Catherine winced.
“But that’s not going to happen.” He kissed her. “Not on my watch.”
As if on cue, Sam’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Time to rock and shock, boys and girls. All hands report to the landing bay to take up defensive positions. Bring everything you’ve got and then some.”
They helped each other dress, punctuated by kisses and light touches which added another five minutes to the process. Finally Sean led her to the arrival room and picked up the shillelagh. He twirled it in one hand before taking a firm hold in the center of the cane.
He slung the canvas medic bag over his shoulder. “Ready?”
She nodded. “I’m sort of looking forward to bringing it to these bastards. I owe them big-time.” Catherine pulled the brass knuckles from her pocket and slid them onto her right hand. “I’ll make them work for every inch of ground they take.”
He felt a surge of pride seeing her like this, the businesswoman blended with an Amazonian warrior.
He also felt terrified at the idea of her standing with him against the oncoming horde. It was one thing to spar with trainers and talk tough, another to find yourself ankle-deep in blood while everything’s going to hell around you.
He could only hope and pray they’d both be strong enough to survive this.
“Good.” He held up a finger. “Remember what April said. Don’t let your anger take over, and think out of the box. Don’t wait for them to make a countermove, and feel free to fight dirty.”
Catherine nodded. “I’m so far out of the box I can’t see the edges.”
“Good.” Sean drew a deep breath. “Ready?”
“In a minute.” She took hold of his shirt and pulled him close for a kiss, drawing a last needy sigh from him.
Catherine released him and smiled. “Let’s go.”
* * *
It was only a few feet from Sean’s cabin to the landing bay but Catherine felt like she’d been transported to some dystopian war-torn planet, to an industrial hell.
The clean, sterile landing bay she’d arrived in was gone, replaced with a dark angry-looking room.
The first change was the lighting. The fluorescent light tubes had been pulled out almost completely, with only a handful left to cast shadows over the room. The folding tables and chairs had come down from the walls and were now tied and strapped to large rectangular storage containers jutting out from the docking hatch. The table and chair legs jabbed out into the corridor at eye level, a danger to any boarder wanting to dash down the hall.
Catherine spotted fuses hanging out of some of the chair legs, signaling explosive charges. She assumed they were strong enough to disable attackers but not able to damage the ship.
It was an oddly beautiful but terrifying sight.
When she put her mind to it, Jenny was quite the evil woman.
It wasn’t going to be enough to stop a determined group in their tracks. The narrow space only lasted about ten feet before it opened up, giving the enemy room to spread out.
There was approximately twenty feet between the end of the tunnel and their own barricade, another storage container reinforced with thick sheet metal bolted to the front. It’d be enough to stop most projectile weapons. The top was only about a foot wide and came to about her waist. Enough to hide behind but it wouldn’t withstand a rush for long. The hatch to the corridor and the rest of the ship lay a few feet behind. If things went poorly she could attempt to hide, but on a ship as small as the Belle...
“Hello,” April said. She was busy laying out a series of throwing knives in front of her. She wore a white gi with a black belt wrapped around her waist. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun with small, lethal-looking chopsticks stuck into it.
A long black whip sat on the container, tipped with a shiny steel barb. Catherine held back a shudder, thinking of the possible damage if it tore into bare flesh.
April smiled at Catherine’s expression. “I grew up with these weapons.” She tapped the blades. “Better than fingernails.”
This was directed at Bianca, who stood next to her, wearing a one-piece black jumpsuit and brandishing the short tanto sword Catherine had seen earlier. She scowled at the courtesan before flexing her hand, showing off long fingernails. “I like going au naturel. You toss those and they’re gone.” She clicked her nails together. “These aren’t going anywhere.”
Sean tugged at Catherine’s sleeve and they moved down the line, leaving the two women to argue. A few more steps and Sean settled in between April and Kendra, gesturing for her to stand behind him.
Harry, standing at the end, gave him a nod. He displayed brass knuckles on both hands and blew a kiss to Catherine.
She couldn’t help smiling at the scene. He was bare-chested and his dark skin shone in the overhead lights, the oiled surface glistening.
She lifted her right hand, showing off her own set of brass knuckles.
“Gonna make my brother proud,” he said, returning her smile with interest. “They’re going to know they messed with the wrong ship.”
Catherine turned her attention to Kendra, standing on the other side.
Kendra looked up from the modified shotgun she was holding. She wore black leather pants and a black T-shirt, blond hair pulled into a tight bun.
“Net gun.” She patted the metal bulbs gathered at the barrel’s edge. “Bag ’em so we can tag ’em all at once. Take them down and keep them there.”
“You had that in your quarters?” Sean asked.
Kendra shrugged. “In my closet, to be precise. I feel it’s best to be prepared for a variety of situations.”
“Like a riot?”
She gave him the stink eye. “Be. Prepared.”
On the container in front of her lay a small crossbow, loaded and ready to be fired with one hand. Tiny quarrels sat beside them. A pair of Gurkha knives sat next to them, the curved blades looking very sharp.
“Holy—” Sean shook his head. “Remind me to never piss you off.”
“Too late,” Kendra deadpanned. She gestured at the shillelagh in Sean’s hands. “That all you got?”
He gave her a sly wink. “It’s not the size of the weapon. It’s how you use it.”
Catherine couldn’t hold back a nervous giggle.
Kendra snickered. She reached out and touched Sean’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Irish. World’s got few enough honest lovers as it is, we can’t afford to lose too many more.”
She eyed Catherine, a sly grin on her lips.
It was as if Kendra was seeing right through them all the way back to the bedroom they’d just vacated.
“Take care of yourself.” The courtesan gestured toward Sean. “And him too. Be a pity to come this far and not finish the trip.”
Catherine nodded, feeling as if she’d agreed to much more than only this encounter.
The hatch behind them opened and Daniel walked through. His well-worn leather jacket sat loosely on his shoulders, the UNS patches faded but still readable. He pulled his pistol out of its holster and checked the rounds.
Catherine watched him.
P-115 if she remembered correctly. Loaded with tranqs and/or bullets. She wondered which ammo he’d loaded.
“Combo,” he said as if he’d heard her thoughts. “I’d like to take one of them alive and twist him for info when this is all over, find out who exactly hired him and his buddies.” He sighted down the silver barrel to the docking hatch. “But I’m not fussy.”
“Why can’t we let the Belle gas them?” This came from Bianca.
“I’d like to.” Daniel answered. “It’d make our lives a hell of a lot easier. But it’s not a big secret Mercy ships have defense systems. My bet is when they come through there they’ll be wearing gas masks.” He tapped his nose. “An
d the Belle doesn’t carry any. Unless some of you have any lying around—”
Silence.
“Exactly. It’ll give us a bit of an advantage for a few seconds with their restricted vision until they realize Belle’s not going to blast them, then they’ll pull them off and game’s on.”
Bianca huffed. “Going to get a gas mask next landfall. That’s unacceptable. The Guild should be providing us with them in case of situations like this.”
“Take it up with Grendel,” Kendra said. “Be sure to keep the receipt.”
Sean turned to Catherine and hefted the shillelagh in both hands. “Keep close to me.” His tone was no-nonsense, leaving no room for negotiations. “I’d put you back in your cabin if I could; lock you away from all this.”
She shook her head, ready to tell him that there was no place she’d rather be than by his side.
“No.” This came from Sam who’d just come through the hatch and now stood beside Daniel. “She deserves to be here for the end, no matter what happens. I won’t have her sitting in a room waiting to see who opens the door when it’s all over.”
She wore the same outfit Catherine had seen before but had added a leather jacket. Her pistol lay snug against her right thigh, still holstered. Her mag-boots clomped along the metal tiles.
Catherine noticed the marshal wearing his boots as well, designed to keep them standing if the gravity cut out. The magnets set in the soles would allow them to maneuver on the metal tiles set in the Belle’s floor.
A rush of nausea came over her at the idea of free-falling. She grabbed at her stomach, willing it to calm down. She was not going to throw up here in front of her defenders.
“Hey.” Sean pulled her into a bear hug. “It’s going to be okay.” He pressed his lips into her hair. “We’re going to be fine.”
Through a gap in Sean’s embrace Catherine saw Bianca’s expression.
She didn’t share her fellow courtesan’s confidence.
“How long, Belle?” Sam called out. She pulled her weapon free and checked the clip.
“Two minutes. The ship has successfully docked and they are working to break the security code to open the hatch.” A pause. “The captain is requesting our surrender.”
“Really,” Sam said. “Pipe it through.” She glanced at Daniel.
The marshal pulled Etts from his waist and muttered into the black box.
The gravelly voice held more than a hint of annoyance. “To whom am I talking?”
“The captain of the Bonnie Belle,” Sam snapped back. “If you’d like to surrender I’m willing to consider terms.”
The deep rolling laugh brought goose bumps up on Catherine’s skin. “You have a good sense of humor, Captain. We’re here only for the woman. Give her to us and we’ll let you live.”
Sam jabbed both middle fingers into the air toward the unseen voice.
“And why should I trust you?”
“Because I’m an honest man,” the pirate replied. “There’s no point in all of you dying for one woman. Whatever she’s paying you my employer can meet and beat. Name your price.”
“We won’t be bought off,” Sam yelled.
“I thought the Belle was a Mercy ship.” The pirate laughed. “Everyone has their price. Name it and save us all this trouble.”
Etts gave a single beep from the box on Daniel’s hip.
He caught Sam’s eye and nodded.
“No deals, asshole. You want the Belle, you’re going to have to bleed for her.” Sam looked upward. “Cut communication.”
Sean scowled.
Bianca sighed. “What a bunch of liars. Even if we agreed they’re not going to give up this ship without taking everything they can get.” She nodded to Harry. “Including us.”
“Not gonna happen.” He jabbed at the air. “Not gonna happen.”
A series of beeps and chirps came out of the speakers, echoed by the box on Daniel’s hip.
“Etts, report,” Daniel said.
A variety of tones followed, unintelligible to anyone but the marshal.
Daniel wiped his forehead. “Etts says the UNS escort ships are about an hour out. All we have to do is hold on long enough for them to get here.”
And kill whoever’s left, pirates and crew alike, if they’re traitors.
Catherine buried her face in Sean’s shoulder trying to banish that train of thought.
“Don’t.”
She looked up to find Sam Keller glaring at her.
“Don’t think that way. You do, and sure as Hades we’re all done for.” She pointed at the floor. “Do what you can, all that you can. Use every trick in your book. If we’re gone, you fight tooth and nail, make the bastards pay for it.” A sadness crossed her face. “Don’t ever give up.”
A hand landed on Sam’s shoulder and pulled her away.
Daniel lifted his other hand to brush against Sam’s cheek, his weapon safely holstered.
“It’s not the Hub,” he whispered, so low Catherine had to strain to hear. “Not this time.”
His arms went around the captain at the same time as he kissed her—not a chaste, hope-we-get-out-of-this-alive kiss.
This one scorched Catherine’s skin almost as badly as the fire on her ship had. She glanced at Sean to see him smiling broadly along with the rest of the crew.
“About fucking time,” Kendra said in a stage whisper. “About fucking time.”
The sound of screaming metal yanked their attention back to the hatch, now visibly warped.
“They’ve broken the code. Now it’s a case of burning through the hinges to break the physical lock.” Jenny slid out through a grill at Harry’s feet. A pair of bandoliers crisscrossed the mechanic’s front, metal tins protruding from the makeshift holders.
“Homemade smoke and flash bombs,” she announced. “No one’s taking my ship.”
This earned her an arched eyebrow from Sam, but the captain said nothing.
“Along with a few surprises,” Jenny added.
April chuckled. “I’m beginning to see you in a new light, woman.” She crooked a finger at Jenny. “When this all calms down, come and see me. We should talk.”
“Prepare for boarding,” Belle announced.
Jenny plucked one of the cans from her belt and took hold of the activation pin.
Daniel touched her arm, freezing her in place. “Wait until we see them. Let’s get an idea before we blind them. Toss on my say-so.”
Jenny nodded.
“No pep talk from me here,” Sam said. “You all know the stakes, you all want to live.” She drew a ragged breath. “Don’t fight for me, don’t fight for Catherine. Fight for the Bonnie Belle. If this ship falls, all those pirates out there will know they can attack a Guild ship with impunity. They won’t care about embargos and blacklists, they’ll start grabbing ships and ransoming them back to the Guild. All your brothers and sisters will be fair game for those monsters.” She pulled her weapon. “Fight for them if you need another reason.”
Sean tightened his grip on the shillelagh.
Catherine moved to stand beside him, shifting her left foot forward and raising her hands in a fighting stance. The brass knuckles reflected the dim light overhead.
The door blew inward, landing on the floor with a hollow clang.
* * *
He’d fought before.
Street fights as a young boy, brawling with his friends until the cops showed up to send them home with black eyes and stern words.
Vegas Four. Fighting the looters trying to steal food from his men and their families.
Guild training. No courtesan went out into the field without knowing the basics and continued refresher courses and advanced training kept you ready to defend yourself if a client decided they wanted
something “off the menu.”
Everyone remembered the Purge—a wild killing spree taking the lives of many Mercy men and women when a group of puritans decided they didn’t like the concept. The courtesans at that time hadn’t had any training.
They’d died horrible deaths.
The Guild had promised then and there no one else would ever die unnecessarily if they could help it. The Mercy ships were armed with gas, the courtesans allowed to be armed with the caveat they only use the weapons for self-defense.
The Guild had never planned on a scenario like this.
Jenny’s makeshift smoke bomb rolled down the corridor as the first wave surged through the open hatch. A few hesitated at seeing the white mist, thinking it was gas.
The twang of Kendra’s crossbow gave them more to worry about. One man fell to the floor, the small quarrel imbedded in his right eye right through the gas mask.
The men flailed through the narrow corridor, unprepared to fight in such close quarters. They pushed and shoved at each other in their urgency.
One man grabbed at the chair leg jabbing out from the wall. He latched onto the cord and yanked it by accident.
The explosion sent shrapnel into the mob, setting off the other traps and filling the narrow passageway with tiny nails and small wires, scavenged from Belle’s undercarriage. Too small to puncture Belle’s hull, the munitions dug into flesh and clothing, not enough to kill the invaders but enough to slow them down.
The cursing and swearing grew as they staggered forward, pushing through the pain to get to their goal. One of the men fell and provided another barrier for the intruders as they stepped on and over their fellow pirate.
A flash bang went off in front of the mercenaries, the bright light adding to their confusion as their eyes tried to adjust both to the dim lighting, the smoke and now the blinding explosions blocking their way.
Throwing knives flew into the narrow space, finding easy targets. Quarrels flew from Kendra’s hand crossbow as she reloaded at a frantic pace.
In the Void Page 26