by HR Ringer
Traynor and Buchanan spent several days following the discovery of the deuterium purchase determining the identity of the person, or persons, who had acquired the substance. The company importing it had extremely poor encryption protocols in place; all of their records may just as well have been an open book to an inquisitive person such as Traynor. It turned out the large quantity purchase had been only one of several completed in the past month; while Griff tracked the origins of all the previous purchases, Sam concentrated on learning where it was all to be shipped, and by what carrier.
Lang had still not been seen during their entire stay on the Citadel; Sam had one computer on the shuttle devoted to matching Lang’s face to one of the many thousands of human faces scanned each day by security cameras all over the wards. Sam was more than a little frustrated at her lack of progress, saying as much to Griff during their evening meal.
“How the ‘ell are we supposed to stop this guy if he never exposes himself?” She sipped her beer in between bites of her bean and rice burrito. “I think I’m close to discovering where the stuff’s going to be shipped, but we still need to tie the shipment to Lang.”
Buchanan took a bite from his own burrito, chewed and swallowed before replying. “I’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary while loading either of those turian ships. Do you really think Lang will destroy a ship full of innocent people to get at Ursivus?”
“I’m convinced of it, Griff. Cerberus does not play nice… killing ten... or ten dozen innocents in order to eliminate their target? Not even a consideration on their part.”
“Okay, then,” Buchanan replied quietly. “We’ll just have to keep looking.”
* * *
* THESSIA • SERRICE HOSPITAL *
Yuán Xiùlán grimaced from the pain as Doctor Shakia examined her left thigh. Xiùlán had been rapidly recovering from the multiple surgeries performed to repair her shattered thigh – had even been walking with the aid of a cane. The pain in her leg had gradually returned, and was soon accompanied by a low-grade fever and hyper-touch sensitivity near any of the numerous healed incision and graft sites.
“I’m sorry, Xiùlán. I believed the healing of your leg had progressed further; apparently, I was mistaken.” The asari appeared to be embarrassed by this revelation. “You have contracted an infection near the initial bullet wound… possibly from a spot of debris or fragment of the original bullet we did not notice when we performed the surgery.”
“So, what’s the plan, Doctor? I was looking forward to being back at work with Sà mǐ.”
“We’ll return you to the hospital, treat the infection and attempt to remove its cause,” came the reply. “You should be out again in three days.” Xiùlán’s disappointment must have been plain, as Shakia added, “Again, I apologize. It is unfortunate, but getting you past this infection… and its cause… will take much less time than it took us to repair your leg from the very beginning.” Placing a hand on Yuán’s shoulder, the doctor finished with, “I understand this setback is discouraging, but it will only be a few additional days.”
* * *
* WIDOW SYSTEM • SPIRIT’S RAGE • AT LARGE *
Traynor was returning from yet another trip to the Citadel; Buchanan had the ship heading for the relay as soon as she docked the shuttle.
Sensing her presence behind his chair on the bridge, he asked without looking around, “So, still haven’t found our elusive Mr Lang?”
“Not yet. I keep hoping the search program I’m running will turn up something. The sonovabitch is on the Citadel, Griff… I can feel it in my bones. I suspect he doesn’t travel anywhere without an active cloaking generator, so the search program may never turn up anything, and the few leads I had today all turned out to be nothing.” Traynor snorted with disgust. “Son of a bitch may as well be a ghost.” After a brief pause, she asked, “How about shipping info on the deuterium… any luck there?”
“It’s not being shipped… it’s being moved… relocated, to the freight forwarding terminal adjacent to the passenger loading zone for our two turian passenger liners,” Griff replied.
Traynor’s jaw dropped at this. “He’s storing that shit right next to the passenger docks? That’s pretty bold, even for Cerberus!”
Griff smiled grimly. “Stuff is stable enough on its own… shouldn’t pose any problem just sitting there. We just need to make sure we get notified if… and when, it gets moved again; perhaps part of it will be loaded on either the Arcus Pluvius or the Anixara, or both. Do we know how much of this stuff would need to be introduced in the fuel to cause a reaction?”
Sammy frowned. “Chemistry wasn’t my specialty in college, Griff, but I suspect the amount would be minimal. Doesn’t mean a large amount wouldn’t be effective – might speed up the reaction, make it more catastrophic. Guess I need to do a bit of research on the subject. Perhaps it’s time I looked into Cord-Hislop’s research notes. I’m going back down to the shuttle, do some digging.”
Traynor spent the next two hours slipping into the servers maintained by Cord-Hislop Aerospace, discovering as she did so that the company had a wealth of skeletons in its virtual closet. It came as no surprise the firm had done research on the effects of adding deuterium as a catalyst to destabilize metallic hydrogen fuel – Lang would certainly be aware of those findings, even if the amount of deuterium sitting in the freight forwarding terminal was nearly three times the amount he’d need to bring down a small ship.
Traynor propped her booted feet up on the control console as she leaned back in her chair, thinking about Cerberus’ methods for assassination. She felt she knew how Lang intended to pull off the assassination, and had quickly focused all her searches on the methodology needed to do so. In addition to the deuterium sitting on the docks, he’d need a smaller container, a precision timer, and an injection system that could overcome the tremendous pressure within the piping supplying the engine with fuel.
As she began researching recent hardware acquisitions on the station, her facial recognition search finally bore results – a security camera had spotted Lang near the transfer area. Activating her comms, she said, “Found ‘im, Griff! I’m going down to the docks.” Quickly disconnecting the shuttle from Spirit’s Rage, she undocked from the ship and promptly flew to a public dock near the commercial transport area where the turian transports docked. Still armored up from her previous visits, she set security for the shuttle before leaving on a dead run for the commercial docks.
Setting her cloaking generator and slowing her pace as she entered the public area between the docks and freight transfer area, she inspected the area where the containers of deuterium were being stored, and was less than pleased to discover one had been removed, probably by Lang.
Knowing he could not have traveled too far, she used her omni-tool to query the cameras in the vicinity, particularly the one that had originally recorded his image. After several seconds, she picked up the trail. Lang had been seen moving the one container into a small warehouse nearby; being a bit more careful now, Sam followed cautiously – getting discovered was the last thing she needed when she was so close.
Opening her comms channel, she called the Spirit’s Rage. “Griff, I need an interior schematic for the warehouse at these coordinates.” While she waited, Traynor did a bit of reconnoitering in the immediate area – this late in the Citadel’s daily time cycle, most of the places in this industrial area were closed for the night. The side alleys and main access roads around her location appeared to be deserted, something that would definitely work in her favor.
Her omni-tool silently came to life for a moment as Griff delivered the interior schematics; Traynor shielded her wrist as she opened the map; after studying it briefly, she spotted a side door in a poorly-lit portion at the rear corner of the structure. After sending an overload to each of the two cameras pointed at that location, Traynor moved to the door.
As she touched the surface in preparation of hacking the lock, the door gave way slightly; whoeve
r had last come this way had not latched it completely, leading her to wonder if there might be a good reason why. Almost without thinking, she dialed her mass down to a minimum and jumped straight up, catching the edge of the roof as an explosion ripped through the door, scattering debris across the alley. ‘Dirty bastard would have had my ass in that blast,’ she thought. Pulling herself over the edge of the wall, she went prone on the flat roof and peeked over the edge at the area below.
A figure came out through the now doorless opening and looked about, as if attempting to find a body. Fortunately for Traynor, the human male didn’t think to turn his gaze upwards, or he might have discovered his intended target looking down at him. Traynor pulled her head back and turned her attention to the broad expanse of rooftop; there were several raised skylights, along with numerous ventilators and vent pipes.
Gingerly moving her head, she peeked down and discovered there were now two humans in the alleyway, apparently there to insure no one could enter the warehouse through the now doorless opening in the wall. Coming to a decision, Traynor got to her feet and carefully made her way to the closest skylight. After a careful inspection, she determined that one bank of windows could be opened far enough for her to slip through. Activating her comms again, she filled Griff in on what had happened and the course of action she was planning.
“Doesn’t sound like a smart move, Traynor. You sure there’s no other way?”
“None that I can see, Griff,” she replied. “I think you better dock Spirit’s Rage and come meet me, just in case the pile of Varren shit I step in is too deep to get out of unaided.
Griff sighed heavily, then said, “Okay, Sammy. Give me an hour or so.”
“Try to make it faster, Griff. I don’t think these people are going to wait around, and they’re not nice people. I’m going to drop in on them, see what I can find.”
“Not a good idea, Traynor. Stay in cover… wait ‘til I can shadow you, watch your six.”
It was Traynor’s turn to sigh. “Okay, Griff. I’ll wait here on the roof… just… get here soon as you can. I don’t want these people disappearing before we find out what they’re doing.”
“On my way, Traynor.”
* * *
* THESSIA • SERRICE HOSPITAL *
Xiùlán was dreaming. There was a hand… cool, soft… gently caressing her forehead and cheek. Another hand, also cool, was using fingers to gently trace imaginary patterns on the back of her left hand. The sensations invoked by the contact started in her chest – a feeling of deep contentment, of being cared for, of almost… being loved… She had felt this contentment… many times. Xiùlán allowed her eyelids to part just enough to reconnoiter her immediate surroundings. The hand on her face was attached to a forearm covered in a sleeve made of pale green cloth… the bit of wrist she could see was… blue.
Turning her head as she cracked her eyes open a bit more revealed the smiling face of Doctor Shakia, gently waking her from a pleasant afternoon nap. “How are you feeling, Ms Yuán?”
Xiùlán offered up a weak smile and replied in a rough whisper, “Okay, I guess. I was dreaming… about Sammy… Thought it was her hands on my face and hand.” That it had not been Sammy brought on a tone of disappointment in her voice. “Even though I know she’s on a mission for General Park, I was hoping she could slip into the system for an evening.”
Dr Shakia had removed the dressing on Xiùlán’s thigh while she was talking; waving her omni-tool over her leg from hip to knee, she inspected the scan results and nodded slightly in approval. “It appears we have taken care of the infection, Ms Yuán. Your body temperature has returned to human normal, and all the grafts are healing properly. I think that, barring any unforeseen complications, we’ll discharge you back to the rehab unit tomorrow morning, let you resume exercising that leg.”
Xiùlán perked up at this bit of good news. “Thanks, Doctor. It’ll be good to be able to walk without every step being painful.”
* * *
* CITADEL, COMMERCIAL DOCKS & WAREHOUSE DISTRICT *
Traynor had chaffed at the delay required to have Buchanan arrive to watch her back. After waiting for thirty minutes, during which time she witnessed an increasing amount of activity on the floor below the skylight through which she was watching, she carefully unlatched the window and silently opened it to its maximum. She was just placing one leg over the edge when her comms came alive: “Traynor! I’m on the ground in front of the warehouse… where are you?”
“Still on the roof. Look down the open side of the building… there should be a guard at either end of the alleyway, keeping watch on the unsecured doorway. A distraction there might make it easier for me to slip in without being seen.”
The snarky smile in his voice came through as he responded with, “One distraction coming up…”
Traynor wondered what the big man intended to do. ‘Seriously doubt he has anything explosive…’; the thought had barely occurred when a mixed howl of pain and surprise echoed up from below. Without waiting for more, Sam activated her cloak as she swung her other leg through the opening and dropped, light as a feather, into the one pool of shadow she’d observed from above.
Mass back to her normal weight and silenced pistol in hand, she spun around quickly to look for threats; there was some confused noise coming from the vicinity of the rear corner of the building, but her line of sight was blocked by several stacks of shipping containers. She ran for the containers; coming up hard against the stack nearest the open floor, she quickly looked around towards the noise.
A small group of men, numbering no more than seven, were clustered near the wide open doorway; they were apparently arguing about the distinct lack of security such an opening provided, along with attempting to come up with a defensive plan for whatever was outside attacking the guards.
With her hasty look Sam had carefully inspected each man’s face; none of them was Lang, which meant she’d either missed the bastard or he was elsewhere in the building. As she pondered which way to move, the unmistakable sound of gunfire erupted outside; Griff must be really stirring things up. Looking up, she determined the top of the stack of containers was only nine meters, based on three containers each three meters high. Dialing her mass back, she made a combination jump and climb; once prone on top of the containers, she could more easily see her surroundings.
The group of men at the door had been whittled down to five, not counting the two outside. Backing away from the edge, she stood, turned and jumped almost in one motion; leaping from stack to stack, the irony of what she was doing was not lost on her… she had done nearly the same thing during her mission on Cartagena Station. A small office structure was revealed to her as she carefully looked down from atop the furthest container; the dim light within allowed her to see but not identify the figure moving around. Activating her comms, she said, “Griff, where are you?”
Filtered sounds of gunfire could be heard through her earpiece as he replied, “Pinned down by some really determined bad guys, Sam. They can’t advance on me without more of ‘em getting killed, but I can’t leave my cover for the same reason. A little help from the rear would be nice.”
“Okay. Hang on…” Sam looked around on the floor outside the office before turning back the way she’d come, moving across the stacked containers as she thought, ‘Has to be Lang in that office area – deuterium container’s sitting outside.’ Going prone as she reached the edge, she pulled her silenced pistol and carefully aimed at three of the remaining five men, all close to the door. Her pistol coughed three times, dropping each of the three before the others could react. Rolling away from the edge before she was seen, “Okay, Griff… three down, two left in here. How many left outside?”
“Two… I got one of them… one of the remaining two was an outside guard,” Griff grunted in reply. “That’s just about all of ‘em, right?”
“Seems so. Stand by… it’s about to get noisy.” Peeking back over the edge of the container revealed only
the three prone figures. As she rolled away from the edge, a small explosion of energy ripped past the location where her face had just been. ‘Shit, they have an engineer down there. Sonovabitch is trying to disable my weapons electronically.’ Pulling her shotgun, Traynor took a deep breath to center herself before rising to her feet.
Time seemed to slow for her as she took three running steps towards the far wall; leaping into the empty space above her previous victims, she aimed and fired her shotgun as she slowly fell. The recoil from the powerful gun against her reduced mass shoved her back and to the side half-a-meter, just enough for the omni-tool blast from the engineer on the floor to miss; the next blast from the scattergun caught the unfortunate man full in the face, killing him instantly as his head exploded in a mass of red froth,.
Increasing her mass, she tucked into a forward roll as she touched down on the floor. Changing her grip on her weapon as she completed the roll, she utilized a brutal, upward angled straight blow to the mouth and nose of the extremely large human attempting to grab her, nearly lifting him from his feet; she cut off his scream of pain with a pointblank shot to the throat, dropping him to lie in a spreading pool of red.
A quick look around confirmed everyone was dead; engaging her cloak, she headed out the nearby door and turned towards the front of the building. One of the two remaining thugs turned at the sound of her footsteps crunching through the rubble. Taking careful aim, she ripped through his kinetic barrier and chest plate with her first shot; her follow-up ripped through clothing, skin, bone and lungs. Without sparing the dying man a second glance, she whistled as she walked towards the last holdout. This guy stood and faced her, arms spread from his sides, hands empty. “You wouldn’t kill an unarmed man, would you?”