“Nonsense,” Vin said, pointing to Nix. “I got the owner right here.”
When she turned to Nix, Pattie’s otherwise friendly and playful face was now all business. Nix was a little ashamed to think it made her even prettier.
“I’ll deal with you in a minute,” she said to him. Then, back at Vinny. “That is not the owner of this property, only an occupant, and not authorized to give you permission.”
“Look-“
“Now I suggest you leave now before I have your parents called and fined for this mess. A few counts of underaged drinking for starters.”
“Or you could stay and have a nice time with me and my friends.”
“You do realize I’m armed, don’t you?”
For the first time in Nix’s memory, Vin was speechless. He pulled his head back and frowned. He scrubbed his teeth with his tongue, grimaced, and then turned and left. The door slid shut behind him with a finality and doom Nix had never felt before.
“You’re not station security,” Nix said. Probably not the best way to start, but it managed to bring back a bit of the smile in Pattie’s face.
“You think these vac-brains are sober enough to realize that?”
“I guess not. Are you really armed?”
“Maybe.” Pattie’s voice took a dangerous tone, and Nix knew he wasn’t getting out of this.
“Listen, Ms. Pattie—”
“What were you thinking, Nix?” Her voice didn’t rise. She didn’t yell, but her seriousness was self-evident.
“I know.”
“Dothin’s going to kill you.”
“I know.”
“He might even kill me, guilty by association.”
“I know, Ms. Pattie. It was stupid. I’m an idiot. But I promise I’m going to clean everything up and pay for any damages, and make sure that this will never, ever, ever happen again. But you can’t tell Dothin.”
“Because he’d kill you.”
“I know.” Nix couldn’t keep the whine out of his voice. He lifted both hands and grasped at the mess of his hair.
Pattie sighed, rubbed her temples.
“What are you going to do?” Nix asked.
“I,” Pattie said, “am going home. You are going to do exactly what you said you would do. Clean up everything, leave no spec of evidence. Then I’ll come by after work tomorrow and if this place is spotless, I mean immaculate, then I’ll help you figure out how to keep Dothin from learning about...this.” She opened her arms to encompass the whole flat.
“Thanks, Pattie. I’m sorry. But I’ll make you proud.”
Pattie turned to leave, stepped into the doorway. “You’d better.” The door slid shut behind her. Nix locked the door after her and, for the first time since his first days with Dothin, felt like it wasn’t enough.
Nix worked long into the night, picking up cups and bottles, finding and dumping food left in closets, under beds and on shelves, collecting all the pieces of wood from Gallo’s time with Dothin’s table saw, using the hand vac to pick up the sawdust. He found no fewer than seven pieces of clothing including two undergarments. The latter he dropped into the recycler. The former he hung up deep in his closet in case someone came for them. Nix slept on the floor in the workshop with the door locked.
His alarm woke him at six in the morning and he reset it to eight. It went off at eight, he reset it to nine. At nine o clock, he had not the courage to sleep in any later. So Nix got up, emerged into the living room and found it in slightly better condition than it had been last night.
A few stains were visible in the carpet where the nanite swarm that would clean the floors couldn’t manage those particular beverages. Scrubbing the carpet with a special solvent, Nix wondered what people put in their drinks that made it difficult for nanites to clean on the molecular level. Once every stain was invisible, Nix scrubbed them again just in case, his mind telling him they were still there when that was impossible. He removed Vin’s furniture covers and started running them through the laundry, a courtesy Vin did not deserve. Where was he when there was a mess to clean up? Probably spending money from the shared party account. Then he scrubbed over every inch of the furniture until they gleamed.
Nix followed this with a good scrubbing of the bathroom and again wondered how people could manage to mess up something that used nanomachines to clean. Hours passed, and the flat was looking good. Nix pulled all the nick-nacks Dothin kept around from under his bed and breathed a prayer of thanks that they were mostly untouched. He put everything back to where it belonged. Then he washed Dothin’s and his bedding, vacuumed the beds, and scrubbed everywhere he had found undergarments.
At the end of the day, a few pieces of pottery lay broken on the kitchen table. A scar was taken out of one shelf and the fabric of the couch had a small cut. Other than that, everything was spotless, perfect. Nix was impressed.
The doorbell chimed, and Nix checked his link for the time. Pattie was early. Nix smiled. She probably asked to leave early, thinking he’d need a lot of help fixing the place back up. He knew she’d be proud of him. He tabbed the lock and opened the door.
Pain rushed through his head as a meaty fist collided with his face. He felt a split second of zero-g, as if the whole station turned the artificial gravity off for a split second. Then he smashed into the kitchen table.
As his left eye began to swell closed, he saw through his right as Gallo walked into the flat, followed by a few other guys he didn’t know and the Gridmaster, still in his black hood.
Gallo looked back at Gridmaster. “I guess we didn’t need you after all. I told you. Nobody checks the security cams on these things.”
Then he turned to Nix. “I told you I’d be back.”
“Listen, Gallo, I’m sorry about the link. I’ll give you all the money I’ve got. In fact, take my link too.”
“I’ve had a long think about our little encounter last night.” Gallo stepped forward and lifted Nix back to eye level, only Nix wasn’t standing, his feet were sliding along the floor. What was this guy? A cyborg?
“And you’ve decided to graciously forgive me and let bygones be bygones?”
“Wrong.” Gallo tossed Nix away. He fell over a chair on his way down and landed hard on his butt. “I’ve decided that you didn’t just break something that belonged to me. You offended my honor, my possessions. And for that, you need to be taught a lesson.”
Chapter Twelve:
With the Edge of the Sword
“Are you hit?” Cel asked. Ashla didn’t respond right away, so Cel checked her over. Ashla pushed her away.
“I’m fine.”
“Can you walk?”
Ashla nodded.
Cel drew her pistol and disengaged the safety. “Follow me. Stay behind cover, move only if I say to. Understand?”
Ashla’s eyes were wide. She gave no kind of response.
“Do you understand?” Cel shouted.
Ashla looked at her. Her eyes focused. She nodded. “Yes.”
The firefight outside died. Cel engaged her headset. “Forum team, report.” Nothing but static replied. “Forum team, answer!”
The only response was a massive bang on the hospital doors.
“Void,” Vosh said. “What have they got out there? An army?”
Cel pointed to Vosh and the other officer. Names were difficult in stressful situations.
“You two, hold here.” Another bang. “I’m getting Ms. Vares to her ship, then I’ll be back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Another bang.
“Affirmative.”
Ashla shook her head. “No! Jindo!”
“It’s okay, Ms. Vares,” Vosh said. “We’ll be okay. Get to safety.”
The banging was replaced by the lights and sizzling of cutting torches.
“Go,” Vosh said. Cel nodded and led Ashla away from the coming gunfight. This level of the hospital was clear. Once they reached the back, Cel told Ashla to stand against the back wall, then she cleared
the hallway beyond. It was clear, quiet, no sign of trouble. Cel waved Ashla after her, then she shut the door to the hospital and tapped the control with her link to lock it down.
“Ilix, this is Numbar, we are Oscar Mike to location Echo do you read?”
No response.
“Ilix, I need intel, do you copy?”
Nothing but static.
Cel looked down at Ashla, and gave her the bravest face in her inventory. “We’re going to move down this corridor nice and safe, then we’re going to leave, understand?”
Ashla nodded.
“Stay behind me.”
Cel activated her personal energy shield and angled it so it faced forward when she held her weapon with both hands. Then they started moving. Cel moved down the hall, hugging one side for cover in case of trouble. Ashla kept behind her, running from bulkhead to bulkhead. The girl was terrified. Cel considered saying something that might encourage her, but words were never her strong suit and she needed to focus on the corridor ahead.
They came to the junction. Cel waved Ashla back and the girl hugged a bulkhead. Cel stepped up to the corner. Her position gave her a good perspective of the hall going to the left. She leaned against the corner, lifted her pistol and turned to check right. Bolts of accelerated ions whizzed past her. One collided with her shield and erupted in an orange flash. Cel spun behind the cover of the corner.
Ashla whimpered behind the bulkhead. Cel took a deep breath, then surged forward. There were two of them taking up positions behind bulkheads on either side of the corridor. Both wielded modified particle repeaters. Cel stayed close to the right bulkhead and held her fire, waiting for her shot. The man on the left, peered out from cover and sprayed at Cel. Her energy shield flashed and started shifting in hue, a visual cue to let her know it was losing power.
Cel popped him once in the chest, and again in the head. The man screamed, his arms dropped, finger still on the trigger, blasting gouts of carpeting out of the floor. Then he crumpled. His buddy roared, revealed himself, firing wildly. Cel dropped him, then fell back behind cover. She disengaged her energy shield, giving it a few seconds to charge. Cel disengaged and dropped the spent magazine from her weapon, dumped it into its pouch, then pulled a fresh clip and slapped it into the gun.
The corridor was quiet, besides Ashla’s quiet crying. No one else had started firing on them. Cel reengaged her energy shield, raised her weapon, and spun around the bulkhead. As far as the hallway went it was empty, besides the two bodies.
“Ashla.”
Ashla gasped.
“Ashla!”
The girl peaked her head out from behind the corner. Her eyes were glassy, her cheeks wet, her dress ruined and singed. Cel waved her to approach, then turned to guard her movements. No one took the chance to attack.
Ashla’s sobs rose an octave. Cel snatched a quick look and saw the girl looking at the corpses, her whole body trembling.
“Ashla.” She looked up at Cel. “You’re going to be okay and you’re going to get out of here. Okay? I promise.”
Ashla nodded, sniffed. Cel turned back to the corridor ahead. They needed to hurry. The men in the hospital wouldn’t hold forever. But a sudden thought came to her, a flash of insight or instinct, she couldn’t say. She turned back to the crying teenager.
“None of this is your fault, okay?”
Ashla’s crying stopped. She seemed to calm a little. She nodded.
“Come on.”
Cel led Ashla down the corridor, watched for signs of an ambush, and listened to the silence on the security channel. The explosion, the massive attack, even the assassins getting into their escape route, none of that scared Cel. None of it was difficult for a well-funded terrorist group. They were well organized, but even that was not too shocking. What shocked Cel, and—though she would never admit it—what scared her, was that they had managed to cut communications. That meant they could be anywhere. Cel might be leading Ashla to a landing bay full of an army of assassins.
She shook her head. If that was the case, they’d have filled the corridors, made it tougher for her to leave. They weren’t invincible. But Cel knew this wasn’t some mom-and-pop organization. This operation was big. Annister had some serious enemies.
A man with a big scar across his nose erupted from a side corridor at the next junction, and hosed Cel down with a laser sub-repeater.
Cel pulled Ashla back behind cover, did a quick spot check for injuries, and found she was okay. Then she rounded the bulkhead, aiming her pistol at the man’s head. The scarred man screamed at her, a wordless sound as he emptied the charge on his clip. Cel let her energy shield absorb the laser fire, rounded her target, then blew a hole in his head.
The scarred man’s scream went quiet as his mouth turned into an ‘o’ right before he fell to the ground. Cel sighted for further possible targets, keeping one eye on the other side of the junction. The only thing showing was a hand dropping a dark metal ball to the carpet in front of Cel.
Her mind switched gears. There were no thoughts Cel recognized as thoughts, no words in her head, just instinctual realizations. EMP grenade. Pistol worthless. Five meters to the junction. Close quarters combat.
Cel dropped her pistol into its magnetic holster, grabbed her saber and rushed forward. She passed directly over the grenade when it went off. A wash of static crackled over her. Her ears popped. Her smartskin went cold, but it was immune to the effects of the EMP.
The split second after the EMP went off, Cel was at the junction. A man in a red balaclava spun out to fire at Cel with a chemical-powered projectile weapon. The stupid look on his face as the monomolecular blade of Cel’s saber slashed through his weapon and then his neck was ingratiating. Cel kicked balaclava over, avoiding most of the spray coming from his neck, and charged into the junction. Her mind continued to work in the faster-than-words fashion.
She took the second terrorist by surprise. She slashed at the hands holding his weapon, the weapon and three fingers went flying. Ashla screamed from somewhere far away. Cel turned to see two more assassins in the junction opposite, ready to unload. Cel dodged behind the seven-fingered terrorist, lifted him off the ground and rushed to the other side of the junction. The man she carried became a living meat shield, thrashing as round after round filled his body. Cel felt something heavy impact her right over her ribs. She grunted and kept going. Another bullet smashed into her right shoulder. Cel growled against the pain.
Cel flung the pin-cushioned assassin into one of his compatriots, then slashed at the second. This one reversed his grip on the gun and swung it like a sledgehammer at Cel’s head. She blocked the strike with her left arm, then ran him through. She felt resistance as her sword hit some kind of protective vest, but these assassins wore nothing tough enough to deflect her blade.
Cel yanked her blade free, threw the dying man to the ground and turned to the final assassin. This one found his way out from underneath his bullet-riddled associate and found his feet. He didn’t even have the chance to raise his weapon when Cel’s blade found his neck.
Cel turned, searching for additional targets, found none. She rushed to the junction, looked all ways. Nothing moved.
“Ashla?”
Ashla peaked her head out from behind a bulkhead. Cel nodded to her and waved her forward. She dropped the sword into its scabbard, drew her pistol and found the effects of the emp were wearing off.
Pain radiated from her abdomen and her shoulder. She checked both spots to see if the projectiles had penetrated her smart skin. They had not. Later she could be thankful her armor kept her from losing a rib and dislocating a shoulder, but now she wondered if the hits would slow her down.
“Almost there,” Cel said, trying to keep the pain out of her voice. “Come on.”
She guided Ashla down the remainder of the corridor, then used her link to open the door to the landing bay and peered inside. The Lunar Seed was not visibly damaged, but the bay itself was destroyed. Blackened pits carpeted the
walls and floor. The bodies of Meritine guardsmen were visible here and there. Blood was visible, which was a bad sign. Despite this all, Cel saw no actual assassins.
She turned back behind cover and looked to Ashla. “Can you get the ship cycled up remotely?”
Ashla nodded. She pulled her link out and whispered into it. “Luna, this is Ashla.”
“I hear you, Ashla,” came the mechanically polite response.
“Luna, cycle up the engines and commence the pre-launch checklist.”
“Do it as subtly as you can,” Cel whispered into the link.
“Acknowledged.”
Ashla put the link away.
“Okay,” Cel breathed. She risked another peak into the landing bay and remembered watching holovids where the heroes say the age-old words to indicate an ambush. It’s quiet, too quiet. “We’re going to run from cover to cover. Follow right behind me. If anything happens, run for the ship and fly straight home. Do you understand? Stop for nothing.”
“Okay,” Ashla said.
Cel nodded, took a deep breath. Then ran. Holding her pistol and energy shield out, Cel rushed for the nearest stack of crates, eyes darting everywhere. She glanced back to make sure Ashla was keeping up and looked forward to see a line of rippling air swinging towards her neck.
Cel shouted, bent backward, and watched as the partially invisible blade trimmed a few locks of her hair.
“Ashla, run!”
Ashla didn’t freeze. She bolted straight away, sprinting towards the ship. She made it three steps before a partially invisible hand grabbed her. The form of a powerfully built man in the black, shimmering smartskin of a Shaumri assassin materialized before Cel.
The assassin turned away from Cel. She was now less a threat to him than a mosquito. He leapt onto a stack of crates two meters tall and loped towards Luna.
Ashla screamed. Cel roared. Lifting her pistol, she fired at the only place on the assassin she had a clear shot at, his legs. The Shaumri fell to his knees and growled, his voice altered by the mask he wore. He dropped Ashla onto the crates, turned back towards Cel and leapt at her. Cel launched her legs up and over her head, spinning, and found her feet. Releasing her pistol, she pulled her saber and dropped into a stance, sword and shield.
Remnant Page 14
