Madame Guillotine

by Jason Anspach

  She scrambled to her feet, moving away from the bolts that were focused on the sled she’d been hunkered beside, and scanned for another team, tracking the incoming fire on the armored man and Lopez.

  “Covering!” she shouted at Rechs through the clearing dust and crisscrossing blaster fire, hoping he could hear her.

  * * *

  Captain Hess hovered over the battle from the cargo deck of the SLIC gunship. He had directed the SLIC’s door gunner to pour fire on the freighter that had just landed.

  “That’s the extraction vehicle! Rechs is working with whoever killed that legionnaire! Shut it down, Sergeant!”

  The gunner had complied and swiveled the swing-mounted N-50 heavy blaster over toward the old freighter, pouring bright bursts of fire into her upper hull, targeting the propulsion system controls near the engines.

  And then Hess spotted Rechs coming out of the building and had to restrain himself from spluttering with joyous rage.

  He grabbed the gunner’s shoulder and tried to re-direct fire, indicating Rechs and the legionnaire on his back. “He’s moving the leej to the next safe house! Dust him!”

  “I’ll hit the leej!” shouted the marine sergeant.

  And then a typhoon of dust swallowed the street below.

  Hess knew immediately that he was probably only going to get one more shot at Rechs when the dust cleared.

  “Hold position!” he shouted at the pilot.

  “Copy that, Captain Hess.”

  Hunter Oh-Two kept the craft hovering above the dust storm. Somewhere down below, blaster fire opened up from a new source. Oh-Two called it in, wondering if the Legion had pushed in on their own. It definitely sounded like at least one SAB was laying it down.

  And then the dust began to clear. Just a little, and just for a moment. And Captain Kirk Walters erupted with news that had him both excited and terrified.

  “I have visuals on Reaper Actual! Oorah, Amanda!”

  She was engaging targets, fighting for her life. The man Hess identified as Tyrus Rechs appeared to be trying to escape with the wounded legionnaire. And, strangely, the Soshie pros seemed to be doing their best to stop him. Hunter Oh-Two saw all this in an instant before the billowing dust thickened once more.

  That’s when Hess delivered a stunning blow to the base of the skull of the marine crew chief operating the door gun. He knew getting the guy to fire at Rechs was going to be problematic after he’d balked the first time.

  “Gotta do it myself,” Hess muttered as the crew chief dangled, dead weight pulling his safety line taut.

  The Nether Ops agent took the stock of the weapon and shoved it into his shoulder, using the N-50’s targeting system to scan the swirling dust below where he’d last seen Rechs.

  All he needed was a clear shot. Then he’d dump everything the N-50 had right on top of Tyrus Rechs. There was no way his armor could stand up to that. No way in hell.

  64

  As Rechs moved, the heavy legionnaire on his back groaned and coughed.

  “Hang in there!” shouted Rechs. He opened up with the hand cannon on the sled nearest him. One of the vehicles with a mounted blaster. He shot the gunner a bunch and then continued, weaving through the vehicles to make the hulking shadow of the Obsidian Crow, looming in the gray murk of the clearing dust.

  The HUD was still finishing its full reboot, but he had a tag on the marine’s biometric signature now. She was covering behind a sled and firing at the sniper teams in the buildings above.

  “Marine!” shouted Rechs. “Follow me!”

  He wouldn’t leave without her. He just had to get the legionnaire on board first.

  He had just moved from the vehicle toward the marine when a fusillade of blaster fire from the forward-most sled in the convoy came racing to meet him. He dashed for cover behind another sled that was angled out and facing the entrance of the ruined building. Through it all he did his best to protect the legionnaire, only narrowly avoiding getting hit by the incoming fire.

  Unfortunately, the sled Rechs had chosen for cover was already being used by one of the pros for the same purpose. And he had the drop on the bounty hunter. Had him solidly in his sights, so much so that the guy pulled down his black mask just so Rechs could watch him smile as he pulled the trigger.

  But before he could fire, a dog came leaping out of the dust to clamp onto the Soshie pro’s gun arm. The blaster fired wide as the dog dragged the man to the ground, mauling him and tearing the blaster away.

  Sharing cover with the savior dog and the freshly mauled and incapacitated Soshie pro, Rechs chanced a glance away from the unexpected save and looked over the vehicle toward the lead sled. A four-man team of highly squared-away operators in their red-and-black Soshie cover costumes were coming out in turtle formation with high-powered blasters. They were moving in his direction.

  The bounty hunter ran through his options and decided to drop the leej, stand up and fight, clear the threat, and only then resume progress toward the Crow.

  Then he remembered the armor’s shield.

  He keyed it, hoping the device would want to make amends for its failures back inside the tyrannasquid.

  No joy. The enigmatic device had chosen not to work. He’d have to throw down without it.

  The approaching pros weren’t firing. Smart. Just moving straight at him in tactical turtle. They knew that locking him down where he covered was better than standing and sending in fire. And the tighter they could bottle him up, the better their odds of success, because he had to go through them. There was no other way to the ship. Operators like this would cut him, the marine, and the legionnaire on his back down if he attempted to get around them in the open. He hazarded another look and saw them as shadows moving through the dust.

  He heard the whine of the marine’s blaster fire. Nailing more sniper teams.

  Good for her.

  Rechs was just about to drop the leej and shoot it out with the approaching team, if only just to see who walked away. But that was when the dog streaked out of the dust once more and slammed into the team’s point man, dragging him to the ground.

  A sudden torrent of blaster fire from off to the right followed immediately after. It eviscerated the three remaining operators. And emerging from the clearing dust, following the blaster fire, was a legionnaire in full armor, holding his trigger down and shooting at the corpses on the ground for good measure.

  Time to move.

  Rechs hefted the wounded legionnaire and ran for the shadow of the Crow.

  The dust cleared further thanks to the continued repulsor wash of a SLIC hanging out overhead. Bright blaster fire ran down across the vehicles and pavement, slamming into everything around him. He still had twenty meters to go, and he’d never make it with fire ranging in and finding him.

  Then Rechs looked up and realized that the fire wasn’t coming from the Soshie teams poised in the buildings above him, but from the SLIC gunship itself. The damn thing’s crew gunner must’ve had orders to terminate him on sight.

  It was a thing Rechs had gotten used to, but this time it looked as though the combination of SLIC fire, advancing pros, and general chaos might be more than he could handle.

  And then… suddenly… it stopped.

  * * *

  Kirk Walters—Hunter Oh-Two—stood over the prone body of the Legion captain. Unsure if the killing machine that was every legionnaire, regardless of whether they were a jerk or not, was going to get up and kill him or stay down and remain unconscious.

  He held the fire extinguisher he’d taken from near the N-50, prepared to use it again if the jerk did dare stand. Frankly he was amazed he’d swung it hard enough to put the man out even while wearing a helmet. The extinguisher itself sported a sizeable new dent.

  When Kirk had looked back from the pilot’s seat to see his crew chief dangling taut—dead or u
nconscious, heels of his boots dragging on the cargo deck—he realized why Hess had been ignoring his calls that he’d spotted Amanda. And it took all of another two seconds to realize that the captain was now firing the big N-50 at whoever was carrying the wounded legionnaire, his blaster bolts coming danger close to the leej, and Amanda as well.

  Kirk didn’t even really think about it as he left his pilot’s seat, grabbed a fire extinguisher and swung it at Captain Hess’s head, landing a bell ringer at the base of the neck where it met the cranium. He just moved. Reacted.

  Now Oh-Two, standing above an unconscious Legion captain who looked like he wasn’t getting up any time soon, guessed his military career was over.

  Oh well, he said to himself as he went back to the flight deck, intending to put down and go after Amanda himself. He’d fly freight out on the edge when he got out of the chicken farm someday. That was good enough for him.

  65

  The legionnaire with the SAB ran up to Rechs.

  “Don’t know who you are, but if you’re helpin’ Shaker then we’re on the same side! C’mon!” The leej motioned to the waiting ship, shouting to be heard above its whining engines and the sounds of battle. “That your ship?”

  “It is,” Rechs replied.

  “I’ll cover. My dog will go get your marine!”

  Rechs didn’t argue. Instead he moved off, hunched by the dead weight of Lopez, for the belly of the Obsidian Crow. Behind him he could hear the legionnaire laying down suppressive fire to cover his path.

  He made the boarding ramp and ran up it, legs burning as he reached the top and threaded the interior of the ship for the medical bay. He was pretty sure the man on his back had stopped breathing.

  He placed Lopez on the surgical table then sprinted back to the boarding hatch, weapon ready.

  “Lyra!” he shouted over the comm. “Tell the autodoc to stabilize him!”

  G232 met him at the hatch just as Rechs was starting back down to wade into the firefight.

  “Oh, master. So much has been going on since you left! No doubt—”

  Rechs waved the bot off.

  At the bottom of the ramp, the dog was turning in a circle and wagging its tail. Then Rechs saw the marine sniper, covered in dust like some ghostly tribesman from out in the waste worlds at galaxy’s edge. She stumbled into view, still holding the rifle she’d acquired. She made the ramp just as the leej with the SAB came into view as well, backing toward the ramp, dumping fire in short bursts at multiple unseen targets.

  Amanda lurched up the ramp. Rechs grabbed her hand, taking the weapon and pushing her deeper into the ship.

  “Where is he?” she gasped.

  Rechs knew who she meant. He’d reunite her with the wounded legionnaire soon enough. If they got out of here. First things first.

  G232 was still talking as the legionnaire at the bottom of the ramp turned and pulled his SAB upright. Standard procedure for boarding.

  Blaster fire chased his heels as he bounded up, coming in hot and fast, striking the boarding ramp and struts. But the kid made it.

  Rechs slammed his glove against the close hatch button and shouted, “Lyra, get us out of here!”

  The repulsors took over and heaved the Crow upward. Incoming fire struck the outer hull. Engines throttled up. And then they were airborne and streaking for altitude.

  “Puncher,” said the kid, taking off his bucket and sticking out a hand. “That was close.”

  Rechs shook, but didn’t give a name of his own. The kid laughed. At the absurdity of it all. The closest of scrapes.

  The bounty hunter looked over at where the marine had been. Amanda. She was gone. He found her where he knew he would. Standing at the entrance to the medical bay, still covered in dust. Watching the autodoc work to save Lopez’s life.

  “He’ll make it,” said Rechs, standing next to her as he studied the status readouts. “Readouts show him getting stabilized.”

  She nodded once and then collapsed. Sliding toward the floor and covering her dusty face with the crook of her arm. Her shoulders rising and falling to the deck as she began to sob in great heaving shudders.

  It was finally over.

  * * *

  General Sheehan sent a FLASH priority comm request to the crew of the light freighter that had just pulled out the captured legionnaire and marine, according to a report sent in by Hunter Oh-Two, his best asset in the AO.

  His staff had warned him that the captain of that ship was most likely Tyrus Rechs. The freighter matched descriptions of the ship reportedly used by the notorious and highly wanted bounty hunter. Orders were to shoot that freighter down on sight, friendly casualties being considered an acceptable loss.

  Sheehan ignored those directives, while understanding full well the consequences of his choice.

  “Unidentified freighter,” said the general. “This is General Charles Sheehan, commander of ground forces in-system.”

  He made a point of not using Rechs’s name. Of not giving any rope that those ghouls in Nether Ops might try to wrap around his neck. Tyrus Rechs was on that ship? You don’t say?

  “I have reports that you have safely procured a Republic legionnaire and Republic marine captured by militant elements in the organization calling itself the Soshies. I’m offering safe passage for you to set down on the destroyer Castle, or, if you prefer, LZ-8 in the marine Green Zone in order to exchange Sergeants Almond and Lopez.”

  There was no reply. The ether of comm hummed while out there the light freighter seemed to race for jump.

  “We can intercept her,” noted the naval liaison.

  The comment showed that not everyone was in agreement when it came to giving a pass to the war criminal Tyrus Rechs. But some did. The liaison’s superior, Commodore Giers, agreed with General Sheehan. The bounty hunter should be offered a chance to turn over the soldiers and depart under a flag of truce.

  “It’s the only decent thing to do,” was how Giers had put it.

  Sheehan ignored the liaison’s comment and his staff held their breath, waiting to hear if the bounty hunter would respond and hoping that, if he did, he wouldn’t complicate things by naming himself. Everyone wanted things to turn out, but they also needed to CYA. They’d note for the record, when the House of Reason inquiry came down, that they’d advised the correct course of action. Intercept and arrest one Tyrus Rechs. Regardless of the circumstances.

  General Sheehan was a middle-aged man turning to old. He held the comm one more time above the holotable in the CIC.

  “Freighter pilot,” said the general, still playing the game. Creating a passable veneer of not knowingly defying orders. “You can trust me.”

  A moment later the gravelly and tired voice of the fabled ghost that was Tyrus Rechs came back over the comm.

  “I have your word, General?”

  Sheehan looked around at his staff. Career officers begging with their eyes that he do “the right thing” and save their careers by not persisting in the folly of offering a wanted criminal safe passage.

  “You do, freighter pilot. You have my word.”

  “Coming in,” said Rechs a moment later. “We’ll set down on the portside aft deck. We have wounded. Request a full trauma team meet us aboard the ship.”

  “Copy that,” said Sheehan. He turned to an aide. “Get my shuttle ready. I wanna be there.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later the light freighter Obsidian Crow set down on the open deck of the Republic destroyer Castle. Detachments of marines had blocked every exit. Except instead of facing the ship, as if ready to repel, they were facing out, away from Tyrus Rechs’s ship as it vented gases and lowered its gears.

  The message was clear: They would have their marine back. And the legionnaire. At whatever cost. And officially, no one would even lay eyes on the bounty hunter. If he was even here.
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br />   Rechs lowered the boarding ramp and found a full trauma team of med bots and navy docs running toward him across the pristinely polished deck with a pair of repulsor gurneys. These men and women couldn’t have cared less for any warrants or bounties. They were here to save lives. And that was what drove them in their race to reach Lopez and Almond.

  General Sheehan and two unarmed staff officers followed quickly behind.

  Rechs led the medical team up the boarding ramp and showed them where Lopez was. Sergeant Almond had to be moved aside, nurses assuring her they would take over now. When she didn’t move, Rechs helped her away, leading her down the ramp as the medical team made ready to secure Lopez.

  The autodoc had put Lopez into a medical coma. He would never remember what had happened aboard the bounty hunter’s ship, or how he’d gotten off it and aboard a Republic destroyer. But he would make it. He would live.

  Sheehan met Rechs and Almond at the bottom of the ramp. Puncher hovered nearby.

  “Well… I’ll be damned,” said the general, removing the ruined cigar from his mouth. “Legends do exist.”

  Rechs stepped forward, and the general stuck out his paw.

  Rechs shook. “Thank you, General.”

  “No… no, no. Thank you… Tyrus… or Rechs… wow. That sure feels weird to actually say. No. Hell. Thank you. You did the right thing here. We let those damned bookkeepers in the House prevent us from getting ours back. Shouldn’t have done…”

  Rechs held up a hand. Signaling that he understood. And that it didn’t matter. Things had been made right.

  “Never mind, General. I’m familiar with the House and their… priorities. Favor to ask, if I could?”

  The general nodded without hesitation. But then added, “Don’t know what I can do. But if I can… I will.”

  “Make sure these two don’t hang,” asked Rechs.

  He indicated Puncher and Sergeant Almond.

  The general frowned and then looked from Almond to the bounty hunter. “That’s a tall order. They’re already baying for her blood. Blame her for escalating things. Probably want to put the whole damned mess on her.” He turned to face Puncher. “And you… you flat out went AWOL. Not much anyone can do about that.”