by K. Makansi
I turn to three of the soldiers behind me. My contacts immediately pull up their names and ranks. “Report to Bradley and help the rest of the team retrieve the target. The rest of you, keep your weapons on these two.”
As they move to carry out my orders, I hear Bradley, my second in command, through my earpiece. “We’ve got the target surrounded, Vale. There’s no way for him to make it out of the building. We’ll meet you at the entrance.”
Only one injury so far—the driver of the hovercar Remy disabled, and she’s already been medevac’d to the Huron, our main transport waiting a kilometer away. There’ve been a few other injuries, but nothing serious. For a team of six, though, the Resistance put on a damn good show.
Soren says something—to Remy or into his earpiece? I can’t take the chance he’s talking to Eli or their pilot, so I bend down and pull out his earpiece and toss it aside. He ignores me completely and goes on bandaging Remy’s wound.
To the three remaining soldiers who are watching me and Soren warily, I say, “Disarm him, and bind his hands.”
One of the soldiers bends down to pull Soren away from Remy, but Soren spits at him and slaps his hands away. The man pulls back the butt of his weapon to strike Soren, but I stop him with a sharp, “Soldier!” He looks up, none too pleased with me.
“A regular humanitarian,” Soren sneers, and I’m tempted to hit him myself.
Reika, one of the other soldiers, hauls Soren to his feet as he reluctantly leaves Remy’s unconscious form in the dirt. I want nothing more than to bend down beside her, to take Soren’s place. Instead I watch as Reika cuffs Soren’s hands behind his back. Reika’s got short-cropped blonde hair and is at least my height. She’s not quite a match for Soren, but she can hold her own. Chan-Yu steps over and pats him down, pulling off two sonic grenades, a handheld Bolt, wire cutters, and a beautiful knife that looks like something out of a history book. He passes Soren’s equipment over to me, and I stash it in my pack, wondering where in the world he got the knife.
“Watch that blade of mine carefully, old buddy,” Soren says, suddenly flashing me a lunatic’s smile. “I’ll need it back soon. In the meantime, try not to stab anybody in the back with it, okay?”
On the ground, Remy opens her eyes and struggles to sit up. Soren wrenches away from Reika and drops to his knees beside her, and that act alone is as painful as if he’d plunged that beautiful knife between my ribs. He can’t hold her—his hands are tied—but the lunatic smile is gone, and in its place is an expression of such pain and worry that I can’t help but wonder what on earth is going on between the two of them. Luckily, before I can do something stupid, our other hovercar pulls up and a medic, dressed in the healer’s blue uniform, hops out and drops down next to Remy.
“Get him up,” I order, and Reika drags Soren to his feet again and pulls him away from Remy.
“Status?” the medic asks, looking back and forth between me and Soren.
“Head wound, glass cuts in her leg, she’s losing a lot of blood,” I say quickly. Remy’s eyes roll back in her head, and she slumps to the ground again. The medic checks her head and her leg and then quickly cuts off her pant leg and applies a tourniquet. She starts pulling glass shards from Remy’s leg, cleaning the wounds as she goes.
“The result of spending too much time with an Orleán,” Soren spits.
I whirl and find myself toe-to-toe with him. We used to be about the same height, but he’s got at least three inches on me now. I’m sure I’ve had better training, but he looks lean, hungry, and dangerous. His blond hair is dirty, his face is streaked with sweat, and I wonder who would be left standing at the end if we went at it once and for all. I hold back the fist that is balling itself up, ready to strike. He seems to know my thoughts.
“Hit me. I dare you.” He laughs. I feel Chan-Yu’s firm touch on my arm for just a moment, restraining me. Then I have a better idea.
“You three,” I point to the remaining soldiers, “take this one around to the front of the building. We’re going to give Elijah Tawfiq an incentive to cooperate.” The smile slides off Soren’s face. Reika shoves Soren off towards the entrance to the seed bank, where most of my team is waiting. The other two soldiers train their Bolts on him and follow Reika cautiously. Into my earpiece: “Team: I’m sending you Soren Skaarsgard. If you have any trouble with Elijah, tell him we’ll shoot Soren. Do not, I repeat, do not, under any circumstances, actually shoot him. He’s far more valuable alive.”
At my feet, the medic is now checking Remy’s vitals, recording her information on a miniature plasma. We need to get Eli and get the fuck out of here. I can take Remy back for treatment, but I need to get as far away from Soren as possible. Where is their airship, anyway?
“Vale to Seahawks,” I say into my earpiece. “Do you have a read on the Resistance craft?” The Seahawks are our precision craft, built for maneuverability and short-range strikes.
“Seahawk 2 to Vale: No location. It seems to have disappeared.”
Damn. They must have some sort of cloaking ability. I can’t help but be impressed with their technology, given what little they have to work with.
“Sir, we lost him.” It’s Bradley.
“Soren?” I sputter.
“Elijah. He’s gone. Slipped into a side hallway and disappeared.”
“What? How? You had him surrounded!” The medic gets out a bottle and squeezes Remy’s mouth open, tilting her head up and squirting some of the liquid down her throat.
“I pulled up the building’s schematics, and I’ve got people on every floor. I think he’s in the ventilation system. I’m heading toward the boiler room in case he makes it all the way down there.”
The medic looks up at me. “I stopped the bleeding, sir, but she needs a blood transfusion. We need to get her on the Huron.”
I nod. “Is she okay to move?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. We’ll put her in the back of the hovercar.” I bend down to Remy’s side and pick up her limp form. Her head lolls against mine and her eyes flutter, I can’t help but think of the first time—the only time—I was this close to her. I admire the smooth curves in her cheekbones, the fullness of her lips, the sharp curves in her long eyelashes, and I think how much she’s grown up and how impossibly beautiful she is.
She tried to kill me, I remind myself. Did she? “Come closer. Please,” she said, before she threw the grenade. It dawns on me: She was trying to protect me. She didn’t want to hurt me. I carry her as carefully as possible to the car, and Chan-Yu opens the door for me. I lay her down gently in the back seat, and the medic rushes to stabilize her head and neck.
“Take her up to the Huron,” I say, addressing the medic. “Get her that transfusion and whatever else she needs, and then radio headquarters and let them know we’re bringing a wounded hostage back.” The medic nods stoically and hops in the car, zooming off in the direction of our cargo ship waiting in the distance.
I head towards the building where soldiers are guarding each exit on the ground floor. Soren’s standing at the main entrance with a grim smile on his face. One of the soldiers has a gun to his head.
Suddenly, in the distance, but coming toward us at speed, I hear the whirring of an airship engine. I can’t see it, but just the sound is enough to confirm it’s not ours. It’s too loud, too messy—it’s obviously the Resistance ship. My earpiece erupts.
“What the hell?”
“Seahawk 1 to Vale: Reading on the Resistance ship, approaching fast, hull doors open ready to fire.”
The airship swoops in toward the main entrance, barreling through the air directly for us. Their pilot must be a madman. Blue light erupts from the base of the airship, and several of my soldiers on the roof go down, one toppling over the edge and hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
“Man down, man down!”
From thirty meters away I see a flash of red hair as the airship buzzes fifteen meters above the ground.
“Take cover!”
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Someone grabs me and drags me to the side of the building for cover.
“Bradley!” I shout. “Tell me you have Eli.” I peer around the edge of the building, where our soldiers have formed up defensively and are firing back on the Resistance craft.
“Permission to increase Bolt charge, sir,” someone yells.
“Permission denied,” I yell back, even as I hear some grumble in response.
“No sign of him,” Bradley says. “I’ve got people on every floor.”
“Well, find him! They’re here. Their airship’s back, and they’re mounting a rescue.” I pull back, away from the building, running sideways to see what the hell is going on. Within seconds, I hear the hum of a second airship—ours, this time—whooshing around the building, tearing off after the Resistance ship.
And then I see him. Eli. On the roof. Shit! He’s standing on the wall—waving. As though daring us to shoot him.
“Target is on the roof! Do not shoot to kill! Repeat. Do not shoot to kill!” I shout into my headpiece for every soldier to hear. I pull out my Bolt and make sure it’s on low charge, just enough power to send a paralytic shock through him, disabling him long enough for us to take him down. I stop, steady my arm, and fire. Eli disappears behind the wall, but I know I didn’t hit him. Their airship comes rocketing out of nowhere, and Eli stands up again, raising his hands high above him. He must already have his gloves on. Though it’s too dark to see the dangling magnetic line, I know it’s there. As the airship drops down over the roof and then takes off again at an impossible angle, Eli is like a fish on a hook as he’s reeled up. From the ground, it looks like he’s flying, swinging from the invisible line trailing below the airship.
I switch the setting on my Bolt to maximum charge but quickly realize I can’t risk bringing the whole thing down and killing all of them, including some of my men on the ground. Even disabling the craft and causing it to crash is too dangerous. As Eli is lifted into the hold, he grabs a gun from whoever is next to him and starts firing down at me. His aim is nowhere near on target because the airship is angling up and away too fast for him to get a good shot.
“Zoom,” I say, and my contacts zoom in on him as he stops firing and stuffs the gun in his belt. By Eli’s side: KENZIE OBAN. WANTED: TREASON. I focus on Eli, and he looks down at me as if he knows I can see him clearly. He pounds his fist on his chest and then jabs his finger in the air, pointing down, directly at me. I can only imagine what he’s saying.
“Seahawk 1 to Command: I’m locked on and ready to fire.”
“Stand down. Do you hear me? Do not fire,” I command. “We’re not going to kill them all.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“I said stand down!”
“Yes, sir. Standing down,” the pilot says, his voice tinged with disappointment.
“Fuck.” I turn back towards the main entrance to the seed bank. “Okay, everyone, hook on or load up! We’re heading back to the Huron.” I shout: “Seahawks, grab your men and let’s go!”
Two of our small Raven class transports have landed near the entrance, and I see the body of a soldier being loaded up. I grab one of the men nearby and spin him around. “How many casualties?”
“Three, sir,” he reports.
“Status?”
“One dead—the one who fell off the roof—and two wounded. Oh, and your driver. But she’s already on the Huron.”
“Carry on,” I say.
“Yes, sir.”
Reika is hauling Soren’s unconscious body into the other Raven, and Chan-Yu drops to help her. Reika nods at him gratefully.
“What the hell happened?” I demand.
“When he heard the Resistance airship, he started fighting like a caged bear,” Reika explains. “I had to stun him. Handcuffs and all, he would have taken out a fair few soldiers if I hadn’t.”
“Get us up to the Huron,” I say. “And chain him up in the brig once we get there.”
I climb in as Chan-Yu pulls the hatch closed and the pilot lifts off, angling back toward the Huron, a cargo ship big enough to carry heavy equipment, including hovercars, on long distance operations. Once there, and after I get confirmation that everyone is accounted for and that Soren, who had to be stunned again, is behind bars in the brig, I head to the medical bay.
I stop in the doorway and take in the scene: one body bag rests on the floor while my driver and the two other wounded soldiers lie, unmoving, next to Remy. I force myself to move forward, to walk to her bedside. A chasm rips open inside me as I look down at her, eyes closed, lips slack, slightly parted. I did this to her. I said I wouldn’t hurt her, and I did. This is my fault.
“How’s the prisoner?” I manage. There’s an IV in her arm, and one of the medics is in the process of giving her an injection.
“She’ll be okay. She’s bandaged up, and I’ve given her a powerful muscle relaxant because she woke up and wasn’t very happy about being here. She’s getting a transfusion of platelets and RBCs, and I’ve pulled up her old Dietician’s profile so I can give her the proper healing cocktail. She’ll be as good as new in a couple of days.”
“What about that cut on her head?”
“She definitely has a concussion, but I’ll keep her awake on the way back home and she’ll be able to rest when we get back. We’ll need to stitch her up when we get back to the Sector.”
“And our soldiers? What’s the extent of their injuries?”
“Sonic grenades and shrapnel. They were sedated in the field. Your driver’s in the most danger. The biggest worry is internal injuries, so we’ll have to keep them still and monitor them over the next few days. Right now, they need to rest.”
“And our fatality?”
“Broken neck.”
I nod as if I’ve got everything under control and head back through the cargo area to one of the private passenger rooms. I duck in and sit down. I put my head in my hands before realizing Chan-Yu is beside me. He hands me a glass of water, and I down it without stopping to wonder what could be in it. One dead and three wounded under my command. Eli escaped, Remy badly hurt, Soren unconscious. What a disaster.
14 - VALE
Fall 90, Sector Annum 105, 10h05
Gregorian Calendar: December 19
Like a distant drumbeat, some unrecognizable emotion thrums through my body, matching the rhythmic thud of my boots as I walk toward the room where Remy and Soren are being held.
The prisoners in our possession.
That’s how my father so excitedly put it when he heard the news. Tawfiq is important in terms of tactics, he said, but holding a Skaarsgard and an Alexander is a major strategic win. If they cooperate, it could be a huge public relations coup. “They’re your old friends and they’re both vulnerable, Vale,” he said. “Both were well-known and popular students—bringing them back into the limelight after all these years as strong supporters of our cause would be good for the Sector. Play this right, and you can make real progress in thwarting the Resistance’s recruiting efforts.”
Friends? Soren’s hated me since we started at the Academy, since my father replaced his mother as Chancellor. And as for Remy….
“You’re heart rate is escalating. Calm, Valerian, calm,” Demeter whispers in my ear.
A day and a half has passed since we returned from the mission with Remy and Soren as captives. I slept a deep, medicated sleep for twelve hours thereafter, and for the rest of the day have not been allowed to see Remy and Soren. General Aulion told me they needed to rest after the stress of the mission, but the twitch in the corner of his mouth made me suspect something else was going on. Aulion and my father were surprisingly sanguine about the turn of events. The report about the casualties made neither of them happy, but Aulion said gruffly that he expected the Resistance team to be well prepared. And my father, after he expressed his regrets about the casualties, went right back to talking eagerly about Remy and Soren.
It was my mother who was angry.
She was
in the briefing room with Aulion and my father when we got back, and when I announced that Elijah had escaped, she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in the way that signals a gathering storm. If I had been a little boy, I would have run for cover. But my father managed to keep her rage at bay, and immediately after the briefing, Aulion sent me home with instructions for Chan-Yu to give me a sedative. Normally I would have balked at this command, but if it meant I could take shelter from my mother’s fury, and—for a little while—get Remy’s face out of my mind, I would readily take it.
We arrive at the holding cell and Chan-Yu turns to look at me. “Sir, your father expects a full report as soon as you’re finished.”
“I know, I know. It’s okay.” It’s pretty clear I’m the one who needs reassuring, and he watches me hesitantly. Again, behind his impassive face, I get the feeling Chan-Yu’s studying me under a microscope, like I’m some newly discovered virus that might be terribly contagious. But I can’t worry about that now. I suck in a deep breath. I’m beyond nervous. I have no idea what to expect; I barely even know where to start. The only thing I know for sure is that Aulion will be watching remotely. What fun.
Before I took the sedative, Chan-Yu said that while I rested medics would examine the prisoners and members of Aulion’s team would prepare them for my official interrogation. They’re being held at Sector Military Headquarters, a building adjacent to Assembly Hall, and once we were in the Sarus heading back to the capitol complex, I asked Demeter to pull up the report Aulion’s team filed. I scrolled down to find the medic’s notes. According to the doctors, Remy suffered a torn ligament, flesh wounds from the glass, and a concussion. They removed the remaining fragments of glass from her leg, repaired the ligament, and gave her seven stitches for her head wound. I knew then she’d be okay. I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and, again, Chan-Yu gave me a side-long look.
Then I kept reading. It appeared the prisoners were uncooperative. I wasn’t surprised. I can’t imagine Soren would have been any more cooperative for Aulion’s team than he was with me.