And Vasily had called about food, unprompted. Indeed, she needed none for at least several more days. Why would he get me more so soon? Maybe Father Nikolai had extra, and it might be perishable? The matter stewed in her mind. You have to be careful about that paranoia, Miri.
It was a problem for ex-operatives like her, especially one who knew for sure that someone was still out to get her. She’d started to see threats everywhere, but reacting could expose her as much as people learning about her past. Karla Lupa was already losing viability as a legend, but she needed to keep the pretense up a little longer. She would have to be cautious and keep her mind open.
* * *
The rented helicar glided into the approved transit lanes that weaved through the taller buildings of Sektatsh. In the driver's seat, Cera glanced over to see whether Henry and Tia were looking out at the sights. "Not much to speak of," she said. "Reminds me of Dunbarton. Just add slaves and slavers, the bastards."
"Not much we can do about it," Henry said. "Just keep your eye on the skylane." While Cera did just that, Henry glanced around at Sektatsh and considered how many of the people below were in the same circumstances as those poor workers who were still unloading the last of the cargo. Fifteen years before, Henry would have relished the chance to visit this planet with his fleet and a few divisions of Marines to end Harr'al slavery once and for all. But all he felt was a familiar sense of disappointment in an unjust galaxy. It reinforced his conviction that if the God he once believed in did exist, He had turned his back on His flawed, disappointing creations long ago. Henry couldn't blame Him, given his own sense of disappointment.
"Shouldn't let it get to me," he muttered under his breath. It's the way the world works. All I can do is look out for the people I'm responsible for.
"Looks like we've made it to the Alien Quarter," Tia said, noting the change in the layout and design of the buildings. "Cera, you should be able to see the ISU center soon."
"Right." Cera kept an eye on the buildings ahead while checking the helicar's traffic-control systems that kept her in the approved flight paths. The system flagged her destination as approaching and directed her to a landing course to bring the helicar to street level.
The streets of the Alien Quarter were clean, mostly, and probably the safest in the city. Armed beings of several species walked predictable patrol patterns. "They look more like an occupying army than cops," Henry noted.
"I doubt they're cops," said Tia. "Probably a citizen militia to keep slavers out."
Cera turned the helicar down one road and then another before they were at the entrance to the ISU center. Henry noted the emblem of the union was displayed proudly above the door. He saw Tia's little smile upon seeing it. "Always good to see a spacer union buildin'," Cera said. "Hostel's not bad, and the union helped me find my last berth before you took me on."
"Glad to know they're worth it. Pull us up and find a place to wait for us. I don't know how long we'll be."
"Right, sir."
The helicar moved into the drop-off lane in front of the entrance. Henry and Tia stepped down from the helicar, feeling the repeated pulsing ripple of displaced air against their ankles and feet from the helicar's anti-grav engines being so close to the ground. The effect dissipated after the first steps to the door. "You've never been in one of these, have you?" Tia asked.
"I can't say I have," he said.
"That's the luxury of having your own ship. Not all spacers have a regular billet. They need somewhere to stay between jobs." Tia led him through the door. In one direction was a rec room, another led to the bar, and a third to the lobby counter. "Looks like they added a hotel unit." Tia shook her head. "Catering to the antisocial types. Or people like Felix, hardcore individualist types."
"Because they offer hotel rooms?"
"Hotel rooms are private, individual," Tia pointed out. "Hostels are communal. Spacers live, cook, eat, and sleep together."
"Like a crew."
"Right. Works for building solidarity."
"But annoying as hell if you want some alone time. That's not an individualist talking. It's the part of me that remembers barracks living when I was called up," Henry said.
Tia nodded but said nothing more on the subject. She only spoke up when they arrived at the lobby desk. "Thirty-nine, ninety-eight, two fifty-four," she said to the young Asian man at the counter. He was bald with star-pattern tattoos joined by Japanese kanji characters on his head.
"Four zero two six six nine eight," Henry added.
The desk attendant entered the numbers. "Tia… Nig-u-yen? James Henry. Welcome."
"Nguyen," Tia corrected, pronouncing it "Nwen."
"I'm sorry. What can I help you with?" he asked.
"We're here to check up on a fellow spacer," Tia said. "Karla Lupa."
The concierge's eyes widened slightly at the name. "The Kensington Star survivor?" he asked. "I'm afraid I can't help you there. I've got orders."
"I'm sure you do," Henry said. "We don't want to know where she is exactly, just that she's safe and for you to give her a message."
After several moments of consideration, he nodded. "All right. The message?"
"Tell her that I've been hired to give her a ride out of Harron if she needs it. She's got a mutual acquaintance who contracted to me to ensure her safe departure."
The concierge nodded. "I'll send the message off." As he spoke, his hands moved behind the desk, presumably typing the message, and he gave them wary looks, as if expecting them to try to glance over the counter to watch what he was doing.
"We're not here to hurt her," Tia insisted. "Please, trust me on that as a fellow spacer."
"With all the ships disappearing… we can't be too careful, you know?" he replied. "You can wait if you want."
Henry nodded. "Fine by me." He turned away from the desk and went to the lobby, where he found a chair facing the HV. Someone else had an episode of what he guessed was The War Patrol on. When Tia took a seat beside him, he said, "I wouldn't be surprised if she tells us to go away."
"If she's not sure who to trust, she might," Tia agreed. "Although wouldn't al-Lahim have told her about us?"
"He would have, but that doesn't mean she'll trust us. We don't even know how well she gets on with him, after all." Henry rested his hands on his knees. "Let's give it a while. If we don't hear back, I'll contact al-Lahim." Left unsaid, for obvious reasons, was whether he'd yet to figure out how to get Miri to Lusitania and balance the conflicting desires of their various employers. That could wait until they had Miri Gaon safely in hand.
* * *
Had Miri known the call from the concierge was coming, she might not have immediately reacted to the message she received just as Henry and Tia entered the ISU building. It was from Vasily's link, letting her know he was waiting outside. Not an audio call but a text message.
Every instinct as an operative told Miri to stay away, to back off. Whether innocent or not, it was a bit too suspicious. She should stay hidden, keep her bugout pack ready, and wait for confirmation of a trip offworld.
What kept her from doing so was genuine worry for Vasily. If it was a trap, he was being held by someone targeting her. Whatever her instincts said, she was long past tired of people dying for her sake.
After checking to ensure that her firearms were all in place on her person, Miri left her room and headed downstairs. She went out the side entrance to avoid possible surveillance in the lobby. Once on the street, it was a quick trip over to the parking lot farther down, where she knew Vasily would be waiting to meet her if it was him. The lot was nestled between two of the larger buildings and stretched across two blocks’ worth of adjacent buildings. A protective fence limited entrance and exit through lanes that would scan vehicles, allowing the lot owners to charge vehicle owners remotely. A smaller entrance allowed for foot traffic to enter and exit.
It was convenient, but the number of people coming through at this time was slow, and combined with the limited
access, it was a decent ambush spot.
She visually scanned the lot to find Vasily's Harr'al-built helicar and soon located it in the corner of the lot dedicated to that kind of vehicle.
When she saw no sign of Vasily in the seats, her suspicions increased. Again, a part of her screamed to get back into the ISU building and batten down the hatches. But Vasily deserved better than that. He’d earned her honest effort to check on his well-being.
As she continued to the vehicle, her hand slipped to the small of her back and pulled the Burleigh & Armstrong pulse pistol from its holster. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching her before openly bringing the gun up. She advanced the final meters to the vehicle and looked inside, weapon pointed.
There was no sign of a body or food. Only a—
Miri was already in a backward jump when her brain identified the stun grenade. She hit the ground back first and used the momentum to roll farther backward. A moment later, there was a high-pitched buzz through the air and a burst of energy from the car.
The field generated by the burst faltered just shy of Miri. She'd acted just in time. Recognizing her situation as an ambush, she kept low and scanned the area.
A sapphire bolt struck her in the arm as she turned. It burned her flesh, and her arm muscles seized up while her hand spasmed, forcing her to drop the pistol. Miri slipped around the helicar she was kneeling beside to get out of the firing angle of her attacker.
* * *
Kepper was impressed. He’d been confident the stun grenade would work, but his mark had excellent instincts for getting out of the area of effect. She took cover quickly enough that he considered it a lucky shot when his second shot winged her arm. He saw her gun hit the ground and aimed another shot at it, damaging the weapon and knocking it farther away from her.
He had the opening he needed. He moved from his vantage point across from the helicar spots and toward his mark's location. She had only one route to take, and he kept it covered as he moved ahead. When she poked her head toward the corner of her covering vehicle, he fired a shot into the air beside her, driving her back into cover so he could close the distance.
Kepper kept the gun pointed ahead and downward as he finally rounded the helicar. His mark was slouched on her knees, her right arm dangling uselessly and eyes fixed on him with concentration, a bit of frustration, and maybe some anger in them.
A part of him wished he saw fear. He always enjoyed seeing fear. It was the next best thing to pain.
"Hands up," he said aloud. "You're caught."
* * *
Miri glanced up at her attacker. Caucasian male, mid to late thirties. A League operative or someone in their employ. She swallowed, ignoring his sarcastic remark and expressing the question on her mind. "Where's Vasily?"
"Not your concern anymore." Kepper kept one hand on his gun and reached into his pocket then pulled out a tie strap with the other. "Put this on your—"
Miri's left hand moved up from where she'd had it by her left ankle and shin. But her hand wasn’t empty—she held a Makarov-made flechette pistol. She pulled the trigger as soon as it was level with her would-be captor's legs. There was a loud, high-pitched sound, akin to rushing air, and the pistol expelled a tight spray of metal flechettes that ripped through fabric and flesh and muscle.
The force of the impact and the pain to his gored limb brought the leg out from Miri's attacker. He fired as he fell, but Miri was already in motion. The shot whizzed a few centimeters past her head, and she crashed into him a moment later. With his balance gone and his leg wounded, he couldn't keep the impact from knocking him onto his back. Miri kicked his hand, and he dropped the sidearm. She used the other foot to kick the weapon farther away.
Her attacker brought his other hand over and grabbed at her right ankle. It didn't quite grip the holdout pistol, a copy of the one in her hand, as he instead pulled hard to take her leg out from under her. Miri stumbled forward and hit the ground, knees first.
"Bitch," rasped the man. She turned, her flechette gun up to put another round into him. Her left shoulder exploded in pain a moment later from the slug that blew through it. Her foe had another gun, a slug-throwing mag-pistol, and he fired a second shot that ripped flesh from her left side. The first shot was the worst, however, as it caused Miri to drop the gun from her left hand and left both arms useless.
Despite his wounded leg, her attacker started to push himself back to his feet, one hand holding the mag-pistol and the other gripping the nearby helicar's bumper for balance. A fierce look covered his face. "If the League weren't paying me for you to be intact, I'd—"
That was when a helicar hit him.
* * *
After letting off Henry and Tia, Cera started a circuit of the area around the ISU building. Most of the nearby buildings were combinations of businesses and homes, the former on the lower floors and the latter on the upper. Traffic in the Sektatsh Alien Quarter was relatively active, and she had few openings to sit on the curb.
Not wanting to stray far, she finally opted to pull the helicar into the nearby public lot. She didn't plan on being there for long, so it wouldn't charge too much to their rental account. Signs directed her toward the spots reserved for helicars, right and then left.
Cera made the final turn as the first thundercrack split the air, the sound of air being violently displaced by a force or object. A moment later, the second told her it was not an innocent sound and likely a weapon. A mag-pistol or rifle, she guessed. She lowered her right hand for the pulse pistol tucked in the helicar console without needing to glance down, as she was too busy looking for the source of the shots.
She found them.
The two figures were beside one of the helicars. One was wounded in the leg and had trouble standing, and the other was on her knees with neither arm moving. The male with the hurt leg shifted, giving Cera a better look at the female. She recognized the woman immediately.
Crap. No time to get the Captain or the others.
She remembered the stakes Henry had explained and what Caetano might do if they didn't get this witness. Felix could lose his brother, who was by all accounts a man of God and not someone to let down.
Well, somewhat. He was a Protestant, after all. But Cera couldn't hold that against him.
At that moment, as her foot slammed down on the accelerator of the helicar, Cera was grateful it wasn't an aircar. The gunman would've heard her, and she would have been getting shot at. Helicars were nice and quiet, at least compared to other modes of transportation.
Her opponent never saw her coming.
The gunman was lucky in one respect. The distance didn't allow Cera to get the helicar up to a lethal velocity before she slammed into him. It still sent him flying down the lot driveway. He rolled to a stop and was still for a moment.
Cera wasn't going to assume he was dead. She grabbed her pulse pistol and jumped from the driver's seat. Once on the ground, she went across the front of the car, gun held ready in one hand, to approach Miri Gaon. Blood poured from Miri's shoulder and side, and her other arm was equally useless with a pulse burn visible on the exposed bicep. "C'mon there, miss," she said, reaching down to help Miri stand. A wince crossed the woman's face at her wounds being jostled. Cera brought her over to the rear passenger side of the helicar and opened the door for her.
"Who are you?" Miri asked in obvious disbelief.
"Ah, just a good Samaritan, ye might say," Cera replied, just in case the man she'd hit was listening. "I can get ye t' a doctor."
Miri settled into the seat and tried to move her arms despite the horrific wounds.
Cera rushed over to the other side of the helicar and got back in the driver's seat.
Ahead, the gunman was starting to stir.
Cera's mind raced as she considered the space around her. Because of her position, she didn't have enough room to pull off a three-point turn, and with the bad guy beginning to move, she needed to get going. "I've always wanted t' try this," she said
, hitting the key to activate the seat harnesses. The automated straps moved into position, holding both to their chairs. "Hang on back there!"
With one hand on the wheel and her feet on the pedals, Cera took the shift stick for the helicar's anti-grav motors and set them to full. The car lifted into the air. In the same motion, she twisted the wheel, causing the helicar's maneuvering anti-gravs to spin the vehicle in place. As soon as the turn was past the halfway point, Cera shifted the power back down. Instead of the anti-gravs slowly lowering the craft like usual, they reduced immediately, like a submarine performing a crash-dive. The car dropped until it was just above the ground, a jarring experience that drew a pained grunt from the back seat. Cera floored the accelerator and sent the helicar forward. One last glance in the rearview mirror told her that the gunman was still recovering. "Ha!" she called out in triumph. "That'll show th' bloody bastard, ambushin' someone like that! Bet he was a bloody slaver too!"
Miri looked at her with a combination of gratitude and uncertainty. "Who are you?" she asked Cera.
"Cera McGinty, at yer service," Cera announced proudly.
At that moment, her link went off. "Cera, we've heard there's been shots," Henry said. "What's going on out there?"
"Well, Captain, funny you should mention that—"
* * *
Kepper was beside himself with rage as he watched the tail end of the helicar disappear around the corner of the lot aisle. He'd never had a mark slip away like that before. Did I miss an accomplice? This wouldn't have happened if that League jackass hadn't forced me to rush! Anger flooded his mind. Or if he'd told me how good they were!
Coalition Defense Force Boxed Set: First to Fight Page 71