But just as she was thinking that, the bay doors on the other side popped open, and Vost opened fire.
18
Desperate Measures
The group scattered.
“How the hell did he get ahead of us?” Martine demanded.
“No idea,” Dred answered. “Maybe he disarmed some of the defenses?”
Jael figured that was as good a guess as any. The bastard hacked the cargo lifts when none of us could, not even Tam.
He hit the deck and whipped out his rifle. “How doesn’t matter. Get to cover!”
A bolt came in close enough to singe the hair atop his head, keeping him pinned down. He crawled forward on elbows and belly until he reached a better position to return fire. There was no time to see how Dred was faring, but it bothered him a bit that he wanted to. The mercs used the corner by the bay doors as cover, and they were doing a stellar job of keeping Jael’s crew away from the salvage.
“You can’t win this fight,” Vost shouted. “You’re outgunned.”
Jael laughed. “Don’t ever tell a desperate man that he’s got no hope!”
Trusting the others to cover him, he pushed up on hands and knees and sprinted for the rifles and dead mercs in armor, the center of the room. The mercs popped out to unload on him, but Martine and Dred drove them back with a tight barrage of shots. Laser fire burst all around him, bolts narrowly missing as he sped along a random path, swooping low, grabbing some gear, then whirling for the retreat. The asshole in the body armor was heavier than he expected, so his escape took longer than he’d calculated.
A merc nailed him in the back, full on, and the pain sent him tumbling forward. The equipment—and the body—bounced toward the Queenslanders, at least. Hands reached for him and hauled him back behind a broken-down lifter. He was grateful that they didn’t roll him over. His back blazed as the nerves died, then there was just this sweet numbness. When Dred touched his head, he recognized the feel of her fingers stealing through his hair.
“He’s dying,” Ali said softly.
“Give him a minute. He’ll shake it off.”
“That’s impossible,” said the Ithtorian.
Death was getting a bit closer, a little less impossible, all the time. One of these days, he’d push it too far, miscalculate how much he could heal. I’m still taking risks according to how I used to be. Before Dred. With a groan, he rolled over on his own, but he couldn’t feel either of his arms well enough to shoot.
“Someone else have a go.” He nudged his rifle and the one he’d grabbed toward the others.
There were still two bodies in armor, and a couple of rifles, but Vost’s men had their helmets down and rushed, just as Jael had done. One man grabbed his fallen comrade; another followed suit. Dred and Martine opened fire while Brahm and Ali snatched up the extra weapons. Dred hit one of the mercs, but it wasn’t a kill shot, not through the plating. It singed the back, but one of his mates shoved him forward and took the next shot. The polymer smoked, but they didn’t go down. As a unit, they moved their comrades out of the line of sight.
“They probably didn’t even feel that,” Martine bitched.
“We need to fall back,” Dred answered.
Jael tended to agree. Now that the mercs had secured the rest of the gear, they’d push to finish the fight. He yanked the helmet off the dead man, seeing the bruises on his pale face. His eyes were open and staring; the aliens took a step back, but Tam and Martine set to work, helping him. He thought they probably knew what he had in mind. As they removed each segment, Dred scrambled into it.
Not squeamish, love? That’s my girl.
Quickly, Dred snapped on each piece as Jael heard Vost calling orders regarding the gear they’d kept from enemy hands. Jael was waiting for the order to charge, and the rest of his team must have been, too. They had more rifles now, but without more sets of armor, they would be at a disadvantage. It’s not time to make this a stand-up fight.
Once she was geared up, she motioned for the others to move. “Get behind the blast doors. I’ll cover you.”
“You can’t—” Martine started to say, but Dred sliced the air with an armored hand.
The other woman seemed to grasp that she wouldn’t change Dred’s mind, so she turned to Jael instead. “Can you walk?”
“I can run, bright eyes.” That might have been overstating the case, actually, but with Tam and Martine each under an arm, he managed a speedy stumble.
The mercs responded at once, but Dred stood between them and the rest. Her bottom half was hidden by the lifter and the rifle spat red light at their enemies. Jael watched until Tam jerked him forward, out of sight around the corner. He heard the heavy tread of Ali following and the chitinous click of Brahm’s retreat.
“We’re clear,” Jael called.
That was apparently what she had been waiting for. Dred backed up, firing the whole time. She took a solid shot to the chest, but her armor caught it. She ducked and spun low, narrowly avoiding a shot to the faceplate. Jael knew from experience how quick those cracked. Tam went to work on the lock, hacking to seal it so the mercs had no choice but to circle the long way. With luck, that would be long enough to get back to Queensland.
“It wasn’t a complete success, but I’ll take it.” Dred’s voice sounded strange, coming from the merc helmet, touched with tinny reverb.
“Nobody died,” Martine put in. “That’s more than I expected.”
Ali was staring at Jael. “Why didn’t you? What you did should’ve been suicide.”
“I’m tougher than I look,” he said lightly.
Dred moved toward the stairs. “We don’t have time to chat. Each second we stand here, the more time we give Vost to catch up.”
“She’s right,” Tam said.
Martine pushed past everyone else to take point. She handled the rifle with near-military precision. Jael was curious about her background; she’d said a few things that made him think she had been a thief, but she also fought like a former soldier, a unique combination to say the least. He leashed his curiosity with the understanding that she wouldn’t question him about why he could take a laser in the back and stagger away.
The climb was exhausting, but at least this time it wasn’t a race. Now that they had the rifles, and Dred had the armor, it didn’t matter how long it took them to get back. With some quiet, remote part of his mind, he wondered if the repeated injuries to his back would be enough to create a scar. At what point does the damage grow so great that I can’t heal it? It was the mark of a disturbed mind, he supposed, that he wanted to find the line.
He heard something, a ping, a whir. Jael threw up a hand, listening. Everyone stilled. Though he spun in a slow circle, he couldn’t find whatever it was. Now there was nothing but the station noises and the sound of other people’s breathing.
Inside the Warren passages, Ali took the lead, and the return went smoothly enough. Nobody spoke, remembering Brahm’s caution from before. But when they stepped out of the wall to make the last jog, where they would emerge safe behind Queensland lines, Vost was waiting. Beside him, a drone cam hovered, and Jael bit out a curse. That’s what I heard. He was spying on us, tracking our movements.
The merc commander opened with grenades this time; and then he pulled out the heavy weapons. When the gun emitted a low hum and started to vibrate, Jael ran. Energy exploded outward, scoring the floor in a smoking circle. The metal softened and exploded, shards of synth shrapnel raining down.
“What I wouldn’t give for a rocket launcher,” Brahm muttered.
Again, Jael and Tam deployed laser shots, then ran like hell before the weapon could vaporize them. It slanted over Jael’s head, so he felt the buzz of the energy on his skull. Close call. Too close. Never seen anything like this. It was small enough to be used by one man with two hands, but it was powerful enough to qualify as antipersonnel.
If Vost wasn’t careful, he’d blow a hole clean through the station.
Vost’s men went with grenades, too. Three exploded in quick succession. Then Dred shouted, “Dammit, my clip’s running low on juice. Push past them.”
“How the hell are we supposed to do that?” Ali demanded.
“Watch me!” Dred took off, charging the mercs.
“Are you out of your mind?” Jael yelled.
But she didn’t listen. She ran for it, leaping, ducking and sliding, until his throat closed with fear. This woman had no caution, no sense of self-preservation, maybe because she was stuck here, and she felt like she had nothing left to lose.
You have me, he thought.
But perhaps he didn’t weigh heavy enough against the mission. Fear threatened to paralyze him, but he fought it back. He opened fire, trying to draw their attention away, but she was right there, and the armor wouldn’t save her forever. Even the healing ability she’d acquired from him didn’t make her immortal.
Mary curse it.
“We don’t have armor,” Martine called. “We can’t follow.”
There was no question about that. While Dred had managed to blow past the merc blockade, the rest of them would die trying. Jael hoped she knew the way into Queensland, the back way as excavated by the Warren. No telling what dangers lay between here and the border; could be Mungo’s mongrels or Silence’s assassins creeping around.
“Then fall back. Find a place to bunker down. I’ll bring help, I promise.”
Jael pushed out a breath. “You heard the woman. Let’s get to defensible ground.”
19
One Good Man
Dred felt like shit abandoning the rest of the group like that, but if she hadn’t done something, between the grenades and that sonic whatever the hell it was, Vost would’ve killed them all. Pain blazed in her sternum with each ringing stride, each step carrying her farther from Jael. And the others, of course.
I’m not far from Queensland. They can hang on. They have to hang on.
Her breath sounded extra loud inside the helmet, and she was rushing toward the barricades when she realized she must look like a lone suicidal merc. Though she couldn’t see the sentries on the other side, she called, “It’s me. Stand down. Get Ike immediately and tell him to bring the Peacemaker.”
Though it wasn’t ideal, it was the only solution she could think of. Nothing else provided sufficient firepower to defeat Vost now that he’d dug in and brought out the heavy artillery. She didn’t like revealing the territory’s secret weapon, but maybe it would make him wary of a full-scale invasion. He might imagine we have more of them.
If only we did.
“We’ll have to dismantle the blockade for the mech to get past,” the sentry said.
“It’s fine. Just make it fast.”
Next, she gave directions to where she’d last seen the merc unit, then she ran back the way she’d come. Ike will find us. If I can hit Vost from behind, I might distract him from the others. Scraps of strategy whirled in her head, but she didn’t settle on any one solution. In this armor, it was impossible to be quiet, and the rags the soldier had wrapped around the boots reduced traction. Dred felt clumsy and frantic as she ran.
Battle sounds echoed from some distance away, the boom of grenades and the unearthly hum of the weapon that had melted a hole in the floor. It wasn’t a laser, but Dred had no idea what it could be. Disruptors were smaller, so far as she knew, but maybe they had upgraded them during her turns inside. Just what the universe needs. She was afraid that they’d all be dead when she got back—that Ike and the Peacemaker would arrive too late, but the cadence of shots fired and rounds returned steadied her shaky nerves somewhat.
When Dred ran the fight down, she saw that the mercs had shifted, splitting their forces to cover the passage and keep her stranded people from getting past. The corridor was a T, with the mercs on the right and the rest of her people around the corner to the left. At the base of the straightway lay the entrance to Queensland, complete with turrets and barricades. It wasn’t the checkpoint she had approached before, however. This is east. Hope Ike gets here fast. We don’t have much time.
The merc laid down a line of intermittent red light, pinning her in the hallway on the wrong side. She returned fire, but her single rifle wasn’t enough to penetrate good cover, especially not against armored targets. Someone—Tam or maybe Jael—added to the onslaught, but the mercs had a good position.
Maybe they can circle—but if I call it out, the mercs will hear. Wish we had some way to communicate over distance. Given time, Ike might jury-rig something from the merc helmets, but he would need to use a different frequency. Otherwise, the enemy could listen to all updates. That won’t help. Ike might also be able to assemble a device that would knock out the mercs’ frequency. That would cripple their ability to scramble teams across the station, a definite boon for Queensland, but there was no way to know until she talked to the old man about it.
She situated herself close to the turrets and took aim each time an enemy popped into sight. But they were skilled with the bob and weave, and she did nothing but drain her ammo charge. An eerie hum vibrated the flooring, and Dred tensed. He’s using the big gun again. If fate was kind, the thing would explode in Vost’s hands, solving the problem. But no such luck. She heard a whine, then there was screaming. Her stomach swam with sickness and fear. The Dread Queen would never feel this way, but Dred was panicked. He’s going to kill them all if Ike doesn’t get here soon. Then the reassuring clomp of mechanized footsteps echoed throughout the hall. Thank Mary, he’s coming from behind. He must’ve circled around from the south, where I was before.
“What’s that?” she heard a merc say.
Don’t waste time with the usual warnings, she willed Ike. Put the thing on manual.
The mech could be programmed with facial recognition, but urgency didn’t allow for such finesse. Better for Ike to just operate the bot. To her vast relief, the Peacemaker unit stomped into view and immediately went to work with the Shredder. The rounds tore through the walls as if they were made of butter, slamming into mercs and armor with equal facility. Shouts of pain rang out.
“Pause,” she told Ike, low. “Let’s bring our people home.” If he didn’t stop the Peacemaker, the rounds would annihilate the Queenslanders, too. Then she yelled, “Jael, push, push now! But stay low.”
In the confusion, the rest of her team slammed past the mercs. They brought weapons to bear and before she could tell Ike that their people were clear—to get the guns going again—the first soldier shot him full in the chest. The remote bounced out of his hand and she dove for it in reflex, even as horror and disbelief overwhelmed her. He’s the only one who didn’t belong here. The only one who should’ve made it. Rage filled her in a towering wave. If her own people hadn’t been so close, she would’ve opened her brain and let a tsunami of bloodlust drown them.
You’re lucky, assholes. Today you don’t pull each other apart with your bare hands.
With shaking hands, she took up the remote and activated the Peacemaker. Its broad back provided cover fire in retreat, even as Jael knelt to lift Ike’s body. Everyone was stunned, silent, as they moved away from the mercs. Vost was yelling something at his men, but they didn’t want to fight a Peacemaker. Dred didn’t blame them even as she hoped to see their bodies fall, just as Ike had.
He came out to save us. And he died.
It was just so impossible, so awful, that she couldn’t look directly at Jael. The old man’s silver head lolled against his shoulder. Her ears rang from the roar of the Shredder, and as she turned, a grenade landed at her feet. Jael was fast enough to boot it back and the explosion rocked the corridor behind them. Smoke and cursing filled the air, so she keyed the follow command for the Peacemaker and let its huge back cover their escape.
“That shouldn’t have happened,”
Tam said quietly.
“No talking until we cross the border.” Her voice was stern because it had to be.
If she spoke of Ike right now, she’d crumble, and the others would see that the Dread Queen was a myth of other people’s making. They would glimpse her feet of clay, and maybe they’d stop following her orders. With the mercs coming in hard, Mungo on the warpath, and Silence wanting to cut her throat and drink her blood, she couldn’t afford to show weakness even if each step hurt as if she had spikes embedded in her heels. With each breath, she inhaled a dead man’s fear, a dead man’s sweat, until she wanted to tear off the helmet and cast it aside and just scream until her throat bled.
She kept it locked down.
The sentries stood, looking worried, as the Peacemaker knocked down the east barricade. Wordlessly, she escorted her crew past, stepping over the wreckage as if the mission had been a success. Jael came last, with Ike cradled against his chest. The old man’s chest was a black hole, the shirt fused to his skin in a charred pucker.
“I can rebuild the junk wall,” Ali said.
The Rodeisian female seemed to carry the weight of the sacrifice on her broad, furred shoulders, and she must be of the opinion that she needed to give something back. But nothing could ever be enough. Dred just nodded as the Ithtorian set to work beside Ali. She trusted them enough to see the job done properly and continued on to the common room, with Tam and Martine flanking her.
The Queenslanders cheered when they noticed her decked out in full merc armor, even more when Martine and Tam lofted the rifles they had recovered. But the crowd fell silent when Jael stepped forward and laid Ike on a table. He leaned down and touched his brow to the old man’s, a quiet moment that probably meant things she didn’t understand. Then Jael straightened and closed Ike’s eyes for good.