Dimestore Wuxia: Old Wounds Reopened

By Ian Winchester

Federation Ranger Penny Dreadful has her target in her sights. The man who taught her everything she knew is on a backwater planet name Saint Aloysius and nothing in the spiral arm is going to stop her bringing him home in chains. Not even the wanted terrorist tied up in her ship’s hold is going to get in her way.

But Saint Aloysius is a planet where the Civil War never ended. Marines and Insurgents trade bullets, bombs and blood on the streets of the capital every day. To bring her old mentor to justice, Penny will need to understand what it is she fights for and how far she will go to see the fight through.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ian Winchester
• Release date: Sep 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781537408569

Ian Winchester

Like every author says in their bio, I’ve had stories bouncing around in my head for basically forever.Action and conflict have always fascinated me. People who put their lives and bodies on the line to take up arms against a sea of troubles as the immortal bard said. And so, like any good author, I did my research.But I don’t learn from books and interviews as effectively as I learn from rolling up my sleeves and getting my hands dirty. With the aid of some filmmaker and stuntman friends I’ve made over the last decade I’ve been doing my research at the sharp end.Dust of the Earth and Dimestore Wuxia are new expressions of the same passion for action.

Book preview

Old Wounds Reopened

By Ian Winchester

Also by the Author:

Dust of the Earth

Dimestore Wuxia – Big trouble in Carsontown

Read all of Ian's work at IanWinchester.net

Chapter 01

The checkpoint guard turned his eyes towards Theresa. Biting her lip, she brushed her stringy black hair behind her ear and stepped forward.

Behind her the commuter crowd formed a queue that went all the way back up the stairs. The Federation lacked the troops to man all the turnstiles, forcing the milling crowd into a bottleneck two at a time.

Theresa felt her heat rate pick up and did her best to ignore it as she approached.

Hal-lo. Said the guard in his heavy Indian accent. The United Federation of Terra, in their infinite wisdom, had decided that Vishnu should provide the latest rotation of garrison troops to pacify St. Aloysius. Even from a distance Theresa could tell he was reading off a phrase sheet in his augmented reality vision. He sounded like a grade-schooler trying to memorise their lines for a school play.

Please to be giv-ving your arm for the scan-ning of your nano-mo... namo... your mano-machines.

In her nanoputer Theresa moved her identification protocols to her public network before obediently raising her left hand.

"Bahut-shukriya." The guard said in his native tongue before he could catch himself.

Theresa cast a wary glance towards his companion, who watched the crowd behind her like a strict head master at a math test. Both men wore the lighter, open armour of the marine infantry squadrons. So making a nanohack attack was still within her options should this go south.

She did her best not to look like she was tensing up, but her mind was already racing. If the scanner revealed her falsified I.D. she would have to act quickly, the fresh bullet holes along the back wall stood in grim testament to his off-sider's itchy trigger-finger.

Before she could formulate the rest of her plan the first guard smiled unconvincingly and waved her on. Theresa returned her own plastic smile and got moving.

The next train out of the Green Zone stopped at the platform right on time. Theresa found a seat and felt a little sorry for the commuters still at the checkpoint. By the time the next train came that mass of humanity would have to fight for elbow room.

Theresa sighed and leaned into the seat. The train zoomed out of the tunnel and she looked over the clean streets of the Green Zone, a sight marred only by the constant presence of uniformed soldiers. Armoured troop carriers and aerial drones buzzed around the district like flies on a dung heap. Theresa snorted at them. At their shiny, totalitarian, dung heap.

The train entered another tunnel and came out again in the city proper. Out here the garrison troops treaded lightly as they patrolled the streets, ducking between narrow alleyways and dodging the crumbling remains of turn of the century buildings. This close to the Green Zone was no-ones' territory and the civilians here knew it better than anyone. If you were in trouble here, you had microseconds to work out exactly what kind of trouble it was before going to the correct faction for help, choose wrong and your trouble was only beginning.

Theresa saw the ride from the Green Zone back to the HQ as the perfect metaphor for the Federation Core worlds and what they called 'the Periphery'.

As the train sped further away from the Green Zone the well-worn streets began to give way to cracked pavement and the ruined statues of saints. The closer the train got to the neighbourhoods of Aloysius' pre-war elites the worse it got.

Theresa turned away from the window. The territory of the 'Order of Latter-day Saints of Aloysius' wasn't even worth her scorn. If anyone deserved to live in the mess their planet had become it was the Order.

As the train approached the next station the A.I. driver's calm, feminine voice spoke over the P.A. system. Due to terrorist activity on this line, all passengers must alight at the next station where alternative transportation will be provided. We apologise for the delay.

Theresa cursed under her breath as the train began to slow. Alternative transport meant the Feds were diverting troop carriers to ferry the civilians to their destination, after dropping soldiers off at every nearby station to increase security.

Theresa bit her lip again. Would it be better to hide amongst the commuters in full view of the garrison troops or try to get to the next station on foot through civilian streets? Even if they were crawling with the Order's supporters, they were all on the same side right?

While the small huddle of Green Zone civilians filed into the waiting area Theresa passed through the garrison checkpoint and slipped into the streets.

She couldn't believe even the Order were stupid enough to attack the train lines. The mag-lev system was a planet-wide infrastructure project the feds had paid for as part of their hearts and minds campaign. While Theresa may have recognised the propaganda stunt for what it was only a fool would bite the hand that spends billions of credits to improve your way of life. Why make them waste funding on repairs when they could be giving Aloysius more?

Hey, Apostate!

Theresa stopped and stifled a sigh from getting too loud. She turned to face the voice and saw a trio of youths approach her. They strode like kings, but were barely out of high school. The one in the front, the blond one in the red blazer had a pistol stuffed into the waistband of his trousers, which did not look comfortable.

That might explain why his left hand was constantly toying with it.

Yeah. He beamed. You look at me when I talk to you.

So much for being on the same side.

Theresa kept her gaze up and on the three sets of smiling eyes approaching her. The two youths flanking their friend kept silent. Their attention alternated between her and their leader.

Theresa concentrated on her peripheral vision and took in the broadwalk they were on. It was two footpaths wide and bordered by abandoned shopfronts at the edges, she was firmly boxed in. The only ways out were to turn and run or go right through the three youths.

The leader's pistol complicated those plans.

The youth looked at Theresa and sneered. What do you think you're doing here? You know your kind aren't welcome in the Gates.

The words 'your kind' made Theresa's shoulders tense. She narrowed her eyes at him. I'm just passing through. I don't need to be welcomed.

He stopped at arms-length from Theresa and his hand closed around the pistol's grip. Perhaps I'm being too subtle. Take your skanky apostate self off the streets of our fine city, you're not wanted here.

Theresa felt her hands clench into fists. "I go where I like. You can't stop me."

The youth beamed at his entourage. Looks like we got some fight in this one.

He pulled the six-barrelled pistol from his pants, at the same time his two boys moved up to flank her. Pulling retractable batons from their jackets as they approached.

The youth raised his pistol at Theresa.

Before he had it all the way up she snatched his wrist away and bent his arm towards the youth on his left. A subtle programming command transferred through her nano-machines to his hand, causing it to clench tight around the pistol, squeezing the trigger.

Unfortunately for the youth the leader had left his pistol set to 'hammer' and a shot from all six barrels punched through his chest. While he stumbled to his death Theresa intercepted his friend on her other flank with a kick to the gut.

The Leader swung his fist out at Theresa, but she was already on the move, slipping around to his back, she twisted his arm between his shoulder blades. Another nanohack command from Theresa forced his hand open and the pistol dropped into her grasp. Theresa hugged close to the leader and stuck his pistol in his kicked friend's face.

The last youth gasped, his mouth fell open and his hands came up. He noticed the baton in his hand and quickly threw it away. Oh God. Please don't kill me.

Theresa tilted her head down the street. Leave.

Without a second's thought the youth obeyed. The leader struggled, reaching to his departing friend. Travis! Don't you leave me.

Theresa stuck the pistol's barrels under his chin. Relax tough guy. I'm not going to kill you unless I have to. Does that sound fair?

He panted a few times before saying Y-yes.

Good boy.

Theresa was about to speak again when she heard the roar of speeder engines descending behind her. She spun around, keeping the boy as her human shield. Coming in to land on the broadwalk was a civilian transport speeder, basically an airborne minibus. The side door slid open allowing two men to jump the last metre down to the street while a third trained his rifle on Theresa. They wore no uniform, just jeans, leather jackets and crew cuts, but it was clear they were the Order's militiamen. They carried themselves like they had absolute authority.

The closest of them, a hard-nosed man with a permanent scowl, called out to her.

Just what the hell is going...

Theresa didn't wait for him to finish, she tightened her grip around her captive's neck and bolted for the nearest shop front, unloading a hammer-shot into each corner of the window before throwing the boy into it.

While the Order's goons got their weapons out, Theresa dropped low, switched to full-auto and emptied the last of the pistol's ammo at the door-gunner. Her rounds pinged loudly into the speeder's hull, causing the gunner to duck behind it for cover.

Theresa took her chance and dashed through the shattered glass into the shopfront. The youth reached up from the debris-covered floor and snatched at her leg, catching her at the ankle and pulling her to the ground.

A moment later the Order's goons opened fire. Bullets tore through the rest of the shop-front, obliterating the what was left of the window and sending hot steel and plexiglass everywhere.

Theresa rolled onto her back and lashed out at the bloodied youth with her other foot, catching him square in the face. Theresa felt the cartilage of his nose give way and his grip on her ankle released.

Outside one of the order's goons yelled. Form up.

Theresa pushed up from the ground and charged towards the back of the shop, vaulting over the counter just as the goons caught sight of her and opened fire again.

Theresa landed in a roll and stayed low, the constant crack of gunfire overhead encouraged this further. Crawling through the stock room she reached the shop's back door. Despite its bullet-riddled surface, the locking mechanism looked unharmed.

Theresa swore under her breath. She moved so she could kick at the door without getting up and slammed both her heels into it. The door didn't budge.

Theresa forced herself to remain calm. There had to be a way out, between the rock of the door and the hard place of the goons, there had to be a way to slip out the middle.

The crunch of plexiglass crystals told her the Order's men had stepped into the building. Theresa stilled her breathing and got up off the floor. She turned to face the Order's goons and stood right up, her hands in the air.

There she is. One of them yelled.

Theresa quickly ducked back out of view. The sudden movement startled the goons and they opened fire again. Having moved into the close-confines of the store they'd set their rifles to 'Hammer' and blast after blast flew in Theresa's direction.

The hammer-blasts tore fist-sized chunks out of the back door, Theresa waited for another lull in the shooting and rammed her shoulder into it. The battered plasterboard yielded easily, allowing her to tumble into the back alley.

Theresa rolled out of the way of the door and was up and running before they could resume fire. Sprinting full-tilt down the alley she frantically glanced around for some means of escape. The Order's goons would be through the shop and back in line of sight any moment now.

Then Theresa noticed an old fire escape on the apartment block up ahead. She poured on the speed, jumped up, kicked off the wall and grabbed hold of the ladder's lowest rung. The locking mechanism held despite its age and she scrambled up the railing and vaulted up onto the balcony.

Down below the goons burst into the alley, their weapons pointed in all directions. Theresa raced up the stairs to the roof. Another couple of seconds and she'd be out of sight.

But the movement caught the eye of one of the goons and he opened fire at her. Theresa dashed up the last few steps, jumped up to grab the ledge of the roof and hoisted herself over as the Order's bullets tore up the brick around her.

Theresa hit the roof running, covering the length of the apartment building in seconds and leaping across the next broadwalk to the row of townhouses opposite it, much to the surprise of the pedestrians underneath. Theresa landed, rolled out and was back to sprinting with only a second's loss.

Then the hum of speeder engines reached Theresa's ears and she looked up. Swinging around behind her was another civilian people-mover. The side door was already open, something the Order's mechanics must have modified its safety protocols to allow. Waiting in the open doorway, leaning casually in the rushing air was a black man decked out in running shoes, cargo pants with armoured knees and hips, a padded motorcycle jacket and black military cap. He slipped off his sunglasses as the speeder moved in closer and stashed them in his pocket.

Recognition flashed in Theresa's eyes and she cursed. He was the Order's top freerunner, they called him The Interceptor.

The Interceptor jumped out of the speeder and landed on the townhouse rooftops. Like Theresa he landed in a roll and was up and sprinting in the next moment.

Theresa changed direction and leapt right off the two storey townhouse and down to the roof of a parked speeder before rolling off and hitting the street below, her own armoured jacket protecting the places her acrobatics training could not.

The speeder circled around to keep her in sight. The Interceptor followed her route exactly, jumping off the speeder's roof to join her on the street.

Theresa turned down a trash-strewn alley and dashed to the end. Noticing the dead end looming before her Theresa scanned her surroundings without slowing down. In an instant she took in the chain-link fence at the end, the wheelie-bins lining one wall and the stray milk crate beside them.

Theresa jumped again, stepping stoned over the milk-crate to reach the wheelie-bins and from there up to the top of the chain-link fence. She grabbed at the fence, laced her fingers in between the wire mesh, kicked off the side and vaulted over the top. Just barely missing the dumpster on the other side.

The Order's speeder roared overhead, but Theresa couldn't yet see it for