a not too bright psychopath, a man who would have slit his mother’s throat for a ten spot. In fact, he had done exactly that. In addition, he didn’t wash very often.
Sitting alone in the Rusty Blade, a rundown bar not very far from Harlan’s temporary lair, Alfie was surprised when Diego Farley sat down across from him. Diego was a runner for the Syndicate.
“Cassidy wants to see you.” said the slim young man. The violaceous scar that ruined his right face twitched. “He’s got a job for you.”
Farley started to rise from his chair, but Alfie grabbed his arm. “What kind of job?”
Farley yanked his arm away, wiping it on his jacket as if something dirty had gotten on it. “How should I know? The big ones don’t exactly consult me, now do they?” and he turned away.
Alfie sat for another twenty minutes, then he dropped a coin on the table and left.
The job was not to his liking. Cassidy was second-in-command to the Syndicate’s Number One, Chas Hawkins. He had given Alfie his assignment and started back toward the big house when Alfie sputtered “But how am I gonna kill this guy if nobody knows where he is, where he lives. Nobody knows nothin’. I need some help.”
Cassidy looked back at the unshaven man with hair hanging in his eyes and the same clothes he’d been wearing for four days. “If you want to obtain information, take a sudz, clean up, shave, cut your disgusting hair, and then ask. No one wants to talk to a streetie.” and he disappeared into the crowd.
Alfie cleaned up. He rented a hole at the spaceport where passengers could sudz and sleep. He had stolen some clothes from the mission store. When he looked in the mirror after he shaved, he could barely recognize himself. He even brushed his teeth.
He returned to the big house that served as Hawkins’ headquarters here in the city. He found Cassidy in a large room overlooking what used to be a rose garden. The blackened plants were being removed by a couple of men in dark green one piece uniforms. Cassidy glanced at the two men sitting with him and they stood and left. Alfie sat down across a small table from the Second. “Okay. Now I’m clean and pretty. Tell me.”
Cassidy’s lips quirked. “You can find him two houses down from the Blind Rat Tavern toward the dock. I think he is holed up in the attic.” He waved dismissal at Alfie, who stood and started toward the door.
“And, Alfie.” Cassidy’s voice stopped him. “If you want to be part of this organization, you will stay clean and pretty.”
The very soft sound of glass breaking far below woke him. He stood up from the table where he had fallen asleep again. A loose board below the shuttered window allowed him a small view of the street. His eyebrows rose. There were at least a dozen black clothed figures starting to enter the house. They must really want him this time.
He reached over the table and pulled on a cord. A loud crashing followed by screams and loud cursing came from the first floor as a large part of the ceiling collapsed. Harlan smiled. He pushed a button next to the door. More yelling and cursing. A kitchen timer sat on the table. Harlan set it for three minutes, replaced it, and slipped out a trap door that led to the roof. He disappeared into the dusk as the third trap was sprung.
Exasperated wasn’t nearly a strong enough word, Jason Marks thought. Perhaps infuriated would cover it. He stood looking at the filthy, dust covered, bruised and scraped squad he had sent to pick up Harlan. They’d gotten his location and put the op together in a hurry. There was no way the thief could have known they were coming. Yet he had thwarted them and was gone.
No one was seriously hurt. Harlan was like that, careful. He apparently didn’t want to cause harm to anyone. But he was probably laughing on his way out the window.
Alfie got to the house in time to see a squad of the APD Elites going in the door. He watched for a while and heard the ceiling collapse in the hallway and the stairs crumple as they started to climb. He had to grin even as he thought that he might have been the one buried under the dust and dirt and what passed for spiders and bugs on this world. A cloud of dust spewed forth from the door and Alfie slid into the darkness.
When Mellie opened the door and found Harlan leaning against the wall outside, eyes swollen and red, she said nothing. She simply took his arm and brought him inside. After steering him to the couch, she programmed drinks for both of them and then sat beside him.
“He was your father, wasn’t he?” she said softly.
Harlan turned to her, eyes widening. “How did you find out?”
Mellie smiled. “Just a good guess. You look alike in some ways. And you share his world view.”
He looked down into his drink, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “He was the best man I ever knew. We argued a lot, but he always kept it friendly, even humorous.” His voice broke. “God, I loved him.”
She put her hand on his arm and leaned into him. “I loved him, too. He helped me so many times.”
Harlan turned and gathered her into his arms and they sat that way for a long time, sharing their grief.
Harlan left early in the morning before dawn. He had to find Santorini and report. Mellie watched him go, the tears still on her cheeks.
Santorini was still asleep when Harlan bypassed his security detail and shook him awake.
“What the fuck?!” yelled the Boss. Three guards exploded through the door, guns raised. They grabbed Harlan and started to hustle him out of the room when Santorini stopped them.
“But, Boss. He’s an intruder. We have to…”
“You have to figure out how he got in here. But leave him alone. He was just showing off.”
The Boss and Harlan watched the disgruntled guards leave before they spoke.
“How the flaming Hell did you get in here?” Santorini hissed.
Ignoring the question, Harlan continued staring at the door. Silently he stepped closer and yanked the door open. One of the guards stood, hunched over, an eavesdropper attached to the wood, extending to his ears. Harlan tore the device out of the man’s ears, eliciting a yell of pain, ripped it off the wood, and slammed the door in the guard’s face.
He turned to the Boss. “I would change my guard detail if I were you.” he said.
But Santorini was already throwing the door open. The guards were backing off, blood running from the ears of one.
“Jackson!” he bellowed. In seconds another guard appeared in a sleepfit, with a dart gun in his hand, two others behind him.
“Take these three into custody. I will question them later.” the Boss snarled and closed the door.
“How?” he asked, looking at Harlan.
“One guard asleep. Another alert but looking in the wrong direction for a couple seconds too long. And I’m just skinny enough to fit through the air vents.” Harlan shrugged. “It was easy.”
Santorini ran his hand through his thinning hair. “You will drive me crazy eventually.”
He stood and walked to the window. He stood looking out for a full minute. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “I’m so sorry about your father, Harlan. He wasn’t just one of the best men I’ve ever met, he was my friend.”
He turned and Harlan saw that his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Do you have any ideas why he was killed?”
Harlan shook his head. “He certainly had enemies enough. The Syndicate is probably celebrating tonight because of his death. The Hideout 12 group are another possibility. We may have found their lair, but we still don’t know much about them. We need to take members of that group alive to gather information. I have heard rumors of the thieves organizing as well.” He frowned and rubbed his hands over his face. “Something big is going on and I haven’t heard anything that lets me get a handle on it.”
He looked at the Boss. “The APD Elites paid me a visit tonight. I got out only because I had set up the traps.”
Santorini smiled. “I heard about that. Apparently Marks came close to having a stroke when the squad came stumbling back in, bruised and covered in dust. The Elites are going to have to work a lot in order to recover their shining reputation.”
The two men shared an amused grin.
Harlan sat down on the edge of the bed. There were no chairs in the room. It was too small. Santorini refused to accept the ostentatious display of the previous ‘Boss’.
“Tell me about the raid on Hideout 12.” said Harlan. “Do we know whose stronghold it was?”
Santorini shook his shaggy head. “There are so many of the survivor gangs out in the wilds, it could be any one of them. We got lucky. This group was pretty sophisticated. They carved that place out of the obsidian formed during the Iron Wars. It means the tunnels wander up and down and the rooms are odd shapes, but the camouflage is great.”
Harlan leaned forward. “Why can’t we turn that place into a trap for the Syndicate? We could drop a few hints about our new fortress where we keep our arsenal. I bet we could pick up a few Syndicate rats pretty easily.”
The Boss looked down at his hands. “Maybe. The idea has some merit. Let me think about it.”
Everyone knew the approximate location of the Emerald Palace, the headquarters for the Resistance. So Alfie just wandered down the nearest street and set himself up when he had a good view of the undulating roof.
Three hours later a figure appeared on the roof. Using his monoc, Alfie could see that it was Harlan. He lined up the shot as the best of the thieves looked around and then pulled his collar up. Gently, gently Alfie squeezed the trigger. The ancient sharpshooter rifle bucked into Alfie’s shoulder and spat forth a bullet. The sound was deafening. Harlan dropped like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
Alfie broke down the rifle and packed it in a bag of groceries. He put the wig and scarf back on and within three minutes, as the Resistance fighters poured out onto the street, an overweight grandmother passed by, staring at them with open curiosity.
When he reached the little trail into the park, he disappeared along a faint track that led to a clearing. By the time Alfie reached the clearing, he had discarded his female disguise, turning the raincoat inside out and ripping off the lower half to form a leather jacket. His wig turned inside out to become a leather cap and the scarf went around his neck. The grocery bag and every other scrap of material went into sacks on either side of an air runner with lots of chrome. He looked like every other air rider. Totally forgettable. He walked the machine out to the street, waited until the road was clear both ways and slipped out of the woods and down the lane unseen.
Jackson burst into Santorini’s office about fifteen minutes after Harlan left. “Harlan’s been shot!” he yelled.
Santorini knocked over the lamp as he rushed from the room. “Where is he?”
“They’re bringing him down from the roof now.” was the answer.
The Boss skidded to a stop and turned around, facing Jackson. “Is he alive?” he asked in a softer voice.
Jackson shook his head, his face somber, saying “I don’t know.”
Santorini caught up with the medics as they reached the ground floor and started running down the corridors. The Boss raced alongside. Harlan had a breathing tube in his pharynx and a machine was assisting his respirations. His face was almost as pale as the white sheets and sweat dripped off him. His eyes were closed.
The Boss called out to the head medic. “Mason. Did he say anything?”
Mason didn’t slow his pace or turn around. He called out over his shoulder. “He was unconscious when we got there, Boss. He wasn’t even breathing. Sorry.”
Santorini dropped out and watched the group careen around the corner into the corridor that opened out into the clinic. He stood catching his breath for a minute and then turned back to his office. Getting his assistant on his wrist phone, he called for all the surveillance recordings in the area as well as overhead satellite and traffic cams. He also ordered teams of investigators, including robot cops, to start canvassing the neighborhood.
An hour later they found footage of what happened on the roof. But all they saw was the muzzle flash. They triangulated it and found the spot the shooter had chosen for the ambush. Vibration evidence was sketchy since the spot was in a little garden and the plants interfered with the detectors. However, a preliminary id was consistent with the readings from a known thief named Alfie Gallagher. The word went out that the Boss wanted to ‘speak’ to this Alfie Gallagher.
Alfie reported to Cassidy after shooting Harlan, but the man wanted proof of death. Alfie’s description of the exceptional thief’s demise wasn’t sufficient. Alfie was seething. He stomped out of the big house and returned to his condo where he threw the wig/cap across the room. He was furious but not stupid. He wanted to get drunk but knew it would be counterproductive.
The place to start would be the place he used for the shot, but when he got close, the area was crawling with Resistance techs. He backed off quietly and hurried down the hill. The fact that the Resistance had a forensic team scouring the area where he had been was evidence in itself that Harlan was dead. He was fairly sure that Cassidy wouldn’t accept that conclusion, but he sent a coded message to the Second-in-Command.
He worked his way back around the Emerald Palace to a house where he could watch the activity from a rooftop. Like some other houses still in use, this one had a makeshift chimney, added when the Iron Wars destroyed the energy net that had surrounded the planet, Alfie climbed a lattice slowly and quietly to the roof. He cursed under his breath as he climbed, muttering. “You’d think they’d make roses thornless after all these centuries.” Then as he pulled up onto the roof, a slightly louder “Ouch!”
Settling behind the chimney, he put on his monoc and prepared to wait. The wait was short. In fifteen minutes, a small woman in a forensics smock walked up to the house and activated the bell. Alfie could hear voices from below but couldn’t make out the words. But the result was that a man came out of the house with an expanding ladder and leaned it against the edge of the roof. The ladder flowed upward, gripping the roof tightly, Alfie heard the woman thank the householder, who replied that he would be inside if she needed anything. Then there was silence as the woman climbed up to the roof.
She stood up when she reached the top and began scanning the area with a high tech binoc. The appliance limited her near vision. Alfie slipped out of hiding and applied a drug spray gun to her exposed neck, then eased her down as she lost consciousness.
To Alfie, it seemed that she weighed almost nothing. He threw her over his shoulder, collected his gear, and carefully walked to the opposite side of the roof. The roof of the neighboring home was only two meters away. He threw his gear bag across the gap, then tossed the woman over. She landed with a heavy ‘thunk’. Alarmed by the noise, afraid that someone heard and would come, he waited several minutes before crossing over himself. From that roof, he was able to drop down three feet to a small garden behind the house. Using alleys and back gardens, he made his way to the edge of the wilderness. Then, having sent a second message to Cassidy, he sat and waited. Cassidy would want to talk to the forensics woman.
The woman was awake when Cassidy got there, shivering and sobbing. Alfie sat a little away from her, smoking a happy joint. Cassidy got the information from the woman. Harlan was alive although might die overnight. He glared at Alfie.
“Yer not doin’ so good. Two tries and you miss both times.”
Alfie got to his feet. “I didn’t miss him. I shot him.” He motioned at the terrified woman. “You heard what she said. He’s expected to die tonight.”
“Yeah. I heard what she said.” said Cassidy. “He’s alive.” He leaned forward and grabbed Alfie’s lapels. “I want you to rectify that condition.”
He stood up and threw the woman over his shoulder. He started back toward the city, talking around his captive. “You hear me, Alfie? Last chance. Make him dead by midnight.”
Alfie yelled “Whatcha gonna do with that woman?”
“I’m going to take her to her home and dump her outside. She’ll be able to get out of her ties in a while.”
“You ain’t gonna kill her?”
Exasperated, Cassidy turned around. “No. I’m not going to kill her and I’m not leaving her here with you either. You’d just slit her throat.”
“But she’s seen us. She heard what we said. She needs to be dead.”
Cassidy stared at the thug for a minute. “Perhaps you’re right. But I am not going to kill some innocent woman just because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Alfie sputtered. “But..but you’ll order a hit on Harlan? He’s a nice guy.”
Cassidy sighed “I am not going to stand here and debate philosophy with you. Suffice it to say that I think Harlan is a spy working for the cops. He’s a traitor. He’s not an innocent. Now goodnight.” He trudged off.
Alfie stared after him, speechless.
The door announced another visitor. Mellie checked the viewer. Santorini! He never came here. She pulled the door open and yanked him inside.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. Then she noticed how pale his face was and the sadness in his eyes. “What happened?”
“It’s Harlan. He’s been shot.”
“Is he alive?”
“For the moment.” The Boss looked around the condo, not really seeing it, just trying to avoid Mellie’s gaze. “The surgeons don’t expect him to live through the night.” He dropped his eyes then to look at her as she backed away, hand over her mouth. “Get your coat. You’ll want to be with him.”
She grabbed a jacket and attached her bag to the sticker on her skirt, picked up her gun, and ran out the door, locking it with a word.
Santorini had brought a skimmer, a small air-borne vehicle that could skim over the roofs. They arrived at the Emerald Palace in five minutes, leaving Mellie a bit nauseous and white-knuckled. They got to Harlan’s room only to find that he had been taken back to surgery.. The bleeding had started again.
They waited. Mellie’s tired mind wandered, conjuring scenes from the time she was chasing Harlan to love scenes. She slipped into a doze, then woke when the Boss shook her.
The surgeon was coming down the hall. His face was serious, she felt, but not stony hard.
The surgeon looked at her and then with raised eyebrows he turned his gaze to the Boss.
“She’s one of us.” Said Santorini.
The surgeon nodded. “He’s still alive and somewhat stable now. Survival is going to be up to him. It all depends on how tough he is and how much he wants to live. Right now he’s hanging by a thread.”
Hours passed as she sat by his bedside. Santorini had disappeared when an aide came to whisper in his ear. She held Harlan’s hand and talked to him, telling him things she had never told anyone. Her mind was still wandering and she talked about playing with colored glass beads when she was a little girl and how she loved the way the sunlight made the colors zing. She jumped to a party at college where she had literally had to fight to get away from a couple of guys who wanted to ‘play’ with her.
Crying, she revealed her deepest feelings when her mother had died and her anger at her father who retreated into a fog of drugs to bury his pain. She had been eleven. Then he died and she had been alone except for a scruffy old cat who bit her. She spoke of hiding the fact that her parents were dead from the school. Getting up every morning, she’d feed the cat and go to school. At night she did her homework and studied. Sometimes she watched the vid-tube, but mostly she read.
Eventually the school found out when she wasn’t able to pay the bills. She’d been hustled off to a foster home. There were lots of those these days with all the orphans from the war. She told Harlan about the kids she’d lived with then and how she couldn’t stop crying because she had lost the old cat.
Her voice became hoarse, but she felt that her words were keeping him alive. So she talked and recited poetry, told him stories, and sang to him softly. Fatigue finally won out against determination and she slept with her head on the bed, next to his hand.
He drifted up and down. Sometimes he felt pain, but most of the time he just rode on a sea in the darkness and listened to the voice. Each time he started getting too far away, the voice would draw him back. He heard the words but didn’t understand much of what it said. Then came songs and that was wonderful, too. Eventually the voice stopped. He lay on his back, waiting for the voice, but it didn’t come back. He decided to go find it.
The first sensation he had was the feel of breathing on his left hand. He moved the hand toward the breaths and felt soft hair and a head. Opening his eyes, he saw Mellie, asleep. Gently, he stroked her hair. She smiled and opened her eyes.
Then she jerked up in the chair and yelled “Surgeon!! He’s awake!”
There was a lot of activity then. They pushed Mellie out of the way and worked over him, taking blood and scans and checking vital signs. He just lay quietly. The pain was back and he really wanted to go back to sleep, but they were all talking at him. Finally, a tall woman shooed the others back and stood beside him.
“Are you in pain?” she asked.
“Yes” he mumbled, eyes closed.
A nurse stepped forward with a syringe, but the tall woman raised her hand and stopped him. “Do you want something for pain? Or would you rather stay awake for a while and talk to Mellie?”
His eyes opened. “Mellie.” he said, voice stronger.
Then she was there and holding his hand. His eyes closed, but he lay listening to her voice as she told him what had happened and drifted again on the sea, but this time there was light all around.
Alfie looked out from the window of a house across the street from the Emerald Palace. There was a small door in the wall of the Palace, put there primarily for the convenience of the cleaning crew. He saw men and women come out occasionally with robocleaners to utilize a plug-in on the electrical box on the street. The box was for the neighborhood. The plug-in was illegal. He smiled. Even the Resistance were thieves.
Late in the night, there was no more activity. He slipped out of the house, leaving three bodies behind him. Crossing to the little door, he found it locked. Having the most up-to-date equipment, he simply inserted his uni-key and the door opened. Alfie stepped into the Emerald Palace with a knife in his hand.
The hallway was empty and poorly lighted. No one was supposed to use this area at night except in emergencies. Alfie moved along, a darkness among other shadows. There were occasional doors. He tried all of them. Only one was unlocked. A janitor’s closet. A set of deep green scrubs hung in the back and a robocleaner took up the front portion. Alfie pulled the cleaner out and put on the scrubs. They were a little large but not bad. A pair of earphones were in the pocket and he stuck them in his ears.
He pushed the cleaner ahead of him to the brightly lighted intersection ahead. No one was in sight, but he hadn’t gone more than a hundred meters before a pair of nurses came rushing toward him. Every muscle tensed up, but Alfie’s expression of boredom didn’t change. He had turned the earphones on when he saw the nurses and the sound was audible for several meters around him. The nurses ran past him without a glance.
A schematic of the Palace showed in his vision as he navigated the corridors, and he eventually found the clinic. He didn’t know which room was Harlan’s until he saw the guards outside. “Crap!” He thought. “These people are totally paranoid.”
He walked right past the guards who were holding a conversation, but eyeing everyone in sight. Including Alfie. As he was turning onto the next corridor, Alfie heard the guards demand identification. Glancing back, he saw the person standing there was Santorini. They wanted id from the Boss himself?
He wandered along corridors thinking, until he realized that he was coming around to Harlan’s room again. A person in dark blue scrubs was walking toward him. She had on a badge with her picture and name. He stepped aside so that she could pass. So now all he had to do was find someone who looked like him and grabbed their scrubs and badge.
It took over an hour, but he finally came to a stairwell and found three guys playing craps. He hunkered down in between them, looking at their badges and faces.
“Hey. Can I play?” he asked in a whiny voice.
“Got any money?” one of the three replied.
“Yeah. Just cashed my paycheck.”
“Okay.” said another.
As he sat down, Alfie pulled his knife. Only one of them gave him any trouble. And that was just for a few seconds. Then the stairwell was quiet again.
Dressed in the dark blue scrubs with the badge, he walked up to the guards in front of Harlan’s room.
“I need to check his heart. I got a consult.” he said to them.
The two men looked at each other. “We didn’t hear about no consult.”
“Yeah. They just sent it.” He held up a fax.
“Let’s see your id.”
Alfie obligingly handed them the badge.
“Okay.” They passed him through.
Alfie opened the door to the room and discovered that the famous thief wasn’t alone. A pretty young woman sat in a chair next to the bed. She looked up sharply.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Cardiologist Miller.” he replied. “I’m here to do a consult.”
She glanced at the door and then back at him. “Okay.” she said.
He approached the bed, looking down at Harlan. He’d talked to the kid a few times. He even liked him a bit. But business was business.
Distant shouts could be heard outside the room. Getting closer.
Alfie pulled out his knife, glancing at the door. When he turned back, Harlan was looking at him. “Alfie? What the…” Alfie brought the knife down in a sweeping motion.
And then the girl was all over him. She came over the bed like a big catlizard, landing on his chest and throwing the two of them to the floor. She had a gun in her hand which was pointed unwaveringly at his nose.
Alfie dropped the knife and raised his hands carefully. “I give up.” he whined.
The guards burst into the room, jarring the girl. Alfie had half a second to run, but his attempt was thwarted. He looked down at the hand clasped around his wrist and then followed the arm up to Harlan’s stony eyes. He raised his hands again. Harlan had a trickle of blood running down his neck.
The next few days were spent either walking in the halls or sleeping. His doctor told him he needed the sleep as much as the exercise to heal. Santorini came by after interviewing Alfie Gallagher. They got very little from the would-be assassin. All he knew was that Cassidy told him to get rid of Harlan. He couldn’t even confirm that the orders came from the head of the Syndicate, Chas Hawkins. Cassidy talked to him alone each time. No witnesses to what he said. It was a dead end unless they could get their hands on Cassidy. The woman from forensics had managed to get her ties off in just a few minutes and reported to the team. She backed Alfie up on what Cassidy had said.
But Cassidy lived in the big house and rarely left. When he did, he was surrounded with his bodyguards. If they tried to grab him while he was out, they were likely to take heavy casualties. It wasn’t worth it at this point.
Santorini was still enthusiastic about Harlan’s idea for the Obsidian Stronghold, as they’d renamed Hideout 12. They were working on the place, having set security in place. But not too much security. A good spy could get through and see that they were lining the rooms and corridors with shelves and specially designed holders for weapons and ammunition. The obvious conclusion would be that the Resistance was moving out of its antique armory into a new one.
The security detail had scared off one spy already. The Resistance had a large supply of weapons. If the Syndicate could get their hands on them, they’d be able to take over Crater City. Indeed, they’d be able to take over most of Agalder, including the desert gangs.
Santorini intended to dangle this priceless plum in front of the Syndicate until they went for it. Destroying the Syndicate would cut the crime rate in Crater City in half - at least. And it would make the revolution, when it came, that much easier.
The surgeon released Harlan to Santorini’s care after a week of hall walking. He objected loudly until Santorini told him to shut up and do what he was told. Then Harlan grumbled but softly where no one could hear. When Mellie came to visit him, he complained until she left early. The Boss finally yelled louder than a drill sergeant, explaining the facts of life to a recruit with a restricted IQ and Harlan snapped out of his funk.
He went to see Alfie.
When Alfie saw Harlan walk in his cell, he talked so fast they couldn’t understand him. But it didn’t matter. He’d already given them everything he could think of.
Harlan was sitting on a stool, staring at Alfie when the Boss walked in.
Harlan asked “What are you going to do with him?”
Santorini considered. “He’s killed or been responsible for the deaths of several people. He almost killed you. We can kill him which is the easiest thing to do. Or we can send him somewhere unpleasant. It’s up to you.”
Harlan’s head turned quickly. “Me? You expect me to decide his fate?”
“Yes.”
Alfie had stopped talking and was watching the two Resistance fighters intently. His eyes were like those of a hound dog, pleading.
Harlan sat very still for several minutes, his face set in stone. Sweat was running down Alfie’s face. Finally Harlan shrugged. “Send him to Alaton.” he said and left. Alfie’s face turned white while Santorini lips spread in a wicked grin.
It was another week before the surgeon would allow Harlan to go back to work on light duty only. Specifically desk duty. The thief was on the street in five minutes. He found a quiet place to sleep and rested until dark. Then he headed for the big house and Cassidy. Alfie knew next to nothing. But Cassidy would have answers. And screw Santorini’s orders.
The big house was an old mansion, sprawling across several hilly acres. It followed the contours of the hills, which meant that there were probably a lot of stairs inside. Harlan had a general idea of the layout of the house. While he had no idea where he would find Cassidy, the roof contours might show him something.
The motion detectors and security cams never quite covered the whole area. There were always places that the cams would miss. He slid from one of these to the next, mostly on the ground. He didn’t think the Syndicate was quite as sophisticated as the Empire had been and doubted he’d be disturbing any pressure detectors.
He reached the house without setting off any alarms that he could hear. He jumped to the roof and moved quietly to the living areas. These were in a relatively flat part of the property. From there, he began to survey the rest of the house from above. He knew there were at least twenty bedrooms, some bigger for the important people, some very big to accommodate ten or more bodyguards. Walking as softly as he could, he traversed the roof and found what he was looking for. Partitions tended to show up on the roof, partitions between rooms. He found the twenty plus bedroom area.
Once oriented, he moved swiftly to a window looking out over the lawn. The alarm setup was simple and he bypassed it easily.
Once in the house, he moved from the living areas to the bedrooms. Cassidy, as second-in command. would have his own private room. From the curvature of the roof, he had figured out where the rooms for the goons were and where the very private rooms for the bosses were. He crept along a carpeted hall that meandered around curves, past closed doors.
Voices behind him warned him of the approach of two people. Cassidy and a woman. They were leaning into each other, laughing. Harlan watched them go by and slid out from behind one of the doors to follow silently.
The couple entered a room near the end of the corridor. Harlan entered right behind them. The two were so involved with each other, that they didn’t notice him. An open closet beckoned and he moved inside.
The couple began making noises and comments indicating imminent sex. Harlan grimaced, stepping out of the closet with a gun in his hand.
She noticed him first and opened her mouth to scream.
He snarled “Please don’t do that. I’ll have to stop you.”
The woman thought better of the screaming and sat down on the bed.
Cassidy was moving toward a desk. Harlan, being younger, slimmer, and a lot more in shape, cut him off and smacked him on the back of his head with his hand.
Cassidy grabbed his head, whirling to glare at the thief. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You think I don’t know you? You think there’s any chance of your walking out of this house alive? Well, there isn’t. You’re dead. You just don’t know it yet.”
Harlan rolled his eyes. “Are you finished?”
When Cassidy opened his mouth to talk, Harlan shoved the barrel of the gun in between his teeth. Actually, he knocked a couple of them loose.
Cassidy froze. A trickle of blood leaked from between his lips.
Harlan shoved him back into a chair and saw the first trace of fear in the man’s eyes.
He loomed over Cassidy, pushing his advantage. But he had the woman in his peripheral vision. She had stripped down to her underwear and her shapely breasts were bare. Now she had risen from the bed and was turning toward the door. Harlan took one step back, grabbed her long green hair, and yanked her back. She fell onto the floor with a shriek.
“Quiet, dear.” said Harlan. “I don’t want to hurt you. But if it’s necessary, I will.”
His conversational tone of voice made the threat even more frightening. The woman crawled up on the bed and lay down.
As Harlan’s attention refocused on Cassidy, he realized that the man was reaching for something on the wall by the chair. He grabbed Cassidy’s wrist and pulled it back.
Then he grasped the loose material of Cassidy’s silken shirt and yanked him up to eye level. “Who killed Sam Tavis?” came out as a whisper. When Cassidy made no response, Harlan twisted the shirt so hard that it started to put pressure on the Syndicate leader’s throat.
“Who killed Sam Tavis?” A little louder.
“I don’t know.” Cassidy tried to push at Harlan, but the thief batted his hands away with the gun. “Honest. All I know is that there was a contract out on him. I heard that from a runner.”
Harlan stared into Cassidy’s eyes for a full minute. Then he dropped him and grabbed the green haired vixen again. She was once more headed for the door. He pulled the sheets back from the bed, shoved her in, and then tucked the sheets in under the mattress so tightly that she couldn’t move.
Turning casually, he fired a shot that penetrated the wall next to Cassidy’s hand. Cassidy jumped back, holding his hand. Harlan checked the wall and saw the tiny switch in the three dimensional art.
“So why did you send Alfie to kill me?” he asked softly, his eyes as cold as space.
Cassidy met his gaze. “We figured you’d come after us if we killed your father. So we decided to eliminate a threat. ’Cept Alfie screwed up.”
Harlan leaned back abruptly. “You knew that the Chief was my father? How?”
“Strictly accidental. One of the boys was passing by and saw you jump onto the balcony. He said it took him a couple of minutes to recover from the shock of seeing that jump. He said he didn’t think a human being could twist in the air like that and land wherever he wanted.” He shook his head. “Boy. I wish I’d seen it.” Then he shrugged. “Then he consulted the window diagram of the building and realized it was the Chief’s balcony. So we kept an eye on it. You pulled your stunt a few more times. Meanwhile we were digging into the Chief’s past and guess who we found?”
Shaking his head, Harlan started to chuckle, surprising Cassidy. “You have a window chart of the building? That’s impressive work.”
Cassidy smiled. “Yeah. It was my idea. Lots of important people in that building.”
He dropped the smile. “So you’re not one of us. You’re a traitor, a snitch. Just like the dopers hooked on slam. The cops use you. You have no loyalty to anyone, you worthless piece of…”
He saw the change in Harlan’s face and he shut up but continued to glare at Harlan. “Getting rid of you was a bit more than good sense. It was eliminating a threat to the organization.”
Harlan continued to stare at the crime boss for a full minute or two. Then he shrugged and smiled. “Who killed Sam Tavis? And who ordered it?”
Cassidy shook his head. “You know I can’t tell you that. I’d be signing their death warrants.” He stood up. “Do what you have to do to me. But I’m not going to tell you.”
The green haired woman spoke up. “It was the Bastard and Jonny Tool.”
Harlan looked at her Cassidy cursed. “How do you know?”
“What are you a male chauvinist? I’m a vital part of this organization, too. Don’t jump to conclusions just because I’m female.”
She had gotten out of the bed trap and had gotten dressed while Harlan was intimidating Cassidy.
Grinning, Harlan said “I won’t underestimate you a second time.” Then his face went stony. “Who ordered the hit?”
The woman shook her head. “Can’t help you with that. I don’t know. We operate on a need to know basis and that’s outside my purview.”
Harlan’s eyebrows rose as he realized that her education was probably far better than the average person in Crater City, which meant that she came from a wealthy family. He didn’t think she had used the word to show off. It was just part of a large vocabulary.
She continued. “And please don’t kill Cassidy. I like him.” She smiled a tiger’s smile at Harlan.
He was glad she hadn’t done that at the beginning. He could feel the draw of her charisma.
“Thank you.” he said to her. Turning to Cassidy, he growled “I will find out. Meanwhile, don’t cut paychecks for the Bastard and Jonny Tool. They won’t need them.” He went out the door quietly. Cassidy was in mid-jump to reach the tiny switch when the gun poked back into the room and blew the switch away.
Behan had to talk to Harlan. Nothing made sense unless Harlan and Sam Tavis were very close somehow. And Mellie would know what their connection was.
He arrived at Mellie’s condo just as she was getting home. She jumped when he spoke her name from behind.
“Jumpy tonight?” he asked.
“You did that deliberately just to see me jump, didn’t you?” she said as she opened the door. She didn’t sound angry.
“Guilty as charged, Boss.” Behan smiled at her.
“I am not now and never will be the boss, John.” Mellie disappeared into the kitchen. Her voice floated back. “I haven’t seen Harlan since the Chief…” Her voice broke.
He followed her. She had the fridger open and was just staring at it.
He sighed. “Mellie. You’re lying again. Please don’t do that. We’re partners. You’ve got to let me in on this or both you and Harlan are going to get hurt. Or worse.”
Mellie turned and gazed into his eyes. After a minute, she said “He’s already been hurt. He was shot with an old fashioned bullet by a sniper two weeks ago. And he disappeared today.”
Her face crumpled. “I don’t know where he is and I’m so scared for him. I’m sure he was going after Cassidy.” Tears coursed down her face.
Behan pulled her close and hugged her. “Harlan is… resourceful. He’s smart and he’ll get through.”
“Damn straight.” Came a voice behind them. Harlan entered the kitchen with a grin. “You’re hugging someone I love, Johnny. It’s a good thing I heard what you two were saying or I might have misconstrued this scene.”
Mellie came and put her arms around him but carefully, mindful of the recent injury and surgery.
He pulled her close and kissed her, but Behan could see the flash of pain that crossed his face. He smiled at the thief “I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced.” And stuck his hand out. “John Behan.”
Harlan took the hand and shook it warmly. “Harlan Tavis.” he said.
Behan’s eyebrows rose as he realized the true relationship between the Chief he had admired so much and the cocky young thief.
The three of them talked for hours. Harlan had decided to trust Behan. His father had trusted the man. He told him everything, including their participation in the Resistance, although he refused to name anyone else in the organization.
“Don’t blame you. You need to keep that information secret.”
Behan stood up and started pacing around the small room, pulling at his lower lip and muttering to himself. Finally he stopped and looked at the younger couple. “As I see it, we have three problems to solve.”
He sat down abruptly. “First, we need to find out who killed your father, Harlan.” His gaze switched to Mellie. “Second, we need to find out if Sam’s killer is the same person who tried to kill you, Mel.”
Standing up, he walked to the kitchen and fixed himself a cup of express. He walked back into the living area. “And third, we need to kick start this revolution before the whole planet withers away.”
Mellie’s jaw dropped. “What!?” she squeaked.
Harlan came to his feet. “What have you got to do with it?”
“I have some responsibility in the Resistance.” Behan said.
“He IS the Resistance.” said a voice. Santorini entered from the kitchen.
“Is my door wide open?” grumbled Mellie.
The Boss grinned at her, then let his gaze include Harlan. “You think I’m the Boss? Actually John is.”
Harlan stared at the detective. “He’s what!?” His voice had risen.
“Calm down, Harlan.” said Behan. “Greg just checks in with me once in a while.”
Mellie’s eyebrows rose. “Greg? Who’s Greg?”
Santorini laughed. “I am, Mel. My name is Gregorio Santorini.”
“Oh.” was all that Mellie said. “Okay. Let’s drop the comedy act. Tell us what’s going on.”
The two older men exchanged glances and Behan gave a slight nod.
Santorini sat down. “We are about to launch the revolution. And you two will play important parts in winning it.”
Harlan opened his mouth, but Mellie said “Shut up, Harlan.”, her attention focused on the Boss. Harlan’s mouth stayed open as he stared at his sweet, cuddly girlfriend whose face had turned to stone.
Santorini continued. “You, Harlan, are going to organize the thieves, destroy the Syndicate, and get the remnants to join us.”
He raised his hands as Harlan started to protest. “No, it’s not going to be impossible. You will find many allies in this coming war and a number of them are in the underground. You even have friends in the Syndicate now.”
He made placating motions with his hands as Harlan half rose. “Relax, kid. Like I said. You have friends. Lots of them. And they will be there for you. You and I will go over the general outline later.”
He turned to Mellie. “Mel, you are going to take over the police headquarters and hold it until we can break through.”
Mellie stared at him. “Oh. And can I call on the Gods of Olympus and Saturn and the Titans to help me?”
“You’ll have real help, Mel. Do not doubt it.” said Behan.
Harlan and Mellie looked at each other. Mellie shrugged, then grinned at the thief.
“What do you think? Should we throw our lot in with these crazies?”
Harlan just gazed at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Hell, yes!”
Hours later, Mellie shooed them all out of her home and fell onto the bed fully clothed, asleep with a smile on her face after one last thought about Harlan.
The thief himself decided to be a smartass and slipped through the same window he had used earlier. He appeared in Mellie’s bedroom with a big grin and was greeted by a snore.
He sat on the bed next to her and kissed her. Then he kissed her again. Then he shook her gently. Then he shook her a bit less gently. All he got was snores.
With a rueful smile on his face, he got her under the covers. Tucking her in, he kissed her gently on the forehead. Then he looked at her for a minute and lay down on the floor and went to sleep.
He woke before she did and quietly left the condo after making sure all the windows and doors were locked securely.
He arrived at John Behan’s little house about ten minutes later. After disabling the security system and entering through a window, he crept silently down the hallway toward a bedroom. He eased the door open without a sound and went to the bed where a lump lay motionless. Too motionless.
It took him a second, but by the time Behan put his stunner behind Harlan’s ear, the thief had figured it out.
“You coulda just knocked.” the detective said grumpily. “Now I have to reconfigure the security system.”
“That’s no fun.” said Harlan. “But how did you know?” He stepped away from the muzzle of the stunner.
The detective chuckled. “I have a secondary system. It goes to an earplug that I wear whenever I’m at home. I heard you breathing.”
Harlan turned and looked at the somewhat slovenly, middle-aged man in front of him with the protuberant belly, the thinning hair, and the tired eyes. “You’re the Resistance?”
Behan smiled. “Greg and I founded the organization about seven years ago. I went undercover and Greg has always been a bureaucrat. So he runs things. I just try to keep him informed.”
Behan sat on the bed and looked up at Harlan. The thief noticed that he still had the stunner in his hand. “So why are you disturbing my beauty sleep when we’ve been over just about every detail.”
Harlan turned and looked out the window at the back of another building, two disposal units, and a burned out aircar. “I just don’t like what you have lined up for Mellie. So much can go wrong. I would rather she didn’t have to do that.”
Behan looked at him and shook his head. “First, if she knew you were here trying to take her assignment away from her, she’d probably shoot you. Second, she really is the best person for the job. The department is riddled with moles. There aren’t very many people I can trust like I do you and Mellie. She is bright, capable, and deadly. She can handle it.”
He stood up, holstered the stunner, and placed a hand on Harlan’s shoulder. “I know it’s tough letting someone you love go into a field of danger. Especially after your dad died a week ago. But you have to trust her. And me. And Greg. You do your part. We’ll do ours.”
Harlan’s eyes turned to Behan and held his gaze. “You think she can do this and come out alive?”
Behan nodded. “Yes. She really is that good.”
Mellie had been given what was probably the hardest role in the coming rebellion. She was to live a dual life. She had to make herself acceptable to the detectives, to become one of the ‘boys’, slowly insinuating herself into the group until she was accepted. She agonized on how to break the ice with nine young to approaching elderly men, not counting Behan. What could she say or do that would look natural?
The detectives were playing traffic in a soccer match that night. She decided to go. She wore her hair caught up in a black cap, which matched her black pants and jacket. Sitting high up, she could see not just the field, but the mountains and the waterfall to the west. She had arrived early and the sun set in glorious colors. She was transfixed and almost forgot about the game.
Tearing her eyes from the fading sunset, she watched as the men and women of traffic outran and outscored the detectives. She didn’t cheer. She didn’t even move. She just watched. After the game the two teams went off to the Oasis Chance Casino for dinner and a night of carousing. Mellie went home.
The next morning she was reviewing a file on her tablet, feet up on the desk. She got a few looks from the ‘boys’ for this lack of decorum, but no one said anything.
Biggers was entertaining the unit clerks with his version of the soccer game.
“Hanson kicked the ball to me. The way to the goal was open. I started running, keeping the ball just a few feet ahead of me. I dodged Phillips from traffic and swerved around Jimmy Ricci. I was clear. When all of a sudden,…” he paused dramatically.
“He tripped over his own feet and traffic got the ball.” said Mellie. She didn’t look up from her tablet.
Biggers mouth dropped open. Every pair of eyes in the room was suddenly scrutinizing Mellie. She finally looked up at the astonished Biggers. “Right, Biggers?” and she smiled.
Behan began to laugh, a couple others joined in, and soon the whole room was roaring with laughter. Biggers was a little hostile at first, but then he got a sheepish grin on his face and joined in the laughter.
Mellie shook her head. It really hadn’t been all that funny. She pulled her feet down from the desk and leaned forward and got back to work.
A few days later, she had an opportunity to insert a comment about a case as she was walking past three of them. It was something that no one had thought of. “Did you check the time that it got dark last night? Dusk is divided into several segments. I don’t remember all the names, but the last one is astronomical dusk when the sun is something like 18 degrees below the horizon and there’s no sunlight left. Your visibility at that time is just about ten feet. If your witness claimed she saw the suspect clearly at that time from forty feet, she was lying.” And she continued on her way. Hanson scurried to his desk to check the information.
As she was leaving that night, Hanson stopped her. “Hey, Mellie.” he called. She looked back and waited for him as he hurried to catch up. Hanson was in his 30s, getting a little thin on top and a little thick in the middle. He’d never said a word to Mellie before.
“I wanted to say thanks. That little tip you dropped on your way past this morning made a big difference in the case.” He looked out over Mellie’s head. “The witness was definitely lying. You were right. We arrested her and she broke down a couple hours later and confessed.” His gaze came back to Mellie. “Without that piece of information, we would have arrested the wrong person and gotten egg all over our faces. As it is, we’re lookin’ good.” He tapped her on the shoulder, smiled, and said “Thanks.” as he ran down the ramp to the street.
Mellie watched as a good looking woman on a bright red Air Jumper picked him up. He hopped onto the back of the skimmer and they went roaring off into the night.
There was a definite thawing in the attitudes of her colleagues in the next few weeks.
As Mellie slowly, carefully found her way into the brotherhood of detectives, Behan watched and silently cheered her on. He was delighted that she had discovered a way to get the ‘boys’ on her side. When she spoke, they started to listen, instead of talking over her. And they often acted on her advice, having found that she actually knew what she was talking about.
He stopped worrying about her the morning he came into work and Mellie was sitting with one hip perched on Biggers desk, drinking a cup of coffee, and laughing with four of the detectives. He just smiled as he walked past and got to work.
Behan had his own problems. He was conducting a covert operation within the department, searching for anyone who was being paid by the pirates for information on investigations and operations. He had started the work six months ago with the entire force as suspects. Most people were easy to eliminate. Either they were too low on the totem pole to have access to the information or they were in positions that simply did not have any need to know. However, he had noted that two of the supposedly ‘benign’ staff had received an influx of money recently. They were being watched.
To her shock, Mellie discovered that she was beginning to like her colleagues. They had accepted her as an equal member of the team and were treating her with the same respect and rough camaraderie that they afforded each other. Well, not quite the same. They cleaned up their language for the most part when she was with them. Except in stressful situations and then the detectives noted that Mellie could be as foul mouthed as any of them.
The difference was that they now liked her and that fondness was reflected in their attitudes. She fervently wished that she was not a Resistance spy. She just wanted to be a detective.
Most of her colleagues appeared to be as apolitical as possible. Although with the pirates in charge of the planet, she didn’t understand why her new friends didn’t talk among themselves about the regime and the horrors they saw on a daily basis.. She wondered how many of the supposedly neutral police force were actually members of the Resistance. And then she thought that some might be in the pay of the Pirates. If they couldn’t fully trust each other, then open criticism of the regime would be a quick way to get killed.
So they avoided the subject altogether, kept their heads down, and did their jobs. No way to tell the good guys from the bad guys.
She decided she had to be subtle.
Two days later they were called to the scene of a multiple homicide that included children. Mellie didn’t have to fake the deep anger and hatred she felt for the people who fostered this environment, who took away the education system, the teachers, the books, and gave poverty and crime in return. She tried to keep her voice down but wasn’t entirely successful. She cursed every one of the members of the Democratic Advisory Board, the President, and was starting on the heads of departments, when one of her partners stepped on her foot, and another ‘accidentally’ elbowed her in the ribs.
“Shut up!” they whispered urgently. “You never know where there are microphones or ears listening.”
She noticed two others had almost reached her and were just now turning away. Every member of this team apparently wanted her alive. Apparently.
She gritted her teeth and got to work.
That subterfuge accomplished nothing beyond getting her sore ribs and a sore foot. The next attempt was going to be harder and she would need help.
Harlan had no idea how he was supposed to suddenly make friends with the people in the Thieves’ Guild. He had been known for his stand-offish attitude since he had first started out. There were a few that he talked to at times when they ran into one another. He occasionally had a brew with Big Domosky and considered the man his friend. Big Domosky was called that because he was - big, that is. About 140 kilos and 206 cm, the man made Harlan feel like a child beside him. Short orange hair covered his scalp, going well with his dark brown complexion.
Domosky was smart and well educated. He had had two major interests in college - astrophysics and classical literature and had gotten degrees in both. He’d gone on to get advanced degrees in the sciences and just when he was ready to go make money, the pirates had shown up. That never spoiled the big man’s attitude. He just devoted his life to stealing as much from the pirates and their sympathizers as he could.
Harlan decided that Big Domosky was as good a place to start as any. He went to track the man down. He found him leaning on the bar in the Black Chaupoo. The bartender looked like he’d rather the big man didn’t lean so heavily but said nothing.
“Hey, Domosky! How you doing?” called out Harlan.
“Harlan! Are you all right? There was a rumor that you were shot. You look okay.”
“I get a cold and somebody starts a rumor that I’ve been shot.” Harlan answered. “No. I’m good.” He stepped up next to the giant and asked the bartender for a brew.
Domosky raised his hand to slap Harlan on the back, but something in the thief’s eyes stopped him. He laid the huge hand gently on his friend’s shoulder. “Well, It’s good to see you. Come sit at my table and catch me up on your doings.”
He led the way to a large table with colossal chairs in a corner. Once settled in, Domosky leaned forward and spoke softly. “You really did get hurt, didn’t you?”
Harlan glanced at the next table which was unoccupied. “How do you know that?”
“I was going to slap you on the back, but your face went white, and you looked like a trapped marsck. You weren’t sure you could tolerate it.”
Harlan chuckled. “I probably would have passed out. Thank you for not greeting me in the usual Domosky manner.”
Domosky nodded. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
Harlan stared at his brew for a while. “Dom, we’ve been friends for a long time now, but there are things you don’t know about me and…”
“Like the fact that your father was Sam Tavis? That he was a member of the Resistance and that you are, too. That you’re in love with that cute detective, Mellie, and that she loves you just as much.”
Harlan’s eyes never strayed from the brew, but his shoulders tightened. “I’m not sure what you’re…”
“Yes, you are. You’re just wondering how I know it and if I can be trusted.” He glanced up at the bar across the room. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them. “Harlan, the Boss told me. Greg Santorini. I’ve been keeping a eye on you for a couple of years.” He grimaced. “If you hadn’t vanished into thin air recently, I’d have known what happened to you.”
“Why don’t you know? If you’re a Resistance member, then you would have heard that I was shot at headquarters and nearly died there.” Now Harlan’s eyes were locked with Domosky’s dark brown ones.
“Well, shit.” said the giant. “I just got back from the mines up at Cannette’s tonight. They had heard that you were injured but had no details.”
“What were you doing up there?”
“Arranging for a revolution.” the big man answered.
“So you’re saying you’re a Resistance member and I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Yes.” Then Domosky shrugged. “But I do have proof.”
“Yeah? Let’s see it.”
“Him. Come on.”
Domosky stood and walked to a door next to the men’s room. He opened it without knocking and went in. Harlan followed. The Boss was sitting at a table with John Behan and three other men.
Santorini looked at them “Whatcha need, Dom?”
“This idiot is poking holes in my story and wants proof that I’m part of the Resistance.”
Quiet laughter ran around the table. “Yes, Harlan. You can trust this oaf. He’s for real.” and Santorini turned back to the table.
Domosky and Harlan returned to their table where the younger man sat staring at his hands silently. Domosky waited.
Finally, Harlan looked up at the big man. “Sorry. I’m a bit pissed.” He looked at the barkeep. “Even the bartender knows more than I do.”
He rose from the table and headed for the door.
Domosky stood up and followed. He caught up with Harlan in a few of his long strides. “If you go to the roofs, we won’t be able to talk.” His breath streamed out on the cold night air. “No one knows more than they need to. You are entering a new phase. And you need more information now. So you’re getting it.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “I felt much the same as you do last week when they filled me in on a lot of minor details. Like Behan and Murphy.”
Harlan snorted. “Behan doesn’t seem like a minor detail to me.” He looked at Dom. “Who’s Murphy.”
“The guy sitting across from the Boss at the table. He’s an assistant to the President.”
“The President? The pirate President? Mahoney? That President?”
“Yes. That President.”
“Jesus H. Christ on a hofsteader.” Harlan stood for a long minute, his mouth hanging open. Then he shook his head vigorously. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe any of those bastards could be turned.”
“He wasn’t turned. He contacted us.”
“That proves it. He’s a mole. He joined the Resistance to get information on us to pass on to his boss. He needs to be eliminated.” He looked back at the tavern as Domosky turned him around and they walked back.
“His wife would shoot you just for saying that.” said Dom as they entered the pub.
Harlan’s head came up. “Who’s his wife? And why should I care?”
“Her name is Silver Santorini. She’s the Boss’s daughter.” He leaned forward, scrutinizing the crowd. “In fact, that’s her. Over by the bar. The one with all the panting men around her.”
Standing next to the bar was one of the most beautiful women Harlan had ever seen. Her hair was almost pure white, hanging loose and tumbling down her back like a waterfall. But she wasn’t an albino. Her skin had a healthy pink tinge, especially on those high cheekbones. Her eyes were light although he couldn’t see what color they were from this distance. Her rosebud mouth opened as she laughed over perfect white teeth. Her neck…
Harlan forced his attention back to Domosky. “Holy shit!” he said. “That’s the Boss’ daughter?”
Domosky had been watching Harlan’s reaction to the woman. “Yep. Lots prettier than her daddy.”
Harlan snorted. “You’re a master of understatement.”
Then he deliberately turned his back on the very distracting woman, shifting so that he faced Domosky. “Do you know what the high muckety-mucks have ordered me to do?”
The big man grinned. “As I understand it, you volunteered to serve in whatever capacity they needed.”
“That was before I heard what the assignment was.” He shook his head, taking a quick glance at the Boss’ daughter. “They want me to organize the thieves, destroy the Syndicate, and bring any left alive into the Thieves’ Guild.” Shaking his head again, he asked “How in Hell am I supposed to accomplish that? Behan says I have friends who will be there for me.” He took another quick look at Silver. “As far as I know, you’re the only person I can call a friend. And you might not feel that way.”
Domosky chuckled. “You will probably be surprised when you find out how many friends you actually have.” He leaned back in his chair, possibly to cut off the view of Silver Santorini, which was just as distracting to him. “And, yes. I am your friend.”
Harlan looked at the big man for a moment with a slightly crooked smile. Then he realized that Silver Santorini was standing next to them. Both men nearly fell as they hurriedly stood up.
Silver’s lips quirked. “May I join you?” she asked.
“Of course.” said Dom as he grabbed a chair from a nearby table, dumping the previous occupant.
“Our pleasure.” said Harlan as he moved his chair over to make room.
Silver was chuckling as she stooped to assist the man who had been so unceremoniously deposited on the floor. Dom’s face went pink and he lifted the man to his feet, apologizing.
Silver offered her hand to both of the men. “Hello. I’m Silver Santorini. I believe you know my father.”
The two men had difficulty letting go of her hand, but she was able to extricate it.
She accepted their offer of a brew as the waiter came over.
Once they were alone, she leaned forward and spoke softly. “I have been assigned to your team, Harlan. It will be you and me and Dom.”
For the first time, Harlan was not pleased to see Mellie walk in the door to the tavern.
She really didn’t expect to find Harlan in the Black Chaupoo. She certainly didn’t expect to find him with a gorgeous woman with pure white hair and green eyes. She felt her own eyes narrow as she walked toward them. Harlan had turned and was looking at her. His eyebrows were raised as if he were puzzled. Or maybe anxious.
He stood and reached for her as she came up to the table, but Mellie ignored his outstretched hand and smiled down at the woman.
“Hello, Dom.” she said without so much as glancing at him. “Hello, Harlan. Who’s your friend?”
The woman’s perfectly arched eyebrows also rose and a little smile played around her lips.
Harlan sighed. “This is Silver Santorini, the Boss’ daughter.” he said. “She’s married to a guy named Murphy who’s with the Boss in the back room.”
Now Mellie did look up at Harlan. Briefly. “I’ve heard of you.” she said to the woman. “Everyone talked about how beautiful you are. I didn’t believe them until now.”
Silver smiled again. “Thank you, Detective.” She stood. “I had heard much the same about you. I see that the gossip was also true.”
They stood staring at each other for a moment. Then Mellie offered her hand and Silver took it. Their handshake lasted a bit longer than one between two men would have and seemed much more intimate. Harlan had the distinct feeling that they were saying things to each other without words.
The women sat down and the men followed suit.
Mellie stared at Harlan for a long minute, markedly increasing his anxiety. Finally she smiled at him and reached out and took his hand. Turning to Silver, she asked “Is that Liam Murphy you’re married to?”
Silver nodded. “That would be the man. We’ve been married for three years. He’s a good man.”
“Except that he’s a pirate and the President’s assistant. That makes him a little bit suspect on this side of town.”
“I know. I’ve lived with those suspicions for years now.” She grimaced. “But I know this man. I know him well. He is sincere. He wants to overthrow the tyranny and free the people of Agalder. He has the courage and brilliance to do it.”
Mellie raised an eyebrow. “Why would he betray his comrades?”
“Because they are wrong and cruel and basically evil.” Silver said as she took a sip of her brew. “There are another half dozen crew members who think like Murph does. They’ll join him when it’s time. But the majority of the crews are only interested in making their fortunes. This is supposed to be the last gig. When they leave here, they’re supposed to split up and head for different parts of the galaxy to retire.” She snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“What will you believe?” asked Harlan. “That they won’t head off to different ends of the galaxy? Or that this is their last gig?”
She smiled and Harlan couldn’t help it. His heart beat a little faster. “Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised to see them split up. They all detest each other. There is no honor among thieves.” She shook her head. “No. What would surprise me is if this is their last gig. They are all the greediest of pigs. They might split up, but they would find another way to make money by harming and killing and raping and maiming anyone they can.”
Mellie shook her head and spoke - so softly that Silver almost missed it. “It will be their last gig all right. They will be much too dead for another.”
Silver met her eyes, green staring into blue, and she nodded.
Silver Santorini and Liam Murphy had been married over three years and were very much in love. Yet they had never lived together, never shared the small joys of preparing meals together, of planning vacations, of sharing their days at work and little triumphs with each other. They met every few weeks to report to each other and share a couple of hours of steamy sex. It was all they had at the moment. But they thought they could see the light at the end of the wormhole and prayed that it was not the inside of a star.
They couldn’t think about that future now. That could lead to inattention and carelessness and they couldn’t risk that. They had to stay focused. That’s why Silver only glanced at Murphy when the door opened and the men came out of the back room. He didn’t even look at her. Behan had slipped out a window, the same way he had come in. Santorini came over and pulled up a chair at the table.
“I see you’ve met my daughter.” he said, looking at Mellie.
“Yes. We were just getting acquainted.” replied Mellie, her gaze steady.
The Boss stared at her for a moment, then nodded. “Don’t worry about Murph. He’s a good guy and dedicated to our cause.”
His eyes flicked from Harlan to Mellie and back.
Harlan said “If you say he’s ok, I’ll trust him.”
Santorini stood and smiled. “He’s ok, Harlan. You can trust him.” He kissed Silver and left.
Silver turned to Mellie. “Dad’s assigned me to Harlan’s team. It’ll be Harlan and Dom and me.” She waited for a reaction.
The churning in her stomach didn’t show on her face as Mellie said “Sounds like a good team.” Then she looked at Dom. “Actually I came here to see you, Dom. I’m going to need some help when the time comes to take over APD headquarters. And I’ve already decided that you would be perfect in that role.”
“What about me?” Harlan’s voice was just a little bit whiny.
Mellie began to giggle and Dom and Silver joined in the laughter. Harlan looked indignant for a few moments and then chuckled. “That did sound petulant, didn’t it?”
“Yes.” Mellie reached out and took his hand. “Two things, my love. First, you’re going to be too busy for this. And second, I don’t want you anywhere around when the time comes. You would be too distracting for me and vice versa. Neither one of us will be able to afford distractions then.”
“Dom’s going to be busy, too.” said Harlan, still not happy.
“Not like you are. He should be able to help me then. I am going to need the second best thief in Crater City for a few hours.”
Silver left about three hours later. Harlan had come up with a crazy plan to take over the Syndicate’s Big House. It might work. Maybe. They had batted it around and added and subtracted until they were too tired to think.
She stepped out into the cold night air, breath fogging out in front of her. Most of the streetlights were out, and the route was dark. She walked through rough neighborhoods and past collapsed buildings. The sidewalk was broken, but she had no problem walking.
Until a shadow emerged from a dark door and came up on her left.
“Hey, gorgeous. I got a warm den for you.”
“Go away.”
“I can be really nice to you.”
“I doubt that. Go away.”
“C’mon, sweetie, just come with me for a little while.” A hand reached out and grasped her arm and just as quickly let go. “Yeeow!! You stuck me! I’m gonna…”
He didn’t finish his sentence because the knife she held in her right hand switched from his hand to his throat. She pushed him back. “One last time. Go away. Or die.”
Her cold green eyes stared into his reddened ones and he shuffled off to seek easier prey.
Unruffled, she slid the vibroknife back into its sheath on her wrist and strode off into the night, wondering what Liam was doing.
Liam Murphy was at home, feet up, with a drink in his hand, staring at plans for the pirates’ invasion of the Emerald Palace, the headquarters for the Resistance. He had given copies of the plans to the Boss earlier that evening, Now he was studying the plan, trying to find any flaws in their defenses.
A breeze ruffled his hair for a moment. Just for a moment. He went still, not breathing. Listening. Murphy stood and moved silently across the room, gun in his hand. He turned the setting to lethal. Sliding behind an animated tapestry, he waited.
A few seconds later, a man moved along the hall to the door to the room. Murphy could see only a shadow. He continued to wait.
A flash of movement and a bearded man jumped into the room, gun held out in front of him in a two-handed grip. There was no one else in the room. Murphy was effectively hidden behind the tapestry. The man’s voice spoke a few words sotto voce as he whirled in place to get a complete view of the room.
The intruder turned, heading back down the hall, saying “He’s gone. Someone must have tipped him.”
Murphy waited five minutes, then ten, then twenty before he moved. He closed the little tube that contained the plans and slid it in his pocket. He picked a slim book from the shelf beside him and left.
He made no attempt to get his AirStrider. Best scenario: it had a new GPS and a bug on it. Worst scenario: it had a bomb.
He had another ride stashed a few blocks away and had rehearsed getting to it stealthily.
They would have left someone to watch the condo. With glacial slowness, he crawled from a window in the back to the fence. He had cut a hole in it which reconnected itself until he needed it. He needed it now.
Blending with the night, he reached the AirStrider in minutes after getting through the fence.
The machine started silently and he lifted into the air, heading for the Emerald Palace.
Only then did he get the shakes. He thought about how much he hated these people who had taken him and used him until his soul was nearly as putrid as theirs.
He had been kicked off a passenger liner when he had run out of money. He frowned. When he had lost all his money gambling in the first-class lounge. Landing on a slimeball planet, he had tried to use what skills he had to earn his way off. No one, it seemed, wanted a lawyer/accountant. Law/Accounting had been easy for him. His mind worked logically.
Then a military fleet arrived in system and he had been recruited to join them. They could definitely use his advice, they said.
Two systems later he learned why he had become the chief councilor/chief accountant for the fleet after they decimated a poorly populated, but very rich world. They didn’t kill anyone. They just took. Everything. Including women and children.
A year later they landed on Agalder and took over.
Three years ago, when he was considering suicide, he learned about the Resistance. In his logical way, he formulated a plan to approach them. It took months to get a message to them.
One night, he had been walking home from a bar when a strange noise made him pause. It sounded like someone calling for help. He ran toward the sound. It came from behind a hedge. He pushed his way through the hedge until he was free. Large hands closed over his mouth and eyes and picked him up. Tape was placed around his face so that all he could do was breathe. His arms were taped and he was placed on a Strider. He remained passive, praying that this was the Resistance.
They arrived at a destination about twenty minutes later by his reckoning. He was placed on a grav sled and taken inside a building. Dumped onto an uncomfortable surface, he smelled the harsh odors of the medical profession and sighed. They were going to interrogate him.
He woke up with no memory of the questioning when a soft voice called his name. He was groggy but otherwise comfortable. He opened his eyes and saw an angel. That was when he met Silver. She ministered to him professionally. She was a Nurse/Healer - She could have been a doctor but didn’t want that profession.
She helped him maintain his dignity through the recovery from anesthesia with kindness and humor. That was when he fell in love.
She would ask him questions at times and he answered with no reservations. He told her his story - all of it. She listened intently and commented occasionally, non-judgmental.
The Boss came in and introduced himself, leaving out his relationship with Silver at that time. But he sat down and they talked. For hours. Over dinner. Until Murphy’s eyes were drooping. They let him sleep then. The next day they made him part of the Resistance.
Now he had to get to them or die - painfully.
Behan was riding in his AirSedan, much bigger and more comfortable than a Strider. He was too old for that kind of vehicle. The Sedan was equipped with all the necessities of a police vehicle, but discretely hidden. It had been quite beautiful, a soft blue with dark blue interior. However, the colors were obliterated by years of dust and dirt, and the dented, scratched surface area of the once shiny exterior no longer reflected the moonlight. It fit Behan’s personality perfectly. He liked it.
He was at a traffic halt. Great force shields stopped the vehicles in all lanes at certain points above Crater City, opening at regular intervals. Flying vehicles moved above and below him. A bright red Strider caught his eye and he thought he saw Liam Murphy on it. The red Strider flew off north and Behan changed direction and followed. He caught up with Murphy just in time to see an AirLorry sideswipe him, sending him tumbling. Murph managed to hang onto the Strider - barely.
Behan came alongside the faltering Strider and yelled at Murphy. “Get in!”
Without hesitation, Murphy jumped from the Strider and grasped the window edge of the Sedan. The Strider went silent and fell. Behan reached out and grabbed Murphy’s wrist, pulling him inside.
Another Sedan came up beside them and then they were dodging phaser bolts. Behan forced the blue Sedan into a 180 degree turn, throwing Murphy against the dashboard, then against the back of the seat. He grabbed a seat jacket and tried to put it on, ending up just clutching it to his chest.
There were three Sedans behind them now, all black. They tried to spread out and come at him from different angles, but Behan was going too fast. One tried gaining altitude to swoop down from above. Behan put the Sedan into a steep dive. Murphy hung onto the handholds in the vehicle with white knuckles, mouth pulled back in a rictus, eyes wide and terrified.
The Sedan pulled out of the dive with difficulty, nearly scraping the tops of buildings. One of the black Sedans had followed them down. Unable to pull up, it plowed into the top of a partially collapsed building and tumbled to the ground, exploding.
“Push the red button to the right of the dash.” Behan yelled as an explosion rocked the Sedan.
Murphy looked. There was a small red button set among several other colored buttons.
He pushed it. A hologram appeared in front of him, a representation of the immediate area with a bright blue dot for Behan’s vehicle and 2 red dots for the enemy.
“Open the drink dispenser.”
Murphy complied. What appeared to be a joystick popped out. He put his hand around it.
A sight appeared on the hologram, centered on one of the red dots.
“Pull the trigger.” yelled Behan as he slewed the Sedan into a 90 degree left bank.
Murphy pulled the trigger. Tracer rounds spewed forth, found the red dot. Then there was no red dot. The other red dot left hurriedly.
Behan dropped down into forbidden territory, between buildings, and slowed to a crawl.
Looking over at Murphy, he said “I guess you’ve blown your cover.”
Murphy nodded, wincing.
Behan looked closer. “You’re bleeding.”
Murphy passed out.
Her father woke her when Behan brought Murphy in. She flew down the corridors, white hair streaming out behind her like surf. Racing down the halls barefoot, she repeated a mantra over and over. “Please God. Please God. Please God…”
She skidded around that corner into the emergency department and spotted the bay with all the people around it. Cutting through the bystanders like a knife, she evaded a nurse’s grasp and stood next to Liam’s gurney. His eyes were closed. He had oxygen under his nose and appeared to be breathing well, but he was so pale. Plastic lines dripped fluids into his veins as the staff prepped him for surgery.
“Wake up, Liam.” she said. “You’re not going to surgery until you tell me you’re going to live.” She kissed him. “So open your eyes and look at me.”
A smile crept across his face and his eyes opened. “I’ll live, angel. I’ll live.”
The gurney was whisked off to the OR.
A bit of the shiny exterior of the Sedan had been chipped off the machine and blown through Murphy’s neck. It clipped the carotid artery on the right, opening a small hole in the artery. Behan had seen the blood and slammed his hand over the wound, keeping pressure on it. But Murphy had been almost bloodless when they arrived at the Emerald Palace.
The surgeons had him typed and cross-matched and had started transfusing even before they moved him out of the vehicle.
Silver sat outside the surgical suite and waited. She could have gone inside to the amphitheater and watched, but she just couldn’t do that. She would rather sit and wait. People came in and sat with her for a time and left, to be replaced by another. Mostly, though, they left her alone.
Leaning back in the chair, she started to sing, an old, old song.
“I know where I’m going And I know who’s going with me I know who I love And the dear knows who I’ll marry.
I have stockings of silk…”
The ancient Irish ballad floated out from the waiting room and into the halls. People stopped and listened… and may have shed a tear.
Silver sang until she exhausted herself.
The surgeon found her asleep with a smile on her face. He gently touched her shoulder.
Her eyes opened and she said “He’s going to be all right.” It was not a question.
He smiled and nodded. “He’s going to be all right.”
For hours, she sat beside him in recovery and in his room, dozing at times, singing at times. They kept him well sedated. The wound in his artery was very delicately repaired. It wouldn’t take much to rip it open again.
He woke the next morning to find her sitting beside him, looking at him with a smile on her face and love in her eyes.
She said “Good morning, darling. Welcome to the rest of our lives.” She stood, leaning over him, and very gently kissed him.
Mellie had called in sick for a couple of days, getting Behan to cover for her. When she showed up, she looked like she’d been sick. Her eyes were deeply shadowed, black circles under them. She was obviously exhausted. She was told to go back home and come back the next day rested. She was perfectly willing to do that. She slept all day.
She came in fresh and cheerful the next day. Behan and she caught a triple homicide in the North End. There were two suspects. Both had run off through the run-down neighborhood immediately after the killings. The cordon had been called down quickly though. They might still be trapped in the area.
The house was made of gray stone like most of the others in the poorer sections of town. Dirty and covered with the red dust of the desert nearby, the houses looked like dark coffins dripping with blood. Mellie shuddered at the thought.
They were out of the modified AirLorry before it touched down and running toward the house. Two uniformed officers stood guard, back to back, in the front space, eyes darting back and forth. Their shoulders eased back a little when the reinforcements landed.
Mellie and Behan ran quietly past the two officers, using matter penetrating equipment to scan the house. Nothing seemed to be moving. Behan placed his hand on the door opener and overrode the lock. The door opened and they slipped inside. Mellie went right, Behar left. Still nothing moved.
They found the bodies in a back room. The men had been lined up against a wall and shot. Like a firing squad. Millie thought.
Two of the faces looked vaguely familiar. Behar drew in a sharp breath.
She looked at him.
“They’re undercover Resistance operatives.” he said. “Mason” he indicated the middle body “was a friend of mine. His wife is dead, but he has two sons and four grandchildren.” He sighed. “I’m godfather to his sons.”
He looked at his friend a moment longer. When he turned back to her, his face was blank. “Let’s check the basement.”
A hallway led outside with a door leading to the basement next to that. No light came from below.
They pulled lights from their belts and started down the stairs. There were windows high on the walls, but the glass had been sprayed black. No light came through. And their lights seemed to be swallowed by the stygian darkness.
They had almost reached the bottom of the stair when brilliant light exploded from a corner of the room, blinding them. Mellie dived to her right, followed by Behan, who landed on top of her.
She said something like “Ummmpphh!”
Behan rolled off and fired at the lights. Mellie was able to drag herself up beside her partner but was still having trouble breathing. Having a ninety kilo man land on top of you takes your breath away, she thought.
The lights went out, although there was a dim glow where they had been.
Mellie could hear whispers coming from that direction. She could see Behan’s face and waved at the corner.
He nodded. She went right. He went left. No lights. Nudging their feet along, trying to find objects silently. She thought she could see him as a darker shadow in the blackness. When he turned his face toward her, she knew she was right. They were less than twenty feet from the corner. The glow emanating from the area was a putrid yellow. The odors in the area were just as foul.
Behan held up his fist, pumping it twice. Then he slashed it forward and they moved together. Leaping over boxes and cans. They landed in a pool of slime, which was glowing yellow. Movement to their right brought them scrambling to reach two figures moving toward the stairs.
Moving faster than Behan, Mellie tackled the closest one. An inhuman screech shattered the silence and Mellie grabbed onto what felt like a crab leg.
“Shit! Brol.” she grunted. Wrenching the leg encased in chitin backwards, she felt it pull loose. The creature shrieked again. Multiple appendages grasped her , lifting her up and throwing her at the wall. She hit the duracrete wall and all the air rushed out of her - again. Sliding to the floor, she watched as Behan attacked the other Brol with a pipe he had picked up. He broke a couple of legs before the thing stuffed him under the stairs.
They heard the two Brol skitter up the steps, then the yells and a couple of screams as they made their get-away.
Mellie groaned and picked herself up from the floor, hobbling over to the stairs. Behan was just backing out from the small space underneath.
He stood up, groaning even louder than Mellie. “You all right?” he asked.
She smiled. “Probably about the same as you are.”
“In that case, call emergency.” But he laughed.
Officers came pounding down the stairs, looking concerned.
Lt Marks appeared. “Well, you’re both alive at least.”
One of the patrol officers joined them with a Brol leg in hand. It was about five feet long, made of hard chitin, an exoskeleton. Inside lay muscles and tendons and ligaments that attached to chitin instead of bone.
A crime scene tech came by, looked at the leg, and said “We should be able to identify that guy by the morning.”
Mellie was surprised. “How can you identify one Brol out of the thousands on this planet?”
The tech grinned. “They are all required to register when they arrive. We have their DNA. Each and every one of them.” He got back to work.
Behan nodded. “There’s a law on almost every human planet. Alien sentients are required to register on arrival and record their DNA.” He rubbed his back. “Brol are the most plentiful aliens on Agalder, but they are by no means the only ones.”
Lt. Marks walked over to them. “Get back to HQ. Get the computer work done.” He hesitated a moment, looking at Mellie, then shrugged. “And, for God’s sake, take a fresher. You both stink.”
The emergency personnel checked Mellie and Behan over and released them and they made their way back to Headquarters. There was a mountain of computer work to be done. Not only have they been fired upon and responded by firing their own weapons, but there was an alien species involved. But they washed up and put on clean clothes before getting to work. All personnel kept a spare set or two of clean clothes at HQ. Just in case.
Something was bothering Mellie. Finally she recognized the concern her brain was niggling at. She turned to Behan. “Why didn’t they kill us? That had to be deliberate.”
Behan looked up and nodded. “Good point.” he said. “They never meant to kill us.”
Mellie frowned. “But they were shooting at us when we came down the stairs.”
Behan asked her “Did either one of us get hit?”
“No, but…”
“Brol never miss. They are close to the best shots in the universe. They want us alive. And they probably want to talk to us.”
“Well, we certainly want to talk to them.” said Mellie.
“I want to talk to them. I want you safely protected in here. You’re not going anywhere near the Brol.”
“Do you think I’m afraid to meet them?”
He snorted. “No. And that’s the problem.”
Mellie looked at him, eyebrows raised.
He sighed. “You are so determined to prove that you’re just as tough as the guys that you put yourself in danger. The Brol are a patriarchal society. To be male is to be king of the hill. To be female is to live in misery.
“The Brol warriors say that the females are all retarded and must be beaten regularly so they understand their duties. I passed a few words with a female Brol once. She seemed intelligent enough to me. Intelligent enough to learn a little Terran.
“At any rate, with their attitude about women, the Brol would not take too well to a female officer. They have short tempers and they tend to lash out.”
Mellie stared at her partner for a full minute. Then she said “I’m going.” She stood up, leaning her fists on her desk, towering over Behan. “You have to show them that humans value females as much as they value males. That we’re equal. And screw their cultural sensitivities. We’ve got those, too.”
She leaned in a little closer. Behan was beginning to cross his eyes. “And as for that ‘lashing out’ business, we’re pretty good at lashing out, too.”
With that, she straightened up and left the squad room. Every detective in the room followed her with their eyes. And Behan watched the watchers.
The Brol contacted them the next day. Marks had pushed the BOLO to include any Brol anywhere or any being that even vaguely resembled a Brol. Several Brusqal and a Grinkek had been harassed. The Grinkek in particular was very angry. Grinkek do not get angry. Ever. Resembling terran mushrooms, they look nothing like Brols.
Lt. Marks set up the meeting. He tried to insist on a dozen officers to accompany Behan and Kaminsky to the meeting but was turned down.
They did agree that he could come and bring one other. Marks chose Alex Biggers. Mellie and Behan stared at him.
“What?!” he asked.
The Brol lived in an abandoned cosmetics factory, close to the crater’s edge. They had dug nests and tunnels throughout the complex and no one had disputed their squatting rights. Picking a fight with a seven foot spider was not considered a good idea.
The place was dark and creepy at night. Mellie whispered “Why didn’t they just import cosmetics? They’re not that expensive for the lower grades.”
Marks said “They were very expensive after the Iron Wars when taxes were placed on them. Manufacturing our own seemed like a good idea until the pirates showed up.”
They stopped on a low hill in front of the main building and waited. The Brol had wanted them to go inside - at night - with no lights in the building. Marks had expressed his opinion of that idea.
So they stood and waited, their lights on, their hands on their guns. Biggers was whistling between his teeth until Behan threatened to shove those teeth down his throat.
In the silence that followed, they could hear the same whispering that Behan and Mellie had heard in that basement. A minute later, they saw movement near the factory. It looked like a dark rug flowing toward them. The forward movement wasn’t fast, but definitely threatening. Marks stepped forward and spoke.
“That’s far enough. Any farther and we will leave.”
A sinister chuckle ran through the spiders. Behan was very glad he had emptied his bladder before coming.
Marks took another step and his attitude had changed. His shoulders were braced, his jaw set, and his eyes as hard as rock. He radiated belligerence. The other three walked forward with him. The spiders backed up, some being shoved against the building by their fellows.
Marks stopped three meters from the Brol. “Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” he asked “why did you want to talk to us?”
One spider, larger than the rest, skittered forward a meter. Its whispery, raspy voice sent shivers down Behan’s spine, while the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.
“We talk to Behan. You weren’t there.”
Mellie stepped forward. “I was there. You talk to me, too.”
The Brol actually recoiled. It hissed. “Take female away.”
Behan moved up beside Mellie. “She is my partner. She fought one of your people in that basement. She was there. She stays.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. “If she stays, we will leave.” said the leader.
Behan chuckled. “Then go.” He turned to leave.
The murmur grew louder. “Wait.”
Behan kept on walking. The others turned to follow.
“Very well. She stays.”
They stopped and retraced their steps until they were crowding the leader. It waved a leg at them. “Move back. You’re too close.”
They stepped back.
Behan asked “What did you want to tell us?”
Two of its three eyes glanced at Mellie. “Others of your kind came two days ago. They promised to pay us well if we killed the humans in that house. We went there last night and killed them. We were looking for anything that might be valuable to us when you trapped us.”
The leg wave again, this time to include the mass of spiders behind it. “We were not responsible for the deaths of those humans. They were killed by their own kind.”
Behan’s jaw was clenched so tight that he thought his teeth might crack.
Mellie yelled. “Bull shit!” She moved another step until she was right in the leader’s face. “You killed them. For money. That makes you responsible.”
The Brol raised its two forelegs and gave a very obvious shrug. “We were only the instruments.”
Mellie put a hand on Behan’s arm. He was trembling with the need to attack this blithe murderer. He glanced at her and took a few deep breaths. The trembling subsided.
“No.” he said. “You made a choice. You chose to murder three good people. I don’t know much about the Brol, but from what I have seen tonight, I doubt there are three good people among you.”
The lead Brol raised his two front legs as if to step forward. A jabbering came from the back of the crowd. The spokesman put his feet back down. Behan realized that he was just a spokesman. The real leader, at least of this group, was at the back.
“Why did you want to talk to us?” Behan asked.
There was movement in the crowd and the largest Brol Behan had ever seen came forward. It pushed the spokesman aside and spoke. “We know who ordered the kill. If you want to know, you will pay us 60,000 credits by tomorrow night. No negotiation.”
The monster turned and reached out with its front legs, grabbing the spokesman. Casually it bit off the creature’s head. Then it threw the wildly twitching body to the side and sauntered off, chewing noisily.
The four humans stood absolutely still for nearly a minute. Then they turned and walked away. Biggers got just far enough away to put an outbuilding between them and the mob of spiders before he threw up. He managed to do it very quietly.
The other three stood by. Mellie handed Biggers a tissue after he was able to continue walking. She said “Don’t feel bad, Alex. We were all struggling to keep our dinners down.” She patted him on the shoulder, earning her a weak smile from the detective.
The department had plenty of money. The bribe was paid. They were actually expecting a much larger number.
They got the name the next day. Chas Hawkins. The chief of the Syndicate. Behan passed the word on to Santorini at the Resistance. And Santorini passed it on to Jake Rogers, one of the best assassins on the planet.
Two nights later, the Big House suddenly turned into a stirred up sting dauber’s nest. People were running in and out of the doors, even through the windows. Lights stabbed at every inch of the lawn and shrubs. People could be seen inside, gesticulating, shouting. Eventually the people and their intrusive lights returned to the house. Quiet returned, but it was a menacing quiet.
Had anyone been watching, he might have caught a glimpse of a group of five shadows within the night’s darkness. This darker dark moved across the lawn to a group of houses on a tree lined street with few lights. Very few watchers could have followed the progress of the shades from tree to tree, staying in the blackest part of the murky gloom.
Harlan was one of those very few watchers. He saw their progress down the street. He followed them as they slipped through the night, unseen by people only a few feet away.
Harlan realized that the group was splitting up. Three continued on toward the Green Palace, but the other two went in opposite directions.
Harlan watched the two head out. One was going for John Behan. And the other was after Mellie. Harlan took to the roofs, running as fast as he could. He pulled out his communicator and called Behan.
“Yeah?” came a gruff voice.
“John, you’re going to have a visitor in about five minutes.”
“Are you behind him?”
“No. Another one is going for Mellie. And three are headed to the Green Palace.”
“No problem. I’ll take care of this one and call the Palace. You take care of Mellie.”
“Right.” Harlan disconnected and jumped from one roof to the next. He’d never jumped that particularly wide gap before. Now he barely noticed.
It was late, past end of day. Harlan opened Mellie’s bedroom window without thinking of how she might view the intrusion. The flash of a phaser brought him to a halt. A burn spot appeared 2 millimeters from his left ear.
“Mellie! It’s me!”
Mellie appeared out of the shadows in her room and smacked him in the jaw. “You friggin’ idiot! I could have killed you. All I could see was a dark figure wrenching my window open.”
Harlan rubbed his jaw. “You hit like a girl.” he said. She drew her fist back for another demonstration and he caught it in his hand. “Okay. That hurt. The Syndicate is sending you a visitor and I don’t think he’s friendly.”
She nodded and reached into her cupboard for her phaser’s power pack. “How do you think he’ll come in?” she asked as she checked her weapon.
“Through the kitchen.” Harlan said. “But we need to cover both the bedroom and the kitchen.”
Mellie nodded. “What about the other entrance points? The front door? The rec room?”
Harlan glanced at the windows with the stunning view of the city. “No one’s coming through that window. If I can’t do it, no one can. And as for the front door? No way. Too expected.”
So, of course, the intruder came in through the front door.
Harlan was moving between rooms and he heard the slightest squeak of the hinges. Mellie was flat against the wall just inside the kitchen. Harlan could see her looking at him. He indicated the front room. She opened her eyes wide, raised her eyebrows, and grinned at him. He rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to live that gaffe down.
The two of them moved to positions on either side of the entrance to the rec room and waited. And waited. Nothing happened.
Fifteen minutes. Twenty. Nothing. Twenty-five minutes. Then a sock flew through the air and landed on the floor inside the rec room. Neither Harlan nor Mellie moved.
Another five minutes before a shoe followed the sock, landing with a thunk.
The intruder waited another ten minutes before he poked his head into the rec room and found himself facing the wrong ends of two phasers. He didn’t move anything except his mouth. “If I moved fast enough, you two would shoot each other.”
Mellie looked at him with a nasty smile. “Go ahead. Try it.”
He smiled back. “No. I think I’ll just put my weapon down and let you tie me up. Which is what Cassidy told me to do anyway.”
“Cassidy told you to give yourself up to us?” Harlan was incredulous. “I don’t think so. Not after you killed three of our best people.”
“I didn’t kill them. Nobody knew about that hit except Hawkins and four of his goons. His ‘Special Squad’, he called them. Well, he’s gone now and Cassidy’s in charge and he doesn’t want anybody else killed. On either side.”
Mellie was nodding. “That makes sense, Harlan. Cassidy’s known for his pragmatism.”
The intruder was nodding.
“What’s your name?” asked Harlan.
“Ned Moreno. My father was Timmy Moreno. You might remember him, Harlan.”
Harlan remembered. Timmy Moreno. His father’s friend. A man of honor and strength. Harlan had looked up to him. And he had played with Timmy’s son. Jake.
“Jake.” he said. “I thought you died with your dad.”
Jake looked down at the carpet under his feet. “No. He protected me with his body. I lived because he took the force of the blast.” His eyes roamed up the wall, seeing a time years ago and miles away. “When the Guard came around to see if everyone was dead, I unfocused my eyes like you taught me. Remember? And lay limp. I had enough blood on me to look realistic.”
“Someone poked me in the side with a gun. It hurt, but I managed to stay limp. They went on.”
His gaze met Harlan’s. “I lay there for a long time.” His eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “My dad and me - we didn’t get along well. Part of it was the Resistance. He believed. I thought it was bullshit.”
Running his hand through his hair, he said “We argued, sometimes to the point of throwing punches. I couldn’t sway him. And I was too stubborn to open my eyes.”
He chuckled, a laugh with no humor in it. “Boy, did I ever have my eyes yanked open that night.” Looking at Harlan, he said “If I had twitched, they would have shot me dead. Even though I was supposedly on their side.”
He hung his head down and shook it. “Shit! I was dumb.”
“I think I lay there, between the cold floor and the cooling body of my father, for at least an hour. At one point I started crying. Crying like I had no tomorrow. And I didn’t. I had no idea what to do, where to go.”
Still with his head hanging, he said “The reason I survived had nothing to do with my skill or knowledge. The Resistance came. I was crawling out from under Dad at that point and was trying to get to my feet.” He smiled grimly. “I was as stiff as Dad was becoming.”
“Three men suddenly appeared - like out of thin air. One was Santorini. I didn’t know the other two.” He sighed. “They obviously knew me. One spoke up. He wanted to kill me. Santorini looked at me, covered in my father’s blood, tears streaking down my face, one leg still stuck under the corpse. He shook his head and had them bring me along.”
“For days, I slept or lay staring at the ceiling. I didn’t eat much. I didn’t think much. Thinking was far too painful. I just lay on the bed in a fog.”
He smiled then, a genuine smile. “Finally Santorini’s daughter, Jade, came into the room. I wasn’t dead, so I noticed her. Brilliant green hair and eyes and a smile that would light up the world. She kicked me out of bed, forced me to dress, and dragged me back to the land of the living.”
Harlan smiled. “I think I’ve met her.”
“At the Big House?”
Harlan nodded.
“Yeah. She’s been undercover there for a couple of years.” He leaned back. “I don’t like it. Hell. I hate it. But Jade’s a big girl and can do what she wants. I’m just her husband.”
“You’re married to that witch?”
“Yeah. Ain’t she great?”
Harlan grinned. “Hell, yeah.”
Harlan and Jake began to laugh. Mellie stared at them. “What’s so funny?”
Harlan managed to say. “You’ll have to meet her.”
When he had controlled his laughter, Harlan said “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t trust you implicitly yet, Jake. I’ll let Santorini okay you.”
Keeping their phasers centered on Jake’s back, Harlan and Mellie herded him out the door and into the garage, boarding a two seater AirScooter. Mellie sat on Harlan’s lap and guided the machine. Fifteen minutes of discomfort and crowding later, they arrived at the Green Palace.
Santorini met them at the front door. He didn’t even look at Harlan or Mellie. He went straight to Jake and hugged him, holding the younger man tightly for a moment. When the Boss stepped back, Harlan could see tears in the eyes of both men.
Harlan shrugged and put his phaser away. Looking at Mellie, he saw that she was smiling and had already holstered her weapon.
Santorini brought Jake over to them. He started to introduce Jake, but they all interrupted, saying that they had indeed met.
The Boss said “Oh, yeah. That’s right. Thank you for not killing or maiming him. Jade would kill all of us.”
Mellie looked at Santorini and asked “You got any more daughters, Boss?”
“Yeah. Two more. Why?”
Mellie shook her head. “Nevermind.”
Jake carried a message from Cassidy. Cassidy could see what was about to happen on his world and he wanted to be on the winning side. By his calculations, the Resistance would win. He would be throwing all the resources of the Syndicate behind the rebels.
There were stipulations, of course, including a full pardon for every man or woman who fought for freedom.
Cassidy wanted that pardon. He had set up a legitimate business several years ago, importing fashionable clothes from New Dessel where they were made with cheap labor. To his credit, he had insisted that all of his workers be paid at least a good wage by New Dessel standards. He also managed to get them good health care coverage and even two weeks vacation. They were basically indentured servants so he forgave fifty percent of their debt and released them when the rest was paid off. He even rehired them at a significant increase in wages. All of this could be done on New Dessel and still save him money.
He wanted to move to New Dessel and continue his reforms, but he needed to be free of his past. Going straight was complicated.
Cassidy also foresaw the need for their armories to be updated. He had done that for the Syndicate. He offered the Resistance the same advances - at a discount, of course. Cassidy was giving them a good deal. If they could trust him.
Jake thought Cassidy was sincere. He wanted to be a hero for a change. And to make money at it. Jake said he could almost hear the cheering of the crowds when Cassidy talked about his dreams.
The Boss agreed to meet with the would-be hero. Each would bring their most trusted associate and no one else. They would all be armed. That was understood. Trust only stretches so far.
Santorini chose Harlan to come with him. While Harlan was surprised, no one else was. Harlan was the best second story (or third or fourth) man in Crater City and, therefore, the best guard the Boss could have.
They set out the next night two hours early in an AirSedan, black as the darkness around them. It was roomy and comfortable inside and well-equipped with weapons. They flew to the meeting point and waited a kilometer away, scans probing the area to give warning when anyone approached. The car was well hidden in some ruins.
Harlan slipped away into the rocks and disappeared.
The Boss was surprised when Cassidy and his assistant showed up and pulled in next to them. Cassidy raised his windscreen and grinned at him.
“Good evening, Santorini. You can tell your young assistant to come back in from the wilds.”
The Boss raised their car top and glared at the Syndicate head. “I thought the meeting was later and over there.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the proposed meeting place. Turning his head, he yelled “Come on in, Harlan.”
Cassidy laughed, a real laugh, full of humor and good feeling. “You seemed to have gotten lost. And out here, one place is as good as another.” He climbed out of the Sedan and sat on the front and signaling his associate to join him, effectively eliminated any threat from the vehicle’s armament. The associate was wearing a helmet, obscuring the identity.
Looking at the Syndicate chief, Santorini grunted. “Gutsy, aren’t you?”
He climbed out of his vehicle and walked over to Cassidy and the other. He already knew who the helmeted other was. He had known as soon as she moved.
Positioning himself between the Syndicate representatives, he leaned against their car and looked up at the stars. “Nice night.” he commented.
They were all looking at the spot where they expected Harlan to appear. Cassidy jumped and even Santorini gasped when Harlan touched them on the shoulders from behind.
Cassidy and his associate looked at the thief and at the Boss, then at each other. Santorini reached out and hugged the helmeted associate. The helmet came off and brilliant green hair spilled out. “Daddy.” said Jade. “You’re such a spoilsport.”
The four sat down and talked. Jade had ordered sandwiches and salads from the kitchen and a couple of bottles of wine. It took two hours, but they hammered out an agreement that would allow for amnesty for freedom fighters and their families.
They also discussed a land agreement. Everyone who fought for the Resistance would be eligible to buy land on the planet. Good land at a good price. The world had been devastated by the Iron Wars, The population outside of Crater City consisted largely of roving gangs of bandits. There were no other towns. Not anymore.
Santorini wanted to rebuild not just the city but the whole world.
Cassidy had his hopes set on New Dessel. He wanted to free the indentured servants and provide them with a living wage. He wanted to build a middle class that did not yet exist on that planet.
Santorini wished him luck. The Syndicate chief would run into a lot of opposition from the factory owners on New Dessel. They liked the status quo.
They were packing up to go home when Jade spoke softly to her father. “I’ll be going with him when he leaves for New Dessel, Daddy.”
Santorini went very still for a moment. Then he looked at her. “I know. But relations should improve between the planets, both communication and commerce. We’ll see each other often.”
He grinned at her. “By the way, your mother’s pregnant again.”
Leaving her with a shocked expression on her face, he hopped into the sedan and took off.
Cassidy and his crew were pounding at the doors of the Green Palace at dawn the next day. They were ready to do the upgrades on the armory. A firefight almost broke out when Resistance members saw the Syndicate people.
Cassidy was at the head of the Syndicate group and had his hands up high. “Hey! Hey! We’re here to help you, not fight you. Where’s Santorini?”
A gruff voice down the hall called “Right here. I’m having to fight my way through.”
A path cleared and Santorini came trotting up to bring the delegation inside. He pushed his way through to the lifts and they climbed aboard, relieved to be away from the house guards.
Cassidy looked at the Boss. “They didn’t get the memo?”
Santorini grinned. “I didn’t expect you this early. I was just starting to inform everyone. Sorry about that.”
Santorini took them to the armory and left them on their own, a show of trust that Cassidy hadn’t expected.
Emerald showed up a few hours later. She walked up to him. Actually she did something between swaying and gliding. And then she kissed him. Thoroughly, The men cheered and Cassidy turned bright red.
It took seven hours to install the new equipment and ammunition. By the time they were finished, several friendships had been formed between Syndicate guys and Resistance guys. After all they were in the same business - getting rid of the pirates. A large group went out to eat together that evening.
Santorini and Cassidy watched from the third floor office as the young men left, pushing and shoving and laughing. Cassidy said “That bodes well for relations after we kick the pirate asses off the planet.”
The Boss laughed and agreed. “Who’d a thunk?”
Harlan opened the office door and stuck his head in. “I can’t find Mellie. She’s not responding to her communicator. I’m going to police headquarters to find her.”
As he pulled his head back into the hall, Santorini yelled. “No! Harlan. Get your ass back in here. NOW!”
A moment later, the young thief slipped back into the office, starting to argue. “Look, Boss, I know I’m not supposed to be over there. But I can hide in stairwells and bathrooms. I won’t get caught. I…”
The Boss put his hands on Harlan’s shoulders and guided him to a chair. “Look. She’s busy. She’s not answering her com unless it’s Lt. Marks or higher. She’s on her own at the moment. We’re keeping an eye on the situation and she seems to be doing well.” He pushed Harlan back down in the chair. “Now don’t you get yourself involved over there. She has her work and you have yours. Leave her alone.”
“Now you either get to share a bottle of supposedly real Scotch whiskey with me and my new best buddy here” touching Cassidy’s shoulder “or get out and go foment riot and rebellion.”
Harlan couldn’t help himself. He laughed and took a drink before he left to do some fomenting.
Mellie probably wouldn’t have phrased how she was doing as ‘well’. She was running scared, every day, every minute. Someone would call her out. She knew it.
Meanwhile, she had dug up some important information, but no one had contacted her to transfer it to the Boss. She now knew the identity of the mole in the detective squad and he was likely to find out that she knew at any moment. She had tricked him. It was just a matter of time before he figured out that he’d been had. And her life expectancy would decrease exponentially at that point.
She had been sheltering in the bathroom, but she really needed to get back to the squad room and keep an eye on Tommi Roper, Detective second class and spy for the pirates.
When she walked in the squad room, a couple of the guys looked up, saw her, and went back to their work. Five men were grouped around Behan’s desk and seemed to be arguing vigorously. She could hear the raised voices but didn’t understand the words. As she approached, the voices fell silent and the men stared at her.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
There was silence for a while, then Alex Biggers spoke up. “Roper here thinks you’re a spy for the pirates. He says he’s seen you close to both the Big House and the Presidential Palace, like you were delivering messages or somethin.’”
Roper stepped forward and squared his shoulders. “I saw you walking up to the presidential palace yesterday. It was dark, but I know it was you.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. She thought Now or never.
“And why were you there after dark? Exactly what time did this ‘sighting’ take place?”
Roper sneered. “I was on a stakeout. Watching for any unusual activity. And it was just about 20:15”
She nods. “20:15. Well, at that time I was having dinner with Lt. Marks.”
Eyebrows went up. Even Behan gave her a look.
“And his delightful wife, Celia. Lt. Marks thought that Celia and I would get along well. He was right. I think I will enjoy knowing Celia.”
Behan grinned. The rest looked mildly embarrassed. Roper looked unhappy. “Well. I said it was dark. Musta been somebody who looked like you.”
Mellie smiled. “Actually, Roper, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. You weren’t on any stakeout last night. You were meeting with O’Hara, one of the group leaders in State Security. He reports directly to the President. In fact, I’ll bet he wanted you to join with Caspenski, the Syndicate goon who wants to take over from Cassidy. You work for the Syndicate, too, don’t you, Roper? And you report everything to the pirates.”
The group around them had grown. There were a dozen men and a couple of women listening now. The uproar that followed Mellie’s words brought in another crowd.
Mellie raised her hand and the noise quieted down. “You’re double crossing everybody, aren’t you, Roper? You’re a spy for the pirates. So everything you hear, everything you see, even everything you suspect, goes right back to the bastards who have this planet under their thumbs. Just how much are you getting paid, you traitor?” Her voice had risen to a shout.
Roper swung a fist at her, but she dodged and grabbed his arm, pinning him over the desk. “You’re not even a good cop.”
Roper yelled “You’re a liar! You can’t prove any of that.”
Smiling a predator’s smile, Mellie pulled out a disc, the size of a contact lens, and inserted it into Behan’s computer. A vid came up. Roper was walking toward a dark shape standing near a hoverlight on a rainy street. The figure turned as Roper came near and the light played across his face. Every cop gasped. They all knew that face. Dietr, head of state security for the pirates. The two men walked a little way together, then stopped and talked. Something exchanged hands. Dietr slapped Roper on the shoulder and Roper turned and walked away. The vid stopped.
Mellie looked around at her colleagues. “Santorini will want to talk to him.” She pulled the disc and handed it in a container to Biggers.
Everyone looked at Roper. He spread his hands. “I was playing him. I wanted to get some info from him and go to the Resistance with it. C’mon guys. You got to believe me. I was born here. This is my home. I love Agalder. She’s lying. She created that tape.” His voice rose as five cops hustled him out of the squad room.
Behan hadn’t moved during the incident. Now he looked at Mellie. “Good work, Detective.”
The stunned audience, consisting of cops and clerks broke free of their shock and started talking all at once. Behan leaned toward Mellie. “Good work.” he repeated. “But you painted a target on your back. Be careful.”
She nodded and headed out the door. She needed to see Santorini.
Mellie Kaminsky was feeling pretty cocky after successfully taking Roper down. She climbed in her little tan AirSedan and lifted off on a course to the Green Palace. But before she reached her assigned traffic lane, three AirScooters surrounded her. The men on them were dressed in black and had black helmets. One pulled right along side her vehicle and smashed the passenger side window. Mellie shot him with her phaser, but he kept coming, like it had no effect at all. He pulled open the passenger door and came in.
She took a crowbar that she kept in the car and swung it with all her might against his left shoulder as he crawled in the vehicle. That stopped him. He screamed and fell back against the passenger door. The door swung open. Mellie pushed hard against the thug. He grabbed her wrist as he fell out of the sedan. Praying that the seatbelts would hold, Mellie stabbed him with a knife that she always carried. He let go and disappeared, falling.
The other two had been waiting to see if their colleague would take care of the problem. When they saw him fall thousands of meters, they attacked together. Mellie dived and then rolled her sedan, doing acrobatic maneuvers that she had learned at the Academy. She came up behind one of the scooters and rammed him hard enough to leave him hanging onto his bike with his hands while his legs flailed in midair.
She was just congratulating herself when she looked up to see the third scooter right in front of her. The rider tried desperately to get out of her way but there wasn’t enough time. She slammed into him and together they fell.
Desperately Mellie threw the sedan into reverse and managed to disengage from the scooter. She pulled up hard on the stick, trying to come out of the dive. And she almost made it.
Harlan had just hopped on his AirScooter when he heard the sound of the collision in the sky. He looked up. There were just a few sparks falling. He thought it looked like a sedan vs scooter accident and took off to see if he could help. He recognized Mellie’s sedan as she pulled free of the scooter wreckage. His heart seemed to stop as the little sedan’s nose was pulled up, away from the hard, hard ground. He reached for the com to call for help, but all they heard at the Green Palace was a scream as her sedan plowed into trees along the highway.
He came down almost as fast as she had, his scooter skidding sideways and throwing up a wave of earth and grass. Running through the trees, he tripped and fell twice but barely noticed. He found the wreckage back in the woods. The vehicle was wrecked, steam pouring from the front. He saw a few flames. But he couldn’t see Mellie. The protective bags covered all the windows. Then he saw a hand pawing at the window. It dropped to the door handle and the door cracked open about five inches. The bags were still in the way, but the hand shoved a crowbar at him. He had the door off in three minutes.
Reaching through the bags, he felt her. He also felt blood. Cutting the seatbelt with his knife, he started to pull her out. But she resisted him briefly. She cried out as he removed her from the vehicle. Her face was covered with blood and she was cradling her right arm.
He tried to stand but his knees gave out and he sank to the soft ground. Holding her gently, he wailed, great, heaving sobs that threatened to tear his chest apart. He tried to talk, to tell her that his heart would die if she did, but she hugged him, pointing out that there were flames coming from the front of the car and would he please take them somewhere else?
He carried her to the road where Santorini, Behan, and most of the detective squad were just touching down. Mellie lifted her left hand and waved at them. Behan sagged against his sedan as he realized that she wasn’t dead. Hanson and Biggers gently cleaned some of the blood off her face. Finding a scalp laceration, they packed it and then placed a splint on her arm.
She accepted all these ministrations with good grace although she yelped a few times. By the time the emergency vehicle arrived, she was already bandaged. The emergency personnel scooped her up and headed for the hospital. They let Harlan ride with her because they realized he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Getting her out of his arms was hard enough.
Mellie was the only one to notice that, while everyone recognized Harlan, no one made any attempt to restrain him. He was a thief, but he was also a legend. And Agalder had few legends. Its people tended to treat those legends with respect.
Another of those legends watched the lights of the emergency vehicle disappear into the traffic lanes in the night sky. Santorini had put his head in his hands and cried when he saw that Mellie was alive. Now a couple of the detectives were eyeing him. They looked to Lt. Marks who shook his head. No messing with the legends tonight.
Santorini kept his gaze on the sky, but he didn’t miss the exchange. He smiled as he climbed back into his AirSedan and headed back to the Green Palace. Watching the lights of the traffic and the city, he was going over the plans for the next day. He needed to check with Behan to see when his partner intended to initiate the take-over of the police headquarters. His very last thought was how much he was looking forward to peace and prosperity for his planet.
The missile hit his sedan just to the rear of the passenger door and exploded. Wreckage fell over a four square kilometer area.
Harlan: Thief, Resistance Operative
The fractures in Mellie’s arm were multiple and involved both the forearm and the wrist. So Harlan was sitting outside the surgical suite when Jurgeson, one of Santorini’s aides, came running up to him.
He bent over with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. “They need…you. At the…Green Palace. Now.”
Harlan had stood up. Now he leaned closer to the runner. “Why? What’s going on?”
The man straightened up, putting a hand on the wall. Harlan saw that his eyes were red and swollen and tears were running down his cheeks. “Santorini’s dead.” he said, face screwing up like a little kid’s. “Somebody brought him down with a missile.”
Harlan’s gut felt like someone had hit him in the gut. He sat down, staring at nothing. Then he jumped up again. “Wait. No. I just saw him. He was fine.”
The other man nodded. “They got him when he was leaving the scene of Mellie’s crash. Behan’s car blew up, too, but he wasn’t in it. It was still on the ground. They don’t know yet whether it was another missile or a bomb.”
He took Harlan’s arm, trying to drag him away. “Look. You’ve got to go. Now. I’ll stay here with Mellie. I won’t leave her side until you get back.” He pushed Harlan toward the exit. “Now go!”
“But why? Why do they need me so much?”
The other man smiled sadly. “Because you’re now the Boss of the Resistance.”
“Me?!”
“Yeah. You. Santorini told us last week. With things coming to a head, he wanted the order of succession clear in everyone’s mind. He even printed it out and signed it.”
Harlan shook his head. “But why me?” he asked.
“Probably because you would ask that question. He said you’d feel unworthy of the position. You’re not cocky.” He hesitated and smiled slightly. “At least not most of the time.”
Harlan turned to stare at the door of the OR for a moment. Then he laid his hand on Jurgeson’s shoulder. “You take care of her. They may come after her again. I’ll send backup. Make arrangements to move her to the Palace as soon as possible.”
The Green Palace looked like a bee’s hive that someone had just kicked. He walked in and saw all the red, weepy eyes and snotty noses. They were all talking at once. The noise was unbearable.
He put two fingers in his mouth gave a piercing whistle. Everybody shut up and stared at him. “All right. We’ve lost the Boss. There will never be another like him. And nobody ever call me Boss.” He looked down at his boots for a moment. “But I want to know what’s going on now. Is anyone missing? Who’s looking for the killers? And I want them brought in alive. Understand? Come on people. This is too important to stand around and cry. We’ve got work to do. Get me a sit-rep.”
He set up his office in an auditorium. A desk was placed in the middle and someone remembered to bring a chair. Computers and vid-screens covered 180 degrees of the walls. There were desks all around, climbing up to a viewing section at the top. Most of the desks were occupied with people speaking to faces on screens and to each other. A line formed in front of Harlan’s desk. Most people had simple questions or suggestions, some of which were important.
John Behan came up behind him and leaned down. He said “Mellie’s doing fine. Drowsy and in no pain at the moment. Jurgeson and three others that I trust are with her.”
Harlan looked up. “How did she take the news about the Boss?”
Behan shrugged. “She was so sleepy that I didn’t tell her. I’ll drop back later when she’s awake. The staff knows to call me.”
He straightened up. “I’ll be at APD Headquarters. It sounds like they’re getting restive over there.” Smiling slightly, he patted Harlan on the shoulder and left.
It was several hours before Harlan could break away long enough to see Mellie. Behan was there, holding Mellie in his arms while she cried. Harlan felt a vast relief that he didn’t have to tell her.
She saw him and gave Behan a hug then held out her good arm to Harlan. Sitting on the bed, he put his arm around her carefully. His other hand reached out for Behan. Harlan looked at the older man and saw infinite weariness and sorrow in his eyes. Behan squeezed his hand and left and Harlan finally let his tears flow into Mellie’s hair.
Murphy’s surgeons had not let him out from under their gimlet eyes. So Silver treated him as if he were made of spun telucium and likely to break at any time. She made him stay in the hospital area. She knew exactly what would happen if she brought him home. He was just going to have to wait until the doctors were certain that he was healed.
She was singing as she started out for her parents’ suite. They all lived in the Green Palace. It was the safest and most defensible place outside of APD Headquarters. She wanted to talk to her father. When she got there, they told her that she would never be able to talk to her father again.
Jade, Emerald, Silver, and Garnet were devastated. But they had to comfort their little sisters, Topaz and Golden. Their mother was in shock. She sat in a chair and stared at a hologram of her husband.
When Harlan finally was able to visit them, he went to Santorini’s wife, Lavender, and knelt beside her. Silver watched from across the room as her father’s successor spoke in low tones to her mother. At first, nothing happened. Lavender remained almost catatonic. But Harlan kept talking and Lavender’s head slowly turned to look at the young man. Once she even smiled. Then she began to weep, silently, covering her face with her hands. The daughters gathered, pushing Harlan out of the way. When they finally thought to look for him, he had left.
After leaving the Santorini suite, Harlan returned to the auditorium, now dubbed the “War Room”. He called for attention and stood by his desk, looking up at the rows of desks and those crowded into the viewing area.
“The time is now.” he said. “Now we go out and fight.” He swept his arm around the huge room. “We all have assignments. We know what to do. Some of us will succeed. Some of us will fail. Some of us will die tonight. But the Resistance will win through. We will have freedom. Now go - go for Agalder! And may all the gods there are bless you and watch over you.”
He raised his fist. “Agalder!”
The word came back at him with a thousand voices “AGALDER!!!!”
He stood for a minute, watching his forces file out, then turned to leave. He ran into the Santorini sisters. Jade, Emerald, Silver, and Garnet stood between him and the door.
Silver said “We’re coming with you.”. It was a quiet statement of fact that boded no argument.
Harlan opened his mouth to protest but remembered when he had patronized Mellie and her reaction to his chauvinistic attitude. He shuddered.
Looking into their eyes, he saw the fiery rage. But it was a cold, calculating fire and he nodded.
“Thank you.” he said.
They climbed into two AirSedans. Three more sedans followed them. Harlan led the way to the Big House. He had to bring the thieves and assassins under the control of the Resistance. He had to find Cassidy.
The neighborhood around the Big House was deserted. Houses stood empty, doors hanging open. Some windows were open. Some broken. A dog came running up to them, whining, lost. Jade grabbed her and put her in one of the sedans where she’d be safe and warm.
The Big House was lit up like a small city. Lights were on everywhere. The Resistance group could hear shots and explosions. Windows were missing in places. Doors were on the ground or hanging askew.
The group surged forward, but Harlan called out “Stop!”
People stopped and looked at him.
“We have to find Cassidy and his forces. If we go in there now, we won’t be able to tell friend from foe.” He looked at the house. “I know that place. I can find my way around.”
Looking back at the group, he said “You wait here. I’ll find Cassidy and come back.”
Jade, Emerald, and Silver moved to stand with him. “You don’t know that house as well as we do.” Said Emerald. “We’ll come with you and act as your runners.”
Harlan had to swallow his reaction. He nodded and they moved off into the night. They were all wearing black and they faded into the shadows within a few meters.
Emerald led them to a door that was hanging ajar. The lock had been blown off. The door opened into a kitchen the size of a warehouse. The ceilings were at least five to six meters high. Moving quickly, but silently, they ran, crouching between huge machines and long tables. There was some fighting going on at one end of the room. Emerald led them in that direction.
Huddling in the shelter of a freezer, they tried to make sense of what they were seeing. The brilliant flashes from phasers lit up the scene at intervals, but they could not identify the combatants.
Jade suggested that they withdraw and try another exit from the kitchen. They turned to go to the other end and heard the sound of running footsteps coming closer. A young man ran up to them, completely ignoring the phasers that were pointed at him.
He glanced at them and said “Come on. Cassidy wants you in the ballroom - now.” Then he turned and ran back the way he had come. Harlan and the Santorini sisters stared after his departing form.
The man turned and saw them standing still and ran back. “Are you coming? Hurry up.” And off he went again.
The four of them looked at each other, gave simultaneous shrugs, and ran after him.
Their guide led them thru a maze of hallways and up and down stairwells. The sounds of gunfire and distant explosions grew louder and faded and grew louder again. Finally they ran up to a huge, ornate door that stood open with guards on either side. They burst into a room even larger than the kitchen. The ceiling was three stories up with mezzanines running around at the second and third floors. Floor to ceiling windows looked out on the lawn.
Groups of people were scattered around the room, most leaning over tables, looking at holograms, some talking. Emerald spotted Cassidy across the room and they headed for him.
Harlan reached the new Chief’s side, but Cassidy ignored him and took Emerald into his arms. He spoke in her ear for a moment and then reached out and brought Jade and Silver into his embrace. The four of them stood, heads together, for what seemed like an hour to Harlan but was probably only a minute or two.
An explosion sounded as if the battle was getting up-close and personal, but no one in the room even looked up.
Cassidy finally turned his attention to Harlan. He nodded toward the door. “Yes. They are getting closer.” He grinned. “Would you believe me if I said it was all part of my plan?”
Harlan didn’t smile. “No.”
“Then you’d be wrong. They are moving into this section.” He pointed to a wing of the building that extended out into a wooded area. “Here, here, and here.” He pointed to three sections of outside wall. “These are hidden doors. Our forces are just outside and when these thugs enter through here” he pointed again “we will attack from three sides.”
Then he smiled and added “If everything goes according to plan.” Shaking his head, Cassidy said “And we all know how likely that is.”