Her foot touched solid ground, and she paused to wipe sweat again—and to berate herself. What had made her think she would be a match for pirates? That coming out here was a good idea?
Before moving out of the ladder well, she tilted her head back, making sure she didn’t see any light coming from anywhere above. It was still dark. Maybe she had imagined everything, even that hatch opening.
A drop of water splashed onto her forehead.
Confused, she wiped it away. What could be leaking down here? She hadn’t passed any wet spots. She rubbed her fingers. Her own sweat had made them damp, probably too wet to sniff what she had wiped away and see if it was something besides water.
Realization struck her like a bulldozer. Not water. Sweat. The sweat of someone who was above her, someone also affected by the heat of the tunnels.
She almost ran—sprinted—away, but logic halted her. Careful not to make a sound, she eased the strap of her rifle off her shoulder. She had just climbed down three levels. If she could catch her pursuer in the ladder well, he wouldn’t have room to dodge.
Rifle pointed upward, she leaned back out, patting around to make sure she wouldn’t shoot the ceiling instead of up the shaft. With her finger on the trigger, she listened. The darkness gave her eyes nothing, but surely, she would catch the soft padding of feet on a ladder, or the scrape of a weapon brushing the side of the well. She heard nothing.
Tamryn licked her lips. Afraid she was about to be stupid and give away her position, but also afraid to do nothing, she fired. The orange laser beam streaked upward and illuminated rungs as it passed. The blast slammed into the top of the shaft, scorching metal. Before the beam blinked out, she glimpsed eyes, a face, and a dragon tattoo. He wasn’t yet in the ladder well but in the horizontal passage above, peering down. She fired again, but he anticipated her and ducked back out of view.
Cursing to herself, she fired several more times, just in case he was dumb enough to stick his head over the opening. She should have waited. Why hadn’t she waited? A few more seconds, and he might have started down the ladder, where he would have been helpless to dodge.
Thinking she might still lure him into that position, she forced herself to stop firing indiscriminately. She let the darkness swallow her again and made a few shuffling steps, as if she was running away. A smart woman surely would run away. Then, as quietly as she could, she leaned back out under the opening and pointed her rifle upward again. She was taking a risk—he might be doing the same thing up there, pointing his weapon downward to shoot her. Or he might drop a grenade.
That last image was so overpowering that she almost ran away right then. But she made herself wait a few more seconds, ears straining. How did that man move without making any noise? Or was he not moving? Was he simply waiting her out?
Finally, afraid he was climbing down and she wasn’t aware of it, she fired again. The light of the laser illuminated the ladder well once more, but this time, she didn’t see so much as a face. It was empty.
Frustrated, she left her spot and continued through the passage. If nothing else, he should have to wait a while before he could be certain she was gone. Thanks to the map, she knew there wasn’t another way down here, not unless one went back out to the main corridors, took a lift, and came into the maintenance areas from another level. But what if he had a buddy or two who had done exactly that? Entered from below to head her off? Or maybe someone already waited for her at Aux-Comm. They could guess where she was going. There wasn’t much else at that end of the station, except for a weapons platform that would only be useful for shooting approaching ships.
A tremor coursed through the walls, and the floor shivered beneath Tamryn’s feet. An explosion? An attack from a second ship? From the dark passages, she had no way to tell.
She groped her way through the darkness until she found the next ladder well. Even with her thoughts racing, her mind had kept the map in place, and for that, she was relieved. As she headed downward, she listened, trying to hear her pursuer. She didn’t know why she bothered. Hadn’t she already decided that he moved like a ghost?
A cold whisper of air came out of a vent and brushed her sweat-dampened cheek. Tamryn paused. She must have reached Sub-Level Eight. The frost labs were down here, along with cages for studying the animals recreated from DNA samples archaeologists had found in the tunnels beneath Glaciem’s icy surface.
Between one heartbeat and the next, Tamryn decided to deviate from her route, a route that was, as she had just been thinking, painfully obvious. She patted along the walls of the ladder well, searching for a hatch. There ought to be one on every level. Yes, there it was.
She glanced up as she rested her hand on the lever. Nobody was dripping sweat on her at the moment, but if he was up there and saw her open the hatch, saw her outlined in the light from outside, he could easily shoot her. Or if the hinges squealed like the ones on that first hatch had, he would know exactly where she had gone.
Deciding he must have a good idea of where she was anyway, Tamryn risked shooting up the ladder well. Once again, her lasers burned through the darkness, illuminating the rungs briefly. This time, she didn’t see anyone peering down from above. She risked the hatch.
It didn’t open soundlessly, but its groan was much softer than the other one had been. The light that slashed in from the corridor outside blinded her, and cold air made it feel like she had opened a freezer. She almost jumped right out, wanting nothing more than to escape the shaft, where she felt vulnerable limned by the light. She forced herself to check left and right. It wouldn’t do to stumble into another group of intruders.
The corridor lay empty. She slid out and closed the hatch behind her. Unfortunately, it didn’t have a lock. It was, however, old and simple, with a manual latch that would work even if station power went out. She pulled out her pistol, set the beam to the lowest setting, and pointed it at the latch mechanism. The beam seared into the metal without bouncing off. The stink of melting nu-steel reached her nose. Hoping she had done enough to fuse the latch, she holstered the weapon and backed away.
For a few seconds, she stood there, trying to get her bearings and remember which way it was to the animals. She had only been down here once, during her initial tour of the station. She hoped to elude whatever heat- or life-form tracker her stalker was using by snuggling up with some of the warm-blooded creatures.
A thump sounded against the other side of the hatch.
“Shit,” Tamryn whispered, jumping. She sprinted down the corridor, bearings be damned. She wasn’t going to wait and see if melting the latching mechanism had worked.
The route she chose took her past several labs, some with the lights left on, but all deserted. She took a turn, remembering her way to the animals, though the stench of hay and warm, furry bodies would have told her that, regardless. She jumped over a pool of fresh blood in the middle of the floor with boot prints dragged through it. The sight horrified her—had the scientist who had left that blood been captured or killed?—but she was too drained to react emotionally. She ran on, turning around a corner.
The corridor opened up into a wide space, a maze of pens and cages, observation rooms, and testing facilities. Snarls and clacks drifted to her ears before she could see any of the animals. Frost crystals lined the floor and the walls, and she nearly skidded out into the space. Overhead lights shined onto the tops of the cages, the illumination far brighter than she wanted when she had hiding in mind. She spun toward a wall panel and hit the controls.
The room was plunged into darkness, though it wasn’t as absolute as that of the maintenance shafts. A few soft lights remained on in labs, and computer displays flashed here and there around the huge animal area.
She had no idea if her security codes would work down here, but she leaned close to the sensor and whispered, “Security lock: Pavlenko Charlie Eight Seven Four Zulu.”
Without waiting to see if the panel acknowledged her, she ran around the corner. Even if she had
melted that hatch shut, she doubted that obstacle would delay her pursuer for long. He had laser weapons too.
She weaved between cages and pens, the sounds of the animals more alarming without the lights. Fearsome predators had evolved in Glaciem’s tunnels, or had been created there millennia ago by the aliens, as some suspected. Heavy breathing, growls, grunts, and other noises she had no words for filled the air around her. She’d been told that at least some of the animals were harmless herbivores whose predecessors had once grazed on subterranean mosses. She headed for a pen in the back, remembering seeing something like bristly pigs back there. They had seemed friendly on her previous visit, and she hoped they still were.
It crossed her mind to open the cages of some of the predators, but there was no guarantee that they would go after the intruder instead of her. Instead, she felt her way to the pen in the back, climbed the low fence, and spread her hands. The dim lighting made it hard to tell how many animals were inside, but it smelled like a lot. She knew someone cleaned out the cages and pens daily, but she squished through more than hay as she walked.
Several pigs waddled up to her, bumping against her, their bristly fur poking her through her uniform. The creatures ranged from waist-high to chest-high and could have knocked her over if they tried, but none of them were that aggressive. One pushed a snout into her hand.
Sorry, buddy, she thought. It’s not dinner time yet. She dared not share the words out loud.
Since the animals did not object to her presence, she eased her way to the back side of the pen, then dropped to her knees. If she lowered her head to the deck, she could see through the legs of the pigs, through the fencing, and down the corridor she had come up. She gripped her rifle, ready to shoot if anyone came into sight.
The pigs settled as seconds turned to minutes, seeming to forget she was there. Perfect.
She licked her lips, not sure whether she hoped her pursuer would walk down the corridor and she would have a shot at him or whether she hoped he wouldn’t be able to find her at all and would give up. All the warm bodies around her should make it hard for his sensors to work. She hoped. As far as she knew, there weren’t any nearby exits. She had chosen a spot that trapped her back here, or that at least required that she leave the way she came.
The lights remained out, which she hoped meant the override had worked. Either that, or he hadn’t yet made his way down here. Maybe the hatch had thwarted him, and he’d had to go another way around and was delayed.
Or maybe he just liked to hunt in the dark.
Tamryn swallowed, weariness creeping into her limbs. Her knees started to ache from kneeling on the hard deck, and cold seeped up from the metal, stealing the warmth from her body. Her sweat chilled; she would be shivering soon.
Another shudder coursed through the station. Definitely an explosion. Earlier, she had figured someone might be firing on Frost Station Alpha, but now, she wondered if the intruders had found the safe rooms and were trying to get to the scientists. She started to feel like a coward for crouching in the pen—for hiding—when others were being captured. Or worse. If only she could think of something useful to do. If only—
A figure appeared at the end of the corridor, a single set of legs.
Tamryn held her breath. A couple of the pigs stirred and walked over to the fence. She aimed between their legs, using her scope to lock onto the man’s left shin. Unfortunately, she couldn’t target anything higher, not with the animals in the way. She would have to stand up to hit him in the chest, but he might see her movement, and then he’d simply anticipate and dodge, the way he had up above.
He stopped moving. Was he looking for her? Or did he already know where she was?
Tamryn tightened her finger on the trigger. She hated to give herself away if he didn’t know she was here, especially for such a non-vital target. But the way he had slowed down... He knew she was close. Maybe the pigs were throwing off his sensors, but something had led him down this corridor in the maze.
After the short pause, he continued in her direction.
She lined up her target and fired.
The laser streaked between the legs of two pigs, past the fencing, and slammed into his shin. She saw the hit, even though an instant later, the animals were squealing and stampeding, stealing her line of sight.
Rifle ready for a second shot, she rose into a high crouch, just high enough to see over their backs. She had to press against the wall so that, in their fear, they didn’t trample her.
The man hadn’t cried out when struck, but that didn’t surprise her. Tamryn expected him to fire at her and had her finger on the trigger, planning to fire first. But she didn’t see him. Figuring he might have tumbled to the floor, clutching his leg, she stood straighter, rising to tiptoes. From there, she could see the entire corridor.
But he was gone.
Chapter 4
Makkon’s shin was on fire. He crouched atop an animal cage, looking down at the agitated dhevars, trying to pick the woman out of the gloom. He knew she was there—she’d shot him from over in that corner somewhere—but darkness hid most of that pen, even from his keen eyes.
He crept forward to the edge of the cage. If his leg hadn’t been burning with pain, he might have jumped across the fence and animals to land somewhere near her. He tried to gauge if his bone had been damaged. He thought not—after all, he made the leap up here quickly enough. Later, he would find a first-aid kit. For now, he had to bring down his prey.
Something glinted against the back wall of the pen. Sniper scope, the glass reflecting some tiny light.
Ignoring the pain in his leg, Makkon leaped from the top of the cage. He sailed over the animals, nearly landing on one, and finally picked out the woman’s form in the dimness. She saw him coming and jerked her rifle to fire. She was startled, and he twisted in midair, anticipating the shot, but the laser still skimmed the side of his ribs. A scorching line of heat painted him, but then he landed, and she was his.
He knocked her rifle aside before she could fire again and snatched her arm, keeping her from springing away. He pulled her against him, her back to his chest, holding her with one arm while he yanked her weapons out of her holsters. She struggled mightily, stomping down and trying to hammer his instep, but he evaded the attacks and shoved her against the wall, pinning her more effectively. Though her strength was no match for his, she fought like a cornered ice tiger. She came within an inch of crushing his nose with the back of her head. He could have shot her a number of times while he had been stalking her, but that would not get him into the communications system. Nor did he particularly want to kill anyone else. The more people they left alive here, the more likely his team would be able to make a deal with the system government.
After almost losing his nose—again—Makkon wrapped his hand around the woman’s throat. His leg and his ribs hurt, and he was getting cranky. He applied enough pressure to get her attention.
She finally grew still, her shoulders slumping in defeat. He took in a deep breath, intending to lock away his pain so he could focus, but he mostly found himself noticing the scent of her hair, of her. After tracking her by the faintest of odors all the way down here, it was almost overwhelming to be so close, to have her heady scent filling his nostrils. He was hyper aware of her warmth pressing against his body, a sharp contrast to the chill of the room, a room that he, like these animals, found far more comfortable than the temperature in the rest of the station.
“I cannot let you send a message to GalMil,” he said, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. It was on the verge of hoarseness. He shifted his hips away from her, irritated with his body for its inappropriate response. He had a hand wrapped around the woman’s throat; being aroused either made him a sadist or a pervert. He didn’t care to be either.
“Gal who?” she asked, sounding puzzled.
“I don’t know what you call it now. I need you to send a message to your government leaders.” Assuming she was the communicati
ons officer. He should have asked. His mind didn’t seem to be functioning at one hundred percent. It was a wonder he had managed to track her. Though he’d almost lost her when she veered into this strange zoo, the animals’ powerful scents burying hers. He’d thought her clever even as he’d gnashed his teeth at yet another delay in obtaining her.
“Sorry, I don’t have their scans.”
“Their what?” This time, he was the puzzled one.
“You know, their contact information. Who are you, anyway?”
“Someone your history has apparently forgotten.” He couldn’t quite keep the bleakness from his voice, but he doubted she would recognize it for what is was. “You will find the contact information.” He turned her around, keeping a hand on her upper arm and the other around her neck.
She tensed, and he thought she might fight him again.
He tightened the grip on her throat. “I can cut off your air until you pass out, then simply carry you to the comm station.” Indeed, that might be the safer bet, but his wounded leg did not want to support his own body at the moment, much less a second one. He’d carry her if he had to, but he would prefer she walk.
“Asshole,” she said.
He snorted, more amused than angered by her defiance. She had looked young the times he’d glimpsed her in the light, but she acted like an experienced veteran, more fearless than some of the men he’d faced up above.
She let him maneuver her through the pigs and over the fence, though she checked him a few times, probably trying to see if she could slip away while he was climbing over things. Given his wound, that wasn’t an unreasonable thought, but he kept her close, his grip sure. A little pain would not make him lose a prisoner.
The comm in his bracer beeped as they left the lab and returned to lit corridors. He risked letting go of her arm—he still had his grip on her neck—to answer it.
“Makkon.”
“Sir, we’ve got the civilians out of those vault rooms,” Zar said. “We’re tying them up and putting them in a lounge we found on Deck Three. Does that work?”
Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series Page 4