Hell or Highwater (Hell's Jesters, #5), page 9
“Thought you were dead,” Greer said.
“That would’ve made things a lot simpler for you, wouldn’t it have?”
He didn’t quite wince. “Well, nothing’s simple when it comes to you, Succubus.”
Succubus. Jerry turned the word over in his mind. Some kind of demon. Well, that fits. Must be some sort of alias.
“No, it’s not,” Tina was saying. “And I’m about to make things even less simple for you, Admiral.”
“So I’m told,” he replied. “But no one has told me exactly how.” He glanced at Jerry and Josie. “Jester coded transmissions and pleas. But no explanations. It’s odd, seeing as I thought the Jesters were under my command.”
Jerry met the man’s glare, surprised himself by not quailing before it. He’d seen far, far too much to buckle before one man’s personality, even one as storied and out-sized as this one’s. “We’re here, aren’t we?” He gestured at Tina. “And she’s got a lot to tell you.”
Greer turned back to Tina leeringly. “And just what, precisely, is it you have to tell me, Succubus?”
She smiled back, almost invitingly, and Jerry’s stomach turned. “Just a word,” she replied, “a phrase I’m told you’ll recognize.” Her smile acquired a wicked twist. “Chiaroscuro.”
The near-enjoyment that had twinkled in Greer’s eyes vanished as abruptly as a curtain falling. His features smoothed into an impassivity so obviously practiced that Jerry could only presume a far stronger emotion dwelt just beneath it. “What was that?” His voice could’ve dropped the temperature of the room.
“You heard me.”
Jerry looked back and forth between them as silence dragged, became an almost physical thing as seconds passed and gave it weight. “What?” He glared at Tina. “What was that?”
“It’s a term from art,” Greer said quietly. “Means contrasting light and dark.”
“Means other things, too,” Tina said.
“The two of you should leave,” Greer said suddenly, looked at Jerry and Josie. “Don’t worry. The crew will take good care of you.”
Jerry shot Tina a glance, felt an inexplicable fear for her coil within his guts. “We’re staying.”
“My friend, if she hasn’t told you the meaning of that word, then she hasn’t told you much, at all. And that means you still have a chance to stay out of...things you don’t understand.”
“Respectfully, Admiral,” Jerry said, “you’re no friend of mine. And I said I’m staying.”
Greer scowled like a weary brawler struck from an unexpected angle. “You’re the father, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, so?”
Greer shook his head and glared again at Tina. “You’re really going to drag him in to this? He has no idea.”
“There’s no one left I trust,” she replied.
Greer hissed something under his breath, shook his head, and eyed Josie for a moment. “You, too, miss?”
“That’s Captain,” Josie growled back and stepped to Jerry’s side. “Captain Wheeler of Raider Company, Hell’s Jesters.”
“Great,” Greer drawled and shook his head one last time before taking one of the other chairs in the room. “All right, Succubus. Fine.” He fixed her with a completely different stare, one tinged with fear. “Tell me how it is you came to hear that word in relation to me.”
“Harrison’s people had me,” she said. “Pretty sure you knew that. They were roughing me up when I got a visit from someone unexpected.”
“Roughing you up? Harrison’s people means Naval Intelligence. Omura?”
“That’s right.”
Greer paled. “That means he put you through his ‘conversion’ process. I’ve heard stories.”
“Stories is all there is to it,” she scoffed, but there was no mistaking the faintest tremor. “But one of the...‘specialists’ assigned to me was different than the others, took an intense interest in me. I always dreaded it when she came. The others would egg her on.”
Tina paused to swallow and blink a glassiness from her eyes. Jerry found himself doing the same, fought down nausea. He felt a hand at his back. Josie’s, firm enough to keep him from swaying. He’d heard this all before, but damn.
“I came to realize it was a ruse. Because after she was done, after the others wearied of it and usually left her alone with me, she’d tell me things.”
“Chiaroscuro,” Greer said, very quietly.
“That’s right.”
Jerry gulped back the bile in his throat and, propelled by anger—at his confusion, at what had been done to his baby girl, God help him—demanded, “So, what the hell is it? And spare me the art history lecture!”
“It’s a code phrase,” Greer answered, sounding suddenly, infinitely tired. “It’s also the name of a secret society, one of which I was once a part. One that I thought had disbanded not long before I defected to the Union.” He leaned over the table, eyes quivering with a baleful light. “This is real? The Chiaroscuro still exists?”
“It does.”
“Prove it. Knowing the phrase means little. Who sent the word?”
“I never knew the name of the specialist.” Tina held up her chin. “But she passed me another name: Anton.”
If Greer had looked pale before, his complexion went absolutely white now. “It’s true,” he whispered. A blink seemed to focus him once more. “Then they’ve re-surfaced. Why? They’d never risk themselves unless the opportunity was great.” He stood so fast his chair screeched on the deck plate. “They sent a message, yes?”
“Two of them, in fact,” Tina replied. “The first is pretty simple. They told me where the Alliance Fleet intends to strike next: the Surigao System.”
“Surigao,” Greer repeated with a hint of doubt. “That’s awfully bold for Harrison.”
“He’ll be reinforced, heavily. And Severson will have overall command.”
Greer nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “I had expected the Admiralty to sack old Nehemiah after Fury. For good this time. Severson” he snorted “that moron thinks he’s a genius. And he’s always surrounded by people who tell him so. When will it happen?”
“Seventeen days.”
“Jesus. We’ll need to start work immediately.” He paused, stiffened a little. “That is, presuming this is legitimate.”
Tina shrugged. “You have my proof.”
“Proof gotten while you were being tortured and brainwashed,” Greer replied. “Proof conveniently placed in your mind and you conveniently dumped at an opportune moment.” He nodded towards Jerry. “You, yourselves, have misgivings.”
Jerry looked at the floor, grimacing, then up at his daughter. “Can’t help it, baby. How would you take this, in our shoes?”
Tina shrugged again, didn’t seem hurt, but didn’t answer, either.
“Harrison dropped you,” Greer said. “What was his scheme? Why did he leave you for them to recover?”
Tina squirmed a little, for the first time seemed slightly off balance. “He was hoping the Jesters would find me. Because he knew that might lead to his daughter. I assume you know her sob story?”
“I do.”
Tina half-glanced at Jerry and the fearful thing crouched in his gut clenched once more. “I, ah, didn’t quite tell you everything, Dad. I told you they were conditioning me to murder. But the one they really wanted dead—that Harrison wanted, needed gone—was the daughter.” She locked gazes with him and he saw real anguish in her shimmering greens. “They wanted me to kill Kelly Harrison.”
“My God.” Jerry felt Josie’s arm at his back again, supporting.
“He couldn’t get her to come back. So, he needed that loose end tied up, one way or another.” She leaned over her knees, folded her hands together in an almost-beseeching posture. Her knuckles blanched as the fingers entwined. “I fought it. I thought maybe I could resist it. But I don’t know.” She shook her head and a teardrop fell, splattered over her fists. “That was my task. Everything else was opportunity, and they didn’t press those too hard.”
“Harrison had his plan,” Greer said slowly, “but he was unaware of this other one being played.”
Tina nodded and looked up, wiping her eyes as she did so. “That’s right. Irony is, the Chiaroscuro obviously knows about his attempts to get her back, knows she went over to the other side. So, Harrison’s attempts to silence the story would be in vain, anyway.” She sniffled and shrugged. “Guess it’s a good thing she’s dead.”
Greer’s eyes tightened for a moment and he glanced furtively Jerry’s way, just for a split second. What was that? A jolt of hope suddenly lanced up through his core. Does he know something? Did Kelly make it? Make contact with him?
“There was a second message?” Greer prodded her.
She grinned up at him. “Yes. The original plan is back on.”
“Overthrow the Alliance?” Greer chuckled and gestured around them. “In case they hadn’t noticed, I’m in the middle of that plan!”
“You apply pressure from without,” Tina replied, “they intend to apply pressure from within.”
“What kind of pressure?”
“They fear High Councilor Noovin plans to take over all. The way he’s positioned himself and his allies, he has a clear road now. If he wins reelection, they fear an autocracy is all but assured. And the war will go on. But if he’s defeated, the peace bloc may have a chance again. It might sweep in a government willing to recognize the Union’s independence.”
Greer frowned. “I’ve heard this talk before. This isn’t a plan; it’s desperation.”
“It’s both,” Tina insisted. “They’ve obtained information about Noovin, something they say will be utterly ruinous.”
“Then they should leak that to the Alliance HoloMedia and let the sharks do their work! No need for” he waved dismissively at her “all this cloak and dagger!”
“You and I know the propaganda machine has been at work too long,” Tina answered. “Omnipresent Media will never let it be released, anyway. Noovin has his friends there. It has to come from outside.”
“What?” Jerry put in, weary of the back-and-forth. “What is it they know about him that’s so bad?”
Tina didn’t look away from Greer. “He’s a Methuselah.”
Jerry’s mouth hung open a moment before a grunt of incredulousness escaped, sputtered into a harsh laugh. “That’s...crazy. Seriously, honey, that’s fringe conspiracy nonsense!”
“It’s real, Dad.”
“The pre-AI War rulers of Old Sol, who made themselves immortal,” Jerry force-laughed, “like in those absurd HoloDramas you used to stay up watching as a kid? A cult of the never-dying who would have ruled forever, but for the Artificial Intelligences’ revolt...”
And suddenly, Jerry trailed off, his mouth drying, ice shards crystallizing in his blood to prickle along the insides of his veins. That last part of that story he knew far better than most. He knew it was true. My, God, if Ghost in the Machine is still around...
Greer, notably, hadn’t scoffed, had hardly reacted, just fixed Tina with a hard stare. “Then the Chiaroscuro has proof of it? At last?”
My God...
Tina nodded. “Anton says he has it, all of it. Medical records, pre-AI War recordings...you name it. More than that, he has evidence of Noovin’s collusion with Syntar Fleet Corporation and Bradley Boxer, illegal campaign finances, quid pro quo schemes with the transuranic market.” She leaned back in the seat. “Anton says things have gone too far. He says it’s time to let it all out.”
Greer stood up and began to pace, looked like an aged lion, prowling along the bars of its cage. He folded his hands behind his back, chewed his lip. Jerry exchanged a glance with Josie as the quiet stretched out.
At the same time, he felt unmoored, himself. Everything he knew about the galaxy seem to spin and fly apart against the insides of his skull. Ghost stories come to life and Ghosts in the Machine on the loose. Every bedtime tale had real fangs and was crawling up out of the shadows of the past, hungry and hateful.
Greer halted suddenly and turned to Jerry with a smirk. “Wishing you’d left us alone, now, aren’t you?”
Jerry stiffened his spine, determined not to let this smug sonofabitch see him sweat. “It’s jacked-up, yeah. But we’re Hell’s Jesters. Jacked-up is our normal state.”
“I see where your daughter gets it from,” Greer replied.
Jerry ignored that. “What’s important is what do we do about all this?”
Greer looked at Tina again. “Did Anton send any kind of instructions through his intermediary?”
She grimaced a little, seemed to be piecing through memories—ones that hurt. “It was gibberish, but she thought you’d understand. She said I needed to visit ‘where the Devil sits and is crowned’.”
Greer laughed, a hard, wheezing sound, almost unhinged. The maniacal note of it even seemed to alarm Tina, whose till-then conspiratorial grin fell. Catching his breath after a red-faced moment, Greer finally said, “So, old Tobruk is alive, still!”
“Admiral Tobruk?” Josie asked. When everyone looked at her in surprise, she shrugged. “He commanded the task force covering us in orbit during that clusterfuck on Tecumseh. Took the heat for it, hear tell. He retired after that.”
“He was forced to retire,” Greer growled. The moment of anger passed and he was smiling again with some reminiscence. “I drew him into the Chiaroscuro soon after that.” He turned back to Tina. “The message refers to a star port dive-bar, Trono del Diabolo, the Devil’s Throne. And it can be found planet-side on Coronado; galactic Spanglish for ‘Crowning Place’.”
“The message is telling her to go to Coronado?” Jerry gasped.
“It’s where Tobruk and I would blow off steam on shore leave, back when we were just midshipmen.”
“It’s also the goddamned staging area for the Fringe World Fleet!”
Greer turned to Tina. “Then that’s where you’re going.”
“Right.” She shot up out of her seat with eagerness that only slightly derailed when she remembered her wrists were still bound. Chuckling, she said, “I’ll need these off, first. And then, a team.”
“You’ve got one, right here.” Greer nodded at Jerry.
“Wait, what?” Josie gripped Jerry’s arm.
“I gave you a chance to go,” Greer replied coldly. “But you’re in it now. And I don’t have anyone else to spare. Not if Harrison’s coming for Surigao.”
“Hope you’ve got at least a ship to spare,” Tina said, “something fast and sneaky that can get us in there.”
“Now wait!” Jerry barked and put up his hands, as though to halt hover traffic on a crowded street. “Just, wait! Your whole plan is to sneak us down to some roadhouse on an occupied Alliance world to...to do what, exactly?” He looked back and forth between Tina and Greer, hated the way they had the same hungry grin, like it was all game, and one they’d played together many times before. “Is someone turning over this evidence to us there? How will they know we’re coming? How will we know when to meet them?”
“They’ll know,” Greer said. “Your Jester comrades will make certain they know.”
“And then what?”
“Smash-and-grab, Dad,” Tina said. “Get the goods and get out.”
“Just like that, huh? I don’t suppose you’re worried about it being a trap?”
“Walking into traps seems to be kind of thing you and I do as a family together, these days, Dad!”
He grimaced at that; another shot fired over the Cerelon mess.
“And set a trap for who?” Tina snorted. “A burned-out triple-agent and a couple Jesters? Neither Naval Intelligence or the AIB would waste the resources! No, if we’re going to get caught, it’ll be because we made a mistake.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“That’s what I do for a living, Dad.”
Jerry looked down, then at Josie. She still had hand her hand on his arm, was looking back it him—only him. Her eyes shimmered with fear, but he realized it was fear for him, not herself. And she’s scared I’m going to ask her to stay out of it. She doesn’t want to be left behind. God help him, that was exactly what he’d been thinking.
But the blue blaze in her eyes burned away any further consideration.
He turned back to Greer. “I guess those are orders, then.”
Greer shrugged. “It’s not even orders, now. It’s like I said; you’re in it. The only way out is...” he seemed to consider his words “...victory, I suppose.” He held out his hand.
“Mister Rodann, welcome to the Chiaroscuro.”
“NOT SURE HOW THEY’RE going to take that,” Kelly told the communications orderly on the bridge of the Sacramento.
“The envoys are remaining aboard,” the comm tech replied with a snappish tone. “The Jester shuttle will return to the surface without them. Escort it back to the patrol fighters, and out of range of our starships. Admiral Greer is signaling our intent to Jester Control on Shangri-La. Then we are leaving the system.”
“Roger, that,” Kelly replied, mystified. What the hell is going on?
The Basilisk was already gliding free of the strike carrier’s shuttle bay and accelerating back towards the planet.
Kelly shook her head and keyed up the squadron channel. “All right Slashers, form up on the shuttle. We’ll take her right back to the edge of the ionosphere.”
The trio of Marauders swept around on the scarred, boxy shuttle’s flanks and settled in there, falling together through space towards the blue-green ball of Shangri-La. Kelly wondered who was piloting the shuttle, and wondered, more, who it had left behind. That curiosity intensified as the Hellhounds streaked out to greet them once more. It was the same flight from before, confirmed when Tim’s voice spoke from her earbuds.
“That’s far enough, I think,” he growled—and Kelly had to wonder if he’d already been told about the arrangement. “We got it from here.”
The Hellhounds arched around from behind them with typical Jester bluster and slid up on their wings. A glance to port showed Kelly the battered starfighter she was sure had to be Tim’s. She activated the voice distorter before answering, “Understood, Jester.”
