“Move your ass,” he said, and I gasped at the sound of him in my head.
Well, at least I knew he was back. The main question was ‘back where?’
“Hurry up so we can find out,” he said, and I finished scrubbing the regen fluid off my skin, and stepped out from under the water.
Mack handed me the towel, again, and then passed me the clothes being held by another hovering medic. All the time, he kept himself between me and the two... lords? in the room.
At least, I think they were lords. Neither of them impressed me much. They might be nobility, but there was very little noble, or gentlemanly about either of them. In fact, they reminded me of every rich prick I’d ever seen in every clichéd depiction of spoiled wealth I’d ever watched for entertainment.
I studied them as I dressed, taking in their looks, their clothes, the weapons hanging at their waists. It took me a moment to realize I recognized one of them. He had one arm in a sling, and a familiar look of watchfulness on his face—and he wore a dagger at his waist. I stopped when I saw it, and then lifted my gaze to his face.
By that stage, I was dressed, and I was furious.
Because, now, I knew what he’d done.
“You smug-faced, ass-fucking, dick-jerking sonuva—” Mack grabbed me as I took a step towards the man, and then he slapped a hand over my mouth, and pulled me tight against his side.
“Be nice,” he said, even as his voice echoed in my mind. “I need you alive.”
He did? I glared over his hand at the whomever-it-was standing by the door. The guy’s hands were hovering at his belt line, one set of fingers on the dagger hilt, the other above his sword.
They had swords?
“And they’re not afraid to use them,” Mack told me, in the privacy of our heads, “so, please, keep your mouth shut, and your body at my side.”
He wished!
“Not in a lifetime of nopes,” he added, and I blushed as he let me go.
That last comment had been totally uncalled for. I saw curiosity flicker across the face of the two gentlemen waiting for us, and then Mack spoke.
“You had something you wanted to discuss?”
At least it took their attention away from me. Both men glanced towards him. It was the younger, stabby one that answered.
“Follow us,” he said, and he turned and led the way from the regen room without another word of explanation. His older counterpart followed on his heels, as though Mack and I were no threat at all.
Well, at least he’d called that right.
The minute we stepped through the door, I saw why they weren’t worried; another dozen men lined the corridor outside. They fell in around us, flanking us as we followed our hosts down the hall. I risked a glance to both sides, and saw nothing that encouraged an escape attempt. These guys were soldiers, and they moved like they were living inside a combat zone...even inside the walls of what had to be their home.
What the Hells was going on with this world?
It was a question the Lord of the Corovan answered, when we were seated at the conference table, our escort arrayed along the walls on either side.
“We are one of eighteen clans,” he said. “Our forebears settled this world, and built a political system based on bloodline, trading power, and familial ties. You were hired by Clan Hazerna to retrieve the youngest of their daughters. By doing so, they violated an agreement they had made with m...”—the older man cleared his throat—“my clan.”
The older man nodded.
Mack glanced at me, and I glanced back, and then we both turned to stare at the young lord at the head of the table. Neither of us asked what it had to do with us. We just waited for him to get to the point.
It was easier that way. I don’t think he was used to people waiting for him to explain, because it took him a couple of minutes to realize neither one of us was going to interrupt. With a quick look at his older companion, he continued.
“Melari was the second clanswoman Blaedergil took. The first was her older sister, Treivani. My betrothed.” He levelled a stern gaze towards us, and then settled his stare on me. “And that is why you are still alive.”
Mack flicked his eyes towards me, and I realized he hadn’t said anything via the implant, since we’d entered the room. I looked away from the lord, scanning Mack’s face. He didn’t seem the slightest bit amused, but I watched his mouth tighten at the edges, before he turned his attention to the Lord of Corovan.
“I take it you want to hire our services,” he said, and was met with a fierce grimace that didn’t quite qualify as a smile.
“No, Captain Star, I’m going to offer you a fair exchange.” He paused, making sure he had Mack’s and my undivided attention. When we both returned his gaze, he explained. “Your lives and freedom, for the return of my future bride-to-be...alive.”
I licked my lips, and looked up at Mack. This was his call, his boat, his business, his crew.
“We’re owed payment for the last delivery,” Mack said. “You need—”
I was guessing these soldiers weren’t just soldiers—and that Mack was very lucky to still have his head. Some things a regen tank just won’t grow back. Me? I wasn’t moving a muscle.
I could see the two soldiers kneeling on either side of Mack’s chair, one hand on his closest shoulder, the other holding a curve-bladed dagger. Both their blades rested along the length of his throat, their tips just piercing the skin on the underside of his jaw. I didn’t need anyone to explain the hard grips I felt on my arms, or the sudden pain under my chin.
It was hard not to panic, harder still not to fight. I locked myself down tight, and kept my eyes on Mack’s face. Everything rested on what he did next. Me? I figured I’d sassed myself into an early grave if Mack went and got himself killed—and maybe even if he didn’t. The idiot lord at the end of the table had a very short fuse.
When neither of us had moved for what felt like a long and overly full minute, the lord flicked his hand. I watched as Mack’s suddenly close companions released him, and returned to their positions by the wall, didn’t need to be told that mine had done the same.
Mack turned his head, looking behind him at the men along the wall, and then he made a display of scanning those standing behind me—and then he pushed his chair back from the table.
“This negotiation is over,” he said, and I followed his lead.
I felt the movement behind me, and had picked up my chair and turned, using a two-handed swing to side-swipe one of the approaching guards. It was a pity we were outnumbered. I finished one sweep, and reversed the swing, but I knew I’d stepped into the path of the next man along—and things were about to get nasty.
I ducked my head in time to avoid the first punch coming towards it, and then I used my shoulder and hip to push him back. By that time, of course, I was well within the arc of his arms. I reversed direction, and slid the chair between us, but his partner was already coming alongside, and he knew how to use the stun baton he was holding. I’d forgotten there were six of them—and wondered what strange and vicious dance Mack was leading me into.
As if on cue his voice sounded inside my head.
Aaand stop.
It was just a darn shame, no one conveyed that order to the oncoming guard. He bounced three good hits off my right side, while the guard who’d been closing from the left made the same pattern down my left side. Talk about letting sparks fly.
The table hit me behind the thighs and I sat down on it. I watched as the guards closed, saw their arms go back as they raised their batons, and flinched as a sharp whistle split the air. It was hard to resist following their gaze as they snapped their heads towards their boss, but Mack had taught me better than that. I might lose to him on the mats, but I’d learned not to take my eyes off him, or any other opponent, for a second.
“Stand down!”
I jerked to a stop, just as I launched myself at the guy standing in front of me. Forward momentum is a sonuvabitch, and I still ended
up crashing into him. I held onto the punch, even as I was grabbed out of the air, and set firmly back onto my feet. The guard was not impressed.
“Sit,” he said, turning me about, and I looked for Mack.
He was already sitting, and the six guards at his back weren’t looking happy. They were also down a man, and one of those remaining was nursing a black eye and rapidly purpling cheek. When he saw he had my attention, Mack waved me towards my seat. Once he’d seen me seated, he looked towards the lordling standing at the end of the table.
“So,” he said. “What was it you wanted to hire us for?”
What happened next was entirely unexpected. I saw the lordling flick a glance in my direction, and nod, heard an almost simultaneous schick of metal, and found I had a guard kneeling beside me.
Which, of course, was not the worst of it.
Blood bubbled into my throat, and pain burned in my chest.
Mack? I was screaming, but no sound was coming out. I was sucking air, and getting nothing but blood.
“How about her life?”
Mack didn’t hesitate.
“Done,” he said, and only I knew it was a lie.
I was so fucking sick of dying.
10—Hangover
Mack was pacing outside the regen tank when I came round. I reached out to him using the implant.
“Let’s not do that, again,” I said, but nothing escaped my head.
He looked towards me, but I drifted out, again. Everything still hurt, and I sure as shit hoped they didn’t want this job to happen anytime soon. Mack was still there, and still pacing, when I came back on-line.
“Mack?” But, again, nothing left my head.
This time, he noticed me. I watched, as he looked towards me, and then frowned, and I waited until he realized I couldn’t hear whatever it was he was trying to send. I kept watching as he turned towards the door, and punched the intercom beside it.
And then I started laughing, as the intercom disintegrated beneath his fist.
For once, I didn’t hurt. It had been a while since that had been the case.
Mack bent his head and leant against the wall. He was still standing there, when the door slid open, and the young lord stepped into the room, accompanied by a medical team. They took one look at me, and another at Mack and the shattered intercom, and then set about getting me out of the tank. The whole after-process was a lot quicker if you didn’t have to do it on your own.
I was given a change of clothes, and combat gear similar to what I’d been wearing when we’d first arrived at the park, but of much better quality. Mack turned away from the wall, and found a seat beside the doctor’s table in the corner. He plonked himself into it, and rested his head in his hands, and not a single medic tried to move him. It was worrying to see him so wrung out—especially as we had a mission to run. I went over to stand beside him, as soon as I was dressed, and I completely ignored the lordling as I did so.
“Mack?” I asked, but my voice didn’t come out the way I intended, and I cleared my throat. “Mack?”
When he still didn’t respond, I knelt beside his chair, and laid my human hand on his shoulder.
“Mack?”
“I’m here,” he said, but he sounded completely drained, and I wondered what had happened while I’d been out.
“You have a bomb in your head.” He lifted his face to look at me. “It’s insurance to make sure we do the mission.”
I squeezed his shoulder, and then patted it, before getting to my feet.
“Better get it done, then,” I said, and was pretty pleased when I didn’t hear the tiniest ounce of fear in my voice—and that’s saying something, because I was terrified.
He followed me with his eyes, and then glanced over at the lordling.
“We’re ready,” he said, and stayed beside him—because all I wanted to do was punch the self-satisfied smirk off the lordling’s face... and then maybe pound his head into pulp. Yeah. That would about do it. A sticky, wet pulp.
I looked up at Mack, trying very hard to keep my thoughts off my face, and behind my eyes. He reached out and took my hand, and we looked at our unworthy host, waiting for him to decide our next move. He stood there and studied us for a very long moment. It helped that I could feel Mack’s grip tightening on my hand, even if it started to hurt.
That was a good thing. It reminded me I needed to be careful. I might be able to survive a blade through the lungs, but an explosion in my head? Yeah, not so much.
I really hoped Mack had a way of fixing it. I didn’t ask him, though. He didn’t seem to be in the mood for talking, and I figured he had his reasons. I also figured Tens and Delight were on stand-by, and I wasn’t going to like what had to happen next.
There are days when I hate being right. And those stretch into months, when I’m around Mack.
The Corovan lordling led us back through what turned out to be a small fortress, and into a courtyard surrounded by stone walls reinforced by field generators. A shuttle stood in the centre of the courtyard, and the lordling stopped at the edge of the path leading to the landing pad, and waved us on board.
“You’ve got four days to bring me my fiancé,” he said, looking at Mack, “or you’ll be needing a new sidekick.”
I glanced from him to Mack, and back again, and was worried when Mack let go of my hand.
“Understood,” he said, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, as he turned toward the shuttle.
I let him keep his arm there, as I walked with him. I also tried very hard not to think about the deadly cargo in my skull, or the possibilities that might be waiting once the shuttle got us to our destination—and I was hoping that destination was Mack’s ship, and not Blaedergil’s mansion on Magnus 19.
At least I lucked out on that one.
We hit orbit and docked. Apparently, Mack’s pilot had decided being tethered to the beanstalk was a security risk, so she’d taken a high orbit, and let the Corovans make contact. Doc and Tens were waiting, along with an honor guard made up of the galley staff. I took my cue from them, and dropped to two paces behind Mack, as we stepped off the shuttle.
If they wanted a show, I could play the game.
No one tried to escort us out into the shuttle bay, and Mack extended no invitations.
We were inside, and watching from the observation deck, when the shuttle was politely shown the door, and allowed to return with what it thought were the results of the covert scans it had done of Mack’s ship. Tens’ smile turned downright evil, as he watched it go.
But he didn’t say a word, and neither did anyone else, until Tens had swept us clear of the half dozen bugs the Corovans had tried to smuggle on board in our clothing, our hair, and via our implants.
“Well,” Tens said, when he was satisfied we were clean. “That was rude.”
“You have no idea,” Mack said, and the look he turned in my direction was more than worried. “Can you fix it?”
“I did that during the bug scan,” Tens said. “To anyone watching, the program I ran was just the usual security measure for decontaminating spyware from an implant—and we’re all damned lucky the protections on the exploding device weren’t wired for more direct forms of interference.
From the outside, it looks like the device still works. It sends out the right responses to their scans, and everything it’s supposed to do, but it won’t explode. The worm I put in has taken over the receptors so it can divert external signals, and is mimicking the correct responses for the check-ins. While it’s doing that, the programs on the device itself think they’re still being pinged, so they’re happy... Now, all we need is for Doc to do his part.”
Doc? I turned my head, just as Doc came and sat down beside me. There wasn’t a needle in sight.
“What do I need to do?” I asked, and failed completely to keep my suspicions off my face.
He cracked a smile, and held out a canteen.
“Drink this.”
I looked at his face, and the
n glanced over at Mack and Tens. They shrugged in unison, mirroring each other’s frowns. Well, fair enough then. I opened the lid, and started to drink. I got two mouthfuls in, when the first mouthful bounced.
“For fuck’s sake, Doc! What is this shit?”
“Chemical response to the stuff in your head.”
I’d been about to try another sip, but I lowered the canteen, instead.
“Say what?”
“You heard me. Now, shut up and drink.”
I gave him a good hard stare, but it was just to cover the fact that I was trying to get my stomach to settle, while I got ready for the next sip. The next three tries stayed down... and then came up on the fourth.
“Damn. This is worse than the stuff they give you to get rid of colds.”
And that gave me an idea.
I looked at Mack.
“Your galley got any Cherry Red?”
It was a flavoring. You mixed it with water, and it formed a sweet drink... or you mixed it with your medicine to hide the taste. I usually avoided it like the plague, because it was too sweet, but I figured it would be an improvement on whatever this stuff was.
Mack got that far-off look in his eye that said he was communicating via implant, and one of the kitchen hands arrived with a bottle of the stuff. They handed it to me, and then took one look at the mess I’d made of the observation deck, and left, returning with a mop and bucket. I ignored them, and got to mixing.
I wasn’t particularly scientific about it. I just filled Doc’s canteen to the brim, and started drinking. Five swallows in, and I was battling with my stomach, again. Doc leaned in, his breath tickling my ear.
“You chuck that lot up, and I’m gonna have to go intravenous.”
Well, there was an incentive if ever I heard one. I got my stomach under control, and topped up the canteen with more of the magic red. I was going to have one hell of a sugar hangover when I was done, but, if it meant avoiding another of Doc’s well-placed shots, it was worth it. It took a good few minutes of continuous sipping, but I eventually got the whole canteen down.
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