Samurai Guns (Orphan Wars Book 3)

by J. N. Chaney

  What the hell am I saying? Lock it down, Murph.

  “Excuse me?” he asks.

  Shaina waves both her thumbs around her ears then points her index fingers at me. “He’s mad.”

  The medical tech relaxes. “Aren’t we all.” He continues down the line of benches, shining a penlight in eyes, checking reflexes, and asking who passed out and who didn’t.

  Rough launch. Definitely not flying freight again. Not this guy.

  Shaina points at an amber light above the main loading ramp, the one we use to board. “That’s a warning light. We’re landing and disembarking immediately. Not standard operating procedure. Completely disregarding safety protocols.”

  “Let’s push to the front of the queue then, but not all the way to the front. I want off without drawing attention.” I check my pack, move it around, and review exactly how many steps outside the ship it will take me to reach Zedas’s hiding place. The access is limited and also away from fueling lines or other frequent repairs. I’m hoping we can get the Dogan out quickly and without being seen.

  The ramp lowers. A squad of Dark Eye soldiers stands with their weapons at port arms while an officer contacts ship personnel and directs them to various queuing stations. It’s been a long time since I was on the gate ship, but I recognize the material it’s built out of immediately. They could bring twenty of these freighters up here and not fill the place. Maybe I should just ask Jack to evacuate everyone from the planet and vanish. Goodbye, Protheans. Goodbye, Overlords. We’re done with your BS.

  “Stick to the plan,” Shaina says.

  “The Orphan Gate make you a mind reader?”

  She doesn’t bother to answer or even look at me. For my part, I’m scanning the crowd, looking for Jack or any of his close personal soldiers who will recognize us. Which is why I see Garin arguing with the flight deck supervisor.

  Of course he followed us.

  “Garin!” I shout.

  Shaina grabs my arm. “Don’t cause a scene.”

  Keeping my mouth shut takes effort. I feel tension through my jaw, neck, and shoulders. “This is the last thing we need right now.”

  “I know, but are you surprised? This is what he always does. He’s been pulling these hijinks since long before we stumbled across him,” she says.

  “He’s here now, so let’s reel him in.” I lead the way through the milling crowd of workers until Shaina and I flank the miscreant.

  “Hey, kid,” I say.

  He looks up and actually seems worried. “You’re not mad, right?”

  Shaina and I give him the silent treatment, causing him to swallow hard and shift uncomfortably.

  “I didn’t want to break up the team,” he explains.

  We give him nothing.

  “I mean, we’ve been through a lot. Deadly monster-infested caverns, haunted slums, space. What would you do without me?” he asks.

  “Probably complete the mission and save the Goliath Sector from Protheans and Overlords,” I mutter.

  Garin points at a squad of soldiers escorting a crimson-skinned man with a clipboard and a supremely confident manner. “What do you think he’s up to?”

  “I’m not sure I like your tone, kid,” Shaina says. “We know him, but he’s definitely changed.”

  Garin shrugs unapologetically and ignores the second half of her statement. The awkwardness of his youth shows through, but I know exactly what she’s worried about.

  I watch the officer and his clipboard, understanding Garin’s concern but also Shaina’s. This guy was here to do an inspection, just like the kid insinuated. Worse, I recognized him as part of Jack’s personal entourage at the same time Shaina did. The man isn’t from Earth, like many of Jack’s commandos, but he knows what I look like, and Shaina for that matter.

  The metric ton of innocence that radiated from Garin’s expression next could probably fill a starship. “Do you want me to help?”

  I look at the kid, then the crowd, then the officer and his guards. They’re making good time, and it won’t be long before they discover Shaina and me. “Can you just go over there and be annoying? Hell, they might just surrender the ship to stop you.”

  Shaina laughs.

  “You wish,” Garin says. “Come on, Pats. Let’s save the grown-ups.”

  “Wait, what?” Shaina blurts at about the same time I spot the cat creeping around, wagging its invisible tail.

  “Of course,” I say. “You two are like bedbugs. We’ll never get rid of you.”

  Garin laughs as he skips away toward the Dark Eye’s inspection squad. “Be right back after we save you!”

  I stare in bemusement as the cat becomes visible, then streaks across the shuttle bay with Garin in pursuit, screaming loudly. They bump over a cart full of tools and cause general mayhem. A few good Samaritans joined into the chase, and before you know it, the scene is bedlam.

  “So much for their by the numbers inspection,” Shaina says.

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here while we can. I don’t want to lose track of thing one and thing two,” I say.

  “That’s pretty impersonal. I know you’re irritated with the child, but use his name and the cat’s,” Shaina says.

  “It was an endearment, kind of. Never mind. I’ll explain later.” We find a different group of guards and talk our way past them. The hallway is much less crowded, but there are still people being escorted to desperately needed workstations.

  “The Dark Eye really does need a crew,” Shaina says.

  “He knows what he’s doing, in a crazy kind of way,” I say. “That’s one of the things that makes him dangerous. If he was just some sort of archvillain, I would expect stupid mistakes. But Jack has always been a bit obsessive-compulsive. And the devil is in the details.”

  “That must be one of your Earth phrases. It doesn’t translate,” she says as we round the corner and spot Garin showing his cat to a pair of guards by an elevator.

  “It just means the Dark Eye is obsessed with precision and order and not likely to make mistakes.” I walk toward the guards, acting as apologetic as possible. “I’m sorry, he just slipped away. I know he looks like a misbehaving little runt, but he’s good in tight spaces. I send him into ventilation shafts to fix things.”

  “Ah, yes, of course,” says one of the guards. “He was telling us about his little demon creature.”

  “It’s called a cat,” Garin says.

  That’s when I realize these guards are neither human nor Hadrian. They remind me of Jack’s right-hand man, Slade, who we saw earlier. His skin is more of a blood red, burgundy color and his eyes are yellow. Now isn’t the time for me to show nerves. I don’t think I’ve seen them before, but they may have seen me, or seen pictures of me and my friends.

  “We should get to our station,” I say. “I didn’t think that when they brought us here, there was a lot of time for chitchat.”

  “Chitchat?” The guard asks.

  “Idle talk. We should take the lift and get to our station.”

  “This lift only leads to restricted areas,” the guard says.

  “I told you we should’ve waited for our escort. It doesn’t matter how much attention the gravity generators need. We should just go back and wait,” Shaina says. “I blame it on this little miscreant, but the fact remains, we’re gonna be way behind schedule. I hope the Dark Eye doesn’t throw us out of the ship when everything starts floating into the air.”

  The guard holds up one hand. “Take the lift. I hate it when gravity fails. Always a mess in the commodes. There are further restrictions the farther you go, so you can’t go very far anyway. I suggest you contact the maintenance supervisor and get an escort for the rest of your time here.”

  “Thanks,” Shaina says, then leads me, Garin, and the cat into the lift. She waits two seconds after the door seals before talking again. “You should have let me do the talking. What if they remember your accent and mention it to the Dark Eye or Slade?”

  “You’re righ
t. We can’t have any more mistakes,” I say.

  The lift opens to another expansive level. I see three different catwalks and multiple sets of stairs and ladders. The center is full of machinery I assume is related to an engine, or a gravity generator since the guards bought Shaina’s scam easily. But that’s not what stuns me into silence.

  We are not the only people recently pressed into service. Van and a dozen of his Hwelas slave over a complex collection of machinery. There are more exposed gears in this section than I’ve seen on any ship since entering the Goliath Sector, but also tubes pumping glowing liquid and large metal coils I assume are some sort of insulation mechanism.

  “I almost feel sorry for the creepy little spider people,” Shaina says.

  “If we can help them, we will, but that’s not our mission,” I say.

  “Maybe they can help us,” Garin says. “Pats already went down there to talk to them.”

  It takes me a moment to find the nearly invisible image of the cat, but I quickly verify the kid is right. “Great. What could possibly go wrong now?”

  28

  “We can’t help Van or the Hwelas,” I say under my breath as we walk past other workers. “Stay with us. The cat can look after herself. Keep an eye on her if you can but don’t go after her.”

  Above each door, a light changes from green to yellow.

  “We will be leaving planetary orbit soon,” Shaina explains.

  “Which way is the command deck?” Instinct tells me there is no direct access from this area, but I’m the first to admit I’m not an expert with the layout of interplanetary vessels. Protheans built the gate ship, I think. That’s what Jack told me after we first captured it, but the design is slightly off. The statue ships and the Protheans themselves don’t share design themes on their armor, and the hallways aren’t tall enough. Sure the aliens could move about easily enough, but not everywhere. I can’t ignore the basic lack of functionality on all levels.

  My friend is my master in war, but not in archaeology. Something tells me this ship is even older than the invaders. Everything is fluid. A lot of evidence points to Prothean control of this sector long before the Hadrians arrived. Maybe there was someone here even before them.

  “This ship is designed on a much different line than the type I know, but certain functions are hard to circumvent. We know where the docking bay is, and the power plant, and the antigravity generators. The layout only has so many variations after you know those things. I thought you would remember the way,” Shaina says.

  “I’ve never been through this part of the ship. Didn’t realize it was this big,” I say. “If we get close to the command deck, that’s a different story. Let’s keep exploring and stay away from guards.”

  We move across a large platform beneath a cavernous ceiling. Everyone has a job but us. I take out my tablet and pretend to read from it as we walk. Whenever we get close to a foreman, I give Shaina detailed instructions concerning a coffee maker. Big words give my rant the feel of scientific jargon.

  “I think we’ll make it to the door,” Shaina says.

  “Good Orphan?” A Hwelas asks as we pass by a knot of them untangling a power conduit. “And the Overlord rebel and the child who hides? Where is Patty-pats?”

  “Umm, I think you have us confused with somebody else.” I pick up the pace, attempting to sweep past Van and his crew. The smuggler immediately turns and locks eyes with me.

  “Now isn’t that a sight,” he says. “Come over here and act like you’re working. You can’t go that way. Step through that next door, and you’ll run straight into your old friend.”

  I comply immediately. He could be lying, but it isn’t worth risking face-to-face contact with Jack right now. The idea is to avoid attention. Garin’s distraction was more than enough risk for one mission.

  The Hwelas foreman, not the one who called us out, actually puts us to work. He puts my hands on bolts he wants me to loosen with the torque wrench. Another of the spider people directs Shaina to hold a long tangle of wire so they can straighten it out. A different group stands around Garin and launches rapid-fire questions about the cat, which I think is a colossal fail in terms of keeping a low profile. They don’t look like they’re working.

  Van presses closer to me.

  I go on the offensive. “You played us false, Van. None of that was necessary. You could have slipped us through your underground slave network with less drama.”

  “What fun would that have been?” he asks, then assumes a more serious tone. “I didn’t expect you here. But I’m glad you took the gate.”

  “Why? And it better be good,” I say.

  “I’m a complicated man. Everything I do is calculated and reasonable, except when it isn’t. I needed to get rid of you, but right here—” he thumbs his breast bone “—I want you to beat the Dark Eye at his own game. And let’s face it, you don’t have a chance until you go through about fifteen more Orphan Gates.”

  “We’re going to talk about this later. Right now, we need a truce,” I say.

  “We need more than that, Murphy. We need a rock solid alliance, a regular blood pact. This situation is so much worse than I imagined,” he says. “I never believed in the Prothean bedtime stories any more than the next grown man. Did you hear the rumor about the Emperor personally attacking Sarsten? That might have been better than what’s really happening.”

  “And how do you know what’s really happening?” I ask.

  “I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, and I’m good at learning things when my life hangs in the balance,” he says. “I got it from one of the guards that the Dark Eye is heading straight for the Emperor’s fortress world to depose him and seize control of his fleet.”

  “That matches up with what I know,” I say. “What do you want to do about it?”

  It’s a test question. Which would be more effective, convincing him to do it my way or letting him think he’s doing it his way?

  “Staying alive is the main thing,” he says. “But someone has to take the ship from him. Without that, we might as well pack up and look for an asteroid to terraform.”

  “Wait, wait,” Wak-wak says, rubbing his sharp hands together. “You must wait-wait. Something is happening.”

  Other people shout, but it quickly ends as guards shine flashlights on anyone protesting the progress of a line of prisoners. At first, I’m confused because the three men and one woman are wearing a distinctive Dark Eye patch on their shoulders, just like their guards. Every one of the prisoners has a bruise or cut on their face. The leader of the guards is Slade, the large well-muscled warrior I believe is Jack’s right-hand man.

  “I thought I was going to get along with that one,” Shaina says quietly.

  They’d been copilots in some tough spots before Jack abandoned us to die in the Midas system. This time I put a hand on her arm, hoping I don’t need to remind her what’s at stake. “He’s the worst person we could run into right now.”

  Doors clang shut all around the large room. Every elevator, stairwell, and ladder is locked down by a guard. Slade makes his announcement. “These four officers were trusted by the Dark Eye. They have been tried before a jury of their peers and convicted of failure to carry out orders, cowardice in the face of the enemy, and selfish disregard for the good of the movement in preference of their own welfare.”

  My stomach turns sour. My ears try not to hear what is happening. I thought the Goliath Sector had no more horrors for me. Wrong again, Murph.

  “It’s an execution,” Shaina breathes.

  Garin looks up. “What are you talking about? They can’t kill people for breaking rules. A thrashing maybe, but you’re just trying to scare me.”

  “You don’t have to look,” I say. “We’d leave now if the guards would let us.”

  A disturbing stillness spreads across the room the moment Slade finishes his proclamation. A single hand gesture seals their fate. Guards line them up against the wall.

  “I can�
�t believe he’s doing this,” Shaina says. “This isn’t like him. Slade had a sense of humor. We had a date after this war ends.”

  “Any last words?” Slade asks the prisoners.

  Garin looks up at me. “You have to do something.”

  I grab hold of his jacket but say nothing. The room is so quiet my voice will be recognized at a distance, and I don’t know how to explain my inaction. The obvious excuse that there is nothing I can do feels lame in my own head. He squirms for a moment, and I yank him close, using both hands to keep him from doing something stupid.

  “I do have something to say,” proclaims a tall, fit, gray-haired man with battle scars and a tattoo on his cheek.

  “It was more of a rhetorical question,” Slade says, then flicks two fingers toward the prisoners. The firing squad executes them immediately. Charge rifle shots echo around the giant chamber as the bodies crumple to the ground. Silence follows the thuds. “Someone clean this up.”

  “Our orders were to leave them on display,” says a man I don’t recognize.

  Slade whirls on him, one fist clenched menacingly. “I said to clean this up.”

  The man backs up with both hands raised, then helps his squad remove the bodies.

  Slade faces the audience. “Back to work. Let this be a reminder to all of you. We’re playing for keeps. The Emperor will be ten times as ruthless, and the Protheans a thousand.” With that, he marches into a lift with his personal guard and disappears.

  Garin relaxes in my grip. I can tell there are tears in his eyes without looking down. To my complete amazement, Pats returns to our little group and starts rubbing against his leg. He picks her up and hugs her.

  “These people are not going to resist Jack unless we take the ship away from him and prove they can do the right thing without facing a firing squad,” I say.

  Shaina only nods and moves toward a work area to blend in with our fellow hostages, because that’s what we are now, hostages against our own good behavior.

  Our window to take action is narrowing unacceptably.