DATELINE: SESEN: Part Eight - [Comm-Links](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links) - DATELINE: SESEN: Part Eight DATELINE: SESEN: Part Eight =========================== Undefined Undefined Dateline: Sesen [Previous](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13634) [Next](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13636) Content ------- English Unsanctioned Sesen Governor, Tentopet Jones, Assassinated. New United Reporter, Ulla Yadav, On Scene. Two guards jumped on Yadav, a man and a woman, and pulled her out of the street. The others did the same with Jones, except they sought refuge on the opposite side of the thoroughfare. Screams erupted from left and right as civilians rushed indoors. Awnings were scarce — most of the buildings didn’t even have proper roofs with gutters or any kind of lip. Yadav plastered herself against the side of a building. The guards brandished their guns, scanning the rooftops. Jones called to Yadav, but was quickly pulled down an alley and out of sight by her security team. I knew it, Yadav cursed to herself. All the roses and sunshine, I am for the people crap was just that — a load. Someone had heard their fearless leader was walking tall downtown and had decided this would make a fine time for target practice. Yadav didn’t like getting this close to an assassin’s pot-shots. With the governor on her way back to her ivory tower, Yadav let herself breathe deeply. Right up until her male guard stepped out of the shadows and went down hard. The rata-tat-tat of consecutive shots echoed between the cement buildings. The female guard pulled her comrade back and propped him against the building. A heavy gurgle escaped his open mouth. “Stay with me, keep your eyes open,” the woman shouted, slapping his cheek. In the next moment he slouched to one side, lifeless. Haddix’s face flashed before Yadav’s eyes. Why hadn’t the assassin followed the governor? Who was left to target? She crouched into herself, searching the rooftops for signs of movement. There — there! A dark figure, four buildings down. It shifted, revealing a long barrel. She tugged roughly on the guard’s collar. “Over there.” “Damn. This way.” The woman shoved Yadav behind her and around a corner. She sighted the figure for a heartbeat, then decided not to engage. “Follow me,” she said, grabbing Yadav by the lapel and looking her straight in the eye. The woman was blonde and baby-faced. From a distance, without the heavy helmet and armored vest, Yadav never would have pegged her for a military type. Up close, though, her sheer presence was commanding. “Move only when I say. If I yell stop, that means instantly, got it?” “Got it.” She pointed down a side street. “Move!” A cross-hatch of shadow and light played across Yadav’s path as she ran down the narrow passage. Wooden slats and pieces of corrugated sheet metal created makeshift bridges between the buildings. The flat, unfinished roofs apparently served as a second set of streets, which meant the shooter had an easy means of pursuit. The guard continuously barked out directions. “Left. Right. Left. Left.” Yadav’s breaths became deep and labored. The air was too thin. She felt light-headed, her lips and fingers tingling, but adrenaline kept her going. The city center, and the governor’s hill, moved further and further away. Gunfire at the rear kept Yadav motivated to stick with her guard’s orders, but she didn’t like that they seemed to be headed to the outskirts of town. “We need backup,” the woman shouted into her radio. “Am being pursued by a single assassin, male, clothing: hooded, all black. Targeting suggests his mark is —” She was cut short as bullets ricocheted off of the cement corner centimeters from Yadav’s head, revealing rusted rebar beneath. The guard pushed Yadav to the ground, while simultaneously shooting up and behind with her energy weapon. When she ceased firing, all lay quiet. Yadav choked on the chalky dust swirling through the air. “I’m going to count to three,” the guard said. “And when I say go, you run into that doorway ahead. You see it?” Yadav picked her chin up out of the dirt. An open entryway lay about twenty meters away at her twelve o’clock. “Yes.” “I’ll give you cover fire. Don’t hesitate. Sprint right through. Ok, here we go. One. Two. Three!” She yanked Yadav up by the nape of her suit, then gave her a push forward. The sound of dueling firepower rang in her ears as she ran, pushing herself all-out to cross the distance in record time. The black maw of the doorway swallowed her up, and the building’s cool interior felt like a safe shroud. The light outside seemed blinding now. Yadav shielded her eyes as she watched and waited for the guard to sprint in after. Dodging from wall to wall, the woman took a less direct route, right up until the last few meters. She leaned forward, stretching for the finish line — but burst across it with an unnatural force. At first, it looked as though she’d dived for the doorway, but she hit the floor face-first, dropping like a sack of stones. Yadav knelt next to her, but the guard did not move. A fine trickle of blood made a winding path down the back of the woman’s neck. Gingerly, Yadav removed her helmet. The top of her neck had been punctured, right where spine met skull. Yadav guessed she was dead before she’d finished falling. With shaking hands, Yadav picked up the helmet and secured it atop her own head. Next she rolled the body over, unbuckling the vest. When it was free, she shrugged it on over the tight suit jacket. She knew she should use the radio to call for help. She knew she should stay put until aid arrived. She knew she should keep her head down and out of the light. But she also knew she couldn’t do any of those things. Yadav had to find out why someone on this dinky planet wanted her dead. Taking up the guard’s weapon, she crouched low, looking out and up through the slats. Pale blue sky was visible, despite the thick dust motes. Something rustled, like pigeon’s wings, above the door frame. Except she hadn’t seen any pigeons — or urban birds of any kind — on Sesen. One step out that door and he’d have her. Perhaps there was another way out. Boards covered most of the windows, and fragments hung by rusted nails in the doorjamb. She’d only gotten in because the door had been stolen. Slivers of light shone through the boards over a window to her right. If she could open it — quietly — she might be able to slip out that way. Quickly, she gave her new vest a pat down. Clammy fingers kept her from getting a good grip on the pocket flaps, but eventually she plucked a few open. One contained sanitary wipes, another mints. The third had a fresh battery. The fourth, a grenade of some kind. What she really needed was a distraction. The guard’s black boots drew her attention. They were much nicer, and better for outrunning gunmen, than the pumps the governor had lent her. Hoping she was dealing with a patient assassin, Yadav yanked the boots from the dead woman’s feet. As she laced them, she noticed how slick the plastic pumps were. She gave one shoe an experimental shove, and it slid a long ways across the cement floor. Ah ha. Tiptoeing the three meters to the window, pump in one hand and gun in the other, she steeled herself for flurry of action. Three. Two. One. She tossed the shoe at an angle, so that it flew over the floor and through the open door. The gunman took the bait, and when he began firing, so did Yadav. The dry wood burst into chips under the assault, leaving her a narrow hole to crawl through. She landed with an oomph in the adjoining alley. Instead of making a break for it, she held the gun at the ready and rounded the corner, until she had the assassin in her sights. She didn’t want to kill him, she wanted to interrogate him. The lengths she had to go to for an interview. “Hey!” He spun and froze, but only for an instant of uncertainty. Would he shoot? No. He ran. Going from hunted to hunter in a split second, she gave chase. With every breath, another swear escaped her chapped lips. The new boots, though a size too big, gripped the dirt well and helped her keep pace. “Stop,” she shouted at him again. Surprisingly, he obeyed — but only so he could open fire. Their roles flipped again. Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut? A galvanized rain barrel was her only chance at refuge. From a squatted position, she laid down a line of fire in the assassin’s general direction. He pressed forward. The shots came closer. She had to flee. A few times, Yadav doubled back and took him by surprise, but he always ended up with the upper hand. And still they traveled away from people — into a neighborhood full of half-toppled homes. Some walls had completely sloughed away from their rebar supports. Graffiti covered everything. On the street that Jones had taken her to, things might have been collapsing, but they were clean. The people took some measure of pride in their surroundings. Not here. Ugly black and red streaks were abundant. In a few areas, the same square meter of wall had been covered again and again — one gang trying to blot out the other. Yadav seized the upper hand once more. She wanted to stop this, get him to stay put. Once more, she examined the vest. Yadav pulled out the grenade. It was heavy in her hand, and cold, like a river stone. She realized it looked different than the explosive grenades she was familiar with. It wasn’t an explosive. She had a sound grenade — a pacifying tool. It emitted a strong burst of low-frequency sound, designed to knock people off their feet, compress organs and cause nausea. Perfect for halting a would-be killer in his tracks. The assassin leapt over a large gap, from one disintegrating roof to the next. Yadav took her chance. She pressed the button and lobbed the grenade with all of her might. It bounced onto the corrugated metal at his feet. He pulled up short, surprised. Yadav pulled herself into the fetal position, with her nose to the ground and her hands covering her head. A deep whomp tore through her muscles. It knocked the air from her lungs, but otherwise left her unaffected. When she got up again, she shielded her eyes against the sun’s glare and scanned the top of the building. The man was nowhere in sight. He must have been knocked off balance — and fallen. Yadav rushed around the corner and gasped. He lay on his back, suspended above the ground, with several pieces of exposed rebar protruding through his chest. to be continued … Nicht genehmigter Sesen-Gouverneur, Tentopet Jones, ermordet. Neue United Reporterin, Ulla Yadav, On Scene. Zwei Wachen sprangen auf Yadav, ein Mann und eine Frau, und zogen sie von der Straße. Die anderen taten dasselbe mit Jones, außer dass sie auf der anderen Seite der Straße Zuflucht suchten. Schreie brachen von links und rechts aus, als Zivilisten nach drinnen eilten. Markisen waren knapp - die meisten Gebäude hatten nicht einmal richtige Dächer mit Rinnen oder irgendeiner Art von Lippe. Yadav hat sich gegen die Seite eines Gebäudes geputzt. Die Wachen schwangen ihre Waffen und scannten die Dächer. Jones rief nach Yadav, wurde aber schnell von ihrem Sicherheitsteam über eine Gasse gezogen und außer Sichtweite gebracht. Ich wusste es, Yadav verfluchte sich selbst. All die Rosen und der Sonnenschein, ich bin für die Leute, die Scheiße war genau das - eine Ladung. Jemand hatte gehört, dass ihr furchtloser Führer in die Innenstadt ging und hatte beschlossen, dass dies eine gute Zeit für das Schießübungen sein würde. Yadav mochte es nicht, den Schüssen eines Attentäters so nahe zu kommen. Als die Gouverneurin auf dem Weg zurück zu ihrem Elfenbeinturm war, ließ sich Yadav tief durchatmen. Bis zu dem Moment, als ihre männliche Wache aus dem Schatten trat und hart nach unten ging. Das Verhältnis von aufeinanderfolgenden Schüssen hallte zwischen den Zementgebäuden. Die weibliche Wache zog ihren Kameraden zurück und stützte ihn gegen das Gebäude. Ein schweres Glucksen entkam seinem offenen Mund. "Bleib bei mir, halte deine Augen offen", rief die Frau und schlug ihm auf die Wange. Im nächsten Moment krümmte er sich zur Seite, leblos. Haddix' Gesicht blitzte vor Yadavs Augen. Warum ist der Attentäter dem Gouverneur nicht gefolgt? Wer war das Ziel? Sie hockte sich in sich selbst und suchte auf den Dächern nach Anzeichen von Bewegung. Da - da - da! Eine dunkle Gestalt, vier Gebäude tiefer. Sie bewegte sich und enthüllte einen langen Lauf. Sie zerrte grob am Kragen der Wache. " Da drüben." "Verdammt. Hier entlang." Die Frau schob Yadav hinter sich und um eine Ecke. Sie sah die Figur nach einem Herzschlag und beschloss dann, sich nicht zu engagieren. "Folge mir", sagte sie, packte Yadav am Revers und schaute ihr direkt in die Augen. Die Frau war blond und hatte ein Babygesicht. Aus der Ferne, ohne den schweren Helm und die gepanzerte Weste, hätte Yadav sie nie für einen militärischen Typ gehalten. Aus nächster Nähe war ihre schiere Präsenz jedoch befehlenswert. "Beweg dich nur, wenn ich es sage. Wenn ich aufhöre, bedeutet das sofort, verstanden?" "Verstanden." Sie zeigte auf eine Seitenstraße. "Bewegung!" Eine Kreuzschraffur aus Schatten und Licht spielte über Yadavs Weg, als sie den engen Durchgang hinunterlief. Holzlamellen und Wellblechteile bildeten provisorische Brücken zwischen den Gebäuden. Die flachen, unfertigen Dächer dienten anscheinend als zweiter Straßenzug, was bedeutete, dass der Schütze eine einfache Verfolgung hatte. Die Wache bellte ständig nach außen. "Links. Richtig. Links. Links." Yadavs Atemzüge wurden tief und arbeitsreich. Die Luft war zu dünn. Sie fühlte sich benommen, ihre Lippen und Finger kribbelten, aber Adrenalin hielt sie am Leben. Das Stadtzentrum und der Hügel des Gouverneurs rückten immer weiter auseinander. Geschützfeuer am Heck hielt Yadav motiviert, sich an die Befehle ihrer Wache zu halten, aber sie mochte es nicht, dass sie anscheinend an den Stadtrand gefahren waren. "Wir brauchen Verstärkung", schrie die Frau in ihr Funkgerät. "Wird von einem einzigen Attentäter verfolgt, männlich, Kleidung: mit Kapuze, ganz schwarz. Das Targeting deutet darauf hin, dass sein Ziel -" Sie wurde kurz geschnitten, als Kugeln von den Zementecken Zentimetern von Yadavs Kopf abgeschnitten wurden und rostige Bewehrungsstäbe darunter enthüllten. Die Wache drückte Yadav zu Boden, während sie gleichzeitig mit ihrer Energiewaffe auf und hinter sich schoss. Als sie aufhörte zu schießen, lagen alle still. Yadav erstickte an dem kreidehaltigen Staub, der durch die Luft wirbelte. "Ich werde bis drei zählen", sagte die Wache. "Und wenn ich sage, geh, rennst du in die Tür da vorne. Hast du es gesehen?" Yadav hob ihr Kinn aus dem Schmutz. Ein offener Eingang lag etwa zwanzig Meter entfernt bei ihrer zwölf Uhr. " Ja." "Ich gebe dir Deckungsfeuer. Zögere nicht. Sprint direkt durch. Ok, los geht's. Eins. Zwei. Drei!" Sie zog Yadav am Nacken ihres Anzugs hoch und gab ihr dann einen Schub nach vorne. Das Geräusch von duellierender Feuerkraft ertönte in ihren Ohren, als sie rannte, und drückte sich mit aller Kraft, um die Strecke in Rekordzeit zu überqueren. Der schwarze Maulwurf der Türöffnung verschlang sie, und das kühle Innere des Gebäudes fühlte sich wie ein sicheres Tuch an. Das Licht draußen schien jetzt zu blenden. Yadav schützte ihre Augen, als sie zusah und wartete darauf, dass die Wache hinterher sprintete. Die Frau wich von Wand zu Wand aus und nahm einen weniger direkten Weg, bis zu den letzten Metern. Sie lehnte sich nach vorne und streckte sich für die Ziellinie aus - aber sie brach mit einer unnatürlichen Kraft über sie hinweg. Zuerst sah es so aus, als ob sie nach der Tür getaucht wäre, aber sie schlug mit dem Gesicht nach vorne auf den Boden und fiel wie ein Sack voller Steine. Yadav kniete neben ihr nieder, aber die Wache bewegte sich nicht. Ein feiner Tropfen Blut machte einen kurvenreichen Weg über den Nacken der Frau. Vorsichtig nahm Yadav ihren Helm ab. Die Oberseite ihres Halses war durchstochen worden, genau dort, wo die Wirbelsäule auf den Schädel traf. Yadav vermutete, dass sie tot war, bevor sie zu Ende gefallen war. Mit zitternden Händen hob Yadav den Helm auf und befestigte ihn auf ihrem eigenen Kopf. Als nächstes rollte sie den Körper um und schnallte die Weste ab. Als es frei war, zuckte sie es mit den Achseln über die enge Anzugjacke. Sie wusste, dass sie das Funkgerät benutzen sollte, um Hilfe zu rufen. Sie wusste, dass sie bis zur Ankunft der Hilfe hier bleiben sollte. Sie wusste, dass sie ihren Kopf unten und außerhalb des Lichts halten sollte. Aber sie wusste auch, dass sie all diese Dinge nicht tun konnte. Yadav musste herausfinden, warum jemand auf diesem dämlichen Planeten ihren Tod wollte. Sie nahm die Waffe der Wache auf und hockte sich tief hinunter, schaute hinaus und hinauf durch die Lamellen. Trotz der dicken Staubmoten war ein hellblauer Himmel zu sehen. Etwas raschelte, wie die Flügel der Tauben, über dem Türrahmen. Nur, dass sie auf Sesen keine Tauben - oder Stadtvögel jeglicher Art - gesehen hatte. Ein Schritt aus dieser Tür und er hätte sie. Vielleicht gab es einen anderen Ausweg. Die Bretter bedeckten die meisten Fenster, und Fragmente hingen an rostigen Nägeln im Türrahmen. Sie war nur reingekommen, weil die Tür gestohlen worden war. Lichtschwerter schienen durch die Bretter über ein Fenster zu ihrer Rechten. Wenn sie es - leise - öffnen könnte, könnte sie vielleicht auf diese Weise herausrutschen. Schnell gab sie ihrer neuen Weste einen Klaps nach unten. Klamme Finger hinderten sie daran, die Taschenklappen gut zu greifen, aber schließlich riss sie ein paar offene Klappen. Eines enthielt Hygienetücher, ein weiteres Minztücher. Der dritte hatte eine neue Batterie. Die vierte, eine Art Granate. Was sie wirklich brauchte, war eine Ablenkung. Die schwarzen Stiefel der Wache erregten ihre Aufmerksamkeit. Sie waren viel netter und besser für überholte Bewaffnete, als die Pumpen, die der Gouverneur ihr geliehen hatte. In der Hoffnung, dass sie es mit einem geduldigen Attentäter zu tun hatte, zog Yadav der toten Frau die Stiefel von den Füßen. Als sie sie schnürte, bemerkte sie, wie glatt die Kunststoffpumpen waren. Sie gab einem Schuh einen experimentellen Schubs, und er rutschte lange Wege über den Zementboden. Ah ha. Sie ging auf Zehenspitzen zum Fenster, pumpte in einer Hand und schoss in der anderen, und stahl sich für eine hektische Handlung. Drei. Zwei. Eins. Sie warf den Schuh in einem Winkel, so dass er über den Boden und durch die offene Tür flog. Der Schütze nahm den Köder, und als er anfing zu schießen, tat es auch Yadav. Das trockene Holz platzte unter dem Angriff in Späne und hinterließ ihr ein schmales Loch zum Durchkriechen. Sie landete mit einem Oomph in der angrenzenden Gasse. Anstatt eine Pause einzulegen, hielt sie die Waffe bereit und um die Ecke, bis sie den Attentäter im Visier hatte. Sie wollte ihn nicht töten, sie wollte ihn verhören. Die Mühen, die sie für ein Interview aufwenden musste. " Hey!" Er drehte und erstarrte, aber nur für einen Moment der Unsicherheit. Würde er schießen? Nein. Er ist weggerannt. In Sekundenbruchteilen ging sie von der Jagd zur Jägerin und verfolgte sie. Mit jedem Atemzug entkam ein weiterer Schwur ihren aufgesprungenen Lippen. Die neuen Stiefel, obwohl eine Größe zu groß, griffen den Schmutz gut an und halfen ihr, Schritt zu halten. "Hör auf", schrie sie ihn wieder an. Überraschenderweise gehorchte er - aber nur, damit er das Feuer eröffnen konnte. Ihre Rollen wurden wieder umgedreht. Warum hatte sie nicht einfach ihren Mund gehalten? Ein verzinktes Regentonne war ihre einzige Chance auf Zuflucht. Aus einer besetzten Position legte sie eine Schusslinie in die allgemeine Richtung des Attentäters. Er drängte vorwärts. Die Schüsse kamen näher. Sie musste fliehen. Ein paar Mal zog sich Yadav zurück und überraschte ihn, aber er hatte immer die Oberhand. Und doch reisten sie weg von den Menschen - in ein Viertel voller halb umgestürzter Häuser. Einige Wände waren von ihren Bewehrungsstützen vollständig weggezogen. Graffiti bedeckte alles. Auf der Straße, auf die Jones sie gebracht hatte, brachen vielleicht die Dinge zusammen, aber sie waren sauber. Die Menschen waren ein wenig stolz auf ihre Umgebung. Nicht hier. Hässliche schwarze und rote Streifen waren reichlich vorhanden. In einigen wenigen Bereichen war immer wieder der gleiche Quadratmeter Mauer bedeckt - eine Bande versuchte, die andere auszulöschen. Yadav ergriff erneut die Oberhand. Sie wollte das beenden, ihn dazu bringen, hier zu bleiben. Noch einmal untersuchte sie die Weste. Yadav zog die Granate heraus. Es war schwer in ihrer Hand und kalt, wie ein Flussstein. Sie erkannte, dass es anders aussah als die Sprenggranaten, mit denen sie vertraut war. Es war kein Sprengstoff. Sie hatte eine Klanggranate - ein beruhigendes Werkzeug. Sie strahlte einen starken Ausbruch von niederfrequenten Geräuschen aus, der Menschen von den Füßen stoßen, Organe komprimieren und Übelkeit verursachen sollte. Perfekt, um einen Möchtegern-Killer auf der Spur zu halten. Der Attentäter sprang über eine große Lücke, von einem zerfallenden Dach zum nächsten. Yadav nutzte ihre Chance. Sie drückte den Knopf und schlug die Granate mit aller Kraft. Es prallte auf das gewellte Metall zu seinen Füßen. Er zog sich kurz und überrascht zurück. Yadav zog sich in die fetale Position, mit ihrer Nase auf dem Boden und ihren Händen, die ihren Kopf bedeckten. Ein tiefer whomp riss ihre Muskeln durch. Es schlug die Luft aus ihrer Lunge, ließ sie aber ansonsten unberührt. Als sie wieder aufstand, schützte sie ihre Augen vor dem grellen Sonnenlicht und scannte die Oberseite des Gebäudes. Der Mann war nirgendwo in Sichtweite. Er muss aus dem Gleichgewicht geraten sein - und gefallen sein. Yadav eilte um die Ecke und keuchte. Er lag auf dem Rücken, hing über dem Boden, mit mehreren freiliegenden Bewehrungsstäben, die durch seine Brust ragten. wird fortgesetzt..... Unsanctioned Sesen Governor, Tentopet Jones, Assassinated. New United Reporter, Ulla Yadav, On Scene. Two guards jumped on Yadav, a man and a woman, and pulled her out of the street. The others did the same with Jones, except they sought refuge on the opposite side of the thoroughfare. Screams erupted from left and right as civilians rushed indoors. Awnings were scarce — most of the buildings didn’t even have proper roofs with gutters or any kind of lip. Yadav plastered herself against the side of a building. The guards brandished their guns, scanning the rooftops. Jones called to Yadav, but was quickly pulled down an alley and out of sight by her security team. I knew it, Yadav cursed to herself. All the roses and sunshine, I am for the people crap was just that — a load. Someone had heard their fearless leader was walking tall downtown and had decided this would make a fine time for target practice. Yadav didn’t like getting this close to an assassin’s pot-shots. With the governor on her way back to her ivory tower, Yadav let herself breathe deeply. Right up until her male guard stepped out of the shadows and went down hard. The rata-tat-tat of consecutive shots echoed between the cement buildings. The female guard pulled her comrade back and propped him against the building. A heavy gurgle escaped his open mouth. “Stay with me, keep your eyes open,” the woman shouted, slapping his cheek. In the next moment he slouched to one side, lifeless. Haddix’s face flashed before Yadav’s eyes. Why hadn’t the assassin followed the governor? Who was left to target? She crouched into herself, searching the rooftops for signs of movement. There — there! A dark figure, four buildings down. It shifted, revealing a long barrel. She tugged roughly on the guard’s collar. “Over there.” “Damn. This way.” The woman shoved Yadav behind her and around a corner. She sighted the figure for a heartbeat, then decided not to engage. “Follow me,” she said, grabbing Yadav by the lapel and looking her straight in the eye. The woman was blonde and baby-faced. From a distance, without the heavy helmet and armored vest, Yadav never would have pegged her for a military type. Up close, though, her sheer presence was commanding. “Move only when I say. If I yell stop, that means instantly, got it?” “Got it.” She pointed down a side street. “Move!” A cross-hatch of shadow and light played across Yadav’s path as she ran down the narrow passage. Wooden slats and pieces of corrugated sheet metal created makeshift bridges between the buildings. The flat, unfinished roofs apparently served as a second set of streets, which meant the shooter had an easy means of pursuit. The guard continuously barked out directions. “Left. Right. Left. Left.” Yadav’s breaths became deep and labored. The air was too thin. She felt light-headed, her lips and fingers tingling, but adrenaline kept her going. The city center, and the governor’s hill, moved further and further away. Gunfire at the rear kept Yadav motivated to stick with her guard’s orders, but she didn’t like that they seemed to be headed to the outskirts of town. “We need backup,” the woman shouted into her radio. “Am being pursued by a single assassin, male, clothing: hooded, all black. Targeting suggests his mark is —” She was cut short as bullets ricocheted off of the cement corner centimeters from Yadav’s head, revealing rusted rebar beneath. The guard pushed Yadav to the ground, while simultaneously shooting up and behind with her energy weapon. When she ceased firing, all lay quiet. Yadav choked on the chalky dust swirling through the air. “I’m going to count to three,” the guard said. “And when I say go, you run into that doorway ahead. You see it?” Yadav picked her chin up out of the dirt. An open entryway lay about twenty meters away at her twelve o’clock. “Yes.” “I’ll give you cover fire. Don’t hesitate. Sprint right through. Ok, here we go. One. Two. Three!” She yanked Yadav up by the nape of her suit, then gave her a push forward. The sound of dueling firepower rang in her ears as she ran, pushing herself all-out to cross the distance in record time. The black maw of the doorway swallowed her up, and the building’s cool interior felt like a safe shroud. The light outside seemed blinding now. Yadav shielded her eyes as she watched and waited for the guard to sprint in after. Dodging from wall to wall, the woman took a less direct route, right up until the last few meters. She leaned forward, stretching for the finish line — but burst across it with an unnatural force. At first, it looked as though she’d dived for the doorway, but she hit the floor face-first, dropping like a sack of stones. Yadav knelt next to her, but the guard did not move. A fine trickle of blood made a winding path down the back of the woman’s neck. Gingerly, Yadav removed her helmet. The top of her neck had been punctured, right where spine met skull. Yadav guessed she was dead before she’d finished falling. With shaking hands, Yadav picked up the helmet and secured it atop her own head. Next she rolled the body over, unbuckling the vest. When it was free, she shrugged it on over the tight suit jacket. She knew she should use the radio to call for help. She knew she should stay put until aid arrived. She knew she should keep her head down and out of the light. But she also knew she couldn’t do any of those things. Yadav had to find out why someone on this dinky planet wanted her dead. Taking up the guard’s weapon, she crouched low, looking out and up through the slats. Pale blue sky was visible, despite the thick dust motes. Something rustled, like pigeon’s wings, above the door frame. Except she hadn’t seen any pigeons — or urban birds of any kind — on Sesen. One step out that door and he’d have her. Perhaps there was another way out. Boards covered most of the windows, and fragments hung by rusted nails in the doorjamb. She’d only gotten in because the door had been stolen. Slivers of light shone through the boards over a window to her right. If she could open it — quietly — she might be able to slip out that way. Quickly, she gave her new vest a pat down. Clammy fingers kept her from getting a good grip on the pocket flaps, but eventually she plucked a few open. One contained sanitary wipes, another mints. The third had a fresh battery. The fourth, a grenade of some kind. What she really needed was a distraction. The guard’s black boots drew her attention. They were much nicer, and better for outrunning gunmen, than the pumps the governor had lent her. Hoping she was dealing with a patient assassin, Yadav yanked the boots from the dead woman’s feet. As she laced them, she noticed how slick the plastic pumps were. She gave one shoe an experimental shove, and it slid a long ways across the cement floor. Ah ha. Tiptoeing the three meters to the window, pump in one hand and gun in the other, she steeled herself for flurry of action. Three. Two. One. She tossed the shoe at an angle, so that it flew over the floor and through the open door. The gunman took the bait, and when he began firing, so did Yadav. The dry wood burst into chips under the assault, leaving her a narrow hole to crawl through. She landed with an oomph in the adjoining alley. Instead of making a break for it, she held the gun at the ready and rounded the corner, until she had the assassin in her sights. She didn’t want to kill him, she wanted to interrogate him. The lengths she had to go to for an interview. “Hey!” He spun and froze, but only for an instant of uncertainty. Would he shoot? No. He ran. Going from hunted to hunter in a split second, she gave chase. With every breath, another swear escaped her chapped lips. The new boots, though a size too big, gripped the dirt well and helped her keep pace. “Stop,” she shouted at him again. Surprisingly, he obeyed — but only so he could open fire. Their roles flipped again. Why hadn’t she just kept her mouth shut? A galvanized rain barrel was her only chance at refuge. From a squatted position, she laid down a line of fire in the assassin’s general direction. He pressed forward. The shots came closer. She had to flee. A few times, Yadav doubled back and took him by surprise, but he always ended up with the upper hand. And still they traveled away from people — into a neighborhood full of half-toppled homes. Some walls had completely sloughed away from their rebar supports. Graffiti covered everything. On the street that Jones had taken her to, things might have been collapsing, but they were clean. The people took some measure of pride in their surroundings. Not here. Ugly black and red streaks were abundant. In a few areas, the same square meter of wall had been covered again and again — one gang trying to blot out the other. Yadav seized the upper hand once more. She wanted to stop this, get him to stay put. Once more, she examined the vest. Yadav pulled out the grenade. It was heavy in her hand, and cold, like a river stone. She realized it looked different than the explosive grenades she was familiar with. It wasn’t an explosive. She had a sound grenade — a pacifying tool. It emitted a strong burst of low-frequency sound, designed to knock people off their feet, compress organs and cause nausea. Perfect for halting a would-be killer in his tracks. The assassin leapt over a large gap, from one disintegrating roof to the next. Yadav took her chance. She pressed the button and lobbed the grenade with all of her might. It bounced onto the corrugated metal at his feet. He pulled up short, surprised. Yadav pulled herself into the fetal position, with her nose to the ground and her hands covering her head. A deep whomp tore through her muscles. It knocked the air from her lungs, but otherwise left her unaffected. When she got up again, she shielded her eyes against the sun’s glare and scanned the top of the building. The man was nowhere in sight. He must have been knocked off balance — and fallen. Yadav rushed around the corner and gasped. He lay on his back, suspended above the ground, with several pieces of exposed rebar protruding through his chest. to be continued … Links ----- No links available. Images ------ 1 image/jpeg [ ![](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/x3l6h1jdbgno8r/source/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg) ](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/x3l6h1jdbgno8r/source/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg) DatelineSesenFI3.jpg [Details](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/1292) Last Modified 12 years ago Size 1.52 MB [Source](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/x3l6h1jdbgno8r/source/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg) [Info](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/1292) Metadata -------- CIG ID 13635 Channel Undefined Category Undefined Series Dateline: Sesen Comments 66 Published 12 years ago (2014-03-20T00:00:00+00:00) [RSI Article](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/comm-link/serialized-fiction/13635-DATELINE-SESEN-Part-Eight) [API](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/api/comm-links/13635)