Crimson Strike

by Peter Bostrom

  When the last group of medics left the trooper’s side, I finally walked down the long rows of recovery beds. At the sound of my squeaky footsteps, Patel turned, and her face suddenly hardened.

  “This is absurd,” she said when I had arrived. “An interrogation specialist could easily extract any information we need, and wouldn’t be a hundredth of the security risk you pose.”

  She shook her head, then continued. “But Colonel Vaiega has ordered you to be the first point of contact with the enemy.”

  I nodded, suppressing a smile. I could almost feel Patel’s blood boiling at being forced by Vaiega to involve me. I wanted desperately to say something along the lines of “in your FACE,” but my better judgment surfaced for a change and I kept my mouth shut. For the moment.

  I nodded as solemnly as I could. “Whatever Peacekeeper leadership wants,” I said. “I’ll be happy to comply.”

  Patel gave me a condescending smile. “Well, then,” she said. “I don’t need to tell you how much trouble you’ll be in if you’re careless with Peacekeeper intel.”

  Then, narrowing her eyes, she said, “Good luck getting anything out of this monster.”

  I could feel the blood draining from my face. Monster? Back on Pluto, I’d seen under a couple of trooper helmets, and it was downright scary. And sometimes hairy. Could this possibly be any worse?

  “Let him through,” Patel ordered the guards. They kept their weapons raised, but shifted just enough for me to squeeze between two of them. What I saw on the other side was so unexpected that it stole my breath.

  A woman lay on a rectangular bed, with most of her shapely body covered with a delicate light blue sheet and strapped to the bed by several thick, black woven metal straps. But it was her face that made my jaw drop. She had a milky white neck, with a delicate chain peeking out from her clothing. Her raven black hair was gently tousled and framed her unblemished and impossibly fair face, ending in a thin, rounded chin. Her small nose came to a soft point, and her green-blue eyes were unlike anything I’d seen before.

  Well, that isn’t exactly true. I was pretty sure I had seen those eyes and that face before. But it was years ago—back in secondary school. Kayla Polidori was the prettiest girl in my class; probably on Mars, too. I wanted so badly to be seen by her, even if it was just for a minute.

  That never happened. Her social orbit never came anywhere near someone who had openly defended fantasy stories. Her gorgeous eyes were blind to me. But now, miraculously, those otherworldly eyes were looking directly into mine.

  “Hello, warrior,” the woman said in a voice that sounded like a song. “I suppose I have you to thank for my rescue.”

  Her British accent was even more distinct than Stanton’s. That’s when I knew it wasn’t really Kayla Polidori. She had a charming south Martian drawl, not a proper British accent. Which meant that this must be Kayla’s equivalent from the other world—just like we’d seen Colonel Hiller’s other-worldly twin back on Pluto. They may have looked the same, but when Hiller’s body double had turned out to be a Dominion Magus, that was a pretty good sign that appearance was where the similarities stopped. Hiller was good and his spitting image was evil. It was probably the same with this captured Dominion trooper—chances were, she was evil, too.

  However, as much as I hate to admit it, I sort of had a thing for women with British accents—it seemed like a pre-requisite for every beautiful girl, elf, or goddess in all of the best fantasy vids I’d watched as a child. So, rather than weirding me out, the unexpected accent made me even more attracted to this version of my secondary school crush.

  “He-hello,” I said, my voice betraying me in an adolescent crack. I cleared my throat and said, in a much deeper voice, “Hello.”

  Patel snorted lightly. I wasn’t about to let her laugh at me again, so I puffed out my chest and pointed a finger at the prisoner. “Listen here, you villainous scum. Don’t expect special treatment just because you’re incredibly attractive.”

  The corner of her full lips curled slightly, just like Kayla’s used to. “I am no villain,” she said. “I am Winnifred Harker. And I am a proud member of the heroic Resistance.”

  I took a step closer and pointed once more at her, even more sharply. “Don’t try to tell me that the Dominion is heroic. I’ve seen—wait, what did you say?”

  Winnifred looked at me with amusement. “I said, I am with the Resistance, not the Dominion. You are under the mistaken impression that you are holding an enemy prisoner, when, in reality, you are restraining a freedom fighter.”

  I grimaced involuntarily, then quickly straightened my face. She continued, “Surely, someone of your reputation has heard of the Resistance.”

  I folded my arms and felt myself flexing slightly out of habit. “Of course I’ve heard of the Resistance—my team found a Resistance warrior on Pluto. He’d infiltrated the Dominion troopers and told us there was a movement on your world to throw off their oppression.”

  I shook my head. “And he said something about a chosen one bringing balance to the worlds—but I might be mixing that up with another generic prophecy.”

  Winnifred’s breath caught lightly. “Oh, so you have met one of us after all, have you? That is more than we suspected.”

  Patel cleared her throat and I shot her a look. Her eyes were wide and she kept making a cutting motion across her throat. I nodded, then took a casual step to the left, letting my arms fall to my sides.

  “But you’re right,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “I do have quite a reputation around here—I fancy myself something of an elite warrior, myself.”

  At that, my knee hit the metal corner of the bed with a thud. Dammit! I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain.

  The prisoner cocked a thin, dark eyebrow. “So you fancy yourself an elite warrior? How convenient. I might fancy you, too.”

  I felt my face flush—was she . . . flirting with me? I stared into her eyes, trying to read the situation. They were Kayla’s eyes—green and blue nebulae—and I felt myself getting lost in them.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a surprisingly precise throat-clearing from behind. Damn that Stanton. And Patel. I was tired of playing by their rules—I was going to do things my way and prove once and for all that I knew what I was doing.

  I began to pace around the length of the bed—steering clear of the bed’s corners—with my hands clasped behind my back. “Okay—if you really are a Resistance warrior, then you’ll have no problem giving up information on the Dominion and their plans for Neptune.”

  I looked over at Patel, who just scowled.

  “Of course not,” came Winnifred’s singsong voice. “Ask me for any information you would like.” She narrowed her eyes slightly and the glimmer of a smile crossed her face. “The more sensitive, the better.”

  My heart was racing now, so I took a deep breath and held it, trying desperately to seem as unflappable as possible.

  “All I ask in return,” she continued, “is that you promise to act upon it and help us to defeat the tyrannical Dominion.”

  That was exactly what we wanted—critical information that would allow us to defeat the Dominion. And she was going to give it up for a simple promise?

  I nodded quickly. “Deal,” I said, now standing at the foot of her bed. I heard Patel and Stanton begin to protest, so I spoke quickly. “You have our word. I will personally see to it that your information is used immediately.”

  Then, with a smirk, I continued, “And I’ll do you one better—I’ll guarantee your release from custody.”

  I heard Stanton gasp and knew I was in too deep now to back out. I stopped pacing once I’d reached the other side of the bed. “What is the Dominion’s master strategy here? Why are there so few troopers invading this time?”

  Winnifred blinked her long lashes and fixed her mesmerizing eyes on mine.

  “It really is quite simple,” she said. “The Dominion is not planning on invading Neptune from the outside; they ar
e planning on invading it from the inside.”

  “Well, that’s awfully enigmatic of you,” I said with a wry smile and leaning toward the woman. “But I’m going to need something more definitive.”

  Winnifred parted her red lips slightly and took in a short breath. “You have been graced with the presence of the Court of Vultures, led by the Red Dragon and his leftenant, the Dragon’s Tail. And they are directing the most fearful tribe of lycanthropes in the Dominion for a single purpose.”

  “Which is?” I said, my eyes widening.

  Her fair face went still. “To transform the people of this moon into the Dominion’s very own dark army.”

  13

  I JOGGED TO the mess hall, having been dismissed by a furious Captain Patel, before I could do any more damage to her authority. As I dodged soldiers in the hallway on the way to fill my painfully empty stomach, I couldn’t help but think of a fanged and furry army of civilians, hissing and howling as they marched toward Peacekeeper HQ to tear us apart—you know it’s a pretty heavy thought when I start alliterating like that. These vivid images made me a little less hungry, but not much. My stomach felt like one side of it had grown teeth and was trying to chew on the other side.

  After another couple of minutes, I arrived at the mess hall. A moment after I strode into the room, I was hit in the side of the head with a half-full carton of water. It fell to the ground with a dull splat. My forward movement carried me through the spilled water and my legs shot out from under me. I landed flat on my back with a thud and heard a burst of laughter from somewhere to my left.

  The cold liquid seeped through my fatigues as I lay there, stunned. I sat up with a groan and looked around. Several soldiers nearby were smirking and pointing at me. I heard them saying things like “attention whore” and “soldier killer” as I slowly sat up.

  Out of nowhere, a thick arm appeared out of the corner of my eye. I closed my eyes and brought my hands up in front of my face, waiting for the blow, but it never came. I opened one eye a crack and looked up the arm to see a Kovac’s enormous figure looming over me, a pained look on his face.

  “Are you okay, Walker?” Kovac said in his deep voice.

  I grabbed his hand and quickly stood. “Yeah, just a little wet.” Then, I quickly added, “from the water.”

  The two of us walked away from the snickering and joined our team at an otherwise empty table. Kovac pushed aside the empty plates of my teammates. He then slid me a plate full of spiral noodles drenched in a gray-colored sauce and bits of pinkish synthetic meat scattered throughout. In spite of its questionable appearance and its smell of old mushrooms, my stomach growled loudly.

  “Thank the Valar,” I said as I found a fork sticking out from the untidy pile of cold noodles.

  “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” Rand said.

  “So,” I started, rubbing the back of my neck, “the Valar are these super powerful elemental forces in this place called Middle Earth … but they’re not the most powerful. That would be the supreme being, whose name is—”

  Rand held up a hand. “I believe I have the gist—something along the lines of ‘thank God?’”

  “Close enough,” I said as I twisted a few strands of noodles around the fork. Just as it was about to reach my mouth, something jabbed me in the back.

  “Ow!” I said, as my fork fell to the table, bounced, then clattered to the floor. “Dammit!”

  I turned to see what the hell had just happened. A couple of infantry soldiers were walking away from me. One of them was carrying his meal tray unnaturally low, its sharp corner held at the exact level of my ribs. When I cried out in pain, the two soldiers chuckled and kept walking.

  “The juvenile actions of the soldiers here never ceases to amaze me,” Rand set down the plasma gun clip he was operating on and watched the perpetrators join a larger group of soldiers at a nearby table, who were now also laughing.

  “Yeah,” Lopez said, staring intently at her data pad. “They might even be more juvenile than Walker.”

  Kovac stood up. “I’ll get another fork,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. This was getting old really fast. “What’s everyone working on?”

  Rand picked up the plasma gun clip he’d been tinkering with, flicked his thumb along its top, and ejected something. But instead of a radiant, pale blue plasma slug, a similar-sized shiny metal bullet pinged against the table and began to slowly roll across the table toward me.

  “I’ve figured out how to fit silver slugs into our standard ammunition clips.” He grabbed the rolling slug between his thumb and pointer finger and held it close to his right eye. “This one’s just a prototype, but Kovac sent a batch to the printer. It should be ready soon after you’re finished.”

  “The only problem is,” Rand continued, “I’ll need a little more time to get them to work as-is with standard-issue weapons. Right now, they’ll need to be specially calibrated first. I’ll make sure ours are ready to go in just a bit.”

  “Good.” I nodded, then looked to Lopez. “I’m going to assume you’re taking a break from—” I peeked at the article she was reading: Who Flew it Better?

  “Looking through all of the footage from our fight.”

  Lopez didn’t bother looking up from her data pad. “And I’m going to assume you’re finally going to take a break from being such an asshole.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m also insanely hungry right now.” I took a deep breath, then said, “Any luck with those vids?”

  She glanced up briefly from her data pad as if to make sure it was, in fact, me who had apologized, and then went back to the screen. “The vids are pretty shaky, but it looks like plasma slugs can only slow them down. They either have impossibly good invisible armor, or they have the ability to heal really fast.”

  “Just like I thought,” I said. “Genuine werewolves. If those old vids were right, then we’re going to need as many of those silver bullets as you can manage, Rand. Oh—and I’m going to need that Dominion laser whip, too.”

  Rand gave me feigned look of pain. “Are you accusing me of purposefully retaining a piece of enemy weaponry, against regulations?”

  My lips curled up, just a bit. “Of course I am.” I shook my head lightly. “Just put it back together as soon as we’re finished here. I might need it at any moment. It’s crucial for fighting these types of monsters.”

  It wasn’t crucial. But it did remind me of a vid game my dad and I used to play about a castle and a vampire hunter. Its hero fought with a whip, so I figured having another awesome weapon by my side couldn’t hurt.

  I heard a few heavy footsteps behind me. Kovac dropped onto the bench next to me and handed me a fork.

  “Thanks, big guy,” I said. I was just about to dig into my cold pile of noodles, but Rand reached across the table and snatched my fork away.

  “GODDAMMIT!” I said.

  Rand shook his head. “Not so fast. We’ve answered all your inquiries—now it’s time to answer ours. What exactly just happened in the medical wing?”

  I clenched my jaw and tightened my now-empty hand into a fist. “Fine,” I said in a strained voice.

  I told them about the medics, the guards, and how incredibly pissed off Patel had been.

  “It’s perfectly obvious,” Rand said with a scowl. “Patel is still harboring a vendetta against you for upstaging her own heroic stand against the Dominion back on Charon. She probably blames her unsatisfactory rank advancement on the attention you received.”

  He shook his head. “She’s clearly manufacturing obstacles for you—and the rest of us—to settle her imagined score. And I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s largely responsible for turning so many soldiers against you.”

  “Could be,” I said. “But there’s something that might just provide us with the break we need.”

  Finally, I told them all about Winnifred Harker and our conversation in the medical wing.

&nbs
p; “And I know it may sound crazy,” I said, “but I think she could be a valuable asset to the team.”

  For a few moments, all I heard was the clink of silverware against plates. Finally, Lopez spoke.

  “As amazing as I’m sure her assets are,” she said, finally looking up, “I guarantee she’s lying.”

  I glared at Lopez, lips pursed. “You don’t know that. You didn’t even see her.”

  Lopez smirked. “You have a crush on her. That’s all I need to see. She could have said anything and you would have believed it.”

  I shook my head vigorously. “Nope. I do not have a crush on her. So what if her jaw line could cut steel? That has nothing to do with my ability to tell if she’s telling the truth.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Lopez said with a wry grin. “I guarantee there was no blood flow to your brain.”

  When I opened my mouth to deliver a devastating comeback, I saw Kovac raise a meaty hand and I stopped.

  “Lopez has a point,” he said. “She might be trouble.”

  I breathed in loudly through my nose. “Seriously? Rand, help me out here.”

  Rand looked down at the fork in his hand and turned it slowly. Then, after a painful silence, he answered, “Lopez does have a valid point. The way you describe this woman suggests you’re more than a little biased.”

  He set the fork on the table and slid it over to me. “I would suggest acting with extreme caution around her from here on out.”

  I could feel my eyes bulging. “Unbelievable,” I said. I grabbed the fork and leveled it at them. “After all we’ve been through—after all I’ve done for you. And now you gang up on me and treat me like an angsty teenager.”

  I jammed my fork into my noodles, almost breaking the plate. “I’m going to get Winnifred released if it’s the last thing I do.”

  I raised a trail of sloppy noodles to my mouth and was about to bite down when I heard someone clear their throat forcefully behind me. I quickly shoved my noodle-heavy fork into my mouth before anything else could stop me again.