Sisterhood of Suns: Pallas Athena

by Martin Schiller

  Then Sarah ran.

  Behind her, she could hear her pursuers as they cursed and pelted after her. A needlegun round buzzed past her ear, and despite the threat it posed, she found another reason to smile. Whoever they were, they either didn’t have symbiotes of their own, or they were reserving them just like she was.

  And their employers were also cheap; the round that had been fired at her was the ‘dumb’ variety, and not one of the more expensive, self-guided ‘smart’ models. Had it been otherwise, she wouldn’t have been alive and able to gloat. Or to pause, and return fire with a three-round burst from her own weapon.

  Her rounds were smart, and they found their targets. The women behind her screamed and dropped. There were more psi’s coming though, and they didn’t even bother to conceal their presence. She counted at least four who were in the process of closing the distance, and several others that were in the vicinity.

  The time to embrace her symbiote had definitely arrived. With a thought, she accessed the alien device embedded in her skull, and the world transformed. Everything became grainy, colors paled and drained away, and the shouts of her hunters became distant, muffled whispers.

  In reality, the universe hadn’t changed. Only the space around her had. The implant had surrounded her with an invisible bubble of time that ran faster than her surroundings. And she used it to its fullest advantage, running through the frozen trees, past leaves suspended in mid-fall, and out onto N’Rina Boulevard.

  There, she released the bond, staggering for a moment as a heavy wave of nausea washed over her. Sarah was a veteran of such after-effects though, and drew in a deep, steadying breath as she made for a line of parked hovercars. More needlegun rounds sought her out, ricocheting off the ‘cars, and she fired back at her attackers as she sent a thought to her aircar.

  Aria! Start your engine and come to me! She was well aware that there was a good chance the enemy psi’s would overhear the psiever conversation, but there was no helping it. Speed was more important than stealth at the moment.

  The AI responded immediately. On my way, mistress! Hold on! Estimated arrival five seconds.

  In the meantime, another pair of psi’s had exited the park and were moving down the line of vehicles in an attempt to flank her. Sarah shot at them, but this time, her smart rounds failed her. Instead of taking out their targets, they went wild, and she realized that her enemies were using some kind of portable countermeasure. Not so cheap after all, she thought grimly.

  She needed to buy herself some time. Reaching into her cloak, she bought out the grenade and flipped the arming switch, setting it for dumb-fire. Then she flung the tiny metal sphere in the general direction of her attackers. It detonated with a bright flash that lit up the nearby buildings and shattered the windows of the ‘cars nearest the blast. There were more shouts, but her attackers stopped advancing on her position.

  Sarah wasn’t deceived. Her opponents were only waiting for reinforcements to arrive. Then they would assault her in earnest.

  Aria, hurry up, she thought.

  Then a shadow passed between her and the streetlights overhead, and she looked up at the razor sharp outline of her Falcaan 490 as it descended and opened its gullwing doors.

  I’m here mistress!

  Sarah sprinted for the vehicle, emptying her needlegun in a burst of suppressive fire, and threw herself inside.

  “Drive!” she shouted. “High speed, evasive.”

  The vehicle was equipped with powerful engines that could easily outrun most police cruisers, and it took off like an anti-ship rocket down the rain-soaked street, pressing her into her seat.

  “Destination?” the AI asked cheerfully.

  “None specific. Leave this area by the most expedient route,” Sarah replied.

  “Mistress, we are being followed,” Aria informed her.

  Sarah immediately called up an image from the rear-view traffic camera. A hovercar was behind them, trying to catch up. It was an Aerhawk 3350 she saw. It wasn’t quite on the same performance level as her Falcaan, but it was still more than adequate for the pursuit.

  A second later, the enemy driver engaged her afterburners in anttempt to close the distance, and narrowly avoided a collision with a row of parked vehicles in the process. Whoever she was, she was an amateur, Sarah thought, or her AI simply wasn’t as good as Aria when it came to computer-assisted steering.

  “Shall I engage weapons, Mistress?” Aria asked.

  She was just about to grant the AI permission to do so, when a Thermadonian Metro Police car came down and joined the chase.

  A message appeared simultaneously on her windshield HUD: “YOU ARE IN VIOLATION OF SECTION 44523.4, 44525.5: EXCESSIVE SPEED AND RECKLESS DRIVING. LAND YOUR VEHICLES AND STOP NOW!”

  “Deas dam va!” Sarah growled. “There weren’t supposed to be any police in this area.” The very last thing she needed right then was this complication.

  “Should I actually obey that order?” her hovercar inquired.

  “Don’t be ridiculous," Sarah responded. "Disregard and continue evasive action.”

  “Thank you, Mistress. I do so love a good chase!”

  Sarah ignored the AI’s remarks, and kept her eye on the vehicles behind her instead.

  Another message appeared on the HUD: “YOU HAVE TEN SECONDS BEFORE YOUR ENGINE WILL BE DEACTIVATED! STOP NOW!” A set of numbers accompanied this dire proclaimation, displaying the countdown.

  Sarah was not concerned in the least. Aria had much more under her skin than just a fast pair of engines. “Initiate countermeasures,” she instructed.

  “Countermeasures employed,” the car responded, laughing. “Engine override signal blocked successfully, and quite easily I might add.”

  The fact that the Aerhawk also hadn’t been affected indicated that they had the same countermeasures at their command, and Sarah frowed.

  No, she thought with distaste. Definitely not so cheap after all. Clearly, the gang’s leadership was willing to expend some signifigant resources to make an example of her. Not that she intended to let that happen.

  Then the Aerhawk revealed another nasty little secret. Ports opened up on its nose, and bright blue flames spat out as it fired a pair of railguns at the Falcaan. Aria spotted this nanoseconds before her mistress, and ascended without instruction, banking sharply to the right at the same time. Sarah was thrown violently into her safety straps as her ‘car neatly evaded the depleted uranium rounds.

  Now it was their turn to play a trick or two. “Drop proximity mines! Key to the Aerhawk,” Sarah commanded.

  There was a dull ‘thump’ behind and beneath her seat as two mines were released from their tail. To their credit, their pursuers responded to the threat immediately, letting loose with a matching pair of ECM pods and dropping low. But with only a little room to work with, the Aerhawk’s undercarriage hit the pavement and sent a shower of sparks into the night sky.

  At the same time, the first mine that Aria had launched fell for the deception and chased after the decoy, exploding harmlessly overhead. The second mine was also fooled and stupidly chased its pod straight into the police cruiser’s hood.

  Only the fact that it still hadn’t caught up with what it believed to be its target, and had remained inert, was what saved the policewomen. Instead of exploding, the mine smashed into pieces and although its shrapnel cracked the windshield, the cruiser remained aloft, and part of the pursuit.

  As they passed an intersection, another police cruiser joined the chase, coming down and pulling in behind the pack. It wasn’t an ordinary patrol hovercar however; it carried a rack of air-to-air missiles under its stubby winglets.

  The message that it broadcast was clear, and imperative. “THIS IS AN ARMED POLICE RESPONSE UNIT. STOP YOUR ENGINES AND LAND OR YOU WILL BE FIRED UPON!” An alarm came to life on the Falcaan’s dash. Simultaneously, the APRU unit acquired a lock on their engines.

  “Aria! Discharge flares on launch!” Sarah barked. The police cruiser
fired as she said this, but again, Aria had anticipated this and let its flares go along with a pair of ECM pods. The Aerhawk, which had also been targeted, did the same same thing and then followed through with another railgun attack.

  As Aria jinked and twisted away, the APRU’s missiles exploded harmlessly in mid-air, and Sarah realized that the group of aircars was now approaching a busy intersection.

  The traffic signals controlling the junction were standard models, and shielded from normal psionic interference, but Sarah wasn’t a normal woman, with a normal psiever. Throttling Aria’s engines to maximum, she concentrated on the lights and pushed with her talents.

  Unable to withstand her projected will, they obediently changed from red to green. Robot trucks, which were the only traffic passing through at that hour, stopped abruptly and the Falcaan blasted by them.

  Then Sarah pushed a second time. The lights reset to green and the trucks began to move again. There was no time for the Aerhawk to avoid the collision. It plowed full speed into the forward section of a large truck, shearing in half and exploding into a fireball.

  The two police vehicles that were behind it swerved wildly to avoid the blast. The armed unit managed this, but rammed into a traffic pylon instead. The impact sent it spinning into the side of a nearby building. Its companion was even less fortunate. The cruiser plowed straight into the burning remains of the Aerhawk, and became wreckage itself.

  Flaming debris spewed over the intersection, and Sarah bit back an oath as she ordered Aria to climb and join the flightlanes high overhead.

  “That was an exciting chase!” the AI chirped, blissfully immune to the carnage below them. ”I especially enjoyed the opportunity that it gave me to run my engines at maximum throttle.”

  “I’m glad that you had so much fun” Sarah replied, acerbically. It had been bad enough that things had gone awry with her contacts, she thought. Now there was this, on top of it all. Although the casualties had been unavoidable, there would still be some serious fallout to deal with.

  Aria interrupted her dark ruminations. “Mistress, I have a bulletin concerning us on Police Channel 1493,” it informed her. “Would you like to see it?”

  “Yes, Aria.”

  The message flashed in a corner of the windshield. It contained no surprises and Sarah had read many like it before:

  HOT SHOT: CRIME IN PROGRESS--WANTED BY THERMADONIAN METROPOLITAN POLICE:

  Reckless Endangerment, Flight to Avoid Arrest, Assault on Police Officers, Murder.

  Name: Unknown (No Record Found). Height: Unknown, Weight: Unknown, Hair: Unknown, Eyes: Unknown, Motherworld: Unknown. DOB: Unknown. Known Alias’: Unknown.

  Hazard Level: HIGH. NOTE: If you observe the suspect, DO NOT attempt apprehension. Suspect may be a military-grade psi and should be considered armed and dangerous. Contact APRU for further instructions.

  Subject was last seen traveling 01:16:36 hours westbound Marpesia District, Sector 7 in a black Falcaan 490, Registration number 115386G773. Advise if spotted.

  “That simply won’t do,” Sarah responded. “Change transponder codes and modify your skin.”

  “Do you have a skin preference?” the AI asked her.

  “Nothing in particular. I’ll leave the choice up to you,” she replied.

  The car obeyed her command. Outside, the molecules of the dynamic skin that coated its metallic body reorganized themselves, changing the car's pigmentation from jet black to a rich, dark crimson.

  “Skin and transponder code changed, Mistress,” Aria reported. “And if I may say so, I do so like the shade of red that I chose. It’s really quite stylish and I think that it compliments my body quite nicely.”

  Sarah laughed dryly. “Good. I’m glad for you. Now, get us to Jackie’s. I think it’s time to lay low for a bit.”

  Aria pondered her request for moment before responding, “Mistress, I’ve located Jackie’s. It is currently in the Agamede District, Sector 20, sub-sector 121-B. I’m taking us there right now.”

  Jackie’s was one of Sarah’s unofficial offices and hideaways when she was in Thermadon. Floating on permanent suspensor fields, the bar changed its location constantly, but this feature was not what made it so special. Many businesses on Thermadon were portable and relocated themselves according to customer demand, and shifts in purchasing patterns from sector to sector.

  What was different about Jackie’s was that it did not officially exist. Instead, the floating structure plugged in to the empty slot of a host building like any other transient business, but registered with the structures’ virtual landlords with a new identity every time. One day it would list itself as a private club, another a restaurant, and another as something else, each with different names, and different fictitious owners.

  Only its carefully screened customers knew what it really was, or where it was at any time. And as long as the rent was paid, the AI’s of the host buildings seldom asked any questions. When they did, Jackie’s either moved itself, or paid off the investigating parties with enough credits to quell their curiosity. Tonight, Jackie’s was docked on the 751st floor of the 1500-story Bel Shanris building.

  While Aria brought them around for a landing, Sarah noted the holographic sign wrapping around the bar’s exterior, which advertised the business as the Antiope Club. It was a private joke that only the bar’s owner, Jackie, knew the meaning of, and Sarah had never pressed her terribly hard for the truth; everyone was entitled to their secrets—as long as they weren’t dangerous ones.

  The car entered the hangar at last and slid into the parking space that had been reserved for her. As Aria powered herself down, Sarah exited and walked to the entrance. There was only one woman on duty there.

  She wasn’t the only security by any means; the bar had plenty of automated systems that it could call upon to deal with unwelcome visitors, but Jackie had always preferred the “human touch”. The figure at the door was probably the furthest expression of what could be considered human, however. She was an Aviaa, from Tetra in the Chandi Elant.

  After Humanity left Old Gaia and began to settle alien worlds, concerns arose over the environmental effects of terraforming on previously pristine worlds. And a new movement was born. It had called itself Biosyncronism, and its principle belief had been that instead of changing an alien planet to suit humans, that humans needed to adapt themselves to their new environment. The Bios had linked forces with geneticists and sympathetic lawmakers, and as their philosophy had taken hold, strict environmental laws were passed, and Homo Sapiens underwent a wide range of physical transformations. Some, had been minor, while others were radical.

  On Nemesis, which had been one of the first true Bio Worlds, the settlers opted for their offspring to be born with prehensile tails, retractable claws and color-changing skin—along with a digestive system that allowed them to survive on a predator’s diet. On Tethys, which was dominated by gigantic oceans, humans became amphibians with gills and webbed digits. And on Tetra, bioengineering had created a race of blue skinned, winged people, who were adapted to live in an environment where almost everything had the capability of flight.

  None of these alterations had saved human males from the MARS plague, however. But the legacy of Biosyncronism remained, and because of it, Womankind was far more diverse than anything the ancient pre-spaceflight Gaian’s could have ever imagined.

  The Aviaan standing before Sarah was a typical example of her genotype. She was much taller than women from other worlds and her fine boned frame and translucent wing membranes made her seem far too frail for the post that she manned.

  Sarah knew differently. In reality, Aviaan women were formidable opponents with supernaturally quick reflexes. They also compensated for their lighter bodies with a wicked set of claws, flexible hollow bones that bent instead of breaking, and employed a deadly martial art they called Sass’kaalat which was perfectly tailored to their physique.

  Given the choice, Sarah always preferred a heavier opponent with norm
al physical abilities to an Aviaan. As she passed over the threshold, she exchanged nods with the woman, partially out of mutual recognition, but also because of the respect that each had for the other as fighters.

  It was dark inside the bar, except up near the stage where a band was playing Neo-Kryxian music. The latest rage on Thermadon, it was slightly less grating and more harmonious than the original form that was its inspiration. Genuine Kryxia music from the world of Noween was a cacophony of eerie wails and atonal sounds that only the native women could tolerate. Although the ‘updated’ version had a much wider appeal and even possessed something resembling a formal melody, Sarah was forced to recall the old adage that anyone who was not from Noween and claimed to like its music, was actually stone deaf.

  Sarah did her best to endure the racket as she lowered her hood and made her way past the polished baaka wood bar. In the process, she caught the eye of the bar’s owner and Jackie saluted her with an empty glass.

  “Nice to see you,” the woman said. “Your table’s ready, and it looks like your secret admirer has sent you a flower and a little note.”

  Sarah returned her conspiratorial wink with a smile, and walked past the other patrons to her private booth. The booth was expensive, but worth every credit. It was in the back, shrouded in enough shadows to make her invisible to anyone who entered the bar, and right next to an exit to the garage. It was also surrounded with its own silent-zone, which not only saved her ears from the din, but also helped to ensure her privacy when she had guests.

  Just as she had been promised, a single black rose sat on the table. Next to it was a small plasti card. Despite what Jackie believed, they were not from the same person however.

  Taking her seat, Sarah pointedly ignored the card. She knew who had sent it, and decided that it could wait--if she even bothered with it.

  Instead, she ordered herself a glass of Zommerlaandar white wine and regarded the rose pensively. News of the night’s operation had traveled fast, she reflected. She only hoped that the repercussions would not be as great as she feared.