The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle (232 page)

“Why not?” Justine asked. “I know this is difficult for you, but the Guardians were right.”

“I accept that,” Paula backtracked. “Johansson had a perfect right to oppose the Starflyer, even though he should have used different methods. But Elvin is a mass murderer, a political terrorist of the worst kind. I cannot overlook that, no matter what.”

“You have to,” Nigel told her.

“You both know what I am. Therefore you know I cannot.”

Just for an instant, Nigel’s affable facade slipped. “I don’t get this; you of all people know what’s at stake here. Just take the data to them, forget your damn scruples for a minute. We can nab that little shit Elvin when this is over, because I assure you I certainly haven’t forgotten Abadan.”

“No,” Paula said.

“Shit!” Nigel glared at her. It would have made anybody else in the Commonwealth back down immediately; Paula seemed oblivious of his anger. “All right,” he snapped. “Justine, call them back. Negotiate. Find someone else they consider acceptable.”

Mellanie trailed after Qatux and Tiger Pansy as Nelson led them over to the security center. It wasn’t far from the exploratory division, a blank dome with a heavily guarded entrance. Cat’s Claws had been assigned the escort duty; wearing their bulky armor suits they looked formidable. Her inserts scanned them passively, showing her which one was Morton; otherwise she would never have known. He didn’t say anything to her. All of the squad were taking their duty very seriously.

“This way I get to stay in the game,” Morton had said contentedly when he and the others suited up. Nelson had given them the option of leaving, but they’d decided to stay on. Mellanie knew why Morton was doing it; this kept him close to the real players and, she hoped, her as well. The Cat and Rob just seemed to enjoy the whole idea of a fight.

Nelson had turned over a lecture theater for Qatux to use. Most of the seating had been removed, and the lighting dimmed. Various technicians were setting up equipment cabinets. They all stopped when the alien came in. Several applauded. Tiger Pansy giggled, and started doing introductions like some old-fashioned diplomatic interpreter.

Mellanie saw Dudley and the Bose motile lurking about near the big wall-mounted portal that presenters used to display their lecture data on. The Bose motile had three security guards standing close by. They all wore sharp business suits, and appeared perfectly friendly, but Mellanie’s scan located some inserts with a very high power density wetwired into their bodies. Their visible OCtattoos were green and red lines running in parallel along the rear of their cheeks.

Two of the Bose motile’s sensor stalks bent around to follow her as she walked over to them. “Hello, Mellanie,” it said. She saw it now had a slim modern handheld array hanging from a leather strap around one of its arm limbs.

“Hello,” she said pleasantly. “So are you Dudley one, or two? What have the pair of you decided?”

“We haven’t discussed that yet.”

Mellanie was amused to hear the array synthesizing Dudley’s voice perfectly. It obviously irked the human version, judging by his expression of distaste. She smiled brightly, and leaned forward to kiss him. Morton was over by the main door with The Cat, so she figured it would be easy enough. Amazingly, Dudley moved back before her lips touched him.

“Dudley?” She frowned at him.

“Ah, yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Talk to me?”

“Yes. I’d just like to say that I am happy to stand aside now Morton has returned.”

“Stand aside?”

“That’s right. I know how much you feel for him. In view of that I think it’s for the best. Circumstances have changed for both of us, have they not?”

“Circumstances?” Mellanie desperately wanted to stop repeating things, but she was so surprised by Dudley her brain was refusing to come up with anything original. When she studied him she saw he’d actually shaved. The tiredness and perpetual worry were fading from his eyes. He’d even dressed in a stylish mauve shirt and black semiorganic trousers. For the first time, she could actually see his true age in that calm face that looked back unflinchingly at her.

“I believe even you would have to concede that our relative situations have altered substantially since we met,” Dudley said. “That calls for a serious reevaluation of our relationship.”

She just stared at him. This wasn’t even Dudley talking anymore; there wasn’t an illusion of reticence or caution. His voice was calm and measured, verging on patronizing.

“Of course, I’m enormously grateful for what we experienced and shared,” he said hurriedly. “Without you I would never be whole again. And I will never be able to thank you enough for that. I hope we can continue to be friends as well as colleagues in this endeavor.”

“You’re dumping me.”

“Mellanie, human beings are effectively immortal. I know this is your first life and everything is more intense for you, but believe me when I say nothing lasts forever. It is better this way. Honesty is the way forward for both of us.”

“
You
are dumping
me
?” Even from her own mouth it sounded terribly wrong.

“I am,” the Bose motile said. “It’s because I’m a complete asshole.”

Dudley glared at his alien twin. “I see you haven’t mastered tact yet.”

“Well, face it, where would I inherit that from?”

“After everything I’ve done for you?” Mellanie asked; it was as though she was questioning herself.

“Our hierarchal structure wasn’t entirely one-sided,” Dudley said in the kind of tone used to correct one of his students. “I believe you gained as much, if not more, from this relationship as I did. Look at where we are, deciding the future of humankind.”

“Oh, just fuck off.” She turned around and walked away, fast. At least there was no danger of tears—for a second, the image of Jaycee sinking to the ground clutching at his balls filled her mind—well, no tears in her eyes anyway.
He’s not even worth that.

“Sorry,” Dudley Bose’s voice called out across the lecture theater.

Mellanie didn’t turn to check which one of them had said it. She already knew.

“You okay?” Tiger Pansy asked.

“Sure. I’m fine.”
The original bounce-back girl, me.

“Hey, Mellanie, I gotta thank you,” Tiger Pansy said. She waved enthusiastically at Qatux, who was discussing sensorium interface technology with one of the CST technicians. The Raiel raised a tentacle in acknowledgment. “This is like the bestest gig ever.”

“I thought you’d like it. But, Tiger, remember, you really can’t tell anyone afterward. These people can’t be messed around.”

“I know that. I ain’t that stupid.”

“I know you’re not. Take care.”

“You going?”

“Yeah. There’s only one thing I want now, and it’s not here.”

“Well, I hope you find it.”

“Me, too.”

Nobody around the Raiel really noticed as she walked away. The last thing she wanted was to run over to Morton after what had happened, so she went toward a door on the opposite side of the lecture theater. Hoshe was sitting on one of the remaining audience chairs, suspiciously close to the door.

Mellanie gave him a fond smile, and sat beside him. Without warning, she darted forward and gave him a kiss.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Hoshe Finn, my very own guardian angel.”

“I didn’t think you were speaking to me after Isabella.”

“Humm, your halo did dim there for a minute. But once again you made sure no harm came to me.”

Hoshe glanced down at the two aliens who were now talking together. Dudley Bose was standing beside the Bose motile, trying to steer the conversation his way.

“One of your smarter moves,” Hoshe said. “You can do a lot better than him.”

She glanced at the trio of armor suits. “I thought you said you were married.”

Hoshe grinned. “I guess I deserved that. Shouldn’t pry into your private life.”

“There’s nothing much private about it. That’s my biggest problem. What about you? What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to Nelson. I have a favor to ask.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to get some people off Boongate. A Senate Security team was following a suspected Starflyer agent and got stuck there. My fault.”

“I doubt it. Do you want me to talk to Nigel about it? He has the final say on that.”

Hoshe gave her a surprised look. “You can do that?”

“For you, of course.”

“Might be worth it.” He didn’t sound very certain.

“Just say the word. I owe you.”

“No you don’t.”

“A month’s unisphere access, and a week at a B and B if I remember rightly. There’s a lot of interest piling up in that account, Hoshe Finn.”

“Another time, another universe.”

“I’d still like to repay you.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth it. Look, this is just about over now. Sheldon will destroy the Prime homeworld; Paula and the Guardians will track down and eliminate the Starflyer. Everybody needs to start thinking what they’re going to do after the war, because life is going to be a whole lot sweeter then. After what we’ve all been through, it can’t be anything else.”

“God, I hadn’t even thought about afterward. I’ve been so scared since Randtown. Trying to keep one step ahead takes up every moment.”

“You’re a damn good reporter. I bet you wind up with your own show.”

“That’d be nice,” she said, and it was a comfy thought, the kind she had before the ships flew down out of a clean Randtown sky, and her world turned upside down. Again. “I could do with something that’s going to last.”

“Well, there you go then.”

“There’s just one thing I’ve got to do first.”

Hoshe gave a mock-groan. “What?”

“I’m going to cover Alessandra Baron’s arrest. I want to see her led away in chains. I want to show the entire Commonwealth that most beautiful sight.”

“They don’t manacle people anymore. Besides, if she’s a Starflyer agent it’s likely to get violent.”

“Here’s hoping,” Mellanie muttered with a wicked smirk. “Who’s going to be the arresting officer?”

“Hasn’t been assigned yet,” Hoshe said, with an eye on Nelson and the Raiel.

“But you could put in for it, couldn’t you? You could do that while I speak to Nigel. How about that? A trade, not a repayment.”

“Done.”

The maglev express was almost empty. After all, who in their right mind would travel
to
Wessex right now?

Alic walked out of the first-class carriage onto the nearly deserted platform in the Narrabri station’s Oxsorrol terminal. The three cases carrying his armor suit and weapons followed loyally a few meters behind. Vic Russell was close on his heels, eager to get going. Matthew Oldfield, John King, and Jim Nwan formed a rearguard group, trying to keep their conversation lighthearted. It wasn’t going well, every movement agitated some injury sustained on Illuminatus. Alic knew they shouldn’t be going into combat again so soon, but this mission overrode any kind of by-the-book protocol. Besides, he kept telling himself, there were five of them, and they’d raided the Paris office armory for some serious heavy-caliber hardware. There would be no repeat of Treetops no matter what Tarlo was equipped with this time.

Two men were waiting for them on the platform outside their carriage. One of them was in a navy captain’s uniform. Alic recognized him immediately. “Captain Monroe?”

“Pleased to meet you. Daniel Alster here is our liaison with CST for this operation, and we have some very good news for you.”

“We can go?” Vic demanded.

“Yes,” Oscar said.

“All right!” Vic high-fived with John King.

“We have some transport for you gentlemen.” Daniel gestured at a big Ford ten-seater Holan parked on the side of the platform. “It’ll take us over to the station’s track engineering facility.”

“What’s there?” Vic asked.

“A train that will take you through the wormhole.”

“How long before we go through?”

“Once you’re suited up, we can take you straight to the gateway,” Daniel said, unperturbed by the big man’s attitude.

“Thank you,” Alic said before Vic could make a scene. He was already regretting agreeing to the big man coming on the mission. Even if they were successful in engaging Tarlo he wasn’t sure they could get him into the cage they’d brought.

“You should know the gateway will only be opening once,” Oscar said. “After you’re through, you will be evacuating into the future with the rest of the population.”

“We accept that,” Alic said. He wondered if he should give Vic another chance to withdraw. Once the mission was over, the big man would be separated from Gwyneth for a long time.

The Ford drove them to one of the eight long sheds that housed CST’s Wessex track engineering division. A single gentian-blue carriage was waiting for them, which looked like it had been in service for a century at least. There was a tiny cabin at the front, with five rows of bench seats giving the track crew a view through grimy windows. Three-quarters of the spartan metal-panel interior was simply storage space for bots and equipment. Long doors at the rear had their own lift platforms, which were folded up against the sides.