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refused to take the next dose of ā€˜power-pillsā€™ until he was ready to storm Estebanā€™s fort. And for that, I need help.

Chuck tagged Danā€™s weapons and noticed one missing. ā€œWhereā€™s your ray-gun?ā€

He shrugged. ā€œWhat does it matter?ā€

ā€œThe programā€™s gonna ask, thatā€™s all.ā€ Chuck jerked a thumb at his monitor. ā€œIt doesnā€™t like unaccounted weapons, especially on frequent travellers. If youā€™d been gone a month it wouldnā€™t care, but itā€™s only been a couple of hours.ā€

ā€œSomebody stole it,ā€ Dan replied, remembering how the PortaNet guards had drooled over his pulse-emitter. He hoped theyā€™d enjoyed it; theyā€™d probably all lose their jobs when someone walked into Adrian Millerā€™s office and found bloodstains and bullet holes, evidence of murder. Theyā€™ll identify the blood belongs to Adrian and quickly start asking questions. But Dan had been meticulously careful to ensure there was no forensic evidence linking him to the killing. Heā€™d left no fingerprints or DNA and the guards would only be able to give a rough description. But physical descriptions meant little. The police would seek the owner of the microchip, Tedman Kennedy. And they wonā€™t get far. He wondered whether anyone in the Guild would be human enough to deliver Adrianā€™s body to his family for a proper funeral.

ā€œAll right.ā€ Chuck sighed, looked furtively over his shoulder, and squared the records in the system. ā€œAll taken care of.ā€

ā€œThanks Chuck.ā€ He took his remaining weapons and stowed them in their usual places. ā€œGet some rest for me too, okay?ā€

ā€œYou mean youā€™re still not finished?ā€ Christopher asked, astonished. He wondered how much abuse Danā€™s body could take; everyone had limits and Dan was no exception.

ā€œNot yet.ā€ Danā€™s eyes hardened. ā€œThereā€™s just one more thing I have to do.ā€

ā€œOkay.ā€ Then Chuck lowered his voice and added, ā€œWhen you come back, use gate eight. Heā€™s a rookie so he wonā€™t know your real name.ā€

ā€œRookie? Wonā€™t that mean heā€™ll be paying more attention?ā€ Danā€™s eyebrows fused over the bridge of his nose.

ā€œYouā€™d think so, but between you, me, and the rest of the guys here, heā€™s not the sharpest tool in the shed.ā€

Dan nodded. ā€œGot it.ā€ His next stop was the portal station in the Parramatta business district, just one block from the police station. He found a public phone and dug Simonā€™s number from his wallet, as usual refraining from paying extra for the video component. Only lovers used video. Who wanted to see their colleagues at eight oā€™clock on a Sunday morning? It was unlikely to be pretty. Overall, videophone was more trouble than it was worth.

ā€œYeah?ā€ He sounded groggy. Few people used their names when answering the telephone. It invited too much trouble from unleashed telemarketers. That was the problem with having a personā€™s every purchase itemised against his or her microchip: it was a statisticianā€™s dream and a marketing departmentā€™s orgasm, but it made profiling too easy and shat on civil liberties.

ā€œSimon? Itā€™s Dan.ā€

ā€œOh hi mate.ā€ He was obviously trying to clear his head. Heā€™d only had four and a half hours sleep.

Guilt crowded Danā€™s thoughts and he wished he didnā€™t need Simonā€™s help, but knew heā€™d fail without backup. ā€œYou busy today?ā€

ā€œI told you to call me, didnā€™t I? Whatā€™s happened? Where are you?ā€

ā€œIā€™m in Parramatta,ā€ Dan replied cautiously, wondering whether even that was too much information to give over the telephone. ā€œIā€™ll tell you whatā€™s happened when you get here.ā€

ā€œOkay, whereā€™ll you be?ā€

ā€œIn the portal station,ā€ Dan replied. ā€œOut the front.ā€

ā€œGive me 20 minutes.ā€ He hung up, presumably to take a shower and shovel breakfast into his mouth.

Food was also high on Danā€™s agenda and he paid for a small bag of biscuits from a nearby stall. The biscuits were the only quasi-breakfast product that the vendor hadnā€™t deep-fried and Dan unenthusiastically crunched the time away until Simon turned up.

ā€œHmmā€¦ they look wholesome.ā€ Simon had chosen to wear jeans and a loose cotton shirt, less conspicuous than the suits he usually wore and more practical in combat. Heā€™d also tied a warm grey training top around his waist in preparation for the frigid northern hemisphere if thatā€™s where they were going.

ā€œYou want some?ā€ Dan offered the bag.

ā€œHell no.ā€ Simon held up his hands. ā€œIā€™m trying to trim down, remember? That stuff wouldnā€™t do me any favours.ā€

Dan shrugged and tossed the remaining biscuits in the bin. ā€œI killed Adrian Miller.ā€ Heā€™d practiced that statement so often in his head that it came out with callous indifference rather than the gravity heā€™d wanted. Heā€™d been examining his feelings about it since pulling the trigger. It wasnā€™t the first time heā€™d shot someone, but in the past itā€™d always been in the heat of battle, never in cold blood. But this wasnā€™t cold blood; it wasā€¦ warm blood. Thereā€™d been plenty of provocation; billions of men wouldā€™ve done the same under the circumstances. Heā€™d expected to feel guilt, remorse, orā€¦ something. But he didnā€™t. He didnā€™t feel relief or liberation either, nor did he feel as if heā€™d served justice. Adrianā€™s death had affected him no more than if heā€™d squashed a bug under his boot. Dan had hoped for relief. Perhaps I need to kill the others first - Esteban Garcia Valdez and Frank Albert Hansen. Maybe then Iā€™ll find relief. But then he remembered PortaNet. And if he somehow survived that, he still had to keep his promise to Hans. Peace, it seemed, was nowhere in sight.

ā€œWhat happened?ā€ Simon asked in a low voice, urging Dan to walk. It was safer that way; there was less chance somebody could eavesdrop.

ā€œI got the portal information,ā€ Dan said, trying to feel proud of something.

ā€œOh, theā€¦ uhā€¦ MAC address was it?ā€ Simon had as much difficulty remembering the details as Dan.

ā€œYeah, but Adrian called it a SAT.ā€ The emptiness in Danā€™s stomach was slowly expanding to consume him. ā€œThen I killed him.ā€

Simon approached the subject as tactfully as curiosity would allow. ā€œHe struggled?ā€

ā€œNo.ā€ Dan frowned. ā€œThatā€™s the bizarre part, he was being helpful.ā€

ā€œBut he killed Katherine,ā€ Simon prompted.

ā€œYeah.ā€ The numbness was exacting an emotional toll. It left sadness in its wake and Dan knew it would affect his performance. ā€œSo I couldnā€™t let him live.ā€

Simon could see the damage it was causing Dan and shrank from the prospect of facing such a decision himself. ā€œSo now what?ā€

ā€œWellā€¦ā€ Dan swept his dishevelled thoughts aside. If he were alive later, heā€™d sort through them then. ā€œI expect thereā€™ll be up to 20 men. Theyā€™re holding her in a place called the Guild, along with a number of other women.ā€

Simon whistled softly. That many? ā€œDamn.ā€

ā€œYeah, damn,ā€ Dan echoed. ā€œAnd letā€™s not forget the portal ride is dicey.ā€ He stopped, turned, and looked at Simon. ā€œWhat are you going to do?ā€

ā€œWhat do you mean?ā€ he asked, suspicious that Dan was giving him the chance to pull out.

ā€œSlime, you have a lot to live for. I donā€™t. Itā€™s okay that Iā€™m risking my life to save Jen - itā€™s my fault sheā€™s there in the first place. But you donā€™t have to. In fact, I donā€™t think you should.ā€ Then he mumbled, more to himself than anybody else, ā€œItā€™s bloody suicide.ā€

ā€œAre you trying to insult me?ā€

ā€œNo, Iā€™m serious. Itā€™s something you have to think about.ā€

ā€œWell I have, damn it. And I told you to call me, didnā€™t I?ā€ He waited for Dan to nod before saying, ā€œSo stop this nonsense. Iā€™m in. Okay? All the way.ā€ Simon remembered the times Dan had risked his life in order to save him. Back then, Dan had had plenty to live for, but it hadnā€™t stopped him from sticking his neck out - twice. Simon had been waiting five years to return the favour, and here was his chance. He certainly didnā€™t intend to shirk the opportunity to repay the debt.

ā€œOkay.ā€ Dan gulped a deep breath. ā€œThen weā€™re going back to Holland.ā€

ā€œHang on.ā€ Simon reeled him back with a hand on his shoulder. ā€œAdrian had access to this place, right?ā€

Oh fuckā€¦ how am I going to explain this? Dan nodded, delaying the inevitable.

ā€œThen you got his chip, right?ā€ It curdled Simonā€™s blood to think about it, but the most sensible thing wouldā€™ve been for Dan to rip Adrianā€™s spine from his body.

ā€œActually, no. I sent him through the portal.ā€

ā€œWhere to?ā€

ā€œTo the Guild.ā€ It sounded stupid now. Saving Adrianā€™s chip wouldā€™ve spared Simon the five percent risk of a collision when travelling through Hansā€™s portal.

ā€œWhat?ā€ Simon asked incredulously.

ā€œWell, I was angry,ā€ Dan said hesitantly, trying to explain something he didnā€™t understand himself. ā€œSo I stripped off his shirt and wrote ā€˜youā€™re nextā€™ on his chest before sending him through.ā€

ā€œHave I ever said youā€™re insane?ā€

ā€œA couple of times, yes.ā€

ā€œWell Iā€™ll do it again - youā€™re fucking crazy Dan. Now they know weā€™re coming!ā€

ā€œNo, they know Iā€™m coming. They think Iā€™m alone. Besides, they knew I was coming already and now they can account for Adrianā€™s chip. If they thought he was dead but couldnā€™t find it theyā€™d be even more alert.ā€

Simon snorted. ā€œThat doesnā€™t change the fact that youā€™re nuts.ā€

ā€œGood,ā€ Dan said, marching for the portals. ā€œBecause weā€™ve gotta be nuts to do this.ā€

*

Saturday, September 18, 2066

UniForce Headquarters

14:25 San Francisco, USA

Esteban slapped a hand on his desk. Of course! He pounced on his keyboard. If Dan was in the building then I should be able toā€¦ He accessed PortaNetā€™s database, lamenting the fact that Adrianā€™s back door would soon collapse. PortaNet would seal it as soon as they examined Adrianā€™s computer and discovered what heā€™d done. And that means thingsā€™ll get harder. He sighed in frustration. Back to the old fashioned way. Tracking somebody was so much easier when you could see where he or she was zapping through the portals.

His search didnā€™t take long. There! Only one Tedman Kennedy had portaled into UniForce headquarters that day. Now I know which one you areā€¦ youā€™re fucked. He reworked the grip on his pistol and fed the identity back through PortaNetā€™s database, intent on turning the hunt around. He was tired of waiting for Sutherland to turn up, plucking off his team one by one. Esteban wanted to hunt too. According to PortaNet, he was in Sydney. Parramatta to be exact. But while Esteban watched, Tedman Kennedy portaled to the Sydney International terminal. Whereā€™re you going now, Sutherland?

He slouched into his chair, getting comfortable for the wait. He wasnā€™t going to budge until he was sure where Sutherland was heading. At least I have a clear advantage again. The tension slowly drained from his body and he relaxed for the first time since discovering Sutherland had switched identities.

Chapter 11

The empire is global. There is nowhere to go to escape its corrosive barrenness.

John Zerzan

Saturday, September 18, 2066

23:42 Groningen, The Netherlands

Dan knocked harder. ā€œGod, weā€™re going to wake the neighbourhood.ā€

ā€œMaybe they found him? He could be deadā€¦ā€ Simon preferred to suggest the worst. That way, things frequently turned out better than he expected.

ā€œDonā€™t even joke,ā€ Dan said sternly. If that were true, heā€™d lost his chance to free Jen forever. Heā€™d been relying on Hansā€™s portal. Maybe that was a mistake? Oh, bugger! I shouldā€™ve taken Adrianā€™s flaminā€™ chip.

But Hanā€™s put him out of his misery when he opened the door and said, ā€œWhat do you do here this time of night?ā€

ā€œSorry,ā€ Simon mumbled.

ā€œYeah, me too,ā€ Dan echoed. ā€œItā€™s morning in Australia and afternoon in America.ā€ It was just unfortunate for Hans that it couldnā€™t be daytime everywhere. Portals made things such as sleep inconvenient when someone was trying to co-ordinate affairs across several time zones. ā€œWe have that code you needed.ā€

Hans was wearing pyjamas

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