Silver Tongued Devils

by Dawn Montgomery

  Na’varr doubted the foreman was preparing for a mining operation.

  The huge piece of machinery was fully enclosed for air supply, but there was no mistaking the bloodthirsty grin through the clear face shield.

  Na’varr stared down the steel-eyed foreman with a grim outlook on how this was going to go down. His breaths came in agonizing slow drags. Even with Brom’s constant sparring practice, no full human could go against a cyborg like the one he’d faced a moment ago without pain and more than a few bruises.

  “Deal? You just killed one of my crew, pirate.” The foreman was kidding, right?

  Na’varr’s smile remained plastered on his face. Gunfire echoed behind him, where they’d drug off his opponent. The crowd murmured and shifted in obvious discomfort. Yates was fucking insane.

  “The bastard had him shot.” Raesa’s tone held shock.

  Helpless rage burned a hole in his chest. This was the shit he wanted to keep her from.

  “Calm yourself, Raesa,” Brom’s voice soothed from his earpiece.

  “I am calm,” she muttered. “Just give me a minute to bypass this shitty security.”

  “We might not have that minute, gang.” Na’varr waited for the crowd to calm. “Brom, be ready to get her out of there.”

  “Hate to burst your bubble, captain, but the tiger is currently taking a stroll on the rooftops.”

  Anxiety mixed with immediate fear for Raesa’s well-being. The thought of her being hurt ate at him. Brom was a tiger-mix, a genetic hybrid of human and feline DNA with years of combat experience. He was supposed to be at their lover’s side. What the hell was he doing?

  “I’ve got eyes on target. He won’t make the shot.” No emotion tinged Brom’s words. Eyes on target meant the hybrid was in a sniping position.

  He didn’t care about himself, only getting the woman he’d fallen in love with to safety. Raesa was vulnerable because they strayed from their roles in the job.

  “Na’varr, he knew the deal was going south before the fight started. This was our contingency plan, just in case,” Raesa said softly.

  The captain shoved away emotions. He needed to keep focus. If anything happened to Raesa, he wasn’t sure his friendship with Brom would survive it. Living without her wasn’t going to happen. A sense of calm overtook him. If Brom said he had the bastard in his sights, he wouldn’t miss.

  Na’varr was torn between telling Brom to get his tail back to Raesa and letting him remain at his position, but the foreman took that moment to move. Things were about to get a lot more difficult. He’d have to trust his people to get back safely. Then, he’d kick their asses for going against his orders.

  ***

  “If I make the shot, all hell will break loose, so tell me you’ve found out where our package is, little thief,” Brom said.

  Raesa sucked in an unsteady breath. “Peace of sweet apple pie, lover.” She bypassed another crappy firewall and dug deeper. Fourteen tons of Calrite Ten, an ore used to power battle cruisers was missing. The last stop was Deadgate Mine, an inhabitable planet except for the dome and the giant ore rig. Thanks to pirates like Raesa and her lovers, they shut the jump gate down thirteen years ago. Deadgate stuck as a name.

  Despite the danger, or maybe because of it, her adrenaline rush was higher, sharper than ever. They were in the information business. Reacquisition of information, actually. Her gaze strayed out the window of the mining foreman’s office to the isolation ring. Harsh lights bathed Na’varr’s broad shoulders, highlighting the stark bruises forming on his pale skin.

  Both of her men-the ones she loved beyond reason-were out there in the line of fire, waiting for her to do the damn job. They needed her.

  A painful twist in her gut accompanied the worry that they were out of time. Her attention darted back to the terminal. Numbers passed by her gaze until they blurred. “I have to download all of it.” She ran a cable from her wrist unit to the terminal and got to work, downloading the data and software as quickly as the antiquated machine would allow.

  “Make it fast.” Brom’s tone was tight and quiet, and she wondered how close to the enemy he’d moved.

  “Crewmates of the Crimson Star,” a loud voice boomed over the speakers. “You have five minutes to show yourselves or we see if a piss pot prince’s blood splats red just like the rest of us.”

  “Nice visual, asshole,” Raesa muttered, trying yet failing to keep that terrifying imagery out of her mind.

  A low growl came over her earpiece and she smirked. Brom was showing his feral side.

  Despite her urge to glance in Na’varr’s direction, her attention remained steady on the screen. It flashed and code poured out, flowing on the monitor like mana from heaven. She ran her fingers over the Isis collar at her throat, a comfort habit she had recently noticed. “Got it.”

  “Time?” Brom was still calm.

  Did anything ruffle him on a job?

  She checked the timepiece on her wrist unit. “I need five.” A warning flashed on the screen and she cursed, bypassing the security check before it could alarm. “Make that ten.”

  “Did you get that, Na’varr?” Brom asked.

  “Loud and clear.” Neither men sounded happy about it, but neither was she.

  Her chest tightened. They needed her to be on top of her game. Failure would get them killed. “Come on, baby,” she muttered.

  Another alarm flashed and she dove into the code, ignoring everything else but finishing the mission so they could get the hell away from Deadgate in one piece.

  ***

  “Can you hold out for ten minutes?” Brom’s question came over the earpiece.

  Raesa had what they came for. If she needed time, Na’varr would give it to them. “Yes.” He kept his voice low and his expression neutral. Nothing was going right tonight.

  Na’varr’s entire body hurt. Twelve rounds in the ring against the miner strung out on Adranol, a drug only metal-heads could take and survive, had taken its toll on his body.

  Between the bulky cyborg foreman who stood in the giant metal exoskeleton suit with arms and metal pincers that could crush him and the big ass rifle aimed at his chest, he was screwed. He doubted there were allies among the miners. They had a healthy appreciation for life, their own, especially.

  “Looks like your lackeys left you, Na’varr. I guess you’re not the rebel leader genius they said you were.”

  A cold rage built in his chest. So his uncle and cousin were sending out word. The question was did they know he was here? Or was this a random occurrence on the fringes of space? Na’varr tried for charm. “Rebel leader? Your contact has been watching too many space vids. I’m just a businessman trying to get by.”

  “I always hated that self-righteous smirk on your face.”

  “How did it turn out like this, Shawn? We’ve done business together for years.”

  Shawn Yates cracked a smile, the one he usually reserved for killing a man who cheated him in cards. The foreman stepped forward and the clunky machine he wore like a second skin creaked and groaned with the movement. “You’ve been holding out on me. Imagine my surprise when I found out my good buddy wasn’t the asshole captain of a mercenary ship, but, instead, is a royal fucking prince.”

  “A prince without a throne has nothing but his pride. And I’m still the captain of a mercenary ship.” Na’varr kept his smile firmly in place. His sweat-soaked body had developed a chill from the frigid drop in temperature. It would make things rough if his muscles cramped during the escape.

  Brom’s voice echoed in his ear. “You have two possible exit points.” The statement soothed Na’varr’s nerves-they could get out of this alive.

  He didn’t know what made the hybrid go for a sniper position, but for a brief instant, he was really glad he had.

  His second in command kept speaking, “The first is on your six. There’s a crowd, though, which means I can’t cover you.”

  Na’varr knew the horde behind him was hostile enough to make that
the last resort.

  “The second is at your nine. Machinery makes a good shot difficult, but the giant can’t chase you into the smaller spaces.”

  Foreman Shawn Yates had been born tall. Reinforced metal alloy in his bones ensured his survival in the dangerous and high casualty field of remote mining. Dropping you on a rock weeks away from civilization meant you had to survive by any means necessary.

  Unfortunately that meant they lived by their own rules. Like forcing guests to battle it out for their depraved amusement. Killing one of your workers was a new twist, though.

  “How are we going to do this?” Na’varr raised his voice so the foreman could hear him. “I mean, you say I killed your man and you, what? Detain me?”

  “That was just the warm-up. You know we do things a little different out here in Deadgate.”

  The miners were more machine than men by the time most of these bastards hit twenty years. Yates had been in charge of this mining operation for at least twice that. Rumor had it that the secret to his longevity was a full organ replacement regiment.

  He watched the foreman, waiting for the cyborg to make his move. Brom wouldn’t act until he was forced to.

  Even though Yates turned to the crowd, the rifle pointed at his chest didn’t waiver. “Miner brothers and sisters.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I promised you a helluva fight tonight, didn’t I?”

  Cheers roared around him. Fierce, bloodthirsty, and fucking annoying. If Brom or Raesa spoke, he’d miss it over the clamor.

  “Are you ready to see the color of royal blood?”

  The decibel level rose and Na’varr’s skin crawled with the need to disappear from their crazed gazes.

  Instead, he straightened his spine. If he could direct their focus to something else, he might have a chance. Time to bedazzle with bullshit. He smirked and held up his hands. “I tried to be nice about this, foreman.”

  The sound of the crowd stuttered and several insults were thrown his way. He waited with a neutral, I-don’t-give-a-shit expression on his face. They grew quiet enough for him to be heard.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Brom’s voice cut through his earpiece, but he ignored it.

  “It’s going to get loud,” he murmured into his mic. To the crowd, he said,

  “People of Deadgate, I came here tonight to tell you that the Andovian Republic has set its sights on your operation. They’ve moved into your sector and have begun drilling on asteroid four-nine-two.”

  The foreman’s gaze narrowed to slits. His focus didn’t waver. The cyborg was a territorial bastard, and nothing pissed him off more than finding claim jumpers in his mining operation.

  “That’s bullshit!” A yell from his right was seconded by two or three others.

  “Got what we came for, gentlemen,” Raesa chimed in quietly through his earpiece, giving him sharp relief.

  “Right now I’ve got two crews waiting to ambush their operation. A smart man would take a cut,” he said, putting his new plan into motion. Time to get off this godforsaken rock and back to his woman.

  Foreman Yates dropped the weapon away from Na’varr. A split second later, all hell broke loose.

  Chapter Two

  Brom kept his breathing slow and steady. He eyed the target trained on Na’varr and caressed the trigger of his rifle. His captain was taking his bullshitting too far.

  The moment Yates, the double-crossing bastard, dropped the barrel of the bone grinder, Brom took the shot. The hybrid barely noticed the butt kick back into his shoulder. The fine scent of gunpowder and hot metal laced his nose. The bullet tore into the exposed tubes of the exoskeleton’s shoulder. Fluid sprayed in an arc and the arm groaned and dropped.

  He ignored the ache from the recoil and moved to the next target. Foreman Yates’s head.

  Before he could shoot, Na’varr took off running.

  “Fuck,” Brom cursed softly and struggled to keep Yate’s, who chased after the captain, moving form in his sights. His sniping skills were growing rusty. They were getting too lax all the way around.

  The foreman’s shiny melon came into view. “Give the word.”

  “No killing if we can avoid it. We can use Raesa’s information against him.” Authority snapped in the Na’varr’s command. Brom growled but complied. He was the captain.

  The two men ran across the barren, blood stained ring. Na’varr jumped head first over a pipe and rolled into a crouch. Hot on his heels, Yates reached for him. The cyborg missed and instead punched a hole through ten inches of reinforced steel pipe. A painfully rare metal out in these parts.

  “Unbelievable. This guy is wrecking his own shit.” Na’varr sounded rattled.

  Brom fought back a smile and shook his head. Na’varr was rarely ruffled, but when his captain got his panties twisted in a bunch, it amused Brom to no end.

  “He’s never been the sharpest tool in the workshop, captain.” Brom focused on taking out Foreman’s range of motion. “I can’t kill him. Can I maim?”

  “Take out his mobility.”

  Brom wondered where the ruthless Na’varr had gone. If he didn’t kill this bastard now, it was likely he’d show up later to fuck up their world—would endanger Raesa, the woman they both had fallen in love with. Clenching his jaw, he zeroed in on the hydropod connectors on the legs of the big ass mining machine. That exoskeleton was a pain in the ass. If Brom missed, the cyborg bastard would be out one knee. It was probably all machine anyway. He smiled wider. Maiming didn’t apply to machine parts. Taking out his knee might not be a bad idea.

  “Can you take out his hydraulics?” Na’varr asked.

  “Already on it. Make him turn to the left.”

  Yates ripped the pipe apart with the machine’s pincers. Na’varr raced under the foreman’s body. The man moved in a jerky response, turning and swinging, exposing the leg connectors. Brom squeezed the trigger. By now he was used to the recoil of the rifle. The first hydro line exploded. He adjusted his sights for the other leg. The second shot nicked the line, spraying viscous fluid out in a golden arc.

  Shots ricocheted around Brom and he crawled back from his position, dragging the rifle with him.

  The shouts rising from below told him that he had limited time to get to a new cover zone. He moved quickly, without thought, breaking down the different components of his rifle: scope, butt, barrel, clip. He packed it away with efficiency, and zipped up his case. He ran the strap across his chest and settled the equipment against his spine.

  “Time to fly, kids.” Brom raced along the building’s roof and launched across the gap to the next building. He hated leaving Na’varr and Raesa exposed.

  “The bastard’s up here.” They were still going after his original position.

  Brom grinned and pulled two flash bangs from his belt. He yanked out the pins and tossed them over the side. Several bellows followed and he leapt to a rickety tower ladder. He caught his balance and then dropped, landing silently on the balls of his feet.

  He took a split second to eye the office Raesa had taken over. Shadows moved in the room and a slice of fear cut through his heart. “Raesa, that sweet little ass of yours had better be moving.”

  “On my way.” Her quiet tone told him she was skirting past security the same way she’d snuck in. “Get the ship ready.”

  It was his job to ready their way out, and hers to release the dome security. Na’varr’s to keep the foreman busy. This plan sucked more and more. Brom raced through the compound while keeping to the shadows. What felt like eternity was likely only a few minutes. He jumped on the back of a hover bike and broke the lock.

  “Still alive, boss?” Brom asked and turned on the machine. The motor revved to life with a thunderous roar, almost drowning out the sound of his captain’s response.

  “Get to the ship. We’ll need a quick evac.”

  Brom put on his goggles. In seconds he connected his oxygen breather and covered the rest of his face with his cloth mask to keep the dust at bay. With despe
ration riding his ass, he raced across the barren landscape to their ship’s location.

  ***

  A piercing alarm blared through the speakers and people scrambled for cover.

  Attention. Attention. The dome will open in less than five minutes. Seek shelter or don your breathing apparatus.

  The foreman’s face paled and then flushed angry red. “You bastards. You wouldn’t dare kill off these good folk just earning a living.”

  Good folk, my ass. They’d been screaming for Na’varr’s blood.

  The cyborg’s armored exoskeleton shuddered and teetered forward. Yates bellowed his anger but the thing toppled over, crashing against the tarmac and sending up puffs of ice dust.

  “I’m pirate scum, remember?” His skin crawled with the bluff he’d thrown at Yates. The giant cyborg had no idea they were in a limited crew. A crew he was desperately missing the hell out of.

  He had to trust Brom to get the ship to them.

  Na’varr jumped up on the exoskeleton and tore open the face shield. His side screamed in agony, but his anger pushed him through it. A quick inspection told him that Yates was trapped in the wreckage.

  “You’re dead meat, pirate scum.”

  “I hardly think an Andovian sympathizer should call others scum. How much did they pay you to turn the other way while they took ore out from under your nose?”

  “I don’t work for nobody but myself.”

  He leaned close to the bastard’s face. Yates had one eye glaring at him while the other twitched and dilated. “I’ve got everything on your operation, Foreman. We could have played nice, but you had to go and do something stupid. What were you going to do, deliver my dead body to the Andovians?”