Chapter Twelve: Intersection — Part 6
“Is it really that hopeless?” Shadow asked.
“If we had fifty thousand troopers as skillful as you, I’d still lay odds at two to one against us. I might even take those odds, considering the alternative. But Grid is just one of many battles we’ve been losing, and if we don’t fall back and work from a smaller zone, we don’t have a hope of defending the other fringe worlds. Grison’s troops are too organized, too strong, and too numerous. If we’re to win the war, we have to lose this point. It is highly unlikely that our rear guard, the troops that are staying behind to ensure the safety of the main fleet, will survive the assault. We’ll hold until the main fleet slips trans-galactic, then we’ll try to escape.”
“Will you be staying behind to coordinate the retreat?” Shadow asked.
“Yes, I won the honor by a draw of straws among the high ranking officers.” The General paused, considering something. “I have no idea how you’re going to get past the forces approaching this system, as we are certain to lose sixty percent of our troops punching a hole through so the civilians have a chance at escape. But seeing your track record, I’d be willing to bet you’ll find a way. I’d be willing to pay you handsomely to take care of three passengers for me. I know the First Sergeant wanted to throw them on you as fresh crew, and they will work for you, and follow orders quite well, but they are important to me, and I’d like you to think of them as valuable assets and as crew. How does 5,000 shards sound for training costs?” The General slid a folded piece of paper in front of Shadow, and she took it in her hands, not bothering to open it just yet.
“5,000 shards?” She said, making sure she heard right.
It was more than most people made in a year. What was better than anything was that shards could be traded with alien races for alien materials and technologies. Shadow had earned most of her shards by smuggling illegal technology into and out of heavily monitored Fringe Worlds, and she hoarded them like most people horded gold.
“Sound fair to you?” The General asked.
Shadow ignored the obvious questions that the General’s manipulative tone would have normally generated. “Yes sir. Please give me the passenger list.”
“You’re holding it.” General MacPhearson smiled and rose from his chair. Shadow and the General shook hands, her grip surprisingly tight. The General put her chair back where it belonged, and led her to the secretary, who had already packed to leave.
“Miss Hawke, if you could get Xeti to escort you and Captain Storm to the Hub, you three could be on your way.”
Didi saluted tightly then led Shadow back out of HQ.
“This list has a third passenger, Ferret, no last name?” Shadow said.
“He’ll be waiting for us at the Hub.” Didi said, as if that explained it all.
“And I’m assuming you know where he is?”
“He’ll find us.” Didi added quickly. “There’s Xeti now.”
Xeti, of course, had been the soldier who had taken Shadow to the base. It would have made sense to station him between the base and Shadow, so she could bump into him and have a chance to bond with him, however minutely, beforehand. Sadly, she had forgotten his name, despite its rarity, shortly after he had left her presence, as it had seemed at the time irrelevant. It was one thing Shadow and most military Generals had in common – a desire to control every possible aspect of an encounter, and a tendency to discard impertinent information. Shadow and Didi crawled onto the back of body armor field unit, and Xeti took a full ballistic trek to the Hub, not even bothering the let the battle unit’s feet touch the ground. Via a radio interface, Shadow gave him directions to her private hangar, set safely at the outskirts of the city.
They arrived at the edge of the hangar, the bay doors opening as Shadow approached. The doors responded to Shadow specifically, no other person or entity would ever have gotten passed those doors without an arch welder and several hours of free time. One they were inside the hangar, Xeti set down, and once everybody disembarked, the field unit left the hangar, returning to military HQ. The ship took up a majority of the hangar space. The skimmer was a high speed, interstellar cargo craft. Well cared for and in good order, Shadow obviously ran a tight ship.
Those who had put their chips in with Shadow took keen notice of the sterile environment around the ship, as Shadow’s hangar bay was cleaner than any facility, military or civilian, that either of them had ever seen. The ship itself was a modification on a common military in design, sacrificing some of its cargo space for weapons and electrostatic shield capability. Curious, Didi slammed her fist against the side of the ship. The gray toned armor didn’t make a sound. Her hand smarted more than it should have, and instantly her flesh turned ice cold. Pulling her hand away before the fully charged armor could quick-freeze her to the bone, Didi let out a whistle.
“Displacement armor is classified material. It’s the only thing the Chran can’t scrap in one hit. How did you get hold of this stuff?” Didi wondered, her thoughts a mix of awe and concern.
“Black market.” Shadow said.
“I haven’t seen this design before.” Xeti said, running a hand gently across the surface of the ship.
“It’s my design. Deflects energy and mass rounds, disrupts radar and minimizes resonant emissions – making me inaudible, invisible, and almost indestructible – at least from the occasional pot shot. Are those glasses the only reason you were a secretary instead of a ground trooper?” Shadow asked, looking sideways at Didi.
“Hmm?” Didi spoke absently, as if Shadow had distracted her from another conversation entirely. “Oh, yeah, I guess that’s about the only reason.”
Shadow studied Didi and Xeti quite closely. The major difference between both Xeti and Didi and the countless hundred other battle-hardened troopers Shadow had come across in her travels, besides a pair of prescription glasses and cold gray skin, was both their uniforms. The First Sergeant, the General, and most of the grunts she’d come across were slobs, wearing what seemed to Shadow to be downright skuzzy uniforms. But Xeti and Didi both were meticulous. Didi’s was a perfect contrast to Xeti in color, just as her skin and eyes contrasted each other in an odd, almost abstract way. Every bit of her armor was fluoride polished to a satin sheen, and her pistol shined as if it were chrome plated. The two of them, she decided, lacked the hardening of common ground troops. They were either special troops, or held in reserve, for some reason.
“Why’d they give you battle armor if you weren’t supposed to see combat?” Shadow wondered.
“I’ve been the General’s bodyguard for three years. My replacement was in training for six months, or I would have left sooner.”
“The Sergeant said you were the General’s daughter.”
“It would explain a lot, though I’ve never called him father.” Didi said, her eyes glazing over in retrospection.
“What about you, grunt?” Shadow half demanded, looking the man up and down.
“Uh, I’ve been in some of the worst battles for Grid. I just have a lot of free time on my hands, between battles.” Xeti sounded like he was hiding something, but he transmitted no emotions beyond that gray skin of his; no thoughts, no organic energy left his body at all, not even body heat.
Shadow took a moment to look at his eyes, to study his expression, hoping that her instincts, which had so little information to build on, were correct.
