Phoenix City, Jonno’s (definitely a whorehouse), Saraya, Standard Year 404

  Clara was working in a whorehouse. This was arguably a step up from what she had been doing before. Which was definitely not committing acts of terrorism, Clara reassured herself. She was serving bravely in the Tundran military and planting nuclear warheads around soft military targets. Soft but still very much military. Clara took a sip of her beer. Her commanding officer and best friend had been captured. Henry was dead. She woke up in a morgue a few days ago after an unexpected friend helped her fake her own death. That had been memorable. And now she was at Jonno’s. Which was, no two ways about it, definitely a whorehouse. But a very classy whorehouse. Classy whorehouses were a lot like soft military targets. A futile attempt to put lipstick on one very ugly pig.

  As she had been promised, Jonno had taken her in and paid out her debt. And apparently, he had indeed been in a position to verify Clara’s credentials as a ‘member of the Sarayan resistance’. Clara snorted. This was true only in the most attenuated sense, insofar as every member of the opposing Tundran military force was actively resisting the Sarayan government. But Jonno had done it because his sister Alanna asked him too. And now Alanna, currently the most famous traitor in the solar system, was returning to Saraya. Supposedly with a plan to rescue James. Clara shook her head and took another sip of her beer. If James knew what was happening, he would shoot them all for even considering it. And if he by some miracle came out of this alive, there would be absolute hell to pay for ever letting Alanna get involved in a mission this insane. Not that it had been Clara’s call. James’s father the esteemed Tundran President Jim Hawk would be the one to pay for that particular decision. If James lived.

  Clara looked down at a buzz on her wrist. With a deep sigh, she pushed off from her spot leaning against a wall and walked down the hallway towards the room where assistance was needed. Clara was professional muscle, and it was time to get back to work.

  Ten minutes later, the three drunks were sitting in three comfortable, leather covered armchairs drinking fruit juice from carefully filtered glasses. That was the thing about classy whorehouses. You couldn’t just give the customers a much deserved punch in the face. They had to be handled. Somewhat forcefully but with restraint. Worse yet, they got to punch and she had to hold back. Clara rubbed her jaw. One of the drunken idiots managed to get a hit before she could fully dodge the attack. The fact that it was three on one didn’t help. But the fact that they were drunk as hell helped a lot.

  “And then she just” the fat man waved his hand vaguely “just floated away. How does that happen, I ask you? How the fuck does that happen? Presidents don’t just up in the air and float away! They just don’t.”

  “Staged.” A second man said. “Obviously staged. None of it happened.”

  “Let’s say it was. Lorelai’s still gone. And who’s going to take over? Douglas Rune?”

  “He is the vice president.”

  “But he’s…” The man began, and then fell silent.

  “Good man.” Someone else said.

  “Yes, very talented.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  Clara rolled her eyes.

  “Aren’t you a miracle worker.” Ginger’s cloyingly sweet voice floated through the door of the softly lit room they used to calm down rowdy customers. “You really have a way with people.”

  “Yeah it’s a gift.” Clara said with a sigh. In a past life, she had been a cop. Calming down rowdy drunks was one of her top skills. Of course, undercover missions for the Tundran military were a massive step up from being a mere cop. Her career was on a huge upward trajectory. Clara wiped her hand against the leg of her loose cotton pants surreptitiously. One of the drunks didn’t have any pants on.

  “You have everything under control here?” Ginger asked, lowering her voice further as she took Clara by the arm.

  “As much as it ever is.” Clara said. She’d only had a few days on the job, but she was getting the idea.

  “It’ll do.” Ginger said, leaning into her as she pulled Clara along.

  Resigned, Clara followed. Ginger had been paying her a great deal of attention lately. Not that she entirely minded. “Where are we going?” She asked.

  “Downstairs. We have the news on. And there’s something you need to see. Something we all need to see.”

  “Is it more interesting than the president floating away into the air and disappearing?” Clara asked dubiously. Because even though she wasn’t Sarayan, she was fairly certain she was thinking the same thing as everyone else. Namely, what in the fuck was that?

  “I think that was staged.” Ginger said with a shake of her head. “This one doesn’t feel staged. This one feels real. The Tundrans say they are coming.”

  Clara stumbled slightly. Ginger was right. It was very likely that the Tundrans were coming. But they didn’t usually announce it ahead of time. And she would know. Silently, she followed Ginger down to the bar that doubled as the reception area for the customers who wanted to use the front door. Last time Clara had checked on things, it had been a rowdy crowd and the party was in full swing. This time, it was eerily quiet. All she heard was the low murmur of tense, muted voices. Clara froze on the bottom stairs leading down to the comfortably appointed bar. Walls of softly glowing polished wood reflected back the flickering lights of fake flames from dark iron chandeliers. Soft armchairs covered in red velvet stood scattered around the large space. A long bar of gleaming wood stood in the back of the room, leading the eye towards the large screen TV hanging across from the stairs. Clara stared back into the frozen eyes of President Jim Hawk, who looked back at her from the screen.

  “Play it again.” Ginger called out. A number of people nodded in agreement, their eyes turning back towards the screen. And President Jim Hawk unfroze.

  “This is Tundran President Jim Hawk. And I am here to tell you, that the war is about to end. You have attacked our cities, killing millions. You attacked our outposts, claiming that our people asked to be liberated before murdering every single one. You denied our right to exist. And your president” there was a pause, and although most of the people in the room had heard the short speech before, everyone else paused again, and silence descended “your president captured and tortured my son. Two hundred and four years ago, Tundra declared her independence. For over two centuries, the conflict between our two planets has continued. No more. The war will end. And you will lose. People of Saraya, your president has spoken often, of mercy. I have not seen it. Today, I will show you what mercy looks like. We have chosen eleven soft military targets. Three on your moon, and eight on the planet of Saraya. Your shipyards, the factories that make and repair your ships, will be destroyed. Saraya’s time as a space faring civilization, is coming to an end.” another pause. “We will disclose the locations of the targets. You cannot stop what is coming. You cannot win this battle. But you can evacuate your people before the targets are destroyed. You have twenty four hours.”

  Clara froze. She could hear the thud of her own heart, echoing like a drum in her head. We will disclose the location of the targets. The words played on loop in her mind, over and over. They will disclose the location of the targets. They would allow an evacuation. She wouldn’t be a mass murderer. The civilians would have time to evacuate.

  “Clara, are you all right?” Ginger asked, genuine concern in her voice.

  “I… I…” Clara swiped at her eyes as her vision turned strangely blurry. “I’m fine.” She said. The message had begun again. It wasn’t the bartender doing it this time. The news station was playing it on loop. But something else caught Clara’s eye. She wasn’t sure what it was about the group of six men who walked in. They looked like all the other customers. It was a larger sized group, but certainly not unprecedented. And they moved well together, Clara thought. As if they had worked together often. Their coordination was smooth, effortless Still not entirely unusual. But there was something else, an edge to their movements that didn’t quite fit the image of men who came to have some fun. Clara’s eyes followed them as they walked across the room, towards the bar.

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  “…here to see Jonno.” She thought she heard one of them say.

  “Cops?” Ginger asked, her eyes following Clara’s. Ginger had good instincts. It was an excellent survival trait. It was also how she knew, instinctively, that the Tundran president wasn’t bluffing.

  “Or worse.” Clara whispered back, putting her arm around Ginger as they both surreptitiously made their way towards the stairs. As soon as she was out of sight of the six men, Clara ran. She was somewhat surprised when Ginger followed. They were near the top of the stairs when Clara reached out a hand, pulling Ginger back just before she turned the last corner. Clara heard something she didn’t like. The firm tread of heavy, military grade boots. She peered around the corner. Six more. Apparently, the men downstairs had been the backup. Clara took a breath, and took out her gun. “Distract them.” She whispered to Ginger, knowing exactly what she was asking. When the time came, Ginger could be viewed as an accomplice. Whether it was out of loyalty or stupidity, Clara never knew. But Ginger didn’t even hesitate.

  “Hey!” She called out, running ahead. “Wait up!”

  Clara moved back around the corner, making sure she would remain invisible to the men who would have turned around by now, to see Ginger coming. She needed to take out six of them before the next six came up behind her. That wasn’t going to be easy. Was Ginger smart enough to realize she needed to get ahead of the group? Clara’s only hope was that the six men would be facing away from her and distracted. She listened hard, trying to ascertain if Ginger’s voice was continuing to drift further away. But she would need to move soon. If they were too far away, she could miss some of her targets. Her aim was solid, but Clara was no master sniper. One more breath and she moved, taking in the scene at lightning speed, Clara shot three in the back before the men turned around. She took out the fourth man just as he turned, and Ginger threw herself at the fifth, whose aim went wide. Clara threw herself against a wall, making herself as slim a target as she could before she took out the sixth man. She got the last one too, but Ginger had been shot by then, lying on the ground and thankfully stunned rather than bleeding. Clara ran on towards Jonno’s office, knowing that the other six men would not be far behind.

  ---

  “I’ve been calling you.” Jonno said to Clara, his flowingly beautiful voice as calm as ever.

  “I just saved your life!” Clara yelled in exasperation. “Took out six marines on their way to see you, and six more are coming.”

  “I know.” Jonno said, still calm. “And you’re the only reason I’m still here. This way.” With one smooth movement of his hand, a hole in the uneven wood surface of the giant tree they all occupied opened up. “There’s a pole.” Jonno said, a note of impatience finally creeping in. “Grab on and don’t let go. It’s a long way down. And move.”

  Clara moved.

  ---

  Clara’s feet hit the ground with a decisive thud. It had been a long way down. And it was dark. Pitch black in fact. She stepped aside just in time not to avoid Jonno falling on top of her. For someone with different preferences, that may have been a peak experience. Jonno was, objectively, one of the most beautiful men Clara had ever seen. She just didn’t care. “Where now?” She whispered, keeping her voice as low as she could. To her relief, Jonno grabbed her arm and guided her in what seemed like a specific direction. He seemed to know where he was going in the darkness. Clara was glad someone did.

  “Get down.” Jonno whispered just in time for Clara to reach out her hand and feel the wood her face would have smashed into a moment later. “We’ll have to crawl.” Jonno said as Clara tried to feel her way. “And quickly. We don’t have much time.”

  Once again, Clara followed. It was a few more long, dark and stiflingly hot minutes later before Jonno played another trick and another small door opened. It was a relief to see some light, but the blast of unbearable heat that was the planet of Saraya in the summer hit Clara in the face.

  Jonno peered outside cautiously before grabbing Clara and pulling her towards a small, nondescript car.

  “Why now?” Clara hissed, her eyes on Jonno as he got behind the wheel. “Why are they coming after you now? Just as Alanna is about to land. That’s an awfully convenient coincidence.”

  “The warden has made his move.” Jonno replied, to all outward appearances still perfectly calm. “He will try to take Alanna at the spaceport. “You’re in contact with this Tony Sicaro guy? Text him that I need a secure channel. Now.”

  Clara gritted her teeth. She did not appreciate taking orders from the professional pimp that was Alanna’s brother. But she also realized Jonno might be their only chance. “He says you have it. I’m putting Tony on now.”

  “We’re being recorded but I just disabled the video. We’re alone in the room but they’ll get suspicious and come in soon.” Tony’s tense voice came through. “Talk fast.”

  “The warden is going to try and take Alanna without paying. Let him.” Jonno said.

  There was a beat of tense silence. “What the fuck.” Tony responded. Clara heard the faint sound of what might have been Alanna’s voice, but she couldn’t quite make out the words.

  “I’ll make sure he pays.” Jonno said emphatically. “Leave that to me. But he needs to take Alanna for this to work.”

  “If you can make sure he pays, then why the fuck are we giving him Alanna?” Tony asked furiously.

  “This isn’t the time…” Jonno took a breath of his own. He needed this man’s trust, he reminded himself. It was a reasonable question. “You’re asking the warden to do something that could destroy his reputation. To unlock all the doors in his prison, using his access codes… even with his plan to let someone else take the fall, he will get some of the blame. And even with my leverage, the only way this works is if he believes he has something to give to the Sarayan government. Something so valuable it will erase the biggest prison warden fuck up in history. That’s a lot to ask. And that’s why we need to give him Alanna. She’s enough. Not much else would be.”

  “I told you.” Clara finally overheard Alanna’s distinct voice in the background.

  “So we just let him take her.” Tony said flatly.

  “Yes. Leave her and run. He’ll have the security waiting for you anyway. Let them take her and pretend you have nothing to do with it. I need you and the rest of your people free. I need you to walk out of that spaceport.”

  There was a long pause, and Clara once again heard the faint sound of Alanna’s voice. Keep talking, Clara thought. Because it wasn’t going to be easy to convince Tony Sicaro to go along with this shitshow of a plan.

  “Fine.” The tense sound of Tony’s voice finally came through.

  “Wait.” Jonno said.

  Clara turned towards him, hearing the uncharacteristic tension in his voice.

  “You’re the medic, right?” Jonno continued.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I’m going to send you a recipe. Pain killer, fully effective for the first twenty four hours, somewhat effective up to forty eight. Minimal side effects. Use it. You understand me?”

  “Yes.” Tony said, his voice equally tense.

  “Alanna.” Jonno began, paused. He hadn’t heard her voice in years. They were always texting. Of course in theory they could have recorded their voices, shared images. But they never bothered, not really. “Keep him talking, all right? First, they want to talk. They always want to talk. So be interesting and keep him talking, for as long as you possibly can. Do you understand me? Just…”

  “…to go.” The much fainter sound of Alanna’s voice could barely be heard through the speakers.

  “I love you.” Jonno said. The line went dead. He wasn’t sure if she heard.

  ---

  “Sir, Vice President Douglas Rune has requested a status report on the search for Will Atwater and James Hawk.”

  Major Porter looked up from the frozen image on his screen. The face of the Tundran president was staring back at him. And it was not a happy face. He had been replaying the short and very much to the point message of Tundran President Jim Hawk. And while President Hawk’s comment on Lorelai torturing his son meant little to most Sarayans, Major Porter knew exactly what the Tundran president was referring to. Just as he knew that the aforementioned son was responsible for planting nuclear warheads around the targets that were now being so very generously disclosed for evacuation purposes. As always, mercy was just another word for political convenience. In this case, the Tundran president knew damn well that simply blowing up the targets would lead to the Sarayan government revealing his son’s role in the entire affair. Setting off the nuclear bombs now would have left every man woman and child on Saraya hunting James Hawk. Disclosing their locations left the planet in mass panic and disarray. The move was brilliant, as the Tundran president’s moves so often were. And that did not bode well for Saraya’s short term future. Major Porter took a sip of his coffee. “The search is ongoing.” He said in response to the request for a status report.

  “Yessir. Is there anything more you would like us to do?”

  “Follow my lead and use your best efforts.” Major Porter suggested.

  “But sir, we’ve already looked everywhere. What else can we do?”

  “Look again.” Major Porter smiled slightly as he leaned back in his chair, getting more comfortable. “I’m doing so as we speak.” He added.

  The guard paused, taking in the view. “Yessir.” He said with a nod of understanding. “We can definitely do that.”

  “Yes.” The major returned the nod somewhat glumly. “I’m sure this one’s well within your capabilities. Good day.”

  ---

  “Major Porter has called off the search.” The man reported. He was standing inside the warden’s spacious, comfortably appointed office. The windows were beyond regulation size, letting in the viciously bright light of the Sarayan sun. The cooling system was also far beyond regulations, cooling off the office until goosebumps rose on his skin, in spite of the sun beating down.

  “Formally?” The warden asked, raising an eyebrow. That would have been unlike the man.

  “Not formally sir. But he made it clear.”

  “Interesting.” The warden murmured. “But no matter. You can go.” Soon, the search would be unnecessary. They had found the nervous little janitor who helped James Hawk and Will Atwater escape. He had been captured trying to damage some of the water filters. And now they knew that James and Will had been in contact with the outside world. Soon, information that the warden of Phoenix Penn had successfully captured Alanna Summers would hit the airwaves. Along with a message for James Hawk to surrender peacefully, unless he wanted his darling fiancée Alanna Summers to bear the consequences of his inaction. The warden wasn’t worried about the search being called off. Soon, James would come to them.