by Piers Platt
“Nope,” Paisen said. “More than happy to take you to see your boyfriend.” She grinned, and cut the radio connection.
“All Jokuan forces are on the move,” Vence reported. “I’m running low on acceptable targets.”
“Leave ‘em, then,” Paisen told her, switching the ship’s auto-pilot on. She stood up and stretched, then walked over to Vence’s station, leaning over the younger woman’s shoulder. “You’re linked to all the other drones across the galaxy?”
“Yeah,” Vence agreed. “Self-destruct sequence?”
Paisen nodded. “Leave the one over Tarkis, in case we need it. Destroy the rest.”
Vence typed at the keyboard for a few seconds, and then pressed a final key. On the holographic display above the console, the two women watched as hundreds of drone icons across the galactic star-map flickered, and then disappeared.
“They’re gone,” Vence said.
“Good,” Paisen said, exhaling slowly. “Let’s go find Beauceron. I believe I owe him a beer.”
30
In the growing light of dawn, Yo-Tsai stood at the bottom of the shuttle’s boarding ramp and watched as his troops streamed out of the city, hurrying back toward the transports. The retreat was disorganized, confused: different units were getting mixed up with one another, their men running scared from the terror of the precision darts. He saw only a handful of vehicles pull out of the city. It was a stark contrast to the well-coordinated maneuvers during the landing, just a few hours before.
A naval officer hurried down the ramp. “Sir?”
Yo-Tsai did not bother turning around. “Yes?”
“The fleet commander has completed his assessment. He believes he’ll lose at least thirty percent of his ships if we attempt to seize the transfer station again, and recapture the Rampart Guardian.”
Yo-Tsai considered this in silence.
“… and he asked me to inform you that several major news outlets are reporting destruction of the drones in orbit above other Federacy planets, sir. It’s possible they’re bluffing, but …” he trailed off.
In mute anger, the general strode back up the ramp, into the ship’s operations center.
“How much longer?” he demanded.
“Ground commanders are asking for another half hour to get full accountability, sir,” an officer told him.
“Tell them they have ten minutes, and then the ships are leaving, whether they are on them or not.”
“Yes, sir. At least they’ve stopped firing the darts.”
Yo-Tsai ignored the comment. “Take off,” he ordered. “Head for the spaceport. And go to battle stations.”
* * *
Rath set the wounded officer down under the overhang of the terminal’s roof, grunting as he tried to shift the unconscious man to the ground as gently as possible. Jaymy finished bandaging another policeman, looked up, and saw Rath. She hurried over and hugged him, hard.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Rath told her, smiling gently. “Haven’t lost my good luck, I guess. Are you okay?”
Jaymy nodded, and stepped back, wiping a bloody arm across her forehead. “I’m okay,” she said. “We’re running low on supplies. Is it over?”
“I think so,” Rath said. “I think they’re going home.” He pointed at the wounded man, as Jaymy knelt beside the officer. “He’s in shock, I think. But I heard a pulse.”
“Good,” she said, setting her medic bag on the ground. “I got him.”
Rath squeezed her shoulder. “I’m going to go check the perimeter for anyone else that needs treatment.”
“Right,” she said. “Bring any you find.”
Rath crossed to the far side of the platform. He found Beauceron checking a prostrated officer’s neck for a pulse. The detective shook his head sadly, and stood up.
“We lost so many,” he said, quietly.
Rath opened his mouth to respond and then paused, listening.
“What?” Beauceron asked.
“Ship approaching,” Rath said, turning to look out over the parking lot. “I can hear deep-space engines.”
With a sudden roar, the Jokuan transport burst into view over the top of the terminal building. Rath saw a heavy cannon under the ship’s belly swivel on its mount and then open fire, shells exploding amongst the broken vehicles around the platform. Rath grabbed Beauceron and shoved him toward the ground, but a shell exploded next to them a split second later.
Rath found himself on his back, in the midst of a haze of smoke and debris. His ribs hurt – his heads-up display notified him that he had a shrapnel wound along the left side of his chest. He groaned and rolled over to his side, and saw Beauceron lying a few feet away. Rath coughed in the smoke, and crawled toward the detective.
“Martin!” Rath shook his arm, but Beauceron didn’t stir. “Fuck. Come on, Martin.” Rath put his head to the detective’s chest.
Heartbeat. He’s alive.
Rath looked over his shoulder. The Jokuan transport was hovering low over the platform, its cannon pointed directly at the terminal building and the makeshift aid station filled with wounded IP officers. Rath saw Jaymy and the EMTs holding their hands above their heads, eyes wide. The ship’s boarding ramp lowered, touching the pavement, and the loudspeaker came on.
“Martin Beauceron! Surrender yourself, or your comrades die.”
Rath glanced back at Beauceron, but the detective was still unconscious – concussed by the blast.
“We will open fire in ten seconds,” the voice warned.
Rath sighed, and pushed himself to his knees. He locked eyes with Jaymy, across the platform, and then shifted his face, transforming into his friend. Rath stood up, and when he spoke, it was with Beauceron’s voice.
“I’m here,” he said. “I surrender.”
Jaymy’s eyes went wide with alarm. “No!” she screamed, but two Jokuan officers were already hurrying down the ramp to grab Rath. They hauled him aboard, and the ramp closed. The transport slipped back, away from the terminal building, and then its engines rumbled, and it swooped upward into the hazy early morning sky.
31
The Jokuan transport’s engines flared briefly, then the ship twitched, and disappeared into the blackness of deep space.
“That’s the last one,” Atalia said, watching the Rampart Guardian’s viewscreen, her hands on her hips.
“Yeah,” Paisen said. “Good riddance.”
At the helm, Vence swung the Guardian through a slow turn, pointing them down toward Tarkis. “Christ, this thing is clunky,” she complained.
“It’s two hundred years old,” Atalia told her. “This ship’s an antique.”
They watched as Tarkis loomed large in the viewscreen, half of the planet sparkling in the sun, the other half still shadowed.
“Sun’s just coming up down at the spaceport,” Vence observed.
“I imagine it’s been a long night,” Paisen said.
They rode the rest of the way down in silence, and Vence picked an open landing pad close to the spaceport’s terminal. Atalia found a baggage cart tug parked on the ramp, and got it started up – Vence and Paisen climbed on the back. She drove them to the terminal building and they made their way inside.
The arrivals hall was silent, deserted – the lights were still shut off, though sunlight streamed in through the windows overhead. Their footsteps echoed loudly on the tile floors as they hurried toward the front of the building. The automatic entrance doors slid open at their approach, and they emerged into the sunlight on the platform.
Paisen noticed the wounded officers first – a dozen of them lay in a row along the sidewalk, and a group of firefighters and EMTs were shuttling them one by one to a large bus parked near the ramp on one side of the platform. Wrecked military vehicles ringed the platform itself – Jokuan armored trucks, some of them still smoking. In the middle of the platform, more firefighters worked in pairs, zipping police officers into body bags. The row of dead policemen stretch
ed out in the sun was far longer than that of the wounded waiting to be carried to the bus.
“Hey!”
Paisen turned and found Dasi hurrying over to them. The young woman stopped and opened her mouth as if to say something, and then simply hugged them, each in turn.
She hugged Atalia last, and then the detective held Dasi at arm’s length. “Thank you,” Atalia said. “I don’t know how you did it, but you saved my life. You saved all of us, up on the station.”
“It’s okay,” Dasi said. “You guys saved us down here, too. We were just about to be overrun when Paisen launched the PKDs.”
“Where’s Martin?” Atalia asked, concern furrowing her brow.
“Over here,” Dasi said, beckoning for them to follow.
They found him sitting on the curb of the sidewalk. A young woman in a Jokuan uniform squatted across from him, applying a piece of stitching tape to a cut on his forehead. Atalia hurried forward and knelt next to him.
“You’re hurt!”
Beauceron gave her a faint smile. “I’ll be fine. Just a few scratches.” He wrapped an arm around Atalia. “Just happy to see you safe.” The detective looked up at Paisen and Vence. “All of you.”
“Yo-Tsai threw everything he had at the spaceport, huh?” Paisen asked, studying the cars piled in the parking lot.
“We seem to have attracted their full attention, yes,” Beauceron agreed.
“How did the cars get like that?” Vence asked.
Beauceron glanced quickly at Dasi. “Long story,” he said.
Paisen frowned suddenly. “Wait, where’s Rath?”
The woman tending Beauceron’s cut looked up at her then, and Paisen saw that her cheeks were still wet from crying. “They took him,” she said, with a sob.
“Who did?” Paisen asked.
“The Jokuans,” Beauceron replied. “Paisen, this is Jaymy – she’s a friend of Rath’s, from Scapa.”
“Paisen,” the older woman said, extending her hand. “Rath and I … we share a former employer.”
“I know,” Jaymy said. “He told me about you.”
“You saw them capture him?” Paisen asked.
Jaymy nodded. “A ship flew in, right over there – it shot everything up, and then they demanded we give up Detective Beauceron, or they’d kill all the wounded.”
“But I was concussed,” Beauceron said. “Rath surrendered in my place.”
“Ah, fuck,” Paisen said.
They looked up as a large spacecraft thundered overhead. Paisen squinted at it, and caught a glimpse of Jokuan military markings glinting in the sunlight.
“They’re back!” a police officer shouted. “Take cover!”
The transport hovered over the open parking lot, coming in for a swift landing. Several police officers lifted their weapons and began firing at it, the bullets ricocheting harmlessly off the craft’s thick armor.
>>>Arclight Lead, this is Jacque. Mind telling them to cut that shit out?
Paisen smiled. “Cease fire!” she yelled. “Cease fire. It’s friendly.”
“How do you know?” a police officer retorted.
“Because they’re not shooting back,” Paisen told him.
Beauceron pulled himself to his feet. “Your team, from Jokuan?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Paisen agreed. She watched as the Arclight team disembarked, and jogged up the ramp.
“Looks like we just missed the action here,” Jacque observed, clasping hands with Paisen. “Too bad.”
“We could have used your help,” Beauceron agreed, shaking his hand next.
“How did the operation go?” Paisen asked, as Wick, Rika, Huawo, and the others clustered around.
“Smoothly,” Jacque told her. “Scratch one battalion, two transports, and a good chunk of their headquarters buildings. No team casualties.”
“Good,” Paisen said. “We can do a full debrief later. Everything went to shit on this end, but we got their orbital drones, and Detective Beauceron held them off here at the spaceport. They just jumped to FTL, headed home.”
“We beat them,” Rika observed.
“Yeah,” Paisen agreed. “But they got Rath.”
A murmur of alarm passed through the contractors.
“Is he still alive?” Wick asked.
“Yes,” Beauceron said. “Though Yo-Tsai had planned to capture me, so I doubt he’ll treat Rath kindly when he discovers he has been fooled.”
“Our ship needs a refuel,” Jacque said. “But we could tank up and be back on Jokuan an hour or two after their fleet lands, if we move fast.”
Atalia cleared her throat. “Yo-Tsai’s going to expect a rescue attempt,” she pointed out. “I’m not saying that should stop us, but … he’ll know we’re coming. He’ll have his entire army waiting.”
Paisen nodded. “Our cover’s already blown on Jokuan. What you’re talking about is off-the-charts risky,” she pointed out.
“It’s not about the risk,” Huawo said. “We owe him. Simple as that.”
“If we go, it would be volunteers only,” Paisen said.
“There’s another problem,” Dasi pointed out. “Don’t forget that District Attorney Hawken is no longer in charge back on Anchorpoint. Senator Foss is. And he ordered us to abort the operation against the Jokuans, but we ignored him. That makes us – all of us – criminals.”
“But the operation was a success,” Vence noted.
“He’s not going to care,” Dasi responded. “That’s not how politicians like him think. All that matters is that we disobeyed his order.”
“So what’s he going to do about it?” Paisen asked.
“Best case scenario?” Dasi asked. “For Atalia and Beauceron and me, dishonorable discharges … if we’re lucky. Jail time if we’re not. For you guys,” she gestured to the Arclight team, “he’s going to arrest you and put you on trial, for sure.”
“Who is this ungrateful asshole, again?” Jacque asked.
“Senator Foss,” Dasi repeated. “He’s a key figure in the NeoPuritan Church, and the only surviving senator, which makes him the interim head of the Federacy right now.”
“Well, fuck him,” Jacque decided. “I didn’t vote for him.”
“Yeah, he’s not here. He can’t stop us from going to Jokuan,” Rika agreed.
“Wait, Senator Foss – from Scapa?” Jaymy asked, her brow furrowing.
“Yeah,” Dasi said. “Why?”
“Rath told me about him,” Jaymy said. “He was positive that Foss hired him to kill a political rival back when he was in the Guild.”
“He’s dirty, too? In that case, I’m definitely comfortable ignoring his orders,” Jacque said.
“Hawken and I were investigating Foss before all of this went down,” Dasi said, ignoring Jacque. “The NeoPuritans are handing out pharmaceutical-grade drugs under the guise of religion, and Foss is in on it. Did Rath have any evidence that Foss ordered the hit?”
“No,” Jaymy said, shaking her head. “I don’t think so. How did Foss survive the attack on Anchorpoint?”
“Apparently he wasn’t on Anchorpoint,” Dasi said. “He claims to have been trying to broker a truce with the Jokuans. He flew there to try to prevent the attack.”
Several of the Arclight team members exchanged looks.
“Foss was on Jokuan?” Wick asked.
Huawo pulled out his holophone, and ran a search query. “Motherfucker!” He held the phone up, showing a picture of Senator Foss to Dasi and Jaymy. “This guy?”
“That’s him,” Dasi confirmed.
“We saw him on Jokuan,” Huawo said. “His spaceship landed just before we attacked the Jokuan reserve battalion. He met with a Jokuan officer right in front of us.”
“So it appears his story is true,” Beauceron said.
“Yeah, it’s true – he was on Jokuan,” Huawo said. “And he shot both of his bodyguards in cold blood, in the middle of the negotiations, before high-tailing it out of there.”
“He shot his
Senate Guards?” Dasi asked. “You saw it?”
“Uh huh,” Huawo said. “Was watching the whole thing go down through my scope.” He tapped the side of his head. “And I got it all on video, too.”
“Send it to me,” Dasi said. She faced Beauceron and Paisen. “I need to get to Anchorpoint right now. Can I take the Rampart Guardian?”
Paisen shrugged. “Sure, if you want it.”
“We’ll need to get you a pilot,” Beauceron said.
Dasi’s eyes unfocused momentarily. “No need,” she said, after a second. “I can fly it.”
Beauceron pursed his lips. “I can ask a few of the local police here to accompany you, in case you want backup …?”
Dasi shook her head. “No. I’ll handle it myself.”
Beauceron studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I believe you will. Stay in touch.”
“Yeah,” she said. “And you guys stay safe.” She strode off, heading for the launch pads.
Paisen frowned at her retreating back. “Martin, did you just send a twenty-something PR rep to arrest the leader of the Federacy?”
Beauceron smiled. “There’s more to Officer Apter than meets the eye.”
“Apparently so,” Paisen said. “What about you and Atalia? Are you going to stick around here and wait to see what punishment Foss hands down?”
“Ah, I don’t think so,” Beauceron said. “Atalia?”
“Fuck, no,” she said. “We’re coming with you.”
“Are you really thinking of going after Rath?” Jaymy asked, hopefully.
Paisen eyed her team, looking at each of them in turn. “Looks that way,” she said.
“Then I’m coming, too,” Jaymy said.
“Foss aside, we’re still talking about tackling the Jokuan army on our own,” Beauceron reminded them.
“No,” Paisen said. “Not on our own. I think it’s time I called in a few favors.”
32
The Jokuans frisked Rath thoroughly, stripping him of his remaining equipment, then bound his wrists behind his back, and threw him into an empty cabin. The cabin door slid open again a moment later, and General Yo-Tsai marched inside. He appeared outwardly calm, but Rath could see a muscle in his neck twitching, hinting at the man’s fury.