Anford laughed. Biran had never before heard her lose her tight rein. This wasn’t a barked chuckle or a forced laugh for the sake of maintaining comradeship. This was damn near hysterical. That sound, more than anything he’d ever done, raked claws of dread up his spine.
“By the void, do you have any idea what you’ve done? Okonkwo will give us support, I grant you that. If that gate goes up, and Prime loses it, Prime loses everything. Every ounce of authority it’s scraped from between the stars will be thrown into question. The gate will be reverse-engineered. Humanity will splinter.
“So yes, Speaker. Okonkwo will send us more fleet. She’ll pour so much firepower down our throats you won’t be able to throw a rock without hitting a Prime weapon from the day that survey comes back clear until we’re all dust, because Prime cannot, under any circumstance, lose a gate. The civilization of Ada Prime is now a military installation. Congratulations.”
Anford glanced down at a tablet, scowled, then tossed it into the room. The thin metal casing clattered over the table as it hissed, spinning around to the center. An incoming call light blinked merrily up at them.
“Prime Director Okonkwo’s calling,” Anford said. “You all should deal with that. I’m going to get a drink.”
CHAPTER 29
PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543
INSPECTION’S OVER
Nox dropped his rifle nozzle the second he registered who had walked through that door. Sanda swore under her breath and pivoted, covering Jules with her blaster while Knuth kept Davis covered.
“Careful,” Arden said over open comm, and Sanda knew damn well that warning wasn’t for her. She wasn’t the one who dropped her gun.
Nox brought the rifle back up, painting the door again. “What the fuck,” he said, which was probably the most to-the-point thing that’d been said since they left Atrux.
“I work here,” Jules said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug.
This wasn’t right, not by a long shot. Jules looked like she worked here—hell, everyone in the lab seemed relieved to see her, as if she had authority on station and they hoped she’d fix the problem that just rolled into their midst. Everyone, that was, except Novak. That guy looked cool as anything, and a calm newbie in a gunfight was someone worth watching.
“We’ve been trying to get your attention for years,” Nox said, his voice sharp.
“You’ve got it now,” Jules said, then waggled her fingers at him. “Hello.”
“Where’s Lolla?” Nox demanded. Smooth.
Jules’s expression blanked. “Safe. I promise you, she’s safe.”
“Get her. We’re leaving.”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed,” Jules said, extending her arms to take in the lab, “but this is my station. I am in control here. I have no reason to leave.”
“I ain’t leaving without you and Lolla.”
“Are you here to kidnap us?”
“I want to see her. Let me talk to Lolla.”
“That’s not possible.” Jules sighed heavily and shook her head, slow and disappointed, an elaborate motion to hide the pain that clawed behind her eyes. Sanda frowned. That was not the body language of a street kid risen to power. She was putting on airs, tap-dancing hard to make Nox believe she was in charge here, that he could leave and everything would be fine. She kept flicking her gaze to the cameras in the corners.
“Currently,” Sanda said, “this is my station, and I am in control. We’re not leaving until we’ve secured the position of Lolla.”
Sanda couldn’t shake the fact that this room, this lab, looked so much like the lab she’d discovered Kenwick’s head in. Couldn’t ignore the massive amount of cooling going on in the lower levels. Couldn’t ignore, either, that somehow Jules had ended up with a dead Keeper at her feet. One who had, according to Nox and Arden, tried to kill her for a piece of data found in a lab that must have looked a lot like this one. Above all, she couldn’t ignore that Rainier had something to do with it all.
“I’ve not yet finished my inspection,” Sanda said.
Jules met Sanda’s eye, and she very much got the feeling that the younger woman would like to put a bullet in Sanda’s head. She couldn’t blame her, really. Whatever game Jules was playing, she desperately wanted Nox out of here—and Sanda was not helping.
“You have,” Jules said.
The door swished open and stayed open. Five soldiers wearing fleetie uniforms but moving too individually to be a trained unit poured into the lab, weapons out, and painted Sanda, Knuth, and Nox in the lock-in lights of their rifles.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Jules said.
Sanda exchanged a glance with Nox. There were too many damned civilians in this room. The mercenaries dressed as fleeties could be overcome, but if a fight broke out, there was no way to avoid hurting the scientists. Sanda couldn’t bring herself to take that risk.
“You’re going to get your charter pulled,” Sanda said, but she held her hands up, letting Liao go, and set the blaster on the lab table nearest her. Nox and Knuth followed her lead, setting their weapons down, hands up.
“I doubt that,” Jules said, flicking a gaze to the ceiling. Sanda frowned.
“If you come with me now, Ms. Valentine, I will see you cleared of all charges.”
Jules’s shoulders hunched. “Nice try.” To the fleeties, she said, “See our guests out, will you?”
“Jules,” Nox said, and Sanda was surprised to hear strain in the man’s voice. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do. I’m… sorry.”
Jules turned away, unable to look him in the eye, and nodded to Davis. The fake fleeties waved their rifles at Sanda and her entourage, marching them out of the lab into a tight huddle in the hallway. Good, a little farther and they’d be clear of the civilians. Far enough.
Sanda stopped walking, hands still up. “I’m not leaving without speaking to your superior.”
“Not in a negotiating mood.” Jules grated out the words.
Sanda turned her back on Jules and stared into one of the hallway cameras. “Rainier Lavaux, are you too much of a coward to face me?”
In the corner of Sanda’s eye, Jules grimaced. She reached up to touch the comm unit in her ear, tilting her head to hear better.
“Not him,” she hissed. After a long pause, she closed her eyes in resignation, but nodded. “Understood.” To the fake fleeties she said, “Take the others to their ship. Major Greeve, on your knees.”
Sanda dared to hope her gambit had worked, then she saw Jules reach for her blaster. The young woman’s hand was steady, but her lips had gone bloodless and a fine sweat misted her forehead. She did not want to do what she had been ordered to do, but she would. Whatever strings Rainier Lavaux pulled, they were worth more to Jules than Sanda’s life.
Sanda held Nox’s gaze as she dropped to one knee, hands behind her head.
He could leave her here, easy as could be. Could walk out that door, commandeer her ship, and go off to do whatever it was he wanted to do next, after being rebuked by the friend he’d been trying to save for the last two years. If he believed Jules was in control here, that’s exactly what he would do.
Knuth, Conway, Graham. Trained in weapons, all of them, but as she met Nox’s gaze, hard and impassive, she knew damned well they’d be pushovers for a man like Nox. All he had to do was make the choice to leave her here, and she was dead. Or worse. Probably worse.
“Sorry, Jules, I’m afraid the major has another appointment,” Nox said, and blew open the head of the nearest fake fleetie with their own weapon.
CHAPTER 30
PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543
WORST POSSIBLE TIMING
When everyone’s attention turned to marching the invaders into the hallway, Tomas pocketed the blaster Sanda had left on the table. She didn’t know it was him—couldn’t have—but that single action, that accident of proximity, solidified a plan in his mind so fast it almost took his breath away.
Dal made a grab for his arm, shaking his head no. Tomas pressed his fingers to his lips and motioned down to Liao, who sat on the floor with her knees up to her chest, breathing hard. Dal’s expression tightened, stricken, no doubt wanting to argue, to keep Tomas from stepping out that door with a major’s stolen blaster in his hand because, in Dal’s mind, that was suicide.
Shooting broke out. It was over before Tomas even made it to the door.
He stepped into the hall and took a mag boot to the chest. Stars burst behind his eyes and that boot shifted, striking him in the wrist, knocking the blaster away. He’d like to say he’d gotten hosed so easily because he was playing the role of Novak but, really, they’d taken him by surprise. His ego was more bruised than anything.
Vision swimming, he tried to figure out what had happened. Sanda stood next to him, her blaster back in her hand and pointed at the ground. All around, the bodies of the fake fleeties cooled, but he couldn’t see Marya. Jules was another story.
She’d backed into a hallway, hands up, her blaster on the ground in front of her. Nox stared at her, but his rifle was pointed at Tomas, which he felt was unfair considering the circumstances.
“Come on,” Nox said. “We gotta bolt.”
“I can’t,” Jules said, and it sounded like the words cut on the way out. “I need Lolla.”
Sanda stiffened. “Where is she? We’re not leaving anyone behind. You’re safe now.”
Jules let out a soft, wispy laugh. “You have no idea. I’m so sorry, Nox. Tell Arden… Tell Arden to let it go. Only Rainier can help her.”
“Bullshit,” Nox growled. “We’re getting off this station. Now.”
“Not with me,” she said, and turned around, sprinting down the hall so quickly Tomas had to squeeze his eyes shut to chase away the blur in his vision. He shifted, trying to angle himself to see what Jules had done to create the effect, but she was already gone.
“Goddamnit.” Nox kicked a wall panel and swung around, focusing his ire on Tomas. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Don’t kill him, it’s only his second day on the job,” Sanda said.
“Employment history’s not my concern,” Nox said. “He came out packing.”
“So he’s a brave idiot.”
Sanda dropped to a crouch beside him and nudged his cheek with the blaster. “Mr. Novak, I know you’re conscious.”
He blinked blearily and genuinely tried to look alert, but damn Sanda could kick like a mule when she wanted to. Pain radiated through his chest. He coughed.
“He’s disarmed. He’ll live. Let’s go,” Nox said.
“Thanks for giving me my weapon back,” she said, and stood.
Tomas got his eyes open and rolled onto his side, looking as pathetic as he felt to keep them from getting jumpy. The fake fleeties were in various states of dead-and-dying, blood pooling across the floor. The subtle nudge of gravity from the hab’s spin pushed the dark liquid toward him. He grimaced.
“You got those fucking cameras yet?” Sanda said into her comm. “We lost—”
The lights went out. The station screamed like a wounded behemoth and bucked, throwing everyone—living and dead—into the air, smashed them all against the wall, and rocked, groaning, as it shuddered back into alignment and the lights came hesitantly, flickeringly, back on.
“What the fuck,” Sanda said, then hacked up a cough.
Tomas found his arm—twisted up behind his back—and gingerly brought it around to its usual position. Not broken, despite all the odds. He let out a sigh of relief and opened his eyes again, fearing that he’d trigger another catastrophe. This time, nothing happened.
Sanda stood with her knees bent, back pressed against the wall. A fair amount of blood covered her. After they’d been tossed around, it was hard to tell whose was whose. She wasn’t moving like she was hurt, at any rate. It took him a second to realize she was adjusting the prosthetic on her leg.
Nox and Knuth were on their feet, holding position with their guns painting down the hall in either direction. Nox’s comm unit had been twisted in half, a bit of wire dangling from the broken chunk still attached to his ear. A small trickle of blood slid across his jawline.
Sanda listened to her comm, then choke-laughed. “The berserkers tried to self-destruct the damn station. Conway got most of them the second they started firing.”
Nox slammed one fist against the wall hard enough to dent the metal, then went right back to holding his rifle like nothing had happened. “Fucking bitch. We came to help her.”
“Consider all the ways in which you’ll get your revenge later.” Sanda pressed the comm to her head, as if she was having a hard time hearing the other end. “The way back to the Thorn is a death trap, open to vacuum. This station is listing and its jets are failing, HVAC failing, too. Arden thinks they’ve got us a clear path to the shuttles on the fifth level. Only one cluster of evac pods, and Page fired them all on the way out.”
“That’s not up to code,” Knuth said.
“I’ll file a report,” Sanda said.
“I bet Jules is headed to the shuttles,” Nox said.
“Arden has cameras. She’s gone lower. Visual is out below the third.”
“Lolla. She’s going to get Lolla. We have to—”
Sanda straightened. “If Jules is going to get Lolla, then she’s the best person for the job. We’ll only slow her down. And we have to get the civilians off this floating coffin.”
Nox stared at Sanda so hard Tomas could practically feel the tension thicken the air between them. He had a much larger rifle. If he fired, any hit could take her down, and she’d have to be a damn lucky shot to put him down before he could get a round in.
Tomas crept his fingers along the floor, through a sticky puddle of blood, straining for the blaster tucked in the holster of a downed fleetie.
“Your call, Commander,” Nox said at last.
Sanda pressed on the comm. “Arden? Arden? Can you still hear me? If you get this, we’re going for the shuttle, bringing about, uh—” She spun around and addressed Tomas. “How many of you are there? How many civs on board?”
“Eight?” He guessed. “Valentine said we were bare bones, and I haven’t met anyone except my colleagues, the fleeties, and Marya.”
“Dios, could you be any less useful?” She rolled her eyes and pressed the comm again. “Eight, approximately. If you can hear me, open the way and prepare a rescue, these people might be hurt.”
“Speaking of.” Nox grabbed a plastiskin patch from his bag, then tossed it to Sanda.
She grimaced. “Thanks.”
Tomas hadn’t seen it before, but as she pushed her coat aside she revealed a long gash running across her hip. Shallow, but leaking blood. She peeled the back off the patch and slapped it across the wound, then sighed with relief.
“On your feet,” she said to Tomas. It took him longer than he’d like, but he obliged. “If any of your colleagues are injured, help them move. If you so much as think about going for any of the guns on the ground, I will end you myself. Understood?”
He nodded numbly. Even if he thought he could get away with telling her who he was without bringing down the wrath of the Nazca, neither one of them needed the distraction of a surprise reunion right now.
“Good.” She slapped the door open and stood in the flexed aperture. Beyond, the lab was a mess of broken electronics and shattered people. Everyone was alive, so far as he could tell. Dal and Liao were seeing to the worst of them, a woman who lay on the floor, moaning. Every head whipped up and around when the door opened, each one of them freezing in place.
“Look,” Sanda said, “your boss just used your berserker drone net to try to self-destruct this station. The only reason we’re talking is because my ship intercepted the fire. I don’t know what the fuck your reasons are for being here, and I don’t care. I can get you out. You won’t be prosecuted.”
“We—we have a charter—” Liao said.
Sanda fir
ed her blaster into the central viewscreen. It exploded in a puff of safety plex and a hiss of wiring. “Charter revoked. And your fleetie friends? Fake as the sunshine. Carry those who can’t walk. We’re going.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dal shoved a tablet into his pocket and got an arm around the shoulders of the woman on the ground, heaving her to her feet. Tomas’s retinal implant reminded him her name was Sarai.
This was the moment Tomas could leave. The scientists were distracted, gathering themselves together in a double line of limping ducklings to be led into the hallway under Sanda’s wing. Sanda and her crew were equally distracted, keeping tabs on the health of the station even while they watched nearby doorways, anticipating another ambush, another fight.
It would be so easy. Slip away, duck into a nearby room, and wait for them to move out. They wouldn’t look for him, they’d count him a lost cause—already dead—and work on getting the survivors out. He wasn’t a threat worth tracking down, not as Leo Novak.
With the station damaged and under Arden’s control, he could even take the time to pull up his suite of Nazca programs. Data mine the station, find out what they were doing here without the eye of whoever watched through those cameras on his back.
He could crack his way through their security, reach the lower levels where Jules was headed while his programs ran, and talk his way into whatever escape ship she had waiting. This was chaos, and chaos was the state in which a Nazca worked best.
Sanda stumbled, put a palm against the wall to steady herself. Shook off a surge of pain and straightened.
Being a Nazca could wait.
CHAPTER 31
PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543
ONE DEATH TRAP TO ANOTHER
Knuth took up the rear, herding the scientists along, while Nox and Sanda held a firm front line, following Arden’s patchy and staticky directions. Normally Sanda would have ordered Nox to the rear. He was a better shot than Knuth, as the brief fight with the fake fleeties had confirmed, but every step she took was agony, and though she wouldn’t say it, she didn’t trust herself to stand up long to a fight if they met one.
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