Mandrake Company- The Complete Series

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  She grabbed it. “Is it secure?”

  “I have it,” Gregor whispered.

  Val took that as a yes, even though an image popped into her head of him gripping the strap and sliding toward the hole as she tried to climb up. But when she curled her legs up, stood, and started pulling herself up, the strap didn’t budge.

  “You did well to watch our backs,” Gregor said.

  As much as she was glad he had noticed that she had done something right, Val didn’t want to dwell on the man she had shot. She let a grunt be her response. Several grunts, actually. It had been a long time since she had climbed the walls and the ropes of the academy’s obstacle course. She made it to the top, but resolved to spend more time in the gym if she got this job.

  The next horizontal duct was larger, nearly three feet wide. It seemed spacious after their previous passage.

  “We’re between the levels,” Gregor said. “The admiral is still unconscious. Help me drag him this way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  For a second, he didn’t move, and she wondered if her “sir” had surprised him. It had surprised her, flowing out of her mouth more easily than any of the other sirs had been over the last few days. It was odd, though, since she could have Gregor-ed him now.

  He moved off, the admiral’s clothing rasping against the floor as he was dragged along. Val put the pointless musings out of her mind. This duct was wide enough for two people abreast, so she wriggled her way past the admiral to help pull.

  Rapid heavy thuds sounded above them. Footsteps? Someone running?

  “Think those are the admiral’s kidnappers?” Val asked as they worked together to drag the man along.

  “I’m hoping they will be unaware of the vertical passageway between levels until they’ve had time to study a map,” Gregor said.

  “That wasn’t a yes or a no.”

  “No, it’s impossible to say.”

  “Maybe a janitor is rushing off to deal with a leaking toilet,” Val said.

  When she didn’t get a response to her admittedly poor attempt at humor, Val focused on moving, crawling, and pulling. Despite the chilly basement air, sweat broke out across her brow. She was going to be sore tomorrow. She supposed it was uncharitable to wish the admiral had missed a few more meals in his life.

  “Here,” Gregor said.

  A few squeaks sounded, followed by weak light filtering into the duct from above. Gregor lifted an access panel, poked his head through, and looked around. He climbed out and reached down for the admiral. Val did her best to help, shoving the big officer toward the hole. By the time she crawled out, it was crowded, and she ended up with her nose pressed against Gregor’s shoulder.

  “Another closet?” she asked as he nudged the floor panel back into place while trying to keep the unconscious admiral propped against a wall between two cleaning robots.

  “It was a logical place to come up, especially given that we’ve heard people running through the halls out there.” He waved toward the door.

  “So long as you don’t have quickies in mind again. I don’t like to perform in front of an audience.” She looked at the admiral, again wondering how they were going to get him to a lift and out of the station.

  Gregor’s mouth opened and closed. By this point, he couldn’t be stunned by her mentions of sex. Maybe he wasn’t sure which of her illogical comments he wanted to deny first. It wasn’t as if an unconscious man would be much of an audience.

  “I believe you were the one thinking of swift and uncomfortable closet intercourse,” he finally said, then pressed his ear to the door.

  “It’s possible. I can be a randy girl.”

  Even though Gregor was clearly trying to concentrate on their mission, his eyes grew round at her admission. She really ought to stop teasing him. She knew it was inappropriate, but getting the surprised expressions from him was… fun. She wanted to see more expression from him. But not now. She propped one of the admiral’s arms over her shoulder and gripped the back of his belt, knowing they would have to carry him out together. She kept her rifle ready in her free hand.

  “Someone else just ran by,” Gregor said. “The lift isn’t far. We’ll hope for luck, but if we don’t get it…” He looked at her rifle and gave her a grim nod.

  “Understood.”

  He opened the door and joined her on the other side of the admiral. They hauled him out, the man’s legs dragging behind him. Val wasn’t tall enough for this—Gregor and the admiral were both over six feet—and the experience was twenty shades of awkward. She did her best to match Gregor’s long-legged pace. They paused at an intersection, so he could look around a corner.

  “Clear,” he whispered.

  They headed around the bend, and, if not for her burden, Val would have danced with relief when she spotted lift doors at the end of the hall.

  “Almost there,” she whispered as they drew closer. Maybe they could jam the lift for a while and try to revive the admiral. But he had yet to groan, snore, or do anything that suggested he was close to consciousness.

  They were less than five feet from the lift doors when they opened. At first, she thought they might be automatically responding to their approach, but a man and woman wearing gray station-security uniforms stood inside.

  “That’s them,” one blurted, and both jerked their weapons up.

  Val had never lowered her weapon, and she got her shot off first. Gregor’s whined at the same time. She couldn’t have dodged if she needed to, so she was fortunate she and Gregor were both aiming at different people and that neither security person got a shot off.

  She was on the verge of complimenting Gregor on their efficient teamwork, but he was shaking his head, a grim expression on his face.

  “Unfortunate,” he said, though he didn’t hesitate to stride for the lift. “Mandrake Company does not make a practice of shooting law enforcement officers, and I would have preferred not to do so, either.”

  Val let the admiral go as soon as the lift doors closed behind them. “These particular officers were looking for us and tried to shoot first. They must have been paid off, because there’s no legal reason they should abet the admiral’s kidnappers.”

  “I am aware of that, but it does not make the situation less unfortunate.”

  “I know.” A part of her wanted to explain that killing people didn’t sit well with her, either, and that she appreciated that he felt the same way, even if he was in a mercenary outfit. But there wasn’t time. The lift engaged, heading upward. Val hit the emergency-stop button. “The woman’s about my size. Think you can fit into that one’s clothes?” Never mind the still smoking holes that had been burned into the clothing—and the people…

  “You wish to emulate police officers?”

  “It might make explaining our prisoner easier if we look like the kinds of people who could believably be walking around the base with a prisoner.” Val knelt to unbutton the woman’s jacket and belt.

  “It’s not a big base. The people on the force will be familiar with their colleagues.”

  “I know, Gregor, but from a distance, we might pass. It’s just to buy time. Besides, if most of the police are down here in the sub-basements, looking for us, there might not be any on the main concourse level. Or at least not many.”

  “Very well. We’ll try it.”

  Val supposed she should have waited for him to approve the idea. Instead, she had already stripped out of her trousers and blouse. Even with another lift working, someone might get suspicious if this one was stopped for very long. While removing the man’s clothing, Gregor glanced at her—Val was dressing quickly, but she was in nothing but her bra and panties at the moment—and she blushed, even though he returned his attention to what he was doing right away.

  “Thinking of quickies, yet?” she asked, stuffing her legs into the policewoman’s trousers. She rolled her eyes at herself. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut or think of him as the superior officer he was in this situation
? No, not just this situation. For however long she worked with the mercenaries—if she got the job.

  “No,” Gregor said, pulling on the officer’s jacket.

  She found that vaguely disappointing—along with the fact that, because his T-shirt wasn’t thick or obvious beneath a jacket, he was able to change into the uniform without removing it.

  “Perhaps less hasty encounters,” Gregor admitted. Oh? Val bit back a grin, until he added, “Neither would be appropriate.”

  He didn’t frown in admonishment or change his tone to one of disapproval—maybe he even sounded wistful—but she knew he was right, either way. She needed to keep her lips buttoned on the topic for the rest of the mission. “I know.”

  A soft bonging filled the lift, and a red light flashed. “The elevator will be reactivated in thirty seconds,” a stilted computer voice said.

  “Are you almost ready?” Gregor asked, his clothing changed and his hand on the emergency-stop button.

  “Yes, but you might want to take the admiral’s jacket off too. He’ll still look like he’s in the military, but maybe less so.” Val did her best to shift the flaps of her own jacket so the burn hole wouldn’t be noticeable.

  Gregor took her advice and removed the admiral’s highly decorated uniform top, leaving him in a long-sleeve undershirt. Val released the hold on the elevator. As the lift climbed out of the basement levels, they hoisted the admiral’s arms over their shoulders, sharing the burden again. This time, the man groaned. Val didn’t know if that was a good sign or not; he might become a different type of obstacle once he was conscious, especially if he thought two police officers—on a shady station where the police were bought—were dragging him off to a new prison.

  The concourse was as busy as before, with several people standing in front of the lift exit with luggage and shopping bags. They frowned at Gregor and Val, as if they had been waiting for an eternity and knew exactly whose fault the delay was, though the frowns faded when the people noticed the police uniforms and the “prisoner.”

  Val and Gregor hurried past, and the crowd parted. She pretended to look straight ahead, but scanned the big, open facility at the same time, searching for other people in uniform. Unfortunately, she spotted two female police officers on the other side of a bank of chairs right away. Val avoided looking at them. All too many curious eyes were already turning in her direction. In the admiral’s direction, more specifically. She wondered if anyone recognized him. She had known the name before this mission, but couldn’t remember if she had ever seen his face on the news. Not that she watched a lot of news, especially related to the military. She hadn’t had much interest in it after she had left.

  The officers pointed in their direction and spoke to each other. That didn’t look promising.

  “Are we, by chance, heading toward a police station?” Val asked, figuring Gregor might have memorized the map for the whole station.

  “No,” he said. “It’s in the opposite direction.”

  Ah, making this ruse even less convincing. Why would police officers be taking an unconscious man for a random stroll through the concourse?

  None of the patrons they passed said anything, but the female officers would be suspicious. Val didn’t dare glance back to check on them. That would be even more suspicious. She looked for their airlock, but it was still hundreds of meters away, and she couldn’t see it through the people, chairs, and kiosks. She hoped nobody had connected their ship to their kidnapping of the kidnapped victim yet. They didn’t need a firefight at the airlock.

  Running footsteps sounded behind them. Val had been letting the laser rifle droop at her side—it wasn’t a standard police weapon here, so it was yet one more thing that made them stand out—but she tightened her hand on the grip. A second later, she loosened it. She didn’t know if these police officers were on the criminals’ payroll, and she didn’t want to shoot them. Hell, she didn’t want to shoot anyone else, regardless, not with the intent to kill.

  “Stop right there,” a woman said.

  This time, Val did glance back. Yes, the two officers had caught up with them.

  “What’s the problem, Corporal?” Gregor asked. He didn’t stop, so Val didn’t, either. The spattering of brass stars at the women’s collars hadn’t meant anything to her, but he had apparently interpreted them correctly, because the speaker didn’t correct him. Not about that anyway.

  “Who are you two? Which squad? I don’t recognize you.”

  “And where are you going with that man?” the other asked.

  That man. Good, they didn’t know who he was. But the rest of the questions were still a problem.

  When Gregor didn’t respond right away, Val tried the line she had prepared in the lift. “The gentleman had too much to drink at the Moon’s Orifice,” she said, naming the bar she had been in earlier, “and asked us to take him to his ship.”

  “You didn’t identify yourselves, and I said stop, damn it.” A hand landed on Val’s shoulder.

  Gregor spun around, surging into motion, so Val did the same. She dropped the admiral and turned toward the officer, throwing a kick at the woman’s knee. The hand fell away from her shoulder, but the policewoman evaded the attack and whipped a laser pistol out of her holster. Val slapped at it, knowing she couldn’t let the woman fire, and managed to knock the officer’s hand aside. Unfortunately, the weapon didn’t go flying out of her grip as Val had intended. She charged, hoping to land a punch before the woman recovered her equanimity, but her foe leaped back, giving herself time to raise the weapon again.

  Gregor slammed into her from the side. He struck her with so much force that she was flung several feet backward to crash into a kiosk selling tours of the moon. She broke through the thin wall and tumbled into the robot manning the station.

  “Do you wish to book the moon crater exploration or the chasm spelunking expedition?” the robot asked blandly.

  Gregor held up a pistol—the police officer’s weapon. Val hadn’t seen him grab it before hurling her across the concourse, but he had another one already stuffed into his belt. His other opponent was already sprawled flat on the floor and not moving. “Let’s go.”

  “Right with you.” Val grabbed the admiral’s arm again, and they were soon hustling off, ignoring the wide-eyed, slack-jawed stares from nearby people. “I’ll have to attend more of those Mandrake Company workouts so I can get better at flattening people quickly,” Val added, gasping a little as she spoke. Their two-hundred-pound burden was taxing her more than if she were loading an entire cargo bay without a float truck.

  Thumps came from the kiosk. The woman hadn’t been knocked unconscious and was trying to get to her feet. She might be missing her pistol, but she would be calling for backup soon.

  Val tried to run faster, but her tired muscles were flagging, and she knew it.

  “We’re almost there,” Gregor said, his tone encouraging. He was trying to support more of the admiral’s weight.

  Val hated that she was slowing him down. Excuses floated to her mind, but they wouldn’t help anything, so she used her lips for breathing instead of talking. Another fifty meters. She could do this. She had to.

  She was panting, sweat streaming down the side of her flushed face, by the time they passed the last kiosk before the airlock. There weren’t legions of police waiting, as she had feared, it wasn’t clear, either. An agitated robot rolled back and forth in front of the tube entrance.

  “Halt,” it said, swiveling to face them. “An impound has been placed upon your vehicle, and you may not leave until—”

  Gregor shot the robot in its mechanical torso. One of the smaller pistols might not have damaged the machine, but he used the big laser rifle. It melted a hole in the middle of the robot. He and Val squeezed past it and charged into the tube.

  “If they’ve linked us to the kidnapping, we may face aerial resistance when we leave,” Gregor said.

  The hatch sensors recognized them, and the shuttle entrance opened
.

  “It’s somewhat alarming that you sound excited by that,” Val said.

  “I am a combat pilot.”

  She was glad he wasn’t suggesting that she fly out past the “aerial resistance.” With the muscles in her legs trembling, Val wasn’t even sure she could have made it to the pilot’s seat. She had to force herself to take the last few steps into the craft before letting go of the admiral and collapsing on the deck.

  Gregor kept the man’s head from hitting anything and hoisted him into a seat. “Strap him in. I’m going to get us out of here.” He was already in the cockpit, smacking the button that shut the hatch.

  “Strap him in,” she muttered. She didn’t have the strength to strap herself in.

  The shuttle surged forward with a snap and a lurch, and she flung a hand out, catching a seat. If she had been standing, she would have pitched to the deck. “Did you just break free from the airlock with the clamps still attached? That is not the technique you taught us in the academy.”

  “Due to the impound, the station automation refused to acknowledge the command to release the craft. I was forced to employ unsanctioned departure techniques.” He sounded excited by that too.

  “Crazy bastard,” Val muttered, rolling to her knees to stand.

  She intended to strap in the admiral, then strap herself in—this looked like it was going to be a bouncy, if not bone-cracking, ride—but a small black square pointing at her made her eyes cross. Why yes, that was the barrel of a laser pistol. Without moving the rest of her body, she lifted her gaze toward the person holding it. The cold, frosty face of the man they had rescued looked back at her.

  “Uh, Gregor? Sir? We have a problem.”

  The shuttle tilted too quickly for the artificial gravity to compensate, and Val was almost thrown into the admiral’s lap. That probably would have gotten her shot. It was a good thing she had a vice-like grip on the chair seat beside her.

  “You’ll have to deal with it,” Gregor said without looking back. He had already strapped on the headpiece that would give him a multidimensional view of the combat field around the shuttle. No less than three sleek, fast single-pilot fighters streaked past the view screen in front of him. She grimaced to think how many he was seeing.