by Joseph O'Day
Within a few seconds the EVLD had reoriented itself and turned to face Brogan. He could almost see his death reflected in the coldly ominous visual reception plate—impersonal, calculating death.
That’s it! Brogan whipped his cape up in front of his face so that the EVLD could not make a positive identification.
The Evil Dart hesitated. It moved to the right, then back to the left in an effort to see past the cape. Brogan knew he had to get to his laser gun, but he had only one functional hand, and it was holding his cape up. From what he knew about EVLDs, he would not have time to drop the cape and get to his holstered gun before he became the latest wall decoration.
How am I going to get a shot off at that gleaming, devilish thing?
The EVLD moved to within a meter and a half and began to circle its quarry. Brogan turned with it as he intermittently peeked around the edge of his cape to keep a fix on it. Fear prickled his scalp and made sweat drip into his eyes. The alternatives were not pleasant subjects of contemplation. He would either die or be seriously injured from the explosion. There would be no happy ending to this encounter.
Not my idea of a coffee break, he thought wryly. Then it occurred to him that someone else might come down the corridor at any moment and unsuspectingly be caught in the blast with him. I need to do something!
He finally decided that he was going to have to hold the cape against his forehead with his biopack while he unholstered his gun. That meant he would lose track of the EVLD, but it was the best plan he could come up with.
Slowly and smoothly he swung his biopack up and fixed the cape in place. Meanwhile, he continued to turn at the same rate of speed, hoping that the EVLD would not deviate from its course and speed. Then under cover of his cape, he slowly and carefully unholstered his laser gun. He raised the pistol behind his cape and fingered the trigger. The resulting thin, red targeting beam terminated for the present on the inside of the cape.
Brogan shifted his biopack a centimeter at a time, moving the cape slowly to the right so that he could peer around it. Surprisingly only about ninety seconds had passed since the Evil Dart’s attack, but Brogan knew he was running out of time. EVLDs were often programmed with a denotation time limit after its initial attack. There was no telling when this one would attack and explode despite not having obtained a positive identification.
Brogan blinked the sweat out of his eyes and looked past the edge of the cape. No Dart!
Without wasting a second he stopped rotating right and began to move in the reverse direction. There! The tiny but monstrous device moved within view as it came past his shoulder. Brogan again reversed his motion and matched speeds with it.
It’s now or never, Brogan. God, if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to live.
He pointed the beam past his cape and locked it on the cylinder. Then he took a slow, deep breath and fired. At the same time he launched himself backward down the corridor. The force of the resulting explosion slammed into him like a gigantic fist, knocking all the wind and awareness out of him. He landed on his back eleven meters down the hallway.
*
Brogan opened his eyes. He was hooked up to some monitors in a hospital room. One of them apparently notified hospital personnel that he had regained consciousness because a nurse strolled into the room within a minute.
“Good to see you awake, Colonel,” she said. “You had quite a ride.”
“Yeah,” he grunted out. “Feels like it.”
The nurse busied herself, making sure that he was comfortable. “Oh, you’ll be just fine in a couple of days. They say the lining of your cape saved you from the full force of the blast.”
Brogan put his hand to his aching head. He supposed he was grateful for that, but at the moment he was not so sure.
“At any rate, you fortunately don’t have any broken bones. But you sure will be sore for some time. Before too long, however, the pain medication will mostly take care of that. By the way, you have a visitor. I’ll tell him you’re awake.”
The nurse left, and Brogan’s eyes closed with a will of their own while he waited. The next thing he knew Manazes was next to his bed, pushing on his shoulder and calling his name. Brogan opened his eyes in annoyance.
“What’s a guy got to do to get some rest around here?” he croaked.
“Come on, Colonel. You’ve had enough sleep.” Manazes crossed his arms in annoyance. “You know, I’ve heard some pretty good excuses for goofing off, but you’ve come up with a doozy. Maybe I’ll go out and get myself blown up so I can get some R & R too.”
“You’re a real funny guy, Manazes,” Brogan joked groggily.
“Hey, somebody’s gotta supply the levity. But seriously, what happened out there, anyway?”
“Evil Dart.”
Manazes’ eyes widened, and he let out a whistle. “You got no business being here, Bronco. You oughta be laid out on a slab . . . what was left of you anyway. That’s one mean little devil.”
“Tell me about it!”
“An Evil Dart!” Manazes sat down and shook his head. “Somebody wants to punch your ticket big time. I guess this job is every bit as dangerous as Mizpala said it was.”
“Well, I knew this sort of thing could happen, but I didn’t expect them to bring out the big guns so soon. I guess I was meant to live a while longer.”
“This time,” amended Manazes. “But what about next time?”
“I’ll just have to take it one day at a time, Manazes. Death doesn’t hold much dread for me any longer. But I would like to do considerable more living before I get blown into eternity.”
*
Later General Calderon joined Brogan and Manazes, and the three of them talked about the attempted murder.
“You know as well as I do, Brogan,” the General said, “who’s behind this—the Moguls.”
Brogan nodded his head soberly. “But we can’t prove it. So what good’s knowing?”
“Knowing your enemy is an tactical advantage. For one thing, knowing it’s the Moguls makes certain that there’ll be another attempt.” Calderon looked Brogan in the eye fiercely. “Colonel, I don’t want you going anywhere without company . . . preferably lots of it.” Though Calderon had no jurisdiction over Brogan’s command, his loyalties lay with Mizpala, and he had a vested interest in Brogan’s success or failure.
Brogan pursed his lips. “That’s good advice, sir. I’ll do my best.”
“Do better than that, son, or you’ll be dead!”
*
Ten days later Brogan watched as Manazes climbed into a flyer and lowered himself into the front passenger seat.
“Thanks for coming, Manazes. This little trip is not in the line of duty, so I appreciate your tagging along.”
Manazes turned his head and smiled as he flipped down his helmet’s visor. “That’s what friends are for, Colonel.”
Brogan thought again about all that Manazes had meant to him as he fired up the flyer and took off.
Early that morning he had heard a rumor concerning the whereabouts of the med team. It was the first lead that had come his way, and he was itching to follow it up. He felt frustrated and helpless at not having been able to do anything to locate Adriel since he arrived a month ago. So other responsibilities or not, he was not going to sit long on this one.
As Brogan maneuvered the vehicle into the fourth-level airway, he noticed a maroon flyer pull into traffic a couple hundred meters ahead. Instinctively he looked in his rearview mirror and saw another similar-looking flyer enter the airway some distance back. Brogan shrugged. Probably a coincidence, he told himself.
As Brogan drove, Manazes studied the computerized map of the city. “Turn left at the next intersection,” he instructed, looking up.
Brogan prepared to do as ordered and noticed the flyer he had seen earlier up ahead make the same turn he was about to make. After turning, he kept glancing to the rear until he saw what he hoped he would not see—the second flyer also turned left.
&nbs
p; Brogan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Looks like we may be having some company,” he said tersely to Manazes.
Manazes looked around sharply. “Where? What d’ya mean?”
“Relax. I’m not sure yet. Just read the map and make sure we don’t get lost. I’ll know more after we’ve made the next turn.”
*
Three kilometers away two men dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Guard loaded their weapons into a light-blue flyer. The first weapon was a rifle-fired anti-personnel cartridge. It automatically calculated the distance to the target, and after the round was fired, the cartridge detonated near its objective in midair, spewing a thousand tiny projectiles for a hundred meters in every direction.
The second weapon was a heavy-duty laser rifle. It contained its own null-grav device, which made it extremely easy to sight and fire. The third article placed in the flyer was a rifle-fired poison-gas canister. Its lethal effects, like the anti-personnel cartridge, were indiscriminate and equally effective.
The two assassins climbed into the flyer and lifted off. They had an appointment to keep, and they could not be late. The driver moved into traffic while the second man busied himself in the back seat with the weapons. As they pulled over to await the arrival of Brogan’s flyer, he picked up the laser rifle and prepared it for firing.
*
The two men in the maroon vehicle continued to monitor the conversation between Manazes and Brogan. The two in the chase flyer were doing the same. Both vehicles continued to match Brogan’s route turn for turn, not realizing that Brogan had spotted them. Earlier they had surreptitiously bugged Brogan’s flyer. Now their primary concern was to keep tabs on it.
Within two minutes the maroon flyer traveling in front of Brogan and Manazes approached the light-blue stationary vehicle. Its two occupants were scanning the area ahead and to either side. Just as they passed the waiting flyer the man in the passenger seat of the maroon flyer saw a glint of light and jerked his head around to locate the cause. What he saw made him freeze.
“Swayze! Heavy weapons in a blue flyer back at that intersection! Left side. Let’s move it . . . now!” He yanked at the laser gun in his shoulder holster.
The driver whipped the flyer into a 45-degree climb and then turned left. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the target. He continued climbing and accelerating, then yanked the vehicle into a 120-degree turn. Ordinary flyers had to conform to safety codes. They were limited to 45-degree turns and 15-degree climbs or descents. But this was no ordinary flyer, and neither was Brogan’s.
The flyer screamed down on the idling vehicle at an angle from the rear, picking up more speed as it dove. The two men in the diving flyer grimaced as they saw the Imperial Guardsman in the back seat take aim at Brogan’s flyer. But suddenly the assassin looked over his shoulder, the scream of the attacking flyer apparently penetrating his awareness. Shock was evident from his open mouth and wide eyes. Desperately he tried to swing his laser rifle around, but it was too late. The plummeting flyer crashed into the top of the assassin’s as its occupants ducked to the floor. The windshield crumpled as the attacking vehicle caromed off and began to swing around.
“Get us outa here!” the assassin in the back seat screamed. “Head for the target!”
The flyer took off like a shot straight toward Brogan’s vehicle. Other flyers began to scatter in a desperate attempt to get out of the way.
*
When Brogan and Manazes saw the crash, Brogan slowed his flyer. Instantly he saw that they were directly in the path of the damaged, fleeing vehicle. He dove the flyer just as a laser blast from the assassin’s rifle gashed a hole in the top rear of the vehicle. Manazes pulled out his laser gun and got off a shot as they passed under the attacking vehicle.
Then Brogan pulled into a steep climb as the blue vehicle swung around. The assassins saw Brogan’s route and matched his climb. Brogan leveled off and began to make irregular twists, turns, and dips in an effort to keep the laser rifle from getting a fix on them. As soon as possible he yawed around the corner of a building, his momentum carrying him so far that he knocked some protruding objects off the wall on the opposite side of the street.
Brogan slowed and took another turn as his pursuers roared around the corner he had taken seconds earlier. Brogan continued to weave in and out of buildings in an effort to stay out of the line of fire.
“Manazes!” he shouted over the wind. “Get out my gun and get ready to fire!”
He turned another corner and came to an abrupt stop, sloughing the flyer in the opposite direction as he did so. He yanked his laser from Manazes’s grasp, and he and Manazes took aim in the direction they had just come. Immediately the pursuing flyer burst around the corner in a blur of blue and whipped by only a few meters above their heads. Both men followed with their guns, pumping as many laser pulses at the vehicle as they could in the one or two seconds they had.
Brogan shoved his gun at Manazes and jumped the flyer into motion again. As they passed the corner they had come around only seconds earlier another flyer raced into the intersection. Brogan identified it as the maroon flyer he had spotted earlier. But ignoring Brogan and Manazes, the occupants went after the Imperial Guardsmen, who had just completed executing a “tennessee” of their own.
The newly arrived maroon flyer dipped below the assassins’ vehicle, and both men fired at its underbelly. One had a projectile rifle and the other a laser. The Imperial Guardsman with the laser rifle had not been able to get off a shot before they passed out of sight, but the shots from the occupants of the maroon flyer succeeded in totally disabling his flyer.
At the same instant, the second unidentified flyer raced into the battle zone at a higher level and circled the assassins, the occupants firing lasers as it did so. These were the shots that put an end to the mercenaries.
The battle over, the three surviving flyers converged. “Sure glad you pulled that about-face, Colonel,” said one of the men. “Don’t know if we could’ve caught up if you hadn’t. You can sure pull out the stops when you want to.”
Brogan rested his biopack-encased arm on the side of the flyer. “Who are you guys, if you don’t mind my asking?” rasped Brogan tightly.
All four men grinned and looked at each other, savoring their little secret. “Why, we’re Minister Mizpala’s personal bodyguard,” the spokesman revealed with a laugh.
Seeing Brogan’s shocked expression, he explained. “The Minister figured you might need some extra protection. And we’re the best, if you don’t mind my saying so.” The man smiled at his own jest. “And you certainly needed the best today.”
Brogan laughed and felt the tension drain from his body. His hand began shaking slightly now that the threat of danger had passed. “You’re right on that score. You have my heart-felt thanks. I’ll thank your boss when I see him.”
“Well, we’ll lead out, and you follow us. Hanks will bring up the rear. Let’s get you back home and talk later.”
*
“I’m glad I listened to General Calderon when he recommended giving you extra protection,” said a relieved Mizpala, when they were all back at the palace.
“Me, too. I want to thank you for the loan of your men, sir.”
“It is my opinion, Colonel Brogan, that the information you received was false. It was meant to lead you into a trap, not to Adriel.”
“That’s the way I see it, too,” the dejected officer agreed.
Mizpala smiled. “Don’t look so glum, Colonel. Because of my men, you’re alive to give it a second try.”
He paused for effect. “While you were gone, I was given more reliable information about Adriel’s whereabouts—information that I consider to be absolutely trustworthy.”
18
Brogan leaned forward, face expectant and eyebrows raised above eyes flickering with curiosity. “That’s great! What do you know?”
Mizpala smiled. “My, my. Eager aren’t we?”
“Sir, please.” Brogan ached with
suspense.
“OK, OK. I won’t toy with you any longer,” Mizpala said, holding up his hand. “My sources tell me that the med team has affiliated with the Society of Man.”
Brogan raised an eyebrow again. “The Society of Man? What’s that?”
Mizpala gave those assembled a brief explanation, then said, “The Rio branch of the Society is located in Sector 10, and from what I’ve been told, the med team has taken shelter in an abandoned rail terminal in that Sector.”
“How do we get there?” Brogan asked as he rose to his feet.
“Patience, Colonel, patience. I agree that there is cause for haste. But you need to hear me out before you go off half-cocked.” Brogan slowly resumed his seat as his ears blushed with embarrassment.
“It is my belief that your search for Adriel is no longer a personal side-track. Because the Moguls have already given you a false lead to Adriel, we must assume that they know of her importance to you and that they also are bending all the resources at their disposal to find her—not to help her but to use as a weapon against you. It is, therefore, imperative that you get to her first or all our hopes and plans could come to nothing.”
Mizpala stood and concluded dramatically, “The locating and taking into custody of Adriel Swartz has become your main objective, Colonel. I suggest you get to it without further delay. For all we know, the Moguls may have the same information we do. You must get there first!”
*
The judge leaned over the bench and leered at Adriel. “For giving aid to your fellow man, for healing the wounded, for encouraging the downtrodden, for giving hope to the hopeless, this court finds you guilty! You are hereby sentenced to nonpersonhood. As a nonperson, you are fair game for whoever wants to do you harm. Take her away!”
Adriel watched herself being dragged off. This doesn’t make sense, her rational mind screamed at her.