A Hero for the Empire: The Dragon's Bidding, Book 1

by Christina Westcott

  She pulled Wolf’s heavy pistol and fired twice. The force of the slugs hitting Tritico flipped him backward, driving him against the wall. He curled around the pain in his chest, moaning curses at her.

  Fitz stood over him. “I can’t kill another human being in cold blood, but there is nothing about a monster like you that’s human.” She leveled the slug thrower at the bridge of Tritico’s nose, hoping like hell that the shot would be enough.

  Behind her glass crunched underfoot. She whirled, whipping the heavy weapon around and firing at the first of the troopers charging through the med bay door. The shot knocked him backward into his companion, dragging the second man down and spoiling his aim. The bolt burned past Fitz and ricocheted off an overturned table.

  A sharp kick to the back of her knee buckled her leg, sending her staggering. Even with two slugs in him, Tritico could still fight. A fusillade from the doorway sent her diving for cover behind the scattered furniture, Jumper following her. The withering fire kept her pinned, unable to get off a shot as Tritico scuttled across the floor like a maimed gerbat. He made it to the door and one of the troopers grabbed him, pulling him to cover.

  Fitz ground her teeth in anger. Time to quit playing around. She looked up at the med bay’s high ceilings. As she pulled the second pistol from her belt, she gathered her feet underneath her and jumped.

  Inside the hyperkinetic cocoon of time distortion, her ascent seemed to take several minutes. Still rising, she somersaulted lazily, bringing both weapons to bear on the two soldiers firing through the open med bay entrance. They targeted the space just above her former concealment—the place her head would still be if she was a Normal. Her fingers caressed both triggers simultaneously. The laser’s beam scribed a bright line across the room, while the slower slug swam through the air toward its prey.

  She dropped back to the floor, hardly noticing the stab of pain in her knees as she charged across the room, vaulting the two bodies before they completed their fall. The lobby beyond was empty, the lift car already ascending. She plowed into the door, her boots driving dents in the plexisteel as she screamed her frustration.

  “Let’s go, Jumper. Time to locate Wolf.”

  “Right behind you, Boss Lady.” The cat streaked up the stairs after her.

  A little voice in the back of Fitz’s mind whispered that the day would come when she’d regret not killing Tritico.

  Wolf carried the doctor the last few steps to the second level landing and dumped him in front of an unmarked door. He leaned against the railing, breathing heavily. He was burning through his energy too quickly. The first signs of hypoglycemia sent cold shivers down his arms. His hands shook, sweat beaded his upper lip. He had no reserves to call on. Only three ampules remained in the case, three pops to keep him going until this was finished. He slapped one against his neck, shivering as warmth flooded into him, filling his body with a simmering energy.

  Two muffled bangs echoed up the stairwell, followed several seconds later by the sounds of a firefight erupting far below them, on the Medical level. Wolf leaned over the railing listening. A third shot followed, then only silence.

  “Was that gunfire?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes, and a particular weapon I’m quite familiar with.” He pulled Von Drager to his feet and pushed him toward the door. “How far to the hanger where Tritico has the courier ship stashed?”

  “About half a kilometer. Why?”

  “I want you to go there and wait for me.” Wolf heard the rattle of running footsteps on the metal stairs below, then the buzz of laser pistols.

  “What are you going to do?” Von Drager asked, panicked.

  “I’ll be right behind you. Just open the door and give me the ident-card.”

  “B-but Tritico will have Tzrakas guarding the hanger.”

  “Then don’t let them see you. Now open the bloody door,” Wolf shouted.

  The sound of a running battle flowed up the shaft, punctuated suddenly by the explosive reports of the slug thrower.

  “The door. Hurry up.”

  The doctor pulled the lanyard over his head, but the cord hung up on the collar of his lab coat. He jerked harder and it tore free. Fear made his fingers clumsy. He bobbled it. The ident-card flew out of his hand, hit the railing and glanced off.

  Wolf lunged for it. His fingers closed on empty air and the ident-card tumbled away down the shaft.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Laser bolts flashed past Fitz, ricocheting off the railing and treads.

  The cat screamed.

  “Jumper?”

  “I’m okay, but if I had a tail, it would have just been blown off.”

  They’d picked up the trio of soldiers as they scrambled past the third level. Judging from the intensity of their fire, they didn’t have orders to capture her—just kill her. So far, her speed had thrown off their aim.

  A cloud of flechettes whizzed and clattered around her. One sliced through her sleeve, burning a furrow of pain in her upper arm. She returned fire, the laser pistol hot in her grip. The lead gunman tumbled back into his fellows. She lay down a field of fire, keeping the remaining men pinned down as she backed up the stairs. Her pistol jammed, the emitter melted.

  “Damn cheap lowest-bidder shit.” She threw the useless weapon at her pursuers and pulled the slug thrower. Three rapid shots sent the soldiers scattering back down to the previous landing. Another spray of darts erupted from the level below her, most stopped by the stairs, but one lodged in her boot. She bent to jerk it out and one of the shooters took her moment of distraction to charge up the stairs. He went down with a slug through his chest, his companion wisely drawing back.

  Her inhead threat display warned of another target approaching from above her. She spun to face it. A black uniformed figure raced toward her, weapon at the ready. She brought the heavy pistol up.

  “NO. No, Boss Lady. It’s Wolf.”

  His arms went around her, lifting her, crushing her against his chest. His mouth came down on hers, hard and possessive. They hung there welded together by desire for what seemed like an eternity, while Fitz begged for eons more. In fact, only seconds had passed when he broke the kiss and pulled back.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “You two, can’t it wait…?” Panic colored the cat’s thoughts.

  The last forgotten soldier aimed a flechette pistol at them. Fitz swung the slug thrower around and fired. At the same time, Wolf’s laser pistol buzzed. The double hit knocked the man back, over the rail.

  “Is that all of them?” Wolf asked.

  “I think so, but Tritico got away from me.”

  “Bloody hell. We need to get moving.”

  Ari Ransahov’s voice exploded inside Fitz’s head. “Now just shut up and listen to me, Commander. A shit load of trouble is about to descend on us. If I’m reading the shuttle’s systems correctly, we’ve got Imperial reinforcements on the way. Looks like a troop carrier and a small transatmospheric warship, probably a corvette. ETA in about fifteen minutes.”

  Wolf frowned at her sudden distraction.

  “Combat Channel 6,” she told him. A click on her radio announced he was online with them.

  “…so I can’t hold this bus much longer, Commander. I suggest you get your rear in gear,” Ransahov said.

  Wolf’s mouth twitched as he recognized the voice. “Where are you now, Ari?”

  A period of dead air followed and then, “Wolf?”

  “Yes. Where are you?”

  Fitz stepped in to answer. “She’s up on the hanger deck. We captured Ashcraft’s shuttle. It’s supposed to be our ride out of here.”

  “You two ladies seem to have been rather busy. Ari, things have gotten a bit hectic down here, so I don’t think we’re going to make it. Luckily, I’ve arranged other transportation.”

  You have? Fitz mouthed.
/>
  Wolf nodded. “An Emperor’s shuttle should be carrying enough armament to blow its way out of that hanger. We can meet up later.”

  “At the site where you crashed…” Ari began.

  “No, and not the old farmhouse, either. The Empire will check there. Someplace they don’t know about.”

  “On the coast, about three hundred milas south of Bavanagar—the seaport you overflew—you’ll see an inlet where the Kirati River flows into the ocean. There’s an old abandoned caperia plantation there. I’m sure I’d have enough room to set this thing down. Will that work for you?”

  “Yes, and make sure the ship’s transponder is squawking that you’re the Emperor’s shuttle. The Imperials will hold off firing on you, hopefully long enough for you to get away. Now go.”

  “I’ll see you then, Wolf. There’s someone with me I really want you to meet.” Ari signed off.

  Fitz followed Wolf to the second level landing. What she first thought was a bundle of rags, unfolded into a tall, miserable-looking man in a lab coat.

  “Who’s this?” she asked.

  The dark-haired man stuck out a hand. “Logan Von Drager.”

  She started to respond, but snatched her hand back. “Doctor Death? What the hell is Doctor Death doing with you?”

  “It’s a long story, but right now we need to get through that door and someone lost our key.” Wolf glared at the doctor.

  An explosion rattled the walls. Chunks of rock and bit of plexisteel rained down on them. As that sound died away, atmospheric thrusters spooled up, followed by the ragged screech of plexisteel scrapping against metal. The engine noise began to recede into the distance.

  Wolf leaned in to yell over the noise. “The door. Do you think the two of us working together can take it down?”

  She nodded and as one, they sprinted to the door, slamming augmented kicks against it. The metal bowed, but held. Wolf staggered back, shaking his head. She remembered he didn’t have all the enhancements she had.

  “I’ve got it,” she shouted, but he was with her when she charged the door again. This time the lock gave up with a metallic screech under their combined force.

  “We do this hyperkinetically,” he said, draping Von Drager’s arm over his shoulder. Fitz snatched up Jumper, tucked him under one arm and took the doctor’s other side. They ran.

  The corridor angled upward. Fitz thought they must be at ground level by the time they reached their destination.

  “Be on the lookout for Tzraka guards,” the doctor said.

  “Yeah, I’ve already met a few of those.” Fitz pulled the slug thrower.

  Wolf eased the door open and looked inside. “Seems clear, but stay sharp.” He took his weapon from her hand, replacing it with the Imperial-issued pistol.

  “Hey, how come I get the crappy weapon?” Fitz glared at him.

  “Because this is mine,” he growled, but the twinkle in his eyes took the sting out of the remark.

  Fitz suspected the diffuse glow through the translucent polyskin of the dome was moonlight, strengthening her belief they were on the surface. A shadow at the far side of the space moved, all sharp angles and spiky legs.

  “I’ve got this one.” She pulled out her last thermite grenade, flipped up the cap and set the timer. She calculated speed and distance, balancing the device in her hand, as she waited for the creature to charge. An underhand toss sent the explosive skidding across the hanger floor. The Tzraka had no time to change direction as the grenade slid beneath it and exploded in a fountain of fire. The concussion lifted the bug and flipped it onto its back. Its legs twitched in the flames as it wailed its eerie death rattle.

  “Very nicely done,” said Wolf.

  “I had a good teacher.” Fitz turned to the cat. “Jumper, was that the only one?”

  Green eyes narrowed as the cat quested about with his thoughts. He let out a long, yodeling howl that sent shivers through Fitz’s mind. They waited.

  “If that didn’t bring one running, there ain’t any around.”

  Wolf arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to fill me in on what you and my cat have been up to in my absence.”

  Fitz studied the blatantly phallic shape of the courier ship as they approached it. “I’m not surprised Tritico would pick one of these for his escape vehicle. I’ve always thought that men who flew the PS-5 were compensating for certain physical shortcomings.”

  “I don’t know, I rather enjoyed the one I had.” Wolf smiled as he opened a panel on the ship’s side and punched in commands. The canopy lifted, swung forward and a ladder extended from the cockpit.

  Fitz giggled. “Okay. Only some men.”

  “Up you go, Doctor,” Wolf said.

  Half-way up the ladder Von Drager stopped. “Where do I sit?”

  “There’s only one seat.”

  “But where will you sit?”

  “Pretty much in your lap. Now sit down and shut up.”

  Fitz put a teasing lilt in her voice. “And where will I sit? In your lap?”

  “That would make it a little hard to fly.” He stepped down the fuselage and pulled open the storage compartment hatch. “I was thinking you could ride in here.”

  Fitz’s mouth gaped at the sight of the tiny space, barely large enough for a single travel bag. “You’re crazy if you think I’m getting in that. How about I stuff you in there and I fly the ship?”

  “I’m too big. And before you suggest it, so is Von Drager. You’re the smallest. It has to be you.”

  “There’s no life support.”

  “It’s only a short hop down to the rendezvous Ari mentioned, and we won’t be going out of atmosphere.” Before she could protest further, he held up a finger, then scrambled up the ladder and extracted something from the cockpit. He returned, handing her an emergency breather pack. “Just in case. That should be good for a couple of hours.”

  “I’ll freeze in there.” The space seemed to get smaller and darker the longer she looked at it.

  “Then I’ll warm you up.” Wolf took her face in both hands and kissed her. Too soon, his mouth lifted. “Better now?”

  “I’m still a little chilly.”

  His mouth claimed hers again. She slid her hands inside his jacket and caressed the warm hardness of his back. He swung her up into his arms.

  “How about now?” At her purred assent, he eased her into the narrow space, tucking up her knees. His fingers brushed a lock of hair off her face. He picked up Jumper, settled him against her stomach and started to close the hatch.

  She reached out to stop him. “No, I’ll do it. Just before we lift off.”

  He nodded and trotted away.

  Within seconds, Fitz heard the hanger doors rumble open. She shivered and pulled Jumper closer as frigid night air flowed through the opening. As long as the compartment’s hatch was open and she could see out, she’d be okay. But when she had to seal it up… She closed her eyes, banishing the fear with the thought of Wolf’s lips on hers.

  Jumper growled, jolting her back to the present. Too much time had passed. Wolf should be aboard by now. She leaned up, cursing as she banged her head. Voices, faint and indistinct, came from the distance—too far away to be in the cockpit. She dialed up the sensitivity on her auditory augs and recognized Wolf’s distinctive accent. A second voice answered and her stomach clinched as she identified it. Tritico. She should have killed the bastard when she had the chance.

  She slid out of the niche, easing the cat to the floor. They crept beneath the ship’s belly to crouch behind the nose gear.

  The two men stood a couple of meters apart, slowly circling each other. Wolf had the slug thrower pointed at his advisory’s head.

  Tritico’s face was tight and gray, his cheekbones standing out like blades. His shirt was a torn and bloody ruin and he held a briefcase clinched to his chest li
ke a shield. The hand that held a weapon pointed at Wolf’s chest shook, but at that distance, Fitz didn’t think he could miss.

  Stalemate.

  That called for another person to break it. She pulled her weapon, approaching Tritico from the side.

  At the sight of her, he began backing up. “Nice of you to join us, my dear.” He recognized the greatest danger, keeping his pistol pointed at Wolf, but his gaze flickered between them.

  “Jumper was right. I should have barbequed you,” Fitz said.

  Wolf shifted to place himself between her and Tritico. She frowned, stepping around him.

  Tritico’s toothy smile looked more tired than threatening. “I counted on a nice girl like you not being able to do it.”

  “That’s not going to happen again,” she said.

  Wolf stepped in front of her a second time. “Get back in the ship.”

  Tritico’s eyes followed her as she moved around to Wolf’s left. “Protective of you, isn’t he, my dear?”

  The trio’s slow dance had turned them in a circle, placing Tritico between them and the ship.

  “Walk away, Jan,” Wolf said. “For the sake of the friendship we once had, I’m willing to call this a draw, but if I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”

  “You might try, but we seem to have a problem. We can shoot each other all day for all the good it will do us. I can’t kill you. You can’t kill me.” He smiled. “I can, however, kill her.”

  Fitz saw the barrel of Tritico’s weapon swing in her direction. A white-hot spear of pain drove through her chest, throwing her backward. All her systems crashed and her mind disappeared into a blinding flash of whiteness.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Wolf threw his body in front of Fitz as the pistol’s barrel swung around. Fire seared across his ribs as the bolt ripped through his jacket and the muscle underneath. Fitz’s sharp gasp of surprise warned him he hadn’t been quick enough. She crumpled to the floor, back arched against the pain in her chest. Jumper howled in anguish.

  Tritico dashed toward the ship. Wolf rolled to his feet, snapped off two shots but on the third, the slug thrower clicked on empty. Tritico appeared to stagger, but made it to the ladder and scrambled aboard.