Preview: Rogue's Revenge
Presenting the latest instalment of Dominion City Blues....
Rogue's Revenge follows Zee in the aftermath of events which brought Fool's Sacrifice to its fateful conclusion. Will Zee get to the bottom of her lover, G-Boy's, disappearance? Will the Incommunicadoes prevail over the forces of State?
In this extract, Zee and her compadres attempt to negotiate a state of emergency declared throughout the Dominion OutCity.
...That part of Zee which chimed with Lee’s experience recognised the manoeuvres being employed against them. The fleet of Bureau Goonmobiles were enacting a formation skidjacking. Hemmed in on all sides, Toxic One was being prepared for boarding.
Kasper and the flight crew exchanged furtive glances, each party suspecting the other of a stitch-up.
Zee, despite the intensifying flutter of her chest, moved to allay their fears.
“Play it cool, guys. We ride it out and some. If things get tricky, just let me do the talking...”
Desi twisted into a tight coil of nervous tension, winding his inactive flail around balled fists.
“...Ya better know what game yo’ playin’, sweet cheeks.”
It occurred to Zee that, of those gathered there and apart from herself, Desi was the only other likely candidate to have undergone torture at the hands of the Bureau. If this was, indeed, the source of his anxiety, she understood his reticence to repeat the experience. It wasn’t exactly high on the list of Zee’s preferred outcomes...
“Open Coms,” Zee instructed the flight crew, “they gonna slice us open either way, as it goes... let’s make it as painless as possible.”
Zee approached Gusty. She caught a glimpse of the old Gus looking back at her with fear in his eyes, the colour all but drained from his dusky cheeks. Gulping quickly, he filled his generous lungs, and the newer, more confident Gusty was reinstated.
“You need to step to: with Mola down, this is your vessel...”
Gusty nodded, holding her stare.
Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “You understand how Mola came by his Bureau clearance...?”
Zee was presuming Gusty to be apprised of the details concerning Mola’s collusion with the Bureau and his status as an informant.
She watched his big, brown eyes searching; could almost read his thought processes as Gusty delved into his fresh repository of revelatory experience and sourced the information Zee was hinting that he knew. She understood how the Long Hedz info dump worked: it was all there, you just had to access it; here she was giving a new recruit the key.
Judging by Gusty’s calm reaction to this latest development, Zee also understood that he was beginning to process some of the revelations pertaining to his legal status, to which she had been made privy through her interaction with the injured Mola.
She squeezed his hand lightly, her fingers still tender from her injuries.
“If you’re out of your depth, I’ll back you and some. Until that point, I’m your babe; the others are your crew...”
Gusty did something, then, providing Zee all the assurance she needed that he was working on a few levels at once, not all of which were motivated by fight or flight instincts: Gusty gave Zee an overtly solicitous smile; you wouldn’t call it lascivious, but it definitely signalled smouldering intent. And then, with an arm round her waist drawing Zee close, he kissed her.
His actions caught Zee totally off guard.
For an instant, she was utterly disarmed.
Briefly, she leaned into the kiss. A second later Zee was backing away from Gusty, re-inhabiting her own space.
“You’re my babe, right...” Gusty winked at Zee, smacking his plump lips, the intent in his stare still visible, reserved for future resumption.
“...Eye on the prize, soldier...” Zee admonished him. Her eyes became steely, warning him away.
To her surprise, Zee caught a breath. She was aware, once again, of the fluttering in her chest.
“Crisis management unit preparing for boarding...” was the alert from the flight deck, colouring the moment a deeper shade of serious.
Zee breathed deeply in an attempt to quieten the sensation in her upper body going off like palpitations, only spreading over a wider area. This was not a reaction to her clinch with Gusty. It was partly inspired by anxiety, without doubt, but it was also connected, Zee assumed, to the recent exertions of her salamander. Deep breathing helped some, seemed advisable; the last thing she needed was to pulse nova under the merest scrutiny from the Bureau’s crisis management goons.
Her history with the Bureau came flooding back to her in copious grim detail... Zee arrested in tandem with Mazel Volts: their crime; fleeing the scene of a major incident and resisting processing at the hands of a crisis management team... Zee inducted into the Long Hedz Inc. on the proviso that she and Mazel undergo processing at Bureau HQ... Zee provided with physical, psychological bulwarking against the Bureau’s techniques of torture... she became immune to the pain, distanced from the event... but the memory of the ordeal, ostensibly erased by the Long Hedz, remained imprinted on some latent level.
It was this foreknowledge which troubled Zee.
The Long Hedz had put her through such an ordeal once; what was to stop them arranging for her another similar assignment...?
Of Zee’s more negative thoughts at this time, this doozy was right up there with the least helpful among them: <It isn’t always easy to see who the good guys are, right, Lee...?>
She wasn’t expecting a response. Nor was Zee expecting the act of telesending to cause her chest to flutter, causing her breathing to stutter, quite so uncontrollably.
A dull sound penetrating the exterior of Toxic One indicated the boarding party had engaged.
Zee barely had it together.
The entry hatch unfurled and a troop of battle-ready Dread Men, the Bureau’s foot-soldiers of chaos, swarmed into the interior.
Voices were raised, urging all to comply. Bulk rifles were trained on each individual.
Stepping forward to engage with the crisis management team on behalf of his crew, Gusty received a muzzle thrust to the midriff which knocked him to the floor.
“The rest of you scum, on your knees!”
This directive was issued by Gusty’s assailant, moving through the assembly and dragging the flight crew from their forward positions, Toxic One being switched to auto pilot.
Above the din of baying commands, a voice of seniority bellowed to be heard: “You have entered into a crisis management situation. Your compliance is mandatory. Non-compliance will result in summary execution.”
A pause for effect, anticipating the silencing of all concerned including the goon squad.
In the ensuing period, Gyro was carried from the adjoining Med Bay and thrown to the floor beside Zee, where he lay, wriggling and twitching. The muzzle of a rifle pushed against his chest caused Gyro’s eyes to bug alarmingly. Zee could sense him straining to put an end to his wriggling, his efforts merely causing the stump of his body to jerk even more violently.
“Prepare to meet your Crisis Manager...”
Zee observed the senior Dread Head surveying the captive crew of Toxic One, clearly revelling in his unassailable position. For good measure and emphasis, the fucker planted his boot in Gusty’s stomach, doubling him up.
“Silence will be observed, unless directly addressed. Your Crisis Manager represents the paramount authority of Dominion; her decree is absolute. You have no recourse to appeal her decisions...”
Zee looked down to where Gyro was lying on his back, twitching, in evident discomfort and probably struggling to draw breath.
She gave her fellow Incommunicado a wink and a smile.
Fuck you, Mazel, thought Zee, this is going to have to be good...
Looking across to the gantry linking the floaters, Zee saw the Crisis Manager striding confidently into view.
That is one cold-hearted mutha, Zee thought.
And, as the fluttering in her chest intensified beyond her ability to control, such that Zee imagined the entire traffic flow off the MidCity Ringway being diverted to burst through her chest, she succumbed to being subsumed by pale blue fire, entering the nova state of sublimity once more...
