"What a terrifying woman," Ross muttered.
"A strong, formidable personality," the pastry chef chuckled, pressing buttons on the remote to set the panel in Teddy's compartment to the internal broadcast. Aguilar had asked Fontaine for access to Lavrova's address for some reason — Ross didn't know why and wasn't particularly eager to hear her speak. He was slightly mollified by the pile of crispy chocolate cookies Aguilar had handed him before connecting to the broadcast.
Anna Dmitrievna (Good Lord, what a name! The only one worse was Vladimir Boreslavovich Tsikorin, who'd taught Teddy translation from Fahti) stood at a lectern in the middle of the conference hall. It was located in the command car and was used for crew assemblies. Now the crew was crowded below the lectern, buzzing with whispered conversation.
"Look how many there are," Teddy said, surprised. Among the crew in white-and-blue or grey-and-blue uniforms, the SS soldiers in black-and-blue stood out.
"This isn't all of them. I overheard Fontaine saying the engineering crews, mechanics, technicians, and drivers are confined to their compartments."
"That gorilla thinks one of them is the terrorist?"
"Probably. If so," Aguilar nodded at Lavrova and Fontaine, looming behind her, "I don't envy them."
"Good afternoon, colleagues," Lavrova said in her resonant voice, and Teddy once again marveled that such a powerful, low voice came from such a fragile-looking woman. "As you've noticed, the traditional pre-voyage crew assembly has been postponed by a week due to the emergency we are facing." She swept her subordinates with a cold, intent gaze (her glasses somehow made it even more terrifying). "There is a terrorist accomplice among the crew, who attempted to disable the express's navigation panel."
A loud rustle ran through the crowd, followed by exclamations of shock and outrage. People and beings surged forward, and Fontaine moved closer to the Express Chief, as if ready to shield her from a shot. Or perhaps "as if" wasn't accurate; it was probably his duty.
"With the help of Chief Engineer Shen Wei and Senior Technician Makriiri, we were able to locate and repair the damage," Lavrova continued. "However, the threat to the express remains. Tomorrow morning, I will go to the directorate and demand the voyage be cancelled, and that a full investigation be conducted. Major Phan Thi Linh, an epsilon-class being, and her team will participate in it."
Major Phan stepped out from behind Fontaine and gave a short bow.
"I order you to give Major Phan and her investigators your full cooperation. I hope this situation will be resolved as quickly as possible. Thank you for your patience and for your help with the investigation. This is necessary for our collective safety."
"What are they hoping for?" Teddy asked. "That the accomplice is still on the train and will try to kill Lavrova?"
"Or simply try to escape. Or warn whoever's on the outside. I wonder if she'll succeed in cancelling the voyage. Tampering with the navigation panel could certainly be considered an attempted hijacking."
"Why would they want to hijack the train?" Ross didn't understand. "Aside from the fact that I doubt it's even possible."
"Trains have been hijacked before..."
"Trains," the journalist snorted, "not elite Transgalactica-2 class expresses. What would the terrorists do with it? Sell it on the black market? It's not a freight train carrying livestock, machinery, or steel. Why would they hijack it if all they want is to smuggle out whatever they stole from the factory?"
"Yes, that's true," the pastry chef said thoughtfully. "But if the terrorists managed to hijack an express packed with the elite, like a pâté de sant stuffed with chestnuts, it would be the biggest hostage-taking in history. Of the most valuable hostages imaginable."
Ross choked.
"But... but... but there are other people on board too!"
"Who cares about the pawns," Aguilar murmured, "when there's a chance to go down in history as the world's most successful terrorist?"
Teddy froze. No one cared about ordinary people, but a herd of billionaires and politicians traveling on the express? That was different. A terrorist who managed to hijack the Briareus could dictate terms to the Continental Council. And... what would they demand?
Chapter 7.
June 20, Year 214 NPrE
Almonzeia, the capital of the MT Corporation's colonies on Almonzis
Lavrova's official car — a large, armored Carrera del Rossa with tinted windows — glided swiftly through the streets of Almonzeia. The armor for the Carrera had been manufactured at Bernard Ross's plant — and now Ax found it unpleasant to dwell on that fact, as if it made them all indebted to the Ross family. That the young genius of journalism had accidentally found the terrorists they were looking for was something Axel also tried not to think about. What was the Express's SS and the MT Inquiry Service good for, if a pup fresh out of university could outdo them?
White streets and buildings flashed past. One of the SS soldiers was behind the wheel, another sat beside him, two more flanked Anna Dmitrievna in the back seat, and Fontaine sat opposite her. Four escort vehicles kept position ahead, behind, and to either side of the Carrera. Though Lavrova had agreed to act as bait, no one wanted her actually killed.
Fontaine's hand rested on the grip of his service pistol; the seat next to him held an Alecto-77 — the latest model of laser rifle, with a multifunctional sight and enhanced power. It wasn't that Ax intended to start shooting a heavy-caliber weapon on peaceful city streets, but the road from the depot to the directorate was a long one, the terrorists were on edge, and anything could happen...
The convoy was headed to the most expensive business district in Almonzeia, where a twenty-five-story building housed the MT Express office. Of course, the very highest management wasn't here, in some colony in the Alpha Menaro system, but on Ayala — the very Cradle of Humanity, the planet where Marco Tadić was born. The man who discovered stream-tunnels, invented the solar drive, interplanetary trains, transgalactic communication through those same stream-tunnels — and opened the doors to space for humanity...
That's what everyone was taught in school. Fontaine had never been to Ayala, only seen it in pictures and movies — but he knew it was inhabited across its entire surface, unlike the colonies. On Almonzis, after terraforming, people could only live in two polar belts, because only there the asphalt didn't melt underfoot in the summer. The thermometer already showed it was about forty degrees outside, and it was still two hours until noon.
Axel didn't quite understand why the Corporation had chosen this sweltering place as the base for MT Express. Perhaps it was Almonzis's convenient location at the intersection of many stream-tunnels. Or perhaps it was the valuable raw material for stabilizing DNA that the Corporation extracted here. Particles of that raw material were in Axel, in Phan, in Aguilar — in every being that had undergone recombination. Though Ax had only the vaguest idea of what the recombination process actually entailed, and had never really thought about its essence. Now, the workings of a solar drive, the explosion of which had destroyed half a city during the Dorothea attack, were a different matter...
"If they blew up one of the expresses in the Main Depot, with three other Transgalacticas on the adjacent tracks, they'd pulverize all of Almonzeia and everything around it," Fontaine thought. Around ten million dead, counting the city and all the nearby industrial zones and settlements.
Almonzeia had been built in the northern polar belt, at the same time as the factories producing everything needed for the expresses. The city was home to the Main Depot with its dispatch center, where routes were planned, the Engineering and Technology University, the Navigation College, the Technical Personnel Training Center, the Service Staff Courses — the list went on. Almonzeia was one of the most tempting targets for terrorists.
The golden tower of the MT Express directorate emerged from the heat haze enveloping the city. Its tinted windows sparkled like a scattering of emeralds; on the roof, the Corporation's emblem blazed in the blinding sunlight: the "MT" monogram, with a dove in flight above it, and at its base the Birdeye — a stylized bird's head, a curved beak flowing into a round, dark eye.
The MT Express tower reminded Fontaine of an ear of corn infested with insects. Thousands of employees flooded the office complex every day, and somewhere among them, among the engineering and development departments, lurked one (one had to hope) terrorist accomplice.
The Carrera stopped in front of a magnificent white staircase. SS soldiers spilled out of the jeeps, surrounded Lavrova's car, and quickly scanned the area.
"All clear, sir," Sergeant Carver reported. "We'll deploy the shield, and you can exit."
"Good," Ax replied, slinging the Alecto over his shoulder. One of the soldiers outside activated an energy shield to protect Anna Dmitrievna from a sniper shot from above, and Fontaine unlocked the door.
"Let the show begin," Lavrova said, donning her blue cap with the silver cockade — a tiny replica of the emblem atop the MT Express building.
Ax was the first out of the car, offering his hand to the Express Chief. Surrounded by SS soldiers, under energy shields held open like umbrellas, Anna Dmitrievna and Fontaine ascended the stairs. Soldiers flung the doors open, and they stepped into the cool air of the spacious lobby. Without slowing her pace, Lavrova, flanked by armed-to-the-teeth soldiers in body armor, headed for the long reception desk. Fontaine followed, taking pleasure in the astonished and frightened looks from visitors and employees alike. One female receptionist even instinctively reached for a panic button.
"Lavrova," the Briareus Chief introduced herself succinctly, fixing the woman with a stare that made her freeze like a rabbit before a snake. "For Birhan Erdem."
"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist squeaked.
"For ten-fifteen."
The woman frantically searched the terminal for the schedule of the MT Express deputy head. The head herself, Nevenna Tadić, was at the headquarters on Ayala, as unreachable as God in the imagination of the devout.
"Twenty-third floor, office one," the receptionist said. "You'll be met."
"Thank you," Anna Dmitrievna nodded to Ax, who indicated the elevator to the soldiers. The receptionist jumped.
"Where?! I mean, only you have an appointment; they can wait here!"
"No," Lavrova replied. The woman didn't dare argue, and their tight group moved toward the elevator. The SS soldiers politely but firmly discouraged any attempts by employees to join Lavrova in the lift, after which Ax pressed the button. The doors slid shut silently, cutting them off from the stunned onlookers.
"Do you think it will work, Madame?" Ax asked (though he wouldn't mind if she didn't so much as glance out a window for the next few days without an energy shield and three bodyguards).
"Corporate gossip," Anna Dmitrievna replied, "spreads like the plague. If the traitor is still here, he'll find out soon enough."
The elevator glided upward — it was entirely glass: floor, ceiling, walls, buttons, even the lampshades, all set in intricate patterns. The elevator shaft was glass too — tinted green — so the blinding light of Alpha Menaro wasn't as harsh. When they reached the fifteenth floor, Ax could even make out the blue-green stripe of the ocean in the distance, dotted with tiny cruise ships. On the horizon, dark malachite waves seemed to touch the blazing pale-blue sky.
Ax looked down. Below lay the rectangular grid of the city center, from which roads radiated like spokes, swarming with countless car lights. From this height, Almonzeia looked like an alabaster flower with white petals studded with myriad jewels.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lavrova said. "I'll buy a little house by the sea here when I retire. What about you?"
"I prefer a milder climate, Madame."
The elevator reached the twenty-third floor. Birhan Erdem's secretary met them at the doors. The young man was trying his best to maintain his composure, though he was visibly nervous in the presence of the soldiers.
"Are they staying here?" he asked Anna Dmitrievna in a half-whisper, as the soldiers fanned out in front of Erdem's office, taking positions covering the entire reception area.
"Yes," Lavrova replied impassively, and without waiting for an invitation, pushed the door open. Ax followed his boss, ignoring the secretary's hand reaching towards his rifle.
"Oh, Madame, your entrance is more dramatic than ever!" Mr. Erdem exclaimed, rushing toward the Express Chief. "Though rather alarming! A bit like a gangster raid from an old movie, don't you think?"
Lavrova's small hand disappeared into Erdem's plump palm. He radiated joy with the intensity of a uranium isotope emitting radiation.
"Please, have a seat," Birhan Erdem gestured Anna Dmitrievna toward a deep leather armchair, barely sparing Ax a glance. "Would you like some iced coffee? A refreshing cocktail? Cold juice?"
"Thank you, no."
The deputy head of the directorate was, as Axel recalled, sixty-seven. A sleek, large man with a thick black beard touched with grey, beautiful dark eyes, and a honeyed smile. He had reigned over MT Express for over thirty years, increasing its profits to astronomical heights. Fontaine wasn't even sure there were numbers with that many zeros.
"Have you read my report?" Anna Dmitrievna asked, settling into the chair. Fontaine positioned himself to her right.
"Yes, of course, Madame. Extraordinarily interesting reading. However, it seems to me you are somewhat exaggerating the danger of the situation."
"Somewhat?" Lavrova asked coldly.
"I in no way wish to diminish the accomplishments of your security service," Erdem assured her, "nor do I deny there is cause for concern. I simply do not see it as serious enough to warrant cancelling the voyage."
"Yet," Anna Dmitrievna intoned.
"Oh, surely you're not suggesting we face a second Dorothea!"
"I am."
Erdem was silent for a moment. His radiated joy noticeably dimmed. The problem was that Erdem was, strictly speaking, Lavrova's boss. If her arguments didn't convince him, he would simply order the express to sail. And Fontaine wasn't sure how Anna Dmitrievna would persuade a man who valued money above all else — specifically, its quantity.
"But you must understand," Erdem said, "the Dorothea incident dealt a terrible blow to MT Express. If we cancel the voyage and rumors of a terrorist threat spread..."
"So it's better not to cancel and wait for the threat to become a reality?"
"I didn't say that, but..." the deputy head paused again and asked dryly, "How do you propose we explain this to all those people," he breathed the word, emphasizing they were not just ordinary people, "why we are cancelling the voyage?"
"That's what you pay your herd of marketers for," Anna Dmitrievna said. "Have you spoken with the Chief?"
"I didn't think it appropriate to disturb her..."
"I did," Lavrova cut him off, glancing at the ring-watch on her finger. "She'll call you now."
Erdem reddened and snapped:
"You went over my head to contact her?! Bypassing me entirely, without even informing me?! I thought chain of command meant something to my subordinates!"
"Extraordinary situations call for extraordinary measures," Lavrova shrugged, while Ax processed this in some surprise. "We are faced, for the first time in years, with a threat comparable to the Dorothea. You don't think Madame Tadić should know about it?"
"You are very difficult to talk to," Erdem hissed, the last traces of honey gone from his voice. "You are completely ignoring reason. Tickets have been sold — not to goat herders from some agricultural colony! My dispatchers planned the route to accommodate requests from very important individuals; we cannot arbitrarily, without solid grounds..."
A melodic chime announced a video call; the screen covering the wall opposite the desk lit up. Firing a furious glare at Lavrova, Birhan pressed the receive button.
Fontaine involuntarily straightened to attention. The Chief of MT Express was Nevenna Tadić — a descendant of the very Niccolia, sister of Marco Tadić, who had founded MT Corporation. The great inventor, consumed by discoveries that changed humanity's fate, had found no time for marriage or children, so his sisters, Niccolia and Brenna, had provided his heirs.
"Good afternoon," said the head of MT Express, a stately, commanding woman in her early seventies. Previously, Ax had only seen her in official portraits; he never imagined he'd see such a high-ranking executive in person. "I received your report, Anna Dmitrievna."
"I apologize for this overreach, Madame," Erdem interjected quickly. "I had no idea Anna Dmitrievna's concern would lead her to disturb you so inappropriately."
"I see nothing inappropriate. The last thing we need is another terrorist attack with millions of casualties. Why do you suspect a leak in one of our development departments?"
"Stealing the express's blueprints isn't enough, Madame," Lavrova said. "Only someone with the training of an engineer qualified to work on a Transgalactica-2 could understand them well enough to plan such a sophisticated act of sabotage."
"What steps have you taken?" the head asked Erdem.
"We've initiated a discreet investigation of all personnel with access to such information. However, this will take time, as the engineering and development departments employ thousands of people and beings."
"So the terrorist accomplices could be in this building right now," Nevenna Tadić said thoughtfully, then suddenly switched to Lavrova's native language. Erdem flinched as if shot, caught between surprise and indignation; Ax barely suppressed a smirk.
He had nothing against the deputy head — Birhan Erdem, who squeezed money for MT Express out of thin air, had never skimped on new equipment, supplies, bonuses, pensions, or the like. Axel understood why the thought of cancelling the voyage was worse for Erdem than renal colic — but he couldn't support his desire to push the Briareus out of the depot at all costs.
"Outrageous," Erdem muttered under his breath, but he didn't dare interfere with the conversation between the head and Lavrova. Fontaine could almost see the deputy mentally calculating the torrents of money slipping through his fingers.
"Well, then," Madame Tadić concluded in Konti. "The situation is clear to me. Of course, it's still too early to talk about cancelling the voyage..."
Erdem perked up joyfully.
"... but I think it would be acceptable to postpone it," Madame Tadić turned to Erdem. "Issue an official statement and privately inform the VIP passengers that the voyage is being postponed by ten days."
"Ten!" Erdem exclaimed; genuine suffering was written on his face. "Surely the best people and beings from our SS, together with the company's Inquiry Service and the police, can neutralize the terrorists in the time remaining?"
"Fine. Postpone the voyage by one week."
"A week? And how, may I ask, am I supposed to explain to the President of the Averon Union, Colmenares, that he won't be able to attend the economic summit in his own colonies?"
"Then put our press service to work," Madame Tadić snapped. "It would be far more regrettable if Señor Colmenares were blown up on a train along with his entire family and closest associates."
"Sir," Fontaine's earpiece suddenly crackled, "there's someone loitering outside the reception area."
"Excuse me, gentlemen," Ax said, "Sergeant Carver reports a man outside the reception area. I'm putting this on speaker."
Anna Dmitrievna raised an eyebrow, Madame Tadić frowned in annoyance, and Erdem said venomously:
"Probably some poor soul from my staff, terrified by the dramatic appearance of your gang of thugs."
"Sir, he's acting strangely," Carver continued. "He's standing in the doorway, looking us over, and not responding to the secretary."
Erdem snorted loudly.
"Of course! He's probably too terrified to even move, let alone..."
"Sir, he has a gun!" the sergeant roared. There was a moment of silence, then a laser beam sizzled, cutting a long gash in the door.
"Take him alive!" Lavrova shouted, just as Ax grabbed her and threw them both away from the desk, behind a marble column. Erdem yelped, dove into a corner, slapped a panel, and disappeared into an armored safe room, slamming the door behind him.
"Hey!" Fontaine bellowed, pounding the panel with his fist. "Open up! Madame is out here!"
Not a chance! The high-ranking bastard didn't even think of cracking the door. From the earpiece came Carver's shout: "Drop the weapon! Face down on the floor!" Anna Dmitrievna, whom Ax had pinned against the wall behind the column, covering her with his body, snarled like a tigress:
"Carver, take him alive!"
Two more shots left wide gaps in the luxurious door. Through them, Fontaine saw flashes and heard the characteristic crack of a laser hitting an energy shield. Which of his soldiers was stupid enough?!
"Carver, disable the shields!"
"It's not ours, sir! He's got the shield!"
Something in the reception area exploded with a crash, and Fontaine swore violently. Energy shields could deflect a laser beam, but at close range, they actually increased the shot's destructive power. The shorter the distance, the more lethal the ricochet from the energy shield. And here it was extremely short...
Fontaine yanked the rug, pulling Erdem's desk, with its decorative glass-ceramic top, closer. He tipped the desk over to shield him and Lavrova, rested the stock of the Alecto on the edge, and switched the sight to x-ray mode.
His soldiers in the reception area had taken cover near the door, keeping the man with a gun in his left hand and a shield on his right at bay. Axel couldn't get a good look at his face; he was thin, short, dressed in a business suit, and at first glance looked like a worn-out office clerk, not a terrorist accomplice. The gunfire kept him at a distance, but between him and the SS soldiers, Erdem's secretary was cowering under a desk.
"There's a potential hostage in there," Ax hissed.
"We need the terrorist alive," Lavrova repeated. Fontaine glanced at her. Anna Dmitrievna held a small non-regulation pistol, though Ax had no idea where she'd gotten it.
"If he takes the hostage, we won't have a choice."
"Security is already on their way up; they'll come in from behind."
"No, they won't," Fontaine said after a few seconds, studying the wrecked reception area through the scope. "The ricochet destroyed both elevators."
The carpet in the reception area was already smoldering from the sparks showering down from the wrecked elevator cars. Two soldiers opened fire again, drawing the terrorist's attention, while Carver and a third soldier crept toward him, preparing to flank him on the left and right.
"They're trying to take him, Madame," Fontaine whispered.
But the terrorist understood immediately. He glanced back at the elevators, sheltering behind his shield, and saw escape that way was impossible. He lunged toward the secretary, but Fontaine instantly dissuaded him — a single shot from the Alecto splintered what was left of the door and sheared off a chunk of the desktop right in front of him. The secretary let out a weak cry and curled into a ball on the floor, covering his head with his hands.
The terrorist turned toward the doorway. Fontaine could almost believe the man was looking him in the eye. Behind his energy shield, his face looked sickly yellow. His lips trembled pathetically, and he looked ready to drop his gun and deactivate the shield...
"Go on, boys," Ax whispered. Carver and the SS soldier were so close; the sergeant even had his taser drawn — when the terrorist screamed, "Liberté avant tout!" ("Freedom above all!"), pressed the muzzle of his pistol to his temple, and fired.
"Motherfucker!" Fontaine shouted. What was wrong with these bastards, why did they keep shooting themselves in the head?!
"Sorry, sir," Carver rumbled, kicking the pistol away from the body as the soldier deactivated the energy shield. "We'll sweep the area."
"Good," Fontaine grunted, pounding the panel where Birhan Erdem was hiding with his fist. "The fun's over, sir, you can come out!"
"Quite a show," Madame Tadić observed. "A real spectacle."
Ax flinched slightly: he'd completely forgotten she was there — that is, that the highest authority had watched the whole damn circus live. Anna Dmitrievna tried to stand, but Axel put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. The panel opened a crack, and Erdem peered cautiously through the gap.
"You can come out," Madame Tadić said dryly. "The terrorist was neutralized by Briareus personnel. I'm pleased to see our resources for selecting and training express crews are not being wasted."
The deputy head offered a sycophantic smile and crept out of his hiding place, even gallantly offering Lavrova his hand. Anna Dmitrievna gave him a look that made Birhan hastily withdraw it and turn back to the screen.
"Madame, I offer my deepest apologies for this, I'm not afraid to say, deplorable..."
"The question of postponing the voyage is settled," Madame Tadić cut him off. "Arrange for personal letters to the VIP passengers. And give your security service a good shake-up! If the SS can't identify a terrorist under its own nose, its head will soon be replaced with a being capable of handling the task."
Madame Tadić's gaze was fixed on Fontaine. Ax coughed awkwardly. He wasn't planning on such rapid career advancement, and besides, he hadn't even caught his own terrorist accomplice yet.
"I would hate to lose such a valuable employee, Madame," Lavrova said, rising to her feet. Axel immediately stood, shielding her from the smoking doorway. "Especially while we are still searching for the other terrorists."
"Nevertheless, your plan is working. Though I admit the situation is unpleasant for you, we will compensate with an increased annual bonus and higher pension contributions," Madame Tadić replied. "For now, postpone the voyage by ten days. Report to me personally on the investigation's progress every two days."
"Yes, Madame."
The head of MT Express signed off, to her deputy's despairing sighs. Lavrova tucked her pistol back into its holster, strapped to her garter. Ax humbly averted his eyes. He was used to his boss producing weapons from the most unexpected places.
"Perimeter secure, sir," Carver reported. "Security is coming up the stairs."
Anna Dmitrievna, followed by Fontaine, left Erdem's office, surveyed the carnage, and looked under the desk, where the secretary was still trembling.
"Don't be afraid," she said kindly. "We're leaving now; you'll be perfectly safe."
The young man whimpered faintly.
"Call the police," Fontaine told the sergeant. "Tell them Major Phan is needed at the scene."
"Yes, sir."
"Good work," Anna Dmitrievna added, stopping beside the dead man. "No civilian casualties. As for the terrorist... you couldn't have done anything."
"Thank you, Madame."
Ax crouched to examine the terrorist accomplice. Lavrova studied the body closely as well, touching the frame of her glasses — photographing or filming, perhaps.
He looked no different from the thousands of office workers at the directorate — no special physical conditioning, no suicide belt, no insignia of any radical group. His weapons were a Raybeam-2 pistol, a civilian-grade gun, and a shield model... Axel turned the terrorist's arm to examine the bracelet. This, however, had been stolen from express supplies.
"Do you recognize him?" Fontaine asked the secretary. The young man glanced at the corpse, paled, and swallowed hard.
"It's Guy Montelu," he managed. "From the engineering department. I could check, sir. Request his dossier from personnel?"
"Yes. Send it to me. We'll need his computer, work phone, and anything else he touched."
"How are we going to keep this quiet?" Birhan Erdem lamented bitterly. He'd finally dared to leave his office and was now looking at the body with disgust from a safe three meters away. "How could this happen — and here! In the very heart of MT Express! If this gets out, there'll be no need to cancel the voyage — all the passengers will be lining up to return their tickets."
"The world is becoming more sophisticated," Lavrova said. "So are the terrorists. A new attack on MT Express was only a matter of time."
"What will you do now?"
"Hunt them down," Fontaine said, rising. "Even a dead terrorist accomplice can yield valuable information, if you know where to look."