Final Protocol Read online

  The mini receiver in my ear droned on, relaying everything coming from below, and I eased myself lower, watching as two emissaries came forward to meet two men from Hsain. The locals didn’t look happy, and even as the two groups started to speak, more Hsainiens drew closer.

  “State your name and the nature of your business.” I couldn’t clearly see his face, not from here, even with the far-range specs I used, but the way he stood, the venom in his voice clearly related how very little he wanted to mess with the men in front of him.

  A large thing, nearly twice as tall as I was, four-legged and shaggy with a grayish blue fur, planted his bulk in front. His voice was clear, save for a low, growling sort of undertone, and he spoke in the galaxy standard as he responded. “We landed off-course. We’re bound for your capital, Jiral, for an embassy meeting with your delegates. The caravan you pursue came up on our scans, and as embassy delegates, we are honor-bound to provide aid. We were on our way to do this when we realized you were giving chase.”

  “As you saw we were giving chase, you should realize you should back off.”

  The creature—was it a Thrull? I thought it might be—made a deep, growling sort of noise. It echoed across the rolling sands, and abruptly I realized he was laughing. The sound died and the Thrull took a step forward, towering over the Hsainien warrior on the sand before him. “Back off.” His massive body shifted, and my blood chilled in my veins as he shoved his weight upright. That thing, on his hindquarters, was now more than three times my height. On all fours, he was intimidating, larger than any animal—intelligent or otherwise—I’d ever come across. Standing upright, he was even more imposing. If all the stories I’d heard of Thrulls were true, then the Hsainien down there was an idiot. Or maybe a xenophobe who’d refused to ever look beyond the horizons of his own world.

  Thrulls weren’t bloodthirsty, but once engaged in battle, they didn’t stop until the opponent was dead. A strike against one of them was considered a strike against their entire world—they were genetically linked, and to attack even one of them caused a ripple in their entire population. It was understandable why they didn’t take to physical confrontations well. If nature hadn’t honed them into almost indestructible creatures, I’d feel sorry for them.

  But that colossus down there could go through almost anything put in front of him, and if anything happened to him, his people would know it and they’d hunt down his attacker. Hunt down, kill and make an example.

  The embassy had put him with this unit to send a clear warning.

  Straining to see better through my specs, I watched as one of the white-garbed Hsainiens approached their leader. They looked to be speaking, but their communication didn’t only consist of the spoken word. There was a strange set of hand gestures, and those gestures had too much significance to them for them not to mean something. No way to follow it closely though. I still couldn’t see worth anything, not from here.

  The receiver in my ear exploded with sound as the Hsainien in the front whirled back to the embassy detachment. “We will overlook your rudeness if you return to your vessel. You’re expected at the capital. Leave us to administer justice to the criminals, as our job dictates.”

  “Justice.”

  This was a new voice.

  Something about it made the skin on the back of my neck prickle.

  A man separated himself from the crew, moving forward.

  My belly twitched at the sight of him.

  I don’t know why.

  He gestured to the caravan on the far side of the ridge. As he did so, he bent his head toward the gangly limbed creature at his side. They exchanged words, but it was too low for my translator to pick up. His gray-skinned companion nodded and moved at a clip almost too fast for my eyes to track as he ran up the hill. In mere heartbeats, he stood before the caravan. I couldn’t follow that conversation, either.

  But it didn’t matter. I already knew what was being said.

  “You understand that as members of the Severian Galactic Federation, you are obligated to follow the laws outlined in regards to how offworld refugees and prisoners are dealt with.” The man’s dark skin, his broad shoulders, the very way he held himself commanded attention. His uniform matched the uniforms the others wore, although the deep gold along the shoulders signified something, I was sure.

  “I do not know what you speak of, offworlder. Be plain in your speech,” the Hsainien said.

  “Hmmm.”

  He turned his head, and although I couldn’t see him, I knew the direction of his gaze. The caravan on the hill.

  Bodies emerged from the low-gliding units. They looked to be men and women. But…my breath lodged in my throat as bodies began to twist and morph.

  Son of a bitch.

  “You chased after Emiri form-changers. They are not of your planet. The women they rescued weren’t of your planet. Regardless of whether they broke your laws or not, these people will face an embassy tribunal—offplanet. They’ll face a court of the federation—not Hsainien justice.” His voice turned mocking as he looked to the Hsainiens. “I’m quite certain none of your scans showed any DNA abnormalities, of course.”

  I don’t think anybody in the caravan moved as the male with the human appearance continued to speak with the Hsainien leader. I know I didn’t. I continued to watch the male. I wanted to see his face. I needed to see his face.

  But he didn’t look at me.

  When the white-garbed aboriginals fell back, I heaved out a sigh of relief. He’d done it. That human male down there had won against the Hsainiens—on Hsain. They’d actually backed down.

  The gathering started to splinter and I had to back away. Those who’d been in the caravan followed the embassy detachment. The Hsainiens went in the opposite direction, albeit reluctantly. What stopped them, I wondered. The Thrull? Or the storm of shit they’d face if they tried to cross those within the embassy?

  I lingered another moment, might have lingered longer, except I noticed he had stopped, the tall, dark shadow with the mocking voice and powerful form.

  He was looking in my direction.

  Although I knew he couldn’t see me, my skin still prickled and my instincts screamed.

  Nerves wracked me and I reached up, resting one hand on the blaster at my side. I put the other hand on my belt, touching the darts tucked inside.

  Get away.

  Get very, very far away.

  It sounded like an excellent plan.

  But at the same time, some part of me wanted to stay, even as he took one step in my direction.

  His face…

  The visor I wore zoomed in, giving me a clear visual.

  I sucked in air, the hot, desert air searing my lungs. Hsain’s atmosphere was compatible with most oxygen-breathers out there, including humans, but you’d think I’d just drawn in some sort of drugged gas. Black dots danced before my eyes and my head started to spin. Shaken, I slammed a hand against the rough bark of the litir tree. His face…

  He took another step in my direction, not even pausing when the Thrull called after him. He answered over his shoulder and I found myself staring at him, mesmerized. He couldn’t see me. My cloaking was still engaged and I’d be imperceptible to the eye.

  But my heart started to race.

  This was dangerous.

  Slowly, I took a step back, then another.

  He continued to stand there, and I watched him as I walked backward, losing myself in the litir field.

  Chapter Six

  There was a transmission from Gold waiting for me.

  He hadn’t signed it and it was encrypted. Knowing him, it would be all but impossible to trace it too, but there was no denying who’d sent it.

  The dataport built into the comm panel did a retinal scan before I could access the transmission, and I settled in front of it, arms crossed over my chest, as I star
ted to read. It held schematics, images and architectural layouts of the buildings where the embassy members would be, the standard info I’d expect to find, plus a vast array of cultural details that, I assumed, might come in handy.

  What it didn’t have was information on my target.

  I dug my nails into my arm and moved closer.

  There was a note, added in at the bottom, and the very sight of it made blood roar behind my eyes, the harbinger of a headache no painkiller would touch. Unless of course it just put me out of my misery—permanently.

  Further info to follow once you reach access point.

  That son of a bitch.

  He was just going to leave me hanging until I was actually on the grounds. Some part of me was tempted to tell him to fuck himself. Up the ass. Sideways. With something rusted and diseased.

  I could walk out there, away from the shelter I had here in this small copse of trees, away from the dark-speeder, and find death. In the hot Hsainien suns, if I didn’t take water, I’d be dead within two days. I could even shorten it. I had poisoned darts, several vials of poison in my supplies. Kill myself and leave him to wonder if the job was finished.

  Except he’d get the news from the bioseal within hours. That wouldn’t be so bad. He could rage and fume about that. Then try to send somebody else or give up.

  The question was—did I want death or did I want freedom more?

  It really wasn’t a question at all.

  The planet of Hsain looked to be nothing but one giant sand dune, one endless wave of sand after the other. That sand gritted in my eyes, covered my skin, my hair. According to the coordinates I’d fed into the device I wore about my wrist, I was moving at a good clip toward the capital.

  If I hadn’t trusted the device, I’d have thought it was busted. It felt like I was in the middle of nowhere. Or perhaps in the middle of hell. But I did trust the unit I wore. I’d designed it myself and had a tron genius fit it out. It looked like a bracer, the kind you might see in historical holos about the old planet, a long sleeve of synthetic, lightweight metal that went from my wrist to halfway up my arm, but it was much more than just a supportive or decorative piece of equipment. It held a mini tron system: could send a transmission, map out a route, call up information—just about everything the dataport on my speeder could do. Plus a few more tricks.

  Right now, it was just another layer for sweat to pool under, but as long as it got me to Jiral, I didn’t care.

  “How much longer?”

  The reply made me scowl. I’d be there by the semitwilight that served as night here. With four suns that never went below the horizon at the same time, this place didn’t go into full dark.

  But I didn’t want to plod along through the sand for another two hours.

  I wanted shelter from the merciless suns. I wanted cool water against my skin. I wanted something icy to swallow and I wanted darkness.

  If I survived this job, I was never going to go to a planet with more than two suns again. Ideally, only one. Then I could have true night. Maybe a green planet, like Old Earth. I’d never seen it. It still wasn’t habitable, but like most of the Earth descendants, I’d heard stories. Blue waters, green lands, mountains. It sounded like heaven.

  And I was stuck here in a sandy hell, dreaming about it when I needed to focus on my job.

  “Pull up the building schematics. I need to start finding the best routes in and out.”

  There was a pause, followed by: “Standard routes?”

  “Yeah.” For me, standard routes meant the ones where I was less likely to be discovered. “If possible, try to get a probability on where the Embassy boys will be staying.”

  “Should I look for Embassy female delegates as well?” These things are so literal.

  I snorted. “There won’t be any.”

  It was a punch in the face, but the Embassy wouldn’t take a chance on that. The current president was I’Riga Kle, a female from the Fmil system on the outer edges of the galaxy, and she didn’t bullshit, didn’t kowtow and didn’t play games with anybody. But this wasn’t a game.

  It was life and death.

  The proper protocol for dealing with planets or systems that were less than welcoming to particular populations had been established a long time ago. In more blunt terms, the Embassy had to deal with racist, sexist, xenophobic cretins who preferred to believe they were the superior—and only—true race that had a right to exist in the galaxy. Often the Embassy had to deal with them, and it was a needle in the eye to do so, but the Embassy was charged with keeping the people of the galaxy safe.

  When necessary, certain peoples were advised to avoid said planet, said system. It wasn’t one-sided, either. There are a few planets in Fmil where Earth descendants are pretty much hated—many of the races are suspicious. Humans are thought to be as diseased as the planet we left behind and cursed for what we’d allowed to happen to it.

  There is one planet in particular where, if a human breaches the atmosphere, she or he runs the risk of being burned alive. There’s also a planet in Kor where men are considered lesser creations. Reshel had come from that planet. From Diec. Her kind were ruthless, brutal and efficient killers. Her mother had made the mistake of having…kind feelings toward the males in her house, and she’d been put to the death, along with the males. Because Reshel had been an infant—and female—she was spared, but she’d been sold into slavery. That was how she ended up in Gold’s not-so-loving care. He’d had her since she was a baby.

  And now she was gone.

  One of the few I could have considered a friend. It hurt too much to think of it, so I didn’t let myself. I focused on the schematics instead and plodded along through the sands.

  There was one that particularly caught my eye.

  I tapped the schematic and watched as it enlarged, an overlay that spread across the sand. “What’s this?”

  “Aqueducts. Used prior to the modernization of the water system. The building is centuries old and has been modernized and updated twenty-nine times in the past five hundred years.”

  “Twenty-nine?” I wrinkled my nose. “Why don’t they just tear it down and start fresh?”

  “Hsainiens place much significance on the history of their planet and their people. They use their own builders and historians during the reconstruction and restoration, keeping the building intact where possible.”

  “Huh. So this aqueduct. Is it stable?”

  “Please provide information on the use needed.”

  “Well…”

  I was reluctant to go into that much detail. If I was caught, my tech would be taken. My security measures were good, damn good, but nothing was infallible. “Why don’t you just give me the rundown on how stable it is?”

  There was a pause, followed by: “It is cleaned by drones. Air quality is inadequate. Passing through would require use of a puri-mask or you risk breathing in toxins. On occasion, repairs are made by hand, but the size of the aqueduct is inadequate for large beings.”

  Mentally, I smiled, but I let the unit continue as I forged on through the sand.

  I filed away the information, committing it all to memory as my eyes scanned the horizon. The sand was unending and I was all but inured to it by now. I had to look at the horizon for a full five heartbeats before I realized something was out there, beyond the sand, a darkening stain that spread out.

  “Jiral,” I murmured.

  “The city of Jiral is within sight.”

  Curling my lip, I said, “Thanks.”

  It had been hidden, I realized, by the swells of the sand. Now, as I started to descend, I felt my heart thud up into my throat.

  This was it.

  If I made it into that city, I was that much closer to fulfilling my obligation to Gold.

  And if I didn’t?

  Then I was that much closer to being f
ree.

  I would be free too. Sliding my hand along the cool, slick bracer, I gripped it, like I was dying and it was the one thing that would bring me life.

  But in this case, it was the opposite.

  If I was captured, or in danger of being captured, this was the one thing that would bring me death.

  “Go through the final protocol,” I murmured, cutting into the chatter in my head.

  “Is it likely to be needed?”

  There was a subtle change in the tron system’s voice. My system had been allowed as much artificial intelligence as I felt safe in giving it. Not so much that it might feel the need to reach out to somebody if it saw the desperation in my plans and not so much that it might question why I felt the need for the final protocol. But enough that it would enact it and follow through without question when the time came.

  “It could be needed. I’m on a hostile planet. Women here are not treated kindly. If I get into trouble, it won’t be easy to escape, and being taken hostage isn’t acceptable. The final protocol is the last resort, but I want the plan reviewed.”

  “I advise that we call for assistance now.”

  “There is no assistance. Review the protocol.”

  There was a pause and then, as I stopped to take a drink from the tube tucked into my suit, I listened.

  My skin chilled, my heart sped up. Some part of me wept.

  Really, though, this was a much better option than any of the others.

  Chapter Seven

  The aqueducts, as it turned out, weren’t necessary.

  The remainder of my trek, including a brutal seventy-two minutes in which I had to bury myself in the sand and shudder as mites and other nasty things crawled inside my suit, was spent educating myself more on Hsainien culture.

  Specifically, how they dealt with offworlders. They wouldn’t tolerate anybody who wasn’t necessary, but since they didn’t want to be cut off the trade routes entirely, they’d decided this diplomatic visit was necessary. The residences for any and all diplomatic personages weren’t kept inside the city, but just outside, within their own fortified keep.