The Girls from Alcyone 2: The Machines of Bellatrix

by Cary Caffrey

  The Spurs weren't flying vehicles, not strictly speaking, but they could gain height for short hops. Suko tested that theory, standing on the repulsors, pushing the Longspur just high enough to skim over the top of a slow-moving freight transport. Sigrid looked back over her shoulder and saw the startled driver, furious and red-faced, his middle finger extended for emphasis.

  "Goodness!"

  "What's that?" Suko called back over her shoulder.

  "I'm not sure that maneuver was strictly legal," Sigrid cautioned.

  "You want to get there sooner or later?"

  "Sooner, please—eyes front!"

  It had taken nearly sixteen hours to get to New Shēnzhèn on the transonic TGV. The ride back to Portside took nearly three days on the Longspurs, but it proved far more enjoyable. The girls took turns driving, challenging each other, racing the entire distance. It was easy for Sigrid to let herself forget the darker reasons for their being here, if only for the moment. But as they entered the outskirts of Portside, winding their way closer to the Trade District, the mood turned serious once again.

  By now, word of their presence was bound to have spread. Sigrid didn't need to remind any of them of the dangers or their purpose in being here. The trap had been set, and they were to be the bait.

  Even without the aid of the nav-sats, finding the Trade District was a simple thing. Suko fell in line with the long trains of freight haulers as they made their way to the very heart of Portside. The Trade District seemed more freight terminal than city, as buildings gave way to the towering stacks of intermodal containers that stretched for kilometer after kilometer at the sides of the road.

  In time, they could go no further. The road ended in a wide plaza. Hundreds of transports sat parked in rows, their engines rumbling at low idles. Streams of suborbital shuttles came in waves, dropping their cargo, adding to the stacks of waiting containers, somehow avoiding colliding with one another, hurrying to deliver their loads of goods to the merchants and traders who flocked here.

  Suko brought the Longspur to a halt, Leta right behind her. Trudy was busy leaning over, hacking out a cough, working something out of her lungs.

  "She swallowed a bug," Leta explained.

  "Are you sure this is the place?" Suko asked.

  Sigrid scanned their surroundings. They appeared to be in a truck park, one at the very heart of the Trade District. Heavy ground transports trundled by on all sides: huge, lumbering trucks with wheels standing five and six meters tall. They shook the ground as they rolled past. Sigrid pulled at Suko's arm, hustling her out of the way of one that rolled by too close. The sheer volume of noise was daunting, the threat of being crushed under the wheels of industry quite real.

  "There!" Sigrid said, pointing. In the distance she spotted the one and only permanent structure in the vicinity. It was a square, prefab building, the kind used on work sites, large enough to accommodate several hundred people. A broad holographic sign sat perched on its roof, a shining beacon, blinking out its welcome to the drivers and traders who flocked to its doors: "Eat at Daisy's!"

  "This can't be the place," Suko said. "This has got to be a mistake."

  "Or a trap," Trudy offered.

  Leta eyed the establishment warily. "If by 'trap' you mean making us sick from greasy, overly rich, sugary foods, then you may be right."

  But as Sigrid looked around, she could see no other possible destination. "The coordinates the broker gave us match," Sigrid said. "This is it. This is where he told us to go. We might as well have a look."

  Four burly men exited the establishment as they approached. Seeing the girls in their sleek outfits, they leered at them openly. One of them gave a low whistle; another wagged his tongue, wriggling his eyebrows in hopeful expectation.

  "Perverts," Trudy mumbled as the men walked past.

  More men turned their way as they entered. They appeared to be of large stock, thickly built, and with a healthy thirst for beer and pan-fried slabs of meat, judging by what the serving girls carried on brimming tray after brimming tray. Sigrid sensed the collective blood pressure in the room rise as eager eyes fell on the four girls standing in the doorway.

  Trudy took half a step back. "Um…I'll stay out here, keep watch, if it's all the same."

  "Don't worry," Leta said, cracking her knuckles. "They're harmless."

  "It's all right, Trudy" Sigrid said. "You're on overwatch. Try the roof—that should give you a good viewpoint. Let us know if any of our visitors arrive."

  "On it."

  "That must be Daisy," Suko said, pointing toward the large figure behind the bar. If Suko was right, Daisy was a he. A giant of a man, Daisy was nearly as wide as he was tall, and filled most of the space behind the bar. He was busy holding court with a group of truckers, all the while doling out shots of whiskey. Whether the men and women were interested in his monologue or the free shots, Sigrid couldn't tell.

  Her enhanced hearing filtered out the conversation from the wash of music and raised voices. Daisy was presenting his theory of the recent bombings. If he had any sympathy for the dead CTF dignitary, he didn't show it. Mercenaries seemed to be his prime suspects, though it appeared he blamed the Mercenary Guild for just about everything.

  Sigrid took the empty stool closest to him. Her encroachment did not go unnoticed by the group gathered there. The truckers grew quickly silent, turning to regard her with wary eyes.

  "It's not terrorists," Sigrid said as she faced them. "And I highly doubt it's mercenaries either."

  "Course it's mercs," Daisy said. He spoke with a lilting brogue that took Sigrid off guard, that such a musical voice could belong to such a brute of a man. "They nabbed two of 'em trying to escape. Got 'em dead ta rights."

  "Mercenaries would have very little to gain from such a provocation, sir."

  Daisy continued to eye her with suspicion; apparently he knew a freelancer when he saw one, and they were not welcome in his establishment. "Yeah? Well, wha' d'ya know of it?"

  Sigrid shrugged. "I know that my friend and I are thirsty. Whisky for me. She'll have a vodka—two fingers, if you please."

  "Only two?" Suko asked; Sigrid elbowed her in her side.

  Daisy grunted and placed two small glasses in front of her, pouring two sloppy shots.

  "Have one yourself," Sigrid added.

  The offer seemed to mellow the bartender. He shrugged his approval, pouring a third shot.

  "Now, why d'ya say it's not mercs?" Daisy asked. Sigrid sensed he probably didn't much care what her answer was, having already made up his mind.

  "I know what I know." Sigrid pushed her empty glass toward him—dreadful stuff. "Perhaps we can exchange information, as well as more of your fine malt."

  Daisy smiled. But he pushed the unfilled glass back toward her. "We don't take kindly ta freelancers 'ere, miss, and we don't like questions neither. You an' your kind, always coming around, nosing in where you're not wanted. You've had your drink, and you've had your fun. Now I think it best you be on your way."

  Sigrid looked about her. The small group of truckers had grown threefold as more men and women crowded around, favoring her with unkind looks.

  "I'm not here to make trouble," Sigrid said, in what she hoped was a soothing tone. "I'm only looking for the Merchantmen. There was a man, Corbin Price was his name. Perhaps you've—"

  "He said…" a voice said from behind her, "we don't like freelancers."

  Sigrid turned slowly to face the person who'd interrupted their conversation. It was a woman. She wore a heavy green coat and work trousers. Driver's gloves covered her hands, and a billed cap obscured most of her face. But that didn't stop Sigrid from recognizing her.

  It was the woman from the pub. Catherine Cartwright. Kitten. Suko recognized her, too, and stepped forward, reaching for the knife on her belt, but Sigrid put her hand on her arm, holding her back.

  And Daisy wasn't done with his scolding either. "You'll not get no information here, miss. I think you girls best be leavin'."


  "It's all right, Daisy," the woman said. "They're just kids. I'll take care of them. Come on—over here. Now, before there's trouble." She took Sigrid by the elbow, but Sigrid was an unmovable object. The woman leaned close, speaking low. "Please, Ms…Peters. Do as I ask—while there's still time."

  First in the pub, and now here, Sigrid knew this meeting was not by chance. But she also knew she needed answers now, not a fight. "Very well. We'll make no trouble."

  She allowed the woman to lead them to a corner booth. No one spoke until they were seated and satisfied the rest of the patrons were back to minding their own business.

  "Ms. Cartwright," Sigrid said. "You're following me."

  "Hardly," the woman said. There was a scolding, cautioning tone to her voice. "Do you have any idea how many people are looking for you right now? You're lucky I got to you first."

  Sigrid frowned. "I'm certain luck has absolutely nothing to do with it. How did you find us, Ms. Cartwright? Why are you here?"

  "I came here to warn you, Ms. Novak."

  The woman flinched, wincing as Suko pressed the blade of her balisong against her thigh under the table.

  Sigrid leaned toward her. "And how is it you know my name—my real name? Please answer carefully. Your life may depend on it."

  The woman tried to pull away, but Suko held to her fast, the razor-sharp blade of the balisong cutting through the heavy fabric of her work trousers.

  "You bloody well announced it when you went to that broker," she said. "When I heard that some ex-Kimuran mercenary was looking for the Merchantmen, I knew it had to be you. I'm afraid you're all the talk of Portside, Ms. Novak."

  "No, there’s more to it than that. You knew about us, Ms. Cartwright—long before the broker made his announcements. You were waiting for us in the pub. You knew. I want to know how. Who told you we were coming?"

  "No one told me, Ms. Novak."

  The woman flinched, gasping, as Suko pressed the knife harder against her, nicking the soft flesh of her thigh.

  "You're lying," Sigrid said. "Tell me, or I promise you, my partner will kill you."

  "My name isn't Catherine, for one. It's Miranda. It's Miranda Kane… Special Agent Miranda Kane. I'm with the office of CTF Naval Intelligence."

  Suko's lips twisted into a snarl. "Oh, you are so dead—"

  "Now, just wait. It's not what you think. I'm not here for you."

  "Oh?" Sigrid said, waiting. "Then why, Ms. Kane? Why are you here?"

  "I'm here looking for the very same men that you are, Ms. Novak. I came here to help."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  War Machine

  "Help us?" Suko said. "You have got to be kidding."

  "I'm not kidding, and I'm not lying," Miranda said. "And I can prove it."

  "She's an agent of the Council," Suko warned. "You can't trust her."

  "Office of Naval Intelligence, thank you very much," Miranda corrected. "And please keep your voice down."

  "Security is security," Sigrid said. "You all answer to the same people."

  Suko turned toward her. "Sigrid…you know what we have to do."

  "Wait. Just…listen to me!" Miranda said. "You came here to kill someone. I know. But it isn't me."

  "Killing an agent of the Council is well within my mission parameters, Ms. Kane."

  "I don't believe you're a killer, Ms. Novak."

  "Then you've been misinformed."

  "I can help you," Miranda said. "You have to believe me."

  But Sigrid would have none of it. "The Council made its position clear. They'll see us destroyed if they can't have us. Why should I believe they'll help us now?"

  "I told you, I'm not working for the Council. The Council doesn't know I'm here—they don't know you're here. I only found out when I saw you at Customs."

  All of Sigrid's instincts told her that this woman was dangerous—a threat. She was an agent of the CTF. She was the enemy. She had to be. Yet her scans told her otherwise. Despite Suko's vicelike hand clamped on her leg, the knife pressed against her, the woman appeared completely earnest. She was telling her the truth.

  "Everything all right here, ladies?"

  Hearing the heated exchange, the bartender, Daisy, had lumbered over to investigate. He held a cricket bat over his shoulder and looked back and forth between the women in the booth.

  "It's all right," Miranda said. "I'm just letting these girls know about the rules around here. They'll behave. And then they'll be leaving. Won't you, girls?"

  Sigrid didn't answer, but Miranda's assurance appeared to satisfy the bartender. She waited until Daisy was safely back behind the bar before speaking.

  "If any of this is true," Sigrid said, "why not tell us in the pub? Why the charade?"

  "Because frankly, Ms. Novak, I wasn't sure how you'd react."

  "She probably would have killed you," Suko said.

  Miranda sat back, regarding the two of them carefully. "Yes…that had crossed my mind. But believe me, we're here for the same purpose. We're after the same people. I want to see justice done, just as you do."

  "Why?" Sigrid asked.

  "Because the men who attacked Alcyone pose a threat to the Federation. It's not only you and your friends they're after. They're after us. All of us. Bombings, terrorist attacks—this has gone beyond mere skirmishes, Ms. Novak. This is open rebellion. They won't stop until they see the Council fall. They'll bring the entire Federation down around everyone, and it won't be pretty."

  "Bring down the Council?" Suko said, musing. "I think I might start to like these blokes."

  "I wouldn't joke, Ms. Tansho."

  Suko stared back at her. "I wasn't."

  "The Council took everything from us, Ms. Kane," Sigrid said. "I'm not sure how you expect us to care one way or another what happens to them."

  "No… No, I don't expect you would—although, perhaps you should. How many innocents died at Panama? How many of your friends on Alcyone? How many do you think will die if it comes to war? We're fighting the same people here. I can help you—more than you can imagine. I know who they are, and I know where they are. Now, unless you want to keep traipsing around Portside announcing your presence to every bounty hunter with an itchy trigger finger, I suggest we get out of here. I'll tell you everything you need to know. I promise. Ms. Novak—Sigrid—I can take you to them."

  "Where?" Sigrid demanded. "Where are they?"

  "Not now. We're not safe here. But I know a place we can talk. Somewhere more private."

  "I still say we kill her," Suko said.

  Miranda glared back at her. "Ms. Novak, we must leave here now. The people hunting you aren't who you think. They are dangerous."

  "I'm dangerous, Ms. Kane."

  "You want revenge. I understand. You want to teach them a lesson. But not here. Do it where you have the advantage. I can give you that. There are better places for a fight." The agent looked at her, her eyes earnest. "Let me help you. Please."

  All of Sigrid's instincts told her to run. This woman was an agent. The enemy. Yet there was something…

  Sigrid felt the jolt—her comlink bleating for her attention. It was Trudy signaling from outside.

  Sigrid froze, listening.

  "Trucks coming. Four of them—no, six. Looks like mercs. Two platoons. Maybe more. I'm coming to you."

  "No, wait there, Trudy. We're coming out."

  The agent couldn't have heard the exchange, but to her credit she must have surmised what was going on.

  "They're here, aren't they?" Miranda said. "I warned you—"

  "And you also said you'd help. Did you really mean that?"

  "I did. My car's right out back. I can take you—"

  But it was too late. The front door opened. Four men walked in.

  They were not truckers. Sigrid's sensors alerted her to the assault rifles and stunners they carried. The men did not look her way, but Sigrid knew they were aware. One of them held a riot gun hidden beneath the folds of his long coat. Th
e weapon fired an electrically charged net used for pacifying crowds, more than enough to take down her or any of her friends. Sigrid knew these men had not come to kill them, but to contain them. They wanted her alive.

  Sigrid was not bound by such limitations.

  "Friends of yours?" Suko asked.

  Miranda looked up slowly from the corner of her eyes. "No."

  "They're mercenaries," Sigrid said.

  "Worse," Miranda said. "Freelancers. Cockroaches. Where there's four, there'll be four hundred. Come on. We better leave while we can."

  Calmly, they slid from the booth and walked to the rear of the restaurant and through the kitchens. Leta followed them out. Sigrid kept careful watch of the soldiers, but the men made no move against them.

  "They're herding us," Sigrid said.

  Miranda moved to open the rear door, but Sigrid stopped her. A quick thermal scan revealed more of the soldiers waiting for them out back. They had vehicles, armored personnel carriers complete with chain guns and .50 cals mounted and aimed at the exit. Eight men hurried to take up positions, riot guns in hand. The trap was set.

  Trudy's voice sounded over her comlink. "They're moving, Sigrid. They're coming in. I can cut them off—"

  "Wait there, Trudy. We're coming up."

  "Up?" Miranda asked. "How?"

  Sigrid ignored the question, scanning upwards; the roof was only meters above her. She looked to Suko. "Think you can make us an exit?"

  "I can—if someone can give me a lift."

  Leta cradled her hands together, providing a step for Suko, hoisting her up. Suko removed a strip of sticky charges from her waist clip, unrolled it and peeled away the adhesive, affixing it to the ceiling above her head.

  She hopped down and turned to the agent. "You might want to shield your eyes.

  Miranda did so, just in time.

  Sigrid saw the flash as the charges ignited. Acrid smoke filled the hallway, and a small section of the roof and ceiling came clattering to the floor. Leta was the first up. She leapt, grabbing onto the newly made opening, hoisting herself up to the roof.