“Plenty of people go missing on Chrysalis,” said Chris, looking back toward the bar, the wide brim of his hat casting a deep shadow across his face. “My price is steep.”
“What do you need?” asked Blair. “I can pay.”
Chris considered. “Who do you work for?”
She jerked her thumb toward Harry Reardon, who seemed engrossed in slipping dollar bills into one of the women’s tops.
Chris leaned forward and whispered urgently: “And you aren’t working with the Chinese?”
“No.” She was firm.
“Very well, then we can talk. First things first—Who is this man you’re looking for?”
She raised the foul-smelling drink to her lips and sipped. The moment the stuff touched her mouth, a burning, painful sensation spread to her lips and was suddenly replaced with a taste as sweet as a spoonful of honey. It was like eating a block of molten sugar. “Admiral Yim of the People’s Republic of China Army Navy.”
Chris hesitated, scrutinizing her from under the bridge of his hat. Then he slowly reached up and pulled it off. Chris was Admiral Yim.
“Awkward,” he said.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Blessed Humanity Coffee Shop
Chrysalis Station
Kepler-1011 system
“Awkward,” echoed Blair, her eyes widening.
Nothing was said for a moment. Then, Admiral Yim reached up and adjusted his collar. “So, do I get paid now?”
She stared at him in bewilderment. “Is… is that really you?”
“It is,” said Admiral Yim, cautiously removing his surgical mask and tucking it into the hat. “Are you with the Chinese government?”
Blair felt a twinge of anger threatening to disrupt her cool. She fought it down as best she could. “Don’t you think,” she asked, her tone ever-so-slightly icy, “that you should be asking if we’re with the Americans? Not the Chinese?”
Yim, confused, shook his head. “Why would the Americans want me, other than to turn me over to the Chinese military?”
Now it was Blair’s turn to be confused. She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Are you shitting me?” she hissed. “You shot the President of the United States.”
Yim stared open mouthed. “What?”
Fumbling, Blair snatched up her tablet off from her hip, loaded the security camera footage, and then showed him the picture. The picture of him shooting President Schuyler.
“That isn’t me,” said Yim, shaking his head in disbelief. “I-I know it looks like me, but that is not me.”
“Then who was it?” demanded Blair.
Yim shrugged helplessly. “Kào běi, how should I know? I’ve been hiding out on this blasted rock trying to make ends meet by selling information. Ever since my government tried to have me arrested.”
“Arrested for what?” she demanded. “Yim, what did you do?”
“Nothing!” he hissed, loud enough to draw a few curious stares from the nearby patrons. After offering an apologetic wave, Yim dropped his voice back down. “I didn’t do anything, I swear on my mother’s grave.”
It would be difficult to get anything out of him unless she could get his trust. “I’m with Captain Jack Mattis,” she said. “He’s waiting for us on our ship.”
His eyes widened. “Mattis is here?”
“Yes, and I’ll take you to him…” she leaned forward a little bit. “But I need to know what happened first.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Yim grimaced. “Really, nothing. I was just on leave while my ship was being retrofitted with various new systems, and then suddenly armed guards were at my door. I didn’t know what they wanted, and I knew too much from hanging around with that hún dàn, Admiral Mattis. So I bolted. Found work in the less-than-reputable places in the galaxy. And now here I am, peddling information and contacts in a bar. A bar I once visited with Mattis.”
“You were a good customer,” said Armitage, smiling fondly. “As much as you were a good employee.”
“I hated it. And your coffee is terrible.”
“Aww,” said Armitage affectionately. “I guess that means you’ll be finalizing your tab, then? It’s quite sizable.”
Yim looked distinctly uncomfortable, eyes flicking away. “Uhh…”
Blair coughed into her hand. “Hello, still here. Still wanting answers.”
Yim leaned his elbow on the counter, closing his eyes a moment. “I honestly don’t know what to tell you,” he said. “I didn’t shoot the President. I didn’t even know she was dead. This is the first I’ve heard about it… we don’t exactly get much news on this rock. People who come here are looking for peace and quiet, to not be found. That’s all I wanted.”
“Hate to spoil your vacation, but there’s a fleet of Chinese ships directly above this rock.”
Yim’s eyes shot open. “What ships?” He looked around wildly as if the ships might be there in the bar. “Wait—Armitage, what ships?”
Armitage casually polished a glass. For a moment he said nothing. Then, finally, he set it down and flicked his cloth over his shoulder. “Sorry, Yim,” he said, a look of genuine pity on his face. “They offered me too much. Sorry you had to find out this way.”
Yim spat on the ground. “Damn this place. And you too, you snake.”
“Sorry,” said Armitage, shrugging. “They’ll be here any moment. You had best get going.”
Blair ground her teeth, then pushed herself off her stool. “Reardon, Sammy, get your shit! We are leaving!”
“But I haven’t even started yet,” complained Reardon, his face smushed into the chest of one of the prostitutes.
“Now!” shouted Blair, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him up to his feet. “Out! Back to the ship!”
Reardon awkwardly stared at her. “What?”
Yim coughed. “Take me with you,” he pled. “Take me to Mattis.”
“Fine. Now let’s go!”
Reardon staggering forward, unslinging his rifle. He’d obviously had way too much to drink in way too short a time, but there was no time to do anything about it.
Blair drew her gun and marched to the door, kicking it open.
A bullet whizzed past her head and smashed into the door frame, missing her by inches.
Down the road, five uniformed Chinese Marines trained rifles directly on her as they pushed through the crowd on the street, which shouted and pushed back.
Only a second to decide—run, or submit?
She turned her head toward the three men inside. Practically helpless. Sure to slow her down. She took a huge gulp of air and shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Run!”
Chapter Forty
Bridge
HMS Caernarvon
Space, near Chrysalis
Mattis was always nervous during these kinds of away missions, watching the various screens, unable to help directly. What was going on over there? Were people in danger? Had they found the contact they were searching for?
He idly fiddled with his communicator, and as he did so, it chirped at him. For a second he thought he might have accidentally bumped something, but the device was signaling an incoming long-distance call.
“You can take it,” said Spears, staring intently at her command monitor. “I can handle everything from here.”
He thanked her and stepped to the back of the bridge, glancing at the device. An incoming call from Elroy. He flicked it open. “This isn’t a good time,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Is everything okay?” A thought flashed into his head. “This isn’t about Jack, is it?”
“No,” said Elroy. “Well, yes, but not like that. I just wanted to thank you for… for letting me go back to Jack and go on this trip. We’re having a great time.”
Mattis stared at a bulkhead. “The money is not going to be there forever,” he said. “But it’s… important to me that you’re doing well. With Chuck gone, you and Jack are all I have left.”
“I know, but… but I
just wanted to stay with you. To help you. But I think you’re okay now. You don’t need me.”
It was heartening to know Elroy cared about him, but with an operation in progress, Mattis couldn’t spare the attention needed to think about it. “We’ll talk later,” he said. “I promise.”
“Okay,” said Elroy, and ended the call.
Mattis felt a vague, empty feeling in his gut, as though he had just promised something he had absolutely no way of delivering, but for now, he refocused his mind on the job at hand. The away mission. “Sorry,” he said to Spears, stepping back to his position beside her.
“I said you could take it.” Spears smiled. “He’s a good man.”
“Thank you, Ma’am. My son had good taste.”
“Like father, like son.” Spears turned back to her monitor. “It’s quiet,” she said, considering, her lips pursed. “Nothing from the away team yet. No beacons, nothing.”
He couldn’t help but agree.
Too quiet…
Chapter Forty-One
Outside the Blessed Humanity Coffee Shop
Chrysalis Station
Kepler-1011 system
Blair ducked into the crowded street as another gunshot rang out. Where it landed, she had no idea and no time to check. She kept her head low, pushing and shoving. Yim was immediately behind, a huge revolver cradled in both hands. Staggering and stumbling after him came Reardon with Sammy not far behind, his chair squeaking as it ran over the metal deckplates.
Oh shit… the wheelchair. That was going to be a problem. She plowed ahead in front of the two brothers, shouldering people out of the way. “Move! Move!”
“Hey, screw you, lady!” A guy pulled out his pistol. “You laid hands on me, that’s a violation of the NAP!”
Oh crap. That Non-Aggression thing. Blair gave him the finger and kept running, ducking her head low so as to spoil the guy’s aim. Behind her, the man touched a yellow and black striped button on his wrist.
Immediately, yellow and black lights flashed in the main street, and a spotlight clicked on from above, bathing the three of them in a bright yellow beam like some kind of giant finger from the roof.
“NAP violation,” droned a mechanical voice. “NAP violation.”
“Shit,” shouted Sammy, his hands waggling a control stick on his chair furiously. The machine hummed as some powerful internal power source engaged. “We gotta get outta here!”
No kidding. With the Chinese Marines hot on their heels, pushing through the crowd was difficult. But if there was anything the Chrysalis citizens hated more than NAP violators, Blair realized, it was probably foreign Marines firing off rounds in their streets. Almost every single person suddenly produced a weapon, pointing them toward the Marines, yelling and pressing the striped buttons on their wrists. Suddenly the Chinese, too, had a yellow spotlight on them.
The knife cut both ways. Blair was more than happy to exploit the chaos of the situation, keeping her head down low and slinking away into the crowd as best she could, moving back toward the hangar bay. A few people pointed their weapons at her, but she did her best to ignore them. Though she expected to be shot at any moment, nobody fired. Maybe they were just trying to protect themselves more than actively punish her.
“Wait!” cried Sammy from the rear. He was getting swallowed by the crowd, his desperate face disappearing in a sea of people.
“Hold on, Sammy!” Reardon skidded to a drunken stop and whipped around. “I’m coming!”
Aww shit. Double triple shit. Blair stopped too, turning about, weapon raised.
“Leave him,” said Yim. “We need to get out of here.”
Blair ground her teeth. “I’m not going to leave a kid in a wheelchair behind.”
“Fine,” said Yim, wheezing faintly. “Stay here.” He moved away from her, shoving through the crowd.
Staying there was easier said than done. Blair needed to stall. She could see the Marines’ helmets as they pushed and shoving their way ahead. Carefully, Blair lined up her pistol on the top of one. A really difficult shot, but…
Gently—gently she squeezed the trigger, and her pistol roared. The round skipped off the top of the helmet, ricocheting and slamming into a digital screen, destroying it in a shower of sparks and glass.
The Marines all ducked. So did much of the crowd. But at least they stopped moving.
“NAP violation,” said the computer again. “NAP violation.”
Yeah, that doesn’t sound good at all…
“Hey lady,” said an older woman nearby, swaddled in thick cloth covering her body like a mummy, a heavy rocket launcher cradled casually in her arms. “You better put your piece down now, before there’s any more trouble.”
“Dammit, I don’t have time for this.” Blair fished out her badge. “I’m Special Agent Denelle Blair, San Diego field office, and I—” she hiccuped. “Dammit! And I’m investigating the assassination of the President of the United States. Stay out of this, Ma’am.”
The woman just raised an eyebrow and, ever so gently, clicked the safety on the launcher. “Not too fond of federal investigators around here,” she said. “And you’re a long way away from San Diego.”
“Blow it out your ass.” Blair scanned over the crowd of people, looking for more Marine helmets. They’d vanished. Yim too. Where…
The lady snorted dismissively, but kept her rocket launcher lowered. Deep down, she must have understood that blowing a federal agent into hunks of meat on the street was likely to result in more problems down the road.
Blair hoped that was the case, at least.
Then, from out of the throng came Reardon, running with Sammy triumphantly riding on his back, hands tight around his brother’s neck. “We’re here!”
Leaving the chair was probably the best bet. “C’mon,” she said, grabbing Reardon’s hand and dragging him forward. “We gotta move.”
Yim caught up, Reardon’s rifle slung in front of him. “This way,” he said, pushing to the front and then turning down a side passage. “I know a shortcut. It’ll get us away from the searchlight.”
“Then lead on,” said Blair, stepping aside to let Reardon and Sammy go ahead of her. “I’ll cover the rear.”
Yim led them to a narrow alleyway between two hastily thrown together prefabricated structures. He squeezed in first, rifle raised, and Reardon and Sammy followed with only a slight stumble. Blair backed in, her back up against Sammy’s, and wiggled through the claustrophobic passage.
“I’m so sorry,” said Sammy. “I tried to keep up, I tried—”
“No worries,” said Blair, keeping her pistol ready. “Just focus on getting out of here. .”
“Okay,” said Sammy, seemingly not convinced. “Damn. I was… I was trying so hard.”
“Later,” Blair insisted. There really was no time for this at all. The farther they got from the main street, the more she relaxed, but then a Chinese Marine ran past the end of the tiny passage. And another, and another.
“Hurry,” she hissed. The fourth Marine, rifle raised, moved past. Okay, only one more…
The last one seemed more cautious than the rest, and when he turned to look down the passageway, their eyes met.
For a very brief moment, Blair just knew he was going to turn and shout out for the others. She lined up her gun to the man’s chest and fired.
The gunshot seemed extra loud in the dark, cramped alleyway, paining her ears and leaving a profound ringing in them. The round sparked as it skipped off his armor, bouncing up to his helmet and knocking it off. He stumbled back, then slumped to the side, bleeding from the nose.
That was bad. That was real bad. Shooting a Chinese Marine…
For a terrible moment she thought he might be dead, but he was still breathing. Still, it wasn’t good.
She ran forward to the opening of the passageway. The other four Marines were moving away, defeated by the din of the NAP sirens, seemingly oblivious to their comrade’s fate. Their comrade who desperately neede
d medical attention.
Two years of Chinese in high school, don’t fail me now! Taking a deep breath, she shouted. “Jūnyī!” Medic.
One of the Marines turned around, saw his fallen comrade, saw her.
She pointed to the fallen Marine, then turned on her heel and ran, hoping it was enough.
She wasn’t ready to kill just yet.
Chapter Forty-Two
Dark Alleyway near Receiving Area
Chrysalis Station
Kepler-1011 system
Blair left the shouting of the Marines and the bustle of the crowd behind her, jogging to catch back up to Sammy and the others. Yim led them deeper into the rat maze of narrow tunnels and alleyways between structures. Things got a bit quieter.
“What the hell were you doing?” asked Reardon over his shoulder, panting almost as much as Yim.
“That Chinese soldier was hit,” she said. “I shot him. He needed medical attention.”
“Yeah, but now they know where we’ve gone. You goddamn idiot.”
She said nothing. She had to at least try and save the guy. She was a sworn federal agent… she wasn’t going to start an international incident over a gun battle in the street in an area she had extremely fuzzy jurisdiction over. Fuzzy as in zero.
“This way,” called Yim ahead. “The hangar bay is just here.” With a scrape, he pried a panel off the wall and ducked inside. Reardon went next, nearly gonging Sammy’s head on the lip of it, and then she followed.
Sure enough, on the other side of the panel was the receiving area. They attracted some stares as the troupe climbed out of the wall, but Reardon brushed them off. “NAP violation,” he said casually, as though that explained everything.
Their shuttle was waiting. “Oh, thank God.”
Reardon seemed amused by her relief. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get aboard, decompress this hangar bay, and get back to the Caernarvon before those Marines report in.”
The Last Strike: Book 5 of The Last War Series Page 17
