by Mel Odom
“Unless he’s had kidney filters put in,” the woman said. Fachang had introduced her as Mei. The male was Min. Sage didn’t believe for a moment those names actually belonged to them.
“When Throzath goes in that direction,” Sage said, “we fall in behind him, take out the bodyguards as quickly and quietly as possible, then take him into custody.”
“The same if he decides to leave?” Fachang asked.
“It doesn’t look like he has plans to leave anytime soon, but if he does, we take him out on the street.”
“Have you fought an Ishona?”
“No,” Sage said.
“Let me give you some advice, if I may.”
Sage nodded.
“Don’t try to fight her face-to-face if you can avoid it. Stay out of her reach. She will be incredibly quick and totally vicious. Use whatever you can to keep the fight from being up close. Otherwise she’ll kill you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sage said.
The server arrived with the beers all around and set them down. Sage paid with a credstick and added a tip. They sipped the native brew slowly and watched Throzath play.
Only ten minutes after their arrival, Throzath got up and walked toward the bathroom. Two bodyguards led the way. The other four, including the two women, trailed after him.
Sage waited a beat, then pushed away from the table and followed. Fachang moved an instant behind him and fell into position behind and two steps to his right like they’d been doing this for years.
The women didn’t hesitate to follow the men into the bathroom.
Sage pulled the Kalrak pistols from his shoulder holsters. The human woman trailing the group turned and set herself. Sage put one of the Kalraks against her midriff and pulsed a stun blast that traveled through her anti-ballistic armor and rendered her unconscious.
The woman dropped like a stone. Fachang caught her in mid-fall and dragged her through the door.
Striding up behind the Zukimther standing next in line, Sage put both pistols to the base of his target’s neck, thumbed the power up to almost max, and shoved the muzzles against the base of the mercenary’s skull. At the same time, Sage was aware of his reflection in the long mirror that ran down the side of the wall over the sinks.
In the mirror, the Ishona woman turned and locked eyes with his reflection.
“Look out!” she shouted. Long claws popped from her fingertips. She brushed Throzath aside and stepped toward Sage and his team as they entered the room.
Sage pulled the triggers and the Zukimther groaned loudly and collapsed to his hands and knees.
Sage passed the mercenary, knowing he wasn’t out, only dazed for a moment, but the rest of the group had become aware of them and he had to clear a path for his team to enter the room.
Thrusting his pistols forward, Sage blasted the second Zukimther warrior as he spun and backhanded him. Airborne now, Sage sailed across the bathroom and slammed into the plascrete tiles covering the wall. The plascrete shattered and broken tiles dropped to the floor. The body armor he wore wasn’t nearly as protective as an AKTIVsuit and his breath rushed from his lungs.
Immediately, the Zukimther warrior strode toward him and drew an oversized pistol that Sage didn’t recognize. Willing himself into motion despite the spinning in his head, Sage rolled to the side as his opponent fired his weapon at the wall where he’d been.
TWENTY-ONE
North Makaum Sprawl
1739 Hours Zulu Time
Kiwanuka ran down the alley after Darrantia. She controlled her breathing and made her breaths come slow even though excitement tingled through her. The escape ploy was risky and she knew it. She was embellishing on Halladay’s orders and it could all blow up in her face.
She pushed that thought out of her mind and glanced at the grid overlay on her HUD. With the images of the street map and the overlapping vid views that popped up as the fleeing Voreuskan ran into range of sec cams Pingasa had appropriated for their “network,” as well as keeping track of people and vehicles around her, her attention was maxed.
Her boots slapped against the uneven plascrete surface where tree roots had broken through. Overflowing trash cans lined the alleys. Lizards and carnivorous spiders dug through the trash. A small kifrik emboldened by territorial aggression leaped at her and wrapped its legs around her helmet. Its fat body obscured her view and its fangs struck her faceshield repeatedly.
Cursing, Kiwanuka grabbed the spider and burst its body in her glove as she threw it away. Gray and white pulp stuck to her faceshield and only smeared as she tried to wipe it clean.
“Initiate helmet cleanse,” Kiwanuka said.
Cycle initiated, the AI responded.
Pressurized cleaning fluid sluiced from the top of her helmet and washed the smears and remaining pulp away.
“Darrantia.” The voice that came over the Voreuskan’s stolen comm, relayed by the tracking chip, sounded mechanical. “I am here.”
“Turit.” Darrantia sounded pathetic over the tracking chip. “Can you track me?”
“Tracking you now.” The person at the other end of the connection remained calm. The mechanical voice didn’t give away the gender of the speaker.
“Can you get me out of here? I’m pretty sure I’ve got Terran soldiers following me.”
“They are. Six or more.”
Kiwanuka cursed and tried to decide whether she should increase her speed and settle for keeping Darrantia as a prisoner or give the scheme a little more time.
Of course, it was possible that Darrantia’s mercenary team would write her off.
Or kill her.
There were too many variables in play that Kiwanuka had no control over. She ran out of the alley onto the next street and cut to the left. She almost met the oncoming crawler face-first at the same time the vid footage revealed the obstacle. There was no time to stop.
“Traffic,” Kiwanuka warned as she leaped at the last moment.
She wasn’t able to get the clearance she needed to vault over the crawler, but she got enough height to swing around feetfirst and slide over the vehicle. Metal screeched and her boots left long scars in the crawler’s paint.
Across the street, Darrantia ducked into another alley and went off-vid again, but the tracker still pulsed on the street grid.
Darrantia cursed, gasped, and still somehow ran, as fleet of foot as an ostrich. Kiwanuka had seen the ungainly birds when she was a girl back in her native country.
“It’s going to be okay,” the mechanical voice said. Whatever reassurance the speaker had intended was lost due to the artificial nature of the device. “We have a plan.”
“Did you copy that, Pingasa?” Kiwanuka asked.
“Yes, Staff Sergeant.”
“Keep your head on a swivel.”
“Roger that.”
Kiwanuka gave a brief glance back at her team. They effortlessly avoided the traffic now miring the narrow road because of Huang’s exploding carts. She couldn’t help wondering what the “plan” was and how Darrantia’s people had put something together so quickly.
Then she realized there was only one possibility.
They were already in the area. And if Huang’s information was correct and they were chasing a phantom assassin, that meant they already had another target in their sights.
Kiwanuka knew she had to roll the dice. She only hoped Darrantia reached her team in time for Kiwanuka to prevent the coming assassination.
The Carmine Belelt-Cha
North Makaum Sprawl
1741 Hours Zulu Time
Breathing easily in spite of the knowledge that the Terran military was even now in pursuit of Darrantia, Morlortai stood near a tree that grew through one corner of the patio three stories above street level. The threat of capture sweetened the experience of going for the kill on his target. His blood cycled smoothly through his body and he knew his heart rate had actually slowed.
The Phrenorian Embassy was a hotbed of activity. Air
cars flitted about and he was hopeful that Zhoh would show up soon. Honiban still hadn’t succeeded in hacking into the Phrenorian network, but he was at least able to monitor the traffic taking place.
Something big had happened in the embassy. During his afternoon’s surveillance, he’d noted the arrival of the three officers to the structure. Normally Phrenorians kept their command members compartmentalized so they couldn’t all be taken down at once.
General Rangha’s death had left a void. Morlortai had known that it would. And he’d guessed that Zhoh would attempt to usurp command of the Phrenorian forces onplanet.
“If Terran soldiers are pursuing Darrantia into this part of the sprawl,” Morlortai said, “they’ll soon have air support as well.”
“They do,” Turit confirmed. “Two jumpcopters are now inbound from Fort York.”
Morlortai slid his comm-assisted glasses into place. “Good.”
“How is that good?” Turit asked.
“Because things are already confused due to the exploding pushcarts and the crawler Darrantia escaped from.”
“She didn’t escape,” Turit said. “That incident was carefully orchestrated. We’ve used such subterfuge ourselves.”
Morlortai smiled at a passing hostess as he walked to the more distant corner from the Phrenorian Embassy. “I know.”
He was also aware the angle to the aircar docks was still good. A few trailing branches from the trees offered some potential for disaster, but he didn’t believe it was anything he couldn’t manage.
“Imagine the chaos on this planet when I’m successful in taking out our target,” Morlortai said, “when Zhoh goes down and a Terran Army contingent is on hand. The Phrenorians won’t search for an independent contractor like us. They’ll think the Terrans killed Zhoh.”
“You haven’t killed him yet,” Turit reminded.
“I will. What’s the ETA on the jumpcopters?”
“Two minutes and thirteen seconds.”
Morlortai worked out the variable in his mind. “Direct Darrantia to me.”
“There?”
“Yes.”
“The Terran soldiers are snapping at her heels.”
“That’s where we want them.” Morlortai pressed a finger against the magnification stud on his sunglasses.
Instantly, the image grew larger and his view of the Phrenorians milling around the aircar dock became clearer.
“One way or another, I’m taking a shot at the Phrenorian Embassy that will increase the tensions between these two armies.”
“That’s not going to help us acquire our target.”
“Our target,” Morlortai said, “is either going to be dead on his own account or he will have taken his place as general of the Phrenorians.”
They had planned for that possible eventuality after seeing all the inner fighting taking place among the Phrenorians.
“Once Zhoh is general,” Morlortai said, “he’ll insist on leading his troops into battle. He’ll become an easier target then.”
On the airship dock, the doors parted and Captain Zhoh GhiCemid walked through them. The Phrenorian marched to the waiting aircar and boarded.
“How far away is Darrantia?” Morlortai asked.
“She’s on the first floor and headed your way.”
“ETA?”
“At her present speed, forty-seven seconds.”
“That will work,” Morlortai said. “Have our extraction route prepped and ready.” He looked over at a multi-armed, matte-black Phrenorian drone that floated thirty meters away over another building.
The drone was three meters tall and half a meter thick. It hovered in a preselected grid and looked harmless. Over the time of the Phrenorian occupation at that end of the sprawl, people had gotten used to it.
Morlortai clicked buttons on the small pad he had in his pocket. A scarlet reticule popped up on his lenses, followed by wind speed and distance from the bar to the aircar dock. “Honiban, give me control of the drone.”
“The drone is coming online,” Honiban said in his cultured voice. The faint tinkle of piano keys in a jazz riff carried along the connection. “Did I mention to you that hacking a Phrenorian drone is almost impossible?”
“You did,” Morlortai said.
The reticule on his sunglasses faded for a moment, then came back an even deeper red color. Out over the street, the hacked drone stopped moving along its grid.
For a moment, Morlortai expected the other drones in the area to turn swiftly and fire on the hacked drone. That didn’t happen. Instead, all of them except the one he now had control of kept churning through their preprogrammed flight routines.
Morlortai clicked more buttons and made certain he had complete control of the drone. He’d practiced what he was about to do several times on board Kequaem’s Needle. His ship had a top-of-the-line holo suite that they used to run ops through at times. As part of the ship’s cover, the holo suite was listed as an entertainment complement for passengers they sometimes carried.
“Darrantia’s ETA is eighteen seconds,” Turit said in his calm, synthesized voice.
Morlortai was focused now, only existing in the moment. Nothing else mattered but taking the shot. He pressed the arming button. “Understood.”
Out above the street, the drone’s upper hull split into halves and a Kimer 20mm mini-gun folded out of it on an articulated stand till it looked like a one-legged bird of prey had nestled on the floating platform.
Morlortai only had a tangential sense of the drone. Through his sunglasses lenses, he was a gunsight. He placed the reticule on Zhoh, cursed the fact that the Phrenorian was behind the bulk of the aircar, made the windage adjustment, and fired. The mini-gun spun into action and unleashed a stream of 20mm projectiles.
TWENTY-TWO
A-Pakeb Node
Aircar Docks
Makaum
27632 Akej (Phrenorian Prime)
There was no warning before the explosive rounds hit the embassy’s aircar docks.
The plascrete railing framing the aircar dock ripped into shards and became deadly missiles in their own right. A handful of jagged pieces skidded across the aircar’s reinforced top, tore into Zhoh, and staggered him. All of the shards but two shattered against his armor and exoskeleton, but two of them penetrated his mesoma and created knots of blinding agony.
He blocked out the sudden pain easily because he still had anesthesia in his system from having his combat wounds treated. He resisted the impulse to pull the shards from his body because he would only unleash torrents of blood. For the moment, the things that caused the damage also prevented his wounds and his condition from worsening.
“Protect your general!” Mato roared. He lifted a ballistic shield from a fallen guardsman who had been ripped apart and set the barrier in front of Zhoh and himself. The fusillade of 20mm rounds continued slamming into the aircar dock with decaying accuracy.
Other Phrenorian warriors surrounded Zhoh and set up their ballistic shields as well.
Dazed and in pain, forcing himself to think above it, Zhoh crouched behind the aircar as more rounds slammed into the vehicle and rocked it.
Mato studied Zhoh with the eyes in the back of his head. “Triarr.”
Zhoh peered through the aircar’s windscreen as another wave of destruction hammered the vehicle back a few centimeters. “I’m all right.”
The aircar dock area shivered beneath his feet and seemed on the brink of separating from the main building. The long fall promised death if he went down with the platform and vehicles.
A half dozen warriors knelt at the wreckage with their rifles over their shoulders as they searched for the sniper.
Zhoh peered cautiously over the top of the aircar and spotted the drone that was firing on them. Recognizing it for what it was shocked him. “That’s one of our drones.”
“Yes,” Mato said. His pistol lay on the ground in front of where he crouched. He held a PAD in his secondaries and typed. “Someone has hacked i
t.”
“Is it the Terrans?” Zhoh’s anger grew larger than his pain. He took a fresh grip on the Kimer pistols as the drone kept laying down suppressive fire. To have the Terrans attack him on the day he was promoted to general was intolerable.
“I don’t know. Right now I’m trying to shut down that drone.”
As a fresh wave of rounds hammered the dock, one of the Phrenorian warriors staggered back. His head and primaries had been separated from the rest of his body. Death claimed him and he fell. The rifle the colonel had carried lay only two meters away. A rocket launcher was mounted under the long barrel.
Zhoh threw himself from behind the aircar, hit the plascrete on his shoulder, and grabbed the rifle as he rolled. With the aid of his tail, he came up on his feet and shouldered the rifle. He pulled the weapon in and activated the targeting magnifier. He settled the reticule on the drone and flipped open the secondary trigger for the rocket launcher.
He squeezed the trigger and rode out the weapon’s recoil as the dock area trembled under him once again. The rocket sped true and left a smoking contrail twisting in its wake. An instant later, the depleted uranium round carrying an explosive payload struck the drone and turned it into a smoking fireball.
For a moment, the drone’s anti-grav drive core maintained integrity and it stayed aloft, but that quickly ended as the damage continued tearing through the sec machine. Screaming through the air, the stricken drone smashed into a small shop. A secondary explosion from the craft’s power drive ripped the shop apart and spread blazes in all direction. A human ran from the shop with flames trailing him. He didn’t make it far and became an incendiary pile of tissue in the street.
Movement to the right at one of the local bars drew Zhoh’s attention. He was the only one standing on the aircar dock. His warriors remained hunkered down, ready to return fire.
Through the rifle’s telescopic sights, Zhoh watched as armored Terran military soldiers spread out through the bar on the upper patio level. Most of the bar’s patrons had hit the floor when the shooting started. A few had made a try for the stairs leading down.
