The Fringe Wars

3.1

Critch was safe from heat-sensors as long the photon blasts cooked up the area around him enough to make sweat run down his face and back.

He tapped his wrist comm to make the call for backup.

Hari's visage appeared. "You ready for me?"

"It's getting hot down here," he yelled.

"On my way. I'll be there to cool things down in thirty seconds."

He disconnected, and crawled across the floor to get away from the gunfire. The droms kept firing nonstop at any target they could zero in on. The thing about photon fire was, they could fire at a building long enough to burn a hole through a wall to get to the target on the other side. He was lucky the warehouse was built with stone blocks, which meant the wall would hold longer than most.

Critch had chosen sniper rifles for this battle rather than photon guns to penetrate CUF shielding. The downside of using rifles was, they had a limited supply of ammunition on hand, which meant they had to take their time to aim. He patted his photon gun, ready to pull it out. But it was only a handgun, with a fraction of a photon rifle's energy that the droms outside were using.

Birk's cannon fired to his right, and the barrage that had been raining in Critch's direction was suddenly gone. He took a risk and looked out to see that where the two droms had been under cover was now a large hole in the warehouse wall. He stood and ran over to Birk's location.

"Thanks for drawing their fire," Birk said.

"Anytime," Critch muttered before patting the younger man on the back. His comm chimed, and he read the message. "Seda's through."

Birk nodded.

A high-pitched engine screamed as Razor's Edge dived at the CUF gunships.

"Hari's crashed the party," Critch said.

Birk blew out a breath. "About time."

Critch looked out the window as the gunships broke off from their strafing runs to go after the new threat. Razor's Edge dwarfed the two gunships, which were more agile but had far less speed and firepower.

He turned his attention back to the ground. The battle had calmed down, with only one source of active photon fire remaining.

"I want that drom alive," Critch announced through his comm.

Critch, Birk, and the two teams converged on the remaining dromadier. An explosion from behind them shook the ground. The men ducked for cover while Critch pivoted to locate the source of the blast. Billowing black smoke drew his vision upward. It appeared that Hari had taken out one gunship. The second had chosen discretion over honor and was hightailing it out of the area.

Hari wagged her wings as she flew over the warehouse district before disappearing into the distance.

The rest of Critch's first team caught up with him and Birk on the ground floor. They crossed the street as a single unit, moving quickly yet warily toward the second team, who had their rifles leveled on a drom kneeling before them.

Critch stepped up to the soldier. He was young, likely on his first tour. He bore normal white skin, meaning he could've been from Alluvia or any colony.

"Where are you from?" Critch demanded.

The man pursed his lips and didn't speak.

"Alluvian. I thought so. Well, it's your lucky day, citizen. You get to live."

The man's eyes darted to Critch in surprise.

Critch nodded. "You are to report to your superiors that the warehouse district has been reclaimed by Terrans. Only colonists are free to pass through here."

"Is—is that all?" the man asked.

"You want more?" Critch countered. "Okay. Tell them that for every colonist they kill on Terra, we'll kill two citizens."

The drom's eyes grew wide.

Critch motioned for the man to stand. "You'd better get up and hustle back to your commander before I change my mind."

The drom came shakily to his feet. He kept his hands behind his head and his eyes focused on Critch as he backed away slowly. After he'd gone several feet, he turned and started running down the street.

Birk chuckled. "I never get tired of seeing a citizen piss his pants."

Critch continued to watch the soldier until he disappeared around the corner.

"This was a big day. We're one neighborhood closer to the docks," Nat said off to Critch's right.

"We could lose it tomorrow if we're not careful." Critch looked to the sky. "Let's get under cover. I don't trust the CUF to be smart enough to know when they've sent in enough young folks to die for one day."

He knew the CUF could bomb these buildings, but they were still trying to portray themselves as the defenders rather than the aggressors. Bombed-out buildings tended to look bad on the news. The Collective still controlled the media, but more and more reporters were reporting the truth, causing contradictory stories and confusion as to what was accurate.

Thanks to conflicting news stories and Seda's proclamations, the CUF was losing face in the public eye, which meant they may be forced to go further to regain control. He suspected the CUF was only weeks, if not days, away from starting bombing runs.

Critch left one team at the warehouse district to collect weapons and set up a lookout station. He took his second team back to their headquarters at Seda Faulk's hidden retreat.

Seda stood by the hangar door when they arrived. The stationmaster grinned. "Now, that was some diversion. I could see the battle from orbit. Needless to say, we broke orbit and made it here without a single eye on us."

"You're lucky you weren't later. The party was almost over before you arrived."

"But, it wasn't." Seda nodded in the direction of where the battle had taken place. "How'd it go?"

"We have the warehouse district," Critch said.

"Casualties?"

Critch shook his head. "None. First time for that. I think they're running low on experienced droms on Terra."

Seda sobered. "They'll send down more. They aren't willing to give up Rebus Station, not with the juice plants here. Speaking of which, did you know Parliament is trying to push through an act to claim all Faulk Industries holdings? They said that since I'm an enemy of the state, all my business holdings should become property of the Collective."

Critch narrowed his gaze. "If they go after your businesses, they'd have every juice plant on Terra."

Seda chuckled. "Oh, they can try."

Critch then noticed Jeyde Sixx in the hangar, looking the worse for wear. He frowned when the usually social thief kept walking without acknowledging the group. "I take it the trip wasn't a total success."

"No. Every trail Sixx followed led to a contradictory trail. As for what I learned..." He got a faraway look before turning a hard gaze upon Critch. "Mason killed Mariner. He has full control of the Founders, at least what's left of them."

Critch's lips parted. Mason—the alias Gabriel Heid used within the secret organization—killed as smoothly as a glass of Terran whiskey. Mason had played a hand in the creation of the blight, which had killed thousands, though the death Critch took most personally was that of Demes, the youngest member of Critch's crew.

"I'm sorry," Critch said. "I know she was your wife."

Seda seemed surprised Critch knew, but he shook it off. "That doesn't matter right now. What matters is that I learned Mason didn't just execute her; he tortured her for information, no doubt, information specifically about me."

"How much do you think she told him?"

Seda grimaced. "Everything."