“Well,” Rene said, leaning over to give Solae one more kiss before shaping course for Ten’s compound.

“That sounds like a place to start.”

The townhouse was one of several that Thorne owned. A pyramidal structure with rooftop gardens faced with a black reflective finish. Rene found the effect strikingly ugly but he was beginning to notice the way Zatis wore on him. The omipresent confinement of the Dome, the garish lighting, it made him feel cramped, the thought made him laugh.

“Sir?” the driver of the nondescript delivery van asked. He was a balding heavy-set man in utility coveralls that didn’t quite conceal his over developed muscles. Ten had recommended him as a dependable man, but he seemed to have little to nothing in the way of personality.

“I was just thinking that I have seen starship crashes in hurricanes that I like better than this place,” Rene told him, thinking back to Panopontus.

“Yes sir,” the driver responded, though without context he couldn’t possibly understand what Rene was thinking. Rene returned his attention to the townhouse. A pair of guards stood before the wrought iron gates. They were dressed in a semblance of noble livery of red and green with gold piping around the seems. Thorne obviously styled herself as a noble, though the gaudy livery was more suited to holodramas than the way servants of the noble houses were actually attired.  The contrast with their brutally functional carbines made them look even more ridiculous, though it made them no less lethal.

“Rene?” Solae’s voice sounded through the communicator clipped to his lapel. Rene had exchanged his bodyguard disguise for gray battledress of an unfamiliar pattern. Zatis was a center for mercenaries as well as spies and hardware and surplus gear was not hard to comeby. 

“I’m here my love,” Rene responded. He wouldn't normally have spoken so informally in public but he didn’t like being seperated from Solae, particularly when she might be in danger. Ten had agreed to set up a meeting between her and Alayla Thorne but he had made it clear that no security, on either side, would be allowed to attend. He also pointed out that the two of them appearing together would make it instantly obvious that they were the pair of wanted fugitives. The reasons might be good, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

“We are about to head to the meeting,” she told him.

“Then we will get started here, good luck,” he replied. The plan was a simple one, but it depended on rather exact timing.

“To you as well, and be careful,” she responded. Rene smiled and closed the link on his communicator. The driver, Sykes, Rene thought his name was, gave him a questioning look.

“Lets get started,” he told the man. Sykes nodded and shifted the truck into gear, trundling up the road toward the townhouse. With most of Zatis’ traffic either pedestrian or by air car, the streets in this upper class area were fairly deserted. Another delivery truck was pulling in to a compound further up the street, but other than that they had the place to themselves. Rene checked his equipment one more time and then opened the door, climbing out onto the running board of the moving vehicle, the bulk of it shielding him from the view of the liveried guards. Sykes slowed to a stop and wound down a window.

“Where do you want it dropped,” he called to the guards in a disinterested voice. 

“What are you talking about,” one of the guards snapped irritabley in response. Rene circled the rear of truck and crouched down to peer under the wheels. He could see the polished boots of one man close to the drivers door, while the other remained at his post.

“Look I don’t know what it is I just deliver it to the address on the file,” Sykes wen’t on, warming to his role of underpaid delivery driver. Rene stepped from behind the truck and leveled his modified sub machine gun. The gate guard’s mouth dropped open in shock as Rene squeezed the trigger. The weapon spat out a half dozen stun needles in the space of a heartbeat with a sound like a monstrous insect beating its wings. They stippled the chest of the guard and he dropped to the ground spasming uncontrollably. The guard by cab tried to swing his gun up but Sykes kicked open the door, smashing the man to the floor and sending the carbine clattering across the street. Rene shot him twice in the chest before he could rise.

“Clear!” Rene called and sprinted towards the gate. It was locked but the intricate wrought iron wasn’t difficult to climb and Rene boosted himself up and over in a few seconds. Behind him Sykes swung the unconscious bodies of the guards into the truck, one of the carbines laying across the driver's seat. It was possible that no one had seen the brief attack, but speed rather than stealth were the key to getting this done.

Beyond the gate lay a narrow strip of ornamental gardens, predominantly phosphorescent fungi of some sort. Rene darted to the door and tried it. Unsurprisingly it was locked and he pulled a small breeching charge from his equipment belt, fastened it to the lock plate and flattened himself to the wall.

“Fire in the hole,” he called, a useless reflex seeing as he was on his own, and thumbed the detonator. The charge went of with a sharp crack and the door bounced open as it recoiled off the frame. Beyond the door lay an elegant marble floored foyer the center piece of which was a grand stair case with a carved banister. Paintings and other items had been knocked to the ground by the blast and a pair of ceramic vases were shatted on the floor, scattering their burden of dirt and flowers across the shining marble. A plump woman gaped at him in shock, Rene suspected from her black and white clothing she was a servant.

“Where is the girl!” he snarled, pointing the sub machine gun at her. She gaped in terror and he waggled the barrel of the gun in emphasis.

“The girl, where is she!” Rene demanded.

“Sec.. second floor,” the woman stammered pointing up the stairs. Rene shot her once in the chest. He regretted the necessity, but he had bought a non lethal weapon for this very purpose. Clearing a building was a tricky business under the best of circumstances, and for a single gunman, there was less than no margin for error. Marble chips exploded from the floor beside him as a shirtless man carrying an automatic carbine burst from a door on the upper level and opened fire. The panicked fire shattered a cabinet and sprayed Rene with fragments of glass and shattered timber, wreathing the upper story with the smoky discharge of burning propellent. Rene pivoted smoothly as he sank to one knee before stuttering a short burst into the gunman. The thug convulsed spastically and tumbled over the ballistrating, falling to the marble floor with a crack of breaking bones. The body continued to twitch spasmodically as the stunner needles discharged the remainder of their energy. 

Rene let out a breath as his hands mechanical stripped the magazine and dropped it to the floor, replacing it with a fresh one with quick economy of motion. Pushing himself to his feet, he raced up the stairs and started pulling open doors. A fire alarm began to whine as the vapors from the breaching charge reached the sensors inside the house. The third door he opened revealed a large hall like room. The floors were padded with soft foam mats and a variety of equipment put him in mind of gymnasium. The initial impression was somewhat belied by various other stations scattered along the walls, a formal dinner setting, a reader, a large four posted bed with a screen displaying pornography. At the rear of the room two figures stood. One was a teenage girl in a tan one piece sleeveless leotard, her tear streaked face was heart stoppingly lovely, as close as nature could come to the the sculpted perfection of the aristocracy. Red welts lined her arms and probably continued beneath her clothing, older injuries were black and blue discolorations against her pale skin. She cowered in the corner with her hands up toward the other figure, as though to ward off further blows. The second man was tall and almost skeletally thin, he was completely hairless and dressed in an expensive tunic of natural leather. He held a switch in his hand, and glared at Rene with the hatred of a balked predatory in his eyes. He had obviously heard the gunfire, but seemed to have a natural arrogance that prevented him from associating the sound with any danger to himself.

“What is the meaning of this,” he snapped in a surprisingly nasal voice, taking a threatening step towards Rene.

“Mistress Thorne will have you flayed alive for this,” the man, or maybe a woman, the timbre of the voice made it hard to be sure without the usual visual cues, snarled raising the switch and touching a control on the handle of the weapon. Powerful electrical currents sparked at the tip of the switch, designed to inflict pain without leaving obvious damage. The gesture was evidently intended to be intimidating, though what the bald figure intended to accomplish against an armed man more than ten meters away Rene couldn’t begin to guess.

“Friend, I have whole star systems after me, Miss Thorne will have to wait her turn,” Rene replied, giving the figure another second to step clear before he opened fire. Stunner needles struck the figure in the chest and arms, throwing them to the floor in a spasming heap and sending the switch clattering to the padded floor. The girl screamed and hunched in her corner as Rene slung the sub machine gun on its patrol strap, the muzzle shimmering slightly from the heat of rapid fire. He crossed to the girl and knelt down beside her though she cringed away from him in fear.

“It’s all right,” he told her in what he hoped was a comforting tone, “It is going to be all right.”

Rene helped the girl to her feet but she pulled free and rushed to where the neural switch lay. Picking it up with both hands she began to thrash her unconscious instructor.

“Solae,” Rene said, activating his communicator. He lifted a small camera and beamed several seconds of video to his paramor. Proof, if Thorne needed it, that they had her slave. Rene winced as the switch slashed a bloody gash atop the fallen jailors bald head.

“We have the girl.”