by M. D. Cooper
The Septhian Government hadn’t contracted the Marauders to launch a ground assault on Pyra, but he suspected they would. The Thebans may look like a soft target, but Mill knew it would take more than a series of assassinations to take them down.
When Septhia came calling for troops, the Marauders would be ready.
Near the assault craft, a dozen fast exfiltration ships were loading supplies, ready for departure within the hour.
Mill returned to his chair and sat down, spreading the mission briefs out once more. He had never planned a covert operation this large before, though it was not his first regime-toppling action—just his first as a mercenary.
There were forty teams on Pyra; thirty in the capital city alone. Another three-dozen teams were spread out in the Albany System, ready to take out targets on the other worlds, and key stations.
His contact in the Septhian government had assured him that different outfits had the four other Theban star systems well in hand. He suspected that the Septhians meant the news to comfort him—but it didn’t. Instead, it kept him up at night. If any one of those other mercenary companies messed up and got caught, it would put his people in jeopardy.
Which was another reason why fast exfiltration teams were preparing their crafts for departure in the bay below.
Mill pulled up the holodisplay of his fleet relative to the Albany system. He was taking a risk, assembling his ships within the Theban alliance; but with his vessels seven light-months away from the Albany System’s primary—a main sequence G-spectrum star named Howe—there was little chance that they would be spotted.
It also made a jump into the Albany System a nine-hour trip; which was far better than jumping all the way from Septhia, but was unfortunately still far enough out that any rescue ops could take a day or more with the final insystem flights.
General Mill rose once more, and paced across his office, the myriad things that could go wrong flooding his mind. A small voice was telling him that Phoenix was a crazy op; that there had to be a better way to secure the Praesepe Cluster against the Nietzscheans.
There probably was, but he couldn’t think of it at the moment.
TRUST
STELLAR DATE: 12.16.8948 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Warehouse on the northeast edge of Berlin
REGION: Pyra, Albany System, Theban Alliance
“Well that’s just great,” Barne said. “They send us a tin soldier and all her toys, but they forget the fucking ammo for her rifle!”
“I can use the electron beam,” Rika suggested.
“Maybe,” Jerry said. “But if they have magnetic deflectors, it won’t work. The kinetic power behind your rifle’s uranium rods is a lot more reliable for this sort of kill shot.”
“Any chances we can get some rounds?” Leslie asked. “Maybe from some of the other teams?”
“We don’t even know where the other teams are,” Barne said. “Fat chance of getting ammo from them—though it wouldn’t fit anyway. No one else has anything close to that caliber of weapon.”
Jerry stroked his chin as his eyes flicked up—his Link tell. “I know a gal; she operates a site from Pyra these days.”
Leslie raised her hands. “Whoa, Jerry. I know who you’re thinking of. We’re not going through Cheri—that bitch is nuts. Didn’t she try to kill you, back in the war?”
Jerry shrugged. “Yeah, but she tried to kill everyone at least once. It was a sort of rite of passage for our ‘toon.”
“No wonder we lost.” Rika shook her head. “What are the chances she has the right ammo for my girl?”
Barne laughed. “Your girl already, is it?”
Rika shrugged. “When your weapon is a part of you, you tend to get attached to it.”
“No pun intended,” Leslie chuckled.
“Focus, people,” Jerry said. “And yeah, she has some. Five rounds.”
“What?!” Leslie yelled, then lowered her voice. “You reached out to her already?”
“Yeah. I routed it carefully. Look, she’s a long way from here; it’s going to be off the locals’ radar. We jet up there, get the ammo, and then come back. One day. We have plenty of time.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Leslie replied. “I mean that we can’t trust her. Rika’s gun doesn’t shoot marshmallows. The reasons you need those rods are few, and there aren’t any legal ones on Pyra.”
“She has a point,” Rika said. “I read the orders. We’re to have no contact with anyone outside of the mission parameters. Risk of exposure is too high.”
“Corporal Rika, it’s my call. We’re going to meet with Cheri, get your ammo, and be back by morning.” Jerry said with finality.
The reprimand stung, but Rika was pleased that he used her rank to keep her in line, rather than Discipline.
“Who’s ‘we’?” Barne asked.
“Leslie and I,” Jerry replied.
“I should come, too,” Rika added. “I can make sure they’re the right spec.”
“No,” Jerry said with a slow shake of his head. “You’re our ace in the hole. Besides, it’s a bit hard to get you on a cloud hopper or a maglev across the world. Your cloak is good, but I don’t want to test it against a hundred scanners and keen-eyed security guards.”
Rika nodded silently. She knew he was right, but the thought of getting out and about was too enticing to not have tried.
“Just going to leave me here with her all day?” Barne asked. “What if she goes nuts and kills me?”
“She won’t; right Rika?” Jerry asked. “Rika won’t harm any one of us. Correct?”
Discipline tingled in the back of her mind. The compliance chip recognizing a direct order that required confirmation. It’s like he’s read the manual or something since last night, she thought.
“No, Jerry, I won’t harm you three, or any other Marauder.” She hadn’t needed to add the last part, but she wanted them to be at ease.
“See?” Jerry smiled. “Safe as houses.”
“However, I’d like to scout the primary location,” Rika said.
“Oh, yeah?” Barne asked. “Something wrong with our recon?”
“There’s always something wrong with someone else’s recon,” Rika replied. “Plus, my eyes are better than any of yours. I see things you can’t.”
Jerry gave her a long look before nodding. Barne snorted, and even Leslie looked surprised.
“You’ll scout the site, and be back by night, right?” Jerry asked.
“Understood,” Rika replied. “And ‘night’ is…?” The last thing she needed was an ambiguous order with a compliance chip in her head.
“Uhhh, twenty-two hundred, local time,” Jerry replied.
“Plenty of time,” Rika said. “Thanks.”
Jerry and Leslie wasted no time dressing in their long, flowing robes and they left the warehouse while Rika was still trying on different gloves, looking for ones with a good fit.
“Think that gloves are gonna hide the fact that you only have three fingers on each hand?” Barne asked with a smirk.
“They may cover themselves head to toe here, but they still have mods,” Rika replied. “Three fingers shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows.”
“Just make sure you keep your neck covered,” Barne said, pointing out that Rika’s armor encased her neck right up to her chin.
Rika grabbed a shawl, and wrapped it around her neck and over her head. “There, look good?” she asked.
Barne walked around her and nodded. “Yeah. If I didn’t know better, I’d be fooled into thinkin
g you’re human.”
Asshole, Rika thought, though she only nodded in response.
“Better get going. Long walk,” Barne commented.
“Thirty five klicks, round trip,” Rika replied, as she slipped pads over the toes on her feet to cover her metallic footfalls. “I walk at just under four an hour; won’t even take nine hours to get there and back. I’ll still have time to smell the roses.”
“You do that,” Barne said with a grunt. “Well, fuck off already. I could use some time alone.”
Yeah, like forever, Rika wanted to say.
She turned and walked to the warehouse’s north entrance; a different one than Jerry and Leslie had used. She reached up and set the alarm on the door to pause for thirty seconds, and then stepped through, out into the bright morning sun.
She pulled her robe’s cowl up to shade her eyes, not wanting to use their filters to dim her vision. After spending months on Dekar station—which wasn’t brightly lit anywhere—feeling the warmth of Howe’s bright yellow light on her face was pure joy.
It occurred to Rika that this was the first time the light of a yellow star had struck her skin since the day she was caught stealing food.
Nine years between exposures to real sunlight. Nine years.
She walked across the loading dock, then hopped down and crossed a stretch of dull grey pavement to reach the back road. According to the map she had pulled down, the road connected the warehouse to a larger street half a kilometer away, and saw little traffic.
She had to admit she was impressed by the location Basilisk had chosen. The warehouse was one amongst several in a small cluster. None appeared to be in heavy use, but there was some traffic in and out that would serve to mask their arrivals and departures.
It was also far enough away from the city center to avoid any heavy surveillance, but still close enough for an efficient strike.
As Rika walked, she took in the local foliage, which was thick and lush—though she didn’t recognize most as anything other than types of ferns and palm trees. Maybe there would be coconuts; she had enjoyed climbing coconut trees in her youth, and getting a drink of that sweet milk within.
Before long, the road she was walking alongside of reached the larger thoroughfare, and she turned left, heading west into the city.
Ground cars flitted by, most hovering above the road on magnetic systems. Some a-grav cars moved through the air further above, though still sticking to the roads. Rika took a deep breath, savoring the light scent of ozone and charged electrons.
“Gotta love planets,” she said to herself with a smile.
She strolled down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace, enjoying being outside in the sunlight, with no one around who wanted to hurt or kill her. She had a full charge—on new batts, too, thanks to the Marauders—and was in no hurry to return early and spend the evening with Barne.
I think I’ll wait outside till twenty-two hundred on the nose.
The feeling was exhilarating. She had food, charge, and nowhere to be for the better part of a day. The feeling was so foreign she barely recognized it.
She wondered if it was possible to be relaxed and excited at the same time.
Rika passed through the commercial area around the docks, and into a residential district. She smiled at other pedestrians as they passed—some walking alone, like her, and others in groups, or with children.
They all wore robes like her, though many had their heads exposed. From her research, Rika hadn’t seen any religious reason why everyone on Pyra wore robes out in the hot sun; it just seemed to be the fashion.
Strange as it was, the custom suited her fine. If everyone on the street was wearying skin-tight polymers, she doubted that Jerry would have let her roam about for the day—unless it had been a world of heavy modders. Then she’d fit in perfectly.
The residential district gave way to rows of small shops along the street, and Rika laid eyes on a coffee shop that had a holosign displaying a rotating array of drinks that made her mouth water.
Each of the Marauders had fake idents, and were masquerading as Thebans visiting Pyra. Rika’s used her real name, though it cited her birthplace as Lils—an orbital habitat further out in the Albany System. She had credit, too; both physical, and online in a planetary bank.
When she’d checked the balance, it had blown her away. She may not be getting ‘paid’ for the job, but she had more disposable credit available than she had seen in years.
She decided there was no reason not to treat herself to the local delights—a perfectly reasonable thing to do for a tourist. Rika approached the shop, and as she pushed the door open, the scent of freshly ground coffee beans hit her nostrils, and she drew in a deep breath, a broad smile on her lips.
“Has that effect, doesn’t it?” a man said with a grin as he walked past, holding a steaming cup of coffee with an intricate pattern in the frothed milk floating on top.
“Sure seems to,” Rika replied.
She looked over the menu and opted for a caramel latte. She had never tasted caramel before—not outside of a sim, at least—and wasn’t about to pass up on this chance.
As she ordered the drink from a woman with a kind smile behind the counter, she felt a pang of guilt for the turmoil the Marauders would cause on Pyra in just a few day’s time.
Unbidden, the memory of Chase being beaten once again dominated her thoughts. Was he still there? Still slaving away in Hal’s Hell while she went for sunny morning strolls, and drank her latte while planning the death of a president?
That was months ago for him, she reminded herself. He’s recovered; he’s forgotten about you, for now. Probably chasing some other girl.
She wasn’t so sure, though. He had asked her out for drinks every day for months. Chase didn’t seem like the sort to give up so easily.
But where would he go to find her, if he had the means to do so? Which he didn’t.
Even if he found out she had been bought by the Marauders, what would he do? Visit their HQ? She didn’t even know where that was. For all she knew, it was on a ship, or on some rock, floating in the interstellar void. That’s the sort of place she’d always heard that mercenary outfits operated out of.
“Rika,” a sweet voice said, and she turned to see the woman behind the counter holding out her drink.
“Thanks,” Rika answered, and took the cup, touching it to her lips and savoring the scent before taking a taste. “Stars!” she exclaimed. “Oh, wow, that’s so good.”
The woman giggled. “Glad to make your day. Next please?”
Rika realized she was holding up the line and stepped aside, taking another sip of the coffee as she walked out of the shop and back into the late morning light; all her worries about past and future already forgotten.
“Oh, stars,” she whispered. “Can’t this just last forever?”
* * * * *
Rika strolled down the paths in the forest to the north of the presidential palace, taking in the sights with an innocent joy that was barely an act.
Even though she was surveilling the protections the president’s security had placed along President Ariana’s running path, the high volume of cameras, automated turrets, and sensor systems didn’t diminish the joy she felt.
Shit, if this is slavery, I’ll take more of it, she thought; but then a frown creased her brow.
No, a gilded cage is still a cage.
She knew agony still awaited her if she didn’t get back to the warehouse by the proscribed time. That was not freedom.
The chain may be long, but it was still present.
She refocused on the task at hand. Rika knew, from the intel that Team Basilisk had gathered already, that the president took only one of three routes through the forest for her early morning run. However, all the routes converged at a specific point; and a dozen meters beyond that point, the trail passed into a wide glen.
Rika walked through the glen, looking at the large trees that bordered it, eyeing each in turn, looking
for one with the right branches in the right place.
As she reached the far side of the clearing, she spotted the perfect tree. It had a cluster of trunks that stayed close together for almost twenty meters before branching out. She could hug one of the trunks, and rest her rifle along a branch. The cloak she wore could double as camouflage and there was a mesh back in the warehouse with which to cover her GNR-41C.
She would be invisible.
Rika kept walking further down the trail, noting fallback positions, and places where Jerry and Leslie could hide.
Their job would be to keep on the lookout for anyone who may compromise Rika’s position—but also to finish the job, should Rika’s shots not prove fatal.
That wasn’t an outcome that worried Rika. She would kill President Ariana. It was a foregone conclusion.
Barne’s job was the getaway. He would park a truck holding several hoverbikes nearby, and would also pay off a local bike gang to drive by the palace and throw rotten fruit at it.
Two kilometers away, there would be other transportation for them to switch to, and then three possible safe fallbacks. She hadn’t been given the location of the fallbacks yet, but Jerry had assured her that she would know about them in due time.
Rika nodded to a young couple as she walked past, giving them a warm smile. The gesture wasn’t entirely disingenuous, but enough to make her feel guilty for enjoying this peaceful place, knowing that she would forever mark it as a place of mourning.
Instead of admiring the beauty of the glade, passersby would remember their beloved leader, and revile her killer.
Better her than me, she thought, pushing the concern from her mind once more.
Eventually, Rika left the park and took a different route back toward the warehouse, walking at the slowest pace she could manage while still giving herself a buffer, in case she ran into any trouble.
Rika hadn’t bothered to mention to Jerry that receiving discipline while out in public would most certainly reveal her—and their operation. If he’d known, he probably wouldn’t have let her go on her own; and now that she had spent this day in paradise, she was all the more glad that she had omitted the information.