The Rise of Io (20 page)

He has a point there as well. However, we need this Riseevar.

“I suppose not,” she said. “I won't fault you for keeping this source to yourself.”

“Thank you, Adonis.”

“But now that I am aware of it, hand over all of the information. I will oversee how to best proceed from this point on.”

Surrett didn't reply. He set his jaw and his eyes darted around the room. She could see his thoughts run as he frantically tried to figure out a way not to lose such a powerful playing piece to her. He took a step backward.

It was time to pull rank. Shura stood up and stared the non-blessed Genjix operative down. “I am an Adonis vessel, Deputy Minister. Hand it over right now or I will gut you from throat to navel before you step out of this room. And before you die, you will reveal your source because it will be the only way I will stop your suffering.”

Well, that escalated quickly.

Surrett's eyes widened and, for a second, he looked like he was going to run anyway. Then he bowed and took out his tablet, and punched a few keys.

Shura checked the file and then nodded. “You may leave.”

“Adonis,” Surrett begged. “You promised to sponsor a Holy One if I prove myself. Perhaps we can reach an agreement–”

“Get out.”

That was inelegant, Shura. The minister has a right to be compensated for a valuable resource. You should have offered him assurances.

“The only thing the man desires is to become a vessel. In my estimation, he is not worthy and I refuse to lend my reputation to sponsor a Holy One for him.”

This will come back to haunt you.

Shura had already forgotten about the deputy minister. She skimmed the dozen Prophus operations, safe houses, and spies that Surrett had uncovered. He had been very public and detailed on all of the victories in his reports.

The man really does seem to like writing them.

More interesting to her was how he had gone about becoming the handler of this Riseevar. According to his own private admission, he had not discovered a Prophus double agent as he had claimed. Rather, this Riseevar had come to him because of a past indirect personal connection involving some event in Greece shortly before the start of the Alien World War.

Shura dug even deeper. Her eyes widened when she came across a ten year-old report. She smiled, a warm memory sweeping over her. She brushed her fingers over the name on the tablet. “Hello, love.”

That is a name I have not seen in a while.

“I see it appear now and then in scattered reports. He's building quite a name for himself. I wonder how he is doing.”

It is too bad we cannot use the double agent to get his attention.

She read the old report several more times, noting the relationship between Emily Curran and Surrett Kapoor. Her thoughts lingered on how the report ended and the list of casualties that followed. “That was why the Prophus agent Emily Curran was here in India,” she muttered. “The woman was looking for closure. She was hunting for the person responsible for Greece. That was how Surrett got in touch with the double agent. She was lured.”

Perhaps there is a way we can use this to our advantage. Listen carefully.

Tabs's plan was bold. It required certain assumptions and more than a bit of luck, but this was the leverage she was looking for. She pulled up her comm and made the call. It took a few jumps through operators to underlings to subordinates to direct reports – her standing was too low to call someone on the Council directly – but she eventually reached who she was looking for.

The face of a handsome young Korean man appeared in the air above the tablet. “How goes it, daughter? The regular updates from the minister in charge of the project went from annoyingly excessive before you got there to absolutely nothing. What is going on?”

“High Father Weston, I have a proposition for you.”

Weston chuckled. “You forget your place, Shura, but I'm amused and a little intrigued. You have five minutes.”

“I want you to officially title the Bio Comm Array facility under my control. In fact, I want you to give me India, the entire region.”

“Why would I do that? There are half a dozen high-standing vessels with interests in that country, including my own. Until a Holy One has the strength to conquer and claim it, it stays unclaimed. It is the Genjix way. To just offer you a territory with as much potential as India makes little sense.”

“Because I can get someone you want,” Shura smiled. “Someone you, or your Holy One Zoras specifically, want badly. Give me India, and I will deliver him to you.”

E
lla had finally turned
the corner in her training. She was already making quick progress with the knives, and now Manish had begun adding elements of Escrima knife fighting.

“After all,” he had said, “what if you run out of knives?”

“Wouldn't they already be dead, or at least bleeding like pigs?” she had answered. He grunted, then proceeded to dodge six knife throws and box her head silly. Ella got the point. The old man was a slippery target. They spent most of their days now doing exercises that involved short vicious strikes with blades.

Pull from sheath, slice arm, slice thigh, stab chest. Pull from sheath, dodge, slice the side of the knee. Roll from harm, pull from sheath, stab downward into the top of feet. The emphasis was always on getting to safety, cutting the part of the body closest to her, be it a hand or leg or butt, and then escaping. Rarely did Manish want her to make a killing blow. The repetitions went on and on until Ella felt as if she could do them in her sleep, but they kept going.

“This is starting to bore me,” she bellowed in exasperation after several weeks of twelve-hour days. “You're starting to bore me.” As much fun as this was at first, Ella's attention could only be held for so long.

“Bored of knives already, eh?” A devious grin appeared on the coach's face. “Really, that's too bad.” He disappeared into the back office and came back a few minutes later carrying a black tube of cloth. He placed it on the table and slowly unrolled it. Ella's breath caught with each unrolled segment as it revealed an assortment of shiny blades of all shapes and sizes. The last to come out of the black bag of goodies were two wicked-looking serrated black knives, each as long as her forearm. They were awfully pretty. She reached for one. Manish slapped her hand away. “Still bored?” He broke into a smile and handed her one of the long knives.

Ella handled the knife reverently and practiced some slashing motions. It felt wonderful in her hand. “It's lighter than it looks.”

“High-grade carbon steel. Here.” He handed her one of the smaller knives. “Balanced throwing knives. They're a little heavier than what you're used to, but they'll fly true.”

Ella oohed as she took one and flung it across the room. It lodged in a wooden beam with a solid
thunk
. She took another knife and spun, throwing it in the other direction, puncturing the back of a plastic chair. “These are so nice.”

Manish handed her another knife to play with. “Been sitting in my closet ever since I retired. Thinking maybe you'll put them to better use.”

Ella's eyes widened. “Coach, I can't.”

He waved her off. “It's all right, girl. They're all yours. I'll charge the Prophus a premium for them anyway. Just take care of my babies and promise to use them on the Genjix. That's all I ask.”

Ella plucked two more knives out of their pockets and held them in each hand. She pretended to pull them out of an imaginary sheath strapped to her thigh. “I'm going to need to get Ando to make new sheaths for these knives.” She broke into a wide smile. “I feel like a real badass, a real knife expert.” She practiced more slashing motions.

“You think you're an expert with a knife?” Manish laughed. “At best, you are a good beginner. I've taught you enough that you won't cut your skinny toe off. Five more years and I maybe will admit you are my student.”

“Five more years?” Her voice climbed an octave. “I've already been doing this forever.”

“You've only been training for four months.”

“But all day every day!”

“Maybe if you weren't so adamant about guns, you could switch it up a bit,” a voice said from the door. Ella only knew one person with a British accent. Her face scrunched and she squeezed the knife in her hand tightly.

Remember. Give nothing away.

She turned to face Hamilton. “What are you doing here?”

What did I just say? Be nice.

“I can't help it.”

Ella hadn't seen her auxiliary since they recorded the minister's speech. They had spent most of the day there, blending into the crowd as they snapped photos and recorded videos of the minister, and tailed him as he walked through the event.

After he left, they spent the rest of their time taking photos of anyone who looked important. Besides the minister, Io had Hamilton and Ella snap photos of all of the minister's assistants, personal bodyguards, and this out-of-place but pretty blonde woman.

She thought it was all a waste of time. After all, the minister was always on television and had his face on posters all over the city. Couldn't they see what he looked like on the Internet? Hamilton had explained it had something to do with facial recognition software or blah blah something something with their special secret equipment. He also explained the advanced electronics they used recorded much more than video and sound. Ella wasn't sure what that meant and assumed it was just some spy stuff.

What made Ella suspicious most of all was, after they were done, he had balked at handing the raw data to her, as Io requested. The man actually tried to disobey Io's orders and keep it all to himself. They got into a shouting match inside her home and it got so bad Ella had to bar her door and threaten him with her shank. Her auxiliary finally relented, but any trust she had for the man was shattered, and things had only deteriorated from there. After all, as Io had confirmed, the one common thread between all the recent bad things that had happened lately was the Brit. He was jealous of Ella having a Quasing and had the most to gain from betraying them.

“Hello to you too, Ella.” Hamilton looked over at Manish. “Greetings, coach.”

“Did you get me my raise?” Manish waved back. “I'm putting far too many hours into this ungrateful runt.”

“You said you thought of me like a daughter,” she shot back.

“I said that because I needed someone to help with the chores.”

“Is she still refusing to learn how to use a gun?” Hamilton asked Manish.

The coach shook his head. “I've given up trying. You want her to shoot, you teach her.”

“How utterly stubborn and foolish,” Hamilton said.

Ella threw her knife and sunk it into the soft mud in between Hamilton's feet. “Don't talk to me like I'm not standing right here.”

Hamilton approached Ella and leaned in. “Message from Command. Wyatt wants to know if we had any more raw data from our surveillance. He said it wasn't as useful as Command had hoped.”

Tell him we sent everything.

“Are you sure?” Hamilton pressed when she replied.

“Of course I'm sure.” Ella didn't actually know. She remembered plugging the thing into the laptop, punching a bunch of keys, and dragging and dropping files from one folder into another. She remembered watching some bar move until it hit one hundred, and then that was it.

Ella had taken to using the computer, and within a few short weeks under Io's tutelage, had picked up reading English rather quickly, but she still had a way to go. Her Quasing had said she was already reading at fourth-grade level, which honestly didn't sound so great. Still, it was better than nothing.

One step at a time. I am proud of you.

“Would you mind if I stopped by tonight to take a look at them?” he asked. “I thought we went over everything rather thoroughly. Just as a precaution.”

Do not let him. He may be trying to delete something important.

Ella shook her head. “Sorry. I'm busy.”

“Oh? With what, may I ask?”

“None of your business.”

“I'm your auxiliary. If it's Prophus business…”

“It's not,” Ella replied hastily. “It's personal.” She looked across the room and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I am hanging out with Aarav.” She began kicking herself immediately.

“Oh?” Hamilton looked over at Manish's nephew and smirked.

That only pissed Ella off more. “Hey Aarav,” she yelled, so loud her voice carried across the room. “Where are we going tonight?”

Aarav, who was teaching a beginners boxing class, locked eyes with her. He looked confused. “Uh, what?”

Ella crossed her arms and stomped her feet. “Are you telling me you forgot?”

The big man looked crestfallen. “I must have forgotten.”

That poor stupid guy. Ella felt awful for putting him in this position. She promised she'd make it up to him later. She turned to the Brit and shrugged. “Heart as big as a whale. Brain as big as one too.”

Hamilton frowned.

I do not believe that metaphor works. A whale's brain is–

“Hush, alien. I get it.”

“Well, I wouldn't dare interrupt your plans,” said Hamilton “At least I know where your priorities are. However, this is important. We need to head back to the construction site and retake some shots.”

Tell him you will do it yourself.

“Can I? I don't know how.”

What are you talking about? You are Ella Patel, the samrãjñī of Crate Town. Of course you can. I will guide you if you need help.

Hamilton did not look pleased when she relayed Io's orders. He offered to come with her, and then when rebuffed, insisted. The man became insubordinate and came uncomfortably close to becoming aggressive. The spat between the two of them grew loud enough she noticed both Manish and Aarav inch closer.

Finally, Hamilton threw his hands up and stomped off. Ella didn't bother hiding her grin. Frustrating the snobby traitorous Brit was a new form of enjoyment for her. She nodded at Manish and Aarav in thanks and went back inside the gym.

One thing nagged at Ella as she began to eviscerate the wooden practice dummy. What was Hamilton looking for? It was obvious he was looking for something specifically, but what? And what could he hope to accomplish going back for more surveillance?

Decoys. It has to be. He is trying to grab false intel to mislead us.

That had to be it. She stopped mid-slash. “So how do we know what's real and what's fake?”

Unfortunately, we will need to acquire detailed pictures of everything and compare its location with our satellite tracking, and then shoot it through analysis.

“I have no idea what you just said. You might as well have been speaking Korean, which, by the way, can you speak it? I've always wanted to learn. All the good Karaoke power ballads are in Korean.”

Focus, Ella. It means we have a lot of work cut out for us. First thing tomorrow, the Prophus is putting you out in the field.

Ella grinned as she began another set of knife exercises. She was moving up in the world.