Rebel's Consort - Phoenix Book 1 Read online

  If the witch-hunt targeted a large haul, with a public arrest and execution to send a strong message, and the Regents suspected Onyx, then Piper was a prime target. Rasmond’s declaration confirmed as much.

  He would go underground and burn all paths before they closed in, stopping any way of tracking Analena or her small troupe. Then what?

  He couldn’t risk contacting her. Though, if she messaged him, his lack of reply would send her a warning.

  Glancing at the communicator inside his mask, he willed it to activate from her call. It would probably be a cold day in hell before she asked for his help again. He would be more than happy to crawl to hell and back to keep her safe. Or maybe just to keep her.

  Safety for all of them meant wiping Onyx off the map. He could gather all his supplies in several hours. He’d distributed his stash over three locations in case of this eventuality.

  Once finished, even Analena wouldn’t be able to find him. Which was fine, he thought with a fresh surge of energy. He would go to her. He refused to leave her exposed and alone. Communication was too dangerous, but he could lay enough false trails throughout Down Below and New Delphi so the Regents would never find him.

  He only wished he had an idea of how exposed she might be. If there were truth to leak of a child in need, nothing would keep her away.

  Yet, in spite of Analena’s resilience and independence, she must have others in her network. She couldn’t have arranged the extraction of so many children on her own. Shepherd had confirmed the network would monitor feeds to Piper to avoid this circumstance. However, nothing prevented her from receiving intel through other means. Aaron had access where she didn’t. Trace could only hope that the boy scrutinized what information he passed on with as much care as he exacted on assessing him.

  Which was why Trace was going back. To Analena’s role as soldier, rebel, and surrogate mother, he could add nothing except medical expertise. Fine. But for the woman, he could provide sanctuary and protection she didn’t realize she lacked.

  Granted, he’d shot a big hole in his credibility. But he wasn’t afraid of a little rejection if it saved his angel’s life.

  ***

  “You reek,” said Hena.

  Aaron shook his head and scrubbed at his face with one hand. “I want points for the lengths I’ve suffered to procure information.”

  “Suffered? Hardly,” Analena said, a frown marring her features as she waved a hand in the air before her nose.

  He held out a hand for Gar’s water cup and screwed up his face when the sweet flavor refused to dispel the oily, tang from his taste buds. “Honestly, the synthetic whiskey is horrible. It should be illegal to make alcohol from kelp.”

  “It is,” Hena added, unimpressed.

  He snorted. Hena would never have pulled off what he did, ferreting out the secrets from people who depended on them to survive. Gads, sick. What was he thinking? Hopefully, Hena wouldn’t ever need to run scams.

  With a raised brow, Analena prodded, “This valuable information?”

  “I found out more about Trace.” He sidled a glance at the kids. The children shifted, moving closer expectantly as Analena opened her mouth, prepared to send them to the back room. “They deserve to hear this.”

  She flinched, closed her eyes for a moment, and then met his gaze.

  “He has no connection with anyone here. That’s the first thing they deserve to know.” He glanced at Gar. The kid waited on a cue from Analena. They all did.

  “Fine. At least Bits is already asleep.” Her gaze rolled over the ten children in the room. “The rest of you are old enough. So, where the hell have you been, Aaron?”

  “Your creds procured three fine bottles of synthetic whiskey.” He closed his eyes for a minute. “To endure three grueling hours of Babcock’s past.”

  Hena screwed up her face and leaned back against the rock wall from her pillowed seat on the floor. “How about we get to the important part?”

  “There’s a guy on my delivery route, Babcock. He’s been helpful in the past.” Aaron leaned back as well. “After a bottle or two, he gets more helpful and pretty loose with information. He’s let slip before that he worked in the Med Lab building, near Regent’s Square. Rumor had Trace linked there years ago, ten, maybe more.”

  It had taken two full bottles before Babcock got into the gritty stuff. Aaron had tipped the bottle between them, filling Babcock’s glass and then his own, discretely keeping a third glass below the table, so he could switch them back and forth and appear to be keeping pace. But as the second bottle drained to its finale, Aaron had almost given up any hope of getting more details on Trace.

  “Must be nice for those that live in the high rises above the grids,” he prodded. “No worries. Clean water, food, solar generators to power all the new toys.”

  Babcock grunted and rolled his lips over his teeth. “Safer here.” He took a deep swallow and thunked his glass down for more, but once refilled, he let the glass sit. “I used to work up there.”

  “No joke?”

  “Nah. Nice security desk job with the Med Lab. Sat there all day checking IDs, not a care in the world.” Babcock grabbed the glass with meaty fingers and stretched out his forefinger to point at Aaron. “Good day, sir. Good night, sir. Cake.”

  “Those docs must have it made.”

  He slurped his whiskey and glared at Aaron over his glass as if waiting until he took his own sip. “Some of them got no problems at all. Some got no soul, either.”

  “You knew a lot of them.”

  “Most.” He waved the glass. “Not one knew me. Lucky thing.”

  “Sounds like all ego.”

  The glass lowered to the arm of the chair. Babcock gazed off to the side, replaying something in his mind as Aaron waited.

  “One fellow’s wife used to come to work with him. Pretty thing, curvy, long carrot hair. Walked him in, did all the kiss-on-the-puss right in the lobby. First few months, it was all good. A proud, big guy with a swagger, all well-paid family man with a high-end rep.” He took another slurp. “Time goes on, the swagger’s gone. The wife’s still walking him in, except it’s more like she’s dragging him. Her eyes still gleaming, making eye contact with anyone important. Liked the high-end life, she did. Whatever his issue, she towed him in whether he wanted to be there or not.”

  Two minutes rolled into five, and Aaron thought he’d finished.

  “Wife stopped coming one day, but the doc—he dragged in. Same big dude, now full of ‘I don’t give a flying fuck.’ No good day, hello, good-bye or kiss my ass.” He swallowed the last bit, slammed the glass down again, and turned a cold look on Aaron. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought he was in over his head.

  “Thought the guy was a real prick,” Babcock said.

  After pouring another drink, Aaron made a point of sipping his own. When Babcock finally nodded and grabbed the glass, his worry receded.

  “I had a friend, did security work in one of the other buildings.” He licked his lips and rubbed the back of his hand across them until they stood out cherry red. “They rotate everyone in those places. Don’t want anyone getting friendly and mucking up their priorities.”

  He rolled the glass and stared, searching for some prize on the bottom and not finding it. For his part, Aaron couldn’t figure out how the man could drink so much and keep upright, much less see straight.

  “Sam had a sweet offer for a long weekend. Plenty of company, if you know what I mean. He offered me some high creds to take his place. No one knew anyone’s name, so I took his security ID. What the heck. Two days. A hundred creds. Good deal.” He shrugged, closed his eyes and let the whiskey touch his lips, not drinking. The glass lowered to rest on his belly.

  “First night, no problem.” The crackle of his breathing rang out, jarring the quiet of the room. “Second night—the alarms go off. We rush to the lower levels.”

  Aaron waited and scrutinized the more-salt-than-pepper stubble over the sunken jowls. Then he
glanced higher. There wasn’t any recognition in Babcock’s eyes, the man too absorbed in his past.

  “Those lower levels—a nightmare.” Babcock’s head lowered, his chin resting on his chest for a minute. “Always considered my job posh, sparkling clean in the part of the city all fresh and new.” His paw stroked the glass over his huge belly.

  “The alarms rang like fucking jackhammers in my brain. Must have been twenty of us responded. Took six to hold back the guy who was in the room.” His head shook in denial as his hand shook from too much whiskey. “The doc—took six of them to pull him off. Lined up like fucking dolls, all these dead … kids. Ripped open, missing parts, organs, limbs—not like they had some fuckin’ accident. No, this was …. fucking dozens of them. Those rumors, they’re all true.” A garbled sob bubbled from Babcock’s mouth.

  “Near the end of the line was the doc’s wife. All quiet for a change. No more sparkle, total whitewash, deader than dirt. Little girl beside her, dead too. Looked like her mother, except her chest was carved open.” He paused. “Wide open, like they’d come back for more.”

  He tilted his head back and swallowed a good six ounces of the whiskey. Aaron flinched.

  “Doc was insane. Called us murderers. Kept yelling he’d made a deal.” Babcock stared at the floor. “They tranqed him and took him away to the prisons.”

  “What did you do?”

  Startled, Babcock looked up as if he’d forgotten Aaron was there. “Do? I left that fucking place and never went back. Didn’t ask for the creds from my buddy, went home and—”

  Aaron reached for the bottle and, thinking better of it, finished his own drink before pushing the bottle to Babcock. “You ever find out who the Doc was?”

  Babcock’s eyes lasered in on Aaron’s, causing his hackles to rise again. The hard gleam in those eyes, much colder and alert than the drunken man he’d been leaching for information. “Found him in the system the day I got back. Doc Boden, Doctor Trace Boden. Next day—no records, no history—like he’d never even worked there.”

  Not sure how to push more, Aaron put all his effort into not fidgeting or giving in to the urge to bolt.

  “Your friend ever say anything?”

  Babcock pitched his empty glass onto the table, grabbed the bottle, and took a big swill. Cradling the container to his belly, he glanced from Aaron’s half-empty glass to his face. “Disappeared. Went to my buddy’s place. Landlord said he hadn’t been there for months. Like that Doc, he disappeared, wiped clean off the face of New Delphi.”

  Aaron rubbed his face again. The images of Babcock and his story faded from his vision but lingered in his gut.

  In the quiet chill of the cavern, he looked around at Analena and the kids. He brushed one knuckle over the tears on her cheeks. He’d never seen her cry. She cursed, she fumed, she planned, but regret and sadness, those she kept locked tight. “He finished with the Regents before any of us entered the detention camps.”

  “You really think that was his wife?” Hena asked.

  He couldn’t quite tell if she wanted denial, so the story never happened, or confirmation, so they were all solid in their assessment. He gave her the truth.

  “A six-year-old daughter,” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees fingers folded together, and hung his head. “Babcock confirmed the kid, the wife—whole thing before they got wiped from the records.”

  “Somehow he got free.” Analena’s voice was steady, though her eyes remained closed.

  “Yeah, somehow, nine years ago, he got free. Coincides with the riots back then. He started over, like you did.” He ran his fingers through his hair and stood up. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough truth for one night.”

  He paused halfway to his tunnel, and spoke over his shoulder. “There’s word on the street they’ve laid in new plans. For the camps.”

  “I’d expect as much after my last breakout.”

  “Nobody’s talking, Analena. I think it’s time for you to lay low.” He caught her shrug.

  “I don’t make the calls, Aaron.” Analena glanced toward the dormant vid screen above the far table.

  There’d been no messages since she’d extracted Gar. There might be none for months. That’s the way it went. But Aaron knew if Radar messaged, she’d go.

  “You know the way it works. If one comes in, I go,” she said.

  Yeah, he knew.

  Chapter 6

  “I don’t like this. We’ve never gotten intel from anyone but Radar before.”

  Analena injected a canister of coagulant into the pouch in her belt and activated the padding before turning to Aaron. “I don’t like it either, but the word from the market says they’re taking a heart tonight. I don’t have a choice. Look, even if security is tighter in the detention camps, I’m not heading there. This is out in the open. I can change my mind if the situation calls for it.”

  “Did you try to confirm with Radar?”

  “I can’t seem to reach the network. Not even from the market. But I scheduled messages to keep alerting him so he’ll know and I can have confirmation.” Acknowledging his worry, she nodded back to the kids. “I’ll be back in two hours.”

  “If you’re not, I’m going in to get more information.”

  “You need to stay with the kids.”

  “Hena is here with the kids. They’re more likely to do what she tells them than what I say anyway.” Aaron folded his arms with a scowl. “You don’t even have Trace ready, do you?”

  She didn’t want to explain that one. Her emotions were in conflict where Trace was concerned. Part of her felt terrified of the new feelings he elicited, the other part mourned the absence of his advance commitment on this mission.

  “It’ll be fine. If I get out with the kid, then I won’t need him because they won’t have operated.”

  But she wasn’t certain and that fed her conviction that she needed to practice her own rules. No silly worries about depending on others. She’d been running missions before Onyx joined her efforts and she would run them now. In spite of Aaron’s details absolving Trace of his past, the man had too great a hold on her emotions. A little distance would be good.

  Grabbing her pack and her vid mask, she headed for the exit tunnel. She didn’t say good-bye or turn around. The first would have worried the children. The second would probably have caught Aaron sneaking out early to do just what he’d threatened.

  She could hardly blame him for doing what she’d trained him to do.

  ***

  Shepherd: Onyx?

  Confirm

  Shepherd: U scheduled for Piper?

  No—why?

  Trace clenched his teeth in frustration at the delayed response.

  Shepherd: received intel that Piper was delivered extraction details

  Intel delivered by who? The only people who relayed team information in Down Below were Radar or Shepherd. Even distress calls were verified by one of the two of them.

  Shepherd: not team

  U have confirmation of this intel?

  Shepherd: confirmation received in dark side

  Shit. The Dark Side consisted of a collection of brothels and tightly managed sex clubs. The menu delivered offerings to suit every taste, but more important, the establishments catered to New Delphi clients and Regent guards, as well as Down Below clientele. Information, always available there, came at a price. If Dark Side intel claimed an external feed for an extraction request, then it had already been delivered and most likely indicated a setup.

  Confirmation from Wolf?

  Shepherd: off grid—not responding

  Shepherd: your plan?—if Piper a target they will be at your doorstep next

  Pack up—bug out—find her

  Shepherd: copy

  ***

  A squad of sentries, eight men, paced the exterior of the Med Lab Building. Laser cannons strapped to each thigh, they checked the IDs of every citizen entering and leaving the building. Another squad held positions inside in the lobby, be
side the lift elevators and along the rear of the foyer, all visible through the twenty-foot glass windows.

  Analena adjusted the hood of her cloak, lifted her face to the sun, and leaned back against the building’s metallic gravel surface. It wasn’t too late to back out, but nothing had changed in her assessment of the situation, with either the personnel or the surrounding environment.

  Thick traffic covered Regent’s Square. Shuttle pods punched up from the transport rails below the street every two minutes, depositing ten to twenty citizens for work in front of the various buildings along the square. Hover vehicles zipped above the center grid of the street, while solar bikes and two-wheeled lazy platforms added more people to the mix.

  She could enter a pod, follow the transport line to its end, and blend back into the stream of night workers heading back home to Down Below. But bailing now didn’t sit well with her. She’d been extracting kids for a long time. This should be nothing new. Her recon for this mission was thorough, no different from the rest, and the little girl targeted wouldn’t survive to see the detention camps. Heart donors never did. So, Analena waited for movement from the building.

  Discretely angling her hand, she tapped through the latest security message feeds and localized broadcasts. All relayed more snippets for a secured personnel relocation from the Med Lab to another small facility on the New Delphi grid. Nothing from Radar. That, combined with the increased security after canvassing Down Below, torqued the chill already biting along her spine. Her refusal to contact Onyx weighed heavier. Her ostracism of him felt like betrayal, and perhaps it was, but she was too far along to send a message from above the grid.

  Her reconnaissance of the destination facility, twelve blocks away, targeted five access points to the Down Below. Too convenient for ambush.

  She’d chosen to intersect the security vehicles at a transfer point on their route. If this were a trap, they’d expect her at the termination point, not at a point en route. In theory, she could back out any time before she committed to the extraction. The transportation lines just below the street provided multiple avenues to Down Below.