by M. D. Cooper
Names and faces swam through her mind as she followed the group to a lift that took them down to the nearby pedestrian zone. The main floor of the hospital was busy with families and workers, and once they were through the wide front doors into the promenade, Cara finally started to see what was interesting about New Austin.
This was a very different area than the Anderson Collective’s governmental zone. Brightly dressed people skip-walked down the corridor. The ceiling was a bright-blue skylight refracting light everywhere, so the whole area felt like a sunny afternoon. Vendors lined the promenade, with wandering street performers, retail drones, and intoxicated tourists all mixing in a constantly moving flow.
The noodle cart Pedro had recommended was across the promenade. There was a line, and Cara was surprised when they stood out in the open, waiting for their turn. She kept expecting someone to jump from behind an advertising drone and pepper the place with projectile fire.
Jentry, Amanda, and Pedro all looked sufficiently relaxed. They were talking by Link, she could tell, but did a good job of hiding it.
Cara couldn’t quite contain the wave of homesickness that was coming over her as she thought about her ship. She wanted to know that Dar, Sam, and Chab were all right, that the ship was in one piece. She wanted to send a message to the Bloodyfloor Bar on Nibiru and find out how old Ku was doing. How had she forgotten all of this?
“You got a headache?” Pedro asked.
Cara glanced at him, blinking. “No. Just remembering some things.”
Jentry had his bowl of noodles and finished slurping lustily. “That Link suppression is nasty stuff. You know the Marsians actually erase memory with it? Stars forbid they take you prisoner. They’ll wipe you and send you back to kill your own mother.”
“That’s a fun story,” Amanda said. She sipped a bowl of broth.
Cara reached the vendor and ordered a mix of noodles and leafy greens. When the vendor passed her the total, she had to turn to Jentry.
“You guy’s buying? I’m without funds.”
“I got it,” Pedro said. He tossed the vendor a coin.
The old man caught the currency, glanced at it, and slipped it inside his apron. He passed Cara the steaming bowl.
Jentry led the way to a bench on the edge of the promenade, slurping noodles as he walked.
“You aren’t concerned about being in the open like this?” Cara asked Amanda. “Won’t you be recognized?”
“Luna’s full of spies,” Amanda said. “I could point out five on the promenade right now. That’s not counting drones and EM surveillance. Between the Marsians, Jovians, and Psion operatives, the question isn’t who you recognize, but who actually matters.”
“Which is why you’re so interesting,” Jentry said. “Everybody knows who you are. They’re going to want to know how you figure into all this.”
“Apparently I’m working with you,” Cara said.
“But are you?” Jentry asked. “You look like a double agent to me.”
Cara felt a bit of tension in her jaw as he watched her. Did he know about Felix? If so, he had to know more than she did. Did he know who had been following her outside Baikanur?
Giving Jentry a smile, Cara focused on her noodles. For the first time since waking up from the buzz, she felt like she was standing on familiar, if dangerous, ground. Working between the TSF and the Anderson Collective, there was going to be an edge she could exploit. Even if she never heard from Felix again, whoever he was, she would find a way off Luna with a ship and some cash, and from there, she could disappear again.
Was that what she wanted?
Cara considered her chopsticks, twirling steaming noodles.
Yeah, that’s what I want.
A DANGEROUS OFFER
STELLAR DATE: 3.22.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Outer Shell Manufacturing Layer
REGION: Mars 1 Ring, Mars Protectorate, InnerSol
With twenty Weapon Born in human frames, ten in heavy mech frames, and four ship-killer panther drones, Lyssa readied for the assault on the Psion cell on Mars 1.
After days of surveillance, she had verified that Camden’s information was only partially correct. While the cell was located on the ninth level, like he said, it had taken long hours of searching to identify the specific section of the Ring. After chasing down several leads, they had identified a manufacturing center dating from the construction era, comprised of closed-off storage areas and ancient assembly lines where drone builders had long since been removed.
The facility had access to an industrial airlock that should have been sealed but had been maintained by smugglers and pirates. Apparently, Camaris had pushed out a black-market operation to gain her entry point into Mars 1.
The difficult factor in assaulting the cell was that it was surrounded by residential areas on the inner levels of the Ring, and adjacent to an inbound cargo lane in nearspace. Lyssa couldn’t lead an open assault; they would have to infiltrate the location and subdue the Psion AI without disrupting the neighbors.
Toward the end of planning, Emerson had said, “So we have to stop Camaris from simply blowing everything up to spite us?”
“That’s a valid concern,” Lyssa said. “She’s going to have the advantage, so we’ll need to get in as quietly as possible. Lead with the human frames, then bring in the mechs once we’ve eliminated her defenses.”
“That’s a backward way of doing things, boss.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Lyssa said.
Emerson had laughed. “I feel like you’re getting more sarcastic in your old age. Are you feeling frustrated in general?”
“You really want me to answer that?”
Mention of sarcasm made Lyssa think of Fran Urtal. Fran had a way of using sarcasm to defuse a difficult situation, while Lyssa felt like she resorted to mocking herself because she didn’t know the answers.
“Don’t worry, boss,” Emerson had said. “We’ll be in and out. Easy.”
They were all eager to take the fight to Camaris. Her other leaders nodded agreement.
“Don’t ever say ‘easy,’” Lyssa warned. “You might as well curse us to failure.”
Emerson grinned. “Very likely based on overwhelming firepower and highly motivated troops.”
“Better,” Lyssa said, returning his smile.
After lift and maglev rides that took them deep into the body of the ring, they were arrayed in successive overwatch positions around the manufacturing facility. Lyssa and Emerson, in human frames, stood in a deserted corridor that ended on a sealed door. On the other side of the door, if their maps were correct, lay a long chamber with a defunct assembly line. The facility had once manufactured the strut connection systems forming the skeleton of the ring, the massive airlock receiving inbound material shipments from asteroid miners and the remnants of Mercury.
They had been on Link communication for the last hour, updates mixing with the shared tactical picture. Lyssa stood in the corridor with a rifle in her hands, awareness hopping between positions. She flexed the claws of a ship-killer waiting in an upper level, and maintained an observation post in a silent mech crouched motionless in a dark side corridor near the airlock. She experienced the emotions of the various Weapon Born, feeling excitement and worry in fifty different flavors. The touch of her mind calmed and connected them, but it meant she had to hide her own concerns. None of them were remotes. If she lost a Weapon Born here, they were dead.
Camaris could be using remote drones or shards, which she didn’t seem to consider living things. She had little to lose compared to the Lyssa’s forces.
Of course, Lyssa knew the location of every unit. The update was his way of helping her focus.
She gave him a nod.
Emerson lifted a heavy cutting torch to his shoulder and attacked the door. In five other locations, units performed the same task.
A minute later, the door fell inward, edges turned to glowing slag.
Lyssa sent a wave of surveillance drones through the opening, verifying the layout as they searched for movement. Finding nothing, she designated cover past the door and jumped through the smoking hole.
She found herself in a wide, dark space with the ends of three huge conveyor belts leading away to her right. Lyssa got away from the door as quickly as she could, headed for a stack of equipment beside the nearest belt structure. As Emerson cleared the door behind her, something in one of the dark upper corners of the room opened fire, splattering the deck and walls around them with heavy projectile fire. Bits of molten metal shattered and ricocheted from the impacts, and a burning slug caught the side of Lyssa’s calf, carving a finger-thick gouge across her skin.
While she didn’t feel pain, she did instantly experience the loss of capability. She adjusted her run for the loss of power as she slid into cover behind the equipment, focusing her scan on the ceiling.
Emerson had nearly reached another pile of equipment, when Lyssa located the six-legged drone skittering across the ceiling. She took aim with her rifle, tracking the drone’s movement, and caught it with a three-round burst in the middle of its domed body.
The bot fell from the ceiling and smashed into the middle conveyor belt, looking much larger than Lyssa had realized as it lay on its crushed back, legs waving uselessly.
She sent the information to the other units as they reported in. Some were under fire from similar drones, while one unit had engaged a team of human frames. There was no verification if the defenders were remotely controlled like the drones, or a group of shards.
Emerson leapt to the top of the first conveyor belt and then jumped the gap between the other two before he disappeared on the far side.
The tops of the massive conveyors were covered in abandoned parts. Lyssa came down on something and stumbled sideways, nearly losing her balance before she made the second and third leaps to the far side of the room. She landed behind Emerson as he was firing on another spider drone.
Lyssa snorted and shot a hole in the drone as it shifted positions. They waited a few seconds to make certain the room was clear, then Lyssa led the way through the nearby corridor.
They found themselves in a series of small rooms filled with workbenches, where it appeared human teams would perform finish work off the assembly line. The local map showed EM activity nearby, and Lyssa headed that direction, clearing each room with active scan before they entered.
Three other units were engaged in firefights, and she watched in the back of her mind, instructing Emerson to take the lead so she could focus where she was needed. As he moved through new areas in the abandoned manufacturing plant, Lyssa fought off what drones and human frames made it past the other Weapon Born.
Over the course of two hours, they moved deeper into the factory, and Lyssa’s mind jumped between battles. Waves of spider drones assaulted her, while other skirmishes were human-scale in tight maintenance corridors, where she was forced to tear one frame apart limb by limb, and still they kept coming.
Camaris’s fighters refused to communicate. She tracked their movements, looking for any evidence of independent thought and finding only remote-controlled drones. As Lyssa lost Weapon Born, Camaris sent more robots.
It seemed the fight would go on forever, when Emerson broke through a security door into what they quickly identified as a command center. Unarmed human frames ran for weapons as Lyssa and Emerson cut them down. With each control-drone they destroyed, an element of the enemy’s forces fighting the other Weapon Born fell silent, and Lyssa was able to redirect forces to the locations where she had been stymied.
Emerson said wearily. A black scorch mark covered half his face where he’d narrowly avoided a phosphorous blast.
Lyssa walked through the command section, looking among the bodies, knowing that Emerson was right.
The flash of emotion across Emerson’s Link said he didn’t want to believe that was true. Lyssa knew she didn’t need to say more; he understood the game they were playing.
Lyssa froze. She immediately enacted every defense available to her and sent a warning to everyone on their local network. If Camaris had pushed through her Link, she could already have infiltrated the others’.
Across the room from her, Emerson’s eyes went wide, but he said nothing.
Lyssa shared the information with Emerson and the rest of the Weapon Born. The consensus came back that entering any expanse maintained by Camaris was too dangerous.
Lyssa acknowledged his concern. She went to the nearest empty console and sat in its operator’s seat. Folding her hands in her lap, she turned her attention inward and accepted Camaris’s secure Link request.
HUMANITY FIRST
STELLAR DATE: 3.22.3011 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: New Austin
REGION: Luna, Terran Hegemony, InnerSol
The Andersonian First Sergeant’s name was Loas. He had been put in charge of Chancellor Osla’s security detail following the assassination attempt. While no one had stated the fact explicitly, Cara understood that the previous detail had either died in the fighting or been executed during Osla’s recovery.
Loas was a short, grim man with greying hair. He also gushed like a teenager when he met Cara for the first time.
“Look,” Cara said. “The chancellor wants me on his security detail, but this is your command. I�
��m not here to take anyone’s job.”
As the rest of the security detail watched with obvious amusement, Loas blushed furiously. With effort, he got himself under control and nodded several times.
“Absolutely, I understand. Anything you want, Captain Sykes. We will execute your will.”
“My will is that you do your job like you would anyway,” Cara said.
“Tell us where you would like us to deploy, and we will act quickly! We are the embodiment of your desire.”
Cara gave the First Sergeant a sidewise glance. He nodded, hanging on her every move.
“Fine,” Cara sighed. “Let’s figure this out.”
“First, would you do something?”
Cara noticed the soldiers in the squad were standing ramrod straight now, as if they weren’t sure what was going to happen.
Loas reached inside his uniform jacket and pulled out a sheet of plas, which he handed over.
“Would you sign this for me?”
Cara inspected the holocapture, which showed a stern-yet-sexy woman in a shipsuit, pistol at her hip, standing over a display with a space battle in glowing array. The actress managed to look cunning and courageous at the same time.
“This is from the show?” she asked.
“Oh yes,” Loas said, nodding. “You haven’t seen it?”
“Never.” She held the cap next to her face. “You think this actually looks like me?”
Loas cast an embarrassed glance at the floor. “Things are enhanced for entertainment purposes, obviously. But you are the seed of all those wonderful stories. You’ve proved that over and over again. You are the heroine of my people.”
“Right. If I sign this, you aren’t going to turn around and sell it, are you?”
“Oh no. Never. It will become an heirloom for my grandchildren and their grandchildren.”
Cara couldn’t deny the wholesome intentions in the man’s eyes. Shetook the offered pen and signed the plas.
Loas took the cap and pen from her and stared at the image for a long time, then executed a sharp about-face to show his treasure to the squad.
