The Assassin's Salvation (Mandrake Company) (17 page)

“Everything okay?” Ankari asked. She had walked out of the clinic and was doubtlessly wondering why Jamie was standing at the hatch, poised to go out, but not actually
going
out.

“Yes. I… just thinking. I’ll go get those new parts now.”

Chapter 9

Sergei watched from behind the pilot’s seat as the hawk-shaped
Albatross
grew larger on the view screen. He had mixed feelings about returning to the ship. On the one hand, he would get a break from watching Ankari, but on the other, he wouldn’t have an excuse to spend much time with Jamie. Mandrake would probably give him other duties, and people would think him odd if he lurked in the shuttle bay during his free time. Not that people didn’t already think him odd. But
Jamie
might find it weird.

He would console himself knowing they would have one more mission together, assuming Mandrake approved it. Mandrake should agree with a mission that involved killing the person who had placed the bounty on his head. Maybe he would even want to come along. Sergei smirked at the idea of Mandrake hunched over a pile of spare parts, trying to convince some stuffy personnel acquisitions specialists that he was the perfect man to repair dishwashing robots. Sergei could play the part of obsequious servant, but Mandrake looked like a commander, even when he was wandering around in gym togs. He had perfected that I’ll-kick-your-ass-if-you-don’t-do-what-I-say-and-I-mean-now chin tilt.

The comm bleeped. “Shuttle Four, the docking bay doors are open, and you’re cleared to land.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Sequoia,” Jamie said.

As professional as any Fleet ship, that was Mandrake Company.

“They didn’t bring any fighters to blow up this time?” a disappointed voice in the background asked. “Well, shit.”

“Sit on your thrusters, Frog. We’re carrying boxes of food logs because you blew up the last fighter.”

Sergei snorted. Maybe not
quite
as professional.

“That wasn’t my fault,” Frog said. “The
captain
said to blast that sucker. I was just following orders.”

“As I recall, the captain asked you to disable the ship.”

“Please, fighters are so small, you can’t disable them. You spit across their wings, and they self-implode.”

The comm cut off, leaving whatever reply Sequoia might have made unheard.

“Guess we’re home.” Jamie gave Hazel, who sat in the co-pilot’s seat, a crooked smile.

“Yes.” Hazel stretched her arms overhead, looking pleased that she would soon resume her normal shipboard duties.

Hearing Frog and Sequoia sniping at each other reminded Sergei of something else, that Jamie found much of the crew intimidating. Maybe she would take him up on his offer to walk at her side and be thorny for her, and he would have an excuse to spend time with her, after all. And then there were the self-defense lessons. He had already taught her some useful basics, but she hadn’t minded the judo, either, and that was an art that took years to master. Maybe she would want to continue with those lessons…

To what end, buddy?
How many times had he told himself she was off-limits to him? And hadn’t Hazel, curse her assumptions, verified everything he already knew? That Jamie was too young and too… pure for him? He would be better off finding someone else to teach her and avoiding her altogether after they finished their mission.

Except… as he gazed at the back of her head, her soft blonde hair tied into a single braid today, his heart ached at the idea of distancing himself from her.

“You all right, Zharkov?” Hazel asked, frowning over at him. “You look like you lost your favorite dagger.”

Surprised she had noticed or asked, Sergei merely shook his head. “Fine.”

Jamie turned in her chair, giving him a far more concerned look than Hazel had offered. That look, the warmth in her eyes… It made his heart ache more, his throat tighten up with emotion. How could she possibly matter so much to him after such a short time?

A bleep from the control panel drew Jamie’s attention back, and the shuttle was soon swooping into the bay. Ankari came forward to sit beside Sergei. When they landed, and the red light flashed outside, signaling the return of gravity and air pressure to the bay, she leaned her elbows on her knees and peered at the view screen, toward the door just visible outside.

“Been missing those grunts?” Hazel asked.

Ankari flashed a quick grin. “They’re more endearing than you would think.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“None of those meatheads on board ever caught your heart?”

“No.” Hazel’s face hardened, and she faced forward again.

Maybe if she smiled at a man once in a while…

“We’re good,” Jamie said and hit the button for the hatch. “And there’s the captain. Guess he missed you too.”

Sergei stood, intending to walk out first, but Ankari jumped to her feet and jogged for the hatch. He strode down the ramp after her, figuring it was unlikely an assassin would leap out inside the ship. She ought to be safe here.

A couple of the other shuttles were gone, probably delivering the supplies to the planet, so she could run straight toward Mandrake, who was striding down the steps to the deck, with Lieutenant Chang from engineering trailing him. A panel in the wall slid open, and a few robots rolled out of a maintenance chamber, vacuums sucking and floor buffers spinning. The landing must have interrupted their scheduled cleaning.

Ankari and Mandrake came together with a fierce hug and a kiss that surprised Sergei. It wasn’t that he hadn’t believed those two were lovers, but he hadn’t quite believed Mandrake would be that… effusive. Especially in public. Maybe this was the first time they had been apart. Sergei wondered wistfully what it would be like to have a woman that enthused about seeing him after being separated. Or… ever.

Bangs sounded from the direction of the robots, the noises so loud that they echoed from the walls and hammered Sergei’s eardrums. He spun toward them, his hand dropping to his laser pistol, even as he realized it had to be some mechanical failure and not an attack. Then Ankari screamed, and the captain cursed. One of the robots had its arm pointed toward them, an arm that usually dispensed soap. Mandrake pushed Ankari to the ground and ran toward the robots. Bullets flew out of that soap arm.

Sergei’s instincts reacted, even though his mind was blurting,
What the hell?
As the captain rolled to avoid the shots, Sergei fired, his laser blasting into the robot. The metal orifice melted shut, and he held down the trigger, slicing through the entire arm for good measure.

By then, Mandrake was back on his feet and close to the offending robot, so Sergei stopped firing. He watched the other two, though, in case either of them had untoward ideas in their mechanical brains. Mandrake grunted—or was that a pained wince?—as he reached the one with the missing arm. He slapped it on the back, turning off its power switch. He glared at it a moment, but the robot sputtered, and its remaining arm drooped to its side. Mandrake turned off the other two robots, as well, even though they had been running their normal cleaning program.

Sergei started toward Ankari, but she waved him away. “Help Viktor. He was shot.”

Mandrake was wearing a black shirt, and Sergei hadn’t noticed at first, but when he slumped against the wall, a hand to his gut, Sergei realized she was right. Blood seeped between his fingers.

“Sickbay,” Lieutenant Chang barked into his comm-patch. “Get a gurney down to the shuttle bay
now
. The captain—”

“Sshh,” Sergei hissed, flinging a hand toward the man. “Don’t give details over the comm.”

Chang’s eyes were wide, his heart doubtlessly racing, but he caught on. Anybody could be listening. Such as the person who had modified that robot.

“We’ve had an incident,” Chang finished.

Ankari had leaped to her feet and run to Mandrake’s side. She whispered something, and he responded with a couple of soft words and wrapped his free arm around her. She buried her face in his shoulder, shaking her head.

At a loss as to how to help, Sergei walked the perimeter of the bay, his pistol in hand, in case a flesh-and-blood assassin was close by. Jamie and Lauren had come out of the shuttle and were standing next to each other near the nose of the craft. Lauren was gaping around, her eyes wide. Jamie was staring at the robots, probably already trying to figure out how this could have happened.

“Yes, Thomlin. All of it,” Sergeant Hazel was saying quietly into her own comm. “I want the footage for the whole week. Someone came down here and modified that robot.”

By the time Sergei finished searching the bay and the other shuttle in it, a medical team had arrived with a float gurney. Mandrake had made his way to the stairs, Ankari at his side still, her arm around his waist. He was walking all right and waved away the gurney at first. He looked like he would climb the stairs and go to sickbay under his own power, but he paused, eyeing it and the medics swarming around him. He murmured something to the doctor, got a nod in return, and lay down on the gurney after all. It floated him up the stairs and out the door, leaving Sergei wondering if Mandrake had been hurt worse than it had appeared at first.

Jamie was heading over to the wayward robot, its arm still smoking, so Sergei walked in that direction too.

“Leave it,” Hazel said, stopping them both. “I’ve got a team coming down to investigate. Don’t touch anything until they’ve had a look.”

“But I know enough to investigate,” Jamie said.

“I’m sure you do.” Hazel’s tone was chilly, though Sergei was the one receiving the brunt of her harsh stare.

His shoulders slumped. Were they going to be suspects in this? They hadn’t been on the ship for the last week, and they had just come back aboard. How could they possibly have had anything to do with this attack?

“Go to your quarters,” Hazel said. “Both of you. I’ll tell Lieutenant Thomlin that he can find you there if he wishes.”

“Who’s Lieutenant Thomlin?” Sergei murmured to Jamie, not recognizing the name. He must have been added to the crew since Sergei’s first run with the company.

“Our intelligence officer,” Jamie said, her normally bright eyes now dark and grave. Hazel’s unspoken accusation clearly hadn’t gone over her head.

Sergei sighed and shuffled toward the stairs, casting a long look over his shoulder at that robot.

* * *

Jamie sat on her bunk, hunched over with her chin propped on her fists, as she watched the holovid of
Robot Gone Wild
, as she had come to think of it, for the twentieth time. Or maybe the two-hundredth time. A day had passed since the captain’s attack, and there wasn’t much else she could do. She had been asked to stay in the small cabin she shared with Lauren, and nobody had rescinded that request yet. She would have much preferred to be poking through the wreckage in person. Some special intelligence team had been assigned that task, but there was no reason she couldn’t help, especially since she had more at stake than any of them.

She didn’t like that thoughtful, suspicious look she had caught in Sergeant Hazel’s eyes so many times since Fergusson had sent that video over. At first, it had been directed at Sergei, but this afternoon… that thoughtful, could-you-be-responsible-for-some-of-this look had turned toward Jamie. Ankari had gone to sickbay with the captain, so Jamie had no idea what she thought of this whole thing. She couldn’t believe Ankari or Lauren would suspect her, though. She had been with them since the inception of the business. And Jamie hadn’t
been
on the
Albatross
for the last week; none of them had. How could she or Sergei have anything to do with that sabotaged robot? It would have required a lot of forethought.

The door chime rang.

“Come in,” Jamie said, hoping someone had some good news. She wouldn’t mind seeing Sergei and asking him his opinion on the attack, but she had the feeling he was confined to his cabin too.

The door slid aside. It wasn’t Sergei. She hadn’t often talked to Lieutenant Thomlin, the lean figure who stepped across the threshold and stopped there, his hands clasped behind his back in a more rigid parade rest than the mercenaries usually bothered with.

“Ms. Flipkens. I would like to ask you a few questions.”

“Am I a suspect?” Jamie asked, though she didn’t know if she wanted to know, especially if the answer was yes.

“We are merely gathering information at this time.”

That sounded like a polite way of saying yes.

Assuming the lieutenant didn’t want to sit on the bunk with her—he wasn’t one of the over-testosteroned mercenaries who leered at her whenever they passed in the corridors—Jamie gestured toward the desk built into the bulkhead. It had a foldout seat.

“Thank you, Ms. Flipkens.”

Thomlin waved his hand in front of the sensor, and the chair slid out. Before sitting, he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief. He was the only person on the ship who wore three-piece suits, and Jamie hadn’t figured out if it was a throwback to his Fleet career—intelligence officers who worked in civilian locales wore such suits—or simply a representation of a quirky dress preference. Regardless, he dusted off the seat and returned the handkerchief to an inner pocket before perching on the edge. He then set a small camera on the desk, a more compact version of the flying one Sergei had shot down.

“I’ll be recording our discussion,” he informed her.

“I’m not surprised. I suppose you’ll be taking out truth drugs next?”

“Not for this session. I would also need the captain’s permission for that, especially since you aren’t a part of the crew. But he’s… incapacitated at the moment.”

“Is he going to be all right?” Jamie asked.

“That remains to be seen.”

Her mouth dropped. She hadn’t thought he had taken such a grievous wound, not when he had charged across to stop that robot after he had been shot. But it had been a gut wound. Those could be tricky. Still, she would have assumed the sickbay on a mercenary ship could handle all manner of injuries from shootings—laser, projectile, and otherwise.