“And Jess?”
Lara hesitated, then met his gaze with a serious expression. Her voice was soft and cool. “I hope you know that I’m telling you this so that you’ll never have to ask him; he’ll tell you, but I think it hurts him to remember— and I believe that he’s totally reformed, understand?”
Ellis nodded, wondering what Jess could possibly have done; the ground leader was so laid back, at ease with himself.
“Four years ago, Jess walked in on his girlfriend with another man and killed them both.”
Ellis struggled to hide his dismay, honestly shocked. Martin Jess, a murderer? “But he’s—he doesn’t—”
Lara smiled sadly. “Yeah, I know. I found out that the girl was a pusher and a pimp, and the man she was with had an assault record a klick long—but it’s not an excuse. Jess grew up in a bad place and moved with a bad crowd, and he’s paying for it. I think he’ll still be paying for it long after time served, you know?”
Ellis nodded, feeling numb.
Lara emptied her cup and stood, yawning widely. “I’m wiped. I’m gonna hit the showers and then try to get some sleep…”
She smiled down at Ellis. “Gotta rest up for that vacation; I’ll probably be down to check on Max before we leave, around—0900?”
Ellis smiled back, still thinking about Jess and the others. “Sounds good.”
She walked out, leaving Ellis alone again with his coffee. He sat for a moment, staring into the bottom of his cup and replaying what Lara had said about the team. Robbery, assassination, murder—should he feel any differently about them now that he knew?
He sighed and stood up, stretching. They were the same crew that he’d come to respect for their courage, in spite of their records. Knowing the details of their crimes couldn’t take that away.
He crumpled his cup and headed for his quarters, wondering if he would ever find out what Max had done to deserve the suit.
* * *
When Lara walked out of her private bathroom wrapped in a towel, Pop was sitting on the edge of her cot in the small, darkened chamber.
Lara’s breath caught in her throat, surprise quickly turning to anger and then fear. She cinched her towel tightly and grabbed for the sleep shirt folded on her desk, trying to act cool in spite of her confusion.
“Is something wrong—?” She pulled the long shirt over her head and yanked it down, careful not to get too close to him. The towel dropped into a crumpled heap and she scooped it up, watching him. What was he doing here?
Pop smiled, a tight expression that didn’t touch his cold eyes. “No. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to—see how you were…”
Lara pushed her wet hair back from her head and smiled back casually, her thoughts racing. Pop’s gaze lingered over her breasts, his smile widening.
—he’s closer to the door, gun’s in my desk, didn’t I hit the lock? God, he outweighs me by fifty kilos, what if he won’t leave—
She suddenly remembered the words of her drill instructor from camp, a tough old woman who had taken all of the female recruits aside during hand-to-hand and given them a few words of advice about surviving in the Corps. “Some men ain’t gonna give a shit that you’re not in the mood, ladies—and some of them are gonna have the same training as you, but they’re gonna be bigger and stronger. Whatcha gonna do to make sure you don’t end up gettin’ clicked by some dick?”
Keep your head, keep him calm, keep talking.
“Well, I’m okay. Nice of you to check, but I’m fine, really. Just tired, you know?” She had to consciously stop herself from folding her arms, from showing her nervousness.
She rested lightly against the side of her molded desk, letting her smile fade into concern. “It’s Teape we should be worried about; his psych program went mandatory after today, and the sooner the better. Do you think Grigson’s going to call nuke or military?”
Pop shook his head and looked down, fingering the edge of her bedspread absently. His face was hidden in shadow. “I’ll recommend nuke, but I don’t know. He seemed kind of uptight about this one, edgy. DS stations are expensive. On the other hand, the creatures must have come aboard in numbers, looking at the size and speed of the infestation…”
Lara nodded, letting herself relax a fraction. “Yeah. They didn’t even have time to rig up a replacement for the transmitter, although I still can’t figure why there weren’t any distress calls recorded—”
Pop stood up and was directly in front of her before she could finish. He raised one long-fingered hand to her throat and touched the bruise there gently, tracing the mark.
In spite of herself, she flinched, but he didn’t seem to pick up on why.
“Does it hurt?” His voice was soft, tender, and he gazed into her eyes with a hungry look in his own. “Kat…”
Lara spoke just as softly. “Eric, I’m very, very tired right now and I don’t think that you understand—”
His fingers twined through her wet hair, his hand pushing her head toward his. His breath was sharp and hot against her lips. He spoke quickly, a harsh whisper that matched the anger in his eyes, their faces only centimeters apart.
“You don’t think I understand, is that it? I understand that you want it as much as I do, that you need it like I do…”
He moved to kiss her, and Lara turned her head and pushed away at the same time, stumbling against her desk.
“It’s over,” she said, and for a long, horrible moment as they stared at each other, Lara was afraid he was going to ignore her. She decided to go for his throat if it came to that; one solid blow would take him down. She could feint with a knee to his crotch and when he dropped his hands…
His icy-blue gaze hardened and then he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck and sighing—as if they had been having a boring talk about Company policy, one that had exhausted him. “Why don’t you get some sleep. We can continue our… conversation later.”
Pop turned and walked to the door, then paused. He smiled at her charmingly, a boyish grin that didn’t go with the high color in his cheeks or the darkness in his eyes.
“It ain’t over till it’s over, you know? Think about that,” he said, and then walked out, the door sliding shut behind him.
She stared at the closed door for a long time, wondering what to do, wondering if she should tell Jess or Ellis or maybe put a call through to the Company. The time to kick herself for sleeping with him in the first place was over, because it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was how she was going to keep herself from being raped by her CO before the Nemesis made it back to base.
Lara walked to the door and hit the manual bolt, then went to her desk and took an antique revolver and a speed loader out of the drawer, a .38 snub-nosed Beale with custom grips.
She sat down cross-legged on the cold floor and loaded it, flipping the cylinder into place with practiced ease. A gift from her father, who had insisted that she should never trust an automatic…
“…because automatics jam, Kitty.” The memory of his warm and gentle voice made her feel like a little girl again, safe at home.
“Daddy,” she whispered, and crawled into bed, sliding the weapon beneath the thin mattress within easy reach. And although she was so exhausted that she couldn’t keep her eyes open, it was a long time before she fell asleep.
* * *
“Come on, Candyman, this is it—you a man? You a man or ain’tcha?”
Jess grinned down at Pulaski’s flushed and sweating face, his own hands hovering just over the bar as he spotted for the giant.
With a massive grunting heave, Pulaski raised just over a hundred kilos of iron up from his chest, veined muscles slick and straining. The bar shook as he lowered it slowly, tenth rep in his second set.
A blast of cool air swept over them in the stuffy gym, and Jess glanced over his shoulder and was somewhat surprised; Teape had gotten up early.
He turned his attention back to Pulaski, ready to take the bar. “Give it up, Anton!”
<
br /> “Don’t—call me—that!” Pulaski bellowed, pushing the weights up in a smooth press. Jess caught the bar and helped him guide it back into the grooves, marveling at the man’s raw power. Candyman could actually lift quite a bit more when he was showing off, which fairly blew Jess’s mind; he himself maxed out in the nineties, and that was when he was showing off.
Pulaski sat up panting, leaving the bench shiny wet. “Hey, Teepee! Gonna pump a little iron before breakfast?”
“Thanks, but no thanks; I wouldn’t want to embarrass you two with my brute strength.” Teape sat down on one of the small gym’s padded benches, smiling tiredly.
Jesus, he looked like shit; their point man had dark circles under his eyes and his entire body seemed to sag under the weight of holding his head up. It was early, 0730 by Jess’s mark, and Teape usually didn’t come down for the morning workout—hell, any workout, for that matter; Teape preferred electronic muscle stim to keep in shape. Jess couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Teape in the small, poorly ventilated fitness room before dinner.
Pulaski chuckled and went to the bolted weight rack to prep for curls. Pop had once offered to replace the ancient set of weights with a magnetic bench, but the Candyman insisted that the old, dented disks and bars allowed for a wider range of movement and a better overall routine. Besides the stacked weights, the gym had a treadmill with stim hookups for the upper body and the full standard set paneled into one wall. There wasn’t room for much else.
Jess sat down next to Teape and spoke quietly. “You get any sleep at all?”
Teape answered with another question, his voice hollow and gray. “I’ve been thinking about, that program, Jess. I want to sign up.”
Jess nodded, relieved. Lara had told him last night that Teape had gone mandatory, but Jess had hoped their point man would make the decision on his own.
“I think it’s a good thing,” he said, and clapped Teape lightly on one thin shoulder. “Can’t hurt, right?”
They watched silently as Pulaski started his curls, alternating between two stacked hand bars, his gigantic biceps flexing and relaxing beneath faded prison tatts of daggers and skulls. Besides candy bars, the man’s favorite drug had to be endorphin release; he’d work out until exhausted, shower and eat, then work out again.
They all looked up as Pop walked in, hands jammed into his pockets and face stern. He looked upset.
Jess smiled. “Hey, you give Grigson the bad news?”
Pulaski broke concentration just long enough to grin in Pop’s direction. “Yeah, when does the cavalry get here?”
Pop’s lined face hardened, and Jess saw that Teape wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept much. “The cavalry’s not coming. We’re on our own.”
Jess stood up as Pulaski dropped his weights, the heavy bars clanking to the matted floor.
“So it’s a nuke?” asked Teape softly, and Jess nodded, still staring at Pop’s grim expression.
“No fail-safe devices are to be used. We are to attempt to secure the terminal intact, using Max. Briefing in one hour, get cleaned up and be there; these are our orders and we will carry them out.”
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding,” breathed Pulaski, but he was talking to Pop’s back; their commander walked out in another blast of cool recycled air.
Jess stood helplessly, fists clenched as he stared at the closed door in disbelief. There was no way, the Company had to know that it was suicide to go in—
—and who’s gonna give a shit if a few more convicts get aced out here? Volunteers are expendable, always have been and you know it.
“It can’t be done,” said Teape, and Jess and Pulaski both looked at the thin and huddled man, Jess searching for a response and not finding any.
Teape stared down at his hands, the exhaustion and resignation coming off of him in waves.
“We’re all dead,” he whispered, and when he looked up at Jess, his gaze said more about how bad it was than words ever could; Teape didn’t believe that any of them would survive, his dull brown eyes without doubt or hope.
Jess shook his head, still unable to respond. There wasn’t a choice in the matter for any of them; they were going in.
15
Ellis hesitated outside of briefing, not sure what to expect. Lara had ’commed him in the lab, only saying that he was needed; she’d sounded tense and unhappy, switching off before he could ask why.
He took a deep breath and walked in, greeted by solemn silence as Pop broke off whatever he’d been saying. Lara and the three team members stood around the tabled console, and Ellis saw that plans for the DS Terminal had been called up.
The commander trained his cold gaze on Ellis. “How is Max?”
Ellis glanced around at the others in confusion and then back at Pop. “He’s fine; I mean, basically. I’m—his blood sugar level is up a little, but not too—”
“Good, fine,” said Pop. “DS 949 is now a Max operation, and I want you prepped and ready to go within the hour.”
Ellis felt even more confused. “But I thought the infestation was too big for a single team…”
Pulaski snorted. “Yeah, join the fuckin’ club.”
“Put a cap on that shit, Pulaski,” said Pop quickly. He sighed and looked down at the station plans for a few tense seconds; when he looked up again, his expression had softened. He addressed the ground team in an almost apologetic tone.
“Look, that’s what we all thought, but I don’t have a say in it any more than you do. The Company wants the data log from the ship that brought the bugs on board, and it’s our job to get it. Grigson promised me that you’ll all get high recommendations for immediate parole, provided we pull this off.”
“Freedom don’t mean much if you’re dead,” muttered Pulaski, but he fell silent after a look from Jess.
Pop turned his attention back to Ellis. “The team’s going to be too busy securing a path to the docking bays to deal with Max, and the station has too much shielding to ensure a clear signal… so you’re going to follow them. You’ll fire him directly when they reach the nest.”
Ellis’s stomach knotted, and he looked over at Lara for help; she was busy tapping numbers into her clipboard, frowning at whatever she saw there. No help from the team, either. Both Jess and Pulaski seemed angry, and Teape hadn’t looked up once since he’d walked in.
Jess and the others would be clearing the way, it wasn’t like he’d have to fight—but the thought of actually being in a combat zone was terrifying, secured or not. What if they were killed, or just missed a single drone by mistake—?
What a surprise, his father’s voice whispered hatefully. Afraid of doing your job, even when it’s not your ass on the line…
He met Pop’s steely gaze again and then nodded, feeling stupid and childish for his fear and yet unable to let it go. He swallowed dryly, suddenly fighting an urge to throw up.
The commander seemed to relax slightly. “Go get Max ready. I’ll send Jess down to fill you in on procedure when we’ve finished up here.”
Ellis nodded again, full of a million questions that he couldn’t ask. He stood uncertainly for a moment, then turned to leave, heart already pounding in his chest.
An hour. He had one hour to get Max and himself ready to go aboard an infested station, where the only things alive would be trying to kill them all.
* * *
Lara barely heard Ellis leave as she double-checked her clipboard screen. She had it set to monitor the station’s internal communications, and everything seemed fine, now—but a random radio-wave pulse had just been recorded and she couldn’t pinpoint the source, it was too weak.
Pop was still running over the plans with Jess, his gruff voice giving Lara a headache. He hadn’t said a word about last night, had hardly looked at her since giving the news from Grigson, and that was just fine with her; she had fallen asleep afraid and woke up so angry that it was hard to look at him without wishing him dead.
Lara didn’t think he would h
arass her during an operation, but she was prepared for the possibility; a loose khaki overshirt covered the bulge in her waistband easily, hiding the pancake holster and the revolver it held. Pop Izzard was not going to have an easy time of it if he decided to bother her again.
She scowled at the clipboard, checking the recorded pulse for a third time. It pissed her off even more that she couldn’t concentrate well, thanks to a restless night because of Pop.
Damn you, Eric. Like a few sexual encounters give you a right to my body whenever you feel like it, in spite of what I want…
“Lara?”
She looked up, vaguely aware that Pop had already called her name at least once.
“What’s the communication outlook?” he asked, still avoiding straight eye contact.
Lara turned to Jess. “We can monitor you visually on the station cameras and use their system to relay audio, but I want you to drop beacons anyway; with only emergency power on board, I don’t want to put too much faith in their setup. Their network seems unstable; I’m picking up a glitch that I can’t track…”
She looked over at Pop, struggling to keep her expression bland. “In fact, I’m thinking that we should postpone for a few hours. It’s probably nothing, but with the extra shielding and this anomaly, I’d like to make sure that everything’s running clean…”
Pop stared directly at her forehead. “We have the helmets in case there’s a problem with the relay, and the sooner we get the log, the sooner we can leave. Do you understand—Lieutenant?”
Lara understood. Waiting would be hard on the team, maybe too hard on someone in Teape’s condition; he hadn’t said a word since he’d walked into briefing and wouldn’t look at any of them for more than a second or two.
Goddamn you too, Grigson, you and the Company. It was a very dangerous situation, and they were all too tense and exhausted to perform in top form; even Pulaski was uncharacteristically subdued.
She stared back down at the steady reads and made the decision, feeling trapped. “Fine, okay.”
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