Rath's Rebellion (The Janus Group Book 5) Page 13

  “We should have you arrested,” a woman in glasses told him. “Assuming this isn’t just some ruse.”

  “Perhaps you should,” Ricken told her. “You’ll have to decide for yourselves if you believe me. And once you’ve heard what I have to say, what you want to do about it.”

  “This is ridiculous,” the heavy-set man said, standing. “I’m out.”

  “Stay, friend,” Ricken said, a hint of the old patrolman’s commanding voice creeping into his tone. “Hear me out.”

  “Why?” the man asked.

  “Because it doesn’t matter whether I’m really Anders Ricken or not,” Ricken told him. “What matters is what I intend to do. You – all of you – have an opportunity to change history here today. All you need to do is listen.”

  The man wavered, and Rath could see he was on the verge of leaving.

  “Stay,” Rath said, stepping forward. “I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

  “And who are you?” the man asked.

  Rath faced the assembled people. Under the glare of the stage lights, he let his face shift back to its natural configuration, which he had been forced to wear on Scapa during the trial. He heard a gasp from the audience, as they recognized him from the news footage. “I’m Rath Kaldirim. Also known as Contractor 621. Tarkis is my home, as much as it is yours.”

  The man in the front row sat down.

  “There’s something rotten at the heart of our Federacy,” Rath continued. “I saw it firsthand when we discovered that the Senate controlled the Guild. The Guild is gone, but it was only a symptom of a greater problem. The root cause remains: our government doesn’t exist to serve the needs of the people anymore. It only serves the needs of a few – the wealthy.”

  “You’re pretty wealthy now, by all accounts,” a man toward the back interjected.

  “Thirty-eight billion dollars,” Rath agreed. “And what’s more, the Interstellar Police are expending every resource they have trying to find me again. So ask yourself this: what am I doing standing in front of you right now? Why come back out of the shadows?”

  Rath let the question hang, unanswered, for a moment. “I’ll tell you why. It’s because money can’t buy you happiness, and it damn sure can’t clear your conscience for you. I’m here to do some good with my life for once, and I think Ricken’s plan is my best shot at that.”

  The woman in glasses spoke up again. “I don’t know who you are, but I know that the system’s been rigged for years. The government’s always been in the pocket of big corporations and the ultra-rich. What are you going to do about it?”

  “Elect a new government,” Ricken told her. “With your help.”

  * * *

  Rath, Ricken, Jaymy, and Lonergan made their way through Tarkis’ spaceport, passing through security without incident using the fake identities Rath had set up for them. Less than an hour later, they boarded the private shuttle, borrowed from the Jokuans. As the craft left its boarding dock, Rath took a final glance at Tarkis out the window.

  See you again soon, he thought.

  “That went well,” Ricken observed. “Even better than I had hoped.”

  “We were losing them, until Rath stepped in,” Lonergan admitted, somewhat grudgingly. “That was well done.”

  “Thanks,” Rath said. “Do you think they’ll help, when the time comes?”

  “I think they still don’t believe we can force the Senate to resign,” Ricken admitted. “But once they see it happen, they’ll seize the opportunity. It’s like you said: either they sit back and let the rich elect a new set of puppets to control, or they step up and take the chance we’re offering them.”

  “What now?” Jaymy asked, from the seat next to Rath.

  “Now, the operation begins in earnest,” Ricken said. “We’ll rendezvous with the Rampart Guardian at the rally point, and you three will transfer back over to her. We’ll move one of the high energy devices onto this shuttle, and then I’ll proceed to Anchorpoint with Egline and Linn.”

  “Meanwhile, we take the Rampart Guardian back to Tarkis,” Lonergan said. “We’ll deliver our drone from beyond sensor range, and wait to approach the planet until the State of the Federacy Address begins.” He gazed at each of them in turn. “This is the point of no return. Once we go forward from here, there will be no turning back. Anders, are you ready?”

  Ricken nodded slowly. “I’m ready, old friend. Ready for the final campaign.” He smiled at Lonergan, and then Rath. For the first time, Rath saw a hint of nerves, a tiny crack in the man’s normally stoic demeanor. “Whatever happens, promise me you won’t lose sight of our goal: to bring about a better Federacy, for the people who need it most. If I don’t make it off of Anchorpoint, it will be up to you two to finish what I started.”

  “We’ll see it through,” Rath swore.

  “I know you will.” Ricken turned to Lonergan. “Tell the Jokuans to start deploying the drones.”

  27

  Dasi watched as the fourth cargo truck started up, and then pulled away from the loading bay at the Shibuden-Klein manufacturing plant.

  >>>I have been monitoring local security camera feeds, Six reported. A video appeared on Dasi’s heads-up display, showing eight men leaving the front of the plant, on the other side of the building. Dasi noted they were carrying assault rifles and submachine guns, and wore tactical vests. She watched as they climbed into two black vans in the plant’s main parking lot. I believe these men might have detected us.

  “Jace,” Dasi said, trying to hide the anxiety in her tone. “We’ve been sitting here a while. Let’s clear out for a bit, before they get suspicious.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he agreed. Hawken started the car and pulled out onto the main road, heading away from the plant. Dasi loosened her pistol in her shoulder holster, and kept her eyes on the rear view mirror. One of the vans appeared a moment later.

  >>>Speed up, Six told her. The other is ahead of us, attempting to cut off our escape.

  “Floor it!” Dasi said. “Van full of bad guys on our tail!”

  Hawken checked his mirror, and his eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

  “Go!” Dasi yelled. The van was closing on them fast.

  Hawken hit the accelerator, and a moment later the second van burst out of a side street, clipping their rear end. The car slewed wildly, but Hawken managed to regain control. Dasi drew her pistol.

  “What the fuck!” Hawken said, looking over his shoulder. Both vans were now close behind their car. “Are they trying to kill us?”

  “Yes,” Dasi said. “Drive faster!” She rolled down her window, twisting around in her seat to face backwards.

  >>>The vans appear armored, Six observed. Your pistol rounds will not penetrate the armor plating or windows.

  Dasi put the crosshairs on her heads-up display over the lead van’s driver, and fired. The bullet shattered their car’s rear windshield in a spray of glass, but it just deflected off the van’s windshield, leaving a faint spider web of cracks. The van closed with them a second later and smashed into the back of the car, crumpling the rear bumper.

  “Damn it!” Hawken said. “Can you shoot out their tires or something?”

  “They’re air cars,” Dasi told him. “And they’re armored. I might as well be throwing rocks at them.”

  The side door on one of the vans slid open, and Dasi saw a man holding an auto-rifle lean out. He fired a quick burst at their car, and Dasi ducked as the bullets impacted around her. She aimed at him, seeing the reticle over his chest turn red. She fired once, and saw him drop the rifle, clutching at his chest. Someone pulled him back into the van a second later.

  Another burst of bullets – this time from a shooter in the second van – rattled off the back of their car. Dasi shifted aim to return fire, but a flashing on her display made her pause – another attacker was leaning out of the first van. Six zoomed in on her display and highlighted the weapon in his hands: it was a shoulder-fired rocket launcher.

  >>>Accor
ding to agreed-upon safety protocols, I have bypassed this vehicle’s security measures in order to take control of it, Six told her.

  Dasi saw the rocket launcher fire, and at the same moment, their car took a sharp left turn down a side street. The missile flew past Dasi’s window and exploded harmlessly down the street.

  “Woah!” Hawken exclaimed, wrestling with the car’s wheel. “Auto-pilot off!”

  “Auto-pilot is not engaged,” the car responded.

  “The hell it isn’t!” Hawken said. “Who made that left turn, then?”

  “Me,” Dasi told him, firing two more rounds at the vans behind them. “I, uh … I can do that with my internal computer.”

  “What?” Hawken asked.

  “Just let me drive,” she told him, as Six hurled the car through another tight turn.

  “You’re going to drive and shoot? What should I do?”

  “Keep your head down,” Dasi said, as more bullets streaked past overhead.

  >>>They are readying another missile. Prepare to fire, Six warned her.

  Dasi braced herself, pointing the pistol out the side window. More suburban homes flashed by, manicured lawns and picket fences moving in a blur. As they reached another intersection, Dasi felt Six activate the emergency brake and turn sharply right at the same time. The car slid through a bootleg turn, turning sideways, and Dasi found herself facing both of the oncoming vans. The man with the rocket launcher was leaning out the side of the lead van again, aiming right at Dasi. Time seemed to slow as she brought the pistol up, and Six highlighted her target. The car was still turning, the two vans hurtling toward them. She lined up the crosshairs, lost the target for a second, and then pulled the trigger.

  The pistol round impacted on the missile’s warhead, detonating it while it was still in the launcher. The blast knocked the van over sideways, setting it on fire, and then Dasi lost sight of it as Six turned the car hard again, accelerating.

  The second van smashed into their rear quarter, and something caught, locking the two vehicles together. Dasi could see the van’s driver struggling with his wheel, just a few feet away through the car’s broken rear windshield. Outside, she saw that the two vehicles were now careening through a crowded parking lot.

  >>>The van is preventing me from steering, Six reported. Brace for impact.

  Dasi saw a building directly ahead of them, and then the two vehicles slammed through a large glass and steel entranceway. In the crash, the vehicles separated again. The car spun several times, jolting to a stop against an interior wall. The airbag in front of her deployed, and Dasi smashed into it, closing her eyes instinctively.

  For a moment, everything was still – Dasi just heard the ticking of the car’s engine cooling. She opened her eyes and found she was facing Hawken, whose airbag was in the midst of deflating.

  “Ow,” he observed.

  Dasi peered out her window. It looked like they had crashed through the front entrance of a mall – she saw stores lining a wide corridor, and a few curious onlookers holding shopping bags, staring in mute incomprehension at the crash scene. She craned her neck to look out the car’s rear windshield. The black van sat several yards away, and she could see the driver shaking his head as if to clear it. Then he opened his door.

  “Come on,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt. “They’re coming for us.”

  “Shit,” Hawken observed.

  Dasi stood up, keeping her pistol pointed at the van. Hawken’s door was pressed up against a wall, so he climbed out gingerly over Dasi’s seat. Dasi heard the van’s side door slide open.

  “Go!” she urged Hawken. “Head for that store!”

  She pushed him, and they broke into a stumbling run. A second later, a machine gun opened up behind them, and Dasi saw the mall’s tiled walls shattering beyond her. Then they were inside the clothing store, and the fusillade stopped.

  Several shoppers turned to look at them in alarm. “Take cover!” Dasi warned them. She turned to the cashier. “Is there a rear exit?”

  The stunned cashier shook her head silently.

  “Shit,” Dasi said. She headed for a long display rack in the middle of the store, pulling Hawken down behind it.

  In her heads-up display, Six showed her security footage from the mall’s cameras. Three men had exited the van; one held a large machine gun with a drum magazine. As Dasi watched, they ignored the fleeing mall patrons, and headed toward the store.

  “Here they come,” Dasi warned Hawken. “Stay low.”

  The machine gunner planted himself in the store’s entrance, flanked by the two other attackers. The cashier screamed at the sight of them, and ducked down behind the register. The three men scanned the store for any sign of Dasi and Hawken, weapons at the ready.

  >>>I have control of the lights. Switch to infrared and prepare to fire.

  Ready, Dasi told Six.

  >>>Now.

  The lights went out, throwing the store into darkness. Dasi popped up on one knee, and saw the white outline of the three men’s heat signatures. She took aim at the one on the left and fired, dropping him with two rounds to the head, before ducking back behind cover. The two surviving attackers responded with several sustained bursts, which passed overhead. But Dasi heard a scream of pain from the back of the store – one of the shoppers had been hit. Plaster and pieces of wood rained down around Dasi. She winced, and saw Hawken lying on the floor, covering his head with both arms.

  >>>Ready for number two? Six asked.

  Ready!

  >>>Go.

  The lights over the register area abruptly flicked on, and both shooters looked right, focusing on the sudden light and movement. Dasi leaned over the display rack again and fired two more rounds. The second rifleman fell over backwards, bleeding from a head wound.

  “Fuck you!” she heard the machine gunner yell, as she ducked down again. He flicked his weapon to fully automatic, and unleashed a hail of bullets, spraying the store indiscriminately. Dasi felt several rounds pass close by her.

  Six!

  >>>I am dealing with him.

  In the ceiling above the machine gunner, the store’s metal security grille unlocked, free-falling downward along its guide-rails. It struck the machine gunner on the skull as it unspooled, and he crumpled with a sickening crunch under the heavy weight.

  The store lights came back, and Dasi switched back to normal vision, pulling Hawken to his feet.

  “Clear,” she told him. “We’re safe.”

  The district attorney looked over at the store’s entrance, taking in the bodies of the attackers. Then he looked at Dasi.

  “Nice shooting,” he said, wide-eyed.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I think so,” he said. “What happened with the lights? And the door?” he indicated the awkwardly-folded body of the machine gunner.

  “I don’t know,” Dasi said. “I guess we just got lucky.”

  Hawken raised an eyebrow, studying her. “Right. Really lucky.”

  28

  On the viewscreen in front of them, Beauceron watched as Colonel Jesk drummed his fingers on his desk. After a few more seconds of silence, the older man sighed and shook his head.

  “This is the craziest fucking report I’ve ever seen,” he told them, over the videoconference line.

  “Yes, sir,” Atalia said. Beauceron just nodded.

  “I can’t even …” he trailed off. “Detective Beauceron, if this wasn’t coming from you, and you didn’t have a history of being right when everyone else was wrong, I’d be telling you to go fuck off right now.”

  “I know, sir,” Beauceron agreed.

  “But it is coming from you. And Detective il-Singh, who has a track record of excellent police work, as well. So I’m not going to be the asshole that ignores this, and then loses his job when the inevitable investigation finds that I could have prevented … whatever the fuck is about to go down. Clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Beauceron said. He exhaled slowly, feel
ing some of the tension drain out. Under the conference room table, Atalia squeezed his knee, and he saw a smile flit across her lips momentarily.

  We did it. He believes us.

  “Where’s the Rampart Guardian now?”

  “It’s gone again, sir,” Atalia replied. “It took off less than an hour after we left the landing field. We’re not sure where it went.”

  “Fuck. Off-world, probably,” Jesk mused.

  “Deep space is a fair bet,” Beauceron agreed.

  “Well, we’ve still got all sensors on the alert for it – if it comes back to Federacy space, we’ll know it. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do now,” Jesk continued. “This is way beyond Interstellar Police’s purview. We need to take this to the Senate Intelligence Committee. I’m going to bring in the IP commanding general as well, and you’re going to walk everyone through what you just showed me, got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll start drafting potential threat scenarios, and suggested response plans. But the big problem we have is motive. For every party: Rath, Ricken, Paisen … the Jokuans. We still don’t have a fucking clue why any of them are collaborating. So take some time on the flight in to put together some reasonable theories on that front.”

  “We’ll try, sir,” Beauceron said.

  “Don’t just make shit up,” Jesk counseled, pointing at them through his screen. “The folks we’re going to talk to like facts, and evidence. So make sure your ideas are only based on what we know.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay – get your asses on a flight. I’ll meet you two at Anchorpoint.”

  29

  Vence took another sip from her beer, and advanced the screen on her datascroll to the next page in her book, pretending to read. The bartender nodded at her as he passed by carrying another patron’s drink.

  “You need another one?” he asked, pointing to her beer bottle.

  “I’m good,” she told him. “Thanks.”