Hunter

by Sharon Partington

◆◆◆

  We find Kenny, wounded but alive, in the remains of what used to be the camp mess hall; it’s one of the few buildings not on fire. As the corpsman bandages his bloody shoulder he tells me that rebels attacked the camp about an hour after we left. He and his militia tried to fight them off, but they were outnumbered and overwhelmed. Those who didn’t die had deserted.

  My fault....

  The sun is setting as we consign the last body to the fire. I’ve been trying, all day, to reach command headquarters through a wall of static. Radio silence, my ass, somebody had better talk to me.

  Finally the static breaks and I reach the main base at Lachra.

  “Corin Raas has fled and the Ansaala camp has been destroyed. Half my men are dead. Somebody told her we were coming, she was gone when we got here.”

  “What are you saying, Captain?”

  “I’m saying that somebody tipped her off and she ran. I want to know how many people knew about this mission.”

  “That’s classified.”

  “Well, un-fucking-classify it. If there’s a rebel rat in my unit I want to know who the hell it is.”

  “Control yourself, Captain Brassan.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I count slowly to ten. Then twenty. What I really want to do is send my size ten boot right through the com-unit and up that bureaucratic bastard’s ass. In triplicate.

  Fucker.

  “Allow me to rephrase, Colonel. Delta Six has been compromised, and because of that, a whole lot of people are dead. Would you like to know how my men and I spent the day? We spent the day burning the bodies of woman and children. Civilians. Noncombatants. How well do you suppose that will play once the news agencies get hold of it?”

  A moment of silence. “Very well, withdraw to the evac point. I’ll expect a full report upon your return.”

  Fucking A.

  I break the connection and give the order to withdraw. My squad gathers their gear in silence. They look tired and broken, their eyes haunted. I have nothing to give them. No answers. No explanations. No comfort.

  The sun slips behind the Ansaala Range and the shadows deepen as we move through the trees. By the time we reach the evac site it will be full dark. The knowledge that I might have prevented the massacre sits like an icy rock in my gut.

  I should have stayed at the camp. Those people are dead because of me.

  I swallow my rage and guilt, pushing it aside as I concentrate on getting what’s left of my squad out of this bloody jungle. My instincts are heightened, all my senses alert, as we approach the last stand of trees.

  The evac ship is waiting, its landing lights illuminating the valley. “There’s our ride. Let’s go home.”

  We step from the trees, moving in a ragged line toward the hovering ship. We’ve almost reached the midpoint of the valley when the first shell explodes.

  The concussion knocks me off my feet. Through the ringing in my ears I hear Kenny scream for us to fall back. To retreat and regroup. Someone grabs my shoulders, pulling me backwards. The ground rocks, and grass and dirt fountains upward as two more shells explode among us.

  The grip on my shoulders relaxes and I lose my footing again as shrapnel rains down around me.

  I crawl to my feet. Danny is down. Kenny struggles to haul him backwards, toward the safety of the trees. I grab one of Danny’s arms, while Kenny takes the other. It’s not until we reach the shelter of the forest again, that we realize he’s dead.

  Danny....

  He and I were friends. Brothers. We came up through the academy together. I know his family.

  Jesus, what am I supposed to tell them?

  I hold him, clutching him tight to my chest, heedless of the blood that covers me. The lump in my throat is the size of the world and I struggle to contain the howl of fury and pain building within me.

  A hand touches my shoulder. “Come on, Cap,” says Kenny. “He didn’t save your ass just so you could die in their second wave.”

  The soldier in me lurches forward again and I gently remove Danny’s ID tags, slipping them over my head before closing his vacant eyes.

  I have to get what’s left of my squad the hell out of this, they’re depending on me to lead them.

  Ropes dangle from the rear door of the ship as troopers descend to the valley floor. They’re wearing neutral armor, black on black. Somebody doesn’t want the rest of the galaxy to know what’s going on here.

  I don’t like where that thought takes me. “Sound off!”

  I listen to the names. Shit. Eight of us left out of twenty.

  “To me!”

  “What’s going on, Cap?” demands Reynolds. “They’re supposed to be on our side; why’re they shooting at us?”

  “Fuck if I know,” I snap. “Strip the dead of their weapons and ammo and take their tags. We’re falling back to the refugee camp.”

  They hurry to do as I order and I push the pain and fury deeper as I watch them return. “Our allies want us dead. We’re not going to make it easy. Stay together and watch your targets. Their armor is standard neutral—no colors. That’s your clue. If anything moves in these trees, kill it.”

  ◆◆◆

  Once upon a time I thought I had it all figured out. I’d become a career officer, moving up the chain until I reached a comfortable rank that paid a comfortable salary. Maybe I’d even land a cushy diplomatic post somewhere and retire a general. That was before Delta Six had been ordered to Ansaala and my life had changed forever. Whatever future I’d envisioned for myself went up in smoke, along with the civilians whose bodies we’d burned.

  Twenty of my men had died in that jungle and I still remembered every name. Every face. Every death. I also remembered the promise I’d made. To them, and to myself.

  That I’d find out why.

  I’d lost sight of that promise over the years, it had been misplaced. Buried beneath the bodies and bullshit left strewn in my wake. It was about time I made good on that promise.

  I returned to my room just long enough to recover my weapons, throw some clothes into my bag, and stuff Kenny’s envelope into my pocket. I also grabbed my half dozen vials of enhancers—I needed them to maintain my new look.

  Andrew Lansing was the key to Ansaala and he waited in Lunar City.

  I used to know someone there. Someone who could get me into the Arcturon, the headquarters of the GSF’s Department of Military Security and Intelligence.

  Her brother had been my closest friend. And he’d died on Andros Prime.

  Chapter 7

  Lunar City spread like a gleaming silver blister across the surface of Earth’s moon. The enclosed city rested beneath a series of linked domes constructed of clear plasti-glass, protected by a shimmering blue energy shield. Originally built to accommodate workers from the lithium mine, it now served as Bureaucracy Central for the Galactic Security Force. The mine still operated, but the military provided the biggest boost to the lunar economy. The GSF even supplied transports to the civilian government, hauling in supplies from Earth and the Terra-Luna space station. Living in the satellite suburb eighteen hours from Earth wasn’t cheap; everything from water to building materials had to be ferried in.

  I landed at the outer port and rented a hover car to take me into the city proper, checking into my motel under my Neil Owen alias. I had to tread carefully, even with my altered physical appearance. I was deep in enemy territory now.

  My room at the Earth Rise Motel was small but clean, the orange curtains matching the faded comforter on the double bed. It would never win any awards for decor, but I didn’t plan on spending much time there. I tossed the key card onto the bed along with my bag and draped my jacket over the padded vinyl chair next to the dresser. Switching on the com-link, I sent a query to directory assistance requesting the number for Joanna Travis. A few seconds later it appeared on the screen.

  I stared at it, remembering the last time I’d seen her.

  It had been one of my last leaves before bei
ng promoted to command Delta Six—Danny and I had spent the entire week helping his dad rebuild an antique hover car he’d bought at auction. There hadn’t been much sleep, but there’d been plenty of laughter and beer.

  I envied what Danny and his dad had. The closeness. The small, inside jokes. My dad and I never had that. His folks went out of their way to include me, and for the first time in a long time, I’d felt like I had a real family.

  Joanna had just turned sixteen and she’d spent most of that week hovering in the background, listening to our stories. It was obvious, even then, that she had a serious case of hero worship when it came to her older brother. After Ansaala I thought about coming back to see them. Thought about telling them the truth about how Danny had died. Coward that I was, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  Would Joanna remember me?

  My arrest had been big news everywhere, and my name and picture had been splashed all over the vid-link for months. I might not look like myself, but even so, calling ahead probably wasn’t a good idea; I’d likely get a reception I didn’t want. I asked for her address, and a moment later it appeared on the screen.

  I’d have to plead my case in person.

  ◆◆◆

  The small house in the Mare Crisium district was a single story gray-white box that had originally been built by the mining company to house its “paid by the hour” employees. The whole neighborhood had been meticulously planned and laid out in a grid pattern, the little box houses crammed side by each along the narrow streets. They were pretty much identical in layout and design, and each box house had a smaller box slapped onto the front that served as a garage. The windows were narrow and small. They gave me claustrophobia just looking at them. This particular box had once belonged to Danny and Joanna’s parents; I remembered it from previous visits.

  I parked in front, my gaze flitting along the quiet street. Lights shone in a few windows, the occasional hover car passed by. I sat there for a few minutes watching the house. The windows were dark and there was no car parked in front of me on the street or in the tiny driveway. No nosy neighbor came out to ask me who the hell I was or if I was lost. I peered up towards the Lunar ceiling. The sky carried a distinct opaque sheen, the constant near-dusk dimness a little unnerving. In a lot of ways it was more alien and surreal than some of the more bizarre worlds I’d spent time on.

  Nothing grew here. There were no rivers or streams. No oceans. No avians or animals of any kind. The tiny front yards in front of the uniform little boxes consisted of a dusty gray patch of lunar rock separated from the boxes on either side by low brick retaining walls.

  I got out of the car, feeling a slight tremor in the ground beneath my feet. It came from the underground caverns housing the massive turbines and centrifuge that ran the city’s air filtration and purification units and increased Lunar City’s gravity to near-earth levels; permanent residents probably didn’t even notice it.

  I walked up the path to Joanna’s front door and played the game for whatever neighbors might be watching. When no one answered the bell I got back into my car and circled the block approaching the house from the rear. The narrow strip of yard ended two or three meters from the edge of a paved lane decorated with black and green recycle bins, a neighborhood composter glistening silver between them. Nothing was wasted in this city. Everything was reused. The GSF was more than willing to provide supply transports, but they sure as hell weren’t going to shuttle and offload civilian garbage.

  The windows at the back of the house were dark too. The lock on the back door was a joke and I had it jimmied in less than a minute. I slipped inside quickly, before someone saw me and called the security patrol.

  I drew out a small penlight, keeping the beam low enough to illuminate my immediate path without attracting attention from outside. I hoped, a little belatedly, that she didn’t have a cat for me to stumble over or a big fucking dog in the basement. I hadn’t been inside more than ten minutes before head lights lit up the small kitchen and a car pulled into the garage alongside the house.

  I hid in the shadows next to the kitchen door, my weapon drawn. A key turned in the lock and I grabbed her before she could turn on the light, my hand covering her mouth so she couldn’t scream. She uttered a muffled squawk and tried to twist out of my grasp. I tightened my grip and brought my weapon up where she couldn’t miss it.

  “Quiet, Joanna.”

  I don’t know whether it was the sight of my weapon or the sound of her name, but her struggling stopped.

  “I’m not here to hurt you, I just want to talk. Okay?”

  She nodded and I slowly removed my hand, ready to replace it if she tried to scream.

  “Who are you?” An undercurrent of fear and outrage tinged her voice. “What do you want?”

  “I’m an old friend of Danny’s.”

  “Danny’s dead.”

  “I know.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Can I turn on the light?”

  The neighbors would have seen her drive in, they’d wonder why she was sitting around in the dark.

  “Okay.”

  She moved away from me, and a second or two later the light came on. She stood uncertainly in the middle of the kitchen, staring at me. She was tiny, not much over five feet, and long, auburn hair framed a heart shaped face and blue eyes. She wore a hip length, ivory wool coat, belted at her waist. I glimpsed a jade colored blouse underneath. Low black heels decorated with small gold buckles shone from beneath her black dress pants.

  I’d always thought of her as Danny’s baby sister. Had she always been this beautiful?

  “How do you know Danny?” she demanded as set her purse on the table and unbelted her coat.

  “We were friends. Years ago. We were in the GSF together.”

  She hesitated, and her eyes narrowed as she undid the buttons and pulled her arms out of the sleeves. She draped the coat over a kitchen chair.

  “How do you know me? I don’t remember you.”

  Right. I wasn’t a blond back then.

  “Gage Brassan?” I prompted.

  Her eyes widened as realization dawned. “I saw you on the vid-link, but...you looked different. They said you’re some kind of hired killer.” She paled. “Are you here to—?”

  “If I wanted you dead, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I told you, I’m here to talk.”

  “Talk about what?”

  “About what happened the night Danny died.”

  “Rebels killed him. And his unit. But then, you’d know that.”

  “Not rebels.”

  Suspicion laced her voice. “Who then?”

  “Androsian military.”

  A flicker of confusion passed over her face. “But...they were our allies.”

  “Yeah. That’s what we thought.”

  That’s why it was so easy for them to decimate us.

  She sat down warily. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to get me into the Arcturon.”

  “What for?”

  “I want a word with Director Lansing about what went on in that jungle.”

  “Why would he know anything?”

  “He was the highest ranking GSF officer in the Androsian system at the time and he and the Androsian High Command were pretty chummy there for a while. I think he knows who gave the order to fire on us.”

  “You think he gave the order himself.”

  “Maybe. He was one of the few people with the authority to pull it off.”

  “But why? Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what I want to ask him.”

  Right before I blow his traitorous fucking head off.

  She chewed her bottom lip as she watched me, a myriad of emotions flashing across her face. Suspicion. Confusion. When she spoke again her voice was laced with frustration. “I work in the Records Department. I’m not anywhere near Director Lansing or his office. I don’t know how much help you think I can be.”

  �
�Just get me into the building. I’ll figure out my own way to get to him.”

  “And if I refuse? What then? You’ll kill me? That’s what you do, isn’t it? You kill people?”

  I met her gaze steadily. “Yeah, that’s what I do.”

  She paused, lowering her eyes. “You’re not the man I remember. The Gage Brassan I knew would never do what you’ve done.”

  “The Gage Brassan you knew died in the jungle with Danny and the rest.”

  “And how is it you got out when they didn’t? Wasn’t it your job to bring them back alive?”

  The accusation in her voice hit me like a slap in the face. “A long story. One I don’t have time to get into now. Let’s just say I took the only option available to me at the time.”

  “Maybe I should exercise my own options and tell you to go to hell. I’ve heard the Doranis put a big fat bounty on your head. I can use a little extra cash.”

  She had guts, I had to give her that. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “No? Why not?”

  “Because I kill people, remember? It’s what I do.”

  “Danny would hate to see what you’ve become,” she said softly. “He loved you like a brother.”

  “They lied to you, Joanna. Don’t you get it? Our supposed allies killed Danny and the rest, and then lied to cover it up. Don’t you want to know the truth?”

  She closed her eyes, wiping tears away. I’d struck a nerve, and I had to exploit it before the moment was gone. “Lansing has to know something. Just get me close to him.”

  Anxious silence stretched between us. What would I do if she refused? Could I get into the Arcturon without her? Could I leave her alive if she said no?

  Finally she sighed. “Fine, I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t promise anything. Where can I reach you?”

  I smiled grimly. “Here.”

  ◆◆◆

  It was a very tense night. Joanna didn’t trust me not to kill her in her sleep and I didn’t trust her not to rat me out as soon as my back was turned. Neither of us got much rest. I wandered from room to room in the small house. She had updated the décor from her mother’s floral prints and lace to more contemporary beige leather and glass, but I still had this eerie feeling that Danny or his parents would walk in any minute.