A Hero for the Empire: The Dragon's Bidding, Book 1

by Christina Westcott

  “Wolf was one of those, and from what he said, Ransahov must have been involved, too.”

  “Yeah, and Tritico. There were a few others, as well.”

  “What I saw out there tonight was pretty unbelievable. You just don’t survive a pulse-bolt to the chest at close range.” She shook her head. “You’d think something like that would create rumors, or some kind of mythology would spring up around the survivors.”

  “Emperor Rantha swept it under the rug pretty quickly. After all, he almost killed his own Triumvir. All references to the failed experiment were purged and the personnel files of the poor bastards who lived through it were all sanitized.”

  Fitz thought of Wolf’s missing records. Had the Emperor been trying to protect him or just the royal reputation?

  “After the war, crazy old Lazzinair kept up his experiments on the quiet, but his subjects kept dying. He got a reputation for being a nut-job and couldn’t get funding. Eventually, he destroyed all of his notes and research, then killed himself.”

  “So no one knows how or why it works?”

  “Ski probably knows the most about it of anyone. The Boss sometimes jokes that he feels like her private lab animal. She’s figured some of it out, says it worked like those things she patched up your shoulder with. Those nana-thingies.”

  “Nanites,” Fitz corrected. She could personally attest to their spectacular ability to repair knife wounds, laser burns and even after surgery, but the tiny machines were programmed to perform a specific task, then go inert. Attempts to leave nanites active in the body had been unsuccessful. They over replicated and caused catastrophic immune system responses.

  “Except these things are alive. Ski says it’s some kind of unknown life form that can only exist inside the cells of another living creature. In exchange, it takes good care of its host’s body, preventing normal day-to-day damage and repairing any injuries quickly. It does, however, require a lot of energy.”

  “Energy? What kind of energy?”

  “Food. I’m sure you noticed he eats like a garnshrike and never puts on a kilo, ’cause he’s got to feed that symbiont, too. It metabolizes everything almost instantly. Protein, carbohydrates, sugars—especially sugars. And alcohol. He’s always bitching about not being able to get drunk.”

  “That stuff in those injectors, it’s some kind of super nutrient solution, isn’t it? To feed the symbiont while it’s repairing traumatic injuries…injuries like those he took tonight. Tritico said something about that thing extracting what it needed from his body. That sounds like it could cause starvation, where the body literally consumes itself to stay alive. Could that happen to him? Could that thing ultimately kill him?”

  “I don’t think so. The only time that came close to happening, the symbiont shut down and put him into a coma until Ski could get him back to the hospital.”

  The thought of a helpless Wolf in Tritico and Von Drager’s hands made her stomach feel like she’d swallowed a boulder. What kind of horrors could they inflicted on a man who couldn’t die?

  Fitz drew a shaky breath. “Jumper, are you talking about immortality?”

  “Don’t let him hear you using the I-word. He says it’s hard enough to live with the knowledge that all those people died and he didn’t. Sometimes he still dreams of being back in that aid station, listening to their screams.”

  She shivered. Damn, what must it feel like to know that those memories would haunt you forever and even suicide might not be a way out?

  For the promise of immortality any slightly unethical doctor, med-tech or geneticist would gleefully strap Wolf to a dissection table and slice his body apart until they found that secret. Just as Tritico and Von Drager could be preparing to do right now.

  “This can’t wait until the morning,” Fitz struggled to her feet but her knees buckled, dumping her face first to the deck.

  “Commander,” Lizzy shouted with a very un-computer-like concern.

  “I’m okay.”

  “You are not going anywhere tonight, Commander. If you’re not going to eat or take a shower, at least get into bed.”

  “I will. Just give me a minute.” She rested her forehead on her arm. “I only want to close my eyes for a few seconds.”

  A few seconds became six hours.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The black box sat on the console, cables linking it to the ship’s computer. Alphanumerics flickered across the monitor as Lizzy mined the unit’s innards for the info she needed. Fitz watched from the co-pilot’s seat, cradling the latest in a long series of mugs containing Rainbow High Mountain. She tried not to think about the charred skeletons she had to push aside to retrieve the data recorder.

  She rolled her neck and shoulders, stiff from sleeping in a huddle on the floor. That marginal rest, along with a shower, a gallon of coffee and a breakfast of Wolf-sized portions had left her feeling almost human again. More stims and painkillers helped, too.

  “I have the information you requested, Commander.” Lizzy switched the display to a map, showing their location in a valley bordered on each side by a range of mountains. A red dot flashed on the backside of the peaks to their east. “That transport departed from this location. It’s located approximately two hundred and fifty kilometers away. I believe this is where they are housing the Tzrakas.”

  “Good,” Fitz said. “Mark that spot. As soon as I get Wolf back, we’re going down there and blowing the chufting hell out of that place. What about the main base?”

  A second marker blinked further to the north. “From its location high up on that far slope, I’d say it was situated inside the mountain, much like your standard remote detachment that wishes to remain undetected.”

  Fitz stood and stretched her back. “What’s the distance to it?”

  “Actually not that far, by air.” A circuitous red line appeared on the display. “But you will be traveling on foot and that will necessitate detouring north to cross this mountain range through a pass, then turning back southward to reach the base. I judge it to be a little less than eighty kilometers.”

  “During my PT qualifications at the Academy, I had to run seventy-five klicks with a full pack. I think I can manage this.”

  “Might I remind you, Commander, at the time you were augmented and several decades younger?”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I don’t see that we have any other options.” She headed for Wolf’s quarters. “Just transfer that information to a handheld for me.”

  His bed resembled a table at an arms dealers’ convention. Earlier she’d opened all the crates and boxes he’d brought on board and spread their contents out for easy perusal. So this was what a grand a day leased? Thank the gods for paranoid mercenaries with a weapons fetish.

  Fitz strapped the slug thrower on over her camosuit, its weight a comforting presence against her thigh. Wolf’s attraction to this weapon was quickly becoming understandable. A sheath holding a wide-bladed knife went on the other hip. She filled the pockets of her pants with grenades, power cells and spare ammunition clips. A combat harness held his sword in a scabbard across her back. She filled a medical case with injectors of Wolf’s restorative elixir plus painkillers and stims for herself. A search of the ship had produced little else of use, only some flares and a roll of spacer’s tape. A pair of binoculars and some night vision gear would have been nice, but since her augs usually supplied those functions, she hadn’t seen fit to pack them. She shouldered a backpack filled with food pouches, ration bars and water.

  Lastly, Fitz slung the sniper rifle over one shoulder and headed for the exit in the cargo hold, Jumper behind her.

  “I want you to stay with the ship,” she told the cat.

  “No way, I’m coming with you.”

  “I’m going to be traveling fast. You won’t be able to keep up.”

  “Will, too. I’m not stayin
g behind. He’s my person.”

  “You’ll only get lost, and I’m not slowing down to bail you out of trouble.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m descended from cats who survived in the wild.”

  Fitz doubted Jumper had seen much wilderness curled on the sofa in Wolf’s quarters. “You’ll only give out after a couple of hours and have to make it back here on your own. Who knows what kind of predators are roaming these woods looking for a tasty meal like you?”

  She opened the pressure door and the ramp extended, startling a flock of scavengers that had been at the body of the demolition expert. The burned-out transport still smoldered, adding to the thin layer of fog hovering above the ground. The cold air couldn’t keep down the smell of melted plastic and charred flesh.

  “Jumper, go back inside.” She attempted to pick him up, but he always managed to scramble out of reach each time she got close.

  “I’ve had it with you, cat. Lizzy, seal it up and don’t open up for anyone until I return. Except maybe for a sore-pawed cat who comes limping back here in a couple of hours. Now that most of your external sensors are back online, you should be able to contact me through the handheld until I reach the other side of the mountain, but stay off the comm unless it’s an emergency. I don’t want to risk the Imperials intercepting any of our transmissions.”

  Fitz taped the handheld to her wrist so she could read the display as she ran. With one last look at the carnage behind her, she set off at a ground-devouring lope.

  At first, the cat kept pace with her, running easily at her side, but he gradually fell further behind. At her first rest stop, she had time to catch her breath and drink some water before Jumper came trotting into view, pink tongue hanging. He didn’t complain, only resolutely followed her when she set out again.

  The land began to rise, and by midday, she reached a road of sorts. The rutted path appeared to be a trade route from the interior to the seaport they’d noticed from orbit but, like the trail to the burned-out village, it didn’t show signs of recent use. She hadn’t come across any trace of locals. Or Tzrakas. After the attack at the settlement, the villagers must have relocated to the safety of the city. Then again, the threat of the bugs might have driven everyone out of this area.

  She perched on a stone that appeared to be a distance marker and broke out a pouch of water and an MRE. The label claimed it was neubeast stew with vegetables but she suspected the package would have been as appetizing as its contents.

  Still no cat. Jumper must have given up and turned back. She hated leaving the poor little guy. She knew he had as much of an attachment to his person as she did, but she wouldn’t be able to watch out for him and free Wolf at the same time.

  As she rose to set out again, a small black form limped out of the undergrowth. Burrs clung to his matted coat, mud caked his legs and underbelly. He staggered to her and collapsed on his side, flanks heaving.

  “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  “Never.”

  Fitz cursed, unsure who could out-stubborn the other, the man or his cat. While Jumper caught his breath, she broke out another pouch of stew and served it to him on the splayed out wrapper. Jumper scarfed it down, then drank water from her cupped hands. Rearranging the contents of her backpack, she stuffed him into it. Only about half of the portly creature fit into the pack, so when she swung it onto her back, Jumper rode with his front paws on her shoulder, his head brushing her cheek. She broke into a run again.

  The road steepened, the air growing thinner and colder, burning in her throat. The rock walls of the pass seemed to funnel the cold wind against her back, swirling around her ears and driving tendrils of hair into her eyes. A coil of pain tightened around her chest, and she could tell her pace had slowed. Was it only the altitude? Or the weight of her armaments plus the cat? Perhaps Lizzy was right; it was the years, too many of which had been spent at a desk.

  As the trail approached the top of the pass the trees thinned out, replaced by scattering of gnarled specimens that clung to boulders. Loose scree tumbled down the steep rock faces and accumulated in stony drifts along the edge of the road.

  “Commander?” Lizzy’s voice issued from the handheld taped to her arm.

  “What is it?” Fitz used the message as an excuse to stumble to a stop.

  “A short time ago a group of locals arrived and began nosing around. They seemed unduly interested in what had gone on here. There were four of them, mounted on some kind of quadrupedal riding beast. From their primitive armor and weapons, I believe they were a war party of some sort. One young man even tried to open the rear pressure door. After a great deal of gesturing and shouting that my sensors were unable to pick up, they left. Commander, I believe they are following your trail.”

  Involuntarily, Fitz glanced behind her. “What makes you think that?”

  “One man did spend an inordinate amount of time studying the ground where you entered the forest, and I believe he had a small tracking animal with him.”

  Fitz cursed, launching into a run. The trees on the other side of the pass offered some concealment. Her camosuit would blend in with the undergrowth, even if all the packs and harnesses she had on over it would limit its effectiveness. The forest was a long way ahead of her, but she was afraid if she retraced her steps to the cover behind her, it would only bring her closer to her pursuers. None of the wilderness training from her academy years came back to her. If she’d retained anything, it was stored in a file inside her onboard computer. She’d never expected to use that knowledge. Tracking and evasion in the corridors and service tunnels of a starship or space station were more practical talents.

  “A little help would be nice about now, Jumper.”

  “With what?” He sounded surprised.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be a wild animal?”

  “Not this kitty. There might be a few wild cats in my ancestry, but my idea of roughing it is not getting to sleep on the couch.”

  “Can you at least sense them when they’re getting close?”

  “Now, that I can do.”

  “Sing out when you have something.” As she pushed into the fastest pace the thin air would allow, her lungs burned. Each breath through her tight throat was a struggle.

  Why did the locals want her badly enough to track her all the way from the crash site? They must think she was an Imperial soldier trying to escape back to the base. If Tritico had his people capturing native women for the Tzrakas, she couldn’t expect them to be in a merciful mood, and with her language files offline, she couldn’t clear up that misconception. Armed with her advanced weapons, she’d have no trouble defending herself against their swords and spears, but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. They were both actually on the same side in this conflict, even if she wouldn’t be able to convince them of that. Better to avoid the confrontation entirely.

  Her shadow stretched out before her, elongated by the sun that hung just above the western mountain range. Evening would come on quickly. If she could stay ahead of them long enough to make it to the tree line, she could slip away into the darkness.

  “Behind you, Boss Lady.”

  Fitz clattered to a stop in the loose shale and scanned behind her. Two, no four, riders appeared from the thinning tree line mounted on long-legged riding beasts. The animals looked like holos she’d seen of an extinct First-World creature called a horse. They appeared fast, faster than her, but as exhausted as she was now that wasn’t hard. A small creature raced ahead of them, probably the tracker Lizzy warned her about. Its pale, dappled coat blended into the rock-strewn path until it was little more than a shadow flowing across the ground.

  “What is that?” Jumper pushed upright, front paws on her shoulder. His body tensed, ears flattened against his skull. She could feel his growl against her face.

  “I’ll handle this.” The cat launched off her shoulder and
rocketed toward the approaching animal.

  “No, Jumper. Come back,” Fitz shouted, but the cat plunged onward, ignoring her. If he was going to take on that creature to buy her some time, she needed to make the most of it. She whirled and ran. The wind had changed, now gusting directly into her face, hurling tiny daggers of sleet against her skin. Her throat ached and her lungs felt scalded. The rocky walls on either side of the road rose sharply, too steep to climb. Her only chance lay in making it to the other side of the pass. If Jumper could take out that tracking animal, she might be able to elude the riders in the undergrowth. She just had to reach that safety before they overtook her.

  The cold air sharpened the drumming of the horses’ hooves, the rattle of their harnesses and buckles. The shouts of the riders sounded like they were nearly on top of her. The ground dropped away under her next step, almost tripping her as the road angled downward. At last, she’d crossed the center of the pass and started down the back side of the trail. She could see the start of the trees in the distance.

  A loose bit of shale twisted under her boot, hurling her to the ground. The tough fabric of her pants protected her knees, but sharp rocks sliced through her gloves and bit into her palms. She clambered to her feet, wiping bloody hands against her legs. Out of time. The fall had cost her the slim lead she had over them. A shadow fell across her. She spun back, crouching low.

  The mounted man reached out to grab her jacket as he pulled his horse to a sliding stop. Fitz ducked under his fingers, grabbed his forearm and pulled. Already overbalanced, he started to fall, jerking the horse’s head around. The creature squealed as it lost its footing in the loose scree and fell. Fitz dodged out of the way as rider and mount crashed down in a shower of rocks and dust, then she leapt around the struggling pair and bolted for the safety of the forest.