Was Once a Hero (47 page)

BOOK: Was Once a Hero

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“My Lord, there has been a development that Section Chief Vaughn
believes you should be informed of,” Salmot said.

“Yes?” responded Pard.
Vaughn was an enemy of Antebei, Pard’s current protégé and potential
successor. The rivalry between the two young Fourth Generation Engineereds was
intense and encouraged by Pard, who enjoyed it as other men might enjoy a
horserace. His decision to put such young men in charge of Special Operations
and Internal Security was controversial in Denshi.
All the
better, the assignments maneuvered rivals out of powerful positions. The two
young men were loyal only to Pard and dependent on him for their survival
against the earlier generations of Engineered. There was another reason. Denshi
was devoted to the concept of genetic perfection. Vaughn and Antebei
were
the pinnacle of Engineering, especially Antebei.
Leadership was thrust on them the way it had been on the young scions of royal
families in the Middle Ages.

“You may recall, from Mr. Antebei’s morning report of yesterday, about
the infiltrators in Sector Five. Evidently, according to Mr. Vaughn, they were
not Unionists or Neo-Reformists, but probably Confederate Special Forces.
Unfortunately, the ambush set by Mr. Antebei’s forces did not succeed. They did
not catch them all in the apartment. Three outside detected the ambush. A
rather spectacular firefight ensued, triggered when those inside spotted a
sharpshooter, who then shot one of them. Either intentionally or accidentally,
they set off a large explosion, which brought down a good part of the building,
causing many civilian casualties. The others fought their way out of the ambush
during the explosion, escaping in a police car. One may be wounded.”

Pard sighed, pushing back from his desk. It seemed the world was filled
with amateurs these days. “A stunningly poor performance, wouldn’t you say,
Grigor?”

“Not what one would hope or expect,” Salmot replied diplomatically.

“I imagine there are no documents, or other proof, that these were
Confederate troops?”

“No Sir,” Salmot said. “These were standard humans, attempting to pass
as lower order genetic trash.”

“Do not be so contemptuous of standard humans,” Pard warned. “It is
Antebei’s chief weakness. He underestimates them, hence this failure.”

“Yes, Excellency, I shall remember. There were some Olympians with them.
That’s what Mr. Vaughn wanted you to see. There is a surveillance datum in your
inbasket.”

Pard turned to a computer screen, activating it. The surveillance video
image was barely adequate. It showed three people turning into a storefront.
Then the image sharpened.

She had grown her hair long, in defiance of his preference. Clearly, she
had filled out in figure and muscle mass, as he had envisioned.

Nothing appeared on Pard’s heavy, immobile face, though his belly
muscles tensed, as if in remembrance of pain, as he stared at the image of
Shasti Rainhell.

“Mr. Vaughn thought it important you know,” Salmot said, eyes carefully
on the floor.

“Of course,” Pard said mildly.

Salmot shuddered slightly; the kindly, gentle voice was a warning. Pard
used it when he was at his most furious, a measure of his self-control. Actions
of the most unpleasant sort often followed.

“They fled across the river into either Neo-Reformist or neutral Quest
territory. We could call in any outstanding favors, possibly even with the
Neos.”

“No,” Pard interrupted. “The female is not so important we should go to
such expense. It might also give our enemies, particularly in the Army, the
thought she could be useful to them. The greatest danger is our appearing
worried about this in Parliament or among the Council. Others would seek to pry
into our affairs, looking for advantage. Now is a very bad time for such
inquiries and attention.

“No, this has been too public as it is. Rainhell is famous on other
worlds. If she dies in the public eye, we may face action by offworld
governments. Have the police back off. Assign Vaughn the task of finishing
this. Tell him to use his best people, but to keep this quiet, even in Denshi.
If at all possible, I want Rainhell alive.

“Have all sections dealing with Project Overman double security and
minimize activity. It is unfortunate this occurred at this time. We must be
careful.”

“Finally,” Pard said, turning back to his desk, “send Antebei to me. At
once.”

“Yes, Excellency,” Salmot replied, not envying Antebei that meeting at
all.

*****

Shasti could scarcely believe their luck so far. They escaped the area
of the police attack by cutting across several of the informal borders of
Marathon to an area controlled by a party unfriendly to Pard’s Denshi/ Military
alliance. They were now in territory loyal to the Neo-Reformist party.
Definitions meant nothing. What mattered was that the Neos hated Denshi.
Cooperation in anything Denshi wanted, including searching for them, would be
minimal and grudging. Their best protection lay in the incessant, internecine
political rivalry of the hotpot that was Marathon. Thin armor, but all they had
for now.

After nightfall, Shasti ditched the patrol car in the Ithacan River near
an industrial complex. Most of the workers had gone home hours ago. There was
little traffic in the commercial area after dark.

Jenner tended Rigg with the supplies from the police car’s medkit. The
vehicle proved a lifesaver in more than one respect. In addition to the medkit,
Shasti found a riot gun and some off-duty clothes from the male officer, which
more or less fit Rigg. They ditched Rigg’s blood-soaked clothes. Shasti broke
the riot gun down and stashed parts of it on them.

“Can you walk?” she asked.

He nodded grimly. They headed for a bus station. Mercifully, the
hoverbus came soon, and they boarded it, heading for the poorer section of
town. Jenner and Rainhell sat on either side of Rigg, keeping him upright. They
changed vehicles several times under Jenner’s guidance. When no one was around
to see, Shasti used her extra-human strength to carry the big ASAT. She had
always respected Rigg; that regard increased dramatically as they struggled
toward their goal. Standard humans were fragile, even large ones like Rigg. All
he had going for him was nature’s haphazard design. Shasti’s body, exceptional
even on Olympia, would already be well on its way to repairing the damage done
by the bullet. Her endocrine system would have locally anesthetized it and
pumped in anti-inflammatories. She’d be feeling an endorphin high.

Near midnight they reached the area of the safe house. Rigg’s endurance
finally gave out. They hid him in a darkened alley, propped up with a pistol in
one hand. Shasti flicked to her night-black mode and accompanied Jenner the
rest of the distance. With Jenner watching from a safe vantage, Shasti scaled
the side of the building. Her fingers found purchase where a standard human’s
would not. She entered the fourth story apartment from the roof after crawling
over much of the building like a spider.

*****

Leda Jenner looked around the alley, hoping for Shasti’s quick return.
It took all of her self-control not to imagine Denshi assassins looking at her
from every shadow. Minutes dragged on. “Hurry, Shasti,” she whispered to
herself.

The door to the old apartment building swung open. Leda snapped her
pistol up,
then
relaxed as Shasti, her skin now
restored to its normal ivory white, exited the front door. The big woman made
her way over to Jenner’s position, almost disappearing from sight despite
Leda’s efforts to track her.
God, she’s
part shadow herself,
Leda thought.

“Get into the apartment,” Shasti ordered.

Jenner,
relieved to
get off the street and behind walls, sped up the street and into the building.
A neighbor passed her on the way, but paid no attention to her. Jenner could
have sworn the pounding of her heart was audible to anyone in the area. She
raced up the back stairs and entered the apartment but didn’t turn on the light.
The living room windows faced the street Rainhell and Rigg would have to come
up. She could cover them from here with her pistol.

After a few anxious moments Shasti appeared, her arms intertwined with
Rigg’s, looking for
all the
world like lovers on a stroll.
They disappeared from view as they reached the building. Jenner hurried to the
doorway, holding it open a fraction. The elevator opened. They were there,
Rigg’s head resting on Shasti’s shoulder. Shasti had what she probably thought
was a pleasant smile frozen on her face for anyone who might glance at them.
The effect was perfectly horrible and mercifully short. Shasti, with no
apparent effort, scooped up Rigg and darted inside. Jenner sealed the door
behind them.

Shasti carried Rigg into one of the two bedrooms, gently laying the
unconscious man on the bed. She quickly checked the wound, breaking open the
medkit. Jenner stood in the doorway, ignored, shaking. Now that they had
reached some temporary safety, Jenner’s nerves gave out. She leaned against the
wall, slid down and started crying softly. For years, she’d opposed the
Olympian government. Tiny, inconsequential defiances, even after the
Confederacy recruited her. Now, it was all too real. A dozen had people died in
front of her today. The other members of their team were either dead or already
in interrogation, with all its horrors. She didn’t have time to know the others
well, but they were people, not numbers, to her. From the floor, through a haze
of tears, she looked out the window. A few stars shone already, dotting the
delicate arch of the ice crystal ring overhead. Around some of those stars were
families now lacking sons, a daughter, perhaps a wife. It was horrible.

Shasti finished checking Rigg. Her cold green eyes swept over the older
woman. “Stop that,” she ordered in a frozen, lifeless voice, brooking no
argument, backed by eyes that seemed to feel nothing.

Suddenly afraid of Shasti, Jenner choked off her crying. It occurred to
her, if she wasn’t able to pull her weight, Shasti might deal with the problem
in a final manner. Jenner stood, eyeing the bigger woman warily.

“Be useful,” Shasti said. “Is there food here?”

“There should be,” Jenner replied.

“Hot soups, teas, would be good,” Shasti said, standing. “He is deeply
asleep, but I judge, in no danger of dying. The bullet went through. If a lung
or vital organ were hit, he would already be dead. I shot him full of trank and
antibiotics. When he wakes, he should be hungry. After that, pack some food. I
doubt any of the team survived to be interrogated, but we cannot be certain.
Denshi does not know about this location or they’d be here. Still, we may have
to run. I’ll watch the street from here. You go make something.”

Jenner nodded and scurried for the kitchen.

Shasti Rainhell moved to the window, began assembling the riot gun and
wondered how much longer they would live.