Fire from Ashes (Honor & Duty Book 4)

by Sam Schall

  “You can’t make us go like this!” the youngest prisoner protested. “We’ll never make it.”

  Without hesitation, she closed the space between them in two quick strides. The man gasped and backed up until he found his escape blocked by the very solid figure of Tank. Connery didn’t realize she’d pulled one of the several knives she carried into battle until she pressed it against the man’s throat. Her free hand rested on the grip of her pistol.

  “I can and I will,” she snarled and pressed the edge of her blade harder against the soft tissue of his throat. He whimpered as the skin broke and blood welled up around the blade. “We surrendered. There are rules.”

  “Rules!” she spat. “Like the rules you broke by working with the enemy?” She forced herself to lower her blade and take a step back. “I’m going to put this to you in simple terms. You will shut the fuck up and keep your mouth shut or I will have you gagged. Each of you will do as my Marines say, when they say it. Failure to do so will be viewed as an attempt to not only escape but harm us and I will space you. You are worse than enemy combatants. You are in civilian clothing yet you are members of the military. That makes you spies or pirates and either allow me, under the laws of my home system, to execute you without benefit of a trial.” She gave them a moment to consider what she said. “Please, one of you, test me to see if I will do as I say.”

  When none of them did, she motioned for the Marines to move out.

  “Very good, Artemis. Who knew you could be such a bad ass?” Ashlyn chuckled over a secure link. “Now get back to the shuttle before anything else happens.”

  “ADMIRAL, incoming from the planet’s surface,” the comms officer reported.

  “Governor Harris?” she asked as she returned to her command chair.

  “Unknown, ma’am. Message is, at the moment, voice only.”

  Tremayne frowned. For a moment, she studied the plot. The only icons indicating battle-worthy ships belonged to the allied attack force. The enemy ships had been captured or destroyed. The defense platforms had met the same fate. The remaining platforms would be destroyed as soon as the attack shuttles were clear. Even though groundside defenses had not been completely destroyed yet, their effectiveness had been greatly diminished. Could the so-called occupational governor finally be ready to surrender?

  Not in the mood to play games, Tremayne considered her options. “Lieutenant, inform whoever is on the other end of that message to show themselves. If they haven’t done so in the next two minutes, we will open fire on their location.” Without her having to ask, Tactical plotted the coordinates of the strike and sent them to the LACs with orders to standby.

  “You have Toliver Ooster, Admiral.”

  “Put him through.” She leaned back, her right ankle resting on her left knee. A few moments later, the image on her holo screen changed from her official wallpaper to the face of a dark-skinned man. Everything about him oozed and screamed politician. Wary, she waited, wondering what he had to say.

  “Admiral, I have taken over for Occupational Governor Harris. He’s met with an, er, unfortunate accident.”

  One corner of Tremayne’s mouth quirked up. She doubted Harris had met with an accident. Maybe an “accidental” assassination.

  “That changes nothing, Mr. Ooster. Your time to surrender is past. I will give you one last chance to comply with my demands or we will begin our bombardment of the surface.”

  “Admiral,” he began.

  “Sixty seconds. . . thirty. . . ten. . . nine. . ..”

  “All right!” he all but screamed, sweat running down his cheeks.

  “Evacuate your people from the groundside facilities. You have one hour. At the end of that time, we will begin eliminating those targets.”

  She nodded, signaling the comms officer to cut the link. Then she blew out a breath. Part of her wanted to celebrate. The entire battle had been easier and taken less time than she’d expected. But another part warned her not to relax. It had all seemed too easy. Until they destroyed their targets and were on their way home, she couldn’t drop her guard. Too much could still happen.

  “Signal our LACs and gunnery crews. They are to confirm their targets. We will open fire on my command in one hour.”

  Then, hopefully, they could head home. She wasn’t foolish enough to think the Callusians would let this attack go unanswered. The only question was which of the cooperating systems would be targeted.

  21

  Glenn Spaceport

  New Kilrain, Fuercon

  PRESIDENT HARPER WATCHED as the shuttle came in for a landing. As they waited for the newcomers to disembark, his guards stepped a bit closer. Until they knew for sure the shuttle occupants presented no danger to the man, they would not let him get any closer.

  A few moment later, the hatch slid open. Harper watched as a Marine, a Devil Dog if his eyes hadn’t failed him, stepped outside. Armored, as much on alert as his own guards, the Marine checked the area. Then she turned back to the shuttle and nodded. Another armored Marine stepped out, followed closely by Admiral Tremayne, Brigadier General Shaw and two more armored Marines. Concerned, Harper waited. This once, he would do as his guards said and let the newcomers approach him instead of the other way around.

  “Stand easy,” he said as the six stopped before him and snapped to attention. As he did, his brow creased in concern to realize Ashlyn Shaw was one of the armored Marines. “Admiral, General, I assume there’s a reason for the show of force.”

  Neither answered right away. Instead, they glanced around, as if making sure no one could overhear. Then Tremayne nodded, her expression a mix of resignation, frustration and humor. “There were a few developments during the mission we didn’t report, Mr. President,” she said. “Developments that caused Colonel Shaw to insist on taking a few extra precautions upon arrival.”

  “I see.” Except he didn’t. “Do we need to discuss them before we head out?”

  “We can brief you on the salient points on the ride to the security complex, sir,” Tremayne told him. “But it boils down to one thing: Lieutenant Connery and her squad got the confirmation we’ve been looking for in the form of four Midlothian advisors.”

  For a moment, Harper felt rooted in place. He stared at Tremayne, not sure he wanted to believe her or not. In spite of all the evidence implicating Midlothian before then, he had held out hope an ally had not betrayed them. It was one thing to consider certain elements of the Midlothian government had been working against them. it was another thing entirely to know the government itself had been. Yet, that wasn’t exactly what Tremayne had said. He needed to hear what they’d learned from the prisoners before jumping to conclusions.

  “We will discuss this in the aircar.” He glanced at the six and made up his mind. “Admiral, you, General Shaw and Colonel Shaw will accompany me. The rest can follow in the next car.” He heard his head bodyguard start to protest and simply shook his head. He needed to know what the three had to say before they arrived at the security complex.

  “If I may have a moment, Mr. President?” When he dipped his chin in agreement, Ashlyn turned to the three Marines who had spread out in a protective formation around her mother and Tremayne. A slight smile touched his lips as she used hand signals to give them their instructions. A moment later, she turned back. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Now, you said you got proof,” he said as the aircar pulled away from the spaceport a short time later. “I assume you meant proof of Midlothian involvement.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tremayne said. “Proof in the form of four captured Midlothian officers. Two naval and two army. They surrendered when Colonel Shaw and members of the Devil Dogs boarded a defense platform. Their mission had been to download the contents of the platform’s database. Lieutenant Connery and her squad hit the jackpot when the four surrendered.”

  “Have they been more cooperative than Hughes?”

  Tremayne’s smile answered his question. But, instead of explaining, she looked at Ashl
yn and nodded. Curious, Harper settled back and waited, wondering what the colonel had to say.

  “Lieutenant Connery put the fear of God in them, Mr. President,” Ashlyn said proudly. “She pointed out they had presented themselves while dressed in civilian clothing. They had not identified themselves as military even though they clearly were. Then she pointed out that, under our laws, she would be well within her rights to space them then and there as either spies or pirates. They decided it was in their best interests to cooperate.”

  “Now be honest, Colonel. The fact she marched them through corridors of the defense platform in nothing but their underwear might have help loosen their tongues. They didn’t know if the next corner they turned would lead to an area without an atmosphere,” Elizabeth Shaw said with a smile.

  “True.”

  Harper looked between mother and daughter and then shook his head. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth and, a moment later, he chuckled almost evilly. Then he sobered. “What did they have to say?”

  “Like Hughes, they want assurances that their cooperation won’t be disclosed and, no, I did not give it to them. Instead, I promised to personally deliver them to their embassy here, stopping only long enough to make sure the ambassador knows how helpful they’ve been.”

  Harper looked at her in surprise. He’d known she would do whatever was necessary to protect Fuercon. What he had never seen before was this streak of ruthlessness. It didn’t bother him. Far from it. If he were honest, he approved.

  “And?” he prompted.

  Tremayne handed him her datapad. The moment the first of the data scrolled across it, he knew the mission had been a bigger success than he’d dared hope.

  EVAN MOREAU MOVED INTO POSITION. As she did, she smiled slightly, confidently. She still couldn’t believe her luck. Harper’s press secretary had announced earlier that day he would be holding a press conference to announce the results of a “joint exercise” between the Fuerconese Navy and the navies of several of its allies. A few calls and she had the information she needed. Not only did she know the time but the location of the press conference. Better yet, it was one where security would look tight but would be anything but. Now she could fulfill her contract with Watchman and, hopefully, take care of a little personal business as well.

  The only possible snag was gaining access to the best observation point. She’d had to move quickly. A few changes to her appearance and then she presented herself at the embassy gates as a courier with a delivery for the ambassador from the Braxian ambassador. A low-level clerk cleared her for entry. Once inside, she stepped into a powder room on the second floor where she was supposed to be making her delivery. When she emerged a few minutes later, she bore a striking resemblance to that bitch Fertig. If everything went according to plan, Watchman’s pet would soon find herself answering some very difficult questions.

  Then came the wait. She moved almost silently across the embassy roof, carefully choosing her position. It took less than three minutes to get everything set up. Bipod for the rifle, scope in place. Jammers to prevent anyone on the lower levels from calling for help. Explosives just in case she needed a diversion to get away. Even the building itself became her weapon of sorts. Anyone looking up from street level would see nothing out of the ordinary. The muzzle of the sniper rifle disappeared in the shadow cast by the ornamental cutouts of parapet surrounding the roof. It also served to hide her from view. By the time the authorities figured out where the shot came from, she’d be gone and the damage would be done.

  It had to work. This was her only chance to get it right and get away before embassy security or Fertig decided to put a slug between her eyes. Nerves higher than usual, she took a moment to calm them. She breathed deeply in and then out, reminding herself of her training. How ironic it was that Fuercon had trained her for this sort of mission. Too bad it hadn’t recognized her talents and put them to use.

  She checked her rifle one last time and then got into position. As she did, movement below and almost half a mile away caught her eye. She adjusted the scope and smiled. Soon, very soon, her wait would be over. Coming down the street were three aircars, the second one flying the colors of the president.

  A few moments later, the aircars parked down the road from the embassy. Harper’s guards as well as armored Marines climbed out of the front and rear aircars. At the same time, the front doors of the security building opened and more security appeared. They assumed positions around the aircars. Some pulled weapons while others scanned the area. In most situations, their actions would be enough to keep Harper safe. But this wasn’t most situations and she was not an ordinary assassin.

  Finally, one of the guards approached the president’s car and nodded. A moment later, the doors closest to the security building opened. As they did, Moreau snugged the rifle stock against her shoulder. As she looked through the scope, her ocular implant synced with it. There was a moment’s disorientation. Then she smiled. She was the cat and Harper was about to learn what it was like to be the mouse.

  She waited, wanting him to move away from the aircar and the safety it represented. Good as she was, she knew her angle wasn’t the best. There was the slight possibility of her missing her shot. If that happened, she wanted to insure he couldn’t get away.

  “That’s it,” she murmured. “Just a little bit farther.”

  Then the world slammed to a halt. Unable to believe her luck, she scanned the faces of the others who’d exited the aircar behind the man. She knew each of them, recognized them from media and her own briefing materials. Then she saw the one face that had haunted her so much of her adult life. Now it was personal. She’d take the shot and then she’d deal with Harper. Two targets and she would finally get her life back.

  One breath. Two. A third and then she squeezed the trigger. Joy unlike any she’d known in years raced through her as the target dropped. Then she made a quick adjustment. There was still one more target to hit. Once she had, she could get the hell out of there and never look back.

  22

  ELIZABETH GLANCED AROUND, eyes narrowed, missing no detail. She had liked the president’s plan to hold a press conference outside the security complex no more than had Ashlyn. It went beyond the fact she preferred staying behind the scenes. There hadn’t been enough time to set up proper security. More importantly, there was still a great deal they needed to brief him on. She understood why he wanted to finally let the public know how Midlothian had betrayed them but the Marine in her did not like it. There were still too many unanswered questions and too many things that could go wrong.

  “Ash, stay close to him,” she said softly.

  Ashlyn nodded and took a step toward the president. As she did, one of his guards looked at her in surprise. Then he stepped back, letting her take the lead. She glanced around, catching Connery’s eye. Elizabeth caught the way she signaled the young lieutenant to close in even as she sent Talbot and Private Crowley to watch the perimeter.

  Satisfied she had done all she could, Elizabeth turned to see where Tremayne had gone. As she did, a flash from above and down the block caught her eye. It happened so fast, she almost ignored it. Then every instinct called for her to take action. Her subconscious recognized the flash.

  “Gun!” she yelled as she spun in the direction she’d last seen the president.

  The sound of a shot echoed against the buildings lining both sides of the street. Harper’s security team closed in on the president, but not before Ashlyn acted. She didn’t hesitate. She leapt at them man, her arms wrapping around him as she tackled him to the ground. Members of his security leapt on top of them, adding their bodies to hers as layers of protection.

  “Loco, Zed, get a trajectory!” Connery ordered as she pulled her comm. Then she turned and saw both Elizabeth and Tremayne standing there. Cursing, she raced across the plaza in their direction. She grabbed them both and all but dragged them inside the building, shoving them at a couple of Marines responding to the call for help. �
��Keep them inside. It’s your head if anything happens to them.” With that, she ran back outside.

  “Liz?” Tremayne looked at the pandemonium beyond the clear doors.

  “Corporal, send for Colonel Santiago and contact General Okafor,” she said, cursing silently even as she issued her orders. “I want the block cordoned off. Capital security will want to take point but, until further orders, we will be in charge of security.” She watched as he stepped back to do as she said. Then she turned to Tremayne. “Stay here. Brief Okafor when she gets down here. I need to take control out there.”

  Grimly, Tremayne gave a quick nod. Then she pulled her own comm. Elizabeth didn’t wait to see who she was contacting. There was too much to do and, if they didn’t act quickly, the shooter would get away.

  Her breath caught as members Harper’s security team helped knelt on the ground near where she’d seen the president and her daughter go down. The president told them to get back as he rolled to his hands and knees. Before he could stand, several of his guards grabbed him and all but dragged him into the aircar. Moments later, it sped away, leaving the rest of them to figure out what happened and who was responsible.

  “Loco, anything?” Connery called as she hurried to Elizabeth’s side. “Ma’am, you need to get inside. I have this,” she added, taking the woman’s arm and turning her away from where others knelt near where she’d last seen the president.

  “Angel?” she asked softly, barely daring to breathe.