Traitor Winds - Kestrel Saga: Vol. 0 (Kestrel Saga - Origins)

by Stephen A. Fender

  As the doors parted once again, there was a clamor above him. Krador looked up in time to see a dark, blonde-haired form swoop down on him from an open access panel.

  Her legs outstretched, Angelika cartwheeled down and planted her feet firmly into Krador’s chest, sending him flying out of the lift and onto the flattened roof of the administrative building. His grasp of his weapon must have slacked, because the rifle spun wildly away from him and over the side of the roof twenty feet away.

  But Maros Krador was far from defeated. Passionate about his own personal combat training, he was able to roll as soon as he landed on the unforgiving roof. He pivoted up, and then snapped his body behind an air processing unit just as Angelika fired off a round meant for his chest.

  Reaching into the folds of his uniform, Krador withdrew his one remaining grenade, then lobbed it effortlessly at Angelika’s last position.

  As the weapon bounced across the roof, Angelika ducked behind another large processing unit just as the device exploded. Unfortunately, her protection wasn’t sufficient to accurately shield her. Part of the processing unit fragmented, sending white-hot shards into her right hip. Thankfully one of her weapons had been holstered and it took the brunt of the damage. Still, the skin-tight armor plating around her right thigh was in shreds, and a trickle of blood was oozing from the wound. Cursing herself for not being more careful, she reached for her remaining weapon on her left hip.

  It was gone.

  Frantically she began scanning the roof for it. She finally saw it near the lift doors, about ten feet away. It must have fallen out when I jumped down from the elevator’s maintenance hatch. Damn!

  “You there,” Krador called out cheerfully from across the roof. “Are you still alive?”

  Angelika reached down, eager to stop the throbbing in her wounded thigh. Holding back a grunt of anguish, she meditated on the task at hand. “Yeah. I’m still here.”

  “Are you the leader of this…contingent?” The words were spoken with utter contempt.

  “If you’re thinking about surrendering, which I highly suggest you do, then I’m authorized to accept it.”

  All around them, in the courtyard below, the Sanissarics were engaged in combat with Krador’s forces. Explosions and weapons impacts reverberated off every vertical surface.

  “Surrender? Me? Oh, you must be joking. In ten minutes I’ll be off this accursed rock, and you’ll be dead. Besides, I don’t even know who I would be surrendering to.”

  Reaching into her right breast pocket, Angelika withdrew a pain relief stimulant. Pressing it near her wound, she activated it, brining almost-instant relief. “Angelika Jordan,” she mustered. “Special Agent, Office of Special Investigations.”

  “The OSI?” Krador chuckled. “How precious. You’ll be just as easy to kill as the last ones who were sent for me.”

  “Say that when my hands are wrapped around your throat, Krador.”

  “You think that’s how it’s going to be? Come now, Agent Jordan. Surely you can do better than idle threats.”

  “You’re a traitor, Krador, to your people and to the Unified Collaboration.”

  “And you don’t have a weapon,” he chided. “If you did, you wouldn’t be wasting time talking to me. You forget, Special Agent, that I know how the OSI operates.”

  “And you’re out of grenades,” she replied, hoping it was just as true as Krador’s statement.

  “Would you care to test that theory?”

  “There are two ways off this roof, Krador. One is under my arrest. The other is gravity.”

  “You’re wrong, Agent Jordan. There is a third option you haven’t yet explored.”

  But yet she had, and now it was Angelika’s turn to chuckle. As she looked down at her thigh, and the slowing flow of blood, she wondered how she was going to explain it to Michael back home. Maybe I can tell him I ran into a chair? She laughed again.

  “In what do you find humor, Agent Jordan?”

  She crouched down, trying to take the weight off her wounded leg. “You must be referring to your private shuttle?” she said, and was met with a long pause. “You know, the one you ordered one of your ships to bring down here to get you. I’m sorry to be the one to break the news to you, but your shuttle has been the victim of an unfortunate accident.”

  “You lie!” Krador shouted.

  “There’s a whole fleet of Sector Command warships entering orbit as we speak. So as far as you and I are concerned, we can do this all day long.”

  “Impossible!”

  “Tell that to Captain Rothchild. He’s the one who used your own communications equipment to send the distress call.”

  “My dear old friend, Stephen Rothchild,” Krador spat. “I should have killed him when I had the chance!”

  “Your loss, scumbag. Now are you going to come quietly, or are we going to have to do this the hard way?”

  There was a pause, which turned into a long moment. A minute later, when she hadn’t yet gotten a reply, Angelika cautioned a look beyond the edge of the damaged air processor she was hidden behind. There was no movement on the roof that she could see. Waiting one final second, she stood as erect as she could and pushed herself free of her cover, intent on retrieving her weapon.

  Just as she picked it up, Krador appeared seemingly from nowhere and planted a hard fist into the side of her face. It felt as if his skin was fused with steel. The shock threw Angelika back and allowed the weapon to fly from her hand.

  “Now you will pay the price for your insolence!” Krador ran toward her, leapt, and aimed a hard boot where her head was lying.

  She rolled from her side to her back, then sprung to her feet just as Krador’s foot slammed the ground beside her with a dull thud. Bracing her right fist in her left hand, she pushed her right elbow into his sternum as hard as she could, then snapped her right fist up to contact with his nose. The move stunned the former Sector Command officer, but he countered quickly. Deflecting her next series of blows, he performed a well-executed roundhouse kick, hitting Angelika’s hip and spinning her sideways.

  Angelika was impressed by how well balanced Krador was. He had remarkable agility for a man of his bulk. She crouched down just as he unleashed another kick, this one swinging harmlessly over her head. Hoping to catch him off guard, she stood and planted a foot into his back in the hopes of doubling him over. Instead, he turned again, grabbing her by the foot and tossing her aside like a ragdoll.

  Getting to her feet, she watched as Krador went for her fallen pistol. Before he reached it, she body checked him with a rear assault, sending his face firmly into the solid tar of the roof. He rolled just as she lunged for his throat. He effortlessly caught her by the elbows, planted a foot into her stomach, and sent her soaring over his outstretched body. She landed hard, rolling to her side two feet from the edge of the roof. Through foggy vision, she watched as Krador—his nose and mouth bleeding—reached down and retrieved her pistol. He stopped about ten feet from her, the pistol pointing squarely at her head.

  “On your feet, Agent Jordan.”

  Angelika was slow to comply, not because she didn’t want to, but because she was quickly losing the strength to do so.

  “Now!” he screamed. “I have grown tired of toying with you.”

  With agonizing slowness, Angelika got to her feet. Her head was spinning, and she was finding it difficult to remain conscious. She turned, looking down below at the Sanissarics battling what remained of Krador’s forces. She could see by the sheer number of flowing robes that the spiritual Jidoan guardians were quickly getting the upper hand in the battle. It was only a matter of time before the last of Krador’s people were killed or rounded up. She turned her head slowly back to him, the disgraced Sector Command officer who had commanded them. He was breathing heavily as he raised the pistol and took aim at her.

  Her final thoughts went back to her lover, Michael, and their home on Third Earth. He would never know any of this…what she had done or with whom.
He would never know how she died, and depending on what cover story the OSI gave him, might not even know that she was dead. That thought alone was almost enough to send her to tears. She loved Michael, truly and madly loved him. The thought of him living the rest of his life not knowing her fate, or how she felt, threatened to sap the rest of her strength and bring her to her knees before her executor.

  In the end, she stood tall, knowing that her mission—when it was all said and done—had been accomplished. Krador’s followers would soon be defeated, if not on the ground then surely in orbit. And there was no way Krador could escape the Kinetics or the Sanissarics…not for very long, anyway. Toyotomi Katashi would be proud of her, and somewhere in her heart she knew that Dmitri Yournikov would be as well. She took a deep breath, one she knew would be her last, and waited for the final shot.

  It came.

  But it didn’t come from Krador’s pistol, and it hadn’t been directed at her. She watched wide-eyed as Krador staggered forward under the blow, and she knew at once that someone standing behind him had fired. As a fresh spittle of blood trickled from Krador’s bruised lips, his body jerked forward once again as it registered another shot into his back. He convulsed, then turned slowly, affording Angelika a view of who was behind him.

  It was Captain Rothchild, his arm outstretched as he held his sidearm with confidence.

  “You!” Krador wailed. “My old friend…you have done this. Of all the audacity!”

  “No, Maros,” Rothchild offered as he shook his head, his eyes never leaving Krador. “You did this…to yourself.”

  Krador spat a gob of blood onto the roof. “Is…is this your idea of justice? Is this how Sector Command deals out their sentences?” He began rasping, which was followed by another round of coughing. “Are you to be judge, jury, and executioner? I underestimated you, Stephen. You are more devious than I gave you credit for. You…you would have been a welcomed ally in my cause.”

  “Your cause is over, Maros,” Rothchild barked. “Lay down your weapon and surrender before it’s too late.”

  “Too late? Too late to save my own life? Do you think I am so pathetic…so feeble? I am Admiral Maros Krador! Do you hear me? I am Maros Krador!” He quickly held up his gun, but before he could fire, he felt two hands clasp the back of his uniform tunic tightly.

  “Yeah, I hear you,” Angelika whispered into his ear. “And this is how I deal out my sentences.” Planting a foot into Krador’s backside, she rolled onto her own back, then pushed with all her remaining strength, launching a screaming and thrashing Krador over the side of the building. His cries lasted only for a moment before they were drowned out by the conflict below.

  When he saw that she wasn’t getting up, Rothchild quickly holstered his weapon and ran to Angelika’s side. Turning her over, he saw the deep gash on her right thigh. Her eyes were closed, but she was still breathing—albeit it in shallow puffs. He patted her face, trying to keep her awake. A moan escaped her dry lips.

  “I’ll call down a medical shuttle. Just hold on for a little while longer.”

  “I’ll try…no promises,” she wheezed.

  “Don’t make me make it an order, Agent Jordan.”

  She forced a smile, though her eyes remained closed. “I outrank you, Captain.”

  Rothchild chuckled. “Considering you’re in no condition to do anything, I’m forced to take operational command of this mission. I now outrank you.”

  Her eyes opened, though they were thin slits. She reached a weak hand up and patted the Captain’s smudged cheek. “Yes, sir.”

  Then everything went dark.

  * * *

  There was a cacophony of sounds all around her, and she couldn’t make out what they were saying. The words were all jumbled together and mixed into a flowing, muffled stream of syllables. She tried to open her eyes, but they refused to obey. Putting all her available strength into the simple task, she managed to force them. Through a white fog, shapes and colors flashes before her. Slowly the images and the voices came into focus. Then she realized where she was, and what was happening…and what had happened.

  Angelika was inside one of the Sector Command medical shuttles, and at least two doctors and a handful of nurses were tending to her with marked efficiency. Her neck had been braced, but she was afforded a small amount of movement. As she tilted her head back, she saw Captain Rothchild and Ah’J Maboda side by side, their arms crossed and worried expressions on their faces as they looked at her.

  Still weak from the fight with Krador, she managed to raise an arm in their direction, then gave them a thumbs-up.

  Rothchild was beaming.

  Maboda appeared to harrumph, but then the corner of his mouth turned up into a half smile. “Not bad…for an offworlder, Agent Angelika Jordan.”

  Angelika watched as Rothchild turned to Maboda and gave the much taller Jidoan a friendly backhand across his forearm.

  “She did just fine, ya heathen.”

  Maboda scowled at Rothchild, then turned back to face Angelika. “So it would seem, Captain. So it would seem.”

  * * *

  Once the Marines of the 12th Unified Expeditionary Unit had landed, they quickly set about mopping up the rest of Krador’s people. Once the complex was completely secure, the Unified construction battalions moved in, erecting a small medical treatment center and several mess tents capable of taking care of all of Krador’s former prisoners.

  Less than two hours after being admitted, and with her thigh heavily bandaged, Angelika limped away from the makeshift medical structure. She watched as squads of Unified Marines moved about the former enemy stronghold, now affectionately christened Camp Rothchild. She moved aside as two Unified hover tanks, their angular forms hastily painted to match the native Jidoan soil, moved from the shuttle landing pad on their way to the outer perimeter.

  A fluttering sound caught her attention, and she looked to the roof of the administrative complex where she had dealt with Krador. There, at nearly the same spot where he had taken his fall, flew the flag of the Unified Collaboration of Systems. Below it fluttered the flag of the 12th UMEU.

  “Agent Jordan?” a voice called out. It was Captain Rothchild.

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “I’d like to know what you’re doing on your feet, ma’am,” he said with a smile. “I gave standing orders that you weren’t allowed to leave medical until cleared by me.”

  “It feels a hell of a lot worse than it looks.” She smiled, then regarded her bandage. “I’ll be fine, Captain.”

  Rothchild snorted and shook his head at her stubbornness. “Well, I’m still in operational command, just so you know.”

  Angelika smiled as she attempted to straighten. “At this point, I wouldn’t have it any other way. How much longer is this operation going to take?”

  Rothchild looked to the Marines and Sector Command personnel moving about, then adjusted his ball cap to block out more of the sunlight. “Maybe an hour…two at the most. I want everyone off the surface and aboard their respective ships before 1900 hours.”

  “Krador’s people?”

  “They’ve been ferried up to one of the cruisers by security shuttle.”

  “And…your people?” she asked hesitantly.

  “The former prisoners? The Marines will return to their carrier. My crew and the rest will be transported to one of the medical frigates.”

  “And what about me?” she asked curiously.

  Rothchild removed his cap and scratched absently at the crown of his head. “Well, that’s the thing. I’m not entirely sure what to do with you.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

  “I just received a coded communication from the admiral on board the cruiser Excalibur, and I’ve got to tell you, I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

  “It’s about me?”

  “Uh-huh,” Rothchild nodded. “Seems that, before you accepted this mission, you tendered your resignation to the OSI.”

  Angelika
cocked her head. “I was going to, but I never got—”

  “Well, it seems that your letter finally went through. Sure took the bureaucracy long enough. I have to say, to get that priority message sent all the way out here…you must have some pull with some pretty influential people.” He looked from her to the shuttle landing pad, then back. He held a computer tablet out to Angelika, who took it from him and read the approved resignation request. “So I’m not entirely sure what to do with you. You’re the only Unified citizen…civilian on this whole planet.”

  Angelika couldn’t help but laugh as she remembered the conversation she and Toyotomi had had on Torval. The dispatch was official, and signed by Deputy Director Martell himself. Along with the letter, Angelika also found that she had a reservation on a shuttle, departing Canis-Seven station and heading for Third Earth. Katashi, you dog! You did this. I don’t know how, but you did. “Well, if it’s not too much trouble, Captain, I wouldn’t mind a lift back to Canis-Seven.”

  Rothchild watched as a Unified shuttle landed, then deposited a small team of Sector Command corpsman. “Well, it just so happens that’s exactly where our fleet is headed. We’ve secured the rest of Krador’s ships, and we’re taking them in tow with us. Admiral Spence is convinced we can use them in the war efforts against the Kafarans.” From the medical tent, he watched as a purple-skinned beauty caught his eye…and smiled. “You got a fella back there? On Third Earth, I mean,” he asked while his gaze was fixed on the woman some distance away. Angelika recognized her as one of the other prisoners from the Tripoli.

  “Yes, I do. I’m anxious to get back to him.”

  Rothchild turned to her and smiled. “Lucky guy. I’ll see what I can do to make that happen as soon as possible. If I don’t see you on the trip home, it was a pleasure working with you.”

  She smiled, still in shock over the turn of events. “You too, Captain.”