“What a surprise,” the assassin said. He approached Cel like a cat might a trapped rat. “Who would have thought we would meet again.” As he spoke his mask dematerialized, revealing the square jaw, the broad nose, the all-too-familiar scar across his left cheek.
He didn’t punch Cel in the gut, but her breath left her all the same.
“Kail,” she whispered.
“Numbar.” Busan Kail said. He made a fist and a black sword of swarming nanites formed in his hand. “To think I would meet you on the field of battle where I can finish what I started.”
Cel made the mistake of looking at Ashla. Kail turned, saw the girl jumping from the crates and running towards the ship. Cel made her move.
Cel struck at Kail, covering her sword arm with the energy shield as it was done thousands of years ago. Kail parried without looking, then turned his attention back to Cel.
“This will be a pleasure.” As he spoke his mask rematerialized over his face, giving the final word an ominous tone.
Busan went on the attack. Parrying his sword strikes felt like blocking a light post swung by a giant. One hit battered her shield to one side. He swung again. Cel moved to block, but an instant too late. Hot pain blazed through her left arm as the Shaumri’s blade parted her armored smartskin and found the flesh over her tri-cep.
Cel gritted her teeth and cried out. She countered, her right shoulder pulsing in agony. He battered the attack away, closed in past her right side, and slashed her across the back. Cel cried out. She turned, attacked again. He spun his sword, pushed past her energy shield and swung in earnest this time.
Cel collapsed as the huge cut in her left thigh spilled blood. Pain was electricity and she was the conductor, it shocked through her body, arcing here and there. She lifted her sword to parry another slice. Busan whacked it out of her hand. It went skidding away. She lifted her energy shield to block. Busan ripped the shield generator from her arm and threw it aside.
Busan let the mask disappear again, as if wanting to see his triumph with his own eyes. He lifted his sword for a stab, then flew across the bay landing into a pile of crates with a crash. Cel blinked, wondering if she was hallucinating. Right above her where Busan had once been the Lunar Seed hovered. The ship careened a few feet over and Ashla looked down at her.
“Come on!”
Cel struggled to her feet, grabbed at the ladder, and worked to climb it one rung at a time. She groaned as her arms trembled against the force. Her right leg helped but her left mostly dangled. Cel dropped into the passenger seat and gritted her teeth against the cry of pain.
“I’m in. Go!”
Ashla nodded. Cel turned, saw Busan through the forming cockpit glass. The assassin, leapt out of the boxes, shouted a soundless howl, and chased after the ship. But by then, Ashla hit the throttle and the ship blasted out of the bay and into space where Busan could not follow. Cel, panting, gritting her teeth, pressed her hand to the deep wound in her thigh, and lifted it, covered in crimson. Then, through her fingers she saw Ashla’s wide-eyed reflection.
“Cel, you’re bleeding.”
Meanwhile a transport ship grew closer, filling the cockpit view.
“Eyes forward!” Cel yelled. Ashla turned, squeaked, and then pulled on the control stick, maneuvering them downward, and around the transport. Then, once the sky was clear, Ashla angled the ship and poured power to the main engines.
Cel grabbed her link, spotted with blood, her blood, and opened the emergency channel to the palace.
“Meritine control, this is Officer Numbar, authorization—”
“Cel!”
Cel furrowed her brow. The surprise stole any sense of formality she had. “Annister?”
“Cel, Ashla, is she—”
“She’s safe, and unhurt. She’s flying us to the palace. If you could make sure the sawking army of terrorists don’t manage to steal a cruiser to chase us with, I would appreciate it. Oh, by the way...”
The holographic image of Annister looked fuzzy. Cel considered adjusting the visuals on her link, then noticed everything else looked fuzzy too. Her eyelids felt heavy. Her left leg felt numb and she doubted she could lift her right leg more than a few inches. Her breathing felt shallow.
“We’re going to need a medical team on location when we land.”
“Celeste,” Annister said. Was there guilt in his voice? “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Just make sure you’re ready for our arrival.”
Cel cut the connection and sat back. She felt nauseous suddenly, and beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead.
“Cel?”
“Ashla.” Cel swallowed, her throat dry. “Fly straight to the palace. Don’t let anyone stop you. If any ship approaches that won’t give the authorization code, fly faster.”
“Okay.”
Cel’s eyelids fluttered. Her fingers lost grip on the link. It dropped to the wet floor of the cockpit. She swallowed again, tried to take a deep breath.
“Cel?” Ashla’s voice seemed distant.
“It’ll be...okay.” Cel barely had the strength to whisper. “It will...”
Ashla called her name again. This time she was calling her through a long, long, hallway.
Chapter Thirteen:
Worthy to Suffer
Soma had never been one to fixate on anything. He had never been caught staring at a woman’s behind and he had never been told the same order twice. But now, he found himself obsessing.
It happened in the weight room. He was seven reps through his third set and those fearless eyes looked at him, and he was stuck until Kornall snapped his fingers at him.
“Ey, sarge. You okay?”
Soma looked around, released the handles on the workout machine. “Yeah.”
“You mind if I use that?”
“Sure.”
It happened while he was in the mess hall. The repetitive motion of shoveling formless and tasteless food into his mouth took over, and he heard her say his name.
“Sergeant,” Mako said. Soma snapped out of it and saw his whole squad staring at him. “That’s not any better cold.”
Soma cracked a smile. It felt awkward and poor fitting, like a suit he hadn’t worn since gaining fifty pounds. “It can’t hurt can it?”
The squad chuckled awkwardly.
Now he lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, wondering. He picked up his link and found the message Lieutenant Garin had sent him. He searched the few lines of text for any hint of permission to do what he wanted to do to no avail.
The next day as Soma was heading on his way to the mess for dinner with his squad, his link chimed a high-level alert. He picked it up, tapped to accept and saw Lieutenant Garin’s face dimly lit in blue light.
“Sergeant Cross.”
“Lieutenant Garin?” Soma looked up and Raven Squad smirked as one. They saluted and then continued to the mess. Axelin made a gesture indicating an inappropriate activity for Soma to engage in with a superior officer.
“Meet me in the officer’s lounge.”
“Yes, sir.”
Garin cut the connection. Soma took the lift and then two corridors to the marine officer’s lounge. One marine stood at the entrance. He didn’t question Soma or ask for his credentials, or even report him coming in. Anyone who wanted to cause trouble surrounded by a dozen or more veteran marines deserved their just desserts.
The officer’s lounge was as close to a bar as regulations permitted. While the Hamartiya floated half a lightyear from Antarus space far from any action, the officers were permitted a place where they could drink and chat and vent the pressures of navy life. The regular marines had the weight room, the track, the boxing ring. The officers had a bar. Soma had heard the lounge for proper navy officers was even nicer.
Soma found the lieutenant sitting at a table under-lit with blue LEDs. It was deep enough into a corner that it would be appropriate for private conversation in the dull murmur of the lounge. Soma walked up to the table and sa
luted.
“You wanted to see me, lieutenant?”
Garin shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Sit.”
Soma obeyed, taking a seat across the table from the beautiful officer.
Garin lifted a finger without looking and a waitress came to the table.
“Drink.”
“Um, lieutenant, I’m on duty.”
“So pop a sazimine when you’re done. In the meantime, drink. That’s an order.”
Lieutenant Garin always had a certain way about her, something in her expression and posture that seemed out of place everywhere he saw her. Now it fit in. Lieutenant Garin fit so well into the lounge vibe that Soma wondered if she was an actress playing a written role. Like a woman on her second shot. Not drunk by any means, not even happy, just loosened up, comfortable.
“Beer,” Soma told the waitress.
“Another one of these,” Garin said, pointing to her drink.
A few minutes later the drinks were on the table. Garin had finished her first in time for the waitress to pick it up when she brought Soma’s beer. Soma took a sip. Garin narrowed her eyes at him. He took another, longer sip.
He set the glass down, wiped his mouth and looked his lieutenant in the eye. “I must be in real trouble if you’re treating me to a drink before letting me have it.”
“Oh, you are.” Garin nodded, and Soma felt a little of his courage fade at her genuineness. “By the way, three cheers for pissing off a defense minister like no decorated admiral ever could.”
“A what?”
“But that’s not what you’re here for.” Garin took a sip of her drink. Soma wondered if her many pauses were intentional for effect, or another natural outflow of her personality.
“Okay.”
Garin sighed. “Did you know I’ve had no less than three of your squaddies come see me about you, and another company NCO to boot?”
“Me?”
Garin nodded. Soma took her meaning. “Did I get someone in trouble and they’re complaining about me?”
“Trouble? The sawk are you talking about, Cross? They’re coming to me because they’re worried about you.”
“Worried?” Garin nodded. “About me?”
Garin pulled her link from her pocket and started reading. “Sergeant Major Cross seems distracted, maybe even depressed. Sergeant Major Cross isn’t all there. I’m wondering if he experienced a death in his family or something. Did he lose one of his wounded squaddies, I didn’t have a report of it. There’s definitely something wrong. He never keeps his troubles from us. Etcetera, etcetera and may I say, etcetera.”
The words flowed over Soma, bringing him to a realization that his fixation wasn’t something he could hide. He was worrying his squad, even his fellow NCOs in the platoon.
Garin put her link away and sighed. “So you want to tell me what’s going on? Was there a death in the family or something?”
Soma shook his head. “You have to have family before a death.”
“So what is it?”
Soma gritted his teeth, felt his hands sweating. He shook his head.
Garin seemed to take it as a refusal to respond.
“I need to know what’s going on with my squad leaders. So report.”
“It’s not something I’d like to share.”
“Cross, everybody faces weird and embarrassing circumstances. It’s not weak or shameful for you to have experienced them or to admit them. I could tell you a few strange ones, if I was at liberty to tell. And whatever you’re going through won’t be on the record either.”
Soma nodded. There was no way around it. He could tell her, or be stripped of his post, maybe even shipped home, if he had a home.
“It’s the girl.”
“What girl?”
“The girl. The target from our last mission.”
Cross didn’t know Garin had anything other than her eternal devil-may-care expression. Now her perfect brow crinkled, and her full lips curved into a frown.
“That girl?” Soma nodded. “What? Have you got a crush on her?”
“No!” Soma voicelessly shouted at her. “But I can’t get her out of my head.”
Garin pursed her lips. Her eyes went this way and that, as if searching to the sides for an answer to Soma’s sickness.
“Did you get a full copy of my debriefing?”
“No,” Garin said. “The one I got seemed conspicuously edited.”
Soma nodded. “Lieutenant, there is some weird stuff going on here. Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“I am.”
“And you promise it’s off the record?”
“I do.”
“Okay,” Soma said. “The mission was textbook. Mostly.” Soma ran her through the mission from disembarking the gunship, to the trip through the maintenance corridors, to the fancy governor’s suite. When he got to the part where he and Axelin found the target he slowed down, tried to remember every detail. When he was done, he sat back, thirsty, and downed the rest of his beer while Garin considered.
“You know,” she said, sounding hesitant for the first time since he’d met her, “that could have been a parlor trick.”
“Think about it, lieutenant. Our names are nowhere on the armor. Granted, she might have figured the meaning on our shoulder insignias, but our names? I don’t think so.”
“And all this time you’ve been fixating on the girl because she said your name.”
Soma shook his head. “It’s fine if you think I’m crazy, lieutenant. But something was strange about her. The way she looked at me. We didn’t catch her off guard. It’s like she was waiting for us.”
“Cross,” Garin said after a long sigh. “I’ve always known you to be a straight-laced, unflappable marine. You’ve risen through the ranks fast, faster than most. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were offered a commission within a year or two.”
“But now you think I’ve lost my mind. I get it.”
“Actually, my instincts tell me that when a straight-up model marine goes off the deep end, I ought to drop a light and see what’s at the bottom.”
Garin picked her link back up and started tapping furiously.
Soma sat confused for a minute, then curiosity got the best of him. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“I’m getting you into the interrogation.”
“The girl’s interrogation?” Garin nodded. “How?”
As under the radar as possible, Soma found out. A half hour after his meeting with Lieutenant Garin, he stood in a small, packed observation room, one of three connected to the interrogation chamber. Packed into the small room with Soma was a small team of techs monitoring all kinds of equipment. The techs were there first and...well, they were the techs so they sat while he stood in a corner trying to be unobtrusive. In this way, Lieutenant Garin hoped he could view the interrogation without encountering the high-ups in the chain of command.
The girl, the target, Remnant, sat in a wide interrogation room. She wore the same clothes she had on the Elpizio. No one had bothered to give her a change of clothes, apparently. Soma didn’t know why he felt offended by that. She at least appeared to have been treated well. In addition to the ratty dress, the girl wore sensors about her wrists, forehead, and probably other places too. Soma recognized some of the lines and signals the techs in front of him were looking at, things like blood pressure, pulse, and other vitals. There were also what looked like brain wave activity monitors, and all kinds of other things he didn’t recognize.
Soma looked up from the techs and the equipment and found her looking at him. Well, her eyes seemed to wander a bit, but she was concentrating on his area. Maybe her...whatever, sixth sense could sense his presence but her actual eyes couldn’t see him through the one-way mirror. Soma sighed and shook his head. Maybe he was losing his mind.
He looked back and found Remnant looking in is direction still. But her eyes went sad, glassy. She shook her head. A door in the interrogation room whispered open and in came a man
in a non-descript navy uniform. No metals or awards covered his chest. A pair of simple chevrons showed him to be a lieutenant. His ID was missing. Was that intentional?
As today’s interrogator walked to the desk, Remnant sat straight in her seat again. She looked down, closed her eyes and seemed to mouth words. He couldn’t make them out.
The interrogator set his link down on the table and sat down across from her. He tapped the link, tipped his head as if hearing something. Soma figured the speaker was in one of the other observation rooms, a bigger one with more chairs. The interrogator nodded, tapped the link again, and looked at the girl.
“You are the girl known as Remnant.” It wasn’t a question.
“I am.” Her voice was clear and soft as it had been before.
“Please state your real name for the record.”
“By ‘real,’ you mean the name I was born with?”
“As opposed to this pseudonym you go by now.”
“False name. The word, ‘Remnant,’ is not a false name for me.”
“Please state your real name for the record or you will be considered a hostile prisoner.”
Remnant smiled.
“I have no memory of my given name.”
The interrogator leaned his head again.
Soma was surprised when one of the techs started talking. “All signs point to truth.”
“Very well, you may go by ‘Remnant’ for the time being.”
“Thank you for your permission,” Remnant said. Soma smiled, about to chuckle, but covered his mouth until he had control over it. Not that anyone in the room was paying attention to him.
The interrogator bristled at this.
“The girl known as Remnant, you are charged with a long list of crimes against the Conservation of Allied Systems. Specifically, you are charged with multiple counts of practicing occult activities deemed dangerous, claiming to have healed over forty-seven people of various illnesses and injuries without proper medical attention, encouraging sedition against the CAS and several of its member states, inciting no less than nine riots and many other less important crimes that we can deal with in due order. How do you plead.”
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