Rift Breaker (20 page)

Luylla raised her pistol and fired. Pulses cut clean through the window. She spaced her shots evenly. The drone emitted another chirp and accelerated in her direction.

The
Inhibitan
shot across her view with thrusters blurring the air. On the glass, tiny cracks spread out from her handiwork. Luylla grabbed the chair from the next desk and screamed as she hurled it into the window. The chair burst through the weakened surface. Shattered chunks of twinkling glass spun out into the cool night air.

Across the room, deep inside the drone's hollow metal tube, a spark flared and burst into a screaming flame. A missile exploded from a silo, spun through the air and veered up over the office floor. The projectile homed into the office chair, as it bounced off the side of the security gunship.

Luylla sprang to her feet and rolled over the table. The gun-ship exploded behind, lighting the office bright orange. The remaining windows shattered, blowing glass against her back armour. The war drone twitched its aim in confusion; its systems were racing to recalibrate its bearings. Luylla raised both pistols and fired as she strode towards the metal monster. Her blasts stung its armour. She adjusted the line into the underside of its shell. It twisted and shivered. With that she holstered her weapons and broke into a sprint. Meeting the machine head-on, she dived, rolling between its legs, turned around and leapt onto its back.

The drone twisted erratically. Luylla held tight, her legs flailing. Her metal fingers tore off the maintenance panel. She ripped out a handful of sparking circuitry. A tangled mess of wires and instruments dangled from the open port. She drew her pistol and nailed three shots into the exposed area. The drone slowed under her. She blasted again. A scrambled half-chirp sounded and the machine sank forward, falling headfirst into the floor.

Luylla stood and caught her breath. The breeze cooled her sweating skin. The vapour trail from the missile hung in the air, leading to a dispersing cloud just off the building.

The elevator pinged. Sentinels charged out. Behind them appeared Adel.

‘Kill her,' the old lady screamed.

Luylla spun and pushed off the metal hill, keeping it between her and them as she ran for the window. They opened fire. The homely sound of the
Inhibitan
carried through the air. A harsh wind shot into her face. Her ship came into view above. She withdrew her grapple launcher and blasted the craft's underside. Cable whipped out. The launcher beeped. The
Inhibitan
ascended. The slack tightened and she swung into the night. Tri-barrelled plasma whizzed past her.

Luylla clutched the launcher to her chest as she swung and turned in the wind. The sentinels gathered at the edge of the drop. Luylla drew a pistol and fired; one of the metal bodies dropped off the tower.

She holstered her gun and breathed deep with eyelids clamped tight. Once she gained distance, the cable turned and she caught a glimpse of Adel, the Krusian crime lordess, standing at the window, utterly pissed off.

Seventeen

Tazman tightened the chin strap on the weighted contraption on his head. Sitting on the counter, he leaned forward and gave the twisted cable some slack. It fed, suspended in the air, from his head to the med computer across the room.

He squinted to see the figures on the distant readout. He had decided to sit but the position was more awkward than he had realised. So far he didn't recognise anything that looked like an anomaly. Actually he didn't recognise anything, full stop. The graphic of his brainwave activity highlighted different sections in different colours. He wasn't sure what any of them meant. He assumed the bright purple was an indication of his overall braininess, which was a strong indication he was healthy, because there was so much of it.

Maybe the apparent effects of the safe haven radiation had worn off. Then again, there was no doubt in his mind the Xoeloid and Milton were wrong in the first instance. Why would they be
right? They didn't scan him. They were wrong and Tazman had proved it — by scanning himself — maybe.

Keeping his head completely still, he moved his eyes down and to the right. Luylla sat at the wall-mounted operating table with her back to him. She'd set pieces of her forearm meticulously before her. A well organised grid of the different parts.

She held an electronic burner and reached it across her body to the base of her upper arm, its plating removed.

‘You need a hand?' asked Tazman.

She paused. ‘That's not even funny,' she replied, with an unimpressed look on her face, which was so obviously a put-on.

‘I mean, would you like me to help you?' he said.

She placed the tool on the table and leaned back in her chair. ‘Yes.'

‘Good,' said Tazman, leaping from the counter. He fidgeted with the chin strap and slid the delicate contraption off his head. ‘This is boring anyway.'

The brain readout froze and reverted back to the instructional screen, which he had also failed to understand. He didn't care anymore. He was always right in every case. He was in love with this simple fact and emphasised it whenever he could. He hung the contraption on a rack and dragged the other chair to Luylla's left side. Tail slid through the gap as he sat down.

‘Hmmmm,' he said, looking over his new and exciting task. She was trying to repair a shorted-out coupling feed.

‘This is kids' stuff. I'll have you punching out bad guys again
in no time.' He grabbed the burning tool. ‘This is a lot easier with two hands.' He enjoyed having a job to do, knowing only he could accomplish such a professional result. He took a pair of non-conductive pliers and pinched them where he needed to. Then he lowered the burner and started to weld. Thin ribbons of smoke snaked from the spark. ‘I won't be able to fix the screen without a replacement but I can get the remote pilot gizmo to work. You should be able to activate some systems but don't count on flying straight.'

‘Just be careful, okay?'

‘Relax my dear. You're in my capable hands. We can't have an
unarmed
bounty hunter.'

He glanced up and caught her smile that conveyed ‘I can't believe you just said that'. She turned away and untied her dark hair, running her hand through as it fell to her shoulders. Tail flexed and flipped into the air.

‘Yeah, so like I was saying, you don't seem to be the mercenary type,' said Tazman.

Luylla sighed. ‘We've been over this.'

‘Briefly,' dismissed Tazman. ‘Normal mercs are sadistic materialists. They don't care about anyone.'

‘And you think I do?'

Tazman held back a laugh. ‘It's obvious you do. Why are you even out here? Come on and share a little. You know about me.'

She sighed, stared at the wall and began her story.

‘My father was a diplomat. He fought uphill political battles
for most of his life and his people loved him — an important guy. As a kid I was frustrated with him being away all the time. To make it up to me, he offered to take me and mother on one of his missions. Being young and full of wonder, I jumped at the opportunity. Mother wasn't so sure, but accepted for my benefit.'

Tazman secured the coupling and screwed down its housing frame. He connected the new wire to its socket and started on the next one.

‘The ship was a diplomatic transport, with apparent “air-tight” security. When we boarded, the preliminary checks were taking a long time. Patience wasn't … isn't one of my strongest virtues; I got bored and snuck into the cargo hold. Then there was an explosion and a ringing in my ear. I don't remember much after that. I woke in a medical centre and found out that a bomb had gone off in the passenger quarters.'

‘No way,' said Tazman, pausing from his work. ‘An assassination?'

She nodded. ‘That's how I lost my arm. Everyone else onboard had been killed. Authorities found no trace of who did it. But I haven't stopped looking.'

Tail flicked one last time then stayed on the floor. Tazman continued working with no further questions. Luylla turned away and subtly wiped her eye on her wrist.

‘I'm sorry about what I said on the skyway platform,' said Tazman.

‘You didn't know.'

A moment of most comfortable silence passed between them. Tazman replayed in his mind what he'd said to her and understood how much his words would've hurt.

Then his thoughts turned to Milton and suddenly the weight came crushing down on his shoulders. He didn't think much of his own elders, so he didn't think much of anyone else's. Tazman had left his tribe unannounced. He was still indifferent about the whole thing, but that didn't mean Milton or Luylla would feel the same way about their home planets.

Luylla cleared her throat. ‘Have you looked over the data?'

‘Not yet,' he replied. ‘It should've finished decoding by now.'

‘I want to see it.'

Tazman dropped what he was doing and moved to the wall-mounted computer at the foot of the table. He pulled the keypad out from its slot drawer and summoned the data. The information appeared and he keyed in the approximate time code. The screen divided into a grid of tiny grainy surveillance images.

‘I heard they came through the hangar first,' he said, typing another command. A view of a hangar enlarged to full screen. He unclipped the monitor from the wall and swivelled it on its arm to where Luylla could see.

The screen showed the colourless image of a hangar. A loader trundled across to a pile of cargo. Someone walked across the view shouting orders. Tazman recognised the face but couldn't recall the name. The loader extended its arms and clamped to the
handles of one of the larger supply crates. The machine reversed a moment then stopped when a bright flash came from the hangar doors in the background. The flare washed out the screen and the blurry image of the other crewmate ran across to the fire safety equipment.

The flash faded down to the normal exposure. The hangar door had been breached; its right half bent out of shape and leaning out of position. A shape lingered behind the wall of smoke shrouding the airlock. The detail was obscured, but it looked to be a transport of some kind.

The blur of an armoured creature swept through the smoke. Blasts of energy shot haphazardly from its weapon. A second invader followed and broke off in a different direction. The screen fuzzed with static and more creatures stormed through. The crewmember discarded the emergency equipment and changed direction to the exit. A cowardly shot hit him in the back and he fell forwards, sliding awkwardly. Blasts from multiple sides bombarded the cargo loader. The guy inside struggled with his buckled straps. He just got them off and sprang from the seat when a blast sliced between the bars of the safety guard and he slumped forward. The invaders spread out to the exits, in a slow advance on the rest of the ship.

Growing enraged, Tazman focused himself on fixing Luylla's arm.

‘Tazman, look,' she gasped, pointing.

He looked up the moment before the image fizzled out.
He caught a glimpse of what Luylla had seen. He set down the burner and went to the keypad to set the time code back. Both regret and anger overcame him. He pulled the screen back around to see.

He froze the image and enhanced the area around the broken hangar door. The view zoomed in. The
Inhibitan
's onboard processor enhanced the blocky image gradually from top to bottom. He stood back, raising his hands into his face, not knowing what to do next, wanting to shrink into a ball.

‘I hate being right,' he said. Tail flapped forward and knocked the screen into Luylla's view.

The image contained an unmistakable form and face, with a black hooded robe and two mirror eyes.

Tazman paced up and down the cockpit and yelled at the hyperspace tube on each successive pass. ‘What the phut do they want with him?' he asked. ‘This was all about Milton. The
Reconotyre
,
Orisurrection
— they blew it all apart because they wanted him. Why? I don't know if Reelai was telling the truth about the warpholes but he showed quite an interest in Milton's brain. Oh no!' he cried in realisation. He leapt into the co-pilot's seat. ‘Milton said they were going to operate. He'll be lobotomised!' He twisted over towards Luylla to better make his point. ‘I should never have left him — not for a single spuckon.'

The red destination alert went off. Tazman let out a cry. Tail swung in a high arc. He whipped his attention to the front. The tube disappeared and the green nebula exploded into view. Luylla accelerated to the spine covered ‘refuge' once again.

The alien complex looked exactly how they'd left it, but now felt more unwelcoming than ever.

‘All right, we act like nothing's out of the ordinary. I'll tell them we need to talk to him,' he briefed. ‘Then we grab him and get out of there.'

Tazman reached across the controls to receive the incoming transmission. ‘Come on, come on,' he said, holding the gold disc to the front, ‘enough with the spooky noises.' The boarding terminal extended. He hurried down to the hatch and listened as the terminal locked to the ship.