Pirates of the Outrigger Rift (6 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

A
ngus Brock sat in his floater, parked in the shadows
outside the stronghold of Dirion the oracle. The nanite observers he had placed
around the building were still functioning and had reported no activity since
the girl had gone inside. She was trapped.

He watched a sleek black sedan float to a stop at the curb. Four
men clutching pulse rifles piled out—a Nebulaco Security heavy weapons squad. That
didn’t take long, he thought. The flow of communication between Thorne’s underground
network and corporate security was efficient. Why was Thorne so interested in
Nebulaco getting this girl?

When they began marching straight for Dirion’s building,
Brock cursed. No combat sense at all. They were going to screw it up and get
killed. He couldn’t just let it happen without at least warning them. He exited
his floater and rushed toward them.

“Hello there, officers!”

They froze and turned to face him.

He put on his most innocent grin. “I’m just a concerned corporate
citizen trying to help. I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I just thought
you might want to know that building over there is owned by an oracle.”

There was no reaction.

“Oracle,” Brock repeated. “As in stronghold. As in you might
want to be a little more stealthy.”

One of the men approached him. “Listen, bud, we don’t need
some civilian telling us our job,” he said, stabbing Brock in the chest with an
armored finger. “You need to back off and get out of the way.”

Brock put both hands up and stepped back. He read the name
stenciled on the man’s breastplate armor. “Sorry, Lieutenant Larson, just
trying to help.”

Larson spoke into his comlink. “Red Team Leader to control. We
are executing. Okay, men, let’s go!”

Brock waved. “Have fun, Sparky!”

The team rushed across the street and into the building with
little more than a cursory weapons check. Brock leaned against a light pole,
cleaned his fingernails, and waited for the show. He knew it wouldn’t be long.

A few minutes later, he saw lights flashing in the windows
of the building as apparently random pulse-rifle rounds shot every which way. He
heard faint screams. Shortly thereafter, Larson staggered out of the building,
his face covered with dirt and blood from numerous wounds, uniform in tatters.

“Gee,” Brock said. “Did he put up much of a fight?”

The man dropped to his knees, spent pulse rifle clacking to
the pavement beside him. He spoke into his comlink. “Control, this is Red Leader.
Red Team is gone. We need backup and medical. Send Blue Team to my location.”

Brock knelt next to Larson and helped him apply direct
pressure to a bleeding flesh wound on his lower leg. “As I was saying,
Lieutenant Larson, oracles are known for heavily defending their bases of
operation. Perhaps you might have been better off calling for backup before you
stormed the building like a complete idiot.”

“Fuck you.”

“No thanks,” Brock said. “Personally, I would have stationed
men around the building to make sure no one could escape, then take a couple of
guys and apply a few well-positioned shape charges. Eliminate the targets
without risking the traps. But that’s just my opinion.”

Another team arrived about ten minutes later along with
three ambulances. They ran to Brock and Larson.

“Here’s the situation,” Brock began.

The Blue Team leader ignored him. “What happened, Larson?”

“It was a trap. I figure the best thing to do at this point
is to apply a few well-positioned shape charges. We’ll blow the bastards to
kingdom come!”

Blue Leader nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. “Right. Come
on, men!”

Larson struggled to rise and go with them. Brock tapped him
on the shoulder. “Make sure you use concussion charges instead of that
incendiary stuff or you’ll have an inferno on your hands. This whole block will
go up.”

Larson shoved him. “Don’t tell us our business. We’re professionals.”
With that, he limped into the building behind Blue Team.

Brock shook his head and leaned against the pole again to
watch the circus continue.

Fire exploded into the night sky, the building burning
uncontrollably as Sai shouldered her way through the large crowd already
gathering to watch the spectacle. A short-haired woman clutching a young boy
blocked Sai’s path. The woman pointed and gasped as the fire progressed.

“I’m glad we don’t live there,” the boy said.

Sai maneuvered around the mother and son. An empty pit
opened in her stomach. She would never see Dirion again.

“Move aside, people!” a voice called over a broadcaster. Emergency
vehicles tried to lower themselves to work the blaze, but the crowd didn’t seem
to notice them. The people stood entranced by the fire.

Sai pushed her way through the throng, tears blurring her
vision. She looked back at the destruction wrought on Dirion’s home. The entire
top section of the apartment building had blown up. Nothing remained above the
fourth floor.

Earlier, Dirion had given her instructions and hurried her
out the back exit to the stairs that led down to the street. As the door had shut
behind her, she’d had no idea that moments later the building would erupt into
flame.

Dirion was dead. He was gone. She reached out and braced
herself against the wall of the building closest to her.

His death was all her fault. She had led her pursuers right
to him. She nearly doubled over, but she had no time for tears. No time for
grief. Dirion wanted her to forge on. All she had left was her life, and even
that wouldn’t last long if these people didn’t get out of the way. She had to
get off Raken.

As she struggled through the crowd, a face caught her
attention. It was the security man from the bar who had first spotted her. He
watched the blaze progress along with his men, all still wearing their trench coats.

Sai moved on, trying to keep low and out of sight. Just as
she reached the corner she heard one of them shout, “There she is! All units,
this is Green Leader. The girl’s alive!”

Damn! She turned the corner, hoping to outrun them, slowed
as they were by the crowd. She started toward a muddy back alley, trying to
lose herself among the onlookers. But they were watching the fire, blocking her
path. Frustrated, panicked, she tried to push between two large men.

“Watch it, lady,” the biggest one said, irritated.

“Then move!”

He turned sideways and let her pass. “You have a problem,”
the man said.

Sai slipped into the shadows and ran past trash incinerators
and winos, hearing the thunder of booted feet running behind her.

“She went this way!”

Energy bolts slammed into the walls around her, spraying her
with debris. She rushed down an alleyway, diving for the first doorway she saw.
It was locked.

“She’s in that alcove!” They were closing in.

Sai pulled the whisperblade from her jacket pocket and
activated it, plunging the plasma-edged weapon through the lock, easily melting
and cutting the deadbolt. She kicked the door open and hurried inside. She
shoved the door closed, but it couldn’t be secured. Damn.

The dark room was dusty and filled with old furniture. In
the dim light she spotted a workbench off to one side. She dragged the bench
over to hold the door closed. With the door blocked, the room was pitch black,
her eyes not yet adjusted. She moved through the room, sweeping her hands
before her to try and find another exit. She hit a wall at the same moment the
guards began pounding on the door.

She moved faster along the wall and found a staircase just
as energy bolts pierced the door, sending slivers of wood flying. Sai rushed up
the stairs to the roof. These buildings weren’t spaced too far apart; perhaps
she’d be able to jump to safety.

The squad pushed through her barrier and began searching the
lower level.

“Here’s a stairway,” someone said.

Sai cursed. A stack of chairs stood on one of the landings. She
kicked them over to slow their progress and continued climbing.

When she finally made it to the roof, she found it old and
in disrepair. It sank slightly under her weight. Carefully, she tiptoed to the
edge and peered over. It was a long drop.

She hurried around the perimeter of the roof, searching for
some way down. No luck. Across the way, the roof of the Bryant Hotel was her
only chance of escape, but she wasn’t sure she could make that jump.

She heard the men coming up the stairs. She was out of time.
She activated the whisperblade and prepared to throw. Her cyber-psi senses
reached out to touch the weapon’s control circuits and she activated the flight
controls.

She threw the blade, sending it sailing to cut deeply into
the roof behind her, further weakening the structure. She controlled its path,
manipulating its tiny repulsor beams, making several passes. She heard the
squad tossing the chairs out of the way as they climbed.

At her mental beckoning, the whisperblade returned to her
hand. She hoped it would be enough. “It’s now or never,” she whispered. She
moved back, took a deep breath, and glanced toward the doorway from which the
first of the men burst onto the roof. She ran toward the edge of the building
and jumped.

Time suspended as she flew through the darkness. She landed
hard, her momentum carrying her into a shoulder roll.

She glanced back and saw the rest of the squad pour through
the doorway, heedless of the weak roof. She turned and rushed toward a door on
the far side of the hotel. Suddenly, she heard a crash as several of the men
fell completely through. The others froze where they were, then took aim at Sai
on the other roof.

Sai dove for the cover of the entrance. Energy bolts chipped
the bricks. She threw open the door and rushed inside.

She sprinted along the carpeted hallway to a lift and
pressed the down button. She paced the floor, waiting for the doors to open. She
decided that once she got to the ground floor, unless there were more men
waiting, she would head for the Warehouse District of the Starman’s Quarter. She
needed to reach the port tonight and get off this rock before they could
tighten the noose.

Finally the doors hissed open, and she stepped into the
lift. “Ground floor,” she said. The doors closed, and she felt the lift
descend.

Brock stared at the path of destruction and shook his head. What
a bunch of bumbling idiots! They were here to stop one girl and what happens? They
burn half a city block, killing dozens of innocent people, but not the girl
they were looking for. Worse yet, the damned explosion took out his nanites so
he had lost track of the girl, too.

Larson listened to a report on his comlink, then turned to the
other security men. “Green Team has her cornered in a building three blocks
away. Let’s get over there and end this thing,” Larson said. “We can’t let this
woman get away. It’s personal now.”

Brock wondered if they were going to blow up that other
building, too.