by Cary Caffrey
Sigrid was amazed—the coding had to be forty years out of date. All it took was a gentle nudge of a controlling fin, a tilt of a gimbal. The first twelve shells flew harmlessly overhead, exploding some hundred meters past her and blasting great chunks of shale from a cliff. She didn't wait for the second salvo, running straight for the ravine. She would make it, as long as the tank commander didn't switch off the targeting computer and start firing line of sight.
Which was exactly what he did.
Four shells screamed toward her, then four more, all of them fired unguided and ballistic. Trapped in the open and unable to steer the rounds away, Sigrid dived headfirst down the embankment, throwing herself into the safety of the river cut.
The first salvo was poorly aimed, rushed and fired from distance, but the concussions were loud enough to rattle her skull and rain down a shower of rocks and dirt around her that pelted her head and back. With her ears ringing, she dragged herself from the water. The ravine was still forty meters away. She wasn't going to make it—something she was reminded of as more shells detonated ahead of her. Worse still, these hadn't come from the tanks behind her—they'd come from a second squadron of tanks moving in from the west. They were corralling her, moving to cut her off. And they were finding their range.
The river was narrow here and the cut ran deep into the sandy walls of the embankments. The scant cover was the only thing keeping her alive. More shells burst high over her head. Antipersonnel rounds. Sigrid hurled herself beneath a muddy outcropping, burrowing herself under a cluster of exposed tree roots and shale, shielding her face with her arms against the hail of debris.
The ground heaved under another barrage. She couldn't stay here. She was going to die here.
Forty more meters. That was all she needed.
Doing the only thing she could, Sigrid engaged her cloak, sent out as many false signals as she could, and ran. It wouldn't do any good and she knew it. They were blanketing the area, firing blind. Shells embedded themselves in the ground not twenty meters from her, others burst high overhead, smashing apart the tops of trees and raining splinters down on her, and still Sigrid refused to stop.
She heard the explosion, a sharp staccato bang. An eerie silence followed. But then came the shrill whistle—hundreds of tiny flechettes: the splinter-like shrapnel fired from the antipersonnel rounds. They came down hard and fast, zipping past her, burying themselves in the water and in the ground around her feet. Two of the flechettes pierced her arm. Another tore through her thigh.
The pain was beyond anything she'd experienced in her life. Her leg buckled and collapsed under her. Running at speed, she fell forward, hard onto the rocks. She tried to rise, but her leg was afire with a scorching hot pain, and that pain was spreading rapidly. Her HUD flashed amber then red: the flechettes were coated with an incendiary compound, nitrocellulose, that threatened to burn her alive.
With shaking fingers, Sigrid tore the tiny flechettes from her leg and then her arm, screaming her agony as much as her horror as the flesh continued to melt away. It was only the swarms of nanomites coursing through her that saved her. They were diligent little creatures and they did their utmost to purge the chemical fuel and extinguish the fires burning in her leg and her arm.
But if they had saved her, it was only for the moment. The tanks were still there, and they were moving closer.
Sigrid tried to rise again, only to fall face-first in the shallow waters. The Markov flew from her hand; it was lying in two feet of water, not a meter from her, but even if she could reach it, what good was it?
There were times Sigrid was grateful for her PCM, that strange and alien device that was now such a part of her. It gave her unlimited access to tens of thousands of combat scenarios, and it never failed to present her with options. Until now. All of her search queries came back blank. Nothing. No solutions. Not even a blasted polite suggestion as to how she might get out of this. Of all the things her instructors had trained her for, this wasn't one of them—that notion she might actually fail.
She was starting to wonder if this might be the end when two strong hands lifted her from the ground.
"And they call you the Night Witch," Suko said as she scooped Sigrid into her arms.
"Suko!"
"Come on. Let's get you out of here."
As wonderful as Suko looked in that moment, holding her in her arms, as brave as her words sounded, there was simply nowhere for them to run, and they both knew it. The four mercenary tanks were closing in. The ravine with its promise of cover was too far away, even for Suko. They would be blasted to bits, torn apart before they could make their escape.
Suko must have realized it too, for she stood frozen, with Sigrid held in her arms, clasping to her neck.
The sandy wall of the embankment—their only cover—exploded, showering them with rocks and debris. Suko fell to her knees, doing her best to shield Sigrid from the blast.
"Suko," Sigrid said, "those troops, the mercenaries…"
"I know."
"The ones manning the tanks—"
"I know!"
"They're Kimuran."
"I know!"
Another shell landed not three meters from them, embedding itself in the riverbed and showering them with water and stones. It was a dud and failed to explode—the only reason they were still alive. Sigrid stared at the eight-inch-shell sticking out of the streambed, steam rising from its scorched metal casing. Kimuran or not, those tanks would be the death of them.
"Blast you, Suko." She was still choking, coughing and blinking from the grit that filled her eyes. "I told you not to come after me!"
"You didn't think I'd actually listen, did you?" Suko wiped the mud and dirt from Sigrid's face, ducking and shielding her as more sand and rock blasted down around them. When Sigrid cleared the last of the filth from her eyes, it was to find Suko staring at her, not with fear or despair, but with such love it was almost possible to forget the direness of their situation.
"You still don't understand," Suko said. "After everything that's happened—the last six years—you still don't get it. I told you, Sigrid, I told you I would never leave you, and I won't."
"You'll die here, Suko. We both will."
"Then we'll die together. But never apart. Never again. I love you, Sigrid."
Sigrid's ears might have been ringing from the explosions, but they rang even louder at Suko's words. With little else to do, Sigrid kissed her, holding her and hugging her desperately, though a fresh explosion served to shatter the moment.
Except that explosion… It hadn't come from the tanks.
By now she was well familiar with the bone-rattling sounds of the exploding eighty-eights. But what she'd just heard—this wasn't the whistling of shells, but the scream of incoming missiles.
"Wait, Suko! Listen—look!"
Twenty-four fresh contrails streaked across the sky. These were quickly followed by sixteen more. Four Starlings followed in their wake, rocketing over them at treetop level.
The Starlings were, of course, very familiar to Sigrid and Suko. They'd used them extensively on Alcyone in their training. The small military attack craft sported two small counter-rotating propellers on each side of the fuselage. Their twin 44 mm cannons mounted on each side were manned by crew riding in the open rear section.
These particular Starlings had been fitted with missile pods, and their crews were putting them to good use in working over the tanks. With Suko's help, Sigrid scrambled up the embankment to observe the carnage.
By the time she poked her nose over the rise, three of the tanks lay in smoldering ruins. It was with mixed emotions that she watched the slaughter. Little doubt remained in her mind—the men and women crewing those tanks were definitely Kimuran. These Starlings might have saved her, but they were killing women and men once pledged to fight by her side; women and men who were now just as determined to kill her.
Flying in perfect formation, two of the Starlings looped up and around, bearing
down on the last of the mercenary tanks. Six more missiles dropped from the pods and ignited, tearing into their helpless prey and ripping its armored skin to shreds.
With the last of the tanks taken care of, the Starlings circled down to hover over them. Suko, still shielding Sigrid with her body, held her sidearm high and at the ready.
"Friends of yours?"
Sigrid scanned their markings. They were from Dalair, a ruthless and unscrupulous clan of mercenaries if there ever was one. But they were also under the employ of the magistrate.
"It's all right. They won't hurt us," Sigrid said, though when one of the Starlings whipped its forward-mounted chain gun around to face them, she added, "At least, I don't think."
"I don't think I like the way they're looking at us."
Sigrid had to agree.
"What are they waiting for?"
The answer came as yet another vehicle came charging over the hill. It was a massive, lumbering machine and hardly one designed for off-roading. The wailing blast of its air horn sounded its greeting.
"Jaffer?"
Sigrid stared in amazement. It was Jaffer—or at least his rig. And he wasn't alone. Trailing behind him were two armored cars with another of the Starlings flying overwatch. Unlike Jaffer's immense rig, which bounced along, the armored cars rode smoothly along on their repulsor lifts. They also bore the unmistakable markings of the Consortium.
It was the magistrate.
Waving excitedly, Sigrid did her best to rise on her one good leg. It was only Suko's arm around her that kept her standing. Jaffer must have seen her, for the truck swerved abruptly, making its way toward them. In a cloud of dust, the three vehicles came to a stop just opposite the riverbed. With her arm looped over Suko's neck, Sigrid splashed through the shallow water toward them. The rig's door opened, and Jaffer swung down the ladder, leaping the last few rungs to jog toward her.
"Jaffer? What on Earth are you doing here?" Only her bad leg kept her from leaping into his arms.
"Looking for you."
"Well, it looks like you found her," Suko said. "And you are?"
"Jaffer," he said. He took one look at Suko and his eyes widened before narrowing in understanding. He'd already figured out what Sigrid was, so it wasn't a stretch to realize Suko was the same, especially here, bloodied from battle and surrounded by the hulks of destroyed tanks. Suko was a true creature of combat, and if anyone could look at home here, it was her.
"You!" Jaffer said. "You must be one of those—"
"This is Suko," Sigrid said pridefully. "She's a friend."
"A friend?" Suko said. "After everything I just blurted to you, that's all I am?"
"Girlfriend," Sigrid said, quickly correcting herself. "Sorry. Suko's my girlfriend, Jaffer."
"Ah." Jaffer nodded. "Of course. I should have realized. Well, I'm very pleased to meet—"
"Girl…friend?" Suko's head turned slowly as if on a swivel. "So, I'm to be your girlfriend?"
Sigrid shifted uneasily; clearly, Suko was still displeased with her title. "Um, yes?"
"Just another schooltime chum to take down to the shops for fizzy drinks and sugar tarts. Yes, Jaffer, I suppose I'm the girlfriend."
"She's more than that, Jaffer," Sigrid said with a roll of her eyes. "She's my partner—"
"In crime," Suko added.
"My lover," Sigrid added, with a stern squeeze of her arm around Suko's waist. "She's my lover, Jaffer, and I love her dearly."
"Better," Suko said, with her arms folded.
Jaffer took two quick looks at the both of them. "Look, I know I just got here, but if I'm walking into the middle of something—"
"No, Jaffer," Sigrid said. "You got here just in time. If you hadn't sent those Starlings—"
"Me? I can't take credit for that. That would be the magistrate."
Behind them, the doors to the twin armored cars opened. Two fireteams of Colonel Bhandari's Chagatai warriors exited, followed by the colonel. The magistrate exited last.
"This just gets more and more interesting," Suko said. "What strange company you keep."
"Ms. Novak," the magistrate said, coming toward them. All six of the warriors fell in line, maintaining a perfect perimeter around her. "I trust you're well—though not quite in one piece, I see."
"I'm fine, Magistrate." She wasn't, hardly, but she would be. "How did you find us?"
It was the colonel who answered in his typical blunt fashion. "After you disappeared, we started picking up several encoded transmissions coming from this location."
"Probably the same ones we intercepted," Suko said.
"Not long after, we detected a large force of CTF troops moving down from the north. It wasn't too much of a stretch to think we'd find you here."
"Large force?" Suko said. "You call four tanks a large force? And those weren't CTF."
"Ms. Tansho," the magistrate said, "there is an entire battalion moving in on this location as we speak."
"Here?" Sigrid said. "In your territory—the Free Southern Territories?"
"I'm afraid the CTF never formally relinquished their claim to any part of Earth, and I doubt they see these territories as free. I don't suggest we linger here much longer. You are needed back at the Crossroads, Ms. Novak. There have been…developments."
"I can't, Magistrate. Not yet. I—we—rescued several dozen refugees from the Merchantmen. They're on a truck heading for the Crossroads. Jaffer, I'm afraid we'll need your rig. I doubt that old hulk Victoria is driving will make the trip."
Jaffer nodded. "Don't worry. I'll fetch them."
"Good. I'll come with you."
"Ms. Novak, if you please," the magistrate said. "Much has happened since you left."
Something in the magistrate's voice stopped Sigrid cold. Slowly, she turned back to her. "Why? What's happened?"
"The Crossroads. It's been attacked. It appears the Consortium is now part of this war whether we like it or not."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Resolute
The Starling rose swiftly into the air. There was only room for four passengers in the back of the small craft. Sigrid sat on one seat with her injured leg propped on another, while the magistrate and the colonel sat across from her. With no more seats, Suko stood with her foot on the rail of the landing strut, casually holding to the open doorframe above her head. The fact that they were soaring along at over three hundred kilometers an hour, with the ground rushing by only a few meters beneath, didn't appear to bother her in the least.
"Colonel," Sigrid said; her voice was raised, shouting so that he could hear her over the blast of wind. "I trust this craft is equipped with a transmitter?"
"Of course. We can send a signal anywhere within the Sol system. What do you need?"
Sigrid reached over and helped herself to the data-pad in his belt. She unfolded it and tapped in a series of numbers before handing it back.
"I need you to send this coding sequence on that frequency."
Colonel Bhandari stared at the code for a moment before nodding. "I'll take care of it."
Privately, Sigrid was relieved. Another part was surprised. She expected the colonel to argue with her, or at least question her, but the colonel did neither. Instead, he leaned over the comm panel at his side, dialed the frequency and then punched in the code.
He had his thumb poised on the enter key, but rather than press it, he offered the pad to Sigrid. "I thought you might do the honors."
Suko, who was observing the proceedings with curiosity, leaned down to Sigrid. "What is it? What's going on?"
"It's the coding sequence I programmed into the Merchantmen's reactor core. I told Mr. Lai I'd kill him if he came after me. I don't intend to break my word."
Sigrid thumbed the switch.
Twenty-five kilometers to the south a black mushroom cloud roiled into the morning sky. The Merchantmen were gone.
"He'll never doubt you again," Suko said, and kissed her lover on the cheek.
~ - ~
> Circling low over the Crossroads, Sigrid saw that the damage was far worse than she imagined. The smoke rising from the trading post could be seen for kilometers. Several of the tenements lay smashed and burning. The loss of life had to be tremendous, with hundreds of innocents killed, crushed or burned in the collapsing ruins.
Loading cranes from the cargo depot had been rendered into twisted bits of metal, thoroughly unrecognizable. Not even the magistrate's villa was spared. Many of the survivors, now homeless, were gathered in the streets. But rather than mourn the dead or the loss of their homes, their goods and belongings, they were already setting to work, organizing and cleaning up the debris, preparing shelters, clothing and food.
"They are a good people," the magistrate said. "Their homes will be rebuilt. I will see to that personally. More than that, the death of their loved ones avenged."
"We will both see to that, Magistrate," Sigrid said.
The pilot brought the Starling in for an abrupt landing in the center square. Numb from a healthy dose of painkillers, Sigrid had to be lifted from the craft. Suko held her up with an arm firmly around her waist, and Sigrid's arm over her shoulder.
"Madness," the magistrate said. "The Consortium is neutral. We're not aligned with the CTF nor the Independents. When I find who did this—"
"I know who did this, Magistrate."
"Ms. Novak?"
As badly as the trading post had been hit, the magistrate's forces had given right back. Two Thunderhawks lay in smoking ruins. They were unmarked, but that didn't matter. She knew exactly who they were and where they'd come from.
Hobbling on her one good leg and clinging to Suko, she made her way to the body of one of the attackers. Unlike the rest of the dead, this one wore heavy, mechanized power armor. Sigrid nudged his body over with her foot. The mirrored faceplate was shattered, smashed open to reveal two vacant, lifeless eyes. There was only one faction in the Federation that used this kind of technology. It was developed for one purpose and one purpose only: for fighting Sigrid and her kind.
