Shards [Book Two]

by Peter W Prellwitz

  “Very well. Notify Sergeant Thawell of our latest projections.” He wandered off to let Thawell know. The sergeant could call off the mission for any reason, but probably wouldn't for this. From a cold, military point of view, this was very acceptable risk. If I told myself that enough, I might even believe it.

  “He said it's a go, Abby!” Mike reported cheerfully. He still hadn't quite gotten over the excitement of missions. Which made sense, because I hadn't either, despite my concerns about loss of life.

  “All right. We should be breaking through in about twenty minutes. Have the commandant phone in from his lunar vacation home and ask for an important conference with ... with ... what's his name?"

  “Captain Garber."

  “Right. With Captain Garber and the two lieutenants. Put the call through in, say, twenty-five minutes. That'll give us time to disembark. Make him really ticked off."

  “Check! He'll be chewing nails! Anything else?"

  “Not right now. I'll talk to you in twenty."

  “Twenty it is! And may I say,” he dropped his voice down to a smooth, silky octave, “you look ravishing tonight, my dear. I just love what you've done with your spleen.” He shut off quickly, laughing his brash laugh.

  I giggled and would have shaken my head, if I could. I had purposely made Mike my age to help me keep perspective. He could be pretty gross sometimes. But he could be a darling, too.

  * * * *

  Half an hour later, I wasn't thinking how sweet Mike was, I was thinking how slick he was. We'd broken through in an abandoned part of the warehousing district. Slightly populated is normal for a Sunday night, but a false radiation leak about two miles upwind had caused full evacuation. Mike talked the security puters into liking us, so we were undisturbed. Parked alongside an old building in the pouring rain, we couldn't have been seen from 100 meters.

  The squad was already ten minutes gone, leaving just the hover crew and myself. I paced the deck back and forth, waiting impatiently for word, but knowing there couldn't possibly be any for at least another ten minutes, and that would be word of the mission's cancellation. I sat down and hugged my knees, staring out the lowered back ramp into the rain and lightning. I wished I was with them.

  Suddenly, the sky lit up, and there was a flash on the horizon. Mike whooped excitedly. I could almost picture him jumping up and down, pumping his fist.

  “Wow! That was great! Direct hit!” He started laughing. “Yes! Oh, yes!"

  “What? Mike, what? Give me an image!” A blurred image showed up in the middle of the deck. The crew turned to look. There were huge flames spouting out of a ruined stack. The bottom half glowed a dull red.

  “Is that the shield regenerator?"

  “It sure is, sister! Man, can we call ‘em or what? We picked up a two-point-six-gigawatt bolt perfect! No reported injuries, fire crews responding but not yet arrived. Perfect, Abby!"

  The pilot, Gibbons, slapped me on the back, grinning widely, and I had to admit to a certain sense of accomplishment.

  “Well, so far, so good. How's the conference going, Mike?"

  “Not bad. I've got ‘em blaming each other for stuff that didn't even happen. The captain's already busted one of the lieutenants to sergeant. And I've shunted all emergency calls and alarms to that hot subroutine we wrote. They still don't know the generator's been hit. The way it's ... uh-oh!"

  “What? What!"

  “I just lost contact, Abby! I think they're on to us!"

  “Okay. Wait a minute.” I thought furiously. They probably knew they'd been duped, and would immediately suspect the riping area as the target. There wasn't any other explanation, unless ... unless ... I had it.

  “Mike! Slip into their financial records and scrounge up some dirt, especially on one of those three. We'll make ‘em think that's what we were after."

  “Abby! I can get it, but I'm not going to be able to get a patch into any kind—"

  “I know!” I slipped into my seat. “I'll be right there. Just get me something to work with. And let them trace this call. Corporal!” This to Gibbons. “I think this place might be getting scanned or searched pretty quick. They caught on a little faster than I expected. I've got a couple more decoys, but I don't know how well they'll work."

  “Very well, Abigail. What makes you think they'll search here?"

  “Because I may have to make us one of those decoys if they find out the generator is hit. Stay clear of this terminal.” My puterverse access was such that anyone coming into the field risked severe injury, possibly death. “Access,” I said. All terminals gave me immediate puterverse entrance on request.

  The hover disappeared, and a vast plane spread out before me. A boy with a metallic green shimmer and hazy features ran up to me. It was Mike. His hard breathing told me he finally had to work hard. He probably enjoyed the challenge.

  “Abby!” he gasped, bent over and whooping for air. “I got it! Looks like both the lieutenants have been shaking down the employees for credits.” He stopped to catch his breath.

  “That's nothing new. They all do that. I'm surprised the Captain isn't doing it, too."

  “He is. But he's also swiping credit from his two lieutenants, a definite no-no, even for NATech. He's using an alias and has the file locked. Here's the key.” He held out his bare hand. A flash of rainbow light and a smell of lilac, and the key appeared. I touched it, and its shimmering colors washed over me, painting me with its palette and scenting me with lilac. We headed off toward the facility's main system entrance.

  There were two ominous looking sentries at the entrance. They were huge, helmeted behemoths, staring out of solid face plates. They were as unmoving as Vermont granite, but could respond with crushing attacks on the slightest provocation. Unseen, but far more deadly were several worms buried under the surface. I couldn't avoid them completely, not in the short time I had, but I could mislead them. Getting in should have been tricky, but I had prepared for this and laid out my paths a week earlier. Just as we were about to pass through the main entrance, I created a hole in the ground and stepped in. I floated gently to the floor, five meters down. Mike followed. It was tempting to press on under the entrance, but the worms would be on me at once. As soon as they penetrated my lilac-scented armor, I'd be exposed and locked out for good. Worse, the worms would latch on to my presence and follow me when I tried to leave. It would take precious minutes to detach or destroy the best worms.

  To give them something to do, I called up a panel from the side of the hole Mike and I were in. I captured a holo display of the immediate area, then twisted it along both axes. I then warped the time frame, sending it into a one-minute loop with random trapdoors to reroute the unsuspecting worms. Next, I shunted communications to several trinary code subroutines I had written. Finally, I whipped up three doppelgangers of Captain Garber and placed them at various entry points in my warped reality. Knowing what was coming, Mike grabbed my free hand. It tingled with electricity and pulsed warmly. I closed my eyes and activated my model.

  Although I couldn't see it, I knew what happened. I temporarily warped the reality of this corner of the puterverse. The worms very quickly got busy, tracking the equally busy doppelgangers and sending their warning off to my subroutines which came up with appropriate instructions that led them to the trap doors. The warp would probably last two or three minutes.

  We cut through the sewer computer system and accessed the main server via the maintenance routines. After that, it was easy to cut through one firewall and enter the secured channel into the private accounts. Knowing I was running out of time that the three of them would be together, I slipped a hand into a nearby terminal. Mike took a position about two meters up the line and poked his hand in as well. I located the search paths I was certain they'd be using to trace the call. I located the trace, then rerouted it to the Captain's private quarters making it look like he'd intended to false trace it to the commandant's. It made no sense; they already knew the call was faked, and with
a moment's thought, they'd figure out there was no way the call could come from either place. But I was betting that emotions would be pretty high in that little room, and they'd be reaching for their guns before accessing their brains.

  “Worm coming through, Abby! Five seconds!"

  I felt a shiver that meant the worm was nearly on me, so I withdrew quickly and sealed it up. Mike's high sign meant I'd made it. He waited a moment to cover up any tracks I'd left—as a creature of the puterverse, Mike was immune to worms—then also withdrew. We headed back to the surface. I thanked him and exited.

  The plain collapsed in on itself, and the interior of the hover reappeared. Gibbons was looking at me intently from his pilot's chair, his gun strapped on.

  “How'd it go, Abby?"

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I'm not sure, Corporal. I got away with it, and placed the trap before they traced the call. But if they don't kill each other, they will trace it here. I had to give them the real trace for me to find them. If they took the bait, we're fine. If not, well, it's better we take them on out here..."

  “...than our people take on everyone over there. Good thinking. Jamison!” The co-pilot looked up from his scanner. “Let Mosser do that. You and Abby keep an outside patrol. One hundred meters, separate routes, three-minute check-ins. Go!"

  I was already pulling on my light armor and headset. The interior of the hov sucked in the night's darkness as Corporal Gibbons cut all lighting. I stepped out first into the soaking blackness and went to my left, away from the building. Jamison was right behind me. He was new to the team, but seemed competent enough. Instead of heading between the hover and the building, he walked over to me.

  “Are you going to be all right, uh, Abigail?"

  “Huh?” I looked around at him. “What do you mean? Of course I'll be okay."

  “It's just that we might run into some muscle, and I thought, well.” His voice trailed off uncertainly. “Well, I just want to let you know, you know, that..."

  “How sweet! Thanks, Charles, isn't it?” He nodded. “Thanks, Charles, but I think I can handle things that go bump in the night. You take forward, I'll take aft. Shout if you come on anything.” I smiled in the darkness and rain. “And Charles? Read the mission personnel dossiers next time, okay?” I smiled at him again and moved off.

  I was soaking within seconds. My light armor would deflect most projectile and some energy fire And it was flexible enough that I could use my smaller, more pliable =body to its full advantage in hand-to-hand combat. But the armor covered only my torso and did nothing to hold off the rain The gel even seemed to soak it up..

  I took a careful reconnoiter around the dark warehouse. Behind me, the hover sat in complete darkness. I worked my first circuit, meeting Jamison halfway. We continued on, checking in on occasion, and met again at the hover. Ten minutes had passed. Another ten and the squad would be back. If anything had gone wrong, Mike would let Gibbons know, who would in turn tell us. We stepped out about twenty meters and repeated. I'd gone about a quarter of the circuit when my headset crackled.

  “Five. Light. Point one twenty ninety."

  I turned and moved back toward the hover. Gibbons’ message was short and cryptic to avoid interception. He told us there were five soldiers, lightly armored, one hundred and twenty meters off the starboard side of the hover. I pulled my gun, but didn't charge it. I wanted to wait until just before I fired. Many patrols had energy detection equipment, normally heat sensors and night goggles. The rain took care of the first and Mike could falsify the second, but when playing this game, there's no point in taking unnecessary chances.

  “One position ten point one.” I was letting the others know I'd be in position, ten meters from the attackers, in one-tenth of a minute.

  “Two position ten point two.” That was Jamison.

  “Three position ten point one. Four position fifteen point one. Five position twenty heavy point two. Six position twenty heavy point oh.” Mike used four different voices, sending out signals just in case they were listening in.

  I snapped on my charger and stared into the rain. At first I couldn't see them, but eventually, I made out four separate shapes. That made the fifth one a lurker. Standard NATech recon party. I lifted the gun and aimed at the one in the lead. He was a big enough target at ten meters. I started to gently squeeze off a shot when Jamison spoke up on my left.

  “That's far enough, gentlemen! Drop the weapons."

  The fool! Instead of dropping their weapons, they used them. Fighting down the temptation to cuss him out, I snapped off my shot and moved toward him, keeping low. The largest of the group fell heavily. I saw a quick beam from where Jamison was, and hoped he moved. Another one went down, but the other two were closing in on Jamison. I ran to him. I heard the boom of a slug gun.

  I made about half the distance when I slammed into the fifth guy, the lurker. He was slightly built, but still larger and heavier than me. His arm clouted my gun hand, and the gun clattered off. He'd been trying to shatter my elbow, but hadn't accounted for my small size, so he hit more gun than me. It numbed my left hand momentarily, but was probably worse for him.

  I had maybe five seconds before those other two caught up with Jamison. Lurker swung a vicious hand at my neck, to break it. But this motion was the complement of the first, so he had not adjusted for my short height and quicker speed. As a result his attack, already high, was easily dodged. He still raked it across the top of my head, ripping off my headset. I had no time for finesse, so I jammed my open palm into his nose, sending the slivers of bone into, well there's no point in getting graphic. He dropped, making a sick, gurgling sound. I passed by him, knowing that he was dying. I'd been lucky. I was so intent in getting to Jamison that I had forgotten about the fifth man. Had I been a full-grown woman, that oversight would have cost me my life. Of course, had I been a full-grown woman, I wouldn't have forgotten in the first place.

  I ran to where Jamison had fired from, but there was no one there. I stopped and turned in a circle, listening. I brushed my soaking hair back from my ears—my ponytail had come undone when I lost my headset—to better hear. At first, there was nothing but the slam of rain on ancient concrete and the lonely grumble of far off thunder.

  A lighting bolt raked the night, and the pieces of the sky thundered their protest. In the flash, I saw the frozen struggle of man-to-man combat. They were in front of me, about ten meters distant. Away from the hover. Jamison might be new, but he had his priorities right. I just hoped he would live long enough to receive the compliment.

  Jamison was in a bad way when I came upon the little group. He was on his knees, being held by the throat. His main attacker had his arm raised for the killing blow. The second one was scrambling for a plasma rifle that had fallen. Jamison's attacker was the immediate danger. I pulled my boot knife and engaged.

  I slammed my foot against the side of his left knee and knocked his left hand from Jamison's throat just as his right arm came slashing down. He screamed as the knee buckled and tore. I stepped between the two, and he screamed again as his descending right arm impaled itself on my extended blade. Leaving the knife transfixed in his gushing forearm, I stepped around him, using him as a shield from his friend's attack, and shouted at Jamison to get down. The wounded man had his gun holstered, and I couldn't tell what type it was. I took a big chance and drew it, hoping it was a slug gun. I wouldn't have time to wait for a charge. The second man was aiming his now charged rifle.

  For the second time in as many minutes, I was a lucky girl. Projectile based, and standard NATech issue. Holding it in my left hand, I brought the heavy gun up along his back as he slumped, snapped off the safety, and fired.

  The slug was a little high, but not too high. The man with the rifle, just a blurry outline in the bucketing rain, jerked back as if tugged hard by a rope, dropping the gun. He probably dropped it involuntarily, but that still made it his smartest move yet. I was about to fire a second—and final—time, but didn't need to
when the rifle fell free. Keeping an eye on both men, I knelt beside Jamison, who was lying on his back.

  “Are you all right, Charles? Are you wounded anywhere?” I ran my free hand over him, looking for injury. He stared up at me, oblivious of the attention.

  “You ... you just killed those two. You took them out like they were recruits."

  “Maybe they are recruits. Anyway, they're not dead.” I raised my voice so they could hear. “Unless they want to push their luck.” The nearest one wasn't going to; he was too busy clutching his left knee with his left hand and holding his heavily bleeding right forearm against his body. The other one was lying very still.

  Charles had some cuts and bruises but was otherwise unharmed. Leaving him to tend to his former attacker, I checked on the rifleman. He was alive, but wouldn't be much longer. I knelt beside him, and he looked up at me.

  “Wasn't too smart, waiting for the rifle to charge, was it?” He coughed blood.

  “No, it wasn't.” I took his hand and he smiled.

  “Taken out by a little girl! I suppose it's just as well I don't make it. The guys would never let me live it down.” He looked at me. “A little girl. How old are you?"

  “Sixteen."

  “So young. So young."

  “Is there someone you'd like me to contact? NATech won't."

  “I know they won't. You'd ... you'd do that?” He shook his head with wonder when I nodded. “That's classy. Yeah, tell my sister, Colleen, that I wished we'd emigrated now.” He choked out where I could contact her and was silent. I thought he was gone, but he opened his eyes slightly and smiled.

  “I'd always thought I'd die in a buddy's arms, saying something really impressive and memorable. I think this is better. I only wish...” And then he died.

  We took the wounded man back to the other two. Both were down but breathing. The lurker was out in the rain, somewhere, but he wasn't coming back. I went toward him to locate my gun, which had been knocked clear. It took me about five minutes, but I found both my gun and headset. The first was fine, the second shattered. I holstered the gun, tossed the headset, and headed back to Charles. He was listening to his headset, then frowned. He pulled it off and shook it, fiddling with the limited controls.