Havoc (14 page)

He stomped into the server room, where his men were bunked down with thermal blankets and polymer bedding. Vost slammed a palm against the wall, and shouted, “Wakey, wakey, it's time to do some business.”

They were dumb enough to protest, and he
wished
he had time to work on company discipline, but he had a mess to clean up first. Plus, he reminded himself it was impossible to expect military-grade performance from a bunch of self-taught fighters who had never served. They were mercs, not soldiers. The difference might cost him this station.

Not happening.
He shoved the thought down with ferocious determination. The men sobered up fast when he said, “Higgins is DOA. We're on a body-retrieving run.”

“We can't let those animals eat him,” a merc named Frankel said.

That was actually the least of Vost's worries. The cannibals died without much trouble. It was that other nest, the one he couldn't scout with drone cams, spearheading the attacks that cost him men and equipment. But if it made the rest feel more willing to work, he could pretend this was a mercy mission and not damage control.

So he ran with that assumption, painting a gruesome picture. “We're racing these convicts to the repair bay. If they get there first, they take Higgins, use him as a trophy, cook him, and put his head on a spike. Are we gonna let that happen?”

“No, sir!” his men shouted.

It would be better if all his squad leaders had the ability to keep their men on task or the judgment to be wary. While he wouldn't have shot the man on the bridge on sight, he would've called for a medibot and sent it in to wake the soldier up, then he'd have demanded name and call number before letting him off the ground. Any deviation would've resulted in a laser blast. Still, it was too late to change the outcome. Now he had to make sure those Mary-forsaken mooks didn't benefit from this.

“What's our strategy?” Frankel asked.

“That's need to know, but if things work the way I've planned, we'll beat them there by a wide margin, giving us time to lay a trap of our own. How do you feel about payback?”

“That's my second favorite kind of pay, sir!” That came from Kinsey, a bit of a smart-ass, but he kept the men laughing during the rough patches, so Vost didn't curb him.

“Moving out, double time!” He set a grueling pace toward the cargo lifts.

Vost had been tinkering with them for a while, but parts had been stolen, and it took time to locate replacements on this wreck of a station. Plus, there were security protocols to override. If he could use station defenses, things would be a lot easier, but something had gone wrong with the subroutines, and the codes his employers had given him no longer worked. The inmates had stripped so many parts from the mainframe that the defenses that were still functional were running off pocket nodes, each with random overrides, changing every sixty seconds. While he worked on the control panel, his men paced and talked shit behind him. They didn't need to remind him that every moment's delay could cost them a critical victory, but luckily, he didn't choke under pressure. Twenty minutes later, the doors slid open, and cheers rang out.

He fixed a hard look on his men. “Let's do this. We retrieve Higgins's body, protect his gear at all costs. And we get the bastards who ended him. Are you with me?”

The answering outcry nearly deafened him.

16

Fish in a Barrel

The mood was grim and quiet.

Brahm didn't insist on silence because the mercs knew where they were headed, but nobody had the breath to speak. They had been running steadily downward for the better part of an hour; even maintenance drones didn't make it to this part of the ship. Another of Ali's shortcuts had taken them past some defenses that would've netted them some impressive resources, but Jael understood why the aliens had kept these caches to themselves. Other territories had reckoned them confined to the Warren when the truth was, they'd had supplies stashed all over the station.

Jael leapt the last few rungs and scrambled out of the way so the others could follow. He peered down with incredulity. “We're only halfway?”

“Do I need to remind you of the station's size?” Tam asked.

“That'd be great,” he answered with a sharp grin. “Do you think you could sketch me the schematics while you're at it?”

“Internal conflict won't solve anything,” Ali cut in.

Dred nodded. “We'll take a short break, catch our breaths, and rest up. That should put us in prime condition to finish the run.”

The Rodeisian female didn't look winded to Jael, but she propped herself against the wall near Brahm, her eyes dropping half-shut. Her ears swiveled independently, doubtless listening for pursuit. While the mercs were the primary threat, that didn't mean Mungo or Silence's people couldn't crash the party.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Brahm said softly to Ali.

Jael didn't mean to eavesdrop. The aliens were speaking softly enough that he gathered their words weren't meant for him. He exchanged a look with Dred that told him she shared his discomfort.
Sorry, love. There's no way to shut it off that I've found.

“You fought bravely,” she said. “I know you tried your best to save him. You've been a good friend to us.”

“No more than you both were to me on New Terra.”

Ali choked out a laugh. “You see how well that ended. Instead of smuggling you to safety, we all got caught.”

“It's a cesspool, no mistake,” the Ithtorian said. “But you make it bearable.”

Jael had never heard friendship proclaimed like that. In his experience, such words were kept under lock and key. You didn't tell people they were important because they might see it as a weakness to exploit. Better still, you didn't let people get close.

Ali's chin drooped. “I don't expect to get out of this alive, but I hope you make it, Brahm. You deserve better from life than you've gotten.”

It was tough as hell to work with a Bug. After turns imprisoned on Ithiss-Tor, he hated them and himself, too. Once, he might've only loathed that he'd failed to kill Charis Il-Wan, as Ramona Jax had paid him to do, but now regret burned inside him like the sun.
What would my life be like if I'd turned her down? I probably wouldn't be in Perdition. I might still be traveling with—

No point in such thoughts. He distantly recalled vowing vengeance on those who had seen through his bullshit and left him to rot in prison. Now, if he managed to escape, he wouldn't waste his time or energy hunting them to settle old scores.
I blamed them, but truth is, I turned first. I played my cards, and I lost.
The admission didn't come easy to him, but a certain comfort came with it.
It's over, then. There's only Perdition now. And Dred.

The Ithtorian made a chittering sound deep in his throat, a noise Jael associated with profound disagreement, the kind that defied words. “A deviant like me? This is precisely the end my father predicted.”

At that, her head swung up, and she touched the Ithtorian's claw. “That's not true, my friend. Love is love.”

“Everyone ready to move?” Dred asked.

“Shit,” Martine said, skipping past the lot of them to peer over the railing. “Is the lift . . . moving?”

“That's the cargo elevator,” Ali said. “We tried to get it working. And failed.”

Dred swore in low and virulent tones. But before Jael could decide how dire their predicament was, the mechanism holding the box shuddered and gave in a cascade of orange sparks. Brahm let out a trill that Jael recognized as laughter from his time incarcerated on the Ithtorian homeworld.

“That's a break for us,” Dred said.

The lift swayed as a cable snapped, and the winch holding it in place groaned. Given the state of repair on the rest of the station, it didn't take a genius to guess that the mechanism must be rusty. There was no way to check from the inside of the compartment though Jael could see the discoloration on the metal when he narrowed his eyes.

“If we're lucky,” Ali growled, “they fall to their deaths.”

Martine shook her head. “None of us can count on luck, lamb. But while they get out of that mess, it gives us time to maneuver.”

Brahm set a rapid pace down the skeletal stairs that led to the next level. The sound of laser fire exploded across the way, the lift rocking even more, then a merc crawled out the top.
They're not waiting for the cradle to fall.
Jael ran faster and he almost slammed into the Ithtorian, who had stopped for obvious reasons: An amber force field blocked the way. He turned, expecting to see Ali pulling at the wall, but she was still, hands balled into fists. The expression on her face was familiar to Jael, despite their differing physiology.
Impotence. Regret. She's thinking if we stall here, there will be no more forward momentum, no justice for what happened to her mate.
And there might never be, but that was a fearful thing to confront in the company of strangers.

“What's the plan?” Martine asked.

Tam rapped his fist on the metal plating to the left. “This is solid.”

“Can we kick a hole on the other side?” Jael demanded.

Ali shrugged. “Probably. But I don't know what's over there or if there's a way back to this corridor. The repair bay is directly below us, toward the external wall.”

“On the left,” Dred said.

“There has to be a way to turn this thing off,” Martine said, pacing.

Jael retraced his steps far enough to see the mercs scaling down. It looked precarious as hell, but they were free-climbing.
Crazy bastards. I wouldn't want risk that with no rope, wearing full armor.
On the plus side, a man with good balance and strong shoulders had a good shot of making it without being pulled down by a less coordinated comrade.

“Sorry to rush you, but they're making tracks on the other side. Whatever we're doing, we need to get a move on, or this becomes pointless.”

“We have more time than you think,” Brahm said unexpectedly. “They're on the other side, and there are active ship defenses, turrets and force fields, to keep them from crossing over. Ali has created alternate pathways over here. The mercs have to find their own way to the repair bays.”

Dred grinned. “Stalemate; best news I've heard all day.”

“That's assuming all of them survive the climb,” Tam pointed out.

Jael watched the mercs inch downward. “I don't know what call I'd make. Vost can't let us have the weapons and armor, but there comes a point when an op offers diminishing value and you're better off conserving strength and resources.”

“I don't care,” Martine said, baring her teeth.

“Fair enough. You talk it over.” He moved over to Dred and hefted a rifle. “Want to shoot some fish in a barrel?”

She beamed, as if he'd bought her a necklace shining with precious gems. “Love to.”

“This way, love.” The endearment slipped out, and he waited for her to bitch at him, but the complaint didn't come. Actually, the others were too deep in discussion about how to circumvent the force field to pay attention when Dred and Jael moved to the balcony and knelt, rifles braced on the railings.

“Mooks at nine,” Vost shouted.

The merc commander swung over the railing on the other side and landed, yelling at his squad to do the same. That probably wasn't where they meant to get off, but if they didn't get to cover, Jael would melt the armor off their backs. Most of them made it. Two fell.

“That was fun,” Dred said, grinning.

To his ears, Vost's cursing was audible across the gap. Jael had the pleasure of knowing the mercs were rattled because he and Dred both fired two bursts each before the soldiers returned fire. Laser blasts singed the metal he was hiding behind, so it burned his skin when he brushed against it. The red glow came again and again, filling him with delighted euphoria.

“You know how long it's been since I was in a proper firefight?”

“No clue,” Dred said, popping up to return fire.

She nailed a merc who had the bad timing to risk a shot at the same time, but his chest plate caught it. Jael yanked her down with enhanced reflexes before the answering blast could end her. Maybe she had enough of his healing to survive more than a glancing shot, but he didn't want her suffering through days of agony while the burn healed.

“I can't even remember, but it's pretty glorious.”

“You're a madman,” she said, as a shot slammed close to his head.

Dred huddled beside him, smiling. God, he loved this. He stole a kiss as he settled the rifle into a steadier position on the rail, sighted manually, and fired. Jael didn't trust the autosight. Maybe it helped those with lesser hand-eye coordination, but he had an excellent internal trajectory-calculating system already on board. He missed only because Vost saved his man, just as he'd done with Dred.

He stood up and etched a mocking salute, then dropped a microsecond before the barrage.
Just what I intended. Focus on me, assholes, not her.
The laser fire came in waves.
I'd love to unleash the Peacemaker on these guys. Just imagine the look on their faces.
But he understood why they couldn't take the mech on the offensive; it was the last defense for Queensland, and the mercs couldn't know it was there.

Jael and Dred settled into a firing pattern, gauging the openings with ultimate precision. There was something almost sexual to it, the perfect synchronicity of their bob and weave . . . in and out of cover in absolute harmony. His shots followed hers like day after night. Then Dred unleashed on an electrical box nearby, and the explosions sent shrapnel flying everywhere. She laughed softly and kept firing. Her pleasure in the fight rivaled his own.

Once the smoke cleared, he counted and was disappointed to see there were still eight mercs across the way. But as long as they were pinned down, they weren't getting any closer to their fallen men at the bottom. Hopefully, their crew was making some headway on the force-field problem, as his ammo meter read halfway, and Dred couldn't have much more.

She timed her next shot, after the merc's clip gave out, while he was scrambling for the next one. Jael admired the neat way she threaded the needle through the gaps in the railing, hitting the soft spot she'd created before. The second hit was fatal; the soldier slid sideways and dropped his rifle.

“Nice shooting,” he said, as she ducked down next to him. “You got one.”

Three. Vost must be livid.

A cry of rage came from the surviving soldiers, and they renewed the onslaught so hard that the railings glowed. Dred dove for the hallway and Jael crab walked after her. They burst into sight, startling the others. Martine threw Jael a roguish smile.

“Did you have fun?”

“More than,” Jael answered. “Any luck?”

Tam replied, “We'll have to work around the outside of the wall and short out the electrical system powering the field.”

“The mercs might have something to say about that.” Dred frowned, pacing toward the railing, so she could see the conduit that controlled the force field some distance up the wall. A flurry of shots slammed the ground near her feet, and she danced back. “Maybe we shouldn't have taunted them so much.”

“I regret nothing,” Jael said.