Chronicles of a Space Mercenary 0: Tanya (4 page)

Starlark, her small ship, would never get into Mordalin airspace without setting off every alarm on the planet. If she landed and docked legally there would be a record of it, and using her real name was out of the question. If she used an alias it would still be her alias, and that too much information to allow them to have in connection to such a big case.

She would be recognized as the assassin after thorough investigation, after every
other rock had been turned
, and even if her real identity wasn’t uncovered they would still know a great deal more about whom they were looking for. That was far too much risk on a job this big. No such records could be allowed to
be generated
. They could not be allowed to garner even the slightest scrap of intelligence. The assassination of a Senator would result in the largest m
anhunt Mordalin had ever seen.
Tanya had to get in without leaving a record, and then she had to get out after, without leaving any evidence!

She was in Mordalin’s orbit now, high above that world, docked at the Grand Palomino Resort and Casino, and acting the part she played the best. The society girl out on a lark and a whim spending daddy's credit notes at the tables and all the while drinking heavily and then back to her ship to sleep it off. Or so it appeared. Tanya's metabolism was
much too high for that, part and parcel of her enhancements. She could get drunk if she wanted, but it took effort.

Mordalin's orbit was littered with every manner of space habitat imaginable, all the way up from tiny one family single-dwelling
fixed
habitats
to other Five Star Resorts far larger than the Grand Palomino. In space, imagination and budget were the only limiting factors to the size
and volume of a habitat or ship. T
he Grand Palomino was getting her money because it was parked in its stationary orbit directly above the Senator's home far below. Every space habitat was parked in a stationary orbit or it would be like bumper cars in the crowded orbital levels, but the Grand Palomino’s precise location and cover had been perfect. Being docked to the exterior hull of the Grand Palomino gave Starlark's very sophisticated cameras the chance to give Tanya her first live-feed of Senator Geble's secluded home. Three days of cloudy, stormy skies had finally broken and Starlark's cameras were running non-stop.

Tanya probed with scrabbling fingers further up the wall until she found a joint she could get two of her fingers into. Carefully and slowly so as not to dislodge a rain of sandy old mortar to the ground below, she dug the two fingers into the rotted mortar between the two bricks she had chosen and then wedged them there in place by balling her hand as best she could around the fingers wedged in the wall. It took every bit of her strength to continue on, she was growing tired quickly, but there was nothing left now but to go forward. To go back meant the children would go hungry. There could only be forward.

Tanya tested the hold by putting some weight on it, and now sure it was secure she released her hold with her other hand and pulled
herself up that little increment, the free hand now searching around on the surface of the wall above, seeking yet another finger hold. She found one easily; the buildings here were literally falling apart from neglect. Those who made their money here did not invest here for the most part, and Tanya continued to crab up the wall, ever so slowly, one small increment at a time, taking the utmost care with every single move. One finger and toe hold at a time. Her toes had grown used to doing what toes had been designed to do in the beginning, Tanya could not remember owning a pair of shoes, and her toes were as mobile and strong as little fingers.

Clinging to the side of the building, now seven stories above the hard ground below, she was nearly invisible when one of the security thugs walked to the corner of the building to look down the small passage between their building and the building next to it. Tanya froze, glued to the wall high above. If the guard had angled himself perfectly and looked directly up, he would have caught Tanya portrayed against the clear backdrop of the starry sky above. But he neither looked nor had reason to, and returned to the rest of the group and the banter and weed that were always being passed around there. He really didn't know what had caused him to look, possibly a premonition, but one that he did not
thoroughly
heed.

Tanya's goal was the kitchen. She had neither the need nor desire for drugs or money, and either would be a lot more difficult to steal and a lot more noticeable when stolen. If she stole money, it would only be to buy food anyway, so it was simply easier and safer to go directly for the food.

The kitchen was on the seventh level. She had seen it from the derelict building next door. She had actually contemplated jumping from one window to another, but if she failed the fall would certainly kill her, though she thought she was positive she could do it. She did not know any units of measurement by which to gauge the distance between the two buildings, only her own abilities, and the thought of making that jump was t
errifying as well as heady. T
he risk being too great, the
unknown too frightening, she
decided to climb.

Tanya had not
been sure she
could
climb the old rotted walls o
f these buildings until she
actually tried. There
was simply no other option
. No other way to get what she needed for the children and herself. Even now, even though
she had been doing this
for several months, she still refused to let herself look down once she was upon the wall. She wasn't at all positive she could handle it. S
he knew what would happen
if she panicked; she would fall. Progress up the wall was slow and painstaking. If she began to panic she knew she would attempt to hurry and the result would be her death. This was either done slowly and painstakingly or it wasn’t done at all, and she may as well have attempted the jump. At least that way it would be over quickly, she thought with wry humor, very much needing every bit of enthusiasm she could muster. Every time she did this it was a fresh challenge, and despite how ma
ny times she had done it, it
never became easier or less frightening. Tanya could feel the void below her, the void she refused to look down to see. It felt vast and empty.

The lights in the kitchen were off at the moment, but could come on at any time. There was no set pattern to when they used their kitchen. There was a risk at every step of this endeavor. Almost every step Tanya had taken throughout her young life had been rife with danger. It
was
n't that she wasn't scared
she simply had no choice. She finally reached the kitchen
window
and once there quickly slipped over the sill and
into the room
.

She knew what a refrigerator was and she went to that first. She didn't want to take anything obvious or do anything to draw suspicion that there was a cat burglar making visits, because the word would spread and they'd be watching for her everywhere. Though Tanya was only thirteen years of age, she was thorough and cunning. In the tax-free zone you grew up quickly or you died, and Tanya never did anything without first trying to see it from every angle.

The freezer was full so she took two frozen packages of meat. She didn't know what kind of meat it was and she couldn't read the packaging but meat was meat, a rarity for the children. She put them into her shoulder pack and went to the cupboards. A quick search uncovered a number of bags of rice as well as other staples, and Tanya took a little of each. It was then that she saw it, lying on the counter-top in plain sight.

It was a ring. Possibly someone had taken it off while they worked in the kitchen and forgotten to put it back on, or had simply left it there knowing it should be safe. Before Tanya even knew what she was doing the ring was in her hand. It was a man's ring but it was beautiful beyond words. It fit her thumb perfectly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” A voice screamed as the interior door slammed open and the lights came on. Tanya didn't even turn to look. She could feel him coming for her and she knew there was no time to spare. She spun and ran for the window….

And then the memory just faded away once again. Tanya was left stunned and wondering what the outcome of the leap had been. She knew what her younger self had been thinking, those memories as clear as every other part of the remembrances, and it could be none other than her younger self, of that there was no longer a question. She had assuredly meant to jump from one building to the next, and she was still here today, so she had obviously survived. As she looked back now she could hardly believe the daring
and audacity of her younger self
, now that she was beginning to remember that time in her life. She wondered also how she had lost all these memories, her
entire
memory of that
period in her life! H
er whole childhood vanished into the mists of obscurity
? What atrocities had occurred that her younger self could not speak? Why couldn't she remember that time in her life? She didn't have a clue.

Chapter 7
 

“Receiving tachyon communication.”
The simple mind of Starlark informed. It wasn't that Tanya couldn't afford a sentient AI to run Starlark, but she didn't want one. She wanted no one, not even a computer, in control of her ship or her destiny. An AI could talk as well, and they often did. An AI was out of the question in her line of work.

“Put it on-screen.” Tanya said. The screen came alive with static, it was an audible transmission only, as Handler spoke;

“How's the vacation?”

“Great.” Tanya said. “Ah, I'm going to need a little more money. I haven't been doing so well on the tables.”

Handler laughed heartily, like any rich father might at his daughter's excessive expenditures, though the message was that Tanya needed more time to study the layout. That the mission
’s security
was proving more
complicated
than expected.
“How much more?”
Handler asked with a voice full of tolerance, the doting father.

“At least a week's worth.”
Tanya laughed.
“A hundred thousand?”

“That much?”
That long?

“It is my Birthday, daddy!”

“Yes it is darling . . .” The conversation carried on in this vein for a while and then the communication was ended. The hundred thousand Credits would be wired in, and she would spend most of it on the tables. Pocket change compared to the money being spent overall, her fee a major part of it, but the job probably quadruple what her fee would be, at the minimum. Handler, or whoever his handler was, did not fuck around. An Organization which both had to be invisible as well as approachable, though Tanya had no idea how its clients were acquired, had to also make a lot of money to maintain stealth. Tanya left unsolved politically motivated murders behind herself everywhere she went
. S
he was
also
far from the only Operative working for the Organization, and unsolved politically motivated assassinations tended to rile governments.

No doubt the authorities had reams of statistical data suggesting a link between many of her assassinations
. T
hat they were all or many
of them done by the same person, b
ut having statistical data that the hits
were all carried out in a similarly professional fashion, suggesting a single assassin, did not mean that they had any idea who she really was. Not when there were over four hundred human worlds and trillions upon trillions of human beings to search through. It did mean that Handler's Organization had to maintain the finances to stay hidden from the Federation. No easy task, given that the Organization’s primary business was assassinating Federation Politicians.

The irony consisted of hiding from the Federation, though the contracts themselves were almost always taken out by Federation politicians in the first place, and the Organization’s role and continued existence was only tolerated due to its usefulness as a tool of the trade in the business of politics; the largest, second oldest, and most cutthroat business in the universe.

Tanya really had no idea but surmised that she had done jobs for every political faction in existence, however many there were over the hundreds of human worlds and the myriad levels of bureaucracy that made up each government. Assassination was just another weapon to be employed in the undeclared war for power that never ended. Tanya didn’t care. It put money in her pocket, and that was good enough for her.

The remembrance was back upon her in a flash . . . she was running for the open window seven stories above the ground. Three running steps to the window, the third st
ep a left-leg
leap for the open window,
her
fourth
step
her right foot catching the sill squarely and launching her, arms flailing, across the span between the buildings and into the window she had aimed for. She hit the floor rolling and was up
instantly, running despite the pain, inconsequential compared to the danger behind her.