by EJ Fisch
“Is everyone okay in here?” he asked, motioning for the rest of his team to lower their weapons. His voice was gentler than Mag had expected.
The only responses were whimpers from the children and nods from the adults. The female agent flipped Mag’s pistol over and offered it back to him. “You know how to handle this thing?” she asked. Her tone wasn’t condescending – it was clear that she was entrusting him with the weapon. Her brilliant blue eyes were intense but kind.
“Listen,” said the orange-haired man. “We’re members of HSP and Tekele Private Security. I’m Sergeant Duvo, this is Officer Vax. We’re here to help.”
For a split second, Mag wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly. He’d spent so much energy convincing himself they were doomed – the idea that help had actually arrived was surreal. He sighed and covered his face with his hands, filled with a sense of hope for the first time in three years.
“So my message got through,” he breathed.
The man called Duvo snorted. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he said. “You can thank Remis here for picking up your signal. HSP is actually here for a different reason. Is it true you’ve been having some problems?”
“That’s an understatement,” Mag replied, allowing Officer Vax to help him to his feet. He gave them a rundown of what had happened throughout the past three years, allowing the other refugees to comment and add details of their own. The mercenaries had taken control of Argall and the mining operations nearly three years earlier, killing a good portion of the town’s population throughout the course of their operation. Their leader, Loric, had targeted him specifically because he supposedly had access to a map that would lead them to rich crystal growth. Desperate, he had risked a trip into the police station and managed to send a plea for help, only to learn of the mercs’ plans to kill everyone and escape with the remaining crystals.
“I was right about Loric then,” muttered the man Duvo had addressed as Remis. “I’ll take my team out and see if we can’t whittle down the enemy numbers and pinpoint his location.”
Mag watched as Remis and several other agents broke off from the group and headed back outside, moving up the street in a tight formation with rifles raised. The sheer chaos of the morning had already brought about a good deal of mercenary casualties, and now that help had come – despite the somewhat limited manpower – he had no doubt they would be able to form a successful resistance.
“What’s your name, son?” asked the third HSP agent, an older man with streaks of gray running through his hair.
“Reilly,” Mag replied, “Mag Reilly.”
The agent turned to Duvo and Vax. “I recognize the name. A crystal farmer named Reilly was killed in one of several mining accidents a while back. The records are from around the same time Dasaro and Payvan started having problems.”
“Well as you can imagine, there haven’t actually been any ‘accidents’,” Mag scoffed. “They’ve slaughtered people like animals, even the ones who were cooperative.” He hesitated. “Wait, what was that name you just said?”
All three agents exchanged glances. “Payvan?” Duvo said.
“I’ve heard that name! Last night in the police station, Loric was on comm with a man who said that Payvan was on to him, that she knew everything. That’s why they’re calling off the operation.”
“Have you ever heard the name Diago Dasaro?” Vax asked.
Mag shook his head. “Not until you mentioned it a minute ago. He’s the man behind all this?”
They all nodded.
“He must have been the one talking to Loric, the one who gave the order to shut everything down. He was tall, bald, had a beard, talked like he knew Payvan personally—”
“That’s him,” Duvo cut him off. He looked to the older agent. “You were right about everything.”
The other man grunted in agreement. “Did he say anything else?” he asked Mag.
Mag shrugged. “He said he would be here today, but I guess that’s to be expected.”
The way his words affected them was shocking. “Dasaro is here?” Vax exclaimed, followed by a string of expletives muttered under her breath.
Taking their reaction to the mere mention of Dasaro’s name into consideration, Mag couldn’t imagine what the man himself must be like. No, he took that back – he knew exactly what he was like. Anyone who ordered the execution of an entire town and did everything in his power to cover it up had obviously crawled straight out of hell. And now it appeared that Argall’s citizens weren’t the only people he’d been terrorizing over the years.
“We can’t worry about that,” Duvo said in response to his colleague’s outburst. “We’ve got to neutralize the threat for now, and then we can focus on him.” He turned back to Mag. “We could use your help. Can your friends here handle themselves for a while?” He handed the rifle back to the old man, who gave an affirmative nod.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mag replied. Then he addressed the civilians. “Lock the doors and move into the back room. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”
“Let’s get moving,” Officer Vax said, still fired up after hearing of Dasaro’s presence.
Mag adjusted his grip on his gun and fell into position behind the three agents as they burst out into the street. Droplets of sweat were popping out onto his forehead and his heart was racing, but he wasn’t afraid – he was going to save Argall.
-93-
Steel Hand
Argall Valley, Haphez
Ziva didn’t take her eyes off the front viewport when Aroska returned to the cockpit and plopped down in the co-pilot’s chair. “She’s in the cargo hold,” he said, speaking of Kat. “I told her we were about twenty minutes out and she said she’d be up here soon. Said she needed some time to herself. I can’t say I blame her.”
Ziva said nothing. The knowledge that there was more to Kat’s seclusion than apprehension about returning to her birthplace ate at her, but she had no intention of betraying the young woman’s trust. She’d proven herself capable so far, and if her records were accurate, they’d be well aware if her mysterious disease began to manifest itself. Ziva was prepared to do what was necessary to put her out of her misery if the need arose.
“Want me to take over for a while?” Aroska asked, taking up the second set of controls before she could even respond.
Ziva sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Sure,” she muttered, removing her kytara from its harness to make herself more comfortable.
She heard Aroska snort. “I didn’t think you’d bring that.”
“Yeah, well I’m sure Emeri’s told half the galaxy I have it by now. There’s not much point in hiding it anymore.”
“As far as I know, he never said anything,” Aroska said with a shrug. “But that’s been a few days ago.”
Ziva shook her head. “Why wouldn’t he have said anything? That’s the first thing he threatened me with when I first got taken into custody. Maybe I didn’t actually kill Tachi, but now everyone’s going to know about this. I’m not sure how I’m going to survive this round.”
“Hey now, we’ll think of something. You’ve survived up until now, and if there’s anything you’ve taught the galaxy during this past week, it’s that you’re not going away.” He was quiet for a moment before heaving a sigh. “How do you do it anyway?”
Ziva watched through the clouds as the mountains flew by beneath them. “Do what?”
“Survive. You’ve seen more sheyss in your life than half of HSP put together, but you don’t let it faze you. What motivates you to keep going?”
“What am I supposed to do, curl up in the corner and feel sorry for myself?”
“I’m serious.”
“And so am I. Pushing and fighting is the only way to stay alive around here. I guess I don’t know how to do anything else.”
“But what about something totally debilitating? What about when you were captured by the Cobians? Sure, they’ve got rehab facilities like the one on Na t
hat can get you back on your feet, but what would make you even want to come back to work after something like that?
Ziva wondered if he was thinking of himself and how much he’d struggled after Dakiti. How strange her life must seem to him, clawing her way through each day despite the pain and suffering it often brought. She couldn’t tell if he was jealous of her or ashamed that he hadn’t lived up to that standard. Or maybe he just thought she was crazy.
“I didn’t get to go to Na,” she said, gnawing on the inside of her lip.
The Na Facility could most accurately be described as an intensive rehab center located at the military base on Haphez’s only life-sustaining moon. It was run by the Grand Army but they always admitted any agents HSP referred to them, probably because it wasn’t very many. It was a rare privilege earned only by those the agency deemed irreplaceable; the majority of agents, assuming they even survived their injuries, were forced to either recover on their own or seek employment elsewhere. The success rates for those who did manage to get admitted were off the charts. Not only did the facility provide medical care and rehabilitation, but it also focused on re-conditioning patients so they could return to duty and perform at one hundred ten percent for their respective organizations.
“You’re kidding,” Aroska said.
“I guess HSP didn’t think I was important enough. We hadn’t reached Alpha status yet, and of course everyone thought I had defied orders by going back into the compound. Recovering on my own was a punishment of sorts. HSP still paid for my medical care, but I don’t think anyone ever expected me to come back to work.” She snorted. “Especially Dasaro.”
Aroska lifted an eyebrow. “I guess my question still stands, more so in light of that. Why would you even come back?”
“At first I think I just wanted to prove that I could. I got a lot of sheyss from the people who believed Dasaro’s story, and I wanted to shut them up. But seriously, just try to picture me doing something other than this. Like I said, surviving is all I know how to do.”
He chuckled. “Good point. Let’s just survive another day, shall we?”
The cockpit fell silent for the remaining minutes of the flight. Kat appeared right on cue as they broke the crest of the mountains and descended into the Argall Valley, with Aroska bringing the ship into a sharp dive and gliding along at an altitude of mere meters. Ziva wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see upon their arrival, but the pillars of smoke curling up out of the city still made the hairs on her neck stand on end. She could see Kat’s reflection in the front viewport – her face was as grim as it had been when she’d described her disease. This probably wasn’t how she’d imagined her home.
There was a suspicious lack of activity on the ground as they brought the ship around and set it down on one of the landing pads at the loading area on the edge of town. Ziva slid the projectile pistol from its holster and tucked an extra mag into her pocket, opting to leave her kytara on board at least until she had a better idea of what they were dealing with. She moved into the cargo hold, her eyes taking in every detail of the landscape as the boarding ramp descended. The landing area was devoid of any shipping containers or boxes – the nearest cover was a variety of outbuildings around the landing pads, probably storage sheds of some sort. She cautiously crept down the ramp, ready to sprint for cover at the slightest noise, but there still didn’t seem to be anyone around.
“Dasaro’s obviously got some sort of force here,” Kat said. “I doubt they’ll be in uniform – how will we tell them from the civilians?”
“I imagine they’ll be shooting at us,” Ziva muttered, stepping off the platform and keeping her eyes focused ahead. “And we’ll shoot back.”
“And what if they’re locals who think we’re Dasaro’s guys?” Aroska suggested.
As tempting as it was to say that it didn’t matter, Ziva resorted to a wag of her head. “We’ll worry about that when we actually see someone.”
Gunfire could still be heard somewhere ahead, though it was impossible to tell where exactly it originated and who was doing the shooting. Argall’s layout was compact, even for a town with such a small population to begin with. A ten minute walk brought them to a square that appeared to be the very center of the city, and still there were no signs of life. All doors appeared to be tightly locked, and dead bodies littered the streets. Something gruesome had gone down here.
Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and Ziva whirled, weapon trained on the door of one of the nearby shops. A face, that of a young man by the looks of it, ducked back down away from the shop’s window when he saw she was looking. Ziva bristled and signaled for Kat and Aroska to be wary, unsure whether the subject was a friend or foe. Either way, he was someone who could answer some questions.
The three of them moved to the door on light feet. It was locked as expected, so Ziva gave it a couple of solid raps. “I know you’re in there,” she said, stepping to one side when she heard the click of some sort of weapon within. “Open the door.”
When there was no response, she pounded her fist against the door again. “Open the door! Are you really planning on shooting a couple of HSP agents? Let me in or I’ll let myself in!”
This time there was a faint shuffling of feet crossing the floor, followed by some fiddling with the locking mechanism and a low hiss as the door slid open a short distance. Ziva slipped in through the opening with Kat and Aroska in tow, barely giving her eyes a chance to adjust to the darkness before taking the young man by the throat and pinning him to the wall.
“Where’s Dasaro?” she hissed as Aroska relieved him of the rifle.
“Please,” the boy stammered, tears streaking his dirt-stained face. “I don’t know who that is. I’m just supposed to be protecting these people. I wasn’t even supposed to open the door—”
Ziva released him and turned to find several curious faces peering at them from another room: an old man, a woman, two little kids, and another young man identical to the one standing before her. These weren’t Dasaro’s thugs.
“You’re late,” the old man growled.
“Excuse me?” Aroska said.
“You said you’re HSP,” the boy said, rubbing his neck. “We already met some HSP agents. They’ve been here for hours. They told us to stay in here until everything was clear. We’ve been taking turns keeping watch.”
Now it was Ziva’s turn to do a double take. “You said HSP is already here?”
The whole group nodded in response. “Three agents and a large security team,” replied the boy. “They’ve been past here several times, clearing out the mercenaries. Their leader is Sergeant Duvo.”
While it was far from a complication, it was just one more unforeseen twist in this ongoing puzzle Ziva was trying to put together. She placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot on the floor, shaking her head as she tried in vain to come up with an explanation.
“Who is he?” Kat asked.
“My second-in-command,” Ziva said. She turned to Aroska, though she didn’t expect him to really have an answer. “What the hell is he doing here?”
He shrugged and turned his attention to the refugees. “How long since you last saw him?”
“An hour or so,” the old man answered. “They’ve managed to coax some fight out of the locals. They’ve split into several groups and have spent the afternoon sweeping the city and cleaning house.”
“Sounds like we missed the party,” Kat said.
The rumble of approaching footsteps outside registered with Ziva just as the first plasma bolts began to fly. “Not quite!” she exclaimed, diving for the door controls and narrowly avoiding the streaks of scorching energy that made it through the opening. Plasma fire pelted the front of the building and a small charge tore a hole in the wall, sending splinters and shards of glass flying inward.
Ziva raised her gun and put three rounds into the chest of the first man who entered. He fell backward into the path of another, who found himself on the rece
iving end of several repetitive shots from Kat’s weapon. Neither of them appeared to be HSP, nor were they part of the security group judging by their mismatched attire and tattoos. Ziva dropped to the floor and rolled to avoid a spray of shrapnel as another frag grenade detonated. She rose up on one knee, squeezing off another couple of shots at the man who had thrown it.
“Leave them!” someone shouted as an old car screeched to a stop in front of the shop. “It’s not worth it!” The remaining men outside piled into it, still firing as they went, and the vehicle tore away down the street. These were the mercenaries, and they were retreating.
Ziva slipped through the hole in the wall and went out after them, lowering her pistol when she realized it was far too late to do anything. She silently noted the color and model of the car, though she doubted it would matter, and stepped back into the building.
“They’re hauling out of here,” she said to no one in particular.
“Like we told you,” said the boy, “your friends have done a good job clearing them out.”
“Where are they now?” she asked.
“Last we saw, it looked like they were headed for the police station. Go straight up the street and take a right – you can’t miss it.”
“Okay, let’s move.” Ziva directed Kat and Aroska back outside, where the three of them broke into a slow jog in the direction the young man had indicated. Everything was dead silent now; even the distant gunfire had stopped, giving Ziva the impression that the retreating mercenaries had been the ones causing it.
“This is insane,” Kat muttered.
Ziva was surprised by how much she cared about the young woman’s feelings. Maybe it was because she was glad to be home, too, but she already knew exactly what being home was like. To so many people, Haphez was a picture-perfect paradise, with gorgeous mountains and forests and cities and people. In many ways that was still precisely what it was, but throughout her career she’d had the opportunity to experience the underlying currents that flowed through those cities, the true nature of those people. Maybe Haphez wasn’t always all it was made out to be, but this here in Argall? This was insane.