The range was right for her N-18, so she raised the rifle and fired, hitting one easily. A second later she’d shifted to a new target, a kid rioter with eyes wide underneath his balaclava. She took the top of his skull off and advanced on the three who were already dropping the legionnaires and running for their lives.
She didn’t let them get away.
Seconds later she reached the two leejes.
“Who’s alive?” she shouted, unsure how to check for vitals while they were in their armor.
One had a nasty wound over his shoulder. He lay face down and she saw the bare rise of his back as he struggled to breathe. The other tried to push himself up off the ground, but collapsed. He’d been shot in the chest at close range. The bolt hadn’t penetrated, but it had most likely broken the sternum and a bunch of ribs. It wasn’t the chest that had made him collapse though. He’d been shot through one leg. The bolt had gone in and smashed some bone and burnt away skin.
“Good… to guh-oh,” muttered the legionnaire who’d fallen onto his back. “Help me… up.”
She got down on one knee and tried to pull him upright. He seemed to weigh three hundred pounds in his armor, and the best she could manage was to get his shoulders off the ground and force the man to sit up the rest of the way on his own power.
Her arms scrambled for his helmet release and a second later she had it off.
He gasped for air. “Can’t breathe. C-an’t… breathe.”
He sucked in large lungfuls of the hot dry air and spat blood. His black skin glistened with cold, clammy sweat.
In the distance she could hear movement. Blaster fire. Someone shouting orders over a loudspeaker.
She checked the area and saw figures at the far end of the alley. Figures in Soshie gear. Gathering like a pack of Nogrodi jackal cats.
“I can get you out of here,” she grunted as she tugged him to his feet, knowing that had he not been using what strength he had left to assist, it would have been beyond her.
She began to help him back toward the courtyard and the rooftop, knowing it was far away, too far away for her and him and the state he was in.
Never mind that, Panda.
That was her mom’s voice. Some called her Manda. Some Panda. Sometimes Amanda. She was something to everyone.
No one can do everything, Panda, even if it’s you.
She could do it. Even if it was hard. She’d always told herself that.
“Beers…” gasped the wounded legionnaire.
She wondered if he meant the one behind them in the alley, or the one with his head cut off in the courtyard. Didn’t matter. She couldn’t save two at once. She could save this one. Maybe. She told herself this even as some other, ever-confident part of her mind assured her she could get this one to the roof for extraction and then come back for the other.
“I’ll come back,” she said.
The legionnaire said nothing and continued to move forward unsteadily, lowering his head and grunting as he tried to carry himself as best as he could.
She saw them at the head of the alley. Knowing there was no way they were getting out of this. The entrance to the courtyard was blocked. Red-and-black Soshie pros with weapons pointed at her.
She knew…
Knew this had been foolish. Knew if she gave them an excuse, they’d shoot both her and the legionnaire. That they’d probably do it even without an excuse.
She looked back quickly, hoping there might be some kind of exit. All the while knowing there wasn’t the slightest bit of space for her to maneuver before being shot down, even if there was a place to go.
There wasn’t.
Just more of them coming up from behind.
She let the blaster rifle clatter to the ground, signaling her surrender. She’d done everything she could to save the legionnaire.
It wasn’t enough.
He passed out, collapsing against her as they came. Weapons out. Pointing at their heads and hearts. Moving like a trained unit. Definitely ex-military. Mercs. Pros.
Then someone was right in her face, and a second later she felt a rifle butt strike her head. She didn’t pass out. She tried to hold on to the legionnaire, but they pulled him away from her and that felt…
That felt like something she’d been running from.
But she didn’t pass out. She didn’t go down. She fought for something, though her mind wouldn’t tell her what.
She was on her hands and knees and the galaxy spun about her. She wanted to throw up. Maybe she had thrown up already. Spit in long thick strings ran from her mouth as someone kicked her in the stomach.
She needed water, that other, distant part of her mind thought. That’s why her spit was so viscous. She’d been too focused on overwatch all day. She’d forgotten to drink water. That was what she was thinking as they hit her. Raining down brutal blows. Devastating her body.
She felt for the legionnaire. For his armor.
It had to be nearby.
She’d cover him. Protect him with herself. Force life into him.
Stupid Amanda, she told herself when her hands found nothing but the hard, cruel pavement of the alley. Stupid.
And then she was gone. Lights out.
Done.
Stupid Amanda.
05
“…reporting that two legionnaires are dead and two are captured, Tyrus. Along with an enlisted marine. All in the hands of the resistance. It’s bad. Real bad. Feeds are going nuts.”
There was a pause in the conversation, and the ghostly hum of the hypercomm became more present as both parties waited for the other to speak.
“That’s all I know at this time,” said Gabriella finally. “I figured you’d want to hear about it.”
Rechs said nothing.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” replied Tyrus Rechs. “I can’t see right now.”
“What? Are you hurt?” As though his health were her responsibility. Truth was, she’d become more to him than just a voice on the other side of
