His shot caught the rebel who entered squarely in the chest and launched him out again. The three teammates scrambled to the door and decimated the small group of men who had tried to attack them from behind.
When they’d cleared the area, Frog added, “It doesn’t matter. She protects her own. Todd has been her oldest friend. He was there before we even knew she existed. That’s enough for me.”
They returned to the back room to find the battle was over and not a single rebel was left standing or alive. Morgana surveyed the scene and quirked a brow at Lars. Her lips curved into an unrepentant smirk. “Oops.”
Frog snickered, and the team leader glared at him.
“Tell me you got the rest of the prisoners out of the comm center before you blew it up.”
Avery nodded. “Yup. We dragged them out front and left them on the lawn.”
He paused and his face paled. Before Lars could ask what was wrong, he’d raced back to the front of the garage and peered out the door to study the bodies of their attackers. “Oh...”
Lars joined him. He looked at the bodies, then back at Avery. “Oh?”
The man’s face broke into a grin and he gave the team leader a friendly shove. “I’m messing with you, boss. These aren’t them.”
He glared at him. “Go find me a vehicle. I’m not dragging their asses back to the shuttle and inviting another firefight.”
“Oh, no,” Frog snarked from the depths of the garage. “No, we’re gonna drive a truck full of someone’s friends through town. There’s no way someone will find that offensive enough to shoot at you.”
“Go help Avery.”
He complied but sulked as he shouldered past on the way out. “You have no sense of humor.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I find this pretty funny.” Lars turned to where Vishlog and Brenden watched the cats pursue more mice and laughed at their antics. “Go make sure we still have prisoners, Vishlog. You know where you put them.”
They obeyed, and Lars looked for Stephanie.
She stood in the back room and stared at the bodies, the melted weapons, and the slagged vehicle. “There are others,” she said, and the chill in her voice told him Morgana was still in control.
“We’ll hunt them later. These were the ones who eliminated the Navy team, and they’ll never do it again.”
She raised her head and the look on her face made him shiver. “Someone gave them orders.”
He reached out to her, took her arm gently, and guided her out through the garage. “We’ll find them,” he promised.
The roar of engines signaled Frog and Avery’s return. To Lars’s surprise, they’d already picked up Vishlog and Brenden and loaded the captured rebels into the vehicles. He got Stephanie on board the second vehicle as the team loaded the four from the garage into the first. The cats leapt in beside her.
They drove to the shuttle, half expecting to find Johnny in trouble, but the streets remained silent and the shuttle unmolested. He lowered the ramp as they arrived and brought the engines to life.
As they loaded the rebels into the shuttle, people emerged slowly from the buildings around them. Some held weapons, but more as an afterthought than with any intent. Most were empty-handed. Their faces gave nothing away as the team dragged the last man into the cargo bay.
When it was over, Stephanie turned and surveyed the crowd.
“The Federation Navy failed, and they chose to send me instead. You had best pray I never come back again.”
Her gaze settled on the satellite dish and she raised her hands and pulled energy into her. She closed her eyes as it moved quickly through her body and out again where it coalesced around her. Calmly and deliberately, she raised her hands and pushed the energy to release it into the dish in a steady stream.
After a few moments, a very loud crack heralded the resulting explosion and a fireball careened into the sky.
One of the colonists groaned. “Why?”
She looked around at them. “There are those among you who work for an enemy of the Federation. Now, they cannot call for help or vengeance.”
Anger marred her face as she paused for emphasis. “And there are those among you who stood aside while a Navy team was murdered in your midst. You are all complicit in their deaths.”
A ripple of protest worked its way through the crowd. Murmurs of, “We had no choice,” and, “They threatened our families,” rose and were quickly hushed. “I don’t think she cares,” was whispered from the back.
Stephanie whirled toward them and some of the darkness bled from her eyes. “I’ll let the Navy know you have lost communication. Maybe by the time they come to help, you will have learned manners.”
Her frown deepened. “And maybe you’ll make sure nothing happens to their people when they arrive and prove me right for letting you live.”
She pivoted and stalked into the shuttle, her fists clenched at her sides as though she tried not to change her mind.
One of the Dreth curled his lip and muttered, “Bitch!”
The guys nearest him pivoted, but Vishlog reached him first. He took two strides and punched him to double him over and kneed him powerfully him in the head.
When the Dreth wrapped his arms around the warrior’s waist and pulled, the two of them tumbled in a flurry of fists, but the colonist didn’t stand a chance. Vishlog pounded him until he went limp, then stood and stared at those nearest him.
“Justice,” he rumbled, breathing hard, “for the dead, for the perpetrators, and for those who stood aside.”
He said no more but walked back to the ship. The guys closed in behind him, their weapons ready as they withdrew. As soon as they’d closed the hatch behind them and strapped in, Johnny took the shuttle up.
Once they’d cleared the rooftops, Stephanie spoke. “Blast the compound,” she ordered. “If we missed anything, I don’t want it to be used.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he told her and glancing over his shoulder. “Marcus, Frog? You wanna take the guns?”
With a whoop, Frog unstrapped and shifted into the cockpit and into one of the empty seats behind Johnny and Stephanie. Marcus followed more slowly and peered at the panel with a frown. It didn’t take him long to find what he wanted.
“This should about do it,” he said, as Johnny brought the shuttle around.
Frog glanced over. “Oh, man, where’s mine?”
His teammate chuckled. “Right in front of you.”
The man stared at the console for a moment before his face lit up. “Let’s do this thing.”
“That is one hell of a crater,” Johnny remarked a few moments later as they left the atmosphere.
“They needed something to remember us by,” Stephanie told him, her face pale as she watched the pillar of smoke rise in the viewscreen.
Lars came up to stand beside her. “They needed something.”
Stephanie shifted the view to scan the colony below. Part of her wished she could feel sorry, but then she remembered Todd—and the rest of his team—and all pity fled.
No one messed with her family. Period. And no one messed with the worlds she was sworn to protect. She would find whoever was behind the rebels and destroy them all.
The team leader glanced at her and studied the thoughts that flitted across her face. “You did what was right, avenging our protectors and a member of our family.”
Frog interjected from his seat behind them, “I hope your revenge for me will be so monumental they talk about it on Federation Television.”
The shadow of Morgana left her face and she giggled. “I will keep that in mind. But know that none of you are allowed to die for a long time.”
“Back at you,” Lars said with a smile. “Not even a chance.”
“Unless you blow yourself up,” Frog yelled.
She rolled her eyes and twisted to tap him on the head. “If I blow up, you are so coming with me.”
Frog pouted. “I would be so insignificant in that explosion, no one would even know I’d
died. You’d steal my thunder. Everyone would be witch of the Federation this and witch of the Federation that and all boo-hoo over the dead witch they’d forget about the rest of us.”
He paused, obviously thinking it over. “We’ll have to talk about that.”
The team laughed as Johnny set a course for the next rendezvous point. Apparently, the Navy had decided they were important enough to pick up, after all.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Ahead of them, Captain Shale stared at the results of the deep space scan and waited for the shuttle to arrive. She’d been diverted from a routine patrol to collect a group of contractors and she was curious.
Hers was one of the biggest ships in the fleet, and it had been diverted for contractors. Her gaze drifted to the screens, which confirmed that her crew went about their daily routines and monitored a myriad of different missions from all three nations.
The ship served as a mobile Naval base and not only housed clerical and mission-oriented teams, but also a large intelligence section and one of the biggest space-based brigs in the Federation. They were the perfect place for Stephanie and the team to return to and the Navy was impatient to get them aboard.
A blip appeared on the scans, and Johnny’s voice spoke over the comms.
“Washington Revere, this is Shuttle nine-five-two-six requesting permission to land. I repeat, Washington Revere, this is Shuttle nine-five-two-six requesting permission to land.”
“Copy that nine-five-two-six. We have Docking Bay eight-two open and prepped. Proceed to your starboard and follow the lights.”.
Stephanie took the coms. “Washington Revere, this is Stephanie. Be advised we are transporting prisoners for questioning.”
“Understood. Our security teams will stand by for prisoner transfer.” There was a pause. “How many?”
She glanced into the rear of the shuttle. “Ten, all injured.”
“Understood. We will have medical teams on standby. Washington Revere out.”
“Well, that was short and sweet,” she muttered in the silence that followed.
Johnny locked onto the coordinates for the landing bay and the team prepared to disembark.
They were exhausted as none of them had slept on the journey out. The prisoners had woken, and the boys had been kept busy monitoring their injuries and shutting their mouths.
Johnny brought them in smoothly, their ship a little scorched from flying too close to the rebel compound when Frog pressed the launch button one too many times. He set it down in the hangar, powered off, and opened the rear doors.
Vishlog stood, grasped two prisoners by their collars, and hauled them with him. The two cats pushed past to precede him through the doors and down the ramp.
They walked at a sedate pace with their heads high, and their tails swished dramatically. The felines were well aware of the effect they had and had developed quite a fondness for the limelight. The waiting Navy personnel, though, hadn’t expected them and took several hasty steps back as they appeared.
The Dreth appeared on their heels, dragging his prisoners with him. The sailors retreated another step and several security officers raised their weapons to cover him.
Things might have gotten tense if Lars and Stephanie hadn’t appeared. Marcus struggled to catch up. He’d copied the warrior and had a prisoner in each hand, but he didn’t find it anywhere near as easy to move them as his large teammate did.
“Dammit, move aside, Vishlog,” Stephanie snapped, and he flinched when he heard the Morgana in her voice. “I can’t see around your fat ass. I'll stick a sign on your butt that says wide load if you don't move outta the way.”
He sidestepped smartly to let her walk ahead of him. The four prisoners floating behind her came as a surprise, but he recognized them as being the captives she’d brought out of the garage. He fell in behind her as the Navy’s security and medical teams rushed forward to meet her.
She raised her hand and they skidded to a halt. Vishlog didn’t blame them. He’d caught a glimpse of her eyes as she’d passed and they’d gone dark. Morgana had returned and he didn’t know why.
When he’d left, she’d been Stephanie and the Meligornian prisoner had recognized the sigil emblazoned on their uniform patch. He looked at Lars, wanting to know why.
The team leader shook his head as his eyes flicked over the assembled naval personnel. The man’s mouth moved to silently give him one word. Later.
She studied the crew and her dark eyes finally settled on a young woman dressed as a junior captain. With a small gesture of her hand, she floated the four prisoners over to the security team and dropped them to the floor.
The largest one, a Dreth, cried out in pain and lost consciousness. The other three lay on the deck, stunned, before they were hauled to their feet.
“Those are the outpost leaders,” Stephanie said, and her Morgana voice sent chills through those who heard it. “The rest were taken from their control center.”
She watched, her eyes as black as pitch and her face impassive, as her men brought the rest of the prisoners forward and handed them over. Once the exchange was complete, she commanded the junior captain’s attention with a look.
“Take us to coordinates, Right Ascension 101.458, Declination -15.718, Quadrant Alpha-Forty. We will need two pilots and two gunners, and the shuttle needs to be rearmed, refueled, and reloaded.”
The officer blinked. “Captain, did you hear that?”
“I did. The acquisition is authorized. Give her our best.”
The woman returned her focus to Stephanie. “When did you need it by?”
“When do we reach the coordinates?”
“Two days.” The captain’s voice spoke over the intercom.
She nodded. “Thank you.” She turned back to the junior captain. “My team needs to rest.”
At this request, the woman relaxed. Here was something she had prepared for. “Right this way, ma’am.”
Two days later, the Washington Revere stood off a small moon orbiting a much larger planet.
“With some luck, they’ll think we’re here to refuel or take some downtime,” Captain Shale said, as Stephanie stared at the planet in the viewscreen. “Or they’ll think we’re here to explore. We’ve upgraded you from nine-five-two-six into a gunboat carrying some smaller flyers. I take it you’ve done the entry simulations?”
“Once, at a university,” she admitted.
“Then you know how to fly one of the fighters,” the captain said. “I’d like to keep the gunboat out of things in case you need rescue, so there’ll be a small squad of marines riding with you.”
The woman held her hand up when she opened her mouth to protest.
“It’s my boat and my rules. I don’t care if you can breathe vacuum and shit meteors. My boys will tag along in the gunboat in case you need rescue, and only then will they go in. This isn’t a Navy-sanctioned mission, even if it’s in the Navy’s best interests and you’ve agreed to share information.”
Stephanie closed her mouth and nodded. There was no way she would tell this lady that the only information she’d share was the information she thought they should have. No way at all.
When it was clear she had nothing to add, the captain continued. “My boys will pilot the gunboat and run the guns, and they will stand by to haul your asses out of any fires you can’t put out yourselves. Outside of that, you’re on your own.”
The first part of the mission went well, right up to the point that the gunship came within hailing range of the rebel base.
“I don’t think we’re meant to know they’re there,” the pilot told her and showed her how the readings for life and energy had dropped to almost nothing. “They’re buttoned up tighter than a flea’s asshole.”
“That won’t do them any good,” she told him as the scanners beeped an alarm.
“Sir, we have incoming.”
“How many?”
“Two big bogeys and a couple of warm receptions.”
“
Ships and guns,” Lars translated. “We can expect a hot ride in.”
She shrugged. “It won’t make a difference. We’ll launch from here.”
“Make it fast,” the pilot said and swung the gunboat into a sharp turn. “Those boys mean business and this thing was built for comfort, not for speed.”
“Roger that,” the team leader told him and turned to follow Stephanie into the gunboat’s hold.
The marines made a path as the pair rolled past them. Despite the captain’s claim, the gunboat only held one of the little fighters. The other three had followed the gunboat out of the hangar and each carried two team members apiece.
Frog, being the smallest, had been nominated to share Vishlog’s craft and swiftly lost the fight about who would pilot it. Since Lars refused to allow Stephanie to travel alone on the gunboat, he would share her cockpit with Bumblebee, and Zeekat was sitting in on Marcus.
Almost literally, since Brenden was piloting.
“But I’m senior,” the other man had argued, and Brenden had quietly taken his legs out from under him and put him on his backside.
“Then you should at least learn to fight like a girl.”
“Enough,” Stephanie had told them. “Brenden’s flying. Marcus is looking after Zee. He gets one fur singed, and both your asses won’t know what hit them.”
They’d agreed without further argument.
“We have company,” Johnny told them.
“Can we get past them and get in?”
“Not if we don’t want to become little balls of fire when we try to land.”
“Fine,” Stephanie told them. “Take them out.”
“I’ll take the big one,” the gunboat’s pilot told them. “The boys could do with some practice.”
“The big one?” Lars wondered, and the pilot sent him the data on the incoming ships. “Oh. Fine then. Ours is the one at the back.”
“Gotcha boss,” Johnny told him. “Those are Hraden Singers. Front boat is a Mark IV. Back one is Mark II. Navy will need our help.”
The pilot cut in. “Bet you a round we don’t.”
“Two rounds,” he countered, “and we won’t ask your permission to save your butts.”
Witch Of The Federation (Federal Histories Book 2) Page 65