By Other Means (10 page)

“What? What is it?”

“The Terran just arrived.”

“Good. Let her kill him.”

“She’s walking right toward him and
talking
,” Sienel hissed.

“What? No! Warn her!”

Sienel started to step out, but he was too late as the Lucian exploded into motion.

*****

Sorilla killed the gravity processes on her CPU, transferring the cycles over to the kinetic and combat analysis software as she calmly walked right at the armed and certainly dangerous alien.

He looked at her, clearly surprised by her action, and that let her close the distance a little more before he could react.

“This is a secure area,” He actually stammered a little, “I have to ask you to leave.”

Gutsy, trying to bluff his way through,
Sorilla noted, her evaluation of him going up a notch.
I’d like to have him in my courses.

She made it three more steps before she spoke, “Ambassadorial security. I need your clearance, please.”

The Lucian had an expression then that she didn’t recognize.

Anger? Frustration?
She wasn’t sure, could have been anything. Maybe he just didn’t believe anyone would be as completely
stupid
as she was being right now.

Then his posture shifted to something she, and her implants,
did
recognize.

When the Lucian attacked, Sorilla was already in motion.

*****

Sienel was already trying to figure out how he was going to explain the death of the Terran in a way that didn’t start the very war he was attempting to forestall when the Lucian lunged. It should have been over then, no one got that close to a Lucian in combat, no one sane at least, and lived to tell of it.

The blade the Lucian carried was their traditional curved weapon, heavy on the point so it could hack through bone with ease. It hissed just audibly as it slid from the hidden scabbard and sung through the air as it carved an arc aimed at the Terran’s skull.

Sienel was shocked when the Terran didn’t blink, didn’t freeze, didn’t even jump back in surprise. She just went down, slipping under the blade, and stepped in even
closer
.

*****

The blade whistled over her head as Sorilla ducked the slash and stepped into the attack, throwing her shoulder into the alien’s before bringing her knee up to his midsection.

SOLCOM had done a fairly extensive study on alien physiologies from captured bodies, many of which Sorilla had personally provided, so she had an idea of their weaker spots. For Lucians, unfortunately, that was something of a relative term.

Her knee stunned him momentarily, but without her armor Sorilla knew she wasn’t a match for the alien in a straight up slugging match. Lucians’ were the only species they’d yet encountered that could go toe to toe with OPCOM armor and have the fight boil down to skill against skill. Compared to that, Sorilla knew she was a toddler tangling with an adult.

Maybe an early teen,
Sorilla grinned as she through both hands into a block against the arm that was bringing the knife back in a reverse stab. She was using leverage against him, denying the Lucian the chance to bring his full strength into play by keeping the fight at sub-point blank range. Everyone had their comfort zones for fighting, most people preferred to keep a distance if possible, but almost
nobody
truly enjoyed tangling with an opponent who was so close you were passing the same breath of air back and forth.

Lucian’s didn’t have a soft spot on what passed for their nose, so she skipped the headbutt she’d normally lead with here, particularly since she wasn’t wearing her helm at the moment. Instead, Sorilla wrapped her elbows around his head, holding his tight, before proceeding to slam one knee strike after another into the still somewhat stunned alien.

It was close in, dirty, and downright dangerous fighting for both sides, but it was effective and before he managed to break free and shove her back, the Lucian was bleeding from the face and clearly favoring his left side while cradling his ribs.

Sorilla hit the ground in a roll, coming back to her feet a couple meters from the alien as he went for his gun.

*****

Sienel waved the Sentinels back as Kriss and the detachment assigned to him came charging up the ramp.

“Quiet, all of you,” He hissed, “I want to watch this.”

Kriss signaled his men to hold and edged around, eyes widening as he spotted the fight. “She’s still fighting, even without her battlesuit? Impressive.”

He’d salved his personal pride with the fact that the human Sentinels used sophisticated battlesuits to augment their capabilities, but now Kriss was wondering if he’d perhaps underestimated them yet again.

It was clear, however, that despite her ferocious assault the Lucian… whom Kriss unfortunately recognized… was only taking light damage overall. The close in brawl ended when the Lucian slipped out of the Terran’s hold and launched her back with a hard throw.

Kriss noted her successful roll to her feet, but decided it was time to end it when her opponent went for his sidearm. He hadn’t been expecting the terran’s reaction, however. She didn’t duck for cover, she didn’t try to either retreat or draw her own weapon, she charged.

*****

Twenty One feet.

Three words passed through Sorilla’s head as she saw the Lucian go for his weapon. Twenty One feet.

It was the range, within which, an unarmed person could close the distance before you could draw your weapon and fire with reasonable accuracy. It was usually used as an example of when a gunman is in potential danger from a knife wielding opponent, but it worked for any melee opponent facing any long range wielder.

Inside twenty one feet, Sorilla knew not to go for her gun. She might out draw her opponent, she might not. What she
knew
she could do, without any question, was close the distance before he could react effectively. And right now, she was less than eight feet away.

The Lucian hadn’t even cleared leather, or whatever his holster was made of, before Sorilla closed the distance between them. She made a slight detour, however, and planted her foot on the wall beside him as she vaulted up, and then kicked back off. The spin added to her snap kick slammed her weighted boot into the Lucian’s wrist as he brought his weapon up, and the alien sidearm went flying away.

Sorilla continued the spin, landing on her off foot and snapping around again to send her boot into the Lucian’s head with enough force to snap her own ankles if they hadn’t been supported by the stiff military boot. There was a crackling sound, like cartilage crushing and being separated from bone, and the Lucian hit the ground with a limp thud.

Her implants instantly dropped from red to yellow as Sorilla stepped back, putting range between herself and the fallen Lucian, and only then drew her sidearm.

“Threat down.” She said in the clear, using Alliance standard, eyes coming up to see two figures approaching from farther down the corridor.

She kept her weapon aimed at her fallen foe, but now trained her implants on the two newcomers as she began looking for signs that the fight was about to resume.

The lead one, she recognized him as the space elf she’d spotted before, half his hands up.

“And put down quite nicely,” He told her, speaking better English than her Alliance Standard she suspected, “Nice job.”

“Who is he?”

Now it was the second one, the Lucian she knew from Hayden, who stepped forward. He did
not
look happy as he glared at the unconscious form on the floor.

“Sentinel drop out,” He growled, “His name is Cora. He almost earned his circlet before murdering a fellow trainee. He is not supposed to be off Luce.”

“Well, I’ll leave that particular investigation to you, Sentinal Kriss.” The Elf shrugged, “Take him into custody.”

Kriss nodded, making a gesture.

Four more Lucians appeared from around the corner, marching over to the slumped form, and calmly dragged him off without a glance at the rest of them.

Kriss looked Sorilla over, eyes narrow, “We have met before, I believe?”

“Doubt it,” Sorilla bluffed, or flat out lied. “Don’t recall leaving many opponents alive in the past.”

Kriss stared at her for a moment, then laughed, “This I believe. Sienel?”

“Go,” The elf said, “I am in no danger here.”

The Lucian Sentinel nodded before he turned and left, leaving Sorilla alone with Sienel.

“You do good work,” He said again, looking idly around as he walked to the overlook and then down on the conference that was still taking place.

Sorilla holstered her weapon and joined him, hands on the rail as she looked down at the assemblage of human and aliens, all still chattering away. She looked down, kicking the alien weapon the Lucian had been assembling over once to examine it. It wasn’t  type she’d seen in the war.

“It’s not Lucian,” Sienel said, “that appears to be Ross manufacture, but it was built for external sale.”

Sorilla grimaced, Ross weapons were ugly in any form. She didn’t want to think about what it would have done to the unarmoured people below.

Finally she spoke, “What’s going on?”

Sienel sighed, or that’s what she took it for at least.

“The Alliance has many factions, most do not want war. Some, however, do.” He admitted, “However, I could ask you the same thing.”

Sorilla glanced at him sharply, “How’s that?”

“You are no security person,” He said lightly, “You are clearly Sentinel. Warrior. Why are you here?”

“I go where I am ordered.”

“Yes, this I believe. Why were you ordered
here
is what I want to know,” He said, his tone a little testy.

“Mine is not to reason why,” She told him blandly, skipping the second part of that line. “or do Alliance people question orders often?”

The Elf looked annoyed for a moment, but settled himself quickly.

“You know that I will be watching you, of course.”

Sorilla shrugged, “I’ve already been watching you.”

Sienel smiled tightly, then tipped his head slightly before stepping back. “I must rejoin my people. I hope that the rest of your duties are not so… exciting as today.”

Sorilla watched him go, slowly shaking her head.

Merchant species my ass,
She thought wryly,
There goes a spook if ever I saw one.

“You better have a good excuse for ignoring me, Major,” Swift growled as the door on the private conference room closed.

They were back on the Mexico, the opening words and negotiations having gone decently well, all things considered. Ruger had called her into the conference room with the Ambassador and Swift as the head of the security detail. Sorilla was only mildly surprised that the admiral hadn’t bothered telling him anything yet.

“A ‘rogue’ Lucian attempted an assassination using a Ross weapon,” She said simply, “I took him out, quietly.”

Swift stared at her blankly for a long moment, but said nothing.

“They tried to kill me?” Miram asked, a little too unemotionally to be good in Sorilla’s opinion.

“Uncertain,” Sorilla admitted.

Now Swift spoke up, “What do you mean, uncertain? Who else would they have targeted?”

“Me, if they know who I am,” Sorilla offered, “I’m probably responsible for the deaths of more Alliance personnel than any other single human, if you don’t count ship to ship combat stats anyway. Or, maybe they were hitting one of their own.”

“Killing the Alliance negotiator or Ambassador
would
throw the whole situation into chaos,” Miram said, slumping a little before she frowned, “but wouldn’t it be better to use one of our weapons?”

Sorilla shrugged, “they could easily claim it was a war trophy. If you think on it, it makes more sense that way, like we’re trying to throw the blame on the Ross.”

“What did local security say?” Ruger asked, curiously.

“The ‘merchant’ we noticed yesterday told me ‘good job’,” Sorilla said dryly. “And, for the record, merchant race my ass, Sir. That one, at least, is a spook.”

“It’s not a bad cover,” Ruger shrugged, “though I worry that he discarded it so easily. We’ll have to watch for others, don’t get fixated on him, Major.”

“Yes Sir.”

“The most important thing is that the local security and, presumably, the officials here aren’t annoyed with the Major’s actions,” Miram said, “Today went well, otherwise, and we’re nicely on track to ratify the truce by tomorrow.”

“that quickly?” Sorilla blinked.

She’s expected it to take weeks, at least.

“The truce was already agreed on,” Miram waved off her surprise, “We’re just going to sign to what both sides already worked out months ago. Next we’ll see about establishing something a little more substantial, perhaps a light trade agreement. Food, raw materials, something neither of us need desperately, but that will go a ways to establishing some history between us.”

“Ah,” Sorilla said, nodding.

That was more along the lines of what she’d expected, no question.

“Did the Alliance agent drop any hints as to who might be behind the attack?” Ruger asked, scowling in thought.

Sorilla shook her head, “no, but if you think about it the list is probably longer than my jump record.”

“She’s not wrong there,” Swift spoke up, “these sorts of things usually have more suspects than principals. Corporations that produce military goods would love an extended war, we see that all the time. They’re top suspects because it only takes one person to set this in motion, so even decent companies can be dragged down. Then you have random politicians who stand to make a fortune if factories in his jurisdiction get new contracts…”

“Let’s not forget someone could be playing the same game we are,” Sorilla added, “If there’s a dissident movement in the Alliance, or any planet looking to declare independence, dragging us into a shooting war would certainly provide them with a distraction.”

“What worries me most,” Ruger said seriously, “Is that it’s not just one faction, we could be looking at any, or all, of the above.”