by Jaxon Reed
Cole put thoughts of tattletale security agents out of her mind.
She said, “I don’t particularly like the Conservatives, Fred. They differ in their approach and beliefs from us. Primarily, they don’t want to change anything. At all. Ever. We Libertarians are more willing to change if the change leads to less government interference in the lives of citizens. Does that make sense?”
Severs nodded and smiled back at her.
He said, “I think I see the difference.”
They heard footsteps coming down the tunnel toward them. The agents in back turned to look, along with Cole and Severs. The agents in front continued staring ahead.
Fonteneaux walked up in the dim light and nodded to the agents, then the politicians.
“Chancellor Cole. Admiral Severs. Thank you both for inviting me today.”
“Thank you for agreeing to be here, Director,” Cole said. “You won’t have to actually say anything. I’m sure some committee or other will haul you in front of the cameras before too long anyway. Today we just want to single you out as the person who will help Admiral Severs in the Republic’s fight against crime.”
Fonteneaux nodded and said, “I hope you don’t mind, I brought along my number two, Gina Wilcox.”
The larger woman stepped out of the shadows and nodded hello to the politicians.
Cole said, “Absolutely. Welcome, Ms. Wilcox.”
She turned and waved at the stage manager, who tore his eyes off the speaker.
Cole said, “We’re going to need another chair.”
He nodded, touched his implant and muttered a few instructions under his breath. Moments later somebody ran down the tunnel bringing an additional chair. The stage manager pointed where to add it in the row behind the podium.
The speaker began winding down his speech.
The stage manager turned to them and said, “Madame Chancellor, you will go straight to the podium, Admiral, please sit in the open chair to our left. You two ladies will sit in the back row on our right. Security detail, please stand on the stage markings and stay out of the camera shot. Okay, we’re about to go as soon as he finishes.”
The podium speaker said, “And that’s why the Libertarians will lead the Republic into the future!”
The crowd roared in approval and applause. The speaker waved, then turned to take one of the open seats on the back row.
The stage manager made hurry up motions, and everyone walked out to their places. Cole went straight to the podium and the cheers picked up again as her image was broadcast on the giant holo in the middle of the field and over the quantum matrix to dozens of colonized planets and space stations around the galaxy.
As they settled into the seats, Fonteneaux whispered to Wilcox.
“Sense anything?”
“No. I kinda wish the bot could be here. She’s better than me in a fight.”
“We’ll do fine in a fight. We need to be able to sense things right now more than we need to fight.”
Wilcox nodded absently, extending her senses out to scan everything at once.
She wished a lot of things. She wished she could use her senses while controlling the bot at the same time. She wished she could cover all the entrances to the stadium. She wished this whole event had been called off.
But she could not have any of those things so she focused on the task at hand, scanning for threats around the stage.
Something caught her attention, a familiar electronic signature.
She had not seen it in a long time, not since Julia Thrall had used a camo unit back in the war.
But Wilcox recognized it.
She said, “Someone’s coming down the tunnel. They’re invisible.”
38
Stormy crept down the access corridor carefully, holding her blaster in two hands.
The stadium had security, with OPD officers as well as AOJ agents posted everywhere. But she sneaked her guns through with her lead-lined backpack. The electronics had not been upgraded to guard against camo units like the spaceport’s had.
And really, why should it? There’s never been a need, she thought.
She smiled, although no one could see her. She stepped out of the tunnel, past the stage manager who watched Elsa Cole’s back like a hawk.
So far, Stormy thought, everything in the note that mysterious guy at her doorstep handed her so many years ago had panned out. So far—
A movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn, losing focus on the Chancellor.
She recognized the tall, athletic blonde. This was the woman who flew her car into Stormy’s house. And she was looking in her direction, pulling out a gun . . .
Stormy aimed and pulled the trigger.
Thoop!
The first shot slammed into Wilcox, knocking her back and into Fonteneaux’s lap.
Gina quickly recovered, completing her draw. She aimed at Stormy, even without seeing her.
Stormy jumped back into the tunnel just in time.
Thoop!
The stage manager rushed through the entrance.
“What’s going on? What—”
He bumped into Stormy. She slugged him in the face.
“Ow!”
Thoop!
Stormy shot him point blank in the chest and he fell back against the wall, slumping down to the floor.
“Men are always getting in my way.”
Wilcox bounded around the corner and shot again at close range.
Thoop! Thoop!
Both bolts missed, sailing down the tunnel.
Thoop!
Stormy’s shot was slightly off, but it grazed Gina’s ear before sailing out into the stadium.
The crowd screamed and panic spread like a wave.
“What we are seeing . . . shots appear to be fired on the stage . . . Security is literally jumping on top of Chancellor Cole, Suzanne!”
“That’s right, John! AOJ security personnel are swarming on top of her!”
The four agents assigned to Cole had one job: protect the Chancellor at all costs, even their own lives.
The standard procedure in a shootout was to jump on top of the Chancellor, where their Kelvingarb suits along with their own bodies could offer protection from blasts.
The two men and two women rushed to Cole at the first shot. They threw her down and piled on without a word.
The second step was to evacuate the Chancellor from the scene as soon as possible, but with blaster bolts sailing overhead that was not yet feasible.
Fonteneaux activated her implant, broadcasting her voice to every AOJ agent and OPD officer in the stadium.
“Suspect has a camo unit and is invisible!”
She pulled out her own sidearm from her purse, a standard issue Metzinger LE-42. But Fonteneaux did not know where to shoot.
Thoop!
A bolt from Stormy’s gun sailed into the pile of agents clustered around the podium. One of them jerked and grunted, his suit absorbing the blast.
Fonteneaux noted where the shot originated, and aimed where she thought the invisible person would be standing.
Thip!
The tiny LE-42 bolt thwapped into something. Flesh. A circle of blood appeared, floating in the air.
A woman screamed in frustration, presumably the one who bled.
Bolts rained down on Fonteneaux.
Thoop! Thoop! Thoop!
Jodi jumped and rolled, bolts hitting the floor and chairs around her. She rolled off the lip of the stage. It was only half a meter to the field below.
In the distraction, with bolts flying elsewhere, the security team decided now would be a good time to evacuate the Chancellor.
As one they stood, surrounding her.
One of the women said, “Corner tunnel. Let’s go!”
She pointed to the far end of the stage, where another passageway yawned open.
Meanwhile the crowd in the stands panicked. A mad scramble for the exits knocked over several people, trampling many underfoot.
Thoop! Thoop! Thoop!
Severs saw his chance. The continued firing and the blood circle gave away the shooter’s position.
He stood up and made a flying leap, calculating where the invisible person must be standing and chopping down with his hands where the person’s arms must be.
He roared a primal, guttural battle cry.
Severs slammed into something. Or, somebody he thought briefly.
They hit the floor rolling. He heard something clatter and a blaster became visible at it slid away.
The Admiral decided a few good punches were appropriate and he let go with one hand to strike. He hit the floor as many times as flesh.
Half way to the corner tunnel Cole planted her feet, making the bustling crowd of agents around her stop. She turned to look back and saw Severs hitting the air.
His head rocked back suddenly, as if a fist had slammed into it. Then three more blows landed on him. He grunted and fell over on his side.
“Fred? Fred!”
Cole shouldered through the two agents behind her, intent on heading back to the Admiral.
“Ma’am!”
The agents grabbed her shoulders.
Thoop!
Another shot appeared from nowhere.
Cole gasped and collapsed, arms covering her middle.
“Get her out of here! Now!”
The security detail physically picked up the Chancellor and ran as fast as they could to the corner exit.
A trail of blood followed them, leaving a red streak all the way out.
39
Somehow, Stormy lost her gun when Admiral Severs jumped her. Then he landed a few blows.
She slugged him back. That part was easy, he could not see her fists coming. She popped his throat, then his nose. A final blow to his chin was enough to stun him and she could move his larger weight off her.
She heard the Chancellor call his name. The woman broke free from her detail for a moment, a split second in time when she was open, free from protection.
Stormy drew her second gun. She brought five with her into the stadium. Two were strapped to her ankles, two were holstered under her arms, and she had carried the one she lost in her hands.
She reached under her left arm and drew a blaster. With practiced ease, she carefully aimed and squeezed off a shot at Cole’s center mass.
Thoop!
The Chancellor folded, like a chair collapsing in on itself.
-+-
Gina’s eyes fluttered open. She wiped blood off her face. The bolt ripped through her hair, leaving an open wound on her scalp. Copious amounts of blood from her ear had spewed all over her head.
She sat up and looked around, gaining her bearings as quickly as possible.
Several guns were aimed at the stage. Between AOJ and OPD, over two dozen weapons were pointed their way. That included Director Fonteneaux’s gun.
But nobody shot because the Admiral was there, and the perp remained invisible.
She focused on the circuitry of the camo unit.
I’ve never done this before, she thought. But, it can’t be much more difficult than scrambling an implant . . .
She concentrated, and sent a kill signal.
Stormy abruptly popped into sight.
Wilcox shouted, “Admiral! Move out of the way!”
Severs’s face cleared as he saw the woman he had been fighting kneeling in a shooting position, her gun still aimed at the retreating agents.
He rolled for the edge of the stage and dropped down to the grass.
Blasts from a dozen gun slammed into Stormy.
Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!Thoop!
Her body danced like a marionette, jerking up and down with each shot.
-+-
Hours later, Gina sat down in the tunnel and leaned her head back against the wall. It was bandaged, and the doc bot told her she would need an additional shot of artificial osteoblasts so that nanobots could reconstruct the part of her skull and her ear that had been scraped off by the bolt.
He also informed her she was incredibly fortunate. If the bolt had been a few centimeters over, it would have obliterated part of her brain and she would not be alive.
Wilcox thanked the bot and ordered it to go help others. She insisted she was fine.
As she leaned back against the cool concrete wall, she admitted to herself she was not fine. Not emotionally.
She heard familiar footsteps and turned to watch Jodi Fonteneaux approach.
The director sat down next to her and leaned back against the wall, too.
“Good idea,” Jodi said. “Mind if I join you?”
Fonteneaux gave Wilcox a tired smile tinged with sadness.
She said, “Chancellor Cole is dead. She passed en route to the hospital. Harrington House is just now releasing a statement to the public.”
Gina’s heart sank.
She said, “It’s my fault. I should have zapped that camo unit first thing.”
“It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s Elsa Cole’s fault for being stubborn and defying her security detail. They were trying to evacuate her when she turned and broke free. That’s when the assassin got her.”
Wilcox said nothing, staring at the tunnel wall ahead of her.
“Don’t you dare carry this around with you, Sergeant. You did the best you could under the circumstances.”
Wilcox gave her a wan smile, trying to show . . . something. Agreement she would not hold herself ultimately responsible for Cole’s death?
Out loud she said, “I thought the war was over when the League surrendered. But . . . now I see there’s always war. There’s a war of some kind going on all the time. If it’s not between the League and the Republic, it’s between which party is going to control Harrington House and Parliament. It’s between the police and the gangs for control of Octavia. It’s always about control. The war for control never ends, Boss. It’s just a matter of where we go to fight it.”
Gina’s implant notified her of an incoming call.
She glanced apologetically at Fonteneaux before taking it.
“Hello?”
Javon Del Rio’s voice came into her good ear.
He said, “Hey good looking.”
“I’m not looking particularly good right now.”
“I saw that on the holo. At least, I presume that was you. PLAIR fuzzed out the faces of all the agents. But I thought that was you. Did you get shot?”
Wilcox sighed and wondered how upfront and open she should be.
Honesty is the best policy, she decided. So far, Javon had not abused her trust by publishing anything she asked him not to write about.
“Yeah. I’m okay. I’ve been told to check into the hospital at the first opportunity so they can run some tests and give me more injections. But as far as they can tell, it’s just a flesh wound.”
“It looked like a headshot from the holo.”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“So, it just grazed you?”
“It did a little more than graze me. But I’m good.”
“Alright. Let’s get together later, after the hospital clears you. I know a quiet French restaurant that will greatly assist in your recovery.”
“It will? How will a restaurant help with medical recovery?”
“French food is well known for its restorative properties.”
“Oh really? Sounds like an excuse for a date to me.”
“French food is also well known for its romantic properties. Accompanied by a bottle or two of French wine, of course.”
“Of course. Okay, I’ll call you tonight after I leave here and get checked out at Octavia General.”
With that, she dismissed the call.
Fonteneaux said, “He seems nice.”
“You haven’t even met him, Boss.”
“I can tell from just your side of the conversation that
he cares about you. Finding a good man is not a bad idea, you know. The war put a lot of romance on hold for a while. It might be good to jump back into the dating pool before another one starts.”
“You think another war will start?”
Fonteneaux shrugged. She stood and looked down at Gina, offering her a hand up.
“I don’t know. But I imagine there will be a Parliamentary inquiry. They can get emotional sometimes. My gut tells me Thrall is involved, too. And if that gets out, there will likely be a call to go finish what Chancellor Cole left undone the first time. We do have the military capabilities to take on the last two quadrants if we have to.”
Wilcox nodded. She stood taller than the Director, who looked up at her heavily bandaged head.
Fonteneaux said, “Come on. You need to get ready for that date. I’ll fly you to the hospital myself.”
40
Boggs, Collier and Jamieson stood in Dr. Hsu’s office.
Floating in the air, a holo displayed the image of a note written on old fashioned paper.
“As you can see,” Collier said, “the paper looks worn. We think Ginger Storm carried it around on her person for years, waiting and preparing for this particular date.”
Hsu nodded, reading the note again.
He said, “It shows what happens during the war, then location and times of speaking for the rally. This information was made public just before Mr. Bainer used my machine. And you’re right, it is his handwriting. I recognize it.”
Collier said, “We found evidence Bainer worked as a deep undercover spy for the League. He’s been here for years. The time machine gave him the opportunity to send a message back to Chancellor Cole’s assassin, telling her when and where Cole would be most vulnerable. She used this knowledge to accumulate items she would need as the date for the rally grew closer. When she had everything, she knew when and where to be so she could successfully strike.”
“The fault lies with me for leaving it on all these years. I never should have created a working prototype.”