Ghost Ranger

by Dayne Edmondson

  I still didn’t know the identity of my target, but six months in the seventy-fifth Ranger battalion as a full-fledged Ranger had taught me not to question my superiors. I’d tried to push the cruise ship incident and the other morally gray actions to the back of my mind and forget them. I mostly succeeded - now they only haunted my nightmares.

  At last, I made my move. I leaped to the ground soundlessly, then crouched low and raced toward the rear entrance to the manor. Only one guard here, and he never saw me coming. I slammed my electro-staff into his gut, set only to stun, and he grunted and fell over.

  Opening the back door, I dragged the guard inside before the next patrol passed and quietly closed it. The passing guards would assume he’d gone inside to use the toilet...the first time around. I had until the same patrol passed twice - about ten minutes - before the alarm sounded and their awareness would be heightened.

  I found myself in an old-style kitchen, complete with a brick stove containing a black cauldron over glowing embers. I noted the lack of electric lighting and felt grateful.

  I peeked out through the door leading out of the kitchen but saw no one. To the back stairs, then. I crept up the stairs, cringing with each step, expecting a creak to emerge at any moment. Fortunately, no creaks came and I made it to the third story of the house unmolested, stopped not even by servants. The middle of the night proved a good time for assassins.

  His room is on the far eastern side of the manor, I reminded myself. They’d at least told me the target was a male.

  Two guards in front of a room at the far end of the hall on the third floor told me I had the correct room in sight. I settled on my plan of attack and withdrew my daggers. My memory flashed to hours spent practicing throwing such weapons since joining the Rangers. I steadied my breathing, cocked my right arm back first and let the first dagger fly, with the second arm already cocking back.

  The first dagger caught the first guard in the throat. He gurgled and fell. Before the second guard could do more than gape, the second dagger took him in the throat. I had been authorized to kill where necessary.

  Two minutes I reminded myself. Two minutes until the patrol passed by the back door and noticed the guard. I would have maybe ten seconds beyond that, accounting for the time it took to investigate.

  I tried the door but it was locked, as expected. The last line of defense. It was an analog door, no access panels in sight. I placed a small explosive charge between the knob and the frame, then activated it and stared expectantly. A soft pop emerged, followed by a slight whiff of smoke, but the latch had been severed.

  Pressing on the wood, I slipped inside. A parlor, like the kind I might see in a holo depicting a scene centuries earlier, when women wore big dresses and men smoked cigars, met me. Candles on the walls and a fire still going steady in the hearth illuminated the couches and chairs. A pair of double doors presumably led to the bedroom.

  I stood silent for several long moments, listening for any sounds which would suggest waiting guards. Hearing nothing, I crept around the couch and made for the door. This door was unlocked, as it was his private sanctum.

  Now to meet my target. I expected he was a dangerous opponent if I’d been sent to kill him. Probably a pirate overlord, infamous assassin or gang leader.

  I slid both sides of the double door open and peered inside. No lights illuminated my target, but I switched on the night-vision option within my implant and spotted him, laying in his bed.

  I had retrieved my daggers from the corpses of the two door guards, and I contemplated using them for this job. But I had been ordered to leave no evidence that could be traced back to the Rangers. Command didn’t want any evidence left behind.

  I withdrew my electro-staff again and extended it, avoiding activating the electric coils at first. Approaching the side of the bed, I held my breath. I hefted my staff and held my thumb over the activation switch. Three, two, one. Click, zap, the staff electrified.

  My target stirred, rolling over and grumbling groggily. Alarms blared in the distance.

  Before he could react, I swung the staff down, striking him in the head. No capturing today. He shuddered and screamed as several thousand volts coursed into his head, then fell still.

  Conscious of the alarms, I made for the parlor. A window on the far east-facing wall became my target and I shattered it with a strike of my still-extended staff.

  Alerted by the noise, guards on the ground below began firing coilguns. No old-fashioned weapons here - they meant business.

  I ducked to avoid the shots and drew upon my power to first surround me with an anti-gravity field and then to summon a ball of gravity above me. I tied them together and lifted off the ground. I forced the gravity ball higher and ascended at unprecedented speed. Up, up I went, ascending thousands of feet into the air. Several seconds later I reached low orbit and activated my comm. “Ghost One ready for pickup,” I said. “Mission accomplished.”

  “Acknowledged, Ghost One,” Captain Wilson said. “Bringing the Daedalus in to extract.”

  The assault ship streaked through the dark of space and slowed next to me, the airlock opening. It had no need to fear being spotted by sensors from such a primitive planet. If we were under fire they might need to take more drastic action to pick me up while avoiding enemy fire.

  Once aboard, Captain Wilson clapped me on the shoulder. “Good job, Private. The Federation is safer because of your actions.”

  “Sir, you still didn’t tell me who the target was,” I pointed out.

  “No, I didn’t,” he agreed.

  “Are you going to? Sir,” I added after a pause.

  “I suppose you’ve proven you’ll do the job no matter what. Fine.” He sighed and pulled out his datapad, then tapped on it a few times before holding it out to me. “Do you recognize this man?” On the display was a plump red-headed man with a big nose.

  “No, sir,” I said.

  “His name is Gregor Valanski. He’s the CEO of Valanski Industries.” At my blank expression, he continued. “They’re an energy provider popular in this sector.”

  “Why did he have to die?” I asked, an uneasy feeling battling against a pre-conceived conviction that this person had deserved to die. For something.

  “His company is suspected of having ties to the Cult of Rae, a fanatic cult. It therefore became politically expedient to eliminate him.”

  “Politically expedient?” I repeated. “You couldn’t just bring charges and investigate him?”

  He shrugged. “Bureaucracy. An investigation would have taken months, perhaps years, while he tied it up in the court system. It was decided by the Colonel that we end the threat now and see where it leads us.”

  “That makes sense, sir,” I responded. Sort of. It didn’t sit completely well with me, being killed before proven guilty in a court of law. Assuming he had been guilty, I agreed something needed to be done and was equally frustrated at the lack of justice in the Federation at times.

  “You’ve all earned some much-needed shore leave,” he announced. That elicited cheers from the other Rangers.

  I found Julianna. She smiled when she saw me. “Hey, partner. You run into any trouble?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I responded, doing my best to act as nonchalant as possible. “Let’s see what kind of trouble we can get into during shore leave.”

  Chapter 23

  Ah, shore leave. After six months as a full Ranger and months of training before that without much of a break, I couldn’t wait. It was only a week, but Julianna and I intended to make the most of it.

  Wearing my army fatigues I strolled down a crowded street in Junmai City on the planet of Hazeldein III. I marveled at the unique sights. Hazeldein III was known for its Shar’hai inspired culture, being a desert world and all. Junmai City, in fact, had been built along one of the largest rivers in the region, while desert surrounded it on all sides.

  The virtual tour guide Jarvis had pulled up explained that ninety percent
of the planet was desert or permafrost, mostly due to its closer proximity to its sun than normal planets in the “Goldilocks” zone. It’s founding colonists had run into several challenges when first reaching the planet, but had persevered and become a popular tourist destination. The sand-skiffs were of particular interest to me, as they would take tourists out into the middle of the desert to see the giant sand-worms.

  “Do you want to get a drink?” Julianna asked over the din. “Or go straight to the sand-skiff tour?”

  “How about drinks during the sand-skiff tour?” I asked.

  “Sounds...” she stopped. “What’s that?” she gestured up ahead, where a large crowd had gathered.

  As we neared, I realized they were surrounding someone. I stopped in my tracks, sweat breaking out and fear striking my Ranger heart. Images of the mob on Xaros III surrounding me and killing my friend flashed before my eyes. Their words drifted to my ears: “Undead go to Hell, undead go to Hell.”

  Julianna pushed through the crowd and I felt compelled to follow. I had to protect her and this time I had the means to.

  Together we pushed through the encircling mob and broke free to the center. There they found a man and a woman clutching each other and casting nervous glances at the mob. No, not nervous. Terrified. Their gazes settled on me and Julianna and they stepped back.

  I held up my hands. “No, wait, we mean you no harm.” I had to shout over the shouting of the crowd.

  They stopped backing up, possibly because it brought them closer to the crowd, but seemed a little calmer. “Who are you?” the man asked. He eyed our fatigues. “Soldiers?”

  “Yes, and we’re here to help,” I blurted. How to help was the next question. We could grab them and push them through the crowd. Or we could try to reason with the crowd. Yeah, right. I couldn’t exactly call in the cavalry like when I was previously in this position. And trying to fight, well, I could hurt innocent protesters. As if any of them yelling hateful comments were innocent.

  “What do we do?” Julianna asked. She didn’t know my history.

  “Try to walk them out of here,” I said. “Take my hand.” I held out my hand for the man to take. Then, when he grabbed it, moved toward the boundary of the crowd.

  The crowd wasn’t having it, however. I’d taken one step into the crowd when someone shoved me in the chest, pushing me back.

  “Get out of the way!” I shouted.

  “Undead go to Hell,” the crowd chanted back.

  I tried again but this time two men shoved me back, one hand on each shoulder.

  “We are Federation soldiers! Get out of our way!”

  “Not with the undead!” one of the big men shouted.

  I knew it was stupid, but on impulse I shouted, “I am undead too!”

  The big man’s eyes grew wide. He pointed right at me. “She’s one of them! She’s one of them!”

  If anything, the chanting of the crowd intensified. No one had drawn a weapon yet, that I could see, but I tensed, wishing I had my own weapons. Of course, weapons were not allowed while on shore leave. That didn’t mean I didn’t have other weapons at my disposal. Could I fly them out?

  I won’t let them hurt this couple like they hurt me. I would defend them. But how to diffuse the situation?

  “Captain Wilson,” I said through the squad comms. “Do you copy?”

  No answer.

  “Delta Company, does anyone copy?”

  No answer. Either we were too far from the ship, which was unlikely, or we were being jammed, which was also unlikely. But what other possibility was there. “Daedalus, do you copy?”

  “Are we being jammed?” Julianna asked, as if she’d read my mind.

  “Who would know we were here to jam us?”

  “Someone who wants to hurt us?”

  “Let me check.” Jarvis, are you able to tell if we are being jammed?

  One moment, miss, he responded. Seconds later, I am detecting a directional jamming field in the region, yes. It appears to be focused on this location. We are unable to broadcast.

  Damn. How long does it take to set something like that up?

  Based upon the wave signature, this is a commercial jamming field. Devices emitting this type of field are typically portable.

  Then why can’t my military-grade implant break through?

  I do not have enough power to amplify at the correct wavelength to breach the jamming field.

  Damn. Help wasn’t coming from the outside, then. “We’re definitely being jammed,” I confirmed aloud.

  Was it my imagination, or was the crowd closing in? Several protesters were holding mobile devices, recording the event. But with the jamming field, they couldn’t broadcast.

  “That’s it,” I said. “The jamming field. It’s to stop this from being recorded in real time and to stop them from calling for help.” Not targeted at us, then. That made me feel slightly better. It wasn’t a trap for us.

  “I have to get to high ground.” I looked to Julianna. “Defend them no matter the cost. I’ll fly up and call for help.”

  Julianna studied me. “Go. But you better come back.”

  “I promise.” Gathering my strength, I covered my body with anti-gravitons and tossed a ball of gravitons high into the air. I shot after it and pushed it on. After a few hundred feet I heard chatter from the Daedalus. “Daedalus, this is Private Halbert, do you copy?”

  A moment later, a voice responded. “Private Halbert, this is the Tactical Commander. Over.”

  “Private Severstein and I are surrounded by an anti-undead mob and there is jamming at our location. I flew above it to request support. Over.”

  “Standby, Private Halbert,” came the response. Silence fell for several moments. Then the line crackled to life. “Captain Wilson has ordered the Daedalus to your location. ETA, three minutes.”

  “Acknowledged, Command. Private Halbert out.” I closed the line and looked to the crowd below. Three minutes. We just had to survive for three minutes.

  Releasing both the graviton ball and the anti-gravity field encompassing me, I free-fell toward the ground. When I was a few feet from the ground, I re-summoned the anti-gravity field and floated for a moment before releasing it and dropping to the ground next to Julianna and the two civilians. “Reinforcements are three minutes out.”

  “Good,” my friend replied. “We just have to hold out.”

  The crowd, emboldened by my re-appearance or perhaps just fired up enough after several minutes of chanting, chose that moment to close in. The same two men who’d pushed me approached and got right in my face. “Whatcha gonna do, bitch?” the first man said, cracking his knuckles.

  “Yeah, you gonna go feral and kill us all?” the second man mocked, poking me in the shoulder.

  I snapped, grabbing his finger and twisting. I heard something snap and he cried out in pain. “You’re about to find out,” I growled, unable to stop myself. I would not be the victim this time.

  Miss, I am detecting the jamming field has dissipated. We are receiving signals again.

  Good. But why did it disappear? My gaze settled on several onlookers holding up their mobile devices. The cameras. They’re trying to paint us as monsters. I stepped back, horrified, but the damage was already done.

  The man held his broken finger up for the crowd to witness and screamed for our heads. The crowd surged forward from every direction.

  “Protect these two!” I snapped to Julianna, gesturing to the civilians. “Minimum force!”

  “That’s gonna be hard to do!” Julianna grunted, shoving two women back. “There’s too many of them to be gentle!”

  Come on Daedalus, I thought. How much longer? I shoved the first man who’d approached me back, trying to be as gentle as possible, but two more took his place.

  One man tried to go for my waist, tackling me to the ground. I elbowed him in the back and he dropped face-first to the ground. He didn’t give up, however, for he grabbed my legs.

  I kicked him
in the chest, perhaps a little too hard, and he went flying into the crowd, bowling several people over.

  “Monster!” the cries shouted. “Kill them for good!”

  “Rachel!” Julianna shouted.

  A glance behind showed her on her knees, with several people clinging to her. I turned and made to throw them off her, but at least one person jumped on my back. That was the last straw.

  Growling with rage, I grabbed the arms of the person on my back and whipped them over my head. Then, still holding onto their arms, I swung them around and smacked several others in the crowd with the man’s feet. I let go and he disappeared into the crowd.

  A gust of wind sent my hair streaming in multiple directions and I looked up. There floated four gunships, weapons manned and aimed at the crowd. Above them floated the Daedalus. Captain Wilson’s voice came from a speaker attached to one of the gunships. “Back away from them or you’re all going to get hurt!”

  No one seemed to heed his words, for I continued fending off assailants.

  A pop sounded and a canister streaked into the crowd. Moments later, smoke drifted across the ground. No, not smoke, gas. Tear gas, as it turned out, for people started choking, coughing and, finally, dispersing.

  “Monsters,” one of the big men said, spitting blood on the ground. “You got lucky.”

  A crack sounded and the concrete at my feet chipped. I felt a sting on my leg.

  You’ve been hit by a bullet fragment, miss, Jarvis informed me.

  Damn it! I ignored the twinge of pain and summoned a ball of gravitons. I expanded it into a shield, much like I’d done on the pirate space station and several times since, and held it between me and where Jarvis projected the shot had come - a building a few blocks away, higher up.

  Another crack came and the shield absorbed a bullet, causing a tiny surge of energy.

  Seconds later, the machine gun on the side of one gunship opened and a stream of bullets sailed toward the origination point. A third shot never came.