“I am super-fast,” Tsan said, dropping her quintessence field, “but this time I needed to be even faster.” Her tail swished in irritation. “Peepo got away.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hospital Samaritano, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
Alexis Cromwell woke, though her head felt mushy, and she had trouble connecting thoughts. Everything was indistinct—her thoughts, her vision, everything. She struggled to get up, but something held her down.
“Easy…” a voice said from a blurred silhouette. There was more, but it was lost, her brain unable to follow.
“Where?” The single word was all Alexis was able to muster.
“Rio…brought here after…” The shape and the words began resolving themselves, and she was able to make sense of some of it. Everything still seemed incredibly slow.
“How…long?”
“You’ve been here almost three weeks,” a woman said, coming into focus.
“Everything is fuzzy…and slow.” She couldn’t understand why, but thinking still seemed hard, even though her vision had returned to normal.
“That’s the effects of the drugs they used to keep you under,” the woman said. Now that Alexis’ vision had sharpened, she could see the woman was young—probably late 20s—with sky-blue eyes and extremely long raven-black hair braided in an elaborate ponytail that fell over her left shoulder. “Don’t worry, though,” the woman added, “they shouldn’t be harmful to your baby.”
“My what?”
“When they brought you in here, you were nearly dead. You were also about a month pregnant with a son. They were able to save both you and the baby through the extensive use of nanobot therapy. Just be happy you’re not going to get the bill for that; I heard Peepo picked it up. I expect she has some plans for you.”
“But…I can’t be pregnant. There’s a war…”
“Yes, there’s a war on, which is why we need to hurry. I will help get you out of here, but then you’re going to be on your own.” She leaned forward and did something at the back and sides of Alexis’ head. A spike like a jolt of electricity went through her brain and everything seemed to speed up as her implants came back online, along with the added processing power she got from them.
“Sorry,” the woman said. “I forgot they turned those off.”
Alexis shook her head a little and blinked a couple of times, but then everything seemed to return to normal. “Okay, got it.” She took in her surroundings. “I’m in a hospital, and I’m pregnant. The war is still going on—wait. The battle has lasted three weeks?”
“No, the Hussars lost the battle after you were shot and fled to New Warsaw. The Merc Guild forces followed your forces back there.”
“I’ve got to go help!” Alexis said. “They’ll need me for the defense!” She tried to sit up, but the woman put a hand on her chest and held her back down. Alexis found she wasn’t as strong as she used to be. The woman had a surprising strength and was able to hold her down easily with one hand.
“That’s not needed,” the woman said. “It looks like your forces won, because they just returned and there is a battle raging in space right now.”
“Can you get me to my ship?”
“Unfortunately, no. I can get you out of the hospital, but then you’ll have to take it from there. There are other things I need to be doing right now. Maybe your friends in orbit can come get you.”
“Where did you say we were?”
“We’re in the Hospital Samaritano in Rio de Janeiro.”
“Brazil?” she asked as her comm system indicated an incoming call. “Let me see what I can do.”
* * *
CIC, EMS Revenge, Approaching Earth Orbit
Nigel watched the battle with the strange ships, wanting to charge into them, to destroy them and rush forward, but knew that if the Bakulu heavies couldn’t hurt them, then his merc cruiser had absolutely zero chance of success. When the strange ships suddenly fled when faced with the single cruiser that had magically appeared in the system, he saw his chance. “Captain, can you exploit that gap?” he asked.
The ship’s captain smiled. “I can indeed.”
“All ahead full to Earth orbit.”
He sat in his observation chair at the back of CIC, staring at the battlespace monitor as if his glare could keep the enemy’s ships away until he had completed his mission.
“Colonel Shirazi, we are within range of Earth comms.”
Nigel blinked then nodded to the comms tech as he tried to focus on something other than the battlespace monitor. “Thanks.”
I hope this works, he thought, but it didn’t. Nor did the second try.
Okay, Plan B, then. “Major Good, Colonel Shirazi.”
After a few seconds that seemed to last an eternity, the call connected. “Um, hi, Colonel. We’re kinda busy at the moment, as I’m sure you are. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Colonel Enkh told me to reach out to you. This may sound crazy, but I’m trying to find Colonel Cromwell. I have reason to believe…she’s still alive. Have you any idea where they might be holding her, if she were still alive?”
“No, I…wait a minute.” His voice was muted as he asked someone a question offline. “There is one thing we picked up. At one point after you were here before, there was a high value unit that was taken to a hospital in Rio, we think it was. At the time, we didn’t have anyone we could send to investigate, and we never intercepted anything else about it, so we assumed the person died. The best I can tell you is Rio de Janeiro, but we can’t find the name of the hospital.”
“Damn. I was hoping for more. That’s not enough to act on.”
“I know sir, and I’m sorry. My tech wants to know if you’d like her to try calling Colonel Cromwell.”
“She’s not up on comms; I already tried.” Nigel shrugged. “But sure, go ahead.”
“Stand by, sir.” There was a long pause, then Good returned. “Corporal Enkh was able to connect with Colonel Cromwell, sir!” Good exclaimed. “She’s in the Hospital Samaritano in Rio de Janeiro, and she says she needs immediate extract! I’m sending the coordinates!”
* * *
MGS Begalt, Approaching Orbit, Earth, Sol System
Jim grunted as the shuttle docked roughly with a bigger ship. He wasn’t offered a window seat, but rather was shoved into a small cargo compartment and had to make due with lying on a mat to absorb the multiple Gs of liftoff and maneuvering.
From his years of living and working in space, Jim knew the shuttle was docking during ascent to orbit. It was a high-risk maneuver, to say the least. Despite the pain of his many bruises and poorly healed injuries, he smiled. If they were this eager to get him off the planet, Peepo’s plans were turning to shit. I hope she likes the taste.
The door opened, and Corporal Romanov was standing there. He took one look at the semi-feral smile on Jim’s face and a hand went to the pistol on his belt.
“What’s wrong, tough guy?”
“Fuck you, fat boy,” Romanov snarled and grabbed Jim by the arm.
Jim almost went for it. Almost. Romanov had twenty centimeters on him and wasn’t more than ten kilos lighter, only his mass wasn’t fat—it was iron-hard muscle and bone. Something told him a beating at this stage of the game wouldn’t help his situation, so he allowed himself to be moved.
They’d waited to move him until they’d docked, which told him they were working multiple contingencies. Was Peepo running for her life at that very moment? He dearly hoped so.
He paid careful attention as he was led through the corridors of the shuttle, through the airlock, and into what had to be a transport. There were none of the signs of an armored warship—those had a different look. If the ship was lifting off the planet, it wasn’t very big either. There were limits to how large you could be and still get off a planet’s surface, regardless of how many launch lasers you used.
Jesus, they’re really pushing it.
They came to a compartme
nt, and Romanov entered a code Jim couldn’t see. The door slid aside, and he was pushed roughly inside. The space was two meters on a side with a simple fold-out toilet designed for multiple humanoid races, and a similar hammock arrangement. It was as about as simple as you could ask for.
“Like the accommodations, Colonel?” Romanov said, spitting out the last word. He entered behind Jim and slid the door partially closed. “I thought I’d give you something to think about on the long trip.”
Jim didn’t turn around. He knew what the sadistic fucker meant. The man liked the sound of his fists hitting someone else’s flesh. He sighed as he looked at the far wall. Then he saw it. A symbol scratched in the paint. A triangle bisected by a vertical line, and a circle in the center.
In that second, he wasn’t in a tiny prison cell where he’d wait for weeks to arrive at Capital, there to be interrogated by an alien. He was sitting in his tower apartment in the old Houston Hobby Airport, in the little sunken living room with a long circular couch covered in pillows. The Tri-V was showing an old 2D movie from the early 21st century, a fantasy about wizards and magic. Adayn had never seen it before but loved every minute of the eight movies.
“Turn around and take your medicine, fat boy.”
Jim clicked the menu item in his pinplants, the one with the description ‘I Open At The Close.” A message appeared.
“Jim, I know you’ll never understand or accept my apology. But just know this, I did what I did for a very good reason. It is true, I am not who I said I was. Neither am I who the Golden Horde said I was. I hope this gift gets you out of this situation, and maybe it will win back a small amount of your trust. If not, hopefully it will at least dim your hatred of me.” It was signed “Adrianne—Section 51.”
Where the empty menu selection had been, now there were three options: boost, slow, and recover. He mentally stared at the selections in amazement, wondering how Adayn, or rather how Adrianne, had accomplished this with a nanite treatment. And what the hell is Section 51?
“I said turn around, punk,” Romanov yelled and grabbed Jim by the shoulder to spin him around. Jim concentrated on the “boost” option and felt a jolt run through his body. Romanov’s fist came at his stomach. Jim brought an arm down to block, even though he knew the bigger man’s punch would probably hurt his arm more than his gut. He slapped away Romanov’s punch as if it were from a child.
The corporal’s eyes went wide, and he took a step back. Jim grinned and followed, swinging his own fist as hard as he could. Romanov managed to get an arm up to block, and Jim felt the unmistakable feeling of bone breaking in the man’s forearm from the impact. Holy shit! Jim got ready to punch again.
Romanov wasn’t a smart man, but he appeared to know enough to realize the tables had turned. Orders be damned, he had no intention of getting his head bashed in by a prisoner. He made a quick move to draw the laser pistol at his belt.
Not so fast, Jim thought. He was no ninja of old; in fact, his martial arts’ training was the least honed of his merc skills. He could handle his own in a CASPer, of course. Few aliens could brawl with a CASPer, and those that were capable of it could be dealt with by a judiciously placed MAC round to the head. However, he had played a lot of video games. He concentrated on “slow.”
In a split second, Romanov’s movements became sluggish, as if he were pushing through water. Jim found it childishly simple to reach forward, grab the hand just pulling the laser from its holster, and squeeze. Bones and plastic were pulverized; both the hand and the weapon were ruined. Corporal Romanov started to scream in slow motion, but Jim jabbed a fist into the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe.
Romanov fell to his knees, his remaining good hand reaching for his throat as he struggled to breathe. Blood bubbled from his mouth. He looked questioningly at Jim.
“I wish I knew,” Jim said with a shrug. Romanov fell to the deck, lay gurgling for a few seconds, then died.
In his mind the Slow and Boost options went gray. Jim almost fell, suddenly overcome with a desperate feeling of fatigue and dizziness. “Oh, hell,” he said, and grabbed the hammock. Pain hit him. All the muscles he’d just used beyond their abilities, and the bones in his hand from the punch. “It was never like this in video games,” he moaned.
Jim considered the “recover” option for a second, then decided against it. Video game training, once again. Save your resources. Gravity fell off slowly. They were approaching orbit. Time was running out. He checked to be sure Romanov was dead, then verified he was steady enough on his feet to walk. The crushed laser pistol caught his eye. That wasn’t my best decision. Still, how many can there be between me and the other Raknar drivers?
He slid the door open and a massive, hairy, clawed hand reached out and grabbed him, lifted his bulk, and tossed him like a ragdoll.
* * *
CIC, EMS Shadowfax, Just Outside Earth Orbit
“New Era, keep pushing them!” Captain Elizabeth Stacy implored.
The remaining enemy forces were well unified now, and with Earth to their back they were able to make use of the remaining orbital platforms. There were only three in position to assist, but they were still the equivalent of three battleships. The enemy force was a match for the Hussars, even with New Era.
“Its shields are holding,” TacCom said, referring to the dreadnought. “Though only just.”
“Something will give on the other side,” Elizabeth said. “How about some magic?” She asked Ghost.
“We just need to hold for a few minutes,” Elizabeth said. In space, lasers, particle beams, and missiles rained between the two fleets.
* * *
MGS Supreme, Entering Orbit, Earth Point
“We are nearly in orbit,” the ship’s captain informed her principle passenger.
“Good,” Peepo replied. “Are we in laser comms range of the enemy?”
“Yes, but reception will be spotty due to debris in orbit.”
“Not an issue,” Peepo said. She held out a computer chip. “Broadcast this on laser comms to New Era.”
“But, General Peepo, New Era is in enemy hands.”
Peepo glared at Supreme’s captain, her eyes narrowed and whiskers twitching. “Do you think I’m unaware of that?” she asked, her voice full of menace. The squad of Besquith, her personal bodyguards who hadn’t left her side in hours, eyed the captain hungrily.
“Of course not, General,” the captain said, bowing his head.
“Then execute my order.”
The captain looked at the chip, hesitating only a second before handing it to his comms officer. “Transmit this as the general ordered.”
“Yes, Captain.”
A minute passed as the order was carried out. The captain watched the Tri-V representation of the battlespace with interest, wondering what would happen. Suddenly, New Era’s shields all deactivated. He turned to look at General Peepo, who had a small smile on her muzzle.
“I don’t tolerate betrayal,” she said. “Now, get me out of this stinking star system.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hospital Samaritano, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
“Hey!” a man in a camouflage uniform yelled from the door. “What are you doing here?”
The woman turned from the window where she was working with a laser in her hand. The man tried to bring up his rifle but wasn’t fast enough. The woman shot him in the chest, and he slumped back out the door. In the hallway outside the doorway, a woman screamed.
The door slammed open and Alexis dove out of the bed as a second man fired into the room.
The woman shot him in the shoulder, but then the door shut, blocking any further shots. “Take this and cover me,” the woman yelled, sliding her pistol along the floor to Alexis.
Alexis scooped it up and looked at it. It had been a long time since she’d used a pistol; it wasn’t what starship captains typically did. Happily, the pistol was a
common model, and she was able to bring the schematics for it up in her head.
She found the safety and flipped it off as the man pushed open the door again. He was looking for the woman, though, and wasn’t expecting fire from the bed. Alexis had time to aim and fire. Although her aim was off—she was low—she’d been aiming at his head and the bolt caught him in the throat. He gurgled something as he fell back out the door, and the woman in the hallway screamed again.
“What are you doing?” Alexis asked.
“Just watch the door. There will be more coming—there’s a company downstairs.” Alexis heard her mutter, “Fucking Varangian Guard.” She stood up from her backpack with a funny looking rifle and fired it out the window. The round was attached to some rope in the backpack, and it snaked out the window after it. The woman rolled the bed to the window and tied the cord off to it, then snapped a metal piece to it that looked like the handlebars from an old-time bicycle.
“Come here,” the woman said. Alexis walked over, keeping an eye on the door. “Here,” the woman said, handing her the handlebars while taking the pistol. “See this button?” she asked, pointing. “Hold it down while you go out the window, then release it to go. Press it again when you want to stop.”
“What?” Alexis asked, stunned by how fast things were happening.
“There is a battle going on right now. The Merc Guild may lose. If so, Peepo will probably have you killed. You have to go!”
“Wait. Who are you?”
“I’m Ad—” The woman changed her mind. “I’m a friend from Section 51. Now, you need to go so I can, too. Go!”
Alexis slid down the rope, jerking as she alternately pressed and released the button. The angle was fairly steep, going from the fifth floor of her hospital room down to almost street level. The commotion had also drawn a bit of a crowd, and a number of people had stopped to point at her. The breeze fluttering her hospital gown gave the men a great show, she realized. At any other time, she might have cared.
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