“I still don’t understand what I’m doing here,” Clay said to Saleh as the guards helped him into a seat against the wall of Berger’s conference room on the 27th floor of the Hotel Fontaine. A giant table sat thirty, with holographic names displayed in front of each seat. Outside the giant windows that made up the opposite wall, he saw dusk descending on Nakano City. At least, he assumed it was dusk.
“Your part’s to come,” Saleh said, pulling a plaser from his hip pocket, holding it up between the two of them, before placing it in Clay’s inside jacket pocket. He patted Clay’s arm gently when he was done, almost as an apology.
“Obyrn … Saleh … If you’re planning a fight, I told you, I can barely walk at this point.”
Saleh waved him off, walked over to the bar on the opposite wall, and began pouring two drinks. “I don’t believe that for a minute.” He walked back and handed one glass to Clay, who sniffed at it and instantly recognized Bourbon. He nodded gratefully and began sipping, nodding gratefully after the familiar burn hit his throat.
“Things taste different after you’ve been dead.” He stared at his glass, and the sunset for a long moment. “I suppose our mutual friend, the girl…” he couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.
“Ursza is largely responsible for all of this. She used her connections to put me in a favorable position with each of the factions so that when she began …” he paused and reconsidered his words, “… so that when you began dismantling the system, I instantly became the voice of reason in the chaos and reassembled everything into a better design.”
Clay laughed, causing pain in every muscle of his body. “When she manipulated me into dismantling the system, you mean. Look, my only goal at this point is to retrieve Keraunos and eliminate anyone who knows what it is. I still plan to complete that mission. I’ll admit, I’m going to hate it if that now includes you.”
Saleh grinned, extracted the cipher card from his breast pocket, and flipped it at Clay. His reflexes were dull, and his muscles barely functional. Despite his efforts to catch it, the card landed in his lap before he could raise his hands. Clay picked it up and studied it. “How the hell did you get it?” He scanned it with his implant, revealing it to be nothing more than a piece of metal with unremarkable inks printed onto its surface. “A fake?”
“An illumination. She sent the monks in Harba City a scan and had them forge it. Then, she gave the real one to you for safekeeping.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but—”
“I don’t need Keraunos for what I have planned, just the idea of Keraunos. Oh, and I assure you, I don’t even know what Keraunos really is, so you don’t need to worry about killing me with that gun I just gave you.”
Clay stifled a chuckle that hurt as much as the laugh had a few seconds earlier. He finished his glass, which Saleh took and walked over to refil for him.
“Who the hell are you, Obryn? You’re no terrorist. You’re not even a revolutionary leader.”
Saleh handed Clay a fresh drink, slightly fuller this time, and sat down next to him. “I’m a teacher.”
“Norinaga. That’s how you hooked up with Klein.”
“I practically invented Klein. At least, he took what I was doing with Tariq Saleh and ran with it. He nearly got me killed a dozen times, but he’s the reason we’re here, I suppose.”
“How so?”
Saleh took a sip and sat back. “I never intended Tariq Saleh to manifest. I merely wanted to show the students how an idea can manifest and propagate in the same way that Mother Eye’s ‘truth’ does. I wanted to show them that there were non-violent ways to use the medium as the message and turn the system on itself, or at least use the message of conformity and complacency to teach people the opposite. Klein found me hoping to recruit an ally to his cause, but his arrogance also revealed who Saleh was to certain factions that would rather be without him. Eventually one of them hired the ninja to eliminate us. She decided otherwise, however. It was never my intention to become some great revolutionary leader. She simply decided I was the best possible candidate and didn’t leave me much of a choice.”
“I guess we both owe that girl one,” Clay said, raising his glass. Saleh did not return the gesture. Clay wondered if she’d be proud of him now for being their with Saleh and helping him execute her plan, or irritated that he still hadn’t managed to get off the planet.
“I regret you’re not done with all of the unpleasantness yet. Your part is still to come.”
“You said that before. I told you I was dead yesterday. My body is shot, my reflexes are numb, hell I’m pretty sure my brain is still half-scrambled. I’m going to be worthless to you.”
“We’ll do the fighting. We’ve already done the planning. I won’t say any more to avoid confusing you or prejudice your decisions. You need only your intuition. You’ll know what to do.” He walked to a chair at the head of the table next to the balcony and tested the force field around the windows with his finger. It appeared more than capable of preventing a breach like the one Noto Lib had pulled off at Cerberus’ building earlier.
Fatima Omari entered with her guard and walked to the head of the table closest to the windows. Saleh nodded and took a seat next to the head. “This is where we will remake the future. I’ll let you do the talking. The proposal will carry more weight coming from Cerberus.”
Over the course of the next hour, two dozen people entered the conference room. Some were dressed in expensive formal attire, others in blue-collar tunics or unremarkable street clothes. Each of them begrudgingly checked weapons at the door and grumbled about the impropriety of the last-minute meeting, with vague threats of retaliation should Omari prove to be wasting their time. There was no love lost between the last of the factions and Cerberus, it seemed, and Clay wondered how Saleh planned to forge an eventual alliance with them.
Omari called for silence, and everyone obeyed respectfully. She sat back in her chair at one end of the table and gestured to Saleh, who sat opposite her. “By now, you have heard about Sylvester Lock and his Keraunos project. Supreme Chancellor, has been desperate to get his hands on it for weeks now.” There were general grunts and nods throughout those assembled. “Thanks to our resourcefulness and the kind assistance of Tariq Saleh here, Keraunos is now in the hands of Cerberus and the Notosian Liberation Front. We two, and those who ally with us, will develop this weapon. It will become the tool for change we’ve sought for decades. A weapon that will allow those of us who possess it to seize control of the planet and stop the constant fighting. To that end, Cerberus, through my legitimate enterprises, will produce and make Keraunos available to any faction willing to sign on with us as a single, united front against Prevo and his regime.”
There were grumblings of disbelief and some outright defiance from the assembled leaders, but none spoke up to confront Omari.
“You have heard the rumblings of Tachibana’s Shadow, Dark Serpent, Jade Shield and other once powerful factions who have now thrown in with us. A dozen more have also agreed to rally behind us, and all will become part of the new order we forge. You,” she gestured to those around her, “represent the only remaining holdouts of any significance. Make no mistake, however. This will be your one chance to join us. If you hold to your old grudges and stubbornness, we will not hold this against you, but I promise you that you will quickly become insignificant and fade into obscurity.”
There was a general grumbling, slightly more agreeable this time, and everyone looked around the room.
“There is one condition, however. Keraunos is newtech. Its power is unprecedented; its technology, unprecedented. Before we reveal it to you, we must have assurance of absolute secrecy and loyalty. We must keep our production locations secret and our supply lines hidden. Prevo and his government must not know of capabilities until it is time to strike. If anyone in our circle were to let information slip, then it shall be the right of the rest of us to seek recompense. Are we in agreement?”
Again, there was general mumbling.
A thin man with a hawk-like nose spoke up at last. “How do we know that Keraunos is really as powerful as you say it is? What guarantee do we have that we’ll win simply because we’re all united behind you?” He looked at Omari expectantly.
The building itself seemed to shake in answer. The lights flickered and everyone in the room grabbed the arms of their chairs to steady themselves. Clay felt his world wobble and sway around him. Omari immediately spun her chair around and tested the force field behind the glass. It shimmered, indicating its continued operation.
There was a distant explosion, possibly a few dozen meters beyond the conference room doors. Red lights began to flash. A voice calmly announced an emergency and suggested evacuation. Clay studied the room. Everyone appeared genuinely surprised, even Omari. Saleh, on the other hand, was calm, had barely moved, and was watching the large double doors that were the only way in and out of the room.
At least there was no doubt as to whether this was part of a plan or not. Clay shifted uncomfortably in his seat and made sure he could get to the plaser in his pocket should the need arise.
The doors flew open, and Ness, accompanied by a dozen armed Cerberus goons, stormed into the room, ushering everyone back to the far wall, and took up positions between the heads of the factions and the limited cover provided by the conference room table. Only Obryn and Omari stayed by the head of the table, and Ness instantly took position in front of them, plaser drawn.
“Who dares—?” Omari began.
“Tokusha,” Ness said. “Berger must have sold us out. They already had people on the floor posing as his men. They sealed off the elevators and stairwells right before a platoon breached from the roof.”
“He’s not that bold, it was one of the others!” Omari was infuriated. “Drop the forcefield, blow the transplas, and bring a transport around to pick us up.”
Ness moved to comply as the sound of gunfire could clearly be heard outside the door, rapidly coming closer. She opened a painting on a pair of hidden hinges and began working a keypad on the other side. The force field shimmered, presumably powering down, just as the first Tokusha burst into the room. Ness drew her sidearm and shielded Omari, putting shot after shot expertly into Tokusha armor.
Clay, unsure if he would be able to walk, managed to roll out of his chair onto the floor, keeping out of fire as best he could, but still not daring to reveal the gun in his pocket. It was possible the Tokusha really did have some kind of directive not to harm him, but he was not prepared to test that theory at the moment.
Tokusha continued to fan out around the perimeter of the room. Plasma bolts bouncing off their shields, projectiles ineffective against their armor. Meanwhile, half the Cerberus guards had already fallen, killed or injuired, while the other half were attempting to mount a strategy.
A smoke grenade detonated near the middle of the room in front of the conference table. A fog slowly began to build up. Clay wasn’t sure how this would benefit anyone. Tokusha still controlled the exit, and had superior firepower and numbers to the rapidly-dwindling Cerberus forces. If anything, it was causing both sides to miss more shots than they landed and was merely prolonging the inevitable Tokusha victory.
Slowly the fire slowed, and Clay thought he could make out the Tokusha troops slowly retreating towards the conference room doors.
Then he caught it.
Tariq Saleh crouched low and darted for the exit, beating them there. The Tokusha, still focused on the Cerberus guards who were fighting back, hadn’t even been looking in his direction. He was instantly behind them and heading for the door, passing right by the black-clad figure that stood there, holding a katana in a ready stance.
Hei Gezi.
He told himself it couldn’t possibly be her, but knew instantly when Tokusha stopped firing and quietly exited the room, closing the doors behind her. She leaped forward, dodging multiple shots, then leaped, slid across the table, and dispatched two Cerberus troops before landing on her feet in the middle of the assembled crowd.
Clay tried to get to his feet and take better cover, but quickly fell to his side again in a heap. He settled for crawling as fast as he could, taking cover behind his chair, as Ursza now with a blade in each hand, continued to slash and stab wildly. There were shouts of rage and betrayal, screams of panic, and dozens of people scrambled for the door, only to find it now locked. A few of the larger, tougher men grabbed chairs and threw them at Ursza or brandished them as weapons as she dodged and charged them. Those at the door pounded in frustration, ordering the lackeys outside to unlock them, only to have skillfully thrown shuriken silence them.
In less than five minutes, everyone in the room was dead except a defiant Omari and an incensed Ness, who stood defiantly against the transplas window. Ursza removed the balaclava mask and goggles and scanned the bodies and the room, stopping briefly when she saw clay. Her eyes, now lucid and wild, showed no recognition of him. Her grin, conveying pure insanity, told him this was not Shard. It was something far worse that he hadn’t suspected. Ursza approached the last two women standing them as if they were prey, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind as to what was coming next.
This couldn’t have been the plan, Clay thought. Taking out all the heads of the syndicates and factions at once would not endear anyone to join Noto Lib. If anything, Saleh had just put an unpayable price on his head. Clay didn’t know him well, but he was certain the man was smarter than that.
“You’d better run and hide!” Omari screamed. “Keraunos or not, you and Saleh are as good as dead. Our successors will reorganize and destroy you and your Noto Lib friends when word of this gets out. No one will protect you, and you won’t be able to show your face—”
Omari’s voice cut off abruptly as the tip of Ursza’s left sword entered through her chin, upward into her brain. Her eyes instantly rolled back into her head as she went limp and hit the floor.
“Traitorous bitch,” Ness managed to grumble before the right blade flicked, immediately detaching her head from her body.
Clay lay on the floor, mouth agape. He briefly regarded Ursza, then remembered the plaser Saleh had given him. He put his hand on the hilt inside his pocket, wondering if this was their intent. Even now, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the girl.
At once, Ursza turned and locked eyes with him, a strangely content smile on her face. She regarded her blades with girlish glee, then licked the blood off one of them.
“Oh, Ursza,” Clay frowned. The girl was quite obviously insane. “What happened?”
Ursza walked over to him, knelt on one knee, and looked him up and down. “The cipher?” she asked.
“Sorry kid. It’s where none of us can get to it,” Clay said between spasms of pain.
She studied him as if trying to read the truth in his words. This seemed to frustrate her.
“Well, sorry. So, I guess you still don’t have your weapon.” Clay shrugged.
Ursza shook her head. “It’s no weapon.” Then she stood up and walked toward the door, ignoring him.
Clay groaned in frustration. “What the hell is it, then!?”
“A dream, Mr. Clay,” a booming voice echoed through the conference room from the doorway. “One that can be anything we need it to be.” A tall, hatchet-faced man entered the room, flanked by four men in Tokusha uniforms. Ursza instantly holstered her swords and bowed deferentially to him. He returned the gesture with a smile. “Good evening, Warmaster Venter.”
Clay was dumbfounded as two of the soldiers walked over and helped him to his feet. “Supreme Chancellor Prevo, I presume?”
© 2024 Darrin Snider. All Rights Reserved.
