Girl Gone Nova (3 page)

Her brain needed more to do, so she set it to work estimating the general’s current position, calculating trajectories and blast radius. Seemed a good idea to assess for structural integrity concerns, so she threw that into the mental mix, too.

She had a medical degree in her pocket, but black ops resisted going offline. It was a bit like having multiple personality disorder, but without the forgetting part. No persona ever completely left the building, preferring to jostle for attention inside her head, but if black ops didn’t want to go back in the queue, maybe it shouldn’t. Doc knew to trust her gut.

According to her calculations, General Halliwell had to be somewhere off to her left. Doc started that direction, pausing when a body in her path stirred and muttered something. She crouched next to him, but before she could do more than check his pulse, a change in the air current proved black ops had been wise to stick around. Her IR-free eye met the wounded man’s gaze, a finger to her lips silenced whatever comment he’d planned to make.

Her backup weapon slid into her left hand as she went ghost. Both weapons were already silenced. She knew not to attract attention when she shot someone.

It was easy to locate the source of her unease. They were the only ones upright and moving. The bogeys split into two groups of two, using some kind of hooded light that extinguished any lingering doubt they were a rescue party. The lights passed over each body just long enough for an ID. They were hunting. Didn’t take many of her brain cells to determine two possible targets. Doc decided to go hunting, too. She attached herself to the team heading in the direction that should lead to the general and saw his prone figure when they did.

“Finish him off and let’s get out of here,” one of them, a male, said, looking back over his shoulder. His eyes widened as his gaze connected with hers, his mouth started to move.

Doc’s silenced weapon ended that move. The other found a target dead center of bogey number two. She turned before either body hit the ground. Thanks to her IR, she spotted team two. Didn’t look like they’d found what they were looking for yet.

* * * * *

Hel woke to a world forever changed. Never had anyone, not even the Dusan at the height of their power, been able to strike at the heart of the Gadi home world, let alone within their seat of government. And only one very dangerous woman had come this close to killing him.

Rubble covered his legs, and when he tried to move, more debris tumbled down, surrounding him in a choking cloud of dust that set off a round of painful coughing. He could smell blood, felt it making a warm trail down the side of his face. There was pain, but it was manageable. To be without pain was to be dead.

He needed to free himself. It was not arrogance to think he was the target of this attack. Most plots were aimed at the top. If he were running this operation, he would have backup in place to be sure all targets were eliminated. Bombing was an imprecise assassination tool, but the inevitable chaos could be useful. Mingle assassins with rescuers and no one would know who died when.

As he tried to shift debris off his legs, he scanned for attackers in the shifting shadows caused by the fire and debris dust. Did he see movement? Heading toward him? It was possible they were the front guard of the rescue, but if they were here to help, logic dictated that they stop and help. He eased his energy weapon from its place of concealment. This loosed a small avalanche of debris, and the two figures ceased movement. They were vague shapes, but he felt their tension. He shared their tension. They wished to kill him. He planned to stop them.

Did they know the nature of the man they sought to kill? If so many had not been injured, Hel would have enjoyed this encounter. Though he was, of course, pleased the war was over, he missed the mental stimulation, the plotting and counter-plotting involved in fighting the Dusan war machine. The politics of leadership were not nearly as entertaining. In its own way, however, it was as dangerous or he would not be lying buried in rubble.

He pressed deeper into the shadows as the light began to move again, still heading his direction.

“If he’s under that, we’ll never find him.”

Hel did not recognize the voice. He did recognize what was left of the ceiling reflected in the light that the man held. A portion of it hung crookedly, supported by a pillar—a pillar that looked eager to cease its supportive role. At its base was a large pile of debris.

“If it goes, they won’t find us either.”

Blood trickled down into Hel’s eye, blurring his vision. He rubbed at it as he lifted the weapon and centered the sight on one of the shadows. His aim was not as steady as he would like.

A soft thud, followed by an echo, distracted them. The light turned back along the direction they’d come. Soft moans joined sounds made by debris shifting and the crackle of small fires dotting the area.

“He’s dead. Let’s get out of here.” The holder of the light sounded jumpy and the way the light swung around increased the impression.

“We finish it, then we go.”

Hel shifted his sight line to this voice, the dominant one of the pair. With a soft flick of his thumb, he set the weapon to kill. One did not leave enemies behind, not now, not ever.

He hesitated. The energy flash would blind him, rendering his second shot uncertain, and it would mark his position if he missed the second assassin. Uncertain was not desirable. Fitful light played against the walls, further impeding aim. This would be a good time for a silenced Earth projectile weapon. Since he did not have one, or his usual two weapons, he would improvise. He marked the position of both men. They were moving again.

He considered his options, studying the terrain with care. To approach him, they would need to go around a larger pile of rubble. This would force them to be parallel with each other, instead of side by side. He used the debris to support and steady his weapon, adjusting his sight line to that spot as the two men continued toward the intercept point.

When they moved into his target zone, Hel squeezed the trigger mechanism, not releasing it as was his usual practice. The beam of light shot forward, blinding him, but he could still hear. First came the sound of the beam hitting the first assailant, followed by his stagger back into the second man. Air hissed from the second man’s lungs, caused by that impact. He would instinctively grasp his companion, seek to hold him upright, but death would make the first sag enough for the beam to then strike the second assassin. Hel listened for and heard the small sound of both bodies tumbling to the rubble-strewn floor.

As his vision cleared again, his senses twitched in the almost silence. Was someone watching him?

* * * * *

The light from the energy beam was painful to Doc’s eyes, but the IR eye got the worst of it. She ducked back behind an unstable pillar and yanked it off, cussing in her head. Her timing was good, as transport wash from the
Doolittle
rescue team added more light to the equation. This time black ops went dormant without a fuss. When she could see again, she moved toward the rescuers. Doc felt the mental and physical shift in focus; her body realigned by the time the first search light played over her.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” The voice was brisk and American. “If you are—”

“I’m a medical doctor. If you’ve got a spare emergency kit, I’m ready to assist.”

The young solider hesitated. “Captain Evans—”

“—was at ground zero.” She delivered the information without inflection. She paused a few seconds to let him process this, then continued, “You need to get some engineers dirt side ASAP. The roof is trying to come down over there.” Doc knew how much authority to infuse into her voice and wasn’t surprised when the young man activated his radio.

She looked back to where she’d dropped the bogeys, curious who’d used the ray gun, but the transport wash made it hard to see into the shadows. She suspected she knew who it was, though. The Gadi Leader didn’t seem like the kind to get blown up or assassinated. Too bad they were unlikely to meet. She didn’t like most people, but she might like him.

The soldier turned to someone behind him, requesting the med kit.

“You’ll need transport tags for the wounded Gadi, too.” The Gadi might not like summary transport, but there was no sign of Gadi rescuers yet and it had to be better than dying. Doc didn’t wait to hear him pass this suggestion along, just grabbed her kit and headed for the closest body.

* * * * *

The constant transport wash kept the room almost well lit. Hel could have alerted the rescuers to his presence, but there were others with worse injuries. And it didn’t hurt for his enemies to remain ignorant about his survival until he was less vulnerable. No sign yet of his people in the rescue party. It looked like they were transporting all survivors to the
Doolittle
. Not diplomatic, but Hel felt no desire to protest. His people were getting care. Would he allow himself to be transported? So much depended on where this threat came from. He had many enemies, both in the galaxy and within the council, but not that many had the power and the skill to attack inside their seat of government.

Carig was his most outspoken opponent. And he’d lost a son in the final conflict with the Dusan. He blamed General Halliwell and the expedition for igniting the smoldering conflict to a conflagration. He didn’t like suspecting the man, but facing hard realities went with the position. If Carig had managed to eliminate both him and the General, he’d have been better positioned to promote his agenda. The expedition had a strong position on the outpost, but if the Gadi turned against them, their ejection from the galaxy was inevitable. The Gadi outnumbered them in every way that mattered.

Hel had considered the move himself, many times during the negotiations of the past two years. What his people didn’t know, what they couldn’t know, was that the Garradian Key had gone to Earth. Hel had hoped for a return when Halliwell and the
Doolittle
did, but it seemed their scientists still thought they could figure out the Garradian technology without the Key’s help. The Key was about more than access to the outpost. Miri, the Garradian Key holder, was both a legend and symbol for their people. Many among his people believed the peace would not, could not, last without the Key’s return. If the Gadi ejected the Earth expedition and went to war, they lost all hope for a return.

And there were those in the galaxy who could and would use this to foment further instability in the galaxy for their own gain. Hel could not allow this to happen.

There was a slight chance the attack had not been instigated by his people. He had information of disaffected groups throughout the galaxy. He did not understand it. All had benefited from the defeat of the Dusan. Gadi efforts were focused on restoring order and freedom in the galaxy, not conquest. Unfortunately too many people didn’t know how to function in peaceful times. The Earth delegation had been useful in diverting some of that aggression away from the Gadi, but if it appeared they were close to gaining access to further technology on the Kikk outpost, then he’d have to act—assuming he survived this “rescue.”

Footsteps drew closer, heavy booted ones. The lights this duo carried were larger and brighter than ones carried by the first arrivals to the scene. They played across the main blast area, once again highlighting that part of the ceiling that had collapsed in the area closest to the explosion. They made no effort to approach him, nor did he see any sign of Gadi healers in the rescue party.

The part of the ceiling still supported by the pillar looked more unstable than his last view of it. Debris pressed up against it, including a large sister pillar, trying to bring it down.

“This isn’t good.” The voice was male, with that military inflection so typical of the Earth warriors, a combination of brisk and pragmatic.

Hel was forced to agree with his understatement.

“If that pillar gives way—” the other Earth man stopped.

He didn’t have to continue. It was clear a collapse would trigger a wider collapse of the ceiling—something that would make survival problematic for all those beneath it. He waited to hear the men suggest a general retreat. It was a reasonable choice. Why risk more lives in a dangerous rescue?

“What if you tagged that?” A third light traced the length of the problem pillar. “Transport it somewhere else?”

This voice was
her
voice, but it wasn’t just the unusual and elegant tone that intrigued him, though that did help. He had a weakness for unusual and elegant. She stood in shadow, separate from the two men and her voice, while confident, wasn’t assertive. It reminded him of
jelem
, the inner guide. Earth people called it a conscience, or sometimes, the voice in their heads.

“Can something that big be transported? And where would they put it?” The Earth engineer didn’t look at the woman, just continued to study the problem as if she
were
a voice in his head.

The other man was asking someone at the other end of the radio those same questions.

“Not into space,” she said. “Don’t want to litter an ally’s orbit. See if they can find a large area dirt side, one without life signs or structures.”

And then she turned, as if the problem no longer concerned her, her light playing across the ground. That light started to track his direction when there was yet another interruption.

Two more figures approached, their light falling on her like a blessing. It
was
Morticia. She was covered with blast dust and there were black marks, and streaks that might have been blood, on her face. He couldn’t tell if it was hers. Despite her general disarray, she projected an aura of calm competence, and no hint of that lethal quality that had caught his interest. This woman had many facets to her, like a rare gemstone.

“Corporal?” She lit them up with her light, but avoided hitting them in the eyes. “Is there a problem?”

“She said she wants to help.”

It was one of the female servers. Hel frowned. Why would a server be offering to help?