Witch Of The Federation III (Federal Histories Book 3)

by Michael Anderle

  She held her arm across her stomach and dropped into her seat. “Damn the… Goddammit… Just…”

  The Morgana leaned forward until her forehead was almost touching Elizabeth’s and their eyes were a scant few inches apart. She smiled. “You’re only mad you aren’t ready to join us if I don’t do this.”

  “Damned right, I’m mad,” Elizabeth shouted and pressed her forehead against the girl’s. “Sonofabitch. I should never have damned well asked.”

  “That’s only your guilty conscience talking. You knew this was the only way. Stephanie would never agree because she knows the pain that will come with the healing and will never put her friend through that.”

  “Yes, but—”

  The Morgana’s smile turned into a feral grin, and she raised a fist wreathed in blue fire, her voice inviting. “But the Morgana understands. She will do this if that is what you want but be warned—you will feel the pain later.”

  The other woman’s answering smile was equally as feral. “It will be worth it.”

  They’d made it back to HQ and were suiting up by the time Ms E got the call with the full details. The nurse was horrified that her patient was going anywhere near a battle and tried to veto the decision. She was so persistent that the Morgana finally had enough.

  “Sleep,” she commanded, and as the nurse opened her mouth to argue, she touched a blue-tipped finger to the woman’s head.

  “Well, hell. That’ll be hard to explain,” Lars grouched and glared at her as he slapped Stephanie’s armor into her arms. “Put that on. You might be invulnerable, but Stephanie isn’t, and I don’t want her having her ass shot off.”

  He paled when she regarded him with fathomless eyes but he didn’t back down. It was only as she turned away and began to pull the armor on that he sagged with relief. Frog slapped him on the back. “That went so much better than it could have.”

  Elizabeth was seated at her desk, a cup of coffee in front of her, when Matthias called. She caught the look on his face when he saw her dressed in combat gear and ignored it.

  Later, she thought, as he began to speak and his opening words made it clear this wasn’t a social call.

  “Ms Smith, the Navy has managed to pinpoint the origin of the orders for the attack on you at Tarantino’s.”

  She pursed her lips. “And is the Navy prepared to share?”

  Her voice said it had better be, and he managed a small humorless smile in response. “The Navy knows how important that information is to you. They also require your assistance in cleaning out that particular rebel nest.”

  “Ah, now we’re getting to it,” she told him. “I take it there’s a briefing.”

  “There’s an information package with the location, maps, and all the intelligence we could pull on the place in the last twenty-four hours. You will not go in alone. We will send a contingent of Marines to assist you.”

  “As long as they don’t get in the way,” she told him and there was a brief knock at the door.

  Lars didn’t wait for her response. He stuck his head into her office. “We’re almost ready, E.”

  The guard was gone before he registered Matthias’s presence on the screen and the commander’s eyebrows rose.

  “Ready for what?” he asked.

  “We’re doing live-action drills,” she lied smoothly and gestured to her gear. “You don’t think I’m dressed like this for fun, do you?”

  He frowned. “Last I looked, you were dressed to party Tracy to the doors of hell and make sure she had the welcome she deserved.”

  Elizabeth blushed. This was true, but she was glad he didn’t ask why they’d gone home early. She didn’t want to have to tell him another lie.

  “Our employer decided to call a spontaneous drill.”

  Matthias’s face showed disapproval. “That’s harsh.”

  She shrugged. “What can I say? He can be fairly demanding.”

  “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “It wouldn’t do you any good and might make my life difficult.” She smiled. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  The disapproval didn’t go away but he sighed. “Fine.”

  When he’d sent the relevant files to her computer, she dispersed them to the team. Several whistles floated softly through the door as they were read, and she was sure she heard Frog swear—loudly and descriptively—about the person who’d issued them. She ignored him and grinned at Matthias.

  “Gotta run, sweet cheeks,” she told him. “Some crazy man gave my team a mission.”

  He gave her a dubious stare and she hoped he wouldn’t ask her if she planned to join them. She really didn’t want to lie to him, but she wasn’t in the mood for a fight, either. To her relief, he decided to let it go.

  “I’ll be in touch when it’s over,” he told her. “The Navy will want a full debrief.”

  His eyes said he’d want one, too—and maybe an explanation—and she nodded. “I’ll have one ready,” she promised but didn’t define which debrief she meant before she ended the call.

  She made it to the prep room as Stephanie wandered in. The Morgana had temporarily receded, and the girl studied the symbols of office they’d been given. “I guess it’s time to test these new badges,” she murmured.

  Vishlog wandered past as she said it. “Badges,” he grumbled defiantly. “We don’t need no stinkin’ badges.”

  For a moment, the Morgana flashed before Stephanie surfaced and outrage made her eyes blaze a brilliant blue. She pivoted to scan the team’s ready room. “Who’s been showing Vishlog old twentieth-century movies, again?”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Stephanie’s return did not last long. She was gone by the time the team’s dropship had lifted and the Morgana was in complete and irrevocable residence when she took a position behind the pilots. Doing their best to ignore her, Brenden and Avery guided the ship toward the target.

  It rose out of the ocean several hundred kilometers in the distance. As they flew closer, Brenden could make out the rugged outlines of a fortress carved into the island itself.

  “Well, that doesn’t look friendly,” he muttered and opened the comms.

  “Casamio Island, this is Corsair Flight 90210 requesting permission to land. Repeat, this is Corsair Flight 90210 requesting permission to land. Casamio Island, do you read me?”

  “We read you loud and clear, Corsair. Permission declined. Fly on to Rock Apes Paradise. They’re open for visitors.”

  Rock Apes Paradise? Are these guys for real? He glanced at Avery, but the man merely shook his head. Behind them, the Morgana gave an inelegant snort.

  “Aaah, negative Casamio. We do not have the fuel reserves to reach Rock Apes. Request permission to land and refuel, over.”

  “Casamio to Corsair. Specs on your craft show it should have fuel reserves to return to your point of origin. Permission denied.”

  He kept the vessel on course and thought fast before he replied. “Negatory, Casamio. We ruptured a fuel line leaving NorAm air space and require emergency repairs and refueling. You are our closest destination.”

  “Alter course, Corsair 90210. You do not have permission to enter our air space. Scans show no damage to your fuel lines. Alter your course for Rock Apes Paradise or we will be forced to offer deterrents.”

  “Casamio, we have Federation approval for landing.”

  “Corsair, you do not need to land on our island and you are not welcome. I repeat. Fly on to Rock Apes Paradise.”

  “Negatory, Casamio, our charts show no location with that designation. Repeat, Rock Apes Paradise is unlisted. We are exercising our Federation permission to land.”

  The voice on the other end of the line chuckled. “Corsair 90210, you will not land on Casamio Island. Allow us to assist you to locate Rock Apes Paradise.”

  “Your assistance is appreciated, Casamio.”

  The island’s response coincided with several alarms going off at once. “I doubt it.”

  The line went dead
and the pilot registered two missiles that streaked in their direction.

  “Those unfriendly, smart-assed sonsofbitches,” he snarled. “Who’s he calling a rock ape, anyway?”

  Frog laughed. “I got this—and if the boot fits…”

  “You are so banned from watching that cartoon ever again.”

  “Why? Steph likes it.” He looked hopefully at the Morgana but she did not respond.

  She was too busy staring out through the cockpit.

  “You’d better sit down, Steph,” Brenden told her but didn’t look back. “This will definitely get rough.”

  “I do not need to sit,” she replied, “but you are right about one thing. This will get very rough.”

  Frog’s hands flew over his console, followed almost immediately by two distant flares of light. “See?” he asked. “There’s nothing they can throw at us that we can’t handle—oh, hell.”

  “Brace for evasive maneuvers.” Brenden’s voice sounded clear and calm through the intercom that connected the cockpit to the passenger compartment.

  Two more blips joined the two that had already appeared.

  “I assume they aren’t impressed,” Avery suggested.

  “Yeah,” the pilot replied. “I’ll take that as ‘come and get us, copper.’”

  “Their intent is clear,” the Morgana intoned and energy crackled over her skin. “Now, it is time to make our presence felt.”

  “Gotcha, lady,” Frog replied as he released a storm of rounds toward the incoming missiles.

  Two exploded and a third followed. They evaded the fourth and his teammate annihilated it after it had passed. Before they could celebrate their victory, four more blips lit their screens, followed by another eight as more launchers revealed their locations. One of the two Navy shuttles behind them squawked a protest.

  “You couldn’t wait to piss them off until we’d landed?”

  “We didn’t want you to be bored,” Brenden snarked in response. He turned his head to snap at Stephanie. “I need you to sit down.”

  She looked back serenely. “Do your worst, pilot. I will be fine.”

  He had no choice but to take her word for it, reefed the steering column hard to port, and tipped the vessel on its side. In the passenger compartment, a cat yowled in protest and someone cursed.

  “You throw up on me, Johnny boy and we won’t be friends anymore.”

  “How about any less?”

  “Woohoo!”

  “Well at least someone’s having a good time…” Avery muttered when he heard Marcus shout.

  “He’s always like that,” Frog bitched. “You should see him on a rollercoaster. That boy needs to be nailed to his seat or he tries to surf the bastard down the rails.”

  “Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself?” Avery asked as Brenden grunted and sent the dropship into a corkscrew.

  “You know this thing was never meant to fly like that, don’t you?”

  He laughed and the Morgana’s cold chuckle joined him as she rotated her finger and the craft flipped the other way. This time, the Navy pilots were impressed.

  “How the hell are you holding that thing together—whups—”

  If Brenden had paid attention, he’d have seen the shuttle behind him make rapid evasive maneuvers to avoid the panel that peeled off the dropship.

  “Huh. I’m guessin’ you aren’t. You don’t plan to try to fly that piece of shit out of here once we’re done, do you?”

  “Play nice,” the pilot retorted brusquely, “or I’ll be kickin’ your ass instead of savin’ it when you need me.”

  “Brave words for a man doin’ his best to get killed before he makes landfall.”

  “Incoming,” Frog interjected, then said, “Brenden, I’m not gonna get ʼem all.”

  “No. But I will.” The Morgana replied before the other man could formulate an answer.

  He didn’t bother to try, after that, and simply focused on an attempt to avoid the incoming barrage of missiles. Things became even worse when the hidden shore batteries opened fire.

  “Holy…shit…” Frog sounded like he had trouble breathing. “These bastards are prepared.”

  “Do you think they knew were coming?” Avery asked.

  “Nah, mate,” one of the Marines responded. “They’re only real happy ta see ya.”

  “And up yours, too.”

  “Ooh, and I thought you were more creative than that.”

  “Creative would be wasted on you.”

  The Navy pilot tutted in reproof. “That’s not what you told me last night.”

  “I thought you said you’d keep last night a secret.”

  “Pillow talk, sweetie. All pillow talk.”

  Tracer rounds flashed ahead of them and more missiles followed.

  “Dammit. You guys sure know how to throw a party.”

  “Less talking. More dancing,” Brenden snapped. “This is gonna be bad.”

  He lifted the nose, then sent the vessel into a twisting dive to take it below the incoming fire. Some of it followed him down and the craft shuddered.

  “Tell me we’re close,” Johnny muttered. “I need to kill someone.”

  “Close to crashing? Or close to landing?” Frog wanted to know as he obliterated another missile.

  “You’re not helping, Frog.” Lars wasn’t impressed.

  The Morgana stood within a column of blue, unmoved by the dropship’s maneuvering or the way the floor shook beneath her feet. Her eyes glowed with dark fire and she raised a hand.

  “Bring us in to land,” she commanded. “I will clear the way.”

  “She’s gonna what?” squawked one of the Naval ships.

  The question was no sooner in the airwaves than a burst of blue light surged out of the team’s dropship. It spread like a shockwave that rippled out over the incoming fire as well as the ships behind them.

  “Well, I’ll be…what the goddam hell was that?”

  “Bring us all in to land,” the Morgana commanded and the Navy ships squawked protests as their shuttles followed their lead.

  “I need them parallel but safe,” Brenden called and his teeth rattled as the ship bucked and shuddered. Avery helped steady it without interfering with his control.

  They landed hard and its landing gear collapsed when the pilot encountered a rocky outcrop on the way down that he couldn’t avoid.

  “I hope you gave the Navy a nicer ride in,” Frog muttered as he released his harness and snatched up his rifle and an extra blaster.

  “The Navy shuttles will fly again,” the Morgana replied and glanced through the cockpit. “I will shield our exit.”

  They found the door closed and well-defended. Barricades had been built to narrow the approach and funnel any invaders into a killing field of the crossfire. Lars pulled them back before they marched into it.

  “Destroy the guns!” he ordered. “Maybe they’ll provide another way in.”

  The Marines went in opposite directions and each team competed to see who could find the most guns and wrest control of them from their operators the fastest.

  “The team with the most men remaining wins,” Frog added when they were deciding the stakes. “The Morgana doesn’t like losing people.”

  “Then you’d better be careful out there. We’re not her people.”

  Oh, shit, the guard thought when she turned and her gaze swept the field.

  Her voice echoed through their comms and the air around them. “You are all my people. I will not lose any of you. Eliminate this enemy.”

  Her command ended any further discussion. The teams fell silent and each moved purposefully toward their designated target. Frog caught Lars’s signal and moved closer. The Morgana crouched beside them with Elizabeth hunkered beside her.

  “The Marines are taking the gun emplacements on either side,” the team leader explained and tapped his tablet, “but we need to get these doors open and the approach cleared.”

  “There is no other way in,” the W
itch intoned. “I will open the doors.”

  “No! Wait!” he shouted but she was beyond listening.

  She strode swiftly to the mouth of the funnel and the cats paced on either side as the team scrambled to catch up. “Stay close,” she ordered, and Johnny and Lars took position behind her with Elizabeth between them. Marcus and Frog slid in next, followed by Brenden and Avery.

  “New guy goes last,” Vishlog muttered. “I don’t think so.”

  As she began to move forward, the warrior moved up the line until he stood beside her, his rifle at the low ready as he positioned himself to cover her advance. Johnny moved across to work with Lars, and Zeekat stepped out so he ran at the big Dreth’s side.

  “I am her arms man. My place is here,” Vishlog declared and no one argued.

  A wall of blue appeared around them and the Morgana stepped past the first barricade. Bullets careened into the shield and each impact rippled across it. She raised her hands to push the barrier outward as she walked.

  The further forward they went, the greater the fusillade directed against them. Her lip curled.

  “Get ready,” she commanded, and lightning arced over her body and danced across the shield.

  Sweat darkened her hairline and her hands trembled as each new barrage pounded into the magical wall surrounding them. They reached the doors and she turned.

  “I cannot open the door and hold the shields,” she told them. “Prepare yourselves.”

  They chose their cover and were moving toward it when she drew her hands inward and pushed them out to hurl the shield away from her in an unbroken wall. It collided into the ends of each barricade in its path and shattered them easily.

  Now that they were behind the barriers, the team had clear lines of sight to the men and women who manned them. It was like looking down corridors with half walls. Unfortunately, the rebels had the identical line of sight and they’d had time to shift their aim.

  The shield scythed through their front rank and lightning flared to sizzle over them while they screamed and the flesh melted from their bones. The second rank adjusted their aim and fired at the wall while they scrambled back in a panic, but the onslaught had lost its power and the Morgana was no longer watching.