Path of the Fury

by David Weber

  “Commander Rahman,” Howell said, and the senior gunnery officer straightened in his chair.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Execute Phase Four, Commander.”

  Book Two

  Fugitive

  Chapter Eleven

  Alicia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and chewing her lip while she tried not to stew. It was becoming steadily more difficult.

  In one sense, things weren’t actually that bad. Tannis’s diagnostics were reporting exactly what they ought to, now that Tisiphone knew what results they were supposed to get, and Alicia wasn’t worried about revealing anything she chose to conceal. Tannis had tried direct neural queries, chemical therapy, even hypnotic regression, but Tisiphone was an old hand at controlling human thoughts and responses. She might not be able to do it to anyone else these days, but Alicia’s brain and body were her own front yard, and she allowed no trespassers, so that side was secure enough.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t help against her boredom. Tisiphone might enjoy fooling the medics or roaming Soissons’s planetary computer net, but Alicia was going mad. The thought woke a sour smile, but it had stopped being funny when she realized what was really happening to her grief and hatred.

  They were still there. She couldn’t feel them through Tisiphone’s shields, but she sensed them, and she hadn’t dealt with them. She couldn’t deal with them, because she couldn’t touch them, and that left an odd, dangerously unresolved vacuum at her core. Worse, she thought she knew what Tisiphone was doing with all that raw, oozing emotion. The Fury had no interest in dissipating it, for she knew only one catharsis. At first Alicia had suspected she was absorbing it like some sort of strange sustenance, but a worse suspicion had occurred to her, and the Fury had refused to deny it

  She was storing it. Distilling it into the pure essence of hatred, reserving it against some future need, and Alicia was afraid. Drop commandos had few self-delusions— they couldn’t afford them—and she knew about her own dark side. She’d demonstrated it, without a trace of regret, on Wadislaw Watts, and there had been times in the field when her killer self had threatened to break free, as well. It had never happened, but it had been a near thing more than once, and a woman stayed clearheaded in combat or she died—probably taking other people with her when she went.

  Thoughts of what the sudden release of all that pent-up rage might do to her judgment terrified her, but Tisiphone refused even to discuss it despite requests which had come all too close to pleading before pride drove Alicia to drop them. She was helpless in the face of the Fury’s refusal . . . and Tisiphone had reminded her—not cruelly, but almost kindly—that she had agreed to pay “anything” for her vengeance. That was nothing less than the truth, and the fact that she’d thought she was mad had no bearing. She’d given her word, and like Uncle Arthur, that was the end of it.

  And now a fresh disturbing element had been added, for Tisiphone was clearly up to something. There was a pleased note to her mental voice which made very little sense, given their total lack of achievement. Alicia was astonished that the fiery, driven Fury hadn’t insisted on making their break long ago. To be sure, she’d gleaned a tremendous amount of information—including everything Colonel McIlheny and even Ben Belkassem knew about the pirates—but there had to be something else. . . .

  The comment was so sudden she twitched in surprise, and Tisiphone chuckled silently.

  Alicia jerked upright, then gasped as Tisiphone answered without words. Her augmentation came spontaneously on line, her boosted senses spun up to full acuity for the first time in more than two months, and she twitched again as Tisiphone activated her pharmacope. The first ripple of tension ran through her as the tick reservoir administered its carefully measured dose to her bloodstream and the world began to slow.

  She bit her lip, confused by the speed with which the Fury was moving, and a faint, familiar haze hovered before her eyes. It cleared quickly, and her ears rang with the high, sweet song of the tick.

  Tisiphone said calmly.

  Alicia rose with the tick’s floating grace. The drug increased her reaction speed only slightly but accelerated her mental processes enormously, and if her responses came little faster they were absolutely certain, for she had all the time in the world to think about each of them before she made it.

  The door oozed open with syrupy slowness, and she floated through it. The corridor beyond was empty, the nurses’ station unmanned as Tisiphone had promised, but there was a permanent guard on the elevators. She’d met the night guard, and though the earnest young man had been very careful never to say so, she knew why he was there, for he, too, was a drop commando.

  But the elevators were around a bend in the corridor, and she flowed down the hall like a spirit, riding the tick’s exaltation. The ability to ride the tick was one of the main drop commando requirements. So was a high resistance to all forms of addiction, but no one could avoid the tick’s sense of godlike omnipotence—nor the violent, tearing nausea when she finally came down again. Indeed, Alicia suspected the medics deliberately enhanced that side effect to help discourage the commandos from over-indulging.

  She stepped around the bend, and the guard looked up. She smiled, and he smiled back slowly, so slowly. But then his smile changed as he recognized the precise, gliding movement that turned simply walking into an exquisitely choreographed dance.

  His hand started for his stunner, and Alicia wanted to laugh in pure exultation. He was too far away to reach before the stunner cleared its holster, but Old Speedy wasn’t racing through his veins. Though he got the stunner up before she reached him, he didn’t have time to reset its power.

  The green beam struck her dead on—with absolutely no result. The neural shields built into drop commando augmentation could resist even nerve disrupter fire, to a point, and a stunner blast which would have downed an elephant or a direcat had no effect at all on her.

  He really was young, she thought tolerantly as her hands started forward. Perhaps he’d been confused by the fact that he knew her augmentation—including the shields—had been disabled. On the other hand, he’d obviously recognized tick mode when he saw it, which indicated her augmentation had been reactivated. Except, of course, that he hadn’t had time to think. If he had, he would have gone for her hand-to-hand from the start. He probably couldn’t stop her that way, either, she reflected as her first lightning-fast blow drifted towards him, but he might have lasted long enough to sound the alarm.

  They’d never know about that now. Her floating hand smacked precisely behind his ear, and she spun him like a limp, toffee-stuffed mannequin. Her fingers sought the pressure points with scientific skill, and he went down in a boneless heap before his own augmentation could spin up to stop it. Best of all, he’d recognized her; he knew she wasn’t going to try to capture or interrogate him, which in turn, made his automatic protocols a dead letter.

  Alicia tugged him into the elevator and closed the doors, wondering where they were supposed to go now.

  a clear voice said.

 

  Tisiphone purred, and Alicia punched the button for the sub-basement garage. The trip seemed to take forever to her tick-enhanced time sense, and she wondered what she would do if they were stopped along the way by another passenger.

  They weren’t—no doubt because it was well after local midnight—and the doors slid open at last. Alicia looked thoughtfully down at the unconscious guard and removed the stunner from his nerveless fingers. Sh
e reset it and gave him a careful shot that would keep him under for hours, then hit the emergency stop button, locking the car in place.

 

 

  Alicia nodded and jogged briskly down the lines of stalls. Most were empty, and the vehicles she saw were mainly civilian, with only an occasional military or governmental ground car or skimmer—until she reached the appointed slot and blinked at the lean, lethal-looking recon skimmer in it.

  she thought, glancing at the fuselage markings of a rear admiral as she popped the hatch,

 

 

  Again there was a mental chuckle—almost a giggle, if the grim and purposeful Fury could have produced such a thing—and Alicia sighed with resignation. Tisiphone seemed to know what she was doing, though it would have been nice if she’d bothered with a mission brief. They were going to have to have a little discussion about this sort of thing, she reflected as she brought the skimmer’s counter-gravity to life, lifted it twenty centimeters from the garage floor, and sent it up the ramp at a sedate speed, but even through the exhilaration of the tick she felt a deeper, sharper stab of pleasure as the star-strewn sky of Soissons gleamed clear and clean above her. Out. Free. Something of Tisiphone’s eagerness touched her, like the joy of the hawk in the moment it tucked its wings to stoop upon its prey, and she took the skimmer into the night.

  The Fleet skimmer’s com panel whispered with routine messages as Alicia slid through the darkness towards the brightly illuminated perimeter of Jefferson Field, and she felt herself relaxing within the cocoon of the tick. She knew relaxation was dangerous, particularly since she still had no idea what Tisiphone intended, but she was on a sort of auto-pilot.

  It was disturbingly unlike her. A strange fatalism had replaced her normal, sharp thoughts at such times, and she disliked it, yet it was oddly seductive. She tried to resist it, but her steel had turned to something that bent and flexed, and a part of her wondered how Tisiphone had done it. For one thing was crystal clear: the Fury was in the pilot’s seat. The long, boring weeks of inactivity and comfortable mental chats had blinded Alicia to what she truly was. Those chats hadn’t been subterfuge, nor had the gently malicious teasing, but they were only one side of Tisiphone, and not the strongest one. There was an elemental ruthlessness to the Fury when the moment for action came. She hadn’t discussed her plan with Alicia because it hadn’t occurred to her that there was any reason she should, and now her unwavering determination had made Alicia a prisoner within her own body.

  Yet it was even more complex than that, Alicia reflected as her obedient hands guided the skimmer along the Jefferson Field approach route and their admiral’s markings and transponder took them through the unmanned, outer checkpoints. Even while a tiny part of her fluttered like a panicked bird against Tisiphone’s control, another part was perfectly content. It was the part which always heaved a sigh of relief once the briefings were over and the mission began. They were moving, they were committed, and the predator within her purred with the elation of the hunt. Her brain hummed and wavered with conflicting impetuses, yet her thoughts and actions came crisp and clear and cold, and she had never felt anything quite like it in her life.

  she asked as they approached the inner security gate.

  Tisiphone responded, and her own will stirred sleepily.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  Alicia began to slow the skimmer.

  Her thought shattered in white-hot anguish, and she grunted as her eyes went blind. The pain and blindness vanished as quickly as they had come, and her brain writhed in useless revolt as her body obeyed the Fury’s will. She felt the skimmer surge forward under maximum power, blazing through the security gate, and the alert sentries saw nothing at all. She caught a glimpse of them in the aft display, spinning towards their com links in total confusion as lights flashed and sirens whooped, but her hands were on the controls, whipping the skimmer higher and wheeling for the shuttle pads.

  she screamed, and wild laughter flooded her mind.

 

 

  The Fury’s voice paused, then resumed a bit more tentatively, as if puzzled by her resistance.

  The sense of content had vanished, and her rousing will battered at Tisiphone’s control. She gritted her teeth, smashing with fists of outrage, and fresh pain surged. She panted with the ferocity of her struggle, gasping in triumph as her hands began to slow the skimmer, then cried out as Tisiphone struck back furiously.

 

  “Then let me go, goddamn you!” Alicia gritted through clenched teeth. Her anguish-tight voice was strange and twisted in her own ears, out somehow she knew she must speak aloud. “I want myself back!”

  Tisiphone snapped, and the skimmer swerved wildly as the Fury abruptly released all control. Alicia moaned in relief—then yelped as a plasma bolt whipped past her canopy. She hurled the skimmer into a screaming turn, still in the grip of the tick, and a second miss sent a parked air lorry’s hydrogen reservoir fireballing into the darkness.

  Tisiphone remarked, but Alicia was too busy to respond as she writhed in a mad evasion pattern. More plasma slashed past like lethal ball lightning, and she punched up the skimmer’s light screen. It wouldn’t do much against a direct hit, but it should fend off a near-miss.

  Fires glared in the night as she turned the vehicle almost on its side, trading lift for evasion. Warehouses belched flames under the fury of her pursuers’ fire, and she swerved down a narrow opening between freight carriers and loading docks. The com unit yammered with demands for her surrender and warnings that deadly force would be employed if she refused. Not that she’d needed that, she thought as the flames vanished astern and her scanners reported atmospheric sting ships closing from the north. Closer to the ground, security skimmers were howling in pursuit. They’d overshot when she whipped to the side, giving her a small lead to play with, but they were just as fast as she, and they knew the base far better.

  At least she had decent instrumentation, and she cursed as she picked up still more security vehicles. They were outside her, and she swore again as she checked her map display. She still didn’t have the least idea what Tisiphone was up to, but the pursuit had cut her off from retreat. They were closing in, driving her deeper into the base in what looked entirely too much like a preplanned security maneuver. There had to be something nasty waiting for her, yet the only place left to go was directly towards the shuttle pads, exactly as Tisiphone had originally planned.

  She wrenched the skimmer through another turn, half her mind watching the sting ships’ traces. They’d responded quickly, but it would still take them a couple of minutes to get here, and the pads loomed ahead of her.

  “All right, Lady,” she gritted, punching commands into the auto-pilot. “If you can still make us invisible, this is the moment.”

  Tisiphone sniffed. ave pointed out, they will still have us on their sensors, and—>

  Alicia snapped, and hit the eject button.

  The pilot’s canopy blew off, and the ejection seat’s tiny counter-gravity unit flung her high. She gasped with the shock of it, but her hands were on the armrests, riding the control keys.

  The maneuvering jets flared, and she swallowed a hysterical cackle. This, by God, was seat-of-the-pants flying! The jets lacked endurance—they didn’t need it, with the counter-grav to do the real work—but they were designed to dart away from a plunging wreck or make a last ditch effort to evade hostile fire. That gave them quite a kick, and the seat was made of low-signature materials, almost invisible to the best sensors. She sent herself flying towards Pad Alpha Six and pirouetted in midair to watch their stolen skimmer execute her final command.

  The vehicle rocketed upward in a desperation escape attempt as the security skimmers closed in at last, and bursts of fire followed it. Not just plasma cannon, which were relatively short-ranged in atmosphere, either. The security people were playing for keeps, and the red and white flashes of high explosive converged on the wildly careering hull, but Tisiphone seemed to have worked her magic, for no one was shooting at her. An explosion flowered amidships, and the skimmer shuddered, shedding bits and pieces but still climbing vertically, almost out of sight from the ground. More hits splintered armorplast and alloy, and then a sting ship screamed in.

  Alicia winced as twin bores of eye-searing light blazed. Those weren’t plasma bolts; the skimmer was high enough for them to use heavy weapons on it, and it vaporized in a sun-bright boil as the HVW struck at seventeen thousand KPS.

 

  Tisiphone replied tartly, then relented.