by I. Christie
If I can't shut down the smugglers here, then like Guardian, I'm going to make their lives miserable. Two sticks stirring the bottom of this pond should make it pretty messy on the surface. Hmmm. Maybe…if they get a reading of me somewhere on the surface…I wonder if there's a real miserable place around here. Surely the entire surface of this planet isn't flat. Ohhh. That would really wear the small parts on the suits down. Harriet Montran started to chuckle.
"Ahh. I see you are already beginning to enjoy the adventure," Guardian's soft voice startled Harriet. "My apologies, I did not mean to surprise you."
Waiting for her heart to settle back into its cavity, Harriet held off on her reply for a few more calm heartbeats. Being strapped down to where she had little movement to defend herself should something happen made for a jumpy operative.
"I was just thinking of a small annoyance for your unwanted visitors. Are there any slopes or terrain that would overtax their AEG's?"
"Yes. There is a place the Spartans refer to as the Southern Rim. The Black Rose have been scouting and mapping that area for almost two stan years, and have only half of the area covered."
"Are they looking for something?"
"Adventure, perhaps. It can be rather boring with nothing to do."
"Hmm. I think a sighting of their missing quarry over that way would give them a new burst of excitement."
"It would. I will send out a signal that was set on your AEG from one of my transponders."
"Sounds like the beginnings of a good old fashion snipe hunt." Harriet closed her eyes and considered other possibilities to divide the groups.
"Guardian?"
"Yes, Lieutenant."
"Why did you call me Alexandra?"
"I am most sorry to have taken it upon myself to address you with such familiarity without asking."
"It's a name that I don't use anymore."
"My apologies, I did not mean to pry."
There was a space of silence, which Harriet Montran could have sworn she could hear the Copoc turning this over in his mind. Why? And then she thought of the idiocy of imagining she could know what a computer was thinking. Gawds! I hope not.
"It is a rather strong name. Perhaps one day you shall feel comfortable using it again."
"Maybe." Something else was trying to drag her back to her past. She was going to remember not to sit in any more Com-C chairs. She would rather not share parts of herself that she had buried from her own consciousness, especially without having any control over just what information was being taken. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on the present problem.
The Black Rose…I would never have thought they would throw in with smugglers, regardless that Lord Chaney is their sponsor. They've had some pretty memorable skirmishes with smugglers leaving a lot of bad feelings on both sides…or, seven years ago they had. What's happened that the two put aside their hostility? Hmm. Or, were they only eliminating rivals of this group? Well, for whatever reasons, I'm going to have to be real careful about not running into them. This metradame is enough. An unknown element. But if she trained with the Bodshiva group, she's going to be very good. So, I'll just keep my distance from Lord Chaney…hmm. Well, I've been curious to see just what my worth is under fire and just where my skill level is, and this is my proving ground. Geeze. A one-woman assault team? No. A one-woman pot stirrer. Yeah.
The other Spartans she would worry about as she met them. She had retrained many grunts in her two years as a Spartan CO and felt she could read people better than most, gauging just what danger they could pose to the smooth operation of a recon team, and she did not consider herself short on combat skills. Lt. Commander Hayes, her immediate superior in the Centurions made sure she kept up her ground fighting skills, probably to see how much of her Spartan impulse training was intact. She shifted uneasily in her seat.
Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts wander. Sharon, a metradame? What did she read in her? Nothing. She simply did not read anything. A safe harbor? At the time, she was looking for an escape from memories and connections to her time spent as a Spartan field officer. Sharon was absent of - violence. She was ordinary and …safe. Is that what a metradame does…make one feel safe? What did the advertisement say? Could Guardian be right? That she is a metradame? No. I…don't want to believe that.
Uncomfortable, she returned her attention to her duty…something she felt more competent to handle. The lieutenant reviewed scenarios, but without the schematics of the city, they seemed useless.
"Helgas Moon, I wish I had a map," she muttered.
"I have just completed downloading the information into your taxi's map service; however, you have reached your destination," Guardian informed her.
"I thought from one computer to another down-linking would be relatively fast and easy."
The sudden deceleration pressed her into the restraints. On the lower left of her helmet numbers appeared, registering her bios.
Now, that is real convenient to have within sight.
"Normally speaking. But the car is newly reacquired. It was running on bare operational services in case the Spartans or smugglers appropriated it for their use. It takes awhile for it to update when it is running."
"You mean, something like not being able to talk and eat at the same time," she laughed. "Wow. This helmet will be a best seller."
"How's the suit doing?"
"I'm still assessing," she returned wryly. "I am getting some of the subliminal stuff on just what it can do. Some of this stuff is…oooffffff."
The final stop was sudden. It brought to mind many drops in her Spartan days. The standard equipment was not so forgiving on its wearer with the sudden change in velocity. The disadvantage was that it left some of the squad staggering out of their seats making them easy sniper targets. Lt. Montran recalled her constant pushing her new recruits to get in as many of those rough rides on their off hours to teach their body to adjust quicker.
The door to her cab swung open when it came to a complete stop. Leaning back into the seat, the harness rose. Harriet looked out the door to see a pair of feet booted in the same equipment as she was. Leaning out, she looked up at her welcoming party of one. Maud nodded her helmeted head, as if to encourage her to step out.
"Lt. Harriet Montran, welcome to New Century City. Are you going to sit in there for long?"
The voice sounded familiar to her ears. Again, there was that nagging feeling that she was not a stranger.
"This area is not secured from Spartan or smuggler patrols," Maud explained as she stepped back and turned towards the service panel that was open.
The way Maud carried herself was also familiar. Where could she have met her? Lt. Montran started to follow Maud but a sound from behind her had her turning. Her transportation disappeared into the darkness.
"It will wait out of sight in a side area. When you are finished here, you can summon it and it will take you back to the Lair." Maud waved her into the service tunnel.
"The Lair?" Harriet asked as she stepped before Maud.
"It is what Guardian calls his place of residence."
"Do I know you from somewhere?" Harriet asked suddenly.
"Why do you ask?" Maud asked over her shoulder while securing the panel behind them.
"You seem familiar."
Maud turned back toward Harriet. Harriet's helmet gave her a different vision in the dark. She could see trace elements and energy from living forms but little color, except when some gave off bright flares. Height wise, the tunnel was high enough for them to walk up right, but not wide enough for two people to walk side by side so when Maud stepped past Harriet, they were helmet to helmet. Harriet's breath caught as she gazed into the helmet that was against hers and saw a shadowed version of herself.
"Is there something wrong?" Guardian's voice came through her intercom. Harriet imaged her bios were going off their normal scale.
Harriet gripped Maud's wrist holding her immobile as she removed her light from her utility
belt and shined it into the mask. The faceplate darkened as it blocked the light from Maud's eyes. Harriet shined it to the side of the helmet.
"We do look alike. Is that what you are looking for? Similarities?" her own voice asked.
"You...your voice."
"I was remolded to look like you," Maud admitted simply.
"Why?" Harriet asked aghast.
"I had promised your brother that I would do all I could to protect you," Guardian's voice told her soothingly, which annoyed Harriet at what this was implying. She was again involved in politics as a pawn, without her being asked or even queued.
Of course! You should have figured that out the moment they pulled you off that shuttle, Montran. Gads! You are so dense sometimes!
"You are too important to lose and too important not to use," Guardian explained. "Besides, you would not have remained uninvolved. Providing another image of you seemed a good way to confuse your adversaries."
"Yes, but...what if she is wasted because they think she is I?"
"It is a chance Maud has agreed to take," Guardian responded.
"You? You agreed to put your life in danger for me? I don't know you and you don't know me," Harriet paused upset. "I don't think this was a good idea." She had experienced enough nightmares of guilt to know the makings of another. People in Committee space seemed to think nothing of involving themselves in other people's business without asking or thinking it as unwelcomed, she thought with aggravation.
"I am in danger for as long as Guardian's unwelcomed visitors are on this station. It doesn't matter whether I look like you or anyone else. I could not go back to looking like I was before, then they would know that I was not disposed of as I should have been putting another important inside contact in danger. That is something that is more important to hide then having your face," Maud told her.
Harriet was still close to Maud as she peered in the darkened helmet seeing the all too familiar determined look. She released her hold on Maud's wrist. She even had her expressions down.
"You're exactly like me?" she asked hesitant.
"No, not totally," Maud smiled. "That would be an impossibility, hmm?"
"Oh," Harriet returned softly. She was feeling over scanned.
"We must move on." Maud turned and started quickly up the passageway not waiting to see if Harriet would follow.
As they were moving along the dark maintenance passage, parts of the schematic on the passageway made its way to Harriet's awareness, giving her the sense of familiarity. Years of experience taught her not to force the subliminals to consciousness but think about something related and the rest of the image would come into focus.
Maud stopped at one point. She accessed a ladder and an energy envelope engulfed them.
"We are entering into the first level of living quarters. The energy you feel surrounding you is sealing the air so that a breech does not occur and endanger any lives," Maud softly explained as she climbed up into the next level.
When Harriet joined her Maud held up a hand, motioning silence.
"...another time," an excited voice came to her ears through the walls.
"I don't give a wild hornet's nest about what happened! I want, right now, the first group set up! We will worry about the rest of the problems after the broadcast!" an angry voice overrode the other.
"Yes, sir, but this may be important!"
"If you don't get you and your crew to their posts, now, I will personally execute you!" The voice was furious.
"Sir!"
She could hear his boots as he hurried down the hall away from where they were.
"Idiot!" the voice muttered as he moved on, in the opposite direction.
After five more minutes of quick travel, Maud stopped. A door opened, light seeped into the service tunnel and an Almadarin's blue face appeared on the other side. Both women entered the room and immediately deactivated their helmets. The Almadarin's eyes opened wide. Without their helmets on, it was difficult to see a difference between Maud and Harriet. Unconcerned, Maud went to the center of the room and pushed on the floor. A hole appeared with the panel descending and tucking itself in a space under the floor.
"I have a train waiting for them in another transportation tunnel one level down from the one you arrived in."
Maud looked down the opened space and then dropped into the darkness of the space.
The Almadarin, as if prearranged, lifted one of the smaller species that appeared to be injured, and handed her to the lieutenant. She stepped into the floor space and handed the rescued being to Maud's waiting hands. This continued until the Almadarin was left. Harriet stepped out of the space and let him climb down himself.
"There is someone coming," Maud's voice whispered in Harriet's communicator.
The lieutenant quickly hopped back into the floor space and standing on the top of the ladder, pushed the button her subliminal directions said would put the floor back into place. It closed partially and stopped.
Blasters! Without a second thought, she climbed back in the room and activated the bottom panel, looking for what prevented the floor panel from closing. She found something lodged in the mechanism, probably dropped by one of the captives, and then closed the floor panel. Quickly, she went back into the wall service tunnel and sealed it. She fumbled in the dark for the button to reactivate her helmet as she proceeded down the tunnel where the owner of the unfamiliar voice had headed.
Now's my time to stir the pot and see what comes up.
"There it is again!" the same voice she had heard earlier shouted excitedly on the other side of the wall.
Helgas Moon, I'm going the wrong way!
"You got to let it go," another voice admonished. "Wait until after the broadcast," he suggested.
"No! Look, it's registering a life sign too!" his voice rose in his excitement. "Chief PO, to Security! I have a red alert in Sector Mim! I repeat, red alert in..."
"What in Helgas Moon are you getting hysterical about now, PO?"
"I've got those strange readings and a life sign too, sir," he reported excitedly.
"Burn your soul in Agasta!" the translator politely translated. "You go looking for trouble at this time?! Were you not just sent over to the staging area or to your quarters? Security!" He bellowed without waiting for a reply.
"Security here," came another voice.
"Where in Agastas hole is that captain of yours? Where in Agastas hole is he?"
"By your request, topside." the voice reminded him in a terse voice.
"How many people can we spare to block off that area and flood it with concussion bombs?"
"None, Master Alha Bahna. It was your idea to have few, if any Spartans around during your transmissions. From the search parties going on around the clock, there are a lot of sick people filling up the ships' sickbays. What you have now is what you get. Though, you can always order them back."
"I ordered them back for the auction! Expletives not translated started and then abruptly stopped. Chief, get out of that area now. Flood it with that acidi gas within 20 stan minutes." click!
"Gawds all mighty!" the chief panicked. Blasters, it meant he had to be real careful because he was not wearing his AEG suit, but the acidi gas would eat through that too.
"You seal that end and I'll do the other," his companion stated. "You do know how to lock the seals on the doors don't you?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you back at Com-C," he muttered while mentally reviewing what little he knew of sealing rooms.
***
*
Harriet jogged down the dark passageway, her boots making soft thuds as she moved quickly away from the rooms to be gassed. Her mental picture of the occupied city indicated she needed to go up one more level to get to the Spartans' living quarters.
Hmm. Since the Black Rose is out and about somewhere, I think I'll drop a reminder notice that Guardian would rather they move to another neighborhood on another planet, or maybe, just let them think the smugglers did it. Th
is will give me a good opportunity to see just how good they are about securing their personal space.
She found an access ladder to the next level easy enough. Carefully she crept up the ladder looking for any trips on the ladder at the entrance to the next floor. She was not disappointed. Her fingers gently sought the release switch on each trip, deactivating them as she went along.
She was moving along looking at the various service panels that allowed her entrance into the crew's quarters when her curiosity got the better of her. At the end of the service tunnel was a T&Ts trap set in a standard pattern. Nothing tricky or impressive. It was simply to slow down someone with no attempt to hide the fact and with the bells and whistles that would alert someone who would be waiting on the other side.