by R. A. Nargi
“Fuck you, bro,” she said.
Without even looking at her, the commando whipped his blaster around and smashed it into Ana-Zhi’s head. She cried out and staggered back, blood blooming from her forehead.
Rage flashed through me, but I forced myself to breathe steadily and dropped my own blaster to the ground. Then I raised my hands.
This was the end. We had lost. And it made me sick.
“On your knees!”
I complied, secretly keying the distress signal to Chiraine. I hoped to Dynark that she hadn’t disabled all comm systems yet.
A boot connected with my back and I flew face forward into the dirt. As I choked on dust, rough hands yanked my arms back and I felt a pair of stun-cuffs encircle my wrists.
Yeah, we were fucked.
The man who had pistol-whipped Ana-Zhi hauled her to her feet and pushed her in the direction of one of the riflemen. Then he strode over to inspect me.
“Who are you and where’s Agon Qualt?” he demanded.
“Don’t tell them anything!” Ana-Zhi shouted.
The leader motioned to the rifleman guarding Ana-Zhi. Then the rifleman reversed his weapon and stabbed the rifle’s stock down at her face. She just barely managed to twist away and the rifle delivered a vicious blow to her shoulder instead. Ana-Zhi gasped in pain and crumpled to her knees.
“I asked you a question, asshole!” The leader’s face was right up beside my own and his hot fetid breath turned my stomach.
“Qualt is dead,” I spat. “I killed him myself.” One of basic things you learned in deception training was to lie without hesitation. It projected confidence.
“You sure about that?” He took off his helmet to reveal a lean, pasty pink face and two beady eyes which he squinted at me, trying to look intimidating.
“Look me in the eye and tell me again what happened to Agon Qualt.”
“Judder knife between the shoulder blades,” I said. “He didn’t suffer. Much.”
Pasty-face looked away for a moment, as if trying to digest this information. Then he asked, “Where’s his ship?”
“Nine klicks east of here.”
“You’re lying. We didn’t see anything on our scan.”
I shrugged. “It’s under ten meters of mud. You want me to take you there?”
Without warning he backhanded me in the mouth. My head jerked back and blackness crowded my vision. But I willed myself not to pass out.
“Smart-ass,” Pasty-face muttered. “I’m not going to waste my time with your lies. We’re going to do this the quick way.” He strode over to Ana-Zhi and snapped his blaster up so it was kissing her temple.
“One more try, asshole. Tell me again where the ship is. And maybe you want to consider what happens if I don’t like your answer.”
Fear twisted in my gut. Was this maniac actually going to kill Ana-Zhi in cold blood? I knew that the MCP had a reputation for being psychos, but this was unbelievable.
He began to count aloud. “Three…”
“Not a word,” Ana-Zhi said.
“I told you—” I said.
“Two…”
I stared right into his beady eyes. “Nine. Klicks. East.”
Then he smiled at me. It was a chilling smile. The smile of a psychopath.
In slow motion I saw his arm tense. Ana-Zhi and I locked eyes.
There was no fear in hers.
But all of a sudden the Mayir’s pasty head jerked back in a puff of red mist which splattered Ana-Zhi’s face and hair.
The rest of the Mayir froze in disbelief. But I didn’t. I was too well trained for that and I knew that a sniper—probably armed with a high-powered railgun—was firing into the alley. So I threw myself to the ground and rolled towards a toppled crate. Ana-Zhi did the same, searching for any kind of cover.
The shots kept coming. They must have been some kind of flechettes, because two of the riflemen were hit through their armor and taken out as they tried to bring their weapons to bear.
I still didn’t have any idea where the shooter—or shooters, more likely—were. Or even who they were.
The Mayir leader’s radiant blaster was less than a meter away from me, but even if I could get to the weapon, I wouldn’t be able to use it. Not with my hands in cuffs.
A loud clacking sound caught my attention. The Mayir gunner whipped his big Gauss around and started spraying the rooftops, blindly trying to flush out the sniper. It wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Especially since the sniper was behind him.
It took two shots—torso and head—but the gunner pitched forward, slumped dead over his shredder.
The remaining Mayir legionnaire freaked out. I didn’t blame him. He threw down his rifle and took off towards the end of the alley, trying to seek shelter through an archway.
He never made it. One shot to the head took him out.
Ana-Zhi and I both remained motionless. We were bound and pretty much helpless, but we were the only ones left alive. And that meant something.
One more shot rang out.
Above my head the jiren drone exploded into a million pieces.
4
I didn’t expect the sniper to be a human female, but that’s who it was.
A tall woman strode into the alleyway, flanked by a dozen Obaswoon armed with primitive rifles.
I twisted to get a better look at the woman. She had long tangled red hair streaked with gray, and was dressed in a tattered flight suit. I couldn’t really determine her age.
“This is unusual,” she said with a Beesanian lilt to her voice. “Mayir versus Mayir.”
“I’m not a Mayir,” I said.
She lifted her goggles and regarded me with striking-looking green eyes. “Then why are you wearing MCP crimson?”
“He stole it,” Ana-Zhi said through swollen lips. She looked horrible. Her face was battered and bruised almost beyond recognition. “We’re not exactly on the best of terms with them. As you saw.”
“Indeed.”
Who was she? I wracked my brain trying to figure out where she had come from.
“Anyway.” Ana-Zhi motioned towards the bodies that littered the alleyway. “Thanks for that.”
“Don’t thank me,” the tall woman said. “I haven’t decided whether to kill you or not.” She lifted her rifle for emphasis. It looked like an old Benham model. Maybe a M-115. But it had been modified.
“We’d be much obliged if you didn’t,” Ana-Zhi said woozily. “And doubly so if you’d be so kind as to remove these cuffs.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Then I got it. I knew who this woman was!
“You’re Nerissa!”
One of her eyebrows arched up in surprise. “It’s Narcissa, actually. But how did you know that?”
“We met your ex,” I said. “Up on Taullae.”
“And he spoke of me?”
“Extensively,” Ana-Zhi said. I could hear the pain in her voice. She was obviously not doing well.
“He said you had left the system,” I said.
“Hmm. What else?”
“He went looking for you. I think he mentioned Ordilon, but he was convinced that you hitched a ride back with another expedition. Or the Rhya. Which you obviously didn’t.”
“Interesting,” Narcissa said. “You just bought yourself a few hours. I’ll hear your full story. Then decide whether or not to kill you.”
After Narcissa barked some orders at her men in their own language, they quickly and silently stripped the dead Mayir legionnaires of everything remotely valuable. She commanded me to remove my exosuit and my Aura, and then the Obaswoon checked me for weapons.
Each of the non-humans stood well over two meters tall and had long, muscular arms and legs. They dressed in loose hooded robes the color of sand—with belts and bandoliers holding weapons and ammo. None of the Obaswoon seemed to show the slightest interest in either me or Ana-Zhi.
“The Mayir will be back with reinforcements,” I said.
&nbs
p; I didn’t add that Ana-Zhi and I had misjudged the landing force. We didn’t anticipate the Mayir deploying a full fire team. It made me wonder what else were we wrong about.
Narcissa didn’t appear concerned at all. She just motioned us forward and we marched through the ruins of Roan Andessa, flanked by Obaswoon warriors.
Soft rain began to fall and a heavy mist settled into the city. Ana-Zhi only lasted a few blocks before she stumbled and fell. At Narcissa’s command, one of the soldiers effortlessly tossed Ana-Zhi over his shoulder as if she was a child and carried her.
Several times I tried to strike up a conversation with Narcissa, and asked her if she had seen any Rhya wardships around, but she made it clear that she wasn’t interested in speaking with me yet.
As she strode purposefully through the ruins, she appeared to be lost in thought.
We wound our way through the maze of the ruined city, past ancient ziggurats and temples that had been reclaimed as dwellings and workshops for the Obaswoon. As we moved away from Tarkoja Plaza, the buildings became smaller and squatter and more utilitarian-looking.
Our destination turned out to be another plaza. This one was dominated by a massive stone dome that rose at least thirty meters tall and a hundred and fifty meters wide and was surrounded by obelisks and other ornamental structures. The dome was cracked and partially-destroyed, but it was still an impressive sight.
Despite the rain, Obaswoon guards stood at alert at a big stone archway that served as the entrance to the plaza.
I was surprised to see that the area around the dome had been mostly cleared of debris and someone had made an effort to beautify the plaza with gardens and potted trees.
Narcissa led us through an opening in the stone dome and then issued what I guessed were some some commands in the Obaswoon language. The men who had been carting the Mayir gear and weapons nodded and departed with their spoils.
The Obaswoon carrying Ana-Zhi was also given some instructions that I didn’t understand and began to walk away with her still slung around his shoulder. When I protested, Narcissa told me that Ana-Zhi would be tended to by the village’s healer.
“Don’t worry. If I wanted either of you dead, I wouldn’t bother dragging you halfway across town to kill you.”
I couldn’t argue with her logic.
Inside the dome was some sort of little village, with various stone houses and other buildings crowded with natives. The dome itself was held up by a forest of wooden scaffolding and pillars. I was surprised to see strings of lights illuminating the area. Maybe the Obaswoon weren’t as primitive as I originally thought.
The smell of rain mixed with the smell of cooking fires—which made me a little hungry. I hadn’t had any real food in four or five days. But although I looked longingly and obviously over to where Obaswoon families were preparing their meals, Narcissa didn’t offer any refreshments. She just kept walking through the village.
Eventually we arrived at a wide staircase leading down to an underground passage. The staircase was guarded and lit by torches. We traveled down maybe a dozen meters and then along the passage for another thirty meters. The passage ended up in what I can only describe as a throne room.
Narcissa cast off her cloak and ascended a stone dais upon which stood a large carved wooden throne that stood taller than me. Servants brought her a large mug of some sort of drink and wrapped her in a fur shawl as she eased herself into the throne.
It all struck me as a bit much.
She gestured to one of the guards and he brought a simple wooden bench from the side of the room to a spot just in front of the dais. Apparently that was where I was supposed to park my butt.
Thank Dynark I was offered a drink as well. I greedily accepted the mug and, since I was definitely feeling dehydrated, I took a deep drink. The liquid tasted like a weak cider. Not the best flavor in the world, but I was totally okay with that.
“Comfortable?” Narcissa asked.
“Under the circumstances, yes. But…” I lifted my hands—still bound with stun-cuffs.
“Oh, that. Well, I suppose you aren’t going to try to run away. Are you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Very well. Hands above your head.”
Huh? I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I did my best to comply, lifting my wrists just over the top of my head. My arms were cramping pretty badly from being confined.
“Higher. For safety’s sake.”
Despite the soreness I stretched my arms out higher.
Before I could register what was happening, Narcissa drew a long pistol from a holster at her thigh, swung it up, and blasted the stun cuffs in a shower of sparks.
My hands jerked back and a stab of pain ran through my shoulders, but it only lasted a second. The cuffs clattered to the ground and I was free.
But, holy shit!
“You could have shot off my hands!” My heart was pounding like a vibro-hammer.
“Not much chance of that,” she said. “Besides, those were disruptor rounds.”
“Yeah, still could have left me with a stump.”
“There are worse things. Now tell me your name and what expedition you’re from.”
I was still shaking from the adrenaline surge, but I leaned back on the bench and took a deep breath—trying to pull myself together.
“My name is Jannigan Beck and I’m from Beck Salvage.”
“You’re who?”
“Beck,” I said. “Jannigan Beck. You might have heard of my father.”
“Holy shit,” Narcissa said. “I’ve got Beck Junior sitting in my parlor?”
I’d hardly call a thousand-square-meter throne room a parlor, but whatever.
“Where’s your father?” she asked.
Now, here was the tricky part. Even though I was somewhat grateful to this woman for saving us from the Mayir, I wasn’t about to tell her the real deal about my dad.
“He wasn’t a part of this expedition.” A half truth.
“So they put Baby Beck in charge?” she chuckled. “Nice.”
“Actually, Ana-Zhi—the woman with me—is our captain. I am kind of an observer.”
Narcissa made a face. “Since when does Beck Salvage float a crew with any kind of dead weight? Who were you working for?”
“The Shima.”
“Uh huh. Don’t tell me—the Crescent of the Stars, right?”
“Yeah, the Kryrk is what they called it.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Did you find it?”
I wasn’t yet ready to tell Narcissa the whole truth, so I said, “I think the Mayir have it.”
“How do you know?” Then she added, “I’ve been looking for the Crescent for years.”
“It was on Bandala,” I said.
“Bandala? That floating junk heap? You’re not serious. The analysts at Belgaon-Rewes were convinced the Crescent was on Mygerria. Or, possibly, Chando.”
“No, as far as we could tell, the Kryrk was on Bandala. We actually tried to blow the place up.”
“What?”
“We wanted to keep it out of the hands of the MCP.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“The Mayir are making some sort of move. They came through the Fountain to conquer the Nymorean system.”
I could tell by her expression that Narcissa was trying to make sense of what I was saying.
“I know this sounds crazy, but they attacked the Rhya,” I said. “It was part of their plan to knock out the Fountain. Then they placed dark space beacons.”
Narcissa nodded as the realization played across her features.
“Their expeditionary force arrived about eighteen hours ago,” I continued. “We tracked a Scout Carrier and a squadron of fighters. They probably have more vessels—including a jumpship parked somewhere in your back yard.”
“My men are already searching for it.”
“It may already be too late. I’m sure their command knows somet
hing is up with the patrol.”
She took another drink from her mug. “So if you’re not with the Mayir, how did you happen to be wearing their exosuit?”
“It’s a long story, but we ended up seizing their ship.”
Her eyes widened.
“After they blew up ours,” I added. “My own suit got trashed in the battle. Listen, we don’t really have—”
“Why are you even here? In Roan Andessa?”
“The ship we took got damaged. I needed some mimonite.”
“Mimonite? For what? Are you making a coidinetical inductor or something?”
“It’s for the power weave. Something called a ‘discharge retainer,’ I think.”
Narcissa made a face. “Those don’t normally go bad.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Let’s suppose you get this mimonite. For the ship that you stole. Then what?”
“Then we repair the Vostok.”
“So what? If what you say is true, the Fountain has been disabled. You can’t go home.”
“I’m aware of that.” I took a deep breath. “There is another reason we came here.”
“Uh huh.”
“We were hoping to find a Rhya wardship.”
“Why?”
“We think it might be sentient.”
“Sentient? A wardship? That’s a new one on me.”
I sighed. “It was a stupid hope.”
Narcissa didn’t say anything—just looked away in thought.
Sitting here in some crazy warlord woman’s throne room, the realization of exactly how screwed we were finally dawned on me.
Narcissa was right. We couldn’t go home. And the Mayir would now be doubly pissed at us for wiping out their fire team—on top of stealing their ship and taking out their expedition. We’d be killed on sight. Unless they felt like torturing us.
Maybe Qualt had been right. Maybe we should have considered joining the Mayir. Or at least pretending to until we could get away.
No. Even as the thought entered my mind, I pushed it out. I could never work for the Mayir. Not knowing how fucked up they were. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.