Part Four
The diner known as 'La Isla' was located on one of the upper levels of Freeport 9 in the more affluent parts of the space station. It was a very different environment to the dark and threatening lower floors where Tanya was an hour before. Strangely, she felt less comfortable in these surroundings. Everything was so perfect, chrome-plated, brightly lit and beautiful but ultimately, the ultimate in superficial technical perfection
She walked alongside one of her wingmates from the last recon mission, a pilot from Liberty space called Travis Carter. Travis was good company, educated and funny, although a bit raw and incorrigible at times. He was well travelled and clearly knew a lot about Sirius. Tanya was curious how such a man just a few years older than her could gain so much knowledge of trade lanes, jump holes and even the names of some bases she had never heard of but decided against asking too many questions in case he thought she was prying. With Kenji missing in action and still weighing heavily on her mind, Tanya was just glad for the company.
The pair had been walking for over a while. Her earlier 'workout' with the Corsair gang had shaken her slightly as she crashed from the massive burst of adrenaline. Tanya was looking forwards to sitting down somewhere and resting her feet.
"There it is!" said Travis moments later, pointing at the 'La Isla' restaurant. A large dark board with a light-blue neon sign lit up the front wall above the main entrance. Two men stood outside, obviously, but unofficially and probably illegally, armed under their long jackets. They looked mean and tough, surveying the street before them with surly menace, the lights of hover-cars and other stores, bars and lamps reflecting from their mirror shades.
The Sirius Convention signed by the leaders of each Great House when the sector had been colonised many years ago, forbid the use of personal sidearms that could cause hull breaches on stations or commercial spacecraft. Tanya knew that ninety-percent of the sidearms carried these days were all capable of such damage, and more. Such a ruling was impossible to enforce.
The general rule of thumb was, "Better to have a weapon and not need it, than need it and not have a weapon."
Travis strode up to the main door after pushing his way past a growing queue. If the door guards recognised him, they barely acknowledged him, although Tanya was sure she noticed one of the men give an almost imperceptible nod. She quickly followed him inside and the door hissed behind her, almost shutting out the bustling street noise they left behind.
They both stood in a dark ante-chamber and she nearly started when a pair of sensors dropped from a concealed hatch in the ceiling. Music piped through from beyond a plain door before them and Travis paused for a moment, listening to the soft, lilting melody accompanied by various harmonies. He was nodding his head in time with the rhythm. Tanya had heard this sort of music before when she trained at Cambridge a couple of years ago; it was known as 'jazz', a 20th century musical development that apparently took great skill to master. The sensors hovered down to the ground, then back up to the ceiling over a few heartbeats, scanning them both.
A metallic voice announced:
"No hull-breach capable weaponry detected. Have a nice evening."
The sensors hissed back into their dark recesses and soon afterwards the doors opened.
She relaxed a little, smiled and allowed herself to be ushered in by Travis.
"So tell me, what is Bretonia like?" asked Travis. He poured more Amarus Wine into Tanya's half-empty glass. She nodded her thanks. "I have been as far as Cortez but the Corsairs are an unfriendly bunch!"
Tanya winced slightly at the sound of her now most hated enemy.
"Bretonia is beautiful. If you see the auroras that border the galactic north-east of Manchester, the shimmering colours so bright, you'd fall in love with the sight very quickly," sighed the girl. Travis was staring at her, his brown eyes fixed on her own studying the strange expression her face now adopted.
"Yes. I can imagine what that sight is like," he said without taking his eyes off her with some feeling. Tanya flushed, then smiled and looked around at the restaurant's interior trying to think of a way to change the subject.
Decoratively, the 'jazz club' was modern, yet quite old-fashioned. The architect had clearly envisioned some ancient culture and attempted to articulate that here, with the lush overhanging drapes, inviting couches and low tables with dim lanterns atop them. Tanya was completely absorbed with the band on the stage. They were playing such complicated yet beautiful music and all without the use of today's technology. She found it hard to concentrate on dining and drinking as well as talking to Travis. Tanya blinked and decided it was a little rude to ignore her companion for much longer.
The musicians ended their song with a flourish and the crowd applauded, Tanya joined in unabashed.
"So tell me about Texas, Travis," inquired Tanya breathlessly.
"Home of the Bounty Hunters," said her companion without looking up from his meal. Travis was chewing noisily on a rather large mouthful of braised beef steak and already sawing into the meat ready for the next chunk. He didn't notice Tanya's eyes glaze at the mention of the feared group of independent mercenaries known for their ferocity in combat as well as infamous beginnings; most Bounty Hunter's are ex-criminal gang members, that in rare cases are captured rather than destroyed and given a choice of join or die. For many, the decision is easy.
A flash of light struck Tanya behind the eyes again and a powerful, intense headache enveloped her head, forcing her eyes shut.
"What are you here to do?" said a voice shrouded in dark shadow. "Who do you work for?"
Tanya jerked her head to one side, as though reeling from a blow. She glared defiantly up at her assailant, the feeling of momentary panic as she realised her arms were bound to a chair quelled savagely as she fought to analyse her surroundings. A heavy hand struck her again on the cheek and she felt a trickle of blood make its way down the side of her mouth to her chin.
"Tanya. It says here you signed under the name of Tanya. I'll ask one more time, the next time won't be as gentle," said the gravely, male voice. She was sure he was smirking, though the white light being shone into her eyes almost blinded her. She heard someone move from behind, so there were two people in the room. "Tanya. What is your business here? What are you trying to do? Tanya? Tanya!"
"Tanya? Tanya!"
"Tanya!" said Travis shaking the girl by the shoulder. "You ok? You went blank on me for a minute," he looked worried. Tanya blinked.
"I'm ok. I just get these headaches. They're hard to manage sometimes," she took a long sip from her glass, then returned to her meal. Tanya noticed her lip was cut; perhaps she had bitten it during her vision. She took the napkin from her lap and dabbed at the lip for a while until the cut stopped bleeding. Travis sat there watching in silence for a few minutes, chewing on his own food thoughtfully.
"You want to talk about it?" he asked eventually. Tanya hesitated, then her shoulders slumped slightly, as though she was infinitely tired and carrying a burden far too great for her age.
"Well, I keep hearing..voices. See things. People. It's confusing. Sometimes I feel that I don't know who I am anymore," Tanya looked up, then down, then back at Travis. "I know things I shouldn't. Do things I didn't know I could do. So confusing," she repeated and internally scolded herself for being so emotional and quickly rubbed at her eyes with a napkin.
Travis tried to look comforting but only ended up looking like a newborn lamb who's chin was dipped in gravy.
"What do these voices say to you? About whom? Go somewhere? Do something?" he asked, frowning as Tanya attempted to stifle a chuckle, unsuccessfully and wiped his chin swiftly.
Tanya thought for a while and her expression hardened.
"I don't know. I feel like I have a mission to complete, or maybe a quest, but I don't know what it is," Tanya realised her glass was empty but before she could refill it herself, Travis shook his head and filled her glass full emptying the remnants of the wine bottle. A passing waiter expertly swept it up. A few moments later another bottle was set down on their table. Tanya and Travis sat watching the band return to the stage and begin tuning-up for another song
"You must remember something. Anything," pressed Travis, waiting impatiently for the waiter, who was lingering in case the couple wanted to order something else, to walk away. When he eventually did, Travis spoke again. "Maybe, these orders were specific. Or something horrible, like assassinating some poor sod. Recover something. Or perhaps something even more terrible," he laughed.
Tanya shrugged but watched him closely for a few more heartbeats than she normally would. Something had changed in his speech. He seemed, intense, although he had feigned joviality at the end. Perhaps he was hiding something.
"I am no murderer," she said firmly, looking straight at him, her green eyes cold and piercing. He laughed, to no-one in particular, looked up and saw the icy chill glare and cast his eyes downwards again to his plate quickly.
A voice whispered in her mind echoed the same word over and over; 'Murderer'. Her instincts told her something wasn't right, she put down her glass and stood up. Travis stood up too, his expression neutral.
"I have to use the restroom. Bio. I'll be right back," she said smiling too. Travis nodded, but the movement was edgy. He took her hand and kissed it, Tanya did well not to flinch from the contact.
"Sure. You bet. I'll be right here. Don't be too long or your dessert will go missing!" he laughed.
She waved and walked away towards the direction of the female restrooms. She increased her pace and noticed out the corner of her eye a couple of men at the bar watching her. Perhaps they were just curious, or something more sinister, perhaps? She would have thought nothing of it, but noticed another pair of men sitting in a booth near the stage. They were talking, but not looking at each other, instead their eyes were focused on her too.
Something was up.
Just before Tanya reached the door to the restroom, a waiter walked over to her.
"Excuse me, miss? Are you a pilot with Orbital Spa & Cruise?" he asked. He was carrying a silver tray with a note on it.
"Yes," said Tanya. "Can I help you?"
"Is your name Tanya? Tanya Williams?" Tanya glanced around for a moment, then nodded.
"Yes. What's the matter?"
"I have a message for you," replied the waiter and presented the tray with the note. She took the note and the waiter walked away back to the bar.
The message read:
Tanya, I hope you are safe. You are in great danger. We were ambushed. Someone is trying to kill you. Leave Freeport 9 ASAP and head to Omega-41. I will meet you at Freeport 5. Kenji
'Kenji!' thought Tanya, almost saying his name aloud. How did he know where she was? She rushed to the restroom, splashed water on her face and thought quickly. She had to get out. And be back within eight hours. That was when the Orbital Spa group planned to return to the Hawaii. And what to make of Travis? Tanya didn't feel he could be trusted. She would have to distract him and then make her exit quickly. Tanya looked at her watch, thirty minutes before her Eagle would be ready. It would take just as long to reach the hangar. Her mind was racing.
The door opened and her eyes narrowed, a group of women walked into the restroom chatting animatedly.
Tanya's eyes brightened.
"Excuse me? May I interrupt?" she asked, beaming a smile.
Outside, unseen by Tanya, her companion Travis nodded at the two pairs of men seated elsewhere in the bar. He'd taken a long route to reach the diner, by which time his men had set themselves up at various points, preventing any possible escape. He almost balked at the idea of having to kill the girl. She was extremely attractive. Beautiful, in fact. One in a million, he decided. A real waste of Sirian resources. Maybe he could 'borrow' her for a while before taking her back to LPI.
"Oh well, a job is a job," he murmured to himself. Travis reached under their table and after a few seconds of feeling around closed his hand around the hilt of a gun. He tugged it free and still keeping his hands hidden out of view, primed the blaster and set the charge for a maximum stun. He watched several people walk in and out of the restroom corridor and was getting impatient. What was taking Tanya so long? After ten minutes, he nodded to one of the men at the bar. He got up and walked over to the restroom corridor, disappearing inside. A few moments later he ran back out into view.
"She's gone!" he shouted into his comm. Travis' eardrum nearly burst. "There's no-one in here!"
Travis swore and rose to his feet, then ran to the ladies' restroom. He barged aside a few hapless diners and shoved the door open pulling his sidearm ready.
It was silent, except for the sound of a dripping tap. Travis aimed the blaster at the man he sent first to investigate, who quickly raised his hands.
Travis walked up to each cubicle pushing the door of each one open. Nothing.
"Damn! Find her! She can't have got far!" Travis cursed inwardly. He could hear his men rushing around the diner and outside searching for her. How did this happen? He cast his mind back, trying to remember the events previously and ran back out into the diner. Precious minutes were being wasted.
Travis ran back into the restroom again, his eyes suddenly growing cold and smashed a mirror with the butt of his gun. Fragments of the reflective surface fell to the floor, a particularly large piece fell near to his feet. He glanced down, and growled.
The man reached under the sink and found something that had been stuffed underneath one of the sinks and wrapped around a pipe. He pulled it out. It was a jumpsuit.
Tanya's jumpsuit.
Breathing hard, Tanya ran at full speed along the corridors rushing past curious onlookers towards the main hangars pausing only when her lungs burned in protest.
She ducked into a dark alley between two stores and hid herself within the recess of a fire exit, then tore off the wide-brimmed hat from her head, throwing it to the ground and pulled the knot of hair that was under it free, allowing her long, blonde tresses to fall about her shoulders.
She recalled the moment she escaped. Tanya asked the group of girls who had entered the restroom if she could borrow some clothes to avoid an incredibly obnoxious date. The girls sympathised and happily obliged offering several items of clothing that Tanya had gratefully put on in place of her single-piece jumpsuit. They offered to walk out together placing her in the middle. Luckily, Tanya wasn't particularly tall or short and the crude disguise worked.
Having recovered her breath, she stepped out from the recess and walked briskly to the hangar.
Ten minutes later, Tanya was strapped into the cockpit of her Eagle. The powerful Very Heavy Fighter was equipped with the latest Zoner technology. Her top-of-the-range weapon systems included the latest Fury3 photon cannons, a Cannonball missile launcher and Advanced Debilitator pulse laser completed the load-out, along with a full complement of mines and countermeasures. A grateful Tanya thanked the maintenance engineers and requested permission to leave the station.
"Freelancer, Alpha, T, Zero-Four-Five. You are cleared for take-off. Good luck out there," announced Docking Control.
Tanya checked her navigation map. It was a short flight galactic west of Freeport 9, to an asteroid field. Then through a jump hole to Omega-41. It wouldn't be long before she would see Kenji again, and they could all travel back home.
"Has she taken off?" asked Travis. He was watching the nav map displayed on a HUD in his ship.
"Yes," came the reply with slight static interference.
"Good. Have our ships rendezvous at the designated co-ordinates. The girl should be almost there by now. I think our little ruse has worked. Tell our local Bounty Hunter contacts that a wanted felon is on the run and travelling through the area. I'm transmitting her picture and ID signature now." Travis pressed a button and a beep indicated successful transmission.
"Tanya Ramirez? She's an Outcast assassin? You sure about this, Carter?" asked the man on the comms incredulously. "These Outcasts are a dangerous bunch. Even if your plan succeeds in isolating her from the other Orbital Spa pilots, they are capable pilots on their own."
"I know what I'm doing. I've been tracking her group of killers for nine months now. She's the last one left. And I'm taking her down. That million credit bounty is all mine."
Their dialogue paused for a moment.
" You sure we have the right person?"
Travis considered this.
"No doubt. She is the right target. Except, she may have forgotten who she is. God only knows what they did to her on Cambridge. Get moving. I'll see you space."
(cont'd)