Mercenary Instinct (a science fiction romance)

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  Yes, thanks to Fumio, she had known that, but she still didn’t see why it should affect her opinion negatively. After all, a common background had drawn Viktor closer to her. Surely it ought to be the same with finance lords. Except she didn’t feel closer to him, not at all. His expression told her more was coming, the unpleasant part.

  “A Spero-born man who betrayed his people,” Felgard added, his gaze shifting from her toward one of the window displays showing market tickers for Novus Earth and Paradise.

  Viktor stirred, his eyes closing to slits. He still had Lauren by the neck—she didn’t appear pleased by this fact—but there was no bite to the grip.

  “People make mistakes,” Ankari said. She doubted very much she would be in the mood to absolve him when she found out what his “mistake” had been, but she wanted to keep him talking. What had he done that was so terrible that he had been certain she would never agree to work with him?

  “Mistake.” Felgard barked a short, harsh laugh. “What a strange word choice for you. When I...” He looked at her curiously. “Do you even know?”

  No. But she could guess that this had something to do with the destruction of the planet. He couldn’t possibly be responsible or blame himself for that, could he? He was a civilian and always had been—that much was in his public record.

  “GalCon was determined,” Ankari said. “Our people were stubborn. Proud. They would have been defeated one way or another.”

  “But how easy it was for the fleet to sneak in once the planetary defense grid was lowered. At precisely the time they requested.” His mouth twisted. “Like you, girl, I had a lot of companies in my youth. I started many, seeking that elusive route into the upper crust of society, the financially independent, the untouchable. The lords. Like with you, some of those businesses failed, some succeeded moderately well, and perhaps I would have found what I sought eventually if I’d kept plugging away, but humans are not known for patience. Especially young and ambitious ones. I wanted it all overnight, and that’s what they offered me. Felgard, founder and owner of Trak Teck Enterprises, the company that installed the planetary defense grid and serviced and maintained it. And programmed it.” He was looking at the screen again, or perhaps the ocean view in the distance. “They offered me a fortune. What I considered a fortune at the time anyway. And the opportunity to meet all the right people, to schmooze and network, to ensure my company became a famous entity on the exchange. To ensure I had everything I could ever want.”

  Ankari’s blood had chilled in her veins, and the climate-controlled air was suddenly far too cold for her tastes. She was staring at the man who had brought about Spero’s destruction? Or at least assisted it along? What might have happened if the planetary grid hadn’t fallen? The news had always blamed the Crimson Ops for that disaster. No one had ever whispered of betrayal from within. From a civilian contractor who had been hired to defend the planet... not make it more vulnerable.

  “And I did have everything I ever wanted after that,” Felgard went on, almost as if he were confessing to some priest of old. “For the next twenty years, I had it all. But not even the rich can escape the passage of time, the disease it brings.” His eyes sharpened again, and he looked at her.

  Ankari composed her face, lest he see how much his words had stunned her.

  “Needless to say, I’m intrigued by what those alien microbes might be able to offer. My problem...” He touched his abdomen. “I’ve always had problems—a psychologist would doubtlessly point out I must have a guilty conscience that troubles me—and the bacteria that plagues me, that keeps coming back... the doctors understand what it is, how it affects the system, how long I likely have, but they don’t know how to rid me of it. It’s something I picked up in my travels. Apparently those with compromised systems are more vulnerable, but it’s problematic for many in the outlying, less civilized, worlds. Aradica Trifilcarius.” he said, nodding at Lauren. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

  “Yes. It’s native to this system, and resists our antibiotics, manual irrigation, and the drugs currently on the market. It even kills nanobots. You’re right, Lord Felgard, in that we do believe the alien microbiota would deal with it. Those people were so similar to us, except that they evolved here, or at least lived here long enough to find immunity to many of the native bacteria. It’s highly likely that we could help you.”

  “That was my hope. I’m not a theist, you know. I don’t believe there’s an afterlife, a heaven or hell. I never did, anyway. I suppose there are naturally doubts when the end nears. Most people hope that a heaven exists, that this isn’t the end. I only hope that a hell doesn’t exist. I’m sure you can understand.”

  Ankari was glad he was talking to Lauren instead of her. Lauren wasn’t Speronian. She might be appalled, but couldn’t be affected so deeply. Ankari needed a moment to recover before she could speak to him without rancor dripping from her voice. If his guilt was stressing his system so that he had been more susceptible to bacterial plagues, then good. He deserved it. He should have died twenty years ago, when millions of others had. He should have died, and they should have lived.

  Felgard had been right. Ankari never would have worked with him if she had known. And now? Did she have a choice? She looked at the guards, the androids, Viktor… wondering if he had come in with a plan greater than walking off the shuttle with men and guns and a vague hope of being able to use them.

  For the moment, he appeared to simply be waiting and watching Felgard. Absorbed in the story? Had Grenavine been betrayed in a similar manner? She would have to ask someday.

  The displays showing the market tickers blinked out, returning the windows to nothing more than windows. Before Ankari could wonder what had happened, Viktor blasted into motion. He was so fast that she wouldn’t have seen him move at all, except that Lauren stumbled forward, flailing for her balance. Flesh smacked against flesh, then a laser rifle fired, the beam streaking wildly into the room.

  Ankari grabbed Lauren and Jamie. “Down,” she whispered and dropped to the floor. “Stay down.”

  There weren’t any posts or any beams to hide behind, or she would have scrambled toward them. Maybe they would be safer near the wall?

  More crimson beams fired. Two of the white-uniformed guards were already down and not moving. Ankari finally spotted Viktor, rolling to dodge fire from the other guards in the room. He came up behind one of the androids—one of the unmoving androids—using the broad-shouldered male figure for cover.

  Felgard slammed his hand against something on his chair, then threw himself out of it, moving adroitly for a man with less than a year to live. Lauren and Jamie were taking her advice to heart, their eyes wide and their bellies to the floor. Ankari spotted a gun next to a fallen guard. At the rate Viktor was going, he might down the rest without a scratch, if the androids didn’t start up again. She didn’t know how he had arranged the power failure or how long it would last. Wait, it had to be more than power if the androids were affected… The generator?

  Felgard was sprinting out the back door. There was no time to contemplate the hows further. If he got away, neither she nor Mandrake Company would ever be safe, especially not if he figured out a way to extend his life.

  She crawled toward the fallen guard. Lasers continued to fire, one beam biting into the floor not five feet to the side of her. Scorched wood flew up, pelting her. She gulped and veered around the new hole in the floor.

  Ankari reached the fallen guard and grabbed his rifle. Two of the androids had toppled, and Viktor was hurling himself through the air, dodging more fire. She hesitated, tempted to help him, but he must have been tracking where she was and what she was doing, for he yelled, “Get Felgard,” even as he skidded behind another android and fired at two men charging up the ramp.

  Ankari crawled toward the door, but realized Felgard would be on another island by the time she caught him if she continued at that pace. She risked leaping to her feet and sprinted for the rear exit.
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br />   She charged outside onto a balcony, the warm humid air smacking her in the face like a wet towel. Some of those awful plants lined one side of the balcony and she gave them a wide berth. A long, curving ramp led down to a lower level, but she ran to the railing first, trying to spot Felgard.

  There. He was running down the curving ramp. She took a step after him, but Viktor blasted through the door first, charging past her without hesitation. With a dagger between his teeth, a pistol in one hand and a laser rifle in the other, he raced after the finance lord, his face as determined as an avalanche. But Felgard had a big head start. He was running at top speed for the lower level. He must have something down there that could save him. No, not down there… coming in from above. The drone of a small personal shuttlecraft came from the sky. It was heading their way. It had to be coming to pick up Felgard.

  Ankari took a step toward the ramp, but skittered back when the door was thrown open again. The androids were awake. All of them. She backed up so far she almost ran into the fanged man-killer plants. But the androids didn’t look at her, didn’t care about her. As one, all ten charged down the ramp after Viktor. Some had lost their rifles, but others hadn’t. And they were as fast as he was. No, faster. Shit.

  When Viktor had almost reached the bottom of the ramp—he must have heard those thunderous boots racing after him en masse—he stopped and turned around. Ankari gaped. He stopped? What was he thinking? She lifted her rifle, intending to shoot at least one in the back, though she couldn’t imagine what good it would do, but Viktor was already firing on his own. Not at the androids, like she would have expected, but at the bridge itself. The laser ate into the wood like butter, chewing holes and blasting entire boards away. He was relentless, shooting with both weapons, creating a huge gap.

  The first android reached the chasm and didn’t slow down. It leaped into the air, its legs carrying it farther than a human’s would have. Viktor dropped something on the bridge beneath him, turned and ran for the bottom of the ramp. At the same time as the android landed on the far side, the wooden boards beneath its feet exploded. The way it flew back upward made Ankari feel she was reliving the last five seconds, except in reverse.

  The other androids stopped at the edge, watching as their comrade flew up… then down. A human would have flailed, hoping to find some branch or vine, but the android must have analyzed all the possibilities, found them lacking, and accepted its fate. It soon plummeted out of sight. Ankari couldn’t imagine even such a sturdy construct would survive the fall to the ground. She hoped it didn’t anyway.

  After the grenade blew—where had Viktor gotten that, anyway?—more of the bridge crumbled on both sides of the chasm. The other androids leaped back, then turned, probably intending to find another way across—or to simply return to the balcony and jump down. That lower level was right under the railing next to Ankari.

  Though she was afraid that they would focus on her, she lunged forward and shot at the top of the ramp. Boards blasted away under the barrage, but it wasn’t going to be enough damage fast enough, not when those androids could leap twenty meters as if it were nothing. But something else sailed up from below—another grenade? It landed on the platform at the top of the ramp. Worried it would bounce right back off, Ankari shot at it, hoping to detonate it first.

  Her shot struck true. The grenade exploded with a boom that shook the platform. Even a dozen meters away, the shockwave threw Ankari onto her back. She landed hard, stunned, barely managing to keep hold of the rifle.

  A green vine waved into her vision. Ankari squawked and rolled away before a giant fanged flower head could follow. She scrambled to her feet to check on the androids, hoping that blast had stopped them. She gawked at the charred boards at the edge of the platform, smoke wafting from them. The entire ramp was gone. And so were the androids.

  Before she could pump her fist in triumph, the whine of laser fire came from the platform below, rising above the drone of the shuttle’s thrusters, which had grown much closer. Ankari lunged to the railing. Maybe Viktor had shot Felgard, and the shuttle would have nothing to do. Except Felgard would have had the opportunity to run even farther in the time Viktor had been busy with the androids. The platform below was much larger and longer than the balcony Ankari was on, with plenty of room for an impromptu landing pad at one end.

  She spotted Viktor, not chasing after Felgard, but on the ground, grasping at his shoulder. Ankari’s heart sank into her boots. That shot must have come from Felgard. He was running, pistol in hand, to the spot where the shuttle was coming in.

  Viktor wasn’t dead, not yet, and he staggered to his feet, but that wound was clearly slowing him. Ankari fired at Felgard, but didn’t take enough time; the laser blasted into the boards near his feet but missed him. Alerted to her now, he raced under her platform. He would doubtlessly use it for cover, not coming out until he could run straight to the shuttle.

  With Ankari trapped on the balcony, twenty feet above him, she couldn’t do a thing to stop him. Unless she jumped over the railing. She knew how to take a fall—her father’s training ensured that—but the height daunted her, nonetheless. Besides, she had to do something in the next fifteen seconds if she was going to keep Felgard from escaping. The shuttle’s landing skids were less than ten feet from the platform, and the wind from its approach was whipping up the air, rustling the leaves of more of those plants lining a nearby platform.

  Ankari stared hard at those plants, an idea surging into her mind. She took careful aim and waited. Felgard would have to run out… Where? About there? The pilot touched down and waved.

  She dropped to her belly, sticking her head through the railing. There was Felgard, about to run for the shuttle. She fired, not at him but at the edge of the platform holding those pots. She wished she had one of those grenades, but the laser bit into the wood effectively. She blasted several of the pots as she sprayed fire.

  Felgard must not have guessed her intent, for he merely sprinted for the shuttle. As he ran out from beneath the platform above him, a laser struck him in the side. It hadn’t been her shot, but Viktor’s. He was was sprinting toward Felgard, despite the injury. The shuttle pilot leaned out of a side hatch, aiming at Viktor, who shifted his attention, firing preemptively. Ankari kept her focus on that railing, those plants. Viktor’s shot had taken Felgard to the ground, but he was squirming, trying to get up.

  A pot exploded under Ankari’s barrage. She growled. Destroying the plants wasn’t her intent. But when the dirt and greenery flopped to the platform twenty feet below, the plant was still animate. The funnel head came up, like the snout of a dog as it sniffed the air. Felgard was on the deck a few feet away. He must have seen the danger right away, for he scrambled to his feet, even though he clutched his side with his hand, and smoke was wafting through his fingers. At that same moment, the platform above his head gave away, finally damaged enough from Ankari’s barrage of fire to collapse. Wood, pots, and plants tumbled to the level below, crashing all around Felgard.

  A piece of the railing slammed onto him, and he crumpled beneath it. The pots broke when they dropped, but that didn’t keep the hungry flowers from lunging for Felgard. No less than four fanged trumpets clamped onto his body, ripping into flesh. His screams pierced the air. Ankari looked away, ostensibly to check on Viktor, but also because she couldn’t watch a man be torn to bits by carnivorous plants, even if they had been his own “botanical hobby.”

  The shuttle reared away from the platform, jumping into the air like a frightened cat. Blood spattered the platform where the pilot had been leaning out.

  Viktor gave Ankari a silent salute, then lowered his rifle and walked toward Felgard—what remained of the man. Viktor kept an eye on the shuttle, but the pilot must have had enough of him, for the craft veered away, heading straight out to sea. Felgard had stopped screaming, but he was still twitching. Viktor pointed his rifle at the man’s chest and fired. By that point, it was a mercy. They had wanted to—needed to—stop hi
m, but Ankari shuddered, knowing she had been the one to do it. In the future, she hoped to be able to stick to business ventures and leave the killing to others.

  Speaking of others…

  She gripped the railing, wanting to run down and check on Viktor—or to fling herself into his arms—but with the ramp destroyed, she didn’t see another way down. Unless she jumped. Or… her gaze fell upon a vine dangling over the edge of her level. It belonged to one of those awful plants, the ones still lining the back edge of her own balcony, but the vine itself might not be that dangerous, especially if she didn’t touch it for long. Maybe.

  “Are you all right?” Viktor called up. His left arm hung limply at his side.

  “Me? I’m not the one who was shot. Are you all right?” Before she could talk herself out of it, Ankari swung over the railing, grasped the vine, and slid down it as if it were a rope. It had a tacky almost sticky flesh that tore at her hands, so she switched to climbing down, arm under arm. Something snapped above her head, and she let go, dropping the last ten feet and landing in a deep crouch, her butt bumping the planks underfoot. Not the most graceful move, but at least she didn’t hurt herself.

  She spun, intending to race toward the spot where Viktor had been standing, but he had run to her while she was dropping, and she smacked into his chest. He wrapped one arm around her, pulling her hard against him.

  “An unusual method of entering a room,” he remarked.

  Relief and other feelings she wasn’t ready to acknowledge made a lump in her throat, so she didn’t try to say anything. She threw her arms around his waist and buried her face against his shoulder, the uninjured one. She might have flung her legs and everything else around him, but didn’t want to disturb his injury. The scent of smoke clung to him, his flesh and jacket scorched from the laser fire.