The Last Marine

by Cara Crescent

  Merrick pulled right up to the front door. Another Blue Helmet approached. “Quite a roundup. You need some help?”

  Merrick got out of the hover car. “Nah. These boys won’t give me any trouble.” He dipped at the waist to look in the car. “You gonna give me any more trouble?”

  A round of woeful “No, sirs” came from the men, startling Griffin. Well, hell, with a little luck they could shoot as well as they could act.

  “They’re good men for the most part. Had a bit much to drink and got a little rowdy. I’m foreseeing community service in their near future.”

  Grady and a couple of the other men groaned.

  The Blue Helmet ducked his head down. “Grady, is that you moaning?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re making a habit of this. Maybe Merrick needs to be a little tougher with you.”

  “No, sir.” Grady slurred his words as if he were three sheets to the wind. He hiccupped. “It’s like my mama always said, I need to pick my friends better.”

  The Blue Helmet chuckled. “Go on, get them inside to sober up.” He wandered off.

  Merrick came around the back of the hover car and lowered the tailgate. “Let’s go. Left hand goes on the shoulder of the man in front of you.” His tone was matter-of-fact and he spoke loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear, but not so loud as to draw attention. “Right hand flat against your thigh. There will be no talking, no moving out of line, no pushing. Anybody here deaf?”

  “No, sir,” they mumbled together.

  Griffin stifled a grin and bowed his head. He ended up in the middle of their human chain right behind Grady. Everybody played their part, swaying as they walked, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped.

  Merrick opened the front door and continued his lecture as they shuffled past. “Now what do you think your wives will say when they find out you lot are in prison?”

  Being inside this place was like being back on Earth. The compound had hardwood floors and white plaster walls with moldings at the top, center, and foot of the wall. Mounted colored photographs of nature scenes on Earth were placed at intervals along the halls.

  “I don’t got a wife,” Grady said.

  The front hall was huge, extending far back into the compound and full of Blue Helmets.

  “You boys walk along the right wall, keep out of the Blue Helmets’s way.” Merrick walked up alongside Grady and shook his head. “You do this every time, talking back to me. Am I gonna have to put you in solitary until Wednesday?”

  “Nope, sir. Don’t like solitary. I meant I don’t know what my wife would think ‘cause . . . on account of . . . I don’t got one.”

  Griffin listened to the exchange while scoping out his surroundings. None of the Blue Helmets seemed to pay them much mind. This must be pretty common, which was a good thing, because if anyone looked too close, they might notice how their pants and shirts were molded to the shapes of their weapons. To be honest, he didn’t know how the fuck no one hadn’t noticed yet. Merrick’s order to walk along the right wall helped, they all had their weapons on their right, but, Christ, how unobservant could these soldiers be?

  “Now, Grady, you did it again. This isn’t a conversation, boy. I’m giving you food for thought. Now, don’t you be answering me again.” Merrick walked farther up the line, keeping pace with Lucan who was second in line. “Take a right at the end of the hall, I’ll tell you when to stop.” He turned, walking backward to check the line, to scan the Blue Helmets. “All you boys need to think about what you’ve done. Was your little joy-ride worth the trouble you’re in? No, it was not. You left those poor Blue Helmets without their ride, and what if . . . .” Merrick kept up a steady, one-sided conversation. Must be part of his routine, because the Blue Helmets didn’t bat an eyelash in their direction.

  They turned the corner and headed down a passageway. The hardwood floor echoed under their boots. There were fewer Blue Helmets here. Three walked past their human chain and headed for the front of the building. Two stood on either side of a door ahead.

  As long as they were quiet, they shouldn’t draw attention when they took them out.

  Merrick turned around again and nodded to Griffin.

  Merrick stopped them in such a way that he stood in front of one Blue Helmet and Griffin stood in front of another.

  In one swift, silent motion, he slipped out of line, cupped his hand over the Blue Helmet’s mouth and put him into a head lock. He flexed his arm around the kid’s throat, holding him through his struggles until he went limp. He released him, checked for a pulse, and nodded to Merrick.

  Merrick had the other Blue Helmet slung over his shoulder. He pointed to the door and held up one finger. One guard.

  Griffin pointed to him, and to the door. You go first. He pointed to himself and Lucan. We’ll come behind. He pointed to Grady and put two fingers to his eyes. Keep watch.

  Merrick passed off the unconscious soldier to Lucan and opened the door. “Hey, Dugan. How’s it hanging?” Merrick slipped his hand over the guard’s mouth and put him into a choke-hold.

  This one put up a fight. He was going for his gun.

  Griffin dumped his Blue Helmet in the corner and went to help Merrick. He disarmed the guard and held the guy’s nose, cutting off his oxygen. “We’re putting you to sleep, buddy. Don’t make this worse. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

  The man’s terrified stare stayed with him until his lids began to sag and his eyes went out of focus. He slumped in Merrick’s arms.

  Griffin released him. “Lock ’em all in a cell.”

  As soon as Merrick and Lucan started lugging the unconscious Blue Helmets back, Griffin headed out of the room. He strode across the hall to where he and Prudence had been held and flung open the door.

  The room was empty.

  His gaze raked over everything, looking for a clue, a hint she’d come back. In the corner, the broken glass from the bottle of liquor Randolph had poured over him had been shaped into a heart.

  Lucan came up next to him and swore.

  “She was here for a while, at least. Where do you think they took her?” Griffin asked.

  “Depends.” Merrick said, from behind them. “What do they want her for?”

  “Ultimately? Sex.”

  Both men swore.

  Griffin dragged his hand down his face. “Thing is, Randolph was so pissed at her, I’m more worried he’ll kill her.”

  Lucan grimaced. “And you disappearing will add to his fury.”

  Damn it. He hadn’t considered they’d move her so soon. “Where are the private quarters?”

  Lucan started walking down the hall. “Upstairs. There’s a back staircase near the kitchens, so we can avoid going through the front hall again.”

  Everyone followed, their shoes echoing on the hardwoods. Grady came up next to Griffin. “How come you didn’t kill ’em?”

  “A soldier doesn’t use more force than necessary. If he fought me, I’d have killed him. He didn’t, so he gets to keep breathing.”

  “Ah.” Grady nodded. “Okay, then.”

  “You got your safety off, Grady?”

  “Yep. Sure do, Chief.” Grady nodded.

  A few steps later, Grady lifted his LMG and the sound of the safety clicking off echoed in the hallway.

  Holy Christ, they needed a miracle.

  Chapter 36

  Blue Helmets came and got her.

  Prudence followed the Blue Helmets upstairs. She had Lucan’s gun tucked into her pants at the small of her back. It felt huge, strange, and kept sticking to her sweaty skin.

  She’d never killed anyone before.

  True, she’d shot the Scarecrow, but she didn’t have a choice; the creature would’ve killed Griffin.

  And if you don’t kill Randolph and Bronsen, they’ll find Griffin and kill him.

  But killing was a harder thing to do when she’d had so much time to think about it. Goddess help her, she’d been thinking about it a lot—wondering wher
e she should shoot them. The head? The heart? How big of a mess would it make? Would she hate herself as much as Griffin hated himself afterward? She despised both Randolph and Bronsen more than anyone. She had plenty of right to. Yet, she couldn’t bear the thought of causing anyone to suffer. She wanted to kill them quick.

  And she didn’t want to die. She had her baby to protect. If she played this right, she’d walk away alive and in one piece.

  She’d do like Griffin did. Draw, fire, and drop her weapon so the Blue Helmets would have to take her into custody. Merrick was the justice on Asteria. As long as she survived doing the deed, he’d keep her and her baby safe.

  The Blue Helmets stopped in front of an open door and took their posts on either side. “You can go in.”

  Prudence stepped into the room. A long, oak dining table and chairs took up the majority of the space. There was an archway beyond the right side of the table, with swinging doors that must lead to the kitchens. Two bay windows looked out on the spaceport in the distance from behind the head of the table. On the left was a floor-to-ceiling wall-to-wall mural of the Grand Canyon.

  Randolph sat at the far end of the table with Bronsen on his right. There was one place setting laid out at the end of the table closest to her.

  Randolph motioned to her. “Sit.”

  She pulled out her chair and sat. This would be the perfect place to shoot them, they were alone. But she wasn’t sure she’d hit either of them from this distance. She wiped her sweaty palms on her thighs.

  Three servants walked in with trays of plates, their white uniforms marking them as kitchen staff. Two walked over to the men and served them. A young woman approached Prudence and set down all three courses—salad, entrée, and dessert. She curtsied and left without a word.

  Bronsen and Randolph began eating, still speaking so softly she had no hope of hearing them. Were they plotting her next punishment? Were they deciding what to do about Griffin’s disappearance? Were they planning their trip back to Earth?

  Prudence glanced down at her plate and her stomach roiled. She knew she should eat something to keep up her strength, but she wasn’t hungry.

  Besides, she’d already bitten off far more than she could chew.

  Chapter 37

  Griffin took the lead at the base of the stairs, pausing to ask Lucan, “How many doors down?”

  “Four. That room leads to the kitchens. Then up one more flight of stairs is the living quarters. We’ll come out in the dining room. The private rooms are down the hall.”

  Griffin nodded. “Stay a couple steps behind me.”

  He started up the steps and the second floor came into view. Stairs were dangerous as hell because the people at the top would see the crown of his head before he saw them.

  “Hey!”

  Griffin swung around. A Blue Helmet stood in the hallway below them. He lifted his weapon.

  With a curse, Griffin shot him. The discharge echoed in the enclosed space.

  As did the Blue Helmet’s shout.

  “Christ, the whole place must have heard that. Let’s go.” He didn’t bother to keep his voice down. He could already hear shouts of alarm coming from different areas of the compound.

  They were fucked.

  Griffin took the stairs two at a time, cutting down two more Blue Helmets running down the hall toward them.

  Half a dozen more spilled out of one of the rooms farther up the hall.

  A hand clamped around Griffin’s shoulder, pulling him back. “This way.” Lucan ducked into a side room.

  “We’re gonna get pinned down.”

  “This leads to the kitchens. Follow it around to the left and up the stairs. Merrick and I will keep these guys busy.”

  Griffin paused. “We should stay together.”

  Lucan had hunkered down by the door, lining up a shot. “You have to come back this way. We’ll be fine. Go.”

  Griffin wanted to argue further, but Merrick was pinned in the room across the hall, popping out and taking shots at the Blue Helmets. There wasn’t a chance in hell Lucan would leave his husband here.

  Griffin ordered two more men to stay. “The rest of you come with me. Hustle now.”

  They made it all the way down the hall without being seen, but the hallway opened into a busy kitchen. A long, stainless-steel counter ran down the center of the room, with stoves, sinks, and storage closets along the outer walls. There must be fifteen people in here, but none of them appeared to be armed with anything more dangerous than kitchen utensils.

  A dish shattered, and all eyes turned to them.

  “Everybody in the cold storage. Now.” Griffin motioned them all toward the back of the room with his weapon.

  “Won’t they freeze in there?” Grady asked.

  “I said cold storage, not freezer.”

  “Oh, right.” Grady moved to the far side of the counters, helping corral the workers toward the back of the room. “You heard Chief, getchyur asses in there quick.”

  The kitchen staff all squeezed into the small room and Grady rammed his hip against the door until the latch clicked shut.

  Griffin wiped the sweat from his brow. “Anyone see the stairs?”

  “Over here.” One of his men pointed off to the left with his LMG.

  Griffin jogged over and checked the stairwell. “All right.” He turned back to his men, pausing when he realized Grady was eating. “Grady, get your ass over here.”

  “Sorry.” He popped another morsel into his mouth. “Get hungry when I’m nervous.”

  Griffin shook his head. “Keep your eyes up. Shoot anything you see that’s not us.” He led the way into the stairwell, making it a few feet before someone opened fire from above. He backed up, waiting for the blasts to stop, before stepping back into the stairwell to fire. The shooter stayed out of sight. Griffin was beginning to think they left, when a LMG appeared over the edge of the banister above and sprayed the stairwell with photon blasts.

  He ducked out of range. “Grady, you still have that grenade?”

  “Yep.” Grady dug the grenade out of his pocket, pulled the pin and handed it to Griffin.

  “Goddamnit!” Griffin lunged out into the spray of blasts and hurled the grenade up to the second floor. He glared at Grady. “You hand me the fucking thing live? Are you nuts?”

  Grady grinned. “You were right, Chief, damned thing did still have some shock value.”

  Above them, a blast shook the building. Griffin ducked down with the others, his ears ringing. Flaming plaster and wood rained down in the stairwell. “Come on.”

  Griffin led the way upstairs.

  Chapter 38

  Someone was yelling.

  The commotion didn’t seem to be coming from this part of the house, but someone sounded upset. Or hurt.

  Neither Randolph nor Bronsen had taken notice. They were both still occupied with their conversation.

  A few minutes later, Prudence heard gunfire. Her heart sped up. Had Lucan and Merrick returned?

  Bronsen lifted his head. “Stay here. I’ll see what’s going on.” He stood up, withdrawing his weapon as he walked from the room.

  Prudence reached back and took hold of her weapon, keeping her hand hidden under the table. Not a moment later, the whole room shook as an explosion rocked the building. Smoke billowed out of the door leading to the kitchens.

  Randolph stood up.

  With a glance over her shoulder to make sure Bronsen was gone, she rose, too. “Don’t move.”

  Randolph’s eyes widened, his head jerked to the side. “What are you doing? Sit down.”

  “No.” Prudence walked the length of the table on shaky legs.

  “If you were going to s-shoot, you’d have d-done so already. Put the gun on the table and go sit down. Good God, you’re a s-stupid woman.”

  Goddess, he must be stressed. She’d never seen him like this. Twitchy, pale, now he was stuttering. “No. Not stupid. Compassionate.” She stood next to him and lifted the gun. “I wanted
to be close enough to make sure I got you with one shot.” Prudence flipped off the safety and aimed, trying without success to steady her hand. Oh, dear Goddess, she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t—

  Men barreled into the room and Randolph dropped back in his chair.

  She shifted her aim, hoping to see Lucan or Merrick. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

  Griffin.

  It couldn’t be him. He was healthy. Whole. Not a bruise marred his face or arms.

  Did he have another brother? A twin?

  Her moment of inattention cost her. Randolph lunged up and grabbed hold of her, knocking the gun from her hand and pulling her body in front of his like a shield. With dawning horror, she realized he held a gun.

  Griffin and the others froze. For a long moment, no one spoke, no one moved, and the sounds coming from out in the hall seemed to grow louder.

  Randolph motioned to him with the gun. “You’re d-dead. You can’t be here.”

  Griffin began walking down the length of the table. “Hi, Angel. You doin’ all right?”

  Prudence nodded. “How are you here?”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. “I told you, if you ever disappeared on me I’d come for you. Myself. Besides, you were about to kill the wrong man.”

  “What?”

  “Good ’ol Randolph here, he won’t be a threat once Bronsen is gone.”

  Randolph fired off a shot. “Shut up, you don’t know what you’re t-talking about.”

  Griffin straightened from where he’d taken cover behind one of the high-back chairs. His smile faded. “Wasn’t Prudence who helped me get close to Alfred. It was your lover.”

  Randolph’s arm squeezed tight around Prudence. “You’re wrong.”

  “Am I?” Griffin edged closer. “I’m a tagged soldier, Randolph. Your head of security must have known I was out there. All of the rebels, actually. Think about it. Either he’s doing a piss-poor job, or he knew we were out there. Where we were. What we were doing.”