A Time For Ryda (4 page)

“Your troops dared interfere…” she snarled.

“Enough!” Slamming his fist on the hovering desk, the Gauten was gratified to see the Rezident dart back, as if he’d intended to strike her. “From what I understand, this Terran spy slaughtered most of your people before my patrol even arrived!”

“Perhaps it would be wise for you to remember who you’re dealing with.” Pure hatred poured from the Rezident’s gaze, though her body remained rigidly in control. “I’ve brought down bigger men than you.”

“Is that so? Well, then you shouldn’t have trouble bringing down one scared girl.” Shaking his head, the Gauten turned away from her, once more looking out at the evening sky. “Now go.”

Several moments passed. Finally, he heard the Rezident stride from the room, the musical chime once more sounding as the door opened and closed of its own accord.

Sighing, the Gauten stared wistfully at the darkened horizon, but the sun had already completed its final plunge, leaving the Rydian sky in almost complete darkness.

***

A warm, calm heat caressed the entire length of her body. Rolling onto her stomach, Eve was immediately rewarded by the same soothing intensity along her back. Unbidden, a few languid footfalls approached, followed by strong, masculine hands spreading a cooling ointment along the long, taut muscles in her legs and shoulders. Sighing with pleasure, Eve squeezed a fat ankle in thanks, allowing her eyes to drift slowly open.

Gazing out along the surface of the deck into open space, Eve was rewarded with a stunning view of her home world, placidly situated in a sea of stars. A few other planets drifted behind Ryda, the long tail of the Nasari Nebula providing a slash of brilliant color. All in all a nearly perfect panorama of the Rydian System, but for the trio of Gandian battle cruisers in orbit around the Rydian home world.

Such a grievous flaw, however, provided only an additional measure of comfort for Eve’s host.

A disgraced former media executive at the time of the invasion, Hanson Lex had instantly presented himself in the Gauten’s office, pledging complete loyalty to the new regime. All of Ryda’s formerly independent media companies had been made subsidiaries of a new state-owned conglomerate, with Lex as the titular head. Since then he’d become both fantastically wealthy and utterly despised, surviving at least two assassination attempts.

He’d also proven to be Eve’s ticket off of Ryda. An hour after escaping the Contemplar, while Gandian security forces were still rushing about, she’d sauntered past Lex’s luxury yacht in Blasaria harbor. Once more her natural, healthy blonde self, she’d smiled up at the corpulent man on the aft deck, asking if he knew where she could find a decent party. Ten minutes later they left harbor, spending the next twenty-four hours cruising underneath the Yalyer Sea. At Eve’s request, they had then blasted out into space, the better to work on her tan.

Though eager, Lex’s endurance had proven agreeably short. In fact, he mostly enjoyed watching Eve with his regular mistress, providing regular encouragement and even choreographing the action. Cantella was a sweet girl, though, and even with Lex’s incessant babble it had been as pleasant a way to pass the time as any.

Still, it was dangerous to stay in any one place. Though Lex’s yacht had proven immune to any Gandian search so far, the authorities were no doubt frustrated in their attempts to find the Terran spy. At some point, even an exalted turncoat like Lex might suffer the indignity of a Gandian boarding party, with DNA scans for everyone.

“Some more Rodasia leaves, my dear?”

Smiling up at Lex, Eve made a point of ignoring the Gandian patrol ship slowly cruising past his right ear, entirely visible through the atmospheric bubble encasing the yacht’s rear deck.

“Now there's an idea, Han.” Raising an eyebrow, Eve touched his leg once more. “Maybe Cantella would like some as well?”

Giggling, the Gandian toady looked over at the gorgeous redhead. Idly poking at a holo-magazine, the pages leaping up before her, Cantella seemed unaware of her benefactor’s attention.

“Ah yes. In-deed!” Inanely drawing out the last word, Lex was acting as if he’d just seen his mistress for the first time. “A wonderful idea. Oh, Cantella!” he cooed, stumbling in her direction. “Our very good friend here just had a wonderful idea…”

There were two crewmen on board the yacht, who normally kept as far away from the big man and his guests as possible. As Lex crossed the deck, however, Eve caught sight of the yacht’s “captain” staring out of the rear window of the ship’s superstructure, down at the round sun deck extending from the rear of the vessel. Eyes almost comically wide, the man focused first on Eve, then Lex, then back again. Noticing Eve’s casual scrutiny, the captain darted away from the glass.

Quickly rising to her feet, Eve gave Lex a big smile. “I’ll be back in a minute, love.” Then, before he had a chance to object, she took a deep breath of air, passed through the bubble field encasing the aft deck on which they’d been sunning themselves, took a few steps through exposed space, and then passed through the door field into the ship itself.

Jogging down a short passage, she then leapt up a short flight of stairs onto the main bridge.

Clearly engaged in a hushed, animated conversation over the center workstation, the captain and his “mate” were stunned by her sudden entrance. Casually, Eve walked a few steps into the control room, smiling at each man in turn. The normally pleasant pair said nothing, the captain visibly shaking as he reached down to a cabinet by his side.

He never made it. Darting forward, it took Eve a mere moment to incapacitate both of them.

There was a holo-terminal on the workstation, pre-set to Lex’s Gandian controlled news station. Activating it, Eve was not very surprised to find her own image floating before her, firing a gun in the Contemplar. Apparently frustrated over the past few days in their attempts to find her, the Vextar had gone public with Eve’s identity. The accompanying story claimed she was a member of a Rydian terrorist network, and had slain 36 innocent civilians in an attempt to blackmail the “legal authorities” into releasing other jailed terrorists. Of course, Eve was armed and dangerous, ready to kill anyone in her way.

Well, in one respect they were correct. Retrieving the captain’s gun from the cabinet, Eve went back down to the exterior doorway.

“Han!” she called out from behind force field. “The captain wants you right away.”

Lex was collapsed in the center of the bubble field, the universe laid out all around him. “What for?”

“A message from the Gauten’s office,” Eve replied, carefully hiding the gun behind her.

Lumbering to his feet, fat jiggling in every direction, Lex almost forgot to take a breath between force fields. Eve stood back as he dove through the narrow doorway, gasping for air.

“Message?” he blurted out, his obese body barely clearing each bulkhead. “What message?”

“You've been fired.” Carefully blowing a hole in Lex’s forehead, Eve then managed to shove the corpulent corpse in a nearby cabin.

Unaware of the drama unfolding all around her, Cantella lay blithely on the bubble deck. Calling her inside, Eve unceremoniously displayed both Lex’s lifeless body and her gun for the young redhead. She seemed quite unmoved by either.

“I'm a Rydian patriot,” was all Eve said by way of explanation. “I need to take the ship down to Cenadia. Do you know anybody there?”

Cantella nodded. “My older sister is married to a landowner. They live on a farm in Janed.”

“Excellent.” If at all possible, Eve wanted to spare her interrogation at the hands of the Vextar. “We'll land nearby. Can you find it on your own?”

Nodding, Cantella kissed Eve on the cheek. “Thank you.”

A minute later the yacht began moving again, circling the system a few times before plunging down into Cenedia’s atmosphere.

***

“I have news, Madam Rezident.”

“Excellent.” And about time, the Vextar chief thought. “What is it?”

Emboldened, her new deputy’s holographic image unconsciously straightened up. “A sweep of the harbor area revealed minute traces of the target’s DNA.”

“How old?”

“About four days.”

In other words, right after the Contemplar debacle. “Are the traces concentrated in any one place?”

“Indeed, Madam Rezident.” The man nodded knowingly before continuing. “The target’s DNA was located primarily by the quay reserved for Hanson Lex’s private yacht.”

“Really?”

“Several witnesses also report seeing a woman matching the target’s description getting on the yacht on the day in question.”

Well, that could mean anything. The TAIN spy was very skilled at disguise, and the Vextar was well aware of Lex’s weakness for young women. “And where is the yacht now?”

“Missing.” Now the deputy looked positively smug. “Radar records show the ship heading for Cenedia yesterday, though its present location is unknown.”

“I see.” The Rezident drummed her fingers on the desk for a moment. “And what of Lex himself?”

“He missed a holo-conference this morning. No one knows where he is.”

“So, in other words,” the Rezident said. “The TAIN spy likely tricked her way onto Lex’s vessel, killed him and the crew, and may now be on Cenedia?”

“That is correct, Madam Rezident.”

“Then why the hell didn't you just say so!” she screamed, banging both fists down before her. “You imbecile! Jerk off on your own time, and find somebody else to watch you do it!”

“Mad…Madam Rezident…forgive me…”

“Shut up!” God, how she missed her former deputy, killed four days ago in the Contemplar. If for no other reason, the TAIN courier would die a slow death just for making her suffer through his idiot successor. “Just shut up and stand by!”

“Yes. Of course, Madam Rezident!”

Flipping off the holo-monitor, she then pressed another button. “Bring me the prisoner.”

Accompanied by two guards, Peter walked into the office.

“Ah, if it isn't my favorite Benedict Arnold,” the Rezident purred, courteously motioning to a chair before her. “Take a seat, my friend. Perhaps there may be a way to save your miserable life after all.”

Hesitantly, Peter sat down. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked, Madam Rezident. It’s not my fault…”

“Shut up, Peter. Just shut the fuck up and listen.” Sighing, she leaned toward him, head propped on both hands. “It appears, Peter, that your girlfriend may be on Cenedia.”

“I’ve told you, Madam Rezident, I didn't know it would be Eve. I didn’t even know where she was…”

“You miserable wretch,” she pleasantly continued. “Do you really think I could have risen to my present lofty heights while believing filth like you?”

Peter sullenly looked down. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do.” Standing, she now circled the desk, positioning herself behind Peter. Leaning down, she now whispered in his ear. “What's on Cenedia, Peter? Why would she be going there?”

“There's a large Resistance cell in Undaria.” Taking a deep breath, Peter let his eyes drift closed. “Failing to make contact with me, she might very well deliver her message there.”

“This very same message that you know nothing about.” Firmly nodding, the Rezident gently stroked Peter’s cheek with a fingertip. “And why, my young friend, have we heard nothing of this large Resistance cell before now?”

Shivering slightly at her touch, he said nothing.

“Killing you would be a great pleasure.” Sighing, she walked back around the desk, plopping down once more at her desk. “Unfortunately, you may yet survive all this. In fact, Peter, you could well become a wealthy young man, living a life of indolence and ease.”

A spark of interest flared in Peter’s eyes. “How’s that?”

“You know this Eve better than anybody else.” The Rezident shrugged. “I need you to help us identify and capture her.”

He briefly considered. “I could do that.”

“Good.” Standing once more, she gave Peter a big smile. “Last time we used too many people. Now, a more surgical approach is in order.”

***

It was typical Undaria, overcast and depressing, an unavoidable consequence of both the town’s misty, tropical location and using climate controllers year round to limit the constant rain.

Things were beginning to pick up at the Frontier Saloon. Opened a quarter-century before by Hank Denton, an actual Terran native, the place had been entirely decorated in the motif of the Wild West, complete with old six-shooters, ten gallon hats, and grainy pictures of the heros of yore. Already a dozen or so hovercycles were parked out front, while several financially motivated young women had a smile and kind word for the miners heading inside.

With the gathering crowd and inviting music from the Frontier Saloon, no one paid much attention to the seemingly middle-aged woman shuffling down the street, head hidden beneath a dirty shawl. Giving the Saloon a slow, wide berth, she continued on to the end of the block, finally turning a dusty corner. If there was a certain doorway the woman was particularly interested in, it certainly wasn’t apparent.

About ten minutes later a younger woman, though still bearing the haggard, worn appearance of someone beaten down long ago by Undarian life, came back from the same direction. Pausing to inspect the few remaining items from that morning in a baker’s window, she then faced the street once more, giving a quick look in either direction before preparing to cross to the other side.

Just then an old hag darted up, defiantly thrusting out her hand.

“Alms, miss!” she barked, weaving back and forth. “Come on, I know you've got something!”

Hesitating a moment, the first woman reached into her small, drab purse. “I don't have much, but...”

The beggar suddenly lost her balance entirely, falling against her supposed supplicant while thrusting a gun into her side.

“Oh, my dear,” the Rezident breathed, jamming the muzzle painfully between two ribs. “I think you have far more than that.”

Feeling the Rezident’s hand come up to the back of her head, Eve’s whole world seemed to explode in light and sound. Barely able to think, she was unceremoniously shoved down an alley by the bakery, a rough hand ripping the thin holo-generator from her hips.