A Time For Ryda

by Stern, Phil

  In fact, Venter looked much as it had when she’d visited nearly fifteen years before as a young girl. Strolling about the magnificent mountain-top campus, snow clad peaks falling off to humid beaches down below, it was almost easy to pretend the invasion had never occurred.

  It was a relatively pleasant week, and Eve enjoyed firmly settling into her cover as a graduate student. But for the war it might well have been the life she’d naturally chosen. Everyone was very friendly, and she was quickly subsumed into a typical student routine.

  Being an Off-World student, unaccustomed to the libertine Rydian ways, Eve could plausibly keep her eager male schoolmates at bay for a little while. As expected, though, her program supervisor almost immediately invited her over to his sumptuous home. A distinguished man in his mid-50's, Professor Hanson had thoroughly probed her knowledge of fine minerals over dinner, followed by coffee and Rodasia leaves in his luxuriant zero-gravity hot tub.

  The next morning, while still in bed, he’d outlined a proposed course of study. Later on they enjoyed breakfast on a detached veranda gently drifting over the high mountain peaks. Eve had been genuinely touched by the Professor’s attentiveness, responding politely to his goodbye kiss.

  Her appointment with Peter, though, was fast approaching. Opening the decorative stone on her necklace one night (the very same necklace the Gandian guard had inspected at the space station), Eve extracted a tiny, precious spec of dynate. A shady character in town gave her 10 million rydals for it the next day, assuming, no doubt, she’d taken it from the University. Though no such theft had actually occurred, the fence should keep his mouth shut for fear of getting caught with stolen goods.

  Saturday morning, after procuring a few items needed for the next stage of the mission, she’d set off once more for Blasaria.

  The meet would take place in the Contemplar, a posh and busy café. Of course, an actual face-to-face encounter was extremely risky, but TAIN felt there was no other way. The Gandian authorities closely monitored all Rydian computer and communications systems, and a dead drop required more coordination than could be arranged through enemy lines. Relying on intermediaries also increased the odds of betrayal and detection.

  Thus, another example of hiding in the open. With the restrictions on travel and the overall degradation of the city since the Gandian invasion, cafes such as the Contemplar were even more popular than before. Wearing a holo-generated, scoop necked body suit that slowly pulsed through various shades of green, Eve fit in perfectly with the brightly colored, desperately festive young crowd.

  As arranged, Peter was sitting by himself at a two-seat table in the center of the room. Idly clicking through a virtual menu by the door, Eve scanned the packed restaurant through its floating, transparent pages.

  Peter seemed nervous, almost angrily waving away an attractive young woman offering to join him. Given his lack of professional training, perhaps that was to be expected. However, no one at the crowded bar seemed to be paying undue attention to him, nor did the occupants of any surrounding tables arouse suspicion.

  “Excuse me, miss, but you’ll have to wait in line like everybody else.” The hostess planted herself before Eve, hands on hips. She appeared to be from Ryda’s eastern continent, with yellow streaked auburn hair and golden eyes. Also attired in oscillating apparel, streaks of bright blue and yellow faded and reappeared in tantalizing fashion over her firm figure.

  “Thank you, but I’m joining that man over there.” As was the fashion, Eve let her own hand casually rest on the hostess’s waist as she brushed past her. While still several paces away from the table Peter looked up, meeting her gaze.

  Her former lover had become quite a man. The boyish features were now chiseled, his chest and arms more defined. Still, there was the familiar look of wonder in Peter’s eyes as he stared up at her. It was the same expression she remembered after they’d first met in a special art class, and again as he studied her naked, trembling body in the room by the river. Even now, after nearly a decade apart, his eyes touched a deep, natural part of Eve’s soul, drawing forth the girl she’d been, through the mind and body of the woman she’d become.

  How proud of him she was, fighting the Gandian thugs who’d destroyed their world! True, Eve had chosen to do the same, volunteering for the life of a TAIN operative. But perhaps his courage was of a more basic sort, as she had years of professional training behind her, while Peter and those like him had to go it alone. Suffused with a warm, gratifying glow, Eve fully realized just how well she’d chosen eight years before.

  “What the hell?” Peter muttered as she leaned down to kiss his cheek. “Eve? What the hell are you doing here?”

  Breaking the spell completely, it was all she could do not to visibly react. This was not good. They were supposed to be friends, happy to see one another. Bouncing down in the chair opposite him, Eve clasped Peter’s hand.

  “Peter!” she exclaimed, deliberately raising her eyebrows in warning. “You look wonderful!”

  Peter’s mouth jerked up in a taunt smile. “Thank you, Eve, so do you,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

  Something was very wrong. Of course Peter had been told to call her “Heather,” though he hadn’t been given her cover’s last name. Even for a rank novice, he was screwing this up very badly.

  The waiter darted over, a trendy young man in the café colors of blue and yellow. Still holding Peter’s left hand, Eve gave the waiter a bright smile, a happy student meeting her young man in the big city.

  “Blue wine,” she ordered, now deliberately looking back at Peter. “With lusatro chips on the side.”

  For his part, though, Peter appeared almost ill, his face very flushed. Finally giving another strained smile, he then looked up at the waiter.

  Alarm bells were beginning to go off in Eve’s mind. Sensuously leaning down on her own arm, as if to draw herself closer to Peter, Eve was able to see both her contact and the waiter in profile.

  The body language was all wrong. It was Peter, the customer, who appeared subtly deferential, while the waiter had an uncharacteristically hard look. In fact, Eve’s former lover appeared almost dazed as the waiter’s eyes narrowed in slight anger.

  “Blue wine as well,” Peter finally stammered. Hesitating a moment longer, the waiter left.

  Perhaps the waiter was having a bad day? Maybe Peter was simply flustered by her unexpected appearance? But instinct was an operative’s most valuable asset. In one swift movement she raised her head again, sweeping the entire café.

  No less than six people quickly averted their eyes, flushed by her sudden movement. The waiter and the flashy hostess were on the surveillance team, along with a pair of men at the bar, and two women a few tables over. No doubt there were others nearby as well.

  Revulsion exploded in the pit of Eve’s stomach. Apparently turned by the Vextar, Peter had agreed to set up the TAIN agent sent to meet him.

  The wholesome satisfaction of a moment before was now replaced by two competing emotions, the anguish of a betrayed and disillusioned lover, and the cold, calculating fury of an agent sold out by her own side. Brutally, Eve pushed the former aside, knowing it would get her killed, while the latter just might allow her to live through the next several minutes.

  At this point, her strategy was obvious. Get a jump on the Gandian thugs and escape, running as fast and far as she was able. The initiative was hers, but only for a very short time. If Eve failed to capitalize on it, she’d never make it from the Contemplar alive.

  But first she needed to throw her stalkers off guard, lull them into a false sense of security. Exercising all of her self-control, Eve faced Peter once again. Clearly, he was supposed to elicit some kind of information from her. Otherwise, the trap would already have been sprung.

  “So,” she murmured once the waiter had left. “Is the Resistance prepared?”

  “What? Oh, yes.” Taking a deep breath, Peter idly tapped the table with his right hand. “We just need to know w
here and when.”

  I'll bet you do, Eve thought. “Am I to give it to you here?”

  Green lights flashed over the table. Leaning back, they both watched the drinks and chips drop down from the ceiling before them.

  “Yes, yes. Here.” A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “Here is fine.”

  Of course, Eve hadn't dared carry a gun through an occupied city, and there’s no way the Vextar would have trusted Peter with anything more lethal than a toothpick. But Eve had a pretty good idea who might be packing, and how she might arm herself on the fly.

  Delicately taking a sip, Eve nodded. “I'll be back in a moment. Stay at the table until I return.”

  Confusion spread over Peter’s face. He'd been told, no doubt, to keep her seated and vulnerable. “Where are you going? You just got here.”

  “I need to get the package.” Smiling, she squeezed his hand once more. “Don't worry, Peter. I'll be right back.”

  Drawn and haggard, he didn’t answer. Standing, Eve playfully stretching her arms wide, taking one last look around. With a casual air, she then made her way toward the front of the restaurant.

  The flashing, multi-colored hostess stood her ground, thoughtfully eyeing her target’s approach. This was setting off alarm bells, Eve knew, but there were at least a few moments more to play with.

  ‘Heather,’ Eve’s student/party girl cover, would naturally take the opportunity to flirt with the beautiful young woman once more on the way to the bathroom. And having hinted at the prospect of retrieving TAIN’s message from its no doubt secret hiding place, the surveillance team would be loath to blow the whistle at this critical juncture.

  Laughing and smiling, Eve walked right up to the hostess, pressing the entire length of her body up against her while encircling the young woman’s waist. She truly was a Rydian native, exuding the pleasant natural scent of the eastern continent. Some lucky Vextar agent must have received a pat on the back for recruiting her.

  Now beginning to panic, the traitor’s lithesome body became very stiff. Enjoying the moment, Eve’s lips brushed lightly against her delicate ear.

  “You Gandian loving whore!” Eve whispered, yanking the thin strand of gold material from the hostess’s waist. The flashing, fading holographic dress disappeared, leaving the hostess naked but for a small pistol attached to her upper leg.

  Before she could react, Eve punched the hostess in the stomach and snatched the gun. Throwing her to the floor, a sharp kick to the head rendered the thrashing beauty instantly unconscious.

  A waiter standing nearby yanked a firearm from his waistband. Eve instantly shot and killed him, the man’s body flung back into an ornate glass swan by the bar.

  Utter pandemonium ensued, everyone dashing around and screaming for all they were worth. Force fields, no doubt installed specifically for today’s ambush, slammed into place over the outside verandas. All the agents Eve had spotted, and a few more she hadn’t, now drew weapons, yelling at everyone to get down.

  Laser bolts sailed by Eve’s head, exploding a pile of holo-menus on the hostess stand. The entire area was instantly immersed in flashing, floating food. Eve ran through a varied selection of steaks, diving behind an overturned table.

  Squeezing a device on her own waist similar to that worn by the hostess, Eve’s sparkling green outfit became a splotchy urban camouflage. Then, activating another unit on her wrist, a thin, clear shield formed close around her entire body. It would only withstand a few shots, but was definitely better than nothing.

  Taking a deep breath, Eve leapt up from behind the table, gun blazing.

  Clearly, the entire Vextar operation was in shambles. Both her own waiter and another agent were standing near the unconscious hostess, guns casting wildly about, easy targets for Eve's first two shots. A fusillade of return fire, though, erupted from around the restaurant. Disintegrating around her legs, chunks of flaming table careened into yelling bystanders, or flew out against the shields over the open-air balcony.

  Now leaping to her right, a bolt glanced off the shield by her left hip, while another dissolved into a sparkling burst over her stomach. Dropping and rolling once more, Eve accidentally knocked someone over, who then fell down in front of her, promptly taking a laser bolt through the arm.

  One of the Vextar men who’d been at the bar emerged from the frightened, swirling mass, firing almost point blank into her chest. Eve’s shield promptly overloaded, flaring out with a thunderous crack. Stunned, she lay on the floor, momentarily helpless.

  The stampeding crowd saved her, however, dashing between them just as the Gandian was about to fire again. From the ground she shot both of his ankles, delivering the coup de grace after he hit the floor beside her.

  A pulsating siren erupted to her rear. Glancing about, Eve saw two Gandian military patrol craft, each with two soldiers sitting one behind the other, hovering outside the restaurant’s shields.

  “Cease and desist!” a deep voice boomed out. “In the name of the Gauten, cease and desist, or we will be forced to take action!”

  Of course, the Gandian pronouncement only served to cause more panic, with dozens of terrified patrons who had retreated onto the open-air decks now flooding back into the main dining area. Sensing an opportunity, Eve stayed low, ignoring the occasional kicks as best she could.

  It was then that she saw Peter again. Worm-like, he was scrunched up against another overturned table, both arms plastered over his face. Another wave of pure disgust overwhelmed her. To think of all the time she’d spent wondering of his fate, fantasizing of his supposed noble deeds. And now, to see what he’d really become…

  Grimly raising her gun, Eve waited for a clear firing lane. Best to spare Peter the trouble of a post-war trial.

  Peeking out, the turncoat now spotted her. Breathing heavily, Peter dropped his arms over his knees, blankly staring first at Eve’s gun, then straight into her eyes. Making no attempt to run or cover himself, Peter simply sat there, apparently accepting her final judgement. He even nodded slightly, almost in understanding, becoming the relaxed, strong Peter she’d known so well.

  Despite the desperate circumstances and her own fury, Eve actually found herself overcome with an intense, overwhelming relief to know her first love was still there. Shocked, she let her weapon fall, suddenly terrified at her own eagerness to cut him down as she had the Vextar agents.

  With a tremendous roar, the Gandian military craft blasted out a single section of the exterior shields. Bright, natural sunlight poured through the breach, marred only by the sight of the two military vehicles hovering like vultures on the other side. About twenty or so Rydian citizens, hoping only for a pleasant lunch in the city, dropped burning to the floor. Everyone else now fled to the far side of the restaurant.

  All but one man, who went charging out into the open, waving a gun while furiously shouting at the Gandian military craft. Presumably the Vextar agent-in-charge, telling the army blockheads to clear out. Clearly the military had been unaware of the Vextar operation, probably assuming the Rydian Resistance was behind the sudden restaurant riot. Confused by the unusual shielding, they had simply decided to open fire.

  Well, they could all sort it out after Eve was gone. With a final look at Peter, she leapt to her feet, racing toward the now gaping hole in the Vextar trap.

  Somehow sensing her approach, the enraged Vextar agent swung about. Though Eve’s first shot caught him square in the chest, the energy bolt merely flared out on his own personal shielding. Ducking underneath the return shot, Eve plowed into the goon’s legs, sending them both sprawling to the floor. Using his superior weight and strength, though, the Gandian agent wound up on top of Eve, choking her with a forearm while holding his gun to her head.

  “You little bitch,” he breathed. “Just wait until we…”

  A blast of sickly yellow light came through the failed shielding. Protected by the Vextar agent crouched over her, Eve watched the Gandian’s face spasm in excruciating pain as his ne
ural network flooded with artificial energy. Rolling clear just as the pulse from the military craft faded, Eve blasted a hole in the man’s head, doing the same for two more Vextar agents caught in the neural inhibitor a few steps off. Scooping up an agent’s laser rifle, she now faced the patrol craft.

  “In the name of the Gauten!” thundered the military man once more, “I order you to…”

  Tightly holding the heavy weapon, Eve sprinted once more at the destroyed section of shield, activating a personal anti-grav unit as she launched herself into open space.

  Clearly, the Gandian storm troopers weren’t expecting a counter-attack. Eve sailed between the two craft, thoroughly raking the one to her left. Chunks of scorched and burning metal dropped several stories down to the street below, or went flying into the once beautiful Farensia River with a sizzling hiss. The transparent cockpit dome withstood the initial barrage, though the men inside were obviously battered and disoriented by the intense energy impacts. Slewing off to one side, they actually fired a full burst into the other patrol craft.

  Flashing over the Farensia, then landing on the opposite side with a graceful flourish, Eve turned to see both stricken vehicles first crash to the ground, then explode with a dull roar.

  It was just past midday, with sparser crowds than when Eve was a child, but still plenty of people about. Dropping the bulky rifle, Eve jogged between two buildings, once more twisting the band on her waist.

  The woman who sauntered out into the next street, after first ducking through a store’s back entrance and traversing another alley, appeared to be a 45-year-old brunette, with conservative slacks and a blue shirt. Carefully controlling her own pace, Eve strolled down toward the harbor, in the opposite direction from the spaceport.

  A squad of Gandian troops went pounding the other way, knocking an old woman aside as they passed. Bending down to help, Eve was momentarily transfixed by the quivering fear in the woman’s eyes, the garish bruise already forming on her cheek.