Roark (Women Of Earth Book 1) (19 page)

Mason nodded his agreement. “I get it. So, why do you think they can’t get this xoralinium stuff? They’ve managed to get everything else.”

“Xoralinium is an alloy made from an extremely rare metal formed when meteors pass through a planet’s atmosphere. Conditions must be perfect for its creation. The chemical process for extraction is costly and dangerous,” Vochem explained.

Roark nodded his agreement. “The mines are closely guarded and all off world traffic is strictly regulated. I know. My brother owns one and I wish I had his defenses. They’d have to have found an alternative to xoralinium.”

“Or a new source,” Mason mused. “So, your brother’s pretty rich, I guess.”

“He is,” Roark answered without enthusiasm.

Mason grinned. “So where can I find more information on this xoralinium shit?”

“We have an extensive library. Why?”

“Always looking for new opportunities,” Mason grinned.

Roark’s comlink buzzed with Harm’s call sign. “Excuse me. I have to get this.”

Chapter 21

She thought she was prepared. She thought she could be brave. Mira was neither. To see her brother laying curled on his side with Ahnyis bending over him was more than she could bear.

“Davey, oh Davey.” Her cry was a choked wail of sorrow.

Ahnyis looked up at the broken sound.

“He lives,” she whispered, but her face betrayed her doubt that it would last for long. Her words were for David and not for his sister. “They didn’t have time to finish their mission. I’ve called the hospital and instructed them to prepare an operating theater. Medics are on their way from Patient Transport.” She turned back to her task.

“Meemee.”

Meemee and Weewee. The names from David’s babyhood had always made them laugh. He hated when they reminded him of his inability to say his sisters’ names. That he would use it now frightened her more than Ahnyis’s unspoken prognosis. Davey knew he was dying. Mira slid to her knees beside his head.

“I’m here, Davey. Meemee’s here.”

His face was a battered mess of blood and contusions. His arm lay at an odd angle and blood poured from the wound at his side. He tried to speak again through lips that were already swollen and deformed.

“No, Davey, don’t.” Mira stroked his hair from his forehead

“They wanted to know how much I knew,” he whispered so softly Mira had to hold her ear near his mouth to hear. “I didn’t know ... blow the towers... like that... people were inside... wanted them to die... Roark look bad... tried to stop it. Tried.”

“Don’t, Davey, don’t do this,” she said, unable to stop the tears. “Everything will be all right,” she lied because Davey mustn’t be afraid. “Meemee will take care of it.”

“Meemee always does.” David’s battered face molded into a grotesque grimace when he tried to smile.

He struggled to release the arm pinned beneath his body. Ahnyis helped her bring the boy to his back and when she nodded her approval, Mira lifted his head to her lap. His good arm, now free, crossed his body to pat the hand that held his cheek. He was offering comfort to her!

“Wanted to show you I could, too. If I could find the kids...” His breath gave out and it was another moment before he could speak. “Sorry... had to show I could be trusted... was watched. Sorry... love you.”

Mira’s breath caught, too, though for a different reason. She remembered the argument outside the Buzz. David was so loud in his anger. The good night, Davey that was called as they entered the building should have told her they were being watched. She’d been too angry to pay attention.

The way he’d acted while the smartass, Bret, was in the house, his pleading look when he left. She should have known. She could have helped. She could have stopped it.

“Stop it, Davey, please. I’m sorry, too. It’s over.”

His breath faltered. A faint line of blue formed around his lips.

“I need those medics. I have wounded,” Ahnyis shouted into her comlink. She glanced at Harm who was attending to the two guards.

“One gone. The other’s hanging on,” he announced with little emotion.

“I’ll be back,” Ahnyis called to them both as she ran from the room.

Davey clutched at Mira’s shirt, pulling her closer. “Think you know. Can’t get you. Help.”

His breath was coming in labored pants. His eyes closed, then fluttered open.

“Help is on the way, Davey. Hang on. Oh please, please, hang on.”

“Go...Wee...kids.” A long pause and then, “Danger.”

David’s hand fell away from her shirt. A tear slipped from the corner of one eye before they both closed. His chest heaved once with a gentle gasp of last breath.

Ahnyis shoved her so forcefully, Mira fell to the side. She scrambled out of the way as the healer began working a tube down Davey’s throat. A small red box whirred by his head.

Horrified, Mira backed from the room, gnawing the knuckle of the shaking hand she held to her mouth.

At her feet lay the dead guard’s weapon. Without thinking, she bent and picked it up. It was an odd shape, similar to a handgun with a grip that fit snuggly in the palm and a short, bulbous barrel. There was no trigger, but two prominent buttons stood out where the trigger should be. One glowed a bright blue and she felt a faint vibration of the weapon in her hand.

“Mira, don’t do anything until Roark gets here. He’s on his way.” Harm stood in the hall, his hand held out, asking for the weapon.

Until that moment, Mira’s mind had been an open highway where thoughts were passing to and fro without stopping to rest. With the Prime’s words, the mindless traffic stopped. Think you know. Can’t get you. Wee, kids, danger. She’d failed David. She wouldn’t fail Wynne.

“My sister. The kids. I have to go,” she said, backing away from Harm and toward the door.

“I can’t let you do that,” Harm told her.

He took a step forward. Mira raised the weapon.

“And I can’t let you stop me.” She aimed the pointed black nozzle at the end of the barrel toward the Prime. “I won’t kill you, but I’ll shoot you. They can give you a new leg like Mohawk. It’ll hurt like a son of a bitch for little while, but then you’ll be right as rain.”

Harm didn’t move. “Your family is fine. I’ll call Mohawk. He’ll tell you so.” Slowly he raised his hand to the comlink attached to his shoulder. Dead silence replied.

Mira didn’t wait for excuses or explanations. She ran. She sped across the compound toward the gate. If the guards tried to stop her, she’d shoot them, too. Her thoughts went no further than Mohawk’s lack of response. Her sister and the children needed her and she was going.

A skitt whizzed by her and came to a halt a few feet ahead.

“Get in,” Harm called.

Weapon held ready, Mira stood her ground. “I’m going and neither you nor Roark will stop me.”

“That’s what I told Roark. He’ll have to catch up. Get in. It’s too far to walk.”

Mira got in, but she didn’t lower the weapon. When the blue light when out, she pressed the button again and the weapon recharged.

Speeding through the gates, Harm nodded at the pistol. “You do realize that if you shot me at the speed we’re moving, you’d kill us both, right?”

“I’ll take my chances. As long as you keep going, neither of us have to worry about it.”

The small crowd that had gathered around the building parted at their arrival. Some called out to her in concern, but only a few of the words penetrated Mira’s single minded brain.

“Helmetheads.”

“Shots fired.”

She felt the rush of air as another hovercraft moved in and heard Roark angrily shout her name.

Mira ignored it just as she ignored Harm’s shout of caution. She charged into the building. Rounding the first floor landing, she met a uniformed Godan soldier dragging a struggling Dorrie down the stairs.

“Let her go!” Mira shouted, raising her weapon.

The soldier looked up with a startled, “Fuck.” He spun to face Mira using Dorrie as a shield. At the same time, his free hand came up. It held an ordinary hand gun aimed at Mira’s head.

Dorrie screamed, “No!”

There was an ear piercing whine, a pencil thin streak of light, and the soldier screamed, too. The gun went flying, along with a portion of the hand that held it.

Released and off balanced, Dorrie fell into Mira who caught her and rolled against the wall. She could hear the panicked voices of the others as they were herded back up the stairs.

There was another loud, high pitched hum of air and the soldier’s sneakered foot exploded.

“Take her to safety,” Harm ordered as he flew past them up the stairs.

“How many more?” Mira asked Dorrie with no intention of following Harm’s command.

“Three. They shot Mohawk and Matias.”

“Go.” Mira pointed the sobbing teen in the direction she needed to go. “Wait for the others.”

The door to the apartment was open. Harm was in a standoff with two soldiers, one of whom held Bitsy.

“I’ll kill the kid,” he screamed.

There was a crash from the bedroom accompanied by shattering glass, a shout and the sound of a double tap shot going off. The bang, bang echoed out into the room. The speaker turned and fired as Roark came barreling down the short hall. Blood blossomed on his shoulder, but he didn’t stop.

The second armored soldier reached for Wynne who had the other children gathered to her.

Mira didn’t think. Her hand came up, she pressed the unlit button. The streak of light hit the soldier’s helmet. It didn’t pierce the armor of the helmet, but the shock was enough to send the wearer reeling back.

Mohawk, blood covered and who she’d presumed dead, lashed out with an agonized groan. His foot connected with the falling soldier’s helmet and did what Mira’s shot had not. The helmet went flying, revealing Bret, the smartass from the Buzz. The gun went off and Mohawk fell back as another bullet pierced his body. Bret took aim again.

Mira shot the imposter, feeling nothing but white hot anger boiling up through her veins. An instant head count told her that her family was still standing. Wynne’s face was bruised. Harm was already tying a white strip of cloth around Matias’s bleeding arm. Roark was rising from the body of the dead man beneath him.

Without looking back, Mira turned and ran down the stairs.

“They’re alive. Go help,” she ordered the waiting Dorrie.

She then pushed through the crowd and headed for The Buzz. Anthony Tomaselli was going to die. He’d taken her brother and Mohawk. He’d tried to take her sister and her kids. Six years of anger and resentment boiled up and over. She could do nothing about the Hahnshin. Roark and the Godan were not to blame, but the anger was still there and screaming for revenge.

Again, she heard Roark call her name. Again, she ignored it. In the distance, sirens wailed a warning. She ignored that, too. So did the crowd following behind her.

She burst through the door, looked quickly about the room, and chose the man tending bar.

“Where is he?”

“Who wants to know?”

She might have been more charitable if he hadn’t asked the same smartass question as Bret. She raised her weapon and blasted the row of bottles along the back wall. The amount of destruction surprised her. With her finger pressed firmly on the black button, the light and sound continued in a stream, shattering the row of bottles and the mirror behind it. When the row was obliterated, Mira leaned over the bar to find the man who’d dropped down behind it.

“Me,” she said, and pointed the weapon at his head.

“What the fuck’s going on out here?”

“Never mind,” she told the cowering bartender. “I found him.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” Tomaselli shouted.

“Not anymore,” she said raising the weapon. “I was crazy to think I could keep my family safe when the enemy was living three blocks away, right here in your bar. Your henchmen are lying dead in my house. You know, the ones you dressed up in Godan uniforms to terrorize your neighbors and kidnap children off the streets. Where’d you get those uniforms from? What did you do with those kids? How much did they pay you?” She swept out the hand holding the weapon to include those watching from the doorway. “Because we all know you don’t do a damn thing unless there’s a profit involved.”

“See? I told you, she’s a crazy bitch,” Tomaselli appealed to the crowd. “She never got past my tossing her out for someone prettier and better in bed. She wants revenge, that’s all.”

“I do, but not for dumping your sorry ass. I want revenge for my brother who you sent to his death. I want revenge for my family, for my sister who never did a bad thing to anybody, for the boy who was shot and the little girl who had a gun held to her head, for the good man who fought to defend them. I want to sleep at night knowing I only have to fear the crows in the sky and not the snakes like you crawling through the streets. You’re a dead man, Anthony Tomaselli.”

She raised the weapon, priming it until the button glowed bright blue in the dim light of the bar. A gentle hand closed over hers.

“No, Mirasha, you cannot kill him.”

Mira never took her eyes off Tomaselli. “Give me one good reason why not.”

“Because killing him would be wrong.”

“This from a man who does it for a living.” Mira snapped her head back a fraction of an inch instead of rolling her eyes. She needed her eyes focused on her target.

“That is war.”

“So is this. We just don’t dress it up in fancy uniforms. Unless they’re stolen,” she added for Anthony’s benefit.

“Mira, trust me in this. I cannot let you shoot this man. There are reasons.”

“The biggest one being you got no proof,” Tomaselli argued. His eyes moved from Roark to the crowd searching for an ally. “It’s all lies. I told you. She’s a fucked up, crazy bitch.”

Roark frowned at the interruption. His face became hard, his voice sharp as a razor. “Call her that again and I’ll kill you myself,” he said and there was no doubting the promise in his words. When the blood drained from the man’s face, Roark turned back to Mira with a meaningful glance. “We need him.”