The Only Game in the Galaxy (4 page)

‘So much for your precautions,’ said Anneke.

‘Those precautions just saved your life,’ said Maximus, peeking out through a reinforced window. Civilians were scattering. No problem. They wouldn’t have deterred anyone truly
serious
. ‘This cab is an augmented model.’

Anneke kicked out a rear door then belly-crawled through the opening. Maximus followed her. They kept going until they were behind a low ferrocon-crete pedestal bearing a piece of multi-dimensional modern art.

‘Who wants you dead?’ Anneke asked.

‘Who doesn’t? Besides, it’s you they’re after, not me.’

Anneke winced. Obviously, she was still getting used to the idea that people wanted to kill her. Maximus wondered fleetingly what it was like
not
to know that. He did not tell her that, given whom he had seen inside RIM headquarters, it probably
was
him they were trying to kill.

‘We should get out of here.’

‘You read my mind.’

Maximus peeked over the pedestal, nearly getting his head vaporised. He smelt singed hair.

‘I’ll cover you,’ said Anneke. ‘Make for that store.’ She held out a hand. Max retrieved his ankle gun and tossed it to her, skin prickling. What if he’d miscalculated? What if her amnesia wasn’t real?

‘Good shooting,’ was all he said.

Anneke slid the gun over the edge of the pedestal and opened up. With uncanny precision, she scored a direct hit. Someone grunted and thudded into a wall, dropping.

Anneke kept up a strafing fire.

Maximus rolled to his feet and dashed towards the storefront in a low crouching run. He blew out the glass, dived through, and slithered to a stop amidst shards of glass, ignoring the pain. Then he scrambled back to the window and covered for Anneke.

A moment later she joined him. He reflected briefly on the irony of the situation. Here they were, mortal enemies, protecting each other.

Then the hit squad was pounding towards them. Max counted a dozen. All wearing dark grey one-piece suits. Anneke and Max fired back, but a collective dampening field deflected their pulse beams.

‘That’s new,’ said Maximus.

‘Probably a good time to get out of here,’ said Anneke.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Maximus said. ‘After you.’

They jumped to their feet and bolted from the building, disturbing members of a local religious ceremony. As they passed the startled onlookers, Anneke yelled, ‘Down! Get down!’

People scattered and dropped, leaving a clear line of sight for their pursuers.

Maximus gritted his teeth in annoyance. Collateral damage was part of escaping. It wasted valuable time for the pursuers.

A running street battle ensued, with Maximus and Anneke each covering the other as they fought a rearguard action, not managing to shake the hit squad for another hour, by which time they were both exhausted, operating on nervous energy.

Eventually, they reached a safe house above a storefront advertising psychic readings. Still fired up with adrenalin, they could not relax for hours, not until they were certain that they hadn’t been tracked there.

The inside of the RIM safe house was oddly comfortable, even cosy. Lace curtains. Squashy sofas. Bookshelves with tattered but readable editions of the latest bestsellers
and
an impressive array of classics. And lots of good food. Max guessed that some stints here must last a long time. A very long time.

Over hot cups of Ruvian coffee, with surveillance devices scanning the local area at maximum penetration, Anneke came back to their earlier discussion: ‘We were discussing my assignment.’

Maximus steepled his fingers. ‘The hit I mentioned was to terminate two leaders of the Imperial Myotan Combine, a breakaway group of
Majoris Corporata
and the group that nearly engineered the destruction of RIM.’

Anneke stared back at him. ‘Terminate?’

Maximus returned her stare, unblinking. ‘That’s what you do, Anneke. You’re a high-level assassin.’

Anneke twitched, suddenly pale. ‘I kill people for a living?’

‘There’s some other kind of assassin?’

‘It just … It just doesn’t feel like me.’

‘Tell me, what
does
feel like you?’

Anneke put her coffee cup down with a rattle and clenched her eyes shut.

‘Listen to me, Anneke. This is what you do. The feelings you’re having right now, they’re fake. Part of your cover story. You were supposed to penetrate the Combine as a low-level tactical officer – a glorified accountant. The feelings you’re experiencing are the feelings of that
character
.’

‘It’s just a role I’m playing?’

‘Exactly. But that doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t real. They are. If we hooked you up right now to a lie detector or encephaloscan, it’d read those feelings too and it’d buy them. That’s the idea of being a mnemonic agent. The perfect cover! Even the agent doesn’t know they’re an agent until they’re activated.’

Anneke looked like she’d been punched.

‘Now it’s my turn for questions,’ said Maximus. ‘Where did you end up after the ricochet?’

‘Pardon?’ Anneke said, struggling to control her emotions. None of this sounded
right
. Had she become so immersed in her ‘character’ that she had completely forsaken her true self?

‘After the ricochet, what world did they send you to? It could be important.’

‘Tormat.’

Maximus cursed silently.

A
NNEKE
stepped out of the jump-gate, taking in the air of Lykis Integer. She immediately sensed familiarity. She
knew
this place. She had been here before. The money in her pocket she’d ‘awakened’ with on Tormat had been obtained here. Silently she marvelled at all she knew, all she had yet to remember, and all that was gradually coming back to her.

As she made her way out of the gate station she wondered if Mirella was all right. After the two had escaped, they had gone to Mirella’s sister’s house, collected what few possessions Mirella had and headed for the spaceport. Anneke had hacked the computer network running the port, acquired IDs, and brazened her way onto a space yacht, which she had stolen. Well, borrowed really. She left it on another world with an embedded program that would send it home.

She then set about accruing capital on Lykis Integer. In the meantime she researched politically stable worlds within easy jumping distance of Lykis – and headed to one. The name of this world – Se’atma Minor – had struck a chord inside Anneke and she had gone with her gut reaction.

She deposited Mirella on Se’atma, hacked a local merchant’s guild that made millions on the black market, siphoned off enough to ensure Mirella was financially stable, then headed back to Lykis. On the way, she discovered Mirella had placed a token of her thanks – a family heirloom – inside her carry bag. A quantum capsule – which ‘froze’ its contents in time, preserving them from almost all external damage including a nuclear explosion – extremely valuable. Mirella’s attached note read: ‘Our family lost the code to this long ago so it’s of little use to me, but you might be able to get it reinitialised and pawn it, if you need ready cash. It’s fitting that my grandfather saved a man’s life and was given this as thanks. It’s an appropriate gift for someone who has given me back mine. Thank you. Mirella Quist’.

Reinitialising the capsule would cause the contents to be shifted irrevocably into one of the miniscule rolled-up dimensions of the universe; it could then accept a new set of valuables. Quantum capsules were prized because they were impregnable.

Anneke made her way through the streets of Lykis Integer, her nerves jangling as odd bits and pieces leapt out at her, screaming familiarity: a face in a crowd; the corner facade of a building; a long vista glimpsed between two colonnaded structures; yellow and black auto-cabs with their dizzying whine …

And the
smells
.

After an hour of happy wandering, she stopped outside the imposing edifice of RIM headquarters. Behind the enormous building was a lava lake, its glow reflected off the atmosphere shield that sat high in the sky like the surface of a pond seen from below.

Anneke hesitated, then took a deep breath and went in. There was a preliminary security check for members of the public, then she found herself in a vast marbled lobby, built from a grand ancient Roman design, with strong influences from the Old Empire.

She saw a slender young man heading towards a security post and accosted him. He looked startled, but before he could speak, Anneke said, ‘Excuse me, could I speak to someone in charge?’

Later, as they headed towards Maximus’ office – she gathered that was his name from the ID badge on his lapel – she almost bumped into him as he suddenly stopped outside the open door of another office.

Anneke read his shock from his body language. She peered over his shoulder, seeing two men seated in the room. The one with his back to her was large, almost a giant. It was Lob Lotang, Quesada’s former CEO. He turned and stared at Maximus, smiling icily. He barely caught sight of Anneke and she did not recognise him.

Back in his office, Maximus locked the door and sat down, visibly affected by the man in the other room. Anneke wondered if the man was a rival, but it wasn’t her business so she put it out of her mind.

A short time later, after they had spoken of her recent experiences, came a knock on the door. She was trying to read documents on Maximus’ desk, upside down, while he was at the door. Then she heard a scuffle and suddenly Maximus hissed, ‘Watch out! He’s got a gun!’

She turned just in time to see the man’s gun go flying, his eyes widening as they locked onto hers. Then Maximus’ gun went off and the young agent doubled over with a cry.

Afterwards, Anneke watched Maximus drag the would-be assassin into a side room and shut the door. She did not know what was going on, but she had the feeling that the murdered man knew her.

Later, in the safe house, she was still undecided about Maximus. Her gut said not to trust him, but it wasn’t necessary to admire – or even like – one’s boss. And he knew a lot about her.

Too much, in fact.

But she was beginning to learn things about him too. His reaction for instance, to the word, ‘Tormat’.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost. Or was about to become one.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

He managed to nod. He got a glass of water and drank it in one gulp, then sat down again, staring at her.

‘You were on Tormat?’ His eyes were dark and staring.

‘Yes. Why? You know the place?’ She acted dumb, which he no doubt saw through, but obviously he knew the place and it had some profound, dark significance for him.

He nodded. ‘A long time ago.’ He took a breath, calming himself. ‘What happened there?’

‘I was sold as a slave.’

Maximus reacted as if struck. ‘They still have slavery?’

The tone of his question convinced Anneke he was talking of an older, more barbaric form of the institution. ‘They still have it, but it’s a local serfdom racket. You become indentured and almost never manage to pay back what you owe.’ He nodded, as if he heard everything she said, but Anneke knew he hadn’t. He was off in a memory that looked painful.

‘Tell me everything that happened there,’ said Maximus suddenly, pouring himself more coffee.

Anneke did so, or almost everything. She left out personal details; the name of the woman who helped her escape, her ‘owner’, Roklegg. She did not know why, but she was reluctant to pass on too much information to Black, as if she suspected he might use it against her.

‘You haven’t told me everything,’ he said when she’d finished. Nobody said he wasn’t astute.

Anneke shrugged. ‘It’s all I remember.’

‘I see.’

‘How old were you on Tormat when you were kidnapped by offworld slavers?’

Maximus sprang to his feet, his face twisting. ‘Who told you that?’

‘You did. Just now.’ She frowned. ‘Why the surprise? Isn’t that what RIM training does for you? I was trained, even if I can’t remember by whom.’

Maximus struggled to regain composure. When he had, he sat down again. Anneke noted that an iciness had settled over him. It was almost frightening
how
in control he became, as if he had found, and flipped off, an inner switch.

‘We’re not here to discuss my life story, just yours. Are you sure you haven’t left out anything I need to know?’

‘I’ve given you the facts and pertinent data.’

‘Good.’

‘Now what?’

‘Now you lay low for a few days to see if your memory comes back naturally. If not, I’ll bring in a specialist and try stimulating it.’

That was not going to happen. Anneke nodded. ‘The sooner the better. I feel like I’ve got a big hole in my head.’

Maximus smiled. ‘Well, we’ll have to fix that.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I have to go. This place is fully stocked with food and drink. There’s a viewscreen behind that panel and a fully encrypted computer workstation in the next room. It wouldn’t be wise to go outside. For any reason whatsoever.’

‘Until you tell me.’

‘I am your handler, Anneke. What I say, goes.’

‘Fine, but I should tell you that my threshold for boredom is quite low.’

Maximus stood. ‘Read a book.’ He gestured to a book bank. ‘Every book written in the last century. Have fun.’

He left by a different door from the one they had entered. Suddenly Anneke was alone with her thoughts – and the ‘hole’ in her memory. She did not know if she trusted Black or not. She did know that the internal amnesic feeling of being adrift, of having no anchors, moved her to grab frantically for any explanation. It was hard to resist the sheer primal
need
to fill in the blanks.

She went to the workstation to catch up on public events, paying particular attention to the local political situation. The breakup of the
Majoris Corporata
was getting a lot of air time, as was the formation of two new opposing forces from the debris of the breakup: the Imperial Myotan Combine and the rumours of a budding Quesadan Confederation.

Everybody was holding their breath to see which way the wind was blowing: Clans and Companies weren’t rushing to join either side, not till one got the upper hand.
No point throwing your lot in with the losers
, thought Anneke, and so far there was no winning side, not according to the local pundits.

After that she had a long, hot and luxurious bath, scrubbing herself clean with exotic bath lotions possessing alien-sounding names, and washing and braiding her hair. Then she stood in front of a large mirror, inspecting the wound on her thigh. It was healing nicely, though the skin around it had slightly puckered. She would have to get cosmetic renovation on it at some point. Not a good idea being a secret agent with an identifiable mark on one’s body.

It was like having a laser sign attached to you.

Not that it mattered. They attacked that night, anyhow.

Anneke woke to the sound of a door crashing in, followed by a clunking rattle as something landed on the floor. Then came a hissing sound and she whiffed a nerve agent.

Oddly enough, it did not affect her. She supposed she’d been immunised against such things, or she was naturally resistant.

Either way, she didn’t hang around long enough to find out. She sprang out of bed, naked, into the closet – not for clothes. She had inspected the safe house thoroughly before going to bed, checking out all the escape routes, weapons stashes and defensive capabilities.

The closet door whipped shut behind her as she crashed into the back of it, flipping open a once-only door that, as its name suggested, could only be used once (till it was reprogrammed). On the other side of the door, she found herself in a narrow downward-sloping tunnel. Wall brackets held an array of weapons and anti-personnel devices. She snatched up a blaster and a portable field-generator harness, shrugging into it quickly and punching a red button set in the wall. This set in motion a series of defensive responses.

Still naked, except for the harness and gun, she sprinted down the tunnel. Behind her, she heard a series of muffled explosions and several unhealthy screams. None of the protective systems were fatal, but some looked painful and at least one would cause an embarrassing rash for several days.

As she ran, she wondered fleetingly who was trying to kill her. Judging by the current political situation, there were a number of contenders for removing a would-be RIM assassin.

Hell, maybe Maximus had decided she was now a disposable asset.

She ran along the tunnel until she reached a three-way, took the left fork and skidded to a halt several metres down. Above her, concealed in the darkness of the tunnel roof, was an aperture. She gathered herself and leapt straight up.

She barely caught the ledge and swung herself up into a dusty cellar full of crates filled with wine. Pity. She could have used clothes instead. Fortunately, she wasn’t modest. She climbed the stairs, exited into a late-night bottle shop, startling customers, and made her way through to the back, finding a door that led into an alleyway.

Anneke sniffed the air, and headed east, towards the river. She came to a main road in a disreputable part of town. Not many people were around, but there were far too many for a tall beautiful naked woman to be seen and not remarked upon. Then she saw something. Not ten metres away, dressed in an expensive leather trench coat, a pimp was manhandling a street girl. He slapped her hard. ‘Now get back out there, or I’ll cut you so bad they won’t hire you in a butcher’s shop!’

Anneke waited until the girl hurried off then stepped out and whistled softly. The pimp looked around, his eyes wide. Then he smiled and sashayed over. Anneke slipped back into the shadows of the alleyway.

‘You ain’t one of my girls,’ said the pimp. ‘But you can join my crew any time you like.’

Anneke smiled demurely. ‘Not sure I like the way you treat your employees.’

The pimp snorted. ‘Now that’s none of your damn business, but why don’t I give you a spin and see how you do?’

‘I’ve got a better idea,’ said Anneke, and laid him out with three quick and highly painful jabs.

Then she took his trench coat and slipped it on. ‘Thanks for the kit,’ she said.

The man groaned, clutching his abdomen, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Anneke hurried across the main street and entered a maze of alleyways. She reached the river a short time later and went into a thirty-storey building that abutted the water. She took a tube to the roof and made a mental map of her surroundings.