 
### RAYNE AGAIN

By

Roger Schultz

Published by Roger Schultz

Copyright 2015 Roger Schultz

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Front Cover image:

Copyright Roger Schultz, 2015

Many thanks to my beta readers for their praise and input. Thank you to my only sister for taking the time to be my editor. Sorry, I still can't use a semicolon properly. Finally, thank you Heidi for giving my character an awesome name and Cheyenne for motivating me to write.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About the Author

Other Books by Roger Schultz

Connect with Roger Schultz

CHAPTER 1

Captain Jacobs sat in the bridge's command chair, scrutinizing the tactical display before him. His ship glided silently through space on the dark side of the planet as it dipped low into the upper atmosphere, preparing to drop the marines. He frowned slightly at the thought of the marines and their sergeant. He didn't particularly care for Sgt. Weber. They'd started off poorly. It was clear the previous captain had given the sergeant too much operational freedom when it came to planning and executing missions. The arrogant marine had argued fiercely the mission plan he'd been given was not sound and would likely result in the death of his team.

Captain Jacobs hadn't responded well to the criticism. He was a graduate of Athena's top military academy. He believed his approach was sound and wouldn't allow a mere sergeant to second-guess his plan. It didn't help that the sergeant had voiced his opinion in front of the command staff. The sergeant's lack of tact had painted the captain into a corner at a time when he needed to assert his authority in what, to him, was a new crew. They needed to understand, in no uncertain terms, that he was in command of this ship and he would not be second-guessed. His word was law and they needed to follow their orders.

As captain, he couldn't have missed the side glances from the junior officers while facing the sergeant down. They, too, were obviously used to a different style of command. Be that as it may, they'd had better get used to it quick, because none of them had been given the time to adjust. Just days after his assignment to this new ship and crew, they'd been sent to the Bernard System. Communication from the system had been abruptly lost and the new captain and crew had been sent to investigate. Heavy Tau Ceti activity in the area had been reported, but there should have been sufficient military resources to deal with any threat. Unfortunately, communication with those resources had been lost at about the same time they'd lost contact with the system.

There were only two likely scenarios to explain the loss of communication. First, (and most likely) the planet's antimatter production facility had experienced a catastrophic event. The resulting explosion would have vaporized the planet. Antimatter production was a recently developed technology and its production was extremely delicate. One misstep could eliminate entire populations. Because of that danger, the production facility had been put in the sparsely populated Bernard System. Far enough away not to cause any damage or significant death if something went wrong, but close enough that shipping was still practical.

Despite the danger, the risk was worth it. Nuclear fusion had powered space travel for over a hundred years. It had been the workhorse that allowed humans to colonize space. But it wasn't without its drawbacks. While the captain didn't understand all the ins and outs, he did understand that antimatter was a huge advancement. Space drives fueled with antimatter could go farther and faster with less fuel than the standard nuclear drive.

The second scenario to explain the communication loss involved hostile takeover by Tau Ceti or some political faction. The chances of that were remote. Even if the Tau Ceti had gathered in one place, their numbers had never been reported significant enough to overwhelm both the military ships patrolling the area and the system's defenses. Nor was he aware of any political faction that could do the same.

Captain Jacobs' arrival in-system had eliminated the first scenario. The planet was still intact and long-range scans showed the production facility in working order. Of the military presence, there was no sign. Initial scans showed no debris fields or recent signs of battle, but space was a big place and those things could be easily missed. The planet's comms were still down, along with their system AI, but seeing no immediate threat, Capt. Jacobs had proceeded in-system. The objective was simple enough: establish contact and determine the cause for the communication blackout.

The captain had directed the marines to drop directly on or near the planet's main city and production facility. The sergeant had argued that the plan was tactically unsound, explaining the danger in dropping on a fortified position when it hadn't yet been determined whether it was under hostile control. He'd pushed for a course that would have put them a quarter rotation around the small planet. From that position, it would have taken the sergeant and his team several days to reach their target. The captain argued the distance too far, the timeline too long, there was no evidence of a hostile takeover, and no reason for the sergeant's extreme caution. Fortunately, the sergeant had backed down, though it was obvious he was not happy about it. The sergeant could be as unhappy as he liked; all he needed to do was follow orders.

"Captain! Sgt. Weber reports his team is taking ground fire."

The captain's heart sunk to his feet and remained there. He stood. "Put their tac-cams on the main display." The ensign responded clumsily in his haste. "I said get it on the main display now!" The ensign fumbled even more, but finally did as the captain commanded.

The screen showed tracers rising faintly from the planet's surface. "Sir, I'm showing one...no two units KIA."

_Shit! This shouldn't be happening_. Capt. Jacobs attempted to sift through his tactical options, but the adrenaline pumping through his body sent his thoughts scattering.

"Sir, Sgt. Weber just aborted and cut comms."

The captain stood frozen as he tried to force his panicked brain to think. His first instinct was to rail on the sergeant for aborting, but the man was following procedure and if he pushed it any further the whole team would likely be a total loss. It seemed obvious they'd been expected and that the city was under hostile control, just as the sergeant had cautioned. The Captain took a couple of deep breaths as he attempted to get a hold of himself. They were in a scouting ship. Their weapons were minimal and they had no weapons that would reach the planet from orbit. Their best option would be to maintain position, send a drop ship using the sergeant's previously suggested route, collect what marines were left, and call for the cavalry. Or wait, cavalry first, then recover the marines.

"Comms!" The ensign practically jumped out of his seat. "Send a message to Fleet Comm. Making them aware of our situation..."

"Sir! We have incoming contacts!"

"Give me the tactical display." The captain watched as a horde of Tau Ceti ships came pouring from the back side of the system's only sun. More than he'd ever seen in one place. He noted several fleet vessels among them, explaining what had happened to the planet's defenses. His heart skipped several beats and he forgot to breathe. His conscience fought over the two opposing goals before him: rescue the marines or save himself and his crew. He felt responsible for the marines currently falling to the ground. The two KIA were his responsibility and he wanted desperately to salvage the mission. But the fact was the marines were as prepared for the fight before them as anyone could be. The T80 battle suits they wore were a formidable weapon and they could hopefully survive in the short term while he ran for reinforcements. His ship wasn't prepared for this fight, and the marines had a better chance of surviving than they did.

The captain sat back down in his chair. "Ensign. Take us out of here. Best possible speed until the pursuit drops off." His eyes moved around the command deck, taking in the angry expressions, clenched jaws, and clipped movements. They were angry at having to abandon their marines. Whether at him or the situation, he couldn't tell.

CHAPTER 2

Lena and Callahan spun and twisted in locked formation, trying depserately to confuse the tracers tracking their decent. The ground was coming up fast, and as they reached the tops of the billowing clouds, they quickly disappeared into its depths. The ground fire turned the inky blackness of water vapor enveloping them into a flashing soup of plasma. The T80s burst through the clouds, hurtling toward the ground as they reached supersonic speeds.

She fought to maintain control as the suit's control surfaces strained and began to shudder. She was starting to become disoriented as they dodged and twisted toward the rushing ground. All they needed were a few more seconds and they would be clear of the fire tracking their decent. Any more than that, and they would hit the ground at a speed they were not likely to survive if their timing wasn't absolutely perfect. Inertial dampeners could only do so much.

The T80 interface flashed warning they were exceeding safe descent speeds and a fatal impact was inevitable if immediate action wasn't taken. She silenced the alarm so she could think. She didn't need some stupid machine telling her she was about to die. That seemed fairly certain.

Lena quickly scanned the ground beneath them as she and Callahan continued to weave and spin their way toward the ground. From what she could tell, they were coming down in the sprawling desert south of the city. It was a vast collection of dirt, rocks, and sand. On the upside, there wouldn't be much in the way of hostiles to deal with. On the downside, even if they survived the landing, finding food and water in the harsh terrain would be iffy.

She took another look at the flat ground that flashed beneath her as they wheeled over in tight formation. Callahan didn't say a word as they moved. His job was to follow Lena's lead and match her move for move. He wouldn't break formation until told to do so. It was a comfort to have him there, to know someone had her back. She pushed the thought out of her head, devoting her full attention on not dying.

The mountains just a few more miles out would have been ideal. They could have used the inclined surfaces to reduce the impact of the descent. The flat ground beneath them wouldn't be doing them any favors, but it didn't look like they were going to have any choice. They'd have to do their best to come in at as much of an angle as possible. A ninety-degree impact with the ground at these speeds would shatter the T80 and its creamy center like throwing an egg at a wall.

Lena watched the altitude reading with one eye and the incoming fire with the other. It should be stopping...right about...now! "Hit the brakes!" Lena shouted the order while simultaneously releasing the speed brakes. Her feet snapped downward, and the blood rushed from her head to her feet. The T80 did its best to prevent it, but the corners of her vision quickly began to dim. She fought for consciousness and made a quick check to see Callahan falling at her side. He'd spread out to give himself room and was looking good, until one of the brakes slowing his descent snapped under the strain. Lena cried out as Callahan cursed and spun out of control in a tangle of limbs. The added strain on the remaining brakes snapped them in quick succession as they were pushed beyond their designed limits.

She cursed in anger as Callahan cart wheeled and impacted the ground at a speed that was sure to be lethal. Even the oblique entry angle wouldn't save him from that fall. Lena had several long seconds to realize she'd lost another member of the squad before hitting the ground herself. She kept her feet locked together, her knees slightly bent, and absorbed as much of the initial impact with her legs as she could, then rolled to her shoulder. She remembered very little as she began to tumble across the surface of the desert. The status alarms and warning tones went unnoticed and she fought unsuccessfully to maintain consciousness, the world around her disappearing in a sea of black silence.

Lena came awake as the sun began to rise slowly over the horizon. She took inventory of her physical self. Nothing broken, there was one positive. She checked her T80 systems next: oxygen circulation, on-line; feeding systems, off-line; weapons, off-line; comms, off-line. She scanned through the rest of the remaining systems to find most everything was busted.

"Great," she said angrily. "Stuck in the middle of the desert with a useless piece of metal." The T80's reactor was humming along happily, but it didn't do her much good with most of the suit's systems out of commission. She cursed and popped the emergence release, cursing again when it failed to function. That last thing she needed right now was to be stuck inside an inoperable T80. With the feeding system not working it would take weeks to die.

Taking several deep breaths, she tried again. Several of the plates slid free, but most of the others stuck in place. Letting lose a string of expletives, she popped the release repeatedly until several more plates slid free. She continued the process until she was finally able to wiggle from the wreckage. Lena immediately ran for Callahan.

What was left of him was lying in a tangled heap of broken limbs and T80 parts. The torso had remained mostly intact, but everything else had been scattered downrange from the main impact site. Lena checked the torso section, knowing what she'd find. She knelt in the sand and rocks, mourning the loss of a friend for a long while as the sun continued to rise and shed its light on the barren landscape. An early morning breeze began to stir the sand and blow it across the ground into her tear streaked face.

Lena wiped the tears and grit away and stood, pulling the core from what was left of Callahan's suit and setting it for self-destruct. It wouldn't explode, but it would dissipate the contained energy in a controlled release that would render it inoperable. She then pulled the manual release on the emergency survival storage and removed the contents: enough food and water for three days, an emergency blanket, knife, a PSC (personal survival computer) and a few other odds and ends that would allow her to survive. She went to her own unit and repeated the process.

Whoever had fired on them would come to check the crash site to make sure the job was finished. Lena had to be gone before then. She squinted at the sun's position in the sky, grabbed her gear and began walking north.

***

Rayne stood motionless as she listened to the beat of the music. She tracked the notes as they danced their way through the air, reverberating off the walls, ceiling and floor, spinning in a dance of their own as they flew around the small, darkened studio. Bright lights still hurt her eyes, so she liked them dim. She matched the movement of her limbs to the music and began her dance with fluid grace. She moved smoothly across the floor with her eyes closed, dark hair swinging loosely around her face as she twirled.

She loved the freedom of the movement, relished the awareness she had with every part of her body, and the feel of her hair flying about her head as she spun circles across the floor. Rayne loved that her hair, or whatever it was, had finally grown to a decent length, even if the coarse black strands were impossible to style or cut. They hung straight and heavy about her face in a perfect sheet of shimmering ebony.

The music increased in intensity. The T80 inside her head looked up in mild interest. Rayne's movements lost some of their beauty and took on a darker, more predatory feel. She spun across the floor, leaping and spinning in time to the beat of the music. The T80 uncoiled from the spot in the back of her mind where it had taken to watching during the time she was awake and attending school. It expanded in her head, coming to full wakefulness as the music hardened and Rayne's movements increased in intensity. She spun and jumped, her feet brushing the fifteen-foot ceiling above as she cart wheeled over to land softly on the ground. She rolled, jumped and kicked in movements that seemed to have more in common with combat than dance.

That always seemed to be the way of it. She'd start out elegant and graceful, but somewhere along the way it would turn angry and predatory, like the monster within. The monster hadn't done anything yet. It seemed more curious than anything, but its influence on her dancing couldn't be missed. It didn't know peaceful and the grace it produced was the grace of a killer.

The music crashed to an abrupt end and Rayne came to a rest on one knee. One hand rested lightly on the ground as her hair swayed to cover her face. Echoes of the music's vibration trembled down its length as she breathed heavily. She kept her eyes closed for several long moments, enjoying the feel of sweat rolling off her skin, the hard floor beneath her hand, and the movement of the air as the building's re-circulators blew through the room. The T80 reached out further, searching beyond the confines of the dance studio for anything it could identify as a threat. It was spoiling for a fight and looked eagerly. It was built to fight, and the life of a dance student left it bored and twitchy.

The studio was empty. Rayne had made sure before entering and had locked the door behind her to make sure it stayed that way. She didn't like having an audience and was very uncomfortable with the scrutiny of her instructor and other students on days when it was required. The T80 quickly focused on intruders to her privacy as several of her classmates walked down the hall and peered through the window with wide eyes.

Her hair stirred, orienting toward the closed door. Rather than amplifying her hearing, the T80 focused on the vibrations of the glass in the window as the students spoke, translating it into speech. She picked up the conversation mid-sentence.

"...a total freak," a female voice spoke.

"It started off nice. Very graceful. I liked it," a male voice responded.

"Whatever. You're just saying that because you think she's pretty," the same female voice retorted dismissively.

"She scares me," added a second female voice.

"Scares you? Why?" asked the male.

"Oh, come on. She never smiles, and she stares at everyone like she'd just as soon kill them."

Rayne caught the sound of shoes shuffling on the hard floor.

The male defended her. "She does not. Besides, I heard some of the faculty talking that she's in counseling and dealing with some serious issues. Cut her some slack."

"So, she's a psycho."

Rayne took several long breaths, doing her best to suppress the urge to prove the girl right. It didn't help that her issues were apparently common knowledge.

"Knock it off, will you? She is probably really nice."

Why was he defending her? She didn't need or want his help.

"I'm not talking to the freak."

"Me neither. Do you remember what happened when they tried to give her a dance partner?"

Rayne sighed as she began to pick up her things. Okay, that had been a bit of a disaster.

"Yeah. She totally freaked out when he tried to touch her. You go ahead, though. It's your funeral. She'll probably break you in pieces and suck the marrow from your bones. Don't say we didn't warn you."

Rayne turned her gaze toward the doors. Her eyes locked with the wide, frightened eyes of the girl who'd just spoken.

"Oh, crap. She heard me."

"She did not. You're being paranoid. There's no way she could hear us. Besides, if you weren't being such a snot, you wouldn't have to worry whether she heard you or not."

Rayne fixed the girl with an emotionless stare as she straightened from her kneeling position and shouldered her bag. She'd like to say their talk didn't bother her, but it did. She wanted to be normal, like everyone else, but knew she couldn't be. She tried to hide what she was, but everyone seemed to sense she was different, not like them, and it made them uneasy, like prey forced to share space with the predator.

"She's looking at me. I'm totally creeped out."

"Let's get out of here."

"I'll catch you later. I'm going to ask her to the party."

"Whatever, Vlad."

Rayne tracked the girls as they made their way down the hall and out of the building. She brought her attention back to the guy standing at the locked studio doors. He waved through the window uncertainly. Rayne stood for a moment, not sure how to respond and then replied with a half wave of her own. She looked around slowly to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind, thinking of what she might say to the guy still at the door waiting to talk with her. She considered leaving through the back but decided against it. If she wanted to fit in, avoiding the few people that were willing to give her a chance wouldn't help.

She took a couple of deep breaths to steady herself and then walked to the door. Funny that the prospect of talking to some guy should make her nervous but facing down certain death didn't. Rayne unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.

"Hi. Rayne, right?"

Rayne nodded her head, not sure how to respond, afraid of saying something stupid.

"I'm Vlad."

He was about her height, dark spiked hair, attractive and lean like most dancers were. He gave her a friendly smile and took a step closer. Rayne automatically stepped back and squared off, caught herself, then forced body to relax.

Seeing he'd startled her, Vlad put his hands up and apologized quickly. "Oh, hey, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's okay. I'm just...just...having some trouble...adjusting." She tried to find words that didn't make her sound like what the girls had accused her of, a psycho killer. Telling him she was trying not to cave his skull in with her fist would probably scare him off.

"Okay. I...um...your dance was nice. I could see it through the window."

"Thanks."

"Is that the one you're working on for the solo performances?"

Rayne nodded in reply, the thick strands that mimicked her hair swayed in perfect concert as they reflected the light. She'd been working on the performance for several weeks. It was a significant portion of her grade and she was hoping to get it just right, but with the T80's interference, she was struggling.

"I liked it." He stood awkwardly for a moment, then continued when it was apparent she wasn't going to add to the conversation. "Hey, I was just wondering what you were doing this weekend."

Rayne shrugged her shoulders and turned her head away, hoping her hair would cover the blush rising on her face. Was he trying to ask her out on a date? She clenched her teeth, angry at her body's betrayal. This was so stupid. How could she kill Tau Ceti without a thought and but get all flustered when talking to a guy?

Vlad kept talking. If he was aware of her discomfort, he seemed to be ignoring it. "Some of the guys from class are getting together for an end of term party. You interested?" He tried to catch her eyes for a response, but she kept her head down.

She shrugged.

"It's not like a date or anything...," he continued hurriedly. "...unless you want it to be. It's just a bunch of us getting together to hang out and celebrate."

Rayne wasn't certain how to respond. She wasn't certain if she even wanted to go. She had been comfortable with the marines. They'd accepted her. They were like her, but the people who'd be at the party were not and she wasn't sure she wanted to go somewhere where she didn't fit in.

"Why don't I give you the address and you can come if you want. Can I push it to you?"

Rayne nodded and he swiped the address from the small computer wrapped around his arm to her data files. The T80 efficiently cataloged, mapped and stored the location, then turned its attention back to the person in front of them. It had already scanned his body for weapons, as well as the bag slung across his shoulders. Finding none, it waited suspiciously as the boy continued his conversation with Rayne.

"Anyway, hope to see you there." Vlad reached out a hand to touch her arm. TheT80 reacted before Rayne could stop it. It blocked the offending arm, brought her other hand up under his chin, lifted his feet off the floor, and slammed him onto his back. The air exploded from his lungs and his eyes lost their focus.

Rayne pulled back and stood immediately, clutching the offending hand to her chest. She was horrified. On the ground before her was the only person so far to extend the hand of friendship and she'd just body slammed him. "I'm so sorry." She backed away, repeating the words as she went. Vlad wheezed as he tried to fill his lungs and attempted to sit up as Rayne ran down the corridor and out of the building. He sat coughing for several minutes as his eyes came into focus on an empty hall. He stood and straightened his clothes.

"Guess that was a no," he said hoarsely, walking gingerly toward the door.

***

Rayne ran from the building, initially unconscious of the speed at which she was running and the surprised stares of those she passed. Finally realizing the stir she was causing, she slowed to a fast walk. She wanted to scream out loud, but didn't want to attract the attention. She was furious with the thing in her head. Why couldn't it just sit back and shut up, instead of busting out at the most inappropriate moments?

She angled toward her apartment, located a short distance from campus. Her anger must have shown on her face as she stalked down the sidewalk. Several people walking toward her hurriedly stepped out of the way.

What was it thinking? How was he a threat? What's wrong with you? She imagined its indifferent reply as it scrutinized a dirty fingernail. "He shouldn't have tried to touch us." And then she'd call it an idiot and smack it in the head to emphasize her point.

By the time she'd reached her apartment, some of the anger had subsided. She looked up at the luxury high rise apartments. The sight lessened some of the self-pity churning in her stomach. The thought of sponging Dr. Gault always put a smile on her face. She had been uncertain about entering into the contract with the doctor's labs, but it had been Lena's urging that had finally convinced her. Lena had thought there was a certain irony in taking their money after all the doctor had done to her since coming to Athena. Sending a mercenary tracking team after her and attempting to dissect her like a lab rat deserved some hefty compensation.

With some helpful guidance from Lena, and her adopted father's attorney, she'd managed to secure a very large civil settlement from the labs as well. The sum was huge and would keep her in comfort for some time if spent wisely. Even so, they'd made the lab pay for her housing during the contract period. Every month, the good doctor got a very large bill from apartment management. That spoke to both how much money the labs had at their disposal, as well as how badly they wanted what she had. Her adoptive father, Admiral Gault, had cautioned her that it wouldn't last forever. He was right, of course. She needed a career of her own at some point, so when the money dried up, she'd still have some means of support.

In the meantime, she endured the weekly visits to Dr. Gault's labs for testing. They poked, they prodded, and they scanned. You'd think they would have everything they would want by now, but apparently there was enough there to warrant having her come back every week. Rayne wouldn't have agreed to any of the testing if it wasn't heavily monitored by the admiral, sometimes personally, but mostly by someone from his office. They were there to make sure the doctor didn't exceed the restrictions placed upon her. If Dr. Gault had it her way, Rayne would have been locked in a cage and then cut into a thousand little pieces for study. The woman had no conscience when it came to her work. It was all about results and the test subject wasn't even recognized as human.

Rayne was also being made to endure bi-weekly counseling with Dr. Miller. The admiral had been insistent on that and she didn't argue the point. She wanted to be normal and in control. The sessions with the psychologist were the best shot she had at attaining that goal. She held a little less antipathy about these sessions than she did with Dr. Gault's poking and prodding. Dr. Miller was nicer, and while she was fairly certain the doctor wasn't so much interested in her welfare as she was the science, she still seemed somewhat interested in Rayne's welfare. Regardless, the counseling and treatment were designed to help her be normal and integrate with regular people. And that's what she wanted, or barring that, at least put on a good show.

Rayne pushed through the door to her penthouse apartment, tossing her bag into a corner and flopped onto the couch facing the floor to ceiling window overlooking the city. It was just past noon and the sun was shining brightly through the window. The air traffic outside was light but the pedestrian traffic was heavy as people left their offices and apartments for lunch. She looked down on the crowds with an equal amount of envy and aloofness.

A reminder chirped in her head. Crap. She was scheduled for treatment and testing in an hour. She pulled a pillow to her face and screamed. Testing was the last thing she wanted to do right now. Maybe she could call and cancel, tell them she was sick or something. Except they knew she didn't get sick. The T80 had taken care of that, and while it was a relief not to have to deal with illness, it eliminated a fairly easy excuse. She pushed herself up, grabbed a quick snack from the kitchen and headed out the door.

Rayne walked to the nearest train station and hopped two stops to the nearest shuttle platform. Transport was free to military personnel on Athena, and while she was not military, she was a dependent of the admiral and therefore able to take advantage of many of the same privileges. While she was eighteen, her status as a student still allowed the admiral to claim her as a dependent, which granted her the privileges given the military and their families. Even if she hadn't been declared a dependent, she could probably have gotten Dr. Gault's labs to pay for it.

Rayne was fifteen minutes early as she approached the front steps of the labs. She found a seat in the sun, on the steps to the side of the doors. There was no way she'd give them the satisfaction of an extra fifteen minutes. She used the time to close her eyes, soak in the sun's rays and feel the gentle breeze stir her hair. She tracked the birds flitting around the building's trees for fun. The T80 calculated the speed and altitude of each as they raced through the trees doing whatever it was birds did. She sat there comfortably for exactly fourteen minutes before finally getting up and going inside. She was immediately met by her security escort, who didn't say a word but fell into step behind her. She ignored their wary glances and made her way through the lab's halls, hoping to get everything over and done with as soon as possible.

Her first appointment was with Dr. Miller. Rayne wasn't sure why the psychologist was first, but she strongly suspected it was at Dr. Gault's direction, to make sure she wouldn't go psycho when she showed up at the lab. She walked into Dr. Miller's office and was greeted by the receptionist who motioned her in.

"Hello, Rayne." Dr. Miller looked excited today.

Rayne guessed she had some new treatment or test to run. It was hard to tell though. The woman always seemed to have a smile on her face. It was rather annoying.

"How was your day?" She seemed in a hurry to get past the pleasantries and on to whatever she had planned. Rayne decided to throw her a curve ball.

"It sucked." Rayne scanned the room's video feeds to make sure they were working while she flopped onto the room's large couch. The admiral or one of his designees was supposed to be monitoring everything that happened when Rayne entered the building. They were working, though there were times she wished they weren't. She understood the purpose of having them there. The admiral didn't feel Dr. Miller or any of the other facilities staff could be trusted not to take advantage. Although, after their first attempt, Rayne seriously doubted they'd try it again.

"Oh? That's too bad," Dr. Miller said distractedly as she fiddled with the console to some new apparatus that was likely the cause of today's excitement.

"Yeah, I totally body-slammed some guy that tried to invite me to a party." She waited to see the doctor's reaction.

"A party? That's great...." her brows came together and Dr. Miller took several seconds to re-process what she had just heard. "Wait, you body-slammed him?" She stepped away from the console with a look of concern and took a seat next to Rayne. She was close, but not so close Rayne became uncomfortable. This was one of the reasons she tolerated Dr. Miller. While she was obviously excited about the science, she had the ability to put it aside and deal with the person. Or at least it seemed that way. She knew from speaking with the admiral that Dr. Miller didn't believe it was safe for her to be left free to roam among the general public and had pushed heavily for an in-treatment facility. It was only the admiral's intervention that had prevented it. She hadn't continued to push that agenda, or at least as far as Rayne knew. Maybe Dr. Miller had just chosen to accept what she couldn't change.

"Yeah." Rayne cringed at the memory and regretted bringing it up. "He tried to touch me and I...I just reacted."

"Did you hurt him?" Dr. Miller asked in concern.

"I don't think so." Rayne wasn't actually sure. There was no blood and he was still breathing. He was probably fine.

Dr. Miller let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Good."

"Good? How is it good? I just body-slammed a potential date!"

"Good, meaning you didn't hurt him. You haven't hurt anyone, Rayne. That tells me you have control. We just need to work on a few things is all. This is what...only the second time this has ever happened?"

"Yeah. This and the other time they tried to make me dance with the group." Rayne hadn't told her about the shipload of Tau Ceti she'd killed while embedded with the marines. That was their little secret and she wasn't about to tell Dr. Miller. That would get her stuffed in a box for sure.

"Tell me what happened." Dr. Miller slipped into psychoanalytic mode and waited patiently.

Rayne spent the next several minutes relating the details of the incident and then going over strategies to prevent it from happening again. She seriously doubted any of it would work. It wasn't her that was the problem, it was the stupid machine in her head. You can't psychoanalyze a machine. Rayne hadn't been completely honest with the doctor about what she was struggling with. As far as Dr. Miller, or anyone else knew, Rayne was having some internal conflict with herself. They had no idea the real fight was between her and the T80 programming software integrated into her biological systems.

Having addressed the issue, Dr. Miller moved on to what she obviously felt was something much more exciting. Rayne spent the remainder of the next hour and a half, locked into a computer doing who knew what and measuring something she didn't remotely understand. She didn't pay attention to the doctor's explanation and didn't care. She just wanted to fulfill the terms of the contract and get out of there.

***

Rayne walked into Dr. Gault's lab an hour later, tired and in a bad temper. She'd been hoping to be done early as they sometimes were, but Dr. Miller had been relentless with her testing and kept her right up to the end of the hour. Unlike Dr. Miller's office, her security escort followed her into the lab. Dr. Gault was no doubt worried she'd break more equipment.

Rayne took a seat on the exam table in the middle of the room without saying a word. She folded her arms and tried to ignore the activity around her as technicians and doctors moved back and forth. One of the doctors approached, making notes on the data pad in his hands.

"Good afternoon, Rayne. How are you feeling today?" Dr. Enright was in his late fifties and one of the few doctors on the team that was willing to interact with Rayne. He was short, mild-mannered and treated her as more of a person than anyone else on the team did. For most of them, she was just a science experiment and if it wasn't for the constant monitoring by her adoptive father, they'd push the limits of what was appropriate. Dr. Enright was one of the few not present when Rayne had knocked out Dr. Gault and trashed the labs. He'd been told what she was capable of but hadn't experience it firsthand. That probably explained why he wasn't afraid of her like the others were.

"Great. Just, great." Rayne let the sarcasm drip from the words as she waited impatiently for them to get on with whatever testing they intended on doing. She was in a foul mood and just wanted to get it over with.

"Are you sure?" Dr. Enright looked at her with concern.

She rolled her eyes as only a girl in her late teens could. "I've already been psychoanalyzed once today, doc. Can we just get on with whatever it is you're going to do to me?"

"Okay." He shrugged his shoulders, apparently unoffended by her reply and set about moving some of the equipment into place. "We're going to be taking some blood and then we're going to do a biopsy on a biomechanical cluster in your arm."

Rayne briefly wondered if the biopsy had been authorized, but then noticed the admiral standing in Dr. Gault's office, which overlooked the lab. He had his back to the glass and was in deep conversation with the doctor. Dr. Gault looked down and made eye contact. Rayne blinked with her secondary lids, giving her a good look of their sinister appearance. Dr. Gault blanched and immediately turned away. Rayne allowed herself a low, evil laugh, her mood slightly improved. Nothing made her happier than annoying Dr. Gault and she did so every chance she got.

Dr. Enright approached with a syringe. He was careful to stay well out of reach and made sure Rayne acknowledged his presence. Those who worked in the lab found out the hard way what happened to people who approached her without warning carrying anything resembling a weapon.

He held up the syringe. "May I?"

The T80 stirred but didn't react. It knew this was part of the drill. "Go ahead." Rayne tuned in to the doctor's conversation with the admiral while Dr. Enright drew the blood. She repeated the trick from earlier, using the vibrations off the glass. Rayne hadn't told anyone she had the capability to listen in on conversations in this manner. If they knew she could do it, they'd take appropriate measures and then she'd lose a valuable and entertaining tool.

"No. I'm not going to let her do it. Dr. Miller was there for the last test. I'd think she'd know better than to make a second attempt."

Rayne recognized the admiral's voice. He spoke in a calm, stern tone that indicated the conversation was over.

"It's as much for her protection as it is for Rayne's."

Rayne guessed they were speaking of the Sarodian Stress test she'd been given on Procyon Naval Station. She'd woken up in the middle of the test, despite the neural block being used and had nearly killed everyone in the room.

"Okay, fine." Dr. Gault didn't seem terribly upset at not being able to administer the test, although that was likely because it was Dr. Miller who wanted to do it and not her. Dr. Miller had administered the first one and it sounded like she wanted another shot.

Dr. Enright finished with the blood draw and moved away, returning several minutes later with a small tray of surgical equipment. After getting Rayne's permission to approach, he moved in and began on the biopsy. She ignored him and continued to monitor the admiral's conversation with Dr. Gault.

Dr. Gault was being extremely nice to the admiral today, Rayne noticed as the conversation continued. Her tones were usually clipped, professional, and bordering on hostile when speaking with the admiral. Actually, she was generally that way with everyone, but today she wasn't. She must want something. Rayne had noticed the doctor tended to slip into "nice" mode when she wanted something and needed someone else's help to get it.

"On a more important topic, we need to implant a monitor."

"No." The reply came out nearly before the sentence was finished.

"You haven't even heard why," complained Dr. Gault.

"I don't need to. The answer is, no."

Rayne could see him fold his arms through the glass.

"Oh, come on. It's just a little one," purred the doctor.

The admiral didn't budge. "No."

"Come on, Jason," complained the doctor. "This is important. There are some odd readings from the brain wave scans and we want to do a twenty-four-hour recording of her bio functions and brain waves."

"No implant."

Rayne nodded her head in agreement.

"How about a dermal monitor?"

The admiral paused for several moments as he considered the idea. "That will be fine, but I'll be present when you review the data, and if I find you've overstepped, you'll lose the contract or pay a substantial fine."

"Don't be so paranoid," Dr. Gault said dismissively. "Have we overstepped yet?"

"Not from lack of trying," he replied.

"Just testing the limits, Jason. You can't know where they are unless you've run up against them. Speaking of limits and running, I was hoping you'd allow us to do some scenario-based testing next month."

"You know the drill, Lizzy. Draw up the proposal and parameters and send it to my office."

Rayne tuned out as they left the office, tracking them through the hallway as they approached the lab. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of being monitored. The last thing she wanted was someone listening in on her while she went to the bathroom or went on a date. Not that the latter was likely to happen any time soon. She had the last right of refusal, so even if the admiral gave the "okay" she could still refuse it. She wasn't sure what to think about the scenario testing. She wasn't fond of being the lab rat, but it did pay the bills and it might be just the thing to blow off some of the pent-up aggression she was experiencing.

The admiral and Dr. Gault walked into the lab, still deep in conversation. The doctor had obviously forgotten Rayne was still there. She stopped short, made some excuse and quickly left the lab. The admiral approached Rayne as Dr. Enright was finishing the biopsy.

"Hi, dad. Didn't the doctor want to stay and say, hi?" She looked around the admiral's shoulder at Dr. Gault's hurriedly retreating back.

He smirked. "You shouldn't pick on her, Rayne."

"But it's so much fun," she said with an evil smile.

He replied with one of his own. "I know, isn't it?" They shared a quiet chuckle at the doctor's expense. "How's playing at being the lab rat?"

Rayne shrugged. "Pays the bills I guess."

He gave her a stern look. "You can quit any time you like."

"I know, but I like taking their money. Gives me a feeling of satisfaction," she replied honestly.

The admiral smiled. "I'm sure. Did they tell you about the monitor?"

Rayne played dumb. "Nope."

"They want you to wear a monitor to record your biometrics and brain waves. It will just be a small patch they place somewhere on your skin. You okay with that?" Dr. Enright had returned and was holding a small dermal patch. It was clear, a couple of centimeters square and she could easily see the embedded circuitry.

"It doesn't record audio or anything does it?" She looked at it skeptically. "I don't want the doctor listening in on my private life." Not that she had much of one. Still, she might someday. After all, she'd been invited to a party and the last thing she wanted was to give Dr. Gault a front row seat to the disaster it was likely to be.

The admiral turned to Dr. Enright who answered. "No. Biometrics and brain waves only.

"Dr. Gault has been warned about overstepping," added the admiral. Dr. Enright waited patiently for Rayne's verdict.

She sighed. "Okay. Put it on." Dr. Enright stepped forward, peeled the adhesive backing and firmly placed it on the back of her neck.

"How's school?" the admiral asked while the doctor checked the link.

She shrugged in response. "Fine." She didn't want to share her frustrations. She'd wait until Lena was back. She liked the admiral. He'd done a lot for her, but he wasn't the person she shared her feelings with. Lena was the one who knew and understood her. If anyone could sort out what she was feeling and what she needed to do, it was Lena. She hoped she'd be back soon.

CHAPTER 3

The deer-like creature stepped softly on the soft, dew-covered ground. It was early morning and the sun's light had yet to brighten the horizon. It lifted its head, testing the scents carried by the gentle breeze. It was still too early for the birds and insects to be out, but there were still predators searching for a meal. Nothing alarmed its sensitive nose as it stepped forward carefully to the tree line and stopped to survey the scene before it. A small lake slept quietly below, its calm surface reflecting the multitude of stars sparkling overhead. The animal eyed the tree line circling the small lake, peering cautiously into the depths, seeking for signs of movement that would give away the position of potential predators. The trees were tall, thin and densely packed together like the bamboo forests on Earth's Asian continents. They swayed in the wind, masking movement and sound.

The animal was thirsty and its need drove it forward despite the risk. It stepped forward and paused, took another step and paused again. It looked toward the dark mountains, silhouetted in the sky by the dim light of the stars. It walked cautiously forward and stopped at the water's edge, waiting and listening for any tell-tale signs it was being stalked. It heard nothing and dipped its head to the cool waters and drank, keeping an eye on the surrounding terrain as it did. Slow ripples spiraled outward from the contact of its mouth with the water.

The animal lifted its head as some small sound reached its ears. The sound wasn't familiar and kept the animal locked in place with curiosity. It was like rushing water, accompanied by a distant rumble. It lifted its nose to the air in an attempt to identify the source. The animal's eyes turned skywards and saw flashes of red streaking through the sky. It watched curiously for several moments and then put its head back down to drink from the cool, sweet water.

The sound of rushing water grew quickly and the animal raised its head again in concern, surveying its surroundings for the source. It looked skywards once more, watching the lights as the sound grew and grew. Becoming nervous, it stepped back several steps toward the cover of the trees. It looked to the mountains as two dark forms flashed through the sky, impacting the wooded slopes with a terrifying crash. Too scared to move, the animal listened to something moving quickly down the mountain's side toward the lake where it stood. The sound of trees snapping and being tossed aside reached its frightened ears in the darkness, yet it was still too terrified to turn and run. Other animals, once asleep, could be heard running through the forest, away from the destructive path of whatever moved through the trees. Just as the animal thought the sound of rushing water could get no louder, two forms hit the lake's surface at incredible speed. The once-tranquil waters churned angrily, throwing up waves of water that crashed into the rocky shore where it stood. Finally shaken from its fear, the deer-like animal turned and bounded back into the darkened forest.

Waves continued to crash into the lake's banks for several long minutes. Animals disturbed by the violent descent cried their anger and distress until finally falling quiet. Several more long minutes brought the lake back to its previous, quiet serenity. The glass-like surface reflected the shining stars, giving no hint of the violence of the last several minutes.

***

Rayne turned down the ride from the admiral. It would have been nice to avoid the crowds on the public transportation system, but there was no way she was going to miss the rain. It was one of her favorite things in the world. She walked with her face to the sky, enjoying the feel of rain on her face. She was soaked to the bone but didn't care. She loved the feel of the rain on her skin, feeling every drop with an awareness not possible for most people. It was like a spark of ecstasy with each drop as she felt it strike, then roll down her skin. Her skin, not the hollow sound it made as it struck the metal plates of a T80 battle suit.

She played a game as she walked, ignoring the odd stares from those who hurried past seeking shelter from the weather. She tried to track all the drops as they fell. They avoided her grasp, refusing to be singled out. She tried again, attempting to find just one as it fell from the bottom of the clouds. She caught one halfway to the ground as it fell lazily through the sky, until it finally splashed into the puddle at her feet. She tried again, this time tracking several drops as they fell. Rayne repeated the process until she was tracking nearly a thousand falling drops from the sky. She marked them, chose more and then marked even more as they fell in cascading sheets toward the ground.

Rayne laughed. The sensory input she experienced was exhilarating. The T80 programming in her head shared her joy, seemingly just as exhilarated as it stretched its processing power to its limit. It was rare that it got to test itself and push the limits of its capabilities. While tracking rain drops was nothing like combat, it enjoyed the challenge. In turn, Rayne felt the day's stress wash away as she continued to make her way to the shuttle platform.

With her head now clear of the jumbled emotions, she thought through the things that were bothering her. Foremost in her mind was whether her chosen course of study was the right one. She loved the dancing, but she didn't feel like she fit in. She'd hoped that after time, she'd feel some sense of belonging, but it hadn't come. When she looked around her classes and her fellow students, she just didn't feel like she was in the right place. Should she just quit and do something else, and if she did, what would she do?

She reflected back on her time with the marines. They had made her feel accepted and welcome, despite her difficulties. They had brought her into their family and treated her like one of their own. Rayne wished she felt the same companionship with her fellow students she felt with the marines. From the start, there had been an undercurrent of fear from the other students, even though she'd said or done nothing to warrant the reaction. It was as if they could sense what she was without being told. And what, exactly, was she?

She pondered the question while boarding the shuttle. It was pushing into late afternoon and the sun was turning the breaking clouds into spectacular colors as the shuttle moved skyward. Was she a killer? Is that what pushed everyone away? Could they sense her violent nature before even getting to know who she was? Would she ever have a chance at being normal? Maybe she should just give up on the idea. She wasn't normal and never would be. The marines seemed comfortable with who they were and what they did. She knew they killed when their mission required it. She'd seen them do it and yet they had never shown any remorse for what their job required. Nor had they ever shown any level of fear toward her. Suspicion and uncertainty, yes, like any tight-knit group would show to a new arrival, but not fear. Was that because she was like them? She thought about her questions as the shuttle carried her home, wondering what she intended on doing with the rest of her life.

CHAPTER 4

Taft tried unsuccessfully to wipe the manure from the armored plates of his T80. It was just his luck to have landed in the only huge pile of dung within a five-mile radius. It brought a whole new meaning to the phrase, "Shit magnet." He laughed at his own joke and gave up trying to clean himself off. He looked back to see Abena jogging toward him in the morning light and laughed again. Great tufts of grass hung from the face-plate of her helmet and miscellaneous stalks of corn hung from several parts of her armor.

"What, did you use your face for a brake?"

"You're one to talk, shithead." He couldn't see her face, but he imagined the sneer. "Did you roll around in it, too?"

"Just trying to enhance my natural scent. Do you like it?"

"No, but it does improve your looks. What's your status?"

"Good to go all the way around. You?"

"A stiff neck from the face plant, but otherwise fine." She moved her neck from side to side, testing its movement within the suit. She scanned their surroundings as Taft idly picked the grass and corn stalks hanging from her suit. It was hard to look badass with grass stuck to your head, even in a T80 battle suit. She shrugged him off. "I show the rally point that direction at just under two hundred clicks. You got the same?"

"Yeah, I got it." He checked his display, confirming Abena's calculation.

"Should take us a few hours, assuming nothing gets in our way."

"You think the rest made it? That ground fire was pretty thick."

"Only one way to find out. Let's get moving before someone decides to come looking." Abena started moving forward and Taft grabbed her arm.

"I think they already have. Are you tracking what I am?"

"Crap." Abena scanned their surroundings, looking for a good defensive position. There was none. "Looks like we run or fight. Do you have a preference?" Abena began prepping her weapons.

"I don't think running is going to be an option, Abena. Look." Taft pointed to a spot just above the horizon. To the naked eye they were just dark spots, but to the enhanced vision of the T80, they were gunships of the type the local security forces used.

"Then I guess we make our stand here." She stood defiantly to face the oncoming assault. Taft stood several steps back, his posture suggesting he was deep in thought.

"Or...or..."

"Or what? If you got something better than dying, I'm all ears." Taft outlined his plan. It was the craziest thing she'd ever heard, but what the hell.

***

Abena was not pleased with the limited selection of clothes hanging on the clothes line. "Oh, hell, no! I am not wearing that." Unlike some female marines, Abena like her feminine side and had some sense of style. The flower-laden tent of a dress fluttering in the breeze before her was nowhere close to being fashionable.

"Come on, Abena. That's all they have. What I've got isn't any better." Taft was already shrugging on a pair of worn blue overalls. There was no shirt, so he shrugged out of the top portion of the one-piece under suit he wore and let it hang around his waist under the clothes.

"Damn your white, Taft." Abena shaded her eyes, only partially in jest. "Get a tan, will you?"

"Sunbathing is a little low on my to-do list right now." He grabbed a beaten hat from the porch of the farmhouse and set it on his head. If it hadn't been for his large ears, it would have fallen over his eyes. "Come on. Don't be such a princess and get that dress on."

Grumbling about Taft's stupid ideas, Abena pulled the ugly dress over her head and then rolled up the legs of her under suit, so it wouldn't be revealed below the hem of her skirt. They had both ditched their boots, which would have given them away. They couldn't find suitable replacements and hoped whomever came to question them would overlook that little detail and just assume they were a couple of country bumpkins digging piles of crap on their farm. She grabbed a colorful bandana from the line and wrapped it around her buzzed head and headed over to the large pile of dung that concealed their T80s.

"You really think this is going to work?" she asked, walking to where Taft was kneeling on the ground. She couldn't see what he was doing, but anything that involved kneeling in dried crap wasn't anything she wanted to know about. Okay, so she was a bit of a princess.

"I'll give us twenty-to-one odds." He stood and Abena could finally see what he'd been doing. Taft was now covered with a coating of crap mixed with dirt. He smiled, his white teeth in sharp contrast with his now dirty face. "Your turn."

"You are not rubbing that shit on me." She back away, putting her hands up as Taft walked her way.

"Easy or hard?" he asked, stepping forward.

"No. Taft, no." She closed her eyes just as the flying ball of dung hit her in the face, followed by several more handfuls. She attempted to keep her eyes and mouth closed as she turned away, only to be hit several more times in the back. "Taft! I'm going to kill you!" She opened her mouth and gagged at the smell...and the taste. She tried to spit it out while simultaneously trying to wipe her eyes clear. "I'm so going to kill you when this is done."

Taft smiled in reply. "You can thank me for saving your life later. For now, get ready. Here they come."

***

The armored column rumbled up the dirt road, gunships flying low circles as they scouted and protected the ground forces beneath them. Abena tried using her arm to block the flying dust from her face as they came to a stop where she and Taft stood. Taft was pretending to work, as always, throwing shovels full of manure onto the already large pile before him while Abena looked on. She found it ironic that Taft was shoveling shit onto an even larger pile. It was like a metaphor for his entire life. She stifled a smile and tried to look like the overworked wife she was pretending to be.

She eyed the armored column as it came to a stop. There were quite a few pieces of light and heavy armor, all with the planet's security force markings. That, in combination with the troop transports and gunships flying overhead, were enough to put a tragic ending to the last stand she had been planning. She quietly thanked Taft for his ingenuity, odd as it was.

Taft stood slowly, pretending to be stiff and sore from a long day's work. Somewhere, he had found a stalk of something to stick in his mouth; Abena didn't want to know from where. He chewed it idly as a lieutenant and his security detail dismounted and approached them. Taft leaned on his shovel as they stopped before him.

The lieutenant was smartly dressed in his combat gear, although he looked a bit awkward. Abena wondered how often he actually wore the thing. The ground fire that had tracked them on their drop had come from the city, the same direction from which the armored column had come. Normally, Abena would have assumed they were a rescue and recovery detail, but the armor and air support suggested otherwise. These guys were on the hunt, that much was obvious. Although why the planet's security forces would have fired on them and were now hunting them was a mystery. A civil war maybe? That would be bad news with the antimatter production facility as part of the mix.

The lieutenant addressed Taft. "We're looking for two downed hostile craft in this area. Have you seen them?"

Was he trying to make the sound of his voice lower? Abena kept her head down and tried not to laugh.

Taft took a long moment to reply. When he did, he used a slow drawl that she thought was way over-played, but which the lieutenant seemed to buy. "Yeah, we seen 'em."

"Where? Which way did they go?" he asked excitedly. The man had obviously never seen a T80 in combat or he wouldn't be nearly so eager to find them.

Again, Taft took his time responding. "Came down in the corn field over there." He nodded with his head toward the field behind them. "Wiped out half the crop when it hit, and then stomped up a bunch of the rest." He pulled the stalk of whatever it was from his mouth and spit to the side, then nodded with his head in the other direction. "Took off that way about half an hour ago." The lieutenant and his security detail were running back to their vehicle as Taft shouted after them. "Who's gonna pay for the damage?"

They both watched as the column disappeared from sight. Taft finally turned to Abena. "I. Am. A. Genius."

"Lucky as hell is what you are," she replied with a scowl. "Now let's get out of here."

***

Rayne stood across the street, wondering if she should actually go inside. The house was a two-story structure located on what had been nick-named "Party Row." The entire street for five blocks was exclusively private housing filled with university students. They paid a larger than was reasonable rent for the privilege to live off campus and away from the controlling thumb of the school's administration. Parties of the type currently on display before her were discouraged for their tendency to disrupt the campus. Since nearly every house on the street was hosting a similar party, there was little worry of disturbing anyone who was not already making a disturbance of their own.

Rayne was fashionably late. Not intentionally, but because she had only decided at the last minute to go. Now that she was here, she wasn't so sure it was a good idea. The sound of music thumped from the open doors and windows, while students in various degrees of intoxication could be seen inside and out doing whatever they could get away with. There was a lot of laughter and everyone seemed to be having fun, and yet she hesitated. She wanted to be part of the fun, but at the same time, didn't. She wasn't sure what it was she was feeling, or why she was hesitating. Ultimately, she decided to just go and see what happened.

She was worried as she approached the house that someone would stop her and tell her she wasn't welcome. However, no one seemed to notice as she walked to the open door and peered inside. The T80 in her head was at full attention and scanning everything, which was part of the reason she'd taken so long to enter. She'd spent a good five minutes gauging whether it was safe for her to enter with all the chaos before her. Oddly, the T80 didn't seem threatened.

The noise was overwhelming. The voices and music were so loud she wondered how anyone could stand to be there. She lowered the volume to her hearing centers and scanned the crowd. She saw a few familiar faces, but not as many as she expected and certainly not anyone she'd call a friend. Why was she here again?

Rayne stepped inside and was assaulted with the smell of alcohol and sweat. She wrinkled her nose, wondering again why she had come. To have fun, right? Wasn't that why she was here? Wasn't that why you came to a party? She looked around at the laughing, dancing people. They looked like they were having fun; some of them, anyway. There were people talking and laughing, others were dancing, while yet others went behind closed doors to do who knew what. Actually, she had a pretty good idea, since closed doors meant very little to the T80 tracking everything in the house.

But not everyone appeared to be having fun. There was a girl crying in the corner of the room while several of her friends tried to console her. She saw two students fighting in the back yard and there was an argument in progress in the second-floor bathroom. Rayne pushed through the crowd, looking for an open spot where she could stand and watch the action without being jostled. She had already taken one dousing from someone's spilled drink. She grimaced at the smell but was thankful it wasn't vomit. She was pretty sure that's what the puddle in the corner was.

She finally found a small bit of unoccupied space and watched. She honestly couldn't see the fun in what she was observing. Rayne liked to dance. She liked the festivals she remembered attending with her parents. But those memories resembled nothing like what she was seeing now. It was a twisted imitation of those happy times and she wasn't sure she liked it. She watched for a long while, before finally deciding to leave. She wanted to have fun, laugh with friends and feel welcome, but she wanted nothing to do with what she saw before her.

"Rayne! You came." Vlad stood before her just as she was moving to leave. He had a smile on his face and a drink in his hand but didn't appear nearly as intoxicated as most of the party's other attendees.

"Uh, yeah." She brushed the hair from her face nervously wishing she had taken the chance to leave several minutes ago when she had the chance.

"So..." he began.

She didn't get to hear the rest of what he said as a very large, very drunk man stumbled into them and emptied the contents of his cup down the front of Vlad's shirt.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" Vlad pushed him to the side where he fell in a heap and tried to brush the liquid from his shirt. "Idiot," he said when he realized the shirt was ruined. He looked up as the guy stood. Vlad watched him grow in size before him until he finally stood eye to eye with a very broad, very powerful-looking chest attached to some equally massive-looking arms. "Uuuh..."

"What'd you call me?" the man slurred, stepping forward into Vald's personal space to looked down on him.

The guy was obviously at the wrong party, thought Rayne. The people here were dancers and artists, but the giant before them looked like he'd wandered off the pages of some extreme-sports feed. She estimated he was nearly as tall as a T80 battle suit.

Before Vlad could make a reply, the giant used both hands to shove him across the room, knocking a dozen or so other partygoers to the ground in the process. Rayne reacted in concert with her T80 interface, identifying the man as a threat. She jumped onto the man from behind and, planting her feet in the small of his back, grabbed his chin with both hands. She pulled back while pushing hard with her feet, sending the man falling backward. Rayne twisted as he fell, controlling his momentum as he turned and crashed face first onto the ground. Pressing her advantage while she had it, she slammed her fist into the back of his head until he stopped moving.

Rayne knelt motionless on the giant's back with her fist raised for several long seconds, waiting to see if he was out for good or if the fight would continue. She then realized that while the music was still going, all talk and laughter had ceased. Everyone was staring at her with open mouths. Her heart sunk with her raised fist. She'd done it again and proved to everyone present she was exactly what they thought she was; a freak.

She stood slowly, keeping her head down in an effort to conceal her eyes behind her hair. She retracted the protective black shields from her eyes, hoping that no one had noticed. She smoothed her clothes, turned and quietly walked out the front door, the crowd parting to make way as she went. She made it a block down the street before Vlad caught up.

"Rayne! Wait up!" He pulled up short as Rayne turned around. "Hey, look, I'm sorry about that guy. You don't have to go." One hand still held his chest, which obviously still hurt from where he'd been shoved, while his eyes pleaded for her to stay.

"Yes, I do," she replied trying to avoid eye contact. Had he even seen what had happened? She'd just taken out a giant of a man in less time than it took most people to butter their toast.

"Why?" He looked genuinely confused and Rayne could almost hope that he really wanted her there. "I don't understand." If he didn't know, he would find out later when everyone told him what she'd done.

"I don't fit in, Vlad," she said, turning to leave. "It's just like your friend said yesterday, I'm a freak."

"You heard that?" he exclaimed quietly.

She stopped briefly with her back still turned. "Yes, Vlad. I heard it." She walked quietly into the darkness, leaving behind a slightly drunk and very confused young man.

CHAPTER 5

Mike walked down the hall of his school on the way to practice. As a senior, he'd risen to the top as both a student and an athlete. He wasn't the top of his class academically, but he had near perfect grades that would be enough to gain him entry into college. Educational access after high school was based solely on merit with no special exceptions. You competed well with your fellow students and you got in--you didn't and you were out. Mike was a competitor at heart, which served him well both in academics and whatever sport he chose to put his mind to.

The current sport was old American football. Mike enjoyed the physical contact and violence of the sport, although it bore only a vague resemblance to the sport as it had originally been played. Inertial dampening technology had eliminated the need for helmets and most other protective gear required in the old days. As a sport though, it had everything an athlete could want: running, jumping, throwing and hitting. The new technology made the hits and falls fairly painless and took some of the fun out of things as far as he was concerned, but it was still a blast.

Mike was running a little late and the halls were generally empty except for a few students working on homework, special projects or just hanging out with their friends before going home. He turned the corner and noticed one of the younger kids being cornered by one of the school bullies, something schools everywhere had failed to eliminate. You couldn't erase human nature. Mike frowned. He hated bullies, having been bullied and sometimes beaten by his stepfather. He went out of his way to stop it whenever he saw it happening and wouldn't tolerate it from anyone he associated with. Mike had almost single-handedly established a culture among the teams he played on of having a no-tolerance attitude toward bullies. Groups he joined wouldn't allow them and stood up against them whenever possible.

As a result, Mike had become something of a hero to the younger kids. They all looked up to him and would do anything for him. The school was large and Mike didn't recognize the young, thin boy being pushed against the wall by a much older, larger and stronger boy.

"I don't ever want to see you here again," the bully growled, twisting the smaller boy's collar and pushing him higher up on the wall. "This hall is for seniors, not little punks like you."

"Okay, I'm sorry." The boy was having trouble breathing and while his words were apologetic, his eyes burned with hate.

"You don't look sorry to me." The bully threw the boy to the ground, where he sprawled helplessly trying to catch his breath.

"Asshole," the boy murmured under his breath, trying to get up.

Mike admired the boy's tenacity, beaten but not defeated. Give him a few years to fill out and he'd likely repay the unkindness. But for now, the bully had heard him and was moving to finish what he'd started.

"What'd you call me?"

Mike stepped in. "He called you an asshole." He dropped his gear bag on the floor and took an easy, relaxed stance. "I think I agree with him."

"Back off, Weber. This is none of your business."

Mike was familiar with this particular bully. He'd saved a number of other students from his hostility. He wasn't sure what the kid's problem was, but it was as if he felt the only way to build himself up was to put other people down. His stepfather had the same problem.

"I'm making it my business. Besides, this here kid is a friend of mine."

"Friend, my ass. You don't even know his name."

Mike looked across to the boy who had gotten up and was now watching the proceedings from a safe distance. "What's your name?"

"Henry."

Mike turned back to the bully. "His name is Henry and as far as I'm concerned, anyone who doesn't like you is a friend of mine."

The bully snorted and walked away. He'd already attempted to take Mike on a prior occasion and lost bad enough that he apparently didn't want to try for a rematch. Mike waited for several seconds to make sure before turning back to Henry. The boy's clothes were disheveled, but otherwise he looked unharmed.

"You okay?" Mike asked.

"Yeah. Thanks," the boy replied, straighting his cloths.

"So, what was his deal?" he asked, nodding toward the bully's retreating back.

"Guess underclassmen aren't supposed to be in this part of the school."

Mike snorted. "That's crap."

The boy responded with a grin. "That's what I thought."

"And you told him that?" Mike asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah."

Mike laughed. "You got balls kid." He slapped him on the back and walked with him down the hall. "You like football?"

***

Mike gave the order to scatter, "Knock it off, knock it off." Three groups of two chose different directions and shot off into the darkness. The tracers rising from the ground followed their progress and he prayed for their survival. Mike raged at the captain sitting comfortably in the ship several kilometers above them. What an ass. He'd told the man dropping on an unknown, hostile, fortified position was a bad idea. But the idiot military graduate thought he knew better. Mike had been executing and planning operations such as this since he'd entered service. He'd been doing it for ten years and he knew what he was doing. Leave it to some pampered piece of shit academy grad, who thought a forty-hour course of instruction made him qualified to plan an operation, to royally screw things up and get his men killed. If he could reverse course, go back up and choke the life out of the captain, he would. Henderson and Jefferson were dead, the rest of his team in jeopardy, and he firmly placed the blame at the captain's feet.

Mike didn't have time to give the issue any more thought as he dodged and wove through the night sky. The ground fire had reduced significantly as the scattered team drew away the bulk of shooting, but tracer fire still rose to burn him out of the sky as he hurtled toward the ground.

He had just reached the top of the billowing clouds, almost wishing he could have taken the time to admire the view, had someone not been trying to kill him. They shown a dull silver in the starlit sky, highlighted with the red glow of tracers rising to meet him. White columns rose all about him as he dropped in their midst and down the well that opened to the city lights beneath him.

As soon as Mike broke from the bottom of the clouds, he would be at the maximum effective range of his weapons. If he could draw their fire or distract them, he hoped to give the rest of his team a fighting chance in reaching the ground. He knew he was dropping right into the middle of the kill zone. If all the ground teams focused their fire on him at the same time, at this altitude he wouldn't likely survive. But it wasn't his survival he was worried about and if jumping into hell is what it took to save the rest of the team, then that's exactly what he'd do.

Mike blasted out of the bottom of the clouds, his mini-gun and laser canon firing together. He scored a lucky hit and the fire coming at him reduced by half, only to rise exponentially as the remainder of the units adjusted seconds later. Having accomplished what he'd intended, Mike jinked erratically to avoid the increased fire focused on him. He cursed and tried to keep his orientation as he spun and dodged. His head was spinning and he was having difficulty keeping his eyes focused as the ground got closer and closer, and the room for error became smaller and smaller. His guns had heated to critical levels as he fired constantly on the ground targets below him. In truth, he was doing very little aiming, focusing most of his attention on avoiding the death spiraling up to vaporize him. He kept his guns going hoping to score a lucky shot.

Warnings flashed as his speed and altitude reached critical limits. If he didn't do something quick, he was going to scatter little pieces of himself over the ground beneath him. He adjusted his angle of descent, hoping to hit the outskirts of the city. No such luck. While he was going to miss the city center, his projected point of impact was still well within the city's limits.

The ground fire ceased abruptly as he fell below safe firing angles. He hit the brakes, hoping he hadn't gone beyond the point of no return. Mike's legs snapped forward as the brakes deployed and he fought for consciousness as the blood was forced from his upper extremities. He forced himself to breath, in fast, hyperventilating cycles to keep oxygen flowing into his body and prevent his brain from completely checking out.

He looked frantically for a good place to impact. There wasn't one, so he settled for the best of the worst; a five-story building. At a glance, it was made of concrete and brick. It looked run down, with numerous broken windows and peeling paint. He hoped it was abandoned. He aimed for a large opening on the fourth floor in hopes of avoiding any of the steel beams that likely supported the concrete structure. Punching through concrete would hurt; trying to punch through steel would end his day.

His aim was spot on and he flew through the opening and crashed into the building's interior. Slamming through the thinner walls inside, he finally came to a violent stop against the far wall of the building.

Mike took a moment to take stock of himself and his equipment. The first thing he noticed was that he was upside down, his back on the floor with his feet in the air. He righted himself and checked for injury. None. That was lucky as hell, he thought. He checked the battle suit's systems and found everything but the mini-gun operational. He held it up for inspection. Yeah, that wouldn't be working any time soon. Nearly half the mechanism had been sheared off.

He looked at the path of destruction he'd left in his wake. There was a long series of holes through the walls to the open sky. He chuckled to himself at the sight. Damn! What an entrance. His chuckle died as a gunship framed itself in the hole where he'd entered the building. He moved just seconds before gunfire tore through the spot where he'd been sitting.

Mike moved through the building's interior quickly as he thought through what he needed to do. First, avoid being captured or killed. Second, get out of the city and then to the rally point. And finally, find some way to salvage this disaster of a mission with whoever was left of his team. After that, get back to the ship and beat the hell out of the captain. He stopped at a ground floor exit and took a moment to imagine himself planting a fist in the captain's face.

The sound of the gunship, in combination with what sounded like quite a number of ground transports moving into the area, spoiled the moment. He shot across the alley and burst through the locked door of a neighboring building. This building, as well as the one previous, was deserted. Mike was relieved at not having to shoot around civilians during a running gun battle.

He mapped his position and quickly plotted a course. It was five miles to the city's perimeter. On open ground, he could make it in five minutes. In an urban environment while conducting a running gun battle, it could take all day...if he made it at all.

Gunfire tore into an open lobby as he ran past and he retreated further into the building. He could hear the gunship tracking him as he moved while at the same time hear the sounds of pursuit in the lobby behind him. He stopped short at the next window, tracking the gunship as it circled the building. He needed to even the odds.

Sticking his laser canon out the window while keeping himself behind the cover of the thick concrete wall, he aimed for the small induction port on the mostly armored gunship, and fired five quick bursts. Four of the five hit home, blew through the venting into the engine and fused all its parts together in a lump of superheated metal. The gun ship tipped almost gracefully and then nosed into the ground below, rocking the building as it impacted, shaking dust and debris from the ceilings.

Mike didn't get time to celebrate as he began taking fire from the far end of the hall. He got a quick glance of his attackers as he ducked through an adjacent doorway and through an adjoining wall. Tau Ceti. The tell-tale shimmer of their cloaked, invisible forms looked like a clear, broiling cloud of deadly steam as it churned down the hall. He cursed as he continued to crash through the building's interior.

Mike had only limited contact with Tau Ceti during his time as a marine. They were the only non-human species so far discovered in known space. He'd read the files on what little information there was. Roughly humanoid with two arms and two legs. No neck though, which was kind of creepy, and the all-important opposable thumb, which scientists believed to be the true marker of evolution from a dumb animal to an evolved species. Whatever. Their ability to cloak themselves, turning nearly invisible except for an odd distortion in the air, seemed to be some type of genetic evolution. Everyone was so excited about "First Contact" that no one considered anything wrong with sharing technology until it was too late.

Tau Ceti were murderers and thieves, a practice that started amongst themselves, which they took to human-occupied space with fanatical glee. Having hijacked the vessels of the party that made first contact, they murdered and pillaged their way through space. Most of what the marines knew of fighting them came from Rayne's first-hand accounts of her time on Ross 614, where they had built a base of operations and where Rayne had been marooned for three years. From what she'd told him, the pirates generally moved in four-man units, much like a fire team. However, when moving in large groups they tended to move in a horde and would swarm their opponents like bees from a hive, overwhelming them with sheer numbers.

From the current look of things, they were swarming and Mike would need to keep his distance or go down under a pile of alien bodies. A thought struck him as he made his way to the top of the building, jumping to the adjacent roof. Why was there a gunship, obviously marked with the planet's defense emblems, working in conjunction with Tau Ceti? Mike didn't get to think on it further as he leaped into the air in an attempt to make it to the next roof. He was going to make it, but he should have looked before he leaped.

Mike began firing before he hit the roof; trying to clear a space to escape once he landed. He had switched visual filters to better identify his targets and he could see a swarming mass of bodies beneath him. They returned fire and he felt the impacts as the projectiles dug their way into the armored plates of his suit. He crashed into their midst, the laser canon firing almost constantly as he attempted to run for the roof's edge. He used his other arm to bat away the figures attempting to jump on his back and grab at his feet.

He was half way to the roof's edge when he went down. There were just too many bodies and he couldn't pull himself away. During Rayne's rescue, he'd seen her overwhelmed in just this way. He copied the tactics he remembered seeing her use as he rolled, punched and kicked his way free. He was up for a moment before being dragged down again. His laser canon had finally overheated as he fought his way to his feet, only to be dragged down again, short of his goal. He gave up on trying to rise and used his efforts to fight and roll his way to the roof's edge. If he could get himself over, perhaps the fall would shake enough loose to give him a chance of escape.

Mike's estimation of Rayne rose greatly as he fought for his life. How had she managed this for three years? He'd been in contact for only a few short minutes and he was already being overwhelmed. Mike was less than a meter from the roof's edge and gave one last heave that propelled him over and to the ground four stories below.

He crashed to the ground in a shower of bodies and debris. Mike tried to rise but was unable to do so. He looked down to find a large concrete slab pinning him to the ground, along with an ever-increasing pile of Tau Ceti. Mike knew he'd been beat. He cursed. There was only one thing left: self-destruct. Pulling the safeguards, he entered his security code and set the sequence. He'd get the laugh last on this one, the bastards.

Blue light exploded outward. Soft bodies turned to mist as the small fusion reactor released its energy, turning the air to plasma for a thousand meters. Buildings caved in and collapsed and rubble was thrown for another thousand meters beyond that. The expanding bubble of plasma reached its limit and then suddenly popped out of existence. Pulverized dust hung in the air as the sun gently rose above the horizon, casting an eerie haze on the destruction before it.

CHAPTER 6

Rayne dangled her bare feet over the building's edge. Sweat glistened on her skin while the last vestiges of her nightmares echoed in her head. She took deep calming breaths to force the last of them away. They still persisted, which she'd been told by Dr. Miller was normal. She took no comfort in being that kind of normal. Re-living the worst moments of the last three years several times a week was something she'd sooner skip. At least it wasn't every night like it had been, or waking up in a murderous rage.

She took a last shuddering breath, relaxed and kicked the T80 to the back of her mind, enjoying the silence as she closed her eyes. The warm wind felt nice as it blew through her hair and swirled around her feet. She stayed like that for a long while, just letting her mind drift, thinking of nothing. She didn't want to think right now. She just wanted to be alone.

Her acute hearing picked up the sound of the air traffic moving overhead, as well as that moving through the streets below. She heard the shuttles coming and going from the platform several kilometers away. The pedestrian traffic could be heard below, mixed with the sound of laughter and the clink of silverware from one of several outdoor restaurants. The wind gusted and she could hear small pieces of gravel being picked up and blown against the building's metal retaining wall before flying over the edge and into the abyss. The sounds all melded together into a relaxing murmur, which she enjoyed for a long while

Rayne opened her eyes and tried to see the stars, but they were washed out by the lights of the city. The only lights visible were the shuttles moving back and forth between the mammoth space station sitting in orbit above them. She ignored the T80 as it attempted to give her their speed, altitude and direction. Not now, she told it. She just wanted to be left alone. The T80 complied and settled watchfully in the back of her mind.

Rayne was feeling sorry for herself. Going to the party had been a mistake. She'd known that before even going, but some of the best lessons were learned by screwing things up. Lena had taught her that. But what had she really learned? That she wasn't like everyone else? She already knew that. Maybe it was that she was in the wrong place trying to do the wrong thing. Maybe she should stop trying to be something she wasn't and just be who and what she was.

It had become obvious after today that dancing wasn't what she was meant to do. She didn't belong with those people. She wasn't one of them and never would be, no matter how hard she tried or pretended. And what was the point, really? Yes, she liked to dance, but what did it actually accomplish in the greater scheme of things? Besides putting a smile on a few faces, nothing that she could tell. Maybe that was part of her problem. Rayne realized suddenly that she wanted to do something that mattered. She wanted to do something important that people cared about, or that was of benefit not just to her or a few hundred people in a concert hall, but to society as a whole. In short, she wanted her life to mean something.

Life should have meaning, shouldn't it? What was the point of it all if you didn't have a meaningful direction? Otherwise, she might as well toss herself off the edge of the building. Wherever she went, whatever she did, she needed to find some place that would accept her for who and what she was. She couldn't keep trying to be someone else because that was not working.

Rayne thought through a number of different options; discarding each in turn. She gave up and made several decisions about her immediate future until she could determine the long-term objective. She would finish out the semester. There were only a few weeks left anyway. She would continue to take Dr. Gault's money. That was a given. She intended to soak the woman for all she was worth. In the meantime, she would pour herself into researching a career path that could use an eighteen-year-old dance dropout with the programming of a T80 battle suit living in her head and a propensity to attack at the drop of a hat.

Rayne smiled, feeling much better now that she had a course of action. She kicked herself from the roof's edge and dropped to her balcony a story below. Tomorrow was going to be a much better day.

***

Lena stood looking at her mother's dead body. The woman had looked thin and haggard even in life but was even more so in death. Several police officers moved about their tiny apartment, looking for what, she had no idea. There was nothing valuable, that was for sure. The walls were concrete and streaked with the dirt of an untold number of past tenants. There were a few brightly-colored decorations on the wall; her mother's lame attempts at brightening the dingy apartment. It was neat and as clean as it could be made, but the carpets were threadbare, and no amount of scrubbing could remove the stains from the walls. The few pieces of furniture were heavily worn and in disrepair. The cupboards and countertops were mostly empty.

Her mother's eyes stared sightlessly at the stained ceiling, her mouth opened slightly. One arm dangled stiffly at her side while the other rested grotesquely on the tiny table before her. The sun shown weakly through the tattered drapes covering the room's only window facing the adjoining apartment building several meters away.

Lena didn't cry. At sixteen, she had already experienced a lifetime of misery in the impoverished neighborhood where she lived. Death was a frequent visitor, too familiar to warrant an emotional outburst. She'd been taking care of herself for most of her life while her mother worked herself to the bone to pay for their miserable excuse of an apartment. She'd barely kept them out of the streets, but only just. With no father, Lena had been left to fend for herself. She did what she could to add to what little her mother could put on the table, but no one would hire a teenage girl from her part of town. Consequently, most of the food she brought home was stolen or scrounged from places she'd rather not think about.

Maybe it was for the best. Her mother was in a better place now. It couldn't get much worse than the hell they'd been in. She almost wished she could join her but discarded the notion immediately. Dying meant quitting and Lena was no quitter, even with the odds stacked against her.

"It's okay to cry, honey." The social worker tried to put a comforting arm around her. Lena shrugged it off. Crying wouldn't accomplish anything. It wouldn't put food in her mouth or give her a place to stay. It was a useless activity that showed everyone you were weak.

"Why don't you grab your things and we'll go." The woman didn't make any further attempts to console her. "I'll meet you at the door when you're ready."

Lena walked to the door of her room. It wasn't actually a door, but a curtain to give her some small measure of privacy. She pulled it aside and stood for several long moments looking at the worn mattress on the floor covered with a tattered blanket. She looked around for something to take with her, something that held some meaning or a happy memory. She turned and walked to the door with nothing more than the clothes on her back.

***

Lena took long strides as she picked her way through the smooth sand of the darkened wash. The stars shone brightly overhead, providing a soft glow that allowed her to see her way around the occasional rock, piece of deadwood, or hole. She moved quickly, but not without caution. A misstep in the dark would be more than dangerous—life-ending in this barren wasteland. She didn't dare use the small light provided in the emergency packs she carried slung over her shoulder. She was fairly certain search parties were looking for her, and a single light, even a small one, would shine like a supernova.

She cursed quietly as she stubbed her toe on a small rock and continued forward as quickly as the dim light would allow. She'd dropped down into the dry wash as soon as she'd found it. It was headed in roughly the right direction and would provide her some concealment in the maddeningly flat expanse of the desert. But as flat as it was, she still couldn't see the city that lay some one hundred and twenty kilometers before her. There was a dim halo of light on the horizon but no more.

She was tired and thirsty. Lena had hiked through the day and into the night in an attempt to put as much distance between her and the crash site as possible, managing about forty kilometers. She was making good time for being on foot but longed for the speed of a T80 that would have put her nearly to her destination by now. She stopped briefly and sat on a low shelf jutting from the steep walls around her. She'd been pushing herself hard, maybe too hard. She had a long way to go over the most hostile terrain she'd ever encountered.

Lena pulled the water from one of the packs and took a swallow, grimacing at the small amount that was left. She looked back the way she had come and saw lightning flashing in the distant mountains. A rare desert rainstorm. A little of that over here would be nice, she thought to herself. She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying not to think of her dead team members. Flashes of their frantic descent ran through her mind. Could she have done anything different? Was it her fault Callahan hadn't made it? Lena squeezed her eyes tight, trying to banish the image of Callahan flipping uncontrollably into the ground at full speed. She knocked the back of her head into the rock wall behind her. No, she wouldn't play that game with herself. What's done was done and Callahan was gone. Self-recrimination wouldn't do her any good. She'd done her best under difficult circumstances and if anyone wanted to criticize her choices then they could go to hell.

The distant sound of engines suddenly reached her ears. Lena grabbed her gear, stuffed it under the ledge she was sitting on, and quickly followed it. She waited, motionless, as the sound grew louder. From the tone of the engines, she guessed a small scouting drone. Not as big and heavily armored as the planetary defense gunships, but still lethal to a human on foot without anything more than a knife for a weapon. Lena kept herself perfectly still as the drone flew slowly overhead, hoping there wasn't something else living in the spot she'd chosen to hide.

The drone passed into the distance and Lena crawled out and stood, following the distant sound with her eyes and ears to make sure it didn't return. After several minutes, perfect silence settled onto the desert once more.

Light was beginning to brighten the eastern horizon. Hiking through the previous day had been murder, and she had no desire to do it again. Lena determined to make camp, sleep during the day, then travel at night. She looked around for a suitable spot, some place sheltered from the sun and heat of the day. She quickly discounted the hiding spot she'd just crawled from. Too tight, too dark, and filled with who knew what.

Several minutes searching found her a shallow cave in the side of the bank. Calling it a cave might have been a little too generous, but it was the best she could find. She hung her gear from a rock outcropping, hoping to keep it away from any animals, then put her head down to sleep. Even exhausted as she was, sleep came slowly. The rising sun didn't help. She turned her back to the opening to shield her eyes before finally falling into restless sleep.

She awoke after what seemed like seconds to the sound of rushing water. She sat up with a start and looked over the torrent of brown, muddy water rushing past her cave. She grabbed for her emergency packs but found them missing, already carried away by the rising water. She cursed. Well, she thought. I had asked for water.

The torrent was rising fast and she needed to get to higher ground. Lena jumped up quickly, looking for a path or handhold that would get her up to the edge just a few feet away. The small cave she'd chosen was up high, which had probably saved her life, but if she couldn't get herself out of the churning water's path, she might drown.

There were no handholds; just slick rock. Hoping for the best, Lena leaped as high as she could and caught the top edge. It was rounded and difficult to hold onto, but she pulled herself up, thanking the marine corps for the top level of fitness it demanded. Her hands began to slip on the smooth rock, but she was able to get one forearm up to hook the edge. Lena smiled. Almost there, she thought. She transferred her weight to her arm while she repositioned her other hand. Reaching forward to grasp a solid handhold, her forearm slipped on the rock's smooth surface. She grabbed frantically but missed, falling into the churning waters below.

CHAPTER 7

The drone passed low over the trees as it scanned the surrounding forest. It moved back and forth across the search grid on its programmed course, looking for the intruders that had landed on the planet's surface. It scanned, stopped and evaluated, then moved on. It had yet to find any trace of the intruders landing but continued tirelessly to complete the search grid.

It stopped, hovering above the tree line in the waning light. It honed in on the trail of fallen trees lining the mountain's side and moved forward to make a closer inspection. The pathway of downed trees lay flat, oriented toward the small lake at the base of the slope. There were no natural conditions that would account for the damage, so the drone moved toward the lake to search for wreckage or survivors. Hovering at the water's edge, it carefully scanned the surroundings. Finding nothing, it moved out over the still surface of the water, hovering a meter above as it scanned the depths below.

The drone suddenly gave a strangled, electronic squawk as an armored fist reached up through the water and punched a hole through its middle, pulling it beneath the surface. The water stilled, leaving no trace of the drone's passage. An hour passed as dusk deepened into darkness and the stars began to shine. Two large forms rose silently from the water. Steam hissed quietly from heated canons and barrels made a soft whine as they spun in anticipation of danger. Nothing came and the two figures moved in tandem to the shore. They stopped and surveyed the area around them, then at their path of descent. They nodded appreciatively. One seemed to be attempting communication, but the other just shook his head and tapped a finger to the side of his head, indicating a communication problem. The first nodded in understanding and then signaled with his hands that they should move forward. They stepped quietly, disappearing into the trees and the deepening darkness.

***

Mike was having a really good dream. There was a sandy white beach, cool emerald water, and a beautiful woman. A soft breeze rocked the hammock they shared, tossing their hair. He took a long pull from the cold drink in his hand and rested his chin on the woman's head. He sighed and breathed in the salty sea air...

Mike's head slammed into the bed of the transport as it hit a rough patch of ground. He groaned in pain, both physical and mental. His head hurt, as well as numerous other parts of his body where he'd been beaten, but the loss of the dream was agonizing. His mind grasped futilely for the memory of the woman's face and name. Was it Barbra? Trina? No, Sandy. He was pretty sure it was Sandy. Or was that just because the beach was sandy? Whatever. Sandy was as good a name as any.

He spit the blood in his mouth onto the booted foot resting next to his head. Thankfully whoever the boot belonged to didn't notice, a small victory. His hands were secured behind his back with energy restraints, as were his feet, which had also been tethered to his wrists for an added measure of security. It was less than comfortable, and he hoped they reached their destination soon.

The T80's self-destruct had worked like a charm, clearing a five-block radius handily. He had lain comfortably in the battle suit, watching the show. He'd never been put into the position of having to use it before and hoped he never had to again. Losing a fight pissed him off, but he wasn't going down without taking as many of the enemy with him as he could. Self-destruct was also protocol for scenarios where capture was imminent. The military didn't want their hardware falling into the wrong hands. But no one in their right mind would blow themselves up, so they'd been careful to design the system to leave the pilot intact. There had been just enough power left to eject.

The blast wave had been incredible, although he'd not gotten to see it but for a fraction of an instant before everything went black. Not because he'd been knocked unconscious, but because the energy powering the systems allowing him to see were busy vaporizing everything around him. By the time Mike had forced his way out of the charred remains of his T80, the planetary security forces had moved in to take him prisoner. He'd apparently killed all the Tau Ceti and they were the only ones left.

Mike counted himself lucky since the Tau Ceti would have just killed him. But he was having difficulty being thankful as he felt each and every one of the hundred different bumps and bruises as he was carried in the back of the transport. The security forces had not been gentle. He tried to shift his weight from his bruised ribs, managing only partial success. They were probably upset about their buddies in the gunship he'd shot down. That was the only reason to explain the rough treatment, since no one would mourn the loss of a few Tau Ceti. They were killers and not much better than animals themselves. Why anyone, especially the planet's security forces, would be working with them was beyond his comprehension. Mike was determined to keep his eyes and ears open to find the answer. Or at least his right eye, the other was nearly swollen shut. He used it to look through a gap in the transport's bed.

The city, or what was left of it, looked like a war zone. Windows were blasted out and many of the buildings showed signs of battle damage. A civil war? That still didn't explain the Tau Ceti. Or had they arrived just to take advantage of the carnage? That would certainly be in character. They had a foothold in every quadrant of space and took advantage of any weakness or instability they could find. This system would be a sweet target with the antimatter production facility. With the stolen drive technology, they'd be ahead of the game as the rest of the systems slowly upgraded their engines. Without it, they'd be at a severe disadvantage. It still didn't explain how or why they seemed to be working in conjunction with the planet's defense forces. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions. Mike supposed it possible he had just gotten caught in the crossfire, but that didn't quite fit either.

The man above him cursed as he noticed the blood on his boot and used his heel to kick him in the shoulder. Mike groaned loudly, even though the pain was minimal. He didn't want an extra beating for being tougher than the man hitting him, so cried out appropriately as the circumstances dictated. There was a time and place to be a tough guy. This wasn't it.

The transport came to an abrupt stop and Mike was dragged roughly from the back and dumped face first on the ground. He coughed dust and blood, closing his eyes to keep the dirt out as the remaining men jumped from the back. Since he was affectively hobbled, they were forced to carry him into the building before them. He could only see parts of it with one eye closed and the other filled with dirt, but it looked large and official.

He was carried, still face down, up the steps. He gritted his teeth in pain as the awkward position strained his bruised ribs. Boots met shiny marble as they made their way through a large lobby. Mike craned his neck as he heard voices and caught a quick glance of the planet's ambassador before being hurried past a set of heavy metal doors. Well, there was his contact. Standing unharmed in the lobby of a building while he was dragged off to who knew where. His memory drew up the ambassador's picture. Shephard H. Ulysses, chief jerk-off for the Bernard system. The ambassador had the look of a used shuttle salesman with his red, slicked back hair and big smile. The kind of person that would sell you a ship with no engine and tell you it would fly just fine. He'd have his thumb on everything: defenses, communications, and even the military ships patrolling the system to a certain extent. If he'd managed to get all those under his control, he'd be sitting pretty to do just about anything he wanted.

Mike's train of thought was abruptly halted as he was carried into a large cell. Rough hands pushed his face into the hard floor as others kept him down with their knees. He felt the energy cuffs release and his captors step away, but not before giving him a few farewell kicks to remember them by.

CHAPTER 8

Admiral Gault sat at his desk, scanning the day's reports. He was giving heavy attention to the accounts belonging to his ex's labs. He'd already caught her once trying to bypass the procedures he'd set in place to protect human subjects enlisted in her programs. It had his ex-wife's fingerprints all over it, but he hadn't been able to prove anything. He'd had to settle for handing down a fairly substantial fine. He suspected they'd established some kind of shadow facility and were trying to keep it away from prying eyes--namely, his. The money trail was going to give them away, though. All he needed was for an accountant to do what was referred to as a "heavy audit" and they'd ferret out whatever it was being hidden. Depending on what was pulled up, they'd likely lose any further government contracts. Not that it would stop them for long. With a few quick name changes, fund transfers, and legal filings, they'd open up business under another name and continue where they'd left off. He needed a legal way to cut them off permanently.

The admiral looked up as someone knocked. Admiral Anzhelica Shulkovskii stood at the door. She was in charge of fleet operations and a good friend. Ten years his senior, she had played a big role in helping him get his feet under him in this new roll. From what he'd been told by other sources, she had also been instrumental in having the previous admiral in his position forced out, and him promoted to take his place. He had lunch with her at least once a week and he'd found her to be quick, intelligent and an outstanding tactician. Now over fifty, she'd never really been an attractive woman, but she was lean and fit and wore the uniform well. When she spoke, there was only a hint of her native Russian accent, but what he appreciated most was her candor. Admiral Shulkovskii didn't spare egos or feelings when something needed to be said, and it was refreshing not having to worry about where she stood on an issue when dealing with what he affectionately called the "Snake Den" every day.

He stood, "Hello, Angie. It's a little early for lunch isn't it?"

She got straight to the point as was her style. "I'm not here for lunch, Jason. I'm afraid I have some bad news." She indicated toward one of two chairs sitting in front of his desk. "Take a seat."

He looked at her with concern as he sat. "Is Rayne okay? Did she hurt anyone?" She was the only reason the admiral could think for bad news of the kind he was thinking he'd receive. He'd come to love the girl as a daughter, but she came with a suitcase full of trouble. He worried constantly that she'd lose control and do some serious damage.

Admiral Shulkovskii shook her head. "No, Jason. It's not Rayne." They sometimes discussed his adopted daughter over lunch and she was familiar with the challenges involved.

He relaxed in his chair, his biggest worry allayed. "What is it then?"

"I thought I'd tell you before you heard from anyone else. I know you worked closely with Sgt. Weber and his team."

"Tell me," he said calmly, waiting to hear the full news before letting his imagination run away. If the sergeant and his team were dead, he'd feel it as a deep personal loss. They were good men and women. Some of the best he'd worked with and he knew they loved their work. But it was dangerous and the possibility of not coming back was ever present.

"You knew they were sent to check on the Bernard system after the communication blackout?"

"Yes."

"The captain reports the marines took hostile fire as they dropped in. They were able to confirm two KIA before leaving the system."

Admiral Gault nearly left his chair. "He left them there? What kind of idiot leaves marines like that?"

"Calm down, Jason. He was forced out." She held up a hand, signaling him to sit back so she could explain.

Jason eased back, holding his peace as he waited for the promised explanation. It had better be a good one. Although not the warm and fuzzy sort, he had become attached to the people he'd worked with and still considered them his. It was difficult to leave them to a much less experienced captain.

"He was forced out," she repeated. "The captain reported a large force jumped him just after the marines dropped." She eyed him levelly, gauging his response.

He still wasn't happy, but no longer wanted to strangle his replacement. "Who was it?"

"Reports are a combination of Tau Ceti and what looked like fleet vessels." Her skeptical expression indicated she didn't seem to completely believe the report.

He matched the expression. "Fleet vessels? Are you sure?"

"Nothing is sure at the moment. The captain has backed off and is waiting for the cavalry to arrive."

"So are we looking at a system take-over by the Tau Ceti? They've never pulled anything this big before."

"We've no idea right now and probably won't until the fleet reaches the system." She stood, signaling she'd be answering no further questions. "I just heard the news about your marines and thought you'd want to know."

"Thanks, Angie. I appreciate the courtesy." He walked the admiral to the door and returned to his desk. Two KIA. He couldn't help wondering which two. He hoped it wasn't Cpl. Ramirez. Not because he liked her more than the rest, but because of Rayne. Rayne had developed a deep attachment to the marine and Lena's death would be devastating. He'd have to tell her when the time came, but until he had some details and names of the actual KIAs, he'd keep it to himself. There was no need worrying Rayne until he knew.

***

Rayne sat in the back of the small class. She was one of about twenty who attended the class personally. The rest attended via a holographic feed, appearing to sit in the empty seats scattered throughout the small classroom. You could tell which were real, by the occasion glitch in the feed's transmission and the slightly translucent quality of the image. It was sometimes a problem for instructors, who frequently found the holo-students paying less attention, easily remedied by a push of a button and an extinguished feed, accompanied by a failing grade for the day.

Rayne closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the sun on her face as she listened to the instructor drone on about interplanetary politics. She wasn't in the mood to listen but was too committed to just skip class. Many of the students didn't seem to have a problem cutting, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. It wasn't long before the end of the semester and she was day-dreaming of a day at the beach. Maybe Lena would be back by then and they could go together.

"Ms. Harper. Since you're paying so much attention, maybe you could explain it for the rest of the class."

Rayne opened her eyes and looked up. The instructor had an amused expression on his face like he'd just caught her napping and was about to make her pay for her inattention by embarrassing her before the class. Her classmates had turned, waiting for the show and an opportunity to laugh at another's misfortune.

She locked eyes with the instructor. She was a little self-conscious about speaking before the class, but she didn't like the none-to-subtle intimidation he was using to get her to pay attention. In point of fact, she'd heard everything he'd said, or at least the T80 had. She considered briefly giving the instructor a flash of black eyes, but decided she didn't want to see him pee himself. She settled for a slight narrowing of the eyes.

"Maybe you could see fit to pay attention..."

Rayne cut him off. "The Bernard system is a class M4.0Ve, red dwarf star located 5.963 light years from earth. There are a dozen planets in the system depending on what classification system you use, but only one is habitable and of any real significance regarding the current discussion. The planet is also referred to as Bernard, but often referred to Barney to avoid confusion between the system name and the planet. Barney's significance is that it is the sole production facility for antimatter production, the key to faster and more efficient space travel. The manufacturing process is highly dangerous and thus its location in a minor system with a low population. Despite its sparse population, the importance of the antimatter production has made it a potent political force. In controlling antimatter production, it effectively controls the future of space travel as well as the key to an extremely lethal weapon."

The instructor was surprised at having such a thorough answer to his question. Interested to see what further insight she was capable of, he urged her further with another question. "And how would you address the current situation?" He looked on curiously, waiting for her response.

Rayne looked around the class, finding not just the instructor, but the other students were all waiting patiently for her response. Great. She quickly analyzed the tactical situation and determined the most likely course of action based on the limited facts. "A detachment of the 4th Fleet, a squadron comprised of six destroyers and one frigate are responsible for the defense of the Bernard system. The two most likely scenarios for the communication blackout are that the production facility suffered a catastrophic event, or that the planet and its defenses were overwhelmed by an invading force."

"And what about the possibility of civil unrest?"

"Unlikely, considering the level of coordination it would take to silence communications of both the planet and the squadron simultaneously. The logical course of action is to send a scouting craft to determine the cause and then report back. We would learn fairly quickly if the communication loss was the result of a catastrophic event. It would also be obvious fairly quickly if a hostile force had taken control. If that was the case, the 4th Fleet would need to be sent immediately, with additional resources from the 2nd and 3rd as soon as they became available."

"You seem to be devoting a lot of resources to this one planet," said the instructor with interest.

"The stakes are quite high. Loss of the production facility would mean a severe strategic disadvantage if used to upgrade the space drives of hostile forces or, in the extreme, it could be used as a weapon to destroy entire systems."

"Spot on assessment, Ms. Harper. I apologize for thinking you weren't paying attention." He turned back toward the class and Rayne sighed in relief. That was probably the most talking she'd done in class all year. "Let's change gears for just a minute and talk diplomacy. In case you're not monitoring the feeds, the scenario Ms. Harper just outlined for us has been playing out. The ship sent to scout the system was repelled by a hostile force after attempting to drop a contingent of marines to the planet to make contact.

Rayne, who had turned back to the window and the sun, snapped her attention back to the instructor. "Do you know their designation and unit number?"

His eyes went distant and flickered as he scanned the feed. "I'm afraid not, though I'm told they were based out of Athena." He looked back at Rayne, confused with the question, trying to see the connection to the topic. She linked to the feed and checked herself, confirming what the instructor had just told her. He continued with the discussion as Rayne worked things out in her head.

There were easily hundreds of scouting vessels with units like Lena's based out of Athena. It could be any one of them, except that she knew Lena's had been deployed at about the right time for them to have reached the Bernard system.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, she missed the intervening discussion. "What about negotiation, Ms. Harper. If the marines are captured, do we allow them to be used as bargaining chips?" He looked on expectantly, hoping for another brilliant answer like the one before.

Rayne turned her attention back. "No. There will be no negotiations." With that, she shouldered her bag and stalked from the room with determined purpose.

CHAPTER 9

"Get her, Lena!"

"Bust that bitch's ass!"

Her knuckles were cut and her lip was split, but Lena smiled in angry satisfaction. No one disrespected her, and the girl coming at her was learning that lesson the hard way, as were her two friends already down, licking their wounds. Lena didn't take shit from any one; especially not from some rich bitches that thought their money made them better than everyone else.

Who did this girl think she was anyway? They'd bumped into her, not the other way around. She could have let it pass at that, but the insults about being a guttersnipe and a whore couldn't stand. She'd spun on them at the insult.

"What'd you call me?"

The girls had turned, obviously feeling secure in their superior numbers as they looked down their pretty noses. "You heard me. Try watching where you walk next time." She turned back to her friends. "What a creep." They turned to walk away, hitching their expensive purses on their shoulders and swaying their designer-clad asses in contempt.

Oh, hell, no, Lena thought, grabbing the offending girl by the hair and slammed her face first into a brick wall. The girl cried out in surprise, pain and fear. "You need to learn some manners, bitch," she said, pinning her against the wall. Everyone was yelling now. The girl pinned against the wall was yelling to be let go and her two friends were shouting obscenities that didn't match the clothes they wore. "You need to apologize," Lena growled, grinding the girl's smooth and flawless skin into the coarse brick surface. The girl snarled and told her where to put her apology.

By now, the commotion had started to draw a small crowd of Lena's friends. This was Lena's neighborhood. It was a poor, tough place and these girls didn't have any business being there. They must be out of their minds, coming into her hood and disrespecting her like that. Lena would get her apology, even if she had to beat it out of the girl.

So intent was she with the girl pinned to the wall, she missed the purse flying at her head. Ouch! What was in there, a brick? Lena threw the girl she held to the ground and faced the purse-wielding comrade. She licked her split lip, then stepped forward without warning to deliver a devastating combination that put the other girl on the ground in a daze. The third girl telegraphed a wide-swinging hay maker which Lena easily ducked, planting a solid right just below the girl's ear that put her down.

The crowd was chanting Lena's name now. She felt like a champion prize fighter. "Bring it, bitch," she said as the girl she'd pushed into the wall earlier got up off the ground and came at her. Lena ducked a wild swing and came up with a left hook that connected square on the chin. Watching her eyes spin and lose focus, she knocked the girl to the ground and straddled her chest.

"How 'bout that apology now?" Lena slapped her hard across the face, making her head jerk to the side. "No?" She slapped her again with the other hand. Several slaps later, the girl finally gathered her wits enough to scream a tearful apology. Lena got off, using the girl's face as leverage. Her cheering section slapped her on the back in congratulations, and she felt her street cred rise a notch. The three girls picked each other up and beat a hasty retreat to the hoots and derision of the crowd.

Three hours later, Lena was escorted to the women's detention facility by two grim-faced officers. She sat angrily in a cell with several other women as she waited her turn to face the judge. One was a prostitute for sure. You didn't wear clothes like that for any other reason. Damn, the woman's naughty bits were barely covered. Lena snorted in derision. It would be a cold day in hell before she sold herself for money. Everyone had to make choices, though. Who was she to say what was right and what was wrong? Sometimes life forced you into a corner and the only choices you had left were the wrong ones.

Lena had learned that and many other lessons early on when her mother had died. She'd been kicked out of a dozen foster homes and lived on the street ever since, fending for herself. She worked when she could find it, scavenged when she had to, and fought when the occasion called for it. She'd earned her degree in the school of hard knocks and had banked a significant amount of street credit. Lena was as tough and hard as anyone in her neighborhood. She'd take whatever came her way. She always did.

This was the first time she'd been jailed and her first time before a judge. She didn't know what to expect in the world she was about to face. In her world, you took matters into your own hands and exacted your own justice, if you could. In her world, what she'd done had been right. Doing anything less would have been wrong. But the rest of the world didn't work like that, and so she waited, to see what fate had in store.

***

The burning sun had long since dried the water from her clothes as she trudged through the bottom of the wash. She hurt all over from her struggle with the flash flood. Lena had collided with a number of submerged rocks and gone under at least a dozen times before clawing her way from the brown leviathan of water. She'd managed to steer clear of the tangle of limbs and brush, which would certainly have meant her death, but now she was worried about problems at the opposite end of the spectrum. Where she was nearly killed by water just hours before, she was now worried about not having enough.

Most of the water was now gone, washed downstream or soaked into the sandy ground. There were still pockets of water in shallow depressions holding on in the shade. She took every opportunity to drink as much as she could when she came to one. They were muddy and she could feel the sandy grit in her teeth when she drank, but wasn't about to complain, knowing it could be her last.

It was still daylight when she'd pulled herself out of the water and she'd spent several hours sitting, watching the water pass before it faded into nothing. Hoping to find her lost emergency packs, she'd decided to stay in the wash but kept an eye on the mountains in the distance to make sure she wasn't surprised again.

She tapped the PSC and checked her position on the holographic display as it projected out and expanded. Fortunately, it was waterproof and strapped to her wrist. Otherwise, she might have found herself wandering in the desert until she ended up as a pile of dried bones for the animals to pick over. She'd come about forty kilometers, actually gaining some ground after nearly being drowned by the torrent of water carrying her downstream. Not her preferred way to travel, but she'd take it.

The sun was starting to dip toward the horizon, for which Lena was grateful. The sun was punishing. You'd think it being a red dwarf, the heat wouldn't be quite so intense. It must be closer to its sun than Athena was to its. Whatever. The only meaningful thought on Lena's mind was that she was thirsty again. She just couldn't seem to get enough liquid before the sun burned it right out of her. Even with her naturally dark complexion, she'd gotten a pretty good sunburn on her head and other exposed skin.

Lena frowned as she looked at the holographic map before her. The wash was angling off away from where she wanted to go. She was disappointed at not finding the packs but following the wash any further would take her away from her intended destination. She had at least two days walk before making it to the rally point. She had her PSC, a knife and no food or water. Life's a bitch, she thought to herself.

Lena cleared the map and looked for a puddle to drink from before cutting across the desert. There was nothing except a wet sandy spot under a low overhang. She got on her knees and began digging until the hole slowly filled with muddy water. She brought it to her mouth with her hands and gulped it down, trying to ignore the gritty feel between her teeth. With her stomach as full of muddy water as she could manage without throwing it up, Lena climbed out of the wash and began walking. She kept the fading sun on her shoulder as she walked. It would set soon, and she'd need to rely on the PSC to point the way. The temperature had moderated but was still hot as she kept a stiff pace. She scanned the barren landscape, looking for anything useful that would help her survive. Water was the biggest priority; food taking a close second. Shelter would be nice, but she wasn't likely to find any out here. There were small rocks, medium sized rocks, and oh, look, bigger rocks. She snorted in laughter, wondering if she was in the beginning stages of delirium. That was the kind of stupid joke Taft would make. She'd never admit it, but she missed the goofy bastard and his stupid jokes. It was like having the stupid little brother she never wished for.

Lena continued to scan the ground as she walked, noticing mushroom-like shapes scattered across the desert floor. They were no more than knee high, with a pointed top stretched out to a diameter of about half a meter. She walked up to one and tapped it with her toe. When it didn't move, she bent down to take a closer look. The top was a bleached brown, but the thick stalk was a dusky green, suggesting to her the possibility of water. She tapped the top with a finger. It was hard and smooth. Using her knife, she tried to poke a hole in it and found it thick and resistant.

Hoping for water, Lena took her knife and cut it off at the stalk. She hadn't been hoping for a geyser but was nevertheless disappointed. The stalk didn't give off any moisture and any attempts to suck it from the stalk just left a nasty taste in her mouth. Not yet ready to give up, she inspected the underside of the shell and found a pink, meaty substance the consistency of fish meat. Lena made a face. She didn't like fish. She scanned it with the PSC to make sure it wasn't poisonous. It registered as an edible starch with a high water content. Awesome. Maybe she wouldn't die out here after all. Lena scooped a handful of the pink flesh and took a big bite, then wondered if dying might not be a better alternative. It tasted horrible and she would have spit it out if the PSC hadn't told her it was edible. As it was, Lena was having a tough time not hurling it back to the ground. She considered washing the nasty taste out of her mouth with a handful of dirt.

Lena choked the bite down and steeled herself to finish the rest. She got half way through before finally giving up. It was perhaps the nastiest thing she'd ever eaten, and that was saying something. She'd pulled crap from trash cans that tasted better. Lena eyed the plant's shell as she stood, wondering if she could put it to any use. Using her knife, she scraped the inside clean and set it on her head. It looked stupid, but it would keep the sun off her vulnerable scalp. She looked for something to keep her new hat firmly attached to her head and then remembered the cord secreted in the handle of the knife. She punched two holes in the shell, threaded the cord through the holes and then put it back on her head with the cord as a chin strap holding it firmly in place.

Lena continued her march through the night without pause. She was making good time and it seemed to her that the distant city lights grew brighter on the horizon. She smiled in grim satisfaction as she looked back down to place her next step and nearly fell into the large hole before her, hidden in the darkness. Lena teetered on the edge for several seconds before gaining enough balance to leap over the meter diameter hole. She turned back and peered inside, hearing the sound of movement from within. A bubbling mass of small black bodies was barely visible in the dim starlight. She couldn't get a clear picture of what they were, but she caught brief glimpses of pinchers and beady black eyes staring back at her with malice. She idly wondered if they tasted better than the mushrooms and used her PSC to check. It returned a holographic image of something related to a scorpion, with large pinchers, lots of legs and a stinger attached to the tail. The PSC flashed "poisonous" in red.

"It's your lucky day, bugs. If you weren't poisonous, I'd have eaten you for dinner." Lena moved off, coming to a reluctant decision. It was definitely cooler traveling at night, but the danger of stepping into a hole filled with poisonous bugs wasn't something she wanted to risk. She walked to what she guessed was a safe distance from the hole, where she grabbed the closest desert mushroom and spent the next several hours fashioning something that would protect her from the heat of the day.

CHAPTER 10

Admiral Gault sat on a bench outside Rayne's apartment reading a book; an ancient paperback edition of a Tom Clancy novel he'd picked up at an antique/rare book store. Everything was digital these days, but he still liked the feel and smell of real paper. He wasn't the only one and there were quite a number of collectors and dealers who bargained for the few left or produced. Paper books had actually become enough of a novelty they were coming back in style.

This was the day of the week the admiral usually visited. Other than the times they met in the lab, this was the only time he got to sit and talk with Rayne. Sometimes they'd go for lunch or dinner, sometimes a walk in the park, and on rare occasions, a shuttle flight to the mammoth naval station that floated in orbit above them like an oddly-shaped artificial moon. Rayne really seemed to like visiting the station. He'd taken her with him the first time because he'd had some business to attend but didn't want to leave her behind and miss their day together. Rayne enjoyed looking out the windows as the station approached, trying to watch everything as the shuttle passed in and around the huge orbiting structure. The admiral couldn't blame her. It was an awe-inspiring display of human technology. And the restaurants were pretty good, too.

The admiral looked up as he saw Rayne approaching. The smile he'd been starting didn't reach fruition as he saw the look on her face and the purposeful way she stalked across the courtyard. Something was wrong, and he had a pretty good idea what. Athena's news organizations had gotten hold of the information from the Bernard system and had started a storm of speculation and doomsday scenarios. He squashed any hopes he had for a nice afternoon and braced himself for a difficult conversation.

He closed his book and stood as Rayne approached. She didn't waste any time and started speaking when she was within speaking distance. "Is it true?" She came to a stop and waited intently for his response.

"Yes." The admiral didn't make any attempt to lie. Besides being no good at it, he didn't want to lose Rayne's trust.
"Why didn't you tell me?" The question wasn't accusatory, just a demand for information.

"I just found out this morning. I didn't want to worry you until I knew more." She turned away from him. The admiral waited patiently for her to process the information. She was angry and worried. He tried to ease her anxiety. "Rayne." He moved around her to make eye contact. "Rayne. I know the people involved with the operation. They're good people and they know what they're doing," he said with calm confidence. He believed it, too. The admirals were some of the best humanity had to offer, and the teams and crews they were sending were the best. The stakes were too high to do anything less.

He decided to keep the Tau Ceti involvement to himself. The admiral knew they'd killed Rayne's parents and didn't want that to cloud an already difficult situation. They had come up as a topic of discussion once or twice and it quickly became apparent Rayne held an animosity toward the aliens that was rivaled by few others. He avoided subsequent conversations along those lines.

Rayne was deep in thought. Feeling he needed to get her mind on something else, the admiral tried to distract her. "Come on, let's go get some dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she responded quietly, her mind obviously elsewhere.

The admiral tried to keep his mood upbeat. "But I am. Come on, we'll take a flight up to the station and have dinner at our favorite restaurant. I've got some business afterwards anyway."

Rayne brought her attention back to respond. "Fine, but you're paying."

***

An hour later, Rayne was finishing off the remnants of her cashew chicken. Or it was supposed to be chicken. She wasn't exactly sure she wanted to know. It was one of her favorites and she didn't want to spoil it with too much information. She set her chopsticks down on the white linen of the table and sat back, watching the admiral finish his meal.

"I'm thinking of taking a break from school." Rayne put it out there with no preamble and waited to see what his reaction would be. She knew from previous conversations that the admiral felt strongly about her having a good education. Dance would not have been his choice for her and he'd encouraged her to take as many outside classes as her schedule would allow. The interplanetary politics class had been his idea.

The admiral chewed his way through something that was supposed to be sweet and sour pork. The source of the meat was dubious, since there were no pigs on Athena, but no one complained because the food was delicious. From the look on his face, Rayne could tell she was about to get a lecture, so she cut it off quickly with her next sentence. "Just until I decide on another course of study." His expression cleared and she breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing worse than being on the receiving end of a lecture being delivered by the admiral.

"Do you have any ideas so far?" He sat back and devoted his full attention to the conversation.

"Nothing definite, but I've got a few ideas." She turned to watch the shuttle traffic outside their window seat.

"Let's hear them, and we'll see if we can work out some plan of action." He pulled the napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth, apparently finished with his meal.

Rayne smile to herself. That was the admiral. While he was okay with her making her own decisions (what choice did he have?), he insisted on having at least a general plan of how to accomplish the goal. She tended to lean more towards Lena's way of doing things, which was to just work it out on the fly. Rayne would humor him, though. He meant well, and it wouldn't hurt to have a plan, whether she chose to stick to it or not.

"I was thinking something more technical--computer tech or something similar." He nodded his head but didn't reply, waiting for her to list any other options. "I was also thinking a military route." She moved to explain quickly as she saw his expression cloud with concern. "Nothing combat-related, of course. Maybe some kind of support function or intelligence?" To his credit, the admiral didn't shoot her hopes down. They both knew there would be some serious challenges for her if she wanted to gain entrance into the military. Her psych record would be problematic. They were pretty stringent on admittance standards and she could easily be disqualified for that alone. However, it had been her experience the admiral wouldn't try to talk her out of it. If anything, he'd do his best to give her a shot at what she wanted to do and if she failed, she failed.

"How about something in the medical field? You could be a doctor?"

Rayne raised an eyebrow as she turned her attention back from the window. The T80 programming continued to track the shuttle movement out of boredom. She didn't shut it down, but let it continue even though it was distracting. "Seriously? So I can be like Dr. Sociopath?" He knew Rayne was referring to his ex-wife and grimaced at the thought.

"Yeah, I guess that's not really an option." He gave a small smile and put his elbows on the table.

"No, definitely not."

A sudden thought seemed to strike him. "How about botany?" He gave her a hopeful look.

It was clear his choices were intended to keep her out of harm's way. Doctor, botany, career paths that would keep her as far away from danger as possible. That was not what she was looking for. She needed something that would give the T80 programming stuck in her head an outlet and taking temperatures or catching butterflies wasn't going to work, although she did like butterflies. She looked over at a large painting on the wall depicting butterflies of various sizes and colors.

"There's a thought," she said in response. Rayne had no intention of going that way with her studies, but she was hoping to ease his mind. He seemed happy with the response.

"Let's look through the options next week." He pushed himself back from the table and stood. They walked out together, the meal's charge being automatically deducted from the admiral's credit account.

"I've got a meeting to attend. Can you make your way back?"

This wasn't the first time he'd had to leave her to find her own way. Rayne was generally familiar with the station and knew her way around pretty well. "Yeah, I'm fine."

The admiral turned before leaving and put a hand on her shoulder. "They're tough, Rayne. They'll make it back." He held her gaze for several moments before finally saying, "I'll let you know as soon as I find out anything."

"Okay." Rayne watched him leave and then began walking slowly toward the shuttle berths. She ignored the T80 as it pulled her attention, having apparently found something of interest. She pushed it to the back so she could think through the information she had. Lena and her team had been sent to the Bernard system. They had dropped into a hostile area and been left behind when their ship was forced to flee the planet. There was no information from the news feeds on who was responsible and even the admiral had only vague details. She thought on that for several minutes before finally coming to a conclusion. The admiral hadn't told her everything. He was holding something back. Why would he do that unless it was something he knew would upset her? Was Lena dead? She drove down the panic that attempted to raise its ugly head and forced herself back to calm.

Rayne needed more information but couldn't think of a way to access it. Maybe she should confront the admiral and call him out on whatever it was he was holding back. She knew he was just trying to protect her, but she didn't want to be treated like a child and she didn't need protecting. The military command network would certainly have the information she sought, but she didn't have access.

The back of her brain was practically vibrating with the T80's excitement. If it had been a person, she would have spun toward it and shouted, "What!?" Instead, she mentally shrugged and let it pull her along the corridors like a dog taking its owner for a walk. It did this from time to time when something caught its interest and Rayne found it was just easier to let it loose to satisfy its curiosity.

The T80 tugged her through the corridors to parts of the station she'd never been to before. Mechanics and technicians were the primary classifications of those that passed. There were no signs indicating the area was restricted and no one stopped her, so she continued to follow the T80's direction. After a half hour, she finally found herself standing at the large cargo bay doors of a mammoth maintenance shop. Work tables sprawled across the floor's surface, covered with tools and miscellaneous parts--T80 parts from the looks of them. She turned to the side and found lines of battle suits stacked against the walls. Technicians and mechanics worked here and there on the units as they stood tethered in their racks.

Rayne walked inside, careful to stick to the wall and out of sight. Again, there was no signage that said this was a restricted area, but she somehow doubted a civilian would be allowed here. She followed the wall to the nearest rack, finding it empty and the data tether hanging loosely. The T80 was buzzing with what she could only describe as excitement. She looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching and grabbed the tether. The hair on her head stretched forward, individual strands all attempting on their own to reach the several data ports in the tether. Rayne jerked it out and away from her hair. She wasn't sure what the result would be and wasn't entirely sure she wanted to find out.

Her concerns suddenly became irrelevant as the T80 seized control and brought the tether forward within reach of the straining strands of her hair. They latched on with eagerness, inserting themselves into the ports. The affect was immediate and overwhelming. Data poured through the tether's ports and into her brain like non-stop, consecutive strikes of lightning. Her nerves were on fire and her teeth vibrated in her head as the station's systems updated or upgraded the T80's software. Rayne tried to scream but was pushed to the back of her own head as the T80 took full control. It unpacked the data clusters hammering into her skull, modified them for its uniquely human hardware, ripped the outdated programming from their moorings and locked the new ones securely in place. The process was repeated over and over for what seemed like hours, leave Rayne begging for relief as she huddled in the back of her mind.

Rayne remembered to breath, clutching to the metal rack as the upgrade ceased abruptly and she found her mind floating in the ether of the command network. She wasn't sure it was worth it, but she laughed at her good fortune. However, the network was mammoth, and she lost some of her good humor. She could look for several lifetimes and not find what she wanted.

The T80 seemed content though, as it tinkered with its new upgrades. Visual filters enhanced her vision in quick succession and in different combinations without her bidding. Rayne's skin and the nerves underneath practically crackled with electricity as system connections where checked and tested. She ground her teeth, partially in frustration and partially to make sure they were still firmly rooted in her head. The tether was becoming more uncomfortable the longer Rayne stayed connected and she wanted to get out as soon as she got what she wanted.

Rayne mentally nudged the T80, hoping to enlist its help. It owed her one for the pain she'd just endured for the upgrade. It paused briefly in its tinkering, marked one of the network nodes, gave her the encryption key and went back to whatever it was it had been doing. Her good humor returned. Rayne entered the key and began sifting through the files. There was still an incredible amount of data before her, but it was all neatly packaged and organized. She selected the Bernard system file, which she would have chosen anyway because it was the busiest file location in that part of the network.

Rayne scanned through the files quickly, confirming what she'd heard in class, the news feeds, and from the admiral. Most of what she found were general summaries and cryptic correspondence between operation's command staff. She dug further and stopped at the original transcription from a Captain Jacobs, the captain of the scouting ship carrying Lena and her team. She read: "...repelled by hostile forces believed to be Tau Ceti. Marine recon team MIA with two confirmed KIA."

Rayne closed the files and yanked the tether from her head. It hurt, but she didn't care. She left the bay, not bothering to skirt the edges and not caring anymore if anyone saw her. Raised voices sounded behind her, but quickly fell into the distance as she stalked through the corridors toward the shuttle bay. She raged silently as she walked, thunderclouds of her anger darkening her face. This was the information the admiral had withheld--Tau Ceti and two marines KIA. Rayne wasn't angry with him. He'd done the right thing, but now that she knew the truth, she was going to act out his worst fears. She was going to find her way to the marines, rescue them, and kill every Tau Ceti she could find.

***

"Here, press that down for me," Taft indicated the red node on the power cell he'd just pulled from the bottom side of the tractor's console.

"What for?" Abena eyed him suspiciously.

"Do you want this started or not?"

"I still say we look for something better." She grabbed the power cell from Taft as he handed it down. "I mean, look at this thing. It's a rust bucket."

"You're such a princess," he said exasperation.

Abena responded with a gesture. They'd searched the farm thoroughly and eyeballed the neighboring ones as well, but the rusted farm implement before them was all there was to be had. They'd considered suiting back up, but the frequent gunships roving back and forth through the sky discouraged them from doing so.

"Just put your finger there, would you?"

"Okay, okay. I'm touching it." She pressed her finger to the indicated spot and felt an immediate jolt of electricity. "Taft!" Abena dropped the power cell and jumped back shaking her arm wildly.

"Oops, sorry," he said with mock concern. "That was the wrong one."

"Sorry, my ass. You did that on purpose." She flexed her numb fingers and scowled.

Taft turned away to hide his grin. "I swear I didn't. Just give me a few more seconds..." He worked the small piece of wire in his hand on several different spots on the circuit board until the engine hummed to life. "Got it!" He stood with a smile, trying not to crack under Abena's accusing stare.

"Shut up and drive." She hiked her flower-splattered dress up and climbed into the open cab of the tractor. There was only one seat and Abena was forced to stand at his side while Taft took the wheel. He was still wearing his overalls and wide-brimmed hat with a long stalk of grass sticking from his teeth. His overly-white skin was starting to turn pink under the sun's rays. They drove down the dusty road with Taft doing his best to hit every pothole that came along.

An hour later, they reached the first town. Village or hamlet might have been a better word. The houses were low and squat, and many looked like modular pods used in the original colonization. There couldn't have been more than a few hundred people living in the place, some of which could be seen in the distance walking the streets or working the fields. As they drew closer, the shabbiness of the place and its people became more apparent. Abena had thought Taft's disguises had been overdone, but it quickly became apparent that was not the case at all. Overalls were common, often worn without a shirt as Taft was as well as the wide-brimmed hat covering his head. Abena's own dress was also in fashion, along with the bandana around her hair. The fact that they were still wearing no shoes didn't seem to be much of an issue, as many of the children and a few of the adults weren't wearing any either. Farming was apparently not a lucrative trade on the planet.

"Are you going to drive straight through town?" Abena asked as they got closer.

"Yep." Taft replied without looking at her.

"I think we should wait until dark." They hit a large pot hole, nearly bouncing her out of the cab. "Do you think you could try avoiding the holes?" She took a more secure grip and readied herself for the next one.

"We could do that, but which do you think is going to look more suspicious, a tractor rolling through town in the middle of the day, or trying to sneak past in the middle of the night?" Taft looked at Abena while he waited for her to come to the same conclusion.

"Good point. Keep going."

The tractor entered the town's limits and slowly made its way through. It couldn't have been more than a half mile to get to the other side, but it seemed to take forever. Children lined the streets and some ran alongside while curious adults looked on.

"Maybe we should wave."

"Why?" Abena asked with a scowl.

"So we don't seem suspicious." Taft smiled and began waving to several of the adults who didn't respond.

"I don't think it's working," Abena said nervously.

"That's because you're not doing it." He continued to wave and even said 'hello' to a few as they passed. "Come on. Crack that stone face of yours and give them a smile and a wave." Abena reluctantly did as he suggested, smiling nervously.

"We're not in a parade, Abena," Taft criticized through his smile. "Cut the beauty queen wave and do it like a normal person."

"Shut it, Taft," she retorted through a widening smile, but took his direction and tried to look more natural. The children seemed to respond well, but the adults all stopped and stared without expression. It seemed forever until they reached the far side and the last child fell back in a cloud of dust.

Taft turned to Abena with a large grin. "See, no problem."

She cuffed him on the back of the head. "Like I said, you're lucky as hell."

CHAPTER 11

Lex stared at the contract, wondering who he had on staff that could fill it. The military was looking to send several single operators to the Bernard system in advance of the military assault that was being planned. The contract was lucrative and included a hefty bonus and hazard pay. He had any number of operators on his payroll that could do the recon, but not many that could do it while blending in. Most of his people were former military and still looked too much like the soldiers they were to make a convincing go of it. Those who could pull it off were either on other contracts or injured.

Lex tapped his fingers lightly on the desk as he considered taking the contract himself. He really did need to get out of the office. It had been a while since he'd done an op like this. Lex felt confident things would be well taken care of while he was gone, so there really wasn't any reason why he couldn't. He put his name on the contract and was about to send it just as his secretary stuck her head in the door.

"There is a young lady here to see you."

Lex checked the time without looking up and then looked at his calendar. "I don't recall having anything scheduled." He looked up and noted a hint of fear in her eyes. The fear wasn't for him, of that he was certain. His secretary was a middle-aged woman who had been with him for years, almost since the beginning of his company. Normally cool and professional, the fact that she seemed scared spoke volumes.

"She is really quite insistent." There was a slight wobble in her voice he hadn't noted before.

"Go ahead and show her in then." Lex remained seated but put his hand on the weapon mounted under the desk. His was a business fraught with danger and you sometimes made enemies. Though you'd think if whoever was waiting in his reception area was intent on killing him, they'd storm in with guns blazing. He'd seen stranger things happen.

Lex recognized her immediately as she walked through the door. The hair was longer, but the predatory grace and dangerous eyes would set her apart anywhere. Rayne Harper was pretty, even more so now that her hair had grown out. It was a shimmering dark black that fell in nearly perfect straight lines past her jaw. Her figure was curved, with a hard, athletic cut. She wore a short, dark jacket over a white t-shirt and denim jeans that hugged her figure. It would have been distracting if he didn't know what she was capable of.

He kept his hand on the gun. He didn't say anything immediately and waited to see what she would do. Rayne shifted her piercing gaze from his eyes to where the gun was mounted to the underside of the desk, as if she could see through the metal surface. She looked back up and shook her head slightly, her hair swaying slightly with the movement. Lex wasn't sure what the girl was here for, but he had seen that look before. In his own, and in countless others determined to accomplish a mission, and equally determined not to let anything stand in their way.

Lex breathed slowly for several seconds as they continued their standoff and then finally removed his hand from the gun. He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. If Ms. Harper wanted to do him harm, she would have done it by now. That meant she probably wanted something from him.

"What can I do for you, Ms. Harper?" He'd read her file and knew as much as anyone about the young lady standing before him. She had some serious physical skills and he had been toying with the idea of recruiting her. Lex had been contracted to bring the girl in to Dr. Elizabeth Gault's labs when she'd first arrived on the planet. He hadn't known the girl was a private citizen and that Dr. Gault had no rights to her. It had taken his whole team to take the girl down, and then she'd promptly walked out of the doctor's labs after delivery. But not before wreaking destruction on the lab's security team and equipment. Lex understood she had decided to contract with Dr. Gault under the close supervision of her admiral stepfather, Dr. Gault's ex-husband. There was an odd, tangled little web.

Ms. Harper would be a huge asset to his organization, but only if she was stable and controllable. One of the many reasons he liked military personnel to do his work was that they knew how to follow orders and how to navigate through military channels. They had the skills, they knew the lingo and with a little direction, were able to hit the ground running. Lex had tried to get his hands on the girl's psychological evaluations, but had so far been unsuccessful. Someone was keeping pretty tight control on the information. He could put up with a little crazy, but he had his limits.

Ms. Harper hardly waited for him to finish his sentence. "I need to get to the Bernard System and I'll pay for you to take me there."

The wheels in his head immediately started turning. Lex didn't have to ask why she wanted to go. Because of his connections, he was familiar with much of what had happened and what was going to happen in the Bernard System. The marines whom she called friends, in particular Cpl. Ramirez, were the ones MIA and she would be wanting to go find them. Stupid, but admirable.

It didn't escape Lex's notice that he had been given a golden opportunity. He wanted her on his payroll, and here she was, standing in his office wanting to go to the same place he was about to sign a contract for. Perhaps he could accomplish two goals at the same time--a win-win scenario. Lex eased back in his chair and eyed her over interlaced fingers.

"What's your business?" he asked, trying to see how she would react.

"Personal," she replied shortly with an unwavering stare.

Lex nodded in appreciation. Good. Truthful, but with a tight rein on information. This wasn't some little girl in her late teens crying and begging after friends lost in action. This girl had a maturity and toughness not possessed by most young adults her age. Combat had a tendency to do that to a person, though he still found it incredible that she'd survived three years of combat in a T80. The official record said very little on the subject, but the kill count recorded by the battle suit before being ripped off the girl in pieces had been incredibly high.

Lex had decided to take Ms. Harper on almost as soon as she'd walked in the door. That's how bad he wanted her working for him. There were a few things to iron out first, though. This was not a rescue mission and she needed to understand that right off. He had no doubts she'd still harbor some hope, but if the marines were captured, she'd quickly see that mounting a rescue operation with the limited resources they'd be going with would be impossible.

"I've got a counter-offer I think will suit us both nicely." Lex watched her reaction carefully.

Ms. Harper crossed her arms and eyed him suspiciously. "Go on."

"I'd like you to work for me." Her eyes narrowed, but he continued before she could refuse and walk out. "I'll provide transport to the Bernard System and I'll pay you a contract wage, but you'll work for me." He held his breath and waited. Ms. Harper didn't say anything, but she didn't leave and seemed to be considering the offer. She was no doubt trying to think through what his motives might be and decide whether it was worth it. It's what he would do. Rather than have her guessing, Lex stated his intentions outright. He stood and walked around the desk, being careful to keep his distance as she squared off.

"Look, you've got skills that would be of use to my organization. I want you on my team, but we both know you've got some prior history that might make you unsuitable for the job. Consider this a trial run. You get what you want, and I get to evaluate your performance to see whether you're someone I can employ. If you are, I'd like us to have a serious conversation about you working for me on a permanent basis, and you'll have some idea what you're signing up for."

It was several moments before she answered and Lex very nearly shouted his success. "Deal. When do we leave?"

Straight to the point. He liked that too. "I need to make one final thing clear." He was nervous about what he was about to say, realizing it might be a deal-breaker. "This is not a rescue mission. This is a recon mission with no support." Her expression didn't change. "Do you understand that?"

She nodded.

Not good enough. "Let me hear you say it," he said, matching her piercing stare.

"Understood."

He celebrated mentally, but kept his face neutral. "We leave tonight." He returned to his desk and submitted both their names with the contract.

***

"I said step on it!" yelled Abena, firing at the hostile vehicles closing behind them.

"I am! It won't go any faster!" Taft ducked low over the steering wheel, trying to make himself as small as possible. Two hours ago, they'd run into a patrol. They'd tried their poor farmer routine again but it hadn't worked and they were forced to overpower them. On the plus side, they now had weapons. On the down side, they were now being pursued. They careened around a corner and past a small pumping station, which thankfully took the incoming fire for several seconds while they tried unsuccessfully to create some distance between them and their pursuers. Eighty kilometers per hour was the best Taft was able to get out of the old piece of farm equipment that seemed ready to shake itself apart as they clattered down the road.

Taft slowed abruptly and Abena fell back into the vehicle's dash cursing profusely. At the same time, Taft screamed out repeatedly in pain as the hot barrel of her rifle made contact with the bare skin under his right arm.

"Get it off, get if off, get it off!" He flapped his arms wildly in an unsuccessful attempt to escape the hot barrel.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Abena shouted as she struggled to sort out her tangled limbs.

"Get it off!" Taft was nearly falling from his seat onto the distant ground moving below while clutching the steering wheel with one hand.

"Get what off?!" She shouted again in exasperation, still trying to lever herself up.

His voice had gone up by several octaves by now in panic and pain. "The barrel! You're burning me! Get it off!" He was hopping now, trying to bounce the hot barrel from his side with the movement but succeeding mostly in just moving it to another yet unburned patch of soft skin.

Finally realizing the problem and regaining her feet, Abena moved the barrel. "Sorry!" She apologized with little remorse. "Why'd we slow down?"

Taft pulled himself back into his seat, trying to ignore the pain as he pointed forward. "There's a checkpoint ahead."

"Find a way around," she shouted without turning and firing a burst as their pursuers rounded the pumping station.

"There isn't one."

Abena looked over her shoulder at the checkpoint. He was right, it was situated between land features that would have made it impossible to go around, but it looked to be lightly guarded. She turned back, fired off several more bursts as she thought. It didn't take more than a fraction of a second to consider the only two possibilities: forward or back. The silhouettes of gunships appearing over the horizon narrowed it down to one.

"Forward!"

Taft didn't question, applying all the power the machine could muster, firing widely with one hand while he attempted to keep them on the road with the other. Fortunately, the big vehicle provided quite a lot of cover for the two marines as they huddled atop the swaying behemoth and blasted the checkpoint into splinters, catching automatic fire from both sides as they did. Several minutes later they reached a fork in the road, still trundling along at full speed.

"Left or right?" shouted Taft.

"What?" Abena didn't pause as she fired round after round at their pursuers.

Taft yelled louder. "I said, left or right?"

Abena looked over her shoulder. "Hell if I know! To the left!"

Taft swung the wheel at the last second, throwing them both to the side as the vehicle raised two wheels and then crashed back down with a jolt and a snap. The tractor began wobbling violently as Taft struggle to keep it on the road.

"I think our ride just took a crap."

"You think?" Abena held tight to her rifle and her seat as they bounced wildly down an incline and into the trees lining a mostly dry riverbed. "You see anywhere defensible? This might be our last stand." They turned and the trees gave them a moment's respite as they clattered over a wooden bridge.

"There's a ravine over there." He pointed to a split in the shallow canyon walls.

"Perfect. Get us as close as this piece of junk can go."

The right wheel sheered completely off just short of their goal and the transmission began grinding, then smoking, before finally jolting to a halt. They jumped out at once and ran for the ravine's entrance as vehicles and troop carriers spilled into the clearing, followed by gunships skimming the treetops several minutes later. They made it to the entrance just as fire peppered the rocks around them.

"Good call, Taft," Abena said as they pressed themselves to the walls.

Taft smiled back. "See, I'm not an idiot all the time."

"Just most of it." Abena pulled her rifle up and fired a burst at the approaching security forces.

The narrow ravine snaked away behind them, ending who knew where. It could be a dead end or a way out; there was no way to tell. The steep walls rose vertically at least fifty meters, providing them with some measure of protection from the gunships circling overhead. At its widest, the ravine was twenty meters across, making an ideal choke-point to defend. The ground was flat and sandy, the walls sandstone worn smooth by millennia of seasonal flooding.

Taft came up with his rifle, alternating fire with Abena's. "I resent that remark."

"Resent it all you want." She fired more rounds and then ducked behind the rock wall as it exploded into shrapnel and peppered Taft.

"Didn't I have the idea for the disguise?"

"You mean this ugly tent you made me wear?" Abena began pulling it off with one hand as she kept her rifle pointed forward. "Shit, Taft, I think you might have a fetish for ugly clothes." She threw it to the ground as more and more troops began converging on the ravine's entrance. "Fall back." She covered Taft's retreat as he ran back toward the next bend of rock where he covered her retreat in turn.

"That's totally not my fault." He cried as Abena dove behind the rock's face. He was bleeding from several small wounds caused by the flying pieces of fragmented stone, but seemed not to notice. "That's all there was."

Abena spit sand from her mouth. "Just like that's all there was the time before with Rayne?" She pulled a grenade from her pocket and indicated for Taft to do the same. "On three. One, two, three!" They hurled them toward the opening just as the forces pursuing them made entry. There was a loud concussion that shook the walls and rained dirt and rocks down on their heads.

Taft coughed, squinting through the clouds of dust and sand, trying to see the enemy's approach. "What, that? That was just a joke, and didn't I hotwire our transportation?"

Hostiles entered the ravine's mouth, using the poor visibility to conceal their movement. Abena fired at the dim silhouettes as she tried to blink the dirt from her eyes. "And the video feed to the women's showers?"

"That was never actually proven to my satisfaction," Taft replied, trying to blink the dirt from his own eyes while shooting blindly from around the corner.

"Move back to the next bend. Move together and alternate fire," Abena ordered. They walked backwards, firing as they moved, keeping the return fire at bay as they did and then ducked behind cover at the two-meter-wide opening of the next turn. "The captain seemed to disagree," Abena replied, pulling the bandana from her head and wiping her face.

There was a small lull in the rifle fire and Taft smiled at her, his teeth bright against his dirty face and the dim light. "He's an austere man with no appreciation for the female form."

Abena snorted. "I'm just glad he took the video." She did her best to keep to the shadows and cover while looking for movement. The walls seemed to be getting closer and she wondered grimly if they'd been trapped.

Taft turned his attention to the front again, inwardly wondering the same thing, though neither would say it out loud. "Actually, I stole it back."

"See, you're an idiot." Abena quickly shook her hand which had started cramping from holding the rifle and pulling the trigger.

"I found this ravine, didn't I?"

"You mean the one we're going to die in? Yeah, great job picking our burial site." Abena looked down at the sound of a soft, sandy thump. "Grenade!" Abena launched herself forward, knocking Taft to the ground as it exploded. The soft deep sand absorbed some of the shrapnel, but not enough to save Abena's back and legs as bits of metal tore their way through soft skin.

The concussion of the explosion left them stunned and Abena moaned in pain as Taft rolled her over to check her wounds. She was bleeding badly. There was no arterial spray, but if he didn't do something soon she wasn't going to be dancing the tango. Taft thought quickly. They could go down fighting and die in a glorious battle that would be remember by no one, or he could wave the white flag and hope they weren't killed anyway.

Taft knew which choice Abena would pick. He looked down at her face, her eyes unfocused. But he wasn't Abena, and he'd rather live with the shame of surrender and hope for escape, than die in glorious battle. Live to fight another day sounded much better than dying right now. Taft quickly grabbed the rifles and tossed them out the opening.

"We're done! We surrender!" He shouted out the opening. No gun fire immediately returned and no more grenades were thrown. He attempted to staunch Abena's bleeding as he waited. "We could use a little help in here! How about a medic?" Taft shouted with no hope they'd actually give him one. Were they waiting for them to die? His question was answered several seconds later when a medical bag landed in the sand near him. Taft didn't waste any time, but set to work quickly tending Abena's wounds, starting with the heaviest bleeders first.

When he'd finished, Abena was unconscious but, thankfully, still alive. Taft ran a hand over the back of her stubbled head as she lay face first in the sand. "Thanks for saving my skin Abena. Now it's my turn." Soft footsteps sounded in the sand behind him and he looked into the bright glare of weapon-mounted lights. "You guys got any water? I could really use a drink." The butt of a rifle was the last thing he remembered.

***

The rally point was located in a small depression, just under eighty kilometers south of the city on the edge of the desert. From the aerial photographs, it had looked like an ancient meteor strike. The rock walls rose a dozen meters on each side and the few trees and sparse vegetation gave way quickly to the burning desert stretching before it. The sergeant had chosen well. Its position put them close enough to the city for it to be used as a base of operations, but its features and distance made it unlikely to be found easily.

Jackson and Davis circled the rally point carefully, scanning its interior and surrounding areas. There was nothing and no one there. They briefly flashed an IFF signal, identifying themselves as friendly to any of their team who might be waiting for them. Startling a team member wearing a battle suit would not end well.

Jackson moved cautiously forward and signaled Davis to move to the right. Davis circled as directed and then began moving forward at a ninety-degree angle from where Jackson had stopped to wait and scan. If they were wrong about no one being here, they didn't want to be found standing on the same real estate. They wanted to simultaneously spread the enemy fire, outflank them, and prevent crossfire.

Davis watched Jackson across the distance, waiting for the signal to move forward. His comms were still down and he was relying on hand signals alone to communicate. It had been one heck of a wild ride to reach the ground and the subsequent impact had damaged some of his systems. Jackson waited for a several quiet minutes before finally motioning him forward. It paid to be cautious and there was no rush.

They moved silently, despite their heavily armored battle suits. They searched their safe haven slowly and with care. It didn't pay to be sloppy. Satisfied, Jackson motioned to a rock overhang that would provide both shade and concealment from any patrolling aircraft or satellites. They hit the release, and armored plates shifted to reveal the men inside.

Jackson pealed himself from the black, smart polymer interior, as Davis did the same. They squinted and covered their eyes from the sun, the shade doing nothing to protect their sensitive eyes.

"Damn, that's bright." Jackson complained idly as he checked their surroundings.

"I should have brought my sunglasses," Davis responded. He kept his eyes closed and waited for them to adjust as he stood and enjoyed the feel of the warm air.

"There's an idea. We could put it in with the emergency gear." Jackson turned back to the shaded alcove and the T80s and began inspecting them for damage. "Do you have anything else out beside the comms?" He glanced over at Davis who was still standing motionless with his eyes closed.

Davis didn't move or open his eyes as he responded. "I've got some damage to my scan systems. It's flickering, but hasn't gone completely out."

"You'll be running blind if it does," commented Jackson, pulling bits of wood and debris from his armor.

Davis shrugged. "Maybe. Not much we can do about it now." He finally opened his eyes and squinted through his lashes at the terrain around them. "Have you gotten any return signal from the ship?"

"No. Nothing at all."

"Then I guess we're on our own." Davis bent down and began carefully going over every inch of his battle suit. He began pulling out wood and other debris, adding it to the pile Jackson had already started.

"Looks that way." Finished with his, Jackson stepped over and began helping Davis. "You've got something wedged in the joint over here." He tried unsuccessfully to pull it out with his hands.

"That explains the loss of rotation on that side. Let me grab the tools." Most repairs and maintenance were performed by the ship's technicians, but field repairs were sometimes required, especially on extended operations. Because of that, marines made a point of not only being familiar with the battle suit's systems but their maintenance and repair as well. Davis grabbed the tools and they spent the next several minutes working in silence to remove the offending piece of debris.

"That was one hell of a ride, wasn't it?" Jackson commented, tossing the debris onto the pile and taking a seat.

Davis collected the tools and stowed them back in their compartment. "Damn lucky we had those mountains." He took a seat as well and began throwing small rocks at a small, mushroom-looking plant several yards away. The rocks bounced off the hard shell and landed in the soft sand gathering at the base of the rocks. "Those slopes really saved our bacon."

Jackson sat back and looked at the rock overhang. "Yeah, they did. Did you see which way anyone else went?" He picked up a rock of his own and missed as he tried to match Davis' aim.

"Nope." Davis tossed the next rock with a little more anger. It impacted with a crack and bounced away. Neither of them said anything for several minutes and the only sound was the rocks bouncing off the plant's carapace. "It's like they knew we were coming," said Davis. "We're lucky it was just Jefferson and Henderson. It could have been all of us." They sat for several minutes in silence as each quietly mourned the loss of their fellow marines and thought of their own mortality.

Jackson finally spoke, trying to break the silence. "Mike saved our asses again. I hope he made it."

Davis didn't reply immediately, and the silence stretched on for several more minutes as they both lost themselves in quiet contemplation. He finally spoke. "What's the plan?"

Jackson took a deep breath, held it and blew it out. "We'll wait forty-eight hours and see who else shows up and go from there."

Davis nodded his agreement and tossed another rock that finally cracked the plant's hardened shell.

CHAPTER 12

Lena shuffled into the court room. The bright orange jumpsuit with its black stripe down the arms and legs stood out in stark contrast to the white walls and polished metal furnishings. The energy cuffs on her hands and ankles hummed softly as she was directed toward the front of the court with a number of her fellow inmates. She knew from experience that attempts at violence or resistance lead to immediate and painful immobilization while wearing the cuffs. Lena had spent the last thirty days in the detention facility and it had taken a number of fights before she'd banked enough credit to be left alone. She'd learned that when the detention officers showed up to end it, the best policy was to stop, drop and do what you were told. She'd been a little slow on the uptake the first few times and learned the consequences of attempting violence to the detention staff.

Her group was seated on a polished metal bench facing the judge's raised seat. Lena sat at the end and would be last to learn her fate. The judge was the one they'd been expecting. He was a middle-aged man with a kindly, round face. He had a reputation for being soft-handed when it came to handing out punishments and Lena was hoping she'd get credit for time served. While the last month was the most well fed she'd ever been, and it was nice to have four walls and a roof over her head, the lack of freedom rubbed her raw. She wanted to be out in the sun, walking her streets, and living her life as she saw fit.

Lena looked around as the hearing began and the judge began dealing with each of the inmates in turn. The bench where she was seated was separated by a low wall from the rest of the benches behind her. The room wasn't big, but neither was it small, comfortably seating at least twenty people. There were currently only about fifteen. Some looked like they might be relatives to those currently being sentenced, while others looked like attorneys or other court officials.

Lena had already been found guilty, or rather told the judge herself that she'd done exactly what she was being accused of. Why lie about it? She was neither ashamed, nor sorry, and would take whatever consequence the judge would give her. She'd been told by her attorney the maximum penalty for the assault was one year, but seldom was that maximum served, not for something as minor as a girl's scuffle on the street. He'd told Lena she would probably have to spend the next month in jail while she waited for sentencing, then be released on probation.

"Ramirez, Lena."

Lena turned her attention back toward the judge.

"Stand and approach the bench."

She stood and shuffled forward to the designated space marked by a circle and low rail. She stood calmly and waited patiently as the judge swiped through his data files. His normally kind face creased in concern as he read.

"State your name for the record." He did not look up as he continued to read.

"Lena Ramirez." She shifted nervously.

"How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen." Butterflies danced in her stomach despite her attorney's assurances of a light sentence. Life had never given her a break, why should it now?

"You've plead guilty to the crime of assault, is that correct?" The judge finally looked up from his data screen and scrutinized Lena as she answered.

"Yes." She swallowed the lump in her throat but held the judges gaze.

"You've been incarcerated thirty days now?"

"About that."

The judge looked back down to his screen. "During that time, I see you've been in a number of altercations." Lena wasn't sure if that had been a question or not. Uncertain, she said nothing and met his gaze as he looked back up.

"I see also that you attempted assaults on several of the detention officers and several times resisted their efforts to restore order." The judge sat back in his seat and crossed his arms. "What I am seeing here is a lack of respect for others, a lack of self-discipline, and a tendency to solve confrontations with violence." He paused as if waiting for her to say something or react. Lena gritted her teeth, but said nothing. What did he know about respect anyway?

"The pre-sentence investigation tells me you've come from a disadvantaged background. It tells me you've been on your own and haven't had a parent's guiding hand to teach a set of values that would allow you to function in a peaceful society. The investigation does not show; however, that you are a hardened criminal and that gives me some hope at rehabilitation."

Lena didn't like being reminded of her background. She certainly didn't like it when anyone tried to suggest that she was 'less' because of it. She'd worked hard and fought for everything she had and refused to blame her life on a crappy childhood. Lena was who she was, and she demanded she be respected for it. She kept her mouth shut, afraid that if she spoke her mind she'd receive a harsher punishment than she might otherwise.

"I believe returning you to your previous life would be a disservice to you and society."

Lena's heart skipped a beat and began pounding wildly, but kept her expression neutral.

"With that in mind, I am suspending your sentence and ordering that you enlist in the Fleet Marine Corp. Should you fail to complete training and the following four-year commitment, you will be returned to this facility for incarceration for a period of not less than one year."

Lena snorted and turned her gaze away. It figured. Life was a bitch and it definitely had her number.

***

Heat boiled from the ground in waves and the hot wind blowing grit into Lena's face did nothing to bring relief as she trudged through the barren wasteland. The mushroom-shaped hat covering her head protected her sensitive skin from the burning sun, but also seemed to retain its heat. Lena wanted to pull it off, along with the other protections she'd improvised for herself, and give her baking body air to breath. The heat was suffocating and nearly unbearable, but she knew if she shed her protection she wouldn't last long before succumbing to the desert's relentless attack.

Lena peered through the slits in her homemade goggles at the distant horizon. She saw only the shimmering waves of heat, marred occasionally by an outcropping of rock or the nasty-tasting mushrooms she'd been using for food, water and protection. The glare of the sun was extreme, and she had needed to fashion something or risk injury to her eyes. The hardened shells of two of the small mushroom shaped plants growing in the desert had served nicely. With two horizontal slits in each and tied together with a length of the cord, she was certain it looked stupid, but it worked perfectly to keep her eyes shaded while still allowing her to see. It also had the added benefit of keeping out most of the dust and grit that seemed to be constantly blowing in her face. Lena's mouth and nose were filled with it. It would likely take weeks to flush it from her body once she'd crossed this hell-cursed desert.

Lena's other piece of protection clacked together softly as she walked. There were a dozen or so shells lashed together tightly and secured around her shoulders with the last of her cord. The shells, once dry, weighed next to nothing and provided her skin protection from the burning sun. They also served as the perfect camouflage, blending in perfectly with the surrounding dirt and vegetation. There had been several occasions where the shells had served to hide her presence as drones crisscrossed the desert, presumably searching for her.

Lena still hadn't gotten used to the foul-tasting mushrooms, but their meaty center with its high water content was the only thing keeping her alive. She had experimented with several different types of bugs her PSC had told her were edible, but they tasted equally as bad. They probably fed off the mushrooms as she was, which would explain their bad taste, but the added dry heave-inducing crunch of bug legs and their hardened bodies had convinced her to stick with the mushrooms.

Lena glanced at movement to her right and the sound of something skittering behind the rocks. She'd been seeing and hearing it for several hours now, but had only caught quick glimpses. It looked to be the size of a big dog, but it seemed to move more like a cat. But cats didn't have that many legs. It was the same dusty color of the desert and moved fast, never staying in the open where it could be seen but for a few moments. Lena hoped it was just curious, not looking for a meal. She had no idea what something that big would feed on in a place like this, but she certainly didn't want to be on the menu. She kept her knife out and ready as she walked, listening intently for any sounds of approach.

Night came with only glimpses of the creature stalking her. The hot wind blew even harder, picking up the sand as it went and scouring her exposed skin raw. Lena squinted in the fading light and picked a small grouping of rocks to shelter her from the wind which never seemed to stop. She wished, not for the first time, the wind could be at her back as she tried to make herself comfortable on the ground. The sky quickly dimmed to black and bright stars scattered themselves across the sky. She was hungry and thirsty, but couldn't bring herself to eat the nasty foulness that was keeping her alive. Maybe in the morning, Lena thought as she licked her dried lips. Maybe in the morning. Her tired body drifted on shallow currents of sleep and the patter of sand and grit against her hat lulled her softly to sleep.

***

Lena stood in formation on the darkened parade ground with the rest of the forty men and women hoping to become marines. She shivered with cold as rivulets of rain poured off her nearly bald head and onto her already soaked uniform. The sergeants stalked through the formation, yelling at recruits for real and pretended offenses. They had been at it for hours and everyone was shaking with cold and fatigue. They would soon be on their faces in the mud, struggling to push themselves up again and again to the cadence of the sergeants' yells. In the meantime, Lena slept at attention the best she could, but had trouble doing so with the frequent attention given her by any one of the sergeants moving through the formation. They seemed to be taking turns at her, she'd noticed, and she had no need to guess why, since it was her fault the platoon was here in the first place.

"On the deck and push'em out!" Forty recruits collapsed to the ground and began pushing their exhausted bodies up and down with varying degrees of success. After five weeks, Lena had pushed herself to reach the peak of physical performance. While her arms shook with strain, she continued to push herself up with machine-like precision as the sergeant stood above her, screaming his displeasure. Lena had no idea what he was saying and was too tired to care. It was obvious he wasn't happy, with her in particular.

Lena knew only one way to survive in the world. You pushed, you shoved, and you fought your way to the top. You earned respect by establishing your dominance and instilling fear in your enemies. And that meant fighting. In five weeks, she'd been in five fights and several other scuffles that had been broken up before coming to blows. The sergeants, and her platoon, had had enough of her and you could see it in the stares from the other recruits and the boiling anger of the sergeants.

Lena wasn't a bad marine. She was physically fit, intelligent and never complained. But Lena excelled in everything but teamwork, a key component to being a successful marine. She had grown up on her own, with no support or outside help. The concept of being on a team was lost on her. She didn't know how to work with others, to lead or be led in turn. The sergeants collectively agreed she had the potential to be an outstanding marine, but only if they could find some way to hammer the concept of teamwork into her. To this point, they'd failed to make any kind of dent on Lena's thick skull and were losing hope. The current exercise would likely be their last attempt before shipping her back.

"Get up and form ranks!" The exhausted recruits struggled to their feet. "Ramirez! Get your ass up here!" Lena ran to the front and stood at attention before the sergeant. He was a giant of a man and stood well over two-hundred five centimeters with a heavily muscled frame. The rain poured over the brim of his hat as he stood and evaluated Lena for several seconds. "Right face!" Lena turned to face the platoon as directed, trying to ignore the angry stares of her fellows.

The sergeant continued to stare at the side of Lena's head from a distance that nearly put the brim of his hat in contact with her head, before finally deciding to turn toward the rest of the platoon. "Ramirez here seems to have a problem with the concept of teamwork. Ramirez seems to think it's okay to pick a fight with members of her own platoon and it appears as though she has set out to fight everyone here." The sergeant turned to face her again and yelled directly in her ear. "These people are not your enemy, Ramirez. They are your platoon! Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sergeant!" Lena screamed in reply.

"Bullshit!" He turned back to face the platoon. "Everyone, line up here!" He pointed to a spot on the ground and recruits moved as fast as they were able to comply. "Since Ramirez seems intent on fighting everyone in the platoon. We're going to get that out of her system, right here, right now."

Lena experienced a moment of panic at the thought of taking a beating from the entire platoon at once. She knew they were mad at her but hadn't thought being beaten to death was part of the program. "Here's your chance, Ramirez. You will fight until there is no fight left. Get it out of your system now, because the next fight you start that isn't ordered by the corps will get you shipped to whatever hell you call home." Lena was no longer panicked, but the prospect of fighting every one of the waiting platoon was daunting. She was one of the better fighters there, but she doubted she'd make it past the first two or three, depending on who was in line.

The sergeant stepped out of the way, clearing the area for the fight to begin. Lena quickly stripped her heavy soaked uniform shirt and faced the first opponent. Lena had fought the girl several weeks prior and had won handily. They circled for several seconds and then exchanged blows. Unlike their first confrontation, the girl had now been trained to fight and acquitted herself better during the first minute. However, Lena still had her outclassed and was confident she could win the contest in another thirty seconds.

"Next up!" Lena looked toward the sergeant in confusion as the next recruit stepped up. "Go!" Lena ducked the punch from the man before her and slammed her elbow into his kidney. He went down with a grunt and she was on his back before he had a chance to rise, cutting the blood flow to his brain with a choke hold. He was out of the fight in fifteen seconds.

"Next up!" Lena staggered to her feet, put her hands up and faced the next opponent. They traded blows for the next minute before the sergeant called in the next, then the next, and the next after that. Lena lost count of how many of her fellow platoon members she'd faced. Every part of her body hurt and she was exhausted, but she refused to quit. Her next opponent rushed her and tackled her to the ground. She was nearly too weak to block the blows that rained down on her head when the sergeant finally called a halt.

Lena struggled to rise, but failed and lay panting heavily in the mud. The sergeant made a motion and thirty-nine marines walked past her and uttered the same phrase. "We are not the enemy." Lena tried to lift her head from the muddy ground as the sergeant squatted before her. His hard stare met her exhausted face. When he finally spoke, it was with a soft baritone.

"They are not the enemy, Ramirez. They are your brother and sister marines...your family." In that moment, Lena finally understood. She wasn't alone in the world anymore. She didn't have to do it on her own. She had the Fleet Marine Corp., and it would be her family.

***

Lena awoke to the sound of claws scrabbling across the dry, cracked earth on too many legs. Something heavy landed on her back, pinning her to the ground and filling her mouth and nose with even more sand and dirt. The creature made no sound as its claws scrabbled on the hard shells tied to her back. Lena yelled in surprise and then disgust as black carapaced legs tipped with claws attempted to reach around her protection.

Pushing to her knees, she rolled the creature against the rocks. It scrambled frantically as it lost the element of surprise and found itself on the defensive. Lena kept it pinned and did her best to twist as she tried to bring her knife to bear. Whatever it was, it was strong, and she was having difficulty keeping it down. She'd managed to spin herself around and trap it in the gap between the rock and ground but wasn't sure how to kill it. There was no head that she could see in the dim light, just way more legs than any one creature should have. She decided to start in the middle and see what happened.

Lena aimed for a small gap between two mushroom armored plates and stabbed. The creature's struggles increased exponentially and Lena held on for dear life as it bucked, pulled and struck as it attempted to escape. She kept the knife firmly anchored in place and her full weight and strength pressing down as the creature's own movements seemed to do her work for her. Several minutes seemed like an eternity as Lena waited for it to finally stop moving and then fell exhausted to the ground. It was several minutes more before she could get up and examine her attacker.

It was, 'fugly.' There was really no other word for it. Its hardened shell gleamed in the starlight and she did her best not to count the number of legs, each tipped with a single sharp claw. There was no head that she could see, and no way to tell which end was which. The mouth, she discovered was on the underside and she shivered to think what would have happened had she not been protected by her makeshift armor.

Tapping one of the many legs, she considered the unthinkable. Her mouth watered while her stomach churned in disgust. She tapped the PSC on her wrist and scanned the dead...what? Animal, bug, some other disgusting test of her gag reflex? The PSC registered it as edible protein. Lena grimaced. What she was contemplating was going to be beyond vomit-inducing, but she needed food and this was all there was.

Lena bent down and flipped the creature onto its now immobile feet so she wasn't forced to look at the gaping mouth. She stabbed the shell with her knife and barely made a scratch. She looked for a seam or joint and found none. Sighing heavily and preparing herself for the inevitable, Lena flipped it back over and set to work, cutting away legs and the tough outer shell from the soft, tender meat underneath. She cut a small piece of pale, raw meat and eyed it in the dim light. She took a tentative sniff and then popped it in her mouth. Chewing it quickly with her mouth open and without breathing for several seconds, she swallowed, catching a taste as it slithered down her throat.

Lena smacked her lips. It tasted like barbeque chicken.

CHAPTER 13

"Jason? We need to talk." Admiral Shulkovskii pulled him aside to an empty conference room and shut the door. She had a serious look on her face as she double-checked to make sure the room was empty before speaking. Admiral Gault was used to closed door meetings, but those kind of talks were usually held in a private office, not empty conference rooms. He waited calmly for her to speak.

"My people discovered an unauthorized access into the command network."

"Okay," he replied, confused. He was responsible for the oversight of government contractors and military acquisitions. The admiral's job required that he sift through progress reports and budgets that had more to do with accounting than it did any military action. The bulk of his work had nothing to do with the command network, or at least not directly. The command network existed primarily for Fleet Operations, of which he had no part.

"It was Rayne." Admiral Shulkovskii looked at him meaningfully.

"You're sure." It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. She gave a curt nod. Admiral Gault couldn't think of any possible scenario in which Rayne could have gotten access to the command network. She didn't have the skills or the hardware to pull off the kind of hack required to access it. It was tried a million times a day, if not more, from a multitude of different interests both friendly and not, everyone wanting to see what the government had hidden under its skirts.

"There's no way, Angie. Just no possible way." Admiral Gault shook his head for emphasis.

"It's her, Jason. We've got her on feed. All the way back to having lunch with you on Athena Station."

Admiral Gault was dumbstruck. His mouth settled into a hard, thin line as he fought for an explanation.

"Did you give her access?" Admiral Shulkovskii asked in a hushed whisper. "Did you give her an encryption key?"

Admiral Gault shook himself from his train of thought. "What? No. You think I gave her access?" To have done so would be a serious breach in security and something he would have never done. The act alone would have gotten him court marshaled. The military held tight to its secrets.

"Then how the hell did she get in? I need an answer, Jason, or there will be a formal inquiry."

"I have no idea, Angie. She doesn't have the hardware or the skills." There had to be some plausible explanation. There had to be a mistake, but Admiral Shulkovskii wouldn't come to him like this unless she was sure. The only unknowns about the girl were the unidentified structures in her body. He had checked her background extensively during the process of adopting Rayne to keep her out of his ex's clutches. Even the three years she'd spent marooned had been recorded by the T80 and downloaded. Elizabeth was doing tests every week in an all-out effort to ferret out Rayne's secrets. She kept talking about genetic alterations, unexpected patterns, and groundbreaking technology, but surely not anything that would allow her to hack the command network. Maybe there was something about the girl he didn't know, though he seriously doubted it.

"Wait. What did she access?" His brain shifted into overdrive.

"Bernard System files. Why?"

"Oh, no." Admiral Gault scrambled at the conference room's data center and placed a call. "No, no, no, no." He slammed his open palm on the table when Rayne didn't answer.

"Jason?" Admiral Shulkovskii was taken aback by the sudden burst of emotion. Admiral Gault was wired pretty tight and emotional outbursts were unheard of from the man. "Jason!?" She grabbed his arm to pull his attention as he made repeated attempts to call his adoptive daughter. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"She's gone after them." He placed both hands on the desk as he tried again.

"Rayne? She'd never get anywhere near the system," Admiral Shulkovskii said, incredulous. She took on a more placating tone. "It's completely closed off. The only thing in or out is military."

Admiral Gault gave up trying to call and faced Admiral Shulkovskii. "She just successfully hacked the command network. How hard do you think it'll be to get herself on a military transport?" He scrubbed his face with his hands and ran them over his short hair. "Wait. I've got an idea." He leaned back to the data center and dialed another number. Admiral Shulkovskii leaned over his shoulder.

Dr. Gault answered. "Jason. Haven't you checked up on me enough this week? For heaven's sake, we're in the middle of some real ground..."

"Can it, Lizzy." He didn't have time or patience for her banter.

"What?" Dr. Gault asked, taken aback.

"I said, can it. I don't have time for it." He hurried on to prevent her from interrupting. "That dermal monitor you put on Rayne. Does it have a tracker?"

"Jason..." Worry crept into the doctor's voice.

"Does it have a tracker?" He emphasized each word.

"Well, yes. They..."

Hope sprung to life and he cut her off. "Pull it up now. I need to know where Rayne is, right now."

"Is something wrong?" The doctor sounded very worried but seemed more interested in answers than getting the information he needed. "Just hurry up or your precious test subject will be gone in the wind." That would light a fire and get her working. Admiral Gault could hear scurrying in the background as the doctor was spurred to action.

"I have her. She looks to be moving off-planet. Jason, what's..."

"Transponder tag!" He nearly yelled it.

"Jason..."

"Just give me the damn tag!"

"L4869, but Jason..."

Admiral Gault didn't bother saying goodbye. His fingers flew over the data screen. "It's registered to Lexington Tactical Services." He stood up and uttered an uncharacteristic curse.

"What?" Admiral Shulkovskii still hovered at his shoulder.

"It's flagged priority status. I can't turn it around."

"Try comms."

Admiral Gault tapped the screen and waited. Several minutes passed. The admiral's heart sank at Rayne's one-line answer and he hung his head in defeat. _I'm going to get them back_. Admiral Shulkovskii laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

***

Mike had been over every centimeter of his new room looking for a weak point. There wasn't one. As far as cells went, it was big, at about four by eight paces. He congratulated himself on scoring a deluxe suite. Beyond the size, everything else pretty much sucked. He'd been hoping for some sort of courtesy escape hatch to go with the high end accommodations but had no such luck. The walls, floors, and ceilings were constructed of Dura-crete. The smooth white surface was so flawless not even the bloodstains on the wall could find purchase and were flaking off, falling to the floor as they dried. The door was polished steel and sounded completely solid when he tapped on it. The only flaw in the room's perfectly smooth surface was the grate that centered the floor; the bathroom facilities. At least he had a room to himself and could take care of his business in private, he thought, doing his best to stay positive.

The white walls and bright lights set in the high ceiling were beginning to annoy him. They never went out and made it hard to get any sleep as he lay on the small ledge that served as a bed. No blanket, no pillow, not even a mattress to lay on, just cool, white Dura-crete. Mike was coming to hate the color, which, now that he had time to think about it, wasn't really a color at all.

The food barely deserved the name. It was a gray paste pushed from a port three times a day onto an immovable Dura-crete tray sitting directly underneath and which he was forced to eat with his fingers. Mike had complained to the staff and was still waiting on the reply. At least the water was free. All he had to do was place his hand on the wall and it fed from a port next to the one for food. Convenient, since he had to clean his own dishes. The room service here sucked.

The shower was equally bad. No privacy at all. Good thing he didn't have any bunkmates. Same system as the drinking water: put your hand in the designated spot and you had one minute of soap followed by four minutes of water. The pressure sucked and the temperature was cool at best.

They did have visiting hours, which he could actually have done without. Two very large, talking gorillas with stun batons and fists the size of his head. They hadn't bothered with the batons and the blood still drying on the wall was his. Mike had let them get in a few punches, then given them his cousin's name and a fictitious tag number. They'd asked other questions, but he'd pretended he'd been hit too hard and fell unconscious. There really wasn't much need for acting. Amateurs. Who beat information out of prisoners anymore? They made stuff for that. Come on people, he thought, catch up with technology.

Mike chuckled to himself and winced as he pushed himself against the wall. Blood was still running down his chin and onto his chest. He hurt too much to care. He had bruises on his bruises and was pretty sure he had a couple of broken ribs. Just as long as his team was safe. That was all that mattered. Mike would take a beating any day of the week, so long as the others made it. He'd lost two already, Henderson and Jefferson. Gone in a spray of superheated metal. He tried to curse through the blood in his mouth and failed. Bastards. He didn't blame the bad guys so much as he did the captain. The guys that shot them down were doing what bad guys did everywhere--they shot at marines and marines shot back. No, the real bastard was Captain Jacobs. Stinking academy grad, he thought. Best of the best. Bullshit. He didn't know his ass from his hat.

Mike tried to wipe the blood from his face with a swipe of his hand and succeeded in smearing it over the rest of his face and arm. He cursed and gave up. He'd crawl to the shower later. At least they had the courtesy to beat him up before his daily shower. Mike's thoughts drifted back to the mission planning before the drop. Mike had warned in the strongest terms possible without getting himself removed from the op and disciplined. But now he had at least two dead marines, maybe more. Was it still his fault for not pushing harder? He cursed again and spit blood, not caring that it landed on his leg. Give me back Gault any day. The man was a hard-ass, but at least he knew to trust the people under him.

Mike started toward the shower, but then thought better of it. Maybe he could use his current appearance to his advantage. No reason he should look fresh and ready for another beating. The gorillas weren't that smart. Maybe he could trick them into giving him a mini-vacation. That would be nice. Mike let himself slide to the side and rested his head on the cool floor. Yes, that feels really nice, he thought. He closed his eyes and imagined he could hear the distant rumble of combat again. Over the last couple of days he could have sworn he'd heard it off and on. Music to his ears. If he was lucky, his team would come get him. All he had to do was wait.

Jackson was probably in charge. He was a good hand, a good marine. Mike trusted him implicitly. He and Jackson were good friends and had worked quite a bit together. Jackson knew his stuff and how to get things done. His only flaw was that he was too laid back and apt to let things go. A T80 squad needed to be wired tight, and if it wasn't, things fell apart. Lena was good all the way around but was too impulsive at times. His impression was that she just got lost in the zone and didn't take time to think--something essential for a leader in combat. Lena needed a few more years before she'd learn that lesson.

Mike caught a distant rumble again. It could be thunder, he guessed, but it was hard to tell through the thick Dura-crete walls. They had to know they'd come for him. Was he being used as a bargaining chip? Tau Ceti would bargain for ransom. They bowed to the all-powerful credit or whatever they could sell for credit. The planet's ambassador on the other hand, what was he bargaining for? The two seemed to be pretty cozy. Not something you ever see. The Tau Ceti didn't work with humans or even bargain with them. They took what they wanted through force of arms. Or they had.

Mike heard a heavy door slam and the sound of boots moving down the hall. Visitor hours were over, he complained to himself. He kept his head down and feigned unconsciousness. The sounds of boots stopped in front of his door and muffled voices could be heard from the other side. His heart sped up in preparation for what was coming. The cell door swung open and the sound of a body hitting the floor reached his ears.

"Be careful! She's hurt!" More commotion followed by grunts of pain and the door slamming shut. "Assholes!"

Great. Roomies. There goes my privacy. He kept still, listening to make sure it was safe before he made any move.

"You okay?" A soft male voice followed by an indistinct reply.

"Come on, Abena. Stay awake for me."

Mike tried to jump up and run to where the two marines sat beside the door, Abena on her side and obviously injured and Taft leaning over her. He made it to his knees.

Abena's reply came back louder and he could finally make out the words. "Go make me a sandwich."

Taft laughed through blood-stained teeth and swollen eye. Mike crawled toward them on his knees, since standing just meant more pain. The room wasn't big enough to warrant walking anyway.

Taft finally noticed his presence and tensed before he recognized his sergeant crawling toward him. "Oh, hey, Sarge. Me and Abena were in the area and though we'd drop by."

Mike reached Abena and looked her over carefully, noting the shrapnel wounds to her back and lower extremities as he did. He looked up at Taft for explanation.

"She thought it would be a good idea to play soccer with a grenade. Knocked me out of the way to score a goal. Damn ball hog." Taft leaned over and repeated himself in her ear. "You hear that. Ball hog."

The wounds were serious, but not yet life-threatening. "Did you patch her up or did they?"

"I did. They gave me a field kit but wouldn't let her see a real doc." Taft gave a pained look, on the edge of tears as he spoke.

Mike patted him on the shoulder. "You did good, Taft. You did good."

***

It would take about a week to reach the Bernard System, even with the new antimatter drive. But they'd beat the fleet by several days at least and be able to provide them with intel before they arrived in system. With all the latest prototype equipment and stealth technology, the ship was ideal for their mission. It was on loan from research and development, acquired through one of his many contacts, with orders not to scratch the paint. Lex got his hands on people and equipment other people couldn't and that gave him the edge when it came to winning and completing his contracts.

The vessel was small, with space for two crew and eight operators. Most of the ship's systems were automated and it really didn't take much to pilot, which was just as well because Lex had a lot of work to do to get Ms. Harper up to speed. So far, he'd found her razor sharp, but the girl made him nervous. There was something off about her, a wrongness he couldn't put his finger on. Was it the way she moved or the unblinking stare she sometimes gave him? Ms. Harper was focused, intense and seemed coiled on the edge of violence like a predator ready to strike. It was a feeling he normally got only in the most dark and seedy human environments where his job sometimes took him. It was just strange getting it from a young girl. Lex shook his head and pushed the thought aside. What did it matter if she could be molded into what he wanted?

Ms. Harper was currently studying the latest SAT images taken from the marines' recon ship before they'd become MIA. Lex took the seat opposite and watched her work for several minutes as she focused on one area, zoomed out, scrutinized the image and then zoomed back in on another area, to finally repeat the process again. He'd told her to become familiar with the map, but what she was doing seemed to be over and beyond that. He had a pretty good idea what she was looking for or what she was trying to do, even though he'd made it clear this wasn't a rescue mission.

"You appear to be looking for something," he asked.

Ms. Harper didn't look up. "You told me to be familiar with it."

"So I did." Lex watched her for several more minutes as she continued her search before finally speaking again. "Tell me what you see." It was time to get a feel for how she could process data and if she had any sense of the tactical. That could be a deal breaker if she didn't have the mind for it.

Ms. Harper stopped and looked up from the holographic projection, focusing her black eyes on him with an unblinking stare that made him uncomfortable before finally looking back to the map and zooming it back out. "The image shows the planet's only city and a portion of the outlying areas. The city is here, bordered on the south by desert, north and east by forest and the west by farmland." She focused in on the city. "The city itself has a population of less than a million."

Mr. Lexington interrupted with a question to test her knowledge. "Government structure?"

Ms. Harper looked up briefly and answered, "Corporate. The city exists only to service the antimatter production facility and is run by a board of directors. They have an ambassador, but it's a title that doesn't fit into their structure and only has meaning in their dealings with the military and planetary governments they contract with. Describing him as the chief executive officer would be a more accurate term."

Lex nodded in appreciation. He'd given her a mission summary containing this information and she appeared to have read and studied it. "His name?"

"Shephard H. Ulysses. Age fifty, educated on Athena, holds several degrees in quantum physics, nuclear engineering and art. His psychological profile classifies him as type "A", highly intelligent, with a tendency toward the criminal."

Lex snorted. That kind of profile fit just about every politician he knew. It seemed to be a job requirement. He didn't remember that information being in the summary file. "Enough about Ulysses and back to the map."

"The government buildings are here in this complex, directly adjacent to the production facility and the corporate offices." She circled the indicated points.

"Defenses?"

"I see multiple air defense batteries in and around the city." Ms. Harper began marking them on the map, apparently from memory and his eyebrows rose. She'd actually picked out a few he had missed on his first pass. Anyone could read a map, though. It was time to see whether she really had the mind for it.

"What approach would you take to get us into the city to gather intel?"

Ms. Harper hesitated a moment and frowned. "I don't know anything about space travel and getting us planet-side," she admitted. That was good though. He didn't expect her to know everything and wouldn't have been impressed if she'd tried to fake it.

"Don't worry about that. Just tell me what you think is the best approach from the ground."

She didn't hesitate in her reply. "South."

That would have been his choice as well but he wanted to hear her explain her reasoning. Guessing or using your gut wouldn't be good enough. You had to know why you were doing what you were doing. "Explain."

"There is less activity on that side of the city and it's the furthest from the production facility; and therefore likely to be less protected."

"How do you know there is less activity?"

Ms. Harper zoomed into the city's southern edge. "There are no security posts like there are at the production facility..." She scanned over the perimeter showing nothing but flat, open ground. "...the image shows very little vehicle or pedestrian traffic."

"How about automated defenses?"

"I was hoping you'd have something for that?" She looked up and waited for a response.

Lex smiled. "I'd say unlikely considering the type of construction along the perimeter. It looks like makeshift housing not part of the city proper." He pointed out the buildings in question. They were hap hazardously placed and didn't follow the grid laid out in the city's original construction. "However, I don't think we'll run into that problem. I think their primary concern is an orbital attack or insertion like the one our marines attempted." Lex zoomed the image back out. "At most, I think we'll have some roving patrols to deal with, but yes, to answer your question, I do have something for that." He sat back in satisfaction.

***

Rayne turned back to the map and continued her search as Mr. Lexington went on to other tasks. He'd made it plain several times that they weren't here for a rescue. He'd made all the logical arguments she was sure the admiral would have made: that she didn't have the resources, the firepower, or the experience to get it done. But she wasn't going to stand by while Tau Ceti held her friends, if they held them at all. She knew it was highly likely they were all dead, in which case she intended to kill as many as she could get her hands on.

Rayne had spent the last hour counting air defense batteries and calculating their trajectories. There were a lot and it was doubtful they would have reached their designated landing point together had they pushed it. Separating had given them a chance, but the T80 side of her brain told her the impact speeds needed to reach the ground safely would have exceeded safe limits and they might not have survived.

Rayne's access to the command network had given her a glimpse of the drop just after they split. She had the escape vectors of everyone not dead. That, combined with the altitude, gave her a rough estimate of where their glide slopes would have taken them. The frustrating part was that Mr. Lexington had only given her a part of the terrain map and not the whole planet's. An omission, she was sure, that was deliberate. Without it, she couldn't get a full picture of the potential crash sites. Fortunately, she'd already downloaded her own from the public data base. They weren't nearly as detailed as the ones provided by Mr. Lexington, but they'd still serve her purpose.

Rayne stared hard at the image and zoomed back out, centering the desert area as far from the city as she could. Lena's vector had taken her this direction, along with Callahan and it was part of the reason she'd chosen it as their insertion point. She'd been fortunate the facts supported her choice. Rayne didn't know Callahan well, but knew he'd been watching Lena's back long before she had come along. Rayne hoped they were both alive and well, along with the rest of the team. While Lena was foremost in her mind, she was particularly concerned about Sgt. Weber. His vector had taken him straight down on the city. Whether he'd done it on purpose or because he was injured she couldn't say, but the amount of firepower coming from the ground would have made it a suicide mission.

If he survived, if any of them survived, they would be on the run or captured. If they were captured, they'd be held in the central government building's detention facility. Rayne pinged the ship's small cabin to make sure Mr. Lexington wasn't peeking over her shoulder and then zoomed in on the central government building. She tapped the icon and brought up the building's blueprint, quickly flashing it to her memory files, and then began doing the same to the surrounding buildings. The T80 quickly cataloged and analyzed each in turn before handing it back to Rayne who looked for secondary entrances and maintenance corridors; anything that would get her access to the building if it could be determined the marines were being held there. They passed information back and forth for the next hour as she tried to form some sort of a plan. It would parallel what Mr. Lexington had already drawn up, but at some point, it was going to diverge in rather spectacular fashion.

***

"Is she awake yet?" Mike looked on with concern as Taft checked on Abena.

"No. Not since this morning." Taft put a hand to her forehead and cheeks.

"How does she feel?" Mike didn't move to get up. Everything still hurt too much.

"A little warm, but I don't think it's anything serious." Taft came back and took a seat next to him.

"We need to get her some decent medical care." Mike had already lost two of his team and maybe more. He didn't want to lose another and would gladly take a few more beatings if it meant Abena would get the medical attention she needed.

"You want me to try the door again?" Taft had spent nearly an hour pounding and screaming at the door in an attempt to get anyone to come. His voice was now hoarse from the effort.

"Won't do any good. I think they forgot about us." It had been more than a day since his last visit from the guards. He wasn't complaining.

"I think you're right." Taft stood and eyed the camera mounted high up on the ceiling where two walls joined. "It's about time."

"Time for what?" Mike watched Taft with suspicion as he walked to the center of the room and its less than adequate toilet facilities. "Taft, don't do anything stupid."

"Come on, Sarge. It's me." Taft smiled and pulled down his pants.

"That's what I'm afraid of." Mike turned his head to give him some privacy and then looked back to find him holding something that looked suspiciously like his own feces. "Oh, Taft." Mike put up a protective arm to shield himself from being slimed as Taft threw it at the camera. It landed with a splat. "What the hell? That's disgusting."

"All part of the plan, Sarge. All part of the plan." Taft sat back down hurriedly. "Now we wait."

Mike couldn't contain his disgust. "For what? To get our ass beaten for throwing crap at the camera lens?"

"Possibly," Taft replied seriously, and then smiled.

"You're taking the beating. I've had my fair share."

Taft's smile widened. "Hey, I'm the 'T' in team."

Mike snorted. "More like the 'T' in bullshit."

"Same concept, different noun." Taft glanced up at the camera, making sure his aim had been on target.

"So, what's the plan?" There had to be a plan, didn't there? Surely Taft wouldn't pull a stupid stunt that would get them beaten for no other reason than for the laughs. Then again, it was Taft.

"If they haven't forgotten about us, we'll know pretty quick."

"If they come in and beat the both of us, I'm blaming it on you. You are the one, after all, who still has brown hands." Mike had been leaning away for the last several minutes. Taft had a tendency to talk with his hands and he didn't want to risk any incidental contact with the leftovers.

"Ugh, yeah." Taft appeared to look for a place to wipe his hand and then thought better of it and walked to the shower. "If they have forgotten us, no one will show. I'd say give it half a day and then we can start working to get ourselves out of here."

Mike didn't get up. "Good luck with that. I've been over every inch." Actually, he'd been over it half a dozen times, each with the same result. "The only way out is overpowering the guards when they come in for the daily visits. Now that they've stopped, we're stuck."

Taft held his hands under the soapy water as it fell from its port. "Have some faith. Wasn't I the one who hacked the station network?"

"To get the feeds for the women's showers?" Taft had gotten himself into some pretty serious trouble over that one. If the evidence against him had been better, he'd likely have been court-martialed.

"No, that was a completely different hack." Taft scrubbed energetically at his hands, using the full minute of soap to scrub them clean. "The one that re-appropriated the navy alcohol ration to our stores."

"Ah." That was actually one of his better moments and had put him in good graces with the rest of the squad.

"And wasn't I the one who gained access to that command center on Tilton-5 where that smuggler was hiding?" Taft rinsed the soap from his hands and shook the water off his skin.

"You mean the brothel? That was hardly high security," Mike said with a smirk.

"Hey, those girls were armed." He took his seat again and smiled. "I know what I'm doing boss. You'll see."

"You know, you could have used that pasty crap they call food instead of your own shit."

Taft drew his eyebrows together thoughtfully, "Oh, yeah."

By the time the evening meal was dispensed, no one had come to administer any beatings, for which Mike was immensely relieved. He was still sore and stiff, but the rawness of his previous beatings and injuries had begun to diminish into dull aches; although if he moved too fast, the pain in his ribs left him breathless. Visiting hours had stopped with Taft and Abena's arrival and he was worried Taft's ploy would start them up again. Mike's best guess was that they believed all the marines were dead or captured. It worried him. If three were all that was left...he didn't even want to think about it.

Taft finished his pasty meal and washed his hands, rubbing them together under the cool water. "Time to get to work." Mike made a quick check on Abena and turned to find Taft with his hands down the front of his pants.

"Oh, Taft. I've had enough for one day. Really?" Mike turned his head in disgust.

"Just grabbing my tools." Taft answered happily.

"I can see that."

"Got it." Taft brought a small screw driver and data tool out, displaying them proudly.

"I'm underwhelmed, Taft. Underwhelmed."

"Watch and learn." Taft took a last glance at the room's camera to make sure the lens was still covered and went to work on the data pad. Several minutes later the door's lock snapped open.

Mike was on his feet in a second, standing next to Taft, who now had a huge grin on his face. "How did you do that?"

"Trade secret, Sarge. Now quick, let's sit over here and act natural. I may have tripped an alarm. If they're monitoring, they'll be here soon. They both took seats next to Abena and waited tensely, or Mike did anyway. Taft launched into a ten minute story about how he'd dated two twins from Earth when he was seventeen and gotten run off the planet after being caught in their bedroom at an inappropriate hour when he thought their parents were away. It was completely innocent, he assured his sergeant. Mike was pretty sure he was making it up but was too tense to pay much attention.

Mike thought through their options quickly. Making an immediate run for it might not be wise. They didn't know the layout or the security's patrol pattern, if there were any left in the building. If they left now, it was entirely possible they'd just run straight into security's waiting arms. A little recon might be in order before making their break, assuming Taft could pop the lock any time he chose. He cut the private off just as he was telling of his death- defying leap out a second story window. "Can you do that whenever we need it?"

Taft looked confused for a moment before realizing Mike was talking about the cell door. "Yeah."

"We need to do some recon, before we make a run for it."

"Definitely," Taft agreed.

"I don't want Abena left alone. I'll go and you watch her."

"Wouldn't have left her anyway, Sarge."

Mike opened the door cautiously, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps. He stepped softly on the hard polished floors and made his way carefully down the corridor, checking each door as he went. The rooms were all vacant. The door at the far end appeared to be the guard station, full of monitors and communication equipment. It was empty and appeared to have been cleared in a hurry. He snuck in quickly, disabled the feeds for some extra insurance and looked for weapons. There were none.

Mike continued on quietly. It was deathly silent, and he was beginning to think the building was empty when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He ducked into an open side room and waited. He heard the squawk of radios and mumbled conversation, gone as the footsteps hurried past. Mike checked the hallway again and went to the room's small window. It was an office that overlooked the central courtyard. It was a flurry of activity with troop transports and security personnel moving about their designated tasks. The government complex had been cordoned off and makeshift barriers had been erected. The security was tight. What he could see of the city itself was in shambles. Buildings were burned out and destroyed, while debris scattered the city streets. It looked like a city under siege.

None of it made sense. They'd been attacked on the drop by the planet's security forces. Then he'd found himself engaged with the Tau Ceti and now the city looked like it had been attacked. Had his team been fired on simply as a kneejerk reaction to a previous Tau Ceti attack? A case of mistaken identity and friendly fire? If that was the case, why were they still rotting in a jail cell? Something wasn't adding up.

Mike moved back to the hallway and toward the central lobby. It was a risky move since it was likely to be a hub of activity, but he needed to get a better feel for what was going on. He was nearly there when he heard shouting. Whoever it was, they were not happy. He took a quick peak from behind a large pillar to see who was speaking. Ambassador Ulysses.

"This was never part of the deal," the ambassador yelled into the comm unit. The response was garbled. The only part of the conversation he'd be hearing was the ambassador's. "The city was to be left intact, not pillaged for everything you could grab!...It was implied!...The two ships planet side wasn't part of the agreement either...The agreement was I get control of the planet and the fleet, and sell you antimatter drives and fuel with the crews to run them. In exchange, you were to make payment to me and give my ships free passage on the trade routes...Yeah, I got the payment, but I can't spend it if I'm a fugitive, which I soon will be because you couldn't wait at the designated rendezvous point!...You taking control of the city and pillaging your way through was never part of the deal...You can't change the deal. Don't you cut comms with me!"

Mike listened to the shouted curses fade as he retreated down the hall and back to his cell. That explained it then. The double-crossing ambassador had been double crossed trying to make a quick buck for himself, and Mike and his marines had gotten caught in the crossfire. It also explained why there was no one guarding them. They had likely had to pull all their resources to defend the government complex and production facility from the Tau Ceti. With the security as tight as it was, they were going to have to find an alternate route to get out.

CHAPTER 14

Elizabeth was concerned, approaching on panic. She'd been attempting constant contact with Jason since he'd called demanding to know if she could track the test subject, or Rayne, whatever. The girl's location had been easy to track. The micro-transponder imbedded into the dermal patch she wore was traceable anywhere in the system. To her horror, it showed her test subject moving quickly off-planet and then suddenly disappearing. The girl couldn't leave. She was still under contract. The doctor had a whole battery of tests lined up. The girl was a gold mine. It was almost too much to decide where to even start. The skin tissue alone, with its regenerative ability, could take years to puzzle out and they'd come upon it quite by accident. It made Elizabeth wonder what else the girl was hiding and if she was doing it on purpose or really didn't know what she was carrying around inside her skin. The doctor would find some way to ferret it out one way or another.

Elizabeth passed through security and made her way purposefully toward the admiral's office. Jason wasn't answering her calls and while it wouldn't be the first time, it had her extremely worried. He better not have lost her test subject. Their initial tests had been focused solely on the artificial structures identified in her brain scans, but after doing full body scans, they'd come to find them throughout the girl's tissues and connected by a parallel nervous system. That certainly explained why the neural block didn't work on her. The doctor had finally come to the conclusion that a comprehensive audit of every tissue would need to be done to piece together what, exactly, they were looking at. Dr. Gault thought she knew when she started this project, but closer inspection was revealing things they just didn't understand or fathom and could only guess at.

Elizabeth swept into the reception area and didn't pause. The admiral's secretary didn't even bother trying to stop her. She knew better. His office was empty. The doctor checked the time and then made an about face, heading for the small restaurant down the hall where he could usually be found for lunch. She found him at a window seat, staring out at the midday air traffic and sipping his drink. Jason appeared deep in thought as she took a seat opposite. He didn't acknowledge her presence.

"Jason." His eyes were unfocused and he wore a worried expression. "Jason." He still didn't look up. "Jason!"

Jason came out of whatever world he was wandering and looked over distractedly. "What? Oh. It's you." He looked back toward the window with a frown on his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Elizabeth was mildly offended. He was often stern with her, but never rude.

"Go away. I'm busy." He didn't bother to make eye contact.

"I can see that." Why was he acting this way? "Where's my....where's Rayne?" She corrected herself before he did it for her. It was an annoying habit of his to force her into recognizing Rayne as a person.

"Gone," he murmured.

"Gone?"

Jason turned back in exasperation. "Yes, gone. Do you need me to spell it for you?"

His words dripped with sarcasm and annoyance. Very out of character, the doctor thought. "She can't be gone. She's under contract."

"You need to have your legal department read over that contract. She can terminate it at her discretion." Jason took a long pull from the drink he'd been holding and turned back toward the window.

"Is that what this is? Is that what you're doing?" Cancelling the contract now would sideline major projects both in progress and in planning. They couldn't do it without the girl. Or they couldn't do all of it without the girl. They were only a year into the project and had only scratched the surface. Cancelling the contract would be catastrophic. "I've acted in good faith here, Jason. I've abided by all your rules and conditions."

"Yes, Elizabeth, you have," he answered with a sigh.

"Then why are you pulling the rug out from under me? Jason, this is some of the most breakthrough science I've ever encountered. You can't just end it and put the girl out of my reach."

"I haven't done anything of the sort." Jason took another long drink, probably wishing he could leave the system as well.

"What do you call sending her out of the system? Are you going to give me some crap story about sending her off to boarding school?"

"Lizzy," he began.

Elizabeth cut him off. "Don't you 'Lizzy' me. This is important to me and you know it." The volume of her voice was starting to rise as it tended to do when someone interfered with her research.

"Lizzy. Would you just..." He closed his eyes and grimaced.

"No, I won't. I followed all the rules this time and you stabbed me in the back. Is this payback for the divorce? Is that what this is about?"

"Oh, for the love of god." Jason put his head in his hands and began messaging his temples.

"Are you still pissed I won and now you're trying to get your payback?"

Jason looked at her crossly. "Seriously? We're going to make this about you?"

Elizabeth was nonplussed. "Isn't it?"

Jason looked up with an angry stare. "No. It damn well isn't!" He pulled the napkin from his lap and threw it on his plate. "Rayne left on her own, Lizzy. She signed a contract with Lexington Tactical and jumped system." He folded his arms and sat back, staring out the window again.

"What?"

"Exactly." Jason kept his gaze out the window; obviously hopping she would just go away.

Elizabeth wasn't giving up, though. If her research was going down the toilet, she wanted to know why and wasn't leaving until she got to the bottom of it. "Wait. I hired them to track her down when she first arrived. Why would she sign with them?"

"Why indeed?" He said as he gazed out the window.

Why was he being like this? Did she have to drag it from him? "Is she coming back?"

"Alive?"

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Lexington Tactical's contract is a recon mission to the Bernard System."

"...and?"

The admiral snorted. "Same old Lizzy. The center of her universe and everything else be damned."

"What? What's going on in the Bernard System?" She really didn't know. The research was so engrossing she had little interest in anything else at the moment. The world could fall apart around her and the doctor wouldn't know the difference unless it impacted her work in some way.

"Just a little military skirmish with the possibility of the entire system exploding."

Again with the sarcasm; not very attractive and completely out of character. "Seriously?"

"Have you not been at least scanning the news feeds?" he asked incredulous.

"No," Elizabeth answered defensively. "I was busy up until the moment my test subject disappeared." She dished out a little sarcasm of her own.

"Rayne," Jason corrected automatically.

"Right, Rayne. Whatever." She motioned him to continue.

"The Bernard System has the only antimatter production facility currently in operation. A little over a week ago, we lost contact with them. The scouting ship sent to investigate dropped marines who immediately came under fire and was then attacked itself by Tau Ceti. In short, there will be fighting, people will die, and if anything happens to that production facility it could wipe out the entire system and anyone in it."

Elizabeth still didn't get it. She was a doctor, a researcher, and didn't really have a good grasp on military...stuff. She interacted with a lot of military people, sure, but that was all about funding and budgets and research proposals and applications. She generally knew what recon was, but not really any of the details. "Okay, but it's a recon mission, right? I can't imagine they'll be in the thick of it."

"You would think not, but I don't think Rayne is thinking clearly at the moment."

"Why not?" Was she ever thinking clearly? The doctor had reached an opinion of her own that the girl was unbalanced, but she'd been overruled in her assessment and the girl was allowed to roam free.

"The marines that came under fire during the initial drop were the same group on my ship and with whom she is very attached." Jason said it with raised eyebrows, waiting for it to hit home.

"Oh." That's right, she thought. Then the pieces clicked into place. "Oh, shit." And the color drained from her face.

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Jason drained the last of his drink.

This was bad, really bad. She couldn't lose that girl. "You've got to get her out of there."

"Already tried." Jason had turned back to the window again, watching the commuter traffic hum by at high speed.

"You're an admiral. Do some of that admiral stuff and order her back." She waved her hand for dramatic effect. What good was being an admiral or having one for an ex if you couldn't get what you wanted?

"Not my department, Elizabeth. Not my department." Jason sounded defeated, staring at the empty bottom of his glass.

No. This was not happening. He couldn't just quit. He had to get the girl back. "Then go twist some arms. I need her back, Jason. She's not any good to me in pieces." She thought frantically of all the research lost; all that knowledge, all that progress.

Jason looked up in anger. "Is your stupid science the only thing you can think about? This is a young girl, Lizzy. This is my daughter and the only thing you can think about is your stupid research."

Elizabeth scoffed. "Daughter? Legally maybe, but you only did that to keep her away from me." He'd worked quietly behind the scenes when the girl had first arrived on the planet, while she was distracted with the pursuit, to gain legal guardianship over her. It was a devious piece of work and had caught her completely by surprise.

"Is that what you think?" he asked.

"Isn't it?" Elizabeth countered.

"No. Look, do you know why I agreed to the divorce?" Jason leaned forward, the anger gone, and replaced with the cold seriousness she'd come to expect from him.

"Because I didn't give you any choice." Elizabeth had the better attorney. Of course she won. She always won.

"I agreed to it because I realized you'd never give me what I really wanted, a family. You're so buried in your research, you'd never make time for children. The thought probably never crossed your mind. Well, it has mine. It's why I got married, but I was stupid and made the assumption you wanted the same thing. I wanted to pass on something to the world, Lizzy. I wanted a child to teach and guide and to eventually grow into something incredible that I could be proud of." The admiral stood. "Rayne's the chance at being a father you never gave me."

Elizabeth watched him go in stunned silence.

***

"Left, at 355, range 5 k."

"Near the cooling tower?"

"Yeah, clustered next to the low out-building." Jackson marked the location at ground level below one of several mammoth towers used to cool the production facility's operations.

"Got it. Tau Ceti for sure." Davis' transmission was garbled but readable. He'd been able to patch his comm system but had only been partially successful. His voice had a slightly garbled digital sound that was understandable but tended to fade in and out.

"I don't think I've ever seen them without active camouflage before." Jackson zoomed in and watched as heavily armed Tau Ceti moved crates from a transport onto a waiting shuttle and then began to survey the perimeter fence.

"Ugly bastards," Davis commented as he attempted unsuccessfully to get his T80 to take a head count of the hostiles spread before him. It wasn't just his communications system that was acting up, but several of the others as well. He hoped it would hold together and not leave him stranded. Fortunately, Jackson was with him if his went tits up, but he didn't want to be without it under the current circumstances.

"Guard post spreads are too far apart. Should be easy to slip in depending on what tech they're using."

Davis shifted his field of view, agreeing with Jackson's assessment. "The security field looks stable, so it's either over or under. What do you have on height?" He didn't bother cursing at his T80's inability to perform basic tasks. Crying about things didn't make it better. You made do with what you were given and he counted himself lucky he was still mobile and able to fight.

"Twenty meters," said Jackson.

"That's doable," observed Davis. A T80's vertical jump was well over that height. "I've got a couple of AAA batteries over here. Do you see anything else?" Those batteries were likely among those that had fired on them during their entry. Firing at targets falling from the sky, they were deadly, but they wouldn't be able to track the fast moving T80s on the ground.

"Cameras and some auto turrets, but that's about it. A lot of security personnel, though, from both sides." Jackson answered. They both turned back to the city's security forces standing in an uneasy group as the Tau Ceti continued to offload their treasure. "Odd that they're not shooting at each other."

"Tau Ceti don't cooperate with anyone." Davis repeated what they both knew from experience. "That should tell you everything right there. Sounds like someone is out to make a deal with the devil."

"They might be regretting that about now. I'm seeing damage to some of the city buildings, along with smoke." Jackson had shifted his view to the city, watching as portions of it burned.

Davis tried to snort in derision, but it came out as a garbled chirp. "That'll happen when you let Tau Ceti park a couple of ships outside your city and let them in the front door." He glanced at the two Tau Ceti ships hovering several thousand meters off the ground. "Idiots. You sure coming in this side is the best option? Security on the other side was lighter."

"Yeah," replied Jackson firmly. "This route is shorter if we're going to do a smash and grab. I don't fancy fighting my way through the middle of city of a million people and then out again. Besides, we might be able to disrupt the handoff of that antimatter, if we're lucky. Kill two birds with one stone." Their original operation was a bust. From the looks of it, making contact with the ambassador wasn't even an option. There was only one thing left on his mind and that was to rescue what was left of the squad, and if he disrupted the Tau Ceti hand off in the process, so much the better.

Davis didn't question the matter further. "You still got tabs on their IFF tags?"

"Barely. I'll have to ping it to get a better fix." There was a brief pause before Jackson spoke again. "Got'em. 344 at 7k. Maybe that government building..."

"Oh, shit." Davis had been monitoring the Tau Ceti moving their cargo, attempting manually to count their numbers when they suddenly flashed into active camouflage and disappeared. A cloud of dust began to swell and flow in their direction.

"What?" Jackson scanned back, looking to see what had surprised Davis, to find a wall of Tau Ceti descending on their position. "How the hell?"

They both heaved themselves up from the ground and began running as fast as the T80s would move. AAA fire began tearing up the turf behind them as they moved laterally and away, the weapons system unable to track them as they accelerated to 90 km/hr.

"I seem to recall Rayne saying something about not using active scans with Tau Ceti," Davis said as they approached the low hills in the distance.

"Now that you mention it, I think she did," Jackson agreed as they left their pursuers behind.

***

Lena crouched quietly and surveyed the scene before her from the shadow of a low tree. Calling it a tree might have been overly generous, but after nearly a week in the desert she wasn't about to insult the plant's efforts to be more than it was. It provided shade and if it wanted to call itself a tree, then it was welcome to do so. Lena kept a tight grip on her makeshift spear, a long stick with her knife lashed to the end. Surviving the first predator attack had been luck. She'd almost ended up as dinner for the nasty-looking creature with its ugly face and too many legs. She shuddered at the memory. Surviving the subsequent attacks had been easier with the makeshift spear, and by that time she'd actually acquired a taste for the disgusting-looking animal which tasted oddly enough like barbeque chicken. Anything was better than the desert's mushrooms. Lena threw up a little in her mouth at the memory and choked it back down.

Double-checking the PSC's holographic display, Lena confirmed the rally point's location before her. Everything appeared quiet and the sound of running water trickling somewhere below was maddening, but she wasn't about to run down into the small valley until she was absolutely sure. She hadn't made it this far to be killed by something unexpected. Lena waited motionless for another half hour, watching the terrain carefully. It looked different from the ground than it had from the orbital images, but it always did, even on a three dimensional display. Maybe it was the sense of space you didn't get with the image, or the smell. Lena breathed deeply through her nose, catching the sweet scent of water down below. She tried not to lick her parched lips.

Lena finally stood and walked cautiously forward, searching the perimeter for an easy way down. She moved slowly, stopping every few seconds to listen intently to her surroundings. She reached the bottom without incident, and while she was tempted to run straight for the water, she disciplined herself instead to search the rest of the small area to make sure she was alone.

Finally certain, she walked carefully toward the water's source: a trickle of water from the overhanging rocks falling into a shallow pool below. It fed a small stream that gurgled over the dusty-colored rocks before disappearing back into the ground. Lena scanned it briefly with the PSC, finding nothing that would do her permanent harm. She kept a firm hold on her spear as she knelt and dipped her hand into the pool with her free hand and brought it to her mouth. Lena tilted her head back and let the cool liquid caress her throat. She sighed in relief and took another drink, running her still wet hand over her face.

Lena could have easily drunk herself sick, but stopped just short of being full. The next order of business was her feet. They were killing her. She pulled her boots off carefully and breathed a sigh of relief. There were a few blisters, but otherwise they looked good. Lena eyed the pool, but decided against fouling the water with her stinking feet. She wrinkled her nose at the smell that assaulted it, and not just from her feet. There was a bitter, rotten smell emanating from her entire body, faintly reminiscent of the mushrooms she'd been using for food. She was too tired at this point to care and there was no one around to smell her anyway. She'd seen signs T80s had been and gone, but she could only guess when they'd come back, if they'd be back at all. Still, it gave her a small measure of hope. At least someone else had survived.

Lena stepped carefully over the rocks in her bare feet to a point several meters downstream. Judging it far enough from the pool she'd been drinking from, she lowered her sore feet into the cool water. A contented smile spread over her face and she leaned back on her arms to let the water caress her aching feet. She stayed in that position for perhaps half an hour before dragging herself reluctantly away and back to the shade of the rocky overhang.

Pulling off her hat and makeshift eye protection, Lena set them aside before laying back to rest and close her eyes. She needed to think about what to do next, but she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. Her days had been filled with burning heat and her nights with the fear of being eaten. Her body was telling her it had had enough. Fine, it could have a little rest, but then she'd have to move. While she now had water, she still didn't have any food other than what she killed for herself. She wasn't sure how long she could wait here for the other members of the squad. Her best bet for survival was to get into the city and integrate with the civilian population until someone from fleet came looking for her. They'd have to come eventually. The system and its antimatter production facility were too important. As for the other members of the squad, the signs she'd seen so far indicated they were still mobile in their T80s and in a far better position to take care of themselves than she was. Lena tried to get comfortable on the sandy ground and gave up, settling for a small rock to rest her head on before grabbing her hat to cover her face so she could sleep. She'd move on tomorrow. Until then, she'd enjoy the water and the shade.

CHAPTER 15

The ship angled sharply through the sun's halo and toward the planet in the far distance, still just a speck of light, one of a billion other stars scattering the sky before them. The heat inside the cabin rose steadily as they skirted past the boiling surface below them. Great columns of fire discharged from the surface and were pulled back in great arching bridges as the star's gravity pulled them back down to crash into the boiling mass of nuclear-fueled explosions.

Rayne looked at the view screen in awe. It was an incredible sight, but it also made her nervous. There was an incredible amount of destructive power down there, making her feel small and vulnerable. "Why are we taking the risk?"

"What?" Mr. Lexington was concentrating on the monitors as the ship moved along its programmed flight path.

"Why are we taking the risk? You said the ship has all the latest tech to keep us invisible, right? Passing the sun this close just seems like a risk we don't need to take."

Mr. Lexington glanced over at her and then back with a nod of appreciation. He seemed to like her questions but Rayne wasn't sure why. She assumed it had something to do with evaluating her performance. "I like having more than one layer of protection."

"Protection?"

"Yes. All the equipment they've loaded this thing up with is great, but it's not foolproof." He motioned with his hands to the computer equipment packed in the space around them. There didn't seem to be one square meter that wasn't filled with some kind of monitor, gauge, or readout. "If they know what they're looking for, a good scanning tech will still be able to pick us out, or at least see something strange and take a closer look."

"How does us getting fried by a star figure into that?" Rayne looked at the screen skeptically as another mass of plasma ejected from the star's surface in a slow, deadly arch.

"Noise," he answered cryptically.

"Noise?"

"Electromagnetic noise across all spectrums." Mr. Lexington thought a moment and then continued. "Think of it like trying to sneak up behind someone across ground covered with dry leaves. If it's quiet, your feet crunching through the leaves will give away your position before you even get close. But if there's a wind blowing, loud music playing or anything that will drown out the noise of your footsteps..."

"They'll never hear you coming," Rayne finished. Tracking targets in the jungle was no different. When the forest was quiet and silent, you waited for your enemy to come to you. But under the cover of screaming fliers or the sound of heavy rain, you took the fight to them. She used the same principle with a low-powered ping to check her surroundings. As long as she didn't exceed the energy output of the surrounding "noise," she could count on not being detected. Interesting that the same principles applied in space.

"Exactly," Mr. Lexington confirmed. "We were hard to see before, but with the noise of the star at our back, we'll be invisible. No technology is one hundred percent and you need to use the terrain to your advantage."

It all made logical sense, but still seemed like a huge risk. They were quite a distance from the star and yet could easily be taken out by an unexpected plasma burst. "How do we not get pulled into the surface or incinerated by one of those coronal eruptions?"

"Basic physics, Ms. Harper," he said as he made an adjustment to the environmental settings to counteract the rising temperature. "We just need enough speed to carry us around without being pulled into the surface. The navigation computer does the calculation for us. You just need to plot the course."

"Off this console here?" Rayne pointed to the center instrument panel before them.

"Yes," answered Mr. Lexington. He pointed to the control panel. "Press the navigation icon here and plot it on the holographic display." The display hovered above the console, tracking their current trajectory as they moved quickly along the star's rotation axis.

"Do they ever malfunction?" Rayne asked.

"Rarely, but you don't normally get any details about the end result, just a floating debris field or a missing vessel report." Mr. Lexington said it without much feeling as if it was a frequent occurrence and no big deal.

"That's not very comforting," Rayne replied.

"Wasn't meant to be." Mr. Lexington turned from the screen and looked her in the eye. "If you're looking for security and comfort, stay planet side and learn to dance. Space travel is inherently risky, as is this job. You take calculated risks to gain advantage or achieve goals. Fear can freeze you into inaction, which can cause the sudden onset of death."

Rayne hadn't felt fear since she was fourteen and was pretty sure she no longer had the capacity to feel it. Three years of near constant combat had crushed it from her. "I'm not afraid," she replied honestly.

"No?" He asked with raised brows. "It's a natural response. Nothing to be ashamed of." Mr. Lexington waited for several seconds to see if she'd change her response, and then continued when it was clear she wouldn't. "Look, everyone gets scared. Some of the toughest combat veterans I know get scared. The trick is not letting it take control. You need to distance your mind from it, so you can think through it toward your goal. Use the fear to fuel the adrenaline, but don't let it make the decisions."

"I don't feel fear," Rayne said with a shrug.

"Everyone does." Mr. Lexington turned back to the monitor and watched the star's boiling surface idly with his hands behind his head.

"I don't."

He gave her an annoyed look. "Everyone feels something when faced with danger. It's natural--an unconscious and uncontrolled response in the body. You can't be devoid of feeling."

"I didn't say I didn't feel anything," Rayne said defensively. She didn't know what she was exactly, but the suggestion that she didn't feel was to say that she was something less than human. She was still human, wasn't she?

Mr. Lexington gave her a sideways look. "So what do you feel?"

"Rage," Rayne answered simply.

"Sounds to me like a typical response to fear. People get angry at what they perceive as the inherent weakness in the fear response. Perfectly natural." He turned back to the screen, seeming to understand some deep philosophical truth.

"No." Rayne shook her head, her hair tapping gently against the line of her jaw as it moved with the motion of her head. She felt a slight static release as it made repeated contact with her skin.

"No?"

"I don't get angry because I'm afraid," she explained. "I just get angry. I skip the fear part and go straight to angry."

Mr. Lexington rolled his eyes and turned back to the screen. "If you say so."

The planet had coalesced from a bright star to a small orb hovering in the distance. Mr. Lexington let out a low whistle and sat forward.

"What?" Rayne looked over at his console, trying to see what he was looking at as he tapped through several menus before finally pulling a three-dimensional, holographic image. He pushed it to the mapping table where they'd have a better view and got up to take a closer look.

"Debris field." He pointed to what looked like a small dusting on the image, but which was certainly much bigger in life. "It's got to be remains of a star ship, but I don't see anything recognizable. I guess we weren't the only ones thinking to use the star as cover coming in-system. The planet's rotation around the star has put it out of our trajectory, but we'll want to log and map it for fleet."

"How about these here?" Rayne pointed to the numerous contacts scattered throughout the system, but congregated mostly around the system's only habitable planet.

"Star ships. They're not broadcasting IFF tags, so we have to assume they're hostile." He tapped his finger on one of the display icons several times without effect. "The system AI is down as well. Not that we'd be using it anyway, but we'll package that for fleet intel, so they can set up a replacement when everything gets settled."

Rayne didn't have to ask what an IFF tag was. The T80 knocking around in her head was quite familiar with them. The electronic IFF tag allowed her to separate friend from foe on the battlefield, though it had gotten little to no use during the time she had been stranded and fighting alone. She had done some experimentation with the system and found it could operate in several different modes. It could be turned completely off of course, which logically signaled hostile intent but it also had active and passive features. The active mode broadcast a strong signal that identified itself to any vessels system wide, while the passive mode merely identified itself to active scans, whether it could visually be tracked or not. A marine's personal transponder worked in much the same way, always in the passive mode, and could only be tracked by friendly scans, remaining invisible to enemy forces so long as they weren't visible in some other way.

"How are we going to get past?" Rayne scrutinized the image before her, trying to compare what she knew of jungle warfare with their objective.

"The star's electromagnetic noise will cover us most of the way in, but we'll need some more camouflage."

"Debris field?" she asked. Rayne looked up to see Mr. Lexington nodding his agreement.

"Exactly. Some of it was already heading that way already. We just need to adjust course and match velocity so we don't look out of place."

Several hours later, Mr. Lexington wove his way carefully through the remains of the starship. A fusion drive spun slowly on its axis while the twisted metal of the ship's frame floated in disjointed sections, electricity flashing in the darkness as systems continued to gasp their dying breaths. Most of the smaller debris had been pushed outward at high velocity when the ship exploded, leaving the larger sections to float as a mobile scrap-yard.

It took several hours to make their way through the churning, spinning debris and there were several instances Rayne thought they'd be crushed or shot through with fast moving debris, but they finally made their way to the planet's outer reaches unharmed. Their ship drifted casually into the atmosphere with the other debris before Mr. Lexington straightened their descent and matched velocity as the debris turned into fiery meteorites that streaked across the night sky.

Rayne watched the screen as they made their descent. The T80 in her head flashed an alert, its version of an excited shaking of the arm. IFF tags. T80 IFF tags! She jerked forward against the restraints of her seat, drawing a distracted look from Mr. Lexington. He was focused on piloting their craft as it reached the surface, skimming across the floor of the desert. She sat back in her chair, not wanting to distract him further. She wanted to nail down the position of the IFF tags but knew her own range wasn't good enough to plot positions and she knew better than to actively scan in a hostile environment. She reached for the console.

"No active scans," he warned her.

"I know. Just verifying our location and checking passive scans."

"What, you don't trust my navigation?"

"Just trying to learn." Rayne pulled the navigation maps along with the ship's passive scan data. "I'll be stuck if something happens to you."

"That's not comforting."

"Wasn't meant to be." Rayne ignored his smirked response and plotted the IFF tags; handing the information to the T80 for later reference. Their point of entry wouldn't take them anywhere near the IFF tag locations. She showed a total of four, none of them Lena. She controlled her breathing, trying with a force of will not to let herself slip into a rage. That was over half the team, leaving only Jackson, Davis, Abena and Taft. Rayne held tight to the growl that threatened to escape her lips. She looked over the terrain flashing below them in the dark and back to her screen, noting as she did a multitude of radiation signatures. T80 crash sites? With all the debris falling from the sky it was impossible to tell. She forced herself not to jump to conclusions. Lack of an IFF tag didn't mean dead, it meant powered down or damaged. She itched to do an active scan to locate their personal tags, but knew it would be a mistake. It would be a broadcast beacon announcing their presence. But it would be so easy. Just one little blip. She'd memorized Lena's IFF tag number as soon as she realized it was possible. Whenever Lena was away, a quick query to the satellites was all she needed to map her location to within several feet. It was convenient and eased the moments of panic she felt when Lena was gone.

They continued to skim the surface at subsonic speeds, until finally dropping into a wide canyon valley on their approach to the city. Rayne eyed the terrain, adjusting the field of view as wide as it would go in an attempt to locate Lena's ground-fall location. There was a fairly large radiation zone at the limits of the scan, but nothing definite; then they were below the level of the canyon walls and there was nothing but what lay before and behind them. She desperately wanted to go back and check the site, but with so many radiation signatures dotting the landscape, she figured her chances were better searching the city. If Lena survived, that's where she'd be and if she didn't, Rayne could always go back and find the crash site later.

The city's distant glow grew brighter as they approached. Rayne could pick out distant objects on the long range visuals. There were low, squat buildings dotting the outer perimeter and a few dusty, lightly traveled roads. It was late, just past mid-night according to whatever the local time was. The computer said they still had several more hours of darkness before the sun rose. They'd need to land soon and start moving in on foot if they were going to beat the sunrise. As if on cue, Mr. Lexington chose a box canyon off the main branch and set down.

He shrugged out of the seat harness and began moving about the small cabin, grabbing gear as he went. Rayne followed, grabbing her own gear. She would be carrying the back-up communications equipment, a pair of very fancy-looking binoculars and some basic survival gear. She wore light armor under her civilian attire. It was lightweight and molded closely to her body without giving away the fact that she was wearing it. She was told it would withstand most small caliber projectile rounds and medium intensity, short-burst laser fire. Rayne was urged not to test it out. The clothes were a drab color and looked like some type of work uniform which, Mr. Lexington had explained, they were. A good portion of the populace worked at the antimatter facility and this was what they wore. She pulled the hat onto her head, uncomfortable with the way it held her hair solidly in place. The vest she wore matched the uniform's drab colors and had plenty of pockets to hide the various items she hoped not to use. She'd been particularly surprised when Mr. Lexington had handed her the weapon that now rested comfortably under her arm. She'd supposed the belt knife she wore would be all he'd trust her with.

"I trust you know how to use this." He handed it to her butt first. She stared at him for a moment to see if he was teasing her, but finally took it. Rayne checked the ammunition level and then shrugged into the shoulder rig as she'd seen Lena and the other marines do on many occasions. "It's for personal defense, Ms. Harper. You're not going to win any wars with that. If we get into a tight spot, which will only happen if we get stupid or have a run of bad luck, it's our last option. Understood?"

Rayne nodded.

Mr.Lexington looked her sternly in the eye. "Let me hear you say it."

Rayne matched his stare. "Understood." For now.

"Good. Run through the plan again, so I know you understand what our objectives are." He powered down the ship as Rayne ticked off their objectives.

"Sneak past the outer defenses...quietly. Enter the city and take overwatch positions across from the government and production facilities."

"What's our main objective?" he asked without looking up.

"Don't get caught."

"Goes without saying. The other objective." Mr. Lexington flipped several more switches and stood.

"Intelligence, to be reported back to fleet intel."

He made a last check of his gear and Rayne's as well. "And if we get blown or separated?"

"This is the rendezvous point."

"Alright, let's move. Here, you'll need these." He handed her a pair of night optics. They were the latest generation. Very sleek and likely just as expensive. They looked like little more than sunglasses with their dark lenses, but completely unnecessary as far as Rayne was concerned.

"I see fine in the dark."

"Sure you do. Just take them." Mr. Lexington pushed them toward her. "You'll change your mind soon enough. There's no moon on this planet and the terrain is going to be rough." Rayne considered refusing again, but he continued before she could respond. "I don't want to be leading you by the hand because you were too stupid to use the tech. It's what gives us the advantage, Ms. Harper. It's one of the reasons my company is so successful. I invest in the latest technology to help my people get the job done better that the competition."

Rayne contemplated for several long moments. She didn't need the glasses, but if she didn't take them, she'd being giving him information about her she didn't want him to have.

"Don't be irritating. Just take the glasses."

"Fine." Rayne grabbed and then put them on with a defiant glare.

Mr. Lexington set the glasses on his own face in the dim light of their ship, turned and popped the latch on the exterior door. There was a slight thump and rush of dry desert air as the pressure equalized and Rayne's ears adjusted. He jumped to the ground and waited for her to follow. She adjusted the glasses on her face, not liking the weight or the way they interfered with her own systems. Mr. Lexington took her hesitation as an admission she could see better with them on. "Told you. Now let's go."

Rayne jumped through the door into the blackness, landing lightly on her feet next to him. He mumbled something to himself and then turned back to her. "Care to take point?" Rayne shrugged and started off into the darkness toward the glowing lights in the distance. She could feel Mr. Lexington staring at her back as she went, evaluating her every move.

Lex waited for a count of ten, watching to see how she adjusted to the glasses. Many people had trouble the first time out and stumbled as the lack of depth perception hampered their movement. When she didn't trip or fall, he closed the hatch and hurried after her. He had to run to catch up, nearly falling in the darkness himself. Even with years of practice, it was still easy to lose your footing if you weren't paying attention. He could have sprung for something a little more high tech, but these were light, easy and not readily recognizable if they were stopped and searched.

Lex caught up, noting with surprise she wasn't wearing the glasses and yet walked with a surety as if it were high noon. For the life of him, he couldn't understand how the girl was doing it. At one point, she even navigated successfully through a narrow channel that was so dark, not even the glasses made much of a difference. Yet she stepped through it like she didn't have a care in the world and was waiting patiently on the other side as he felt his way to her.

Lex's curiosity was peaked and he thought about asking but then recalled an earlier conversation where he'd asked about her speed and strength.

Ms. Harper had just shrugged her shoulders and answered, "No idea. Just am."

"I thought that's what Dr. Gault's testing was all for," he'd pressed.

"I don't tell her anything," she scoffed.

"Why not?"

Ms. Harper shrugged. "Because I don't want to."

"Good enough a reason as any, I suppose," he conceded. Ms. Harper didn't seem overly eager to discuss it and he hadn't pushed. "Any more tricks I should know about?" She answered with a shrug and turned away.

Rayne leaped from rock to rock as she made her way up the steep slope to the mesa's top. She stopped briefly during her ascent as if checking the wind and then continued again at an increased pace. Lex took a more deliberate pace as he followed, reaching the top nearly twenty minutes after her. He was in good shape and wasn't winded, although a little miffed at being dusted so thoroughly.

Ms. Harper was already surveying the terrain between them and the city's limits. She looked anxious as she peered into the darkness. She was wearing the glasses again, but as he watched her from the corner of his eyes he could see that she pulled them down from time to time. He pulled the binoculars from his pack and began scanning. Approximately one thousand meters separated them from the nearest structure. There was a shallow wash that ran from their current position to a culvert that ran under a dirt road separating them from the city. It would provide minimal cover for their approach, but the guards sitting roadside next to their transport would present a problem. There were three of them. Planet security forces and lightly armed. They didn't appear to be carrying any type of night optics and they were looking pretty tired. Lex checked the time. It was only an hour before sunrise. They'd be at their most tired and it would be easy to take them out or sneak past. Sneaking past would be the better option; no bodies to hide and no missed status checks.

Lex pulled the binoculars from his eyes and turned to relay his plan of action to Ms. Harper. He looked around in confusion, wondering where she'd gone. How had she moved off without him hearing? He pulled the binoculars back to his eyes and cursed softly as he saw the girl moving slowly up the wash toward the transport. Three on one weren't good odds and all it would take was one shot or a radio call and they'd be blown. Lex gritted his teeth in frustration, knowing he was too far away now to be of any use. He knew the girl could handle herself, but whether she could do it quietly was another matter. What he'd seen of her so far had involved a lot of yelling, screaming, and breaking windows.

Lex held his breath as she snuck forward, expertly using the terrain to cover her approach. The light from the transport's interior would blind them to what was going on outside, but once she got close enough, she would be in full view. Ms. Harper stopped at the last point of cover and waited. Several minutes passed and she still didn't move. The men spoke quietly among themselves, unaware that she watched from the darkness. Maybe she was waiting for him to move up? Lex made as if to rise. Almost as if she'd read his intention, Ms. Harpeer motioned him to stay back. He sat back impatiently, waiting to see what she was intending. He could see the guards clustered in a group, talking. If she was going to take them, now would be the perfect time, but there was no way for her to see that from her current position. Then, timing it perfectly, she stood and walked forward like she belonged.

Rayne was in no mood to be merciful. These men were between her and her objective. Lena was in that city. As soon as she'd neared the top of the mesa, she'd detected Lena's personal IFF tag. Rayne couldn't triangulate the exact position without satellite access, but at least she knew Lena was there. She felt a sense of urgency to find Lena and verify her safety and wasn't going to wait and find another way around. She could see from a distance the guards weren't carrying anything other than light weapons and armor. It was time to move before Mr. Lexington made them go the long way around. These were likely the same troops that had fired on Lena and the other marines on their drop. They may not have pulled the trigger themselves, but they'd aligned themselves with the people who had. They deserved what came to them.

Rayne moved silently up the wash and positioned herself in the darkness, listening to their mumbled conversation. She tracked their locations and waited until they were congregated together. Enemy targets were easier to take out when they were clustered. When she judged the group was close enough, Rayne stood and walked calmly into their midst. She didn't say a word as the first went down under a fist-sized rock to the face. The second went down in similar fashion and the last fell to the ground with his neck twisted around the wrong direction.

It was over in less than two seconds. Rayne surveyed her work, checking each to make sure they were dead. She'd managed to stuff the second one in the culvert by the time Mr. Lexington arrived.

"What the hell was that?" he asked, helping drag the last one to the culvert.

"What," she replied innocently?

"That." He gestured toward the three bodies heaped in the darkness.

Rayne shrugged and began walking toward the city. "This is the way in and they were in the way."

Mr. Lexington caught up and matched pace. "We need to work on our communication."

***

Elizabeth looked out over the sprawling research complex from her penthouse window. She didn't spend much time there, but when she did, she found the view breathtaking. Not necessarily because of the beautiful scenery--more for the display of scientific pursuit it inspired. It was not a monument of some rich man's hubris; each wing paid homage to the scientist who'd made significant contributions in their field. Having money didn't get your name on these buildings; scientific genius and inspiration did. There was the Choudhary bio/chem wing, the Shirazi nanotech wing, the Bryant psychology wing...she mentally ticked off several others before finally coming to the integrated lab with no name currently attached to it--the place she was doing her current work. With any luck, it would be her name on that building.

Elizabeth expanded her view and looked past the research complex to the university in the distance. They had asked her several times if she would consider teaching classes there, but she'd turned them down every time. Those who couldn't do, taught, and she was not even close to ending her career. She didn't have time to teach a bunch of snot-nosed brats. She was saddled with them from time to time as they came through on internships. While they were good for running errands and such, that was the extent of their usefulness to her.

Elizabeth's test subject...the girl, Rayne...whatever. Now there was a useful college student. They should all prove themselves so useful. She considered again all the different avenues of study and which of them she should be focusing her attention on. All more or less promising as she farmed the data out to respective disciplines to speed up the process. Some of the labs had already analyzed and developed real-world applications based on what she'd given them. Whether she'd get the credit for it or not was a different story.

The biggest mystery was still the artificial structures in the brain that seemed to have propagated throughout the girl's entire body, connected by an alternate nervous system interwoven with the girl's own. Her team wasn't yet sure what purpose they were serving. When asked, the test subject...Rayne...whatever, shrugged her shoulders and pretended ignorance. Elizabeth had the feeling she was being deliberately unhelpful. Many of the structures seemed to be tapped into different centers of the brain dealing with vision and hearing, but others were making connections that didn't make any immediate sense.

The hair for one thing. It wasn't really hair at all, but thin strands of bio/synthetic compound with some very interesting conductive properties. They'd taken a few samples and run some tests, which showed it could be used effectively for a variety of different applications. It seemed to work well as a flexible, yet strong transmission receiver, and even a data line, although it didn't seem to be able to handle as much data as those already in use.

The girl's eyes were a mystery as well. The rods and cones at the back of the eye where the light was picked up and transferred to the brain as images were completely modified in a way they hadn't been able to piece together yet. The optic nerve was laced with connective filaments that attached to the structures in her brain. Why it was also connected to the hair strands had so far left them baffled.

It was part of a long list of adaptations the test subject's body had apparently undergone: self-healing tissue, stronger and more flexible bones, muscle tissue that gave her greater strength and stamina; the list kept growing. Without better data or the girl's total cooperation, Dr. Gault could just be skimming the surface. The biggest question of all was what had prompted the adaptation.

They'd had numerous brainstorming sessions on the issue along with trying to decipher the purpose behind the different artificial structures and connections. In these meetings, no idea was considered too outlandish and they'd come away with some interesting theories. One of her favorites was the suggestion that the parallel nervous system represented an entity sharing head space with the test subject. Elizabeth didn't believe it for a minute, but it was certainly entertaining. They'd gotten a good chuckle out of the idea. In regards to the stimuli behind the adaptation, another of the team had suggested a link between the bio/gel lining of the T80 battle suit. It was a promising avenue of investigation that was in the early stages of testing.

Elizabeth was currently excited about the dermal patch. The data it would provide could give them some real insight into what was going on inside the girl's head. Not what she was thinking, of course. She was fairly certain the girl didn't have anything more going on in her head than the average adolescent, but she hoped to get a better idea of what the structures were doing during every day activity. They'd tried it in the lab setting, but nothing ever seemed to happen. The team had collectively agreed there wasn't enough stimuli in the lab to spark activity from the structures.

Elizabeth had initially been upset about the test subject's...Rayne's, flight from the system, but after careful consideration determined that if/when she returned, the data would be priceless. She'd talked to a few fleet people she knew about the recon mission. While they couldn't give her any details, they assured her the risk was minimal. Most were familiar with Lexington Tactical and knew Mr. Lexington enough to know he ran a tight ship. If he had taken the job personally, he'd keep a tight rein on the girl.

With her worries sufficiently allayed, Elizabeth practically salivated at the prospects. She would need to talk Jason into a few new testing procedures. The man was overly protective when it came to the girl. She'd thought he was protecting her just to be irritating, or at most, through the black and white lens he viewed the world through. However, their recent conversation turned both of those theories on their head. Jason genuinely seemed to view the girl as the daughter he never had and appeared to actually love her. Elizabeth didn't think it was possible, but there it was. When she'd first met Jason, Elizabeth had thought them two of a kind. They were both highly intelligent, driven and career oriented. It seemed a perfect match. But she quickly found his strict discipline, adherence to procedure and moral inflexibility weren't compatible with her contrasting practical approach that saw the world in shades of gray; that often bypassed procedure to achieve results. In her mind, the end justified the means. The conflict between their two styles had led to some arguments of epic proportions.

But children? Where had that come from? Elizabeth didn't recall that ever being on the menu. They were both focused on careers and there wasn't any time for children. Nasty, smelly, noisy things anyway; not to mention the devastation they caused the female body. Although, now that she gave it some thought, maybe Jason was onto something. Adopt them when they're older and past the difficult stages of life, when you could really teach them something. Skip all the crap, so to speak. She laughed at her own joke.

Pregnant. There was an idea. What would happen if her test...Rayne...whatever, became pregnant? Elizabeth wasn't likely to be able to get away with doing it artificially. Jason would throw a fit, even if it did make him a grandfather. Maybe she could pay someone to seduce her. She filed it away for later consideration and headed to the shower before going to bed.

***

"What is that smell?"

"I'm not sure. Rotting meat?"

"She doesn't look rotten."

"The smell, though...damn."

"I think I'd rather smell my own ass."

"Now that'd be a trick I'd pay to see."

Jackson and Davis snorted in laughter, as Lena extended her middle finger, not bothering to sit up or otherwise acknowledge their presence. She'd managed a few hours of sleep before hearing them move quietly into the rally point. She knew a T80 when she heard one but was still too tired to get up.

"And what the hell is she wearing on her head?"

"Must be costume night and somebody forgot to tell us."

"Do you guys mind? I'm trying to sleep." Lena dropped her exhausted arm back to the ground with a thump.

"Nope, we don't mind at all," Jackson replied. Lena could hear the smile in his voice.

"Do you need anything, sleeping beauty?" asked Davis. "A pillow for your head?"

"How about a pedicure for those gnarly-looking feet?" Someone nudged her foot with a boot. Probably Jackson.

"Or how about a drink with one of those little umbrellas in it?"

"I'd like a month of leave, a hotel room with a shower, a tub and really big bar of soap, but I'll settle for one of those drinks with the umbrella if you have it." Lena pulled the hat from her face and squinted up at the two marines staring down at her and smiled.

"Damn, girl, you look like you've been through hell."

"Took the scenic route," she smirked in return.

Davis wrinkled his nose. "Through the sewer?"

"Lena, seriously, you smell really bad," agreed Jackson. They both covered their mouth and nose with their hands. "We're not talking until you've scrubbed yourself with...rocks or something.

"I don't smell that bad." Lena turned her head and sniffed her underarm. She quickly turned away. Okay, maybe she did.

"Yeah, Lena. You do."

Jackson and Davis gave her some privacy while she used her upturned hat as a wash basin and the coarse desert sand as soap to scrub the scum and smell from her body. She felt raw but clean when she finished and then gave her clothes the same treatment. Finally feeling something close to human, she took a seat next to the two men as they talked quietly in the shade.

"We can't go in blind," Davis insisted. Lena wasn't sure what they were discussing. She couldn't imagine they were going to try and finish a busted mission. Survivors? Maybe they were working up a rescue mission.

"Where else could they be?" Jackson seemed insistent and determined to move; whatever their plan was.

"If we get caught up in a prolonged fight it will be for nothing."

Jackson looked up as Lena took her seat. "You look better." He took a sniff. "Still smell a little funny, but not eye-watering bad."

Davis took a sniff as well and nodded his agreement. "We'll bring you up to speed on where we're at, but first tell us what happened on your end."

"Callahan didn't make it." It hurt to finally say it.

Davis and Jackson both cursed as she walked them through her drop and Callahan's death. She briefed them on the loss of both T80 units and then glossed over her walk out of the desert. To others it may have been a mind-bending ordeal and it was, but it paled in comparison to the loss of her team member. She tried to keep a stoic face, but the tears slipped out unbidden.

"Hey, you did good, Lena. You did good. It could have been any one of us." Davis put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She wiped the tears away angrily. "Anyone else make it?"

Davis answered. "We've been doing recon on the city for the last few days. Yesterday, we got hits on their personal IFF tags."

"Whose?" Lena's heart beat faster with excitement. Two halves of her personality fought for control. One half, her tough self-confident self, clamped down on her emotional reaction to show her fellow team members she was still as tough as nails. The other half, the half that was fiercely loyal and protective of her team mates and whom she would walk across broken glass barefoot for, wanted to jump up and demand answers and that they mount the rescue right now. She maintained a calm exterior with some effort.

"Mike, Abena, and Taft," Jackson answered.

"No T80 tags?"

Davis continued. "Not with them, no. Abena and Taft's units are two hundred clicks out. They had to abandon them for some reason. We checked on them yesterday and they're safe enough for now until we can get a plan together. We have them zeroed down to the government complex area but we need better intel before we mount a rescue. If we go in there halfcocked without a definite idea of where they're at, we'll just be shooting in the dark." He looked pointedly at Jackson. This was obviously a discussion they'd had before.

"Ground rescue is going to be risky," Lena thought out loud. Davis had been around for a while and knew his stuff, but even the most experienced sometimes overlooked options. That's why planning on OP was usually a team effort.

"It's all we've got," Davis answered grimly.

"Any chance of hijacking something?" Lena pressed. Doing a rescue without air support was not a good idea.

"Not so far. They're keeping their resources pretty tight in the city. The few times we've taken fire the pursuit drops off past ten clicks."

"So we need better intel." Lena came to agreement with Davis quickly. She understood Jackson's insistence for going in now, but without a good solid plan they were likely to fail. Good plans needed good intel.

"If we can narrow down a specific building, we can come in from this side and do a smash and grab." Davis pointed to the roughly sketched city map in the dirt. "Maybe even take out some Tau Ceti while we're there."

"Tau Ceti?" Lena asked confused. When did they become part of the equation?

"Yeah, looks like the city government is doing some kind of deal with them," Jackson answered. "They've been loading up cargo from the production facility since we've been watching."

"So wait, what? Are you sure the Tau Ceti didn't just take over?" Tau Ceti didn't make deals. They took what they wanted and if you got in their way, then they killed you. Even if you gave them what they wanted, they were apt to kill you. It's what they did. It's what they were. Making deals would be a huge shift in the way they did business.

"We're sure," confirmed Davis. "The planet security forces were standing by while they were doing the loading."

"Unbelievable." Lena shook her head. "Who could possibly be that stupid?"

"It had to be someone pretty high up," he continued. "Who else would be able to coordinate overcoming fleet resources and cutting communication at the same time?"

"They're regretting that decision about now, though," Jackson interjected. "They have a couple of Tau Ceti ships parked outside their door and parts of the city are on fire."

"Serves them right. Idiots." She snorted her disgust. Especially when it came to profit and the greed for more.

"So, you up for some recon?" Davis asked smiling.

Lena returned the smile. "Hell, yeah."

***

Lena landed with a splash in the plant's cooling pond. Gun fire and explosions echoed in the near distance as Davis and Jackson continued their distraction after tossing her over the twenty-meter security fence. Jackson wanted recon of both the production facility and the government buildings where the sergeant, Abena and Taft were being held. Throwing her over the fence seemed like the easiest bet, which she was now rethinking as she coughed out the water she'd inhaled executing a perfect belly flop into the tepid water. Ugh. Lena hoped she hadn't swallowed anything too nasty, but at the same time she hoped it washed away some of the rotten smell that seemed to be following her.

Lena swam carefully across the shallow expanse of water toward the far end and the production facility's main workings. Everything looked normal, but it was difficult to tell. The facility was huge and no amount of lighting could hit it all; which was fortunate, since she used the shadows to sneak her way through undetected. She saw no fires, damage or scorch and pock marks that were the telltale signs of combat. Lena crouched in the shadows, listening to the vast machinery rumble around her. Maybe the Tau Ceti weren't as stupid as she had always assumed. Damaging the plant could easily kill them all.

Lena moved forward quietly and took another position to watch as the Tau Ceti continued to load the small shuttle next to the cooling tower Davis and Jackson had told her about. Planet security was heavy, which was fortunate for her because it left the rest of the plant and city virtually unpatrolled. Getting out of the production facility turned out to be relatively easy. There was a steady stream of vehicles coming and going from the main gate. Security was tight and they were searching all vehicles going in. Fortunately, they practically ignored the ones going out and she ducked into the back of one of the cargo transports as it left the main gate.

Lena waited for the transport to travel several miles out of the industrial area before slipping out the back and into the darkness. She made her way carefully through the deserted streets, moving from cover to cover as she went. Besides being the only person out, other than the occasional transport moving up and down the street, she wasn't exactly dressed to fit in. The under armor she wore while operating the T80 just didn't fit with any kind of, civilian out for a midnight stroll story.

Lena noted that portions of the city were, in fact, on fire. Unlike the production facility, many of the buildings were burned and broken from apparent explosions and pockmarked with gunfire. She left the industrial zones behind her and soon found herself in a commercial district mostly burned out and looted. The fires were out but the smell of smoke hung heavy in the air. Lena pushed her way past a broken door to a clothing shop, finding it mostly gutted by fire. She needed to find something better to wear so she could blend in with the local populace.

The street lights cast dim shadows through the blackened windows and she tripped on several containers spread across the floor. Lena cursed quietly at the pain in her foot and checked the contents. The top layers were burned, but underneath was the unmistakable feel of soft fabric. She pulled it out and found a very ugly dress that was nowhere near her size. She was not wearing that. Lena searched the other container and found a shirt that fit her nicely. When she found nothing further, she moved to the next shop and kept searching.

An hour later, she walked from the darkened rubble in something that resembled what she hoped was normal for this planet. Fashion wasn't her strong suit and managing it in the dark was near impossible. She'd found a slightly scorched pair of walking shoes to replace her badly worn boots, and a pair of socks that felt like heaven on her battered feet. The pants were a size too big, but the belt cinched tight around her waist kept it in place. She hadn't been able to find any jackets to ward off the chill in the night air, but she had found a cap to hide her excessively short hair. Lena liked it that way, but most women kept it long and she didn't want to stand out any more than she had to.

Lena moved her way up the street to where she thought the government buildings ought to be. They weren't actually that hard to find. Most of the city lay in darkness. Whether by design, or the result of damaged infrastructure, she couldn't say. The government buildings on the other hand, were brightly lit and security was everywhere. She skirted the edges of activity and looked for a building to suit her purposes. Lena found what she needed after a short search--a squat, five story building across from the government complex. The building looked abandoned and appeared to have taken a direct hit from something fairly large. Bullet holes pocked its surface. She took a back entrance and climbed quietly to the top floor. The place was a mess and there seemed to be as much bullet and laser damage inside as out.

CHAPTER 16

"I should kick your ass." Mike covered his nose with both hands.

"Come on, Sarge. It doesn't smell that bad." Taft said it even as he attempted to pull his own shirt collar over his face.

"I shouldn't have to be smelling it at all. That's the point. It's bad enough having to put up with you stinking up the head aboard ship every morning, but I shouldn't have to endure it as a prisoner of war."

"It got the job done."

"Yeah, it got the job done and now we have to smell your crap until we can get ourselves out of here. I think I preferred the beatings. And what the hell are you eating that makes it stink so bad?"

"Protein shakes. I've been trying to bulk up."

"Seriously, Taft. You need to get yourself checked. Nobody should smell that bad."

"Okay, I apologize for my stink."

"Apology not accepted. I'm just going to have to take it out of your hide when we get out of here. Extra PT. Maybe it will work that protein out of your system and teach you to think things through a little better," Mike threatened.

"Extra PT?" Taft cried in protest. The sergeant's training program was notoriously brutal, which explained why his squad posted some of the highest physical fitness scores to be found anywhere in fleet. "Come on, Sarge. It was a good solution."

"But not the best solution," Mike said pointedly. "That's the problem with you, Taft. You grab the first idea that pops into your head without considering the alternatives."

"I like the spontaneity," Taft replied.

"You like crapping in your hand?" The image was still burned into Mike's head. He hoped it would fade with time, but the smell was a constant reminder of Taft squatting over an empty hand waiting for the catch.

"Well, no, but I don't want to be indecisive," he said defensively.

"There is a time and place for quick decisions, but more often than not, you've got the time to think things through. Consider the options, like hmm, 'I need to obscure the camera so I can work undetected. Should I poop in my hand, or might there be a better, less disgusting option?'"

"I said I'm sorry," Taft said morosely, still trying to bury his nose and mouth into his shirt collar.

"I'm going to PT you until you die," Mike promised.

"I'll make it up to you. I swear."

"I don't even see how that's possible."

"How about if get you a date with that hot chick in engineering?"

Taft liked to think of himself as a lady's man, but neither Mike nor anyone else on the squad had seen any evidence of it. They were pretty sure any female company he acquired was bought and paid for. "You can't even get yourself a date, how do you think you're going to get me one?"

"Well, I know this guy, who knows someone..."

"What's that smell?" Abena spoke groggily from the hard, flat shelf that served as the room's only bed.

Mike and Taft moved as one, pushing themselves up from the floor and kneeling at her side. Taft put a hand on her forehead, feeling for the temperature that persisted with her injuries. Mike had managed to steal some meds on one of his scouting missions, and their comrade had improved some, but she'd need competent medical treatment before she fully recovered. This was the first time she had spoken anything coherent since being brought in.

"Hey, Abena. Welcome back to the land of the living." Mike motioned for Taft to get her some water.

"Is that you, Sarge?" Abena squinted up into the bright lights silhouetting Mike's concerned face.

"Yes. How are you feeling?" asked Mike.

"Like I just came off a week's leave of non-stop binge drinking." Abena cursed suddenly and attempted to sit up. "Where's Taft?" she asked in panic.

Mike put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down. "Taft is right here. Take it easy. That's an order."

"Looking good, Abena." Taft smiled a toothy grin. "Here, I got you some water." Taft passed a cup they'd stolen from one of the many vacant offices to Mike, who helped her take a drink.

"Where are we?" She looked around with an unfocused gaze, obviously at a loss to identify her surroundings.

"POW at the moment. Government building complex on Bernard."

"Bernard." Abena said it without comprehension.

"Yeah. Do you remember the mission?"

"Vaguely." She closed her eyes for several seconds and then opened them again. "How did I get here?"

"You don't remember?" asked Taft.

"I hurt too much to try." Abena was obviously in pain and her eyes never seemed to find their focus.

"You saved my ass," he replied with pride.

"That seems unlikely," Abena said, turning her head in a vain attempted to focus on his face.

"You practically jumped on a grenade to save me."

Abena turned her head back and closed her eyes, giving up on trying to see anything clearly. "I seriously doubt that. I must have tripped and saved you by mistake."

Taft laughed. "I like my version better."

"Whatever makes you happy," she sighed.

"Here, take another drink." Mike helped Abena tip her head up for another drink. She laid back and wrinkled her nose.

"Why does it smell so bad in here?"

"Taft pooped in his hand..."

Abena put a hand up from where it had been resting on her chest, "Stop. I don't even want to know."

"Can we not keep bringing that up?" Taft complained, obviously concerned about his reputation.

"I'm going to bring it up for as long as the smell lasts and you stop doing stupid shit; literally."

"Sarge," Taft whined.

"Shut it, Taft. You'll be lucky to get out of this without a really crappy nickname." Marines could be ruthless when it came to nicknames and once you earned one it usually stuck. You could try and shed it by transferring units, but it always seemed to follow you no matter where you went.

"Ha, ha, Sarge. Ha, ha."

"Good to see you awake, Abena. Do you think you can stand Taft's company while I go do some recon?"

"Recon?" Abena said confused. "I thought we were POW."

Mike stood and nodded toward Taft. "Taft picked the lock and we've got free rein."

Abena snorted and then winced in pain. "Of course he did."

"I'll be back in a while." Mike turned to the door and opened it cautiously. After listening for several long moments and hearing nothing, he stuck his head out the door and peered in both directions. Seeing the way was clear, he moved quickly toward the back stairway. The building's perimeter was heavily guarded and they'd spent the last several days looking for a way over, around or under the defenses. So far, they'd come up empty. The upper floors of their current wing of the building contained more cells like the one they were currently occupying, windows and doors secure. The only exit was to the main lobby, which was teeming with activity as security personnel moved in and out in a constant flow of bodies and weapons. Taft had come up with a plan to overpower some of the security forces, steal their uniforms and just walk out the main gate. Mike had to admit the plan had style, but with Abena being injured he didn't think they could pull it off. If he couldn't find another option, though, it might move up the list from plan B to plan A.

Mike crept down into the lower levels, listening intently for the sound of booted feet walking down the polished floors. Guards were posted at the entrance to the detention wing, and while he had yet to see any regular patrols, he didn't want to get caught unaware. He had searched each level except one. The only thing he'd found so far were more cells, some empty offices, and the medical facility. Finding the medical facility had been a huge relief, allowing them to address Abena's deteriorating medical condition, but they still needed a way out and this last level was their only hope unless he decided to go ahead with Taft's half-baked plan B.

As he continued to move downward, Mike could hear the hum of equipment getting louder. He stopped at the closed metal door and tried the handle. It was open. He peered through the slotted window and found the room beyond mostly dark, with only a few scattered utility lights providing a small amount of illumination. Mike moved quietly in and began searching for a way out. The room was huge, easily double the height of any of the other floors to accommodate the hulking generators and HVAC systems cycling loudly in the dark recesses.

Mike figured his best bet was to look for a maintenance access, and he guessed those would follow the myriad of cables, hoses and ducts branching off the equipment. He quickly found what he was looking for, but was disappointed almost immediately. The maintenance access was secured with a heavy steel door and appeared to be locked from the other side. He tried several other accesses and found them likewise secured. Mike cursed quietly and thought. Of course the maintenance accesses would be secured in the detention wing. He went back through and inspected the conduit accesses themselves, hoping some would be large enough to crawl through. They weren't. He considered the large HVAC system humming in the corner, eyeing the large ducts as they snaked in several different directions across the ceiling and through the walls. He located the maintenance door and stepped inside. Cool air blew like a wind tunnel as it rushed through the ducts to supply the entire building. Mike wedged himself into the largest of them and almost immediately found himself out of room. He cursed and let his forehead rest on the cool metal. It looked like Plan B just became Plan A.

***

"It's empty," Rayne whispered.

"It looks that way. Wait here and I'll scout it out." Mr. Lexington moved off silently into the darkness.

Rayne shrugged her shoulders. The building was empty. She'd pinged it several times on their approach and then mapped the interior as they'd gotten closer. She wasn't going to push it, though. Mr. Lexington had become increasingly irritated since they left the ship. She didn't bother wondering why since he'd already made it abundantly clear. Apparently, her teamwork needed a little more emphasis on the 'team' part. Not really surprising considering her past. Rayne was used to operating on her own without the prospect of back-up or rescue and the addition of a teammate felt like extra baggage. She wasn't used to sharing information, coordinating or telling someone what she intended or why. She was of half a mind to just leave him behind. Mr. Lexington, however, was her ride off this planet and if she found Lena and the rest of her team, she'd need his ship to get them out.

Rayne didn't really care if he was crabby or not. She was focused on her mission, which for now, paralleled his. She sat quietly and tracked his progress as he moved around the building's exterior and then cautiously inside. The warehouse was mostly intact, but had seen recent damage from an explosion. There were scorch marks on the exterior, but the metal siding appeared to have been blow outward at one corner, leading her to believe random laser fire had struck the building and then ignited something explosive inside. It didn't really matter either way. They needed a place to hole up for a few hours until sunlight, when Mr. Lexington said it would be easier to blend in with the civilian population. Rayne would have to take his word for it. The only experience she had blending in to anything involved jungle warfare. That she could do, but the prospect of hiding amongst a population of people who could all pose a threat to her safety set her teeth on edge. Rayne seriously doubted she could pull it off. If her fellow students at the university could tell she wasn't right, how were these people going to react?

Mr. Lexington finished his check and slowly making his way back to her. He moved quietly, silently, and without her augmented hearing, Rayne would never have heard his approach. She smirked as he moved toward her position. Was it just her, or did it look like he was trying to sneak up on her? Maybe his pride had been hurt by the little girl showing him up. Sneaking up on her was generally a bad idea, as a few people had been surprised to learn, even though it was impossible to do so. The T80 kept track of everything, all the time, and it was annoying. It didn't used to be that way. When she was inside the T80, she seemed to have more control of what got scanned and what didn't and at what ranges. Now that their roles were reversed, the T80 seemed to have taken on an intelligence of its own and began performing many functions without her input. Body-slamming prospective dates was an extreme example of it taking over. The constant scans, status updates, and visual filter adjustments were a constant noise in her head as the machine spoke to her in a language only she could decipher. Fortunately, she was increasingly able to exert control when needed, but when she lost focus or interest, the T80 would fill the void and take over.

Rayne spoke to the darkness before Mr. Lexington could turn the corner to her hiding spot. "I told you it was empty." She could see the look of confusion on his face as he appeared. No doubt wondering how she'd known he was coming.

"It's always wise to make a visual check," he replied irritably, obviously annoyed at not being able to catch her unaware.

"I did."

"With what?" he asked suspiciously.

Rayne shrugged her shoulders in response.

Mr. Lexington looked at her with a mix of curiosity and frustration. "Is this another one of those secrets you're not telling the good doctor?"

Rayne didn't acknowledge him as she moved off into the darkness toward the empty warehouse. He didn't need to know all of her secrets. They were hers and the less people knew about them the better. She'd already seen what happened when the military saw something they wanted. If they found out what she was really capable of, she had no doubts they'd turn the world upside down to make her theirs. It was one of the reasons Rayne hadn't even told Lena, even though she trusted her with her life. What Lena didn't know couldn't be forced from her or mentioned by accident. Rayne was too young to be that paranoid, but three years of guerilla warfare on her own had taught her to be cautious. Sharing really wasn't something she was good at anyway.

Rayne entered the building and took a position at the back, furthest away from the damaged corner of the building. She made sure she had clear lines of fire in each direction and then checked to make sure she had at least two exit points. Satisfied her position was as secure as it could be, Rayne un-slung her pack, set it on the floor and leaned back against it with her eyes closed. Mr. Lexington walked up and inspected her position. Seemingly satisfied, he took a seat next to her. Rayne was uncomfortable with his proximity, but didn't say anything.

"We've got a few hours until sunlight before we can start moving. We'll take that time to get some sleep. You take first watch and I'll take second." Mr. Lexington waited for her to open her eyes and acknowledge what he'd just said.

Rayne didn't open her eyes, though she knew it would irritate him. "Sure." She didn't need to be awake. The T80 would take care of it for her. In fact, it had already set up shop inside her head. The terrain had already been mapped and it was tracking everything coming and going within a one hundred meter radius down to the size of a fly. Rayne was pretty sure she'd know if something came their way.

"That means no sleeping, Ms. Harper. My suggestion is to do it standing. You're less likely to fall asleep that way," he said pointedly.

Rayne opened her eyes and looked at him in the dark. She didn't want to rest at all. She wanted to be out scouring the city for Lena and her team. But Mr. Lexington wanted to "blend in" and avoid the inevitable conflict that would arise if they were found sneaking around at night through the besieged city. He was probably right, and until their paths diverged, she'd play it his way. She stood slowly without speaking.

"Wake me in two hours." Mr. Lexington laid on his side, using his pack as a pillow and quickly fell asleep.

Rayne stood motionless. She knew from experience the human eye or even the Tau Ceti could detect even the slightest motion that was out of place in its surroundings. She passed control over to the T80 and closed her eyes, like she'd often done when their roles were reversed. She nearly always slept standing inside the T80 battle suit. It allowed her to go from a dead sleep to combat without having to pick herself up off the ground. The battle suit had been fully capable of locking itself in a standing position while she slept. Her augmented and physically integrated body now seemed capable of the same function. Rayne's joints locked in position and she drifted off to sleep with the sound of the T80's electronic chatter in her ears.

***

Lex was irritated. Ms. Harper was everything he had hoped for so far, but the jury was still out on the crazy factor. Her physical capabilities were impressive. The ability to see in the dark without tech was unique but wouldn't make a difference if she didn't meet his other criteria. She seemed to have a mind for the tactical. She was smart and appeared to have the ability to think on her feet, but there were several things that concerned him. First, she'd gone off without him to take out the guard post without consulting him or waiting for his direction. He'd been angry about it, but after further consideration, had decided the blame lay with him. He'd failed to set guidelines and parameters and she could hardly be faulted for taking the initiative to remove an obstacle. Ms. Harper obviously didn't know the first thing about small unit coordination, movement or chain of command, something he took for granted with his almost exclusively ex-military employees. There would have to be some training on that point for certain.

Another thing that bothered him was her tendency toward anti-authority. It wasn't obvious and she didn't come right out and say it, but he felt an undercurrent of hostility when he gave her direction or a reprimand. That would have to be fixed. Again, another thing his other employees didn't seem to have a problem with. They were all hardwired to respect authority and follow orders. Fleet training had pounded it into their DNA. Upon reflection, he didn't want or need mindless drones either. He needed people that could think on their feet and still get the job done even if the plan got scrambled. Maybe Ms. Harper was that person, maybe she wasn't. It was probably too soon to tell.

The other thing that bothered him was the ease with which she killed. Lex had met many men and women who could kill when needed. Most came away with at least a mild case of the shakes, while only a few could do it without any apparent affect. Lex included himself with the former. He'd killed quite a few, some at distance and others up close and personal. Those were the hard ones, where you could see the light fade from your victim's eyes as their life spilled from their body. The adrenaline always left him with the shakes, sometimes for hours. The real killers didn't seem to be affected at all. Lex had seen people like that take a life by some of the most violent means possible, and then sit down for dinner without a tremor. If you paid attention, you could pick them out. It was subtle. It was in the way they walked and held themselves, but mostly you could see it in their eyes. Their eyes were dead and cold, and he was surprised to see that in Ms. Harper, although hers seemed to be mixed with a predatory interest he'd never seen before. Her kill count was high--as high as any he'd ever seen, but he had always assumed she'd done it out of necessity and wasn't really a true killer. Lex had supposed she was just some messed up little girl stuck in a battle suit trying to stay alive. He needed to rethink his position.

Lex looked through half-lidded eyes to see Ms. Harper still standing. Satisfied, he let himself drift off to sleep. He wouldn't rely on her to wake him. She was untried, untested and he wasn't about to trust her that far. In fact, it was likely he wouldn't sleep at all until he knew for sure she could be trusted. He set a wake-up reminder for two hours and drifted off to sleep.

***

Rayne walked along the familiar garden path behind her parent's home. It was her birthday and she was going down to the small pond to enjoy the summer day. Her mother was planning a surprise party and she didn't want to spoil the surprise. Her mother's anyway. Rayne had already found the stash of presents and decorations under her parent's bed. You'd think they wanted her to find it. If they didn't want her to know, surely they would have found a better hiding spot. Her mother had caught her trying to sneak a peek several times and given her a laughing scolding. It was a game they played every year. Her mother would hide her presents and try planning the yearly surprise party, while Rayne would do her best to search them out. If she found them, which she usually did, she would shake each carefully and try and guess the contents. Whether she found them or not, guessed their contents or not, she never told her mother. Rayne didn't want to ruin the fun as her mother planned and schemed to make her birthday as memorable as possible.

Rayne wasn't sure you could actually call it a surprise party if it happened every year, but it was an excuse to have her friends over, so she wasn't going to complain. This year was looking like a combination birthday/slumber party and she was looking forward to the all-night marathon of movies, laughter, and junk food. She could hardly wait for the ice cream cake. Her mother tried to hide that as well, but it was a little big to hide and there were only so many places you could put something that would melt if not refrigerated. Rayne had already taken a little taste and it was delicious.

Rayne reached the end of the path and turned toward the pond's edge. Long grasses shot up in a mixture of brightly colored flowers, and insects hummed quietly as they moved back and forth with the gentle wind. She took a seat and rested her chin on her knees, looking out over the mostly calm water. Every now and again, something jumped from the surface to snatch at the insects hovering above. Clouds drifted quietly in the sky. They were building high in the afternoon summer heat and she guessed there would be rain later in the day. Her mother loved the rain and had once told her that was how she'd gotten her name.

"Then why did you spell it with a 'y'?" she'd asked.

Her mother smiled. "Because as much as I like the rain, you are unique and deserve to stand apart."

It was a corny reply, but she was six at the time and didn't mind. It made her feel special.

Rayne laid back and watched the clouds build and change shape overhead. She'd grown out of trying to make shapes from the ever-changing wisps of vapor, but she loved to watch them turn and spin as the air currents built them up and broke them apart again. It was like watching a slow-motion dance, one of her favorite pastimes. Her mother said she had a natural gift and had the grace of a butterfly. Her insides warmed at the memory of the compliment. They went to the local community center twice a week for classes when they were home. It was Rayne's favorite part of the week. Her mother would always watch with a smile from her seat on the wall as she practiced her forms with the other girls. Her mother's pride made her feel beautiful and happy.

Rayne nearly fell asleep on the grass as she lay there under the sun next to the pond, when she felt something gently touching the hand resting on her chest. Her first thought was that it was a bug and she moved to flick it away; she stopped, suddenly motionless, as she realized it was a butterfly. It was large and blue and sat staring at her from its perch. Its wings moved lazily as it rested for several long moments before taking flight again. Rayne watched as it danced through the summer breeze to the waiting flowers by the pond.

Checking the time, she realized with a start she'd taken too long and was about to miss her own surprise party. She rose quickly, making her way up the path to their house. It was a low, single-story home with white stucco and a reddish tile roof. It was small and simple, just perfect for their family of three. She stopped at the yard's edge and began a more sedate pace. Rayne hoped her father would be there. Even when they were planet side, his job often took him away from them for most of the day. If she was lucky, he'd be home in the evenings and even in attendance at the occasional recital.

Rayne stopped at the door and rearranged her face in preparation to be suitably surprised. She stepped through the back door into the kitchen and...stopped.

The ship's bridge rocked with the impact and threw her to the hard metal floor. The sound of adults yelling and the voices of a dozen different alarms screamed through her ears until her brain vibrated in her head. The harsh smell of burning electronics filled her nose and lungs as she struggled to breathe and then gagged.

"Rayne! What are you doing up here?" Her mother ran forward, picking her off the ground and securing her in the captain's chair, her father's chair. Her mother's normally happy face was creased in panic and fear.

"I'm sorry, mom." Tears ran freely down her face as her own fear grew exponentially greater at the sight of her terrified mother. "I was scared." There was a loud bang and the ship began to shudder violently.

Her mother clung to the command chair. She put her head to Rayne's and spoke in her ear to be heard over the commotion of the command deck. "It'll be okay, baby. It'll be okay." She laid a soft hand on the side of her face. "Remember, I love you," and then her mother was jerked from her grasp and out the gaping hole that suddenly appeared in the command deck. Rayne screamed, her cry swallowed by the rush of atmosphere blowing out the jagged hole.

Rayne came awake instantly, tracking the marble-sized rock flying at her head, catching it just before impact. She back-tracked its origin to Mr. Lexington lying in the darkness. It took several long moments to rein in the reflex to attack as the T80 simultaneously flashed "IFF Friendly" over and over again. That was a change. Usually it was her trying to get the T80 to back off.

"Thought you were asleep." He stood slowly in the darkness.

"Hardly," she lied.

"Kind of hard to keep watch with your eyes closed."

"Obviously not," she replied.

Mr. Lexington appraised her with an annoyed grimace for several moments. She picked out his expression perfectly in the near total darkness. He obviously wanted to ask how, but knew he wouldn't get a satisfactory answer, and finally decided to shrug and accept it.

"My watch. Get some sleep. I'll wake you in a couple of hours."

Rayne lay back and closed her eyes and found herself walking down a familiar garden path.

***

Lex watched quietly as the sun slowly rose. He was...well, it was hard to say exactly what he was. His mind swirled with a dozen different questions about the girl sleeping behind him. She was a walking contradiction with secrets about herself she seemed to be holding very close. He couldn't blame her. He'd seen what the military could do when they saw something they wanted. They could be completely amoralistic. So could he for that matter.

His intuition was telling him he was only scratching the surface in regards to what the girl was capable of, and if he was right, keeping her secrets hidden was the prudent course of action. Otherwise, the military would snatch her out of his hands and there was nothing either he or her adoptive admiral father could do about it. Yes, they definitely needed to keep whatever she was or could do under wraps.

Lex wondered silently if there was a way to gain the girl's trust and get her to share. It seemed unlikely. He mentally made a list of her capabilities so far. She was strong. Abnormally so. He'd seen her take on a full team of grown men and nearly come out on top. Granted, they were trying not to hurt her, but he'd also seen her toss security guards like lawn darts. She was fast, too. It wasn't just the strength that made her so formidable, but the strength combined with the speed. The strikes he'd seen her make were impossibly fast, nearly impossible to follow. Not even augmented human or fully artificial life forms had that kind of speed. She could see in the dark, though that wasn't terribly unusual. There were plenty of people out there with augmentation giving them just that ability, but it was usually pretty obvious. The artificial iris and retinas were easily identified and reflected oddly in different lighting. Ms. Harper had none of that, or not that he could tell. He wasn't sure how she had checked their current hiding place at a distance without looking. And yet she said she had. Again, with the right tech it was entirely possible, but he was unaware of any human augmentation currently in use that would allow her to do it and he knew for sure they didn't have any of that tech with them. He'd searched her gear, just to make sure.

Tapping a finger on his stubble-covered chin, he glanced back at Ms. Harper. The sun was rising higher, illuminating the interior of the warehouse through the damaged corner. It fell fully on the girl's face. She looked like any other eighteen-year-old girl. She was pretty, very pretty, but too young for him by about ten years at least. She wore a serene expression on her face as the sun warmed her face and he wondered again how Ms. Harper could be anything other than what she seemed at that moment. Her eyes opened and shattered the image, and his own widened in surprise as a black lid slid horizontally across her eyes. She blinked with regular lids and the image was gone. Had he imagined it?

Ms. Harper looked back at him with a questioning look. "What?"

Lex shook his head and looked at his watch. Exactly two hours. Incredible sense of time--add that to the list. "It's time to move."

***

They picked their way slowly through the rubble-covered streets. Many of the buildings they passed were warehouses that appeared to have been looted; whether from the Tau Ceti or the local population they couldn't tell. Many of the windows were broken, the doors hanging from hinges or completely removed. They were still on the outskirts of the city and the streets were mostly empty with only the occasional vehicle, transport, or pedestrian crossing their path. Tension was evident on every face they saw and frequent furtive glances lingered on the horizon where two large cruisers could be seen looming in the distance. They had no markings and bristled with weapons as the occasional shuttle could be seen moving between the cruisers and the production facility.

Moving further into the city, warehouses gave way to residential homes and apartments. They were clearly going through the working-class quarter of the city. The homes were small and unadorned, with none of the wasted decoration seen in more upscale homes. They were neat, clean and even what could be considered quaint, but all with a very utilitarian construction and layout. The homes appeared mostly undamaged. They could see several apartments in the near distance that were damaged and still smoking from what Mr. Lexington guessed was from falling orbital debris. Rayne didn't dispute the claim. She'd taken the time to research his background before finally deciding he'd be to the best choice to get her to her desired destination. What files weren't top secret told her he likely knew what he was talking about. Regardless, she flashed her IFF tag for short-range broadcast; hoping for a reply, but knowing chances were remote.

As they moved further toward the city center, the foot and vehicle traffic became heavier. The buildings grew taller and closer, while the heavy smell of smoke hung in the air. Many of the shops were closed, with windows boarded up and doors chained. There were a few still open, but enjoying very little business. Rayne wondered if it was in part due to the armed guards standing at the doors.

It was mid-morning, the coolness of the night beginning to burn off as the sun climbed higher into the sky. They skirted around the city center and government buildings, avoiding what they hoped would be the heaviest security and moved toward the production facility. Their contract put it at the top of their list of priorities and Rayne chaffed at the delay. Logic told her her friends could be anywhere on this side of the hemisphere, dead or injured outside the city limits, but her instincts told her she should be looking in the area they'd just passed. She couldn't quite describe it as a feeling, more of a mental tug in that direction. The T80 remained silent on the topic, unable to confirm or deny.

Mr. Lexington led them to an elevated position a kilometer from the production facility's security fence. It was an office building from the looks of it. He took a quick moment at a side door before the lock popped open as if by magic. Rayne, who'd been scanning their surroundings, peeked over his shoulder at the lock to see how he'd done it.

He gave her a wry grin. "I'll teach you that in the advanced course." He nodded his head for her to enter first as he checked their back trail. "Let's go do some recon."

Rayne scanned the building's interior as she moved through the empty hallways. The building was intact but looked as if the occupants had left in a hurry. There were papers scattered on the floor and not a few overturned chairs left by occupants hurriedly running for the exits.

They made their way carefully to the roof where Mr. Lexington scanned the facility below. He began picking out the different security defenses, looking for a way to get them in for a closer look.

"Everything looks intact." Rayne commented casually, looking out over the sprawling facility before them. People and equipment moved busily in and out, while security forces prowled the perimeter.

***

Lex spoke without taking his eyes from his binoculars. "Yeah, it does. Tell me what you see." She'd shown good instincts so far. It was time to test her on a harder target. What lay before them would be a tough nut to crack and it would be interesting to see how she'd go about it.

"Security fence. Roving patrols. Air defense batteries...duck!" Ms. Harper pulled him roughly to the ground and pushed him into the base of the roof's buttress.

"What?" he managed through a face full of dirt.

"...and patrol drones," she finished.

Lex couldn't see with his face wedged between the ground and wall, but he detected the hum of the drone as it approached their position. That would definitely complicate things, he thought to himself. Getting inside was probably going to be a "no go." Intel would have to be satisfied with an external survey.

"Where?" he grunted. His binoculars were smashed into the base of his throat with his hand at an awkward angle and it was becoming very uncomfortable.

"Tracking north along the perimeter fence at 500 meters," Ms. Harper responded.

Lex wondered in aggravation how she was seeing it. She had better not be poking her head above the wall. Not only would that give away their position, but it would invite closer inspection and maybe death. Lex tried to twist around to see where she was, only to be pushed roughly back.

"Give it another few seconds," she cautioned.

Lex took a few shallow breaths, trying not to breathe the dust just inches from his nose.

The pressure on his back eased. "Okay, we're good."

Lex twisted around to find Ms. Harper getting up with a ghost of a smile on her face. He looked at her suspiciously, wondering if he'd just been the butt of a joke. She set her back to the low wall, brushing the dirt from her jacket while he pulled the binoculars to his face. It wasn't a joke. He found the drone moving just as she'd described. Lex lowered them and leveled a contemplative gaze in Rayne's direction.

Ms. Harper looked up. "What?"

"Nothing. Let's go. There's no way we're getting in there." Lex added seeing through walls to his mental list of Ms. Harpers abilities.

***

"Okay. The objective is to gather intel. In order to do that, you have to talk to people without arousing their suspicion." Lex stood with Ms. Harper on the edge of a large open bazaar. Hundreds of people moved in and out, both buying and selling. Much of what was being sold was food and looked suspiciously like something recently liberated from a warehouse, not the corner store or back yard garden. Credit was exchanged, but in many cases they watched as goods traded back and forth without the exchange of credit.

"You don't look too sure," Lex observed, watching the expression on her face.

Ms. Harper's arms were crossed and she wore a scowl. "I'm not good with people."

Lex snorted. "Really? I'm shocked." Her scowl deepened and she turned angry eyes at him.

Sighing, he turned the sarcasm meter down. He knew people performed better when you encouraged them, but his military background often rose to the surface. "Look. It's an important part of the job. For some people, it comes naturally. For others it takes some time and practice." He tried to give her a reassuring smile, not sure that he succeeded. "Give it a shot and see what you can do." She dropped the angry glare, but still looked uncertain. "How about this? You watch me for a few minutes and see how it works, and then move off on your own?" Lex turned and surveyed the crowd, picking his first target. "Let's try this street vender first. I'm hungry."

Lex paid for some food and talked to the street vender for several minutes until he was forced to move along by a group of security personnel looking for a meal. He moved off a short distance and tried to overhear their conversation, but the surrounding noise and their hushed tones made it impossible to hear. He settled on the woman next to him eating lunch and began flirting. She was cute, in a pudgy, square kind of way. Still, she was talkative and supplied him with a number of important details.

Lex moved off through the crowd, speaking with several more people, noticing as he did that Ms. Harper hadn't moved from her original position. Her head was down and eyes closed. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. The girl was bound to have a weak spot somewhere. It wasn't necessarily a deal breaker; it would just be a limiting factor in how he used her. He spent approximately an hour gathering intel in casual conversation until he was sure he'd gotten as much as he could. He returned to find Ms. Harper still seated in the same position.

"Come on. Time to make our report." Ms. Harper stood and opened her eyes. He stopped out of an abundance of caution when he saw the look on her face. Predatory, intense, focused...and had he just seen black flash across the whites of her eyes, like a second lid retreating toward the corner?

He waited several seconds to gauge her reaction before trying to speak. "You seem upset. What happened?" Ms. Harper stood, not making eye contact, but staring into the distance as if she was calculating her next move.

"They have them," she said distractedly.

"Them who?" Lex asked, confused.

"My friends. They have them in the detention center."

"How could you know that?" Lex asked.

"I heard them," she responded curtly.

"Heard who? Ms. Harper. I need you to dial it back and explain yourself." Lex tried to make eye contact, but she was intently focused on something in the distance. "Tell me what you heard."

Still focused and fixed on her target, Rayne ticked off what she'd heard in short, concise sentences like she was transmitting a data burst to intel. "I singled out the security team for observation. I tapped into their conversation. They discussed security matters and a lack of personnel for essential functions. The detention wing has been left unmanned. They mentioned in passing marines held in detention. They expressed their doubts about their mission and the consequences their ambassador's actions have brought them." Her report finished, Rayne stepped forward.

"Whoa. Stop." Lex stepped in front of Ms. Harper to block her way. "I need you to think. Don't let emotion make the decisions." He tried to catch her eyes, but she was locked in on her target like a heat-seeking missile. "Think, Rayne. Think." Lex wasn't sure how she'd overheard any conversation. He hadn't seen her move and she'd never gotten close enough to the security officers that he noticed. Amplified hearing? Who knew? He could think on it later, but what he needed to do right now was put an end to the girl's current train of thought before it got them into some serious trouble.

"First, that's not our mission. You knew that from the start." She fixed him with a murderous glare. Oops. That might not have been the greatest tactical move he'd ever made. He made a quick course adjustment. "You don't have a plan. What? Are you going to just walk through the front door and take them all on at once with nothing but a pistol?" Ms. Harper's eyes flicked back to the building and he could see the wheels starting to spin in her head as she thought through options. Lex decided to bluff. "Look, let's go make our report to fleet and then we'll recon the building. If there is any way to get them out, we'll do it, but not without a plan." He knew good and well there was no way they were getting into that building. Even from a distance, he could tell the security was thick and the building heavily fortified. There were several Tau Ceti cruisers hovering over the city after all. They'd do the recon and she'd see there was no way to get them out. It would be a good exercise in tactics anyway and he hoped to have the time to convince her they'd be released unharmed when the fleet arrived. Now didn't seem like the right time to make that argument.

Ms. Harper blinked twice in slow succession and then seemed to ease back. Her eyes flicked back toward the detention center in the distance, and she gave a curt nod. Lex exhaled the breath he'd been holding. Disaster averted...for now.

***

Lena scanned the compound before her. Sand bags, Dura-crete barricades and mobile energy fences were set up everywhere. Any gaps were filled with heavily armed planet security forces. She'd been trying to puzzle out a way in for the last half day. She'd tried every possible angle, both above ground and below. They seemed to have all the holes plugged, and with the resources she had, there was no way they were getting in without making it a suicide mission.

Checking her computer, she made note of the three IFF tags. They were there for sure. In what kind of condition she had no idea, but as long as they were there, she wouldn't be leaving. She cursed and butted the back of her head into the wall, hoping to dislodge some kind of plan from the back to the front her mind. It didn't work and she was left with nothing more than a sore head.

Peering back through the window, Lena scanned the people and vehicles moving purposefully through the streets. Even from the second story window she could tell they were scared. The civilians moved quickly across open spaces and stayed in tight groups when possible. They looked tired and worn, glancing frequently over their shoulders at the ships blocking the sun.

Her position put her right underneath the larger of the two ships. Lena wondered what kind of power consumption it cost them to maintain that position so far into the planet's gravitation field. It had to be huge, but considering the prize they were going for, it was probably worth the cost. She hadn't seen any of the Tau Ceti since taking up her watch position, and from the looks on the faces of the heavily armed security forces, she guessed there was a good reason. She cursed the idiot that had invited them in and guessed most of the population felt the same way.

Lena sent a data message to update Jackson and Davis, then sat back and waited as she idly watched the traffic below. There had to be a way to rescue the rest of the team. She was convinced, as were Jackson and Davis, that if they weren't able to get them out, they'd be disposed of. With all of the team dead, it would be easy to blame the attack of their unit on the Tau Ceti. The marines were an inconvenient liability. As it was, they weren't sure why they hadn't been terminated already. Were they being interrogated for information or were they to be used as hostages? They had to know fleet would come knocking on their door eventually. What was their plan then? It didn't make a whole lot of sense, but she wasn't here to look at the big picture. The only picture in her head right now was the one that involved getting her sergeant and teammates out of harm's way.

Cursing softly, Lena moved to a crouched position as two figures picked their way through the rubble to the building where she was hiding. Someone was apparently looking to crowd her space. She wasn't really the sharing type, but wasn't going to push the point with a fight. She watched as they paused at the front door. One was male; Lena could tell from his build and the way he walked. He wore the work uniform of a plant worker but something in the way he held himself told her he was something else. The hat he wore prevented her from seeing his face as he turned to take a quick look behind them. The other was definitely female. She was smaller, athletically built and wore the same work uniform as the man. There was something odd about her, but Lena didn't get the chance to figure out why as the girl's head started to swing upwards to inspect the building's front.

Pulling quickly back from the window, she heard someone quickly enter the front, and then a muffled curse from the male. She decided it was time to go and made for her pre-planned escape route. Footsteps were moving quickly through the first-floor lobby toward the stairs, accompanied by continued curses as the male attempted to follow. Lena picked up her pace, then burst into a full run as she heard someone skid onto the second-floor landing and down the corridor she'd just vacated. Whoever it was, they knew Lena was here and she needed to get away fast. The building wasn't big, but the hallway stretched before her as she sprinted down the center, hurtling debris and furniture as she went. Footsteps echoed behind her and closed at an inhuman pace. What the hell?

Lena had just reached the end of the hall and was about to dive head first out onto the fire escape when someone shouted her name.

"Lena!"

Surprised, she skidded to a halt, turning just in time to be knocked off her feet in a bear hug. She would have fought back, but didn't for two reasons: First, she couldn't move. Her arms were locked to her sides in a grip that felt like steel cables. Second, the hair that now filled her mouth could only be found on one person. A person who should be nowhere near this planet, let alone squeezing the life out of her.

"Rayne?" Lena gasped. "What the hell...?!" She tried for another breath but was having some difficulty and took a couple of short breaths to try and fill her lungs.

"I thought you were dead!" Rayne was crying into her shoulder. Lena could feel the hot tears soaking her clothes, but was so busy trying to breathe it wasn't important.

"Rayne," she wheezed.

"I searched all over, but couldn't find your signal."

"Rayne!"

"There was nothing there and I thought you were dead." Rayne was in full ramble now, but the initial burst of tears was over and quickly turned to a scolding. Not that Lena cared at the moment. She was starting to see stars and was pretty sure her lips were turning blue. She vaguely heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

"You might want to ease up, Ms. Harper. Before Corporal Ramirez loses consciousness," spoke the man who'd entered the building with Rayne.

Her friend looked up and gave a small exclamation, "Oh. Sorry."

Lena fell to an elbow and clutched at her chest as she pulled fresh air into her lungs.

"I'm sorry," Rayne apologized and cursed, looking unsure of what to do as Lena recovered her breath.

"I'm fine," Lena said, pushing her way to her knees as she felt her ribs for any breaks. Finally sure she wasn't injured, she looked up at Rayne. "Why. Are. You. Here?" There had better be a good explanation, though Lena seriously doubted one would be forthcoming.

Rayne stared at the floor angrily, obviously not happy that she was getting a scolding instead of an, 'I'm so happy to see you.' "You went missing. I had to find you."

Lena's temper flared. "Rayne. You can't go running after me every time I go on a mission. What I do is dangerous."

"I thought you were dead." Rayne shot back.

"It's what I do, Rayne. You're going to have to accept that," she replied angrily.

Rayne looked back defiantly. "I don't have to accept anything."

Lena stood and faced her. "Yes, you do."

"No, I don't." Rayne matched her angry stare with one of her own.

"Ladies..." the man looked worried as he surveyed their surroundings. He was obviously concerned about attracting too much attention, but the two women before him were currently oblivious.

"I'll tell the admiral and..." Lena began.

Rayne cut her off. "Oh, you're going to tell on me?"

The man tried to cut in. "Ladies."

"Damn right I am!" Lena shouted.

The man tried again with a little more volume. "Ladies!"

"I'm eighteen. You can't tell me what to do!" Rayne yelled back.

"Ms. Harper!" The man grabbed Rayne by the arm to face him and pointed to a chair leaning against the wall. "Take a seat," he ordered. When she made no move to sit, he propelled her forward and pushed her into the chair. Fortunately, she chose not to resist, but stared at him angrily. "She may not be the boss of you, but I am, and right now, I'm telling you to cool it." He waited a moment to make sure she'd comply and then turned back to Lena who looked on in both anger and confusion as to why Rayne would be taking orders from the man.

"Who the hell are you?" Lena asked before he could speak. "Wait. I know you. You're the contractor they hired to track Rayne on Athena." She looked him up and down. He met her inspection with a flat gaze. They traded stares for several moments before Lena spoke without breaking eye contact. "Rayne. What are doing with this guy?"

She began to reply, but the man cut her off. "My name is Mr. Lexington and Rayne is currently in my employment."

"What?!" Lena shifted her gaze to Rayne who was still seated and studiously avoiding eye contact. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"Let me explain..." Mr. Lexington began.

"Well somebody damn well better," Lena growled.

"Ms. Harper..." he turned back to look at Rayne who was still looking away angrily. "...came to me and offered me payment to take her to this system..."

Lena cut him off. "And you did? What kind of idiot are you?"

Mr. Lexington held up a hand and seemed to count to himself for several seconds before continuing. "Let me finish?"

Lena decided to let him give whatever bullshit explanation he was going to give and then flatten his already crooked nose afterward. She owed him one anyway for the rough treatment Rayne had received at his company's hands.

"I refused, but gave her a counter offer instead. I knew she'd find someone else if I didn't. I'll be honest. The girl has skills that I want and can use. It was, and still is, my intention to give her a taste of the job and see if she has any aptitude for it. If she does, I'll hire her on permanently or on a contract by contract basis if it pleases her." He backed away several steps and opened empty hands as the thunderclouds built over Lena's head. He continued. "Look. This is a recon mission. No combat with a low risk factor. I deemed it a perfect scenario to give her a test run."

Lena wasn't amused. The man standing before her was putting Rayne in harm's way. She was the sister she'd never had and this idiot was putting her in danger so he could, 'give her a test run.' She flexed her fists open and closed, contemplating beating him silly and dumping his body out the fire escape. She took several deep breaths. This was probably not the right time for it. Maybe later, she thought to herself. Lena pointed her finger at Mr. Lexington.

"We're not through here. When this is done, you and me are going to have a little dance." Lena gave him a hard stare, which he returned unflinchingly and then nodded his head in acceptance.

Lena turned to Rayne. "Come on. I'm getting you out of here."

"What?!" Rayne pulled away as Lena tried to grab her arm.

"You heard me. We're going." Lena needed to get Rayne out of here. She'd take her back to base camp and have her wait there while they continued to work out how to get the sergeant and others free.

"No." Rayne took several steps back. She was starting to get that look in her eyes that meant trouble was imminent, but Lena didn't care. She'd knock her unconscious if she had to...or if she could.

"Wait just a minute..." Mr. Lexington tried to step between them.

Lena stuck a finger in his face, fully prepared to follow it with a fist. "You shut up." She grabbed Rayne's arm and began pulling her down the hallway.

"Lena!" Rayne pulled back and their forward progress ground to a stop.

"She's my employee," Mr. Lexington asserted vainly.

"Not anymore," Lena grunted a she attempted to pull Rayne down the hall. She lost her grip and stumbled backward cursing as she nearly fell. Rayne moved back and took a position behind Mr. Lexington.

"She signed a contract," he said firmly, obviously thinking that should mean something.

Lena didn't care jack about contracts. What mattered was family; Rayne and what was left of her marines were all that she had. "Consider it void. Let's go Rayne."

"I'm not going anywhere," she protested with a determined look.

"And where do you propose to take her, corporal?" Mr. Lexington added. "I believe I'm the only one here with a ship off this rock." He folded his arms in smug satisfaction.

"You have a ship." It wasn't a question, so much as a realization expressed out loud. The wheels started turning in Lena's head. Up until this point, every plan they'd come up with and discarded had relied solely on a ground assault. But with a ship...

Rayne peered over his shoulder, nodding and smiling as she mouthed, 'He's got a ship.'

Lena gave a smile that didn't make it to her eyes as she turned her attention back to Mr. Lexington. "Really? Well now. That changes things, doesn't it?"

The smug look that had previously occupied the space on Lex's face melted to a puddle on the floor. "What? No." He held up a finger. "No. That's not part of my contract and I'm not equipped for it."

"Screw your contract. We're gonna go rescue some marines."

Mr. Lexington looked from Lena to Rayne. Lena waiting patiently, knowing there was only one option open to him. With a determined look, he finally responded. "Fine. But we're going to need a plan."

"Got one," Rayne responded quietly.

CHAPTER 17

Lex piloted the ship expertly as it skimmed the planet's surface. He molded their flight path to the terrain, using it to mask their movement as they raced toward their destination. The ship moved more sluggishly than normal, as would be expected when carrying two T80s on the exterior jump seats. The recon ship wasn't a combat platform, but it had been equipped for small squad insertions with room for up to four. In full gravity, the engines strained under the added weight and he had to be careful how he maneuvered or he'd dump them in the dirt.

The ship had become a central part of the rescue. Having it side-lined with an act of carelessness and stupidity would be catastrophic to the plan. Besides, it was a loaner and he was responsible for any damages. The loss of the spacecraft would put a serious dent in his profits. His mouth turned down in a tight-lipped frown as he looked for some way to turn things to his advantage. He'd been forced into his current situation by Corporal Ramirez and Ms. Harper, and the addition of Lance Corporal Davis and Corporal Jackson had pushed him into a support role instead of a controlling interest as he'd been hoping.

Lex couldn't argue their reasoning for the need of rescue. He'd initially been thinking the marines would just be released as whatever transaction the planetary government had made with the Tau Ceti was finished and the fleet arrived. After giving it some serious thought, he'd come to the determination that the marines were correct in their assessment. The captured marines were evidence of the planetary government's crime and would be disposed of at the earliest opportunity. With the marines gone, the blame could be placed on the Tau Ceti and no one would be the wiser.

Despite the possible effect on his profit margin, Lex couldn't in good conscience leave them to their fate. And the plan was a good one. Better than good, in fact. Ms. Harper had shown herself to be a phenomenal tactician. Everything had been planned down to the smallest detail. She'd even calculated the firing arcs on the city's defense grid and plotted the safest entry point for the ship. That kind of attention to detail was something he'd only ever seen from military grade AI. Lex calculated their chances of success to be better than average. He was already getting hazard pay from the contract, but he wondered as they neared their destination if he could somehow pull a bonus for the rescue, which was over and beyond what the contract entailed.

Lex circled widely, scanning the farm house and surrounding area for threats and open ground to set down. He felt the shift and shudder of the craft as the two T80s detached and dropped to the ground on opposite ends of the property to secure the area from the ground. When traveling at speed, with the tech he was equipped with, there wasn't much that could bring them down unless someone got extremely lucky. However, at slow speed and low altitude, they were at their most vulnerable and the T80s' presence made a big difference.

Satisfied it was safe, Lex chose his landing spot and flared just before setting down. Dirt and debris blew into a thick cloud as they softly landed. The farmhouse was empty and the yard devoid of life. Lex didn't power down, but kept the engines running so they could leave in a hurry if necessary. He kept scanning the area as Corporal Ramirez and Ms. Harper opened the hatch and jumped out. He monitored their comm traffic as they moved.

"Jackson. I'm gonna need some help over here," Lena called.

Lex looked out through the front viewport as Corporal Ramirez stood with hands on hips before a very large pile of what appeared to be organic fertilizer.

"Whaddya got?" came the reply as he saw Jackson's T80 moving towards them in the distance.

"I need some help digging these units out," Lena explained.

Jackson pulled up next to Corporal Ramirez and laughed over the comm. "That had to be Taft's idea."

"You think?" Lena said. "Who else would hide a T80 under a pile of shit?"

Jackson laughed again. "That's a really big pile."

"Just pull them out for me," Lena asked.

Still laughing, Jackon reached his armored fist into the smelly pile and heaved both units out into the open yard. Corporal Ramirez grabbed an old ratty broom and began sweeping them clean while Ms. Harper did the same with a handful of dried grass. After several minutes of cleaning they stood back and surveyed their work. Corporal Ramirez turned to Ms. Harper and said something he couldn't hear through the open hatch and the whine of the engines. Ms. Harper was tense. Lex could tell from her ridged posture and the way she was clenching and unclenching her fists. He guessed this was the first time since her rescue she'd been this close to a T80, let alone getting back in. He imagined she was having some trouble, experiencing a lot of fear and anxiety despite her assertions she didn't feel fear. But whatever her feelings or fears, they needed her in that suit.

Corporal Ramirez had tried to argue against Ms. Harper being directly involved and certainly not in taking a combat role, but she'd fought a losing battle from the start. First and foremost, the plan required four T80s and they'd be compromising the success of the operation if they shorted themselves. Second, Ms. Harper was a fully capable T80 pilot with one of the highest kill counts on record. That, combined with the quality of the plan she'd formulated had convinced everyone involved she could handle it. Seeing that she'd lost the battle, Corporal Ramirez had insisted on being Ms. Harper's partner on the insertion, so she could watch her back. It had been a tense meeting and had she been the ranking officer, it might have gone the other way, but Jackson was in charge and the call was his.

***

Rayne stared at the open chassis of the T80 lying on the ground before her. She hesitated. Not out of fear, panic or anxiety but an unwillingness to lock herself away from the sun again. Even now, she felt the sun's warmth on her back and the bare skin of her neck. She loathed the necessity of shutting it out. But her friends were in danger, in need of rescue, and she refused to let them suffer or die because she was too selfish to give up the sun. Rayne closed her eyes and took deep breaths, steadying herself for what she was about to do.

Lena leaned in closer to be heard over the ship's engines. "Are you okay? Can you do this?"

Rayne nodded. While her own brain was balking at the idea, the T80 side was battering and clawing at the doors. It was eager for the fight and it was with a force of will that Rayne maintained control, preventing herself from diving in.

Taking another deep breath, she blew it out, then stepped forward and into the T80. The reaction was instant. Her T80 self kicked out the suit's current tenant, bypassed the countdown and immediately secured the suit. Her already augmented brain and body needed no time to adjust or process, and Rayne immediately stood, cycling through its systems. She flexed her arms as the laser cannon barrel heated and the mini-gun spun to life. The T80 in her head practically screamed in triumph and she laughed with joy along with it. The feeling of power was immense. The data that had once overwhelmed her senses felt right, like greeting an old friend; and while she missed the sun on her face, the warm embrace of the battle suit and the security it gave her was something she hadn't realized she was missing.

Jackson comm'd in. "Hades' sweaty balls, girl. Take it down a notch."

Rayne forced her will onto the overexcited T80 and cut the weapons systems. The T80 gave a mental frown but was consoled when she promised it action in the near future. Satisfied for the moment, it went about tweaking settings and enhancing the interface between her biological systems and the battle suit's. The additional power from the fusion reactor expanded her view of their surroundings by a factor of ten and she felt as if a missing limb had been replaced. She heaved a deep sigh and helped Lena to her feet.

Lena comm'd on a private channel. "You okay?"

"Better than okay," Rayne responded.

"You sure?" Lena asked.

"I've missed this, Lena. I never thought I would, but I do."

Davis comm'd over the team channel. "Let's load up and do this."

***

"There it goes again." Taft had his ear up to the metal door of their cell. For the last ten minutes they had been hearing gunfire and explosions lasting longer than anything they had experienced so far. "Seems closer this time."

"Yeah, it does," Mike replied, attempting to re-wrap one of Abena's bandages. She was more alert and coherent than she had been, being awake for longer periods of time. They'd been able to pilfer some medical supplies from the jail's dispensary and she was steadily improving. Even so, the woman needed much more medical attention than they were currently able to provide. There was still shrapnel in some of the wounds, which protruded from red puffy skin, but which Mike was afraid to remove for fear of doing more damage.

"Do you think its Tau Ceti or fleet?" Taft kept his ear to the door as he spoke, hoping to catch the movement of security staff in the hallways.

"Hard to say. Could be either I guess." Abena gritted her teeth as Mike finished the dressing and tucked the end of the bandage to keep it from unraveling. It didn't make much difference as far as he was concerned. They were stuck either way, unless someone blew a hole in the side of the building so they could simply walk to freedom. Mike's train of thought was interrupted as the whole building seemed to shake on its foundation and bits of debris fell from the ceiling high overhead.

"That one was close," Abena commented, shifting to make herself comfortable.

Taft pulled his head from the door and was now flexing his jaw. "Rattled the teeth in my head. I think they have a defense battery on top of the building from the feel of it."

Mike sat back next to Abena wondering with the rest what the cause of the commotion was outside and if it meant anything significant. "We are in a government complex. They probably have one on every building," he said, pointing out the obvious. They all knew the complex was heavily guarded and fortified from their repeated attempts to find a way out. They all reached for something to steady themselves as the whole building seemed to shift several inches and more debris was dislodged from the ceiling.

"Damn. That had to be a hit on the building." Taft looked up, noticing a fracture that had appeared on the ceiling as the debris continued to drift to the floor. He brushed the chips of paint and dirt from his head.

"I think you can say goodbye to that defense battery." Mike stood up. Whatever was going on outside was way beyond anything they'd experienced so far. He started thinking through the possibilities and if they could use the confusion to mount a successful escape.

"Yeah. You're right. I can't feel it rattling the teeth in my head anymore." Taft had put his ear back to the door, listening intently.

Abena looked on in concern. "Do you think we should move?" She asked Mike as he inspected the large crack on the ceiling and looked speculatively at the door where Taft was listening.

He shook his head. "This might be the safest place for the moment, but if whoever it is creates enough confusion, we might be able to make our escape." The start of a plan was forming in his head. All they'd need would be a couple of security uniforms to make it work and then they'd have a shot at just walking out the front door. They were looking to keep people from coming in and would hardly pay attention to anyone walking out, especially if their attention was conveniently diverted elsewhere.

Mike turned to Abena. "You capable of moving?"

"Hell, yeah, Sarge," came her reply as she struggled to swing her legs down to be ready to move when he gave the order. She was in pain, but she had that look in her eyes that said she'd walk through fire if that's what the sergeant ordered.

"Wait. You hear that?" Taft held up a hand for silence as he listened. The muffled sound of small arms and heavy defense battery fire could be heard through the walls.

Abena was the first to identify the sound as it came. It was difficult to describe, but when you heard it, you'd never forget. "Sounds like a T80 mini-gun."

"Yeah, it does." Mike discarded his plan for escape and decided to see what the next few minutes would bring. If there was a T80 out there and they were planning a rescue, the best thing for them to do would be to stay put.

"Sounds like they're getting closer," Taft said, continuing to listen at the door.

"Let's get ready to move." Mike walked over to where Abena was sitting and took a position in front of her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her legs up and hooked them with his arms.

She gritted her teeth in pain, but kept a steady grip. "Ready when you are, Sarge."

The sound of exploding Dura-crete followed by the heavy footfalls of a T80 could suddenly be heard from the end of the corridor. Mike shouted at Taft, who still had his ear to the door. "Taft! Back off from the door!" Taft dove to the side just as the door flew from its hinges and impacted the far wall in a twisted heap. A T80 crouched at the entrance, peering inside and locking an eyeless gaze on them. There was a large, red, happy face painted on one side of its armored head that looked completely out of place. The T80 didn't say anything, but motioned them to move with one armored hand. Smoke curled from the heated barrel and the smell of hot metal filled their noses, bringing smiles to their faces.

"Time to go!" Mike hefted Abena onto his back and ran for the door.

"Hey, that's my suit!" Taft shouted as he ran past. He'd painted the smiley face himself. Most T80 pilots did something similar to differentiate theirs from the rest. Most chose something more combat-oriented like skulls or birds of prey, but Taft, being who he was, chose a smiley face. When asked why, his reply was simply, 'irony.'

"Far corridor stairs! Move!" Boomed a second T80 as they cleared the door into the hallway. Mike thought he recognized the cadence of Lena's voice, although it was hard to tell from the electronically morphed sound the T80 produced. He sprinted as fast as he could behind the T80 leading the way. He wasn't sure who it was, but there weren't too many T80 pilots wandering around right now, so it had to be one of his team. He was a little too preoccupied to give it much thought as the sound of gunfire burst behind him and the roar of a T80 mini-gun filled his ears.

Fortunately, it was only two flights to the roof, but even that was enough to leave him exhausted. True, Abena was one of the smaller members of his team, but he wasn't exactly at his best right now, and fell to his knees, nearly puking with the effort running the stairs had cost him. Gunfire was bursting over their heads as the T80 laser canon alternately pulsed with the roar of the mini-gun. Mike couldn't hear himself think as he did his best to shield Abena from the Dura-crete-turned shrapnel flying around their heads.

Just as Mike was catching his breath, he heard the roar of a ship's engines and looked up to see a sleek black ship flare and hover at the roof's edge. Where had that come from? He didn't have time to think on it further as he was roughly grabbed by armored hands and bodily launched at the open hatch. He fell into a heap with Taft and Abena to cushion his fall. The cool air of the ship's interior was a welcome change from the debris and dust-filled air furnace of destruction outside. His ears were ringing and he tried to blink the dirt from his eyes as Taft and Abena groaned beneath him.

"Close the hatch, sergeant! Time to go!" shouted a voice.

Mike didn't look up to see who it was but reached up and slammed his fist on the hatch release. He heard a metallic impact and then the ship tilted alternately as what he assumed were the two T80's taking their places on the ship's jump seats. He checked himself for broken bones and then extricated himself from the pile of limbs. Taft looked more or less unharmed, but Abena was unconscious. He checked to make sure she was breathing and had a pulse, then turned to Taft. "Get up, Taft! I need you to get Abena squared away."

Taft groaned and rolled to his hands and knees. "Damn, Sarge. I feel like a piñata."

"You and me both. Get her situated while I see what our status is." Mike moved forward to the co-pilot seat and sat down. The surface was cool, cushioned and comfortable and he wished he could just close his eyes and relax. He resisted the temptation, scanning the scene out the front viewport. He turned to the pilot to ask what their destination was, but stopped with a look of surprise. His brows came together in confusion as he tried to puzzle out who he was seeing. "Aren't you..."

"Yes. I'm the asshole contractor." Mr. Lexington was deep in concentration as he wove his way through the tall buildings before them. Tracer fire chased after the ship and exploded into the spaces they continuously vacated. Mike nearly struck his head on the ceiling as they dropped to street level. "Strap in before you break something important." Mr. Lexington didn't spare him a glance. Having managed to get below the firing arcs of the defense batteries, he accelerated and quickly made a hasty retreat out of the city.

The ship flew low and circled wide as it passed the production facility. Mike could see troop movement and a flurry of activity as what looked like Tau Ceti loaded the last of their shuttles. "Looks like the Tau Ceti have decided to pack up and leave," he commented.

Mr. Lexington nodded in response and then comm'd to one of the T80s. "You seeing that, Corporal Ramirez?" Mike closed his eyes and silently thanked God. Lena was one of his best and he'd be devastated by her loss. He assumed the other T80 must be Callahan.

Mr. Lexington flipped the comm switch, allowing Mike to hear what was being said. "Yeah. I see it. You got anything on this toy of yours for this?" Mike kept his mouth shut. They were obviously in the middle of a pre-planned op, and while he was the ranking officer, he didn't know anything about the plan or the tactical layout. Sticking his nose in now would create more problems than it solved, so he sat on his hands and listened to his people work. There'd be time for questions later.

Mr. Lexington grimaced and shook his head. "Nothing. I'm set up for recon not combat." Tracer fire was still reaching out to the ship as they gained altitude, but they were able to survey the scene below them. The ship was far outside effective range and the fire served only as a warning to keep their distance. He could see the Tau Ceti had finished loading and the shuttle was now moving toward the larger of the two ships below them.

"Looks like we're going to have to let'em go," Mr. Lexington comm'd. "Have Davis and Jackson pulled back?"

Mike breathed another sigh of relief to hear more of his team had survived. Davis and Jackson were good friends and it'd be like losing a limb to be without either one of them.

"Yeah, they're on their way to the rendezvous point," Lena answered. She cursed suddenly, then yelled as the small ship tilt in response to one of the T80s jumping off. "Rayne!" Lena screamed over the comm.

Rayne? What the hell was she doing here? Mike felt the ship shift again as the other T80 jumped. Mike turned to Mr. Lexington. "What the hell was that?"

"I think our little friend just decided the Tau Ceti leaving was not acceptable." He put the ship into a wide, circling arc. They'd be in the perfect position for a pickup, but until then, all they could do was watch.

"Little friend?" Mike asked with a sense of dawning comprehension. He was pretty sure he knew what the response was going to be.

"Ms. Harper." Came the reply.

Mike wasn't sure he believed it. They put her in a T80? Someone was going to have some serious explaining to do.

"You mean, Rayne?" Mike asked for confirmation and got a nodded reply.

"That was Rayne?" Taft asked from behind him. He had finished strapping Abena in and was trying to see out the front viewport. "Sweet. She was totally rocking the suit, man."

"Shut up, Taft," Mike shot back in irritation.

They listened to the comm traffic as two T80s dropped from the sky.

"Rayne what are you doing?" Lena shouted.

"They're not getting away," came her calm, determined reply.

"You can't stop a starship," Lena yelled in frustration.

"Watch me," Rayne said and then cut comms.

"Rayne!"

Mr. Lexington continued to circle, tracking their descent toward the starship as they hurtled through the air. From his perspective, it didn't look like they were going to make it and he angled for an intercept course and a pickup. To his surprise, Rayne flew straight through the cargo bay door and disappeared, while Lena missed, as he had predicted.

***

She hit the deck rolling and came up firing. The loading bay was full of anti-matter containers and Tau Ceti. The mini-gun roared to life and half those standing disappeared in seconds. She wasn't concerned about the containers. She'd been briefed by the marines and informed they were virtually indestructible--nothing short of a nuclear blast would have any effect on them.

Rayne didn't wait to finish off the remaining Tau Ceti in the cargo bay but quickly moved forward towards the command deck. She killed anything that moved her direction. The canon pulsed and the mini-gun tore through the corridors, annihilating anything foolish enough to stick its head out. The ship was small and she made her way quickly. Rayne kicked the door securing the command deck closed and lobbed several plasma grenades inside. A huge concussion exploded out the open door as she mowed down Tau Ceti moving up the corridor to cut her off. Having temporarily cleared the area behind her, she stepped onto the command deck. Several forms still moved, attempting to crawl toward escape. Rayne alternately fired her laser canon and mini-gun to finish them off. She quickly surveyed the bridge and then began destroying everything in sight. The ship began to tilt and nose down as critical systems were damaged beyond repair. Nodding in satisfaction, Rayne sprinted back through the door from which she'd come and down the corridor toward the loading bay. She was tempted to finish the Tau Ceti firing at her as she ran, but knew they wouldn't survive what was coming next. She wouldn't be surviving either if she didn't get off the ship.

Finally reaching the cargo bay, Rayne found it mostly empty. She slammed an armored fist on the main corridor access, smashed the controls to prevent anyone from leaving and then finished off the survivors before moving to the bay door. It was secured and locked. Rayne backed off, centered several laser shots on the center of the door and blew it out into the atmosphere. She stood at the edge, holding to the jagged edges of the door with one hand as she checked the ship's trajectory with the larger ship beneath her. Rayne cursed. They were going to miss. She'd been hoping to bring the smaller ship down on top of the large ship beneath them, but it looked like they were going to miss by a mere 1000 meters.

Rayne quickly calculated angles, trajectories and terminal velocities, sharing and comparing that data in milliseconds with the T80, then launched herself into space.

***

Lena hit the ground softly and cut the chute immediately before it could encumber her movement. She divided her attention anxiously between their small recon ship, as Mr. Lexington angled in for a pickup, and the Tau Ceti ship Rayne had boarded. She had to get up there. Rayne was alone with no one to watch her back.

"Hurry up, Lex!" Lena shouted. "I need to get on that ship." She flexed armored hands and shifted from foot to foot, wishing futilely for the power of flight.

"On the ground in sixty," came the calm reply.

Lena had seen the cargo bay doors slam shut as she'd missed her target and flown past toward the ground. As she waited for her pickup, she formulated a plan to get herself back inside, then noticed the ship begin to list and nose down. From her perspective, it looked like the two ships were now on a collision course.

"Holy shit!" she cursed in awe.

"What happened?" Mr. Lexington comm'd worriedly.

"Rayne just took down a starship." Lena's enhanced vision centered on the cargo bay door which suddenly blasted outward and into the atmosphere. Lena could see Rayne standing in the opening and the comms re-established contact.

"Rayne! I'm coming to get you!" Lena yelled as Mr. Lexington flared at full power and touched down.

"Don't bother. I'm not done yet," came Rayne's calm reply.

Lena had been running for the ship, but stopped and turned in consternation. "What?"

"They're not getting away," Rayne said coldly.

"Rayne! Damn it! Stop!"

***

She cut comms to block out the sound of Lena's cursing. She needed to concentrate on what she planned next. What she was about to do was the stupidest thing she'd ever done, but she wasn't going to let the Tau Ceti leave. She was going to kill them all.

Rayne launched herself into the air, feeling the sickening yet exhilarating feel in her stomach as she raced toward terminal velocity. She aimed again for the open cargo bay door. There was a shuttle still in flight heading for the same door and it looked as if they'd reach their destination at the same moment. Rayne adjusted the control surfaces of the suit to fine tune her trajectory, then gritted her teeth as she rocketed through empty space and slammed into the top of the shuttle just before it made entry. The force of the impact knocked the shuttle off course and it slammed into the ship's aft section while Rayne bounced into the open shuttle bay.

It was much bigger than the last ship. Anti-matter containers were stacked and secured for transport on nearly every surface of the floor. The Tau Ceti had apparently been forewarned and were flooding the bay with as many weapons and personnel as they could find. Rayne fired as quickly as she dared without overheating her weapons and tried to move forward. The level of return fire made it impossible for her to move from her position without being exposed. She quickly scanned for alternate routes and found none. The bay door to the front was the only way in to the main corridor and command deck. Rayne thought quickly through plans B, C and D, finally settling on E.

Grabing the last of her plasma grenades, she hurled them toward the doors where they detonated in a colossal explosion that left the Tau Ceti stunned for several long moments. Taking advantage of the brief respite, Rayne hit the exit command to her suit. She struggled to extricate herself from the T80, both physically and mentally. Her T80 brain was practically foaming at the mouth and had sunken so far into combat mode she was having trouble staying in control. Rayne fought it for several moments, then mentally smacked it across the face to finally get its attention.

Having done so, Rayne jumped from the T80 and immediately pulled the reactor core like she'd seen the marines do during maintenance procedures. She knew there was a self-destruct in the suit, but she wasn't about to use it. That wasn't the kind of explosion she needed. While the fusion core's energy transformed into a plasma ball would be devastating, that's not what she needed to breach the anti-matter containers. She needed a full-on fusion explosion.

Fire erupted around her as the Tau Ceti recovered from the plasma blasts. Rayne worked quickly, pulling the dermal patch off the back of her neck, attaching it to the core and reprogramming its function. The T80 balked momentarily at the breach in safety protocols as she set the core to go critical. Rayne told it to shut up and sit in the corner until it was needed. It did so, but grumbled at her for violating protocols. She gave it a mental flip of the middle finger and continued to work as the Tau Ceti advanced on her position.

Finally finished, Rayne wedged the core into the space between two containers and then pulled out the pistol Mr. Lexington had given her and returned fire. She was woefully outnumbered and outgunned, but had accomplished what she'd come for. Tau Ceti wouldn't be leaving this system alive. All that was left was to take as many of them with her as she could.

The deck tipped slowly as the ship accelerated toward the upper atmosphere and space beyond. The wind roared past her ears as she fired continuously at figures converging on her position. The steep angle of the floor now made it hard for her to stand and the husk of the T80 at her feet began to slide slowly backward toward the open bay door. With the Tau Ceti nearly on top of her, a thought occurred to her and she grabbed one of the armored legs as it skidded past. Rayne fired between her legs at the retreating figures, screaming her rage as she was finally sucked into the blackening sky.

***

Jackson and Davis pulled up just as Mr. Lexington popped the hatch and Lena screamed in distress. Rayne's T80 IFF tag had gone silent several seconds earlier, and while it didn't always mean death, under the current circumstances it could mean very little else.

"Rayne!" Lena repeated her call over the comms only to hear static in return. Lena dropped to her knees and used armored fists to beat the rocks beneath her into rubble.

"Grab her," Jackson commanded. Davis moved in swiftly and took one arm while Jackson took the other. They needed to get control of her before she hurt herself or someone else. Lena struggled in their grip and continued to scream after Rayne. Davis accessed the command override and shut down her T80 interface. He hit the emergency eject and Lena tumbled from the suit onto the ground. Tears poured from her eyes as she screamed in rage and grief.

Davis and Jackson set the T80 to the ground and shed their own. Mike stepped from the ship and knelt beside Lena, followed by Taft supporting Abena. He motioned them all forward and they formed a circle around their comrade.

"Why did she do that?" Lena cried into Mike's chest. He didn't respond, having no answer to give her. "We were out! We were safe and then she goes and pulls that bullshit!" Lena screamed again, her voice growing hoarse from the repeated abuse. They all knelt around her, putting comforting hands on her arms and shoulders as the sergeant held her tightly.

Lex looked on in sympathy. He'd lost a few teammates over the years and he knew what she was feeling. It sucked and brought back memories he'd just as soon forget. This one likely hurt deeper than most, though. When you went into combat, you knew someone might not come back. You accepted it before you went out and if you lost one, you were already prepared for it. Ms. Harper, or Rayne, was different. She was just a child really, and probably more of a sister to the group than a teammate. That undoubtedly made it doubly hard.

Lex's train of thought took him a different direction as he thought on the young lady he'd briefly employed. What a huge asset she would have been. He suspected there was more to her than what he had gleaned so far. The strength, speed, and mounting layers of capabilities would have been well worth the level of crazy she brought to the table.

And talk about crazy. What Lex had just seen was beyond anything he'd ever imagined. She'd taken out a starship. A small one, true, but that wasn't a feat any one person could claim without strategic planning and well-placed explosives.

Too bad. Lex could think of half a dozen different contracts that would have been suitable for someone like her and the marines grouped before him. They were a tight knit team and he was impressed with all of them. He'd offer them a job now if the timing were better. Give it some time and maybe he'd be able to attract their interest.

Lex thought on it as he raised binoculars to his eyes at the now quickly retreating bulk of the starship, noting as he did the debris trailing from the still-open cargo bay. He zoomed in and laughed.

"You've got to be kidding." Lex laughed again, drawing angry looks from the marines. "You'll wanna take a look at this," he said, offering the optics to Corporal Ramirez.

***

Rayne struggled to maintain her one-handed grip as she spun through the sky. The T80 was in a flat spin and she struggled to maintain her hold. She pulled herself slowly up the torso, keeping her concentration on the hard metal under her nose as she attempted to remain oriented and focused. The wind screamed past her ears with deafening intensity, making it hard to concentrate. She shut the sound off and worked in silence as the wind continued to batter her small frame.

Her altitude was significant, but if she didn't work quickly her life was going to come to a very abrupt end. Pulling herself the last few inches to the torso section, she began working the maintenance hatch for the chute. Rayne was pretty sure it hadn't been used by Taft during his descent with Abena, but she hadn't bothered to check. Flying out the back of a starship hadn't been part of the plan.

Pulling it from the access panel, she made sure to keep it tightly wrapped. The sudden stop when the shoot opened would send her flying if she wasn't properly anchored and as she checked her altitude, decided it was something she needed to do in a hurry. Holding the chute under one arm, Rayne inserted herself into the still-open face of the battle suit and did her best to pull several of the plates into the closed position to keep her from falling out.

The ground was coming up fast. The T80 was screaming in her head that if she didn't do something now, they'd be dead. Rayne released the packaged fabric and watched as it unfurled above her head. The bottom of her chin slammed against the armored plates pulled across her stomach and she nearly slipped through the bottom as the air was simultaneously forced from her lungs. Stars filled her vision and Rayne had several seconds of seeming weightlessness before experiencing a hard impact with the ground.

Rayne lay stunned for several long minutes as the world spun circles around her head. She groaned and sucked oxygen back into her lungs, pushing herself from the T80's damaged frame. She crawled several feet on her hands and knees, and then tried to stand. Her head was still spinning in circles and she lost her balance and fell backwards. She sat for several more long minutes, waiting for the stars to dissipate and the ground to stop spinning before trying again. Finally making it to a standing position, she rested hands on knees and enjoyed the sound of her own breathing for several seconds before raising the rest of the way. She turned just in time to be knocked from her feet.

"Rayne!" Lena cried, wrapping her in a crushing grip. "Damn you, girl. I thought you were dead."

Rayne lay exhausted on the ground while Lena hugged her furiously. She was too tired to resist and just smiled vacantly as Lena sat her up and began inspecting her for damage.

"Are you hurt? Are you injured? Talk to me Rayne. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Lena. I'm fine." Rayne patiently let herself be inspected. The T80 was still pouting in the back of her head over being pulled from the fight before it was finished. There were still enemies to kill and it had lost its combat platform. Rayne told it to shut up and wait.

"Yeah, you're fine, but you nearly got yourself killed!" Lena growled. She paused from her tirade for several moments, then smiled. "And holy shit, you took out a starship."

Rayne smiled back. "Yeah, it was awesome, wasn't it?"

Lena sat down beside her as the rest of the group walked up. "You are completely bat-shit crazy. You know that?"

"You haven't seen anything yet," Rayne replied.

Taft, who had stopped to inspect his T80 for damage, stood up and exclaimed, "Where'd my fusion core go?" All heads turned to Rayne, who was still smiling widely.

CHAPTER 18

"Coming in-system now, sir." The command deck was a bustle of activity as Admiral Adelberg stood calmly at its center, surveying the tactical display. They had pushed through an hour earlier into the outer limits of the system and were closing fast. The fleet had been splitting off into battle groups all the way in, and while the fleet's AI had everything in hand, it was a difficult task for the individual human counterparts to maintain their situational awareness.

"Contacts?" he asked, not turning his head from the display. They were well situated. They'd come in along the axis of the system and there was very little hidden from their view.

"Multiple. Far side of the system and headed into open space." Red contacts began to pop up on the tactical display as the bridge officer answered.

"Identification?" he asked. The admiral had a good idea already what the answer would be. The formation of the, as yet unidentified contacts, was disorganized.

"They're not broadcasting IFF tags and several are matches for known Tau Ceti ships."

The admiral calculated the distances quickly, noting as he did they were still outside the range of any weapons they had. "Give me vector and speed and then give me a calculated firing solution."

"Vector and speed on the screen, sir." The deck officer shook his head. "No can do on the firing solution. They're barely in sensor range and accelerating out of system in a big hurry."

The admiral frowned. "Damn." He'd been hoping for a fight and was disappointed he wouldn't get to dust a few of the retreating Tau Ceti. "Okay. Send the word and deploy the fleet to defensive positions. I don't want the Tau Ceti circling back and taking us by surprise." The comm traffic increased as orders were sent and received. The admiral frowned again at the tactical display and then turned to take a seat in the command chair, waiting as each ship took its position. Like a well-oiled machine, he thought to himself. It was a pity they wouldn't be firing a shot.

"Sir. We've got a priority message on Marine-Tac 1."

"We don't have any ground forces deployed yet, do we?" Admiral Adelberg double-checked the tactical display. Most of the fleet was still moving into position, let alone being able to deploy marines. Even if they had, they'd be in direct communication with their battle group's commander, not the fleet's flagship.

"It's a Sgt. Weber, fleet marine, recon force. Red-flagged priority message. He says don't pursue Tau Ceti and advises you to hold position."

The admiral snorted, not sure exactly what the sergeant's message implied. Some kind of danger? He had a significant portion of the fleet standing at his back. He was pretty sure he could take whatever danger came their way. Admiral Adelberg had just opened his mouth to send a reply when the entire tactical display before him exploded into light, starting from a point central to the retreating Tau Ceti ships and quickly expanding to fill his field of view and the entire bridge for several minutes. The bridge crew gave a collective gasp and they all stared transfixed as the light began to dissipate. "What was that?" the admiral asked as he tried to blink the spots from his eyes.

"No idea, sir, but the Tau Ceti ships are all gone."

"Gone?" Admiral Adelberg asked in consternation, squinting through what now seemed to be an overly dark command deck.

"Gone, sir."

***

Dr. Gault strolled through the hallway of the research building. She was in a good mood. Her sources informed her that the conflict was over and combat resources would be returning to Athena in the next several days, and with it her test subject...Rayne, whatever. She could hardly wait for the new data. She'd slipped a few extras in with the dermal patch that should prove quite informative. A smile spread across her face at the thought of pulling one over on the 'stick-up-his-ass' admiral.

The doctor was already planning the next series of tests, and depending on the data from the dermal patch, she could branch off in one of several different directions. She was sure the girl had been holding out on her. The number of inexplicable structures in her brain and body had a purpose she knew the girl was aware of. She'd ferret out those secrets given enough time. She'd better. It was costing her quite a lot of money to keep the girl coming in for testing. In fact, the housing was coming out of her own pocket. It set her back a pretty credit, but the expense would be worth it in the end.

Turning into her office, she found her ex examining the artwork on the wall. She might have been annoyed at the intrusion any other time, but wasn't about to let him spoil her mood today. They weren't scheduled for a meeting and she wondered what he could possibly want. He'd likely found her guilty of some infraction or violation of the procedural guidelines. Ugh. It made her want to puke some days. Maybe she'd actually do it and purposefully aim for his prettily polished shoes.

Dr. Gault smirked and greeted the admiral as he turned. "Jason. Don't you have an office of your own?" She took a seat, kicked off her shoes, and made herself comfortable. She had several hours of work to do and wanted to make sure everything was prepped for the test subject's return. He didn't crack a smile, but took a seat quietly in front of her desk. When he finally spoke, it was in his serious, professional voice.

"Lizzy. I've got some good news and some bad news."

She knew that tone and the smile slipped from her face. He brought that voice out when dealing with difficult problems. He'd used it when they were married when he'd had to speak about something that would likely make her angry. Her eye brows creased.

"I'm sure you're aware Rayne is arriving back in-system in the next few days," he said.

"Yes. So I've been told. I'm prepping for the data collection and evaluation now." Dr. Gault looked at him skeptically. "Is that the good news?"

"Yes. She'll be arriving tomorrow." Jason scanned the items on the desk and then glanced toward the door.

"So what's the bad news?" She felt her blood pressure start to rise.

Jason cleared his throat. "Two things, actually." He paused for several seconds as if looking for the right words.

"Just spit it out, Jason." She rose to her feet and planted both hands on her desk as she leaned forward and gave him a hard stare. He rose with her, put his hands in his pockets and stepped to the side of the chair.

"I'm afraid the dermal patch you put on Rayne was lost in action." The admiral stood as if waiting for execution.

Dr. Gault frowned. Did he really think her that volatile that she'd lose it over a little lost data? It would push back her time table, but did he seriously think she'd lose it and start throwing things at him over something like this? Honestly. For having been married to her it was like he didn't even know her at all.

"That's disappointing," she said, calmly.

Jason searched her face for several seconds before continuing. "Yes, it is. I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to it."

"It's the kind of data that can easily be replaced, Jason." She sighed, pushing herself upright to walk around to the side of the desk. "Did you seriously think I was going to start throwing things at your head?"

Jason smirked. "The thought had crossed my mind, but I'm afraid there is more." He double-checked his path to the door and continued.

Sure the worst was over, Dr. Gault sat back in her chair and started rearranging her calendar to compensate for the lost data.

"I'm afraid Rayne has chosen to terminate her contract."

Dr. Gault stopped what she was doing and looked up abruptly. "What?!" The word lashed out like the crack of a whip.

"I'm sorry, Lizzy. She's apparently found other employment and doesn't have time for your testing any longer." He fumbled with something in his pocket and his eyes flicked to the doorway again.

"What? Are you telling me that not only have I lost my data but my test subject as well?" Dr. Gault stood slowly as the thunderclouds built.

"Rayne." He corrected Dr. Gault out of habit and then took a step back as he realized that might not have been the right time for a reminder the test subject had a name.

"I don't care what her damn name is, she is my test subject!" Dr. Gault punctuated the last by slamming her open palm on her desk.

"Whoa. Easy there, Lizzy. Let's take a step back and put things in perspective."

Dr. Gault stood and pointed a shaking finger. "You call me Lizzy one more time and I'm going to surgically remove your lips."

Jason held his ground but put up both hands in a placating gesture. "Just take it easy and let's discuss this."

"Discuss?" Dr. Gault repeated, picking up her shoes, holding one in each hand. "My test subject flies out the window and you want to have a discussion?" She wound back and hurled a three-inch stiletto at his head as she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Discuss this!"

Jason dodged and batted the projectile away from his head with one hand. "Whoa. You could put someone's eye out with those."

"And it would serve you right! You probably talked her into it!" Dr. Gault didn't bother switching hands, but launched the second shoe at his head, which landed wildly off the mark, knocking a picture off the wall.

Jason backed slowly toward the door. "I had nothing to do with it, Lizzy..."

"I said...Don't....Call...Me...Lizzy!" The doctor grabbed anything in reach and punctuated each word with a hurled object at the admiral's retreating form.

Jason ran for the door as several more office implements were tossed at his back. He fast-walked to the end of the corridor and checked behind him to make sure he hadn't been followed. Seeing that he was safe, he turned around and found several of the research staff staring at him as Dr. Gault continued to rage and throw things through her office door. He straightened his uniform.

"That went well." He smiled, before heading for the exit.

***

Lex was extremely pleased with himself. Echo Team. It had a nice ring to it. The five new members of his staff were signing their contracts now. He hadn't been able to convince Davis or Jackson to jump ship. They were still too attached to their military life and it would probably be a few years before they'd be willing to give it up. No matter. He'd be there when they were ready.

He looked over the roster of his new team displayed on the console. Pulling their files, he reviewed them again as he contemplated their usefulness for upcoming contracts. Sgt. Weber...or Mike rather, was the leader of the group and would stay that way. He had a good head on his shoulders; smart, quick thinking, and with an ability to motivate and keep order within the team. Lena would be his second. He'd left it up to Mike to make that determination and he'd chosen her the same as he would have. She was tough as nails and had the combat skills needed for the job. Although prone to letting her emotions take over, she was a generally steady hand. Abena seemed well rounded and if she had any one particular quality, it was the ability to keep Taft on task. He reviewed Taft's file, the official one and the unofficial one. The kid had skills, but he was going to need constant monitoring to keep him pointed in the right direction.

And then there was Ms. Rayne Harper. Lex paused a moment on the nearly empty file. So much unknown, and what little he had gleaned, he refused to put on record. She was something special. He could sense it, feel it, and had seen brief glimpses of it during their short time together, but he had to keep what he knew hidden. If the military caught hold of what he suspected she was capable of, no amount of money or persuasion would keep her out of a lab. He'd already fielded no less than five calls from Dr. Gault trying to get her hands on Ms. Harper. He'd answered none of them and intended to keep the doctor as far away from Ms. Harper as possible.

Lex stood as his new team filed into his office. Mike took the lead and spoke for the others. "Mr. Lexington. What's our first job?"

Mr. Lexington smiled. This was going to be fun. "Call me Lex."

###

Thank you for reading my book. I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. If you liked it, please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?

Thanks!

Roger Schultz

About the author:

Roger Schultz lives in the mountains of southeast Idaho where he spends his time working and thinking of productive ways to spend his time. Since he hasn't come up with anything to date, he spends it riding dirt bikes, shooting guns and working on stories and art to entertain his friends and family.

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