Cardinal, (Citizen Saga, Book 2) Read online

  "Ah," Si replied. "That's not Lena?" He didn't sound so sure.

  "Isn't she in her quarters?" Alan asked.

  The entire room let out a frustrated groan. I had never known an Elite to be so fucking difficult to contain, but this woman took imprisonment and the act of escaping it to whole new levels.

  "She left over an hour ago," Harjeet helpfully supplied from the other side of the room, leaning back in his chair, feet up on a desk, watching our reactions with blatant amusement.

  "You knew she'd left?" I exclaimed. "And you didn't tell us?"

  "I am not her keeper," he coolly replied. "An idea that you should investigate further."

  "You think I'm the one keeping her locked up?" I demanded, taking two swift steps in his direction. Alan suddenly blocked my path.

  "Easy, boss," he murmured. His steady gaze telling me what I did not want to be reminded of.

  Harjeet had generously provided our current accommodations and had so far not asked for a thing in return. That day would soon come. And quite frankly, the sooner the better. I preferred dealing in black and white.

  My eyes flicked back to the screen as the figure came into better focus on the street-cam Si had hacked. Black and white hair tied back in a braid.

  "Is she mad?" I whispered. If we were seeing this, the Overseers were too.

  "Or very clever," Harjeet offered.

  A sharp stab of pain shot down my neck when I twisted to glare at him too quickly.

  "Excuse me?" I asked, practising some of my Elitisms.

  "Perhaps she is giving the Cardinals a location to concentrate on other than here," he provided, flicking a piece of non-existent lint off his r'aru styled jacket. Today a shimmering bronze colour, edged in burnt orange.

  I disliked his picture perfect presentation almost as much as I distrusted the man. But we had nowhere else to go.

  "You must admit," he continued, his D'awan accent only enhancing the perfection of the man; the vowels all elongated much like the Elite, "the Cardinal drones will swarm Parnell, neglecting our little slice of paradise that much longer."

  Alan made an amused sound, a cross between a snort and a bark of laughter. He was dressed in worn jeans and a ripped t-shirt, his short, spiky, black hair sitting at odd angles. I swear the man did it to piss Harjeet off.

  Is it any wonder he was considered my closest friend?

  "If you think Lena had altruistic reasons for being in Parnell," he drawled from his lean against the wall where he'd been sharpening a knife, "You don't know her all that well yet."

  "And you do?" Harjeet enquired mildly.

  Alan shrugged, lifting weary eyes to my face. None of us had been sleeping well since the celebration ball. Too many deaths on our conscience.

  "He's right," I said, watching as Alan lowered his lids and went back to working on his blade. We had a lot of sharp knives in our new base of operations. His obsession with keeping occupied could be what saved our lives in the end. "Lena would have had a reason to return there, and it won't have been for old time's sake."

  "Where's Tan?" Si asked, tracking Lena's flight on the street-cams. Making it apparent the Overseers were tracking her too. "If anyone knows why Lena returned there, it'd be him," he added.

  "He left not long after Lena," Harjeet offered. I didn't miss the smirk that graced his lips.

  "Is it that easy to slip out of here undetected?" I demanded.

  "They were detected," Harjeet argued. "At least by me."

  If I could have throttled the man, I would have. But we needed him, more than ever now, it seemed.

  "Any idea where he went?" I asked, tamping down on my murderous desires.

  Harjeet's turn to shrug, which only infuriated me.

  Probably how Alan had made him feel earlier.

  "Ah," Si sounded from the front of the room. "We've got a problem."

  All eyes turned to his screens.

  High powered beams of light were being sent up into the night sky, every now and then they'd cross over and pick out Lena's dark form set against the stars. Drones patrolled the streets beneath her, waiting patiently for her to reach the ground.

  "Where's her most likely landing spot?" I asked, dread filling my veins and turning to ice. Had they expected her to turn up? Or had they been called when she arrived?

  "She's passed the ones I would have thought she'd be aiming for," Si advised. "Her next best bet is the row of shops on Muhgah Foh Road. She's too low now for anything else."

  I walked slowly closer, as though being near the screen would place me near enough to reach out and pluck her safely from the air. She was trapped, nowhere to go. Her only options being swarmed right now by drones.

  "Ah, shit," Alan muttered over my shoulder, seeing what I was seeing. The slow, inexorable tightening of a net.

  "Anyone close enough to help out?" I asked, already pretty sure of the answer.

  Si shook his head.

  Silence.

  Lena. Fuck!

  And then she landed.

  Chapter 3

  Heaven Must Be Where You Go To Finally Be Home

  Lena

  I hit the ground running. I could see the drones moving in a synchronised wave towards me, but I'd changed my trajectory at the very last minute, giving myself seconds in which to escape. A part of me already knew it would not be enough. But it was the best I could manage on such short notice.

  Apartments rose in monolithic splendour to my left, the uniformity of the structure broken by the many different incense sticks burning from multi-coloured balconies. The sweet and pungent odour calling me in that direction, rather than the more obvious path that lead to the Muhgah Foh Rap-Trans station itself.

  Being a Friday, not a curfew night, meant the residents of the high density apartment block were outside enjoying the end of their Těitoéikěi Festival, their offerings to the dead still smouldering in a cage at the front of the building, facing Muhgah Foh Road. Laughter and singing could be heard, a community coming together, lowering their vid-screens long enough to respect their religion.

  Wánměi prided itself on multiculturalism and the respect of differing religious faiths. It was one of the things my father believed made us who we were. An innate ability to live with others' beliefs, in harmony. I wasn't sure if that vision was as perfect as he'd made me believe. Or if General Chew-wen had just twisted it.

  I could only hope the Wáikěinese inhabitants of this particular apartment complex wouldn't baulk at a black clad figure hiding in their midst.

  I ducked between children playing, elderly sitting in a row smoking, and mothers bringing yet more food out of the lower apartments, and lost myself in the throng of humanity. My heart beat too fast, sweat ran in rivulets down my back, my body ached from the flight and adrenaline that suffused my system.

  For a sweet moment I thought I had succeeded.

  Then all hell broke loose.

  "Curfew is now in effect," a drone shouted from the far end of the courtyard the worshippers had congregated in. The sound of his command cutting through the air like a knife. "Return to your homes immediately."

  It took a mere second for the drone to follow up the threat. Screams and shouts of dismay sounded out from the crowd of residents, as those standing too close to the drones, and had been shocked immobile, were subsequently hurled to the ground, and then roughly lifted by their shirt collars and iRec'd on the spot.

  Cardinal drones had never operated like this before. Always a warning was issued, then the green laser light of their eScanner rolled over the eyeball of the person being identity recognised. There was no warning here and many blinked in their surprise, trembling too much for the eye-scanner to get an accurate reading.

  I watched in horror as one after another of the peaceful Těitoéikěi worshippers were dragged out of the courtyard and made to kneel in the middle of Muhgah Foh Road. Drones lined up in front of them. The red blinking light of their sPol helmets announcing they were under Security Police arrest.
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  People were still scrambling, screaming and crying, tears streaming down blanched and frightened faces as they hurried to round up their loved ones and retreat through the closest door to the apartment complex. Chaos invaded their peaceful gathering, pulling it asunder as surely as if a bomb had gone off.

  The offering in the cage still smouldered, making a haze of smoke drift over the scene, stinging my eyes and filling my nose with frankincense. Figures emerged clutching children to their chest, soot marking their features, stuck to their faces with tears. Toddlers bawled, mothers sobbed, brave young men herded their families into the shelter of their homes. But still the drones had rounded up at least a dozen who had failed their iRecs because they were taken by surprise.

  I stood, stunned, my heart in my throat, aware of what I had to do. Not sure if it would make a difference to those already under arrest. They'd done nothing to warrant a wiping, but the mechanical look on the drone's faces almost seemed... hungry.

  I walked, as though a robot myself, through the swirling smoke trails, past the crying community of once amicable Citizens, towards Muhgah Foh Road. I was jostled by desperate shoulders, knocked by terror-filled elbows, pushed aside by frantic hands. I stumbled, fell to one knee and when I looked up an old man was standing right there.

  He stared at me, understanding and recognition on his wrinkled face. I waited for the shout of alarm to come, but he just cocked his head, held out a weathered hand to me and said in Wáitaměi,"Run!"

  My eyes darted to those still kneeling on the road, heads down, arms secured behind their backs, and shook my head sadly.

  In Anglisc he added, "You run now." Then reached forward and touched the centre of my forehead with a knobbly index finger. "Run. Now," he reiterated, shoving me backwards with a hard push.

  I crawled back to my feet, intending to ignore the man, when he smiled a toothless smile and simply turned away. The world swayed, the smoke seemed to close in. For a second I couldn't see a thing, feel a thing, hear a thing. And then the clouds parted and the man was in the middle of the street.

  "Oh, no," was all I got out before he fired the laser gun he'd somehow hidden in amongst his Citizen appropriate clothes.

  He must have warned those kneeling, because the second he fired, they were on their feet and running. But not towards the apartments. They scattered like beetles, in every direction possible. What with the erratic and unexpected firing of the laser gun by the old man, and their haphazard escape paths causing confusion, the drones were momentarily caught off guard.

  It took them three seconds to fire back.

  Three seconds long enough for the prisoners to get far enough away to have a chance.

  Three seconds for the old man to take out five of the drones before they took out him.

  I watched, still standing where I'd been standing all along, as he crumpled to the ground in a pile of rags. I almost expected him to disappear, the moment felt so surreal. No Citizen ever fought back. No one fired on the drones unless they were rebels. And that old man had not been one of us.

  I blinked, sucked in a ragged breath of air and turned to run. Coming face to face with a drone behind me.

  A scream shot out of my mouth and I instinctively dived to the side, but I felt the sting of his laser on my hip. The burn like acid, melting my flight-suit, singeing my flesh, boring a hole deep enough, I was sure, to touch bone. I scrabbled to my hands and feet, and then took a staggering step forward. The ice cool metal of his fingers gripped my shoulder and spun me around. Then in the next instant picked me up and hurled me across the clearing.

  "Do not harm," I vaguely heard Shiloh order over the drone's speaker. "Apprehend assailant alive."

  I rolled onto my side, sucking in air, wondering if that order came from Wang Chao or not. Putting weight on the hip where I'd been clipped by the laser was excruciating, but I didn't want to stick around and find out what the new Chief Overseer had in store.

  The heavy footsteps of the drone moved closer, as the world around me came in and out of focus, and swirled like a kaleidoscope on Serenity. I felt my stomach lurch, the contents threatening to spill out. Clasping a hand to my mouth, I managed another tumble-come-flop over to my back.

  I couldn't see the night sky, not that stars were too easy to spot in Wánměi. With the smoke of the incense and Těitoéikěi Festival offerings, mixed with a little blood loss, seeing anything a foot past my eyes was asking too much.

  A whimper escaped me, my hand dropping from my mouth and landing on my vest. The outline of either the battery operated drill or the handheld blowtorch evident under my trembling fingers. It took two efforts to open the pocket. By the time I had the device out and aimed the drone was already there.

  I've not been particularly lucky of late. An Elite fallen from grace, some would say of my own doing. But I beg to differ. I am a product of my upbringing. Ten years ago I would have said my life was blessed. Ten years ago I was loved by a father who meant the world to me.

  Then in one night I realised he wasn't the man I had thought him to be, and he was snatched from my world leaving me... unlucky.

  As my vision continued to blur and my finger quaked to such a degree that depressing the trigger on the device in my hand was damn near impossible, I wondered if my luck had changed finally.

  If it hadn't, I was about to threaten an armed drone with an electric drill.

  If it had...

  The blowtorch lit up and blinded the drone. It took a step back, and then tumbled as my foot swept out and around, catching its boot. The sound of it crashing to the concrete pavement was ear-splitting. But I couldn't take the chance that it would recover and follow. I pulled myself up and over its unforgiving hard surface and then burned my way past its camera lenses.

  My entire frame shook, a sound of fury and desperation left my lips as I melted the features that made the drone somewhat humanoid. A buzz sounded out from the machine, a death cry as I assaulted it mercilessly. The stench of burned plastic and singed electrical circuits and melted rubber, mixed in with the molten odour of liquefied metal.

  It tried to talk, but my hand had shaken so much I'd managed to fry its speaker. Part of me was pleased for that. Even though I kept telling myself it was just a machine, I didn't want to hear it say it was hurting.

  By the time it was an unrecognisable thing beneath me, its hands had wrapped around my throat. I was sure the former command of apprehending me alive was forgotten as it slowly closed my windpipe off.

  Images of Aiko's last moments flashed before my eyes. Tears welled, my mind stalled. So beautiful, so fragile, and I'd failed her and Tan. I'd failed the only family I had left.

  I couldn't make a sound, but the screams of agony at my defeat, both now and the night of the ball, were rebounding against the inside of my skull. My fingers scrabbled for purchase on the slick and unforgiving metal of the drone's grip. The blowtorch fallen to the side and now out of reach.

  I bucked and writhed with what little strength I had left, feeling the dizziness of earlier multiplying. I knew I had seconds before I was unconscious, and part of me hoped the drone wouldn't stop then. I didn't want to be hauled back to Wang Chao with bruises around my throat. I wanted it all to end.

  But my struggles had brought my attention to the other pocket. The one holding the battery operated drill. I left the drone's hands where they were, nothing could budge them from my skin. And pulled the drill out, aiming it for the right shoulder joint and slamming the device in the crook of the metal plates that protected its innards.

  It skipped across the surface, unable to gain purchase. So I moved it toward the side of the drone's helmet where it was whispered on the streets that its main circuit board lived. Flicking a switch on the side of the unit, I made a long drill-bit extend, turning the tool into a makeshift weapon.

  I'm not sure how I held on. I'm not sure how I kept going when oxygen had long been used up. My arms felt like lead weights. My body had gone beyond agony to an inferno of
hurt and pain. But the drill finally took, worked its way through the metal plate on the drone's helmet, and slammed the last inch inside.

  For a second nothing happened and I knew I'd failed again. The grip at my throat was just as tight, just as relentless, just as lethal. The drone beneath me following out its last command to the end.

  My hand fell away from the drill, leaving it embedded in the side of the drone's skull. The buzz had stopped, the drone knew it had won. I relaxed, accepted my fate, and felt the world turn black.

  The next thing I knew I was gasping for breath, lying on my back, staring at the face of a young girl; maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. My eyes widened as I kept drawing in life giving air, my skin on fire in a constricting band around my throat. My lungs adding to the torment; each indrawn breath feeling like a hot poker in the side.

  She had white and black hair. More white than black, as though painted in stripes. It lay loose about her shoulders, straightened to Elite perfection. Her eyes were brown, upturned, her skin tanned and of Wáikěinese descent. Otherwise, with hair like that, she looked just like me.

  "It's you," she said in Wáitaměi. "It's really you. I thought it was, but they all said it wasn't. And then you burned its face off and drilled through its brain and I said, yes, it's her. No one but Selena Carstairs would do that. No one but The Zebra."

  "The what?" I mouthed, but I hadn't intended to. My voice was gone and speaking was now impossible.

  "Come on!" she urged, helping me sit and making the world spin again in a tornado of extremely scary colours. She glanced over her shoulder, where I swear more smoke from the Těitoéikěi Festival offering had appeared than there was before. But I knew she was looking for drones.

  The chances of this one sending out an SOS, right before I fried and died it, were pretty good.

  I gripped her hand, let her haul me to my feet, and then promptly landed on top of her when we both fell under my dead weight.