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War in the Fringe - Chris J Pike

Page 66

by M. D. Cooper


  Grayson did look expectant this time, and Kylie could only nod. A woman with a gunnery sergeant’s insignia opened the vehicle’s rear door and gently pushed Paul in. Kylie and Ricket followed behind.

  Ricket fastened Paul’s cuffs to the magnetized rear wall as they settled in.

  Kylie’s avatar stuck her tongue out at Ricket across the Link.

  “That’s your ex-husband, wasn’t it?” Paul asked.

  “It was. I mean, still is.”

  Paul sighed and leaned his head back. “No wonder you were so frosty.”

  Kylie’s heart skipped a beat. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  Marge said.

  Mr. Fizzle Pop responded with annoyance.

  Kylie wondered why Ricket saw something entirely different than Marge and her brother.

  Rogers said a moment later.

  Kylie gave Rogers her thanks.

  The soldier driving the truck slid open the window that separated the front seat from the back. “Light traffic for our drive today. We’re not anticipating any problems, but we’ll be approaching slowly, allowing the forward vehicles time to for recon.”

  Kylie nodded her thanks, but still was unable to relax. she said to Rogers.

 

  Kylie asked.

 

 

 

  Kylie grinned.

  Mr. Fizzle Pop said, and Kylie cringed. Did he need to contribute to everything?

 

  Marge sounded pained,

 

  Kylie turned in her seat and peered through the slats covering the vehicle’s windows, wondering why the SSF didn’t have them bring the shuttle down right at the garrison. I bet someone wants the conquered enemy dragged through the streets for the populace to see.

  As she watched, the vehicles emerged from the tunnel, and she saw that the Silstrand star’s morning light cast a pleasant orange glow on the streets as they left the spaceport behind.

  In the distance, the towers of the city’s many bridges rose in the distance, and beyond those, massive spacescrapers cluttered the horizon. However, on this side of the river, the city consisted mostly of commercial districts. Shipping offices, warehouses, and manufacturing facilities that supported the spaceport.

  Once clear of the spaceport’s no-fly zone, the convoy lifted into the air on a-grav emitters and drifted over the streets below in their designated skylane.

  A holo flashed in the air, and the convoy slowed to a halt as a series of drones and construction vehicles moved past, temporarily blocking their way.

  On several levels around them, other vehicles stopped, or continued on their way, all guided by the NSAIs that managed the city’s traffic patterns.

  She saw that they were near a fuel enrichment facility that was half under construction—apparently being enlarged—and thought that if an enemy was going to make a move, this would be the place to do it.

  A moment later, the convoy began moving again, but Kylie knew she wouldn’t relax until they made it out into the safer skies of the city proper.

  When they crossed over the river, one of the ancient bridges passing below, a wave of nostalgia hit her, and she remembered the smell of coffee in the morning from the Del Ray café that Grayson liked to frequent. He’d always bring home two cups of their best brews, plus those giant cinnamon rolls she loved.

  Kylie initiated a private channel with him.

  It was harder to keep her emotions in check than she thought it was. Wrong time to bring it up, Kylie thought and felt like kicking herself. She should’ve waited.

  Grayson’s even voice seemed to smile across the Link, and Kylie let out a breath.

  Kylie wanted to send him a sign of her feelings, but decided against it. Not when they needed to focus on the mission ahead.

 

  Rogers interrupted.

  Kylie slammed her fist on the partition separating her from the driver and gunnery sergeant in the front seat. “We have incoming! Do you read them?” At the same time, she called out , but her warning was cut off as an explosion shook the vehicle, and an EM spike cut her comms to the other vehicles.

  She felt the transport dive toward the ground, twisting through the air as it evaded whatever was being fired at them. From her seat in the back, all she could see was sky and ground, alternating between the slats.

 

  “Convoy one and two have been hit!” the gunnery sergeant yelled over her shoulder. “They’re down.”

  Kylie’s mouth went dry. She wanted to stop the vehicle, help Grayson and the others, but that was the wrong move. If their attackers wanted Paul dead, stopping was the last thing she should do.

  Still, though, the desire to make sure Grayson was alright was almost overpowering.

 

  A moment later, an orange streak of fire and smoke surrounded them, and Kylie braced herself as the vehicle lost control, falling out of the sky in a flat spin.

  DELIVERY

  STELLAR DATE: 02.18.8948 (Adjusted Years)

  LOCATION: Silstrand City, Silstrand

  REGION: Silstrand System, Silstrand Alliance

  Kylie groaned as she released her harness and fell out of her seat, slamming her shoulder into the left side of the vehicle—which she now knew was down. Her vision wavered for a moment as she crawled over to Ricket and Paul.

  Marge said.

 

  she said as she sat up.

  Relieved, Kylie drew her attention to her brother. “You all right?” she asked Paul. He was hanging at an awkward angle, from where his wrists were still attached to the divider at the front of the compartment.

  “Head’s a little banged up, but I’ll live….”

  Another stinging comment to remind Kylie why they were on Silstrand in the first place.

  “Ricket,” she glanced at the other woman. “Go full stealth. They’ll know I’m here, but you can be the secret weapon.”

  Ricket nodded. “You know I love it when you talk dirty.”

  “You’re spending too much time with Rogers,” Kylie muttered before rapping her knuckles on the divider. “You t
wo good up there?”

  “Ready to kick someone’s ass,” the gunnery sergeant grunted as she checked her sidearm and peered out through the glass. “Reinforcements are a minute out. We need to move.”

  Kylie peered through the front window and saw two men in mismatched light tactical gear approaching, weapons trained on the transport. The gunnery sergeant climbed up on her seat, pushed open her door, and fired at them, driving the men to cover.

  A moment later, shots came from behind, and she ducked back down.

  “Shit,” she muttered. “We’re pinned.”

  “Here you said it’d be an easy delivery mission,” Paul grunted as he tried to pull his wrists apart. “I’d feel a lot better if I had full use of my hands.”

  “It’s not going to happen, so you can stop that. Nothing changes here because we’ve had a little complication.”

  “And if I’m killed in the exchange?”

  “Then it saves Silstrand a little money.”

  Paul gawked at her. “I know you don’t feel that way. You didn’t do everything you did only to see me killed. You might hate me, but we’re family.”

  “You meant everything to me, but I might’ve changed my mind after what you did. What you tried to pull.”

  Paul began to speak again, but Kylie’s eyes were trained on the rear doors of the truck as sparks began to shoot through the center where they met.

  “Shut up,” she commanded.

  Ricket’s tone was all business, and it helped Kylie shift her mind to get ready for a frontal assault.

  Her worries about Grayson faded from her mind; they had to, if she was going to survive.

  The door opened and she didn’t hesitate, firing a series of blasts from her pulse rifle as Marge flushed nano outside. The probes picked up two attackers, one of whom was holding a limp left arm, while the other was easing back, rifle trained on the door.

  “You guys ready to dance?” she called out. “We can do this all day!”

  The door still hung open, and Kylie hoped Ricket had taken the opportunity to get outside before the shooting started again. A moment later, the door swung shut, and Kylie gestured at Paul. “Stay down.”

  It’d sure be handy if he had the Link.

  “And pray they don’t blow my head off?”

  Something like that.

  “You don’t want to do this,” Kylie said to her assailant, watching as three more enemies appeared on the street, bringing the number she could see to seven.

  C’mon, Ricket, what’re you waiting for?

  “Two more up front,” the gunnery sergeant called back as the voice from the rear responded.

  “Maybe not, but I need the money. You have no idea what a Rhoads is worth. We—UGH!”