by Natalie Grey
Nyx tapped an affirmative. The second team of Dragons came in, swinging themselves down lightly and closing the door again for the last set.
When Wraith had brought that set in, they all set off, moving quickly, but as quietly as they could. Gambit’s instructions guided them around a curving corridor that branched off to the engine room, two levels down and at the aft of the ship, and to the armory, on the same level as the bridge, but at the fore of the ship.
At the door of the bridge, they paused and took up positions. Centurion and Loki stood to one side of Nyx, with Maple and Choop on the other. She had to admit, she was somewhat disappointed not to have at least some enemies to fight—she’d been looking forward to seeing the combination of Centurion’s patience and Loki’s utter chaos.
“Doors opening in three,” Gambit said. “And as soon as I have his communications locked down, I’ll call off the other ships.”
They slid open almost silently and Nyx had a moment to stare at the back of Tristan’s head. He was alone, eyes fixed on the planet ahead of him.
Then he realized what sound he had just heard. His head jerked around and he shoved himself out of his chair, stumbling back.
“Where—how—”
“Hello,” Nyx said. “Heard you were looking for me.”
Tristan’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but he made his decision quickly. In fact, he must have made it long before, when he assessed the odds of triumphing against a Dragon crew, because all he had to do was whip one arm out to the side and slam his palm down on a button on the captain’s chair.
“Course locked,” announced a computerized voice. On the screen, Curiosity Colony was illuminated, a red dot hovering over a valley on the wide, brown expanse of the continent. “Cargo shielding disabled.”
The scanners beeped and Estabrook looked over at them. The movement was faster than he’d like, almost nervous. He was on edge—had been for months now.
He was alone, and he did not like fighting alone. After all those years in the Dragons, you got used to having a team at your back. Hell, you needed a team—especially when you were going up against another team.
And his had let him down. Estabrook’s hand clenched. He could see the Ariane drawing closer. It was flickering on the scanners, clearly trying to cloak itself and failing. Their famed hacker must have tried to rework their stealth systems after being caught by the last set of ships.
He’d failed.
Estabrook’s mouth set in a bitter line. It should be amusing that Talon’s team was outmatched, let down by the ships Soras had made specifically for this eventuality … but it wasn’t funny at all, not really. The Ariane shouldn’t have survived the last attack, and Tersi shouldn’t be able to get even as far as he was getting with the stealth systems.
The best thing to do now would be to pretend that their little ruse was working. Estabrook maintained his course and brought up a readout of the colony ahead. The barren planets, rocky moons, and extensive asteroid fields in the Valentine system all contained huge amounts of copper, which the Alliance had swooped in and claimed for itself.
The colonies were fairly well defended and patrolled. Taking one over and holding it would be next to impossible.
Destroying one, on the other hand … that wouldn’t be difficult at all, especially in the weeks-long gaps between patrols.
Which Talon knew—and like a fool, he’d come racing here to head Estabrook off. Right now, he was probably in the cockpit of his ship, directing his team to get into firing range.
Indeed, the Ariane was arming weapons.
Estabrook smiled coldly. He had his other ships on standby, remotely piloted. He wouldn’t trust an operation like this to untried assassins ever again. They’d come close the first time, the ships’ capabilities being overwhelming enough that even untried pilots and gunners could nearly take the Ariane down. He hadn’t wanted to risk being there himself, and he knew how it would prick Talon’s pride to realize he’d killed what were basically civilians.
But this time, Estabrook would do it himself. He’d seen the transmissions from the battles, he knew just how capable the Ariane was of maneuvering.
They had some advanced techniques, but nothing to match him.
It was time to end this charade. Estabrook wheeled his ship around so hard it groaned and clanked, and he frowned in the direction of the engine room. These ships were fast and well-armed, but they had better hold together.
He brought all of the ships out of stealth and saw the sudden slow and stop of the Ariane.
“I can see you.” His voice, sent over the comms, was soft and deadly. “You went up against useless cannon fodder last time, but this time … you’re facing a Dragon.”
There was no response. The Ariane pulled up sharply and shot into the darkness. With a predatory smile, Estabrook followed. They wanted to run, did they? They weren’t going to get very far. He’d checked, and the patrols were far, far away. The Ariane had no help coming this time, and despite their best efforts, they couldn’t evade his—
A storm of beeping burst over the scanners and Estabrook’s mouth dropped open.
The patrol wasn’t gone. They were here. They had been off his scanners a moment ago and now they were here.
Which meant….
His eyes tracked slowly to where the Ariane should be on his screens.
It was gone. The flickering stealth systems, the attempt to run. Estabrook turned, arming everything on all of the ships with shaking fingers. No. This could not be happening. They were locking onto him and they shouldn’t even be able to see him and where the fuck had Talon’s ship gone?
It was as he turned his head back to the main screens that he caught it out of the corner of his eye: just the faintest movement. A shadow.
He turned his head slowly.
Talon was lounging in the doorway to the bridge.
“Hello, there,” he said easily.
31
Estabrook didn’t hesitate. He launched himself out of his chair, sidearm coming up to fire at Talon. As Talon threw himself sideways, he caught the glint of red on Estabrook’s greaves. A Dragon always wore red.
And in Talon’s opinion, Estabrook had given up any right to wear the red when he sold the Dragons out.
Fury burst out of him in a roar as he charged the other man. He moved on instinct, flipping the switch to activate the recessed helmet in his chestpiece, and he was not a second too early—Estabrook’s second shot went by his head by a fraction of an inch. Had Talon not been wearing his helmet, the force of the air alone would have done damage.
Estabrook’s arm was coming back down again when Talon reached him. Talon grabbed the gun away from him and brought his leg up to punch out, sending Estabrook stumbling back. Talon dropped a tiny device onto the floor of the bridge as he circled. Unseen by his opponent, it skittered into the shadow of the pilot’s chair and began to climb.
With any luck, Tersi would have a lock on Estabrook’s systems before too long.
And that would be the end of it, because there were no allies here, no one to back Estabrook up. Talon almost felt disappointed.
“Where are the rest of them?” he asked Estabrook lightly. “No one answered your call? No one came to back you up?”
Estabrook’s face twisted. “Fuck you.”
“Fuck me?” Talon’s anger was rising again. He circled. Estabrook was stumbling slightly, and as Talon opened his mouth to follow up his retort, he charged instead.
Caught off guard, Estabrook stumbled back, but he was quick—quicker than Talon had expected. He threw himself sideways and rolled away, but not before delivering a hard blow to the weak spot at the neck of Talon’s armor.
Talon hissed in pain and let the sensation wash through him. It would be gone soon and he was fairly sure no actual damage had been done. That was the good news.
The bad news was that Estabrook was faster than he was.
“Fuck me?” Talon asked again as he circled. “What did I
do? I didn’t sell out the Corps. I didn’t betray my team. I didn’t choose to align myself with a mass-murdering psychopath. What the hell made you think that was something you wanted to do? Was the money really good enough for you to decide you didn’t even care about your vows?”
Something flickered in Estabrook’s eyes—something that looked astonishingly like regret.
“What was it?” Talon pressed. He launched himself at Estabrook again, but this time ducked out of the way of the other man’s swing.
He still didn’t catch him, though. Goddammit.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” Estabrook said tightly.
“You don’t understand, do you?” Talon saw it in a flash. “You don’t remember why you did it. You’re wondering what the hell made you think it was a good idea.”
It was too close to the truth for Estabrook to acknowledge it. His eyes narrowed and he practically snarled at Talon.
“He made you feel special,” Talon guessed. “Said he’d picked you, specifically. Then he let you in on the secret and you thought … what, that it was just impressive, really? And that you’d find a way to turn the tables on him someday. You’d tell Grunt just as soon as you figured out where the listening devices were. You’d take Ymir. And the years passed and the money was good and—”
“You think you know everything!”
“Tell me where I’m wrong, then.” When Estabrook said nothing, Talon felt his lips curve in a cold smile. The rage had turned into something sharper, darker. It was something that would tear him into pieces if he let it stay, but damn, it felt good. It felt perfect to twist the knife in Estabrook’s failure, taunt him with it when he was alone here, when he had no chance to fight back—not really.
Talon wasn’t stupid, after all. Tersi was shutting down the ships and Aegis, Esu, and Stabby were waiting in the hallway.
Estabrook wasn’t getting away.
Estabrook, who as waiting for Talon’s next charge. Talon was the younger of the two, famously hot-headed, always charging in. He could feel the pull of that now, the urge to slam Estabrook’s head into the floor and drive his fists down—
And then he remembered pulling himself up off the mats of the Ariane and watching Nyx circle. Just circle.
Just wait.
Talon waited. He waited while Estabrook realized what he was doing and gave a little sneer. He waited while Estabrook settled into an easy crouch to wait as well, determined to beat Talon at his own game.
He just kept waiting.
“No more little taunts?” Estabrook asked him. “You can’t win a fight on your own, can you? So you do that little psychoanalyzing trick. You try to break your opponent down.”
Batting 1000 in this game. Talon kept his lips shut on the words.
“Do you have any idea how many ships are waiting for your XO?” Estabrook asked him. “You survive this, and you’ll have to live with knowing that she came to help you … and you didn’t do the same for her.”
Talon gritted his teeth and took a slow breath, looking away. He didn’t know what Nyx was planning to do. She had to know that Tristan was planning to outnumber her. She wasn’t stupid.
And it was time for them to stop worrying about each other’s missions.
While Talon’s head was turned, Estabrook charged. He hurdled the captain’s chair—
And choked, Talon’s knife embedded in his throat. Blood flowed over Talon’s glove as he hauled the other man close.
“You made your choice,” he said brutally. “All you ever did was sell people out, and when it came down to it, no one was here to help you. No one wanted to be. No one cared enough.”
He wrenched the knife out of Estabrook’s throat and watched as the man died.
“I’ve shut off all of the weapons systems on the ships and handed them over to Alliance control,” Tersi reported. Talon could tell from his tone that he was looking through the camera on Talon’s chest piece. “Would’ve thought this would be harder, but you were right—you sell enough people out, you hang back while enough of your allies take the heat, and no one’s going to want to come to save you.”
Talon nodded. “We’re coming back to the ship. Any word from Nyx yet?”
“None. Based on the timetable, though, they should barely have reached Yee. Whatever’s happening, it’s not over yet.”
“Right.” Talon nodded and stepped out into the hall. “Let’s go.”
The other members of the boarding party gave a look at Estabrook’s body before turning and following him.
“Boss?” Aegis came up alongside him to speak quietly.
“Yeah?” Talon looked over. Something was twisting in his chest.
“You remember how they used to send us to take out the resistance leaders on Ymir? Remember how we heard about people being taken from their beds at night, being given away as gifts? Hell, remember Aryn?”
Talon looked over at him. What was it about Estabrook that had gotten under his skin so much?
The idea of dying alone, with no allies. The regret in the other man’s eyes.
“He was probably sorry for all of it at the end,” Aegis said. “I’ve seen a lot of ‘em go, and they all go the same way. They’re alone, they realize what’s happened, they wish they hadn’t done it. But Ymir had decades of fear and death. He had a few minutes. He got off easy.”
Talon nodded. He gave a small smile. “Yeah, I suppose he did.” Thanks, he wanted to add.
He knew he didn’t need to. He nodded at Aegis and stepped into the airlock, heading back to the Ariane.
“Hey, boss?” Tersi sounded pleased. “You’re not going to believe this, but guess who’s still alive?”
“So help me, your answer had better not be ‘R. Estabrook.’”
“Thankfully, no. The dock worker from Victus. He’s on the third level.”
“On it.” Talon jerked his head to Stabby, and the two of them went jogging down the corridor.
Nyx would be pleased when he told her. He swallowed, and told himself that he would get to tell her.
He was close to the door. “Wait. Shit.”
“What?” Stabby looked around himself, searching for a threat.
“No.” Talon started to laugh and began beating his head against the wall softly. “We never figured out what ‘R’ stood for. I can’t believe I forgot that.”
Footsteps thudded overhead and Aryn curled herself into as tight a ball as she could. She’d heard the guards coming, the orders flowing across her screen as a warning: Unauthorized shuttle at Bay 34. Squad 16 sent to investigate. She’d had just enough time to wedge herself into an empty storage panel of some sort, but it clearly hadn’t been designed for humans, and everything ached.
A tiny control panel was clutched in her hand, but she could barely work it, she was crushed so tightly into this space.
And what could she do, really? Undock the shuttle. Fly it.
Of course, she couldn’t see to pilot, so that was clearly out.
“We’re on our way,” she heard Tera saying. There was the sound of hard breathing behind the words. Tera was running.
And she’d heard Cade. JD hadn’t won. She was glad of that.
She had to think about something, or she’d go crazy. They were searching the shuttle piece by piece and she’d been here, she’d lived through this more than once, and in fear of it every day on Ymir: the people in their expensive armor, hunting her down, growing closer and closer while she hid herself under the floorboards and tried not to let her own terrified sobbing give her away.
Her jaw set. She had survived that and she was going to survive this.
She just had to come up with some way to get them off the shuttle before they found her.
Then it occurred to her. She pressed her back against the top of the storage compartment, making as much space by her stomach as possible. Her fingers crept over the control panel and she let her eyes drift closed, picturing it in her mind.
Her fingers pressed one ke
y, then another, then two at once.
“Undocking in progress,” the computer said.
“What the hell?” There was a scuffling.
“I don’t know, I didn’t hit anything, I—”
“Turn it off!” Two sets of footsteps thudded toward the controls and Aryn flipped a switch on the top of the controller and held it with all her might. She didn’t have to hold it, but something about pressing it down made her feel like she was doing something, fighting back as the guards struggled to override the controls.
“I can’t turn it off!”
“Well, do something!”
She just had to hope they actually left. If they stayed on the shuttle and she was trapped here with them, that would only be worse.
The doors beeped, getting ready to close.
“Go—go, move!” They both ran, and from the lack of any agonized screaming, she assumed they both made it.
Except she’d now locked the doors on the others, as well. Aryn tumbled out of the compartment, promptly went down in a heap with her legs all pins and needles, and hauled herself to the door to peer out.
“We’re close,” Cade’s voice said.
“I have an idea. Whatever you do, approach quietly. I’ll stall them until you’re here, but I’ll need backup.” Lesedi pulled Mala close. She outlined the plan in a whisper and Mala disappeared with a flick of her black braid, running for the control panel down the hall.
They had to hope this worked, because this station was rigged to hell and back.
Lesedi took off her shoes and followed Mala, then put them back on and walked briskly down the hall, heels clicking on the marble floors.
When she came around the corner, it was to find the guards struggling to get back through the airlock doors that had now locked, closing them off entirely from the shuttle. Lesedi let her eyes sweep over them as they looked back at her, and then pretended to do a curious double-take.
She stopped, a look of alarm on her face.
“Is something wrong? Should I alert Reitano?” Suspecting that they might have to talk their way out of things, she had found the roster of people on the station and had memorized the names of a few key people—including the Guard Captain.