Rayne
“Bad break up? I can take care of that.” Mr. Tough Guy gyrated his hips obscenely and the rest in the group laughed. “Come over here baby, and I’ll make you feel all right.”
Abena snorted. Men were pigs no matter where you went. Persuasion hadn’t worked, so she changed tack, stood up, and squared off.
“I said, back off.” She was decent in a fight, but even five on one was more than she could handle. But sometimes if you bared your teeth and barked loud enough, you could get a bully to back off.
“You gonna make me, bitch?”
“I’ll say it again, back off.” Abena pushed him in the chest with both hands, making him take a step back. As she did, she caught the smell the alcohol on his breath. Great, alcohol courage combined with the fear of being embarrassed in front of the group. She felt the chances of escaping without a fight drop to zero. “You’re drunk and you’re gonna get yourself hurt.”
“Ho ho! Little soldier girl gonna kick my ass. You hear that?” The idiot stepped forward and looked down on Abena to emphasize his larger stature.
“Whoa, Whoa. Hey guys, why don’t you leave my girls here alone?” Taft strolled into the small alcove with several shopping bags in hand. He had ditched his military wear in favor of a nice pair of pants and a loose-fitting dress shirt. He stopped next to Abena and tried to look pleasant and non-threatening.
The leader poked him in the chest with a finger.
“Kiss off buddy, we saw’em first.”
He put his hands up.
“Hey, guys, we’re not looking for any trouble. I was just doing some shoppin’ for the ladies…”
Mr. Tough Guy interrupted.
“Shoppin’ for the ladies? You buy yourself a skirt to go with that womanly face?” It was a lame joke, but the group laughed regardless.
Taft appeared to take no offense and made a joke of his own, hoping it would defuse the immanent altercation.
“Actually, no, I went with the high heels because they make my legs look longer.” He continued hurriedly while their alcohol-filled brains tried to process what he’d just said, “Anyway, we gotta be goin’.” He grabbed Abena by the arm and moved to help her get Rayne.
“Hey, I said we saw ’em first.” Tough Guy pushed Taft back and squared off. It was obvious he was spoiling for a fight and there didn’t appear much was going to prevent it, but Taft was determined to talk himself out of it just the same.
“Look, they’re really not your type anyway. I mean, look at this one.” He nodded toward Abena. “She’s way too much for you and doesn’t even really like men anyway, if you know what I mean.” He said the last in a whisper behind a cupped hand as he leaned forward. “The other one, well, she’s a total basket case right now and in need of some serious therapy. I’ll bet there are half a dozen girls for a bunch of pretty boys like you…” He didn’t get to finish.
“What’d you just call me?” The leader puffed out his chest and arms in the universally recognized sign of aggression for men everywhere. The rest of the group waited expectantly for their leader to make his move.
Recognizing his mistake, Taft back-pedaled fast to try and smooth things out.
“Oh, hey guys, no offense meant, I was just saying…”
“Offense taken.” Mr. Tough Guy pushed Taft hard in the chest and took a wild swing. Taft ducked, returned with an upper cut that laid him flat before being tackled to the ground by two of the remaining four. Abena took the opportunity to take the next one out of the fight with a kick to the groin and then went down herself from a punch to the head that left her stunned. Taft landed a lucky punch to the throat of one of his two attackers, but was left trying to prevent the other one from choking the life out of him. Abena’s attacker had straddled her torso and was attempting to rain drunken blows down on her head as she worked desperately to block them. She thrust her hips upward to throw him off balance and temporarily stop the punches, and then took the opening before he could start punching again to drive her bony elbow into his exposed groin. Her attacker cried out and fell to the side. Abena showed no mercy and followed up with a kick to the head, then moved to help Taft, who was turning purple. Using the heel of her boot, Abena drove it as hard as she could into the guy’s exposed ribs. She heard a crack and the swoosh of air as it exploded from the attacker’s lungs. He released his grip on Taft and she followed through with a kick to the head.
Abena helped Taft to his feet.
“Let’s get out of here before we draw attention.” She looked over to see that Rayne was still seated on the bench, rocking forward and back, thankfully oblivious to what had just occurred. They quickly disappeared into the crowds, leaving their attackers to lick their wounds.
***
Mr. Lexington was a private contractor. He did the jobs the military wasn’t able to handle. Too many rules and too many restrictions prevented them from getting the job done. And that was what he did, he got the job done, knocking down or barreling through any obstacle that got in his way. Sometimes people got hurt, but that was the nature of his job, and his status and classification protected him from the repercussions of his actions. It would be the higher-ups that issued the orders that would have to answer for what he did, not him. Although prudence would dictate if he wanted to continue receiving the lucrative government contracts directed his way, some amount of discretion would be needed.
Lex started his career in the military, and like many, began as an infantryman. He’d been deployed in a few minor conflicts but hadn’t been able to do much that would enhance his career. Fortunately, he’d caught the eye of one of the intelligence operatives and been recruited into the program. As it turned out, Lex had a special talent for the work. He was devious and underhanded, and had a low moral threshold that would allow him to get the job done, where others might balk. His intelligence and technical savvy allowed him to outthink both his rivals and his enemies, and after several years, those qualities put him at the top of the heap.
Unfortunately, military pay was nothing close to what could be made in the civilian market, so he started his own company. He took any contract he could get to start, civilian or military, to establish his reputation. Word quickly spread that if you wanted something done, you went to Mr. Lexington. After several years, he was able to pick and choose his contracts and added a number of top notch operatives to his team, which he’d coaxed from the military ranks with the promise of higher wages.
The current job was a retrieval for one of the military’s many research and development contractors. They’d lost track of one of their test subjects and he was tasked with tracking her whereabouts and bringing her back intact for testing. The file he’d been given was sparse in regards to information about the test subject. He had a photo, some generic bio data and her last known location. He had a team currently working the surveillance feeds, but it would take time to sift through the mountains of data. He’d need a team ten times larger than what he currently had on staff to get it done quicker. Had that been his only information, chances of success would have been minimal, but the added information regarding a team of marines suspected of aiding her escape increased his chances. The standard military chip would allow him to track their positions and begin interrogations. If they had played any part in the subject’s escape, he should be able to ferret it out in fairly short order. He’d been given a fair amount of latitude getting the information he needed, but so far he hadn’t needed to push the envelope.
He’d already checked off PFC Callahan and Jefferson. They’d been the easiest to track, but also the most unlikely according to the information he’d been given. A quick check of their living quarters and data feeds had been enough to tell him he needn’t dig any further for now. They’d shrugged their ignorance regarding the girl’s whereabouts and he let that stand since he had several other more likely targets. He’d come back to them later if he needed to. The other marine’s movements
, what was her name? He thumbed through his data file. Private First Class Henderson. Her movements were erratic, making him suspect she was up to something. He had a team tracking her now, but so far they’d just missed her at each of her several stops.
He had another team en route to retrieve Sgt. Weber and Cpl. Jackson for interrogation. As the marine squad’s sergeant and fire team leader, they were near the top of the list of either having the girl with them, or knowing where she was. If they had the girl, they could have things wrapped up pretty quickly. If not, interrogation would extract whatever information they had.
His current focus was the other fire team leader, Cpl. Ramirez and one of the other squad members, Lance Corporal Davis. He didn’t particularly care about Davis, but Ramirez was a high asset target, one he’d assigned himself personally to retrieve. The data file said she was very close to his target and that the two would likely be found together. There were two others on his list, but they were at the bottom and he didn’t have another team to assign. He’d get to them eventually if the other more likely leads didn’t pay off.
For now, Lex’s attention was focused on his current target as they moved in. They had just entered the outskirts of a small tourist community on the coast. He didn’t pay attention to the name as they descended from the airborne traffic lanes to street level and passed through the many t-shirt, fishing and surf shops along the road as they headed for the beach.
“What’s our range to target?” There were three other men in the vehicle, the minimum number he’d figured were needed for a retrieval of this type. These were all top-notch, ex-military, special ops guys that knew their business.
The man in the front passenger seat spoke. His eyes had a distant look that was the telltale sign of someone accessing a retinal viewer.
“Sixteen hundred meters. Looks like one is right on the beach, but the other is popping in and out.”
“Popping in and out?”
“Yeah. She might be in the water. That would block the signal every time she went under.”
Their black hover car moved smoothly through the light traffic and onto the strip running parallel to the beach.
“Find us a spot over there and we’ll move in on foot.” They parked and got out. They were all wearing matching tan slacks, black polo shirts and sunglasses. If that didn’t set them apart from the bikinis, board shorts and exposed and suntanned skin of those around them, the ear pieces and side arms surely would have. This wasn’t a stealth mission and they weren’t here to blend in or make friends.
“That’s going to be Davis over there. Matches the picture.” One of the team pointed toward the end of the dock where a lone figure sat fishing. They moved as a group, drawing stares as they went. They made no effort to quiet the noise of their boots on the dock’s boards as they took positions behind where Davis sat.
“Lance Corporal Davis.” It was a statement not a question.
Davis didn’t bother turning around, but reached down into his cooler and took a sip from his cold drink.
“Yeah?”
“I’m Mr. Lexington.”
“Good for you.” He set his drink back down and gave his fishing line a few experimental tugs.
He got straight to the point.
“Do you know where the girl named Rayne is?”
“No idea.” He began reeling the line in.
“When’s the last time you saw her?”
He shrugged his bare shoulders, still not bothering to look up from what he was doing.
“She hopped one of the shuttles, I assume. I left before she did.” He reached down into another cooler and began re-baiting his hook.
“So you have no idea where she is?”
“Nope.”
Lex was starting to get a little annoyed with the marine’s indifference and had half a mind to have him dangled by his feet over the edge of the dock. The numerous battle scars on his bare torso suggested that might not go as smoothly as he was envisioning, so he decided to move on to his next target and come back to Davis if need be.
“Where’s Corporal Ramirez?”
He cast his line back into the water.
“Surfing would be my guess.”
“Surfing?”
Davis nodded toward the breaking surf and the dozen or so bodies bobbing in the water on their boards.
“You can swim on out to talk to her if you like.” He took another long sip from his drink. “Or you can wait. She usually comes in after about an hour for a rest and cool drink. I got some here if you’re thirsty.” He nodded toward the cooler.
***
Lena hadn't grown up on the beach, but she loved it all the same. She was a city girl. Born and bred on some of the meanest streets in any system. She'd gone through her childhood with little to no parental supervision. She had no idea who her father was and her mother had worked herself to an early grave. Lena had been on her own since she was sixteen. She was in and out of foster care and group homes until she was eighteen and finally old enough to make some of her own decisions. Her first decision had landed her in jail on minor assault charges. The judge, thinking to make a point about fighting, decided mandating her enlistment into the marines would do her some good. As it turned out, he'd been right, and she'd found her calling in life. Rather than take the fight out of her, they'd seen the natural fighter in her and made her better and more disciplined. She loved the challenge of being a marine and loved to push herself as far as her body would take her.
But when you pushed yourself that hard, you needed the down time to match it. Lena had met that match in surfing. She wasn't great at it because the time on-ship just wouldn't allow for it, but she got out every chance she could. She loved the sound of the breaking waves, the cool water and the sun on her back as she bobbed in the swells of the ocean waiting for the perfect wave to come along. Her olive skin loved the sun and drank it in. She'd already started a very nice tan to make up for the months of space duty and was hoping to work on it a little more until she saw the group of four men approaching Davis.
It looked like the welcome wagon had arrived. Lena cursed. She'd been hoping for at least another day to enjoy the surfing and the company of the other surfers. She'd made some quick friends and had her eye on one guy in particular, hoping for a date. Oh, well. He was probably gay anyway. She slipped the tether from her ankle and watched for the next good wave. She waited for several minutes until she saw the one she wanted and began paddling forward. She noted the four men had moved from the dock to the beach, where they waited ridiculously in their tan pants and black shirts. Idiots, she thought. They must be sweating bullets. She picked up speed as the wave began to crest and rode down its face. She could have ridden it all the way in, but instead, reversed direction back up the face of the wave and over the top, where she was sent tumbling into the air to finally splash and disappear beneath the surface.
***
Lex stood in the sand, watching as Ramirez bobbed in the water.
"Scan for the girl." He knew from the file that Rayne didn't possess the standard military chip, which was odd, but the photo they'd been given would be enough for facial recognition. It was entirely possible she was among the hundred or so swimmers and surfers in the water. He watched the corporal begin to paddle for the next wave, and stand to ride its face. Even at this distance, he could see she was lean and fit, and had to admire her bikini clad figure. He preferred blonds with lots of curves, but the rock hard abs, dark hair and tan skin were hard to ignore. He continued to watch as she suddenly switched direction and shot up the face and into the air, finishing with a spectacular crash into the water. He folded his arms and gave a snort of amusement, waiting for her to surface. Hopefully she'd seen them and would not make them wait. It was already getting damn hot and he couldn't wait to be back inside the air-conditioned comfort of the air car.
Several minutes passed and the corporal failed to resurf
ace. Her board washed ashore, but he still saw no sign of her.
"Anyone see her?"
"No, sir."
"Spread out. Fifty meter spread in each direction." She couldn't have gone too far. He seriously doubted she'd drowned or her body would be washing up on the shore along with her board or she’d be floating on the surface. No, she'd just given them the slip and if she'd done that, she had something to hide. Hopefully, that something was a girl named Rayne. He needed more people on this problem and made a quick decision. Lex tapped the dot phone behind his ear and made a call.
"Leave Henderson and come to my location." He didn't wait for a reply as he ended the call and scanned the surf. He waved his team in and gave them their directions until reinforcements could arrive. "I want you two to keep a lookout. One eye on the water for Ramirez and the other on Davis. Split up if you have to.” He turned to the man standing next to him. “You’re with me." He jogged quickly back through the sand toward the car.
One of the benefits of being the boss was that you didn't have to take the crap jobs, like standing in the sand and burning sun. They hopped into the air car, powered up, and enjoyed the rush of cool air pouring from the vents.
"Where to, Lex?"
"Take us up and over the surf. I want a bird’s eye view." The driver entered the overrides and the car rose into the air. Civilian traffic was strictly controlled by AI and moving outside the proper traffic lanes was prohibited. In fact, it was impossible without the proper authorization. Fortunately, Lex held the god codes that gave them that authorization. They reached one hundred meters quickly and then moved out over the crashing surf to circle the waves. After nearly an hour, they began expanding their search, moving up and down the coastline. When darkness fell, they were still empty-handed.
***
Mike picked this particular part of the planet for a reason. It was designated wilderness and no mechanized vehicles or devices were allowed on the ground or in the air. Even communications were prohibited as the area had been designated as a dead zone. An electronic barrier had been set up to block anything coming in or out. If you broke your leg, if you had a heart attack, or were attacked by a wild animal, you were on your own. No exceptions, no exclusions, and people looking for that true wilderness experience were required to submit a will and video authorization to participate. If anyone wanted to track them, they’d have to do it by traditional means; on foot.