"Who did it?"
"Where?"
"Was anyone hurt?"
"Shut your yaps! I'll tell what I just got told." The crowd quieted somewhat, though there were still several muttered conversations going on here and there. Roble rubbed a hand across his face and sighed wearily. "The patrol was just north of Kensing, east of the Loring Tower, when they were hit by another group of swoopriders. Bait says that there were no markings on either the rides or the riders. The patrol scattered, as per orders. Now we're waiting for them to start reporting in. That's all I know, so don't bother asking for more."
I scanned the crowd quickly. //Who's not here?// I ticked faces off on a mental list. Bait, Cougar, Chaser, Marlo, Dez ... My heart seized and I gasped as I came up with one more. Sloan. I slid off Phyl's shoulder, not helped much by his attempts to keep me from 'falling', and ran to Shael's side, my arms going around him automatically. His kid brother was out on that patrol.
I could see it in his face, in the line of his body, the tension in his muscles. Shael was scared, deep down, pit of your stomach scared. His dark eyes refused to focus on anything and he turned this way and that, as if to scan the assembled crowd for his brother, to discover that his fear was silly. But Sloan wasn't there, and Shael, who had helped make the patrol schedules, knew it as well as I did.
Roble settled a hand on Shael's nearest shoulder, offering what comfort he could. Mason did the same on his other side. The four of us didn't move, but just stood there, waiting, hoping for that call to come in.
After a moment, I noticed the difference in temperature between my skin and Shael's. He was coming down off his fight high and crashing hard with this news about the patrol to help. I flagged Ishtari down and gestured to her. The red head nodded and dashed off to get shirts for the two men with me. We pushed Shael down into a chair next to the comm board, got his shirt on him, and I sat in his lap, snuggling up against him. He clutched at me as if his life depended on it, but he had eyes only for the comm board and that dark incoming indicator.
And there was nothing more that we could do. We didn't even know where Sloan was, so it wasn't as if Shael or anyone else could go out looking for him or the others. Sloan and his fellow patrollers would call as soon as they had time. Until then, all we could do was wait and hope.
Bait, true to orders, had remote triggered the alarm system for Armageddon when he commed in. Roble had known that it would likely be the only thing that would get immediate attention, what with the Fights taking place. Each of the other patrollers would do the same as they commed in.
I pressed myself as close to Shael as I could, alternately hugging him and stroking his face, hair and chest in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mason hovering nearby. I knew he wanted to ask me about something, but I just didn't have time for him then.
*Talk to Ishtari,* I signed to him. *She knows what you are, and she won't tell.*
After a momentary hesitation he nodded ever so slightly and strode away, much to my relief. Ishtari could answer his questions about the other gangs or alarms or whatever it was he was stirred up about. I couldn't leave Shael.
The alarm warbled the first couple of its high pitched notes, and we all jumped in reaction before Roble hit the override. He punched the receive button and spoke toward the mic as several others drifted silently closer to listen in.
"Report."
"Patrol was hit and we scattered." Marlo's voice crackled out of the speaker. "I've taken cover at location seven and will wait for nightfall to come in."
"You clear?"
"Right now, yeah. I'm worried though, Boss."
Death's hand gripped the edge of the board and his knuckles whitened, but that was the only outward sign he gave of any apprehension. "Why?"
"I was ridin' drag, and they hit us from the side, so I had a purty good view of things when we scattered. Boss, they split into threes and followed Bait, Dez, and Sloan. Whoever they was, they didn't look like they was choosin' at random."
Shael's hands gripped me tightly and I tuned out the rest of the conversation. I focused only on him, my hand forcing him to turn and look at me.
"Shh. Sloan knows the streets of our territory as good as anyone else in the gang.," I said.
"He's just a kid," he broke in sharply.
"Shh." I pressed a kiss to his lips to keep him quiet. "He's not. Sloan's twenty-four and he can take care of himself," I corrected.
"He's my brother!" Shael gritted out.
"Shh. I know. I know." I stroked his cheek and pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You've just got to believe that he'll be okay." Shael wrapped me in a fierce hug and buried his face in my hair. "Mom and pop made me promise," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "They made me promise that I'd take care of him."
I was an only child, so I didn't pretend to understand brothers and sisters and the way they seem to drive each other crazy while still loving deeply. All I could do to help was be there for him and let him hold me until Sloan came back. Or didn't.
//No, don't think like that, it won't help anyone.//
I just held on to my man until the next alarm jolted us a third time and started the fears flowing all over again. Roble hit the cutoff before more than the first note of the alarm could do more than jangle our nerves.
"Report."
"Patrol was hit, Boss. We scattered. I'm about a klick out and coming in hot," Cougar warned, no hint of his usual smile in his tone. "Make sure the door's open."
"You seen Chaser, Sloan or Dez?"
"Chaser's tight off my aft end, Boss. We met up at location eleven."
"I hear you, door's open."
Instead of decreasing, Shael's tension was winding higher and higher. The rule was that you shouldn't use the comm if you think someone might be monitoring. We didn't want anyone else figuring out what frequencies we used, though I have to admit the rule's a bit on the paranoid side. It's not like everyone on the planet knew we even had the helmet comms. It was Frank who figured out how to fit them in and between him and Tri'est the channels and switches had been hammered out so that anyone could get the hang of using them. In fact, not everyone had one yet, though the few Horsemen without were the ones that didn't ever go on patrol.
The only reason I could think of that Sloan hadn't reported in yet was that he was still being chased by those other riders. Or he was down. //Don't think like that!// Sloan was just still being chased. He'd lose them and we'd hear from him and he'd come back safe and sound.
I slipped away from Shael only once while we waited there for his brother to comm in. I grabbed Mason and explained what I wanted and he accepted it silently and left to get it done while I grabbed some food and went back to my man. As soon as Roble was done talking to Cougar and Chaser, Mason pulled them aside and took them over to Ishtari. The woman was a superb fighter, rode like a Sith out of hell, and on top of that was a surprisingly skilled artist. I'd charged Mason with making sure that everyone who came in from the patrol talked to Ishtari about what they'd seen. She would draw up any faces that could be remembered.
Maybe Shael or Trapper would recognize one of them as the men who had ambushed them those weeks ago. If they did, I wasn't sure what it would mean, but it would be one more piece of the puzzle that Mason and I could use to try and figure out just what was happening around us.
Shael didn't particularly want to eat, but since I was pushing food in his mouth, the easiest thing for him to do was chew and swallow. I didn't blame him. I didn't particularly want to eat either, but it gave me something to pass the time, other than watching the commboard and biting my nails to the quick.
Dez checked in, reporting that he'd managed to lose his tails, after a dogged and relentless chase in the heavy evening traffic as normal people, people who had no clue that a war was being waged around them, hurried home from a long day's work.
It was surprisingly easy not to be bitter about those people with normal jobs and normal lives. Sure, their world was more secure, safer than mine, especially now, but mine was alive. I soared with the eagles and chased the wind, I risked reputation and mainframe against glory and my family with every single slice I did. Even when my heart ached, my eyes stung with tears I wouldn't let fall, and my gut felt hollow with denied fear, I knew I was alive. As a once popular song went: 'If you're going to feel the pleasure, boy, you're bound to feel the sting. I'd rather have it broken, broken, than to never feel a thing.' I gladly exchanged a life of same old, same old for moments that let me feel such strong emotions.
With great gain comes the possibility of great loss, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Except, at that very moment, Sloan's life.
Darkness fell, Bait and Dez rocketed in and Marlo commed to let us know that he was on his way, and still no word from Sloan. Doc ended up slapping bacta patches on a couple of blaster burns, and old riding leathers were brought out to help patch up current sets. Roble, Shael and I were rarely more than a couple of paces away from the comm board. The triplets gladly brought us dinner there, but we ate very little of it.
When it happened, instead of the alarm, the triple note of the encoding warning warbled once and went silent. The two men were only half a step behind me as I snatched up a headset, plugged in, and brought up my decoding programs. An ID program spun through its routine and spat out the information it had before triggering the next program in line. Whoever was on the comm, and I was certain it was Sloan, wasn't using one of the seven standard encryptions I'd set up for the gang, but one of the three emergency ones.
Roble inhaled to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. I had a feeling that it was very important for us to keep as quiet as possible and I didn't want him to say anything that might be picked up by his headset's mic. Sure enough, a moment later a soft whisper hissed in our ear pieces. "Crash?"
"Sloan?" I whispered back, following his example. It wasn't likely that anyone would be able to hear us through the sound dampening on the helmet, but if he was being careful there was probably a reason for it. "Sloan, are you okay?"
"Yeah, tell Shael I'm fine, but they've got me."
"Who's got you? Angels?"
"Don't know, never seen 'em before," he replied. "I spent all afternoon dodging 'em and trying to shake 'em, but they must have called in reinforcements 'cuz they finally managed to box me in."
"Turn on your tracking pulse," I instructed, fighting to keep my voice level and calm. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get him and I didn't like what that could mean.
"What if they notice?" A touch of healthy fear tinged his voice.
"We'll risk that," Death broke in. "Turn it on. If you think they've stopped moving you, you can turn it off again in a couple of minutes."
There was a muffled click and I began flicking switches on the board. "Okay, we've got you, Sloan," I assured him. "Now, let us know what kind of building you're in, entrances, exits, that sort of thing-"
Shh!" he whispered sharply, cutting me off. Then, the young man who might as well have been my own kid brother launched into a creative string of ear curling curses that seemed to cut off mid caustic description of someone's probable parentage. Shael gave a blistering oath of his own and lunged forward, as if he could reach through the comm board and pull his brother back through it. I slapped a hand across his mouth to prevent any more loud outbursts and shouldered him aside. Turning up the gain on the comm, I also kicked in some filters. Seconds later I had him back.
"You'll never get away with this, you pigeons." Roble winced away upon hearing this. Sloan was about to get himself killed. Everyone knew that pigeons were just slow-flying sacks of sh- well, you get the idea. If you wanted to insult a swooper, that was the easiest way to accomplish it.
To my everlasting surprise, nothing happened.
"Let me go now and the Horsemen may let you leave with your pathetic rides in one piece."
"Quiet, kid," someone snarled back.
"Shut him up," someone else commanded. "And bring that helmet. His nibs thinks there might be comm gear in it."
There were slight, distant sounds of struggle, and closer, a scuff of a boot, a scrape of duraplast on permacrete. After a tense moment, what I had feared most happened. "Hey, there's a light of some sort in here." The voice was almost enough to deafen, since it was so much closer to the helmet's mic. "Boss, I think he was right, and I think this kid's been talking to his crew."
"Let me see that," again distant and low. A slight whistle, probably from being tossed through the air. "Could be. Did you hear anything?"
" "
"Give me your blade."
A sharp, high-pitched hum announced the arrival of a vibroblade near the mic, a crackling hiss, and then nothing.
Again Shael scrabbled at the board, turning filters off and on, changing the gain across the spectrum, switching frequencies, anything that might possibly bring the signal back. But it was gone. Roble and me, we let him do what he wanted. He needed to expend the energy and frustration that I could see driving the muscles in his arms and back. I wanted to help him, to hurt for him so that he wouldn't have to, but I couldn't. When he was done venting at the electronics we would see what else was needed. For the moment, though, there was no reasoning with him.
I stood back, my arms wrapped tightly around myself, hands chafing at my arms. In a drifting moment's thought, my mind brought up mental pictures of the three men deliberately singled out, and looking back it wasn't hard to draw the lines and connect those dots. Dez and Bait were both about the same size and build as Sloan. He had been their target the whole time. Fear spiked through me, but I quashed it ruthlessly. I didn't have time for it. Shael needed me still. I could let Shael and Roble do all the worrying for me.
Soon Shael's desperation played itself out and he leaned, defeated and weary in mind and body, against the comm board. He closed his eyes and rocked slightly back and forth. Darting close, I hugged him tightly. "He's okay, Shael. They wouldn't have gone to such trouble if they just wanted to kill him."
"I'll hunt them to the ends of the galaxy if they so much as bruise him." Shael's voice was low and menacing in a way I'd never heard before, the muscles under my hands tensing and jerking.
"We'll get him back if we have to go to war," Death told him softly. "He's my little brother, too."
"And mine," I echoed, still holding my man tightly. Shael's chest still heaved with deep, ragged breaths, but I could feel his muscles relaxing just a little under my hands as he accepted our reassurances. A slower breath, a tired nod, and then he returned my fierce hug.
We were silent then, just holding each other, Roble supporting us both with his presence. The rest of the gang would know soon enough what was going on and Shael would have all the sympathy and vengeful agreement he could stand. But for now it was just us.
"Is there any chance they'll recognize the tracking pulse?" Roble asked me after a few moments.
I shook my head. "I don't think so, not unless they knew exactly what they were looking for," I responded. "Frank or Tri'est would be able to tell you for sure."
"Then we have an advantage. We know where Sloan is, and they don't know that we know." Death sighed and reset the comm board to the default stand-by mode. He was sighing a lot more than usual recently. This gang war and all that went with it was something we Horsemen could really have done without. "They took Sloan for a reason and they'll tell us when they're good and ready. Get some rest, you two."
I caught Roble's eye and we shared a worried look. Yes, there was a reason, and I think we were sharing similar thoughts about what that reason might be. I pulled Shael away toward his bunk, and he came easily, more tired than he would ever willingly admit. I didn't even need to give him a gentle shove to get my man to lay down. He didn't let go of my hand though, and pulled me down beside him. Cuddling up close, he tugged the light blanket up over us, and I spent another night in his arms, though this time I was comforting him.
*******
Too early in the morning, Roble's hand on my shoulder woke me from an unhappy dream. As disgustingly early as it was, I almost thanked him for it. My sleep had been full of horrible images of loved ones lost, starting with my parents and continuing right on to Sloan. I rubbed tiredly at my eyes as he went on to wake Shael and then the two of us followed him to his office. Shael slumped into the first chair he came to and I slumped down right on top of him, my head on his shoulder.
Death's face was grim as he settled into his chair on the other side of his desk. "We just got a call," he said with no preamble. "It was the men who have Sloan."
That got our attention.
Shael, a sick fear lurking in the back of his beautiful eyes, swallowed, then nodded. "And?"
"And their request wasn't what I expected. They want us to skirmish against one of the other gangs, specifically the Wildcards."
"But we can't attack Bobby and his crew," I protested. "They haven't done anything to us!"
Death nodded, his head moving slowly, and I took a closer look at him. There were dark rings around his eyes, and the muscles of his face and shoulders all drooped just a little. It seemed that he had passed the night even more badly than me or Shael had. "I haven't a clue why they would want us to do this, but they say that's the price for Sloan's life."
"We can't do that," Shael stated flatly. "We can't ... " He took a deep breath that shuddered through his chest and I stroked at his cheek, trying to comfort. "We can't trade Sloan's life for those of Bobby and his family, or the Horsemen who might die as a result." His voice was dead sounding, like the heart had been ripped out of him, and my own heart cried for him.
"Maybe we don't have to," Death said softly.
"What do you mean?"
"They're not swoopers, Sloan's message got us that much information about them. That means they won't know how we'll react. That's one advantage. Unless they figured out what the tracking pulse was or thought that he managed to tell us where they'd taken him, odds are long that they'd move him. That's the next advantage. We know where he is and they don't know that we know."
*******
The plan we came up with was simple. It had to be, we had little time. They wanted us to make the strike within the next three hours. And they demanded that Shael go with the raiding party. He wasn't happy, kept insisting that we could put his jacket on someone else and they'd never know the difference. I doubted that. They'd managed to figure out somehow which of the three they had been chasing was really Sloan, so something told me they'd know if Shael wasn't really with the raiders.
The raiding group was large. It included the triplets, Trapper, Bulldog, War, Bait, Plague, Reeabok, Lyman, Frank and his cousin Al, Chaser, Nox and a dozen others, more than a quarter of our total members. And they were all armed to the teeth. The rescue party, on the other hand, was quite small, and I had to fight tooth and nail to keep it that way. Too many people wanted to take some shots at the low-down, honorless pigeons that had Sloan. Ishtari argued against overwhelming numbers by saying something about being able to go unnoticed, but very few of the men were buying that. Death finally had to step in and put his foot down.
Mason, Ishtari, Nash and myself would try to get Sloan back while the raiding party went blasting off to do absolutely nothing more than take a nice ride. Roble and Shael both were unhappy at my inclusion, but they couldn't reasonably counter any of my arguments. I knew more about security systems and how to get past them than any other Horseman alive, and the rescue party was probably going to need me desperately.
Sometime, in all the confusion and hurrying back and forth, Ishtari found a chance to pull me and Shael aside. Three of the faces she'd sketched with the help of the others matched up with Shael's memory of the small party that had hit him and Trapper. He rubbed absently at the healed- and-gone blaster burn he'd gotten from them while he looked at the pictures.
"That's them, but I couldn't tell you what it means."
Ishtari shot me a sharp, significant glance, but I held my tongue and shook my head at her. I'd promised not to tell and saying anything now would call for more explaining than any of us had time for.
When it was time to go, Shael held me in a crushing hug and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "If you don't come back, I don't know what I'll do," he whispered raggedly.
"You'll go on and help Death pull the gang through this," I told him, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes. "Nash, Ishtari, and Mason won't let anything happen to me and I won't let anything happen to Sloan. Go, and don't worry about us. If this is some sort of ambush you'll have enough to worry about keeping your own neck safe."
He kissed me swiftly, almost desperately. Behind him, Bulldog called out that they were ready and waiting. Shael opened his mouth, like he was going to say something more, ask me something, but Bulldog called again and I could see him change his mind. "I'll see you when I see you, Chenowyth."
"See ya when I see ya," I answered back, and then he strode away without looking back. The swoop engines started with a deafening roar and the whole grey and scarlet mob eased into the tunnel and blasted away into the clear morning air. I stared after them for a long while, not because I feared for him, Shael might not have had the easier part but he certainly had the safer part of that whole crazy idea, but because I hurt for him. He was worried for his brother and he was worried for me. I could see it twisting him up in every jerk of his head and every snapped order, and I hated it.
"He'll be fine, Crash." Ishtari's sympathetic hand rested lightly on my shoulder and gave me a heartening squeeze. "And we'll take care of you."
"I know that, and he knows that, but knowing and feeling just aren't the same," I murmured to her.
"That's life," she said philosophically, glancing back over her shoulder as Roble walked up to us, Nash and Mason in tow. "Ready, Boss?"
Unlike the raiding party, Ishtari, Mason and me weren't dressed in our Horsemen colors for all the galaxy to see, but in sturdy, work-a-day leathers of brown or black. We didn't want to stand out too much from any crowd. Nash, with her black-on-grey fur, was dressed only in her utility harness as usual.
"I think I should be asking you that," Roble frowned at the ex-Jedi. "Take the sub-exit to the emergency rides. I don't want to risk you being seen leaving the building. I also want you to stick to the special encrypted channel we whipped up for you. Any of the others, there's a chance that they might be listening to you over Sloan's comm set." We all nodded. Among ourselves we'd already decided to stick to tap code unless forced otherwise. Just plain safer that way.
"And if you find there's too many of them, comm for help and the rest of us will be there faster than you can blink."
That we didn't doubt in the least. All the other Horsemen were already geared up and waiting. All the swoops had been topped off with fuel, all last minute adjustments to engines had been finished, or put aside until later. It was the first time in over a year that every single ride in the place was up and running at the same time. Nash's, Ishtari's, and Mason's could have been, and would have been, but we were leaving them behind.
We were going to use the emergency rides stashed a couple of blocks away in an old underground bunker. The planning group had decided that there would most likely be a watch set on Armageddon, to make sure that the skirmishers left and no one else. We didn't want to be seen even walking away from home, let alone riding away.
Ishtari and Nashraak grabbed their helmets and led the way through the kitchens to a dry-food storage room, heading straight toward the back corner. There, they took hold of the contents of the bottom-most shelf and pulled it out in a solid block. It was just camouflage. All the cans and boxes were empty and simply moly-bonded together. That bottom shelf was just tall enough that even the largest of us could lay down and squeeze sideways through it.
Nash went first, head closest to the wall, feet toward the door, disappearing into the darkness behind that bottom shelf with her typical silence and grace. Ishtari went next, as I gave last minute instructions to Mason.
"There's just enough floor left after the shelf ends to roll slightly and get your feet pointed toward the ground before you hit the floor," I told him. "Move forward quickly, I'll be coming through right behind you, and watch your head, the overhang's kinda low for you tall people. Nash will have the lighting panels on, so you should be able to see just fine once you get around the corner."
He nodded at me from the floor and shimmied sideways through the narrow opening while I made one last check of my pockets to make sure I had everything I thought I might possibly need on this trip. As soon as I heard the scuff of his boots on the permacrete floor of the shallow pit back there, I flopped down on my back and scootched through with the ease of practice. My hand felt the edge beside me, I began my twist, tucked my legs toward my chest and landed neatly. Normally I would have reached back through and pulled the camouflage into place behind me, but we were expecting to come back this way, and we didn't have any need to cover our tracks.
Mason had moved ahead and was waiting for me on the stairs, head and shoulders hunched over to keep his head from bumping against the ceiling. I scrambled forward, and together we went around the corridor, then all four of us jogged along the narrow passageway until it met up with the Horsemen's Highway, as we called it.
"Abandoned transportation tunnels," Ishtari explained to Mason while leading us to the right and up the broad underground corridor. "The previous Death discovered them and had the passage dug to gain access." The air was cool and slightly dry, the only illumination coming from a handlight Ishtari had picked up before we left the passageway. "They run all over this sector, maybe farther. We've only explored the areas in our territory so far."
"We've opened up a couple of the street accesses," I told him as we picked the pace back up. "We use them to get in and out during lockdowns if food or other important supplies run out. I suppose that we could use them to stage surprise raids if we were the type of gang that did that." At several of those street accesses we had three or four swoops parked and waiting for emergency use. We were headed for the nearest ones and from there to Sloan's last known location.
"It would also make a good escape route," Mason commented. "In either direction."
"Yeah, if those riders yesterday had been any farther behind Marlo, he probably would have used one of them, but we're really careful not to remind anyone that they're down here to be used." I caught a glimpse of Nash's shadowy shape in the dimness ahead of Ishtari's handlight. "The last thing we need is one of the other gangs knowing that there's a back door right into our home."
There was no more talking after that, only slightly labored breathing as we jogged along, hurrying toward danger and all the hopes and worries that went with it. When us slower Humans got to the nearest stash of swoops, Nash already had three of the five out of their storage covers and was just finishing off the readiness checks. There was a moment of silence, a long shared look of determination, and then we thumped our helmets into place and pushed the swoops through the narrow crack in a building's foundation into the outside air.
The bright sunlight was something of a surprise, but not just because of the darkness of the tunnels. We were sneaking about on a mission of life and death. It struck me as somehow wrong to be doing it in broad daylight. Such things belonged to the deep of night, to darkness and shadows. At least, they did according to the holodramas.
I shook away my melodramatic thoughts and climbed on behind Ishtari. Three engines cranked over and then we blasted away, jamming ourselves into the traffic flow with our usual lack of manners, Nash in the lead as we had planned. The place where we were headed was in Speed Demon territory and they were less likely to bother any group led by a non-Human. Our biggest fears at that point were that we would either run into a skirmish in progress, or get caught by a patrol. Either one had the possibility of putting a swift end to our mission. Keeping that in mind, we moved [i]with[/i] the flow of traffic, rather than around it or in spite of it. We had one close shave, but Nash's sharp eyes spotted the patrol in time for us to dodge around a freighter until they had passed.
All in all, getting there proved to be the easiest part. The building, while not one of the towering skyscrapers around it, was still dauntingly large. And Sloan could be almost anywhere inside. We'd parked the swoops in a public lot a couple of blocks away, and taken the pedestrian walks the rest of the way, just in case they had some sort of look out.
"Can you even take a guess from the location pulse where he is in that thing?" Ishtari asked me as we lounged against a balcony railing, trying to look uninterested.
"Nope. If it were still working I could have gotten a good reading from here, but as it is ..." I shrugged.
Then we'll just have to use a little logic."
"Oh?" Nash rumbled, "like what?"
"Well, I really don't think whoever's behind this could afford to rent space on the top ten floors, for instance."
Mason nodded. "And they'd want to be unnoticed coming and going, so the next dozen floors or so are out, too."
"So, what we are looking at," Nash said softly and carefully, "is the bottom seven floors, to be on the safe side, and any basement levels there may be. And then there are the men, how many?"
"Bait and Marlo came up with ten. I'd assume that's pretty much the lot. If they're not swoopers, then they must be hired and I don't know anyone who can afford more mercs than that," Ishtari drawled, eyeing the building with distaste. "Personally, from here I think it looks like a dump."
Mason spoke up, "They'd have someone watching Armageddon, to make sure the raiders left and no one else."
"Maybe two," Nash added. "And another one or two in 'Card territory to actually watch the raid. That leaves six at best, eight at worst."
"Could be worse," I muttered, zipping up my jacket against the rising breeze. "It could be [i]much[/i] worse."
"I suggest we split up, then," Ishtari frowned. None of us much liked the idea, but we were getting very short on time. Soon enough it would become obvious that the raiding party wasn't really going to do anything of the kind and then the imminent danger Sloan was in would quickly develop into mortal danger.
"In that case, I suggest that Crash goes with me and Nashraak goes with you," Mason told Ishtari.
The tall redhead shared a look with him. That arrangement would put one Jedi in each group, the best situation we could hope for. She nodded. "Sounds like our best bet. We'll take the bottom, you start from the top and we work toward each other. First ones to find him get the kriff out of there and beep the others. Let's do it."
I gave Ishtari my spare datapad, the chip with my lockbreaker codes, and some quick instructions in their use, then she and the Trianii headed downward for the ground level. Mason and I watched for a short time, then took the nearest skywalk over to our destination. Inside we took the stairs down, rather than the float tubes, to avoid being seen by more people than necessary. I've never trusted float tubes anyway, I've never liked the falling sensation they give me.
The door into the seventh level wasn't locked and behind it we found nothing more sinister than a small home decorating firm that specialized in exotic non-Human environments. We didn't even pretend interest and left after a quick glance around. Six and five had looked like possibles for a short time, but they turned out to simply be a semi-legal escort service. Four was empty, dead empty, not a cube wall, not a dusty desk, not even a single orphaned trash can, so I locked the door behind us and we moved on.
Part way down the stairs my helmet, swinging from the length of my arm, beeped with the soft incoming tone. I reached in and hit the chin switch then raised the helmet to my ear to hear better. There was a fuzzy sort of tap, like someone flicking the mic on the other end, and then a long pause, repeated twice more, a longer pause, two flicks, a long hiss like close breathing and a single flick. Nothing. Minus One. They were on the first sub-floor and still hadn't found a thing. I replied in kind: flick, pause, flick, pause, flick, long pause, flick-flick, short hiss, flick-flick-flick-flick. Nothing. Four. Even if the enemy heard us, and could break the encryption, there was no way they could interpret what they had heard, if they even recognized it as a signal.
At the door to the third floor I sliced through the lock code as easily as I had the others and Mason and I slid through the opening as quietly as we could. There wasn't anything as obvious as a guard standing just inside, but we could feel it, both of us. There was someone here who probably shouldn't be.
The floor was laid out like an office, with permanent walls and doorways and corner offices with windows so that managers could look out through them at the menials like dictators looking down on the slaves below. I checked the ceiling and corners for security cams, but I didn't see anything. Moving slowly, Mason and I crept forward, helmets forgotten and hanging by our sides. I kept one hand on his back, feeling the muscles beneath even through the leather jacket he wore, and kept glancing behind us. The last thing I wanted was to be surprised from behind by one of the thugs that had Sloan or by an innocent security guard simply doing his duty.
A door closed somewhere ahead of us and we slowed down even farther, my hand relaying to me all the information I needed about where we were going and how fast. Easing up around the corner of a cube, we stopped, and I peeked over Mason's shoulder to see why. Through an office window we saw a man cross to a desk. I risked leaning out a little farther and all the blood drained from my face when I saw who was sitting behind that desk.
Jayek.
I didn't realize that I had spoken out loud until Mason asked me a question. "Crash, can you see what he's saying?"
My only reply was to repeat the words I was seeing. "Good. We should hear back from Thalus about the raid in the next ten minutes or so. Death won't be able to sit there so smugly next time and say that he and his have done no fighting."
The other man had his back to the window, so I hadn't a clue what he was saying. Jayek's response gave me something to work with at guessing though. "Yeah, we'll keep him around until I can't get anything more out of them. He should be good for a couple more raids, maybe an innocent casualty or two of my choice."
I might not have been able to hear what the underling said after that, but I could see Jayek's face turn a deep red and I could see the muscles in his neck strain and go taut with unchecked anger.
"You'll be paid when the job is done. You nearly didn't get that kid. I'm not in the habit of paying for work that isn't getting done. Now, get out of here and go make sure your men aren't doing anything I haven't specifically ordered them to do."
Mason and I slipped back and farther into the cube, listening to the door open and close. The man showed enough intelligence to wait until he was out of sight of the window before he started grumbling about finding a new job, paid or not. And his speculation about Jayek's mom and dad and the acts they likely engaged in wasn't terribly complimentary.
We heard the soft buzzing hum of the float tube engaging in the distance and relaxed ever so slightly. There it was. Jayek was here, Sloan was somewhere below and Ishtari and Nash were even then working their way closer to him. But what were we to do? We didn't dare warn the other two. A comm call at the wrong time could be deadly, but we couldn't just do nothing, either.
Jayek. Even though he was just one man, I was strangely reluctant to try and take him on, even with Mason at my side and likely to do most of the actual work. I'd seen the man when he thought he had the upper hand, and I'd seen him when he did have the upper hand, and what I'd seen didn't make me feel good about cornering him and forcing him to fight. He was a very dangerous man and he was already blazing mad at Roble.
"We've got to try and take him, Crash," Mason whispered beside me. "We can't let him get away with whatever it is he's up to."
"It's obvious enough, now, what he's doing. He's got to be the one CoruCorp is paying off out here," I whispered. "But why?"
"Teletron."
I looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"Teletron. The news vid said it all. They're the first major competition CoruCorp's had. And you said yourself that Teletron's main manufacturing plant is in this sector," Mason explained quickly. "CoruCorp is funding the gang war in the hopes that Teletron will be forced to spend more credits on security, maybe even in the hopes that some of the skirmishing will result in property damage for Teletron."
"But we work for Teletron ..." I trailed off thoughtfully as the idea completed itself and Mason spoke it aloud for me.
"That's why he's been trying so hard to bring the Horsemen into the fight. If you're tied up in the streets you can't be flying escort for shipments."
"These riders that attacked Shael and Trapper, then snatched Sloan!" I exclaimed as I suddenly remembered the sector map and all those colored dots, then clapped a hand over my mouth. When I continued it was in a much quieter tone. "Jayek hired them and has had them running back and forth attacking gangs at random, even the Angels, to keep the fighting going."
"That is my theory as well."
My expression twisted with a bitter grimace that could hardly be termed a smile. "And Velocity, bless her flinty little heart, hasn't a clue what's going on. If she did she'd be here, with what loyal warriors she still has left, making our job easier."
I glanced sideways at Mason, but he didn't look much like Mason Cade anymore, despite the worn leathers and longish hair. He'd shed the swooprider I'd been helping him build like a krayt dragon sheds its skin. Now he was completely and only a Jedi Knight. Qui-Gon Jinn, who was practically a stranger to me, had pushed aside my friend Mason like he never existed.
"Stay here, Crash," he told me firmly, and even his voice was different. It was commanding, smooth, and calm rather than friendly or easy-going. "I'm going to go get him."
"Where?"
"Was anyone hurt?"
"Shut your yaps! I'll tell what I just got told." The crowd quieted somewhat, though there were still several muttered conversations going on here and there. Roble rubbed a hand across his face and sighed wearily. "The patrol was just north of Kensing, east of the Loring Tower, when they were hit by another group of swoopriders. Bait says that there were no markings on either the rides or the riders. The patrol scattered, as per orders. Now we're waiting for them to start reporting in. That's all I know, so don't bother asking for more."
I scanned the crowd quickly. //Who's not here?// I ticked faces off on a mental list. Bait, Cougar, Chaser, Marlo, Dez ... My heart seized and I gasped as I came up with one more. Sloan. I slid off Phyl's shoulder, not helped much by his attempts to keep me from 'falling', and ran to Shael's side, my arms going around him automatically. His kid brother was out on that patrol.
I could see it in his face, in the line of his body, the tension in his muscles. Shael was scared, deep down, pit of your stomach scared. His dark eyes refused to focus on anything and he turned this way and that, as if to scan the assembled crowd for his brother, to discover that his fear was silly. But Sloan wasn't there, and Shael, who had helped make the patrol schedules, knew it as well as I did.
Roble settled a hand on Shael's nearest shoulder, offering what comfort he could. Mason did the same on his other side. The four of us didn't move, but just stood there, waiting, hoping for that call to come in.
After a moment, I noticed the difference in temperature between my skin and Shael's. He was coming down off his fight high and crashing hard with this news about the patrol to help. I flagged Ishtari down and gestured to her. The red head nodded and dashed off to get shirts for the two men with me. We pushed Shael down into a chair next to the comm board, got his shirt on him, and I sat in his lap, snuggling up against him. He clutched at me as if his life depended on it, but he had eyes only for the comm board and that dark incoming indicator.
And there was nothing more that we could do. We didn't even know where Sloan was, so it wasn't as if Shael or anyone else could go out looking for him or the others. Sloan and his fellow patrollers would call as soon as they had time. Until then, all we could do was wait and hope.
Bait, true to orders, had remote triggered the alarm system for Armageddon when he commed in. Roble had known that it would likely be the only thing that would get immediate attention, what with the Fights taking place. Each of the other patrollers would do the same as they commed in.
I pressed myself as close to Shael as I could, alternately hugging him and stroking his face, hair and chest in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mason hovering nearby. I knew he wanted to ask me about something, but I just didn't have time for him then.
*Talk to Ishtari,* I signed to him. *She knows what you are, and she won't tell.*
After a momentary hesitation he nodded ever so slightly and strode away, much to my relief. Ishtari could answer his questions about the other gangs or alarms or whatever it was he was stirred up about. I couldn't leave Shael.
The alarm warbled the first couple of its high pitched notes, and we all jumped in reaction before Roble hit the override. He punched the receive button and spoke toward the mic as several others drifted silently closer to listen in.
"Report."
"Patrol was hit and we scattered." Marlo's voice crackled out of the speaker. "I've taken cover at location seven and will wait for nightfall to come in."
"You clear?"
"Right now, yeah. I'm worried though, Boss."
Death's hand gripped the edge of the board and his knuckles whitened, but that was the only outward sign he gave of any apprehension. "Why?"
"I was ridin' drag, and they hit us from the side, so I had a purty good view of things when we scattered. Boss, they split into threes and followed Bait, Dez, and Sloan. Whoever they was, they didn't look like they was choosin' at random."
Shael's hands gripped me tightly and I tuned out the rest of the conversation. I focused only on him, my hand forcing him to turn and look at me.
"Shh. Sloan knows the streets of our territory as good as anyone else in the gang.," I said.
"He's just a kid," he broke in sharply.
"Shh." I pressed a kiss to his lips to keep him quiet. "He's not. Sloan's twenty-four and he can take care of himself," I corrected.
"He's my brother!" Shael gritted out.
"Shh. I know. I know." I stroked his cheek and pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You've just got to believe that he'll be okay." Shael wrapped me in a fierce hug and buried his face in my hair. "Mom and pop made me promise," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "They made me promise that I'd take care of him."
I was an only child, so I didn't pretend to understand brothers and sisters and the way they seem to drive each other crazy while still loving deeply. All I could do to help was be there for him and let him hold me until Sloan came back. Or didn't.
//No, don't think like that, it won't help anyone.//
I just held on to my man until the next alarm jolted us a third time and started the fears flowing all over again. Roble hit the cutoff before more than the first note of the alarm could do more than jangle our nerves.
"Report."
"Patrol was hit, Boss. We scattered. I'm about a klick out and coming in hot," Cougar warned, no hint of his usual smile in his tone. "Make sure the door's open."
"You seen Chaser, Sloan or Dez?"
"Chaser's tight off my aft end, Boss. We met up at location eleven."
"I hear you, door's open."
Instead of decreasing, Shael's tension was winding higher and higher. The rule was that you shouldn't use the comm if you think someone might be monitoring. We didn't want anyone else figuring out what frequencies we used, though I have to admit the rule's a bit on the paranoid side. It's not like everyone on the planet knew we even had the helmet comms. It was Frank who figured out how to fit them in and between him and Tri'est the channels and switches had been hammered out so that anyone could get the hang of using them. In fact, not everyone had one yet, though the few Horsemen without were the ones that didn't ever go on patrol.
The only reason I could think of that Sloan hadn't reported in yet was that he was still being chased by those other riders. Or he was down. //Don't think like that!// Sloan was just still being chased. He'd lose them and we'd hear from him and he'd come back safe and sound.
I slipped away from Shael only once while we waited there for his brother to comm in. I grabbed Mason and explained what I wanted and he accepted it silently and left to get it done while I grabbed some food and went back to my man. As soon as Roble was done talking to Cougar and Chaser, Mason pulled them aside and took them over to Ishtari. The woman was a superb fighter, rode like a Sith out of hell, and on top of that was a surprisingly skilled artist. I'd charged Mason with making sure that everyone who came in from the patrol talked to Ishtari about what they'd seen. She would draw up any faces that could be remembered.
Maybe Shael or Trapper would recognize one of them as the men who had ambushed them those weeks ago. If they did, I wasn't sure what it would mean, but it would be one more piece of the puzzle that Mason and I could use to try and figure out just what was happening around us.
Shael didn't particularly want to eat, but since I was pushing food in his mouth, the easiest thing for him to do was chew and swallow. I didn't blame him. I didn't particularly want to eat either, but it gave me something to pass the time, other than watching the commboard and biting my nails to the quick.
Dez checked in, reporting that he'd managed to lose his tails, after a dogged and relentless chase in the heavy evening traffic as normal people, people who had no clue that a war was being waged around them, hurried home from a long day's work.
It was surprisingly easy not to be bitter about those people with normal jobs and normal lives. Sure, their world was more secure, safer than mine, especially now, but mine was alive. I soared with the eagles and chased the wind, I risked reputation and mainframe against glory and my family with every single slice I did. Even when my heart ached, my eyes stung with tears I wouldn't let fall, and my gut felt hollow with denied fear, I knew I was alive. As a once popular song went: 'If you're going to feel the pleasure, boy, you're bound to feel the sting. I'd rather have it broken, broken, than to never feel a thing.' I gladly exchanged a life of same old, same old for moments that let me feel such strong emotions.
With great gain comes the possibility of great loss, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Except, at that very moment, Sloan's life.
Darkness fell, Bait and Dez rocketed in and Marlo commed to let us know that he was on his way, and still no word from Sloan. Doc ended up slapping bacta patches on a couple of blaster burns, and old riding leathers were brought out to help patch up current sets. Roble, Shael and I were rarely more than a couple of paces away from the comm board. The triplets gladly brought us dinner there, but we ate very little of it.
When it happened, instead of the alarm, the triple note of the encoding warning warbled once and went silent. The two men were only half a step behind me as I snatched up a headset, plugged in, and brought up my decoding programs. An ID program spun through its routine and spat out the information it had before triggering the next program in line. Whoever was on the comm, and I was certain it was Sloan, wasn't using one of the seven standard encryptions I'd set up for the gang, but one of the three emergency ones.
Roble inhaled to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him. I had a feeling that it was very important for us to keep as quiet as possible and I didn't want him to say anything that might be picked up by his headset's mic. Sure enough, a moment later a soft whisper hissed in our ear pieces. "Crash?"
"Sloan?" I whispered back, following his example. It wasn't likely that anyone would be able to hear us through the sound dampening on the helmet, but if he was being careful there was probably a reason for it. "Sloan, are you okay?"
"Yeah, tell Shael I'm fine, but they've got me."
"Who's got you? Angels?"
"Don't know, never seen 'em before," he replied. "I spent all afternoon dodging 'em and trying to shake 'em, but they must have called in reinforcements 'cuz they finally managed to box me in."
"Turn on your tracking pulse," I instructed, fighting to keep my voice level and calm. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get him and I didn't like what that could mean.
"What if they notice?" A touch of healthy fear tinged his voice.
"We'll risk that," Death broke in. "Turn it on. If you think they've stopped moving you, you can turn it off again in a couple of minutes."
There was a muffled click and I began flicking switches on the board. "Okay, we've got you, Sloan," I assured him. "Now, let us know what kind of building you're in, entrances, exits, that sort of thing-"
Shh!" he whispered sharply, cutting me off. Then, the young man who might as well have been my own kid brother launched into a creative string of ear curling curses that seemed to cut off mid caustic description of someone's probable parentage. Shael gave a blistering oath of his own and lunged forward, as if he could reach through the comm board and pull his brother back through it. I slapped a hand across his mouth to prevent any more loud outbursts and shouldered him aside. Turning up the gain on the comm, I also kicked in some filters. Seconds later I had him back.
"You'll never get away with this, you pigeons." Roble winced away upon hearing this. Sloan was about to get himself killed. Everyone knew that pigeons were just slow-flying sacks of sh- well, you get the idea. If you wanted to insult a swooper, that was the easiest way to accomplish it.
To my everlasting surprise, nothing happened.
"Let me go now and the Horsemen may let you leave with your pathetic rides in one piece."
"Quiet, kid," someone snarled back.
"Shut him up," someone else commanded. "And bring that helmet. His nibs thinks there might be comm gear in it."
There were slight, distant sounds of struggle, and closer, a scuff of a boot, a scrape of duraplast on permacrete. After a tense moment, what I had feared most happened. "Hey, there's a light of some sort in here." The voice was almost enough to deafen, since it was so much closer to the helmet's mic. "Boss, I think he was right, and I think this kid's been talking to his crew."
"Let me see that," again distant and low. A slight whistle, probably from being tossed through the air. "Could be. Did you hear anything?"
" "
"Give me your blade."
A sharp, high-pitched hum announced the arrival of a vibroblade near the mic, a crackling hiss, and then nothing.
Again Shael scrabbled at the board, turning filters off and on, changing the gain across the spectrum, switching frequencies, anything that might possibly bring the signal back. But it was gone. Roble and me, we let him do what he wanted. He needed to expend the energy and frustration that I could see driving the muscles in his arms and back. I wanted to help him, to hurt for him so that he wouldn't have to, but I couldn't. When he was done venting at the electronics we would see what else was needed. For the moment, though, there was no reasoning with him.
I stood back, my arms wrapped tightly around myself, hands chafing at my arms. In a drifting moment's thought, my mind brought up mental pictures of the three men deliberately singled out, and looking back it wasn't hard to draw the lines and connect those dots. Dez and Bait were both about the same size and build as Sloan. He had been their target the whole time. Fear spiked through me, but I quashed it ruthlessly. I didn't have time for it. Shael needed me still. I could let Shael and Roble do all the worrying for me.
Soon Shael's desperation played itself out and he leaned, defeated and weary in mind and body, against the comm board. He closed his eyes and rocked slightly back and forth. Darting close, I hugged him tightly. "He's okay, Shael. They wouldn't have gone to such trouble if they just wanted to kill him."
"I'll hunt them to the ends of the galaxy if they so much as bruise him." Shael's voice was low and menacing in a way I'd never heard before, the muscles under my hands tensing and jerking.
"We'll get him back if we have to go to war," Death told him softly. "He's my little brother, too."
"And mine," I echoed, still holding my man tightly. Shael's chest still heaved with deep, ragged breaths, but I could feel his muscles relaxing just a little under my hands as he accepted our reassurances. A slower breath, a tired nod, and then he returned my fierce hug.
We were silent then, just holding each other, Roble supporting us both with his presence. The rest of the gang would know soon enough what was going on and Shael would have all the sympathy and vengeful agreement he could stand. But for now it was just us.
"Is there any chance they'll recognize the tracking pulse?" Roble asked me after a few moments.
I shook my head. "I don't think so, not unless they knew exactly what they were looking for," I responded. "Frank or Tri'est would be able to tell you for sure."
"Then we have an advantage. We know where Sloan is, and they don't know that we know." Death sighed and reset the comm board to the default stand-by mode. He was sighing a lot more than usual recently. This gang war and all that went with it was something we Horsemen could really have done without. "They took Sloan for a reason and they'll tell us when they're good and ready. Get some rest, you two."
I caught Roble's eye and we shared a worried look. Yes, there was a reason, and I think we were sharing similar thoughts about what that reason might be. I pulled Shael away toward his bunk, and he came easily, more tired than he would ever willingly admit. I didn't even need to give him a gentle shove to get my man to lay down. He didn't let go of my hand though, and pulled me down beside him. Cuddling up close, he tugged the light blanket up over us, and I spent another night in his arms, though this time I was comforting him.
*******
Too early in the morning, Roble's hand on my shoulder woke me from an unhappy dream. As disgustingly early as it was, I almost thanked him for it. My sleep had been full of horrible images of loved ones lost, starting with my parents and continuing right on to Sloan. I rubbed tiredly at my eyes as he went on to wake Shael and then the two of us followed him to his office. Shael slumped into the first chair he came to and I slumped down right on top of him, my head on his shoulder.
Death's face was grim as he settled into his chair on the other side of his desk. "We just got a call," he said with no preamble. "It was the men who have Sloan."
That got our attention.
Shael, a sick fear lurking in the back of his beautiful eyes, swallowed, then nodded. "And?"
"And their request wasn't what I expected. They want us to skirmish against one of the other gangs, specifically the Wildcards."
"But we can't attack Bobby and his crew," I protested. "They haven't done anything to us!"
Death nodded, his head moving slowly, and I took a closer look at him. There were dark rings around his eyes, and the muscles of his face and shoulders all drooped just a little. It seemed that he had passed the night even more badly than me or Shael had. "I haven't a clue why they would want us to do this, but they say that's the price for Sloan's life."
"We can't do that," Shael stated flatly. "We can't ... " He took a deep breath that shuddered through his chest and I stroked at his cheek, trying to comfort. "We can't trade Sloan's life for those of Bobby and his family, or the Horsemen who might die as a result." His voice was dead sounding, like the heart had been ripped out of him, and my own heart cried for him.
"Maybe we don't have to," Death said softly.
"What do you mean?"
"They're not swoopers, Sloan's message got us that much information about them. That means they won't know how we'll react. That's one advantage. Unless they figured out what the tracking pulse was or thought that he managed to tell us where they'd taken him, odds are long that they'd move him. That's the next advantage. We know where he is and they don't know that we know."
*******
The plan we came up with was simple. It had to be, we had little time. They wanted us to make the strike within the next three hours. And they demanded that Shael go with the raiding party. He wasn't happy, kept insisting that we could put his jacket on someone else and they'd never know the difference. I doubted that. They'd managed to figure out somehow which of the three they had been chasing was really Sloan, so something told me they'd know if Shael wasn't really with the raiders.
The raiding group was large. It included the triplets, Trapper, Bulldog, War, Bait, Plague, Reeabok, Lyman, Frank and his cousin Al, Chaser, Nox and a dozen others, more than a quarter of our total members. And they were all armed to the teeth. The rescue party, on the other hand, was quite small, and I had to fight tooth and nail to keep it that way. Too many people wanted to take some shots at the low-down, honorless pigeons that had Sloan. Ishtari argued against overwhelming numbers by saying something about being able to go unnoticed, but very few of the men were buying that. Death finally had to step in and put his foot down.
Mason, Ishtari, Nash and myself would try to get Sloan back while the raiding party went blasting off to do absolutely nothing more than take a nice ride. Roble and Shael both were unhappy at my inclusion, but they couldn't reasonably counter any of my arguments. I knew more about security systems and how to get past them than any other Horseman alive, and the rescue party was probably going to need me desperately.
Sometime, in all the confusion and hurrying back and forth, Ishtari found a chance to pull me and Shael aside. Three of the faces she'd sketched with the help of the others matched up with Shael's memory of the small party that had hit him and Trapper. He rubbed absently at the healed- and-gone blaster burn he'd gotten from them while he looked at the pictures.
"That's them, but I couldn't tell you what it means."
Ishtari shot me a sharp, significant glance, but I held my tongue and shook my head at her. I'd promised not to tell and saying anything now would call for more explaining than any of us had time for.
When it was time to go, Shael held me in a crushing hug and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "If you don't come back, I don't know what I'll do," he whispered raggedly.
"You'll go on and help Death pull the gang through this," I told him, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes. "Nash, Ishtari, and Mason won't let anything happen to me and I won't let anything happen to Sloan. Go, and don't worry about us. If this is some sort of ambush you'll have enough to worry about keeping your own neck safe."
He kissed me swiftly, almost desperately. Behind him, Bulldog called out that they were ready and waiting. Shael opened his mouth, like he was going to say something more, ask me something, but Bulldog called again and I could see him change his mind. "I'll see you when I see you, Chenowyth."
"See ya when I see ya," I answered back, and then he strode away without looking back. The swoop engines started with a deafening roar and the whole grey and scarlet mob eased into the tunnel and blasted away into the clear morning air. I stared after them for a long while, not because I feared for him, Shael might not have had the easier part but he certainly had the safer part of that whole crazy idea, but because I hurt for him. He was worried for his brother and he was worried for me. I could see it twisting him up in every jerk of his head and every snapped order, and I hated it.
"He'll be fine, Crash." Ishtari's sympathetic hand rested lightly on my shoulder and gave me a heartening squeeze. "And we'll take care of you."
"I know that, and he knows that, but knowing and feeling just aren't the same," I murmured to her.
"That's life," she said philosophically, glancing back over her shoulder as Roble walked up to us, Nash and Mason in tow. "Ready, Boss?"
Unlike the raiding party, Ishtari, Mason and me weren't dressed in our Horsemen colors for all the galaxy to see, but in sturdy, work-a-day leathers of brown or black. We didn't want to stand out too much from any crowd. Nash, with her black-on-grey fur, was dressed only in her utility harness as usual.
"I think I should be asking you that," Roble frowned at the ex-Jedi. "Take the sub-exit to the emergency rides. I don't want to risk you being seen leaving the building. I also want you to stick to the special encrypted channel we whipped up for you. Any of the others, there's a chance that they might be listening to you over Sloan's comm set." We all nodded. Among ourselves we'd already decided to stick to tap code unless forced otherwise. Just plain safer that way.
"And if you find there's too many of them, comm for help and the rest of us will be there faster than you can blink."
That we didn't doubt in the least. All the other Horsemen were already geared up and waiting. All the swoops had been topped off with fuel, all last minute adjustments to engines had been finished, or put aside until later. It was the first time in over a year that every single ride in the place was up and running at the same time. Nash's, Ishtari's, and Mason's could have been, and would have been, but we were leaving them behind.
We were going to use the emergency rides stashed a couple of blocks away in an old underground bunker. The planning group had decided that there would most likely be a watch set on Armageddon, to make sure that the skirmishers left and no one else. We didn't want to be seen even walking away from home, let alone riding away.
Ishtari and Nashraak grabbed their helmets and led the way through the kitchens to a dry-food storage room, heading straight toward the back corner. There, they took hold of the contents of the bottom-most shelf and pulled it out in a solid block. It was just camouflage. All the cans and boxes were empty and simply moly-bonded together. That bottom shelf was just tall enough that even the largest of us could lay down and squeeze sideways through it.
Nash went first, head closest to the wall, feet toward the door, disappearing into the darkness behind that bottom shelf with her typical silence and grace. Ishtari went next, as I gave last minute instructions to Mason.
"There's just enough floor left after the shelf ends to roll slightly and get your feet pointed toward the ground before you hit the floor," I told him. "Move forward quickly, I'll be coming through right behind you, and watch your head, the overhang's kinda low for you tall people. Nash will have the lighting panels on, so you should be able to see just fine once you get around the corner."
He nodded at me from the floor and shimmied sideways through the narrow opening while I made one last check of my pockets to make sure I had everything I thought I might possibly need on this trip. As soon as I heard the scuff of his boots on the permacrete floor of the shallow pit back there, I flopped down on my back and scootched through with the ease of practice. My hand felt the edge beside me, I began my twist, tucked my legs toward my chest and landed neatly. Normally I would have reached back through and pulled the camouflage into place behind me, but we were expecting to come back this way, and we didn't have any need to cover our tracks.
Mason had moved ahead and was waiting for me on the stairs, head and shoulders hunched over to keep his head from bumping against the ceiling. I scrambled forward, and together we went around the corridor, then all four of us jogged along the narrow passageway until it met up with the Horsemen's Highway, as we called it.
"Abandoned transportation tunnels," Ishtari explained to Mason while leading us to the right and up the broad underground corridor. "The previous Death discovered them and had the passage dug to gain access." The air was cool and slightly dry, the only illumination coming from a handlight Ishtari had picked up before we left the passageway. "They run all over this sector, maybe farther. We've only explored the areas in our territory so far."
"We've opened up a couple of the street accesses," I told him as we picked the pace back up. "We use them to get in and out during lockdowns if food or other important supplies run out. I suppose that we could use them to stage surprise raids if we were the type of gang that did that." At several of those street accesses we had three or four swoops parked and waiting for emergency use. We were headed for the nearest ones and from there to Sloan's last known location.
"It would also make a good escape route," Mason commented. "In either direction."
"Yeah, if those riders yesterday had been any farther behind Marlo, he probably would have used one of them, but we're really careful not to remind anyone that they're down here to be used." I caught a glimpse of Nash's shadowy shape in the dimness ahead of Ishtari's handlight. "The last thing we need is one of the other gangs knowing that there's a back door right into our home."
There was no more talking after that, only slightly labored breathing as we jogged along, hurrying toward danger and all the hopes and worries that went with it. When us slower Humans got to the nearest stash of swoops, Nash already had three of the five out of their storage covers and was just finishing off the readiness checks. There was a moment of silence, a long shared look of determination, and then we thumped our helmets into place and pushed the swoops through the narrow crack in a building's foundation into the outside air.
The bright sunlight was something of a surprise, but not just because of the darkness of the tunnels. We were sneaking about on a mission of life and death. It struck me as somehow wrong to be doing it in broad daylight. Such things belonged to the deep of night, to darkness and shadows. At least, they did according to the holodramas.
I shook away my melodramatic thoughts and climbed on behind Ishtari. Three engines cranked over and then we blasted away, jamming ourselves into the traffic flow with our usual lack of manners, Nash in the lead as we had planned. The place where we were headed was in Speed Demon territory and they were less likely to bother any group led by a non-Human. Our biggest fears at that point were that we would either run into a skirmish in progress, or get caught by a patrol. Either one had the possibility of putting a swift end to our mission. Keeping that in mind, we moved [i]with[/i] the flow of traffic, rather than around it or in spite of it. We had one close shave, but Nash's sharp eyes spotted the patrol in time for us to dodge around a freighter until they had passed.
All in all, getting there proved to be the easiest part. The building, while not one of the towering skyscrapers around it, was still dauntingly large. And Sloan could be almost anywhere inside. We'd parked the swoops in a public lot a couple of blocks away, and taken the pedestrian walks the rest of the way, just in case they had some sort of look out.
"Can you even take a guess from the location pulse where he is in that thing?" Ishtari asked me as we lounged against a balcony railing, trying to look uninterested.
"Nope. If it were still working I could have gotten a good reading from here, but as it is ..." I shrugged.
Then we'll just have to use a little logic."
"Oh?" Nash rumbled, "like what?"
"Well, I really don't think whoever's behind this could afford to rent space on the top ten floors, for instance."
Mason nodded. "And they'd want to be unnoticed coming and going, so the next dozen floors or so are out, too."
"So, what we are looking at," Nash said softly and carefully, "is the bottom seven floors, to be on the safe side, and any basement levels there may be. And then there are the men, how many?"
"Bait and Marlo came up with ten. I'd assume that's pretty much the lot. If they're not swoopers, then they must be hired and I don't know anyone who can afford more mercs than that," Ishtari drawled, eyeing the building with distaste. "Personally, from here I think it looks like a dump."
Mason spoke up, "They'd have someone watching Armageddon, to make sure the raiders left and no one else."
"Maybe two," Nash added. "And another one or two in 'Card territory to actually watch the raid. That leaves six at best, eight at worst."
"Could be worse," I muttered, zipping up my jacket against the rising breeze. "It could be [i]much[/i] worse."
"I suggest we split up, then," Ishtari frowned. None of us much liked the idea, but we were getting very short on time. Soon enough it would become obvious that the raiding party wasn't really going to do anything of the kind and then the imminent danger Sloan was in would quickly develop into mortal danger.
"In that case, I suggest that Crash goes with me and Nashraak goes with you," Mason told Ishtari.
The tall redhead shared a look with him. That arrangement would put one Jedi in each group, the best situation we could hope for. She nodded. "Sounds like our best bet. We'll take the bottom, you start from the top and we work toward each other. First ones to find him get the kriff out of there and beep the others. Let's do it."
I gave Ishtari my spare datapad, the chip with my lockbreaker codes, and some quick instructions in their use, then she and the Trianii headed downward for the ground level. Mason and I watched for a short time, then took the nearest skywalk over to our destination. Inside we took the stairs down, rather than the float tubes, to avoid being seen by more people than necessary. I've never trusted float tubes anyway, I've never liked the falling sensation they give me.
The door into the seventh level wasn't locked and behind it we found nothing more sinister than a small home decorating firm that specialized in exotic non-Human environments. We didn't even pretend interest and left after a quick glance around. Six and five had looked like possibles for a short time, but they turned out to simply be a semi-legal escort service. Four was empty, dead empty, not a cube wall, not a dusty desk, not even a single orphaned trash can, so I locked the door behind us and we moved on.
Part way down the stairs my helmet, swinging from the length of my arm, beeped with the soft incoming tone. I reached in and hit the chin switch then raised the helmet to my ear to hear better. There was a fuzzy sort of tap, like someone flicking the mic on the other end, and then a long pause, repeated twice more, a longer pause, two flicks, a long hiss like close breathing and a single flick. Nothing. Minus One. They were on the first sub-floor and still hadn't found a thing. I replied in kind: flick, pause, flick, pause, flick, long pause, flick-flick, short hiss, flick-flick-flick-flick. Nothing. Four. Even if the enemy heard us, and could break the encryption, there was no way they could interpret what they had heard, if they even recognized it as a signal.
At the door to the third floor I sliced through the lock code as easily as I had the others and Mason and I slid through the opening as quietly as we could. There wasn't anything as obvious as a guard standing just inside, but we could feel it, both of us. There was someone here who probably shouldn't be.
The floor was laid out like an office, with permanent walls and doorways and corner offices with windows so that managers could look out through them at the menials like dictators looking down on the slaves below. I checked the ceiling and corners for security cams, but I didn't see anything. Moving slowly, Mason and I crept forward, helmets forgotten and hanging by our sides. I kept one hand on his back, feeling the muscles beneath even through the leather jacket he wore, and kept glancing behind us. The last thing I wanted was to be surprised from behind by one of the thugs that had Sloan or by an innocent security guard simply doing his duty.
A door closed somewhere ahead of us and we slowed down even farther, my hand relaying to me all the information I needed about where we were going and how fast. Easing up around the corner of a cube, we stopped, and I peeked over Mason's shoulder to see why. Through an office window we saw a man cross to a desk. I risked leaning out a little farther and all the blood drained from my face when I saw who was sitting behind that desk.
Jayek.
I didn't realize that I had spoken out loud until Mason asked me a question. "Crash, can you see what he's saying?"
My only reply was to repeat the words I was seeing. "Good. We should hear back from Thalus about the raid in the next ten minutes or so. Death won't be able to sit there so smugly next time and say that he and his have done no fighting."
The other man had his back to the window, so I hadn't a clue what he was saying. Jayek's response gave me something to work with at guessing though. "Yeah, we'll keep him around until I can't get anything more out of them. He should be good for a couple more raids, maybe an innocent casualty or two of my choice."
I might not have been able to hear what the underling said after that, but I could see Jayek's face turn a deep red and I could see the muscles in his neck strain and go taut with unchecked anger.
"You'll be paid when the job is done. You nearly didn't get that kid. I'm not in the habit of paying for work that isn't getting done. Now, get out of here and go make sure your men aren't doing anything I haven't specifically ordered them to do."
Mason and I slipped back and farther into the cube, listening to the door open and close. The man showed enough intelligence to wait until he was out of sight of the window before he started grumbling about finding a new job, paid or not. And his speculation about Jayek's mom and dad and the acts they likely engaged in wasn't terribly complimentary.
We heard the soft buzzing hum of the float tube engaging in the distance and relaxed ever so slightly. There it was. Jayek was here, Sloan was somewhere below and Ishtari and Nash were even then working their way closer to him. But what were we to do? We didn't dare warn the other two. A comm call at the wrong time could be deadly, but we couldn't just do nothing, either.
Jayek. Even though he was just one man, I was strangely reluctant to try and take him on, even with Mason at my side and likely to do most of the actual work. I'd seen the man when he thought he had the upper hand, and I'd seen him when he did have the upper hand, and what I'd seen didn't make me feel good about cornering him and forcing him to fight. He was a very dangerous man and he was already blazing mad at Roble.
"We've got to try and take him, Crash," Mason whispered beside me. "We can't let him get away with whatever it is he's up to."
"It's obvious enough, now, what he's doing. He's got to be the one CoruCorp is paying off out here," I whispered. "But why?"
"Teletron."
I looked at him in surprise. "What?"
"Teletron. The news vid said it all. They're the first major competition CoruCorp's had. And you said yourself that Teletron's main manufacturing plant is in this sector," Mason explained quickly. "CoruCorp is funding the gang war in the hopes that Teletron will be forced to spend more credits on security, maybe even in the hopes that some of the skirmishing will result in property damage for Teletron."
"But we work for Teletron ..." I trailed off thoughtfully as the idea completed itself and Mason spoke it aloud for me.
"That's why he's been trying so hard to bring the Horsemen into the fight. If you're tied up in the streets you can't be flying escort for shipments."
"These riders that attacked Shael and Trapper, then snatched Sloan!" I exclaimed as I suddenly remembered the sector map and all those colored dots, then clapped a hand over my mouth. When I continued it was in a much quieter tone. "Jayek hired them and has had them running back and forth attacking gangs at random, even the Angels, to keep the fighting going."
"That is my theory as well."
My expression twisted with a bitter grimace that could hardly be termed a smile. "And Velocity, bless her flinty little heart, hasn't a clue what's going on. If she did she'd be here, with what loyal warriors she still has left, making our job easier."
I glanced sideways at Mason, but he didn't look much like Mason Cade anymore, despite the worn leathers and longish hair. He'd shed the swooprider I'd been helping him build like a krayt dragon sheds its skin. Now he was completely and only a Jedi Knight. Qui-Gon Jinn, who was practically a stranger to me, had pushed aside my friend Mason like he never existed.
"Stay here, Crash," he told me firmly, and even his voice was different. It was commanding, smooth, and calm rather than friendly or easy-going. "I'm going to go get him."
