High Crimes

by Trevor Wyatt

  I can’t. I need him a little closer.

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” he says, his voice so low I can barely hear him.

  “You’re stalling for time. You’re hoping the security officers will come in here to save you. Well, I have news for you, you fucking cunt! No one is going to save you…”

  “You’re right,” I say.

  I glance at the officers to my right and say, “No One is going to save you all.”

  Then I wink my right eye and watch as their eyes light up with realization.

  “That’s right!” the man says. “No one is going to save you because the moment they walk into this place, we’ll kill them. We’ll blow up this building with everyone in it, including the aliens in this building. And then I’m personally going to make you suffer for what you did to the Boss.”

  “There’s only one flaw in your plan,” I say.

  “I know you’re probably too stupid to see it, but since today is stupidity day, I’ll help you out. How do you suppose you’ll get out of here if you bomb the whole place? Do you have some powers that you’re not letting on?”

  The man doesn’t reply at first. He scans me, skimming past my laser weapon like it was of no consequence. His mistake.

  “You think you’re smart?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I reply with certainty. “I think I’m a pretty smart young woman.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that,” he says.

  He tightens the grip on his weapons.

  “You’re going to tell me all I need to know or I’ll kill you and your allies, you lying traitorous bitch.”

  I shrug.

  “Go ahead. I really don’t care about these people.”

  “That’s a lie,” he replies. “I can see right through your lies. You’ve been lying since Day fucking One.”

  “Uh, I disagree with that,” I say, raising a finger.

  He squints his eyes.

  “Yeah, because if that were true, you would have known I was working for the Armada Intelligence way before I shot the team leader in the head,” I say, then chuckle.

  “Man, you should have seen just how much pleasure it brought me to kill the bastard.”

  “He was our leader!” the man roars, his knuckles turning white.

  I hold my tongue in. The man is on the brink of losing it. I just need to tip him over, not push him. If I push too much, I’ll just end up getting shot.

  I blink twice, then I feel the familiar flow of nanites coursing through my being.

  The next time I speak, I speak with seriousness.

  “He was not my leader,” I reply. “He was a racist terrorist who deserved to be put down like a dog. You all here are racist dogs and I’ll put you down like the dogs you are.”

  “Tell us how long you’ve been working as a spy,” he roars, “or I’ll kill you!”

  I stare him down, my hands clenching into tight fists. Any moment now…

  “Tell me!” he roars.

  I don’t respond.

  He lowers his aim and fires off three laser shots. There are a couple of clipped screams to the right, while there’s one to my left.

  I look to see the traitor slump dead by my side.

  Fuck! I would have preferred to interrogate her for more information, but no huge loss.

  I shrug.

  “Is that the best you’ve got?” I ask.

  Then I point to the officers.

  “Want to start picking them one after the other and see if I’ll crack?”

  Gesticulating can be a very powerful tool; you’ll learn it in your first class at the Academy. Are you trying to get people to look away? Point away.

  It rarely works for people trained in intelligence or people who are smart enough to know they’re being played. But these are your run of the mill uneducated thugs who’ve found a cause to kill and die for, though greatly cruel.

  All five of the terrorists look at the terrified Armada officers.

  I move at the speed of light. I pull out my gun, which is on my right, and my laser knife, which is on my left. I slash across the man’s throat even before he realizes what’s wrong. Then I kick him.

  I fire off three shots, even as the man’s body flies across the air and slams into the fifth terrorist who’s aiming at the officers.

  Five men now fall to the ground. One is dead by a slash across his neck. Three are dead by laser headshots. The fifth is dazed because a body slams onto him at the speed of an aircar.

  I leap onto the fifth man and pick him out of the heap of bodies with one hand like he’s weightless. He’s still in shock. I slam him onto the ground to separate him from the others so I can interrogate him.

  I look at the officers. They’re all looking at me in shock.

  “Don’t thank me all at once,” I say.

  At that moment, another set of armed men barge into the room, aiming and yelling for everyone to get on their knees. The Cavalry has arrived, much to my chagrin.

  I immediately fall to my knees, dropping my weapons on the ground, raising my hands into the air and lacing them around my neck.

  Five Marines surround me, giving me a wide berth, their rifles aimed at my head.

  “Don’t you fucking move or we blast that cute ass to kingdom fucking come!” The lead Marine yells in my face.

  Yeah, it’s just another day at work.

  Chapter 15

  Zhang

  I lead Ann into the elevator. I push her in and stand in front of her, using my body as a shield, in case we’re stormed on our way to the ground floor.

  “Computer, take us to the underground escape tunnel,” I say.

  “Access denied,” replies a voice in the elevator.

  “Shouldn’t we be going out through the front door?” Ann asks. “Don’t you work for the Terran Armada?”

  She’s behind me, mumbling some gibberish and biting her nails. I turn to face her, which stifles her. I can see raw terror in her eyes. I understand that she’s not just afraid of what is happening at the moment, but is also afraid of me.

  For all she knows, I may be a Terran spy working for the Tyreesians, who’s leading her to the chop shop to have her head chopped off.

  I place my palms on her shoulders in a calming way and put a small smile on my face, just how we were taught back at the Academy.

  “I know this is a lot to process,” I say. “Believe me, I understand. Defecting between sides in one’s species is heavy enough. Defecting to another race is something else. I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re feeling.”

  Ann nods, her eyes mellowing.

  “Just relax and take deep breaths,” I say. “I’ll get you to safety. We have an Armada Intelligence facility near here. The moment we’re outside the Terran Union, I’m going to call them and have them send someone to pick us up. Don’t worry. You’re going to be safe. Once you’re in proper Armada Intelligence hands, no one will be able to harm you. Okay?”

  She nods.

  I look away.

  “Computer, take us to the underground escape tunnel,” I say again, this time forceful like it’s going to make a difference.

  “Access denied,” it replies.

  “Override,” I reply.

  “Override code required,” the computer informs me.

  “Voice identification, Agent Zhang Wilberforce,” I say out loud.

  “Processing…” it says. “Checking…”

  I growl. I know elevator computers can be very slow.

  “Confirmed,” the computer says, “proceeding to underground tunnel.”

  Then, the elevator trembles into life and begins to move downwards.

  I turn to look at Ann, who looks back at me, silent.

  “A lot of Terran Union facility have these tunnels built beneath in case of an invasion or an attack,” I explain to her. “We want our people to be able to escape the building without leaving through the front doors or the helipad.”

  “Like a fire escape?” she asks.
/>
  I smile, nodding my head.

  “Yes. Like a fire escape. They have one of those on Tyreese?”

  She chuckles. “Not Tyreese.”

  “Oh, where then?”

  “I mean, my home world,” she says. “It’s not called Tyreese.”

  “What then?” I ask.

  The elevator jerks, cutting down on its speed.

  “Warning,” the computer says, “attempted boarding on Level One. Armada Security. Access granted.”

  We’re currently at level ten.

  “Computer, deny access,” I say. “Override upon my authority.”

  “Confirmed. Access denied. Proceeding to underground tunnel.”

  We fall past level one and continue descending for a full one minute before coming to a stop.

  I draw my gun and lead Ann out. We come into a vast space with a very low headroom. There are pillars everywhere that supports the building. The place is dimly lit by tiny bulbs overhead. The signs says to head on straight until we find an exit ramp back up to the surface.

  We follow the directions until I hear a loud scream. I push Ann away quickly, but I don’t get out of the way in time. I plant my feet in the ground and raise my hand to block the flying kick. The man bounces off my hands, while I skid back a few yards. I still haven’t recovered, so my body still feels a little out of it.

  Standing before me is the shitty stabber who just won’t die. In his hands is the bomb that according to the Tyreesians can blow up the entire building if put next to a power generator. Well, we’re not close to a power generator here. But I don’t want to see how much less powerful it is. It’s blinking green, which means it’s already armed. The detonator is in the Separatist’s other hand. He has his finger set over the trigger.

  “You should be dead,” I say.

  “Why, because of a lousy headshot?” he replies. “Your headshot went right through the nonessential parts of my brain. It took the nanites a lot of time, yeah, but they fixed me back up. I had to kill a lot of Marines to retrieve my bomb and make it down here, but I enjoyed doing it.”

  The stabber looks behind me to Ann. His face descends into a deep frown.

  “I should’ve known you had gotten into bed with her kind,” he shrills.

  Then, as stupid as he can be, the stabber drops the bomb and the detonator.

  “I’ll kill you first—then her. Then I will bomb this whole building and kill them all.”

  I fall back into a defensive position. “You mean you’ll try?”

  I blink twice, feeling the power of the nanites reinforce my body.

  He leaps in front of me, his right hand stretched forth to punch my face. I lean back, a little out of reach. Then I grab his hand and yank him deeper. He loses balance and falls forward. I raise my knee and it reaches his abdomen. He jerks, then convulses, spilling out goo and blood.

  He begins to retch, and I lean into him and whisper, “You should have kept the bomb.”

  I grab hold of him and fling him as far away as my nanites will allow. He flies through the air over a distance of fifty yards before smacking into the ground, bouncing three times before coming to a stop. Everywhere he bounced off from has a small crater.

  I grab the bomb and the detonator and begin to run in the direction of the sign. I look over my shoulder to see if Ann’s following, but I don’t see her. I skid to a stop and turn. She’s rooted to the ground, right where I left her, looking at the racist, who’s beginning to recover. Seeing the man turn on the floor brings fear to my heart.

  I run back to her and grab her hand. She jerks, trying to pull loose, until she sees it’s me and stops.

  “We have to get out of here,” I say. “He’s too powerful for me. I can’t fight him and defend you and the bomb.”

  We begin in a jog towards the ramp. We’re barely one minute into our jog when Ann begins to question me.

  “How were you able to throw him through that distance?” she asks, her eyes peeled on me. I can see her curiosity through my periphery.

  “I’m nanite-enhanced,” I reply. It’s technically not classified information since there are nanite-enhanced individuals in the galaxy. However, I’ve been ordered not to reveal this aspect of my physiology to anyone so as to maintain the element of surprise and capitalize on people who underestimate me.

  However, in this situation, I know the best way to assure Ann and make her follow me would be to be honest with her.

  “AAHHHH!!!!” booms a voice through the subterranean.

  My heart quakes beneath my chest.

  “Computer, contact the Terran Armada,” I say. “Priority intelligence message.”

  “Complying,” says the tiny voice in my ears.

  “Zhang, this is Armada Intelligence station chief for Perseus,” says a voice in my ears, “I understand you and No One should be delivering a Tyreesian defector?”

  “Wait, No One isn’t with you yet?” I ask.

  “No,” he replies. “We lost contact with her since the attack on the Terran Union administration building.”

  Shit!

  “I am with the Tyreesian scientist,” I say. “I need you to come pick her up. I am giving you access to my location. This is urgent because I’m carrying a Tyreesian’s cobalt bomb, and pursued by a nanite-enhanced Terran Separatist.”

  “Head south,” says the station chief. “Those areas are less populated in case the bomb goes off. I’ll meet you in less than five minutes.”

  “Roger that,” I say. “Computer, maintain a connection to the station chief to track my location.”

  “Confirmed,” the computer replies.

  We arrive at the ramp and run up onto ground level into the edge of Perseus City. I immediately lead Ann down south at a breakneck running pace. I’m holding the bomb and detonator in my hands. I’m impressed that she’s able to keep up with me.

  “Computer, Contact No One,” I say.

  “Contacting No One…”

  Before we set out for this mission, our neural networks were linked via the nanites, making it easy for me to communicate with her over short distances, like within a planet. The reason for this was so that in the case we lose contact via slipstream or conventional hailing, I had an unrestricted access to her.

  “Access granted.”

  No One, I think in my mind. I listen hard. Then, I hear her voice.

  Zhang! Great, you’re alive, No One says. Are you running?

  Yes, I reply. I have the bomb and I’m being pursued by the stabber.

  “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” No One screams, my ears almost exploding.

  Who is that? I say. Separatists or Armada?

  Armada, she replies. Can’t talk now.

  I hear the whoosh of a rocket propelled grenade launcher first. I stop and grab Ann’s hand to keep her from running ahead.

  There’s an explosion about ten yards ahead. A parked aircar goes up in flames. The concussion hits us square in the chest, sending us to the ground. The bomb and detonator flies out of my hands, and unto the ground. I watch it roll until it stops at the feet of the stabber, who’s now recovered and i

  s smiling with a rocket launcher over his shoulder.

  Out of nowhere, an aircar descends to the ground. Someone leans out and begins to shoot at us. I roll off the floor onto my feet, even as the stabber dives off the ground.

  “Zhang!” screams the shooter. The aircar comes to stop near Ann, who’s still dazed on the ground.

  The shooter jumps to the ground and carries the Tyreesian scientist into the car. One down, the bomb is next.

  I run for the bomb, but the stabber gets there first. He grabs the bomb and the detonator and begins to run down the deserted street.

  “Zhang, you coming?”

  “Go on ahead,” I reply. “I have to stop that bomb.”

  That’s the last I hear of the station chief as I feel rather than see the aircar ascend with their prize.

  Good. At least that mission i
s accomplished.

  Putting all the energy I can into my legs, I jump ahead and crash into the back of the Separatist. The bomb flies out of his hands, landing several feet away. But he still has the detonator in his hands. He pushes the button.

  “No!” I cry.

  “See you in hell, Unionist scum,” he spits.

  There’s a blinding flash of light. An unbearable wave of heat.

  And then nothing.

  Zhang…

  Chapter 16

  No One

  I scream at the massive explosion I hear in my ears, pushing my head between my knees and jamming my ears shut.

  Well, the building is still standing. Looks like the Tyreesians were wrong about how strong it was.

  Zhang, I think, even as I feel a massive wave of panic, both from myself and from Zhang. Then nothing.

  My eyes water with tears.

  Sirens start wailing. Alarm klaxons go off.

  Zhang.

  I gasp and feel the weight inside my chest.

  Zhang is gone.

  “What just happened?” The interrogator asks me. “That felt like a bomb blast.”

  I’m still in a shock.

  “Screaming is not going to help your case woman,” says the interrogator to my ears. “So, if I were you, I’d start talking.”

  I look up. I’m in a small interrogation room in the TAIOC section of the building. The room has a table in the center, with chairs on both sides. I sit in the prisoner’s side, while my interrogator is standing in the corner, classic interrogator style.

  The interrogator works for Armada security—not a contract staffer, but an actual officer. As early as when he started questioning, I knew that he didn’t have the necessary clearance to know about my work. Hence, I had to maintain my cover. It sucks to be held prisoner by the very organization that you’re working for.

  As what his name pin says, his name is Chuck. His shoulder patch tells me he’s a lieutenant. Definitely not cleared high enough.

  “Look, Chuck, I’ve told you that I’m not saying anything until my lawyer shows up,” I say. “Because all I’ve done is protect your officers from being butchered by Separatists. That bomb would have killed you if I hadn’t been here.”