Ghost Ranger

by Dayne Edmondson

  “Me? Why me?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Word’s gotten around about the Ranger who can control gravity. You’re one of a kind. So, my guess is when word got around that you were going to be on that mission someone saw an opportunity to get rid of you.”

  “You think a Cultist within the navy?”

  He shrugged. “Could be. Or just the Federation wanting to destroy aberrations.”

  “I’m in,” I said with determination.

  His smile returned, wider than before. “Excellent. Welcome to the Dread Legion.”

  AS IT TURNED OUT, THE Dread Legion had agents throughout the Federation. They were mostly undead with some living sympathizers, or in some cases supplicants, allied with them. They held positions in all walks of life, from lowly privates to colonels and higher in the military and from custodians to CEOs in the corporate world. And they were all pissed at the Federation’s handling of the undead crisis.

  And so there I was, a day after speaking with the colonel, sitting in a briefing room aboard the Gamut as we plotted treason. Well, we didn’t call it treason - we called it avenging the dead. Perhaps it made us feel better about what we had to do.

  “A delegation of high-ranking officials, both from the military and political ranks, will be speaking on the supposed threat of the Krai’kesh. They’re hoping to garner support for one military project or another. The reason they’re there doesn’t matter. What matters is, the whole Federation will take notice when we kill them.”

  Six months ago, hell, six days ago, I would have gasped at those words. But now? Numbness washed over me, dulling my feelings. No one took notice when Orin was killed by an angry mob. No one batted an eye when Julianna and my entire team was murdered in cold blood by the Federation. Why should I care if a few overpaid blow-hards died?

  “Here’s the plan...” he began.

  Chapter 27

  The planet Galywix II was not a populous planet by galactic standards, but today it felt as if all ten point two billion people had turned out to its capital, Liberty City, for the festivities. I squeezed between a young couple, dodged half a dozen children racing underfoot and barely evaded an old man who’d walked in my path as I made my way toward my designated high-rise.

  Two days earlier, the dozens of Dread Legion agents and I had landed on Galywix II, courtesy of customs officials belonging to a group called the Sons of Liberty, a freedom-fighter organization. I supposed that’s what the Dread Legion was, since we were fighting for the freedom of the undead.

  Once we’d made landfall, Captain Wilson had gone over the plans while Colonel Schattler had looked on. He’d designated all the buildings and given us tours of them. He’d marked out every piece of the plan and what role each member would play. Then he’d gone over the plan twice more, making for a long day.

  I learned the Dread Legion had picked Galywix II because of its smaller size and its fervently loyal Federation population. The thought was security forces would be lulled into a false sense of security, giving us an opening. An attack like this would never have success on Tar Ebon or any tier one world with surveillance and security everywhere. But here, on a planet that technology-wise reminded me of my home world, there was far less police presence and the Shadow Watch Guard had only arrived the day before.

  I rubbed the handle of the leather case in my hand with my thumb. I would be the weapon of their demise.

  I’d offered to use my powers during the attack, but the colonel and his shadowy associates had vetoed that. They argued it would immediately make clear who was responsible and paint a target on my back. They said they wanted to pin this on the Cult of Rae, though how that would gain more respect for the undead was something I hadn’t understood, until I overheard the captain telling several agitators to shout expletives against the undead during the time leading up to the attack. Whether there actually were any undead among the dignitaries was irrelevant - all that mattered is public perception that hatred of undead had caused the heinous attack. Thus, the living would rally around the undead.

  I approached the Galactic Hotel and the doorman nodded to me as he swung the door open. Another Son of Liberty, his father had been wrongfully imprisoned on Delgin V, the prison planet, and he wanted revenge. He held out a room key, which I swiped. “Straight to the elevator,” he whispered as I passed. “The way is clear.”

  I nodded without responding to him and made for the elevator. I wasn’t alone, but the young couple with three children paid me no mind. I punched the number four button and rode the way in silence, ignoring the blatant looks from the family. I wanted to shout at them - to ask if they’d never seen my kind or something - but I wanted to be as unremarkable as possible. Blend in, I reminded myself. A lot was riding on me.

  Once on the fourth floor, I found the room, swiped the key card and entered. I breathed in the infuriatingly clean scent that accompanied seemingly every upscale hotel, then set to work. Tossing the leather case on the bed, I opened the latch and withdrew the first piece of my sniper rifle. I set about assembling it at a leisurely pace - I had at least fifteen minutes before my target came on stage.

  Captain Wilson hadn’t told me who my target was, yet. He explained it was need-to-know and to be ready for the first speaker. A stolen pamphlet showed the first speaker’s name as Xavier Clement, and a query by Jarvis revealed the man to be a philanthropic billionaire. But why keep that a secret from me?

  I placed my rifle on the bed minutes later and took out my binoculars. Then, at the window, I determined the range from my window to the place directly behind the podium. Captain Wilson had stressed the importance of a head or heart shot. “One shot, one kill,” had been his words, which I’d laughed at. He acted as if I hadn’t been trained as a Ranger.

  Would I still be a Ranger, after this day? After I killed this man? Could I go back to serving the Federation that so clearly wanted me dead? A blasphemous thought arose, telling me I should go to my father and explain things. Let him open an investigation, the proverbial angel on my shoulder whispered. There doesn’t need to be bloodshed.

  “Yes, there does,” I said before I realized I was talking to myself. I shook my head. Now was not the time to start going insane. “Ghost Ranger in position,” I said into the encrypted handheld radio I’d been given. Captain Wilson explained not everyone had implants and there was no way to be sure they were one-hundred percent secure. Instead two-way radios using special encryption were being employed. I had my doubts about these being secure, but it wouldn’t matter in a few minutes.

  I watched the swaying of the crowd for several minutes before movement behind the stage caught my eye. It was time. The crowd started cheering, though I heard fragments of the protests staged by my fellow agents. “Undead go home!” and “Undead stay dead!” were among them. Right on time.

  “Ghost Ranger, prepare to take the shot on my mark.”

  “Yes, sir.” I lifted the window and shouldered my rifle. There would be no tip sticking out to give me away today. But I’d have to waste no time getting to the extraction point after I fired.

  A man, looking to be in his middle-years, with combed over black hair and a shiny smile stepped up on stage. I followed him with my rifle, sighting in on his head as he came to stop behind the podium.

  “That’s Xavier,” Captain Wilson said through the radio.

  I nodded, which caused the scope to drift up for a moment. A flash of black behind Xavier caught my eye. I moved the rifle up slightly and froze. A Shadow Watch Guard stood in one corner of the stage, rifle held at ease, head swiveling this way and that. Zooming out, I got a view of the entire stage and found a Guard in each corner and one directly behind Xavier. Something wasn’t right. Only high-ranking government or military officials got Shadow Watch Guard details, and this man was neither. I refocused on his face as he began to speak.

  “My fellow citizens,” he began. “I apologize for the subterfuge, but I did not want to detract from today’s guests and the enthusiasm b
uilt up for this stop on the tour.” He smiled. “At least until now.” He touched a hand to his face and it changed, re-arranging itself until...I gasped. The face of my father smiled out at the crowd.

  The crowd went wild, cheering and screaming even more than before. They hadn’t expected the Supreme Commander of the Federation to be there to speak to them.

  I stared in shock, arm shaking. They wanted me to shoot my father?

  “Ghost Ranger, take the shot,” Captain Wilson ordered.

  I froze, finger on the trigger. All the rage I’d felt toward the Federation melted away as my father became the face of said entity. Memories of growing up, of sitting on his lap reading stories, of him seeing me off to my first dance and so many other experiences bubbled to the surface, threatening to overwhelm me. A tear slid down my cheek.

  “Ghost Ranger, take the shot,” Captain Wilson ordered again.

  “No.” The word surprised me. I’d committed, I’d said yes. Was I really going to back out now?

  “Take. The. Shot.” Wilson’s words were deliberate yet forceful.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “You said you wanted to avenge your friends. You said you want equal rights for the undead. This is how you get them. This is the shot that starts a revolution, Rachel! Fire the shot!”

  I didn’t want to, but I had to explain. “He’s my father.”

  “We know,” a second voice cut in. Colonel Schattler. “Why do you think we chose you for this mission, Rachel? Did you really think your flimsy disguise could keep you hidden from us? You didn’t even change your name.”

  I’d been assured the disguise was air-tight. But that didn’t matter now. My father’s life hung in the balance. “I won’t do it.”

  The colonel tutted. “Still a silly girl at heart, I see. No matter, we prepared for this eventuality. Captain, proceed.”

  Fear clenched my throat as I realized the implication. He’d said he would be at a high vantage point to oversee the operation. Now I realized he was also in a position to take the shot in case I refused.

  Unable to call for help in time, I did the only thing I could. Bang. My bullet sliced through the air faster than even my eye could track and slammed into the wooden podium at my father’s feet. Come on, I thought, lowering the rifle and waiting for the second bang. Would my warning be enough?

  My father looked down at the cracked wood, then up, seemingly straight in my direction.

  A flash caught my eye from atop the building across from me. The bullet soared toward my father from where Captain Wilson had been hiding as the crack reverberated through the air. The projectile streaked toward my father and passed through him as he blurred. The wood behind him cracked as the bullet impacted. There’s his famous time-bending powers, I thought. With my warning, he’d been able to slow time around himself long enough to dodge the bullet, making it seem to me, an outside observer, that it had passed through his blurring body.

  Within a heartbeat five armored Shadow Watch Guards swarmed my father, huddling over him, while at least a dozen more surged from behind the stage, rifles raised and pointed in every direction.

  “All teams, evac now!” Captain Wilson snapped through the radio. “And Rachel...you’ll pay for this.” The line went dead and the radio grew hot. I tossed it toward the bed and it exploded mid-air. A fail-safe to ensure the investigators couldn’t trace it back.

  I stood there, dumbfounded. What to do now? If I evacuated through the planned route, the Dread Legion members would try their best to kill me. But if I stayed? I watched dozens of security forces lead by black-clad Shadow Watch Guards swarm my hotel and the one across the way. Meanwhile, the familiar roar of gunship engines heralded air support. Would they hesitate to fire missiles into my room, no questions asked? I made for the door of my room, not wanting to find out.

  I’d made it halfway to the door when a shadowy mist appeared, causing me to stop. It formed into the shape of a human a heartbeat later and there stood Isabelle in her synth-suit, helmet down. Her weapons sat at her side and she had her arms crossed. “You really stepped in it this time, cousin,” she said.

  “Isabelle. How...?” How had she known where I was? How had she even known it was me? But I couldn’t get the words out.

  “I figured whoever made that shot was either a shitty sniper or someone who cared about my uncle.” She held out her hand. “Take my hand. We have to get out of here before those muscle-bound hotheads show up to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “But I just...I just tried to kill my father,” I said.

  “But you didn’t. See the distinction?” She sighed. “Listen, take my hand and we’ll get out of here, then everything will be explained. Deal?”

  In the distance, I could hear the crash of doors being broken into on my floor. It would be a matter of seconds before they reached my room. Stepping forward, I clasped her hand.

  “Good choice. Hang on!” The world turned to shadow as we shifted.

  Chapter 28

  The gray of the shadow realm gave way to color as Isabelle returned us to reality. We stood in a hallway in a military facility.

  “Clevis Base. The closest Army base on Galywix II.” Isabelle explained as she strode away with barely a glance. “Come. Your father is this way. My mother got him out.” She made no move to restrain me with stun cuffs, which I was sure she could have summoned with a gesture. But why hadn’t she shifted us directly to my father?

  I followed, nerves of steel melting beneath the heat of the memory of what I’d done. I’d almost killed my father. If he hadn’t revealed himself before I fired...if I had chosen not to aim at the ground.... I was no longer a school girl. I would face my punishment, whatever it might be. That was the reason for the walk - to frighten me - or at least to give me time to dwell on what awaited me.

  We passed through a pair of blast doors, guarded by half a dozen Shadow Watch Guards that I could see and another half dozen camouflaged inside the room, their signatures visible to my enhanced eyes. I wondered if any were Terrence or the others. That would only magnify my shame.

  My father stood at the table, reviewing a holographic representation of the venue he’d just been speaking at. My aunt stood across from him - I recognized her from the holos - and studied me as I entered, face impassive.

  Isabelle cleared her throat. “Here she is.” I sensed irritation in her voice, though whether toward me or toward my father, for making her his errand girl, I couldn’t tell.

  My father turned and met Isabelle’s gaze. “Thank you, Isabelle. You may go. All of you may go.” His last comment was directed at the guards around the room.

  “But...” Isabelle began, even as the cloaked guards streamed out of the room. Her mother had not moved.

  “Please,” my father said, voice softening a bit.

  Isabelle stood there for a few awkward moments, as if deciding whether to argue or leave. At last she sighed and turned to leave. She met my gaze as she passed and for a moment I thought I saw sadness resting there before her mask slipped back into place. “Good luck,” she whispered, sounding as if she were saying good luck before the guillotine blade fell.

  My father spent several long seconds staring at me after the blast doors had shut. “Are you alright?” he asked at last, face and eyes softening. He made no move to embrace me, though. My aunt raised an eyebrow but her face showed no sign of warming.

  I cleared my throat, buying time to process the lack of screaming. Not that my father had ever been one to scream often, but if there was one time when screaming would have been appropriate, it was in that instant. Why wasn’t he shouting? “I’m not hurt,” I replied cautiously, hedging my response and bracing for the outburst.

  My father nodded. “Good. I hoped Isabelle would get to you before any overzealous guards reached your room and took justice into their own hands.”

  I would have deserved it, I thought. Instead I said, “Instead I face your judgment?” I focused my gaze on my aunt. “Or y
ours?”

  My father shook his head. “No. You face no judgment today, Rachel. In fact...” he hesitated and, for a moment, looked unsure of himself, “...we want to apologize to you.”

  My head snapped back as if I’d been sucker-punched and I took a step back. My gut dropped and my mouth opened in shock. They wanted to apologize to me? “Why?” I managed despite the shock. “I just conspired to commit treason against the Federation!”

  He cleared his throat and looked back to my aunt for a moment. “Do you want to tell her?”

  My aunt shrugged. “I can.” She made no move to tell me anything, however.

  “No, it’s my responsibility,” he said. He turned to me and straightened his back. “Rachel, I’m sorry. We used your affliction to infiltrate the Dread Legion.”

  “Used me?” I asked, not understanding. “I joined of my own free will.”

  “Yes, but we intentionally placed you in a position where you would want to join them. We encouraged anti-undead sentiment against you and backed you into a corner,” he held up a hand to forestall me, for my mouth had opened. “Then we tapped into your implant to collect visual and auditory information while you were within the Dread Legion.”

  I stood there, silent as the night for several moments, as my mind tried to process what my father was telling me. He had turned people against me intentionally? And then spied on me? I felt my face warming, a remarkable feat considering I had no warm blood in my body, and felt anger rising. “You...you really did use me,” I said at last, straining to keep from shouting. Here I had been worried my father would be shouting at me, but now I knew the truth. “You humiliated me, then you violated me...my private space. And for what?” I stood, waiting an answer, eyes flicking between my father and aunt. “Why?”

  It was my aunt’s turn to speak this time. “We had credible intelligence that Octavius and his organization was a threat to the Federation. We’d been watching him for years, even before he called it the Dread Legion. The threat level spiked when he was infected and rose from the dead. He used his newfound abilities to gather like-minded individuals to him and his anti-Federation sentiments only grew.”