She had not much time. But the more she had to do.

Two things were tumbling around in her head that had gained Vera's dislike since her departure from the medical centre. Igor might have been right with his speech about her not being prepared for what was about to come. If she really was to late to save the children... She didn't want to think about it any further, and she didn't have to. For Igor might know the dark sides of the galaxy where everybody was gearing up to kill each other, and he might have seen first-hand what the Comm wars and the following conflicts had turned the galaxy into. But he didn't know Johnson - unlike Vera. She was confident that Johnson would keep his end of the bargain that he had closed with his mysterious business partner, this Foster. He wouldn't harm the children unless he absolutely had to. And he had a tight commanding grip on his people - they wouldn't go any further than they already had. As long as their mission wasn't over and they had not found what they were looking for, Vera would have enough time left to free the children and get them to safety.

She couldn't wait for Strike Squad to do it. She had to take care of it herself. She had to go out there, as soon as possible. And she already knew how to do it.

But she had to prepare for it first.

Her first stop was her locker. Her thumbprint opened the lock instantly, and she found everything she was hoping to find in it. Kate's words had really impressed her, giving her a new sensation about what Igor and the other mercenaries at the academy truly saw in her. Little by little she understood that her thirteenth birthday was not just about the way other people looked at her and treated her. It was foremost about the image she had about herself. That she learned to accept who she truly was. Now she understood it. Now the time had come.

She took out the box with the combat suit that was gifted to her at her birthday and looked for a quiet spot to get dressed. She was again wearing her boots that she had worn at the beginning of her mission - they hadn't been among the clothes Chris had given to her mother. But alas her survival knife had remained in the pockets of her jacket. Oh well, there was certainly a way to replace it.

She pulled the top over her t-shirt and felt how it adjusted to her body while getting stiffer in her torso area. Carefully she felt over the surface of the top and noticed that it had become much harder and more durable. Body armor, she thought delighted. This was getting better by the minute. The trousers showed some similar effect - the surface around her upper and lower legs hardened up and stabilized even when she firmly knocked on it. The area around her knee joints still remained flexible to keep her agility. Naturally her clothes wouldn't be much help against a direct hit from a laser blast. Vera knew that much. But at least she had some protection against the effects of blunt physical violence.

She wasn't going to put on the jacket yet, though. There was something Vera wanted to do first. She seeked out a mirror and started braiding her long hair. She did this out of two reasons. On one hand it wouldn't be enough to rescue the children - she would also have to face Johnson and his goons. A fight was bound to happen. And no one that Vera knew of would go into battle with loose hair, unless he was a Metalian. Thinking about the upcoming battle though made her nervous - but braiding her hair like this had a soothing, almost meditative effect on her. With every turn, every inch of her hair she felt more and more prepared for it. Soon the braid was finished, and she secured it with a tight ribbon. Then she put on the jacket and examined her reflection.

It was like another person was looking back at her. The combat suit, the jacket, the tightest and tidiest braid she had ever done, and the all determined face... that was not Vera returning from no man's land in the north with a concussion. That wasn't even Vera tricking the criminals that she was a twelve year old harmless runaway.  She wasn't even resembling that eleven year old girl anymore listening to the buzz of a launching starship she had longed to get on board in a childish mood. No, the person looking back at her... was "Pinch". A mercenary whose young age didn't say anything about her capability of being dangerous. She had grasped the full meaning of this name, and for the first time in her life she carried it with pride. Yes, she was "Pinch", indeed. And anyone trying to thwart her would be terribly sorry.

Of course attire and appearance wouldn't be all of it. That much was certain. Her next stop would be the armory. The busy works had been taken to the outside, so she managed to reach the heavy door to the armory unseen. This door was locked tight, but that was no problem - Vera had been bringing weapons in from time to time and knew the code already. Even if it was changed every three months.

"Pinch" put the correct code into the keypad next to the door, and it slid open with a loud hiss. Distrustful she looked around if somebody had noticed it. But there was not a soul in sight. Fortunately the door closed automatically after she had passed through it. She switched the lights to the lowest level and went in between the shelves to look for equipment.

The shelves had been pretty much cleared out. Strike Squad had probably taken all light weapons, and the big guns were just too heavy for "Pinch" to be of use. But there was no shortage of knives. "Pinch" picked up two of them - one was a survival knife similar to the one Tammy had gifted her, with several functions and a blade harmless to living tissue. The second was more dangerous: a lightweight, but very durable combat knife with a blade as long as her entire hand. While she put the survival knife into the pack pocket of her trousers - learning from her mistake the last time, as she couldn't tell whether she would have to free herself from some ropes again - she found a leather sheath for the combat knife and attached it to her belt.

Knives won't suffice, girl, those people carry laser weapons, she reminded herself and let her seeking gaze go around. It had to be somewhere around here...

In the second aisle she found the glass container, her other birthday present. "Pinch" approached it slowly and pondered. Nothing had changed about her situation: She still didn't know the code. A five digit code - and Igor had thought it up. But as she was thinking about it, the solution hit her out of the blue. Of course! Stupid of me! It was painfully obvious, and "Pinch" was miffed that she hadn't thought of it sooner.

She entered the code: 7-4-6-2-4. The glass box opened with a click.

"Pinch" could open the lid by turning it to the backside. The pistol on the display stand glistened promising in the dim light of the armory. The container had an indicator showing that the weapon was fully charged. Twenty rounds, all at her disposal. "Pinch" took the pistol reverently, studying its parts. Safety catch, trigger, energy indicator... The lower part of the box also contained a concealed department where she found an appropriate weapon's belt with a holster fitted to her gun. She put the pistol in the holster, making perfectly sure that the safety catch was still in place, then she buckled the belt on around her waist like she had seen on other mercenaries. Carrying the knife on her left hip and the gun attached to her right upper leg she felt equipped for the fight.

There was some more equipment that could turn out to be useful, so she grabbed some things small enough to fit in her pockets and her jacket. As she was about to leave her gaze found another item... and she pondered about it. It won't do me much good in a fight, she thought by herself. This thought was soon replaced by another: How would you know that? With a shrug she decided to take it with her, too. But she found herself a backpack to put it in.

When she finally left the armory she had a very solid idea of how to go on from there. She would have to take care of the second problem after her return. It was about that little detail she noticed on this Lieutenant Garrett. Hopefully she wouldn't cause any trouble to her father or the academy by not telling anyone about it. But she couldn't afford to change her plans right now, having no idea how much time was still left. Outside there was her way to get to the children and help them, it was just getting loaded. But if Igor had listened to her - really listened to her for a change - then maybe he would have seen it, too. That little detail she had come across back in the medical centre...

At the moment those security officers had introduced themselves Vera had caught a glimpse at their uniforms. The sergeant had his name tag on the chest, stating the name Rick Hammond. Nothing for "Pinch" to get agitated about. But Garrett, the lieutenant with the fake smile had tried to inconspicuously cover his name tag. For one short glimpse he hadn't managed to do so - short enough for Vera to notice it without thinking too much about it. "Pinch" now had finally figured it out. The name on the tag was Andrew F. Garrett.

F for Foster.

The connection was silently crackling for a while until the long expected voice came through: "Yes, what is it?"

Lieutenant Garrett had leaned over the device in the shadowy part of the communications room, trying to keep his voice as far down as possible. "We have a huge problem."

"How huge?" Johnson's voice kept calm and calculating as always. Garrett wondered if there was something that could make this bastard lose his cool.

"A girl has gotten away from you. Vera Lippson, thirteen years of age. She described you and your people quite accurately and told about your plans." Garrett looked around nervously if someone was listening in on him.

At the other end of the connection Johnson laughed quietly. "Resourceful little minx she is. But I don't think that someone would pay much attention to some runaway's story..."

"Only that she is no runaway" Garrett hissed testily. "She's the daughter of Igor Lippson and trainee at the mercenary academy of Hank Bodderias. Her father has quite the reputation around the Centralius sectors."

"What?" Garrett had been wrong. Those news did make Johnson lose it. "Igor Lippson? Big Eye? Is that him?"

"It gets even better" Garrett continued, his anxiety going up a few notches. "Vera Lippson had been on a recon mission with a shuttle somewhere within your sector. The shuttle was shot down. Is it possible that you had something to do with it?"

As a response a deep sigh was hearable from the connection. "Oh well, at least now I know that the sentry guns are working fine. But we haven't seen anything of a crashed shuttle. That girl must have covered quite the distance to reach us."

Garrett rolled his eyes in annoyment. "That's the least of your problems now, Johnson! Academy mercenaries are searching the perimeter right at this moment. If you are found out..."

"No one is going to find us. Don't get your knickers in a twist!"

"I have also been told that you are holding several other children" Garrett transmitted.

Silence was the answer for a while, before Johnson's voice was heard again: "I wasn't going to burden you with that kind of knowledge..."

"And I know nothing of it" Garrett replied coldly. "Get rid of them! For good!"

Again a longer period of silence, then Johnson asked the question to be expected: "What about our agreement?"

"We have a new agreement now, Johnson" Garrett flared. "One in which I can't have any witnesses. You will do everything necessary to achieve that. As for me, I'm going to take care of that Lippson brat."

"We still haven't found the stones" Johnson reminded him. "But we are close. Are you absolutely sure you can keep your end of the bargain? You have the guts for it, I mean?"

"Don't rack your brains on it, Johnson." Garrett let out a quiet, but mean laugh. "I have an idea how to silence her. Just see to it that the goods will be ready when the time comes. And as I said: No witnesses! And no proof!"

Johnson mumbled something unintelligable. In a clearer tone he then said: "And some people say you security guys are not flexible. We'll take care of our part. Johnson Out." The connection was gone.

Garrett kept sitting at the console for a second, thinking about it. Yes, it would be child's play to him to muzzle that girl. Without any proof no one was going to believe her anyway, mercenary or not. But it couldn't hurt to make sure of that.

He stood up from his chair, turned around... and was facing a woman standing in the doorway to the communications room. A woman dressed as a mercenary - with an emblem on her chest showing two heavily armed unicorns. "Now that was interesting" the mercenary stated in a distinct calm tone.

Garrett looked at her right hand which was placed on the handle of a laser weapon. "Listen!" he said to her, raising one hand in a soothing manner. The other hand went seeemingly at random down near his belt... "I don't know what you've just heard..."

"Oh, I've heard enough" Kate Lipinsky, the leader of the Unicorn Riders, responded in a significantly colder voice. "For example that you hunt down little girls."

"I assure you" Garrett told her with his most disarming smile, "that is all totally out of context..."

Nobody was anywhere near the communications room. So nobody could see the sudden flash or hear the sound of the laser blast or the rumble as a human body fell heavily to the floor.

The transport ship departed about an hour later. During that hour the members of the academy were busy loading it with supplies and equipment stored in small and large containers. None of them wasted one thought on checking those crates again after they had been brought on board.

It wouldn't have done anything anyway, since "Pinch" was not in them. She had picked an entire different hiding spot on board which nobody would have ever thought of. It wasn't very cozy in there, but she had enough room in it, and no one could see from the outside that someone was hiding there. No one would have even guessed - the opening "Pinch" had had to squeeze through would have been far to narrow for a grown up human being.

The craft happened to be not the quickest in the bunch, compared to the normal shuttles of the academy, so the flight to its destination took additional two hours. "Pinch" had begun to get bored and to have second thoughts about her mission. To distract herself from them and to keep occupied she opened the backpack and examined that last item more closely that she had taken from the armory.  It would take some work on it to get it ready. But if it workes like she intended it to, then she would have a definite ace up her sleeve. With her survival knife and a tiny lamp she started to work. It took a considerable amount of time since she had to be extra careful, and she considered every step very carefully before executing it. By the time she had finished the transport had already landed a while ago.

"Pinch" could hear the mercenaries unload the cargo from the transport and decided to remain hidden for a little longer. Eventually the commotion outside ended. She put the item back into her backpack and climbed through the narrow opening back outside. It was a small cargo hatch no one was ever using, so most of the mercenaries didn't even know it was there. When she arrived on the outside "Pinch" found it to be still pitch dark. The landing pad wasn't lighted up to not attract any unwanted attention, and since searching in the dark was much more difficult, Strike Squad appeared to have bunked down altogether. There was no more than a handful of guards watching the camp.

But there was another problem. This was not the crash site of their shuttle. Of course it isn't, "Pinch" thought. Shall they risk another speeder being shot down? But this put a little dent into her original plan. She had expected to take the same route she had taken before. But now she had to orientate first. In the middle of the darkest night. Oh great...

Silent snickering somewhere near her caught her attention. She remembered: The mounted division! Some time ago Hank had some horses brought from the farmland to the academy to send out mercenaries with them into impassable territory. She looked around in the scarcely lighted camp and noticed the pen about 100 yards from the landing spot. After the mercenaries had unloaded all the cargo containers and put them somewhere near the transport, they had provided enough cover for "Pinch" to sneak towards it.

She grabbed her backpack and started running, keeping her head down. The first containers were easy to reach without anyone noticing. She crouched in her cover, feeling for the laser weapon in her belt. But then she retracted her hand quickly. No matter if someone would try to stop her, these were not the bad guys. And she would have to save her charges for something more important. After she caught some breath, she went on.

She heard a low call: "Hey? Something moving over there?" Then she heard steps approaching her cautiously. "Pinch" lowered her head even further, sped up her run and reached the pen within a few seconds. Behind the fences she threw herself to the ground and out of sight. There she stayed still, holding her breath. The steps came even closer, then they stopped. "I don't see anything" the according mercenary called out. "Pinch" recognized the voice. It was Deniz, one of the younger members of the academy. He had earned his spurs a short while ago, but we wasn't up to much lately apart from playing the target in training missions or doing some minor duties in the field. After he had taken another look around, he turned and went back to his post. "No, nothing to see here..." she could hear from him. "Pinch" grinned. When this was all over she would have so much fun taunting him with it.

Four horses were inside the pen. Three of them were not familiar to "Pinch", but she knew the fourth one. It was the exact same horse she had ridden on before. She sneaked into the pen and to the horse. It was standing there, full of expectation, and it could already scent her as she approached it. "Hey Quincy!" she whispered at the animal. "Remember me?" She put her hand on the horse's nostrils, and it didn't even shy. It had already been saddled and prepared - the mercenaries could be called to duty at any given time. After "Pinch" had stroken the horse a few times to comfort it, she took its head in both hands and looked it in the eyes. "You gotta help me now, OK?"

Quincy snorted and nodded with his head as if he had understood her. After one last moment of hesitation "Pinch" pulled herself up into the saddle. The pen was closed, but she knew that it would be not much of a hurdle for Quincy. "Let's go!" she exclaimed. Quince got moving with another snicker and galloped away.

Not even Deniz could miss this noise in any way. Also the other mercenaries still awake jumped out of their covers and looked for the cause of this upheaval. Quincy jumped over the breast high gate of the pen with a leap that made "Pinch" a little queasy for a second, then he stormed through the camp. "Pinch" ignored the agitated shouts of the mercenaries, turning into alarmed shouts seconds later, and steered the horse towards the shortest way leading out of the camp. Then the lights in the camp ablazed.

"Pinch" saw in terror how three mercenaries had positioned themselves right before her with their weapons drawn and pointed at her. Both her hands were holding Quincy's reins, and it took a moment for her to let go with her right hand and reach for her pistol. A moment far too long in this situation. But in the sudden flash of light. the three mercenaries saw the figure riding towards them... and they recognized her. "It's Pinch!" one of them exclaimed astonished. With these words the mercenaries didn't fire. Instead they jumped out of her way.

"Sorry!" "Pinch" called out to them as Quincy was passing them. They had reached the far end of the camp. Before them there was only no man's land. "Pinch" spurred Quincy once more to speed him up, leaving chaos and confusion behind her after she had caused them among the mercenaries. But she was hoping that none of them would tell her father about this. He would never forgive her for that.