The Morcai Battalion: Invictus Part 15

"Perhaps your new friend has a contact," Dtimun said suddenly, turning to Madeline. "He knows people here quite well."

"You mean Mardol?" Madeline asked. She pursed her lips. "That's not a bad idea. We could ask him."

They took a shuttle to the hotel district, but there was, of all things, a traffic jam. They exited the shuttle and antic.i.p.ated a long walk to the hotel. Madeline's expression was weary.

"There is a shortcut to your hotel across this bridge," Chacon said, antic.i.p.ating Dtimun's reluctance to let Madeline walk so far in her rapidly deteriorating condition. The pregnancy was advancing quickly, and the pain and fatigue were greatly intensified. She couldn't hide it.

Dtimun frowned. "It might be unwise to move along such an isolated path."

"It might be more unwise to let your mate walk so far here," Chacon said, indicating Madeline's strained face.

"I can carry her," Dtimun said easily.

Madeline glared up at him. "I can walk," she said shortly. "I'm not an invalid. I'm just pregnant."

"Very pregnant," Dtimun murmured with soft golden eyes. He felt great pride in her condition, and the way she carried herself.

She saw that. It fascinated her. She managed a grin. "The sky route it is, then. Is there an accelerator up there?"

"I believe so," Chacon said. "If it works."

So many things in Benaski Port that were supposed to work, didn't, Madeline thought amusedly. But perhaps this one was. The weather was being badly managed. The heat of the asteroid in its dome was stifling. She felt it more because of her condition.

They took a lifter up to the top of the building and found, to their dismay, that the accelerator pad was, indeed, out of order.

"It is still closer to go this way than to attempt the path through the traffic and crowds below," Chacon said.

"I agree," Dtimun seconded. He glanced at Madeline with some concern.

"Lay on McDuff," she taunted. "I'm perfectly fit, I am."

"McDuff?" Chacon asked, frowning.

"A human idiom," Dtimun said with an affectionate glance at Madeline. "It means...!"

He broke off as an explosion went off just in front of them as they walked across a rooftop that was empty except for a square weather unit barely adequate to provide cover to all three of them.

With lightning reflexes, Dtimun picked Madeline up and ran to the only cover available, closely followed by Chacon.

"A sniper!" Madeline exclaimed breathlessly when they were behind the unit. "That was an explosive sensor pack, and it's a miracle he misjudged the distance. I'll bet he's using an emerillium psyoscillilator to program it. Those things are outdated, but some a.s.sa.s.sins still swear by them."

Before Chacon could question her intimate knowledge of such a detail, another round exploded on the other side of the unit.

Of all the bad luck, she muttered to herself. It was unbelievable that three seasoned warriors could be caught out in the open with only a small block weather control unit between them and a determined sniper. It would not be possible to reach the window of the hotel before they were picked off. Even a champion sprinter would not survive the open area with the Rojoks' perfected targeting tech.

Madeline muttered under her breath. The growth spurt was painful and a little frightening, but being unarmed was worse. "If we only had a gun," she grumbled.

"I do have a chasat," Chacon mused. "However, it would do us little good against a distant sniping emplacement."

"Indeed," Dtimun agreed, his concerned gaze covertly on Madeline.

She remembered something all at once. She turned to the commander but she hesitated to speak aloud. It was obvious that Chacon did not know he was a telepath. "Can you contact Lyceria mentally?"

"Of course," he replied silently. "Why?"

"I need you to tell her to get Sfilla to go to Mardol and ask to borrow his sniper kit."

His eyes smiled. "I begin to understand the old fellow's a.s.sessment of your battle skills," he said. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, opened them and nodded. "Lyceria is sending Sfilla now to ask Mardol for the sniper kit. She will bring the sniper kit to the window," he said after a minute. He glanced at Chacon's surprise and laughed. "Yes, Princess Lyceria can hear my thoughts if I concentrate them," he said, explaining his ability to send for help without admitting his own psychic abilities.

"A sniper kit?" Chacon asked. "I must tell you, I have no experience with it."

"Nor do I," Dtimun returned.

"Then of what use is it?"

"Wait and see."

Only a few minutes pa.s.sed until Sfilla appeared at the window with old Mardol, who was carrying the heavy weapon case. He peered out the window and argued with her.

Dtimun closed his eyes. Sfilla took the case from the old warrior and balanced it on the windowsill.

Dtimun nodded toward it, and the case suddenly sped down to the roof and moved like a snake across the distance until he had it in hand. Chacon was giving him a very suspicious look.

"Sfilla has mental abilities besides the obvious ones," he told the enemy commander.

"Ah. I see," Chacon replied. "Pity that her loyalties are to your government instead of mine," he teased.

Dtimun only chuckled, despite the gravity of the situation. The sniper was out there, waiting for his chance.

"I'd love to be able to do that," Madeline mused. She turned to the case, flipped it open and quickly a.s.sembled the sniper rifle. "Sir, may I borrow the power pack from your chasat? " she asked Chacon when she had it a.s.sembled.

He removed the power pack and handed it to her, his eyebrow ridges arching when she snapped it home in the power core compartment. "You are familiar with the weapon," he concluded.

She grinned. "When I was eight years old, I was placed in a forward commando unit as a sniper. I was undefeated in compet.i.tion within my entire division."

She tried to lift the rifle and suddenly felt her strength diminish as another growth spurt tautened her whole body.

"You can balance it on my shoulder," Dtimun offered.

She shook her head, fighting to breathe. "It wouldn't work, sir," she said respectfully. "It has to be a stationary support. Something that won't breathe," she added mischievously.

"She carries your child and still addresses you as 'sir'?" Chacon commented.

"A problem which I have labored unsuccessfully to resolve," Dtimun replied with a wry glance at Madeline.

He hit the preformed stone structure with his fist, and sent the material flying. He had made an indentation in it which would accommodate the underbelly of the gun. "Will this do?" he asked Madeline.

She nodded. "If you can lift it into place for me..."

He did. She got under it, breathing more freely now. She activated the virtual targeting scope and peered through it. On the roof, staring toward their position, were three humanoids. Two were Dacerian. The other...

She grimaced. "Sir," she said to Chacon, "one of the people targeting us is a Rojok. He's wearing the patch of your intelligence services."

"Describe him," Chacon replied.

"Tall, thin, a scar running down his face beside his nose..."

"Garathor," he said heavily. "Second-in-command of my personal spy service," he added coldly. "One of my most trusted comrades. No wonder Ho Chan Ho knew where to find me."

Madeline hesitated.

He glanced at Madeline and noted her reluctance to fire. "We have no choice, Ruszel," Chacon said. "If we want to live."

She nodded. "Sorry, sir." She turned back to her targets, adjusted for elevation and atmosphere, and suddenly sent three bursts toward the distant snipers. She didn't even look. She turned away and indicated to Dtimun that he could remove the rifle.

Curious, he looked through the scope. All three snipers were on the floor of the opposing building.

"Amazing," he said quietly.

"We all have skills," Madeline said quietly. "This is mine. But after a few years, it begins to kill the spirit."

"As most combat does," Chacon replied. "Thank you, Ruszel."

"You've saved my life several times, sir," she replied.

"And you have saved mine," Dtimun added to her, placing the heavy gun on the floor. He met her eyes with a shimmering green in his own. "Yes, I have not forgotten the scope of your accomplishment at Ahkmau, having been reminded of it daily for almost three years."

She grinned. "Here. I'll put it away."

She disa.s.sembled the rifle, using the cleaning material to make sure it was properly wiped free of chemicals before she put it back in the case. She handed the chasat power pack back to Chacon. They stood up. Dtimun carried the case for her.

Old Mardol was standing at the window with his eyes wide. "You used the sniper rifle!" he exclaimed to Madeline.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "Thank you for lending it to us. We were pinned down by sniper fire."

"You removed the threat?" he asked.

"Three threats."

"And only three shots," he replied, fascinated. "Amazing!" He stared at her. "You have been in the military."

She nodded. "In my youth," she added quickly. "I'm glad I haven't forgotten my old skills. They came in handy today."

"We must talk again," he said. "You can tell me some of your battle stories." He grinned.

Dtimun and Chacon were not smiling.

"The wounds will be examined and traced to this weapon," Dtimun told the old man, referencing nanotech that could pinpoint a weapon from trace evidence in seconds and locate its whereabouts. He turned to Sfilla and gave her instructions in Cehn-Tahr. She nodded and ran away. He turned back to the old soldier. "Pack what you need to carry. Sfilla is arranging pa.s.sage to Memcache for you."

"But...but," the old man sputtered, "I am a wanted man...!"

"Not after today," Dtimun a.s.sured him. "You will go to Mahkmannah, to our religious retreat. You will be safe."

Mardol searched for the right words. He couldn't find them. His eyes misted.

Dtimun put a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes went that odd opaque blue that indicated mind touching.

"You were falsely accused and the only witness who could clear you is dead. I understand. However, you will find peace and safety at the religious retreat. You may stay there forever without fear of persecution.

We owe you our lives. It will not be forgotten."

Mardol swallowed the lump in his throat. "I...have not been safe for two decades."

"Now, you will be. Pack quickly. Sfilla will escort you to the ship."

The old man paused, made a virtual note and handed it to Dtimun. "This is a man I know, who can give you information about any covert dealings here in Benaski Port. He will trust you, because I have told him to."

"We are in your debt," Chacon told him.

Mardol's old eyes narrowed on the three. "A strange combination. A Rojok, a Cehn-Tahr and a human."

He smiled. "I hope someday I may know who you are."

"Sooner than you think, perhaps," Dtimun said. "Go on. It will not take our adversaries long to discover you."

Mardol nodded and turned down the hall with the sniper kit held in one big hand.

"They'll be after us again, too," Madeline pointed out as she followed the tall males down the hall. "And we're no closer to discovering our companion's would-be kidnappers."

Dtimun scanned the virtual note Mardol had give him. "Yes, but I think we have a contact who might. Let us find him." He glanced at Chacon. "And considering the circ.u.mstances, I think it would be wise if you go back to the hotel and remain there. You should not be seen with us. If you are recognized, our true ident.i.ties will be immediately uncovered and our mission will fail."

Chacon grimaced. "I concur, but reluctantly. I do not like the chances you take on my behalf, especially with Ruszel in such a condition."

"I'm quite lethal even in this condition, sir, and I want a future into which we can all survive and grow old," she retorted.

"As do we all," Dtimun said. "We will return shortly."

"If you do not," Chacon replied, "your finest a.s.sa.s.sin and I will come to search for you."

Dtimun smiled. "She has become fond of you. But do not mention this in front of her."

Chacon placed his hand over his heart, grinned and left them.

The shady character Mardol sent them to was a smuggler, an outcast human who deplored the totalitarian government of Terravega and became a wanderer, with no credentials. He was barred from legal transactions in the human colonies because of his lack of citizenship and the implanted DNA ID which all Terravegans were equipped with at birth. So he went underground as a young man and established a solid business transporting illegal goods from one colony to another. Most of his transactions dealt in weapons and foodstuffs. He was well-known in Benaski Port. And other places, some even more covert. Just occasionally, he was hired as an independent contractor to transport essential supplies to war-torn human colonies deep behind enemy lines.

His name was Percival Blount, but friends and enemies alike called him Patch. He had long black hair, which he wore in a ponytail, and one blue eye. The other eye, lost long ago in a knife fight, was covered by a black patch; hence the nickname. He had a straightforward manner and a ragged dignity that sat oddly on a pirate.