The Fighter King

by John Bowers

  * * *

  Rosemary ground her teeth and struggled not to cry out. Jeremy had her pinned, and there was nothing romantic about what he was doing to her. Each thrust forced her to grunt, and she prayed it would be over soon.

  A sudden deep, throaty roar filled the room and the building shivered with vibration. Jeremy stopped moving and looked up, panting.

  "What the fuck!" he gasped. "What's that crazy Vegan up to now?"

  Rosemary didn't answer, taking advantage of the respite to catch her breath. For half a minute Jeremy didn't move, but after the roar faded away, he lowered his head and returned to business.

  * * *

  Oliver wiped his forehead and turned away from the control tower window. Now he looked at the ceiling, and found the exit hatch in the corner. Steel rungs led up to it, and he began to climb, carrying his package with him. He pressed the button to unlock the hatch, then levered the heavy door upward. It fell back onto the roof with a clang, and Oliver climbed into the night air.

  He looked around: a host of aerials and antennae sprouted from the center of the building; a two-foot ledge ringed the edge of the roof. Oliver crawled to the north side of the tower and settled down against the ledge. From here he had a clear view of the executive Tower five hundred yards away. He could see the two hoversleds with their searchlights, and the window of his dad's office was brilliantly exposed.

  He lifted the Scandi and placed it on the ledge, which made a perfect bench rest. He put the scope to his eye and adjusted it, then screwed up the magnification. He looked right through the window into the office, but could see nothing.

  Taking a deep breath, he settled in to wait.

  * * *

  The Lear rocket carrying Henry Wells began its descent a hundred miles east of Denver, already lined up for final approach at the LincEnt runway. Henry sat tense and worried in his cabin seat, unable to sleep despite the hour.

  Henry had left London after the Friday debate ended, aware that Oliver Lincoln II had planned a big welcome-home party for his son over the weekend. An hour out of London, word had arrived of a hostage crisis at LincEnt. Exactly what was going on wasn't clear, but the report mentioned shots fired, and someone had been killed. Henry sat rigid with dread — what kind of god-awful irony would that be, if Ollie had survived the fighting on Vega only to come home and be killed in some kind of criminal incident!

  Christ!

  He looked up with a worried frown as the copilot made his way back from the cockpit and hunkered down beside him.

  "Sorry to bother you, Senator," the youthful pilot said, "but I thought you should know — we're being diverted away from Lincoln Enterprises."

  "Diverted?"

  "Yes, sir. We can't raise the Lincoln tower, but it's broadcasting an emergency warning forbidding any air traffic from landing there. We have to land at Denver Spaceport."

  Henry nodded wearily. That would add a half-hour to his arrival time, but there was nothing to be done about it.

  "Okay," he said wearily. "See if you can arrange a hovercar and have it waiting for us."

  "Yes, sir. We'll be on the ground shortly."

  * * *

  "Mason!" Capt. Anderson's voice sounded strained, gritty. "I think you should know that the situation has changed. If you don't come out now, we're coming in after you."

  "You already tried that, Anderson! Who you gonna send next?"

  "Oh, I have lots of choices. Teargas, dogs, robots — hell, I might even come in there myself."

  "You know what, Anderson? You can't get any of those into this room without exposing your people. If you could, you'd have done that instead of sending those other two pricks in."

  "You don't know what I can do, Mason! The madder I get, the more options I have!"

  "The woman is still in here. You willing to risk her life?"

  "I think she's already dead, Mason. I think you killed her when you gunned down my men."

  "Now, why would I do a damn fool thing like that? She's my insurance."

  "I heard her screaming during all the shooting. I haven't heard a peep out of her since."

  "You want to hear her peep? Go ahead, Rosemary, peep for the man."

  Rosemary lifted her head and stared at him, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. She said nothing.

  "Goddammit, I said peep for the man!"

  "You okay, Miss Egler?" Anderson shouted.

  She cleared her throat. "No, I am not okay. I'm tired and bruised and sore and I have to go to the bathroom. This bastard has raped me twice and I wish you'd just come in here and kill him!"

  Anderson was silent for a moment; Rosemary thought she heard him talking to someone else in the outer office. When he spoke again, his voice was brittle.

  "We're going to get you out, Miss Egler. It won't be long now."

  "You and whose goddamned army!" Jeremy shouted.

  Rosemary lay down on her side, resting her head on her arm. Under Mr. Lincoln's desk, in plain sight from where she lay, was the handgun Jeremy had kicked away from the first policeman he'd killed. She'd first seen it while Jeremy was abusing her; apparently he'd forgotten about it. Anderson was obviously out of options; if she was ever to get out of here, she was going to have to do something to help herself.

  * * *

  Oliver stretched one leg to relieve the cramp that was threatening. He'd been here almost an hour, his eye glued to the sniper scope, and the eye was watering. It almost felt frozen. He lowered the rifle for just a moment and blinked to get the eye lubricated again. Off in the distance he still heard the SolarFighter, flying its rectangular pattern around the facility. He wondered how Lars was doing.

  * * *

  It was a gorgeous summer night from two thousand feet. Lars Sorensen sat in the cockpit of the SolarFighter that he'd come to know so well and looked out at the lights of Denver to his right as he flew east under low power, riding the heavy air currents with fully extended wings; Denver's lights were spectacular. About the only thing visible to his left were the floodlights at LincEnt, four miles away and approaching off the port quadrant.

  Lars loved the SolarFighter. Much more than the Vega Star, the ship he'd flown on Vega. He'd been in love with his old ship, certainly, but this one was incredible. His only regret was that he'd never get a chance to use it against the Sirians. Vega had already fallen, and short of a Sirian attack on the Federation, which some seemed to think was likely, he had no way of taking his revenge.

  He banked gently left and cruised north, past the east end of LincEnt.

  Well, some things couldn't be changed. He was here now, and Terra would be his home until further notice. He'd missed his chance to fight the Sirians, but at the moment he might have a chance to help the current situation.

  Maybe.

  * * *

  "Jeremy," Rosemary said wearily, "you've got to figure something out. This is just ridiculous."

  Jeremy only stared at her, his expression grim.

  "It was a stupid plan," she said. "You were just going to come in here, kill Mr. Lincoln — and then what? Hang around and wait for the police to box you in?"

  "Shut up," he said.

  "Well, that's what happened, isn't it? You didn't have an escape plan? Didn't you think it through?"

  "What the fuck do you care? I'm going down, so you ought to be happy!"

  "I just don't understand it, that's all. I thought you were smarter than that!" She sneered. "Police Officer of the Year! Gosh almighty! You're a killer and a rapist!"

  Jeremy lunged off his chair and stood over her, his gun pointed at her head.

  "Shut the fuck up, you filthy whore! Do you want me to kill you right now?"

  "I don't much care any more," she said truthfully. "At least this whole thing would be over."

  She closed her eyes, wondering if he might really do it.

  * * *

  His eye refreshed, Oliver lifted the rifle again and put the scope back on the window. Just as he got the focus, he saw Jeremy Maso
n in his crosshairs, but just that quickly he disappeared.

  Damn!

  * * *

  Jeremy sat down again, resting his elbows on his knees. Anderson was getting desperate out there; any time now, he might try something else stupid. The hoversleds with the floodlights were still positioned out of his view, but he knew they could place a third sled farther out, in total darkness, where he couldn't see it. A sniper from that platform could take him out if he exposed himself. Fortunately, the overhang from the roof prevented them from getting a deflection shot from above, so as long as he kept low he should be safe.

  Dogs were out of the question, of course. The only way to get a dog in here was through one of the doors, and he had those covered. Same with a robot. Gas was a very real possibility — they could shoot it in from ground level, or from one of the sleds. But teargas posed the risk of fire, and with Rosemary in here, they probably weren't willing to chance it.

  He sighed. This was going to end badly, no way around it. The only question was, how long could he keep it going?

  And what was the point, anyway?

  * * *

  " Vega One, LincEnt Control, you copy?"

  "Vega One. What's happening down there?"

  "Not a damn thing. You want to pull the plug? This could take all night."

  "Negat. I have nothing better to do."

  "Roger. Maintain your pattern, then."

  "Affirm. Vega One out."

  * * *

  Rosemary shifted her position to get more comfortable. In so doing, she stretched her arm straight out, within inches of the weapon under the desk. Keeping her eyes closed, she managed to touch it with her fingers. Taking her time, her heart pounding, she worked the weapon closer, until she was finally able to wrap her hand around it. It felt cold and deadly, like a rattlesnake; it also gave her hope.

  Resting quietly, she waited ten minutes, then shifted position again. This time she drew the weapon under her body. Now she just had to figure out what to do with it.

  * * *

  "I'll make you a deal, Mason. You send Miss Egler out and I'll get you an aircraft to anywhere you want to go. What do you say?"

  Jeremy's head came up, his eyes glittering.

  "You think I was born in a test tube, Anderson? Fuck you!"

  "How about a spacecraft, then? Anywhere you want to go. How about Sirius? They'll take you, no questions asked. Just like the old days, when we used to exile criminals there."

  "Yeah, and I bet you got an asteroid you want to sell, don't you!"

  "What the hell are you accomplishing this way, Mason? If you kill the woman, then we'll kill you. You can't stay in there forever."

  "How's Cedarquist doing?"

  "Cedarquist is dead."

  "No shit! A few hours ago he was alive and well."

  "That was before you killed my men. You're finished, Mason! You're going into the vacuum chamber, unless we kill you first. Either way, you're finished!"

  "You think I don't know that? The only thing you have to worry about is — how many of you will I take out first!"

  * * *

  Rosemary sat up wearily, rubbing her face. She must look a fright, she realized, but there was nothing she could do about that. She yawned, watching Jeremy out of the corner of her eye. He glanced at her once, but lowered his head again, as if trying to figure a way out of this trap.

  Rosemary pulled herself to her feet, her right hand tucked behind her back. She'd found the safety on the pistol and thumbed it forward, until the red dot was visible. She'd only fired a gun once, as a teenager, but she remembered that the red dot meant danger — the weapon was ready to fire.

  She turned and walked toward the window, keeping the weapon hidden.

  "What the hell're you doing!"

  "I need some fresh air," she said. "All this blood in here — it stinks."

  She reached the window before he could react. Then he leaped up and rushed toward her.

  * * *

  Oliver tensed. Rosemary stood in his sights as clear as a holo target. He kept his finger outside the trigger guard, and the crosshairs to one side of her, but kept her in the scope. The sight of her made his heart race, for she looked somewhat the worse for wear. Her hair strayed down into her eyes and her dress looked soiled. For all that, she was remarkably beautiful.

  Suddenly his skin tingled. There was Jeremy Mason, at the very edge of the window. He was reaching for Rosemary, and he had a pistol in his other hand.

  * * *

  Lars banked to the left, the southeast, and began a gentle turn that would carry him south of the complex for his run back to the east. He'd been circling for hours, and might be doing this all night. It didn't matter. He would keep this up for a week if there was a chance it would help.

  "Vega One, LincEnt Control! Execute! Go! Go! Go!"

  Lars was electrified. Automatically, he kicked his jets and banked hard left. He'd already programmed the coordinates, and with a single word to the computer, the target was locked into the center of his target holo as the SolarFighter abandoned its casual pattern and streaked straight for the Tower at Lincoln Enterprises.

  It might work, or it might not, but either way, he was committed.

  * * *

  Jeremy lunged for Rosemary and grabbed her by the shoulder. She'd already shoved her head out the window, breathing deeply of the cool night air. He spun her around.

  "Goddammit, they'll kill you!"

  He slammed her against the wall, away from the window. Rosemary leveled the pistol at him, and he froze, his eyes wide at the sight of it.

  "I thought you were going to kill me, Jeremy!" she said. "What do you care if they do it?"

  "Where the hell did you get that?"

  "Drop your gun, or I swear I'll shoot!"

  He shook his head in disbelief. He extended his left hand. "Give me that."

  She shook her head solemnly. "If you think you can beat me and rape me, and I won't do anything about it — well, you're wrong!"

  "Goddammit! Give me that gun!"

  She shook her head. She would have backed away from him, but she was already against the wall.

  "Stop, Jeremy! Stop! I swear I'll do it!"

  Jeremy lunged for the gun, his face a mask of rage.

  Rosemary pulled the trigger.

  The gun jumped out of her hand.

  * * *

  Oliver's finger was tight on the trigger, but he held his fire. Rosemary was in his scope, and he couldn't risk hitting her. Then, in two seconds' time, both she and Mason disappeared.

  The window was empty.

  * * *

  Jeremy stumbled back, shock in his eyes. He looked down and pressed a hand against his stomach; it came away covered in blood. He stared at Rosemary again, as if he'd never seen her before. He swallowed hard, then rage returned to his eyes. He raised his own weapon.

  A shrill, rising whine filled the night sky. Jeremy stopped and turned toward the window, pointing his weapon toward whatever threat Anderson may have conjured up. For a long moment he was fully exposed in the window.

  The night exploded around him. Shards of glass from the broken window swirled through the air as a cyclone of sound rocked the Tower. Jeremy screamed and clawed at his eyes…

  * * *

  Oliver saw Mason clearly now, fully exposed. At the same moment, the SolarFighter blasted past the opposite side of the Tower at eight hundred knots. The thunderclap that followed almost brought the building down.

  Oliver had two full seconds, and squeezed the trigger…

  * * *

  Jeremy catapulted backward as an explosive 12mm bullet ripped through his chest, body armor and all. His weapon went flying and he skidded across the bloody carpet. Rosemary hesitated only an instant, then ran toward the outer door and began pounding on it.

  "Open the door!" she screamed. "Jeremy's dead! Let me out of here!"

  * * *

  Oliver saw Rosemary through his scope, beating on the office door. He saw n
o sign of Mason, but kept watching until the door opened and Rosemary disappeared through it.

  With a heavy sigh, he laid down the rifle and rolled over onto his back. He stared at the Colorado night sky for a moment, and then the tears came.

  He never wanted to kill anyone again.

  Chapter 49

  Denver, CO, North America, Terra

  The executive Tower was a madhouse when Oliver reached it. Officers milled about inside and out, radios crackled, and reporters were now crawling all over the place. Oliver elbowed his way through the mob and pushed his way inside the building.

  Rosemary sat on a sofa in the ground-floor lobby, a blanket around her shoulders, quaking from adrenaline. A female officer sat next to her, rubbing her shoulder and speaking gentle words. Male cops were huddled nearby, speaking cryptically, obviously confused as to what had happened.

  Oliver knelt by Rosemary and reached for her hand. She saw him, fresh tears flooded her eyes, and she leaned toward him. He pulled her into his arms and pressed his cheek against her thick dark hair.

  "Are you okay?" he murmured.

  "Oliver!" she sobbed. "It was h-horrible!"

  "I know. Did he hurt you?"

  "Yes." She began sobbing harder, her arms so tight around his neck he could barely breathe.

  "Who are you?" the female officer asked.

  "Oliver Lincoln III," he said.

  "I think Captain Anderson wants to talk to you." She got up and walked toward the lift.

  Oliver stayed where he was, holding the beautiful young woman while she released emotions she'd held in check the last few hours.

  "Rosemary, it's okay now," he told her. "No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise you that."