Mack 'n' Me: The Wolves of Alpha 9

by C. M. Simpson

  “My, my, my,” he said. “Now that is quite an arsenal, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t say a word—but not because I didn’t want to. There was plenty I wanted to say, starting with what I thought about them taking apart my dress, and Rohan made sure not a word of it escaped.

  “Wow, Cutter! That’s pretty creative. Even for you.”

  And, now, I wanted to smack him, as well.

  “You and whose army?” he challenged, and he sounded so much like me that he stopped me in my tracks.

  I decided to ignore him, and concentrated on what was happening, as the captain supervised the search. He’d ordered a box be brought, and his men were busy unholstering, unstrapping, and, in general, removing all the toys I’d brought along to make me feel happier about wearing a dress and pretending to be Mack’s wife.

  Since my head was still turned towards him, I was able to see when he looked over at me, eyebrows raised in askance.

  “Would it be that bad?” he asked, eyeing the growing arsenal in the box.

  Fortunately, the captain interrupted before I had a chance to answer—and he didn’t even know he was doing it, since Mack had been speaking direct to the implant.

  “Boots,” the captain demanded, and Rohan released my head so I could turn towards him.

  “What?”

  Rohan had also released enough of me that I could speak.

  “Lift your foot. We need to check your boots.”

  Well, Hells yes, they did, but that didn’t mean I had to feel any better about it.

  Of course, the captain took my hesitation the wrong way.

  “You either lift your foot, or we cut them off,” and, since he was holding a knife that would do it, I figured he meant what he said.

  All I could hope was that Rohan would let me do what I was asked.

  “How much do you like your boots?” he asked, mischief running through his tones.

  Lucky for him, Tens was ready to intervene.

  “Rohan.”

  “Fine.”

  And my foot lifted as requested. Without my control. The captain slipped the boot off my foot, but instead of removing the blade from the sheath inside it, he put the whole thing in the box.

  “Hey!”

  He looked up.

  “You don’t need your boots in order to be able to eat dinner,” he said.

  Well, yeah... I knew that, but I also knew that footwear was the first thing you removed from a prisoner to make it harder for them to escape...or fight back, since a bare foot didn’t have quite the same impact as combat boot.

  “Other foot.”

  That one lifted, too, as much as I didn’t want it to.

  “Better than having it sliced up,” Rohan reminded me, and I sighed.

  “It’s not that bad, Cutter.”

  Easy for Mack to say. It looked like they were letting him keep his boots.

  “I don’t hide pointy objects in mine.”

  Man didn’t have to sound so smug about it.

  “Maybe you should try it some time.”

  Which begged the question: Why had the guards decided they needed to check my boots, or even look under the dress? Okay, so looking under the dress had probably been a given, since I already had a reputation in the house, but the boots? I didn’t remember using the knives there, the last time I’d been here, so how had they known?

  The answer came as the captain straightened up and signaled one of his men forward. This guard was holding the black handle of an inch-thick silver rod in one hand, and listening intently to whatever was coming in over his earpiece. He stopped a few feet from where I stood, his head canted sideways as he took in whatever was said, and then he looked up at me.

  “Stand still,” he said, and lifted the rod, extending it towards me.

  I stood still, watching as he held the rod horizontal and moved it, slowly and carefully, parallel to my body.

  “Nice!” Case murmured, the word barely louder than a breath. “Very nice.”

  It just looked like a fancy scanner to me.

  “Nah, it’s going deep enough that they don’t need to do a cavity search,” she said, and I didn’t know whether to be relieved or outraged.

  Talk about your invasion of privacy.

  “Talk about it all you like, kiddo, but be grateful not to have given these guys the excuse.”

  Now that she mentioned it...

  “She’s clean.”

  Well, duh. It’s not like I’d have hidden anything I couldn’t get to in a fight... and I’d had a quick release option for the skirt sewn into the bodice to ensure it. It was just a pity these clowns hadn’t thought to look for it, before slicing the gown apart. At least I wouldn’t have to walk ‘like a lady’ anymore; I could go right back to moving like I usually did. You know, like I was looking for trouble, and hoping it would find me.

  “If you’d come this way...” Captain Foksall asked.

  He made it sound like an invitation, but Mack and I both understood it for the order it was. I lowered my arms, watching as they bundled up the remains of my dress and stuffed it into the box on top of all the rest. The captain caught the direction of my gaze.

  “You’ll get everything back when you leave,” he said, and I wished I could believe him.

  “I’ll track where they put it,” Case told me, then added, “Don’t worry. You’ll get your boots back.”

  “Why bother?” Tens snarked. “Mack could always buy her another pair.”

  Case tutted.

  “Now, now, you know how the girl likes her boots...”

  And, I added two more names to the list of people I dearly wanted to punch. They laughed at my discomfort, but ignored me, because the situation around us was changing, and they needed to concentrate.

  “Heads up. Rohan, don’t let her do anything stupid.”

  Stupid? Me? Now, why would I want to... Oh.

  In my implant, I could see the sniper teams moving. Three were heading for stairwells. The fourth? Well, the fourth had slung its weapons and was coming over the wall in a way only the arach were capable of. I was torn between trying to run, or grabbing the nearest guard’s weapon and going on a killing spree.

  “Easy, Cutter.” Mack’s voice, my head, and I was grateful.

  Even if Barangail wasn’t a sadistic bastard, these things were. If they knew how they affected me, they’d take great delight in standing just as close to me as they could get.

  “Not gonna happen,” made me wonder if Tens was standing by to grab control of Mack’s body, in the same way Rohan had mine.

  Mack snapped me a glance that might have melted stone. Case thought the idea had merit.

  “Done,” Tens said, and I wondered if Mack would take it to the mats.

  He didn’t comment, but it didn’t matter; the Lord Barangail had reappeared at the door at the head of the stairs, and, this time, he wasn’t alone. A fine shudder ran through me, despite Rohan’s best efforts, and I made myself take a deep breath.

  Whatever the spiders wanted on this world, they wanted it bad...or there was another queen getting set to warp into the sector and this one wanted to impress her. I’d only ever seen one king, before, and he’d been devastatingly attractive. Given I wasn’t wondering how to gain its amorous attention made me consider pheromones.

  And my head, I remembered, as it looked towards me. Damnit! I had no mental shields, and if this thing was....

  “Aren’t you an interesting tidbit?” it said. “Seen one of my kind before, and lived to tell the tale? You’ll have to tell me more.”

  “We’re here on business,” Mack interrupted, drawing its attention, and I realized he’d been able to hear its voice in my head. “Stories will have to wait for later.”

  Oh, good. Because, now, in addition to the shuddering vibrations running through muscles trying to react and being prevented, I was trembling for an entirely different reason. Fear rolled through me, making my stomach churn and my skin go cold—and I no longer wanted to ru
n.

  I wanted to take the king apart, slice it into the tiniest of bite-sized pieces and crush every one beneath my...

  “Cutter!”

  My hands were twitching towards blades that weren’t there, moving in spite of Rohan’s best efforts. I stopped still, at the sound of Mack’s voice. Rohan breathed a sigh of relief. I heard it, like a distant whisper, but my attention was in my scanner, on the troops around me, and on the king and his host.

  The king had stopped his descent of the stairs, drawing a concerned look from Lord Barangail, who halted beside him. The arach team had reverted to full spiders, and were coming through the ranks of Barangail’s house guard just as swiftly as their long eight legs could carry them.

  Part of my head calculated the path I’d have to take to put a sword in the arach king’s gut, and whether or not I could do it before the leading spider could reach me.

  “Easy, girl,” Mack said, sounding for all the world like he was trying to calm a nervous horse. “We’ve got business to discuss, remember?”

  I shot him a sideways glance, and wished Rohan would let me go, so I could, at least, turn to face the oncoming arach.

  “Not a chance,” the boy said, and it sounded like he was gritting his teeth.

  By then, they were on me. I tried to duck under the rearing fore-legs of the first spider, and found I still couldn’t move a muscle. As a show of sheer balls, it must have been impressive. From my point of view, being held rigidly still, while I watched the spider’s pedipalps and fangs reach form me, was not my idea of a great day.

  The other spiders surged around their leader, but they didn’t strike. In the background, on the stairs, the king gave a short, piercing whistle, and the lead spider drew back its reaching fangs, dropping to all eight feet before melting back to a human form.

  Seeing its gear and body armor reappear around it would have been fascinating, if I didn’t know what it was, or just how close I’d come to being paralyzed for a time-delayed snack.

  “Gift,” it corrected, and I realized why it had reacted so violently to my desire to kill its king.

  Damned psi.

  “Gift,” the king agreed, “and, if I did not have other matters to attend, on this world, and if my business partner did not require your services, you would be learning the real attraction of a king.”

  Beside me, Mack’s hand moved, reaching for a blaster that he no longer carried—or it tried. The movement came to an abrupt halt, before his fingers reached his hip, and he froze.

  “Tens!” was a protest that would have come from between gritted teeth, if it had been said out loud.

  “Easy, boss. We have business, here, remember?”

  Mack gave a growl of assent, and it hit clear air. It drew the attention of the king and his entourage, but none of them moved. Instead, the king turned to Lord Barangail.

  “Thank you for the opportunity to meet your guests,” he said, “but I must pass on the meal, or you will not receive the services you require. Perhaps we can meet later and discuss matters in the mines?”

  Barangail looked a little taken aback, but he didn’t disagree. He turned to the king.

  “As you wish.”

  If it weren’t for the acquiescence in the bow of his head, I might have taken his reply for a host accepting the desires of his guest, but there was a hint of servitude in his body, as though he spoke to a master, and not a guest, and I wondered what the arach had planned for him and his world.

  The arach king smiled, as though catching my thought, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he gave another short, sharp whistle, and the remainder of his team melted into human form, before turning to go and meet him on the stairs.

  “Until later,” the king said, his voice carrying to where Mack and I stood, both of us struggling in the mental grasp of our keepers.

  “We need the deal,” Tens reminded Mack, and I wondered just how close we’d come to Mack calling it off.

  “As close as he can’t move his mouth and say something we’ll all regret,” Case replied, and didn’t sound in the least bit sorry.

  “As close as I can’t decide if I should kick all your asses or thank you,” came Mack’s reply. “Now, turn me loose so we can get this done.”

  “And Cutter?”

  “How close is she to killing something?”

  I rolled my eyes, figuring I could hold off on killing anything unless something attacked us, or I saw another arach—and the urge to hunt those fuckers down and slaughter them was as strong as it had been when I’d been trying to work out if I could reach the king and gut him. Mack covered his eyes with the palm of his hand, and shook his head.

  “Don’t make me regret this,” he tight-beamed to me. Out in the public comms, he said, “Okay, Rohan, turn her loose.”

  An instant later, and all feelings of relief and gratitude, I might have had, vanished.

  “Just stand by to grab her, again, if she goes rogue.”

  Thanks, Mack.

  “It’s been known.”

  The king had taken his leave, and his entourage, and departed, by the time we’d finished, and Lord Barangail was descending the last of the steps.

  “I understand you’ve met the arach before,” he said, and his tone showed he was as curious as Hell.

  “You could say that,” Mack said, and refused to be drawn by the short silence that followed.

  “I take it, the meeting was not a friendly one,” Barangail pursued, and I felt my jaw clamp shut, before I could respond to his obvious ignorance.

  “No.” Mack, also, was not being drawn. He changed to subject. “I hope that will not pose a problem for you.”

  Barangail shrugged, and looked at me. His eyes rolled over my corseted body, and down my empty-holstered leggings, and held more than curiosity. I stifled the urge to sit the arrogant bastard on his ass, just as Rohan locked down my arms and legs.

  Dammit! That time I’d had everything under control.

  “Sorry,” Rohan said, not sounding sorry, at all.

  At least he gave me back control of my limbs, if not my mouth.

  “That’s the most lethal part of you, right now,” Mack explained in private, while smiling at our host, and saying out loud. “What would your lordship like to discuss?”

  8—The Suggestibility of Stims

  If Barangail was frustrated by our refusal to speak of our last encounter with the arach, he didn’t show it—and neither Mack nor I wanted to tell him exactly what had happened until we knew whether he was a willing accomplice or unwitting victim. As it was, he’d shown no hint of wanting to either leave his trading partners, or of being wary of them—and we couldn’t risk him carrying tales.

  Fortunately, he accepted our reluctance on the matter, and led us up the stairs and into the mansion proper.

  To my surprise, the entry hall was more an internal training hall for his soldiers, and I wondered what purpose it served. Most of the ruling types I’d ever encountered used their massive foyers to intimidate with wealth. This was the first time I’d ever seen one used to show military power.

  A broad walk way led between barriers through which we could see his men practicing their close-combat and shooting skills. Another, glass-walled partition separated us from a weapons workshop, and the one opposite it looked like a lab working something experimental. Even I couldn’t help being impressed.

  Mack took it all in, walking beside me, but not touching. I was both disappointed and relieved. Relieved because I still wanted to hit something, and it could just as well have been him as anything else, and disappointed, because I’d been secretly enjoying the excuse to touch.

  “You are a sad, sad individual,” Tens told me, and I felt my face color.

  Not. His. Business.

  He snickered, but he didn’t say anything else. Mack reached over and took my hand, and I felt my color deepen. His hand tightened around mine, a reminder to get a grip, so I focused on what was happening around us.

  The weapons shop
and developmental lab signaled the end of the walkway, and Barangail stopped before a large set of double doors.

  “Elevator,” he said. “The surface is not ideal from a security perspective.”

  A minute later, I saw what he meant.

  The elevator doors slid open, and I couldn’t suppress a gasp. Mack let go of my hand, and draped his arm around my shoulders. To anyone looking on, it might have looked like he was offering comfort, but I knew better. The damn man was making sure he had a good hold of me, in case I decided to run.

  I might have been mad about that, but it was a good thing he did—the damned elevator was another confined space that reminded me of an airlock. Granted, it would have been a really big airlock, but the similarity was there, nonetheless. I don’t’ know if it was the stim pack, or what, but stepping through those doors was hitting all the flight or fight buttons I had.

  “Easy, girl. I’m here.”

  Like that would do any good.

  “And I’m here, too.”

  Yeah, thanks, Rohan—and the little shit laughed.

  I got enough of a grip to step through under my own steam, and Mack and I moved to stand on the opposite side of the elevator to where Barangail was settling in with his escort. I noticed how there were at least two men between us, and wondered what he was afraid of.

  “You didn’t see your face when Rohan was stopping you go after the king. Even I was worried.”

  I was about to reply to that, but the elevator doors slid shut, and the meaning of the lord’s quip about security became clear. Rohan, Tens, and Case disappeared from my head with the sound of the door seals closing. I raised my head, and Mack turned me in towards his chest.

  “Easy, Cutter.”

  And I swore if he said that, one more time, I was going to slug him—and, this time, Rohan wasn’t going to be there to stop me. Mack’s arms tightened across my back, but Barangail was speaking, and Mack didn’t say a word.

  “What’s wrong with her, this time? It can’t be heights.”

  Which gave me an idea of just how closely we’d been monitored on the trip down to his estate. I wondered whose technology he’d been using. Did he have the place wired up himself, or had he used his new friends to get the kind of access that would allow him to tap into the surveillance systems on a public structure? Or maybe he just had a hacking team, like Odyssey’s Delight.