"You want an ass-kicking, offworlder?!" the thug closest to him demanded. "Or maybe you just want to be dead." He reached to the small of his back.
By then, Henry was already pulling his gun from his holster. The CP-2520 glinted in the early evening light of the alley as it rose. His finger went to the trigger as soon as the other man's gun revealed itself. The shot took the man in the right shoulder. He fell, crying out in shock, his gun falling to the ground as he did.
An angry shout echoed down the alley. The other gang members went for firearms.
Henry's arm moved from side to side, remaining steady the whole time. His finger stroked the trigger one, two, three times, each accompanied by the high-pitched thunder crack of the gun spitting charged particles from its barrel.
And, one by one, the gangsters went down.
The child and mother went to their father and husband's side, but even then their eyes and his own were focused on Henry, as were several in the road beyond. They stared in shock and surprise.
He shared it. He stared down at his gun hand. It didn't wobble, it didn't shake; it remained steady, as if he hadn't just gone through an emotional rollercoaster after imbibing several shots of uncut bourbon whiskey.
"Thank you." The husband of the family spoke English with an accent. His wife helped him up with his good arm while the other hung limply at his side. Blood still poured from his lips and nose. His eyes would undoubtedly swell nearly shut once the bruises started forming.
"It's fine."
The wife spoke in Spanish. Henry understood enough of it. She was worried that the rest of the gang would hear of this and come right after them.
"You should run, sir," the man said. "They'll come after you too now."
"You're still in danger?" Henry asked.
He nodded. "Wouldn't pay protection money, rallied my neighbors to refuse. This is payback."
And now they'll probably kill you to really send home the message. Henry regretted not having more than a shuttle, and certainly no permission from Captain Chagger to bring people to her ship. "Is there somewhere safe nearby? Somewhere you can stay where they can't come for you."
"They come everywhere," the child said..
"No, there is somewhere." The bloodied man nodded his head. "St. Francis. The Church can protect us until the police help."
Today wasn't a day for skepticism; otherwise, Henry would already be questioning how well a priest and his staff could stop a gang of criminals. "Then I'll take you there," Henry promised. "Lead the way."
31
Henry followed the family out of the alley and onto the back road. Toward one end was a cul-de-sac separating it from the main road in that direction; toward the other, a line of urban housing and roadside vendors leading toward the heart of the barrio.
"My name's James Henry," he said to the family.
The beating victim nodded, temporarily interrupting his wife's efforts to wipe the blood seeping from a gash on his forehead. "I am Tomas Perez. This is my wife Luz and my son Javier."
Luz Perez gave a disgruntled look at her husband that plainly said "Stop squirming." He obeyed.
"This the first time they came at you?" Henry asked.
Tomas shook his head. "No. But it's the first time I didn't have my weapon. We were attending a City Council; they don't let any weapons in. The Vegas ambushed us, brought us here for privacy. This is one of their neighborhoods."
That, Henry could believe. Already he noticed the various sets of eyes glancing their way. Furtive comments were being exchanged in quiet tones or spoken into active links. But nobody came to challenge them. Henry kept his CP-2520 out as a deterrent.
"So why did you do that?" asked Tomas.
"What?"
"Challenge the Vegas. I know you're a spacer, but they can still kill you before you get to your ship."
"I saw a man being beaten to death in front of his wife and kid," Henry answered. "That's good enough reason to get involved. They wouldn't be the first criminal gang I've ticked off."
"So you go around to worlds, shooting gangs for hassling people?"
Henry shook his head. "No. Just had a change of heart is all."
"You were the next best thing to an angel from Heaven. Thank God you were there."
That sparked warmth in his heart. "Yeah, I thank God I was there too."
They came to an intersection. Tomas took them to the left. Henry's eyes cast about and noted that the interest in them hadn't wavered. Nobody was following them, exactly, but they were definitely being monitored. In front of them, a couple of unshaven men started to approach. Henry brought his gun up, pointing it skyward at first. He never had to level the weapon as the men in question retreated from their path.
"I'm scared, Papa," Javier murmured. "They're coming after us."
"I know." Despite the clear injury to his arm, Tomas drew his son closer to reassure him. "Just keep going, and be ready to run with Mama."
A couple of blocks down, they made a right. Henry could see the church ahead, at the end of this small road. Aircars lined both sides, but unlike the other roads, this was empty. Nobody walked the sidewalks, no cars drove by. The hairs on his neck stood up on end. "They're up this way," he said to the others. "Front doors are too open. Is there a side door?"
Tomas nodded. "It's not for normal public use, but they should answer it."
"Head that way when we get there. And don't look back."
Tomas started to protest, but his wife quieted him. That was to Henry's gratitude, as the man wasn't in any shape to help.
As they came to the end of the road, Henry found what he was expecting. A crowd of men were in front of the church. They wore the same crimson and gold coloring as the other gang members he'd noticed on the walk. Some had knives out, others were holding firearms of various kinds. Henry stopped in the middle of the road, noting the vehicles to either side. The Perez family remained behind him.
A bearded man stepped out from the group. His graying dark hair was pulled into a pony-tail, and his face was locked into a vicious snarl. His beard was nearly all gray. "I don't know who you are, spacer. But you shot my people. Before I kill you, I'll give you the chance to earn some mercy. Who do you work for?"
"Myself, usually." Henry smiled. "Right now, I suppose you could say I'm working for God too."
Despite the viciousness of his expression, the leader let out a belly laugh. Others in the gang joined in. "Someone's been in space a little too long, eh? Gone a little crazy, a little loco, from all the pretty stars!"
"Maybe I realized I was tired of seeing criminals beating people up."
"We're a neighborhood organization. We watch out for our people," the leader replied. "So we take collections. This man, he won't pay, won't pay to protect his business, his family, his neighborhood. And now, now you step in, think you have the right to meddle in other people's business."
"I've heard this all before," Henry replied. "The way I see it, people like you are parasites who rob and kill, and you only thrive when nobody's willing to stop you."
The air grew hot with imminent violence. He knew that living through the next five minutes, not to mention getting the family to safety, would require seizing the initiative and putting the gang on the backfoot. Make them react.
So he decided to make the first move.
Firing from the hip made accuracy nearly impossible. He could only guarantee he fired in a general direction, not a specific target. But by taking the shot, he also gained an element of surprise.
Said shot was also more successful than he imagined it'd be. Instead of hitting nothing, it grazed the hip of the gang leader. He cried out and toppled over.
The seconds of sheer shock gave Henry and the Perezes time to get to cover. Henry brought his gun up and moved to the sidewalk. He took careful aim at the Vegas he could see and squeezed the trigger as rapidly as he could. His first shot was a little off, but the following shots struck two targets. "This way!" he called out, moving down t
he sidewalk. The car they were crouching beside absorbed fire coming from the other direction, leaving only enemies in front of them to be a threat. When another Vega appeared, Henry fired off a shot on the fly. To his surprise, it took the foe down with a gut shot.
"We'll never get to the next one!" Tomas called out.
"I'll cover you, go!" Henry leaned over the hood and stroked the trigger as quickly as possible, not aiming at anything in particular.
With their leader in pain and already a few casualties in their midst, the Vegas weren't reacting with any coordination. Most took cover from Henry's fire, and of those who didn't, their fire focused on Henry—the actual threat with a gun—and not the unarmed family moving down to the next car.
Once they were safely in cover, Henry moved back into cover. The vehicle he was hiding behind absorbed the incoming energy pulses and bullets completely, but it wouldn't forever. Already its windshield was broken from repeated hits.
He dashed forward, firing blindly across his chest as he did. Bullets, plasma, and charged particle bursts surrounded him. He felt a sting on the back of his neck and a coal of hot pain on his lower leg, but nothing kept him from dashing the meter that separated one car from the other.
He got to the vehicle as a Vega rounded the corner ahead. The shaven young man raised a charged particle pistol with murder in his eyes. Henry squeezed the trigger immediately. His shot was low but still caught the thug in the chest. The other pistol went off, but with the attacker's arms flailing as he fell, it narrowly missed Luz. She shrieked in surprise at the bolt of sapphire energy that planted itself twenty centimeters from her nose and into the surface of the aircar they were in cover beside.
"There's no more cover ahead," Tomas said. Henry noted only the open street. "We'll never make it."
Henry popped out of cover to fire a couple shots. He barely made it back into cover before the return fire rained down on him. The Vegas were starting to recover. I'm almost out of time.
"You're sure you'll be safe if you enter the church?" Henry asked.
"We will," Tomas answered. "They wouldn't dare attack St. Francis."
Why wouldn't they? he wondered. But it was the best option of a lot of bad ones, it seemed. "Okay, at the count of three, run. Just run for the door. Can you do that?"
Tomas nodded. The beating hadn't damaged his legs, at least. He gripped the hand of his wife and, at a gesture, prompted her to take Javier's hand.
This shouldn't work, Henry thought. But I talked to my dead uncle today, and now I feel like anything will work. I'm not even afraid of dying. It's not just the whiskey… He shook his head once to focus his thoughts. "Okay… on my mark."
They stiffened, ready to run. Overhead, more weapons fire came.
"One… two… three."
Henry went first, pistol in both hands. He rose from cover over the hood and immediately found his weapon pointing at an advancing Vega. His finger stroked the trigger. A burst of blue light slammed into the man, sending him down. He swung his gun over toward the other Vegas and started firing. With another of their number down, the others were intimidated enough by his apparent marksmanship that many took cover.
With the rest of the fire converging on him, the Perez family ran for their lives, directly to the side of the church building across the street.
Henry should have returned to cover. Remaining exposed was suicide. But to do so, to let up his fire even an instant, would put the innocents he was trying to protect at risk of being gunned down. Until they were across the street, he had to remain where he was, firing his gun as quickly as his sore finger could manage.
The gang returned fire, but it wasn't coordinated. Some stayed in cover and fired wildly in his general direction. There was no attempt at suppressive fire, or alternating fire, simply random Vegas popping up to take a shot at him.
It was enough. He felt a sharp impact on his right side. His left hip burned hot at being grazed by plasma. Every instinct now screamed to get back into protective cover, but he ignored those instincts and kept firing.
"We're safe!" he heard Tomas scream over the gunfire. He ducked into cover and glanced toward the other side of the street. The family was already approaching the side door. In seconds, they would be inside.
"Would someone kill that man already?!" screamed the wounded Vega leader. "He's just one loco spacer! Kill that bastard!"
Henry held his gun up over the hood and took a few more shots. Volumes of fire forced him back down. With their leader's angry orders as a prod, the Vegas were finally starting to rally. Every time he took a shot at them, they returned fire en masse, and they were getting closer with each moment. He was going to be outflanked within the minute.
The doors to the church opened.
Henry caught glimpses of what came through as he returned fire. He was treated to the sight of nuns stepping out onto the church steps. Each had a blue veil marked with red stones on her head, giving it the look of a helmet. The rest of their habits were gray and white.
On the third viewing, Henry realized what he was looking at. Their habits weren't normal nun habits at all, but looked more like urban military BDUs.
And they each had a rifle.
When the weapons came up, they came up with a precision fitting the TCMC. The sharp cracks of their weapons weren't quite the right pitch to be ballistic firearms.
Wait. Those are stun bolts, Henry realized.
Their lack of lethality wasn't immediately obvious to the Vegas. Being taken under fire from what they'd assumed was a secure flank quickly told in the number of them that hit the street face down. The others scrambled for cover. Not just cover, but escape. They'd had enough.
Not all ran, though. The Vega leader rolled over the hood of the aircar and faced Henry directly, his face contorted in rage. "Die, damn you!" he shrieked while his weapon raised toward Henry.
It was too close for Henry to shoot first. To avoid a fatal shot, he had just one option, and he took it instinctively. He put all of his power in his legs and threw himself into the Vega. The two fell to the street while the Vega's gun went off, striking the car. Pain shot through Henry's hand—the Vega landed directly on it, crushing it between their bodies and the concrete of the sidewalk—and he let go of his pistol.
Henry took an elbow to the jaw as soon as they landed. This shifted his balance enough to give the Vega leverage to get the weapon back up. He caught it just before the Vega could press it into his belly. The Vega's hot breath blasted Henry's face while they struggled for control of the gun.
With his left hand having just enough leverage to hold the other man's gun away, Henry brought his right elbow up. He smashed the bone into the Vega's nose once, twice, three times, each blow with increasing power until the other man's nose snapped. The Vega leader howled at the pain. His struggling slackened, allowing Henry to bring his right fist back for a strong punch to the Vega's face.
The gang leader's eyes rolled into the back of his head. He was out like a light.
Breathing hard, his right hand throbbing with the pain of its earlier crushing and the blow that ended the fight, Henry got to his feet. He kicked the gun away from the Vega and retrieved his own from under the man's side. He held it, hand finally shaking, as he rose to his full height.
The Vegas littered the street and sidewalks. Standing over them were the armed women who emerged from the church. Some of the nuns kept their weapons at ready stance while the others disarmed their opponents.
One of the nuns approached. She looked to be almost his age, with copper-toned skin and deep brown eyes. "We can tend to your injuries inside," she said in heavily-accented English. The accent sounded Brasilian or Lusitanian, not Spanish.
Henry looked down at himself. While he hadn't suffered any severe wounds, he was bleeding from his side where a bullet had ripped through his flesh. There was a plasma burn on his hip as well, his crushed right hand, and the other injuries from glancing shots he'd taken. Each hurt in its own way, adding to his
growing fatigue as the adrenaline rush faded. He nodded in acceptance.
The nun led him through the battle to the threshold of the church. St. Francis was like any Catholic church he'd seen in his time, which was admittedly not many. Stained glass displays, a confessional to the side, the votive altar for private prayers nearby. A large cross stood behind the pulpit.
The Perezes were in the pews. Their eyes widened at the sight of him, although Tomas was quickly diverted by a conventionally-dressed nun in a black and white habit and wimple so she could continue tending his injuries. Other nuns of the same outfits were nearby with refreshments for the frightened family.
Henry noticed movement from the other aisle. An old woman approached, her weathered face framed by the same white and blue veil with red stones, giving it the appearance of being a helmet instead of a veil. Her eyes met Henry's and tightened with recognition. "Captain James Henry of the Shadow Wolf, yes?" Her accent was a softer version of the nun who escorted him in.
"Formerly," he corrected. "Lost my ship."
"Ah." She nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Do we know each other?" he asked.
"No, but we know of you," she replied. "You brought dearly-needed supplies to our efforts on Monrovia."
He blinked at that. "So you're…?"
"Yes." She smiled slightly, giving a gentle tone to her weathered face. "I am Sara Sarno, Mother Superior of the Little Sisters of Divine Recompense. A pleasure to make your acquaintance at last, Captain Henry."
32
One of the Little Sisters' medics tended to Henry's wounds while he sat at the front pew of the church. Sarno sat opposite him on the steps leading up to the pulpit. "For a man who tried to fight at least a dozen of the Vegas, you are remarkably well-off," Sarno noted.
"There's probably more of them." Henry winced slightly at the slight sting of antiseptic on his side. "The Perezes, they said the church could protect them. This won't cause them any problems?"
"We have already called the police," Sarno said. "Father Luis is a personal friend of mine and of the local commissioner. The Vegas will be dealt with." She noted the uncertainty Henry knew was showing on his face. "You're not convinced?"
Breach of Trust: Breach of Faith Book Four Page 25
