ManOnFire (5 page)

Amanda joined the passing out group most nights. She liked the drilling, but kept her mouth shut about it. At least the pointless exercise kept her mind too numb for heavy thinking.

The claxons woke them during the second week.

She slid her legs directly over the bunk side and into her coveralls, had zipped them and hit the grates running by the time Hicks sat up and rubbed his head.

“Get a move on!” She smiled at his cursing and skidded down between the bunks and through the level doorway. By the time the rest of them emerged, she’d geared up. Hicks glared at her and stuffed his leg into an armored sheath.

“You’re no fun anymore, Man. You know that?”

“I don’t get paid to entertain you, do I?”

“See?”

She turned her back on him, pulled her rifle from its clamps and checked the charge. The rest of the unit suited up, and she dialed her lasers to high. Commander Wells appeared in the doorway, and Amanda snapped to attention.

“We’re up.” His lip curled over stout, stained teeth. “Get a move on!”

Amanda lined up first. She marched to the hangars first. She’d be the first on, the first off, and if she got lucky, the first one to get shot.

 “Man! Get down!” Hicks’ voice howled through the helmet comm at the same time the wall to her left exploded. She brushed a layer of pulverized stone from her shoulders and squinted into the rain of debris. The wall crumbled under Kaboom’s gentle ministrations. An eight foot gap now offered entry into the bunker. It was a shame about the garden, though.

She side-stepped around the remains of a bush that had once been trimmed to resemble a Sirillian leviathan and marched over the rubble-strewn lawn. Hicks continued to natter in her helmet. She caught a glimpse of him, ducking from one chunk of rock to the other. Wells had ordered an advance, and Hicks could stuff it. She was advancing.

Her training wouldn’t quite allow her to run into the open. She paused beside the wall and scanned the bunker first. Wells wanted at the computers. The
client
wanted at the computers. Amanda eyed the fortified hallways and picked the central branch. It sloped upwards, straight and narrow. Her gut told her command wouldn’t be located on the first floor. It said,
up and in
. She bolted across and heard enemy fire in her wake.

“Hicks.”

“I got him. You gonna wait for us, or take this thing single-handed?”

“Hold the hallway. I’ll clear the next tier.”

She eased forward, expecting the shot any second, the burn of failure. The ramp ended in a level landing. The unadorned hallway gave no hint as to the building’s use or owners. The floors, walls, ceiling all showed the same blank face. The passage continued to the left only and ended in a single door twenty feet down.

“I’ve got a single room up here.” She hugged her rifle and crept into the passage. Her comm answered with a burst of static. “Hicks?”

Damn. The comm buzzed and went dead. Amanda turned her rifle back to the ramp. She wedged against the corner and flicked a glance to the room, then down to the lower level and back to the door again. She waited for a shot, for the comm to reboot, for anything.

Laser fire rang in the distance, somewhere out in the garden, back with the rest of the unit. If they retreated, she’d be on her own. Then again, the client had paid for computers. She had a room in sight promising enough to warrant investigation. She spared one glance for the ramp and then bolted down the passage. The door was unlocked, less promising. It opened with a traditional round knob. The room beyond lay dark and silent.

She switched to night vision. The room flared green and revealed the outline of consoles, island banks and the curve of the occasional chair. Computer room.
Bingo
.

“Hicks, you still there?”

Double damn. She shouldered her rifle and crouched, moving forward with the muzzle in constant motion, left, right, back toward the door. “Wells, this is Man. I’ve got your target. Confirm?”

Her comm brattled, mostly static, but she caught Wells’ voice in there faintly. Something screwed with her reception, though. No way to know if he’d gotten the message either. She had the target, but no back-up, maybe no escape route either. Still, she slid in behind the first island and continued to verify the room. No one was hiding between the consoles, no booby traps. No alarms.

When she reached the back wall, she tried the comm again. “Wells, this is Man. Target is clear. Confirm?”

The door clicked shut. Amanda spun and ducked. The island covered her, but it also blocked her view of the exit. It was probably Hicks. Her comm had malfunctioned and Hicks had followed her in. Except he didn’t say anything. She waited, tucked tight behind the computer console and breathing like a marathon runner.

Nothing moved. The room held its breath. A draft could have shut that door, or an enemy soldier could be slinking around the room’s edge in her direction. She shifted her weight and leaned to the right before raising both her rifle and her head to peek at the door. A man stood just inside it. The green outline glowed like a chalk around him. He didn’t hide and his arms stretched out to his sides.

“Drop your weapon!” She shuffled to the side and aimed. He stood in the open, didn’t even flinch.

“I’m not armed.”

Oh, she knew that voice. It belonged to a ghost. He
raised his arms higher, showed both hands empty. “If you’re going to shoot me, Amanda, can we at least turn on the lights first?”

“Why?” She moved again, left this time. He wasn’t dead, obviously. He was here, and she had no idea who the hell he even was.

“So I can see you.” His voice cracked around the words.

Amanda stood up. She trained her rifle on the imposter’s head. “Who are you?”

“My name is Coryn Fane.”

“Turn on the lights, Coryn.”

She waited until he flicked the switch to turn off the night vision. The room flared and she flipped up her visor half-expecting him to shoot her again before her eyes adjusted. Instead, he raised his arms back into position and winked at her. Damn it.

“They blew up your shuttle.”

“I was never on it.”

Well that explained how he was still breathing, but not much else. She waved the rifle and he slid away from the door. When he’d circled enough to give her a clear shot at both it and him, she put up her free hand. “Start explaining.”

“I love you.”

“Wrong answer.” She bit the inside of her cheek and glared at him. He wore black poly-skin from neck to toe, looked too good in it for his own good—or hers. “You’re an assassin? Who sent you?”

He shook his head. “Atryn Secret Service.”

“Atryn?”

“A tragically rich planet just past the Serillian zone.”

“Tragically rich?”

“Not rich enough to buy your services, but rich enough to be a prime target for those who could.”

Well, at least he was making sense now.

“Your new base is not good news for my people.”

“And so they sent you to spy on us.”

“Well informed is well armed.”

She couldn’t have said it better. “So you abducted Commander Wells and sent him on a little vacation.”

“One he would have survived unscathed.”

“Not exactly a point in your favor.”

“You’ve met him, then.”

He grinned, and she chewed harder to avoid joining in. Damn. Even at rifle point, the man was cocky. He stood at ease where she was trembling. “I didn’t expect him to be found early any more than I expected you, Amanda.”

“You mean Vines. I was just following orders, remember?”

“No. I mean I didn’t expect you.”

He took a step in her direction.

“Stop!”

“Shoot me.” He kept coming until she lifted the muzzle into position. Then he stopped his feet, but turned the eyes on her. Burning, looking right into her. “I’d rather you shoot me, than leave without you, Man.”

“With—without. What?”

“I’ve been living like a rat in the hangars. You think I couldn’t have left anytime?”

“I—in the hangars?”

“I waited for
your
unit to ship out.”

He moved again. Another step and she’d have to shoot him—or let him disarm her.

“I waited for you.”

“You shot me.” She remembered that sting.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t return the favor.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you love me.” He took the step.

She back-pedaled a pace. Shit. “You don’t know—”

“I know you, Amanda.” He touched her gun.

His hand pushed the weapon aside and his body stepped into hers. She was a rotten mercenary.

“I know you.”

“Now what?” She held her breath.

“We go over the far wall, hit the wilds and wait for my ride.”

“Your people?”

“Once I trigger the beacon, we’ll have two days.”

Two days in the wild. She reached up and lifted her helmet off. Coryn Fane leaned in and pressed his lips against her neck.
Man on fire
. Amanda placed her helmet on the console. Her unit would track it here, would carve
Man
on it and list her as lost in the field. Two days could involve a lot of kissing.

She grinned and tilted her chin up to meet him. She didn’t know squat about his people or if he was even telling her the truth. She did know one thing for certain.

She liked kissing him way more than shooting things.

Author Bio

Frances Pauli writes speculative fiction with touches of romance, which means, of course, that she has trouble choosing sides.

She’s always been a rabid fan of anything odd or unusual, and that trend follows through to her tales, which feature aliens, fairies, and even, on occasion, the odd assortment of humans.

You can find out more about her books and writing, free reads, and other surprises as well as various means of following or contacting her on her website.

http://francespauli.com