Dire Steps

by Henry V. O'Neil

  “We’ve got food, ammo, and radio equipment cached in several different spots out in the rough country. The plan is to break up into groups so small that a Sam raider won’t bother chasing us.”

  “How can we help?” Ayliss asked.

  “As you can see, I’m having a little trouble getting around. I can’t be everywhere I need to be, and I could use a seasoned platoon sergeant to run the back half of this.”

  Blocker shook his head. “I stay with the Minister.”

  “I’m not hiding from this fight. I’m a really good shot with a Scorpion, and the Banshees said they can use me.” Ayliss gave Blocker an earnest look. “You’ve got skills these ­people need.”

  “She’s right. My gang is more rear-­echelon than anything else, and they’ve never fought as a group before. Green troops need seasoned leaders.”

  Blocker shook his head slowly, then nodded. “We’re going to need a very simple plan. If the Sims do show up, they’re going to head for the station first. A few missile teams on top of the mountain could really hurt them just as they get here. Put me in charge of that.”

  He looked at Ayliss, sensing her excitement. “And you and your Banshees are going to be back here. That’s not negotiable.”

  That night, the veterans gathered again. It was very different from the night Ayliss had spent with them under the stars, as they were underground in what appeared to be a communal hall dug by the Sims. The mining station had been stripped of every usable item, yielding a number of different vehicles which were now hidden at various locations.

  Ayliss stood with Blocker and her security detail. Looking out across the throng, she was concerned to see so many expressions of fear and even rebellion. Veterans from the combat specialties circulated among the other colonists, adjusting body armor and giving out words of encouragement, but there was an air of disapproval.

  The conversation was quiet, probably due to the level of unease, so it actually rose when Hemsley entered the hall. He walked stiffly, but hid his pain well as he headed for a low stone ledge that served as a stage. Stepping up where everyone could see him, he began to speak.

  “You all know why we’re here, and what we’re up against. McRaney monitored a Sim raid ship headed this way, and before he had to run off, he said it would be here in the morning. My guess is that the Sims will search the station first. They’re looking for Go-­Three, and that’s the most likely place for it. There isn’t any up there, so there’s a slim chance they’ll just leave after that. Probably blow the station up, but who cares about that shithole anyway?”

  The laughter was subdued, so he continued.

  “I don’t believe in placing a lot of hope in a slim chance. I think any Sim raider worth his salt will know all about the tunnels, so after they’re done with the station, they’ll come down here for a look. We’ve rehearsed this many times—­for a different opponent—­and so we are prepared. I say we’re ready for them.”

  “First Sergeant, why don’t we just get out of here? They’re not taking the planet back; they’re just after the ore. Why not get out of their way?” This came from a balding veteran, obviously uncomfortable in his armor. A large number of voices murmured agreement.

  “That’s simple. What have we been saying as long as we’ve been together? This place is ours. It’s our future, and the future of our families. Zone Quest ran off before there was any sign of trouble, so if there was ever a chance for us to claim this as our own, this is it. We’ve got a good plan, plenty of the right weapons, and some of the best ­people I’ve ever been privileged to meet. There is no reason for us to let these assholes just come in here and take our stuff.”

  “The Step won’t be suspended for much longer. There’s no reason to fight when we can safely ride this out, just by getting out of the way.”

  A surge of approval ran through the crowd, and Hemsley turned a blank face toward Ayliss. Without a moment’s hesitation, she mounted the platform.

  “That’s a good point, but I think you missed something. The Step suspension is a lucky break for us, in that it made Zone Quest leave. They were here before this planet was assigned to the Veterans Auxiliary, but now that they’re gone, we’ve got a tremendous opportunity.”

  “An opportunity to get killed!” a voice shouted from the back.

  “It is that, but it’s also an opportunity that you’ll never get again. When Rittle told me he was leaving, he offered to take me and my party along.” Ayliss pointed an open palm at her detail. “I turned him down because this is my post—­and it’s yours, too. I told him something else, and I’ll say it to you as well. I told him that if he ran off, he shouldn’t come back.

  “By all laws of ownership, this planet is yours because Zone Quest bugged out. Quad Seven was given to you for your ser­vice, and the only reason the Guests were allowed to remain was that they were here before that decree. They’re gone now, and so this place is yours if you defend it. I’m willing to do that with you, so who’s with me?”

  The room filled with the shouts of perhaps half of the assemblage, but a voice rose when the noise subsided.

  “Command took this place from the Sims because it’s loaded with Go ore. They sent two entire fleets, then they planted Zone Quest here. As soon as the Step is available again, they’re gonna put the Guests back in business.”

  “No one back home knows what happened here then, and no one knows what’s happening here now. But you got lucky again.” Ayliss beamed at the faces before her. “I’m your minister, appointed by the Veterans Auxiliary, and I’m the daughter of the Chairman of the Emergency Senate. As soon as the Step is back in operation, I’m going to ask every Bounce war correspondent in this sector to come here. We’ll show every settled world the footage of the wrecked Sim ships.”

  A growl rose from the throng, and they seemed to draw closer.

  “And we’ll show them the dead Sim bodies!”

  A shout answered her, and was joined by others.

  “And I promise you, I will make a statement in front of the cameras saying that this planet belongs to the veterans of the first settlement, that it belongs to their families and their descendants, and I’ll tell them how you all fought to win that! Now who’s with me?”

  A few short hours later, Ayliss was loading magazines for her Scorpion rifle. Blocker had attempted to assign the rest of the security detail to her, but she’d squashed that with ease. Blocker would be commanding a large circle of two-­man missile teams on top of the mountain, and those teams needed reliable marksmen for protection. Ayliss and the Banshees would be providing the same kind of support for the missile teams around the tunnel complex, so the security detail was now with Blocker’s element.

  Ayliss was now in one of the rocky rooms off of the main tunnel, prepping for battle with the Banshees. Her torso armor was laden with ammunition pouches and a single grenade that she’d been advised not to use, and she was dressed in the black fatigues worn by the others.

  “Ayliss, come over here.” Lola spoke softly, and Ayliss looked up to see the Banshee standing by a chair, holding an electric clipper. She obeyed silently, hiding the thrill that pulsed through her at the idea that she was passing yet another milestone on the way to using her weapon for real. The requisite haircut was quick, and when it was done, her longest lock was a half inch in length.

  Tin stepped up, holding a spray can. “Time to add little style. Shut your eyes, close your mouth, and try not to breathe.”

  The wet gusts ran over her unprotected scalp, down her neck, and then all across her face. It dried almost immediately, and Tin was holding a small mirror in front of her eyes when they opened. The face that looked back at her was almost unrecognizable. Nearly bald, skin and hair completely black. Ayliss smiled with glee, and Tin returned the look.

  Lola approached, her own face covered in the black paint. “Stand up, Ayliss.”

 
The other Banshees finished blackening their faces, and then formed a tight circle around the two of them. Lola took on a somber expression, and gripped Ayliss by the shoulder with one hand. One of the Banshees took Ayliss’s opposite hand and placed it on Lola, in a mirror image.

  “Before the Banshees go into battle, there’s a little ritual we do. You’ll be fighting alongside us, so repeat after me.” The eyes, amazingly white against the camouflage, stared deep into hers.

  “I will kill for you, Ayliss.”

  “I will kill for you, Lola.”

  “I will die for you, Ayliss.”

  “I will die for you, Lola.”

  “Live for me, Ayliss.”

  “Live for me, Lola.”

  The Banshee leader pulled her in close, and unidentified hands clapped her roughly about the shoulders and back. The others began exchanging the vows, but Lola held Ayliss for a moment longer. “Do not hesitate. See a target, put it down. Then move. Got it?”

  “Yes.” Fighting hard to keep the joy out of her voice, and not accomplishing the task. Lola gripped her upper arms and stared at her again, misunderstanding.

  “That’s it. Keep that edge. Fight like there’s no tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  On the Aurora, still in close proximity to Earth, Reena Mortas stood in the same launch bay where she’d last spoken with her husband. The scene was almost identical, with the technicians working the consoles, Woomer nearby mumbling into a headset, and Leeger looking on with growing concern.

  But it wasn’t the same scene, or even the same day. Olech had disappeared on the very first leg of the planned series, and no one could offer an explanation. So they’d done what they’d prepared to do and brought up the second tiny spacecraft, a duplicate of the one that had carried her husband away. Mira Teel had donned a specially designed pressure suit, promised Reena that she would find out what had happened, and they had launched the vessel the same way as before.

  The Aurora had generated a Threshold, and Mira had flashed out of existence just long enough to complete the first leg of Olech’s previous course. The Force warship waiting at the first destination had sent her back, and the vessel had been brought on board. The revived Mira had been baffled, maintaining this was the first time in thousands of Step voyages that she had felt no presence other than her own. She’d insisted on trying again, this time running the full ten laps, but Woomer had overridden the suggestion. The sole Step voyage made by the old woman had provided him with new data, and he wanted to run it through his models.

  Hours had passed, with quizzical messages coming from every settled planet, Command, and many of the larger corporations. Olech’s seal had been enough to quiet them, and they’d all been told to prepare for an extended suspension of the Step.

  Though urged to return to Unity, Reena had refused. The apparatus of Olech’s government ran smoothly in his absence, and she was in constant communication from the Aurora. Woomer’s models had run their course, the data and the math and the physics had been reviewed numerous times, and finally the Step expert had confessed to being completely flummoxed.

  So Mira had gone back into the suit and into the craft and into the void. The rapid-­fire, multi-­Threshold journey had taken hours, and howls of high-­placed protest had accompanied the detection of Step usage. Reena had silenced the rancor with a terse message revealing the loss of an important governmental official, and the correct conclusion was instantly drawn. The tectonic rumor had raced across the galaxy: Olech Mortas, Chairman of the Emergency Senate, was missing.

  Reena’s composure had increased as the time dragged by and the tiny vessel completed each of the legs of its long journey nowhere, reappearing near the Aurora only to be shot right back out again. Now its run was complete, and it was brought aboard. Technicians carefully opened the craft, and gently revived its insensate occupant. Waiting, Reena experienced a wild titter of fantasy, imagining that the returned ship was Olech’s.

  Mira finally emerged, dressed in the pressure suit and sobbing openly. The technicians walked her in front of Reena, looking fearful. Woomer approached and stood next to them.

  “What did you learn, Mira?” Reena asked.

  The eyes were wounded, and the voice bordered on hysteria. “Nothing! Nothing! They’ve stopped communicating with us!”

  The aged face shook in misery, and she turned to Woomer. “What have we done, Gerar? What have we done?”

  Reena finished typing the last in a brief series of heavily encrypted messages flashing between the Aurora and Celestia. Despite the long lag time and the sterile wording, she could feel Horace’s giddy elation. Although it sickened her, Horace’s reaction was exactly as Olech had predicted, and so she already knew what to say. Even then the mechanisms across the settled worlds were swinging into action, a shadowy league of the powerful ensuring they stayed in control.

  Of course this shouldn’t have been a surprise, because a much younger Horace and a set of his cronies had already seized power once before. This time the effort would require almost no bloodshed, and when it was done, they believed they’d have a puppet where Olech Mortas had stood.

  The hatch opened, and Leeger entered. His face was haggard, but he stood before her desk with almost military formality.

  “It’s all right, Hugh. Everything is proceeding according to Olech’s contingency plan.”

  “That’s why I’m here, Minister.”

  “All right. What is it?”

  “I assume your brother has already suggested that you temporarily assume the Chairman’s role, and that he’s offered to help you?”

  “As expected.”

  “The Chairman left me with a special order if he didn’t come back, and I told him I would not obey it without gaining your approval first.”

  “That sounds ominous. What was that order?”

  “The Chairman believed that your brother would pose a grave threat, once you were installed.”

  “He’s always been a grave threat. But clearly my husband thinks I can’t handle him—­a matter I’ll take up with him when he returns.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I do hope that’s the case.”

  “So what did he want you to do about my brother?”

  “There is a young woman, forced into slavery, who is currently . . . attending to Horace. Her family was tricked into going to Celestia with the promise of work and a future.”

  “I know the game.”

  “Yes, Minister. The woman in question has agreed to . . . help us . . . if we protect her family.”

  Reena’s expression became even more serious, but she didn’t respond.

  “The Chairman felt it was a necessary step, once you’d been approved as his replacement,” Leeger said.

  “His temporary replacement.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Everything has been arranged, if you give the order.”

  Reena looked through him for several seconds, and Leeger stood stock-­still.

  “I’m going to have to give that some thought, Hugh.”

  “Yes, Minister.”

  “Let’s get off this damned ship. Let’s get back to Unity.”

  Gerar Woomer exhaled deeply as he settled into the chair. Several large monitors lined the console in front of him, but this was home to Woomer. Located inside a Force space station not far from Earth, the small, dark room was the nerve center of his Step research. Although he’d spent the last several days aboard the Aurora, all of the data from Olech’s voyage had been fed into his systems here.

  A buzzer sounded, telling him he had a visitor. Woomer already knew who it was, and pressed the button unlocking the hatch with trepidation. Hearing the footfalls ringing on the metal floor, he looked at a picture set into the console. A young Force soldier, dressed in full armor and cradling a Scorpion rifle, grinned back at him.

  Woomer tried to keep that im
age in his mind as he turned the chair.

  “You’ve outdone yourself, Gerar.” A hearty male voice rolled out of the shadows, followed by a tall man in a gray business suit. The visitor crossed the floor with confidence.

  “I can’t take all the credit, Timothy.” Woomer stood, though his legs were shaking.

  “Modesty. You would have gone much farther, if you had a better appreciation for your own talents.”

  “As far as you?”

  “That might be stretching it. Horace always said he saw something in me very early on.” Timothy Kumar was Woomer’s equivalent in the Celestian government, though not his equal as a physicist. “Speaking of Horace, he sends his congratulations.”

  “I’d rather he send proof that my grandson is somewhere safe.” Woomer pointed at the photo of a young soldier. “And a promise to keep him safe until his enlistment is over.”

  “Already done, old friend.” Kumar clapped him on the shoulder, lightly. “You can trust us.”

  “Considering you threatened to arrange an ‘accident’ for the boy, I’ll forget you said that last part.”

  “But you were the one who ended up arranging a little misfortune for someone else, weren’t you?” Kumar moved closer to the monitors, studying the data.

  “Only so far. I sabotaged the calculations for a much later point in Olech’s voyage. I can’t take all the credit.”

  “But he disappeared on the very first leg. Are you saying this was a genuine accident?”

  “No. Far from it.” Woomer punched a button on the control panel, sending one of the screens into a frenzy. Several lines jumped across the monitor, surging up and down, most of them climbing higher until Woomer stopped them. “See it?”

  Kumar leaned forward, reviewing the graph. “It appears to be the standard energy readings of a Threshold creation.”

  “You don’t see it.”

  “What, exactly?”

  “Here.” Woomer pointed at the bottom of the screen, where a small spike stood out. “Don’t feel bad. It’s almost undetectable in such close proximity to so much activity. It took me days to find it.”