Rebel's Quest (17 page)

Roshan pushed her visor up and blinked hard to clear her eyes of smoke. She flipped open the small screen attached to the cannon and punched in the search for her first target. The built-in sensor rapidly found a shuttle and homed in on its rear. Roshan knew the risk of accidentally killing some of their own people was great, but she wouldn’t allow the shuttles to take off if she could help it.

“All hands!” Roshan called out into her communicator. “Firing first charge!” She punched in the command and hid her face in the crease of her arm when the projectile hit its target. She looked up, but the thick smoke made it impossible to see anything.

“Paladin. A direct hit! Good job.” Jubinor’s voice crackled over the comm system.

“One down, two to go,” Roshan muttered and reset the screen. “All hands! Round two!”

One after another, the small but deadly cannon destroyed the rear end of every shuttle, during which time they took heavy fire.

After she ceased firing, Roshan flipped down her visor, grateful to feel clear oxygen clean out her lungs. She coughed a few times and was about to turn to the young man next to her, wanting to commend him on assisting her, when she felt him jerk, then slump to his side against her.

“Hey, you all right? Timis?” Frantically, Roshan tore her gloves off and felt for the pulse on his neck just below the visor. She thought she could feel faint and rapid pulsations, but wasn’t sure; she was so high on adrenalin since firing the cannon that her fingers trembled against Timis’s clammy, pale skin. When she withdrew her hand, it was covered in blue blood. He’d taken a hit to the side of his neck and was hemorrhaging badly. “Man down! I need help here!” she called out, and got the attention of the woman next to Timis. “He’s been hit. It’s bad.”

“Damn,” the woman cursed. “Gods of Gantharat, not another one.”

“I have to keep the fire off us so you can drag him up the slope. We’re not going to make it otherwise.” Roshan hardened her heart and didn’t let doubt or worry infuse her voice. Routine set in and she fed off it, striving for composure.

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry. I’ve got him,” the woman said. Roshan had gone so far into battle mode that she didn’t have space left in her brain for her team member’s name. Sliding backward, the woman dragged Timis’s listless body with her.

Roshan felt her upper lip curl into a feral grin as she pulled the plasma-pulse rifle from her shoulder and pressed the sensor to turn it on, its hum reassuring. Flipping her visor open with her free hand, she got up on one knee and raised the weapon to her shoulder. She pressed her eye to the sight, where a small screen outlined the individual firing on her team, seeing him through the smoke whereas a humanoid eye couldn’t.

She pressed the release sensor repeatedly, taking out one Onotharian after another. Her hands seemed guided by someone else, someone with perfect aim and no hesitation. Roshan could only pray that most of the Gantharian rebels in the compound were well hidden, and she made a point of shooting only at the people in her sight who were positioned in a firing pose.

“Jubinor to Paladin. Confirming mission accomplished.”

“Affirmative, Jubinor. Keep going. I’ve got you covered. All teams, fall back. Fall back!”

The first rays of the sun were beginning to glimmer between the trees, and soon she and her team would be completely visible. Roshan fired until a hand on her shoulder made her jump.

“Come on, Paladin,” Jubinor said close to her ear. “You’ve destroyed or injured most of them. Let’s get out of here.”

Only then did Roshan notice that hardly any enemy response was coming from the compound.

“Damn,” she whispered and looked up at Jubinor. “If they’re all gone…we can save—”

“No.” Jubinor shook his head emphatically. “We did what we came here for. We destroyed their communication nodes, their transporters, and most of their unit, just like Boyoda told us to do. Let’s go.”

Roshan stumbled on unsteady legs before she found her footing and rushed up the slope with Jubinor, chasing after her team as they hurried back to the hidden hovercraft. Roshan took the driver’s seat in the sixteen-seater one and checked to make sure the rest of her team boarded the seven four-seat ones.

“All set?” she asked the rebels in her hovercraft as she pressed the wheel back against her. “How’s Timis? Is he in a lot of pain?”

“No, ma’am,” the woman tending to the young man said quietly. “He’s not in pain.”

The gentle voice made pain erupt in Roshan’s chest. “He’s dead.” It wasn’t a question, and nobody answered.

*

Roshan fell from, rather than dismounted, her hoverbike and dragged herself up the wide stairs to her mansion—tired, hurting, and feeling utter loss. Since nobody knew Timis’s true identity, all they could do was secretly leave his body at one of the major hospitals in Ganath and hope that his family would look for him there when they realized he was missing. Roshan hated this callous method of returning a young hero to his loved ones, but they had no choice. There could be no records of names and addresses anywhere, in case they were compromised.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Wellter said as he opened the door. “You have a visitor. I showed her into the study.”

“What? Now?” All Roshan wanted was to take a hydro shower and crash on the bed. “Damn, this’ll have to be quick.” She reached deep for a fragment of strength and strode toward her study. Pushing the doors open, she spotted a slumped figure in white coveralls on the couch.

At the sight of Roshan, Andreia sat up, her back ramrod straight. “You’re back! Thank the Gods…” She moved as if to rise, then moaned and slumped against the backrest.

“Andreia?” Roshan could hardly connect the stunningly perfect woman she knew and the pale and dirty creature before her. “What’s happened?” She walked to the couch and knelt before Andreia, reaching for one of her gloved hands.

Andreia yanked it back with a whimper. “I’m sorry. I know it was dangerous to come here.” She cradled her hand with the other, and now Roshan saw the white gloves were bloodstained.

“You’re hurt!” This realization, on top of the rest of the previous night’s events, shook Roshan out of her daze.

“Yes.” Andreia leaned forward with a pained expression on her face. “But that’s nothing.”

“How can it be nothing?” Roshan tried to tell herself she was overreacting, but as she began to peel off Andreia’s left glove, seeing only more and more dried blood, her stomach nearly revolted.

“It gets worse.” Andreia regarded her hand, seemingly indifferent. “I may have blown my cover.”

Andreia stared at Roshan, noticing for the first time the desolation and concern in her eyes.
For me?
Leaning closer, she forgot about her own troubles for a moment.

Roshan pulled her other glove off. “Gods, what have you done?”

“I had to get out of the building…the hard way,” Andreia murmured. She knew she must look terrible. Her hair felt like it was sticking out in all directions, and dirt smudged her arms.

“Tell me.” Roshan spoke curtly, but she was obviously distressed. “What happened last night?”

“I had to break into my father’s office to get the information you needed.” Her tongue felt uncooperative, and Andreia heard herself slur. “That set off the alarm, as my father obviously was at the chairman’s function.”

“How…how could you risk yourself like that?” Roshan looked stricken where she knelt in front of Andreia.

“I had to.” They couldn’t continue to fight for Gantharat’s freedom with so many of the key members of the resistance missing. This was the only way she’d known how to obtain the information. Andreia examined her hands. The throbbing pain made them seem as if they belonged to someone else. “This,” she murmured and held up her hands, “is a small price to pay for the safe return of our people.” She looked up, suddenly alarmed. “Please tell me you were successful.”

“We were. We stopped the Onotharians from transporting our people. For now. It won’t take them long to call for backup transport shuttles. The ones they’d intended to use were new, huge and impressive.”

“The latest model.” Andreia frowned. “I didn’t think it had even been tested yet. They’ve kept everything very close regarding this operation.” She yawned and felt her cheeks warm. “I’m sorry. I’m so tired.”

“We have to start by fixing your hands. I have a derma fuser upstairs. Come on.”

“What if the staff—”

“Wellter will keep them away from us. Nobody knows you’re here but him. He’s supposed to keep it that way.”

“Okay.” Andreia stood on wobbly legs, feeling ridiculous as she balanced in her high-heeled boots.

“Come.” When Roshan put her arm around Andreia’s shoulders, Andreia gasped, stunned by the gentleness of the touch.

Roshan flinched. “Did I hurt you? Are you injured anywhere else?”

“No. No, I’m fine.”

“Really?” Roshan took Andreia’s chin and tipped her head back. “You’re being honest now, right? When we were younger, you never did volunteer information. I remember carrying you home after your new shoes blistered your feet, just because you wouldn’t tell me.”

Andreia knew she was blushing again. She remembered very well how she’d tried to act brave when her feet began to burn, but also how the situation had backfired when she finally couldn’t walk at all. Roshan had scolded her, but also held and comforted her. After she carried Andreia home, she used a home med-kit derma fuser on Andreia’s heels and toes.

“I promise. Just my hands. Sure, my knees sting from crawling so far, but my hands are a mess.”

“You crawled—Wait. You can tell me while we get you sorted out.”

Roshan kept her arm around Andreia as she guided her through the house. It felt so familiar and oddly
right
that Andreia had to remind herself not to feel too comfortable and safe. Roshan and she were on the same side in this political and military conflict, but that was it. They’d mistakenly assumed they were enemies, and while they weren’t, they weren’t friends either.
Or anything more than that…

When they reached a blackwood door at the far end of the upstairs corridor and Roshan pushed it open, Andreia realized they were in her private suite. Blue silk-draped walls held three-dimensional art, and the furniture looked as if it came from a multitude of cultures. Roshan gently nudged Andreia toward a door to the right, and they entered what had to be Roshan’s bedroom.

Andreia was too tired to blush, but felt uneasy. Or was the tingling sensation in her stomach something else? It wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“I have everything we need here. Let me go get the med-kit.”

“Sounds familiar.” Andreia tried to smile, but instead she fumbled for support when Roshan let go, then cried out when she leaned too much on her hand as she grabbed for the bedpost. “Oh—”

“Here. I’m sorry. Come here.” Roshan pulled Andreia close and helped her sit on the bed. “Now, don’t move. I’ll be back in a second.” Andreia felt utterly foolish and suddenly lightheaded.

When Roshan returned with a bag, which folded out into four sections, she took out a small, cylinder-shaped instrument, placed it within reach, and regarded Andreia with soft eyes. “I may have to hurt you a bit when I take off the bandages and the other glove.”

“Just do it.” Andreia knew she sounded weak, but she was a coward when it came to these things. As Roshan began to peel off the remaining glove, Andreia’s hand stung badly, and she groaned despite her best efforts.

“How did it happen?” Roshan asked.

Andreia spoke in a low voice, determined not to moan again, as she related last night’s events. “I sat in the storage room until I heard people moving outside. I had to chance it, so I opened the door and managed to mingle with a large work force that came early this morning to repair the solar cells on the roof. It turned out they had their own machinery and several group badges, so I stole one, merged with the crowd, and used it to leave the building. I had to use the stolen badge because I couldn’t use my fingerprints or biosignature. The guards didn’t look at me twice or double-check my identity.”

Roshan looked up, clearly startled. “But that means—”

“—that I’m officially still there. Kind of.”

“And with no way to get back in to log out as yourself.”

Andreia stared down at the deep slashes along her palms. “Oh. They look awful.”

“Yes. They certainly do.” Roshan reached for the derma fuser. “I’m setting this to cleansing mode first. All right like this?” Holding Andreia’s left hand in hers, Roshan began to move the fuser along the wound. Coagulated blood and dirt disappeared from her skin, absorbed by the recycling part of the fuser and turned into a source of energy, leaving the wound fully visible. “There. Setting it to deep-tissue fuse now.”

The wound began to close from the inside, and the initial tingle became a burning sensation, just below pain. When Roshan glanced at her with concern, Andreia realized she must’ve whimpered.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” Andreia watched Roshan fuse the cut, but was more enthralled with how careful she was, and how her gentle touch sent tremors along her own arm. Roshan reset the derma fuser to fuse and closed the wound, leaving only a faint red line that Andreia knew would pale within a few weeks.