The Lost Starship

-7-

Lieutenant Noonan burned with resentment. Usually, she kept that part of herself cordoned off from the rest. She did not have an axe to grind, but many of them lined up in a row.

She stood beside a gargantuan foundation inside Paris’ largest mall, the Le Monde. Thousands of shoppers passed her. Most chattered to each other in French, a few must have spoken German.

“Mademoiselle,” someone said from behind, his voice barely audible over the splashing water and buzz of the crowd.

She turned. A man in a black leather jacket with a shaven scalp gripped a single rose. He looked dangerous, holding himself loosely like a knife-fighter. As he extended the red flower to her, a chain jangled on his wrist. He didn’t smile but watched her closely.

Valerie Noonan had lived with this all of her life. She attracted unwanted attention because men liked the way she looked. Her beauty should have been a blessing. Because of her circumstances, it had simply been one of the many hurdles to jump.

She shook her head. She didn’t want his stinking flower.

He continued to speak in a low voice while still extending the rose.

“I don’t know French,” she said.

“English,” the man said, speaking it better than he had the French. “You look lonely, and you’re lovely. Please, take this as a gift—from me to you.”

“I don’t know you,” she said.

His lips parted. “We can change that easily enough.”

She turned her back to him. In these matters, some men only understood rudeness.

With a shock, she felt the weight of his hand on her left shoulder. The man had just violated her space. He must think he could intimidate her into doing what he wanted. He was about to get a surprise.

Valerie reached up, grabbing his fingers. They were rough-skinned, indicating manual labor or close combat training. She whirled around, twisting his hand and arm. He cried out in pain, his body spun around so he bent low, facing the mall’s tiles, with his arm half way up behind him.

“You don’t hear very well, do you?” she asked.

“Let go,” he said in a flat voice.

Something about that warned her—this man was more dangerous than she’d first suspected. Instead of releasing him and trying to run, she kept twisting.

That’s when the heel of his boot crashed against her shin. It exploded with pain, and it made her angry. She twisted his fingers even harder than before. His other arm reached up and slapped her wrist. A buzz of pain shocked her, a sizzling jolt through her entire arm. On their own accord, her traitorous fingers loosened their hold.

The man with the shaven scalp and black leather jacket straightened, facing her. He hadn’t smiled before. He frowned now, an ugly thing. There was evil in his eyes.

“That was a mistake,” he told her in a low voice.

Valerie Noonan had grown up in the Prosperity Atoll of Greater Detroit in the old United States. In this case, what prosperity meant were survival credits from the government, what people had once called welfare. The atoll was its own world, surrounded by those who worked for a living, paid taxes and therefore had the right to vote.

Valerie’s father had fought in his youth as a Beck & Loch corporate soldier. He’d lost his legs to a land mine and had been psychologically unable to take prosthetics. The corporation gave him a lump sum discharge and left him to his fate. Her dear old dad had gambled that away and soon found himself with a three-year-old daughter and very little to live on. He moved into Greater Detroit, accepting the government stipend and the lowering of status.

Valerie’s mother had died in a car accident when she was ten. Her dad drank too much and didn’t have any ambition for himself. He became her drill instructor, making her study and often wheeling beside her as he guarded her way to school. The man had arms like no one could believe and an attitude and a knife that had cut anyone foolish enough to take on the crazy cripple. Most of the time, the gang members that prowled everywhere in Detroit left Valerie alone. The few times they’d tried something when her dad wasn’t around, his training had seen her through.

She studied hard and aced everything. Finally, her dad’s endless filling out of forms got her admitted to a VA high school on the edge of the city. She went there, and discovered that the Prosperity schools had been a joke. She would have been better off reading fiction all the time.

Instead of wilting, she worked overtime to catch up. By graduation, her marks had become sterling. Even so, she barely made it into the North American Space Academy. There, she busted her tail once more. Despite her beauty and good grades, she was from Detroit. She’d lived on welfare and therefore was a second-class citizen. Her fellow cadets looked down on her. As compensation, she worked even harder and almost ended up as the class valedictorian.

Had that won her an ensign position on a battleship or maybe even a strike cruiser? No. They didn’t even send her to a destroyer. She found herself the navigator on a lousy escort, the smallest combat ship there was. Even there, the others had snubbed her… until the day the commander had an accident in the reactor room.

She had been the right person to become escort commander, but the reviewing board hadn’t agreed with the obvious assessment. That had happened during the journey into the Beyond. Her first piece of good fortune struck then. Admiral von Gunther had reviewed the board’s finding. He had personally vetoed their recommendation and instead placed her in charge of the escort.

In her mind after that, von Gunther could do no wrong. It was the critical reason she had obeyed his last order. She would have done anything for him. During her three weeks on top, she had commanded a Star Watch escort. Then, the battle with the New Men took place. Now, all her hard work had evaporated into nothing. The others with their privilege had closed ranks against her, calling her devotion to the admiral, who had always treated her fairly, cowardice in face of the enemy.

That plain made her angry. Yeah, she had gladly volunteered for the Lord High Admiral’s insane plan. The old man had some of the same grit as von Gunther. He had listened to her story and thanked her for what she’d done. The others yesterday in the conference room… she knew what those hostile stares had meant.

As she stood beside the giant fountain in the huge Paris mall, Lieutenant Valerie Noonan’s wrist throbbed from the shock of a buzzer. Her shin hurt where this goon had kicked her with his iron boot heel. What a bastard.

Now he acted tough, as if he could do something bad to her. Well, there had been gang members in Detroit who had tried to rape her before. Two of them would never walk right again.

The thug with his rattling wrist chain reached into his jacket. Valerie had a good idea he meant to draw a knife. She’d seen her dad make a similar grab. With those eyes, she knew this thug liked to cut people.

Knives were bad mojo. Vid shows often had a hero kicking a knife out of a cutter’s hand. She knew it didn’t quite work like that in real life. Her dad had taught her how to use a knife, and she had wielded one on those wannabe rapists back in the day.

Therefore, Valerie didn’t wait for Mr. Tough Guy to pull out his blade. Despite her throbbing shin, she stepped forward and rotated her waist fast. At the same time, she smoothly swung an arm, closing her fingers into a fist. She shot a right cross against his nose. If she could break it and make his eyes water, he wasn’t going to be able to see so well.

It all happened to script. She heard bones crunch. His head rocked back and tears of pain automatically began to well. Valerie kept stepping forward. The man’s hands went to his nose. That was a bad mistake. She drove a knee against his groin.

He grunted, ooffing his bad breath into her face. Valerie reached up, put her hands on his shoulder, and shoved. Mr. Black Jacket toppled, striking the back of his skull against the tiles as he hit the floor.

People had stopped to watch. A few of the women began clapping.

Valerie grinned at them. Then she realized that she was supposed to keep a low profile. What was the best way to deal with this now? Okay. She had an idea. She bowed at the waist, first in one direction and then in another.

A few people laughed.

Afterward, Valerie turned around and began walking away. Some of her burning resentment had departed. Security would be here any moment to take care of the man. She didn’t want to answer any questions. It was time to fade into the crowds. She had done that in Detroit too.

“Impressive,” another man said quietly.

She glanced to her left. This man also wore a black leather jacket and had a shaven scalp. The sight of him made her stomach tighten. What was going on? This wasn’t good.

“Clancy failed,” the man said. “I assure you, I won’t.”

Valerie saw that he had a shock wand hidden in his grip, most of it up his leather sleeve. She reached out, trying to block the hand that held the wand. The man’s other hand chopped her wrist. He obviously knew close combat techniques. Her wrist exploded with pain. She jerked her arm away. Then he brought the wand closer. If it touched her— A third man now got into the action. This one was tall and lean. From behind, he hit the thug’s elbow. The shock wand slipped out of the numbed grip and clattered onto the mall floor. The taller man kicked the shock wand away into a crowd of people.

“What the—” Black Leather Jacket said.

He never had the chance to finish his question. The taller man grabbed the back of the man’s belt and positioned his other hand on the man’s shoulders. The taller man strode briskly, and he must have been stronger than he looked. He drove Black Leather Jacket headfirst against a mall column. The man struck it with considerable force.

Valerie winced at the brutal sound.

The man simply collapsed at the base of the granite-looking column.

Someone in the crowd screamed.

The taller man gripped one of Valerie’s elbows. “My name is Captain Maddox,” he said in a cool voice. “I believe the Lord High Admiral spoke about me.”

Valerie could only nod.

Captain Maddox led her away from the brutality, quickly merging into the crowd. Behind them, people stopped and stared at the fallen man. Valerie knew enough to realize the thug had been an expert at what he did. He could have been a professional hitman.

“Who were they?” she asked breathlessly.

“The enemy,” Maddox said.

“What enemy?”

He didn’t glance down at her. He kept moving his head unobtrusively, no doubt scanning the crowd.

“For now,” Maddox said, “we shall call the enemy them.”

“You can’t mean the New Men,” she said.

Maddox winced slightly. “None of that please. Them. That’s what we’ll call the enemy in public.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Ah. I didn’t know you had a sense of humor. Thank you for informing me.”

She frowned at him. “Are you making fun of me?” She didn’t let anyone make fun of her.

“Lieutenant Noonan, I am not making fun of you. This is simply my way when I’m nervous.”

She gave him a more careful study. He didn’t look nervous in the slightest.

“This way,” he said.

She didn’t need to ask. He had powerful fingers, and his grip hurt her elbow. There was a sense of urgency to him, too. Normally, no one guided her. It began to dawn on Valerie, however, that she had stepped into a seriously dangerous assignment. The Lord High Admiral had hinted in that regard. He had tried to warn her away from doing this. Well, he had pretended to. Valerie knew enough about dares to realize he had been goading her into going.

I’m as good as any taxpayer. I am a taxpayer now. I didn’t run away from the New Men. I followed the orders of the best officer in our fleet. The Lord High Admiral asked me to do this because this is finally my chance to shine in the line of duty. I’m going to show them. I’m going to show them all what Tank Noonan’s daughter can do.

“Do you see any more of the black leather jacket gang?” she asked.

“No,” Maddox said. “They’ve dropped away. They’re watching us, though. They wonder what I’m doing here with you. They’re curious about what we’re going to do next.”

“What are we going to do?” Valerie asked.

Captain Maddox glanced down at her. He was handsome and maybe even younger than she was, and there a feeling of extreme competence in his bearing.

“We’re going to do the unexpected,” he said.

“Okay. What is that?”

“Do you see that door over there?” Maddox asked, inclining his head to the right.

She glanced at it, a utility door it seemed to her. “I see it.”

“Good. Then turn around one hundred and eighty degrees from it and run,” he said, releasing her elbow as he broke into a sprint into the direction he’d just told her to go.