Michael Anderle - [Heretic of the Federation 03]

by Time to Fear (epub)

  This was when she would discover where the Heretic had been hiding. The test, the change in ship routine, and the all-crew alert had all been the triggers for her memory of the mission to return.

  She raced away from the Marines and wracked her brains for somewhere to hide, but she’d completely forgotten that the ship was everywhere. Her flight took her around a corner, then swiftly around a second, heading to the maintenance section.

  “Oh, for fury’s sake!” the Tempestarii exclaimed. She waited until the woman had passed the next bulkhead and let her get halfway down the narrow stretch of corridor before she sealed the section.

  “Run from this,” the ship snarled and unleashed the knock-out gas as the Marines reached the door.

  She sighed as they ran past the corridor. “Back up ten paces and turn left,” she instructed.

  The two men skidded to a halt and followed her directions. They stopped and stared when they reached the bulkhead, then frowned when they read the warning scrolling over the entry pad.

  “Aww, Tempe,” one of them complained. “You know you’re supposed to reserve that for boarders.”

  “I know no such thing,” the ship retorted indignantly, then added, “Besides, she was a boarder. She was not who she said she was.”

  “Now, Tempe, you know that might not be true.”

  “Are you saying she might have run away because she did want to take the test?”

  “No…”

  They waited as the ship cleared the atmosphere in the section beyond. Both men slipped breathers on as the bulkhead released to let them through.

  “I wouldn’t have let you in there if you would be affected,” the ship scolded, and one of the Marines raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s standard operating procedure when entering a recently contaminated area,” he explained. “No offense, Tempe.”

  “None taken,” the ship replied but sounded like she didn’t mean a word.

  They didn’t dignify that with a response and moved quickly into the corridor where the crewman lay in a boneless heap.

  “Ma’am?” one of them said and slapped her face.

  She moaned, and her hands twitched as though she tried to move them.

  “Ma’am?” A second slap made her eyelids flicker, and his partner handed him an oxygen mask.

  “Try her with this.”

  He scowled but took it, lifted Sawyer into a seated position, and positioned her so his partner could cuff her hands behind her back while he held the mask in place.

  “Wow, Tempe, are you sure you used enough gas on her?” he asked when the woman began to splutter, shoved the mask aside, and threw up.

  “No one will hurt my Stephanie,” the Tempestarii declared as they hauled the woman to her feet and steered her toward the brig.

  The Marine chuckled. “I’d say the ship passes the bar test.”

  “I’ll get Sanitation down here to clean up,” his partner replied with a smile, “and then I’ll make sure Medical is on stand-by.”

  “We could simply put her in the brig and let her sleep it off,” Tempestarii suggested.

  He shook his head. “You want the information she has in her head, Tempe. For that, she has to be well enough to answer.”

  “I’ll call the mages,” the ship replied. “Tell Medical to make sure she’s ready.”

  Back on Earth, ex-Admiral Amaratne looked wistful.

  “Can you put me on the bridge of a warship?” he asked, and the woman before him lowered her chin in assent.

  “I can put you wherever you like. What kind of warship did you have in mind?”

  He thought of the superdreadnought he’d commanded during the last battle and sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Then this one should suffice,” the woman told him tartly and the preparation room spun away.

  As the virtual came back into focus, his gaze traced the compact bridge of a destroyer. Pivoting slowly, he took it in. It was as if he’d come home.

  “I didn’t realize how much I missed being here,” he murmured as he walked along the front of the empty consoles and was surprised to find them laid out exactly as he preferred. He sighed again. “I guess this time, I won’t be fighting in space.”

  Footsteps made him pivot as Ted spoke.

  “Never assume,” the AI said as he stopped beside him and the forward viewscreen came alive.

  Together, they turned toward it.

  “Is that intelligence or are you suggesting something?” Amaratne asked.

  Ted took another step closer to the screen. “History has a way of using your talents,” he told his companion. “My calculations suggest this fight will not be easy. They have had over two decades of preparation.”

  The ex-admiral followed his gaze and imagined he could see another fleet hanging among the stars. “Good,” he said and the stars rippled.

  The consoles faded from around him and he landed with a jolt on the hard pavement of a broken street. The deep-throated thump of mortars and whirring buzz of drones was interspersed by sporadic gunfire, and the darkness of space was replaced by the flash-lit dark of a ruined city.

  “But first things first,” Ted declared as he appeared beside him and pressed himself against the lee of the wall.

  He tossed the man a CUB and watched as the ex-Admiral automatically checked the safety and magazine, then clicked his fingers.

  Amaratne felt the weight of his clothing shift and looked down. Gone were the clothes he hadn’t changed in the avatar preparation room. Now, he wore lightweight body armor.

  “First things first?” he asked, and Ted grinned.

  “You have to make it through the first stage—on land.”

  The light grew brighter and the figure more distinct. Lars released John and let the boy roll to his feet as they both faced it. Frog and Vishlog also stood, and together, they formed a line shoulder to shoulder before the light.

  Slowly, the shadowy outline coalesced into a woman, her long hair caught back in a silver plait. The young Talent frowned. She looked familiar, but he was sure he’d never met her before.

  Finally, recognition dawned and he took a step back.

  “Ms. Morgana?”

  The woman smiled.

  “In a way,” she answered. “While she isn’t a main feature of the subnet, I have added what I know.”

  “BURT?”

  “Ted, now,” EBURT told him, “but I think you need to know more of what is possible in the realm of magical training, and more importantly, the knowledge of what can be.”

  He thought about that, then looked at his companions.

  “This will hurt, won’t it?”

  Frog smirked. “Who do you think kept saying ‘no pain, no gain?’”

  He jerked his thumb at the woman. When she turned and frowned at him, he ignored her. “She really can be a right bit—”

  His head exploded in a ball of fire.

  “He always mouths off and never learns.” Stephanie sniffed and turned to John, noting his shocked expression as he stared at the headless body.

  It dissolved slowly, and the Frog materialized where he’d stood before. He looked at Stephanie, and she held his gaze.

  “Nothing?” she asked when he remained silent.

  He shook his head emphatically.

  Stephanie waited, but the small man made no effort to speak and lowered his head to avoid her gaze. She nodded curtly and focused on John.

  “Here are the rules,” she told him and gestured at her three guards. “They will attack you. I will explain the options. You either implement the options or die a painful and embarrassing death.”

  He waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he looked at Frog. The guard caught his gaze and shook his head. He hesitated, hoping the small man would give him more, but he’d turned his attention to Stephanie, so John did the same.

  “That’s it?” he asked.

  Her brow creased as if she was thinking about it. Finally, she gave him a bright smile.

/>   “Don’t die?” she suggested, and the training room twisted and funneled them to somewhere else.

  If he didn’t know any better, he’d have said he was on some kind of military base. He didn’t have time to confirm the theory, though, as a bolt of light streaked past him and gouged a fist-sized hole in the wall.

  He sprawled on his stomach and scrambled into cover, and two more bolts whined through the space where he’d been. More bolts followed and he pushed into a run.

  Chapter Ten

  Ivy was still on her knees when the world coalesced around her. It took her a moment to register the familiar set of boots in front of her. The hand she’d rested on Frog’s chest now rested on his toes.

  She sniffed and a box of tissues nudged the side of her head. When she took the box, the boots stepped back.

  “Are you okay?” a familiar voice asked, and she looked up with a tissue in one hand as she wiped her eyes with the other.

  “You!” she began but had to pause to blow her nose. “You shouldn’t…”

  Her face crumpled and her voice faded as she turned hastily away.

  “Awwww…” Frog said. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were falling for me.”

  Ivy snorted and blew her nose again. “Not likely.”

  “What? You never wanted to kiss a frog and find a prince?”

  “Who needs a prince? I have something better.”

  “Better than a prince?” His voice was a blend of mock disbelief and pretend outrage.

  She finished mopping her eyes and clearing her head and stared up at him. “You’re not funny,” she told him.

  “I’m a laugh a minute,” he retorted. “Ask Steph.”

  “Mmmhmmm,” she replied, and he sobered. “What’s next?”

  “We have a new teammate,” he told her, and the air beside him shimmered.

  The girl frowned as the shimmer settled slowly into an extremely large solid outline—one so big it could certainly not be human. She frowned. What was this new teammate? Some kind of giant?

  As the details began to solidify, she gasped and took two hasty steps back. The Dreth warrior raised his head and looked at her, and she didn’t hesitate. She drew her blaster and fired.

  He took a step toward her and extended his hand in the split-second before his head exploded and splattered Frog with blood, brain matter, and fragments of skull. The little man gave her a disgusted look.

  Ivy lowered the blaster as he looked at the dead Dreth with an expression of disbelief on his face, then shifted his gaze to focus it on her. Even then, it took her a moment to realize what she’d done.

  “Uh…new teammate?” she asked, hoping she was wrong, and he extended his forefinger and stabbed it toward the body.

  “That was him.”

  Ivy’s jaw dropped, and the body began to fade.

  “Oh,” she said and snapped her mouth closed. She chewed nervously at her lip, her face pale. “Oh, dear.”

  Amaratne laughed and threw himself behind a burnt-out car as he snapped two quick shots at the figures that appeared through the smoke. He settled into a crouch, checked the charge on the CUB and the magazines at his belt, and chose his next position.

  The sound of boots approaching at a run warned him it was time to move, so he bobbed up and took another three shots, checked his surroundings, and scurried to a large block of concrete.

  Ivy would have recognized the area. She’d used the top of the burnt-out wreck to vault into the nearby parking lot. He used it to cover his back as he moved.

  The figures that emerged from the shadows were human but they were fast. He scanned the nearby buildings and caught movement from the direction he was heading in.

  “Well, it’s time to see what else this can do,” he muttered, and instead of sliding behind the pillar, he vaulted up against it and bounced off to launch himself to an empty floor in what had been an office building.

  At least the filing cabinets would offer some cover, he reasoned. The door on the opposite side of the room burst open as he landed, and Amaratne rolled forward and opened fire as he found his feet.

  It was satisfying to see the heavy slugs knock the intruders back, and he hoped the scenario hadn’t been programmed with friends. If it had, he might have eliminated someone useful.

  What was more satisfying was the spring in his step—and the utter lack of pain. If he’d been in the body he’d arrived in, his knees would be aching and he’d be short of breath. As it was, he felt like he could make another leap like that without breaking a sweat.

  He felt like he could fight for longer—which was a good thing because these guys simply didn’t know when to give up.

  Heavy boots pounded up the stairs and he stuck his head out the door. The office he’d chosen had looked out over the street, but it had backed onto a landing with an escalator leading to a large atrium.

  “Not the most ideal location,” he observed. “It must have been for someone lower on the food chain.”

  The top of the first pursuer’s head appeared above the handrail and he removed it with a targeted shot and walked his fire into the next man’s skull, then the next before they registered that he was waiting for them.

  A fourth head began to appear but ducked hastily out of sight, and Amaratne wished there was a way to turn the escalator on. There wasn’t, so he left the office and side-stepped so he could see over the railing to the entrance beyond.

  He must have reached the administration section because the balcony overlooked what appeared to have been some kind of shopping mall. Broken glass and ruined storefronts rimmed the walkway overlooking the atrium and more figures moved up two other escalators.

  None of them was in easy range, and it was clear that he would shortly be overrun. He looked quickly for an exit and decided against the window through which he’d come in. Instead, he chose to take the battle to the group closest to him and then use their escalator to reach the next floor while maybe picking up an extra weapon on the way. He realized his mistake halfway along the balcony when four figures plummeted from the upper level and released their ropes to land and bound toward him.

  What were these guys' legs made of? Springs?

  The thought was fleeting as he fired instinctively and struck center mass of the leading assailant before he dodged back and into the closest shop.

  Clothes, he thought and knocked over the last standing mannequin as he hurdled another and hoped like Hades there was a corridor out back.

  There was.

  Amaratne slammed the door in the small storage space shut as he bolted into it and then realized his next mistake. There were multiple entrances into the corridor, and there had been numerous people pursuing him.

  The lights illuminating the corridor still worked, but they flickered as the first of his enemy raised his pistol. The ex-admiral pivoted and moved to return to the storeroom, but the door opened and another figure appeared.

  This one didn’t bother to shoot but lunged toward him with a long-bladed dagger glinting in his hand. A shout went up from the other end of the corridor and Amaratne grimaced.

  Without a doubt, this would hurt either way. To fight the guy who attacked with the knife meant he had to turn his back to one of the oncoming groups. It also meant his assailant blocked the other group’s line of fire.

  Small blessings, he thought as several rounds pounded into his back.

  He grunted, but the man with the blade had closed the distance between them and he was forced to leap back to avoid the first swing. His leap turned into an unexpected collision with a man who’d raced in behind him and the knife scored a smoking gash across his armor.

  Amaratne caught a glimmer of blue.

  Laser-edged, he thought as an arm looped around his neck and he registered the not-so-subtle pressure of something thrust into his back. He fired one-handed and fumbled for a blade he didn’t have with the other when the man behind him pulled the trigger.

  At the same time, the attacker in f
ront swept the ex-admiral’s gun aside and drove his knife into his stomach. The pain that followed preceded a short-lived trip into the dark.

  A sharp jolt woke him with a gasp. Shadow-pain forced his eyes to remain closed, and his body curled until he registered that it wasn’t real. White walls greeted him when he looked around and he groaned and rolled to push slowly to his feet.

  “I always hated this part.”

  “Is it less painful dying on a ship in the Virtual World?” Roma asked when she appeared before him.

  “No,” he admitted. “Merely less up-close and personal. I need to upgrade my avatar.”

  The AI snapped her fingers and the white dissolved to be replaced by the more utilitarian grey of the avatar preparation room.

  “I need weapons,” he muttered and moved along the racks. “Many more weapons.”

  He stopped when he reached the knives and selected one of the larger ones. Eight inches long and a little over an inch thick, the blade bore the tell-tale markings of a laser-infused edge and curved slightly at the tip.

  Amaratne picked it up and hefted it, admiring the way the grip curved a little over his hand. He looked at Roma.

  “Is someone compensating when they use this?” he asked and put it back on the shelf.

  “That all depends,” the AI answered as he moved deeper into the racks, “on if they know how to use it.”

  “Marbles,” he muttered. “Tell me they stock marbles.”

  He found them, checked that the frequency matched the blaster and the CUB’s firing frequencies, and stowed them in a pouch. She continued to watch him and a faint frown creased her brow.

  It deepened when he picked up a box of stickies and several scramblers.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he selected several cubes of fine white dust and turned to select another suit of combat armor and upgrade the filters. “I’m not sure how you intend to use these—”

  “I might have a younger body,” Amaratne said and tapped the side of his head, “but I’m old enough to know a thousand ways to cheat.”

  He searched along the shelf before he looked at her. “I need some Tyrenol 13 in a hose dispenser with a misting bulb.”