CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
UFW REVENGE, AMANPOOR : NEVERMORE, SAID THE RAVEN
K-21A. That’s where Lisa Steele’s Reaper sat, the bright yellow numbers painted on the concrete, stretching for fifty-feet under the hull of her ship, the seventy-four-foot fighter marginally longer than the markings. The Revenge, flying under neutral freelancer guise as the Raven, sat on the neighboring pad, K-21. K-21B and C sat empty. Many of the ships that came in to Amanpoor on G’Naroth Sarat required accommodations for their escorts. The Bengaloo System was a place where FreeRanger and UFW territories overlapped, and the government of G’Naroth Sarat had claimed neutrality - primarily for economic reasons, but without the means to enforce that neutrality. Thankfully, it was convenient for all concerned to abide by that desire, often volunteering to protect that status if threatened.
Lieutenant Lisa Steele sat on the wing of her Reaper taking advantage of the morning sun, her back against the side of the cockpit, legs crossed at the ankles, her head back - upturned towards the warmth, eyes closed, dressed in her flight suit. Electronic Warfare Officer, Marine Sergeant Draza Mac, was an arm’s length away, similarly dressed and positioned, their helmets sitting inside the cockpit, the canopy sitting open, all the way back on its rails.
“What is it that we’re doing?”
Lisa didn’t bother opening her eyes, “What are you talking about?”
“This. What we’re doing. What is it - does it have a purpose?”
“You mean relaxing? We’re enjoying the fresh air, the feel of the sun on our faces…”
“I feel like I’m cooking…”
“Well, you could lay in the shade under the wing…”
“I don’t think so.”
Her eyes still closed, Lisa’s mouth curled in a smirk, “Then stop complaining…”
“Not complaining. Just making an observation. Speaking of observations, seeing how many FreeRanger ships are down here makes me a little nervous.”
“Neutral territory,” replied Lisa, opening one eye, casting him a glance. “Besides, we’re running neutral freelance, they’re not going to give us a second look.”
“We hope.”
“Reasonable assumption…”
“Hey! You up on the wing…”
Lisa’s eyes popped open, turning to her right, a pale-blue man in a grey flight suit standing on the concrete below her, hands in the pockets of his flight jacket. “Hey! You down on the ground…” she smiled politely.
“Sharp bird,” he nodded at the Reaper, “what is it?”
Lisa swung her legs, scooting a little closer to the edge of the wing, folding her legs Indian-style, “It’s a Reaper.”
“Never heard of it… but it’s nice. Great lines. She your bird?”
“I’m the pilot, yes…”
“I wasn’t sure,” he gestured at his own arm patches, “you don’t have any rank or markings…” He rubbed the top of his freckled, bald head, “And, well, female pilots are fairly rare…”
“Private owner,” she thumbed over at the Revenge, “relatively casual.”
“You must be pretty good if they hired you for protection…”
Lisa smiled, a reserved little smile, feeling like he might be baiting her, “I like to think so…” she replied nonchalantly.
“I can’t believe you can get all that hair in your flight helmet,” he chided with a grin, approximating her windblown auburn locks with his hands.
“I have a… technique,” she smirked. “So, what are you flying?”
“Lieutenant Garr,” he indicated himself, “that Fireball over there on K-16C.”
“This my EWO, Mac. I’m Lisa.” She swiveled and looked over the top of her open cockpit, “One of those with the red tail?”
“That’s right.”
“Fireball… I heard they’re tanks. Didn’t know there were any still in service…”
“Oh, sure. Old, but very solid,” he nodded. “Probably not as maneuverable as your Reaper, but they can take a heck of a beating. Say listen, not to change the subject, but a group of us are heading over to the Black Hole Bar & Grille for dinner tonight about seven - you’re welcome to come along. The food is great and they have live music…”
“I appreciate the offer,” she waved, “but I’m not too sure what our commitments are going to be. If we’re free though, we’ll be sure to meet you there…”
■ ■ ■
Lieutenant Commander Brian Carter had several tabs open on the holo-screen in his office, spaced apart, hanging in mid-air, the holo-chart table zoomed in to the Amanpoor region, tracking the three teams of investigators checking leads in their search for Jack Steele and the other missing crewmembers of the Perseus. Not to mention any clue as to where the Perseus may have gone after its last posted report. Brian didn’t want to admit it to anyone, even himself, that they were searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. If the needle was the size of an actual needle and the haystack was the size of a solar system.
Raulya strolled into the Captain’s ready room, carrying two mugs of coffee, the door to the bridge open, hiding in the bulkhead. She set one down on the desk for Brian as she passed, stopping at the holo-chart of Amanpoor. “Any reports?” she asked, taking a careful sip.
“A few bits and pieces. Nothing Earthshattering.”
She looked back over her shoulder at him, “Earthshattering?”
He paused and looked up at her, having forgotten she wasn’t exactly Earth-human, “Ah, um… nothing of sizeable significance.”
She swept her thick golden mane over her shoulder, her yellow-green cats’ eyes rolling in disdain for the overly dramatic term. The over-descriptive language used by Earthers never ceased to fascinate her. “Is that even a real word?”
“Sure. People use it all the time…” He rubbed his chin, “Actually it’s kinda’ been replaced with mind blowing…”
“Mind blowing? That sounds disgusting… what does that even mean?”
“Something so new or revolutionary, it challenges your known perceptions. It’s,” he mimed an explosion over his head with his hand, “mind blowing…”
“Ew…”
Brian frowned, shaking his head, “It’s not literal, your mind doesn’t really…”
The bridge communications officer leaned in through the open doorway, “Excuse me, Skipper, new video report from Team One,” she pointed at his open screens before ducking back out.
Brian reached out and pulled the communications screen to the center, connecting to the team, “What have you got Ensign?”
“We just left the G'Naroth Sarat Security Service building, it appears that mister Mercury and our other…” he looked around to make sure he wasn’t being overheard, “people, were the target of an investigation involving the deaths of several, um, tourists. The investigation is still ongoing, and they couldn’t release any details without consulting the lead Investigator.”
“Did you get it?”
“No Sir. The lead Investigator is on assignment out of town.”
Brian rubbed his forehead in frustration, “Then get back in there and find out where he is and how we contact him - we need that info. I don’t care if we have to kidnap his ass to get it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Monitor their frequencies,” suggested Raulya, “they will probably inform the Investigator there’s been an inquiry, we might catch something useful.”
“Good idea, do it…” he nodded.
“Commander...!” The bridge communications officer’s face appeared in the open doorway, “Skipper, we’re picking up an emergency beacon!”
Brian’s first reaction was that the team going back into the Security Services building got themselves into trouble, “Which team?” he demanded, jumping up from his seat.
“Not a team… An encrypted UFW military emergency beacon!”
Brian dashed onto the bridge, “Call the teams back! Plot a course and prepare for liftoff…”
The communications o
fficer held her hands out, “Wait-wait-wait...! A personal emergency beacon - it’s planet-side…”
■ ■ ■
Marine Sergeant Draza Mac waited for the FreeRanger pilot to be out of earshot before leaning over toward Lisa, “Are you seriously suggesting we should go have a meal with the enemy?”
“He seemed nice enough.”
“He’s the enemy…” insisted the Sergeant.
She was trying not to smirk, “We’re all neutral here.”
Draza Mac palmed his face, “By the Gods,” he muttered.
“Reaper, this is the bridge…”
Lisa keyed her earpiece, “Reaper, go ahead…”
“We’re receiving a UFW emergency beacon. Get that bird in the air, we’ll send coordinates as soon as you’re plugged in. Move it...!”
“Reaper, aye!” Lisa bounced up and to her feet, “Let’s go!”
Draza Mac looked up at her, “What?”
“IN!” she pointed at the back seat as she climbed over the side of the cockpit. “LADDERS!” she screamed, jarring the ground crew into action. Tucking her hair down inside her flight suit, she pulled her helmet on, rotating the locking ring until it clicked before dropping down into her seat. Grabbing her umbilicals, she plugged herself in, “Power on,” she announced, flipping the master switch.
“Hold on, I’m not even seated yet…”
“Hurry up, slowpoke.”
Dropping into his seat, the Sergeant reached back and grabbed his shoulder harness with one hand, flipping on his screens and avionics with the other. “I’m live back here… What’s the gig, Skipper?” Buckled in, he tugged the straps to snug them down, wiggling back against the seat.
Lisa was busy going through her startup sequences and checklist, “Emergency beacon. UFW,” she replied slowly, concentrating on her tasks.
“Interesting.” He checked his screens doing a digital visual sweep. “Cameras up. Ladders clear, ground crew clear…” reaching forward he tapped on the back of her helmet, their customary signal indicating he was ready.
“Roger that,” Lisa commented, watching left then right as she tested her control surfaces and maneuvering thrusters. “Lighting the candle,” she announced, flipping the safety covers and stabbing the two ignition buttons with her fingertips, the engines emitting a twin whoomp, with far more enthusiasm than in the void of space. The canopy slid into place and latched with a hiss, the air systems jetting a wash of fresh air into the cockpit. “I’ve got the coordinates plotted and locked - plot me a course out of this traffic, will you?”
“Plotting. But I don’t think they’re going to like it… It’s basically straight up.”
“They don’t have a choice…” She keyed her mic with her thumb, one hand on the throttle the other on the flight stick, “Amanpoor Control, this is Reaper, Pad K-21A…”
“Amanpoor Control, go ahead Reaper.”
“Reaper is declaring an emergency, immediate launch, Interstellar Security Code; alpha-three-five-three-zeta. Vertical departure.”
“Stand by, Reaper, we have incoming traffic…”
“Negative Amanpoor Control, I wasn’t asking, I was informing. Declaring emergency ISC; alpha-three-five-three-zeta. Departing now…” She cranked on the antigravity actuator, the Reaper leaping vertical, shooting flatly up into the sky, the antigravity assisted by its maneuvering thrusters. “Gear up and locked,” she grunted, the ship’s gyro minimizing what would be crushing Gs.
“Whoa,” grunted Draza Mac, “that never gets old.”
“Passing six thousand…”
“Clear from traffic…”
Lisa tapped her right pedal to point the Reaper’s nose on course, a controlled shove on the throttle sending them out of Amanpoor space with an explosive thunderclap.
■ ■ ■
Sitting on the packed snow, at least a mile from the mine, with nothing substantial to hide behind, completely abandoned, and the palpable hostility of the miners, Chase was convinced it was all a setup. Too many coincidences, too many convenient little puzzle pieces… The extended mine tour that kept them late enough to discourage them from making the drive back to Sandorra. The very convenient accommodations for an overnight stay. The delay getting the trail to the main road cleared. The remote position of the ambush… The only wildcard was the snow - it could have worked against them if he and Mercedes had decided to leave early. As it played out, it worked into their plans fairly well.
He was too cold, too numb and too pissed to reason out the rationale for it all; who would benefit and why. No, he just wanted to get his hands on somebody. And squeeze the life out of them. To watch the light fade from their eyes. To squeeze hard enough to make their eyes pop out. He was fighting between rational thought and reactionary violence. It took a concentrated effort to remain rational.
It had been a while since he’d seen any incoming rounds from the shooter, but Chase didn’t trust his perception of time, he suspected hypothermia. Was the shooter relocating for a better angle? Was he out of ammunition? Did he assume his mission was complete? Chase desperately wanted to sneak a peek. Or move. Too much longer and his legs would be useless. Whatever he was going to do, he couldn’t do it carrying Mercedes, he needed to be able to move fast - but he couldn’t just leave her exposed, the temperature was in the single digits - who knew what the wind chill even was. Remembering the backpack, he pulled it close and dug into it…
■ ■ ■
Wrapped in an electronic foil survival blanket like a human burrito, set to 98.6 degrees, one sensor on her body, another in her ear, Chase tucked Mercedes into the fox den he had created in the snow wall, sliding her back completely out of the wind.
Crawling about twenty-five feet from Mercedes’ hiding spot, to where the drift of the snow dipped dangerously, only providing him with about eighteen-inches of concealment, Chase pulled from his jacket pocket the monocular he had originally stashed in the backpack. He glanced over at the truck, still burning, the flames dark orange, the smoke blacker and thicker, rising about fifteen-feet before bending to the wind.
On one elbow, he peeked over the edge of the snow scanning the closest ridge with the monocular, “C’mon you asshole,” he whispered, “where the hell are you… You’ve got to be an amateur or we’d be dead already…” Nothing. Tucking the monocular back, he rolled and scrambled to his feet, sprinting across the trail, around the curve, to use the opposite snow wall for concealment.
Clearing the corner, he continued to run along the rough-hewn wall of white, distancing himself from the only place he could have been seen… A wave of air compression was so close it hurt his ears, a hundred feet of wall disappearing, taking him off his feet, throwing him bodily across the trail and burying him under two-feet of snow, thunder rolling in his head, pain wracking his body…
■ ■ ■
“Twenty-seconds to target - you’d better hit the brakes…”
“Add thermal filter to scans,” ordered Lisa, yanking back the throttle, hitting full retro, flipping on anti-gravity, “lots of snow down there.”
Cold, dense air, responded violently to the Reaper’s sudden arrival, the sky splitting with explosive thunder, rolling rumbles following behind, slowly catching up, ice crystals instantly forming in the sub-freezing air, snow appearing in a near blizzard whiteout, falling from a crystal-blue sky in a half-mile radius.
“I’ll tell you what, Skipper, you sure know how to make an entrance…”
“I do my best… Scan, Mac.”
“You’ve overshot the beacon by fifteen-hundred feet - do a one-eighty and backtrack some.”
Lisa let the Reaper descend as the horizon swung around, “Dropping to two-hundred - nose on the mark… see anything yet?”
Not until all this white stuff settles,” he replied. “But I’ve got a heavy heat signature on the starboard side, at about our two o’clock…”
“Human?”
“No - far too hot. It’s about fifteen-hundred degrees…”
“A fire then. Altitude at two hundred…” Shifting back and forth to scan around and below as the sparkling crystals settled, the wind carrying them in abstract swirls, Lisa spotted the column of smoke. “Vehicle fire… See anything else?”
“Beacon dead ahead. I believe we just passed over a small heat signature. Human sized at least. It looks… obscured.”
“Could it be covered by snow?”
Draza Mac manipulated the rear turret, utilizing its camera system, “Good possibility. It looks like our compression wave messed up someone’s plow job…” Movement in the snow caught his attention, “Hold! I have movement on the ground below us…”
“And I have a threat!” announced Lisa, her radar chirping a warning at her. “A tank... distance, five miles…” She reached out, flipping switches, “ARC system active. Guns live. Weapons hot…” A quick kick on the pedals swung the nose around and she shifted the Reaper’s position, crabbing sideways, dropping to nearly ground level.
“I’m not seeing any weapons on that thing, Skipper…”
“Then why’d the computer alert me?”
“Looks like decommissioned military hardware - the computer alerted on the profile. I’m looking at her through the nose camera - she’s got plow blades.”
Lisa reached out and switched off the ARC system, the Reaper shimmering, gradually reappearing. “They have no idea how close they were to being a smoking hole in the ground…” She glanced over at the burning truck, the fire dying down, nothing more than a charred skeleton. “Then the question is, if the tank didn’t do that, who did?”
■ ■ ■
Frozen, dazed, numb, it took nearly every ounce of effort Chase Holt had left in him to push himself up from under two feet of snow. His legs still buried, he laid back for a moment to catch his breath, the icy air biting his throat and lungs, heavy snow falling out of a clear blue sky. What? How is that possible? He moved his legs to be sure they were still attached… Near miss, he almost had me…
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