“I expect those lines to be there, Jester! Otherwise, you get to deal with my old lady. Hurricane out!” Danny jerked back to Anders, who had the canisters out and ready. “Get ready to pop, on my mark. Once that’s done, I want you to bail out and run as fast you can for that cliff, and get ready to jump.”
“What?”
“Just trust me, Xeek,” Danny said. “In three…two…one…pop ’em!”
Snapping the caps on both canisters, Anders tossed them into the road outside. Within seconds, the air surrounding the tanker filled with a dense fog of red smoke.
Dropping the steering grips and snatching up his harness, Danny bailed out of the driver’s side and tucked hard into a roll. Then, launching to his feet, he dove into an all-out sprint through the sand ahead of Anders. Behind them, the sounds of crunching metal, collapsing rock, and screaming men were heard when the tanker careened through the barricade. But as Danny had expected, no explosion followed.
“What am I looking for?” Anders shouted on the run, just as an SB-40 Tuskan Starbomber dropped hard in behind them, its slider cannons drawn tight for the kill as The Prodigy’s “Firestarter” blared from the external speakers.
“That!” Danny yelled past a barrage of fire.
Both cannons ignited, and the handful of soldiers trailing Danny and Anders vanished in a mushroom of dirt and gravel, but still no explosion. The Tuskan soared by overhead—its rear cargo-bay ramp already dropped—and fired two tethers on harpoons into the dirt ahead of them.
“Take left!” Danny ordered. Then dashing for the cable on his right, he popped the carabiners free of the harpoon, clipped them to the back of his drop harness, and cinched the rig tight around his torso. “Xeek, you ready?”
“Hell no, but it beats the alternative!”
Scared out of their minds and running on pure adrenaline, both men dove headfirst over the cliff just in time to hear an SF-13 Mako Starfighter scream into the fray. The earth around them shook with a massive thunderclap, and a blast of heat whooshed over their heads.
For the next few moments, Danny almost felt like he was flying and not falling at a terminal velocity of sixty meters per second. Still, that knowledge did little to dampen his euphoria. The wild thing about being up that high was that falling never actually looked like falling, since nothing on the very distant ground seemed poised to rush up and meet—or obliterate, as it were—the one doing the falling. That’s probably why Danny loved skydiving so much.
Extending his body into the proper arch for a controlled free fall, the fabric of his fatigues rippling in the wind, his eyes shielded with the helmet’s visor, he stared down at the magnificent scene below in awe. All the breathtaking browns, yellows, and reds swirled and collided together in a giant, rocky splash of natural color.
That marvelous sense of wonder ended abruptly when, with a single violent jerk, Danny’s harness snapped tight against his torso, jarring the air from his lungs and drawing a zipping, nylon yelp from the rig’s absorption system. He choked hard then looked up as, in a swift rush of momentum, the gorgeous mosaic of earth tones below gave way to the bright blue hues of open sky.
“Whooooo!” he shouted after catching his breath.
Way off to the side, Anders was swinging on his tether, his face a sickly shade of green and his eyes darting everywhere but down. Poor ole Xeek. You never were cut out for airborne, were ya, buddy? Danny smiled at him then returned his gaze to the rear of the Tuskan, where Reegan and Gio were standing in the open cargo bay, each running a manual launcher winch typically used for hauling in dead-stick probes and other salvage objects in space.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Link said over the comm, “we’d like to thank you for flying Jester Air—where, by the by, we don’t sweat an ‘arms and legs inside the vehicle’ policy. Now if you’d be so kind as to hang out for a minute, we’ll have you aboard in no time.”
“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Link?” Danny asked.
“It’s what I do. Seriously, you guys doing okay back there?”
Danny rubbed his neck. “You mean, outside of the whiplash?”
“Oof,” Link said. “Yeah, that looked like it sucked, all right. I know those harnesses are built to take a beating on a drop, but damn.”
Danny chuckled as Layla’s Mako circled back into her familiar escort position on Link’s wing. “Yeah well, to borrow one from Sergeant Anders, it beats the alternative. We just appreciate you coming back for us.”
“Trust me, brother, I don’t want to see my balls in a beaker any more than you do,” Link said. “Hey, you pick up your dress blues for the ceremony yet?”
“Yeah, last week. Why?”
“Dude. I can’t tell you how happy I am that we get to wear our uniforms instead of tuxes. I kid you not, man, if those sea-foam blue bridesmaid dresses are any indication, our suits would’ve looked like something out of the Dennis Rodman collection. Talk about hideous!”
“Really, Link?” Danny said, seeing the mouth of the cargo bay drawing closer. “This from the guy who dressed his groomsmen in pin-striped zoot suits with matching fedoras?”
“Don’t hate on my fedoras, douchebag. Those were some sweet-ass duds, and you know it!”
Danny rolled his eyes. “I’m not hating on the fedoras, Short Round. All I’m saying is the bridal party picks the attire, and if they want us in RuPaul-blue cummerbunds, then that’s what we wear. End of discussion.”
“You always were the pro of the bunch where style and etiquette were concerned, Hurricane,” the Lady Baxter said with a chortle. “But just for the record…it’s not that bad of a color.”
“Thank you, Layla, for that kind bit of support,” Danny said. “Oh, and for the cover fire downstairs. That, too, is always appreciated.”
“Anytime, Hurricane. Jester, the colonel still wants to debrief me as soon as we get back. That’s gonna put me even later than I already am in grabbing the two stooges. Think you could cover, and I’ll meet you at the port?”
“Already made the call,” Link said. “Your dad’s got ’em packed and ready to go.”
“Thanks, baby. Now, if you boys will excuse me, I’ve got to re-form with my squadron before we jump. Fly safe, don’t dally, and I’ll see you both on deck.” Sweeping back the wings of her Mako, Layla blasted into the stratosphere and was gone.
“Later, babe,” Link said. “Okay, Crockett, so I’ll concede that ‘hideous’ might’ve been a bit strong. But even you’ve got to admit, man, it does kinda look like a baby mermaid peed on those dresses.”
“Seriously, Jester!” Danny groaned as his and Anders’s feet grazed the ramp.
“FYI, Wyatt just shot me a communiqué that said our ride home is ready as soon as we report in, and just so you know, I’m totally kicking your ass under the bus for making you, me, and the missus late to this thing.”
“So nice to know you’ve got my back, bro.” Danny exhaled with relief when his boots met the solidity of the bay floor.
“Hey, in combat? Always,” Link said. “Against a pissed off bride with an A-90? Sorry, Captain America, but you’re on your own.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Danny said, raising his arms so Reegan could unhook him; Gio did the same for Anders, and Drayger sealed the hatch. “Now if there’s nothing else, how about you button us up and we hit the road? We’ve got a church to get to.”
* * * * *
Chapter 3: Chance Encounters
Feeling the warm morning sun on her face through the window—the moist, albeit slightly stale, Detron City air filling her nose—Kimi Cicero rolled over in bed and traced her fingers over the silk pillowcase to her right. There, they eventually found their way into the thick head of hair resting on it.
“Hi,” Daryn murmured, brushing a wayward strand from Kimi’s face then meeting her fingers with his.
“Hi,” Kimi said, failing to stifle a giggle.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked in a warm voice.
“Better than I ha
ve in weeks,” she said, her mind still spinning with ecstasy over the events of last night’s birthday celebration—her thirty-ninth, and without a doubt the best of her life. “It’s crazy, though. It always seems to work out that way when you’re here.”
Daryn gave a low, raspy laugh.
Kimi leaned up onto an elbow and ran her other hand across the contours of his face. It felt slender and sharp in her palm, yet soft and warm with its thick, bearded surface. The litany of distinguishing lines also weren’t lost on her, not that the extra years they represented had ever bothered her. As it turned out, she liked older men.
What an amazing soul you are, Daryn, she thought, wondering how she could’ve ever gotten so lucky. From day one of their four-month relationship, he’d been the perfect gentleman, something her life had been dreadfully lacking for years. Sure, there’d been the occasional decent guy here and there. But for the most part, even those had been few and far between. Not that she’d had much time for dating lately anyway, what with her eighty-hour-a-week job with the bureau. Coupled with her naturally introverted personality, her ever-expanding deskjob waistline, and the added pressure of the inevitable, “So how do you feel about dating a blind chick?” talk, and it shouldn’t have been a shock to anyone that men weren’t exactly beating down her door.
Even so, she hadn’t always been cynical when it came to the opposite sex. In her early twenties, Kimi had waved her, “There’s somebody special out there for me!” flag with the best of them. She’d fervently believed that, too. Next had come her midtwenties, followed by her late twenties, which preceded the loathsome bore of her early thirties. Then before she knew it, she was celebrating her thirty-eighth birthday, alone in her apartment in a pathetically inebriated haze of ice cream, wine, and those wonderful little pills that made everything feel floaty and happy for a while when taken at three times the prescribed dosage. As it turned out, they’d been decidedly less wonderful when taken by the handful, or so she’d been told by the EMT who’d restarted her heart.
Three months later, Auran CIB Senior Analyst and intelligence rising star Kimian Arla Cicero, MID, emerged from substance recovery as a staunch career woman, and come hellfire or the apocalypse, lack of a man would never take that from her again. No man was worth it. No man…except, maybe, Daryn.
Was he perfect? Of course not. But who was? As a self-made business owner, Daryn’s job kept him on the road a lot, which Kimi hated. In addition to his age—a major issue with her mom—he battled a borderline agoraphobic fear of crowds, which was odd. But in the end, none of that mattered. Eccentric as he was at times, the bottom line for Kimi was that this man loved, supported, and respected her for who she was, and no woman, sighted or otherwise, could’ve ever hoped for more.
“So,” Daryn began. “What’s on your schedule for today?”
“Oh, come onnn,” Kimi whined, her moment of bliss instantly erased by the thought of her 0900 check-in time at work. “You just had to go and crash the mood, didn’t you?”
This drew a laugh from Daryn. “My deepest apologies, dearest. It wasn’t my intention to remind you of your immense responsibilities this early in the morning.”
“It’s okay,” Kimi droned, dropping her head back to the pillow. “It’s just that I’ve got this huge briefing with my boss later today, and I’m totally not prepped for it.”
“Heavy is the head with the Delta 5 clearance,” Daryn said, earning him a swat from Kimi. “In all seriousness, dear, and correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you have a briefing with your boss every morning?”
Kimi nodded. “Yeah, but this is different and way bigger. Most of the president’s defense cabinet is flying in from Aura to be there, plus the fleet admiral, I think.”
“Indeed. That’s quite the list of attendees.”
“I know, right? And I haven’t even done so much as print up the dossier. I shudder to think what my inbox looks like.”
“Why all of the VIPs, do you suppose? Another policy discussion?”
Kimi rolled onto her back and yawned through a stretch. “Nah. Stuff that mundane is usually handled via subspace telecomm. All of these guys are gonna be on site, including Katahl. It’s something a lot bigger, but I won’t know until I get back to the office and vet the data.” Then, feeling the mattress quake beside her as he climbed out of bed, Kimi propped herself back up on her elbow. “Hey, where you going?”
“Unfortunately, darling, I have an early morning today, myself,” Daryn said, the buckle of his belt jingling. “But not before we conclude your birthday celebration with a proper breakfast.”
Kimi shot upright against the headboard. “Pancakes! Please tell me you’re making pancakes!”
“How ever did you guess?” he said with that same warm inflection that always made her giddy. “Now take your time, dear. I’ll start the coffee.”
“Ooh, wait a second! I have something for you.” Rising to her feet, brimming with anticipation, Kimi shuffled the six steps to her dresser and riffled through the top left drawer before feeling the leather. “Close your eyes. They closed?”
“Closed.”
Kimi pulled the aged, hardbound book free of the drawer then shuffled back toward him until her hand found his chest. “Okay, you can open them now.”
“Oh…my…word.”
Kimi bounced with excitement.
“Malcom Laslow’s The Midnight Exultation,” Daryn said, “and a first edition, no less! My dear Kimi, where did you find such a treasure?”
Kimi played coy. “I know a girl who knows a girl who made a few calls.”
“Kimi, this must’ve cost you a fortune. You really shouldn’t have—”
She shushed him. “It was nothing, really. It reminded me of the first night we met, and our conversation on Zeflinian-era poetry. If nothing else, I thought you might like to have it for your trip.” Kimi tried in vain to conceal her disappointment. He’d be gone for a full month this time.
Daryn must’ve seen it because he raised her face to his. “Kimi, I have no words for this save to say that you’re entirely too good to me.”
Kimi pushed up on her toes to kiss him. “I love you, Daryn Reese. Thanks for the greatest birthday ever.”
* * *
Stepping into the street outside Kimi’s apartment building—the early-morning sun still cresting the Detron City skyline ahead—Alec Masterson pulled the cowl of his jacket over his head, and with a blank stare, he studied the Laslow book he’d just been given.
“Existential nonsense.” He lofted the book into a nearby trash bin, where it splatted into a fresh pile of food wrappers and bird droppings, then pulled a data card from his coat pocket and inspected it. The device contained the entire contents of Kimi’s tablet, which Masterson had copied while she’d slept last night. What are you up to, Katahl? He hoped the meeting she’d spoken of was covered in the stolen files. The Auran Star Corps’s fleet admiral didn’t come out this far without serious ASC business, so the knowledge had Alystier’s commandant very curious.
On a related note, Masterson thought with a final glance to the ninth floor windows, intel like this was the only reason he bothered coming here at all. Gods knew it wasn’t for that pathetic mound of a woman upstairs.
Masterson tucked the data card back into his pocket and checked his timepiece: 0752. “Damn it.” He shouldn’t have stayed for breakfast. Cover or not, that had put him a solid forty-five minutes behind. Worse yet, he couldn’t take the public rail at this time of morning for fear of being recognized. He’d have to walk.
Rounding the back of Kimi’s building onto the district’s main thoroughfare, Masterson slid a pair of glasses over his eyes, and as he walked, he stared out over the sprawling gray remains of the once-great metroplex before him. A half century ago, Detron City had been the center of regional commerce, mostly for its proximity to several of Aura’s earliest deep space colonies. On any given day back then, one could see dozens of ships flowing in and out of its ports, each platform abuz
z with activity and home to many of Aura’s most affluent traders. That was particularly true of those in ship construction, which had been a thriving field here for a time. Ester Industries, the Reiser Group, Veshlyn Stardrives—they’d all operated factories in or near the city, and collectively they’d been the lifeblood of the local economy.
But then came the declaration of war with Alystier, and after that, nothing had ever been the same.
Because it was critical to Auran commerce in the system, Marlon 3 had been among the first worlds to fall, and in the eighteen years following its occupation by the Alystierian Empire, Detron City had deteriorated to a shell of its former self. As the locals told it, corrupt leadership, a bloated imperial bureaucracy, and a crippling influx of new regulations—namely those of the hated Doering Bill—had seen to that. By the time the Aurans managed to retake Marlon 3 four years ago at the Battle of Hirostis, Detron City had devolved into little more than a crime-ridden hellhole in most respects.
All the better, Masterson thought, steely eyes narrowed at the vast metropolitan graveyard of broken buildings and dilapidated structural husks ahead. Losing this world had been a pity, and all too avoidable if he’d had his way.
Still, the Aurans were nothing if not resilient. Their resurgence in the war over the last five years was a testament to that, and they’d managed just enough momentum in this pit to make it almost viable again. Case in point: the steady stream of new companies now trickling into the marketplace, courtesy of Detron’s new business-friendly environment and minimal levy burden. Companies like Reese Freight & Supply, Masterson’s quaint little self-serve shipping boutique, and the front for most of his clandestine affairs.
Hurrying past a trio of old government buildings en route to his final destination—a mostly abandoned storefront strip on the city’s west side—Masterson paused and felt his pulse quicken at the sight of the damaged Open sign above the cantina on the strip’s far end. The bar, of course, meant nothing to him, dingy as it was. It was the man inside who held his interest—the man with the device that, if still operable, could change everything.
Red Sky Dawning Page 3
