Authors: Gun Brooke
Roshan glimpsed a set of three small white stones arranged in a clear triangle, bit the tip of her tongue, and adjusted her speed to exactly 70
uhras
before setting the speed control to automatic. She waited until she passed a tree with a ring of fluorescent green paint on the trunk, then shut her headlights off.
As she slapped a button on the left side of her helmet, the visor switched to night-vision mode. Liquid crystals picked up any residual light in the forest and amplified it until she could see everything in a green shimmer. Roshan gripped the handlebars and tossed her hoverbike to the left, only to repeat the move ten seconds later. Her heart beat fast in a steady rhythm as she listened for any sound of her pursuers.
Seemingly out of nowhere, a hoverbike appeared on her left. Roshan curled her fingers harder around the handles and struggled not to accelerate. She had to drive exactly 70
uhras
and not deviate from her track. Even at this speed, the risk of a crash was great. She’d practiced this strategy numerous times and knew that if she changed anything, she’d collide with one of the massive trunks. She’d based her autopilot settings on these training sessions and prayed the short-range scanner she’d installed a few years ago picked up on debris that might have fallen into her path since her last run.
The five pursuers were probably agents of the Onotharian Empire Clandestine Service, the OECS. She’d had numerous run-ins with them, and this attempt was hopefully just one in a long line of failures on their part.
People shouted behind her, but the hovercraft roared so loudly she couldn’t make out any words. She was surprised that nobody had taken a shot at her, or the bike, yet. A grinding, screeching sound next to her made Roshan snap her head to the left, just in time to watch the OECS agent next to her do a somersault with his hoverbike and twirl headfirst into a large tree trunk. She sped away from the crash site with the sound of the agent’s neck breaking, like a dry hempen
twig echoing in her mind. However, she forgot about it when an explosion from the plasma-charged hoverbike emitted a pressure wave that made her bike wobble.
Roshan noticed the grim fate of their associate didn’t slow down the others. They were approximately thirty seconds behind her, and she had no way of knowing if they wore night-vision eyewear, but it was more than likely. When it came to the Onotharian Empire’s pride, their Clandestine Service, they spared no expense.
They have all the best toys.
Roshan pressed her lips together and breathed evenly through her nose to calm down.
She allowed her body to relax and follow the movements of the bike. Knowing this situation could get ugly fast, Roshan pulled a laser-pulse hand weapon from the front side pocket of the bike. It fit snugly in her hand and magnetically locked into place against the palm of her glove. She still squeezed the weapon hard in her hand, afraid to drop it, and the familiar buzz of the small reactor inside the handle reassured her.
Small branches kept hitting her arms and helmet, beating an uneven tattoo. Roshan saw a glimmering red light blink among her instruments and checked the sensors. Two of her pursuers, riding smaller, sleeker bikes, were closing in on her, and she couldn’t help but be impressed by their breakneck speed. Obviously the Onotharians’ far superior technology made it possible for them to travel safely in the dark at these insane velocities. Thinking quickly, Roshan clenched her weapon and began to shift on the narrow saddle. She knew she took a big risk, but if she didn’t do something, they’d be within firing range in a few seconds.
Gripping the handlebar with her left hand, Roshan turned her torso and raised her right arm. Right behind her the closest Onotharian was a bike’s length away. Roshan’s blood turned to ice as she pressed the sensor and opened fire. The blinding light of the plasma beam cut through the dark forest. The beam had found its mark hitting the OECS agent in the chest, and for an unfathomable moment it looked as if it hadn’t even bothered him.
Suddenly his bike seemed possessed by ganyas from the afterlife. It wildly spiraled upward, only to somersault, throwing its now limp rider high into the air toward her before it lost momentum and landed some distance behind her speeding bike. As far as Roshan could see, he didn’t move at all.
Roshan scanned for the other rider. She spotted him on a parallel course and was ready to fire when another, much larger branch hit her left shoulder. The bike compensated for the rapid change in weight distribution, but still leaned precariously as Roshan fought to regain her balance and control.
The rider, still on a parallel course, but closer now, had his weapon pointed at her, and she knew she’d get only one chance. Roshan fired and blinked against the piercing light of her plasma-pulse charge. She couldn’t make out the contours of the person, but instead she felt her bike jerk, and a new light told her she’d missed and that her enemy now fired at her.
Furious, she cursed, and her anger gave her much-needed strength. She knew she wouldn’t survive another round from the pursuer. Taking aim, she fired again. The Onotharian’s bike exploded and, to Roshan’s surprise, took one more bike with it. The impact of the second explosion thrust her forward, and she had no more strength to hold on.
All she could think of as she whirled through the air was to hang on to her weapon.
*
Andreia stood in the shadows of her building and watched the back entrances. It was almost dawn, and she was bone tired after her long day. The evening’s ordeal at Roshan’s estate made her feel choked, and exposing herself via a personal appearance, no matter how cloaked and daggered, always increased her discomfort.
Roshan had looked unexpectedly weary, though the dark circles under her eyes were barely distinguishable under the skin product intended to hide them. Her white-blond hair had been perfectly coiffed in a way expected of the Commercial Lobby’s leading lady. Andreia found it amazing that, despite the long years gone by, Roshan was still such a striking woman.
The area behind the compound was almost empty, except for a few shuttles docked at the fifth floor. This was probably as good as it would get.
Andreia slid along the wall over to a dark console, then attached the near-invisible filament to her belt. Tapping a sensor on her belt buckle, she felt a jerk as the wire pulled her up. She closed her eyes against the wind and didn’t open them until she reached her floor. Andreia kicked off with her feet and swung over to her door, which opened as soon as her belt buckle neared the secret sensor in the panel.
Inside, Andreia yanked off the hood with a sigh of relief. One more assignment carried out without getting caught. She could only guess what her own people would do to her, the ultimate traitor, if they found out. She had experienced some close calls over the years, but so much rode on her success right now. She was sure the Supreme Constellations would come, and soon. Unless the resistance was prepared, a lot more people would die.
After removing her clothes, she tossed them into the recycling unit, where they entered the buffer memory and converted into energy, ready to be programmed into anything but a covert operations outfit.
The hydro shower felt like pure luxury, and she closed her eyes as the massaging stream of water flowed down her body. It was a delight to feel sweat and grime leave her skin, and after the automatic dispensers distributed shampoo and soap over her head and her body, she massaged them in as if she was rubbing her cloaked persona off.
After the shower, she punched in a command, and the body-dryer did its job within ten seconds. Her hair was curlier than she liked it, and she made a face as she brushed it before braiding it. She suddenly remembered how, on several occasions, Roshan’s soft hands had performed this task. They’d shared a dorm room at the University of Ganath for almost two lunar years. Good friends, bordering on something more, they’d never had the opportunity to explore the possibilities because the occupation tore them apart.
Jin-Jin O’Landha, Roshan’s strong, almost regal mother, had fought the Onotharians valiantly, and it had torn Andreia’s heart out to learn months later of her death. By then, Roshan had already withdrawn from her. Her hatred for all Onotharians had been strong enough to almost touch.
Roshan quit medical school, as did Andreia; her family had pressured her to join the “movement,” their euphemism for the atrocities their race committed, which had left her few options.
As Andreia pulled back the covers and sat on the bed, memories of the last decades flooded her. It had taken her almost a year to join the resistance as a covert informer, and after five, her detailed and accurate intel had paved the way for her to assume command, albeit from a distance and with Ily and Bondar O’Dal as her only confidants. After Bondar was ambushed and killed in action sixteen lunar years ago, Ily alone remained by her side, together with two assistants.
In the meantime, Roshan, who’d lashed out at Andreia so vehemently when the war began, sold out to the Onotharians, an act which Andreia couldn’t understand and never forgave.
We killed your mother, whom you idolized.
As for Roshan’s father…Andreia shuddered. She didn’t want to remember what had happened to Roshan’s father a few years later.
A sound rattled against her dresser across the room, and she flinched. The Class 1 transmitter buzzed repeatedly as Andreia hurried to it, her mind reeling. This couldn’t be good news.
Uncertain if someone was attempting to compromise her identity, Andreia pressed the switch to respond. “Yes.”
Unintelligible sounds came from the transmitter, and at first Andreia thought the voice scrambler was malfunctioning.
“…under attack!”
“Who is this?”
“Paladin to Boyoda. Come in. I ran into an ambush. I am under attack!”
*
Andreia’s mind whirled as she tried to wrap her brain around what Paladin just said.
“Are you injured?”
“Yes. I fell off my bike and lost my firearm. I can’t contact anyone else. Four OECS agents are down, and I can’t see the last one.”
“Do you have
any
weapons to hold off the assailant?”
Static drowned out Paladin’s first words. “…laser-blade, that’s all. Damn!” More noise and a loud thud. “These are my coordinates. Request backup.” The transmitter beeped twice, and a string of numbers showed in the display. “I’ve found an opening to an old yellow-topaz mine. The minerals protect me, but I can’t transmit in there…” More unintelligible words came through the static. “I can play hide and seek with this guy for a while, but with my injury I’m in trouble.”
Andreia thought quickly. She couldn’t transmit anything to the leaders from her private quarters without risking exposure. And they couldn’t afford to lose Paladin or, worse, have her alive in enemy hands, to be interrogated. Andreia knew the OECS’s methods well, and they sickened her.
“Stand by, Paladin.” Andreia decided not to waste any time. Using the map setting on the large view screen in her bedroom, she punched in the coordinates. Paladin was trapped in the dense forest north of Ganath.
“I’m on the move again.” Paladin sounded out of breath. “I hear him behind me, but he’s still on his bike, and as long as I stay low…Your guess is as good as mine. Will you be able to send backup?”
“I’ll take care of this. Don’t engage the enemy unless as a last resort.”
“Affirmative.”
Andreia thought she heard both relief and concern in Paladin’s voice.
“I’ll contact you shortly. Boyoda out.”
As adrenalin sent tremors through her arms and into her hands, Andreia curled her fingers into tight fists for a few seconds to stop her body’s reaction. She had very rarely gone on missions in the field. Usually she delivered the information the resistance needed to operate—and to survive. On the rare occasions she’d been involved with large operations, playing a tactical role, she’d used derma-regenerators and fusers to alter her appearance, but it was still risky. And now, she had no time for high-tech solutions. If they were to succeed in their mission to rescue the captured rebels, she had to extract Paladin.
In a flurry of activity, Andreia made her decision, not allowing herself to consider that this might be the ultimate mistake. Something in Paladin’s garbled voice had struck a chord and spun her into action.
She donned her exercise outfit and a leather-like, black jacket. Grabbing a back-strap security carrier, she opened a hidden compartment under her nightstand and pulled out two small handguns and four plasma-grenades; two ultraviolet lights completed her equipment. She then rushed into the bathroom where she grabbed the small med-kit box just inside the door and put that into the bag as well.
Andreia shouldered the back-strap, and, at the far end of her living room area, she pressed the button for the express-lift and waited, tapping her foot. Inside it a few seconds later, she checked her chronometer and realized dawn would break in less than half an hour. Another reason not to use her filament-wire exit. She would be seen, and if anyone came looking for her, having openly left the building would make her absence seem less suspicious.
She passed security in the lobby and waved, determined to look carefree. “Good morning.” She beamed at the tall, brawny Onotharian by the door. “How are you today? I thought I’d make use of my insomnia and work out. Anyone else in the gym?”
“No, ma’am,” the guard said and stood at attention, looking overwhelmed. “Nobody else has entered.”