by Susan Grant
She walked swiftly down the hall. Her chin weighed about a thousand pounds, but she managed to keep it high. Bruce Keene, the party leader, stopped her before she could enter the room where the weekly caucus luncheon took place. “Bad luck with the photos,” he said.
“I’m not taking this lying down. I have a press conference scheduled this afternoon, the radio tomorrow. No one buys me, Bruce. My ethics are beyond reproach. I represent the people and I came to office to accomplish what they elected me to do. Special interest groups have no hold over me.”
Her words emboldened her, and she actually felt up to lunch, discussing the situation with the more experienced members of her party, but Bruce shook his head and took her by the arm, leading her a few yards away from the door. From inside came the delicious aroma of a catered lunch and the din of voices. “You’re not invited.”
The heat of mortification flamed in her face. “Bruce, you’re not allowing me inside?”
“Look, we’ve got the press lined up downstairs. My phone’s been ringing off the hook. I don’t want this kind of attention on the party, not with so many elections hanging in the balance this fall. I’m sorry, Jana. Get things cleaned up on your end, and you can come back.” With an apologetic look, he stepped backward and closed the door. Closing her off from her colleagues.
Jana fell against the wall. She was shaking from her head to her toes. If she’d had any doubts about it before, they were gone now: she was officially persona non grata.
It was a wake-up call.
Despite her promises to Cavin that she’d stick her neck out, she hadn’t done it. All day she’d naively maintained the status quo, going about her routine, as if her world wasn’t crumbling around her. And all because she hadn’t broken free of her lifelong fear of being seen as different, as something less than everyone else. Something to be pitied. Well, if there was any pitying to be going on, it should be her feeling sorry for herself!
How could she still be so worried about how others saw her when she was in hot water for something she didn’t do? How could she be so concerned about her reputation when with one word, someone could trash her public image in the space of a few hours? Sure, she needed to keep her nose clean while her father and brother were under investigation, but her efforts were futile with someone so determined to take her down. Being good did no good. Hadn’t she learned that by now? It was time to do what was right no matter how she might look coming out the other side.
But the idea of doing so made her knees wobbly. She wasn’t wired like Cavin. Heroics weren’t her strong suit. Dependability was. Loyalty. Hard work. Not this, not what she was being asked to do—convincing, at the likelihood of her own ruin, those in positions of power to give an extraterrestrial access to a spacecraft everyone denied existed. What made her so sure they’d believe her story? What if General Mahoney insisted that no alien craft had ever existed? Why would the president of the United States bother listening to a lowly state legislator whose family was under investigation for everything from fraud to involvement in syndicated crime? Hadn’t she already lost this race before she got out of the starting gate?
Never be afraid of going for it, even when someone tells you your chances of succeeding are one in a million.
Jana caught her breath. The words echoed inside her mind. Her father had told her that countless times, but she’d never had to test herself until now. “Okay, Dad,” she whispered. “You asked for it. You created a monster and for better or for worse, it’s just been unleashed.”
She opened her cell phone and dialed the governor’s office. The secretary answered. “Governor Schwarzkopf’s office.”
“Hi, Willa. It’s Senator Jana Jasper.” After the usual brief pleasantries were exchanged, Jana got to business. “Would you please see what the governor’s schedule looks like for a private meeting today or tomorrow?” And I bet it’s one he remembers all year.
“He’s completely booked. It’ll have to wait until after recess. I can fit you in the second week after the holiday.”
Two weeks. Too late. “Tell him I understand it may be difficult to work me in, but that I must see him as soon as possible. It’s urgent,” she said, her heart in her mouth because it wasn’t the vodka and caviar scandal she’d be bringing up, but a subject of far more consequence. “It affects the entire state.” Actually, it affects the entire world, Willa, but maybe we should feed this to the governor a little at a time.
Jana hung up after the secretary promised to do what she could. The ball was now in motion.
The day hurtled onward with no more catastrophes. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane: a false impression of calm before the storm. Because it was the calm before the storm. After today, nothing would be the same.
THE ENRAGED CHIHUAHUA lunged at Reef and sank its teeth into his pants leg. He didn’t feel a thing through his armor, only incessant tugging at his ankle as he stalked up to the rear doors of the dwelling. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
He was struck by the immediate and almost overwhelming sense of calm that stole over him. He could not recall ever experiencing such a sensation simply from entering a dwelling anywhere in the galaxy. He could not recall experiencing such a sensation period, for that matter.
The dwelling was rich in deep hues that reminded him of gourmet delights, the earthy color of ebbe bark, the furry underside of icquit leaves, the latter a surprisingly vivid impression left from what were only snatches of very faint memories of the few years spent as a normal youngster on his home world before he’d been taken away to become a bioengineered combatant. The scents he couldn’t identify, but the spicy sweetness was extraordinarily pleasing. He breathed deep. Then caught himself. It was not his place to feel such things. Not in the middle of a hunt.
“Yarp! Yarp!” The annoying pet danced around his boots, alternately tearing at his pants and nearly tripping him as he paused to study a grouping of two-dimensional images enclosed in wood frames. A woman with a glowing smile and thick, shining dark brown hair stood alone in one, her head tossed to the side, her luxuriant hair spilling over one shoulder. Her body was as lush as her hair. The creamy tops of her breasts were tantalizingly visible above the neckline of her shirt, and she seemed to be laughing, teasing him, luring him into her private world of warmth and happiness. A man could lose himself in a woman like that…
A man. Not a REEF. He shook thoughts of the woman from his mind. Was this the female Far Star had escaped with? If so, Reef could see why the soldier had taken her.
“Yarp, yarp. Yarp!” Irritably, Reef used his foot to shove the irksome beast away. The Chihuahua slid across the wood floor and spun into the wall. In an instant, it was back on its feet, claws scrabbling for purchase as it launched its heaving, scrawny body at him. Reef considered snapping the little creature’s neck, but it would leave a sign Far Star might interpret as him having visited here. Reef’s best chance at killing cleanly and efficiently came from an element of surprise. He’d lost that surprise when he lost his target in the Earth market. Now he had to try to get it back. Once he did, Far Star was his.
Reef heard his pants rip. The Chihuahua tore off a piece of the fabric, shaking it, and returned for another mouthful. “Enough.” He aimed his gauntlet at the pet. In a whirl of blue-white energy, it lifted off the floor. He floated it up toward the ceiling. The little dog pedaled its legs, as determined as ever to attack him. Its mouth dripped with foam. “Stay there.”
A wave of dizziness overtook him once more. This time his vision took longer to recover. After the whine in his ears subsided, a faint whistle remained. He didn’t like this, not in the least. A simple act such as floating the dog had taxed his systems. No matter. He had his weapons. He didn’t need his biotech to operate those.
He turned on his gauntlet and did another search. Nothing. No sign of the man. Unfamiliar frustration sparked inside him. The thrill of a difficult hunt was one thing, but taking this long to locate his prey was entirely another. This, he
didn’t like.
Reef turned in a circle. Where had Far Star disappeared to? Energy traces confirmed he’d been inside the dwelling. As recently as last night. But Reef was too late in coming here. Once again, his prey had slipped out of his hands.
This mission must not fail. For one, failure was personally abhorrent. It would be even more so to those who’d hired him. And with Reef’s ship too damaged to fly, at the completion of his mission he’d have called for a covert pickup. But who would come retrieve an assassin who could not kill? Without confidence in his abilities to carry out a termination assignment, there would be no more reason for anyone to employ his services. If he failed here, he failed utterly: his trip to Earth became one-way, and his life became meaningless.
Failure, it appeared, was no more an option than it ever was, but Reef felt a sweat break over him realizing how much more hung in the balance than the mere completion of a kill.
He must find Far Star.
He reviewed his options. The code. Yes, there was that, but he hadn’t considered it because it was personally repulsive to him. Those who’d paid for this mission had supplied the code to him, but he had dismissed its use, because of pride, but perhaps its use could stand as a last resort, should Reef get to that point.
All Coalition military personnel had access codes built in to their bioimplants, though few, if any, knew it was the case. Reef certainly had not been aware until he’d been told. The code allowed a foreign computer to deliver a signal to the internal bioimplants found in all Coalition soldiers. It was how the Coalition kept ultimate control of their resources, Reef surmised; without a doubt there was a code for him as well. If used maliciously, the technique ultimately degraded the host body by destroying the bioimplants. As far as Reef knew, no other assassin had ever been given such a code. Probably because no other REEF had been hired by such a highly positioned government official.
If used maliciously…
Reef had no qualms about malicious behavior. If he hacked into Far Star’s body, he’d be able to wreak all sorts of havoc. He found it distastefully unprofessional to play overly much with his prey before killing it. But in light of the circumstances, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to slow Far Star down enough to allow Reef to catch up to him. Then the fight would be on. He’d even let Far Star run and get a head start.
Reef loaded the code into his computer and transmitted.
Nothing happened.
Now that was decidedly unsatisfying, he thought. He neither saw nor felt what the access had done to Far Star, if anything at all.
He would try again later.
Reef cast a sharp gaze around the room. A stack of rolled packets of grayish-white papers littered the dining table. Earth news, he realized. In printed form. He’d had luck gleaning the information he needed from visual news; perhaps news in print would yield similar results. His visual scanner-translator for Earth text was slow, but he had a few moments to spare. He sat in one of the chairs. The wood table gleamed. He saw in its polished, fragranced surface a hard face. A cold face. It told him that he didn’t belong in this inviting, comfortable dwelling. As it should be. The REEF-O1A was not designed for domestic use.
He opened all the newspapers and ordered them by date. He chose the most recent, from that very morning, and tried to make sense of the odd, blocky letters. The front page contained only several gray-toned images of a pretty, slender, crisply dressed woman. He saw no text about the EM pulse, no hints regarding his target. As he lifted the corner of the page to turn to the next, the sight of the woman’s shoes stopped him. They were familiar. But why?
“Yarp, yarp!” The dog protested its flight. But Reef’s attention remained on the shoes on the woman’s feet. She stood there, tipping a drink into her mouth. He zoomed in on the shoes and recorded the image. Then he accessed his archives, looking for a match. In point-eight seconds, he had it.
The shoe was identical in every way to the one found abandoned in the street the night Reef had pursued and had failed to catch his target. All the television news shows had carried the image, because they, like Reef, believed Far Star had taken a hostage that night. Now Reef knew who she was.
Senator Jana Jasper.
Finally, a break. Where the woman was, Far Star was. This, Reef knew in his gut, that human part of him that often gave information with as much accuracy if not more than his bio-computers.
He returned the paper to its precise, original condition and turned to leave.
“Yarp, yarp. Yarp!” The creature’s barking changed in tone. From where it floated, the snarling snapping humanoid pet tried like mad to reach the front entrance. Reef saw why. Two heat signatures appeared at the door: Humanoid, male. Quantity: 1. Weight: 202. Humanoid, female. Quantity 1. Weight: 146.
They carried weapons. Their uniforms indicated they were paramilitary personnel, perhaps law enforcement wardens.
Reef drew his weapon and stood. As the door flew open, he invoked invisibility. To his relief, his balky systems cooperated. The wardens had not seen him. Reef wasn’t certain how long he’d remain invisible, or how long he could stave off the inevitable dizziness, and he moved away quickly.
He ducked out the rear exit, but not before he glimpsed the amusing sight of the Chihuahua dropping from the ceiling, foaming and furious, onto a startled warden’s head. They would, he suspected, be talking about this incident for a long time to come.
He strode out of the backyard and to the vehicle that had carried him here. As he did, he brought up the profile on Jana Jasper stored on his computer. As was the case with all Earth leaders, every fact was in the databank, at his fingertips. Fingertips itching to pull the trigger that would terminate Prime-major Far Star and free the both of them, albeit in different ways, from this gods-forsaken world. Jana Tatiana Jasper, I very much look forward to meeting you.
Chapter Eighteen
CLUTCHING HIS LEFT ARM to his stomach, Cavin kept moving, walking endless circuits around the park. The sharp pain he’d felt some time ago in the area of his left forearm had subsided to a dull throbbing ache. Disturbingly, it came from the area of the bioimplant that interfaced with his gauntlet computer. Was it another injury he’d suffered in the crash? If so, why hadn’t it bothered him until now? It would have to heal slowly, like his abdominal wound had done, now nearly healed. The level of nano-meds in his body was low, but given time, they would heal him internally. It just might take days, maybe even weeks, instead of hours.
Cavin continued his patrol. He felt useless, uneasy. Jana’s long absence bothered him due to his inability to protect her should something go wrong. His only consolation was that the building maintained a reasonable level of security, for Earth.
After another trip around the park, keeping watch on the building within which Jana labored, a male voice called out to him. “You gotta put it down, man.”
Cavin turned toward the man sitting on a bench. Despite the pleasant temperature, he was swaddled in a thick green jacket. A ragged, soiled jacket. His belongings sat in bags on the grass. He sported a baseball cap like Jana had worn, but his read: Proud Vietnam Vet.
The man patted the bench. “You gotta put it down. They’re watching you.”
Cavin’s pulse kicked into a higher speed as he scanned the park, looking for threats. “Who is?”
“The capitol cops. There, on the steps.”
Cavin peered at two men in civilian clothes that looked to be loitering on the steps of Jana’s building.
“Plainclothes security,” the older man explained. “Anti-terrorist. They’ve made at least two phone calls about you. Next time past, they might stop you, ask you questions. Maybe pull you in if they don’t like your answers.”
Cavin sat on the opposite side of the bench. He could ill afford being “taken in” anywhere, by anyone. Not at the risk of delaying or even ending his mission. “They won’t like my answers,” he muttered.
The man coughed out a wheezy laugh. He squeezed the stub of a cigarette pinched
between two fingers. A slight palsy made his hand quiver. “Don’t matter how many times you walk the park, you ain’t gonna look like you’re from around here.”
Cavin glanced at him, startled. “I’m a tourist.”
The man seemed smug as he threw the cigarette stub to the ground and crushed it with battered boots. He coughed, one that came from deep within his lungs. “I guess you can say I’m a tourist, too. I never hang around for long. I’m a rolling stone.” He chuckled then coughed some more. It made his eyes water. “Been that way since the war, you know.” He pointed to his dirty cap. “’Nam.”
“This ’Nam, it was a war?”
“You got it right, man. They never admitted it, did they? I fought, I saw buddies killed over there. But, no, they said, it wasn’t a war.” He convulsed in another spasm of coughing and spat on the grass. “You look like a military man yourself.”
Cavin grunted. Said nothing.
“If you tell me, you have to kill me, right?” The older man nodded with respect. “I don’t need no help doing that. You ever in combat?”
“Many times.”
“Enlisted man or officer?”
“Started off as a grunt. Ended up as an officer.”
“Then you’re still okay. Still okay.” He gave another wheezy laugh.
This tattered man was a stranger, and yet he was familiar. Cavin had known many men like this one, soldiers who’d experienced things in combat that made it nearly impossible to blend back in with society. Without the anchor of family, and often even with that anchor, they were buffeted by nightmares and ultimately lost at sea. In particular, Cavin had seen what happened to soldiers after the Drakken got hold of them, and it was ugly. The Coalition may not be perfect, and he might disagree with them on many things, but they were all that stood between the galaxy and the Drakken horde.
“You got a smoke?”
“A smoke? Ah, no. Sorry.”