Rogue by Mark Walden

cover.’
    ‘I want a target,’ Trent said irritably. ‘We have to hit them again while they’re still off balance.’
    ‘I understand,’ Otto replied, ‘but until one of the council breaks cover there is nothing I can do.’
    Trent looked carefully at the boy. He had no reason to doubt that what Malpense was telling him was true, but recent events had left him with some doubts about the boy’s reliability.
    ‘Very well, we will try again in a few hours,’ he said, frowning. He would have preferred to leave Otto hooked up to the network feed indefinitely, but Creed had warned him against placing him under undue strain, at least for the next couple of days. Trent reminded himself that this was a complex game they were playing and that it might be some time before all the pieces were in the correct positions on the board for him to make his final devastating move.
    ‘Report to Ghost,’ Trent commanded. ‘We may not be able to find our next target yet, but that does not mean you cannot continue your preparations.’
    Otto nodded and left the room. He walked through the hidden base that had become his home over the last few months and headed for the training area. Ghost was already there, moving effortlessly through a series of flowing unarmed attacks that combined elements of several different fighting styles. She noticed Otto after a couple of seconds and beckoned him over. She still wore the gleaming white armour that she had been in when he first met her. It wasn’t as if she could remove it, Otto reminded himself. It was as much part of her as her muscles and bones; removing it or shutting off any of the numerous cybernetic implants throughout her body would probably kill her. They didn’t just give her enormous strength and speed, they kept her alive. He had tried, out of curiosity, to see if his abilities would allow him to access the systems within the woman’s body, but the Animus’s behavioural programming would not allow it. He did not question the fact that this restraint had been placed on his abilities, he simply accepted it, just as he did with any of the instructions that had been implanted within him.
    ‘Defend yourself,’ Ghost said, throwing him a long, wooden bo staff from the rack of weapons mounted on the wall. Otto dropped into a defensive stance, feeling the Animus within his nervous system responding to the situation.
    Ghost took an identical staff off the wall and launched a series of swipes at Otto’s body and legs. He blocked each swing effortlessly, the staff in his hands moving in a blur to counter her attacks. He could feel the Animus strengthening him from within, stimulating his muscles and improving his reaction times. It did not require conscious effort on his part – his body was slowly being programmed by these sessions with Ghost in just the same way as his brain had been programmed by Dr Creed. Otto felt no pride or satisfaction in these new abilities; it was simply what was expected of him, nothing more, nothing less. Ghost attacked again and Otto blocked her attacks just as effortlessly. For the briefest moment he had an odd sensation of déjà vu and in his head there was the fleeting image of a tall Asian boy with long hair. He dismissed the image from his mind – a memory glitch, that was all.
    ‘Good, you appear to have mastered that,’ Ghost said, taking the staff from him and placing it back on the rack. ‘Now let’s try something else.’ She took an automatic pistol from the wall and threw it to Otto.
    ‘Blind field strip, thirty seconds,’ Ghost said.
    Otto dropped to his knees, placed the gun on the floor in front of him and closed his eyes.
    ‘Go,’ Ghost said. Otto’s hands were a blur, stripping the loaded magazine, slide, barrel assembly and recoil spring from the gun and laying the components carefully alongside each other on the floor. He paused just for a second and then put the pistol back together just as quickly. He placed the reassembled