Another bang tore through the bridge.
Clio blocked out the noise, took a deep breath, and pulled the controls. The Bakura was descending too fast. Parker had slowed her enough for the drop-ships to deploy but not enough for a clean landing. Her fingers worked furiously as she overclocked the reverse thrusters and rolled the Bakura from under enemy fire.
On exiting the maneuver, she was relieved to find the vessel still in one piece.
A loud clank rolled through the bridge, and another alarm rang out.
“Too many critical systems have failed,” Gargan shouted. “I can’t delay the bridge detachment any longer.”
“It’ll throw us off course!” Clio screamed.
Gargan swore. “Attempting another override!”
They suddenly burst through the clouds, the planet surface rising quickly to meet them. According to Clio’s flight helmet, they were nowhere near their intended course. Clio ran a series of calculations and included the bridge separation process in the equation. The results came back less than favorable.
She ran the numbers again. They came back worse, and she promptly selected the most favorable.
Red text flashed in the corner of her view.
Probability of landing: 17%
Projected survival rate: 4%
The bridge groaned and creaked.
“I’ve held her for as long as I can,” Gargan shouted. “She’s releasing!”
An incredible force flung Clio back in her chair. Her teeth felt like they would tear free from her gums, and her eyes sunk into their sockets. Through the moist blur, the city grew fast in her VD. Clio’s heart skipped a beat. The bridge’s projected flight path led straight through the center of Targos City.
Clio closed her eyes, but the flight path remained, as though it had been burned onto the back of her eyelids.
10
The Artifact
By the time he stepped through the clinic entry, Randai could barely stand, but he pushed on, doing his best to bear the pain so as not to attract the unwanted attention of passersby. If Mr. Darcy’s men were already out looking for him, causing a scene would be a quick route to an early grave.
The old Yalore receptionist, who never remembered his details despite being a regular, handed him a compad.
Randai suspected she made him register every time out of spite. The Tal’ri were Randai’s least favorite race, but the Yalore came in a close second. Yalore were irritable at the best of times, and their wrinkled, pink skin made them appear surlier than a dog with a bee up its ass. Their drooping eyes and sagging faces made them look like they wanted nothing more than to melt out of existence. As with most Yalore, the receptionist’s long, elaborately-pierced ears almost touched her shoulders, as though the lobes had tried to flee from her bleak face but had been caught at the last second. Randai considered Vargs ugly as hell, but Yalore were the sorriest looking people he’d ever seen, and the clinic receptionist was no exception.
He finished filling in the compad form and handed the device back to her then took a seat in the overcrowded waiting area.
Randai ignored the other patients as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Eventually, Doctor Kira called his name and led him to his usual makeshift treatment area behind the partition panel.
She silently examined him and closed his wound with a plasma blade before hooking his arm up to a bag of liquid. She didn’t berate him or complain like Randai expected her to.
He eyed the partition suspiciously. Maybe Darcy’s thugs already got to her. Maybe she’s holding me here until they arrive.
She caught him staring into the hallway. “Is something wrong?”
“Do you ever get the feeling someone’s watching you?”
“You’re always so paranoid, Randai.”
“Can you blame me? I just had a Varg stick me with a knife.”
“You’ll get no sympathy from me. When you go looking for trouble, you’ll find it.”
“It’s not my fault the White Dragons are a pack of nut-bags.”
Randai winced as Kira poked his wound. “You shouldn’t say things like that so loudly around here. My job is hard enough as it is.” She eyed the hallway just as Randai had. “You never know who might be listening. Anyway, what do you expect when you go getting mixed up with criminals?”
He couldn’t argue with that. Kira was right, and she knew it too. Her reveling in always being right annoyed him to no end. Randai clenched as she probed his ribs with a gloved finger. “Easy!”
“Don’t be such a child. It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ve sealed it, and you’ve not lost too much blood, but you’ll need to rest for a few days. Otherwise, you risk opening it again.”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Randai grunted.
“The regen chamber’s free.”
“I don’t have any time. Mr. Darcy’s men might be on their way here. If they find you helping me again—”
She put her finger on his lips. “You don’t have to keep getting hurt just to see me.”
Randai had to stop himself from recoiling. The woman had spent her entire life in the Underways, so he couldn’t blame her for being deluded, or maybe she’d been breathing in too many chemicals. He changed the subject. “If I can strike a deal with the White Dragons, I’ll be able to buy my ticket topside. If not—.” He gritted his teeth as Kira started bandaging his chest. “Let’s just say, either way, you’ll be rid of me.”
Kira silently wrapped the gauze around his torso, but he felt the ire radiating from her. Randai was sure he even saw a flicker disappointment in her eyes. He suddenly felt faint and ran his hand through his hair. Pain meds must be mixing with whatever’s left over in my body from earlier.
Women had always confused the hell out of him. He didn’t understand why they had to be so complicated. For Randai, the world was black and white, right and wrong, kill or be killed. Surviving life was all that mattered, though he regretted dragging the doctor into his mess. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved by giving me that syringe, you know. They’ll come after you if they ever find out.”
“You make it sound like you care.” Kira’s words dripped with acid all of a sudden.
Randai really didn’t like how Doctor Kira could get under his skin. Never seeing her again was probably for the best. There had to be another trustworthy doctor somewhere, even if Kira’s clinic was the only licensed medical practice in Bometown.
He looked into a corner, avoiding eye-contact. “You’ve taken care of me more times than I can recall, regardless of whether I’ve had the finances to cover treatment. I owe you. I promise to settle that debt once I’ve worked something out.” Randai looked back to Kira.
Her face turned red.
What’s she angry about now? “I mean to say, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and I wouldn’t like to see a friend get hurt on my account,” he added quickly. The ‘f’ word almost felt like dirt on Randai’s tongue. Since returning to the Underways, he’d done his best to avoid becoming friends with anyone. Getting close to people only ever caused trouble.
Kira seemed to relax. “It’s not like you to be kind.”
“Well, it’s true,” he said feebly.
Kira was right again, of course. Those were probably the kindest words he’d spoken to her, or to anyone else, in years. What little he could remember of their recent conversations was peppered with alcohol-induced vitriol on his part.
Kira tied the bandage tight, and Randai stifled a groan. She stepped back and took the measure of him.
He grew uncomfortable under that gaze, but before he could look away, she handed him a bottle of medication.
“This will aid blood production. Take one pill twice a day and no more. Rest up for the next two weeks. If you come back here with that thing bleeding again, I won’t treat you.”
Doctor Kira had threatened him in the past, but something in the way she spoke this time implied that she was serious. Her voice had become distant and cold. For a
reason Randai couldn’t fathom, he felt concern for the good doctor. “Is everything okay?” The question seemed inadequate, but Randai had just waded into uncharted territory.
“Don’t you worry about me,” she spat. “I’ve lived in Bometown long enough to know how to handle the White Dragons.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Do you know what’s wrong with you, Randai?”
Something told him it was best not to answer that question, not that he knew how. It wasn’t often Randai found himself lost for words.
“Not only do you have no purpose in life, you have no interest in finding one.”
He wanted to respond but stuttered before Kira cut him off.
“I don’t know what happened for you to have lost your way, and if I’m honest, I no longer care.” She folded her arms. “I’m no therapist but let me give you some advice. Sort yourself out and start taking some damn responsibility for yourself and those in your life.”
A tight knot twisted Randai’s gut…like anger, hate, and pain tangled with other strands he didn’t recognize. It amassed in a ball of overwhelming confusion, and though his mouth moved, words refused to form. He drew a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “I lost my purpose a long time ago,” he said.
“Then find a new one. Or make something up. But go do it somewhere else. I can’t look at you anymore.” Doctor Kira turned her back on him. “I have real patients to attend to, and it sounds like you have things to take care of.”
Randai wanted to ask where the sudden anger had come from but decided to leave it alone. “I have work to do.”
“I hope you find yourself someday, Randai, I really do.” Without another word, Kira vanished behind the partition, leaving him to drown in a sea of bewilderment without anything to hold onto.
It suddenly struck Randai that it really was the last time he’d be seeing Kira, and the realization hurt. Her clinic had become something of a second home: a familiar, non-threatening place.
Randai slipped his shirt on and winced at the tightness under the bandages. Before leaving the room, he gazed into a mirror built into the wall and was startled by what looked back. He couldn’t put his finger on it. The same piercing, green irises stared back at him, yet his eyes felt like they belonged to someone else.
Under his scars, grimy skin, and unkempt beard, something dormant rustled. The man Randai had buried seven years before shifted just beneath the surface, threatening to tear free.
Randai couldn’t stop his mouth from twisting into a half-smile. He didn’t know what was happening but felt at peace with not knowing. Soon after returning to the slums, ignorance had become a way of life. It had eventually led to where he was: standing before a mirror, staring at a man longing for home, and for the first time in as long as Randai could remember, he wanted to start knowing again.
Randai turned away from the mirror as if to wish the indignant person he’d become a final farewell.
His SIG vibrated as a new message appeared in his inbox. It had come from an unknown sender but appeared to be clear of malware. Randai read it under his breath. “When life sends you a sign, don’t ignore it.”
Damn fortune cookie spambots. He deleted the file.
It was time he took responsibility for his actions. It was time he got his life back, and he was going to start with sorting out the White Dragons.
11
Barracuda-V3
The drop passed in a smear of flashing colors accompanied by screams of profound fear and pure ecstasy. Bleeps and pings punctuated the raging list of meaningless warnings in his VD.
Suddenly, Grimshaw’s brain went from tearing through the top of his head to squeezing out of his rectum. His heart pounded as the Stork’s landing thrusters fired and the drop-ship whined as she slowed.
After what felt like an age, the Stork hit the ground with a reverberating crunch, throwing him against the crash cage, almost knocking his teeth out.
Grimshaw had dropped onto many battlefields during the Kragak War, but even those hadn’t been so intense.
A channel to the cockpit opened in his visor’s display, and the flight crew appeared. Lieutenant Dann looked disheveled and more than a little pale. “A rough one, but she’s kissed the ground, Commander.”
“Good work, Lieutenant,” Grimshaw said, his voice drier than he expected. “Status?”
“Got thrown off course. Had to come in diagonally to give the thrusters time to decelerate. We’re three miles from Raugh Forest. Twenty miles west of Targos City. Landing gear and stabilizers are fried. Took all the fuel in her to stop us from turning into human stew. Reserve power has been diverted to the upper shields. Holding so far, but something tells me the sumbitches haven’t called in the cavalry yet.”
“How are the scanners, Briggs?” Grimshaw asked the Stork’s communications officer reading various instruments by Dann’s side.
“Long-range is still jammed, sir. But short-range is showing we’re clear for now.”
Grimshaw punched the cage in front of him. “We’re blind without long-range readings. Fire up the Barracuda, Dann. I’ll join you up front in a minute.”
“Yes, sir.”
Grimshaw closed the cockpit link and brought up the overall status report. Storks Charlie and Delta made it with less than ten fatalities, but Alpha lost over half of her passengers, including her entire flight crew. Life-signs for all three boats fluctuated all over the show. He executed another quick-scan, but Stork Beta still registered as MIA. He muttered a curse.
Could have landed somewhere beyond short-range scanners. Grimshaw quickly analyzed a map of the surrounding terrain and located a well-covered spot in the forest suitable for a base of operations. He swiped south-west of their position and found the Bakura had crashed less than four miles away.
The cabin rocked as the Stork’s turrets fired. The sounds of battle erupted outside. I have to get the cadets off the boat before they turn into a crazed herd of trapped cattle.
“Remember your places, people,” he called out to them. “Into the trees and establish a perimeter at the coordinates attached to the orders I’ve just sent.” He punched the release switch to his right, and the crash cages snapped open. The cadets unstrapped, and the squad leaders led their teams down the descending rear-ramp.
Grimshaw turned to Eline. “Get them to cover and establish a base at that location. I’ll check the Bakura for survivors.”
“Sure thing.” She opened an area-wide vox channel. “You assholes know what to do! Off the boats and into those trees. Head to the coordinates you’ve been given. Keep your heads down, remember your training, and run like your mother’s tits depend on it!” She glided to the rear ramp and directed the final few cadets off the Stork.
Grimshaw made his way into the cockpit. A door hissed closed behind him, and the APC’s engines rumbled to life. Wedgey had already climbed into the turret hub above.
“Take her out, Dann,” Grimshaw said, strapping himself in next to Briggs.
Metal rattled and clanked as the Barracuda separated from the shell of the Stork-V3.
Lieutenant Dann tugged on the steering column, and the vehicle jerked sideways, narrowly missing enemy fire. Grimshaw peered through the reinforced window in time to see an enemy fighter cut across the sky, followed by three Confederation ships.
“At least the colony’s putting up a fight,” Dann said.
“Keep them off us if they get too close, Wedgey,” Grimshaw ordered on the vox.
“Yes, sir,” Wedgey answered.
“Let’s check that wreckage.” Grimshaw transferred the area map to the buggy’s VD. “Looks like it’s four miles south-west.”
“Consider it done.” Dann steered the Barracuda toward the flashing yellow beacon on the map.
“And keep an eye out for drop-ship B.” The resulting silence communicated that they all suspected the worst. “How’s the sky looking, Wedgey?”
“Enemy fighters attacked the Storks, sir, but looks like the CF birds
chased them north. Skies are clear for now.”
“Let’s hope those colony ships keep them busy. Stay alert. I don’t want any more surprises.”
Dann steered the Barracuda between boulders and clumps of otherworldly trees.
Grimshaw noted a steadier section of ground close by, but the Barracuda-V3 was built for brisk troop mobilization in challenging terrain. Being light and agile, they didn’t want to be getting pinned down by enemy fighters out in the open.
Grimshaw hoped anyone who hadn’t gotten off the Bakura was still alive, but the swirling pillars of smoke in the distance didn’t inspire confidence.
The vehicle accelerated across a patch of open ground, throwing him back in his seat.
Eventually, the smoking husk of the Bakura came into view, and Lieutenant Dann slowed the APC, carefully picking a path among the dense debris.
“Any sign of survivors, Briggs?”
“Too much noise for details, sir, but I’m getting a few sporadic readings.”
Movement near the horizon, off to the right, caught Grimshaw’s eye. “What’s that over there?” He pointed it out to Briggs.
“There’s too much interference, sir, but I think I can get a signal.” The comms officer worked at the controls, and a blurred image appeared on the Barracuda’s VD. “I’ll try to clean it up a bit.”
The VD turned static before the image cleared, inciting curses and blasphemy from the crew. Angry flames bellowed foreboding clouds of black.
“Stork Beta,” Briggs whispered.
“Any life-signs?” Grimshaw already knew the answer and swallowed hard.
“I’m not getting anything, sir.”
“Looks like she didn’t deploy in time or took a direct hit on the way down,” Dann whispered, kissing the cross around his neck with one hand while guiding the Barracuda with the other. “Poor bastards. May God bless their souls.”
They rode the rest of the way in somber silence. A Stork full of cadets and officers gone. As far as Grimshaw knew, such a loss hadn’t been recorded by the Confederation Fleet since the Kragak War. His TEK felt tight all of a sudden.
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