Relic of Empire

by W. Michael Gear

  Excerpt from Kaylla Dawn’s Seddi broadcasts

  CHAPTER 26

  Mac slapped a hand to the lock plate outside Gyton’s bridge. The heavy hatch slipped back with a hissing sound and he stepped through, nodding briefly to the Weapons First, and the Nav-comm Specialist. The pilot, as usual, lay supine under the worry-cap. Rysta sat hunched in the command chair, her expression rivaling that of an abandoned prune. She shot Mac a hard glance and grunted to herself as she straightened and pushed up out of the chair. “It’s all yours.”

  “What’s up?” Mac asked.

  “We’re out of null singularity, that’s what. We’re coming up on Oribtal Defense and we’ve dumped enough Delta V that we can talk to Rega without time dilation.” Rysta’s lips twitched. “Minister Takka wants to speak with you.”

  Mac made a face and slipped into the command chair.

  “Comm First, establish communications, please. “Yes, sir.”

  Mac watched Ily’s face form up on the command chair monitor. She gave him a happy smile, a twinkle in her dark eyes. “MacRuder! Let me be the first to offer you congratulations for your heoric and splendid action at Imperial Sassa.”

  “Thank you, Minister.” Where the hell was Sinklar? ily pursed her lips, head slightly lowered as if she were waiting for just the right moment. “I know you’ve been out of contact, and therefore you haven’t had access to the intelligence reports, but your strike has effectively emasculated the Sassan Empire. We, Sinklar and I ... the whole Empire for that matter, owe you and the heroes of Gyton the greatest of debts and honors. Single-handedly, you’ve shortened the coming war by months, perhaps years.”

  “Thank you again, Minister. It was, after all, Sinklar’s strategy. By the way, is he available?”

  Ily shifted her gaze to one side, as if checking a monitor. “He’s currently in the middle of an exercise and can’t be disturbed. I’ll let him know you’re on the way in.” Her eyes lit with excitement again. “He’s a wonder! I can’t wait for you to see the improvement in the military. Sink has made a real difference. I think you’re in for a giant surprise when you set foot on the planet. I can’t wait for your reaction when you see how the military command has changed.”

  “I’ll be waiting expectantly.” Sinklar? Too busy with an exercise to be disturbed by our arrival? What? “I’m sure you will. We’ll have quite a reception for you. Until I see you and Commander Rysta, then, First MacRuder. “

  She cut the contact.

  Mac slouched in the chair, frowning.

  “What did that all mean?” Rysta asked as she hovered beside the command chair.

  “I don’t know. But something’s.

  Sinklar, you didn’t get involved with her, did you? Tell me she didn’t wrap you around her finger while she was screwing your brains out.

  “Not right? Or changed?” Rysta prodded. “Got me. But whatever it is, it’s not good.”

  The heavy, riot-scarred door had a curious effect on Anatolia. She glanced up at the security camera, and on impulse, waved before she pushed the door open and entered the Criminal Anatomical Research Building. Two uniformed young men sat at the security desks to either side as she entered. They both seemed to start as she walked in.

  Perhaps rumors had run rampant through the building. At the thought, Anatolia’s tension increased. She glanced quickly back to reassure herself that Buchman and Wheeler were right behind her.

  Acting as if nothing were amiss, Anatolia walked to the lift and stabbed the button for the thirty-fifth floor.

  “I’m having lots of second thoughts about this,” Sergeant First Buchman muttered from the side of his mouth.

  Anatolia gave him a worried smile, well aware of the pounding of her own heart. “Trust me. It’s better this way than if Sinklar gets involved. If he walks into the lab with a Group for backup, someone will notice. If it’s me, so what? I came in to pick up some papers, and you two are my friends. Nothing more. No one will be the wiser.”

  “And this stuff is that important?” Wheeler asked doubtfully as the numbers flashed on the lift.

  “Well, let’s put it like this. If anything happens to me, you give it to Sinklar-in person. If anyone tries to stop you.... No, better yet, think of it in terms of a ‘top secret, eyes only’ for Sinklar.”

  The lift stopped and Anatolia stepped out, her escort at her heels.

  “You serious about that?” Buchman asked. “Deadly,” Anatolia answered in a tone to brook no disobedience. She led the way across the foyer to the security desk where a strange man watched with apparent interest. New student?

  “You’re new,” Anatolia greeted. “Student?”

  The man smiled, amusement in his eyes. “I’m called Teal. Just transferred in. You’re Daviura, aren’t you? I noted your holo on the personnel file.”

  “You did?”

  He grinned. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a pretty woman.” He glanced curiously at Buchman and Wheeler, gaze lingering on their sidearms and weapons belts.

  “New roommates.” She lowered her eyes selfconsciously. “If you’ve been here for very long, you may have heard. I lost my place a while back.” She sneaked a glance at the comm, seeing the usual text on the screen. Her fear eased by a notch. “Vet in the lab?”

  The new man seemed to hesitate. “No, I think he’s off today. “

  Anatolia nodded. “Too bad. Well, I’ll call him later. See you around.”

  She started down the hall, Buchman and Wheeler close behind.

  “Didn’t look like a student,” Wheeler growled. Something about the eyes.”

  Anatolia waved it away. “You- wouldn’t have thought I was a student either-something about my eyes after, my time on the street.”

  Buchman had moved up beside her, leaving Wheeler slightly to the rear. “How far?”

  “ A ways. It’s a long hallway. “ She pointed at the women’s room. “That’s where I used to live.”

  :’No kidding?”

  ‘No kidding.” She glanced curiously up at Buchman. “How long have you known Sinklar?”

  “Since our cadre was called up for replacements for the First Targan.”

  “And, sister, that’s a long time as our lives go,” Wheeler asserted.

  “Um, mind if I ask one?” Buchman’s eyes- never ceased to move, as if he were trying to see everything in the featureless hallway.

  To ahead.”

  ‘What’s your interest in Sinklar?”

  If you only knew! “He’s my friend. Nothing more, Sergeant First. He showed up when I needed him. Maybe I’m returning the favor. You spying for Mhitshul?”

  Buchman shook his head, grinning wryly. “Nope. Asking for myself ... and maybe the rest of us. You see, we worry a lot about Sink. “

  “Especially recently, huh?” Anatolia prodded. “If you’ve been losing sleep over Ily, I think you can tell the troops to relax a little. Sinklar’s on to her.”

  Buchman shot her a quick glance, his expression deadpan.

  “This door.” Anatolia turned to the right, palming the lock. Wheeler lagged, scanning up and down the hallway before she followed them into the lab. Ana wound her way past assorted equipment and over to her corner. Kneeling down with her key and unlocking the drawer, she pulled out the two piles of printout and frowned as she straightened. “I left a pen and notepad here. Someone’s cleaned it up.”

  . “That’s bad?” Wheeler asked in a low voice, keeping an eye on the room.

  Anatolia took a deep breath and powered up the machine, taking a data cube from her pocket and inserting it. She ran the access and called up file 7355, quickly scanning to see that it was all there.

  “Computer, copy file 7355 to datacube insert.” “Working.” A pause. “Data transfer complete.” “Erase file 7355.”

  “File erased.”

  “Wipe and overwrite with 0 and 1. Repeat command three times.”

  “Working.” The machine made a whirring sound. “Command complete.”

  �
�Overwrite the just wiped storage area with the value of pi. “

  Working.” Then: “Area overwritten.” “Print, please.”

  “Working.” Printout of the numerical value of pi began issuing from the printer slot. Anatolia scanned the pages and nodded as the output basket filled. When it was done, she tore the sheet off and dumped it in the converter.

  “Let’s go.” She smiled in relief as she handed Wheeler the two stacks of printout and dropped the data cube in her pocket.

  Her heart had begun to resume some semblance of normal rhythm as she stepped out into the hallway—and stopped short.

  Jan Bokken stood in the center of the hallway. To either side stood security officers, one of whom was Teal from the front desk. “Hello, Ana, I need to speak to you for a moment. “

  The frantic feeling of being in the dark, of backing into the cul-de-sac, and of Micky’s fetid breath panicked her, despite the fact that Buchman and Wheeler had taken up protective, flanking positions. From down the hallway, two more men walked slowly forward.

  :’Tell me now, Jan. I’m in a hurry.”

  ‘Yeah, we’ve got a dinner appointment,” Buchman added, a slightly annoyed tone in his voice.

  Bokken waved at Buchman and Wheeler. “You, of course, may go. Oh, but that stack of paper the private is carrying must stay. I believe that’s property of the laboratory. “

  Anatolia’s jaw had started to quiver. Pull yourself together! Stop it!

  Bokken looked like a hunter who knew his prey couldn’t escape.

  “It’s just some work I need to catch up on at home,” Anatolia assured him.

  "You got a reason to bother my girlfriend?” Buchman asked, taking a step forward.

  Bokken seemed nonplussed. He lifted a hand, holding out an identification card with the emblem of Internal Security emblazoned on the duraplast. “Your ... girlfriend’s presence is requested at the Ministry of Internal Security, Sergeant. I’m sure you can pick her up there later.”

  Anatolia gasped, unable to stop herself from stepping back. Not far from this very spot, a cold specimen table waited for the deliveries from the Ministry. Would she be there tomorrow Morning for Vet to catalog? As if in anticipation of the slab, a chill spread through her.

  “I think not,” Buchman replied, steel in his voice. For a second, Bokken just frowned. “I said-“ “Targa!” Wheeler growled angrily, stepping out farther to the right as she balanced on the balls of her feet.

  Buchman nodded as he repeated, “Targa.” Anatolia started to raise her hand to interrupt, but at that moment Buchman launched himself into Bokken and the closest guards. In the same split second, Wheeler had dropped to a squat, her pistol rasping on the plastic of her holster as she pulled it out and leveled it on the guards closing from down the hall. The printout spewed out over the floor as Wheeler’s blaster discharged.

  “Ana! Grab the papers!” Wheeler shouted, turning her weapon to cover Buchman. The Sergeant First had hammered Bokken across the throat and then kicked one of the rushing guards in the groin. He grappled with another, backheeled him, and broke loose, rolling across the tiles. Wheeler’s blaster fired again, and Buchman’s shot caught another man full in the back, spattering muscle, ribs, and lung fragments around.

  That quickly it was finished, Bokken making a gurgling sound as he tore at his throat. The shattered bodies of the dead security agents bled onto the polished tile while stunned nerves. triggered spasms through exposed muscular tissue. Anatolia crouched, paralyzed, her fingers curling in the sheets of paper.

  “We’d better be getting out of here,” Wheeler called in a worried voice. Anatolia clawed the printout together, clutching it to her breast and shaking as she gazed at the blast-mangled corpses before her. Impossible ... to think....

  “Which way?” Buchman shouted. “Back the way we came?”

  Anatolia pulled her scattered wits together. “No! They’ll have people there. This way. The garage! There’s another lift down to street level.”

  She leapt forward, slipped on fresh blood, and would have fallen but for Buchman’s quick grip on her arm. She sprinted down the hallway, stifled sobs choking in her throat.

  “You okay?” Wheeler called as they ran, the woman’s brown eyes narrowed in concern.

  “I’m ... all right.” I’m on the street again. I’ve been here before. Courage began to pump in time to the adrenal fear in her veins.

  Anatolia rounded a corner, bolted past two startled secretaries, and charged the seventy meters to the lift. She palmed the lock plate, praying that the carnage hadn’t been discovered. The lift tube opened.

  Anatolia flattened herself in the rear, the precious printout clutched to her breast, as Buchman and Wheeler followed and slapped the garage level control.

  Anatolia glanced back and forth as they dropped, finally nerving herself to ask, “What’s Targa?” “Means you’ve got nothing left to lose but your life,” Buchman told her.

  “You gonna make it?” Wheeler asked tersely.

  "You’re not gonna flake out on us?”

  Anatolia cracked a crooked grin she didn’t feel. “Not me.”

  “You looked a little pale back there,” Buchman said.

  Anatolia shook her head as the lift stopped. She forced starch into her wobbly knees before they stepped out on the parking level. “It’s just the blasters that got me. I’m used to killing people with a metal rod. The lift is this way. “

  Wheeler followed, covering their rear as she backed after them. “You’re kidding?”

  They followed the concrete apron around the side of the passenger pickup. Cool air blew in from the entrance tunnel-a square hole to the right, illuminated by yellow patches of light. Out in the parking area, the aircars, bodies painted in bright colors, gleamed in rows. An eerie quiet hung over the place and their footsteps echoed hollowly.

  “It’s a long story ... for later ... if we live through this. “

  “If? Why do I hate that Rotted word so much?” Buchman pointed. “That the lift to the street?” “That’s it.”

  “Maybe we should have brought an LC,” Wheeler muttered under her breath.

  At street level, Anatolia led them across to, the burned-out shops. They’d made it to within fifty meters of the lift that would take them down to the shuttle when an aircar dove out of the traffic lanes overhead.

  “Duck!” Wheeler cried, lifting her blaster and cutting loose.

  Buchman flattened Anatolia with a hard arm, pressing her down into the filthy pavement.

  “Pus-Rotted Gods!” Wheeler cried as she dove headlong on top of them. “They’re gonna hit the-“ The pavement jumped at the impact as the aircar drove into the street, cartwheeled, and hammered a hole through one of the buildings.

  Buchman was already pulling her to her feet, dragging her along toward the shuttle.

  “What happened?”

  Wheeler was running full tilt for the shuttle tube. “Blew their cursed canopy off! Must have killed the driver. We’re damn lucky to be alive!”

  Anatolia was gulping air in as the tube carried them down to the shuttle level. “Targa , huh? I gotta get some of that armor you folks wear.”

  Buchman launched himself from the tube, blaster in an isosceles hold. The few people standing around waiting for the shuttle gaped, obviously aware of the impact several stories above on the street.

  “Great timing!” Wheeler called as the shuttle slid into the station. Heedless of other passengers, they rushed for the car—only to have it go dead and settle onto the magnets.

  Buchman cursed and slammed the butt of his pistol on the half-open door. “What the hell?”

  Anatolia swallowed hard. “Ily cut the power. She’s got someone in the Shuttle Authority. “

  “Pus-licking bitch!” Wheeler spun on her heel, glowering as the civilians backed away, and then broke for the tube and the safety of the street above.

  “Guess we’re back on the street.” Buchman spoke through clenched jaws. “C’mon!
”

  “No.” Anatolia stood resolutely.

  “You crazy?” Wheeler gestured her desperation. “We’ve only got minutes until Ily has aircars all over this part of the city! “

  Anatolia gave them a hard grin. “Let her. I know a better way. Here, give me a hand.” She dropped on her belly, piling the precious printout beside her, and slithered over onto the magnetic rails. “Watch your step! Don’t touch the rails. They could go hot any second. “

  Buchman’s frown had deepened. “Where are you going?”

  "The street,” Anatolia replied. “Hand me the,printout. I know another way out of here.”

  “Targa!” Wheeler shouted, dropping athletically off the platform.

  “ Damn right, Targa!” Anatolia echoed as she stepped carefully over the rails to reach the hollow under the other side of the framework. She took a deep breath, smelling the foul roots of the city. “I just didn’t know I’d be back this soon.”

  Ily paced irritably. The large wall monitor had been split into windows, monitoring the pursuit of Anatolia Daviura. Who would have thought the two soldiers accompanying her would have shot? It defied all logic.

  When the call came in that Daviura had arrived at the research facility, Ily had watched and listened to Bokken’s botched attempt at arrest through remote monitors carried by the agents. Bokken had followed the manual, scrambling his people immediately. He had covered the two routes of escape with backup at the main exit, and waited to apprehend Daviura until after she’d recovered her work, when her guard would have been lowered. The two soldiers had appeared to be an inconvenience, but not an alarming one. Subjects were separated from their friends as standard procedure. According to protocol, they should have bowed out, insisting that Sinklar would straighten things out. Then, in the blink of an eye, it had all gone wrong. Why?

  Targa! That single word had precipitated the shooting.

  “Rot it all, we run a civilized planet here,” Ily asserted under her breath. She turned on her heel. “What’s happening. They dropped to the shuttle platform. People saw them trying to take the shuttle. Where did they go?”