Birthright: Battle for the Confederation- Reprisal Page 33

  From the elevated skybridge, Halley was watching Oren’s apartment, on the ground floor of a four story complex. Following popular Callidorian design philosophy, it boasted a stone and stucco façade. Web commented that he would have rented there.

  Soon enough Oren Noth arrived home, parking his sporty hovercar in the climate-controlled carport attached to the side of his apartment unit. Seconds later, he was inside and making himself at home.

  “Tell me again why we didn’t just wait for him in the living room and then clobber him?” asked Loren.

  “During the time I’ve been watching him,” began Halley, “he’s come home with several other guards from work three times. Once, they arrived an hour after he came home. Since we don’t have time to chart out the pattern, our best bet is to wait to see if he comes home alone, then get in and out as quickly as we can in case his friends come over to play tonight.”

  “So it’s time to go,” stated Web, shouldering a small backpack and tucking his light jacket into place to conceal his shoulder holster.

  “So eager to commence with the mayhem. Maybe that’s why I like you,” replied Halley.

  Halley and Web got out of the hovercar and strolled casually down the street to Oren’s apartment. Together, they looked like any other younger couple out for a walk, dressed in khaki colors and wearing cargo pants that were currently in style. Garrett had joked that it made them look like ship mechanics, but did have to concede the convenience of the clothing. They did a quick comm check, testing out the channel used by the small, transparent patches they wore just behind their ears. While Web carried a tiny keyfob in his pocket that controlled the device, Halley simply controlled it using her nanites. Web, of course, didn’t need to know that…

  They split up at the carport, Halley making for the service door to Oren’s apartment and Web hovering out on the front promenade to cover the front door if Mr. Noth attempted to make a quick exit. Seconds later, he saw Halley slip into the door, and he began counting silently. If he got to ten without receiving her signal, he was going in the front door regardless.

  At the count of seven, he received the three clocks over the comm from Halley signaling all-clear. He touched the small pad on the front door, and it opened willingly for him. Upon walking into the main living area of the loft-style apartment, he found Oren already bound to a chair and gagged.

  “Impressive,” was all Web said. Halley simply smiled and reached into her backpack for a small scanning device into which she would insert Oren’s ID.

  Outside, Loren and Garrett sat in silence and watched as a hovercar pulled onto the parking pad right behind Oren’s. Three human males got out, laughing and having a great time. Loren watched in horror as they approached Oren’s service door and hit the pad which let the resident inside know there were visitors at the door.

  “Watch out,” Loren broadcast in the clear over their frequency. “Three marks are at the service door!”

  Garrett grabbed his customized pressure mask from his small duffel bag and slapped it onto his face. It was a clear, thin piece of polymer that applied pressure and pigment alteration to change his appearance. His face seemed to gain ten pounds, his mouth pulled back a bit, and overall his features sagged just a tad, drastically altering his appearance. His skin tone also lightened noticeably. He wore tight black gloves on the job for several reasons, and as a result the only skin showing was on his face. He grabbed a small but powerful blaster from the holster in the small of his back and jumped out of the hovercar.

  “Drive down to the front of the apartment!” he yelled to Loren. “Be ready to take off if this gets ugly.” Garrett raced down the pedestrian stairs of the skybridge and down the street toward the apartment.

  Halley and Web received the warning just as the back door opened to reveal the three coworkers that Halley had observed. Why they were showing up now was a mystery, but that was the least of their concerns at the present.

  Seeing her gun on the table next to her, the first two raced towards her and knocked the gun out of her hands as she attempted to grab it. The third dashed over a loveseat and into Web’s personal space before he could even set his backpack down. Whatever people said about these guards and their loyalties, they were at the very least well trained.

  The guard opened up on Web with a series of short jabs and strikes, which Web quickly classified as a style of street fighting martial art that he himself knew well. It emphasized quick, brutal attacks meant to incapacitate, and was tailored for fighting in enclosed spaces. Web fended off the series of blows, mostly from fists and elbows, with a couple knees thrown in as well. It was a very effective style, keeping the attacks coming fast and hard. The only real counter was to get in even closer to the attacker, and Web decided on a course of action.

  They exchanged blows, each scoring hits. A blocked jab, a follow up punch to the side, elbow to the chin, spinning around and striking the solar plexus, bringing a knee into the stomach, it all happened too fast to line up effective combinations or plan an attack; each person just reacted to the other.

  Finally Web took his shot, stepping inside a punch and letting the blow glance off the side of his head. He took a jab at the man’s neck, then ducked down and around the man’s side and got a bit behind him. Then he switched fighting styles and wrapped the man up in a choke hold, bringing them both to the ground in a controlled fall that left them on their sides but with the guard’s head locked under Web’s elbow. The man struggled, jabbing his elbow back to try to disengage, but the blows didn’t connect with enough force to work. Seconds later, he lost consciousness, and Web released him.

  He got up, worn out from the brief but savage fight, then realized Halley was most likely fighting two-on-one. He looked over and saw the wreckage of the kitchen.

  Halley had incapacitated one guard, who rested awkwardly over the kitchen table on his stomach. She and the other were battling it out in the kitchen, trading blows in much the same fighting style Web had needed to use. They separated, and he grabbed a knife from a cutting block on the kitchen counter. Halley countered by actually pulling a door clear off the upper cabinets.

  With a wicked smile, she approached the man, who attacked. Web raced to the kitchen threshold but stopped short, not sure where to place himself. They were on the other side of the kitchen island, and he didn’t know which way they were going to move.

  The man held the knife blade extended, and tried a few jabs, which Halley knocked back with the door. Changing grips, he switched his hold on the handle, keeping the blade in towards his wrist, intending to get in close. He feinted, forcing Halley to bring the door up, then blocked with one arm and twisted his body to get in close with the other arm and slash with his knife. Halley brought the door down on his arm, stepped just back out of reach, switched her own grip on the door, and reached in to jab him in the throat with the edge of the door. Unable to breathe and, therefore, fight, he simply stayed in place, doubled over, until Halley finished him off with one last, well placed blow.

  Web stood there, transfixed. Through all the chaos of the situation, all he saw at that moment was Halley, standing over her victim, one long strand of dark hair out of her ponytail and hanging down in her face.

  “In all of time and space, that is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” was all Web could say.

  “Thanks for the compliment,” said Halley, standing upright and tucking the strand of hair behind her ear. “I must be getting old; that shouldn’t have taken me so long.”

  “Now you just tease me.”

  With that, the front door banged open, Garrett tearing through the doorway with blaster leveled. He saw Halley and Web standing there in the midst of the three unconscious and one restrained man, and only chuckled.

  “You two are apparently not in need of my help.”

  “Never mind us, who did you fight to get in here?” asked Web. “Your face is a mess.”

  “Don’t mind me, Web,” replied Garrett, hoping Web would catch on to j
ust go with it and not draw attention to his altered features. Garrett usually dealt with clients face to face, since he would rather people recognize him. But right now, he didn’t need this guard giving the Primans a description of him. That would definitely make work in these parts difficult, and he didn’t feel like relocating to the far side of the galaxy.

  A moment of indecision passed as Web tried to figure out his next statement. “So, shall we introduce ourselves to Mister Noth?”

  “He can simply call me Mr. Garrett.”

  At the mention of his own name, Oren’s eyes snapped up to Garrett and Web, momentarily forgetting about Halley. He was perspiring just a bit, and finally one small drop rolled free of his hairline and dribbled down his forehead, catching on the tip of his nose.

  “Oh, that’s annoying, isn’t it?” asked Web as he approached Oren. With the back of his shirtsleeve, he dabbed the bead of sweat from Oren’s nose.

  “I’m Web, and you don’t even want to know her name,” Web jerked a thumb towards Halley, who was in the kitchen restraining Oren’s unconscious friends. Figuring that the more Oren thought they knew about him, the better, Web continued. “We thought your friends weren’t due over tonight. Celebrating anything special?”

  The look in his eyes was reward enough to Web, and he knew the man was frightened. Hopefully this would be fast.

  Realizing he forgot something, Garrett quickly tapped his keyfob to open up the comm channel to Loren. “Stand by driver, we’re under control for now.”

  Loren only replied with two clicks, and Garrett appreciated the professionalism exhibited by the crew so far. Maybe these people weren’t so bad after all.

  Garrett quickly studied the apartment. It was furnished in a style he appreciated, with real wood furniture, and the apartment itself featured wood trim and real wooden doors, though they appeared to be hollow and not solid. It reminded him a bit of his home, which also used lots of wood and natural materials. Current trends in the Confederation and Talaran Collection were back to the industrial look of metal and glass, but he preferred the more relaxed atmosphere that natural materials provided.

  “So, let’s get right down to it,” Halley started as she entered the room. She had quickly found the guard’s ID while searching the first floor, but needed time for her scanning equipment to do a proper duplication of the data embedded in it. She had planned to make their op appear to be a break-in and stash the ID back where she’d found it when this was all over in the hopes that Oren never realized that was what Halley was really after. Now that Mr. Noth obviously knew she and the others were professionals at something, she would have to improvise a bit, and she decided to try to drill him for information about another project she had run across while trying to hack the Priman computer network. It was no DNA weapon in severity, but it would be a reasonable explanation of why they’d been there.

  “I need you to tell me everything you know about the Priman torpedo system they’re testing in this system.”

  “What?” was Oren’s reply.

  “Torpedoes,” she repeated. “Primans didn’t have them when they arrived, but now I know they’re developing them right here. They’ve test fired a few of them out-system. And I know they’re working on them in the Priman side of the complex you guard. So, I want to know what you know. Specifically, I need to know when they’re going to take one up and fire one again.”

  “I wouldn’t have that kind of information! I just guard the base!”

  Halley was almost inclined to believe him, but his scared demeanor struck her as a bit of an act. He might truly be a panicked nobody, or he could very well have something she could use.

  “You know their transport schedule. You would know when they took the previous torpedoes up into orbit, and you’d recognize a cargo manifest with that project name or codeword again. So, I’ll ask again, very nicely, and if that doesn’t work, one of my associates will try questioning you.”

  “What is this, some sort of good spy/ bad spy thing?”

  His composed reply told her she was on to something and that he was no bottom feeder as far as his job went. She realized she might get some bonus information tonight.

  “Actually,” said Web, “it’s more like bad spy, indifferent spy, and slightly unstable spy.” He pointed to Halley, Garrett, and himself in turn as he spoke.

  “I believe it’s my turn next,” replied Garrett. “I think we can coerce some information out of him without resorting to too much violence.”

  “Or, if you’d prefer a less diplomatic approach,” Web continued, “I could just beat it out of him.”

  “Are you serious?” asked Garrett.

  “Serious as me shoving my blaster all the way up his-” Web was drawing his blaster when Halley put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Whoa there.”

  Web stopped, wondering if he’d read her wrong on what part he was to play.

  “That blaster will make way too much noise.” Halley said. “Try the old fashioned way first.”

  Web grinned and went over to Oren’s chair. Flipping open a small knife, he cut the restraints that held him to the chair and stood him up. He had noticed the wood fixtures and doors just like Garrett had, and decided to make use of them. He punched Oren in the gut hard, and as he doubled over, Web grabbed him by the beltline in front and back and heaved him into and through a closed interior door which opened into a bathroom. The man landed on the floor in a crumpled heap, moaning in pain.

  “Great,” said Halley. “Now I have to go into the other room and drag him back in here.” She mumbled to herself a bit, but Web caught a quick smile she flashed his way.

  Halley dragged him back to the chair and dropped Oren into it again.

  “Okay, Mr. Garrett, your turn. I’m going to go see if any of his friends are conscious yet. If one of them talks, then we don’t need this hump and you two can fight over who gets to finish him off.” She pointed to Oren as she and Web walked into the kitchen.

  Halley spoke to Web in hushed tones once they were clear.

  “My scanner is finished. We have the current ID codes, so we’re done here.”

  “What’s that business about the torpedoes?”

  “Oh, that’s real. I figured we’d distract him with that and maybe do his ID cloning without him ever knowing that’s why we were here. We’ll tie these guys up and stash them somewhere, and by the time anybody notices them, we’ll be in another star system.”

  The guard did finally provide some details on the torpedo and a supposed time when the next one was being taken aloft. After binding and gagging them, they were tied up to fixtures in the bathroom. Halley told them they were going off to verify Oren’s intel, and if it was wrong they were going to come back and start removing pieces of them. Halley figured by the time anybody made sense of her operation, the DNA weapon would be destroyed and she would be working on a new way to cause problems for the Primans.

  Chapter 14

  In orbit above Callidor, a clandestine meeting was taking place onboard one of the many Priman command ships. Representatives Tash and Terir were the lone occupants of a small dining hall that was used only when the Commander was aboard. As Representatives, they were allowed to use the space to meet, but eating was forbidden. Still, it was a private space where they would not be interrupted.

  “So,” Terir began, “I am told your meeting with the Council went well. “Tell me in your own words- I am eager to hear.”

  Tash sat a bit more upright, though he strove to maintain the collected composure he always held up around Terir. He didn’t want to seem too overjoyed at his impending rise in status. It was decidedly un-Priman.

  “You and I both know the Council’s concerns with the Commander and the war effort. What it came down to was my willingness to use the DNA weapon. As soon as I am made Commander, I will personally travel back here to Callidor and outfit my command ship with the weapon.”

  “You may want to reconsider waiting that long,” replied Terir.
“I have wonderful news.” He glanced around conspiratorially, then continued. “I have obtained a small sample of the finalized virus. I carry it with me as insurance against the Commander cancelling the program or some other catastrophe. It must remain our secret.”

  “Agreed,” Tash said without hesitation. “Nobody can know we have this until the moment is right.” Already Tash’s mind was churning, trying to decide on how to craft the right moment. He was eager to see it in use, eager for his rise to Commander. Perhaps the two events would occur as one.

  “I would suggest a plan for its’ use, if you would like to hear it,” stated Terir.

  “Please.”

  Onboard Torino, Captain Spiron was in better spirits despite the mission ahead. Tasked with meeting Avenger at a remote and lonely location deep behind enemy lines, they had moved Senator Dennix and his former Confed Navy partner Enric Shae to temporary quarters aboard a Confederation class cruiser until Torino returned. He was glad to be rid of the distraction of all the traffic and procedure associated with having the lone available elected official of their government aboard.

  Another cause for heartburn was the rumor that the Senator was pushing to resurrect research on some of the heavy weapons Confed had abandoned in decades past. With almost no exceptions, the militaries of the galaxy had generally settled on capping the destructive potential of individual weapons at a certain threshold. The antiship torpedo and large surface bombardment guns were about as much punch as anyone carried. Sure, bigger ships with more guns could be built, but the so-called ‘mega weapons’ didn’t really exist as a tactical problem. Nobody had any planet-killers or black hole-generating devices. The problem was, with technology as homogenous as it was throughout the galaxy, one power might build one today, but sooner or later everybody else would get the technology, too. They’d copy or steal it, and sooner or later it would be used against the first offender, likely by more than one party, because while there was no great unifying power that controlled the galaxy, everybody knew that the playing field needed to remain level, and other armed forces would band together as needed to ensure equilibrium if need be; it had happened more than once in centuries past. It was a galaxy-wide version of Mutually Assured Destruction, and it was deadly business.