Unchained_ A science fiction romance adventure

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  The wall crumbled at head height, and the tip of a spinning drill appeared. A huge spinning drill.

  Jerick held his fire. He didn’t know how much intelligence the machine was programmed with, but it might back out if they fired prematurely. He wanted to destroy it to make sure it couldn’t leave and try to drill into the facility from another spot.

  Cortez also waited, an unmoving figure beside him. More of the drill came into sight, and then, with a burst of speed, the entire head appeared, propelled by its hulking machine-body.

  Jerick opened fire as it attempted to turn into the corridor, the drill gouging a massive hole in the opposite wall. His plastech bolts scorched the massive machine, but didn’t penetrate its armored sides. He knew he was lucky to have grabbed a weapon that worked without oxygen or heat, since his helmet display showed that the atmosphere was gone and the temperature had dropped more than a hundred degrees already, but he and Cortez were going to have a hell of a time stopping this thing.

  “Try for a sustained blast,” Cortez said, holding down the trigger of his own rifle.

  The borer turned fully toward them, completely filling the corridor and leaving only the giant drill bit in sight, a bit that had been designed to cut through the hardest substances known to man. Their weapons were doing little more than leaving scorch marks on the whirring metal.

  “Not doing any good, sir. We need to get around it, find a more vulnerable spot.”

  “Agreed.” Cortez glanced back. “And we need to do it soon. It’s heading for the blast door.”

  Jerick grimaced, remembering Tek Tek’s words about the prisoners, that they would only be safe as long as that door was not compromised. Had the others had time to move the staff yet?

  The borer rolled inexorably forward, forcing Jerick and Cortez to back up farther and farther.

  “No room to go around on the sides.” Cortez waved at the gap of less than a foot on each side, then lowered his weapon on its strap. He sent Jerick a grim look, then ran straight at the whirring drill bit.

  Jerick understood what Cortez meant to do, but his gut clenched at the idea of him miscalculating, of the spinning drill tearing into his suit—and his body.

  Just before the borer reached him, Cortez sprang into the air, arms and legs outstretched like a diver going off a board. His powerful legs pushed him up and over the drill bit, through a gap of two feet between the top of the machine and the ceiling. He disappeared from sight.

  Jerick stopped firing, not wanting any of his bolts to ricochet back and strike Cortez.

  The drill kept coming, forcing him to keep backing up. Another glance over his shoulder revealed the blast door less than ten feet behind him. Damn, the drill would break through it easily, forcing the station to seal off more corridors to maintain atmosphere in the rest of the facility. It might try to seal off the whole level, with Tek Tek and the others trapped inside without suits.

  “I’m coming after you, sir,” Jerick said.

  The only thing he could do was duplicate Cortez’s dive over the machine and hope he could help from back there. He couldn’t do anything from his current position.

  Realizing, he couldn’t hear Cortez firing or the grinding of the machine thanks to the lack of atmosphere, he activated the comm in the suit and repeated the words. The last thing he wanted was to throw himself into Cortez’s line of fire.

  “Understood,” Cortez said. “Hurry.”

  Jerick ran forward, his heart hammering in his chest as he saw how perfect his timing would have to be, then sprang into the air.

  He made it over the giant spinning drill, but his stomach grazed the top of the machine. Afraid something would be cut off, he jerked in the air. His helmet cracked against the ceiling, and he tumbled ungracefully down onto the top of the machine behind the drill.

  “Smooth,” Cortez said, crouching nearby, also atop the machine.

  He’d found a place to cut through the armor and was digging in a control box. As Jerick recovered, getting his feet under him and crouching, his helmet just below the ceiling, Cortez growled and ripped something free. He tossed a silver box with wires sticking out of it into the corridor behind him. It bounced a few times before stopping, joining several other pieces of equipment, tubing, and piping on the floor.

  “I thought that was the power source.” Cortez snarled, reaching inside the compartment again. “This thing must have a thousand backup systems.”

  “You don’t want your expensive drilling machine to chip a fingernail and get stuck inside an asteroid.” Jerick lifted his rifle. “Let me.”

  Cortez leaned back, raising an arm as Jerick fired indiscriminately inside the opening. It wasn’t as satisfying as doing it in atmosphere, since he couldn’t hear his rifle obliterating things or see smoke rising.

  The machine’s inexorable forward march halted with a lurch.

  At first, Jerick thought he had succeeded, but then he realized the drill had reached the blast door. Tiny shards of metal flew as it bit into it. As wide and solid as that door was, it would inevitably fall to the powerful drill.

  Jerick stopped firing, unable to believe he hadn’t destroyed the machine yet. Cortez snarled, lunged into the hole of melted innards, and tore out more pieces, hurling them down the corridor behind them. For lack of better ideas, Jerick fired at the back of the drill, hoping to find some weakness in the armored hide.

  A click-thud emanated from the machine—he couldn’t hear the noise, but he felt it through his boots.

  The drill stopped spinning.

  “We did it,” he blurted.

  A panel snapped open in the back of the borer. Two devices that looked like flying porcupines without legs floated out from some inside compartment.

  One sped off down the corridor in the direction the drill had come from. It turned into the hole the borer had created, as if to flee back out to the warship.

  The other drone spun, whirling toward Jerick and Cortez. A narrow hole came into view, reminding Jerick of an arrow slit in some ancient castle.

  “Look out,” Cortez barked.

  He fired at the barbed drone, then somersaulted under it and off the back of the borer. Jerick jumped to the side as something shot out of the slit. He’d expected plastech fire, but a metal projectile bounced off the back of the drill.

  Jerick scrambled to the floor, ducking to avoid the drone swooping toward his helmet.

  As soon as he got out of the way, Cortez fired at the hovering device. It whipped back and forth, making a difficult target as it turned its slit toward him again. Jerick wasn’t sure exactly what it was firing, but they looked similar to ancient ninja throwing stars.

  Cortez fired at one as it shot from the orifice. His plastech bolt melted it in the air, and the warped remains dropped to the floor. It was indeed a miniature throwing star, the remains of one.

  Jerick fired straight at the drone. It moved fast, but now that he had his feet firmly planted on the floor, he could track it, and he started anticipating its wild moves. Still, it had armor of its own, and the plastech bolts didn’t cut in as efficiently as he’d hoped. The drone proved almost impervious to the energy weapon. Maybe a regular rifle with bullets would work? He’d seen some around the station. But no, those wouldn’t fire without oxygen.

  “Stop,” Cortez said, waving for Jerick to lower his weapon.

  Jerick did, but he had to immediately spring out of the way as the drone hurled more stars. His shoulder bumped against the wall, and he grunted, falling against the back of the borer. He started to turn, to make sure he wouldn’t be in Cortez’s line of fire—even though Cortez probably had something besides firing in mind—but the borer lurched backward.

  Jerick hadn’t expected that, and he cried out as it slammed into him, almost knocking him to his knees. He tried to jump forward, but the drone was in the way, its deadly slit facing him again. Jerick lurched sideways as the borer picked up speed, going in reverse. It knocked him against the wall. He tried to climb out of
the way, knowing he’d be crushed if there wasn’t room.

  But he wasn’t fast enough. A protrusion on the side of the machine slammed into his ribs, and he cried out. Bone crunched, and pain ricocheted through his body. He dropped his weapon, unable to think about anything except flattening himself to the wall, hoping there was room for the machine to pass.

  The borer continued to retreat at top speed. Fortunately, there was just enough room for Jerick on its side, and he wasn’t completely smashed. It passed him, and he crumpled to the floor, feeling like he’d been run over by a five-ton truck.

  “Because you were, dumb ass,” he muttered to himself.

  His entire body throbbed with pain, but he forced himself to his feet, fearing the battle wasn’t over yet.

  Cortez landed beside him, tossing something to the floor. The broken body of the drone. He’d destroyed it somehow. Brute force, maybe. It was noticeably dented on one side.

  Jerick stared after the rapidly moving borer. Cortez fired several more times as it backed into the hole it had created. Had some recall program been activated? Or maybe it had orders to go back to its base when it was damaged.

  Cortez chased it to the hole in the wall and kept firing at it. Suspecting the effort was worthless, Jerick let himself sink to the floor again. His helmet display flashed all manner of warnings about his spacesuit’s integrity being compromised, and he could feel cold seeping into his body.

  “We’ve got the prisoners moved, sir,” Tek Tek spoke over the comm.

  Cortez grunted, but didn’t answer.

  “Sir,” Jerick said weakly. “I need to get out of here.”

  Belatedly, it occurred to him that they would have a hard time doing that. The blast doors wouldn’t open as long as the facility was breached and oxygen couldn’t be held in this corridor. And the facility would remain breached as long as there was a giant hole in the side of it.

  Cortez stopped firing after the borer—maybe it had disappeared back out into space—and looked at him. “Do you think you can make it to the airlock access point outside and four levels down?”

  Jerick wanted to groan at the idea of moving at all, but it was more all the alarms flashing inside his helmet that made him say, “I don’t think I’ve got the time, sir.”

  He couldn’t see Cortez’s face through his helmet plate, but there was a determined set to his shoulders that Jerick drew strength from. Then he strode out of sight, into the tunnel the borer had made.

  “You’re not leaving me, are you?” Jerick asked flippantly, making it a joke, but terror flooded him at the idea of being left alone to die in this corridor.

  After all the battles he’d survived, after all the enemies he’d slain, after being liberated from that icy metal table minutes before receiving a lethal injection… he couldn’t die here from being trampled by some oversized drill. It was too ignoble to contemplate. And the idea of dying alone… It was strange how terrifying he found it.

  “Never,” Cortez said over the comm.

  Jerick realized he was doing something in the freshly drilled tunnel when tiny shards of rock flew out of it, pinging off the corridor wall. He stared blankly at the hole, not understanding, but a thread of hope entered his soul. His body throbbed with pain, and a faint hiss sounded in his ears—oxygen escaping his suit—but still, he hoped.

  A cloud of dust—or was that pulverized rock?—came out of the tunnel next. Cortez strode into view in the midst of it.

  “Tek Tek,” he said over the helmet comm, “I’ve done my best to seal the breach. It might not be up to the station’s standards, but can you override the safety protocols and force some atmosphere back in here? I’ve got to get Jerick out.”

  Cortez reached Jerick and bent down. He looked like he meant to pick him up and hoist him over his shoulder. Pride surged through Jerick. He didn’t want to be carried.

  He gripped Cortez’s wrist, accepting some help, but he levered himself to his feet. His ribs screamed in pain, and he couldn’t stifle a gasp. Blackness encroached on his vision. Because of the pain or because he wasn’t getting enough oxygen? He didn’t know.

  “Working on it, sir,” Tek Tek said, and Jerick slumped against Cortez in relief. “It’ll be temporary at best so be ready to get out.”

  “We’ll be kissing the door,” Cortez said.

  Cortez walked toward that door, a hole half drilled in it, with his arm around Jerick’s waist. Jerick couldn’t object to the support. He doubted he could have walked without it, but at least he wasn’t being carried.

  “What did you do to close the breach?” Jerick asked, though it hurt to speak—and to breathe.

  “Fired in the tunnel to drop a bunch of boulders. It was hard without gravity, but I managed to fill it in, at least for now.”

  “Good. I hope that borer is so damaged it explodes before it makes it back to its ship.”

  “As do I,” Cortez said. “At the least, it will need extensive repairs before it’s sent out again.”

  A bong sounded—announcing atmosphere being returned to the area? After a few more seconds, the door lifted.

  Cortez and Jerick hustled through, not making it far before it slammed shut behind them again.

  “Thanks, sir,” Jerick said. “For everything.”

  “You’re welcome. Let’s get you some medical attention.”

  “I’m not objecting, sir. Think our cute doctor knows what to do with broken ribs?”

  “For your sake, I hope so.”

  10

  Skylar was contemplating the spacesuit Keiko had brought her and how to further stall her comrade when the sickbay door swished open behind her. She turned as stunner fire went off. Keiko, who had been in the middle of changing into her own spacesuit, had managed to whip up her own stunner, but too late. She crumpled to the deck. She hadn’t even gotten a shot off.

  Skylar raised her hands, thinking of diving behind the desk, but the owner of the stunner walked in before she could move.

  Jerick lowered the weapon. He was being supported by Cortez, and a grimace of pain marked his face. They both carried plastech rifles in addition to stunners, and weapons Skylar couldn’t even name hung from straps across Cortez’s torso. They also wore spacesuits, the tops unfastened and hanging open. If they’d had helmets, they had left those somewhere.

  “How does that woman keep getting weapons?” Jerick asked, the pain on his face coming through in his voice as he scowled at the now unconscious Keiko.

  “I was wondering how she keeps getting out of the cells and closets we stuff her in,” Cortez added, helping Jerick farther into sickbay. He spotted Skylar and added, “Ah.”

  Ah? Did he think she was the one responsible for the jail breaks? Technically, she had been, but given how klutzy her grab for that electronic fob had been, she didn’t feel terribly clever or heroic.

  “I thought that fall of yours looked unnatural,” Cortez added, smiling faintly.

  At least he didn’t seem annoyed with her. Skylar lowered her hands slowly as the door swished shut behind the men and it didn’t appear that anyone else was on the way in. Cortez helped Jerick out of the spacesuit, which was difficult because Jerick kept gripping his ribs and making faces.

  “Do you need help?” Skylar tossed aside the spacesuit she’d been holding—it seemed the garments were trendy at the moment—and nodded toward Jerick. “Brains are my specialty, but I can perform some basic surgeries and first-aid.”

  She wouldn’t be qualified to do anything except brain surgery in a real hospital, but if Dr. Branigan was dead, she had a feeling she was the closest thing to a medical expert around. Assuming the fleet people weren’t about to send surgeons over to help the cyborgs.

  “His brain could use working on in addition to his ribs,” Cortez said. “People with working brains don’t fling themselves in front of five-ton robot drills.”

  “It started up while I was leaning against it and ran over me. I assure you, there was no flinging involved, not on my part.
” Jerick shifted his gaze to Skylar. “Look, Doc. I just need a couple painkillers, and I’ll be ready to fight more.”

  “Pip will let us know when it’s time to fight again. Fortunately, it shouldn’t be right away, since Ahmed and the others managed to drive the strike teams back out into space, minus a few darters.” Cortez smiled, but it was more grimly accepting than delighted. “Captain Falconer will spend at least six hours in the briefing room contemplating his belly button lint before trying something else. He’s never been one to rely on his gut and act quickly. He’ll get reports from everyone from weapons control to the ship’s sewage team.”

  Cortez veered toward the closest bed, and Jerick allowed himself to be lowered onto it.

  “I’m the only one here?” Jerick glanced at the row of empty beds on his other side.

  “Most of the men didn’t stand out in the open to fight,” Cortez said, waving Skylar over. “They shot at the enemy from behind cover when they could.”

  “The boring machine didn’t let us find cover. You’re lucky you didn’t get run over with that drill too. There were a couple of times I was sure it was going to squish you. It was eyeing your elbow pads like they were targets on an archery range.”

  Skylar grabbed a medical scanner, power extractor, and knit-beam, taking a guess that she might need to remove bullets or shrapnel in addition to healing ribs. She also plucked up sedatives, painkillers, and a jet injector along the way, then joined the men, waving for Jerick to show her the wound. Aside from when he’d fired the stunner at Keiko, he had been covering it with his arm.

  He obeyed, and she grimaced at the size of the bruise and the dark, mottled skin. Broken ribs seemed very likely. And maybe damage to internal organs.

  “Can you get your future pilot off the deck, please?” Skylar asked Cortez, glancing at Keiko.

  “Future pilot? Has she changed her mind about helping us?”

  “Not that I know of, but I’m being optimistic on your behalf. Also, it’s possible she’ll feel kindlier toward you if she wakes up on a bed instead of on the floor.”