by M. D. Cooper
Got you, asshole.
Heedless of the weapons fire being exchanged, her rage a living thing inside her, Katelyn hoisted the rocket launcher back up to her shoulder and triggered its safety. Just as the reticle lined up with the Marine, he turned, staring straight at her.
The amplified imagery provided by the rocket launcher allowed her to see his face, partially obscured by his helmet’s faceplate. It was almost as if he locked eyes with her for a moment, his piercing grey ones boring straight into hers.
He mouthed something, a curse. She laughed as she read his lips, the moment broken.
‘Hell’ would have been the more appropriate word, you sodding piece of shit, because that’s where I’m about to send you.
She pulled the trigger, the rocket speeding toward him. Then it was her turn to curse as she realized why he’d stood there, unmoving. He’d been waiting for the rocket to launch before throwing his body sideways to evade the oncoming missile.
She ducked as a bullet pinged against the side of the ship, and she retreated back into cover.
You think you’re such a badass? Oh, it’s on now, asswipe.
Katelyn dropped the launcher as she passed by its case, heading for the weapons station from which she could control the ship’s autoturrets.
She dropped into the cradle, the mounted guns’ holo shimmering into existence when she flipped the weapons to active. She manipulated the view, burying her hands into the interface as she sent the sensors sweeping the lot.
Gotcha.
The Marine was advancing on the SWSF soldier who held Aaron, his rifle trained unwaveringly at the resistance fighter.
As Katelyn watched, the Marine fired a warning shot past the soldier’s head, his rifle motioning for him to disarm. She winced as the SWSF man tossed Aaron aside. The Marine sidestepped, keeping a bead on the soldier, while he bent to pick up Aaron’s node with one hand.
Okay, that node’s a lot heavier than it looks. You must be wearing powered armor, buddy.
She flipped the autocannon to armor-piercing rounds.
“Let’s just even the odds a little, shall we?” she murmured as she rotated the weapons mount, bringing it to bear on the TSF Marine.
The movement caught the SWSF soldier’s attention, and she saw a smug smile cross his face. The Marine must have seen it, too, or else his armor’s defense systems had registered the threat. He pivoted suddenly, hitting the dirt and placing Aaron between him and the ship.
“Dammit all to fucking hell,” she swore aloud, and heard a choked laugh from Rory.
“Mom’d wash your mouth out for that, you know.”
Her sister’s voice sounded strained, and Katelyn craned her neck to one side, loosening her tense muscles as she played chicken with the meat-headed, musclebound brute holding Aaron in front of him.
“C’mon, shit-for-brains,” she coaxed. “Just drop it like a good Mari— Yes!” she whooped as the SWSF soldier used the enemy’s concentration on her autoturrets as an opportunity to launch a counterattack.
She saw the burly Marine go down, and whooped again as, for a brief moment, it looked like they’d regained possession of the node Aaron was traveling in. But then the Marine rocked back and shot both feet out in a kick that connected with the SWSF soldier’s side, sending him staggering back.
The Marine flipped to his feet, scooped up the node, and raced for a pair of tanks several meters away.
“Oh no you don’t,” she muttered, spooling up the turrets and letting loose with a spray of rounds at the Marine’s feet. “Let’s see how well you dance, you big, ugly thug.”
It was all talk, she knew. She daren’t get any closer and risk harming Aaron. The man holding the node knew it, too. The ship’s defense systems told her they were taking weapons fire, the TSF jarheads aiming at the autoturrets to disable the threat.
Barrel number one jammed, followed quickly by a small explosion. She didn’t need her holo to know that the second barrel was no longer there.
She slammed her hand down hard on the console in frustration, realizing there was no real way for her to help Aaron at the moment. They had to retreat.
“Hang on, Ro,” she called out as she pounded back down to the Damus’s hatch while mentally berating herself.
She could have triggered the ramp to retract automatically, but in the heat of battle, she’d forgotten. This would cost them precious seconds, time they might not have, before they could take off.
As she ran, Katelyn sent the mental command to engage the ALIAS autopilot system. The simple interface wasn’t even worthy of the moniker NSAI, but it’d get the job done. She ordered it to lift the ship into a hover as she slid to a stop beside the open airlock.
Shit!
She’d forgotten the fuel lines were still attached. Well, there was nothing for it; it wasn’t like she could set back down and ask the TSF to hold their fire while she went out and disengaged them.
She winced as the lines grew taut and then snapped, whipping around and smashing into an armored personnel carrier, caving its roof in. She slammed her hand against the inside of the hatch impatiently as the ramp finally retracted, and leant forward to grasp the manual lever that would seal the airlock.
Her head jerked up as she sensed movement below and to her right. It was that stars-damned Marine. And he had her dead-to-rights, his rifle aimed unerringly at her. Her breath hitched as she froze for a brief instant.
And then he lowered his scope, cocked his head and sent her a two-fingered salute. They both stood like that, staring at each other, until the door obscured him from sight.
What the hell was that all about? she wondered, but then shook herself, her hand sliding down the bulkhead in an automatic check that all indicators showed green for a positive seal. Well, screw him and his head games. I have a ship to fly.
Katelyn sprinted back toward the cockpit, casting Rory a worried glance as she passed her.
And a sister to heal. And an AI to rescue.
But first, they needed to get the hell away from those TSF goons.
Sliding into the pilot’s cradle, she pointed the nose of the Damus south, and redlined the ship, leaving the NSAI node—and Aaron—behind.
The resistance needed to know ASAP that the data had fallen into the hands of the TSF. They needed to formulate a plan to get both it and the AI back.
It took 58 seconds for the ship to make it the 500 kilometers from Tarja to the coast. As soon as she cleared the densely populated area, she killed her velocity, disabled the autopilot, and took control of the craft.
Turning it into a sweeping arc to follow the coastline at a discreet 50 kilometers out to sea, she stayed low and slow to keep the antiaircraft batteries she saw popping up periodically along the continent’s shores from getting a radar return and acquiring a targeting lock on them.
She kept at it, mentally cycling through the frequencies she’d been given. The signal was scrambled, based on a timestamped encryption sourcebook the SWSF had embedded into the ship’s comm systems. If there were friendlies around to hear her transmission, she needed to give them plenty of opportunity to respond.
The call came through just as she cleared the 10 kilometer mark down the coastline, past the mouth of the Damascus River.
The voice coming through the comm sounded calm and unruffled. Katelyn hadn’t realized how tense she was until her heartbeat slowed at the reassuring words.
She reached into the navigation holo, manipulating the map until the spaceport hovered before her view. Tapping it, she queried the system for distance and heading. They were now a good 480 kilometers south-southwest of the ‘port, approaching a small group of islands, ringing a coral reef.
As she uttered the words, realization swept over her.
If the TSF had somehow managed to hack the SWSF’s encryption, Katelyn had just given away their exact location: 480 kilometers south-southwest of the spaceport, crossing over an island resort.
This damn well better be a secure transmission, or we’re sunk.
Katelyn’s head jerked up as she processed what the voice had just instructed her to do.
Holy…! Eight hundred kilometers? Her heart sank as she thought of the pain she’d already subjected Rory to during the crazed, 15-g burn to save their skins. Traversing another 800 kilometers at their current slow clip was going to take hours—pain-filled hours her sister would have to endure.
“I’m fine, sis,” Rory’s voice, tired but no longer pain-filled, called out, before she switched over to her Link.
Katelyn grimaced, but sent Rory an acknowledgment before responding to the operator on the other end.
Katelyn called up a topological map of Venus and punched in the coordinates Wren had sent. The terrain indicated they were headed north-northwest, toward a rainforest called Hjerta.
The voice on the other end laughed.
Katelyn keyed the comm twice to acknowledge Wren’s transmission, then leant forward into the holo as they went ‘feet dry’ once more. Hand firmly wrapped around the virtual yoke, she began the grueling dance that would consume her for the next few hours of flight, as the ship dipped and spun its way through eight hundred kilometers of terrain.
Flying nap-of-the-earth to avoid being painted by TSF sensors was tough work, especially in a ship that wasn’t designed for it.
A hundred fifty kilometers later, Wren pinged her again.
Katelyn smiled. Gratefully, she eased up on the controls, allowing a bit more distance between the ship and the planet below.
Wren sounded like good people. She’d have to buy her a cold one when they landed.
ADVANCE TO THE REAR
STELLAR DATE: 3227474 / 06.04.4124 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Outskirts of Tarja, Teka Continent
REGION: Venus, InnerSol, Sol Space Federation
Williams looked down at the NSAI node he held, wondering why the Diskers would risk a set-down in hostile territory to get it into Tarja.
An echoing thud thud thud to the west caught his attention, and he looked at the city’s towers some thirty kilometers distant. Flak fire was streaking out from their peaks, followed by explosions at the far side of the commercial district that surrounded the spaceport.
* * * * *
Williams heard a soft plink before an explosion erupted beside him. Somehow, while flying through the air, he had the presence of mind to shield the NSAI node with his body.
He hit something, then something else, then stopped moving.
“Fawk!” he thundered while struggling to his knees.
Williams sent an acknowledgment and checked over the NSAI cube. Its casing bore some scratches and carbon scoring, but it wasn’t dented—which made sense, since it was essentially clad in a CFT shield.
That’s one of us, he thought before reaching out to Lieutenant Grenwald, killing time while waiting on the company’s CO.
It half-sounded like the lieutenant was asking for permission to go hot against civilians, but Williams was sure it was just the stress talking. The platoon had been hot for nearly three days, with no one getting more than a few hours of shut-eye here and there.
Williams snorted.
Grenwald sounded worried.
He glanced down at the cube and shrugged.
Grenwald replied.
Commander Lauren was silent for a second.
The lieutenant laughed.
Williams glanced over his shoulder at a parking lot two blocks back.
* * * * *
Twenty high-powered sportscars sped across the Venusian landscape, Marines in scout armor behind the controls of each, while others sat atop the vehicles, armor maglocked on.
Chang and Olsen’s heavies had each taken a larger vehicle and bolted their crew-served rails to the roofs, whooping as their cars sped mere centimeters above the magnetic roadway.