A Cat at Bay Page 30

  Her fingers danced and the heavily modified industrial laser began powering up. Four, three, two she counted down, then watched the power gauges surge as the device sent a stuttered burst of plasma into the shield. Come on, come on.

  “Cat One, breach open. Repeat, breach open. Report to the gate,” Khan ordered. She yanked her headset off and was out the trailer door before he released the frequency. Two soldiers fell in behind her as she ducked and wove through the darkness to where the attackers were already trotting through the expanding hole in the defensive shield. She joined Lt. Nielsen and turned on her helmet radio system. “Justice One, Raider One has join up with the Cats,” she heard the squad leader report.

  “Roger and Godspeed. Justice One clear.”

  As planned, one of the strongest troopers tossed her onto the hull of the merchant vessel and Rachel clambered over the gently sloping metal. Her hands found the emergency hatch and she reached back into her memory for all the drills she had done so many years ago, then entered the opening code. It remained unchanged, and the heavy metal panel dropped into the ship with a loud clang! As soon as it started to fall, she rolled to the side and made a semi-controlled descent. “Raider One, Cat One away. Good hunting.”

  “Cat One, acknowledged. Raider One clear.” She heard boots and other things moving up the ship’s hull.

  Rachel took a second to draw her pistol before she started running, dropping her shields and yelling “Come and get me you Debt-laden contract breakers!” in Trader at the top of her lungs and her mind-voice. Her job for the next few minutes was very simple: be bait. She heard footsteps behind her and slowed just enough to let her escort catch up, then accelerated again and ducked through some underbrush, taking the long route to the secure perimeter and the command trailer. After a moment she heard sounds of pursuit and something spread across her face that was not a smile. As much as she would have loved to turn and take her revenge, Khan’s orders had been clear: draw them into the army’s field of fire. “Do not engage unless forced to.”

  The trio slipped through the army line without any difficulty and it didn’t take a telepath to know what Sgts. Straslund and Torres were thinking. “Herd of elephants, Cat Two?” Rachel asked once they’d slowed up and she’d caught her breath.

  Even with his night kit masking half his face she could read his disdain. “Hope it’s not a learning experience for them.”

  Instead of returning to the command post, the “bait” stopped in the deep shadow of some trees and waited to see what happened next. They could hear shots as the first of their tail came within range of the Regulars and after a moment Rachel holstered her weapon. The sounds of killing faded and she took the opportunity to flip to the command frequency and listen in.

  The situation wasn’t good, judging by the calls for medics. Rachel wanted, dearly wanted, to be out there but she’d just be a shot magnet. Damn it! “I hate waiting,” she muttered under her breath. Then she dropped to the ground as a blaster bolt hissed over her head, blowing out part of the tree trunk.

  Someone else had gotten past the perimeter guards. Rachel rolled under cover and drew her own weapon, setting it to full power as her escort returned fire. Right you gold-sucking whoresons, you’re on my ground. Berks. Dead berks. Because I play for keeps now.

  Time for plan B. Rachel was supposed to run for cover while the sergeants delayed the attackers. Instead, Rachel crept forward through the brush and then eased off to the side, staying clear of the lines of fire. She identified her first target, a tough who was fixated on the two humans. She sighted and fired, then got to her feet and trotted off at an angle away from the lines, picking off another of da Kavalle’s hired guns as she went. Yells and thuds marked where the GDF riflemen’s targets had been. But there was someone else out here, someone she could smell, a da Kavalle trademaster. She darted back toward the soldiers, switching gun hands and drawing her secondary weapon.

  He had anticipated her reversal and was waiting for her behind one of the big oaks not that far from Torres and Straslund. He had not anticipated that she would have more than a blaster in her arsenal, but still managed to block her blade with an armored forearm. Rachel dropped into a fighter’s crouch, eye locked on her opponent. His disgust for her was plain. “Not going to accept justice are you, impure bastard?”

  “Not your idea of it, you miscounted abortion.” Her insult struck home and he hesitated a split second too long. She ducked to the side and forward, skewering him through a gap in his body armor before falling out of the way as rifle bullets slammed into his back. “Amateur,” Rachel spat, then used his jumpsuit leg to clean her knife blade before turning on her heel and stalking towards the command trailer. “You all right?” she asked the men.

  “Yes ma’am. You?”

  “A little sore but not bad.”

  After a few more meters, Straslund coughed, “You shoot pretty well for an officer, ma’am.”

  “Thank you Cat Two. I think,” and she turned to let him see that she was smiling. Then she stumbled and sighed, “And I believe our little stroll is about to catch up with me.” Rachel made it no farther than the steps of the command trailer before the last of the adrenaline wore off. Right, I’m just going to stay here for a while. She leaned forward, pillowed her head on her arms and closed her eyes for a moment as the men went on guard.

  She was snoring quietly ten minutes later when Monroe came out and almost tripped over her. “She’s asleep on the steps, Dragon One. Should I wake her?”

  A pause then “Negative. Let her rest.” Inside the trailer, Joschka listened to the reports coming in from the men and women in the ship and nodded. To his surprise, the plan had not only survived contact with the enemy, but was going as hoped. Truly, miracles still take place. After a few minutes, he took off his headset and stepped outside to stretch and get some fresh air. He looked down at the napping woman before walking a few meters off to the side of the trailer. The silver sliver of the last quarter moon hung east of the zenith, and he glanced at his chronometer: 0115.

  Rachel had woken up and gone in by the time he returned to the trailer, and he stopped to thank and dismiss her two escorts. Straslund hesitated and Torres said, “Ah, not to disobey, sir, but the colonel was pretty emphatic about our staying with Cat One until this was over.”

  “Yes Sergeant, he was. And I’m going to take over from here.” He unfastened the holster flap covering the loaded pistol at his side.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you sir,” Torres said, saluting before he and Straslund went to rejoin the Regiment’s other soldiers on the perimeter. Not that Joschka anticipated having to grant his advisor’s request, not anymore.

  Victory came with sunrise. I almost can’t believe it, Rahoul thought. We got in and through faster than they could react to. And we only had two fatalities and fifteen injuries. Although RSM Chan’s going to be out for the near future, damn it. He could not believe that Rachel shared any genetic material with the alien bastards. And he marveled that the Traders really hadn’t believed that the humans had been serious about attacking, thanks be. All in all, it had gone as well as they could have hoped and a hell of a lot better than he’d feared. Rahoul walked back to the command trailer and found Rachel outside, watching the morning star fade away.

  Might as well tell her now, he decided. “I’ve some bad news, I’m afraid.”

  Before he could continue Rachel sighed, “I know sir. I knew when the link collapsed as we were driving here. But thank you.” Before he could say anything more or correct her, she turned and opened the trailer door. “The Graf-General is waiting for you, sir. Vienna and London want your preliminary report as soon as possible.”

  “Very well. We need to talk about this, but later. Get me your initial report by 1300.” He didn’t like the shadow that seemed to have gathered around his advisor, but there were other things that came first.

  “Wilco, sir.”

  Later that day Joschka and the surviving staff officers met for an informal
debriefing and a review of the orders from Vienna and London. They gathered outdoors, away from the empty chairs in the staff briefing room. As Khan, Monroe, and the others gave their accounts and discussed things, Rachel remained quiet. Her report was concise to the point of being clipped and although she answered when spoken to, Rahoul and the others saw few other signs of life from her.

  I do not like this. Rada is too quiet. What does Rahoul think? Joschka tried to mind-call Rahoul Khan before he remembered that only Rachel could do that, since Rahoul’s talent connected to animal minds, not human ones. The conference finished just after sundown and Rachel excused herself, “to go move some plants in the greenhouse.” As she vanished into the darkness, Rahoul came up beside Joschka. “Does she seem overly quiet and polite to you?” Joschka asked, smoothing his beard.

  “Yes, sir. Even for the post-combat Rachel she’s terribly—I guess I’d say, shadowed. And I’m not sure she should be wandering off alone just now,” Khan said, starting after her, Joschka close behind.

  Rachel had hung her head and closed her good eye as Rahoul reported the results of the past four days. Sweet Jesus, why? Jones, John Marsh, Lts. Scott and Garcia, two sergeants and a corporal were all dead and the RSM remained in serious but stable condition. All of them gone because of me, she wailed. Despair slammed down on her and she turned away from the others, walking farther into the garden. It would have been better if she had died on the da Kavalle—most of the humans and one other would still be alive. Blessed Lord, why? She begged again. I’m not worth it—my life is not worth this price. She reached down, removing the bone-hilted knife from its pocket in her boot.

  Rachel walked as far as the bench near the big tree at the end of the rose garden, turning the honor blade over and over in her hands. There she stopped. Rada Ni Drako, Rakoji da Kavalle, looked up at the clear autumn night sky. Then she knelt, drawing the knife and laying the sheath on the stone bench. I can’t go on with this Debt on my soul. I’ve taken too many lives to go any farther. It ends here and now. Almighty God, Father, Judge of all men and Lord of creation, forgive me for what I am about to do, but this ends here. Be with my comrades, please Lord. She bowed her head. I’m so sorry, she thought toward the starry sky. Rachel gripped the bone hilt with both hands and drove the knife into her heart.

  “No!” Rough hands hauled her backwards, forcing her to drop the blade before it could pierce more than her skin. Joschka pulled her to her feet, holding her wrists with all his considerable strength. “No. Do not take that road, don’t even think about it!”

  She shook her head, wanting to sob but unable. “I’ve caused so many deaths, my lord general. Let me pay the toll and clear the debt, please, my lord, please.”

  Rahoul, standing behind her, wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides.

  Joschka released his grip on her wrists and put his hands under her jaw. “Listen to me.” She fought him but the Half-dragon forced her head up, making her look into his molten red-gold eyes. “You have nothing to do with this evil. The Elders’ Council absolutely, tarqi da Kavalle absolutely, Evelyn Jones a little. You’ve tried to stay clear, to protect your friends and fellow soldiers from these creatures’ folly for as long as I’ve known you, Rada. Isn’t that true?” She tried to break eye contact but he held her too tightly. “Answer me. Isn’t that true?”

  A very faint whisper: “Yes.”

  Joschka grabbed her arms and shook her as Rahoul let go. “It does stop here, but not that way. Never that way. Swear to me, Rada. Swear to us.”

  He watched her turn her head away in denial, then caught her weight, breaking her fall as she collapsed. “I’m, I’m,” and she said something incomprehensible.

  “Swear to us, Rakoj—”

  “No! Never that name, never again! Rakoji da Kavalle is dead!” Rachel took a ragged breath, then another, eye streaming tears. “She died under the torturers’ blades two days ago.”

  “Then Commander Rachel Na Gael Ni Drako has everything to live for,” Rahoul said, crouching beside her. “Doesn’t she?”

  After a long silence she nodded. The men strained to hear what came next. “I will not take my own life. By my honor, this I swear.”

  The two men helped her to her feet and guided her back to the headquarters building. “There’s another report you need to hear, Commander.” Khan said, forestalling any objections. “First things first, however.” He opened the door for the Graf-General and the ghost-pale Wanderer. “Dr. McGregor needs your help with one of the injured. He says you are more familiar with treating this patient’s type of injuries than he is.”

  She sighed and straightened her shoulders. “Must be a nervous system problem or something of that sort.” The men could see a bit of the blackness surrounding their friend fall away as she mustered her strength for the task at hand. Joschka crossed his fingers. Lord, please may this work.

  They opened the door to the infirmary and let her go first, then closed it behind her. Joschka started counting under his breath. At two they heard a shriek of pure joy and smiled. “How did you manage to persuade your medical officer to accept a True-dragon as a patient?” Joschka inquired mildly.

  “By pointing out that if he didn’t, sir, he’d probably lose his best paramedic. McGregor has a very healthy sense of self-interest. And do you want me to give this back to her?” Khan held out the sheathed honor blade.

  Joschka ran a finger down the carvings on the knife. “Yes, but not until after the memorial service.”

  “Agreed, sir.” Khan pushed the door open for his superior. “By the by, sir, have you ever heard her make a noise like that last one?”

  “No, but then I’ve only known her for a hundred-fifty years or so. And that stays here, Colonel, unless you want to be reassigned to a tour as my personal aide.” The HalfDragon bared his fangs as Khan shook his head.

  “Ah, there you are Miss Ni Drako,” Master Thomas said, looking up from the display floating beside his desk. “And what news do you bring me?” She’d cut her hair as short as when she’d been a regular soldier, he noted. How odd.

  Rada took two steps toward him and stopped, leaning against the chair in front of the beautifully carved desk. The Wanderer took a deep breath and then another. “Good morning, sir. They finally caught me, the Traders—that is my news.”

  “But you are alive,” he observed, black eyes curious as he waited for her to explain.

  She nodded, still not taking her seat. “I am alive because two human soldiers risked their lives to save mine and because two more soldiers refused to let me die. But I am not yet fully well, sir. Please forgive me if the tale comes with difficulty. And I cannot sit in a chair such as this one just yet.”

  His eyes narrowed and he sat back, steepling his hooved digits. “Tell me,” he ordered. She only got as far as her initial rescue before he stopped her. “Enough, Miss Ni Drako. You need medical attention, do you not?”

  After three centuries of working with her, her denial did not surprise him. “No, thank you sir. My ship took care of the worst injuries and the rest are healing with time.”

  He highly doubted her self-appraisal. Oh, her ship’s nanotechnology had no doubt healed the worst of the injuries as best it could, but in some ways he knew her body and mind better than she did, and the equine being suspected that the medical equipment had not cured all of Miss Ni Drako’s problems. He did not say any of those things, however. Instead he stood up and offered her his arm. She took it and he led her out of his office, to the study. She moved slowly and stiffly, confirming his suspicions about her injuries.

  “You need tea,” he informed his protégé. She didn’t argue. In an instant, hot water simmered in the “kettle,” and he poured it over a pot of leaves. “Please bring me Oktab’s book on trauma, Miss Ni Drako. I want to refresh my memory.” She dutifully turned to fetch the desired volume, and as she did he added three drops of sedative to her cup. Miss Ni Drako searched for a minute or two before finding the correct book and
she carried the valuable tome carefully, setting it on the small table beside her mentor’s chair, well away from the tea things. He took his usual place and she poured the tisane, adding a little sweetener as he preferred before serving him. He drank, then turned pages, keeping one eye on her as he did. “Hmmm, it was an obscure reference she used,” he thought aloud. “Here,” and he tapped the page. “She describes unusual forms of tertiary trauma following nanotechnological medical applications in mammals, if you recall. Come read.” He put the book on the table and picked up his cup again.

  Rada set down her tea after two more swallows and started walking over to read the page. She stopped in mid-stride, her eye widening as she raised a hand to her throat. Terrible pressure squeezed her chest—she couldn’t breathe or feel her hands and feet! She looked to her mentor. He’s executing me for breaking my pledge—for not dying before they raped me. Her battered mind could devise no other explanation and Rada stared at him as the equine lunged out of his chair, catching her and lowering her to the floor.

  «But I fought as best I could, Master Thomas,» she protested as her vision clouded over and darkness swallowed her. «I tried, I. . .»

  Her eye rolled into her head and he frowned as her pulse slowed far below where it should have gone, then stopped completely.

  “Lucien, get my airway and cardiac kit now!” he called, starting chest compressions to keep her blood flowing. He’d misjudged her sensitivity to narcotics and he cursed himself for not thinking more carefully. He wanted her unconscious so that the examination would not cause her more mental trauma. He most certainly did not want her dead.

  Master Thomas shut the door and walked quietly over to the side of the bed. Instead of taking her to her usual chamber, his servants had brought her here, so as to be closer to the consulting room and surgical suite. Thirty-six hours had passed since her collapse, and she should be waking soon. He studied his protégé, considering her situation and the potential medical complications arising from her injuries. Matters would have been much simpler had she not possessed such fascinating genetics and metabolic processes, he mused.