The Szuiltan Alliance (The Szuiltan Trilogy) (32 page)

"Ursa, great to see you again. How long has it been?"

"Months, maybe years. Who knows?"

Ursa, Steve presumed it was her real name, sat herself down at the table, still smiling, still playing the game for all it was worth.

It's almost convincing
, thought Steve.
If I didn't know that they'd never met before I might be fooled.

"Who's your friend?" said Ursa, turning to look at Steve.

Does she realise how stupid that line sounds? Then again, real people say stupid things all the time.

"Steve Drake," said Steve, extending his hand, wincing slightly as it was crushed by the strong grip of the woman opposite.

"Ursa Mirram. An old friend of Jason's."

So this is another T.I.C. agent, thought Steve. At least she looks like she's got more experience than Jason.

He watched her as she talked inane small talk with Jason, taking occasional sips of his drink and trying not to make his observation too obvious.

The overwhelming feature on first glance was her close-cropped hair, giving her the appearance of someone recently out of the army or prison. What there was of it was blonde, a dark, natural blonde. She wore work clothes, old and worn, a heavy sweatshirt and equally heavy jeans. They were the clothes of a manual labourer and, to Steve's surprise, he found that they suited her.

He concentrated on pouring himself another glass only to find the bottle snatched from his hand. He looked up into the smiling face of Ursa, shivering slightly as he saw the hostility behind that surface smile.

"I think you've probably had enough for the moment Steve. You don't want to miss the sights on our journey now, do you?"

"Where are we going?" He knew it was a stupid question the moment he asked it.

Jason broke through the growing irritation obvious in Ursa's eyes.

"I've asked Ursa to take us on a little sightseeing trip. You coming?"

As if I have a choice.

As they weaved their way through the crowds, Steve could not suppress the feeling that part of the crowd was changing direction, moving with them. He began to recognise faces on the periphery of his vision again and again. Was this spaceport security? Had they been discovered?

He considered, for a moment, expressing his concern to Jason, but the younger man was already looking around with an expression of concern.

He's seen them too,
thought Steve.
He's the trained one. Let's see what he does
.

Jason leaned forward, whispered something to Ursa. She turned, speaking in a voice loud enough to carry to Steve.

"There's lots of friends at the spaceport. We might spot some if we're lucky."

Friends. So there are others here to meet us as well.

He followed, stumbling slightly. He had not drunk enough for it to truly affect his balance, but he was feeling the pleasant burning sensation in his gut that told him he was on his way. He tried to stay dry during a flight, so by the time he hit the ground he was desperate. The peculiar stress of his current situation could not change that.

A hand took hold of his elbow, helped keep him on his feet. He turned to look at the man who had appeared out of the crowd, saw him nod slightly to Ursa.

"I'm a friend of Ursa's, Mr Drake. You looked like you could use some help."

Steve could say nothing as he was hurried along after the others, who had not even paused.

Why are they going so fast? Is it dangerous for them here?

Ursa looked back briefly, recognised the man who was helping Steve Drake as one of Walker's rebels.

Thank Larn for that. I thought the drunken bastard was going to really screw things up. We could hardly be inconspicuous if he collapsed in the middle of the spaceport.

Jason saw her look and shrugged his shoulders.

"He's a drunk. Makes him easy to manipulate though," he said, keeping his voice low.

"Who by?" said Ursa, turning away angrily.

Steve was not close enough to hear the exchange between Jason and Ursa, but it was obvious to him that some form of argument had just taken place by the rage and frustration he could see in the woman's face. But what could they be arguing about? If only he were closer he might be able to help.

He turned to ask his helper to speed up, get closer to the others, and saw another man heading purposefully towards them through the spaceport crowds.

He could not say exactly what it was that made him so sure this man was coming towards them when there were so many other people going in the same direction. Perhaps a sense of purpose that stood out from the aimlessly milling crowd? Perhaps a sense of professionalism about him, a sense of confidence? Whatever it was, Steve was the first to see him.

"It seems another one of your friends is going to join us," he said, forcing a smile at the man helping him along.

The man turned, scanning the crowd, and Steve watched in fascination as his mouth dropped open in surprise.

The man from the crowd had stepped close now and Steve watched transfixed as he slipped a hand inside his jacket, pulled out an explosive-charge hand weapon, lifted it to almost rest against the forehead of the man who still held onto Steve's arm, and pulled the trigger.

The blast echoed around the spaceport as fragments of bone and brain, muscle and blood spattered Steve's face. The body fell, still holding onto Steve's arm, and panic hit the surrounding crowds.

They ran in all directions, heedless of others, trampling anyone underfoot who did not, or could not, move with the rest. Shouts and screams threatened to fill even this grand structure.

As Steve wrestled his arm free, he heard other gunshots, other explosions. He saw weapons being drawn by seemingly normal people, aimed at point blank range and fired. Their targets never stood a chance. He felt suddenly very sick, doubled over and vomited on the spaceport floor.

Ursa waved Jason back to look after Steve and searched the crowd for the others in their visiting group.

What happened? It's impossible!

They were nearly all dead, killed in the first few seconds by people who had been standing ready nearby. Only a few remained, those lucky enough not to be near an assassin and those good enough not to be taken out so easily.

She had turned towards Jason and Steve, feeling that she should perhaps help, when she saw the weapon being drawn somewhere to her right, raised towards her head.

She reacted instinctively, ducking out of the firing line and driving the heel of her foot outwards towards the fleeting image of the assassin. She felt her foot hit the softness of someone's stomach, heard, even above the dreadful chorus of screams, shouts and gunshots, the gun rattling on the floor as it dropped.

She moved quickly, stepping towards the stricken man, wrapping her arm around his down turned neck, twisting and pulling up, snapping it easily. As she let him drop she grabbed the gun from the floor, brought it up quickly and loosed off a shot towards Jason and Steve.

Steve let out an involuntary cry as the assassin raised his weapon only to be caught full in the chest by Ursa's shot. The man’s shirt exploded, shredded by the impact, and his body folded to the floor, a pool of blood spreading from beneath him, his chest a charred hole.

A series of small explosions ripped through the people near Steve, innocent people trying to get out of the way of the slaughter. Someone fell against him and he twisted, landing badly, jarring his elbow and knocking the back of his head against the floor. Unconsciousness loomed up at him, dark and welcoming, and he felt himself slipping away.

The last thing he remembered seeing, as the screams and cries around him faded into nothingness, was a frighteningly familiar face on a walkway high above, a face grinning, looking straight at him.

Suzex!

"This time they've gone too far, surely everyone will see that?"

Leader Lane threw the report down onto his desk thinking,
maybe even those followers of the true faith who doubted my strong tactics in this will now see sense, see the rebels for what they truly are. A danger to the whole of Aks, the whole of
my
world.

"What was the cause? Do we know?" He looked across to Suzex who sat at ease in a chair against the far wall of the office.

"It would seem to be some sort of argument between rebel gangs. One side tried to remove the other from the scene."

"But at a spaceport for Larn's sake, where there are so many innocent people around!"

Suzex shrugged. "Do they care?"

Lane glanced at the report again.

"Twenty-six people dead, and no idea yet on how many are rebels, how many just normal citizens. Larn knows how many just wounded."

"It should damage their popular support I would think."

Lane stared at Suzex. The man was so cold, so calculating. However, there was some truth in what he said. This incident would not do his administration any harm, perhaps even some good. A terrible price to pay for it, of course, but even so...

"I want more visible activity against these rebels. People must see that we are doing something about them."

"Of course," said Suzex, his voice oily with satisfaction. "And you should increase the number of Bosen patrols. They should be more visible, not just brought out for special work."

Lane hesitated. His people hated the Bosens, feared them. But Suzex was right. They should be brought into the frontline against these rebels. It was time to take the war to them.

Suzex watched the Leader closely. He could almost see the thought processes working, the gradual acceptance of the Bosens as a major factor in the fight against the rebels.

Good. He no longer thinks of them as an invasion. They are part of his administration's fight against his enemies. It's almost time to hit him with the next part of the plan.

"It's a pity we don't have more Bosens," said Suzex, apparently to himself but directed at Lane. "With a larger presence we could really finish this."

Lane nodded slowly, his thoughts racing.
More Bosens
. It would be a risk to his popularity, but surely any lost support would come flooding back when the rebels were wiped out?

Suzex smiled.
Now. Remind him now
.

"I couldn't help noticing the message from the President of Szuilta on your desk earlier."

"Yes, I'd almost forgotten." Lane searched for the message, found it. "A request for a personal meeting. The President wants to come here to Aks."

"What better time or excuse? He could bring more Bosens in his party. No one need know their real purpose until it's too late to stop it. You could destroy the rebels totally."

Suzex watched as Lane turned away to look out over Akasian. He saw the square set of the shoulders, the upheld head. Here was a man who felt great responsibility and who had come to a decision, a brave decision that he was convinced was the only right one for him and his people.

Now we have him,
thought Suzex with satisfaction.

Chapter 49

Loadra bowed slightly as he entered the dimly lit room, the smell of real leather and the wafting aroma of genuine percolating coffee filling him with a sense of privilege and luxury. This was one of the most private rooms within The Temple, the home and offices of Earth's Larnian religion, and he always felt grateful each time he entered it.

It was occupied today by three other High Priests, each of them looking at him silently, almost accusingly. He bowed to them a second time.

"I apologise for being late. It was unavoidable, as I'm sure you understand."

There was no reaction from the others and Loadra took a seat, feeling some of his tensions slip away as he fell into the caress of leather upholstery.

The silence continued.

I can play that game too
, thought Loadra, noting that two of his greatest rivals in Council were present at the meeting, High Priests Helione and Conia. He would have to watch them. They would take any opportunity to undermine his position.

High Priest Zeina, leader of the High Council and a tall, imposing figure even without his badge of authority, broke the silence.

"Tell us how you view the arrival of the Szuiltans on Aks."

So
, thought Loadra,
I'm being tested in some way
. He glanced at the almost imperceptible smiles on the faces of Helione and Conia.
They are behind this. What have they been saying?

"It would seem," said Loadra, his voice filled with a confidence he did not feel, "that the priests of the Aksian
theology
and their
faithful
Leader have taken yet another step away from the
true
faith."

"Well spoken," said Zeina. "Your disdain for the Aksian version of our faith is well known and obviously strong. However, what of the Szuiltans?"

"Alien heathens," answered Loadra without hesitation.

"What do they hope to gain from this alliance with Aks?"

Why are they asking me questions about these aliens? What is the real purpose of this meeting?

"Who can fathom an alien mind? The Aksians hope to gain more power and, ultimately, victory over Earth, but what the Szuiltans hope to gain... who can say?"

"Quite so," agreed Zeina

Silence fell once more in the room and Helione rose from his chair, poured four coffees and handed them out.

The pleasure of real coffee was subdued for Loadra as he tried to foretell the direction of the next question.

I could just ask them what they're doing, but that would be a sign of weakness, a sign that I'm concerned. I must stay quiet, wait for them to break the silence as they did last time. They will reveal themselves soon enough.

It was Zeina, once again, who spoke first.

"How are you handling Lichfield as Miss Harrison's personal guard?"

Ah, this has the feel of the true reason
.
This is their concern then. But why?