MoonRush (39 page)

“You chase the others. I’ll get Desei. We don’t want a repeat of what happened earlier, do we?”

There was a significant pause before Stavros responded, during which the captain’s skin tone went from pink to red to purple. When he finally spoke, his tone seemed strangled.

“Affirmative. But, Doctor, you had better know what you’re doing.” The threat in that statement was crystal clear. The glare he directed at Weigner was simply overkill.

Dr.
Weigner
allowed a wry smile to spread over his face. Sometimes decorum had to take a backseat to a demonstration of superiority. “Have I been wrong yet?”

* * *

Buton had done more running today than
he had in the rest of his life
combined.
He found the experience enlightening as well as thoroughly unpleasant. His breath rasped painfully in his throat, while his heartbeat throbbed a burning syncopation to his boots pounding on the concrete.

The regulations manual mentioned the underground parking garage
, but
had not specified just how extensive it was. Buton was confident that he and Jarod had now traversed the vast majority of it. Twice.

They had spent time blending in with rowdy miners
. S
ome had been drinking to celebrate their finds,
while
others
drank
to drown their sorrows. The one thing they had in common? All were drunk. The only salve to this was that they were wearing their helmets in the unpressurized structure, so Buton had not had to smell their breath.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Jarod had been looking for another ride to hijack. The ones
easily accessed were busy getting charged. The ready-to-go models had stumped Jarod at every turn. Buton had now listened to Jarod’s “I wish I had an artificial leg” monologue
5.3
times. The only thing stopp
ing
the sixth was a voluptuous woman passing by in a revealing dress.

And now they were heading down yet
another
row of vehicles
.
Jarod tr
ied
to find one that would take them out of there. When Buton spotted a sporty Mercedes
that
he was certain they had passed before, he could take it no longer. He had to say something.

“The statistical probability of
—
”

Buton’s voice, as well as his irritation, died off
—
only to be replaced by caution. Two men, obviously soldiers, headed down the row just opposite Buton and Jarod, accompanied by a man Buton knew all too well. Buton stifled a gasp and grabbed Jarod’s suit to pull him below the men’s eyeline.

“Get down
!
”

Jarod gaped over at the escorted scientist. “Who’s he?”

“He thinks himself the most intelligent man in the world.”

Jarod mumbled into the floor, making sure that Buton could hear every word, however.

“Great. Now I’ve got two of them.”

The soldiers were starting a systematic grid search of the area. It was only a matter of time before the two were caught. Buton set to analyzing the problem.

“Come on,” Jarod whispered as he waddled like some sort of duck away from their hiding place.

“Where?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.”

For some reason, Buton found that statement far less than reassuring. He crawled after the retreating figure of the leader of the Rogues, once more pondering the implacable justice of karma that had brought him to this juncture in his life.

The two began sprinting up the stairs the moment they turned the corner, putting as much distance between themselves and the soldiers as possible. Buton found himself wondering if it was possible, as he
was
beginning to feel, for legs to fall off.

As Jarod and Buton made their way up to the main lobby, the hat
-
check girl looked up from her magazine and held out her hand for their helmets. “May I?”

“I think we’ll keep
’
em,” Jarod answered, panting a bit. He winked at the young lady.

“And which floor is the
—
”

The girl looked back down at her magazine and pointed up. “Third floor.”

As Jarod sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time, Buton queried, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Once again, Buton found this statement far from satisfactory.

CHAPTER 1
3

Somewhere between the Dark
Side
of the Moon Café and the
Star D
iamond fields

March 31, 2049

1721 hours, LST

Rob could feel the pressure building up in Cleo as she sat in the back and watched their
pursuers
get closer and closer. Cleo was a worrier. Rob knew it. She had to know it. Dude, even Mia probably knew it by now. And most of the time, Rob could tell that Cleo was doing what she could to try to counterbalance that. Not that he would ever admit that to her.

But he could feel her reaching her breaking point.

Jarod and Buton had been left behind, do
ing
who knew what. Rob took a second to push down his anger at his uncle. That move back there had been so uncool. They hadn’t heard anything from them at all. They could be hiding out, riding to join them in a stolen ship, already captured, or…knowing his Uncle Jare…halfway blown to bits at this point. Seriously, come to think of it, halfway was totally an understatement.

And their own sitch wasn’t much better. Coming out of the garage, Rob had known they would be followed, but they had all counted on the other ships around them to keep the bad guys from shooting at them. It had worked like a charm up at first, but at this point they were cruising through the diamond fields and were looking more and more like sitting ducks. You know, without the whole sitting part.

Now they were being hounded by a totally awesome-looking government hovercraft that had been gaining on them for the last twenty minutes. And Rob was pretty sure he had seen the shine of that d-bag Gil’s head behind them. At least this
Jeep
was mega fast.

And right then, just to mock him, the engine started to sputter and lose speed. Dude. He totally needed to stop saying…or even thinking…the words “at least
.
” It never ended well.

“Oh
,
no,” Cleo muttered, looking up and over the backseat at the display.

“What? What’s happening?” Mia demanded.

Rob leaned over and tapped the dashboard. “We’ve got a fuel leak.”

Mia took her attention off the road for a moment to check the gauge. The gauge was way down below the “E
.
”

“It’s not that far. Maybe we can make it.”

But the
Jeep
kept slowing down. They all turned to look back. The hovercraft was almost like right on top of them. The way things were going they had maybe a couple of minutes. And the
Jeep
was like some kind of wind-up doll on the downside of a spin cycle. The fact
that
they were going up a huge hill wasn’t helping anything.

“We might as well get out and run,” Cleo growled. It was pretty clear
that
her frustration level was rising to epic proportions. And Rob totally got it. Would it be too much to ask to have one thing go right
for them?

“I don’t think my quads are up for that,” Mia said, raising her eyebrows at Rob.

And just like that, Rob knew what he had to do. He grinned at Mia.

“No, they’re not. Mine are, though.” Rob made an adjustment
to
his prosthetic legs
and
then hopped out of the
Jeep
.

“Rob!” Cleo protested.

“I can do this!” Rob shouted back. And, shocker of all shock
er
s, Cleo backed down. She waved him out, shaking her head while she was doing it, but still. Talk about your minor miracles.

Rob ran to the back of the car and pushed the button just below the knee on both legs. Jet streams burst out from the heels of his “feet
,
” adding strength and leverage way beyond what they all could have done together. Rob set his chest against the bumper and began to push, pumping his legs up and down. The vehicle began to move, slowly at first
,
and then with more and more speed.

Rob totally felt like a superhero. He was pushing a car. All of
a
sudden
,
he was not so bummed about having to go with the girls. He yelled up to the women.

“Just make sure we’re pointed in the right direction
!
”

* * *

Jarod found the brothel area of the Dark Side of the Moon
Café
surprisingly well
kept. Almost homey. It was clear where the money was really being made.
T
h
ose
ladies must be making
a mint,
considering the jacked
-
up prices
that
Jarod paid for supplies
the
last time
that
he was here
.

He and
Buton darted through the main hallway, dodging the girls and their startled clients. The women tittered while their johns did all they could to cover their faces.

“Sorry, ladies. Just passing through.” Jarod flashed them a quick grin.

“Or, if things don’t go well, he may be working here,” Buton quipped from behind.

“Funny.” Look at that. Not enough to just be a brilliant scientist, Buton now was looking for a side career as a stand-up comedian.

As t
he two skirted by several more working women, Buton flush
ed
a dark red as he almost ran face
-
first into a particularly well-endowed bosom. They rushed to the window at the end of the hallway. Jarod looked down and crowed, pointing at the sleek hovercraft parked right underneath their location. Buton wasn’t the only smart guy in the outfit.