Second Chances

by Jaleta Clegg

  Paltronis shoved the closest door open, barreling into the room.

  Three men turned to face her. Sila Nurai sat in a chair, her hands cuffed to the arms. Paltronis slid to a stop.

  “You,” Sila said.

  The men didn’t bother with words. They drew weapons.

  Paltronis swore as she ducked her head and charged. If they hit her, she was dead. She swung one foot to the right, using her forward momentum to connect. Her foot landed on the man’s thigh, knocking him to the side. She continued the motion, swinging a fist at the man on the other side. The third man fired. She ducked. The bolt hit the first man in the face. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

  Paltronis let instinct take over. She was a whirlwind of fists and feet. The two men weren’t amateurs. They landed a few blows. Someone shouted in the hall. Paltronis grabbed one of the men by the head and slammed him into the door, knocking it closed. The man slid to the floor, blocking it temporarily.

  The last man backed away, fumbling for his gun.

  “Kill him,” Sila shrieked. She wasn’t the polished politician, not now. Her hair hung in wild strings around her face. Her green dress was streaked with dust.

  Paltronis advanced on the man, ready to dodge. She ignored the pounding on the hall door, focused on the man. She jumped and spun, her foot catching the man on the side of his head. He crumpled to the floor. Paltronis scooped up his gun and turned to Sila.

  A woman, her face older but her hair still jet black, stood behind Sila. Two men stood behind her, weapons aimed at Paltronis. The woman shook her head.

  “Pathetic. What did you think you could accomplish, all by yourself? You wanted to be the hero? You will be a dead one.”

  Paltronis spread her hands wide, slowly lifting the weapon. The two men relaxed, just a fraction. Paltronis whipped the gun forward. The man on her left dropped. The knife strapped to her wrist caught the man on her right in his shoulder. Paltronis slid the knife on her other wrist into her hand.

  The woman made an abortive gesture towards the weapon lying at her feet.

  Paltronis shook her head. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. I’m here for her.” She pointed the knife at Sila. “Uncuff her and let us go.”

  “Or what? You’ll do something barbaric?”

  “Probably.” Paltronis edged forward another two steps, closing the distance.

  Sila cringed at the look on Paltronis’ face.

  The other woman stooped, reaching for the gun. Paltronis shoved Sila and her chair to one side, the hilt of her knife slammed into the other woman’s head. She stood over the prostrate body, breathing hard.

  “Well?” Sila demanded. “Are you going to uncuff me?”

  “Who has the keys?” Paltronis crouched, searching pockets.

  The door to the hall exploded inwards. Paltronis reacted without thinking. The gun was in her hands and firing before the broken door hit the floor. The men dodged back out. Paltronis stayed low, gun pointed at the door while she rifled through pockets.

  The woman who had taken out the trash earlier peered around the frame. She snapped off a shot at Paltronis. It struck Sila’s chair.

  “Get me out of here,” Sila shouted, rocking the chair to the side.

  “I’m working on it,” Paltronis answered. Her hands closed over a set of keys. She pulled them from the man’s pocket.

  Several of the unconscious men in the room were starting to stir. She heard the group in the hall whispering. She had to do something and do it fast. She pushed the keys into Sila’s hand.

  “Unlock yourself, then get to the window,” she ordered.

  “And do what? I can’t climb in this dress.”

  “Then you can stay here.” Paltronis edged forward, trying to cover Sila.

  Lights flared through every window. The mansion shook with explosions as the doors blew in.

  “This is the Patrol. We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”

  The group in the hall rushed into the room. Sila screamed. Paltronis ducked and rolled, knocking two of them off their feet. She left her knife in another man’s leg. She snapped another knife from her ankle holster, using it to block a roundhouse punch aimed at her face.

  Boots thundered up the stairs.

  “In here!” She rolled to her feet, swinging upwards. Her fist connected with someone’s stomach. Someone clipped her across the back of her head. She staggered, suddenly dizzy. She swallowed nausea, her eyes refused to focus. She swung wildly, blinking rapidly.

  The room filled with uniforms. She sagged against Sila’s chair.

  “Get these off me,” Sila demanded, yanking her wrists as far as they would go in the cuffs.

  “Just answer one question first,” Paltronis said. “Did you set this up?”

  “Do I look like I would set it up? Get me out of here?”

  “Why ditch me at the party? Why use that restroom? It was the one room we couldn’t secure.”

  “I wanted privacy.” Sila turned away from Paltronis’ glare.

  Paltronis caught sight of Tayvis across the room. He didn’t look happy to see her. She left Sila to the ministrations of the Patrol troopers clearing the room.

  “What were you thinking?” Tayvis’ voice could have cut steel, though it was pitched low for her ears only.

  She ducked her head. “I was only going to look.”

  “This is not looking. You were supposed to stay on the other side of the fence.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Good thing I alerted the base before we left tonight. They were waiting, ready to move.”

  “We’ve got Sila Nurai back, in mostly one piece.”

  “That’s the only thing keeping you out of jail right now. You are going back to base in the transport. You will report to the infirmary, I assume at least some of the blood is yours. And you will have a full report filed by noon tomorrow.”

  Paltronis plucked at the bloody spatters and streaks on her dark clothes. “None of it’s mine.”

  “Except for the bit on the back of your head. What you did was stupid. Why is your com off?”

  She looked up at his face in confusion. “Sensor silence. I thought when I heard you turn yours off—”

  He reached out to her collar, tapping a quick sequence on the com. “Standby mode, not off. I’m going to have a word with the Academy commander about training on old equipment.”

  She stared at the com on his collar, waiting for him to give her the rest of her reprimand. Going to the infirmary and writing a report couldn’t be the extent of it.

  “What are you waiting for? A commendation?”

  She shuffled her feet. “Where should I report in the morning? Kitchen duty?”

  His lip quirked. “As satisfying as that sounds right now, no. Lowell should be here day after tomorrow. The medic will probably keep you until then. I’m sure Lowell will find quarters for you somewhere.”

  “Then I’m still working with you, for him?” Was the man insane? She’d busted the whole surveillance. She’d screwed up royally. And he wasn’t sending her packing.

  “I won’t recommend you for any sort of covert operation, but for sheer physical damage. . .” He waved at the bodies scattered in the room. “I think Lowell needs a bodyguard, don’t you?”

  “Is he anything like you?”

  “Oh, no. He’s much worse. I think you’ll like him.”

  Paltronis staggered, the room swimming around her.

  Tayvis caught her elbow. “Go with the medics. Yes, that’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.” She couldn’t help returning his grin.

 

 

 
ale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share