Extensis Vitae: Empire of Dust Read online

  Stanton fired a few rounds, drawing a cry from one of the hidden snipers. He and Reza both dove into cover beside Ciera. Gonzalez, the last recruit around the corner, shot wildly before tripping and falling behind a piece of rubble, which luckily for him, shielded him from Keeva’s next shot.

  “Not bad, Stanton,” Mason called out, able to watch the whole exercise on a VR channel streaming to his HUD. The experience was like being inside a video game. The VR overlay displayed targeting information and linked up with the modules on the training rifles and body armor to track shots fired and hits received.

  “Gonzalez, what are you doing out of position?” Ciera shook her head in frustration.

  Mason was impressed most with the young squad leader. She was one of the former slaves freed after the assault on Skin City, who had elected to join the wasteland rebels. In fact, he remembered Ciera prior to her joining the rebels since he had been responsible for her slavery in the first place, something that he wasn’t proud of. Understandably, she had been afraid of Mason at first but, along with the others, had warmed up to him after a while, especially with the charismatic Keeva throwing her support behind him.

  He didn’t know what he had done to deserve Keeva’s unfaltering support, but he knew he didn’t deserve it. The day would eventually come when he would have to abandon them, and he knew he’d feel like an asshole for doing it.

  Guilt from having too many attachments is a good way to get myself killed.

  “How are they doing, mate?” Red Royce came up beside Mason and clapped him on the back.

  The squad advanced, laying down adequate cover fire as Ciera, then Reza, followed by Stanton, all cleared the open space and made it into the cover of a relatively intact building. Gonzalez, predictably, was picked off when he tried to join them, as was the other remaining recruit. Mason couldn’t recall his name.

  “Eh… they need some work still. That new pair is showing some promise, but I still don’t trust them.”

  “Aye, I hear ya. We’ll make sure they don’t have access to any sensitive information for a while longer.”

  “They already know our location, Royce. I know you have this place covered by spoofers and jammers, but if they suddenly disappear, they could radio in our position. Your new recruitment stations need to better vet these potential recruits.” Mason had been arguing that for a month, but to no avail. Sooner or later, this is gonna bite us in the ass.

  “I know your concerns. I came up here to see if you’d like to join me in the ops center. We’ve got some new intel I think you’re going to like.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, let’s do it.” Mason switched off the VR feed and followed Royce back down a winding path toward the hidden stairwell through which they accessed their underground base. “Keeva, I’m heading back down to speak to your father. You got this under control?”

  A snort came over the link. “We’ll have these scrubs mopped up in no time. I’ll see you down there.”

  ***

  A woman’s shrill screams split the night, waking Mason immediately. Shit, now what? He sat up in his bedroll, eyes scanning the dark campsite for signs of trouble. The sleeping figures of the gang around him in their bedrolls reminded him where he was—on the road to Skin City with three truckloads of slaves.

  Another scream drew his attention to the first of the cattle trucks, where a couple hundred of the colonists were crammed inside, the living conditions almost intolerable. Christ, not another one.

  He briefly considered the quarter-bottle of whiskey beckoning to him, like a salacious lover, from where it lay next to his pack. Take a couple swigs and go back to sleep. Just like all the other times. Maybe he was too sober. Either that, or the job was wearing him down. For whatever reason, Mason decided not to ignore the brutality this time. As he got to his feet, an inadvertent groan escaped his lips from the pain in his back, courtesy of the stony ground.

  “Shut the fuck up, bitch, or I’ll cut yer throat. I might even do that first and fuck you after.” Chortled laughter met the threat. “Hold this bitch down. She’s got some fight in her—I like that.”

  Durden. I knew that fucker was going to be a pain in my ass.

  He pulled the .357 from its holster and stepped over the sleeping forms of the gang. Angus was a huge snoring mound inside his bedroll. Mason was surprised he could sleep through the commotion.

  Izzy’s eyes glinted in the darkness from where she watched silently, rolled up in her coat. “What are you doing, Mason? Let the boys have their fun.”

  “They’ve had enough fun. They can go slap around some whores after the job’s over and they’ve gotten paid.”

  Izzy shrugged and rolled over.

  I guess you’re enjoying the break while they have their fun elsewhere, is that it?

  The grunting sounds of a struggle met Mason’s ears as he approached the cattle car.

  I’m getting too old for this shit. We’ll be in Skin City in the morning. After this job, I’m telling Haze I’m done. The thoughts seemed resolute in the darkness surrounded by a group of Haze’s psychos, but he knew once they were rolling in chips, he would change his mind. He’d done it several times before. Why would it be any different this time?

  “Fuckin’ bitch bit me!”

  Mason heard a loud slap.

  “Hold her head down until I finish, Mileena.” Durden panted slightly from his struggles.

  “That should take about thirty seconds, I reckon,” Mileena replied with a laugh, her deep voice sounding more manly than Durden’s. “I get to take my turn after.”

  “Sloppy seconds—ha, I like that,” Durden chortled.

  Mason stepped up to the open door of the trailer. Janko, the mute psycho with the scarred face and the chainsaw, leaned against the doorway to prevent any of the slaves from escaping. Janko glanced over at Mason for a moment and looked back to watch the action.

  Mason gestured with the Magnum for him to move. “Show’s over—get lost.”

  The mute stared at him for a moment as if sizing him up.

  Don’t test me. Sweat trickled down his back, and he found himself sobering up quickly at the thought of having to fight Haze’s men. What the fuck am I doing?

  Janko finally shrugged and hopped out of the truck, walking back to resume his position on the other side of camp, where he was supposed to be keeping watch.

  That’s one I don’t have to tangle with… the others might put up a fight, though. Mason hopped into the truck.

  Durden, Mileena, and the third outlaw, Jarl, were too busy struggling with a female colonist to notice his approach. Durden had managed to pull the woman’s pants down and was straddling her, fumbling with his trousers. The terrified woman struggled to no avail. Mileena and Jarl had her pinned down.

  Mason felt bile rising up in his throat at the scene. I’m a damn hypocrite for thinking it, but these people don’t deserve this.

  The woman wasn’t even very attractive—she had long brown hair, dark eyes, and a plain face filled with terror. As she struggled futilely, her eyes latched onto Mason as he loomed behind the outlaws. Her eyes held a spark of hope at his arrival.

  I’m a real fucking hero, right? He was aware of the huddled mass of colonists watching the scene around them.

  “Get the fuck off her, Durden,” Mason ordered, putting as much steel in his voice as he could muster. “You three are done having your fun—go rent some damn whores after we get paid.”

  Mileena and Jarl scowled at him, their eyes traveling between his stern face and the heavy pistol in his hand. Durden ignored him and wriggled atop the woman as he positioned himself better.

  Mason lunged forward and grabbed a handful of Durden’s greasy hair. “I said get off her, asshole,” he growled, hauling the outlaw off the woman. “Get your kicks somewhere else.”

  Durden loosed a stream of curses as he stumbled, pants around his knees, and fell over. Jarl backed away, and Mileena released the young woman but regarded Mason as if deciding whether to test h
im.

  “Get out of here,” he ordered, eyes darting between the three of them.

  Durden managed to get his pants back up. He went for the pistol at his waist, but Mason was quicker. He lunged at the smaller man, grabbing his wrist with his cybernetic hand. Mason could feel the bones grind together via the haptic feedback in his hand. With his left hand, he pistol-whipped Durden in the temple with the big Magnum.

  “I said you’re done.” He held the barrel under Durden’s chin. “I doubt your pals there would shed a tear if I blew your head off—they’d probably be happy with one less person to split the take with. I suggest you all get out of here before the take gets divided three less ways.”

  Jarl was already out of the trailer with Mileena right behind him, although she cast a glare Mason’s way.

  Durden sagged against the side of the trailer. “Fuck you, Mason. You’re gonna regret this shit,” Durden snarled, but he made no further move to resist.

  “I regret a lot of things, but I doubt this will be one of them.” He shoved Durden toward the door.

  The outlaw took his time leaving, trying to regain some of his swagger. He smacked his lips in the direction of the young woman, who had covered herself again and was huddled back among her fellow colonists. “We ain’t done yet, baby. That was just foreplay. Maybe I’ll buy you at the market, and then I’ll really have some fun with you.” He chortled again, his laughter ugly. “I don’t know why the fuck Haze put you in charge, Mason. You’re a soft-hearted pussy.” He hopped out of the truck and strolled away.

  It’s because I’m not a goddamned amateur. Mason grimaced but didn’t reply. He was trying to calm his nerves; the adrenaline was flowing from the near fight with the hard-case outlaws. It wouldn’t have bothered him in the least to fill the three of them with lead right there. I’ll need to watch myself around those three, especially Durden.

  His eyes went to the young woman. She still looked scared and angry, but he saw the gratitude in her dark, intense eyes.

  Mason took a deep breath of fresh air as he stepped back into the clear night and then slammed the door and bolted it shut. Just need to finish this one last job, and I’m done.

  ***

  Mason awoke in his bunk, his HUD indicating it was 0412. His nerves were already on edge from reliving the dream, but he knew right away something was wrong—he could feel it. Urgent whispering in the hallway told him he was right.

  Flicking on the LED lantern on a crate serving as a nightstand, he swung his legs off the cot and sat up. He rubbed his face and fought to clear his mind of the dream. Ironically, that had turned out to be his last job. Reznik and Rin had ambushed them upon their return, killing the other members of Haze’s gang in the process. He had narrowly escaped with his life even though he figured he hadn’t deserved to. I was a real piece of shit, wasn’t I? Well, I’m trying to even out the ledger while I’ve still got some life left, I suppose.

  “Hey, Mason.” Ciera leaned over beside his bunk and regarded him, her dark eyes as intense as they had been in the cattle trailer that night he had pulled Durden off her. “You awake? You look lost…”

  The young woman seemed to have put the trailer incident behind her. She was a fighter who dusted herself off and got right back to her feet after being knocked down. Mason admired that quality. His preventing her rape was one of the few things he could be proud of since he had been run out of CorpSec.

  “Yeah, just bad dreams.” He got to his feet. “What’s up?”

  “Looks like you were right about those recruits—we’ve got a runner.”

  “All right. Let’s go.” He grabbed the holstered .357 Magnum from where it hung on the bunk bed.

  ***

  “I see him.” Mason watched the heat signature of the traitor creeping along the deserted street. He and Ciera were on the third floor of a former parking garage that had partially collapsed. Stanton. I knew those two were dirty. Wonder where his partner Reza is. “Three streets up and about three hundred yards out. He’s gonna be clear of the comms blanket perimeter in another minute.”

  “I’ve got him,” Ciera replied calmly. She perched her elbows on a ruined wall, holding her silenced sniper rifle steady as she peered through the night-vision scope. “Don’t you think we can bring him in somehow? We could question him—it might not be what it looks like.”

  “No, it is,” Mason said confidently. “Besides, it’s too late now. Once he gets clear of the blanket, he’s gonna blow our cover. Even if we did capture him, we could no longer trust him.”

  “Copy. Am I clear to take the shot?” Ciera was all business now.

  “Do it.”

  The ex-colonist took a deep breath and exhaled. The rifle jerked as she squeezed the trigger, its muffled report still loud in the silence of the night. The distant form of Stanton jerked and fell, hot globules of blood and brain matter bright in Mason’s infrared.

  “Nice shot. We’d better go find Reza.”

  ***

  Two rebels were dragging Reza’s corpse from Red Royce’s room as Mason and Ciera arrived. Royce sat on his bed, Keeva hovering over him in concern. A medic was patching a deep gash in Royce’s forearm. An upended lantern and stool, along with spatters of blood coating the floor and bed, were testament to the struggle that had transpired in the commander’s room.

  Mason noted the Ka-Bar knife buried to the hilt in Reza’s chest. He stooped and quickly plucked the knife free, wiping it on the dead man’s pant leg as he was dragged past, then returned it to the rebel commander.

  “That bloody arsehole would’ve killed me in my sleep. You got good instincts, mate,” Royce said with a nod at Mason. “Glad we had those tracking chips monitoring those two buggers.”

  “We eliminated Stanton, the runner. Are you all right?”

  “Aye. I wasn’t expecting him to be that well trained, though. He got the jump on me when I tried to talk him down. I’m just getting too old for this shit.” The burly commander shook his head sadly.

  “You aren’t the only one,” Mason replied.

  “You’re gonna be fine, Father. You’re a tough old bear.” Keeva kissed Royce on the forehead fondly. She smiled at Mason and Ciera and walked over, slipping her arm around the latter’s waist.

  Mason raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. I was wondering about those two. They’ve gotten awfully close. Aloud, he said, “So where does that leave us?”

  “I reckon now that those two are taken care of, it’s about time to give you all a mission. Everything’s finally fallen into place, but just fair warning—this one’s gonna be a son of a bitch.”

  Mason smiled. “About time we get a move on. This is the infiltration we talked about?”

  “Aye, that it is. You best pack your bags—don’t think you’ll be seeing this lovely abode for quite some time.”

  Finally. I’ll hopefully be able to see my son again.

  Chapter 6

  Even though she was pale and had dark spots under her eyes, Ayane Takahashi looked beautiful to Marcus. When he had entered her cell, her smile lit up the depressing space. To his frustration, this was only the second time he had been able to see her in the past six months.

  “We’re ready to go for a walk,” Marcus told the skin standing guard outside the door. “Open up.”

  “Negative. That prisoner does not have an exercise period scheduled.” The guard eyed him through the narrow slot of a window.

  “Yes, she does. I cleared it with Captain Mills. Check your orders.”

  “Captain Mills doesn’t run the detention facility,” the guard—Jones, according to his name tag—said dismissively.

  “No shit. He sent the request through the warden. Your boss. Just check your orders, would you?” Marcus strained to keep his patience, expecting the skin to roll his eyes at him. He calmed down as soon as Ayane squeezed his hand.

  Jones’s eyes unfocused for a moment as he consulted his HUD. After a long moment, he focused on Marcus again. “My apologies, Direc
tor. A one-hour exercise period has been authorized. Everything is in order.” He swiped his hand by the scanner, and the door unlocked with a clank.

  Ayane got to her feet with a faint whir from her exoskeleton. The metal feet of the device thudded heavily on the concrete floor as she and Marcus headed toward the exercise yard, Jones trailing them. The thick doors of the other cells lined the corridor as they passed.

  “How long has it been since we last saw each other? A month?” Ayane smiled as she glanced at him. “This device they stuck in my ear scrambled my HUD and blocks all Datalink signals. It even screwed up my internal clock.” The scrambler was a silver crescent arcing over her ear. Filaments ran from the device through her ear canal and into her Datalink implant, disabling it.

  “It’s been about a month,” Marcus replied. Thirty-three days had gone by to be exact, but he didn’t want her to know he was keeping track. The first four months after they had taken her away had almost driven him crazy, not knowing whether she was well or what was being done to her. All he had to go on was Bethany’s word that Ayane was in good health. During that time, he finally admitted to himself that he’d fallen for Ayane. The past month hadn’t been quite as bad after having seen her before, but he still really missed her.

  Jones grunted something incomprehensible to the guard posted at the exterior door. The guard hit a button, and the heavy door groaned as the servos began working, and then it split apart in the middle and slid open. Marcus couldn’t help but notice the twelve-inch-thick steel. It would take a hell of a lot to blast through that. He realized his thoughts were foolish, but he couldn’t dismiss them so easily. A lot of those seditious thoughts are floating around in my head lately.

  The crisp morning air washed over them as they stepped outside into the sunshine. Snow still remained on the ground, and the temperatures were supposed to stay cold. The yard was empty of inmates or guards. Marcus glanced over his shoulder and was relieved to see the doors sliding shut, the skins remaining inside. No point in them following us around. It’s not like we could just waltz right out of here.