by Daniel Gibbs
The aircar stopped this time. Henry realized it as he brought his hands up and shoved Li away. From the front, an automated voice spoke in Portuguese. "For safety reasons, please exit the vehicle. We have been in a collision. For safety reasons…" As it spoke, the doors opened automatically.
Henry had a second to make his decision. Stay in the vehicle and wrestle with Li, or try to escape. He decided it was high time to make his getaway. He fell backward from the vehicle and felt grass crunch below his back. Turning, he brought his legs over and free of the taxi door so he could roll onto his knees while starting to stand.
Inside the taxi, Li began to recover. He snarled and raised his gun at Henry.
Henry rolled to the back of the taxi, avoiding the shot. The energy blast scourged the cement stairs of a small business building behind him. The momentum of the roll gave him a boost to scramble back to his feet. As he did, the soft whirring of anti-grav motors became evident. He glanced to the side and noted a blue-colored aircar already pulling up. The door on the passenger side opened, and Henry saw al-Lahim at the controls. "Get in, now," he shouted.
There was no point in resisting. Henry needed to be gone, now, and al-Lahim offered him the best chance of it. Without protest, he got in the car. The Arabic man triggered the forward throttle and the vehicle's motors changed pitch. It shot ahead, leaving two wrecked taxi cabs behind it.
"You hacked another taxi?" Henry asked.
"I have my ways," said al-Lahim. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the road ahead. "I knew something was up when the League activated their hack into the city heli-taxi systems. We've known they had a way in for some time, so we were monitoring." He turned the wheel and brought them down a side street. In the distance, the high-pitched sirens of the Gamavilla police service's vehicles were wailing. "Is Li still alive?"
"Hurt but alive. He took a shot at me and almost hit," Henry said.
"Damn." Al-Lahim shook his head. "He's got a reputation for black ops. I knew he was trouble the moment the League assigned him here."
"He's also a zealot. Not exactly the corrupt League types I'm used to."
"Which makes him truly dangerous, and makes it clear that the League has a major operation going on here." Al-Lahim shook his head and pursed his lips together.
"Well, I'd say the bombing was a good indicator of that," Henry grumbled. Even as he said it, he frowned. "Vitorino. Something doesn't feel right." Now that he was out of danger, Henry thought back to the meeting with Vitorino, and how he left Miri. He blinked and glanced at al-Lahim. "Major, the CIS; you're pretty different from the CDF, aren't you?"
"Greatly," al-Lahim said. "You’re the white knights of the Coalition, out in the open. We… are not."
"In the CDF, they always wish each other Godspeed, especially before missions. Do you?"
Al-Lahim laughed, then briefly diverted his attention to another turn onto an even quieter street. He slowed the vehicle as they passed a police officer on foot patrol. Al-Lahim quietly eyed the man, but he barely gave their vehicle a glance before looking away. "Never," he said. "The things we do, Captain Henry; sometimes we do things we'd rather not have on our souls. We certainly don't want to bring God into it. It’s considered something of a bad sign to say 'Godspeed' or to invoke God to each other. It feels like we're tempting Him." He turned his head toward Henry. "Why do you ask?"
He frowned deeply. "Because Miri said it before I left her with Vitorino." Henry shook his head. "Talked about it being CDF tradition. Like she was invoking the old days for me, even mentioned how sensitive it was to me." Henry turned to see al-Lahim's expression darken. "Shit," he muttered.
"She was warning you. Something's wrong." Al-Lahim hit the blinker and abruptly turned them onto another road. "The Royal Lusitanian, right?"
"Right." Henry reached for his commlink. "I'd better—"
"No!" Al-Lahim snatched the commlink from Henry's hand. He triggered the device's power button and threw it into the back seat. "The League's tracking your link. I don't want them to know where we are."
"I need to warn my crew!" Henry shouted. "Li wants them dead!"
"I've got people watching things at the spaceport," al-Lahim assured him. "Right now, Operative Gaon needs us. After all, I hired you to bring her to me, remember? Not to the damned Lusitanians!"
"I didn't know Karla Lupa and Miri Gaon were the same person when you hired me," Henry retorted. He let out a sigh. "Besides, that place is crawling with Lusitanian State Security. We'd need a Marine company to get in there."
"Knowing Miri Gaon's reputation, Captain, we only need to be nearby," al-Lahim answered confidently.
Cutting the tie-strap took Miri a couple of nerve-racking minutes. Bit by bit, the teeth of the knife went through the sturdy plastic, until finally, she felt it give way enough that she pulled her wrists free.
Her success meant more tactical options. At the same time, she'd lost precious minutes in getting out of the building. Lusitanian security would augment her pursuers easily. Even if she successfully acquired a firearm, she’d eventually be overrun.
The sound of the vacuum ended in the far bedroom. Miri ducked in the kitchen, putting the efficiency's shelf, including the range, between herself and the rest of the suite. She heard the slight whine of a light anti-grav unit draw closer for several seconds before it started moving away to the other side of the room. She glimpsed long enough to see a maid enter the separate bedroom.
Since she didn't want to risk problems with the security personnel still searching the floor for her, Miri went into the now-vacated bedroom. To her delight, the windows were large enough for her to fit through. She moved the curtain and blinds enough to look outside. The room faced an alleyway between the hotel and an adjacent structure, a block-shaped commercial building. She didn't see anyone in the alley yet, but it was only a matter of time.
Miri looked to the bed and started yanking the sheets and comforter off. She felt a brief pang of guilt for the poor maid who’d probably be blamed for not spotting her, while she tied the corners of the sheets together and then one end to the comforter. She secured the other end of the comforter to the leg of a nightstand beside the window.
She glanced out the window once more. There was still no sign of anyone from security. It was now or never.
The window was a casement model that allowed easy exfiltration. She undid the latch and pushed it open, then dislodged the screen covering and pulled it into the room. With a final glimpse to assure herself that she wouldn't be dropping into a waiting foe, Miri slipped out of the window, one hand firmly on her bedding-made rope. She let the other end fall downward while maneuvering to put her other hand on it. She started lowering herself, going as quickly as she could until she felt the end of the rope. She dropped the last meter onto the concrete below her.
She started walking down the alley, away from Rua de Republica, and toward the minor avenue she saw down at the other end of the lane. As she walked, she assessed her situation. She was out of the hotel but not out of danger. A manhunt would be ordered as soon as anyone spotted the open window and the bedding rope hanging from it. When it came to resources, she only had the steak knife for self-defense. She had no commlink, no access to money, electronic or otherwise, and she would soon be wanted across the planet. Her only hope, she imagined, was to find a way to slip into the Coalition Embassy without being seen.
"Stop!" she heard a voice cry out from behind her in accented English.
Miri started running. She didn't bother to look back at her pursuer, and she leaned forward to present a smaller target. The first shot sent her way missed. So did the second.
Then her left leg burned, and the muscle seized up. In mid-stride as she was, this caused Miri to topple over. Her momentum caused her to roll on the ground until she ended up on her side. Frantically, she tried to stand again, but her left leg refused to move. She looked behind her to see a Lusitanian security agent running toward her, weapon raised. Her face contorted into a gri
mace, which hid her fear and despair. All of her efforts were for nothing.
And then, the anti-grav car pulled into the alleyway.
Both Miri and her pursuer glanced in the direction of the blue vehicle, its motors whirring away as it accelerated toward them. The agent raised his weapon and shouted, "State Security! Get out of the vehicle!"
Miri had an idea about what was going to happen. She rolled toward the side of the lane.
The car's engine picked up in pitch. The security operative fired. The bolts of energy slammed into the front of the vehicle. The shots dissipated against a thin film of blue light—an energy deflector. The next round did the same.
The agent finally tried to evade, but it was too late. The aircar slammed into him at waist level with enough force that he flew backward by at least six feet.
Miri was still struggling to stand when the rear driver's side door opened. "Get in!" she heard a voice call out. She winced at the pain in her left leg as she crawled into the floorboard and seat of the car. Even before she was fully inside, the vehicle started reversing. It didn’t make getting in easy.
Hands gripped her left arm and helped pull her in. Once they got her immobile left foot through the door, the driver triggered it to close. The vehicle almost immediately wheeled about, the anti-gravs humming louder as the car's systems shifted to regulate the maneuver and keep the aircar under control. Miri let out a breath of relief and looked up. "Captain?"
Henry nodded. "Hey," he said. There was a frown on his face. "You okay?"
"No," she said. "No, I am not." Miri drew in a breath before she used her arms to lift herself into the rear seat. She was close enough to the middle that she could see the driver's face reflected in the rear-view mirror. "Abdul."
"Miri," al-Lahim began. "It's good to see you safe."
"Thank you for coming for me," she said. Wincing in pain from the stun shot to her leg, Miri still forced herself to focus on putting the seat belt on, just in case. With that done, she could relax for the moment. "Vitorino's working for the League. The bombing is part of this whole scheme. To get him into power."
"It still feels off," Henry muttered.
Al-Lahim snorted. "What, that Vitorino's a corrupt man willing to work with the League?"
"Not that part," Henry said. "Two weeks ago, I was bribing a League customs inspector with a bottle of port on his behalf. But the political takeover part, a bloody coup, that's not Vitorino's usual style. He likes luxury and wealth more than power."
"He does," Miri agreed. "But he's a calculating man. He believes the Coalition can't win the war, and the best thing for Lusitania and the other neutral worlds to do is stand by and let the League win. Once it's bogged down by the inevitable grassroots resistance, then unite. He knows it's the only way they will survive a League victory."
"So if the League came to him with a scheme of some kind, probably aimed at us, he would go for it," al-Lahim said. "And he’d probably help our resistance forces too, just to keep the fire burning."
"Yes." Miri glanced at Henry, who seemed dour to her. I would be too, if I were him. "You may have worked for him, and you read him rather well, but I think you underestimated Vitorino a little, Captain."
Henry shook his head. "Tell me about it." He rubbed at his left hand.
Miri noticed a makeshift bandage around it. He's been in a fight too. "Well, the authorities will find us inevitably. We need to ditch the car."
"It won't be necessary," al-Lahim said. "I've already changed the ID code of the vehicle, and the surface color is a different shade now. It should trick the automated systems monitoring the road."
"Then we need to get to my ship," Henry began, his voice earnest. "Before the League can hurt my people. I'm still thinking how we're going to get off-planet before their defense forces shoot us down."
"I'll help you with that, Captain, trust me," al-Lahim replied with a grin. "Which is why we're making a stop before we go back to the spaceport."
"A stop?" Henry's voice betrayed his impatience. "Where?"
Al-Lahim flashed a broad smile. "The one place Vitorino will never expect to see us.”
The tone from his commlink prompted Vitorino to look up from the fleet readiness report he was examining. He reached over and picked the commlink up. The incoming call was labeled as a private one, so he tapped the accept key and put the speaker up to his ear. "Yes?" he asked.
"What kind of pathetic operation are your people running, Vitorino?" Li screamed from the other end. It was an unpleasant experience, but he didn’t react outwardly. "Not only did you let Gaon get away, your people can't even find the getaway vehicle!"
"They're investigating now," he said, his tone still quiet and controlled. "With the city under martial law, we'll find the car. As for letting Gaon get away…" His voice chilled. "Your people had her. They lost her. Like fools, they waited too long to warn my people. An earlier warning, and we would have had agents in the alley before she could escape the building. If you want someone to blame, Li, look elsewhere. Or shall I take the matter up with Admiral Hartford?" Silence reigned for just long enough that Vitorino wondered if Li ended the call rather than answer.
"I apologize for my outburst," was Li’s forced response.
"I accept the apology," Vitorino said, his voice again warm and friendly. "Now stop fretting. We're less than two weeks from our plan, and the news from Canaan shows our timing will be just right. What does Miri Gaon have that could stop us?"
"What about your spacer captain? He's working with someone! He was rescued!"
"If you'd done your part, there wouldn't have been anyone to rescue, would there?" Vitorino pointed out. He sighed. "I find it odd, after I made a point of letting him live… You insisted Captain Henry and his crew had to be eliminated, yet you were the one who couldn't pull the trigger!" He grinned at the angry hiss in Li's voice. The League operative's temper was up. "There’s nothing he can do about it either. We have the system on comms lockdown, and we will until the operation succeeds. Even if he warns the Coalition Embassy, they can't warn Canaan. Even if they did, the government there wouldn't dare to let anything interfere with a peace they desperately need."
"Do not underestimate him!"
"That was your failing, Li, not mine," Vitorino said. "I know full well his capabilities. His strengths and his weaknesses. Captain Henry is a pragmatic man. He knows when he's outmatched. Right now, his only concern will be getting his crew out of this situation and fleeing as far as he can from the Trifid Region. We should probably let him."
"You can't!" Li shouted. "He knows too much; his entire crew does! And they've humiliated us!"
"I've found a little humility keeps people honest," Vitorino replied flippantly. "Your League will be all the better for it. Now I have briefings to finish, and you should be leaving to join Admiral Hartford soon for the operation." His voice went icy again. "Don't let me detain you."
"Remember your place, Vitorino," Li retorted.
"You should remember yours." With that, Vitorino ended the call. He sat quietly for a moment before looking up to where Carvalho was reading another set of reports. "João, I need you to send a message to planetary command."
"Yes, Prime Minister?"
"If the Shadow Wolf lifts off without ministerial authorization, they are to be destroyed," Vitorino said.
Carvalho nodded. "Yes, Prime Minister," he repeated.
Vitorino looked away for a moment. A shame, Captain Henry. You were quite useful to me. But it would cost me far too much to let you and your crew go now. He pondered that thought, chuckled, and shook his head, and promptly returned to his reading material. It was time to check the Rand Stock Market figures. Trading would still be going on there for four more hours, and he liked both Lou Shipping and Rigault Heavy Industries stocks for his portfolio.
5
Henry stared in disbelief at al-Lahim's destination. "What the hell are we doing here?" he asked.
"Seeking sanctuary," al-Lahim said.
"I've found a church is as good as a mosque."
Henry stepped out of the door and looked at the sight of the repaired Faith Outreach Mission. He started walking toward the front door while, behind him, al-Lahim helped Miri out of the car. A quick glance backward allowed him to see her limping. Her left leg was still immobile.
By the time he looked back to the door, it had opened. Jules stood in the doorway wearing his usual dark suit. "Jim," he said plainly. "It's good to see you."
Henry rushed ahead and pulled Jules with him into the mission. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice a hiss. "Are… are you seriously working with him?"
"I don't work for the Major," Jules said politely. "But this is a church, Jim. A house of God. Anyone in need of shelter is welcome here."
"Dammit, Jules, all of the trouble we just went through to keep you out of trouble!" Henry gave a small cry of frustration with his hands balled into fists. "You’re playing a dangerous game. These people don't give a damn about churches being sanctuaries!"
"That doesn't mean it's not; just that they'll answer to God for it," Jules replied evenly.
Before Henry could continue, the door opened. Al-Lahim entered with Miri. "Thank you, Reverend Rothbard," he said. "Inshallah, we won't trouble you much longer."
Jules nodded in acceptance of the promise and the conditional nature of it. "As I was telling Jim, this is God's house. I'm just the caretaker." Without another word, he came over and helped Miri to a pew. "You were shot?"
"Directed-energy weapon, a stun setting, I think." Miri grimaced as her hands rubbed at the inflexible, stiff muscles in her left thigh.
"I should have some relaxant in the infirmary," Jules said. "Let me get it."
As he hurried off, Henry took to the pew himself, giving Miri enough room to put her unmoving leg up on it for some comfort. The hymnal in the back of the seat ahead of him was the same edition as before, but a new printing. Curiosity prompted him to open it and see familiar hymns written in Portuguese and Arabic. He turned back and noted al-Lahim removing his shoes.
