Thieves' Guild Series (7 eBook Box Set): Military Science Fiction - Alien Invasion - Galactic War Novels

by C. G. Hatton

  “Can’t someone rustle up a TP for you, bud? You’re gonna bleed out.”

  LC shook his head and closed his eyes, not up to an argument. He was healing but it was tiring.

  “He’s had a bad reaction to a trauma patch like he’s allergic or something,” he heard Sean say, overhearing her wonder if that had been in his file. She had a file on him? Where the hell did she get a file on him?

  “Shit,” DiMarco said and added, “Luka,” to get his attention.

  LC opened one eye. The pilot waited until Sean wasn’t looking at them then winked and tossed the flask down to him. LC caught it, screwed off the top and smiled. The liquid burnt his throat and he coughed, feeling his system snatch immediately at the alcohol to metabolise it into energy.

  Sean looked over in disgust. “DiMarco, what the hell are you doing giving him alcohol? For god’s sake, that’s the last thing he needs.”

  She moved towards them but DiMarco intercepted and said quietly, “He’s dying. Give him a break.”

  LC drank down the last of the liquor quickly before she could take it off him. His chest felt like it was on fire and the warmth spread rapidly. The knot in his back flared and he couldn’t help coughing again.

  Gallagher was watching them, trying to take in what Duncan was showing him, but looking at LC with a mix of empathy and awkward guilt.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” LC muttered, well aware that he was flaking out and covered in blood. He felt a strange guilt himself, couldn’t help overhearing that these people were worrying about him – Sean because she thought her only lead was about to croak it, Duncan because he felt helpless and Gallagher because he seemed to genuinely want him to be okay. DiMarco didn’t give a shit but he’d given up his personal stash of hooch so that must mean something.

  “I’m fine,” LC said stubbornly, draining the last drop of the liquor. He tossed the flask back to DiMarco who caught it with a laugh.

  Sean looked like she was about to argue but the lift stopped between floors with a sudden lurch and she was hard pushed to keep her balance.

  “Thom, what’s happening?” LC heard her send.

  There was a quick, “Wait,” then Thom sent, “Get back away from the doors – there are two autosentries set up aiming right at the elevator access. They’re independent units. There’s nothing we can do from here. You’re going to have to deal with them up close.”

  “Jesus,” DiMarco said as Sean relayed the message.

  LC was sitting directly in front of the door. He braced himself to get up and it took Sean and Gallagher, one on either side, to get him to his feet. They hauled him off to the side, Duncan and DiMarco on the other.

  “What do we do?” Gallagher said, nervous energy spilling over and sending LC’s headache spiking. He was finding it hard to keep his eyes open.

  Sean leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “Don’t you dare die on me.”

  He felt her fumbling at his belt and smiled. “I didn’t know you cared,” he mumbled.

  “I don’t,” she whispered sweetly. “But I need you alive. You’re going to take me to the guy you stole that knife from.”

  She turned and LC watched, vision blurring, as she threw the pouch she’d taken from his belt to Duncan. “These will give us a couple of seconds to get out there.”

  The big man caught it and nodded. “Take care of him. We’ll take care of the guns. Let Thom know we’re ready.”

  The next few minutes were hazy – the lift falling, a rapid spattering of gunfire that echoed in his head as if it was far away and voices that were too loud, words that didn’t make sense. More than once, LC came to, vaguely aware that they’d moved.

  “Sean,” he tried to say at one point and felt someone push his head down. Fingers pressed against his neck and someone said, “His pulse is weak and he’s burning up. I think we’re losing him.”

  He tried to reach into his pocket, fumbling out the vial. It spilled from his grip.

  Whoever was sitting with him shifted and he felt a cold sting hit his neck. The drug hit his system and he gasped. A hand touched his lips and he opened his eyes to see Sean, up close. He blinked.

  “Welcome back,” she said quietly. “You should have said you had a shot of Epizin with you.”

  Go-juice. No one ever called it Epizin.

  “I’ve got a feeling it’s not going to last long,” he replied, voice not much more than a whisper. He could feel the drug coursing through his system faster than it should and it was beginning to fade already. “Where are we?”

  “Just across from the Duck’s cargo bay doors. Elliott is going to open up for us but there’s too much security around at the minute. UM have control of the docks again. He’s trying to divert them away to give us a chance.”

  LC could sense Gallagher close by and could just about make out DiMarco crouching off to the side.

  “Where’s Hal?”

  “He’s setting up the diversion,” Sean said. “Are you going to be good to go?”

  What she meant was were they going to have to haul his butt across to the ship or could he walk it? He wasn’t absolutely sure. He knew his body was healing but he could feel his entire system struggling and knew it couldn’t keep up with the damage, as if his reserves were just too low.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, feeling himself going under.

  DiMarco looked back at them and flashed a hand signal.

  Sean gripped LC’s arm. “We’re going now,” she whispered, more to Gallagher on the other side than to him.

  Gallagher caught up his arm and they stood. DiMarco fired two rapid shots and an explosion lit up the entire docks area. The deck shuddered.

  Duncan ran up, and ushered them out with a, “Go, go,” and they followed DiMarco into the open. LC could see the Duck’s cargo bay door easing up slowly. Sean had a hand around his waist and was taking most of his weight. He could feel a calm, controlled urgency emanating from Sean, Duncan and DiMarco and a sense of total bewilderment from Gallagher. He couldn’t pick up any specific thoughts but he knew exactly where each person was like they were bright sparks moving through the darkness. There were unfamiliars some distance away, all preoccupied and no one focusing on them and it looked like they were going to make it, just walk on board, when something jarred at the edge of his attention.

  Talking would take too much effort and he wasn’t entirely sure he could form coherent words anyway, so he tight-beamed a message through the implant. “Sean, far right,” he sent, squinting, trying to see what he’d caught.

  She turned, midstep, and raised her gun automatically, aiming into the shadows.

  A figure stepped forward, way across the dock, but looking right at them. LC could see the glint of a weapon and the guy began to shout. Sean fired and the figure fell, the yell cut off.

  Duncan and DiMarco both turned, opening fire as more figures appeared.

  Sean and Gallagher tried to drag LC into a run.

  “Thom,” Sean sent and was answered with another blast on the other side of the docks.

  Shots began to ricochet around them. Sean staggered and LC couldn’t help that he stumbled to his knees as her support vanished. He was done and as he sprawled, he knew he was slipping into unconsciousness and couldn’t do a thing about it.

  His world shrank to darkness with only voices and the sound of gunfire and the smells of sweat and smoke penetrating what conscious part of his brain was still active. He felt someone try to pull him up, heard footsteps and DiMarco up close screaming, “Jesus, girl, he’s dead, leave him.”

  He tried to open his eyes but it wasn’t going to happen.

  Heavier footsteps thundered up. A hand gripped the back of his jacket and heaved. “We don’t leave anyone,” he heard Duncan say and LC felt himself lifted and hoisted, thrown over a shoulder that bounced straight into a run. The sound of gunfire set a background cacophony to the thumping rhythm of the ex-marine’s boots, the reverberation jarring LC with every step. He was ex
hausted and knew he was a deadweight but he could do nothing and gave in to the downward spiral of oblivion.

  Pain flashed as his head hit a wall, briefly snapping him back to awareness. He hit the deck, Duncan dropping him as the cargo bay door closed, metal on metal echoing as it slammed shut. Pain was good. It meant he was still alive.

  “Go,” Sean yelled.

  He was aware of Thom shouting, “Grab hold of something,” through the implant as the ship shuddered, docking restraints first groaning then tearing with an agonised scream of failing steel as the engines kicked in and the Duck tore free.

  LC thought he should try to brace his legs, but every part of his body was refusing to move. He was shutting down.

  He felt Sean grab hold of his shoulders and pull him close and in that instant he could have sworn he picked up from her a raw ember of emotion directed towards him that was pure need, beyond any superficial job she was on. She thought she was going to lose him and she was clinging onto him like she could will him to live. He tried to find her hand but couldn’t coordinate his muscles to even twitch, tried to smile but slipped instead into a cold, consuming darkness.

  Chapter 13

  “I understand this Hal Duncan served with Earth’s Marine Corps,” the Man said.

  It wasn’t often that they discussed non-guild personnel. NG hesitated before he nodded, knowing the implications this conversation could have. “Highly decorated. He was at Derren Bay.”

  If the Man was impressed, he didn’t show it. “Dare I ask how such a prized soldier ended up playing bodyguard to a small time mobster in a place like Sten’s World?”

  NG had strong opinions on the subject but said simply, “His unit was caught up in the rebellion on Hanover. They survived. According to the official line that Legal managed to dig up, in the aftermath Hal Duncan was charged with treason, thrown in jail and dishonourably discharged.”

  “And the unofficial line?”

  “The guy was a hero. He went against orders that could have been argued to constitute war crimes.” NG took a sip of his wine, feeling its heat and potency nudge awake the dark corners of his mind.

  The Man was still sitting back, eyes half closed, considering the battle lines taking shape between them. “It’s a poor fact of any established military that they fear initiative,” he said. “What is your view of the man?”

  NG didn’t hesitate at that. “He has the makings of an excellent extraction agent. He saved LC’s life on Poule.”

  •

  The last time he’d been in a state like this he was with Hil and Skye and, as much as they were all in trouble, he’d known for absolute certainty that he was with friends. This time he had a bounty hunter hovering and he didn’t trust Elliott so it was hard to stay calm.

  LC lay quietly, listening. He’d woken up in a cabin, the ship flying and a steady hum emanating through the bulkhead. The pain in his leg was excruciating and he felt like he’d been on a three-day bender. He was still dressed, grimy and caked in blood, jacket and armoured vest gone and shirtsleeve pushed up, an IV tube hooked up to the crook of his elbow.

  He couldn’t sense anyone near.

  The ship lurched and a deep boom resonated through the hull.

  He reached out to Sean, tentatively, and she answered straight away. “Luka, god, just sit tight. We’re having a few problems getting away here. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “I thought we didn’t have any shields,” he thought, inadvertently sending it without really meaning to.

  “We don’t,” she replied, “and excuse the pun but we’re a sitting duck here. DiMarco’s an ass but if he flies us out of this, I’ll kiss him.”

  LC tried to sit up. His blood pressure was still low enough that his head started to swim and he sank back down. Another detonation echoed deep from within the ship.

  “Sit tight, Luka,” Sean sent again, her voice strained through the connection. “We’ll be with you when we can.”

  She cut the link and he lay there, tired, hurting, possibly about to be blown out of space. He closed his eyes, thinking about that feeling he’d caught from Sean back there on the cargo deck and couldn’t help but smile.

  He woke up a couple of times, feeling the pull of jump, disorientated and drowsy. One time, he thought there was someone there with him but by the time he persuaded his eyes to open, he was alone.

  When he finally woke long enough to take stock, the throbbing in his leg had eased and he realised he was lying in a clean bunk, undressed. He felt wrung out. This wasn’t like any other time he’d had to lie low and wait out the shakes. This time had been close, he knew that. If Hal Duncan hadn’t picked him up out there, he would have died, no doubt. So there was a limit to his superhuman invulnerability.

  He lay still, eyes closed. He hadn’t heard any explosions in a while so he reckoned they must be clear. Whatever someone had set up to drip into his arm was helping, but slowly. It was tempting to call up to Sean and ask her to send DiMarco down with some moonshine.

  He listened to a quiet beeping that was keeping time with his heartbeat and tried to figure out if he could move. He was starting to think he could when there was movement at his side and a gentle tug on the tube in his arm.

  “I know you’re awake,” Elliott said softly.

  LC opened his eyes.

  “You’re lucky to be alive.” The tech guy adjusted the IV, injecting something into the line.

  “What is that?” LC asked, squinting at the pouch drip-feeding the tube.

  Elliott smiled. “Pain meds and glucose. You’ve already gone through our entire stock of plasma.”

  Painkillers had no effect, he’d learned that the hard way, but LC didn’t say anything. He was uncomfortable enough that Elliott was there. He still couldn’t sense anything from the guy and he didn’t like the look of curious interest he was getting.

  “I’m not a medic,” Elliott said, slowly and carefully, “but I do know that the human body can’t lose that much blood and survive.”

  He let the words hang there and turned away to rummage in a drawer.

  LC levered himself up onto one arm. He pulled free a wire that was connected to his chest and the beeping stopped.

  Elliott turned back, a slight smile on his face. “What was it? A bullet? Shrapnel? It must have hit the artery, don’t you think?”

  LC stretched out his leg. He reckoned he could probably put weight on it if he had to.

  Elliott made a show of filling a syringe with clear liquid from another vial. “Hal thought he was bringing another body back on board. None of them thought you had a chance. Yet here you are.”

  “Someone told me once,” LC said, sitting back casually, “that I had nine lives. I reckon I’ve used up six of them.”

  “So you have three left?” Elliott injected the solution into the tube. He tapped the line and stood back.

  LC straightened his arm and watched the fluid enter his vein. He felt it pulse into his system and almost gasped as a tight spasm took hold of his chest. He breathed through it and raised his eyes to look at Elliott.

  The tech guy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object, holding it out on his open palm.

  LC took the distorted fragment of metal, not quite managing to avoid touching Elliott’s cold, dry hand.

  “The bullet that almost killed you. It made its own way out,” Elliott said. “Quite remarkable. Best we don’t mention that to anyone, I suppose.”

  LC tumbled it between his fingers, not sure what to say.

  “I’m intrigued by you, Luka, but don’t worry – I’m not going to give away your little secret. You know things about this ship,” he said coldly, “that I would rather our dear captain Gallagher remain ignorant to.”

  LC narrowed his eyes. He didn’t take well to blackmail.

  “Breaking in like that took skill,” Elliott said.

  “Your AI let me in.”

  “Irrelevant. You got further than anyone else has ever managed, much furt
her.” Elliott leaned forward. “You’re a very interesting individual, Luka Cole. That first injection,” he said, flicking a finger at the IV line, “should have knocked you out cold in seconds. That last one was enough to kill a man ten times over.” He let that hang in the air then left.

  LC sat for a moment then lay back down. His heart was thumping – whatever the hell it was that Elliott had given him had delivered a real punch and he could feel his system fighting to neutralise it. He doubted that Elliott knew about the price on his head or the guild. It had been a mistake going after the AI like that but almost bleeding to death so dramatically in front of everyone was a development he couldn’t have helped. He had a clean bandage around his thigh and someone had stripped and cleaned him up. And for Elliott to pull that stunt with the syringe, he must have suspected something and he’d had plenty of time to run whatever tests he wanted. Christ, he might even know what the hell it was.

  LC closed his eyes and threw his arm over his face. This could be bad or it could be good, or it could be very bad. The problem was that too many people knew too much about him and he didn’t trust any of them.

  Sean nudged his legs aside and perched on the edge of the bunk. “We’re about an hour out of Sten’s World,” she said. She was thinking about her plan to get him off the ship.

  LC looked up at her through heavy eyelids. He’d pretty much slept his way through the trip and they’d all been down to check on him, DiMarco with a bottle of moonshine and Thom to say the main engine was struggling but he’d manage. The liquor had helped and the steady low rumble of the engines sounded fine from where he was. He was tired but the wound in his leg was on its way to being fixed. Elliott hadn’t been back but no one else had said anything to make him think the tech guy had let on.

  Sean touched his hand gently, resting on the band around his wrist.