Chapter One
Major Chastain Neff was tired, hungry and covered with a thick layer of mud. She was hunkered down beside a dead body watching a fourth-class medical examiner’s mate doing his thing. The sight of the yawning body cavity where once a chest had been didn’t faze Neff, but the smell of burnt flesh from the phosphorus blast that had taken out that chest made her a bit queasy.
“Is he Storian?” she asked.
“Well,” the fourth-class med ex drawled, “I don’t see any markings to say he was, but until I get him back to the shop, I won’t know for sure.”
“Sure as hell fought like one,” Chastain remarked. She ran the back of her dirty forearm under her chin to catch the drop of sweat that had been hanging there precariously.
“He stinks like one,” Chastain’s immediate superior Colonel Brock commented.
Chastain got wearily to her feet. “How’s the target doing?”
Brock looked around. “Still puking,” he replied with a snort. “I don’t think he’s accustomed to someone getting ventilated.”
“That’s understandable.”
“By the way, the general would like to see you,” Brock told Chastain.
Chas frowned. “Don’t tell me he’s got another assignment for me this quick,” she said and winced at the whine of complaint she could hear in her voice.
“We’re down two operatives,” Brock reminded her. “We do what we have to, Neff.”
Sighing heavily, Chas hung her head. Her hands were on her hips as she shook her head. “I am due for leave, Colonel. I need some leave.”
“Everyone is overworked, Neff,” Brock reprimanded her. “I’m sure the general will give you extra time off after the next one.”
Knowing it would do her no good to argue, Chastain lifted her head. She looked over at the target for a long moment then walked over to where he was sitting.
“Can we get you anything else, Councilman Jost?” a med-tech asked the shivering man as Chastain joined them.
Councilman Jost pulled the thick wool blanket tighter around his shoulders and could barely speak for his teeth were clicking together. “N-no. I’ll b-be all right.” He glanced up at Chastain. “Thank you, Major. If it hadn’t been for you…”
“There’s no need to thank me, Sir,” Chas told him. “I’m just glad everything turned out okay.”
“If I hadn’t hired you to protect me, if you hadn’t been with m-me…”
“Another Guardian would have been, Sir,” Chas cut him off. She could tell the man was going into shock and caught the eye of the med-tech.
“He was going to kill me, wasn’t he?” the councilman asked, his teeth chattering.
“Aye, Sir, he was. He would have taken your money then he would have taken your life. You were wise to get us involved in this extortion plot, Sir.”
“Let’s get you to the clinic, Councilman Jost,” the med-tech suggested. “We’ve put in a call to your family and they’ll join us there.”
Chas stepped aside as the med-tech helped the councilman to his feet. She nodded at his grateful look and gave him a tired smile. “Take care, Sir,” she said as the shivering man was led away.
“Go get cleaned up and get something to eat, Neff,” Colonel Brock ordered. “I’ll let the general know you’ll be in his office first thing this afternoon.”
“Aye, Sir,” Chas replied.
Walking back to the runabout in which she had brought Councilman Jost to the place where he had been meant to die, Chas felt a brief respite from the bodily aches and pains she knew would be ten times worse when she turned in that night. She always felt a rush of healing adrenalin course through her body when she’d performed her job well and the target lived.
The Storian—if indeed the assassin had been of that nationality—had fought well. He had gotten in a few lucky punches and even one well-timed kick before going for his phospho firearm. That he might have had the weapon turned on him, and his massive chest blown apart in the ensuing
Major Chastain Neff was tired, hungry and covered with a thick layer of mud. She was hunkered down beside a dead body watching a fourth-class medical examiner’s mate doing his thing. The sight of the yawning body cavity where once a chest had been didn’t faze Neff, but the smell of burnt flesh from the phosphorus blast that had taken out that chest made her a bit queasy.
“Is he Storian?” she asked.
“Well,” the fourth-class med ex drawled, “I don’t see any markings to say he was, but until I get him back to the shop, I won’t know for sure.”
“Sure as hell fought like one,” Chastain remarked. She ran the back of her dirty forearm under her chin to catch the drop of sweat that had been hanging there precariously.
“He stinks like one,” Chastain’s immediate superior Colonel Brock commented.
Chastain got wearily to her feet. “How’s the target doing?”
Brock looked around. “Still puking,” he replied with a snort. “I don’t think he’s accustomed to someone getting ventilated.”
“That’s understandable.”
“By the way, the general would like to see you,” Brock told Chastain.
Chas frowned. “Don’t tell me he’s got another assignment for me this quick,” she said and winced at the whine of complaint she could hear in her voice.
“We’re down two operatives,” Brock reminded her. “We do what we have to, Neff.”
Sighing heavily, Chas hung her head. Her hands were on her hips as she shook her head. “I am due for leave, Colonel. I need some leave.”
“Everyone is overworked, Neff,” Brock reprimanded her. “I’m sure the general will give you extra time off after the next one.”
Knowing it would do her no good to argue, Chastain lifted her head. She looked over at the target for a long moment then walked over to where he was sitting.
“Can we get you anything else, Councilman Jost?” a med-tech asked the shivering man as Chastain joined them.
Councilman Jost pulled the thick wool blanket tighter around his shoulders and could barely speak for his teeth were clicking together. “N-no. I’ll b-be all right.” He glanced up at Chastain. “Thank you, Major. If it hadn’t been for you…”
“There’s no need to thank me, Sir,” Chas told him. “I’m just glad everything turned out okay.”
“If I hadn’t hired you to protect me, if you hadn’t been with m-me…”
“Another Guardian would have been, Sir,” Chas cut him off. She could tell the man was going into shock and caught the eye of the med-tech.
“He was going to kill me, wasn’t he?” the councilman asked, his teeth chattering.
“Aye, Sir, he was. He would have taken your money then he would have taken your life. You were wise to get us involved in this extortion plot, Sir.”
“Let’s get you to the clinic, Councilman Jost,” the med-tech suggested. “We’ve put in a call to your family and they’ll join us there.”
Chas stepped aside as the med-tech helped the councilman to his feet. She nodded at his grateful look and gave him a tired smile. “Take care, Sir,” she said as the shivering man was led away.
“Go get cleaned up and get something to eat, Neff,” Colonel Brock ordered. “I’ll let the general know you’ll be in his office first thing this afternoon.”
“Aye, Sir,” Chas replied.
Walking back to the runabout in which she had brought Councilman Jost to the place where he had been meant to die, Chas felt a brief respite from the bodily aches and pains she knew would be ten times worse when she turned in that night. She always felt a rush of healing adrenalin course through her body when she’d performed her job well and the target lived.
The Storian—if indeed the assassin had been of that nationality—had fought well. He had gotten in a few lucky punches and even one well-timed kick before going for his phospho firearm. That he might have had the weapon turned on him, and his massive chest blown apart in the ensuing
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