Betrayal: Starship Renegades, #3

by S. J. Bryant

  She jumped to the floor, dashing into the kitchen where her temporary landlord stood carving into a hunk of cold beef.

  He raised his eyebrows as she burst in.

  "None of your people can come upstairs," Kari said.

  The man's lips thinned. "Listen here. I might have rented you my safehouse, but that doesn't mean you control it. I have other people who might want—"

  "And I'm paying you good money for this safehouse, aren't I?"

  "Well… yes."

  Damn straight she was. She'd had to sell almost everything except the clothes off her back to afford it. "And yet I just had an assassin at my door!"

  "What?" The man's eyes widened and he took a half step back. "Impossible. I've been here in front of the door for the last two hours."

  "Then it's not much of a safe house, is it?" Kari said. "But I'll ignore the fact that you nearly let me get killed, if you make sure no one—including yourself—comes upstairs until I tell you it's okay."

  "And if we ignore you?"

  Kari shrugged. "The explosives will kill you."

  "You can't use explosives in here! What about my building?"

  Kari flicked her hand. "They're small. They won't do any real damage to your building, and I'll replace anything that's damaged."

  "Oh yeah? With what money?"

  "I told you, I've got a whole shipload of stuff to bargain. Once I deal with this… problem."

  "And if she deals with you first?"

  "I guess that's just one of the risks you take when you rent out your spare room as a safehouse."

  The man scowled and kept cutting. "Fine. No one will come up until I see you again. Or until my bloody second floor gets blown up."

  "Good. I'd better take dinner now then."

  The landlord sighed, tossing her a plate with a pile of cold meat and a wilted salad on it.

  "Thanks." Kari turned and bolted upstairs, ignoring the way the boards bent beneath her boots.

  She dropped the plate off in her room before returning to the head of the stairs. She knelt at the top and pulled a small explosive from her belt—silently thanking Ryker for giving them to her.

  Other than the clothes on her back, she'd been sure to keep hold of her weapons. If she didn't, what chance did she stand against Wren?

  Kari pressed the explosive to the underside of the top-most stair and activated the pressure sensor. The thin wood would transfer the force of Wren's footstep and activate. Then Kari's problems would be over. But she'd learned her lesson. She couldn't rely on just one explosive, no, she had to make sure she covered every possibility.

  Further down the hallway, she placed a motion-sensor explosive on the wall so that when Wren passed by, it would start countdown. Near the door to her room she placed a simple tripwire made out of thin chord, less than a tenth of an inch thick. She tied one end to a pipe that ran up the wall at the end of the hallway and stretched it in front of the door, then tied the other to the leg of a sturdy table.

  Every few seconds she paused, glanced toward the stairs, and listened. But if Wren was back, she made no sound.

  Kari stood and stepped over the taut wire, into her room. She eased the door shut, clicking the heavy lock into place.

  The room smelled of the beef she'd brought up, combined with stale sweat from the many people who'd sheltered there before her. What kind of people hired a safehouse like this? Criminals probably. Surely any law-abiding person would go to the officials if they were in trouble? Great company she kept. But it wasn't like she had a choice. The officials wouldn't be able to protect her from Wren, plus she wanted to stay as far away from the Imperium as possible. Who knew how much sway they had here in the Semiramis system?

  Kari grabbed the end of the metal bed frame and dragged it across the room. The legs scraped on the floor with a high-pitched wail like fingers on a chalkboard. Once she got to the middle of the room, she took hold of one side and flipped it so that the pillows and sheets slid to the floor but the mattress and frame created a small wall, like a barricade, that she could use for cover in case Wren came in with her gun firing. It wouldn't stop a plasma blast, but it was better than nothing.

  She gathered all of the guns and explosives she had left and piled them up behind the bed. Finally, she took the plate of food and hunkered down with her guns. She could just see the door over the top of the mattress.

  If Wren got past the explosives and tripwire, and made it to Kari's door, she'd have to face a whole arsenal. And if Kari still lost after all of that… well… at least she'd put up a good fight.

  Kari laid one hand on her plasma pistol, and with the other she shoveled pieces of cold beef into her mouth. The dry meat tasted stale and would have been ten times better with sauce, but Kari ate it, nonetheless. She figured she'd need the energy.

  When she finished—she didn't touch the wilted lettuce leaves—she placed the plate on the floor and shoved it away so that it skimmed to the side of the room, out of the way. The last thing she needed was to trip on a damn plate and kill herself with a knock to the head.

  She wiped her greasy fingers on her pants and picked up a second weapon, rolling her shoulders to keep them loose. She couldn't afford to be tense when she had no idea how long Wren would be. It might be an hour, or even a day, before Wren returned from wherever the hell she'd gone. Whatever game she was playing, Kari was not amused.

  Kari leaned against the wall, hands resting on the guns. For the first time all day she felt a minor sense of peace. Sure, a bloodthirsty assassin wanted her dead, but she knew in her heart that she'd done everything she possibly could. If she died here, then it wasn't because she'd failed. There was peace in that, in knowing she'd done a good job.

  Kari's heavy lids drooped closed. She knew she couldn't sleep. All of her preparation would be for nothing if she fell asleep. But she was just so damn tired and her eyelids were so heavy. She fought against her exhaustion but it had sunk deep into her very bones and her sudden flurry of activity in setting up the bombs had only delayed the inevitable.

  Just five minutes. What could possibly happen in five minutes?

  CHAPTER 27

  Wren flicked the knife so that it slashed the air, a blur around her hand, and followed Hong out of the bar. A few people watched them leave, eyes wary, but no one followed. Good. Wren didn't want any of Hong's friends getting in the way. Out in the street, Hong ambled into an alley, hidden from the main road by a pile of empty cardboard boxes.

  She shuffled to the far end and turned, face expressionless. She lifted her hand and gestured for Wren to come. An invitation.

  Wren tightened her grip on the knife. The silver blade reflected the dying afternoon sunlight. Soon it would be soaked in Hong's blood and her duty to the Guild would be fulfilled. She didn't think about what would happen after.

  She edged forward, knife out, and eyed Hong. Hong didn't move, but she stood on the balls of her feet, ready to spring in any direction. Her eyes didn't leave Wren's face, didn't even twitch to the knife. She still hadn't reached for a weapon of her own.

  "Are you going to fight?" Wren said.

  "I'll defend myself."

  "Then why haven't you pulled your knife?"

  "I won't need it."

  Wren had to admire Hong's guts. She might have been good when she worked for the Guild, but there was no way she was that good, especially not now. "I don't want to butcher you. I want a real fight."

  "You won't butcher me," Hong said. "But I won't pull a weapon when I don't need to."

  Before she finished talking, Wren lunged. She darted to the right but at the last minute she swiped her knife left, toward Hong's stomach.

  Hong took a single step to the right so that Wren's knife hissed through empty air and she was left off balance.

  She let her momentum carry her and rolled left to avoid whatever blow was coming.

  Nothing.

  Other than getting out of the way, Hong hadn't even swung a fist at her.

  W
ren turned, knife raised. What was her game? Was she trying to tire her out first? Or maybe she liked to see how close to death she could get before she started defending herself?

  Wren pushed the thoughts away. What did it matter what Hong was doing? She had one job.

  Wren edged forward and swiped, intentionally pulling short of the flesh of Hong's arm. She didn't even flinch.

  She was good. Wren would admit that. But ego would only get her so far.

  Wren darted forward and slashed. As she turned, she pulled a second blade out of her boot with her left hand and swiped at Hong's face.

  Hong leaned backward to avoid the left knife and side-stepped out of the way of the right.

  Wren pushed the attack, swinging with both knives. But each swipe fell just short of Hong, as if she knew exactly where Wren's knife would be and stepped back just enough to get out of the way, but not an inch further.

  Sweat trickled down Wren's cheek but she kept attacking, waiting for Hong to make a mistake.

  Hong stepped back. A few more paces and she'd be pressed against the end of the alley.

  Wren kept her gaze steady, careful not to look at the approaching wall. She couldn't give anything away. One more swipe.

  Wren grinned and slashed, but instead of stepping back, Hong stepped forward and snatched hold of both of Wren's wrists. She'd been so focused on the wall and on trapping Hong, that she was caught completely by surprise. Hong squeezed until Wren's bones ground against each other and her fingers spasmed, releasing the knives.

  They clattered to the hard ground.

  Wren strained against Hong, but couldn't break free, so instead Wren brought her knee toward Hong's stomach. But Hong twisted out of the way and hauled Wren up so that she dangled a few inches off the ground.

  Hong's expression still hadn't changed and it was like looking into the cold, hard gaze of a stone statue.

  Wren ran over her options. She'd already used the capsule on her tooth, so she couldn't even try spitting that. She'd used the knife in her boot. She still had several strapped around her body but with her arms pinned above her head she couldn't reach them. So what? There was always another option.

  Perhaps if she strained her right hand just right she could reach the corrosive powder she kept in a small pocket hidden in her left sleeve. It would burn her fingers because she wasn't wearing gloves—a stupid mistake—but it would do even more damage to Hong's face.

  She stretched, ignoring the sharp pain that slashed through her right wrist as she strained it against Hong's crushing grip.

  "What are you doing?" Hong said.

  "Fighting," Wren said between clenched teeth. "Which is more than you're doing."

  "And yet which one of us has the upper hand?"

  Wren stared into Hong's eyes while unseen her hand worked. A little bit further. She just had to unseal the pocket…

  "The sooner you admit the truth to yourself, the better it will be for everyone," Hong said.

  The seal wouldn't come loose. She couldn't quite reach it properly with her hands crushed together. Just a few more inches… but Hong's grip was like an iron vice, inescapable.

  "What are you talking about?" Wren said. "If you're going to kill me, get it over with." Perhaps while Hong reached for a weapon, Wren would be able to wiggle free, or open the seal, or something…

  "I'm done with senseless killing," Hong said. "I won't kill you unless you force me to."

  "If you don't kill me, I will kill you." She needed to change the situation, if Hong went for a weapon, Wren would have a few precious seconds to move.

  "Will you?" Hong said. She sounded genuinely curious.

  "Of course!" Who did she think she was talking to? Hadn't she come to find her specifically for that reason?

  "I don't think you would. I think you're already questioning the Guild."

  Wren gaped at the other woman. What the hell was she thinking? She'd clearly lost her mind because the whole reason Wren had hunted her down was to do service for the Guild.

  "Yes," Hong said. She lowered Wren just enough that the tips of her toes brushed the ground, although Hong had barely broken a sweat from holding her up for so long. "You're questioning the Guild. Good. Probe deeper."

  "I'm not questioning them! I'm here to kill you."

  "And yet," Hong said, looking down at her body and then at Wren. "I'm alive."

  "Let go of my hands and I'll fix that for you." The bones in Wren's arms ached but she ignored the pain. She just had to distract Hong for a fraction of second, long enough to get to the pocket in her sleeve, or to take her by surprise. If she lunged far enough forward, she might even be able to take a decent bite out of Hong's ear. She bet the smug bitch wasn't expecting that.

  "You're questioning the Guild," Hong said. "You don't want to kill your friend and so you're questioning the order."

  "Why would you even think that?"

  Hong stared into her eyes. To Wren it felt as though she were probing her very soul. She wanted to look away but couldn't.

  "Because if you wanted to kill her. She'd already be dead."

  CHAPTER 28

  Wren stumbled and jogged down the narrow street, dodging a mountain of boxes, stepping over a pile of some animal's feces—dog, from the smell. For the first time in a long time, she ran.

  She pushed past a pack of traders, shoved aside an older man, and darted deeper into the slums of the city.

  They were nothing compared to the slums on Zenith, but they were dark and quiet. The smell of mold pervaded the wet streets, growing like the black streaks that climbed up the dirty walls.

  Wren kept going, her breath scraping her throat, until she reached a narrow alley, barely wide enough for her to walk down. She side-stepped all the way to the back, so that her spine pressed against a solid brick wall and no one bigger than herself would be able to get to her.

  She stood, panting, and stared at the narrow line of light at the opening of the alley. What the hell was wrong with her? First, she'd walked away when Kari was right there, within easy reach, and now she'd run away from Hong. She should have called the Guild, should have killed her, but she hadn't. What was happening?

  Her stomach roiled as if filled with worms and each panicked breath was like a gasp that caught in her throat, threatening to choke her.

  The Guild was everything. She owed them her life! She couldn't turn her back on her oath and betray everything she'd ever stood for. But then… why was she standing in a moldy alley, and not over Hong's cooling corpse?

  Atoms to atoms. That's the way it was. What did it even matter if she killed Hong, or Kari for that matter?

  But Hong was right. If she'd really wanted Kari dead… she would have done it. What did that mean?

  This wasn't right. Wren had always been sure, one hundred percent, about everything she did. She'd never been plagued by anguish or self-doubt like the others. She'd watched Ryker and sneered when he found out that the Imperium knew about the testing facilities, were responsible for them. He'd been so destroyed inside because he'd supported the Imperium, had believed that they weren't all evil, that there was something worth salvaging. And when he'd found out the truth… it had nearly killed him. But Wren had watched it all with cold detachment. She couldn't understand how he could pin so much meaning to something that didn't matter. The Imperium would go on just as it always had, whether he supported them or not, and nothing he'd done up to that point made any difference. Atoms to atoms.

  But now…

  Wren pressed harder against the wall behind her, looking for comfort and support in the cold stone.

  Now it was happening to her. She'd never had doubts about the people she killed. Everyone died eventually. But now here she was, avoiding not just a job, but also her duty to the Guild to report Hong.

  Wren's legs shook so badly that she couldn't support herself and had to slide down so that she sat on the cold cement. She ignored the puddle that soaked through the legs of her pants.

  If
she broke her oath to the Guild, then she lost everything that made her who she was. What would be left? Nothing. A husk. She couldn't do that.

  But then… the only alternative was to kill Kari.

  Wren massaged her temples and considered taking one of the many poisons she had hidden over her body. At least then the confusion and doubt would end and she could return to atoms. But wasn't that the coward's way out?

  She was overthinking it. That was all. If she just went in and finished the job like she would on any other day, then she'd have no problem. Hell, she probably wouldn't even think twice about it after the fact. That was the problem—too much thinking.

  Wren braced herself against the walls of the alley and pushed herself up. She then squeezed through the narrow opening and out onto the wider street.

  It was decided. She had to finish the job, and if she couldn't, well then let the Guild have mercy on her soul.

  She changed her expression, like putting on a mask; the mask of a hired mercenary with somewhere to be. In that costume she could exude confidence, no matter that inside she felt like a roiling vat of uncertainty.

  People stayed out of her way when she had the mercenary mask on. It wasn't a literal mask, it was just a way of walking, a way of scanning the streets in a casual way that suggested readiness but not anxiety.

  She kept up the charade all the way to the street opposite the building where Kari was hiding.

  Wren didn't picture her, didn't even try to imagine what the kill would be like. Usually she enjoyed the anticipation and flavor of the kill. Not today. Today she couldn't afford to think anything, she just had to get in, shoot, and get out. Done. Clean.

  She hurried across the street to the safehouse door and listened. A few people bustled about in the kitchen. She waited until their voices faded, going into the pantry, then darted inside, across the room to the base of the stairs.

  It felt like a lifetime ago that she'd climbed those stairs, although it had only been a few hours. Earlier, the afternoon sun had burst through the window opposite and cast a bright line of light, like fire, over the stairs. Now they were shrouded in shadows.