A Cat at Bay

by Alma Boykin

  At her direction, Joschka programmed the medical equipment and she started clambering awkwardly onto the patient platform. “No you don’t, Hairball.” Before she could protest he’d lifted her and laid her down on the contoured cushions.

  She splayed her hands out so the carved-up fingertips rested in contact with the mattress-like surface and gave him a ghost of a smile. «Thanks, Awful Clawful. All you have to do is close the top and push the green button. See you in a few hours.» She closed her eye as he lowered the metal and glass lid into place, then activated the program. Her breathing slowed and deepened and he watched for a few moments, then left the ship, closing the panel behind him.

  Rachel frowned at the numbers. There had to be a better way to breach the Da Kavalle’s shield besides a tactical nuclear strike. A decimal’s in the wrong place. It has to be. She heard a tapping sound and looked over as the soldier who had been posted outside the lab came in. “Commander, Col. Khan wants to see you in his office immediately.” That doesn’t bode well, Rachel thought, and she slung her satchel over a still-tender shoulder and picked up one of her sticks. As she left the lab, the soldier fell in behind her.

  When a second trooper joined them, Rachel knew something bad loomed in her near future. She resisted the urge to pick up her pace and instead walked calmly down the corridor as if an armed escort were normal. “Colonel Khan’s usual office or the one he’s currently using?” She inquired as they rounded a corner.

  “Current office, Cdr. Na Gael.”

  If they’re using my full title, I’m definitely in trouble. Rachel let herself into the outer office and the two soldiers took up positions in the hallway.

  Khan sat behind the commanding officer’s desk, expression unreadable, and handed her two pages. “Be seated. This came in while you were off duty. It is addressed directly to me. I did a rough translation for myself since you were indisposed. Was I close?”

  After the first few sentences, her hands shook so hard that Rachel had to lay the pages down on the desk to finish reading them.

  “Yes, very. You got the main meaning perfectly, sir,” she confirmed, looking him in the eye.

  He leaned back, face still expressionless. “And they are correct in claiming that the convicted criminal they are seeking is present within the Regiment?”

  “Yes sir. She is present in your office.” Cold settled over Rachel and her stomach felt like lead. “My true name is Rakoji da Kavalle and I alone am responsible for everything that has happened over the past three days.”

  Her former friend regarded her steadily and she clasped trembling hands as he asked, “Of what were you convicted, da Kavalle?”

  “I am a half-breed, a mischling, guilty of offending the honor and purity of tarqi da Kavalle and all other Trader tarqina by the fact of my existence. For that, 300 or so of your years ago, I was sentenced to death.”

  At last a sign of emotion, this one of disbelief. “If you’re joking this a piss-poor time to do it.”

  She shook her head. “I am completely serious, sir. My father’s people, the Traders, value species purity and obedience to the tarqi, what you’d call a clan, as two of the most important things in the universe. I am an affront to both of them simply by existing. Think back to your history lessons about the 1930s in Germany, but with less tolerance than the Nazis had.”

  The human shook his head in turn. “That makes no sense at all.”

  “No, it doesn’t to you,” she agreed. “It was a survival trait that became law. But my father chose true love over obedience to the dictates of his tarqi. And only God knows how, I was the result. My sire was killed in a, oh, call it clan war just before or just after I was born and mother was killed around eleven years later by pelt hunters. Not long after that, a different tarqi tracked my father’s travels back and found me, who looked completely Wanderer and shared my father’s talent for both space and time navigation.

  “The combination is rare enough that they were willing to hold their noses and take me into an apprenticeship. That lasted until I was around a hundred and forty, when it rather suddenly became apparent that I was a mischling. A friend of my father’s with a grudge against the Elders’ Council gave me access to my father’s ship and the other things he had left for me. I fled, hoping that with enough time they would give up the hunt.”

  “And they tracked you here, where you have been hiding,” Khan stated.

  “Yes sir. And they no longer care who they have to murder to get to me.”

  He thought about it. Before he could add anything farther or ask any more questions, she offered, “Sir, may I make a recommendation?”

  “What?” His tone was cold.

  She started, hesitated, then said, “Execute me, sir, and give them the body, since they don’t specify living or dead. You will fulfill the contract offered and lose no more of your men.”

  Khan rocked forward, eyes flashing wide open. “Dear Christ, Rada! How can you say that?”

  “Because it will prevent any more bloodshed and I’m not going back to them alive, sir. That is a promise. I’d rather die cleanly at your hands than even think about going back to those n’geedak alive. If you believe that the men will not obey such an order, then I will do it once I finish my current task.”

  “I see.” Col. Khan turned around, looking out the window and thinking.

  Rachel stood up and paced as much as she could in the cramped office, then closed her eye. Please, holy and merciful Lord God, thou who didst undertake death, yea even unto death upon a cross, may your servant be merciful. It was too late to escape in the Dark Hart: the tarqi knew her location and they threatened to kill the hostages if she attempted to flee. They could track her easily this close to her ship. And they might try to go after headquarters in their efforts to catch her, although she doubted that they had the kind of weapons necessary for a serious ground barrage. Khan swung back around and she stopped, hands behind her back, waiting.

  He studied her, noting how her whole body trembled as he told her, “You are not going back to them alive, Rakoji da Kavalle.”

  She bowed her head as a wave of relief washed over her. “Thank you, sir.” Thank you God. It will be quick.

  “In fact, Commander Rachel Na Gael Ni Drako,” he continued, “you are not going back to them at all, unless they can force their way through the entire regiment. You are going to help guide the assault on the ship after you find a way to neutralize their shields.”

  She stared at him, speechless for the first time he could remember. Rahoul stood up and walked around the desk, rested his hands on her shoulders, and looked down at her. “You seriously thought I would even consider surrendering you, dead or alive, to those fucking monsters? Rachel, you are an idiot. If we leave no one behind on the battlefield, we are certainly not going to offer up one of our own on a platter!” He shook her lightly. “Never, never, ever think otherwise. You are one of us, no matter where you came from or what those creatures claim. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” she squeaked.

  “Good. Now, I want you armed and get to work on that shield around the ship,” he ordered, releasing her and returning to his seat.

  She nodded, then rocked backwards, eye dilating. Khan swung around but there was nothing behind him. He turned back to her, “What is it?”

  Fists clenched, she snarled, “My source says they killed John Marsh and forced Evelyn Jones to watch. So much for waiting for your response to the contract.”

  There were too many empty seats in the briefing theater for the Graf-General’s taste. “Khan, where’s Cdr. Na Gael?”

  Khan pointed to the rear doors, where near-latecomers were still trickling in. “She’ll sneak in just after the briefing starts and sit or lean against the wall on the back row. It’s become a bit of a tradition, by now.”

  They heard a quiet, harsh cough and Rachel joined the officers gathered at the far corner of the speakers’ platform. “Felt your ears burning, did you,” Joschka said without thinking
.

  “Not anymore. Amazing what modern pharmaceuticals can do,” Rachel snapped, softening the retort with a wink. She turned to Khan. “I understand you want to do a little rumor control first?”

  “Affirmative. Then we’ll get into the main briefing. Do you have anything new on the internal situation?”

  “Nothing since the update, sir. And the last test is running on the equipment as we speak. I should have the results before the end of the briefing,” and she patted the case hanging on her belt just behind her blast pistol.

  “Good work. Let’s get this started, shall we?” At Khan’s nod, Sergeant Weber called out “Attention!” and the Graf-General, Khan, Monroe, Lt. Nielsen, and Cdr. Na Gael took their places.

  “At ease—you may be seated,” Khan announced. “Before I start the main briefing, I want to say a word about the past three days’ events. No doubt you’ve heard bits and pieces of details and we all know the basic story. However, I want to quell a few rumors once and for all. Commander Na Gael, come forward, please.”

  She shed her grey jacket, revealing a low cut, short-sleeved sweater. And the marks of some of what had been done to her. Her remaining hair had been evened up and fell just to where a human’s ears would be. A rumble of murmured anger swept the regiment, then faded. “Commander, how much of your tail is left?” Khan asked.

  “About four centimeters, sir.”

  “What about your ears?”

  “Almost nothing, sir. They were cut off flush with my skull.”

  How does she manage to keep herself so tightly under control, Khan wondered.

  He let the mutters die then nodded to her. “Thank you, Commander; you may be seated.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, the people holding our fellow soldiers, the Tarqi da Kavalle, claim that everything that has happened over the past three days is Commander Na Gael’s responsibility and promise that if we will turn her back over to them to be executed by torture, they will release their prisoners and go in peace.” The earlier mutter grew into a growl, which Khan stilled with a raised hand. “They are lying, as they have already proven. We are not going to surrender anyone to those creatures—we are going to rescue our people. The leaders of the tarqi da Kavalle assume that because we do not have their technology, we can’t get to them. They underestimate the results of trust and training. Here’s what we are going to do.”

  At his nod, Lt. Nielsen called up a picture of the inside of the Gerzhal da Kavalle, based on the escapees’ memories and Rachel’s first-hand familiarity with the ship and its systems. Khan highlighted the forward cargo area, now subdivided into five holding areas. “There is an entry hatch here, above this bay. It will be opened from outside at first, then opened wider from within. Once inside we’re going to split initially into three groups: one to get the prisoners out, one to distract the guards, and a third will be demolitions.”

  Murmurs of surprise hummed through the room as Khan continued, “Once we get our people—plus one—out and behind the perimeter,” and the picture zoomed out to show where the Army and another quarter of the Regiment’s own troopers were currently located, “the first group will re-enter the ship and join back up with the second squad. We are going to try to capture the leaders of the tarqi if they are willing to surrender.” His tone and the mutter of “and pigs will fly,” from General von Hohen-Drachenburg suggested that this possibility was unlikely. “If they do, fine, and we’ll destroy the ship after we leave. If the choose not to surrender, we destroy the ship with them inside. Commander Na Gael has specifics for the demolition team on where and what will make the greatest impression.”

  As he was finishing the overall description, Rachel studied her data-link, tapping the screen. The Graf-General leaned over to see what was there and raised his eyebrows as if to ask, “Does that mean what I think it does?” She tapped some more and one side of her mouth lifted slightly.

  “Commander, do you have something to add?” Khan turned to her and she nodded and stood.

  “Yes, sir. The testing shows that once we pop even a small hole in the shield, it will collapse completely. In modifying the ship’s shields for unplanned long-duration use on the surface, the tarqi apparently forgot that they are powered primarily from the stellar engines, which cannot function in atmosphere. They are on battery alone and those batteries are probably nearly drained. It won’t take much more than one tight hard punch to breach the shields and collapse them.”

  The briefing continued and Monroe was preparing to hand out packets for the squad leaders when Rachel sagged forward as if fainting. Joschka caught her. “What’s the matter?”

  She shuddered, then straightened back up, face slightly green. “Not here. Somewhere private. I’m going to have to,” and she closed her eye. Joschka helped her stand and they left the briefing room as quietly as possible, then ducked into the first open office.

  Joschka saw that Rachel was barely keeping herself under control. “Dear blessed God have mercy,” she whispered, whole body shaking. “They’ve, they’ve—” She looked down at the floor, cradling her head in her hands. “Jones. They’re taking their frustration out on her. Like they did to me.” Joschka stared at her and started mouthing curses as she continued, “I can hear her; through the link with the other one. Please God, send mercy . . .” and her voice trailed off. Joschka snarled and his eyes changed color, becoming scarlet red with anger that burned of its own accord.

  Rachel reached out blindly and laid her hand on his arm. “Not here, not now. Channel it or you’ll scorch me, Joschka. I can’t shield you out.”

  He took a deep breath, turned away, and regained control over himself. “Close the link, Cdr. Ni Drako. Don’t make yourself go through this.”

  Her reply confirmed both his fears about her condition and his suspicion as to her source. “I can’t, my lord General.”

  Joschka took something out of his pocket, then reached over and touched the small box to the back of Rachel’s neck. She shivered, her eye rolled into her head, and he caught her as she passed out. “Forgive me, Hairball,” he whispered, “but we need you sane,” and he eased her onto the office floor.

  She woke two hours later to find Corporal Lee keeping watch over her. He helped her sit up and then stand. “Um, ma’am, Col. Khan said to ask if you had any news, beyond what the Graf-General relayed?”

  Rahoul had obviously not told anyone yet, so she just nodded. “Please tell him that it’s finished. He’ll know what I’m taking about.”

  “Yes Ma’am,” and he turned to go but she caught his arm.

  “Corporal, I understand that I am your Debtor. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Ma’am,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable. And he hurried off to tell the colonel the “good” news.

  Joschka and Rahoul found her in the lab, staring out the windows at the remains of a grey sunset. “Her late husband grew roses,” she said as they came up alongside her. Joschka laid an arm over her shoulders and Rahoul held her hand. Then the three warriors returned to work.

  They arrived in position just after midnight. Regular army troops now provided the bulk of the defense around the Regiment’s field headquarters, and speculation flowed freely when the headquarters staff arrived. “Sergeant, have you ever seen body armor like that?” one of the lieutenants asked.

  The NCO studied the two sets of equipment through his night-vision monocular and shook his head. “No sir. And they’re both different. Must be the ones who lost the toss for testing it in the field,” he decided.

  General von Hohen-Drachenburg happened to overhear the comments and smiled without humor.

  A voice in his mind observed that «Your armor seems to be getting a bit snug in places, my lord general.» Without bothering to comment or break stride he snapped his hand out and caught Rachel by the scruff of the neck, squeezing gently but firmly. «I was just observing that you’ve put on muscle through the shoulders, sir.»

  The man released his grip. “You don’t always hav
e to be such a,” he searched for a word, “wiseass, Cat One,” he said.

  “Actually, I do, sir. They see the clown and forget the claws.” Rachel looked back and forth, head turning constantly as she swept the darkness for signs of trouble.

  The equipment for cutting a hole on the Gerzhal da Kavalle’s shield had already been put into place. As usual, Khan had a backup plan—one that involved Rachel’s personal rifle and which she devoutly hoped they would not have to use. “It’s a custom weapon!” she’d protested. “I can’t replace it,” because I captured it in battle.

  Not that she mentioned that part aloud. Rahoul and Joschka already kept giving her frequent sideways looks. As she climbed up the two steps into the command trailer, Rachel debated if she should tell them what had happened while they had been en route to the battlefield. No, she decided—it didn’t matter and there was no call for distracting them now. That’s another soul you owe me you heartless whores. You kill the best friend I ever had and you call me misbegotten? May your gods and mine have mercy on you, because I won’t.

  She took up her position at the monitors attached to the shield breaker and reviewed the planned sequence of events. It had been a long time since she’d felt the sort of grim determination in the air tonight and she caught herself responding, slipping back into her old ways and habits. Her left hand caressed the butt of her blast pistol and her upper lip curled into a hint of a snarl. Rachel took a deep breath to settle herself and waited for Khan’s signal.

  “Cat One, Justice One.” It was Khan, just outside the edge of the shield at the da Kavalle’s bow.

  “Justice One, go ahead,” she replied, hands moving onto the keyboard.

  “Cat One, begin Operation Scales on my mark. Three, two, one, mark!”