Star Fire (10 page)

Sasha blinked. “You just quit? As in,
adios amigos
?
Hasta la vista
, baby?” Some cultural references never went out of style. Sasha remembered many a night she and her mom had sat up watching ancient vids dating back to the beginning of the film industry.

Those early science fiction shows had spurred her to sign on with the Northern Star Trading Company as a cargo grunt. She’d worked her way up from loading and unloading cargo to charting, eventually stepping in to the captain’s position when the old fart had had a heart attack and fallen down the temple steps of Migard while negotiating for spiced rum.

Then again, it might not have been a heart attack. The old fool could have been drunk off his gourd and fallen down all six hundred and twenty-seven steps. The Migard priests had been so delighted with the sacrifice they’d practically given the rum to Sasha.

“Hasta what?” Kiev asked.

She shook her head, waving his question away. “You quit? Why?”

He stepped past her to study the metal door several metres inside the cave. Above them, Slinky chattered to them, circling the top of the rubble. “You are stalling. Choose, Star Fire. Go inside or return to Aros.”

“What if I just want to take the ship and go home?” She was being a bitch—she knew it. She gritted her teeth. “We both know the crystal generator on board has plenty of power. Hell, I’d never have to work again if I sold that tech to the company that I captain for. The kith might even pay triple that
and
throw in a couple of boy-toys to seal the deal.”

He raised one eyebrow and waited patiently.

Sasha blew out a breath. “Fine. Let’s get this done.” She moved to go in, but he was quicker, blocking the door with his big body. He opened it easily enough and paused just over the threshold. Sasha presumed so that his eyes could adjust. Inside, she did the same.

The darkness was almost complete once she shut the door—no sense in advertising their presence more than they had already. The metal landing under their feet was in good shape. Sasha wondered at the metal and workmanship that had gone into it. Had the landing been here all this time? She laid a hand on the rail, right behind Kiev as he went down the steps. The man was light on his feet, surefooted now where the scientist Dirrel would have been a nervous wreck.

As they went down into the bowels of the dark underground, her eyesight sharpened, giving Sasha a good view of Kiev’s muscular back and buttocks. She nearly swallowed her tongue. Where was her composure? Her sense of staying on mission? Her inner voice snorted—that had gone out of the window once she’d let him fuck her. Okay, the fuck had been mutual.

Tiny noises marked their passage downward. A small pebble kicked into the vastness below. The slide of her hand on the metal rail. The soft tap of their feet on the grate. Finally, they stepped down onto the concrete, cracked from centuries upon centuries of age. The air hummed with the almost inaudible sound of machinery.

Sasha fumbled one-handed for her day-planner. She kept a death hold on the pepper spray with the other. With a delicate balancing act, she checked the readings. “It says we’re in the heart of the disturbance.”
How’s that?
she wondered. Wouldn’t a magnetic signal that strong wipe out her day-planner and throw them around? She shook her head, frowning at the hallway before them. Kiev pointed to the tracks in the fine layer of dirt covering the floor.

So, they wouldn’t be exploring the side rooms. With a small pang of disappointment, she followed him down the hallway. She had no problem with locked doors, but she barely resisted the urge to peek past the half-open exit. The end, a sliding double panel was, wedged open far enough for a person Kiev’s size to squeeze through.

Dutifully, he peered into the unknown.

“Hallo, luv.” A blond man stepped into her line of sight and pointed the square barrel of a weapon at them—likely the sonic wave blaster that had killed the natives. Ahead of her, Kiev froze, then slowly turned around with an unreadable expression. Sasha turned to face the pirate, Hales. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Sasha frowned at the man, switching to her own language. “Yeah. Fancy that, Hales.”

He flashed a dimple her way and a smile he obviously felt would win her over. Blond hair, a rakish beard and good orthodontia still made him look like the slimy bastard he was.

“You should drop the fake English accent though. It makes you sound like a superhero’s knock-off butler.”

Hales lunged forward, his handsome face going to mean and squinty. “Shut up, bitch.”

Kiev brought his sword up, stopping when the gun turned on him.

“Uh-uh-uh,” Hales taunted. “One more step with that and I shoot the bitch where she stands.”

Understanding intent, if not the words, Kiev nodded.

Hales turned to Sasha. “Oh, baby. We are gonna have—”

She sprayed him with the pepper spray. Hales dropped the gun, screaming as he rubbed at his eyes. Sasha pushed him backwards so that he fell, rolling and screaming, hands trying to rub the pain away.

“He shouldn’t rub like that. It only makes it worse,” Kiev said as she slipped through the space.

“My eyes! Fucking bitch! My hands!” Hales screamed. His accent was all street-gutter now. “It burns! It burns!” If the blisters were any indication, he wouldn’t be relying on his handsome face anymore.

Sasha ran behind Kiev, following the hum of the machines through another hallway. Tipped-over cabinets and old trash littered the way. Sasha kicked a bottle that she was sure had recently contained soda. She pointed it out and Kiev nodded, continually scanning the floor, walls and ceiling. He pointed to another door. Past it, more stairs waited, and the low murmur of voices reached her ears.

Carefully, she followed Kiev down the stairs. Both of them crouched to stay out of sight. One hundred and fifty steps and two landings later, Kiev pulled her behind a large, rack of dead computer equipment.

Taking in the dark and shadowy surroundings, Sasha surmised that these computer racks went along the outer edges of the room. Probably to give the scientists of Atmos room for their doomsday machine. She wanted to split up from Kiev and go around the outer edge, but Kiev shook his head.

The expression on his face was the equivalent of someone else screaming in her ear. Instead of blithely going her own way, as she’d always done, she found herself nodding and following, pepper spray in one hand, ready to fire. The sonic wave blaster was a death she wouldn’t wish on even Hales. Images of the victim from the village last night crowded her mind. She’d use the filthy thing if she had to, but the idea made her skin crawl and that hesitation could cost her life. For now, she was better off using the spray.

Quietly, she dropped back, letting Kiev lead. He paused and tensed, pulling something long, like a stylus, from one of the pouches on his belt. Sasha waited. Her breath caught in her chest as he snatched one of the pirates on perimeter guard and dragged his victim at the same time as pressing the stylus against the man’s neck. Kiev eased the inert pirate to the floor and motioned for her to follow.

The next man was as easy as the first. The third man coughed before he went down. They froze, waiting for the guns to start firing in their direction. From their vantage, she could see Hobbs’ looming form approximately thirty metres away, talking intently to a blue-skinned, male holo-projection.

Sasha took a deep breath and glanced at Kiev. There was no easy way to do this. She hitched up the sonic wave blaster and stepped out before Kiev could stop her. “Hobbs! Time to give it up.”

Both her ex-second and the holo-image turned to face her. Sasha saw movement out to the side, barely felt Kiev behind her, before one of Hobbs’s minions jerked and fell into the flickering light of the doomsday device. A knife protruded from his throat.

Hobbs’ meaty hand hovered over the panel. “Captain Tran.” He didn’t sound surprised. “How nice of you to join us. I’m sure you know my guest.”

She walked forward, thinking furiously about the holo-image, keeping the gun trained on Hobbs. Blue skin. The alien’s large eyepatch covered nearly a quarter his long face, too long and too blue for any human races. She pegged him as a breshmarian. The remaining eye stared at her, unnerving.

“Captain Taddius,” Sasha addressed the holo-image. “I would think this little pocket of space was too far removed from your usual den of piracy to be of interest.”

Captain Taddius nodded. “A new uniform and a new crew.” He suddenly did not appear so happy. “I would have preferred for my associates to kill you outright. You are entirely too resourceful. Finish the demonstration, Mr. Hobbs. My customers are losing confidence in your abilities.”

“His abilities or yours, Taddius?” Sasha asked, hiding a smirk. Her ex-first mate might run the ship, but he did not command the title of Captain. Hobbs moved his hand closer to the controls and she focused on him. “Don’t touch anything.”

“You don’t like guns, Captain. You have to be prepared to follow through for the threat to mean something.” Her ex-second in command slapped a button, making the display shift through a series of colours.

Sasha pulled the trigger, but in the end, Hobbs was right. She winged him solidly in the shoulder, likely damaging bone and joints. Hobbs cried out, but punched in a series of numbers.

At the same time, she heard the metal slide of Kiev’s sword. Sasha dived to stop Hobbs. He couldn’t be allowed to finish his demonstration, or sell the fucking thing on the black market.

Kiev didn’t understand any of the conversation, but the intent to show off the device was obvious. The blue-skinned one was a hologram. While the technology had the potential to send his inner scientist into throes of excitement, his priority was Sasha’s safety. When she’d walked out into the open his heart had nearly stopped. Then, instinctively, he’d thrown two bladed knives into the throat of the leader’s standby guard.

Hearing movement, he drew his sword and ghosted into the shadows. Gods, how he wanted to stay by her side and make sure no one came near. That type of thinking was foolish when she could handle the leader. His hired guns, though, were a more serious threat. How many were left? One pepper-sprayed in the entry, three down around the room’s perimeter. Ducking low, Kiev decided there were no more than two left, not counting the man at the device’s controls.

Feeling more than hearing the air disperse behind him, Kiev spun low, bringing his sword up in a block. Metal rang against metal, sword against pipe.

In the dim light, the long, lean furred creature bared a mouthful of fangs from a pointed muzzle. He instantly realised that the slitted pupils gave the alien better night vision.

Kiev ducked away from a handful of sharp claws and swung the sword down, smacking the delicate wrist with the flat of his blade. The creature made a low growl, with the pain, its ears swivelling back, and returned to a two-handed hold on the pipe.

Stepping inside the creature’s reach, Kiev aimed for appendages, hoping to slow it down. The furry alien blocked and parried with the pipe. A reverse swing came up inside Kiev’s guard, slamming against his temple and cheek.

Stars burst behind his eyes. Pain made furrows across the opposite cheek. Kiev rolled and regained his balance. Blood spattered on the floor, darker shadows against the dull concrete. His cheek burned as he and the creature watched each other. The sound of Sasha’s scuffling came to him.

The floor thrummed under his feet, feeling as though the foundations rocked. Terror slid through him and his sword slipped from his fingers. The furry alien’s eyes rounded and it paused, seeking those at the command console. Kiev dropped his sword and dived, trusting his suit to protect him. The creature yowled, twisting underneath him, proving it was as desperate as Kiev to get to the other players in this game. Kiev pulled back his fist and punched. He grabbed his opponent’s tunic and punched again.

His tough uniform saved his shoulder from a vicious bite. Kiev risked more head injury and slammed his forehead against the alien’s nose, satisfied at its yowl.

Fire slid through his gut. Kiev hissed at the pain, hunching his shoulders. The alien slipped away enough for him to glimpse the long knife covered in Kiev’s blood. Damn, but he hated being gutted. It ranked fourth on his list of bad deaths.

He fumbled at his belt, searching his emergency pouch for the special adrenaline-stimulant cocktail he’d invented. The single dose was designed for a desperate, hopeless situation like this. Out the corner of his eye, the alien scrambled to its feet, weaving while Kiev sucked in the gas from his ‘last-chance’ inhaler.

The drugs hit his system in a rush, speeding up his heart rate, clearing his thoughts. He was going to die, but he’d take the bastard with him. Sasha would have her chance to save Aros.

Kiev roared, grabbing his sword. Adrenaline and fury aided his swing, perfected by twelve hundred years of warriors’ training and knowledge and thirty years of practice in this body. The sharp edge sliced into shoulder meat. Kiev spun, angling down to cut across the alien’s thigh. It went down to one knee as he pressed the advantage. He barely noticed the knife plunging into him again. It was an insect’s bite beside the swing that took the furred alien’s head from its shoulders.

Kiev paused to breathe. He turned, tugging the knife from his side, and ran to Sasha. The hologram was gone. He didn’t understand the language the alien strangers screamed, but he knew she’d won as her kick crushed the bigger man’s knee. She yelled her order again, tears streaming down her cheeks, as the man held out both hands in surrender.

“Kiev, no!” Her sudden glance his way made him turn.

Blisters on the face of the pepper-sprayed man twisted his expression into a grotesque mask.

The drugs in Kiev’s system still made him light on his feet, even as he could feel the blood loss. “For Aros!” The sword raised, he ran, ducking the man’s ill-aimed laser weapon. The next shot was absorbed by the suit as Kiev reached his enemy. He swung, noting the wide-eyed horror as the man realised he was about to die by a primitive sword. The blade struck, slicing a deep track—front shoulder to hip. For a half-second more, the man wavered, then fell in the widening pool of blood.