Nova (18 page)

The smell of unwashed bodies, urine, vaporous factory
exhalation and intoxicants merged with the frantic flickering of dim, multi–colored
lights from struggling business signs or holo–adverts, and the cries of
dejected panhandlers were a constant murmur.  Here, alongside struggling but honest
poor were also both the typical, petty criminals of a large metropolis, and
also many of the crime lords that stretched their insidious fingertips into all
twelve city levels like wood–rot in a home’s foundation.

Yet it was not to commit a petty crime or to meet with a marked
gangster that the shadowed figure traveled this late night, although it was to meet
one that most in the sector would label as an actor of crimes that the walker
did walk.

After several hours of deliberate wandering, the slim shadow
came upon its destination, a run–down tap house that’s sign
zissed
and
sputtered in the grimy evening air for want of repair. The shape slipped into
the entryway to stand in a small, single–room serving space. Only a few patrons
slumped over in worn steel chairs, two male Braxiens and a creamy–gray furred
female Gorath. Sitting at the pock–marked bar, the shadow ordered a watered
down glass of beer from an emaciated Human male, drained it, then drained a
second and a third.

As the last mug was slammed onto the bar–surface, adding a
new scratch, the shadow made to lurch towards the facilities in the back of the
establishment. The other customers didn’t even glance up at the figure’s
moment, entirely consumed with the serious business of achieving a state of stuporous
intoxication.

Behind the screen of vision, the figure’s lurch disappeared
entirely as the shadow slipped into a doorway to the right of the facilities
and down a crouched hallway to another, smaller space. Entering the backroom, the
figure was greeted by flickering, gray–lit illumination and another person
sitting at a small, roughly scratched round table.

“Report, Operative.”

The voice was quiet yet held an undertone of distinct ease
and command.

The shadow met the stare of the seated person at the table,
also trim in form, yet energetically exuding all the striking power of a serpent.
Emotionlessly, the figure testified, “The transfer has been entirely successful
and though not convicted of High Treason, the Agent has been discredited and
dismissed.”

Several seconds of silence stretched to minutes between the
two in that dingy little backroom, then the commanding tone asked “And why was
the Agent not imprisoned?”

“Impassioned interference from the Human Shield Operative.”

“Ah,” The seated person commented. “Not entirely unexpected
and, in the end, no matter. The damage has been done. The technology is now
ours, seeds of distrust have been sewn within the Quorum and one of the most
powerful opposition players in the Consulate has been shamed.”

Shifting, the seated person leaned forward and then queried
“Your own status?”

“Entirely unquestioned and respected.”

“Excellent.” The seated form replied, voice twined with
approval. “You have done well.”

The standing figure hesitated a moment, and then asked in a
cautious yet hopeful tone, “My reward?”

The seated person laughed a bit at the question. “A reward?
Hmm
…
And what reward would you wish?” The voice was now laced with enjoyment and
muted malice at the slender figure’s question.

And the aching need it represented.

“There is only one reward I shall ever wish for.” The shadow
responded, voice attempting to remain detached and steady, and entirely failing
to do so to the only
too
knowing ears of the seated person.

“Though it is in my power to grant, such a reward is great
indeed, and you ask so quickly after the last time it was bequeathed.”

“It has been six years.” The words were almost lost in
silence, so quietly were they uttered.

“It has been six years…
what
?” The seated form asked,
a predator toying with its prey.

“It has been six years…
Master
.”

With a tumbling, rich laugh, the seated form leaned further
forward and stated “Yes, and you
remember
the term, little one. Come to
me.”

The shadow moved to the seated form and kneeled before it, and
with a brief blue–silver flash against the gray–dark, the head bent in
submission. “
Please
, Master.”

Placing a single, gloved hand gently on the side of the
shadow’s head then to chin and drawing their faces near until they were but a
finger–width apart, the seated form remarked “You
have
done well. Your
request is granted. A shuttle shall take you to an unmarked transportation for
a brief period of drop–off.”

"Thank you, Master.” The now kneeling figure replied,
hearing the joy in those self–spoken words. And
loathing
its reality;
despising the necessity and self for existence.

“Now, before we part, it is time to dine.” The seated form’s
tone held the unmistakable timbre of hunger; hunger and ownership.

Head pulled forward until the short gap between them was
erased into darkness, the kneeling figure again felt the familiar surge of
repugnance, yet to the shadow’s shame, so too did the answering flame of need blaze
in the consuming umber.

CHAPTER 10

The incessant sounds of insects circulating to and fro in
the moisture laden air and the scent of rain–soaked wood and pollen from dozens
of brightly blooming flowers and slick purple pteridophyte plant–life combined
to create a heady, sensory mix. Lying belly–first in the rich, spongy loam of a
rise overlooking the moss–green tajet stone and iron gray durexium constructed
complex below, Avara was struck by how in some ways, the Zirgesh colony world
of Moxar was similar to her own homeworld.

Yet where Kylos was cradled by an endless expanse of bright blue
seas dotted by countless tropical islands, Moxar was a vast scape of never–ending
rainforest. It was a rainforest in which the sunlight from the planet’s two
small suns was an invader to the undeveloped portions of jungle that still laid
claim to significant areas of the world.

Lying motionless, helm retracted so as to utilize her Arca
enhanced sense of hearing, Serros carefully studied the palatial complex’s
occupants as they moved around the grounds of the structure, her sight zoomed
in to capture every detail. Most of the last two months had been spent
investigating and tracking down leads to ascertain and locate the source of the
rather vast nix smuggling ring. The mission had come Nova’s way at the request
of the Zirgesh Collective to the Quorum, which had in turn tasked Captain
Serros with identifying the purveyor and ending the operation. The search for
the spring of the illegal drug trade had been a convoluted affair, leading the
Squad to several worlds that the nix was being distributed to and through at an
alarming rate, not only so on key planets in the Quorum Aligned Systems, but
also to the three directly governed Quorum worlds.

Eventually, investigation into small–time operators and
shipment patterns had led to higher level handlers of various criminal
syndicates, and finally, to the whispered name of the distribution mastermind, “
Vartah
.”
The trail directed to Moxar and surprisingly, the residence of one Iak Risha, a
much respected Zirgesh corporate businessman of the I’sha Caste whose public
business focus was intergalactic finance and investment.

However, Risha’s private endeavors, conducted under the
pseudonym of Vartah, or "Silent Strike" in ancient Zirgesh, differed
greatly from his carefully cultivated public persona.

This man, a member of the highest of the four Zirgesh
Castes, was directly responsible for breaking dozens of local planetary laws as
well as just as many intergalactic strictures. Iak Risha was also guilty of creating
thousands of shattered lives. It was a list that encompassed the multitude of broken
users reduced to complete neurological shutdown or death as a result of overuse
of the drug, as well as countless innocents.

Family, friends, lovers, co–workers, the guy taking public
transport home after a long day’s work only to find he’d been shot for a bit of
cash to support the demands of addiction; Risha was connected to each ruined
person. More, Nova’s investigation had revealed a long list of eclectic criminal
acts that Risha had either directly perpetrated or set into motion, including theft,
arson, destruction of property, bribery, intimidation, piracy, falsification of
records, and of course, murder. Under the false name of Vartah, Risha had perpetrated
all this and more, his influence creeping though legitimate as well as
illegitimate channels to solidify his ever expanding nix–based empire. And all
entirely untraced to the Zirgesh philanthropist.

Until now.

Sensing slight movement, Avara turned her head to see an
unhelmeted K’llan Z’arr, outfitted as she in Nova Squad armor, nod in
expectation.

It was almost time.

Serros raised her left hand, palm flat and up in a “wait”
position. Looking forward to the upcoming action and the resolve of their
mission, she grinned at the Vosaia. Avara watched as Z’arr smiled in response,
her lilac eyes full of anticipation that matched Serros’s own. This being their
third major assignment together, Avara reflected how natural it had become for
her to look towards K’llan in the four months since the Vosaia had joined Nova
Squad.

It was strange, but despite the short duration of their
acquaintance, Avara couldn’t imagine
not
working and living with K’llan
on a day to day basis aboard the
QS Excalibur
. Her presence, including
both physical proximity as well as the ubiquitous, low hum of psychic
connection she felt whenever they interacted, had become a constant to Avara’s every
day existence, welcome and familiar.

Although
, she reminded herself with a typical flare of
self–honesty,
there was another side to the connection
.

Along with the ease and comfort of their link came flashes
of less… passive emotions, for their link also carried undercurrents of
stronger sentiments that neither seemed willing nor able to broach as of yet.

Yet in time, we will
.

The thought flowered with crystalline clarity. Avara was
unsure of what the result of that discussion would be, just as she was irresolute
of what outcome she wished for. So many variables and ramifications swirled
around in her mind at the notion that she realized she was beginning to lose
her center in the present. With a lifetime of hard–earned discipline, she
forced herself to firmly put such considerations to the side and to focus on
the mission.

As if on cue, Lieutenant Commander Diana Adeline’s voice
quietly sounded over the tiny Comm receiver affixed to the inside her ear.
“Captain, all teams are in place and waiting for your green light.”

“Very good, A.” Serros quietly responded. With a slight
adjustment of her Zadex Warlock L5, currently locked into its sniper rifle
configuration, the Shield Operative counted out over the Comm in a measured
tone: “Three… two... one…
execute
!”

With an almost entirely silent
snick
accompanying
each pull of the trigger, Serros fired and in rapid order tagged a first, second,
third, fourth, and fifth Zirgesh guard patrolling the outer grounds of Risha’s
compound. Each fell to the ground as a single bullet spliced through their
small, chitinous forehead plates in a spray of inky blood. With a quick scan,
Avara confirmed that the two–dozen or so other visible targets locked onto by
her Squadmates had been similarly disposed of, then nodded an affirmative to
her partner.

As one, Serros and Z’arr rose from their hidden positions
and blurred forward through the green to reach the eleven foot outer tajet wall
and, trusting in Rygel’s hacking skill to have completely negated security, the
two synchronously leaped over the barrier to land soft–footed onto the spongy
earth beyond. With two more shots from their silenced rifles, the Human and
Vosaia continued forward to the designated entryway, a clear–glass, arched
doorway leading into the building’s interior.

Switching weapons in anticipation of closer quarters, the
two squadmates noiselessly entered the home’s wide hallways that had been
draped in gloom due Rygel’s disabling of the local security and lighting
system. In absolute silence, they swiftly began stalking towards their target’s
office.

Rounding a plush red carpeted corner, the two found
themselves facing a full complement of muscle, eleven well–armed and armored, eight–limbed
Zirgesh guards. Rolling forward in tandem, the two women barely avoided being sprayed
with bullet–fire as they sprang to their feet.

Without pause they exploded into motion, dodging, blocking,
and launching blows with blinding speed and deadly accuracy. So synchronous and
complimentary were their actions that they practically flowed as one. Indeed, Avara
felt as if they were players on stage that had acted out their particular roles
for years, so seamlessly did they read, embrace, and complement one another’s
movements.

After the first three Zirgesh adversaries had been downed, K’llan,
situated directly in front of Avara, ducked her head just as the Shield shifted
her position and cracked–off a blow to the faintly double–heart shaped head of
a Zirgesh guard who’d been about to fire his Sideus pistol at her brow. Serros made
her mark with enough force to literally
snap
the Zirgesh’s reed–like neck.

Even as the now dead hostile was in motion to meet the
floor, Avara tucked her legs under her body into a short vertical jump. The
move allowed K’llan to launch a sweep with her leg, causing the two on–rushing
attackers directly at Avara’s back to crash to the ground, one’s SMG fire biting
stone as it bled off–mark.