A quiet whir from the computer control system, and a three dimensional map of a small, dusty planet appeared on a cooridante grid on a flat translucent monitor screen. "Approaching destination, charted planet Bravo-Charlie III, Mach-XX boosters disengaged," a simulated male voice informed the occupants of the sleek ship.
A young woman stood up from a desk in the rear of the cockpit area, closing a laptop and walking to the pilot controls. She could not have been very old, but nor was she too young, looking to be somewhere around eighteen or nineteen. She had a sun-kissed tan, evidence of time well spent outdoors on Earth, and gray-blue eyes. Framing her face and falling just below her shoulder blades was honey blonde hair that swayed slightly as she moved. She wore fitted black pants and a fitted white shirt and a one and-a-half-inch wristband on her left arm, and thrown over the pilot's seat was a black leather jacket.
Punching in a few keys on one of the many control boards, some covered in odd symbols and some with nothing on them at all, the voice spoke again, filling the silence with its placid announcement. "Reducing speed by twenty five percent, reverting to manual control for aircraft landing."
"Computer, give me the coordinates for the closest secure hangar to the capitol city," she said in a composed tone of voice. The three dimensional map of the planet rotated and crosshairs landed on a point. "44.7 degrees north, 23 degrees west, .5 miles outside the city." the ship's voice answered, to which the young woman responded again. "Enhance the map image." A square appeared around the highlighted coordinates and enhanced it into another window. "Enhance again." A satellite feed came in through the window, showing her the hangar.
Narrowing her eyes, she nodded to herself and took ahold of the controls, heading for the hangar.
About a half hour later, the ship was docked securely and the young woman was exiting the aircraft. "Revert to shutdown mode," she commanded the ship, thinking to herself <i>Better to let the cells refuel, I shouldn't need to leave immediately.</i> She grabbed her jacket and a utility belt from her desk, and left the cockpit, punching a few numbers on a lighted panel, and the door slid shut behind her. Walking down the corridor of her ship, she checked her watch. "I should be just in time." She left her ship, the main entry doors sealing behind her. Glancing around the hangar, she walked outside through an exit door, and began walking towards the capitol city, only half a mile away. She pulled on her jacket and strapped the belt, slim and black, around her waist.
She looked towards the city, her eyes settling on a large building that towered above most others and was in slightly better condition. Glancing around again to ensure no one was watching her, she touched her right index finger to the pad on the wristband of her left arm, activating her teleport device. There had been no need to keep it on in the ship, despite the nuclear fuel cell - miniature and harmless though it was - that powered it, but outside of her ship, it was always activated. She began walking again, gray-blue eyes set dead ahead on the stadium, and she disappeared without ceremony, reappearing in an alleyway behind the building. A drunkard was lolling about, and didn't even notice when the young woman appeared three meters from him and began walking through the alleyway.
She entered the stadium, it's doors wide open for any to access, and was met by the loud noise of an angry mob, cheering on the two men that battled eachother in the center of the ring. She manuevered easily through the crowd, with only a few disturbances.
"Hey sweetie, wanna go for a ride?" a large man with alcohol on his breath and animal rage behind his eyes asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder as she walked by.
"Maybe some other time," she responded coolly, removing his meaty paw from her arm and disappearing into the crowd before he could try to persuade her otherwise.
She recieved some more of the same attention, all met with the same reaction, until she spotted what she was looking for. A man sat up in a secluded booth, surrounded by a few lackeys, behind what appeared to be bulletproof glass, though she was fairly sure there were some specially customized weapons, including hers, that would make it otherwise. She watched their ongoings for a moment; she was not far from them but they would not have noticed her there, amongst the business of the crowd. The man issued a few orders to a slight, small Freyan woman, who then departed. She was about to move when someone grabbed her from behind. It was Mr. Wanna-Go-For-a-Ride again.
"Hey, nice to seeya again, babe," he said, a faint slur in his voice from the liquor.
"It's not mutual," she responded, indifferent to his presence as she began to release herself from his grip.
This only seemed to anger him, and he tightened his grasp on her arm. "I never learned to take no for an answer, doll, so why don't you just come with me?" There was more of a command in his voice than a question.
"Maybe you need to be re-educated, then" she shot back. The young woman narrowed her eyes at him and looked around. She didn't want to cause a scene but she wanted this guy to get the hell off of her. "Lesson one," she said, circling the arm he had in his grip so that she had ahold of his arm. Her thumb pushed against his wrist, not far from some of the main arteries and tendons, and flicked against the tissue. His arm went limp. She had affected a pressure point. "Don't touch people. And lesson two," she used her other hand to touch the temple of his forehead, long enough for her to establish a strong telepathic link. She used that link to influence his brain to release excessive amounts of endorphins to his nuerotransmitters. This caused him to suddenly become induced as if by an opiate, or high-content drug, and the man became unaware of himself, and lapsed into unconsciousness, falling backwards onto a chair. "Good dog," the young woman said distantly, moving away.
She was now in poor moods and as she turned around, was walked directly into by a pair of rugged men, both looking as if they wanted to wreak havoc at any moment. "Damnit, watch where you're fucking going," she scowled, pushing the one who had walked into her off and away. She recognized them, almost instantaneously, Major Clay Allison, a renowned and nearly legendary officer back on earth, and Adric Thoen, or as many people knew him as, Madadric. The last she had heard of him, he was doing time in one of the most advanced Maximum Security prisons in existance without parole. What a curious couple to be in the middle of this revolting planet. She ran her tongue ring against the roof of her mouth and silently wondered why she hadn't picked up news of their presence on BC-III on her interceptor back in the ship. The release of one of the upper revolutionaries had to be something noteworthy, unless there was a reason for hiding it. The girl herself was an anti-communist, and while she had been involved in some major schemes and plots before, some successful and some not as, putting her name on the lists for capture-on-sight, she had a fifty percent chance of not being recognized by Clay, who had resigned not long ago.
"It's probably not too safe to walk so undisguised here, Clay Allison," she said calmly. Her eyes flickered over to Madadric. "Nor you." If she was recognized, she couldn't be (legally) arrested, Allison was no longer a part of the forces. She projected her voice telepathically into their minds, so that they alone heard her next words. <i>"They know you're here, but the question is, what are you here to do?"</i> she asked, without introducing herself, without any prologue of any kind. She just straightforward wanted to know what their intentions were... it could not have been any kind of good.
_________________ <center><i>Don't touch the pretty, fucker.</i></center>
|