Obsidian's War The Winter City
Chapter Nine

It was a warm day on Lighthold and Gel, still on his officer training course, was walking through a fashionable restaurant in the Bayside district to a get together lunch with Arch, Gillian and other friends from Law School when he was hailed from one of the tables.

“It’s young Obsidian!”

The speaker was a grey-haired, portly man who, despite his years, radiated considerable authority.

“Mr Obadiah, sir,” said Gel shaking hands. “It has been a while.”

“It has indeed,” said Obadiah. “Your father and I may have been business adversaries, but he was an adversary I respected. I miss him greatly now.”

“I know he respected you, sir. As an opponent you were one of the few that annoyed him enough to make him use bad language.”

The older man roared with laughter. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“I was also sorry to hear about Mrs Obadiah. She was a fine lady.”

“She was, but it’s been more than a year and here’s a friend of mine back from the lady’s room.”

It was Heather, who froze on seeing Gel.

“Athena, dear,” said Obadiah, “this is Gellibrand Obsidian, the son of one of my toughest business adversaries, and now doing very well in the military.”

“Ms Athena,” said Gel nodding, gravely. He had always known what Heather did for a living, so he was not about to get upset about finding her as the paid companion of a man older than his father. “Please to meet you.”

She forced a smile. “Please to meet you,” she responded and sat down.

“That was quite a fight you had on Outpost-3,” said Obadiah. “I had the occasional civil lunch with your father, and I remember he commented on your lack of ambition – able but didn’t want to do anything with your life. Looks like you found something to do.”

“He told me that, sir, many times. I told him I was happy aiming to be happy.”

“That fight was your grandfather through and through,” said Obadiah. “I knew him too – tough and smart. You’re not out on campaign now?”

“Short officer’s training course, sir. I was ordered to take it.”

“I should think so too,” snorted Obadiah. “Obvious executive material. When you’re done with the military, I hope you go into business, young man.” He leant forward. “I could do with a challenge to keep me alive.”

“Haven’t quite decided what I’ll do, sir.”

“Join us for a time,” said Obadiah waving at the table.

“Thank you, sir, but I am expected at another table; a get together with old law school friends, and you look busy.” He gestured at Athena who responded with a faint smile. “It was good to see you and give my regards to William.” (This was Obadiah’s son, whom Gel knew slightly.) He nodded in Heather’s direction said “Ms Athena” and left.

Heather called him later the same day.

“That was weird,” she said.

“How come you were out at a restaurant with a client?” said Gel. “I thought it was against the rules.”

“His wife had passed away. There’s someone who checks that stuff. Even then management doesn’t like it, ’cause I can be photographed with the client, but they’ll allow it for a big spender.”

“Money still rules, I guess.”

“Don’t be like that,” she said.

“I wasn’t being like anything. I was just making an observation. I wouldn’t even have said anything or pointed out that you won’t let me take you to a top restaurant like your client did, if you hadn’t raised the issue. I was hoping to ignore the whole thing.”

“Humph – you know his son William?”

“Sort of,” said Gel. “He was a few years ahead of me at school. He now runs a big men’s wear shop and is a leading light in the gay community.”

“Ohhh! That explains a few things he was saying, including that he would have wanted you as a son.”

“I should be flattered, but I don’t think I would have wanted him as a father – a hard driving man. My own father grumpily complied with my wishes. He wouldn’t have.”

“I can see that he wouldn’t,” she said.

Heather later kicked over this conversation with her colleagues in the establishment.

“He’s always known what you do,” said Latin lover Carmen, “and he behaved well. Didn’t get jealous or make a scene and acknowledged you as if he was meeting a stranger – just like we don’t smile at clients when we see them out with their wives, or husbands. He wasn’t even going to say anything later.”

“He’s useful to have around,” said Asian Annie. “Good for taking us girls out onto the harbour. We need more outings.”

“Maybe the real problem,” said Hitchcock blonde Helena, “is that you went to this restaurant with a client. Other clients, as well as Gel, will see you in those places and you could get a picture in the news feeds. Clients could also get the wrong idea and start making long term offers.”

“Depends on how much money they’re going to put up,” said Annie.

“I’ll speak to management about it,” said Helena, ignoring Annie. “How are things between you and Gel, anyway.”

“Okay, I guess,” said Heather a little ruefully. “I might have liked an argument just to find out what he thinks. As it is when I hang out with him we do the sex thing but we also cuddle while watching films, which I like.”

“That’s pretty good in any relationship,” said Carmen.

“But it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and I still feel I don’t really know him,” Heather added.

“That can be a problem,” Helena admitted.

None of the ladies mentioned another, even larger problem – what would happen if Gel found out about some of the establishment’s deep, dark secrets, or that Heather had passed on information about Gel, as they all passed on information about their clients.

***

Gel found himself thinking about Heather/Athena as he trudged through the snow in the dark of a freezing Dimarch night. Keeping their heads well down his little command walked for about fifteen minutes before, with dawn breaking, Gel spied a row of two storey buildings on the side of what might have been a square with snow piled so high on one side that they could clamber into the top storey. They picked the third in the row and clambered into that to find that the top storey offered good views, but they could still light a heater on the ground floor without giving their position away. Gel set watches and told his command to eat and sleep.

“Tomorrow night we’ll make a last effort to find the rest of Captain Edge’s party, after that we’ll keep walking and get far enough away from Jasper for Flight to come and pick us up and take us some place warm.”

“Sounds good,” said Theo.

Gel was aware that Dr Addanc was on his own comms device but did not pay much attention before he drifted off to sleep, wrapped in his thermal blanket, dreaming of Heather/Athena and Even, only to be shaken awake by Addanc.

“Take care, doctor,” he growled. “We don’t know each other that well.”

“General Sims for you,” said Addanc, handing Gel his comms unit. This was like an old fashioned mobile phone but larger and heavier.

“Obsidian,” said Gel tentatively into it.

“Do I have the honour of addressing Second Lieutenant Obsidian?” General Sims had a soft, almost effeminate voice which belied his reputation as a fighting colonel of the Imperial Marines. Like many of the Assault Infantry’s senior officers he had been offered a big promotion to attract him to the rim in order to knock Lighthold’s infantry into shape.

“You have that honour, sir,” said Gel. “And do I have the far greater honour of addressing General Sims?”

“You do, Lieutenant. But I insist that the honour is more mine. I can see why General McMahon recommended you and Colonel Lee sent you to find Captain Edge’s expedition.”

“Thank you, sir, although we have yet to find the larger part of the party.”

“No need, Lieutenant. Captain Edge has turned up of his own accord with the rest of the guardsmen. They’ve managed to get comms working and asked for a pickup outside Jasper. Colonel Lee intends to discuss in detail with Captain Edge the need to keep his superiors informed and about proper procedures, and I intend to have forceful discussions with Dr Addanc and his superiors about the need for consultation in obtaining our co-operation. He cannot make up his own missions and go haring off without telling us. The Eye may be important, but it still has to follow procedures.”

“Yes sir. But if Captain Edge has turned up that means we can go home now.”

“About that...” said the general.

“Uh-oh!” thought Gel.

“I told Dr Addanc he had to follow procedures and he has also conceded that Captain Edge was probably not the right choice for the mission he had conceived. But he makes the point that he’s now in the right place with a new team that might be able to do the job. Colonel Lee has also told me you have supplies for a couple more days.”

“I don’t care for the way this is heading, sir.”

“Of course, I can’t really order you. Such missions have to be voluntary. But the Lighthold government has directed me to give every help to the Eye and to the Lighthold Police Authority. You have a Lighthold detective with the group.”

“Yes sir, and I’m just going to go and ask both of those individuals in direct terms, why we should help him.”

“Not too directly, Lieutenant,” said the general, a note of amusement in his voice. “Dr Addanc will explain what it is he wants, without any persuasion. He also tells me Captain Edge’s group was ambushed the moment it set down. I also understand from Colonel Lee that you may have some insight into that.”

“Yes sir,” said Gel. “Nothing I really want to say in front of the others.”

“Of course,” said General Sims. “I will leave the operational matters with you, and Colonel Lee.”

“I should also say, sir, that I just went through an officer’s course where they emphasised planning and not making potentially dangerous missions up on the spot.”

“I’m aware of that, Lieutenant,” said Sims. “As I said, Dr Addanc needs to lift his game in co-ordination. It’s a matter of seeing what you can do.”

Gel sighed. “I’ll talk to him sir and discuss the matter with the team. The Hoodies are still on high alert looking for us. Even moving around with anything short of a regiment may be a problem.”

“Whatever you can do, Lieutenant, and well done so far.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Gel switched off the comms unit, rolled out of his thermal blanket and stood up. The first thing he saw was the local representative of Imperial Intelligence smiling triumphantly. He advanced on Dr Addanc, the spy’s look of triumph turning into alarm, backing him against a wall. One hand gripped the spy’s collar just under the Adam’s Apple and the other was used to brandish the spy’s comms unit under Addanc’s nose.

“Dr Addanc, why don’t I cut the BS factor here and shove this fine piece of electronic engineering where the sun doesn’t shine?”

The spy eyed the comms unit with concern. “Think of your career,” he managed to gargle.

“I’m thinking that it’d be a good career move to not get killed in a mad scheme cooked up by The Eye,” said Gel. He released Dr Addanc, who panted, and threw him the comms unit. “However, as a courtesy to General Sims I’ll listen to what you have to say.” He turned around and pointed at detective Lewandowski, who had woken up to view the Gel-Addanc piece of theatre with concern, “and you had better have a good story to follow it.”

He turned back to the spy. “Dr Addanc start talking.”

***

After kicking the matter around with her colleagues, Heather decided that a nice, regular date followed by a sleep-over at Gel’s place might put the relationship back on track. Her Sunday night was free, there was an up-market but discrete waterfront restaurant they had yet to try and a place for dancing nearby. Rather than make Gel pay for the taxi as she always did, she thought it might be nicer for him to pick her up from her apartment, just like a date with a normal, single girl.

“Doesn’t it just emphasise the strangeness of the whole thing,” asked Helen, “having your boyfriend pick you up from your place of business? There are some things you don’t want him to find out about this place.”

Heather shrugged. “Gel doesn’t ask questions and he’ll barely be in the apartment.”

This time, although Gel was punctual as he always was, Heather’s last client had taken longer than expected and she was still getting dressed.

“Just wait in the living room,” she said kissing him.

He didn’t wait in the living room. Even’s comment about the group behind the establishment being “weird” fresh in his mind, he wandered around looking for anything that could be classified as weird. He opened a couple of drawers in the living room sideboard and examined the figurine of the goddess Athena he had bought Heather. He walked into the room used for clients with its double bed, now reordered after its last workout – Gel tried not to think about that - its small bookcase and chest of drawers on which Oscar the large, toy bear sat surveying the bed with eternal disapproval, as he had on the day he had first met Heather-Athena.

Gel picked up Oscar then put him down again and looked through the books. Nothing much seemed to have changed. Heather came in, her dress on but her hair still down.

“You’re in here!” she said.

“Just seeing if you had any new books.”

“And you’ve moved Oscar.” She put the bear back carefully where it had been, smiled at Gel, took his hand and led him out of the room. “Come back to the living room. I don’t like you in that room – you know why – I won’t be long.”

But Gel did not stay in the apartment’s main room. Something about the business room bothered him. He went back, opening the door carefully so that Heather did not hear him.

The soldier looked at the bear. Was Oscar the bear “weird” in any way. Then it occurred to him that the rest of the room was neat but not squared off. There was dust on the bookshelves and two figurines on top were set any old way. Why, then, did Oscar have to sit square? On an impulse Gel picked up the bear noticing, for the first time, that there was a faint mark in the veneer of the chest of drawers, about where the stuffed toy had been placed. He felt around the eyes then tore at the head. It came off easily to reveal two small cameras – one for each eye. He dropped the dismantled Oscar on the chest and looked around the room. One of the books, Gel realised, had no dust on it. He took it out and opened it to find another small camera, placed to look through a tiny hole in the spine of the book.

“Blackmail,” said Gel aloud, just as Heather came back into the room, all made up and ready to go. Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened.

“Gel,” she whispered.

“Have you been filming all your clients?” he demanded, roughly.

She nodded.

“Including me?”

“When you were in here. Not otherwise,” she said.

He dropped the book and camera on the chest of drawers besides the beheaded Oscar.

“This is a blackmail shop?”

“Insurance, that’s what I was told,” she said. “Leverage in case the clients tried anything. That’s what I was told.”

“Heather,” said Gel, leaning towards her, “I don’t believe that.”

“I.. well,” she said, “taking a step back, her look of horror being replaced by one of tears. “It’s what I was told.”

“Right, well, I can’t really be around can I. I’m going.”

“You won’t get past security,” said Heather, wiping away a tear. “Messing with the cameras is one thing that gets that really annoys them. I was told that clients who mess with the cameras will disappear. Gel, they’ll come for you. You’ll never get out of the building.”

***

Dr Addanc’s comms device doubled as a 3D projector which the spy used to display a map of the city for Gel’s little command, or at least the city as it used to be like before it was laid waste in a civil war and buried in the snow of a very bad, endless winter.

“This is the city’s Hall of Justice,” he said pointing to a building, large for Jasper, about two blocks from where he had been found. “And this is where we were aiming for. An area below the Hall of Justice that has been described to us as a ‘Gagrim Temple’.”

“As in some sort of religion for these guys?” said Gel.

“We don’t believe they’re particularly religious,” said Addanc, “but there are symbols down there. Sculptures that fulfill the same role as gargoyles on the outside of cathedrals – ugly things that are meant to ward off evil spirits – and so on. But that’s not the reason we’re interested in it. Off to one side in this area here,” he pointed to a series of grey blocks on the projection, “is a big repository of the slabs the Gagrim used to store their personalities. Bigger than any of the ones we found on Outpost-3.”

“The one on Outpost-3 was enormous,” said Gel.

“That was just one of several on the planet. The Gagrim knew that terraforming on Outpost-3 would reveal the structures and they decided to mount an expedition with some mercenaries and grab what they could before the whole planet was taken over. One of those sites, the one near Walter’s Find had to be defended while they worked.”

“And B Company walked straight into The Destroyers ambush,” said Gel. “Did you guys know any of this before we went in there?”

Dr Addanc shook his head. “Most of this is guesswork after the fact, analysis of the material captured on Outpost-3, and examination of the creature known as Jerrold retrieved by Captain Edge…”

“What?” said Gel. “Captain Edge did not get Jerrold back. We did that.”

“Yeah – that guy smelled real bad,” said Alyssa.

“But Edge presented him to me,” protested Addanc, taken aback, “after you refused to find him.”

“I didn’t refuse,” spluttered Gel. “I said it’d have to wait until after we’d finished with the Destroyers we had been fighting, which included a stand-up gun fight. We tracked poor Jerrold down after that and handed him over to the Guards. Sylvester was there when we handed him over.”

“That’s right, Dr Addanc,” said the former bodyguard. “I didn’t say anything before because Captain Edge was paying me, but he wasn’t involved in the recapture. It was this group.”

“I see,” said Dr Addanc.

“Captain Edge brought him to you, and you didn’t think to ask how he happened to run Jerrold down,” said Gel. “He was a really fast dude. The only way we did it was to corner him riding the electric bikes the Destroyers had been using to get around the jungle.”

“I dunno, I thought it was fun,” said Theo.

“I will also say, Dr Addanc,” said Sylvester. “That I heard that Lieutenant Obsidian here was suggested as the person to lead the party on this mission, and I believe he would have been a better pick.”

“I was?” said Gel. “Considering what’s happened I’m personally not sorry, but I’m curious. How come I wasn’t selected?”

“I was told you had connections with organised crime,” snapped Addanc.

“Connections with organised crime!” exclaimed Gel, “this was your doing wasn’t it, Lawn Mower?”

“Red flags were raised on a security check,” said Lewandowski. “You were sharing accommodation with a known Fiveways enforcer…”

“Skip’s the guy who throws people through doors,” protested Theo. “I’m a good person.”

“Then there was the matter of the fingerprint,” said Lewandowski, ignoring Theo. “There was no real evidence of a connection with organised crime, but there were red flags enough to rule you out.”

“Fingerprint?” exclaimed Alyssa. “Have you been holding out on your personal dramas again? Not sharing drama with your comrades should be a military crime.”

“Never mind all this for the moment,” said Gel. “Whatever the events that got us here, we’re still freezing our rear ends off in the middle of a hostile city for no reason that’s yet been explained. Dr Addanc, you were saying.”

“Right, so it’s a repository of these imprinted personalities,” said Addanc, “but it’s also the main centre for these Gagrim. They are transplanting brains into human bodies where the skulls have been surgically extended…”

“Erk!” said Alyssa. “More crazy shit.”

“… but the adaptation is not very robust. As some of you saw on Outpost-3 and in that one you killed in getting to us, they either have to use those processor units hard-wired to the brain to handle the cognitive overload, which has other problems, or remove the top of the human skull, transplant the brain and add a false top of the skull to accommodate the over-size organ.

“Both approaches work for a time, even decades, but they want something better, more permanent. Their old bodies did not fare well when their environment changed, and they’ve been impressed by just how robust the human body can be, so they’ve been trying to design and clone an improved version of the human body complete with the expanded brain inside a skull large enough to accommodate it.

“Charming,” said Gel. “So you’ve got two types of these Gagrim-Human hybrids, but they want to move up to the final stage, a tailor made body that wears as well as a human and can house the Gagrim brain. They’d need a lot of expertise to get to that stage.”

“The Outpost-3 exercise was partly about getting the individuals with expertise they require into these make-do bodies,” said Addanc. “We think the creature you call Jerrold was one of the creative, knowledgeable individuals they needed for such a project. Even for an advanced, space-faring race, adapting the body of a different creature and then cloning it so that the finished item lasts many decades in reasonable health is no easy feat, in addition to the problems of transplanting a new consciousness to the new body.”

“Wouldn’t they want to switch bodies when the one they’ve got wears out?” asked Dawlish. “Give yourself a real hot body each time.”

“Sounds good,” said Theo

“Injecting a consciousness into a new body isn’t easy, as we understand it,” said Addanc. “Once you’ve done it, it’s better to stick to what you’ve got, at least until the technology improves.”

“Dr Addanc this is all very interesting,” said Gel, “but I still don’t see what our little group can do here. What were you and Captain Edge hoping to do with two squads of guards?”

“It’s simple,” said Dr Addanc, smiling, “we were going to take the complex, remove the data from the information system that must be there and blow it up.”

***

“I’m so sorry, Gel,” said Heather. “I kept you away from this room after we started going out – maybe you can talk with them when they come, make a bargain of some kind?”

Gel ran to the living room just in time to hear the door lock click. He tried it, to find the door would not move. There was a balcony, seldom used, over-looking an extensive front garden and street. A large, sliding plastic-glass door which let in lots of light was also locked.

“They’ll be here in a minute,” said Heather, “we have to think what story to tell them.”

Gel spared a glance for her. She seemed genuinely remorseful. He grabbed the statue of Athena off the sideboard. It was some sort of plaster rather than stone, but it was heavy enough for what he intended. He smashed it against the glass in the sliding door. It cracked but did not shatter. The soldier hit it again, hard with the same result.

“It’s no good, Gel,” said Heather. “Please let’s just think about what to do.”

Ignoring her, Gel realised that the balcony did not run the full length of the apartment and there was another window just a metre or so from it to the right, letting light into the apartment’s kitchen alcove. He swung the statue at that, and the pane shattered nicely. Two more swings and the window frame was empty. He threw the statue to one side, pulled a nearby occasional table to the window, scattering decorative figurines, stood on it and stepped through the window, trying to avoid the few sharp bits of glass that clung to the frames. One hand on the frame and feet braced against the smooth plaster-covered wall, he reached over to grab the balcony railing with his other hand. He set one foot on the balcony’s bottom edge when he was aware that Heather was watching him, open-mouthed, through the sliding door.

“Bye,” he mouthed, then, instead of trying to get on the balcony – it occurred to him that he’d be no better off – he grabbed the bottom of one of its vertical rails and swung down so that his feet were resting on the top railing of the balcony underneath. All the apartments were the same and the building layout was symmetrical. This happened just as he heard someone in Heather’s apartment above him say, roughly “where is he?”

Balancing for a moment, he jumped down onto the balcony below Heather’s. Then he heard the same voice say, “can’t see him now, did he fall?”

Gel was aware of a figure to his left on the other side of the sliding, transparent door. It was Asian Annie, dressed to go out, obviously startled by the sudden appearance of Gel on her balcony. She tried to pull the door open only to find that it locked. Gel waved and mouthed “bye”, then lowered himself over the front of that balcony – doing the same trick to get to the balcony underneath.

“There he is,” someone said from above. “You, there, stop or we’ll shoot.”

Not even bothering to look up, Gel swung out of sight to fall onto the balcony. Lighthold was still a frontier planet in many ways, but it was too settled for anyone to wave guns around on the top floor of an apartment building let alone fire them. However, Gel, with one more balcony to go, opted against going over the front. There was no-one on the other side of the balcony door this time and no-one looking at him from the second balcony – there were two balconies side by side at each level, one for each apartment. He looked over the side closest to the second balcony and directly above the entrance, trying not to show himself, to see a concrete shelf. He hadn’t really noticed the shelf before, but it was an overhang, partly decorative but also to keep the rain off those waiting to be buzzed through the security entrance. It looked more than capable of holding him.

“He’ll be going out the front,” he heard someone say above him as he swung over the balcony and dropped half a body length onto the overhang, then laid flat just as two men burst through the entrance doors. He rolled off the shelf, hanging briefly by one hand, before dropping to the ground just as someone above yelled “behind you”. He charged the closest of the two men. This was a tall, long-armed crew cut youngster the soldier would not care to face in a boxing ring, who turned just in time to get Gel’s forehead in his face and went down with a yelp. The other whipped a device out of his pocket – not a gun, but a portable electrical shocker. Gel realised, with a shock, he was one of the heavy-set men he had faced in the back of the van trying to snatch Yvonne.

The man’s eyes widened in recognition as he jabbed with the shocker. Gel easily blocked it and kicked the man in the side of the knee. He grunted, his leg collapsing on him. Then Gel was away, zigzagging, just in case the thugs probably still standing on the balcony fancied themselves as marksmen. There was no gate or wall, just a line of trees designed to screen off the front of the building from prying eyes, but in this case helped screen Gel from the building as he got into his car and drove away.

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