The Ramal Extraction (5 page)

Still in a crouch and ready to move, Kay took in the scene.

Her target was down, already mostly bled out; Jo’s target lay on his back, his arm obviously broken. The third guard, missing the top half of his skull, was sprawled boneless, certainly dead.

Twenty meters away, Gunny Sayeed stood holding her pistol with two hands, muzzle pointing skyward, alert for more threats.

“Head shot,” Gramps said. “What a fucking show-off.”

Gunny grinned. “Those who can, do, old man.”

The colonel was wrong, though. It wasn’t quite over. The driver of the bus stepped out of the vehicle’s door with a short rifle and swung it up to point at the Rajah—

Jo, who was closest, pointed her right forefinger at him, and said, “Stop!”

She didn’t wait to see if the driver would obey. A crackling green bolt shot from her fingertip and struck him. He jittered, dropped his weapon, and fell, spasming and twitching as his nervous system burned out.

Sims shook her hand. “Ow. Ow! I keep forgetting how much that stings!” She stuck the tip of her finger into her mouth.

Now
it was over. Except for what would no doubt be a major investigation into the Rajah’s guards, to see who was apt to cut loose at him again and who’d step in front of those guns to save him…

The head of the Rajah’s Security Unit was a massive, swarthy man, two meters tall and maybe 130 kilos; he had a thick, black beard but a shaved head, and he looked as if he could chew nails and piss needles. His curved knife had a plain, well-worn grip-scales, and the sidearm he wore was a massive, gray-handled thing in a beat-up leather holster. No silks, he was in a blue flexsuit and traction boots.

Nothing ceremonial here; this was a man who used his weapons a lot and was geared to move in a hurry.

Wink wondered if his pulse wand would even slow the giant down if he decided to give him grief. Be interesting to find out…

The security man, introduced as Ganesh, stood at the head of a long, oval table made of wood with a beautiful, close-grained flame pattern in it, light against dark.

Behind him on the wall, a hologram flowered, and Ganesh nodded at the recording.

Cool air flowed over them, a welcome relief to the heat outside. Wink had never liked hard tropics. Give him a
temperate world with mountains and a lot of liquid water, that was his kind of planet. Deserts and jungles? Leave those for lizards and apes.

There weren’t any other locals here except the Rajah’s prospective son-in-law, Rama, whose father, if Wink remembered his briefing, was the son of the rajah next door. Jadak? Something like that?

For their part, they numbered half a dozen: the colonel, Jo, Gramps, Gunny, Kay, and himself. All of them carried holstered sidearms now, and there were a pair of CFI troopers outside the conference-room door with assault rifles watching their backs, with two quads more at the transports.

The half-size holoproj showed a courtyard, viewed from maybe four meters above. The courtyard was full of colorful tropical plants, a small bubbling pool of water with orange-and-white hand-sized fish darting about in it, and a walk of what appeared to be dark cobblestones or a pretty good imitation of them.

After a few seconds, a woman appeared, walking from the right side of the frame toward the left. The woman wore a sari-style garment in what looked to be a pale blue silk, with matching slippers. A slight breeze molded the cloth to the front of her body. From the drape of the cloth, she was obviously female, a bit thin, but curvy. Her hair was dark, parted in the middle, and worn in a long braid that hung midway down her back, and she carried a cage of bamboo, containing a scarlet bird the size of a small parrot, but with a straw-yellow-colored, toucanlike bill.

“The Rajah’s daughter, Indira,” Ganesh said. His voice was high, girlish, and Wink had trouble reconciling that soprano with the man’s appearance. There was something spicy on his breath, a pleasant, mintlike odor.

As they watched the recording, a figure approached the woman from directly underneath the security cam. He was taller than she was by a head, wearing a gray coverall with
a hood, and she turned to face him as he drew nearer. Only his back was visible.

There was no audio, but the woman said something.

“She asks, ‘Who are you?’” Ganesh said.

Indira frowned.

The man—perhaps a large woman?—pulled a small pistol from a coverall pocket. The figure wore thin gloves.

Indira tried to run, but the gunner fired before she could take even one step. She dropped the bird’s cage, clutched at her belly, and doubled over—but stayed on her feet, swaying.

The cage hit the cobblestones and broke apart.

The bird freed itself from the wreck and took to the air. Three meters high, four, level with the camera—

The shooter thrust the gun at the bird and fired again.

The bird dropped like a brick. Hit the cobblestones, bounced once, lay still.

Gunny said, “That’s a good shot with a stubby handgun, to hit a bird in flight point shooting. He’s some kind of pro.”

The shooter pocketed the weapon, caught the wobbly woman, and hoisted her over his shoulder in a rescue worker’s carry.

A man. He moved like a man,
Wink thought.

The kidnapper hurried away, in the direction the woman had been heading. He disappeared.

Ganesh waved one hand. The projection shut off.

Jo said, “Was the bird some kind of messenger? Apt to bring help?”

“No,” Rama said. “It was a warbler, trained to sing traditional songs. My gift to her.”

“Apparently the shooter was not a music lover,” Gramps said, but his voice was quiet, so Wink barely heard it. Probably just as well the Rajah and his people didn’t hear it.

“We believe the bird was shot to tell us something,” Ganesh said.

“What would that be?” That from Kay.

Ganesh ignored her. He looked instead at Cutter. “We recovered the projectile from the bird and examined the missile. A low-velocity anesthetic dart. Sufficient to kill the bird, but only potent enough to make a human semiconscious for a short time. They meant us to know they had not killed her. They would know the garden was covered by cameras. With the bird, that would be sufficient for us to know.”

Wink caught a whiff of Vastalimi hormone. Kay was angry, at least a little.

Ganesh caught it, too. He turned and gave Kay a cold glare. He said something almost under his breath, and Wink heard it—
Karāhiyat
—but didn’t recognize the term.

Kay’s claws popped out, and she grinned at Ganesh, angled her head to one side.

Not a pleasant expression, that—

“At ease, Kay,” Cutter said.

After a moment, Kay’s claws vanished. She kept watching Ganesh.

Ganesh sneered. He tried to stare Kay down, but he was wasting his time. Vastalimi had nictitating membranes that protected their eyes. She could hold that expression unblinking all day if she wanted. Humans didn’t win staring contests with Vastalimi. Plus, if the Vastalimi got tired of it, he or she could always just claw the offending eyes out…

After a bit, Ganesh glanced away.

“And there has been no call for ransom?” Jo asked.

Rama shook his head. “We have had no demands of any kind from those who took her. They are allowing us to twist in the wind.”

Jo said, “If they wanted her dead, they could have killed her right there.”

That mirrored Wink’s thought. Shoot her with something harder and leave the body.

“Unless they had worse than a clean and quick death in mind,” Ganesh said. He kept staring at Kay.

Rama hissed something at the big man, who quickly looked down at the floor.

“Your pardon, sah.”

“She is
not
dead,” Rama said to the others. “I would
know
. But those who took her will wish their parents had never met before they die!”

Jo said, “And you have no idea who might have done this?”

Ganesh shook his head. “We do not. The Rajah has enemies. Some insurgents who would change the world to suit themselves. Foolish, but enemies.”

“As do I have enemies,” Rama added. “And I will address them.” His fury was barely suppressed.

“We’ll want a list,” Jo said.

“Of course.”

After they left, headed back to their transports, Gunny walked next to Wink. She said, “That ole boy Ganesh don’t know how close he just came to leavin’ this plane.”

Wink looked at her.

“He called Kay an abomination in Hindi. Apparently she knows that tongue.”

Wink shook his head. “A xenophobe. Great.”

“Yep. He gives her any shit when Rags ain’t around? Ah wouldn’t want to be him.”

Me, neither.
Around Vastalimi, it wasn’t a good idea to say such things, especially to the females. They didn’t put up with much crap. They were always willing to go to the end, win, lose, die, all the same.

Jo stepped up closer to them.

Wink had never bothered to get much in the way of augmentation, and he wasn’t running stressware, though he knew Jo was. “Was the bald asshole lying?”

Jo shook her head. “Not that I could tell. Unless he’s got better autonomic control than he does of his emotions, I didn’t get stress tweaks except when he looked at Kay. He doesn’t seem to know who took the girl by the indirect questions we asked.”

Wink said, “What of the intended? He telling the truth?”

“He hopes she’s alive, though he can’t be sure—I’m a little leery of folks who claim ESP. She could be dead. He certainly seems pissed off about it.”

“But like you said,” Wink added, “if that was the intent, they could have easily killed her. Do we know how the kidnapper got past her guards?”

“Nobody follows them around inside the palace,” Jo said. “How they got inside? Nobody seems to know that, either. There are blind spots where the cams don’t go. Didn’t see him come in, didn’t see them leave.”

“Knew what he was doin’,” Gunny said.

“Obviously.”

“So it would seem they had other plans for her,” Jo said.

“Which could mean she is still breathing,” Wink said.

“Anything is possible.”

They caught up to the others.

Cutter said, “Well, I’m going back to the ship. Might take a little nap. Get the FCV set up, put together an investigative plan. Give me a briefing when I wake up.”

Jo nodded. “Yes, sir.”

When they got the FCV rolled out and were halfway through the checklist, Jo got a call from the outlying sentry on the north road.

“Captain, we got company. J-Corps, a looie, sergeant, and four troopers, inbound in an AT roller. Should we let them pass?”

He sounded hopeful, but Jo didn’t want trouble with the GU. “Wave ’em through and smile politely. I’ll handle it.”

“Yes, Cap.” He sounded disappointed. There was little love lost between regular and corporate military—until the regular guys came looking for a job, of course.

Kay was already outside, standing in the hard-edged shade offered by the FCV, looking at the roller coming up the road.

“GU Army vehicle approaching,” Kay said.

“I heard. Why don’t you stand there and sharpen your claws or something while I speak to them. I know it’s against your nature, but try and look dangerous.” She grinned.

Kay whickered.

The roller arrived three seconds later, top up and a cold pump blasting—Jo could feel the cool draft from three meters away when it stopped and the doors opened. The soldiers exited.

The lieutenant, a tall woman with a military buzz, slipped her compact helmet on, adjusted the lid, and gave Jo a long, cool stare before she and the sergeant ambled over.

The sergeant was male, shorter, shaped rather like a brick, and had a face that had known too many fists and maybe a few boots over too many years. Both wore tropical greens, the camo unlit, and both sported issue 12mm Hauser pistols.

There is no need to fear, the Galactic Union Army is here…

The other troops stayed by the roller, rifles slung, in parade rest. Wouldn’t take long to heat their uniforms up to the sweat point. Military-issue garb was not nearly as breathable and fashionable as the Cutters’ own boilersuits.

“Who’s in charge here?” the lieutenant said.

“For the moment, the XO would be me,” Jo said. “Captain Sims, CFI.”

The sergeant grinned but the lieutenant kept her expression flat. “Captain. I’m Lieutenant Dodd, XTJC. I was given to understand that Cutter was here.”

“
Colonel
Cutter is unavailable at the moment,
Lieutenant
.”

The sergeant looked as if he was about to speak when something caught his attention. That would be Kay, stepping out of the deep shadow into the sunshine. Her orange fur gleamed enough so Jo could see it reflected on the sergeant’s scarred face.

Nice. Perfect timing.

He had missed her. A mistake, and he knew it.

The sergeant drifted his right hand nearer the butt of his pistol.

“Lay that hand on your weapon, Sergeant, and you won’t like what it gets you.”

He looked away from Kay and at Jo’s face. “Oh, really?”

“Hosep. At ease,” Dodd said.

“We don’t have to stand here and listen to this cutthroat make idle threats, ma’am—”

Dodd said, “Seal it, Sergeant. The captain here is running more augs than all of us put together, and that’s a
Vastalimi
less than four meters away, in case you lost your memory of how fast they can move. There are only six of us.”

He considered that. Outgunned, and he knew it. He nodded.

“We didn’t come to tussle,” Dodd said. “Only to deliver a message from Colonel Hatachi. We know why you are here. As long as you obey GU laws, we won’t have any problems. Step over the line, we come down on you like the thunderbolts of Zeus.”

Jo smiled. “Nobody is looking for trouble, Lieutenant; we’re just here to do our job.”

“Your job.” Hosep said. “That’s funny.”

Jo kept her smile in place. “Yeah, it is, kinda. Because if you’d been doing
your
job, probably we wouldn’t be here at all.”

Not true, it wasn’t their responsibility, but it was a good cheap shot. XTJC brought that out in her.