The Osiris Contingency Page 8

  Ox leaned against the wall by Seth, telling Liane, “Go on; I’ll stay with him.”

  Liane didn’t want to leave Seth alone amongst mods, even with one she ostensibly trusted. But Seth nodded to her, silently

  offering encouragement, so she stood and followed the female mod down the auxiliary tunnel.

  The two of them walked in silence, passing several ladders leading to the world above. Finally, the mod stopped next to one, jerking her head at the rusting metal. “Up there.”

  Liane had to climb slowly; though her muscles weren’t seizing in pain anymore, waves of weakness and discomfort kept sweeping through her. As she pushed the manhole cover aside and emerged into a darkened alley of Chinatown, she felt a twinge of worry; not for Seth, but for herself. She’d been injured in fights before. Broken bones, knife and bullet wounds…she had even come close to dying on several occasions. What she’s never

  experienced before, however, was her body just giving out for no reason at all.

  Don’t think about it yet, she told herself as she walked slowly out into one of the main streets. Retrieve the Strain and find a medic for Seth. Nothing else before that.

  She found her way through the twisted network of alleyways and to their rented room without too much trouble. After

  disarming the electrical wires, she’d rigged to the door handle, she slipped inside. They had too much for her to carry alone, so most of their scattered belongings were left behind. The necessities she shoved unceremoniously into one duffel, while the other was packed with care so that the vials of the Titan Strain wouldn’t break against their weapons. Her shoulders ached as she picked up the bags, but she ground her teeth together and kept moving.

  The leopard mod was waiting for her in the tunnel, leaning against the rounded wall with a faint air of boredom. She motioned for Liane to follow her, though she didn’t offer to help with the bags.

  When they rejoined the others, Liane felt her stomach sink. Seth was even paler than before, his eyes drooping and then

  widening again as sleep approached and then receded. He tried to smile at her, but it morphed into a grimace of pain.

  The reptile mod tilted his head at Liane, saying, “You missed the introductions. I’m Neil.” Jerking his head to the leopard mod, he added, “That’s Paz. You know Ox, and then there’s Devon, Alec—”

  “Let’s get going,” Paz interrupted, her feline eyes flashing. “Owen’s expecting us back soon. If you don’t want latrine duty, let’s move.”

  She led the way through the tunnel, the other mods trailing

  after her. Ox took one of the bags from Liane with a smile while Neil shook his head in mild exasperation and helped Seth to stand. “Don’t mind her; she’s okay. Just a bit of a kiss-up to Owen.”

  “Who’s Owen?” Liane asked.

  “Let’s call him our host,” said Neil with a wry smile, moving to put Seth’s arm around his shoulder. “Lean on me…”

  Liane stepped to Seth’s other side, her voice a warning, “I’ll help him.”

  Neil stepped back, grinning at Seth as he said, “You’ve got a bodyguard, I see.”

  Seth managed a weak smile, leaning against Liane. “I’ve got a partner.”

  The two followed Paz and the others, leaving a smiling Neil to bring up the rear.

  It took over an hour of winding through the tunnels before they stopped at yet another narrow ladder leading to the world above. Seth managed to climb it, though he was barely able to stand when they emerged from an open manhole. Liane gratefully breathed in the fresh air, looking around to find they were in a residential neighborhood. Around them was a mix of abandoned buildings and rundown apartments, the streetlights flickering from the poor power service.

  Ox replaced the manhole cover as the group headed towards one of the buildings. But instead of leading them inside, Paz walked down a paved road to an underpass. In the overgrown, grassy bank to one side of it was a small metal door. Paz flipped up the cover of a keypad next to it, scanning her print. The door clicked, and she opened it to reveal nothing but darkness beyond. Quirking an eyebrow at Liane and Seth, she ordered, “Inside.”

  Liane moved forward slowly, every instinct in her screaming against entering the doorway. But Seth was beginning to stumble, his eyes unfocused and lids fluttering shut every now and then. Letting out a steadying breath, she stepped inside the door.

  Metal clanged under her feet, and when she moved forward, lights affixed to the walls flickered on to illuminate a narrow staircase that led deep below ground. Liane helped Seth down the steps, but when they reached the first landing Seth wobbled, his eyes rolling back in his head before he collapsed. Unable to

  support his dead weight, Liane went down with him, grasping his shirt and shaking him as she said, “Wake up—come on, Seth, wake up!”

  “Here, I’ve got him,” said Ox, lifting Seth up in his arms and starting forward with quickened steps. “Follow me.”

  Liane followed them down the staircase, trying to focus on the world around them to distract herself from the panic rising in her throat. The walls were metal, rusted in some places and damp in others. But the stairs seemed sturdy, the electric lights unwavering. They passed through several keyed doors, and finally, they went through one into a narrow corridor. It was then that Liane heard voices echoing through a large space, the tumult too great to tell how many people might be ahead. More confused than ever, she rounded a corner and lost her breath.

  They were in an enormous underground hangar, the beams and industrial siding painted a military grey around a space large enough to have once held several jet planes. But it had been turned into an encampment, complete with a canteen in one corner, stockpiles of supplies in the other, and curtained

  partitions down the middle. It was also full of people, some eating, talking in small groups, or working on hand-to-hand combat over padded mats.

  Her initial shock fading, Liane hurried to keep up with Ox as he headed down a final staircase and wove his way through the crowd. Several of them stopped to watch Liane and Seth, and as their strange, animalistic eyes followed her, she realized that every one of them was a mod.

  Ox finally arrived at an area that had been partitioned with rolling curtains to make a medic bay. Gurneys filled the

  partitions, and Ox carried Seth over to an empty one and laid him down. Liane looked at him anxiously, setting her bag down and swallowing a rise of panic.

  A medic came over, asking, “Was it the Agents?”

  “Who else?” Ox said grimly. “He got a nasty kick to the head.”

  “Bastards,” muttered the medic, starting an IV line in Seth’s arm.

  When he went to attach a plastic bag full of clear liquid, however, Liane grasped his wrist and demanded, “What is that?”

  The medic snorted, “What do you think? Antibiotics and mod serum, of course.”

  “No serum,” Liane said with a shake of her head. “He doesn’t want any.”

  “Look, I’m the doctor here—”

  Her frayed nerves snapped, and Liane grasped the man by the neck and shoved him back against the medical cabinet, glass breaking within it as she shouted, “I don’t know who you are or where I am—now if you put anything other than medicine into him, I’ll rip your throat out!”

  An arm clamped around Liane’s neck, jerking her backward off her feet with such force she couldn’t even react before slamming into the floor. Wincing in pain and stunned into silence, she looked up through her disheveled hair at her attacker.

  A newcomer, this one a tall, muscular man, stood between her and the medic. There wasn’t a trace of anger on his face, nor any emotion, for that matter. His face was handsome, sharp and angular with bright blue eyes and smooth blonde hair, and he was dressed in military fatigues. Liane considered lunging at him, but her limbs were too slow and painful. She settled on glaring murderously as he knelt in front of her. His own gaze was impassive as he said, “Attack any of my soldiers again and I’ll
throw you in the detention cells for a few days.”

  Through gritted teeth, she said, “You’re not going to put any

  serum into him.”

  The man regarded her for a moment, then glanced back at the medic who was still rubbing his throat. The man in fatigues

  ordered, “Do what she wants. Even if that means he dies.” Turning back to Liane, he asked, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Liane. And that’s Seth.”

  “Last name Laski,” said the man, unblinking. “His face has been all over the news for over a week. I know why the Agents were after him. What I don’t know is how you fit into this.”

  Liane’s mismatched eyes narrowed. “Do you plan on telling me who you are anytime soon?”

  “I’m Owen,” said the man with a nod. The cold blue eyes hadn’t softened or wavered once; like flecks of ice within a robotic face. He had a natural air of authority though, something that reminded Liane keenly of Damian.

  The similarity irked her enough to sneer, “And you’re my host?”

  “Something like that,” Owen said, standing. He offered her a hand. Liane looked at it, then slowly, painfully, got to her feet on her own. Owen frowned at that, commenting, “You’re wounded as well.”

  Liane tried to stand tall as she declared, “It’s just muscle cramps.”

  “Sit down. Let the medics see to you.” Owen was already turning to go as he added, “We’ll speak afterward.”

  “We’ll speak now,” Liane said, not moving an inch towards the empty gurney. “Or my friend and I are leaving.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Owen said, looking back. He seemed to be scrutinizing her, measuring what he saw. “My

  soldiers brought you to our headquarters because you were

  attacked by our enemies. And until I find out more about why the Agency did so, the two of you are staying here.”

  Liane looked around the hangar, asking, “And where is here?”

  “The headquarters of Black Sun,” Owen answered, pausing for a moment before adding with quiet certainty, “The army that will bring down the Agency.”

  Liane stared at him, shocked once more into silence. Owen turned to leave again, saying, “Get treated, cleaned up, and fed. Then ask to speak with me and we’ll discuss the terms of your stay here.”

  Liane watched him go, unable to shake a sinking feeling that, once more, she was caught up in something far larger and more dangerous than herself.

  An hour later Liane stood under the spray of a shower,

  exhausted but feeling somewhat close to normal. The medics had shot her with painkillers, then stuck her in regeneration tube to repair the tissue damage she’d suffered in the fight. Liane felt a sickening twinge of deja-vu as the automated gurney moved her into the white, coffin-like confines of the machine; as an Agent, she’d been through the process often enough to know she disliked it. The machine whirred as blue waves of light began to drift up and down her body. Soon the surface of her skin was prickling, a sure sign the cells were responding and regenerating.

  Regeneration always made Liane feel sleepy and relaxed, but when they’d discharged her, she was free of pain, and the mod named Paz was there to take her to the women’s showers.

  Liane had hesitated at Seth’s bedside, looking down at the

  unconscious, bruised man and wavering on the edge of insisting to stay with him. Paz stepped forward, eyes filled with understanding as she said quietly, “He’ll be fine here. We’re not the enemy, you know.”

  Liane took a slow breath. Even if Seth were to wake, she had no way of getting him out of there. Better to get the answers they needed from Owen and pray that by the time Seth was well enough to leave, they would have some idea of how to go about it.

  Nodding, Liane followed Paz out of the medic bay.

  The showers were on a lower level, and, like the rest of the hangar, were run down but operational. Her own clothes were taken to be laundered—and checked for surveillance bugs, Liane knew—while Paz handed over some worn, black fatigues for her to wear in the meantime.

  Turning off the hot water, Liane toweled off and put on the strange-smelling clothes. She combed through her short hair with her fingers, wincing when she saw her reflection. Despite the regeneration, her face was mottled with bruises from the fight with the Agents. More covered her bare arms; strange, given how fast they typically faded. She turned away from the mirror with a frown, pushing it to the back of her mind. Food next, and then she’d be able to ask Owen the questions that burned within her.

  Paz accompanied her up to the canteen, handing her a tray and leading her through a line of hungry mods. They eyed Liane as she passed, but she was too distracted by the sight of the food. Not because she was terribly hungry, but because of the way it was packaged. Portions of chicken, brown rice, and rehydrated vegetables wrapped in plastic... The hair on the back of her neck prickled. There was something too familiar about it for comfort. Trying not to let her unease show on her face, she followed Paz to a table and ate in silence.

  When Liane was finished, Paz said, “Owen will see you now if you still want. But he said to tell you that there’s no hurry.”

  Liane looked up at the other woman, saying flatly, “I’m not

  doing anything else before finding out where we are and why.”

  Paz smiled thinly. She was very beautiful, with a strong,

  Mediterranean combination of large eyes and full lips, though her features were tempered by the same hardness that characterized Owen. Still, she stood and said in a business-like manner, “Well, then let’s get you to the man with the answers.”

  They walked into a darkened corridor off the main hangar bay, their footsteps echoing off the metallic walls as they headed to a closed door. Paz knocked and waited until a gruff voice

  ordered her to enter.

  She pushed the door open, revealing a small office. A large

  table strewn with maps and diagrams occupied the center of the room, and Owen leaned against it. As Paz left the room and closed the door, leaving the two of them alone, Liane turned her gaze away from Owen to look at the walls. They too were heavily

  papered by maps and blueprints amidst screens running standard news broadcasts. Her eyes passed over it all, memorizing everything she saw. Only when she was done did she turn back to her host.

  Owen was watching her, his face impassive but a clear light of interest in his eyes. He gestured to a chair, and Liane tried not to appear too grateful to sit down. He half-sat against the edge of the table and said, “The medics tell me your friend will be fine. He’s resting now.”

  “Good,” Liane returned. “If he was anything otherwise, you and your army would answer for it.”

  Owen tilted his head, pointing out, “My soldiers saved your life. A little gratitude, perhaps, might be in order.”

  “I didn’t ask them to interfere.”

  “But you came with them without much protest, I understand.”

  “Ox is an old friend, and I didn’t have a wide variety of options at the time.”

  “No, you didn’t, did you?” He glanced at a piece of paper on his desk, reading from it, “‘Agents were attempting to neutralize the male, while their attempt on the female seemed to be to subdue and tranquilize.’” He raised his eyes to Liane, observing, “My

  soldiers seem to think you were the primary target in all this. Anything to say to the point?”

  “Nothing at all,” Liane said with a shake of her head.

  “Is that because you don’t know me, or because you don’t trust me?”

  Liane considered, then said, “Both.”

  “Perhaps an exchange of information would help us,” Owen said. “You have questions, I’m sure.”

  Liane hesitated, unsure if it was a trap, then blurted out, “What is Black Sun? I’ve heard the name before.”

  “We’re a movement fighting against the hold of the Libertas Party and their Agency,” Owen answered. “Their effor
ts to repress and contain genetic modification means that there is an army of mods ready to fight back against their oppressors.”

  Liane eyed him. “Then you’re a mod as well.”

  “Something like that,” Owen answered. “Let’s say I have a vested interest in doing harm against the Agency. Just as you do.” Liane was silent, unwilling to give anything away. After a moment Owen went on, “We’ve been operating for several years now, but the recent disclosure of the Titan Strain means we’ve stepped up our efforts. The time has come for war, and we intend to bring it right to the Agency’s doorstep.”

  Liane glanced around the room again, asking, “And this is your headquarters?”

  Owen nodded. “This place is a forgotten remnant of the Third World War. Luckily it seems to have remained hidden from even the Party. You understand, then, why I can’t just let you and your friend go after seeing this place.”

  “Then we’re your prisoners.”

  “I prefer ‘detainees’,” Owen said, giving a small, dismissive shrug of his shoulder. “Though it’s my hope you’ll soon become allies. That once you understand our goals, you’ll see we have much more in common than you might think.” He leaned towards her, the interest back in his blue eyes as he went on, “I don’t suppose you’d like to be as equally candid.”

  Liane glowered up at him. “My friend and I value our

  privacy.”

  “Clearly. Even Ox doesn’t seem to know much about you. Other than your name and the fact that you’re a wolf mod who was in the Docklands riots...that seems to be the extent of his knowledge.”

  Liane gave a small, noncommittal shrug.

  “And yet you’re obviously close to Seth Laski, who is wanted by the Party and the Agency for his involvement with that video about the Strain.”

  She looked up at him, her face carefully blank. Owen

  scrutinized her for a moment, then turned away as he said, “We don’t have much room to spare here, so the two of you will be bunking together. Paz will show you where the sleeping quarters are.”

  Liane stood, asking, “So that’s the end of the interrogation?”

  Owen looked back at her and gave a cold smile. “Hardly. This is just the end of the first session. The interrogation only ends when the target has given up the required information.”