by Cary Caffrey
"Ms. Novak—"
"I won't tell you again."
The colonel looked slowly down at the dead soldier at his feet, then back at her. She'd made her point. "Very well, Ms. Novak. It will be done."
Suko reached for her again, holding her hand and her arm. "Sigrid! No! Don't do this. Please!"
"I told you, Suko, I'm getting you out of here."
"No! Sigrid—you saw what they did to those girls! You can't."
Medics rushed forward, a stretcher held between them. One of them reached out to tend to her wounded leg, but Suko lashed out, clawing at his face and hurling another of the medics aside. Wisely, they backed off, giving her a wide berth.
Suko was crying, and she wiped at her eyes. "It's not up to you to save everyone all the bloody time. You said you wouldn't leave. You promised."
Sigrid couldn't answer; the words were a jumble, stuck in her throat.
Suko lashed again at the medics, but she was weak, slow. She didn't see the one who came at her from behind. He thrust the syringe hard into her neck, pressing down on the plunger. In her weakened state, not even the nanomites in her system could reject the drug. The sedative did its work, and Suko collapsed back on the ground.
She was powerless to stop the medics now. They worked quickly to stabilize her, placing her leg in a proper pressure casing. Sigrid wanted to run to her, hold her, tell her she would be all right. But she couldn't.
Suko had saved her so many times, cared for her. Loved her. Sigrid had to save her now, and this was the only way she knew how.
"I'm sorry, Suko."
Sigrid nodded to the medics, who lifted her carefully, carrying her to the waiting transport. She watched as they loaded her inside, securing her. Then, with a roar of engines firing, the Thunderhawk lifted off, carrying Suko away. To safety, Sigrid hoped. If not…well, Sigrid knew what she would do.
Sigrid turned back to the colonel. "I have a ship in orbit. My friends are there. I want her delivered safely to them."
The colonel nodded. "It will be done. And then?"
"Then, Colonel, your masters shall have what you came for. They'll have me."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Politics & Power
Randal Gillings, Chairman for the Council of Trade and Finance, stood on the tarmac. All commercial traffic in and out of the spaceport had been shut down, grounded due to the emergency—an emergency declared by him. The tarmac was littered with emergency vehicles, their crews working quickly to launch the support craft as swiftly as possible. Hampering their efforts were the personal transports of local CTF officials. Crowds of dignitaries and bureaucrats surged forward, trying to make their way across the field to their waiting ships. They were held back by a small security contingent and a collection of hastily erected barriers. They shouted their demands, arguing with the security and port officials, anyone who might listen, desperate to flee the city after the detonation.
They were fools. The blast area was cleared. The emergency was over. He'd told them so, yet they still tried to flee.
But Randal Gillings was not here to facilitate the emergency-response teams, nor the evacuation of the areas surrounding Lachlan Industrial. The call had come in: One of the Kimuran girls was being brought here, her life given in exchange for the other one, Sigrid Novak. Local CTF Security were eager to get their hands on this one. It was up to Gillings to make certain that didn't happen.
He didn't do this out of any sense of charity or goodwill. If anything happened to this girl, Gillings knew his own life would be forfeit.
One woman barged through the barriers and pushed her way past the security men. Gillings recognized her. Her name was Kali Sati. She was acting emissary to the CTF here on Bellatrix. Two security men acted as escort, careful to keep clear of the rushing emergency vehicles.
"Chairman," she said, taking a moment to straighten her hair, which had become disheveled in the jostling crowds. "I don't suppose you'd care to explain your presence here, or your involvement in this…affair."
Gillings stiffened at the demand, raising himself to his full height of six feet before answering. "I offer no explanation, Acting Emissary, because none is required. You have received my instructions. That is all the explanation you need."
"You consort with known terrorists, Chairman," the emissary said, her glare fixed on the two Kimuran girls at his side. "Both these girls are wanted—by the Council, I might add. I could take you all into custody now, claim them for my own."
"You could try," Gillings said. "But I doubt you or your men would leave this port alive. As if to punctuate his point, Trudy moved on her; it took both of Miranda's hands on her arm, her heels dug into the ground, to hold her back.
The emissary took half a step backward, her nostrils flaring at the threat. "There will be a hearing, Chairman. You will have to answer for your actions. You have no jurisdiction here."
"Yes, there will be a hearing, Emissary. But not today. Today I only require you to follow my instructions to the letter. Can you do that, Acting Emissary Sati, or shall I appoint someone else who will? If you're not happy in your position, I'm certain we can arrange for you to be returned to the private sector."
The emissary's cheeks puffed, but she shook her head. "No, Chairman, there's no need for threats. I have already made the arrangements. Their ship will be permitted to land, as will the Independents'. I have instructed local security to allow them both safe passage. There will be no interference, I assure you."
"Good. See that there isn't."
"But, Chairman—Randal…you must understand, the Council will have to be informed. Of everything."
Gillings turned his back to her. Glancing skyward, he could already hear the sound of heavy air vehicles on approach, a lone Thunderhawk with two Starlings as escort. The gunship descended quickly, blowing up clouds of dust; the two Starlings circled above, keeping careful watch. Even as the Thunderhawk settled on its struts, the composite metal bowing under its bulk, the door slid open. Medics rushed forward to retrieve the stretcher passed down from inside. He saw the girl lying on it, impossible to tell whether she was alive or dead.
"Chairman!" Kali Sati said again. "Are you listening to me? This will all be in my report. The Council will demand that you answer for this."
Then, above, unseen in the clouds and smog, Gillings heard the second ship, this one much larger, dropping from orbit, the sonic boom rattling the windows of the maintenance hut nearby. This would be Novak's ship, the Morrigan.
"Yes, Emissary," Gillings said. "I heard you. Fear not. The Council will have their pound of flesh. But they will not get it today."
*
Miranda shielded her eyes as the fifty-meter scout vessel descended on the landing platform. She gasped at the sight of the small ship. The battle damage was clear to see even from here. The Morrigan had sustained weapons hits and suffered several near detonations. The whine of her overtaxed systems was pronounced. The small ship pitched and bucked as it dropped lower, struggling to stay on a level course.
And she wasn't alone. As she descended, she was shadowed closely by three CTF fighter craft. Miranda knew it was only the chairman's direct intervention that kept the CTF fighters from obliterating her right then and there.
The Morrigan's landing was not smooth. She hit hard, leaning heavily over to the side and threatening to tip all the way over. A blast from her maneuvering jets saved her at the last moment, and she came crashing back down.
Four Kimuran medics emerged from the airlock, rushing to collect Suko from the Independent soldiers, both groups exchanging terse looks. Miranda ran to join them, pushing past the security men. Suko was a ghastly sight, pale, bruised and bloodied. She was unconscious, but she was alive.
The medics took her directly to the ship, carrying her quickly up the steps and inside. Miranda climbed the steps to follow, but someone blocked her way. A woman stood in the airlock. She was tall, raven-haired and wearing a pilot's jacket. Her hand rested on the butt of the
long sidearm at her hip.
Miranda cleared her throat. "You must be Selene—Lt. Commander Tseng."
"Special Agent Kane, I presume."
"You're in danger here, Captain," Miranda said. As a naval officer herself Miranda knew it was only proper to address a ship's commander as captain, regardless of rank, and she took care to address Selene as such now. "I'm not sure how much longer the chairman can hold off security. We must depart right away. We have information of vital importance to both the Council and the Mercenary Guild."
Selene signaled to the squad of Kimuran soldiers at her side. As one, they moved forward. Miranda felt two of them grip her arms, fastening the binders to her wrists.
"Wait! What are you doing?"
"Sorry, Special Agent," Selene said, "but until we get Sigrid back, none of us are going anywhere."
"Captain, if we don't leave now, we never will."
"Take her inside," Selene said. "The chairman, as well. Put them both in the brig."
"Now, just one moment…" Gillings took a step back, but it was no use. The Kimuran soldiers had him by the arms, ushering him forward. Wide-eyed, he turned to the acting emissary at his side. "Emissary—Ms. Sati—"
The acting emissary stood, hands behind her back, the grin widening on her face. "Sorry, Chairman. Your orders were quite specific. We are not to interfere. And as long as you serve as Chairman to the Council, I am compelled to obey."
Gillings shook off the soldiers' hands, stepping toward the waiting Morrigan. "There's no need. I'll give you no trouble." He paused, one foot on the steps to the ship, turning to shoot a look back at the emissary. "This will not be forgotten, Ms. Sati."
The acting emissary's only answer was to turn her back, disappearing into the crowd.
Selene waited at the airlock as her crew brought the two prisoners inside. Trudy and Leta were last up the steps. Selene looked upon the man they held between them.
"Major Tarsus," Selene said mildly.
Tarsus looked over her shoulder, glancing appraisingly at the Morrigan behind her. "I always knew you'd end up with your own command, Selene. I'm proud of you. You deserve it."
Selene took him by the sleeve, pushing him up the steps toward the airlock. "Sorry, Major. There's no time to reminisce. I have a friend out there. We're going to get her back. And you're going to help us."
To her surprise, the major shook his head. "I'm sorry, Selene. I can't."
Selene reached for her sidearm, half-pulling it from its holster. "That wasn't a request, Karl. I may have worked for you once—"
"No, you misunderstand. I didn't say I won't. I said I can't."
The pistol was fully out of its holster. Selene thrust it under his chin. "Why?"
"Because," Tarsus said, "it's too late. They'll have her by now. She'll be long gone by the time you get there."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Independents
The colonel closed his comlink and turned back to Sigrid. "It's done, Ms. Novak. Your friend has been safely delivered. They've just cleared orbit. I have kept my word."
Sigrid hadn't moved from her position in better than an hour, keeping careful watch on the colonel and his men all around her. "You have, Colonel. And for that, I will do you one favor."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"I'm going to let you live." Sigrid looked past him at the troops gathered there. "Though, as for the rest of your men…"
"Now wait just one moment. We had a deal."
Sigrid reached back, grasping the hilt of the katana, pulling it free. She examined it, testing the weight of the blade in her hand. "You'll have to forgive me. I haven't used one of these in a while."
"Ms. Novak! Don't do this."
Sigrid cloaked.
The colonel's jaw dropped open, the sight of the girl disappearing before his eyes, too much. There was panic on his face, confusion. That was good. Sigrid needed that. It was her only hope if she were to get out of this alive.
Sigrid dashed forward, straight at him, the blade raised before her. The two armored soldiers at his side were the first to fall, their heads falling to the desert floor with soft thuds, rolling past the colonel's feet.
The colonel spun about, gun in hand, searching, shouting orders. But Sigrid was gone, running as hard as she could. She was encircled, surrounded. Her cloak was her only hope, but she could not hold it, not for long, not long enough to make her escape into open desert.
The firing had already started in earnest. Behind her she heard the colonel's desperate cries to cease fire. The fool still wanted her alive.
She ran hard, making for a gap between two of the personnel carriers. A squad of soldiers blocked her way. Sigrid dared not fire for fear it would give away her position. She ran toward them, vaulting, tucking her knees in as she summersaulted over them. Her hair brushed one of the soldiers as she passed over him. He turned, looking up, but he was dead before she hit the ground, his neck snapped and broken.
There was no point in running. The open desert would provide no cover. But she was on the outside of their circle now, still running, still somehow holding onto the life-saving cloak of invisibility. Two munition charges dropped from her waist pouch into her hands. She slapped one onto the side of the nearest APC, darting for the next.
She could hold the shroud no more. It was draining her, slowing her too much. Sigrid let the shroud fade, became visible again. The soldier seated in the turret saw her; his mouth drooped open and he pointed, his finger raised in alarm. But the charge was set. Sigrid thumbed the remote trigger. Both APCs were launched sideways under the force of the blast, exploding in two fiery balls, tumbling end over end, rolling over the squads of soldiers not quick enough to get out of the way.
But they saw her now.
One after another, too many to count, Sigrid's PCM alerted her to each weapon aimed at her.
There was nothing left for it, no cover offered. Sigrid charged directly into the nearest group of bewildered men and women. The soldiers would be her cover now. She heard the shouted orders of "Alive! Alive!" But Sigrid had no such orders.
Gas, grenades, smoke, Sigrid unleashed her entire arsenal. At close range, she felt their hands reaching, grabbing for her arms and legs, a vain attempt to bring her down. Stun-batons lashed out. One found her leg. Sigrid screamed, more in rage than pain. Suko's sword was in her hand. Sigrid severed the hand that held the offending baton. Again and again, steel found flesh, and Sigrid heard the cries of the men and women around her.
As her cover of the surrounding soldiers dwindled, Sigrid had no choice but to move on to the next group. But these soldiers had witnessed the carnage and the slaughter. They would no longer heed the words of their commanders. They wanted blood. They wanted revenge.
They wanted her dead.
Sigrid heard the chatter of heavy mounted weapons and felt the blast of the Thunderhawks maneuvering in overhead. Her HUD was awash with red warnings. Her Tactical Database offered only one possible course.
Sigrid charged. Straight ahead. Running faster than she ever thought possible. Somehow, she found the reserve, the extra strength, a rush of adrenaline, just enough to engage her cloak once more, one last desperate push. Explosive rounds ripped into the ground, at her side and at her heels, rending her uniform and the flesh underneath, shattering bone. But Sigrid continued her run. Two soldiers threw up their arms in a vain attempt to shield themselves against the sharpened steel and the girl who wielded it. Two more charges set. Two more APCs turned into blackened husks.
Again, Sigrid was visible to them. And ten more APCs, ten more clusters of soldiers remained.
She would not make it to the next group, and they knew it—Sigrid knew it. The survivors behind her were gathering themselves, pressing their advantage. The platoon commander ahead of her was also better prepared. She saw the men readying the riot guns, loading them with their electrified stun nets. The turrets of the APCs swung around, taking aim.
Screaming in rage, Sigrid ran at t
hem. One of the Thunderhawks swung around, cutting her off, its twin mounted chain guns firing at the ground, spraying sand and dirt high into the air. Eight black-clad figures leapt from her portals—the girls didn't bother with the rappeller lines, leaping straight down to land easily on the ground before her.
They, too, carried a selection of riot-guns and stunners.
All firing stopped. The eight female figures spread out and around her. Their faces were void of emotion, their eyes mechanical and lifeless. Yet Sigrid knew they wanted her. And there was nothing Sigrid could do.
This was what it was to be hunted; she had felt that way as long as she could remember, but for the very first time in her life, Sigrid felt trapped.
Strangely, she felt calm. She had succeeded in her mission. Harry Jones was dead. Suko was safe.
One of the girls stepped forward. She raised her hand. Sigrid saw the needlelike appendage spring forth from her finger—the data probe.
"No," Sigrid said, though she knew the girl wouldn't hear her. She took half a step backward. "I'll not let you."
Her tactical-database confirmed the only course of action left. These Independents could not be allowed to have her. New Alcyone, her sisters, they had to be protected.
Only one more duty to perform.
Two grenades dropped into Sigrid's hands.
*
"No!" Suko screamed. "Let me go!"
Three Kimuran medics struggled to hold Suko back, but even in her weakened state they were no match for her, and Suko would not let them stop her. She threw one back against the wall, twisted the arm of another.
One of the medics held up his hands, pleading for her to calm. "Ms. Tansho! Please, you'll tear the sutures! They need time—"
"Help me up, goddammit!" Suko called to Trudy.
"Suko—maybe you should—"
The look Suko shot her was enough to silence her. Trudy came to her side, helping her to stand, hoisting her up. She could deal with the pain, she didn't even care about her leg, but she wasn't about to let them leave Bellatrix. Not without Sigrid.
