Machine World Page 3

  I glanced around quickly. I didn’t see any cameras. I shrugged and took her hand in mine. I figured maybe she needed a little comforting. Possibly, this was an opportunity to spark up the brief love affair we’d enjoyed back on Tech World.

  She shook my hand off of hers with a violent motion.

  “No, you idiot!” she hissed. “Give me back the key!”

  “Oh, that,” I said, and fished it out of my pocket. I handed it over to her with some reluctance.

  The Galactic key was quite possibly one of the most powerful devices on Earth—maybe the most powerful device. Giving it up wasn’t an easy thing for anyone to do. I’d put it in my pocket, and it had felt like it belonged there. Now that it was gone, I missed it.

  Turov turned the key over twice in her hands then put it away. I wondered if she was checking to make sure it was the same one. Like I said, she was as paranoid as the day was long.

  “Do you think this ruse will work, McGill?” she asked when she was satisfied with the key.

  “You mean about crashing the air car? I sure hope so.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe what just happened. I can’t believe you took such a chance.”

  “The way I see it, I didn’t have much choice. I didn’t want to go down saluting an alien and blasting my own brains out.”

  “I don’t mean that part. I mean you took the chance that I had the key on me. What if I’d left it in my office or something?”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “I know you pretty well by now, sir. You wouldn’t do that. What good would it be locked in a safe somewhere? If you ever need that thing, it has to be on your person to be useful. I knew you had it in your pocket. It’s just in your nature.”

  She didn’t say anything after that which spoke volumes to me. I knew I’d guessed right.

  -4-

  I spent that night in a hotel in Central City. The city consisted of a ring of modern buildings which surrounded Hegemony’s ziggurat. Looking out through and immense window at the streets and towering structures, I couldn’t help but stare at the monstrous headquarters building in the middle of it. The hotel was over hundred stories tall, but was utterly dwarfed by the primary structure.

  Staring quietly, I tried to come to terms with the events of the day. I’d just murdered the highest ranking being in this part of the Galaxy on that distant roof. It didn’t seem real to me now.

  The hotel was nice, but the prices were incredible. I didn’t have any Galactic credits anymore, and Hegemony credits spent like water in this town. Still, I decided I might as well treat myself since I was stuck here anyway. Turov had ordered me to stay local in case any of the brass from Central demanded a briefing. I knew what she really wanted was a witness to back up her story when it came down to it.

  Along about midnight, I fell asleep. Drunk on fifteen flavors of alcohol, I passed out and began snoring in front of the wall-screen. I’d treated myself to the minibar, despite the fact I knew better. Credits were leaking out of me like air out of a half-credit balloon.

  The door chimed, but I didn’t get up. I sort of blearily opened my eyes then shut them again. The door chimed several more times and a knocking sound began.

  With a groan, I heaved myself to my feet. I reached for my pistol and took it with me to the door.

  Honestly, when I opened it, I thought I might find a pack of goons there out in the hallway waiting for me. I could hardly have blamed anyone who’d sent them. After today’s impromptu murder of a Galactic official, right here on Earth, I had no right to expect anything other than arrest or outright assassination.

  I opened the door anyway, and I was pleasantly surprised. Instead of goons, Imperator Turov stared up at me. She was still wearing her uniform. I wondered if she slept in it.

  “Imperator, sir?” I asked. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “You’ve been drinking again?” she asked, walking past me. She looked around the hotel room as if she expected to find someone. “Are you alone, Specialist?”

  “Yes sir—at least I was.”

  “We have to get our stories straight, McGill,” she said, sitting on my couch and brushing away a clattering pile of tiny plastic vials. They were mostly empty, so I didn’t mind.

  “Uh…” I said, closing the door and sitting beside her. “Is there going to be an inquiry or something?”

  “What do you think?”

  I nodded. “Who’s asking about what happened?”

  “Everyone is. The press, the Hegemony Consul himself—everyone. No Galactic has ever died on Earth before. Did you know that?”

  “No, but I could have figured—”

  “This is a big deal, McGill. Pull yourself together.”

  “I’ll try, sir,” I said, opening a can of pop and wondering if her visit was purely business. Right now, it kind of looked like it was, but a man’s mind always wandered after midnight.

  “Even Graves is baffled about the details,” she continued worriedly. “Fortunately, I don’t think he’s foolish enough to tell anyone if he suspects what actually happened. He’ll keep quiet, but I still wished we’d had the forethought to erase his mind and Adjunct Leeson’s.”

  “Hmm…I don’t think there was time. We had to create that accident and move on before the emergency people got there.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Have you contacted Graves and Leeson yet?”

  “No, I was not able to do so. They got revives, but they were picked up by Hegemony goons.”

  “Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you who your weak point is: Leeson. He’s a good man, but he doesn’t have the kind of elastic mind that these situations require.”

  Turov shook her head and chuckled. “Elastic mind, huh? Is that what you call it? Yours must be like a giant rubber band in your skull.”

  “I’ll choose to take that as a complement, sir. Would you like a drink?”

  I could tell she was tempted. She’d smiled at me while talking about my rubber-filled skull. A smile and a drink after midnight—well, that’s the sort of thing that gets a lady into all sorts of trouble after a stressful day at work.

  “No James,” she said with a hint of regret. “I’ll pass.”

  From the appraising look in her eyes, I figured she knew what I was really asking. I sighed but didn’t press the matter.

  We talked after that, laying out the details of our plan to bamboozle anyone who asked exactly how the disaster had gone down. Maybe it would work, or maybe it wouldn’t. It was hard to say.

  By two a.m., Turov was gone. Unfortunately, I found it hard to go back to sleep after her visit, and I stayed up until just before dawn.

  * * *

  The next morning my tapper woke me up. I’d put it into silent mode, but a summons from Legion Varus broke through such settings.

  The tapper didn’t just chime, it vibrated. No one liked that feeling; the nerves in your arm jiggled and tingled irritatingly. It was like having someone buzz your funny-bone with a jolt of electricity.

  Gasping awake, I fought to make my eyes focus on my tapper.

  “Varus summons,” I read out loud. “All able-bodied personnel are ordered to transport themselves to the Mustering Hall immediately.”

  I headed for the showers with a groan, massaging my temples. I seriously doubted if I qualified as “able-bodied” right now. After washing up and eating, however, I found I felt a lot better. Checking out of the hotel without even daring to look at the total at the bottom of the bill, I took the cheapest public tram I could find to Newark, where the North America Sector’s Mustering Hall stood tall.

  The trip reminded me of my initial visit to this place years ago. Back then I’d been a kid, as green as long grass. A lot had changed since those days. Physically, I was no more than a year older—but my mind was a different thing entirely.

  I contacted a few of my friends with my tapper, but no one seemed to know what was going on any more than I did. Probably, they knew
even less than I did.

  Walking up to the smart-door on the Mustering Hall, I applied my palm to the pad beside it. The door buzzed but didn’t open.

  There was a long line behind me. They groaned and shuffled as I tried the door repeatedly, each time achieving the same results. Everyone had to log in through that door, and they didn’t want to wait around for me to get through.

  “Come on, splat!” shouted a regular trooper a few spots behind me in line.

  I turned on him, glowering. It was then he must have noted the specialist’s stripes on my sleeve and the Wolfshead of Varus on my shoulder.

  He was a regular from Solstice. I could tell his legion by the rising sun patch on his shoulder. Solstice was a well-known outfit—but they didn’t have the same kind of rep that my legion did.

  “Uh, sorry Specialist,” he said. “Proceed, by all means.”

  I pushed my palm against that door at least ten more times. Each time it buzzed, turned red, and made me wait a few seconds before I could try again. Behind me, the crowd had begun to filter away in disgust. I didn’t care. They could go around to another entrance on the far side of the building if they wanted. It was a bit of a walk, but—

  The door opened suddenly. This baffled me, as I’d just tried again and gotten another red hand symbol.

  The mystery was immediately solved when I realized two Veterans had opened the door from the inside. They were Hegemony, and they were all out of smiles today.

  “Specialist James McGill?” the closest man asked.

  “That’s me, Hog.”

  His face darkened a shade or two. Calling a Hegemony man a “Hog” was an insult that had preceded countless bar-fights.

  “From Legion Varus?” he asked.

  I slapped my Wolfshead patch and looked at him like he was an idiot.

  Roughly, the two men reached for me.

  Now, at this point, I feel I have to explain myself. I’ve not had an easy life in the legions. Far from it. When faced by others from diverse outfits, I’d never been treated well. In fact, the last time Hegemony had sent MPs to my house down in southern Georgia District, I’d sent them home for a revive. All three of them.

  On top of this history of bad blood, I had a hangover today, and I was steaming mad at that damned door.

  I broke the first man’s arm. That was something of a surprise to me as well as to him. I did it on reflex. He reached, and I grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, off-balance. I brought my knee up and his extended arm down. The two parts met around where his elbow was—bending it backward until it snapped. This action took about a half-second.

  Shocked by this turn of events, the second man backed up and reached for his sidearm. I put my hand on my own in response. Neither of us drew, we just stared at one another for maybe two long seconds.

  The first guy was on his knees, hissing like a snake. He was too concerned about his dangling arm to do much else.

  “McGill?” asked the second man. “Why the hell did you do that?”

  “You don’t just grab a man from Varus. And you don’t draw on him either, not unless you want to run yourself through the guts of a revival machine for fun. Now, Hog, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

  The hog swallowed hard. “We’ve got orders to bring you up to the Equestrian’s office. That’s why the door stopped you until we could get here.”

  The Equestrian. I let that roll around in my head for a second. The rank of Equestrian was one notch higher than Imperator, which was Turov’s rank. True brass. I’d never even laid eyes on an Equestrian. Outwardly, I didn’t let any of these thoughts show, but it was a struggle not to look impressed.

  “Am I under arrest?” I asked.

  “No—not officially.”

  “Can I see your orders?”

  With a look of concern for his arm, the man showed me his tapper. I nodded.

  “Seems like you’ve got the right of it,” I said. “Lead the way.”

  “That’s it? You’re happy now? Why didn’t you just submit to us when we asked the first time?”

  “Because you didn’t ask, that’s why. You tried to grab me.”

  He grumbled but led the way. I followed him into the Hall and up an escalator. Behind me, the hog with the broken arm staggered in the rear.

  “I’m going to have you up on charges, McGill,” the injured man said.

  “Uh-huh. You didn’t identify yourself or your purpose. I’m a member of an independent legion, and you tried to grab hold of me without cause. That’s assault, Hog. Look it up.”

  He shut his mouth but kept following. I wondered if he might burn a hole in my spine. If he did so, I would respect him for it—but I didn’t think he had the balls. Hegemony troops rarely did. The sort of man that opted for the softer duty of guarding Earth wasn’t the kind to break the rules right here in the Mustering Hall.

  We reached the Equestrian’s office without further incident. I was surprised to find a familiar face there, that of Tribune Drusus, overall commander of Legion Varus.

  “Ah, there you are—damn it, McGill,” Drusus said, catching sight of the hog with the broken arm.

  I couldn’t recall ever having heard Drusus curse before in my presence. He was a naturally calm man despite his high rank.

  “Sorry sir,” I said, clearing my throat. “There was a misunderstanding.”

  Drusus shook his head. “Thanks for finding my Specialist,” he said to the hogs. “Why don’t you gentlemen go get yourselves fixed up?”

  They looked at the Equestrian, who nodded. Then they disappeared, grumbling.

  The Equestrian watched me for several seconds as he steepled his fingers. He didn’t look like he had a sense of humor.

  “I’m Equestrian Nagata,” he said with a slight Japanese accent. “You may have heard of me.”

  I hadn’t, but I smiled and nodded. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  Nagata grunted. “You are a violent man, McGill, from a legion of famously violent soldiers. Would you agree with that assessment?”

  “Uh…” I said uncertainly. I glanced at Drusus for a hint, but he was wearing a poker face. I went with my gut. “Yes sir, I would have to agree. We wouldn’t be much good otherwise. We’re fighting men, after all. That’s why people hire us.”

  Nagata nodded. “Well said. All right then. I’m going to give you and your renegades a chance to show us what you can do. But first, I need some truthful answers out of you.”

  “Okay, sir.”

  “Did you kill Chief Inspector Xlur?”

  Again, I glanced at Drusus. He looked a little paler to me now, but that might have been my imagination. He gave me no help.

  “Yes sir,” I said. “I did.”

  Nagata nodded slowly. “Could you explain your reasoning for taking this drastic action—a move that might well result in the extinction of our species? I assume it wasn’t because he didn’t show you respect when he asked you to escort him to the roof?”

  “No sir, that wasn’t it at all. Galactics never show any human any respect.”

  “Hmmm…yes. I don’t suppose they do. Could you elaborate?”

  “Well sir, it went like this…”

  I quickly explained the events that had transpired on the roof of Hegemony headquarters. I didn’t edit or embellish—except for the part about using the Galactic key. Instead, I told him I’d been trained in technical matters and explained how a recent revive could be deleted by a man with quick fingers on a tapper. That was mostly the truth.

  What helped was Turov’s visit the night before. She’d anticipated this moment and had given me a script. About ninety-five percent of it was the truth. Really, I didn’t think there was much point in trying to lie about it. Hegemony brass was full of weak, cowardly men. But they weren’t stupid.

  While I spoke, I glanced now and then at Drusus. He looked like a man who was listening to his own eulogy.

  “So sir,” I finished up, “we didn’t have much choice. X
lur had just ordered us all permed, and in addition, he was talking about erasing Earth. I took action because I had to.”

  “Such drastic action—taken without planning or forethought? Done alone?”

  He’d touched upon something I hadn’t made a big deal out of: Imperator Turov’s part in the matter.

  “Not entirely, sir,” I said, as if I’d left a detail out accidentally. “Turov helped me.”

  “Ah, I see! Did she not, in fact, order you to do this?” Nagata demanded, leaning forward and looking hungry all of a sudden.

  Like a bolt of lightning, the situation was suddenly plain to me. They were after Turov, not a lowly specialist. Sure, they could perm me with a wave of the hand over their tappers if they wanted to. But a bigger head might be called for. A person who I’d be willing to wager wasn’t all that popular among her peers. Maybe, for all I knew, Turov was already bucking for Nagata’s job. I knew Turov would never be satisfied until she reached the rank of Consul itself. After that, who knew what might be next?

  “She did ask me to take action,” I said carefully. “But I have to admit that I could have taken that in many different ways. Another man might have self-executed right then and there. After all, that’s what Graves and Leeson had just done. Instead, I moved down the only path I could think of that might save all of us.”

  Nagata shook his head, staring into space. “Such hubris. Such risk-taking. It is inconceivable that an individual like you was placed in that kind of position. You held the lives of billions in your hands.”

  “And he didn’t hesitate,” Tribune Drusus said, suddenly reentering the conversation. “He took bold action which turned out to be the correct choice.”

  Nagata kept shaking his head. “Insanity. I should by all rights move to disband your outfit, Drusus. People at Central have been saying so for years.”

  “Use us instead,” Drusus said. “Why destroy your toughest unit in the face of an interstellar war?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…maybe because you helped start this war?” Nagata shouted the last part of his sentence at us.

  “Again,” Drusus said calmly, “I ask that you use us, Equestrian. Place us where we’ll be most useful.”