That wasn’t really his decision, but I let him think that it was. “Then we’re crashing the party. Any idea how to get past security without getting caught? I hate going in blind.”
“You and I are not crashing the party. I’m sending you home. Alex and I will infiltrate the party. Fortuitous—”
“Fortuitous, remove authorization for all personnel other than myself,” I said. I had hoped to save this ability as a surprise for later, but I wasn’t going to let Ian ship me off the planet.
“Yes, Captain von Hasenberg,” the ship acknowledged. “Authorization removed.”
“I changed the override codes,” Ian ground out.
“Yes, you did.”
“How did you get in?”
My smile was sweet enough to cause cavities. “I told you that I’m one of the best systems crackers in the universe. That was not hubris.” True, but in this case, it happened to be more helpful that I was a von Hasenberg on one of our own ships. I kept that bit to myself.
I continued, “So, with the understanding that I will do one of the following with or without you, would you prefer to go get an invitation or crash the party?”
“Aoife, armor up,” Ian said. “Alex, you have the ship.” Ian’s furious gaze flashed to me. “You’ll have to give him access to the doors and defensive systems.”
I used the cargo bay’s control panel to give Alexander limited tactician authority. He wouldn’t be able to take off, but he could access the other systems required to keep the ship safe on the ground. I gave Aoife the same access, and after a brief pause, Ian, too.
“Do you know how to wear that combat armor in your crate?” Ian asked. It didn’t surprise me that he’d gone through my stuff when he’d transferred it over.
“I’ve had the training,” I allowed. I hated combat armor. I found it incredibly claustrophobic, and I wasn’t usually prone to claustrophobia. But Matavara was hostile to outsiders and going out without armor would be incredibly stupid. Locals had some degree of protection from whichever gang claimed their territory, but outsiders stood out like red flags.
“Get it on,” Ian said. “We need to make this quick.”
On the protection spectrum, combat armor fell somewhere between simple ballistic armor and fully mechanized armor suits. It was made of a lightweight composite, but a full suit still weighed more than half as much as I did. Combat armor was powered and had some built-in movement assistance, but nothing like a fully mechanized suit that would let a user lift a transport.
Ada had procured a suit sized to my height—a feat in and of itself. I’d worn armor that was too big before, and it just made the whole experience worse.
I pulled the armor out of the crate, inspecting each piece. It was all pristine. I stepped into the lower body section and it clamped around my body from the waist down. I squatted down and the armor moved with me. So far, so good.
The chest piece went on over my head, like a bulky, oversized tank top. The front and back clamped together. It wasn’t tight but I had to fight the feeling of suffocation.
Each arm was designed as a single sleeve that clamped into the chest piece at the shoulder. My hands were covered by a stretchy, reinforced glove with light armor on the backs of my fingers. Blasters for use with combat armor had to have oversized trigger guards.
I swung my arms and hopped in place, testing my movement. I was slightly slower and heavier than usual, but it didn’t feel as if I was wearing an additional thirty-five kilograms of weight.
The helmet was my least favorite part of this whole ensemble. I pulled it over my head, but left the face guard open. I consciously kept my breathing slow and even.
Ian finished checking Aoife’s armor and turned to me. “Do you feel any air gaps?”
I shook my head.
He circled me, stopping to press on my left side. Once satisfied, he handed me a pistol blaster from the crate. “Yuko’s shop is close to two kilometers away. It’s ten blocks and the territory changes ownership around block six. We’re going to run the entire way. Can you do it?”
Back when I was in shape, a two-kilometer run in armor wouldn’t even be a warm-up. Today I would feel each meter. “I can do it.”
“Don’t stop for anything. Aoife or I may fall back to defend. Don’t wait for us. I will send the address to your suit.” He pulled his face guard closed.
I took a deep breath and held it as I closed my own face guard. It was made of a thick, transparent plastech. As soon as the helmet clicked closed, the heads-up display came on. Screens provided additional peripheral vision from helmet-mounted cameras and even the transparent face guard was overlaid with information streaming from the suit’s systems.
I released the breath I’d been holding. The suit filtered outside air and could even be completely self-contained for an hour or two, but I always felt like I was breathing stale air. It was entirely mental, but that didn’t make it feel less real.
While I was fighting panic, a request popped up to join Ian’s squad. He would be able to monitor my vitals, which meant I had to get my heart rate under control ASAP. Another breath and I approved the request. An address popped up, along with a faint green route marker stretching out in front of me.
“Ready?” Ian asked.
“Yes,” Aoife said.
I echoed her. Time to make good on my promise.
Ian took point and Aoife took the rear guard, leaving me in the most protected middle position. As soon as the cargo door was high enough, Ian jumped to the ground. I followed him, landing with a slight stumble. I caught my balance at the last second, saving myself from a mortifying face plant.
Ian had already put two meters between us, so I dashed into a run. Oh yeah, this was going to suck.
As soon as we cleared the ship’s shield, a blaster bolt glanced off my arm. I returned fire on instinct without breaking stride. I missed, but the shooter went to ground.
When he popped back up, Aoife didn’t miss.
“Shields up!” Ian barked.
I activated the suit’s shield and kept an eye on the distance between us. Overlapping shields might do nothing, or it might cause one or both shields to catastrophically fail.
We cleared the spaceport and moved into the city. Very few transports operated in Matavara. Most people moved around on foot or on personal vehicles, predominantly hover bikes.
The buildings were short and square. Most had started as plastech but the constant fighting meant they were patched with whatever was handy, giving the city a hodgepodge appearance under the brilliant blue sky and harsh yellow sun.
Ian ran straight down the middle of the street. The few pedestrians braving the sidewalks hugged the buildings or darted into alleys until we passed. Most of them were just normal people, trying to go about their day. They wanted no part of the trouble we would bring.
Others, however, saw us as prey. A block ahead of us, three heavies in older mechanized armor spread across the street. They were trying to herd us into an alley half a block away, but Ian wasn’t having it.
“I’ve got left and center,” he called over our coms. “Bianca, straight through, right of center, don’t slow down. Aoife, right and cover.”
Ian wouldn’t risk us unnecessarily, so I didn’t question his orders. I might poke at him normally, but he knew what he was doing when it came to combat and security. He rested his blast rifle in the crook of his right arm and drew the electropulse pistol strapped to his left hip.
Designed to disrupt communication, electropulse pistols also worked well against older unshielded mechanized armor. It wouldn’t penetrate to the person underneath, but it would shut down their system.
Electropulse pistols weren’t super accurate at a distance, but Ian managed to hit his two targets and Aoife’s shots from over my shoulder hit the target on the right.
The two outer suits froze, but the person in the center brought up an ancient projectile gun and opened fire. Bullets went straight through Ian’s shield and glanced
off his armor with metallic hisses. Ian holstered his pistol and pulled up his blast rifle.
“Bianca, stay behind me. Aoife, hit him if you can.”
“On it,” she said.
She moved two meters to my right and brought her blast rifle up, still running. The mech decided she was the biggest threat and changed to shooting at her.
Aoife didn’t even break stride, she just consistently put shot groupings right in the mech’s face guard, until, on the fifth grouping, he stopped firing. She had repeatedly hit a moving target fifteen centimeters wide from over a hundred meters away. At a dead run.
Note to self: do not challenge her to a shooting competition.
We dashed past the disabled mechs. Breath sawed through my chest and my head pounded. My main focus became putting one foot in front of another. Ian shot at an unseen target, but they didn’t shoot back.
It felt like a century later when Ian finally turned down a side street. We circled around so we didn’t lead any pursuers straight to Yuko’s shop, but time was of the essence, so Ian didn’t bother with an elaborate deception.
Ian led us through a large, unmarked door. By unspoken agreement we all deactivated our shields. “Aoife, you have the door,” Ian said. She murmured her agreement.
This shop didn’t pretend to be anything other than what it was—an information exchange. A woman in her forties or fifties with straight, graying black hair and dark eyes stood behind a faux wooden counter. “Lady Bianca von Hasenberg, I presume?” she asked, her voice softly accented.
I opened my face guard over Ian’s growled protest. “I am. And you are?”
“Yuko Ponseti, at your service. Veronica spoke highly of you.”
“Of you, too.” I paused, then dived right in. Some brokers preferred to chat before getting down to business, but the longer we lingered, the more time the local crime bosses had to set up an ambush for us. “She said you could get me an invite to the Syndicate party tonight.”
“I can. In return for a favor.”
“What favor?”
“Unspecified.”
“I don’t deal in future favors.”
“I know, which is why it is so valuable.”
I would do about anything for my brother, but open-ended favors were dangerous for both me and the House. “No.”
Yuko stared at me for a long moment. “You’re serious.”
“Yes. I do not trade in future favors. Not even for this.”
“Why not agree and then renege? You’d still get what you want,” she said.
“Promises are important to me. I don’t make them with the intent to break them.”
Yuko smiled, a barely-there tilt at the corner of her lips. “Despite the rumors, I would not have believed it possible if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. A member of a High House who believes in honor.”
“I believe in keeping my promises,” I said. “But if I don’t secure an invitation, I’m going to sneak into the party even if I have to go through a whole host of guards to do it, and most would argue that’s not entirely honorable.”
“Promises are what I care about,” Yuko replied. “My daughter is imprisoned on Pluto. She’s been there for over a year, and for the last three months, my Pluto contacts have failed to check in. If you promise to do everything you can to get her out, I will give you the invitation you need.”
Pluto was one of the oldest prison planets in existence and was now used almost exclusively for political prisoners the Consortium wanted buried. Pardons were difficult to obtain. “Does she have to get out legally?” I clarified.
“Legally would be better, but no. I just want her home.”
“Very well. You get me a valid invitation to the Syndicate party tonight and I will do everything in my power to get your daughter out of prison, though it may end up being less than legal. The Consortium rarely gives up political prisoners, even to the daughter of a High House. Also, my brother’s rescue comes first. As soon as he’s safe—” I paused, but didn’t want to think about any other outcomes. “Your daughter will be my priority after my brother.”
She held out her hand. “Deal.”
I carefully took her hand in my gloved one and shook it. “Deal. Send me whatever information you have on her, no matter how small.”
Yuko nodded, then bent to open a small, biometrically locked safe. She pulled out a square envelope made of thick, expensive paper. “This is the invitation everyone received. There are no names, so you don’t have to worry about faking an ID. Inside are the ship codes needed to land in their spaceport. The invitation itself is chipped and will be needed for entrance. The rules are explained inside, but weapons are strictly forbidden. It won’t stop anyone, but you’ll have to be sneaky.”
She handed the envelope to me, and I carefully stored it in the compartment under my chest armor. If a shot got to it, it would get to me, so it was as safe as I could make it without stripping out of the armor.
“We’re about to have company,” Aoife called over our internal com.
“I hate to bargain and run, but my guard says we’re about to be attacked.”
“They will not attack the shop,” Yuko said with quiet confidence. “And, despite appearances, my shop has many entrances. Go through the door and down the stairs. In the tunnel, go straight, straight, left, and then straight until the tunnel ends. Climb the stairs and you’ll be out near your spaceport. Expect trouble at the end, but they’ll be spread thinner than here.”
I closed my face guard and used my suit’s com to send her one of my private addresses. “Send me everything on your daughter. I will not forget this.”
She inclined her head. “Safe travels, Lady Bianca.”
Chapter 15
We made it back to the ship in one piece. Barely. There had been heavy resistance between the tunnel exit and the ship, but Ian and Aoife had cleared a path. I’d done what I could to help, but honestly, they’d done the heavy lifting.
Now out of my combat armor, I trembled from head to toe, partially leftover adrenaline, partially overextended muscles. Sweat had drenched my clothes. I needed a shower and a nap, but I’d settle for just the shower.
Maybe a shower with the silencer running to give my brain a break.
Aoife crouched down next to where I was sitting on the edge of my supply crate. “You did well,” she said quietly. “I’ve had trained soldiers perform worse under pressure.”
“I am trained, too, it’s just been a while.”
She stood and slapped a friendly hand against my shoulder, then offered me help up. “Come on, Shaky, I’ll follow you up to your quarters to make sure you don’t trip on the stairs and break your neck.”
“You’re too kind,” I said drily. But I smiled at her. I’d somehow proven myself in the last few hours and she was no longer cold and distant. But I couldn’t say the same for either Ian or Alexander.
“We should return to orbit until the party,” Ian said as I headed for the stairs. They were the first words he’d spoken to me since we returned.
“Fortuitous, take us into orbit,” I said.
The ship chimed an acceptance and the engines came to life. It was a tiny bit irresponsible to launch without being on the flight deck, but this was a top-of-the-line ship with the best control system money could buy. It was designed to handle any number of issues, faster and more competently than a human pilot. It was only in case of catastrophic failure, where the captain would need to take control with the manual controls, that being on the flight deck might save the ship.
Ian growled something under his breath, but didn’t question my decision.
To be on the safe side, I climbed the stairs to the flight deck and waited until we were safely parked in a geostationary orbit. There were a few other ships in orbit, but they were far enough away not to be a concern. Even older ships were good at avoiding each other in orbit. I told the ship to alert me on any changes, then headed down to my quarters for a well-deserved shower.
It
took me over an hour to get ready because I kept changing my mind about my makeup. Then I realized it was going to be mostly hidden behind my half mask anyway, so I changed it again.
Scarlet lips and smoky eyes would be too much without the mask but worked perfectly with the mask. My hair was piled on top of my head and held in place with two long pins that could double as stabbing weapons if needed.
Overall, I looked pretty, delicate, and mysterious. And the dress killed.
I kept my shielding bracelet, but I didn’t have too many options for weapons. My hair pins would only be useful as a last resort. I’d love to have a blaster or two, but guests would be screened and I hadn’t brought anything advanced enough to trick a scanner. Maybe Ian had something I could use.
I found him in the mess hall with Alexander and Aoife. A bottle of expensive bourbon was on the table and they each had an empty glass in front of them. Ian had changed into a black tuxedo and his golden hair was still damp from his shower. He looked amazing and my heart twisted, just a bit, at missed opportunities.
At some unseen signal, Alexander and Aoife stood and left the room, but not before both of them shot Ian a stern glance.
“Please have a seat, Lady Bianca,” Ian said. I couldn’t read his expression, but his eyes lingered on my dress. “Bourbon?”
“Yes, please.” I perched gingerly on the edge of a chair. Sitting in a dress like this without flashing anyone required delicate movement.
Ian picked up the fourth glass and poured me a generous serving. He splashed a bit more in his glass, then raised the glass in toast. “To success.”
I echoed him and touched my glass to his. The first sip blazed delicious warm fire down my throat, but I didn’t think the heat in my belly was entirely due to alcohol.
Ian also took a sip, then he met my eyes. “I apologize for earlier,” he said. “You are not a liability, as you’ve proven time and again, and I did not mean to imply otherwise. I meant it when I said you were our most important asset. The thought of you out in Matavara . . .” He trailed off and shook his head. “Please accept my apology.”
Aurora Blazing Page 16