Steel-Winged Valkyrie (Lady Hellgate Book 5)

by Greg Dragon

  With the butt of the rifle, he broke the door handle off and kicked it open. With one step he was back in position, protecting himself with the wall adjacent to the doorway. Helga meanwhile was in the other corner, ready, and when the door flew open to the expected ambush, she was prepared. Instincts, credited from her Seeker genes or the revita-shot, gave her a split-second advantage to react.

  Inside were three Marines, one holding Anders at gunpoint, the other two behind fallen rubble, firing out at the direction of the door. She hit the one holding Anders, putting every ounce of pressure that could be applied to the delicate trigger of her auto-rifle. The kinetics lifted him, throwing him into the wall behind him, while the other two fell from the Widow Maker’s trace.

  Anders, no longer supported by his captors, fell forward into a chair with a heart-wrenching crunch. For a moment, Helga thought she may have shot him on accident, but when he rolled onto his back laughing hysterically, she let out an audible sigh. Three men had held him, and from the look of the place, it was meant to be his prison for a long time.

  “This is Ate,” Helga reported on comms, motioning for Raileo to keep watch on the door while she stepped over the rubble to get to Anders. “Rend, you copy? I’m here with Ray and Anders. How are we looking?”

  “Thype, it’s good to hear your voice,” Cilas admitted. “Did I hear that right? You’re with Ray and Anders? Righteous. What’s your status?”

  Helga studied Raileo’s mannerisms while he crouched near the door, realizing that since escaping, she hadn’t bothered to ask if he had any injuries. The Nighthawk had been alone and exposed for hours while she recovered in that building. His breathing was labored and every other second, he winced, making her suspect that much more was happening beyond fatigue. Anders had fallen unconscious, and even with night vision, she could see the blood pooling near his legs.

  “Ray and I are still dangerous, but Anders isn’t good. We need to get him to a hospital sooner rather than later,” Helga reported. “How are you doing? Did you secure the target?”

  “We found our man,” Cilas confirmed. “Gave us a lot before he lost consciousness. He was our variable, but we chose a third route. We’re turning him over to the Genesian Guard.”

  “I know the Guard is technically Alliance, but can we really trust them?” Helga asked.

  “No choice. Alliance says work with the guard. That’s the only way we were allowed to break atmosphere here. Sunveil practically begged us to shoot him instead of turning him over. That made it even easier for me to decide. Is your location secure? Can the three of you make it back up this way to the big house?” Cilas sounded winded, which made Helga wonder if he too carried wounds that he wasn’t divulging.

  She looked to Raileo for an answer and the Nighthawk looked back at Anders and shook his head. She understood what he was thinking. Staying inside here, they were hidden, and moving Anders now could be a mistake. There was also the fatigue after a long night of ducking and shooting. She was running on fake energy from Raileo’s revita-shot, and he looked about ready to collapse. Helga wondered at their chances of even making it back out of that building.

  Cilas came back on comms. “Q’s going to find us a transport. I’m coming to get you. What’s your location?”

  “We’re in the building where Ray chilled an ice cube,” Helga joked. “There’s a tunnel below it. Should be already cleared. Ray and I will retrace our steps to meet you outside.”

  “A bit of good news, Nighthawks. Missio-Tral caught up with the rogue infiltrator, Harridan. Now that we’ve found the source of our stolen documents, our duty here is done. Stay on comms, eh? I’m leaving now.”

  Helga took a breath and hoisted her rifle, crossed to Raileo and took the lead out to reverse course back to the tunnel. It was nearly over, at least that was what she kept telling herself, though a nagging doubt lingered in the back of her mind. Hadn’t they come for two targets in Basce City? Sunveil was supposed to be the lesser option, the one to reveal the location of the second. She wondered what happened to change their plans.

  What bothered her the most was the way he said, “our duty here is done.” It could mean the target was already dead, or apprehended by another team of ESOs, which would be a real punch in the gut. Perhaps local government, or the worst scenario, he had managed to escape.

  25

  It was early morning on the Nighthawk’s third day of being passengers aboard the Velecrance hover-carrier, the mobile airbase of the planet-based arm of the Genesian Guard. After the events of Sunveil’s compound, Cilas had them transported to the carrier where they could deliver Sunveil and get on a secure comms directly to the Rendron for formal instructions.

  While there, the Supreme Lord of the Guard, Siraj Tat Sunfleck, had his medical staff tend to the Nighthawks, which ultimately extended their stay due to the number of injuries. Helga was found to have two broken ribs, multiple contusions, and shrapnel from a kinetic round stuck inside her abdomen. The fall had resulted in a concussion, and then there were the revita-shots, which she couldn’t have known was on the verge of giving her a stroke.

  She like the others had been treated and given a space to themselves with bunks, and enough amenities to keep them self-sustained. Helga’s treatment hadn’t been lengthy, and she, Cilas, and Quentin had been allowed to move freely about the vessel. Raileo had two gunshot wounds, one in his right thigh, the other in his chest. Both of them non-lethal, thanks to his armor preventing them from penetrating, but he had sustained enough of it to require surgery.

  Cilas made it out in one piece, but had many superficial injuries which caused him discomfort, even from standing. Anders was still questionable; he had been beaten and tortured for information that he wouldn’t surrender. The physicians did their best for him, but in the end found it necessary to shuttle him off to a hospital. Discretion was typical of anything dealing with the Velecrance, but Quentin Tutt had gone with him, and Cilas, already low on trust, had reluctantly agreed to it.

  So, for three days they were at the mercy of the surgeons treating Anders, and the Alliance going over the information Cilas pulled from Sunveil. They passed the time reopening wounds, by thinking themselves above the human limitation of giving wounds time to heal by remaining sedentary. When they weren’t exercising, they were arguing over mistakes, and when they weren’t doing either of those things, they would watch the feeds detailing an ongoing riot in the tenements.

  The first night after Quentin left on the shuttle, Helga and Cilas had gotten into an argument, and resolved their differences with an hour of awkward, bruised-body sex. Nighthawks were sworn to always, “finish the job,” so while each did persevere, they agreed to wait before attempting this again. Now this was day four, if she was remembering correctly, and Cilas had left her alone and was outside the compartment having a heated argument.

  Cilas shouting; that was so alien a concept, it made her worried. The door slid open and he walked in, dressed in full infiltrator’s body armor. When he saw her sitting up, he crossed to her quickly with a frown on his face. “Sorry to wake you, but the equipment is schtill. The damn engines are so loud outside that I couldn’t even hear myself. I have our orders, but I have to wait to share. Will brief the team when Ray and Q are back with us, and then we can get back to the Ursula.”

  “I’ve never known you to lie so brazenly, Cilas. You were shouting out the words, ‘how is this fair?’” Helga scolded him softly. “Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me. I won’t react if you just want me to listen. I just want you to know that I am here. Is it really too classified to tell me?”

  “No,” he returned, quickly, embarrassed to have disappointed her with losing his cool. “I was told to leave Anders behind. Not only by his doctors, but the captain. He wants us off this planet as quickly as possible. Seems everything we got involved in is about to explode, and Basce City will not be keen on seeing Alliance Navy for some time. Out primary target, Vray, was seen two nights
ago on a station near Neroka. It’s now up to the Genesian Guard to catch him.”

  “We’re to leave Anders here.” Helga was incapable of finish her thought, too appalled at the very suggestion.

  Cilas sat down on the bunk next to her, leaning forward to rest weary elbows on armored knees. “Moving him now would do more damage, that’s what they’re telling me. It wouldn’t be permanent; we’d just end up having to return here to collect him. We don’t leave our people, Helga, you know this. The ones still buried on moons that I couldn’t reclaim, it’s like their ghosts haunt me whenever I sit still.”

  Helga reached over to rub at his back, but he stood up suddenly and exhaled, seemingly frustrated.

  “You may be here one day, sooner than you think.” He jabbed a finger down at his boots to indicate his position. “If there’s anything you remember when you’re there, remember, no matter how right you try to do by those around you, the Alliance will find a way to make you disappoint them. We’ve known each other long enough for me to speak clearly with you, Helga. This isn’t cynicism, and it’s not me wavering. It’s the truth, and the sooner you accept it, the better you will be for it.”

  “I’ve never heard you sound so gloomy,” Helga whispered. “It’s like you always say, Cilas. Shrug off the inevitable and focus on what you have control of. Attitude, dedication, and execution. Trying to change what you can’t will only lead you to madness. All things you’ve said to us at one time or another. We’re all miserable here, and you’re still very tired.”

  “You’re calling me cranky,” he acknowledged, smiling.

  Helga threw her legs off the side of the bunk to try and summon the energy to stand. “Cilas, how did Anders get captured?” she asked. It was a question she had meant to ask, but never got around to it.

  “When the bomblet went off, it cracked the stone beneath our feet on that balcony. Q and I were barely out of the hall, so it merely stunned us. The three of you collapsed with the ledge, falling into a fountain—thank the maker for that—but no sooner had Ray pulled you out, they got Anders. We cleared the hall, tried to give you cover from what was left of upstairs, but there were too many of them in the end. So I made a decision to finish the mission, leaving Ray to watch over you until we could meet him. As for Anders, leaving him isn’t an option for me. I just want you to know that,” Cilas assured her.

  “I know.” Helga was forced to agree, “Still would prefer him to be in our own medbay when he recovers, where familiar faces are waiting, not a bunch of Genesian strangers.”

  Cilas looked distracted for a moment, turning his attention to the vid screen hanging above the doorway. “What is this you’re watching, Hel?”

  There was a reporter on the feed speaking to a family whose humble tenement dwelling served as a backdrop to their discussion. It was nothing like Fio’s home, which had all the amenities of a successful smuggler with enough credits to live comfortably despite being surrounded by squalor. A man in the background sat staring past the reporter into the viewer’s eyes, a long-ranged stare Helga recognized from spacers traumatized, unable to stay in the present.

  “I’m watching the aftermath of the two days of schtill visited upon these people by our so-called brothers of the Helysian. I—I just have no words, Cilas. They keep referring to them as ‘Alliance Soldiers,’ as if this represents us. As if we’re all capable of—” She shut her mouth and shook her head, too upset to complete her thoughts. Cilas, recognizing this, increased the volume to focus on what was being said.

  “None of this is new to us,” a woman was saying. “We are used to it. This is what they do every time there is an election, or someone important decides they want to see the slums. BasPol comes in, makes a big show of it, roughing people up, but nothing ever changes once they leave.”

  “The Alliance were with them this time,” the older of the two men added. “They beat and murdered innocent people. Even our children.”

  “Even our children,” one of the younger women agreed. “We were lucky because we ran. They had big guns and armor, just to shoot people who have only their fists to fight back.”

  Helga was disgusted. “These crutas made the trip all the way down here to terrorize our allies. How deep does it really go, Cy? What is happening with our Navy?”

  Cilas visibly deflated. “Nothing’s going on with our Navy, Hel. This is what happens when you have an undisciplined group of spacers. You know it, I know it, we all know it. This is tragic, and thyping embarrassing, not to mention dangerous for every Alliance spacer station in Genesian space. The council is aware of it, and the local Genesian leaders seem understanding of what went on. To be clear, they shoulder as much of the blame as we do. They allowed a segment of this city to rot, unsupported, and allowed criminality to take hold, growing so powerful they began to interfere with our war. That is how this happens. Those Marines deserve what’s coming to them, but they stopped representing the Alliance when they boarded that cruiser.”

  “Tell that to the family whose home they tore apart and used,” Helga countered. “Tell that to their daughter, now missing, possibly an unwilling participant to maker knows what. If I could go back to our time in the manor, I would have begged Tutt to burn it down with every one of those thypes trapped inside. They better pray I don’t get clearance to bring the Thundercat local—”

  “You won’t,” Cilas interjected softly, “But knowing the council, anyone not having clearance to be here will no longer have a home on an Alliance deck of any kind. I know it won’t make you feel better, Hel, but without a home they’ll be stuck here, and these families, many of them, at least we can hope, will hunt each of them down to execute them.”

  Helga shook her head, still staring into his eyes, unflinching. “You’re right,” she said, “it does not make me feel better. We were welcomed into the stocks as friends of Fio, and they knew us to be Alliance. A day later here comes the thugs, wearing our colors and aiding BasPol in bringing terror. Why would anyone here trust us ever again?”

  Cilas shifted his gaze back to the vid screen, eerily quiet for a long moment. “Here’s the truth.” He spoke without looking at her. “It’s likely they won’t trust the Alliance ever again. Basce City will be hostile to any Alliance member from this day forward if we continue to cover this up the way we’ve been doing. Unfortunately, that will never be up to us unless one of us somehow gets called to sit on the council.”

  “Question for you, Commander.”

  “Commander?” Cilas repeated the title, turning to see what she wanted. “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?”

  Helga stood up from the bunk, having had enough of the chill from the ventilation, hugging herself to rub some warmth into her exposed, sinewy triceps. She kept them there to cover her bosom, which didn’t leave much to the imagination beneath the thin undershirt she had been using as a nightgown. “Are we stuck here or are we allowed to leave at any time?” she asked.

  “Only thing holding us here is our injuries,” Cilas replied, walking over to their stacked-up gear to retrieve a jacket from her backpack. “Once Ray is up and about, which could be as soon as tomorrow, we can leave if we want to. Why? Is there something you wish to do before we depart?”

  Helga took the jacket, thanking him wordlessly, and pulled it on, relishing the feeling of its insulated warmth. She crossed to the sole window and stood to the side, looking down at the city. The clouds obscured much, but she could see the ocean twinkling beneath the sunlight. A fleet of ships, no bigger than specks, were leaving the shores to embark on their journey to what she could only imagine was a distant land. It brought to mind Ina and the crew of the Ursula, somewhere above them, awaiting their return.

  “I would like to return to Fio’s apartment to collect some items. While we’re there we can ask around and get the real version of what went on while we were at Sunveil’s. I feel this could be important to our cause to find out. I don’t trust BasPol or any of Basce City’s officials, for
that matter, and the guard won’t know the type of information necessary to get the Alliance to act.”

  She expected Cilas to inform her that what she suggested was madness, but he remained silent and walked over to take a turn at looking out at the city. “I will be honest,” he said. “Q and I discussed going back while you and Ray were being treated for your injuries, but then he had to go with Anders, so I killed the thought. What he and I aimed to do, though, was much different.”

  “What was the plan?” Helga turned to face him.

  “Get on that dropship brought here by the traitors and pull what we can from the logs, maybe tap into their comms to see who was sending them commands. With Vray gone, there still remains a lot of questions, and the corrupted captain behind all this has managed to slip the Missio-Tral’s squadron.”

  “Of course they did,” Helga quipped sarcastically. “Even the almighty Missio-Tral, solver of all Alliance problems, let slip a lizard agent intent on destroying us from within. Maker forbid something going our way in this whole debacle. For all the spatial superiority the Blood Wraiths love to tout themselves as having, I can’t help but feel a little bit of pleasure at that fumbling this up.”

  “Yeah, well, they don't have our Revenants or Lady Hellgate,” Cilas returned, causing Helga to study his features, wondering if he was being sincere. “We’re already here and technically still cleared for action by the Alliance,” he continued, “so my thought was for us to take the initiative and get back down there to dig some things up.”

  “Sambe,” Helga whispered in agreement. “Knowing Q, what he wanted was to find a few of those rogue Marines and hyper-extend their arms until they spilled everything they knew. That and make them give up their uniforms and weapons, all while begging his forgiveness for violating their oaths.”