by Jake Elwood
The room was empty. She knelt with her back against the wall close to the door, peering back toward the stairs. A couple of light police robots came lumbering up the steps, stunners in their hands. A huge shape loomed on the landing behind them, and both robots flew apart in a storm of torn metal as an enormous combat robot shredded them from behind in a storm of rail gun fire.
Beams of sunlight dappled the floor, and Cassie glanced upward. A dozen ragged holes punctured the ceiling, giving her a view of little swatches of blue sky. Air would be pouring out through those holes. Hydrogen sulfide would be flooding in.
The huge combat robot started up the stairs toward her, then froze, sparks splashing across its body. Someone below was frying it with zap charges. The robot collapsed onto its back, firing one last blast straight up. A cone of sunlight lit the robot as it died.
"Thanks," said Cassie.
"It wasn't me, whatever it was." Jerry sounded distracted and out of breath. Metal clattered in the background and he swore. "I managed to override the programming on a few of these guys."
He was clearly too busy to help her. She wanted to rush down the stairs and help him, but Lark would be suffocating in a matter of minutes. She scanned the corridor, then stepped out of the room. She found blood on the floor near the end of the corridor, but no sign of life. She checked a couple more rooms, came to a dead end, and retraced her steps.
When she leaned her head into the workshop area a blast of coherent energy nearly decapitated her. She flinched back, then tossed in a grenade. As it flashed she dove into the room, rolled, and came up behind a work bench.
The workshop filled half the module, an airy, high-ceilinged space with a single massive structure filling the middle of the floor. It was a laser built on a cyclopean scale, the barrel as thick as her waist. The tip of the barrel was a handspan below the ceiling. She supposed it would have no trouble burning through the ceiling when the time came to fire it.
A flicker of motion caught her eye, a man peeking up from behind another workbench. She saw the bulky shape of a blast rifle in his arms. She recognized Hiram Hearne from his pictures. She recognized the mad glint in his eyes, too. This was a fanatic. Negotiation would be a waste of time.
She checked her belt. One stun grenade remained. There was a better way to deal with Hearne, though. She switched her pistol to blast mode, took aim at the nearest wall, and fired.
Metal and plastic exploded outward and a hole appeared, as thick as her thumb. She could see sunlight pouring in. She couldn't see the hydrogen sulfide, but it was pouring in as well.
Again and again she fired, tracing a line of jagged holes along the wall. Hearne leaned around his bench and opened fire at her, and she crouched down as bits of metal flew from the bench that shielded her. It didn't stop her from firing. Three walls of the room faced the outside, and she riddled all three walls with holes. After that she turned her attention to the ceiling. Air would pour out through the ceiling holes, and hydrogen sulfide would pour in through the holes in the walls.
When the barrage of blast fire stopped she knew Hearne was up to something. She peeked around the remains of the bench and saw him lumbering toward her. She snapped a quick shot and saw flesh explode from the side of his leg. He dropped, she missed him with a second shot, and he scrambled back toward his bench. She nailed him in the rear end, he howled, and then he wriggled behind the shelter of his work bench.
Cassie switched her pistol to laser mode, aimed at the ceiling, and traced a ragged circle in the metal. A panel the size of a small table came tumbling toward the floor, and she smelled rotten eggs. The helmet tightened around her neck, canned air blew against her chin, and Hearne gave a long, high-pitched moan.
She turned in time to see him stand. He fired a quick shot at her, and flame erupted around both of them as hydrogen sulfide ignited. The fireball was dramatic, but it exhausted the available oxygen in an instant. Bits of singed hair drifted down around her, but she was unhurt.
Feet slapped as Hearne crossed the floor. He was heading for the side wall, moving in a painful stagger, his knuckles white on the stock of the blast rifle. He glanced back, snapped a quick shot, and continued his desperate run. She could see an emergency kit on the wall in front of him. No doubt it contained an air mask.
She watched him lurch across the floor, imagining what would happen if she brought him back to Kingstown as a prisoner. The capture of Jacob Hearne had inspired the whole mad plot against Kaia Highstar. What might Hearne's followers do if they thought they had a shot at freeing him? She imagined a wave of kidnappings, prisoners offered in exchange for his release. Prisoners killed, to make it clear they were serious.
Hearne put a hand on the emergency kit, and Kira shot him twice in the back. He fell, and she stood. A bending machine blocked her view of the revolutionary leader. She could hear him panting and squirming on the floor. Before she reached him the panting grew frantic. Hydrogen sulfide would be pooling on the floor. He was suffocating.
She leaned over the top of the bending machine and looked down at him, just in time to hear the frenzied gasps stop. His chest rose and fell one last time and his fingers fell away from the blast rifle. He went still.
Cassie lifted down the emergency kit, took out an emergency air bottle and mask, and went in search of Lark.
There was no one left alive in the top module. She found the plump woman curled in a closet, dead from asphyxiation or blood loss. There was no trace of Lark.
"Jerry. I can't find Lark. She must be on the ground floor."
"No chance," Jerry said. "I've been everywhere down here. It's all open space, anyway."
Lark was dead. It was the only explanation that made sense. The Plateau Society had killed her and dumped her body in the desert. She thought about running downstairs, searching the ground floor herself. She thought about slapping an air mask onto Hearne and trying to revive him so she could kill him again, slowly. None of it would help.
Lark was gone.
"Mutt and Jeff, do you copy?" Rao's distinctive voice spoke over the radio.
"We copy," she said dully.
"I'm inbound, but I'm picking up tracking radar. Do you want to check for weapons on the roof?"
The roof. One place she hadn't checked yet. Maybe, just maybe, Lark was on top of the hideout in an airtight room. Cassie headed into the workshop at a run, her fingers fiddling with the antigrav controls on her suit. She stood below the hole she'd carved in the ceiling, powered up the antigrav, and rose slowly into the air. She pulled herself through the hole, moved her feet apart, and cut the power. Her feet came down on either side of the hole and she drew her pistol, looking around.
She remembered seeing a collection of antennas as she'd dropped in. Now she took a closer look. There was a dish a meter across. That would be for radar. All around it were four shapes she'd taken for antennas. Now, as she ran closer, she saw them for what they really were.
Anti-aircraft lasers. All four barrels pointed in the same direction, toward Rao and the approaching skimmer.
Cassie looked over the battery, considering her options. A couple of metal brackets held the radar dish in place. She found the bolts that held the brackets and burned through them with her laser. The dish sagged, and she gave it a kick, knocking it over until it pointed at the horizon.
"The targeting radar's gone," Rao said. "Thanks."
She went from laser to laser, melting the barrels. By the time she was done she could see the outline of the ship in the distance, expanding quickly.
"Jerry. The taxi is here."
"I'm on my way." A hatch swung open on the far side of the radar dish, and she levelled her pistol, finger on the trigger. Jerry's head and shoulders appeared, and she lowered the gun.
There was nothing else on the roof, no structures, no rooms of any kind. Lark wasn't here. Cassie stared at the ruined radar dish, frustration filling her. Everyone who could tell her what had become of Lark was dead. She realized that she might never know
the little girl's fate.
The roof vibrated as the skimmer touched down behind her. Jerry put an arm around her shoulders. "Cassie. It's okay. We'll find her. Cassie? Come on, we have to go."
A mechanical voice in her ear said, "Air depleted." She really did have to go. Taking a last, hopeless look around the broken remains of Hiram Hearne's twisted dream, she let Jerry lead her across the roof and into the skimmer. A moment later they were in the air.
Chapter 25
A pair of military aircraft caught up with them a few kilometers from the base. A man's cold voice told them in no uncertain terms that they were to fly immediately to something called Spartacus Defense Base. If they attempted to evade their escort in any way they would be shot down.
None of it mattered to Cassie. As soon as they were in breathable air she stripped her helmet off, then sat staring at the bulkhead across from her seat. Jerry sat beside her and held her hand, not speaking.
The skimmer touched down at last, and the hatch at the back slid open. Cassie unbuckled her gunbelt and left it on the floor, then raised her hands and followed Jerry out of the skimmer. They emerged, squinting in the afternoon sun, to find a ring of soldiers surrounding the skimmer. A pair of military policemen bustled forward and handcuffed her and Jerry, then carefully checked them for weapons.
She saw Rao at the front of the ship. A young MP was checking him for weapons, apologizing as he did so. He kept calling Rao "Top Sergeant." It was clear the old man's reputation had preceded him.
When the weapons check was complete the three of them were lined up shoulder to shoulder along the side of the skimmer. Rao wasn't handcuffed, Cassie noticed. He seemed to have filled the MPs with awe, and she wondered just what he had done to get this reaction. She and Jerry stood there, hands cuffed in front of them, and waited to see what would happen next.
For ten long minutes they stood there. Cassie did her best to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air, the last she might see for quite a few years. There must have been twenty soldiers around them, all of them armed and alert. No one, however, seemed about to do anything.
Finally soldiers on one edge of the group started shuffling to one side. A ground car came into view, a dark green armored limousine. The car slid to a halt and a door swung open. A man in a dark uniform started to step out, but a child's elbow dug into his hip. A moment later Lark popped out of the car, leaving a dusty footprint on the man's uniform trousers. She dashed at Cassie, bouncing from a soldier's hip as she charged past. Then her arms locked around Cassie's waist and for a few minutes that was all that existed in the galaxy for Cassie.
Colonel Kress led Cassie personally from her cell to a stark meeting room in a government building in Kingstown. There were no more wrist cuffs, but Cassie was under no illusions about how much trouble she was in.
Jerry arrived a moment later, escorted by Al Fazil. Lark trailed behind them, accompanied by a matronly social worker. That gave Cassie a pang. She hoped there wouldn't be too many social workers in the girl's future.
"Have a seat, please," said Al Fazil, gesturing to the chairs scattered through the room. Cassie dragged a chair over to the long, battered table that dominated the room and sat down. Lark sat close beside her, and Jerry plunked himself down on the other side. Cassie surprised herself by smiling. She was in some pretty hot water, but her family was with her. It was difficult to feel too bad.
The door slid open and a burly man in the uniform of Skyland Security came in. He took a position close to the door, folded his arms, and stared sourly at everyone. Behind him, a slim man with silver hair came into the room, followed by a much heavier man with a white goatee and a hard-faced woman in her fifties. Cassie felt herself straighten up in her seat. The hard-faced woman was June Fevridge, her local senator. Unless her memory was playing tricks, the heavy man with the goatee was George Stamboul, Prime Minister of Zemoth, while the slim silver-haired man was Vernon Highstar, Kaia Highstar's father, the President of Skyland.
Stamboul spoke first. "Thank you for coming," he said, as if Cassie and Jerry had had any choice. "I've been struggling today with the thorny issue of just what is to be done with the two of you." He gave Cassie and Jerry a steely-eyed look, entirely unlike his genial persona on the news feeds. "Normally I leave a matter like this to the police and courts. You broke serious laws. It's a matter of law enforcement, that's all."
He folded his arms. "There is, however, an unavoidable political element." His gaze fell on Cassie, and she fought the urge to squirm. "You shot the daughter of a visiting dignitary. I had no choice but to involve him in this … discussion." Stamboul glanced at Highstar. "The government of Skyland has made a request – a very strong request – to have a say in the details of your sentencing. My government has decided, in the interests of international relations, to accede to their request." He nodded to Highstar and stepped back. "Mr. President?"
"Thank you." Highstar stepped forward. His expression was stern, his voice as well. "You shot my daughter. This is not something I take lightly." He looked at Lark, and his gaze softened. "There are, however, extenuating circumstances. Miss Carmody placed herself in considerable danger to protect my daughter from kidnapping. She was kidnapped in my daughter's place. She saved my government from an impossible predicament."
Highstar's piercing gaze returned to Cassie. "In light of the debt owed to Miss Carmody by all of Skyland, and even more by me personally, my government was prepared to do just about anything necessary to see Miss Carmody returned safely. We were not consulted about the actions that the two of you took." He frowned briefly. "Nevertheless, it is clear that everything you did – including the shooting of my daughter under, I will admit, controlled circumstances – was done to protect and to rescue Miss Carmody. Therefore, it is the position of my government that you acted in the interests of Skyland when you took … irregular and, shall we say, unfettered actions to secure the child's safety. Therefore we have asked that the government of Zemoth extend to you the same diplomatic courtesies they would extend to me."
"In other words," Stamboul interjected, "you're getting off scot-free. You even have the official gratitude of your government." He shook his head as if he could hardly believe his own words. "You saved Kaia Highstar, prevented an international incident, and brought Hiram Hearne to justice." His eyes sharpened. "I assume I don't need to tell you that if you ever break the smallest law anywhere on this planet, ever again, you'll be in more trouble than you can possibly imagine."
Cassie did her best to look meek. "I understand, sir."
"We'll be good," Jerry added.
"See that you do." Stamboul smiled, showing a bit of the genial politician Cassie had seen on the feeds. "Now, and this is a limited time offer, I assure you. Do you have any requests of your government? Suggestions for how we can show our gratitude?"
"Top Sergeant Rao is a good man," Cassie said. "Can he have amnesty?"
"I wouldn't be in office very long if we prosecuted the hero of Antib," Stamboul said. "The bloody man is untouchable. Anything else?"
Cassie looked at Jerry, wondering if she should ask for a lifetime pass on paying taxes. He grinned at her, and she said, "There's one more thing."
"Yes?" Stamboul looked wary.
"We want our lives back," Cassie said. "There might be, ah, one or two minor misdemeanors we might have committed over the last several days in the unofficial service of Zemoth and Skyland. We'd like immunity for, um, anything that might turn up."
"Very well. I think I can arrange that."
"We'd also like anonymity," she said.
Stamboul's eyebrows rose.
"I don’t want to be famous," Cassie said. She looked at Lark. "I don't want Lark to be famous either. I want her to be able to be an ordinary kid. I want her to fit in at school. I don't want to see her part or our part of this on the news feeds."
The president and the prime minister exchanged glances. "You ask a lot," said Stamboul. "I would have to make the whole fiasco classified.
The press never likes it when the government makes things secret."
"I'll give an interview," Highstar said. "I'll make it clear that my government requested that certain parts of this affair remain secret. To protect a child. I think that will satisfy your press."
"I don't know," Stamboul said.
"Nonsense," Senator Fevridge told him. "It's a perfectly reasonable request. If you don't honor it, you'll have to explain to those same reporters why you wouldn't protect the privacy of a child."
Stamboul glared at her. "When you put it like that …"
"Splendid," said Highstar. "That's all settled, then." He stepped forward, and Cassie and Jerry both stood. "On behalf of the people of Skyland, and my daughter, and on my own behalf, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." He shook Cassie's hand, then Jerry's. Then he leaned down until he could look Lark in the eye. "You are an extraordinary young woman," he said. "Thank you for helping keep my daughter safe." He shook her hand, straightened up, and left the room.
"Thank you," said Stamboul. "Please don't make me regret this." He and the senator left.
"We'll escort you out," Colonel Kress said, and led the way. A few minutes later Cassie was in the street with Jerry and Lark, shaking hands with the two cops. Kress and Al Fazil went back inside, and Cassie looked at her family.
"I can't believe it's over," Lark said.
"What now?" said Jerry.
Cassie took his hand. Lark reached up and took Cassie's free hand. Cassie had a feeling this wonderful sense of peace wouldn’t last too long. To tell the truth, she wouldn't want it to. She would get restless. Bored. All of them would. But for now, she had everything she wanted.
"Let's go home," she said.
Author Notes
