Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  Had her wrists not been tied behind her back, she might have contemplated escape again, since there were only two pirates left in the lounge, but they were older, in their thirties or forties, and looked every bit as fierce as Makkon. One was watching her closely, a scarred man with a beard that nearly hid whatever his tattoo was supposed to be. Something with scales and fangs. He had also watched her when Makkon had been searching her, his gaze dipping to her breasts and then her thighs when Makkon had been pulling out her knives. She did not want to give him a reason to come over. As much as she wanted to escape, it was something that might be easier to achieve once the pirates had settled in, and they were waiting to hear back from Fleet. Some of them would have to sleep sometime.

  Pretending she wasn’t aware of the staring brute, Tamryn shifted her attention to the large portholes that dominated the exterior side of the lounge. As she’d noted when she first entered, the side of a ship was visible outside. It had looked like a mining craft, rather than a warship, with a cone-shaped nose capable of drilling. If her ankles hadn’t been bound, she would have gotten up and walked over for a better view. It must have clamped onto the hull near engineering, cut an entrance, and extended a tube to come over. They might have had space suits, too, and simply floated over, though given their scruffy attire, it was hard to imagine them with expensive suits.

  “Here you go, lady.” Zar had returned, and he held a portable medical kit out to her. He must have gone to sickbay.

  It was more than she expected, but she couldn’t bring herself to thank him. She did not want to start thinking of her captors as human beings, as people to be respected. Still, she gave him a curt nod when he set it on the deck next to her. If she wanted him to free her hands and feet, she should at least hold back her belligerence.

  “Untie me?” She tilted her chin toward the silver case, pointing out that it would be hard to use without her hands.

  Zar hesitated. The guard with the roaming gaze frowned.

  “Your word that you won’t try anything except taking care of them while you’re untied?” Zar asked.

  Now Tamryn was the one to hesitate. Even though she doubted she would get a chance to “try anything” in the next half hour, she did not want to be bound by her word—or be forced to break it—if an opportunity arose. She was actually surprised that the pirate would ask the question or think anything of her word.

  “Just retie her hands in front of her, Zar,” the third pirate said. “I doubt it matters if she’s free or not, but we’re not accepting promises from our enemies.”

  “Might matter,” Zar said, hoisting Tamryn to her feet and turning her so he could untie the knots. “Someone shot the hunt leader.”

  Hunt leader? Makkon? What kind of rank was that? It didn’t sound like something a pirate would use, but then, hadn’t she already decided these guys were smarter and more organized—and more deadly—than pirates, at least than what she had imagined was typical for pirates? Maybe they were mercenaries, after all. Or someone’s private army. Someone with a poor fashion sense.

  The second pirate snorted. “I’ll eat my left nut if she’s the one who shot Makkon.”

  Tamryn let herself experience a tight smile, but said nothing.

  After finishing with her wrists, Zar redid the bonds around her ankles. He did not remove them, but he tied them less closely, so she could hobble across the room to join her men. With the medical kit clutched in her hands, she awkwardly knelt between them.

  “Ma’am,” Powell said with a nod. “Better look to Cox first. He’s been out since one of them bounced his head off the deck.” He glared at Zar and the others.

  He was pale, too, and looked to have lost a lot of blood, but Tamryn followed his suggestion and leaned toward Cox first. The red-headed sergeant didn’t stir when she touched his face. It was cool and clammy. She opened the medical kit, relieved to find a repair device inside. She’d taken the mandatory first-aid training at the academy, but that didn’t involve much more than giving shots, stopping bleeding, and wrapping bandages. She fastened the device to his forehead. It could do a lot on its own and should be able to reduce the inflammation and inject a few nanobots to fix internal damage. If it couldn’t repair the problem, a readout would at least give her some advice on what else needed to be done.

  While the device beeped and hummed, she cut open his sleeve so she could apply Knit Gel to a deep gash dripping blood onto the floor. She gave both of the men painkillers with the injector in the kit, taking note that there were sedatives loaded into the device too. Four charges. She thumbed the selector to the sedatives and set the injector between her knees, glad she hadn’t given her word about anything. One of the pirates paced behind her, so she didn’t attempt to slip the device in her pocket, but she planned to before she finished with the men.

  “You know any more than I do about them, Powell?” she murmured, hoping her voice wouldn’t carry.

  “Probably not, ma’am.” Powell looked chagrined to admit it. He watched Zar, who was walking a slow circuit around the room, checking on all of the prisoners, while the other two stood guard near the door. “I don’t think they’re pirates, though,” he added when Zar had reached the other side of the room.

  “No? Why not?”

  “Haven’t heard them say a thing about the artifacts. That’s what all the other pirates were trying to get their hands on. If these people know about them, they haven’t let on, not that I’ve heard.” He fell silent as Zar’s route took him back past.

  Tamryn finished with Cox, then made her way over to examine the stump that was all that remained of Powell’s arm. If he survived this, he’d never be a field soldier again. If he could afford it, he could probably get a bionic arm or, depending on the nerve damage, possibly have a new one grown in a lab and then attached. Those were expensive procedures, though, and the Fleet didn’t usually pay for anything more than basic rehab on wounded veterans. Maybe if they both made it out, she could see that he was taken care of. She didn’t have much money in her own right, as neither her father nor her grandfather had ever been believers in spoiling their children, but she was still her father’s youngest and only girl, so she got her way more often than her brothers ever had. And this wasn’t quite the same as begging for a pony.

  “You heard anything about Porter?” Tamryn murmured.

  “No, ma’am. She wasn’t brought in with the others. Hope that means she’s eluding them, but...” He looked down, avoiding her eyes.

  “I know. They’re not easy to avoid.”

  “I don’t think they’re entirely human,” Powell whispered. “I don’t mean to make excuses, but... they pulverized us, ma’am.” He winced, either at the memory of the battle or because she was applying an antibacterial gel to his cauterized stump. “They’re way too fast and strong to be straight-up human. Can’t be androids. An android wouldn’t leer at your chest.”

  She snorted, but it was a good point. These people seemed perfectly human in the way they interacted with each other and their prisoners.

  “Genetically engineered?” Tamryn mused.

  “Thought that was outlawed.”

  “Not exactly. But it fell out of favor a few centuries ago, when the fundamentalists decided babies born in labs were intrinsically changed and were no longer human and didn’t have souls—or rights.” The history books did not say it, but Tamryn suspected those zealots had been more worried about being replaced or enslaved by “superior” humans and had wanted to make sure that could never happen. “In GalCon space, it’s tough to find a clinic that will do more than gene clean for diseases, but maybe somewhere out on the rim, you could find someone to make a nice little army of super soldiers, assuming you have enough money.”

  “If their leaders had so much money, why didn’t they give their soldiers better clothes?”

  Tamryn squeezed Powell’s good shoulder, relieved he was keeping his spirits up. “I—”

  A soft beep came from the table full of weapons an
d gears. And tablets.

  Tamryn winced, afraid that was her tablet. And that Captain Porter was trying to contact her again. She couldn’t think of anyone else who wasn’t in this room who might try to contact her.

  Any hope she might have had of the guards not hearing the sound was quashed when Zar walked to the table and picked up her tablet. Maybe he wouldn’t know for sure whose it was. That was a short-lived hope, because he walked straight to her with the compact device in hand.

  “Care to answer it?” His tone was dry, but his eyes were sharp. Yeah, he also realized that the call could only be coming from someone on the station who wasn’t in this room. They were too far out for real-time calls from any other planets or stations.

  “Nah,” Tamryn said. “I’m sure it’s just my manicurist letting me know I’m late for my appointment. Thanks to your inconsiderate raid, I’ll have to pay a cancellation fee.”

  Zar frowned and opened the tablet. It had stopped beeping, but he would want to know who had commed and from where.

  “How can you joke with them?” a gray-haired woman asked from her spot slumping against the wall. A bruise had nearly swallowed her right eye.

  Tamryn didn’t know her name or the names of most of the civilians yet, but her hackles rose at the idea of being condemned by anyone who was supposed to be on her side. “Trust me—I’m not joking, and there’s no amusement in my heart. Responding with sarcasm is just my natural instinct. And yes, sometimes that gets me in trouble.” She glanced warily at Zar.

  He was fumbling with the tablet, probably figuring out that it would take her thumb on the controls to bring up any messages.

  The scientist shook her head and looked away.

  “That why you got stuck out here?” Powell said, far more sympathy in his eyes. Soldiers understood sarcasm perfectly well.

  Tamryn shrugged and gave him a vague smile. When the other soldiers learned about her family connections, they always thought she was here as a punishment or because someone wanted to teach her a lesson. She had stopped admitting she had requested the station, because everyone had thought her nuts. Maybe they were right.

  “Open it.” Zar held the tablet down to her.

  “No, thank you.”

  His eyes narrowed.

  “You want the information, you figure out how to get it.” From the way he had been fumbling with the tablet, she already suspected he wasn’t that familiar with the device, which was strange, since two out of three people in the system had something very similar.

  A hand grabbed the back of Tamryn’s collar, and she was yanked to her feet before she could think to resist or duck or anything. The medical injector lay on the floor between the two soldiers. She cursed to herself. Why hadn’t she thought to palm it? With these men’s reflexes, she couldn’t have counted on stabbing them with the sedatives, but she might never have gotten a better chance to try. The third guard was still by the door, but if she could have taken out two, maybe—

  The hand grabbing her collar shifted to her neck. “Zar, you want information from a prisoner, you take it. We aren’t here to make friends.” The hand tightened. It was the guard with the roaming eyes. He leaned close, his chest pressing against her back. “Open the computer, girl,” he growled into her ear, “and tell us who’s trying to contact you.”

  Zar shifted uneasily. “Rebek, the hunt leader said not to hurt her, that we still need her to use the comm system.”

  “She can do that while hurt. And I heard what Makk said. To keep her alive, that’s it. Give her the computer.”

  Tamryn found her tablet pressed into her hand. Zar’s young face was apologetic beneath the tattoo, but he stepped back. This Rebek must outrank him. Whatever Makkon had said, Zar didn’t look like he dared to try to stop Rebek from hurting her.

  Tamryn closed her eyes, aware of the cool feel of the tablet, the rounded edges against her palm. If only it were a weapon, or if only she could think up something clever to do with it. If Porter was out there somewhere, Tamryn didn’t want to do anything to help these people find her. If anyone could come up with something to do to get the station back, it would be she. Tamryn couldn’t betray her, no matter how much this bastard hurt her.

  “Open it,” Rebek growled, his voice low and dangerous.

  His thumb dug into a pressure point in her neck, and pain ricocheted through her body. She couldn’t hold back a gasp or the tears that sprang to her eyes, but she locked her mouth shut. She tightened her fist around the tablet, trying to focus her thoughts on it and not the increasing pain as Rebek dug in. The only thing that gave her some bravery and the ability to resist was knowing that they wouldn’t kill her, not until their damned message was sent.

  “What are you doing to my prisoner, Rebek?” an ice cold voice asked from the other side of the room.

  Rebek released her so quickly, Tamryn almost toppled onto Cox.

  “Her comm beeped, sir,” Zar said. “We were trying to get her to answer it. Figure that means there’s at least one more soldier or scientist out there.”

  It took Tamryn a moment to blink the black dots out of her vision and steady herself enough to stand straight. She turned around, hoping she would see Makkon about to drive a fist into Rebek’s stomach. But he was looking at her, his eyes closed to slits. Right. He wasn’t an ally, and he probably wasn’t going to beat up any of his own people on her behalf.

  “Noted. I’ll send out a search party.” Makkon strode toward her and cut her bonds. “But for now, we have more pressing concerns. Let’s go, Pavlenko. We’re taking a walk.”

  “Can’t wait,” she muttered, slipping her tablet into her pocket as he reached for her opposite arm.

  She expected one of them to notice the movement and take the item from her, but Makkon wasn’t even looking at her. He was walking toward the door almost before he grabbed her. Zar opened his mouth—he probably hadn’t missed it—but whatever he saw in his commander’s face convinced him not to say anything. As Tamryn followed Makkon, she did not question her luck. Fate knew it was the first luck she’d had tonight.

  She had to hurry to keep up with Makkon. The stubborn part of her made her want to dawdle, anything to delay his mission.

  “We going to communications?” She remembered what his last errand had entailed and if this had to do with that, delaying him might not be a good idea.

  He gave her a dark look. “No.”

  Tamryn decided against delays, and walked into the lift with him without struggling. The uneasy feeling of dread in her stomach, a feeling that had grown extremely familiar tonight, returned when he pressed Level Ten. The top level, the one that led to the upper gun station. Did he think she could do something to help with bombs? If he’d found the ones in Comm and Control, maybe he thought she’d set them and was a munitions expert. She shook her head. If he needed help disarming explosives, he should have kept Sergeant Wu alive.

  They walked out of the lift on Level Ten and strode straight to the end of the corridor where a ladder led upward.

  Makkon stopped at the bottom. “You first.”

  “Such a gentleman,” she said, knowing full well he didn’t want to give her a chance to run—or a chance to be at his back.

  Tamryn climbed up, wondering if she might do something in the second or two she would have before he climbed into the weapons room after her. All thought of disobedience and escape fled her mind when she saw what waited in the circular chamber. The bristling barrels of long, anti-spacecraft guns were visible through the 360-degree view the shielded windows provided, but it was the man sitting against the base of a console below those guns that drew her eye.

  Sergeant Gruzinsky, blood dripping from his face and saturating his abdomen, was surrounded by pounds and pounds of explosives. He had strapped them to his sides. Wires ran from each bunch to a small square detonator gripped in his hand. His thumb rested atop the single button visible on it, and that button was already depressed.

  Alarm flooded through Tamryn as the i
mplications slammed into her. The man who had reported to Makkon hadn’t exaggerated. There were enough explosives that if he let go, the entire station would be blown into nothing more than shrapnel orbiting Glaciem. If he died... or passed out... his finger would relax, releasing that button. And Gruzinsky’s face was paler than the ice moon. He looked like he could pass out at any instant.

  Makkon touched her calf, and she realized she was standing half on the ladder and half in the room, gaping at the sergeant. Though she wanted nothing more than to flee to the opposite end of the station, she forced her numb legs to take her the rest of the way into the chamber. Nowhere on the station would be safe if those explosives went off.

  An irritated sigh came from the side and only then did she notice the other person in the room. A gray-haired pirate with a white tiger tattoo sprawled across his nose and cheek. He leaned against a console, watching her and watching the sergeant, his fingers drumming a beat on the metal.

  “No change?” Makkon asked, pulling himself into the chamber, his big arm and shoulder muscles flexing as he did so.

  “You’re still here, aren’t you?” the other man snapped.

  Judging by the lack of honorific, Tamryn figured he might be Makkon’s commander. She didn’t know how she felt about that. Even if Makkon was every bit the killer that the rest of them were, and even if he had scared the piss out of her as he’d been stalking her through the station, she had him pegged as one of the least odious of the pirates. She didn’t trust him, but at the same time, she thought he might stay true to his word to keep her alive if she cooperated with him. Too bad she couldn’t do that.

  “Now show me what you think the girl can do,” the man added.

  Makkon shrugged. “She’s an officer.” He waved at Gruzinsky. “He’s not.”

  The man looked at Makkon like he was an idiot. If the look bothered Makkon, he didn’t show it. He put a hand on Tamryn’s shoulders, as if they were good friends and such a gesture were natural. Please. As if he hadn’t been hauling her around by the neck an hour ago. She got the gist of what he wanted before he asked.