Assassination Protocol: An Intergalactic Space Opera Adventure (Cerberus Book 1)

by Andy Peloquin

  Bullets tore up the ground, pillars, and metal containers behind him, and one carved a red-hot line along Nolan’s left shoulder, but Taia never slowed. The AI-controlled legs propelled him forward, right toward a cluster of bodies. Just in time, he realized what Taia was doing, and threw himself into the forward dive. Reaching out, he snatched up a Machnikov X-AR dropped by one of the dead gangbangers, rolled to his feet, spun, and pulled the trigger. The assault rifle barked and bucked in his hands as he sent a stream of bolts hissing toward Wolfe and the White Sharks.

  Something slammed into his shoulder with the force of a jackhammer and white-hot pain exploded in the joint. The impact knocked him backward, just enough to throw off his aim. The bolt meant for Wolfe’s wide-open mouth punched through the forearm of the gangbanger at his side. A loud shriek echoed over the thunder of the M751 SAW’s fire.

  Again, Taia took control, and his AI-controlled legs pushed off the ground to throw him into a backward somersault. Sparks blossomed in his vision as he rolled on the injured shoulder, and it took all his self-control to bite back a cry. His body could heal itself—even from a wound like that—but it still bloody hurt.

  “Move it!” Taia barked in his ear. The AI rolled him to his feet and sent him racing off into the shadows, away from Wolfe and his machine gun. Bullets and bolts pinged off the metal containers around him, ricocheting dangerously or cutting red-hot holes through the commercial-grade steel. But Nolan moved faster than the White Sharks could aim. Even the ex-IAF grunts were only human, without AI-enhanced reflexes. He was lost in the darkness of the warehouse before they could draw a bead on him.

  “Declan’s making a break for it,” Taia warned.

  Nolan waited for the image to pop up on his HUD, then remembered he wore no helmet. “Which way?”

  “Northeast corner,” Taia said. “He’s heading for their vehicles. And he’s got six guys with him, all packing assault rifles.”

  “Got it!” Nolan ducked between two containers, darted around a pillar, and slipped along a row of shelves stacked high with empty pallets. He knew he made an easy target for anyone behind him—thankfully, Wolfe and his goons were still far enough behind that he’d have a chance to reach Declan before the others caught up. Despite his personal loathing of Wolfe, he had another priority.

  The framework combat suit propelled him forward at blurring speeds. To those behind him, he would appear as nothing more than a hint of shadow moving through the darkness. As for those ahead, he was fairly certain Declan and his goons were more focused on escaping than checking over their shoulders.

  “Through that door on your right!” Taia chirped.

  Nolan swiveled and ran in the direction the AI indicated. He could already feel the suit sapping the bioelectrical energy in his muscles, draining his strength dangerously fast. Unlike his combat suit, the smart framework had no built-in power source. The longer he used it, the greater the risk of serious injury. He had to get this over with now.

  Sure enough, there was a door, open. In the glow of moonlight beyond, he caught sight of Declan and his six White Sharks racing toward the nearby skimmer vehicles. Two of the heavily armed thugs faced the doorway, weapons held at the ready. They’d gun him down the moment he appeared.

  But they hadn’t counted on Nolan being a far better shot than them. He slowed his mad dash only long enough to raise his Machnikov X-AR, draw a bead on his targets, and squeeze the trigger twice. Two bolts sizzled through the darkness, like tracer bullets blinding in the night. Both struck their targets center-mass, punching through their heavy coats, shirts, and bodies.

  Nolan was through the door before their bodies hit the ground. Just as he emerged, Declan reached his skimmer vehicle—one of the heavy-duty ones used for all-terrain driving. One look at the extra-thick glass and steel of the door and Nolan knew the craft was heavily armored.

  Shit! The moment Declan got in, he’d be out of Nolan’s reach. No way the Machnikov X-AR could punch though that sort of armoring.

  In desperation, Nolan raised his assault rifle and fired a burst of blaster bolts, spraying the side of the vehicle. One bolt ricocheted off the skimmer’s armored surface and punched into a goon, dropping him two meters from the vehicle. The rest skittered harmlessly off the permacrete ground or rebounded off the skimmer and sizzled into the night.

  All but one well-placed—or damned lucky—shot.

  A blaster bolt clipped the back of Declan’s leg, searing muscle, bone, and tendons. Declan, halfway into the vehicle, fell backward with a cry of pain. The huge thug’s head bounced off the permacrete ground with an audible crunch and he lay still.

  But Nolan had no time to finish off his prone target. His desperate burst of automatic fire had drawn the attention of Declan’s remaining three thugs. Now they turned their heavy assault rifles on him and sent streams of bright blue bolts hissing his way.

  Nolan had only a second to throw himself to the ground, diving beneath the barrage of blaster fire. As he flew through the air, he felt the steel smart cells of his suit shifting, reconfiguring beneath him. He hit the ground with jarring force, knocking the breath from his lungs, but somehow, impossibly, he kept sliding forward.

  He didn’t waste time questioning his luck—or Taia’s quick thinking. As his prone body slid toward the goons, he brought the Machnikov X-AR around in a one-handed grip and sprayed the men with a burst of blaster fire. No skill or accuracy in this maneuver, simply desperation in the face of impossible odds. Whether aided by Taia or blind luck, his barrage brought down two of the White Sharks and clipped the third. The man fell, screaming, a finger-thick hole sizzling in his left shoulder.

  “Get me up!” Nolan shouted.

  For an answer, Taia reconfigured the suit beneath him, propelling him upward, and once again reformed in a framework around his legs. He landed in a stumbling run, tripped, and threw himself into a forward roll that brought him up to his feet. Whipping the barrel of his gun toward the downed White Shark, he squeezed the trigger and sent a bolt into the goon’s forehead.

  That left just one. Nolan spun, but found Declan no longer on the ground. Somehow, the White Sharks lieutenant had managed to recover long enough to haul himself into the vehicle and slammed the door behind him. Panic filled the lieutenant’s eyes as he stared at Nolan and the bodies of his goons.

  Nolan had only an instant to decide what to do. Declan was on the wrong side of the vehicle—he’d have to look away to clamber into the driver’s seat—but there was no guarantee Nolan could reach him before he gunned the engine and hauled ass. Even with his assault rifle, he wouldn’t get through the armored glass.

  But Declan might not know that.

  “Get out!” Nolan shouted, raising his stolen assault rifle and pointing it at Declan’s face. “Step out of the vehicle with your hands up.”

  Declan went bone-white beneath his dark tattoos and his wide eyes locked on Nolan—then on the gun aimed at him. A moment of hesitation, his mind grappling with the question of what to do, then he spun and clawed through the vehicle’s interior toward the driver’s seat.

  Damn it! Nolan broke into a mad dash, racing toward the skimmer craft. His heart leapt into his throat as the engines roared to life.

  “Get me close enough to hack the locks,” Taia chirped in his ear. “Three meters or less.”

  Nolan poured every shred of speed into his run. He’d only been going for a few minutes and already fatigue tugged at his arms and legs.

  Yet he couldn’t stop, couldn’t fail so close to completing his mission. With a growled curse, he threw himself toward the vehicle. Even as it kicked into gear and began skimming forward, Taia swung the door open. Nolan didn’t hesitate. The assault rifle came up and he pulled the trigger before it was leveled. The burst of auto-fire punched into the ground beneath the vehicle, carved through the metal frame, and shredded the plush interior. Half a dozen blaster bolts carved through Declan Tian, with one punching into his neck, just beneath his ear. The huge White Sh
arks lieutenant slumped forward over the steering wheel.

  Nolan skidded to a halt, slowing his mad dash as Declan’s vehicle leaped forward. The driverless craft only traveled a few dozen meters before crashing into the back of another parked skimmer. A moment later, a brilliant burst of light flashed upward as the vehicle exploded—courtesy of a blaster bolt that had punched through the dashboard and struck the engine.

  Spinning, Nolan shielded his eyes from the blast and backpedaled to get away from the inevitable rain of falling skimmer parts and debris. Shards of metal and glass sliced past his face and body, one so close that it slashed a hole in his shirt. A line of fire cut across his side. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Nolan turned his attention back to the other matter at hand.

  “Find me Wolfe!” he told Taia. “We’ve got him in our sights. No way I’m letting him get away.”

  “That might be easier said than done!” A note of worry echoed in Taia’s simulated voice. “He’s sent his thugs to take you on, but he’s high-tailing it toward his skimmer. I’m too far away to hack its controls or door locks. And there’s no way you can catch up to him like this.”

  Nolan growled a silent curse. If Wolfe got away now, there was no telling what he’d do next. No way he’d be content to take control of the White Sharks—he’d almost certainly come after Nolan again, this time far more heavily armed.

  His eyes darted around, desperately searching for a solution. He had seconds before the ex-IAF grunts caught up to him. Out in the open, armed with just one gun—a gun dangerously low on ammo, according to the digital readout on the stock—he’d be a sitting duck.

  Then he saw it: his way out.

  “Can you do something about those?” he asked Taia as he broke into a run, back toward the place where Declan’s skimmer craft had been parked.

  “Oh, definitely!”

  Nolan skidded to a halt in front of the two sleek skimmer bikes he hadn’t seen behind Declan’s vehicle. As he gripped the handlebars and swung a leg over the saddle, Taia extended smart fibers from the steel framework clamped around Nolan’s wrist and inserted the threads of metal into the bike’s ignition slot. Energy rushed through his body as the smart framework sucked power from the skimmer bike’s engines and fed a tiny current back to him. He’d have to eat to replace the burned bioelectricity, but at least he’d stay conscious and sharp long enough to catch up to Wolfe.

  Blaster bolts and bullets suddenly whizzed toward him, slicing the darkness over his head and tearing at the permacrete around the skimmer bike. One metal-jacketed slug pinged off the second skimmer bike and ricocheted into the night dangerously close to his leg.

  Damn it! Nolan ducked low over the bike’s engine, presenting as small a target as possible to the White Sharks pouring out of the warehouse.

  “Hurry, Taia!” His heart hammered a staccato beat in his heart, his mouth suddenly dry.

  “I’m working as fast as I can!”

  With only the pale light of Lunaria—Exodus VI’s late-night moon—to illuminate him, even the IAF-trained White Sharks had trouble hitting him. Yet they’d get within easy shooting range within a matter of seconds, and he wasn’t in the best position to shoot back. One unlucky shot and the bike could explode beneath him, turning him into pieces as small and fiery as what remained of Declan Tian.

  A bullet zipped past Nolan’s head close enough to ruffle his hair, and another tore a chunk of metal off the back of the skimmer bike. He’d just raised his rifle to return fire when the bike beneath him roared to life. He had only an instant to grip the handles with his free hand before Taia kicked the skimmer bike into drive. The twin-wheeled vehicle shot forward so fast that its front wheel lifted off the ground. For long seconds, Nolan teetered on one wheel, clinging to the handlebar one-handed. Then Taia slowed the engine’s revving, just enough for the front wheel to drop back to the permacrete ground outside the warehouse, and allowed him to peel off into the darkness.

  He left the White Sharks goons in the dust in a matter of seconds. The hail of bullets and blaster bolts zipping around him slowed, then stopped as he tore around the warehouse’s southeastern corner.

  “Which way to Wolfe?” Even shouting, Nolan could barely hear himself over the wind whipping past his face. He’d never ridden a skimmer bike without a helmet before—nor did he have any desire to again. The world raced past him at a blurring speed that felt suddenly terrifying without the protection of his combat suit—or an IAF dropship or fighter craft—around him.

  “South side of the warehouse,” Taia said. “Just getting into his skimmer now. But you’ll have to be fast to catch him.”

  “That’s why I have you, right?” Nolan grinned and leaned lower over the bike’s handlebars. “Let’s see what this thing can do!”

  “With pleasure.”

  The bike beneath him roared even louder and leaped forward, weaving its way around metal shipping containers, dumpsters, and stacked palettes so quickly Nolan barely kept control of the vehicle. He’d never been one to let someone else take the wheel for him, but if letting Taia handle it meant they had a better chance of catching up to Wolfe, he’d relinquish control gladly.

  “He’s pulled away,” Taia said. “Making a break for the front gate.”

  “Any resistance waiting for us on the way out?”

  “Two goons at the gate, armed with blasters.”

  “Got it!” As the bike raced around the corner, he caught sight of Wolfe’s skimmer vehicle lights disappearing into the streets outside the gate. But he had bigger problems at that moment. The two White Sharks standing guard spun toward him, rifles coming up. They didn’t fire, though, just hesitated a long second, as if uncertain whether they faced friend or foe.

  Nolan solved that problem for them with a burst of assault rifle fire. The spray of bolts cut down one goon and dropped the second with a hole burned through his gut. Nolan zipped past the two White Sharks before their bodies hit the ground and raced out of the gate in pursuit of Wolfe.

  “You tracking him?” he shouted.

  “As best I can, given the tight security in the Shipyards.” Taia fell silent for a moment, then suddenly chirped. “Turn left, now!”

  Nolan leaned into the turn as the bike skidded around a corner. Just in time to avoid a hail of blaster bolts from behind. The moment he regained his balance, he glanced over his shoulder and cursed. Wolfe’s goons had commandeered the second bike—one driving, one holding a Machnikov AR-X pointed right at him.

  “Take the wheel!” Twisting in his seat, he whipped his own assault rifle around and sent a hail of bolts backward. The weight of the gun and the jolting of the bike made it near impossible to get a clean shot, but this was one situation where quantity had a quality all its own. One of his bolts clipped the driver’s shoulder. The impact tore the man’s hand from the bike’s handle, and he careened wildly out of control.

  “Hah!” Nolan barked a triumphant laugh as the skimmer bike slammed into a nearby metal dumpster with a terrible crunch. Even as he returned his attention to the road ahead, a deafening BOOM shattered the night behind him.

  His triumph died almost immediately as he glanced at the digital readout on the rifle. He had just four shots left in the clip, and no spares to reload.

  Damn it! Even when he caught up to Wolfe, he’d have a damned hard time hitting the bastard through his vehicle’s armor plating. Four bolts was nowhere near enough, and no way he could get lucky again.

  His mind raced, trying to come up with a solution to bring down Wolfe as the darkened streets of the Shipyards whizzed past him in a blur. The towering warehouses on either side of him blocked out Lunaria’s moonlight, making it impossible for him to see anything beyond the beams of his skimmer bike’s headlights. He had no idea where in the Shipyards he was or where Wolfe was headed.

  “Left, then left again!” Taia said, mostly as a warning for him to brace himself and lean into the turns. At this point, he was barely hanging onto the handlebars for dear life as Ta
ia sent the bike racing through the broad streets and back alleys.

  Nolan’s heart leapt as he barreled around the second corner and caught sight of Wolfe’s skimmer craft a few hundred meters ahead of him. Another heavy-duty all-terrain vehicle, doubtless with heavy armor plating.

  Damn it! Nolan racked his brain. On a skimmer bike, he stood little chance of driving Wolfe off the road, especially against a sturdy beast like the craft ahead. If he could get close enough, though, he might be able to shoot out one of the small hover engines that kept the vehicle floating above the street, slow Wolfe down that way. It would be near-impossible—more so with only four bullets left—but it was his only option.

  “Get me closer!” he shouted to Taia.

  For an answer, the AI revved up the engine to its max, and the bike began slowly closing the distance to the fleeing vehicle. With one hand, Nolan brought the assault rifle up and sighted through the scope. Without his helmet’s built in night vision, he was firing near-blind. Worse, even the tiniest movements of the skimmer bike would throw off his aim.

  He couldn’t risk it, not until he was certain he’d make the shot. I’ll be damned if I’m letting Wolfe get away.

  Closer and closer, the bike gained ground one hammering heartbeat at a time. The darkened streets and shuttered warehouses were a blur around Nolan, the wind whistling so loud in his ear he could barely hear his own thundering pulse. Gone were the aches and pains of his beating and battle with the White Sharks—they were forgotten in the rush of adrenaline as he pursued his target.

  I’m coming for you, you bastard! He brought the rifle up again, sighted. Fifty meters separated him from Wolfe’s skimmer craft. Just a little closer, and he could—

  “Nolan, you need to break off the chase, now!”

  Taia’s voice froze him, gun still trained on the racing skimmer craft, finger on the trigger. He couldn’t believe it. Taia wouldn’t say something like that, unless…