by Andria Stone
Sorayne held up one finger, pulled out her tablet, and triple tapped the screen. “I’m recording this. Start from the beginning, Sergeant.”
“First, they went to a shop called Star Crossed Leathers on Deck 2. We weren’t there five minutes before a man—big guy—came to sit on a bench in the middle of the concourse. He sat out front looking inside the whole time. I got an image of him, just in case. Next, we went to an Asian restaurant, the Golden Pagoda. I think they have one on Luna, it’s a franchise. At least the food was good. Anyway,” he said, pointing to Eva’s escort, “Dixon saw the same guy hanging around out front, but wearing different clothes. I got his image, too. On the way back to the ship, the ladies heard live music. Oh, boy. We had to go into the Club Galaxy so they could listen. They had a drink or two—not us, just them—and I’ll be damned…uh, sorry, ma’am. I’ll be darned if the same guy wasn’t holding up the wall on the other side of the concourse, wearing a janitor’s uniform this time. I have three images of what looks like the same big guy, dressed in different clothes. We stopped to pick up carry-out at the last restaurant before the Security Gate to Deck 2.”
Axel’s blood chilled as he listened to Petra’s escort. He’d been standing beside Sorayne. Leaning over, he whispered, “I think increased security for the ship is in order. Then we need to sober up our cybers and get them to start encrypting data for Dimitrios.” Axel then stepped forward to shake hands with each man. “Thank you for keeping our friends safe. You’ve exceeded my expectations. Now, please show me the images you took.”
***
With the recording and images on his tablet, Axel returned to the conference room. In his best sergeant’s voice, he said, “Ten-hut!” When everyone rose, he smiled inside, gratified his command voice still worked. “We have a situation.”
“What a buzzkill,” Ohashi muttered.
“You ladies were stalked this evening by not one, not two, but three cyborgs. If it hadn’t been for your sharp-eyed security detail, things might have ended much differently.”
Eva, the smallest, stood in the middle of the trio. She put her arms around the others to hug them close.
“You two, sober up,” he said, pointing at the cybers. “All our data needs to be encrypted and sent to Dimitrios ASAP. Let me know when he responds.”
Chastised, the two cybers hurried off to the galley for coffee.
Axel queued up the recording, playing it for the rest of them while he finished what was left of his Mexican dinner. When the recording ended, he transferred the images to the other tablets, giving everyone access. Petra brought in a carafe with mugs. Eva cleared the table of refuse. Ohashi began setting up a myriad of electronic equipment for her work.
In the interim, Axel left to double-check the military presence guarding the ship. Once he was convinced his people were secure, against his better judgment, he made an unusual suggestion.
“I think we need to go for a stroll.”
“Hell, yes,” Mark and Kamryn chorused.
Surprise registered on Sorayne’s face, although she refrained from making a comment.
“We might even stop in for a drink at the Club Galaxy like normal people would on a holiday,” Axel continued. “In case I have to say it, don’t get carried away. This is an undercover reconnaissance mission. We need to know if just the women were under surveillance, or if we all are.”
Kamryn strapped on twin sidearms, grabbed her black long coat, and gave Sorayne a burgundy leather tunic to camouflage her gray military one.
Axel drilled Mark with a look. “No repeat of Lunar 3.”
“I’ve only had two beers, and I haven’t been gambling.”
He did the same with Kamryn. “No replay of San Francisco.”
“Oh, come on! That fight wasn’t my fault.”
Sorayne gave him a sidelong glance. “You travel with a rowdy bunch.”
Poking fun at her, Axel said, “Oh, and I suppose you’ve never started a fight?”
“I’m drawing a blank on that one.” Sorayne winked at him. “I distinctly remember finishing a few, though.”
Axel commed Ohashi to make sure her new ship surveillance system was operational. Before leaving, he spoke with their soldier escorts, who remained on duty inside. “Those three women back there are like my sisters.”
“Sir,” Griffin said, “nothing’s coming through the hatch while you’re gone.”
“Well, if something does, and it doesn’t get you, I will.”
Axel joined his three companions as they left through the airlocks, going down two decks to the Galaxy Club. Onlookers might have thought Axel’s party were ordinary travelers out to enjoy the evening. On the contrary, he realized a part of him might be spoiling for a fight, a thought he pushed aside. They were simply gathering additional intel for the report to Dimitrios. If necessary, he was confident they were capable of delivering as much lethal force required to bring down a cyborg or three as needed. Axel hadn’t had a good fight since before his augmentation surgery.
For a scientist, Mark never shied away from one, either. He’d gained fifteen pounds of muscle working out with Axel during his recovery. Kamryn, who held expert ratings in everything, had nearly died after she’d been shot in the neck by one of Coulter’s operatives, so the three of them were looking for a heavy dose of payback.
Axel had never seen Maeve in combat, though, except when she’d rolled a cyborg off Mark at the BioKlon plant in Houston. It made her Axel’s equal, or better.
Chapter 3
The deafening beat of music could be felt as well as heard before the lift doors opened on Deck 2. With no cyborgs in sight, they strolled down the mall, drifting into the Club one at a time. Meeting at the far end of the bar, they ordered drinks while monitoring the door and scrutinizing each patron for replicas of the stalking cyborgs.
“Well, if it isn’t Captain Mark Warren.”
They all spun around with hands on their guns. Facing them was the attractive, auburn-haired Lieutenant Scarlett McDonnell, daughter of the former Luna Defense Commander, General Forest Yates.
Mark tilted his head, eyebrows raised. “Susie?”
Her jaw dropped open. Scarlett looked like she might burst into tears.
Realizing he’d played it a bit too straight-faced, Mark flashed a smile. “Scarlett,” he said, opening his arms to hug her.
She swatted him first, then allowed the hug and two kisses. “What are you boys doing way out here?”
“We came to watch Eva’s terraforming experiments. What about you?”
“I’m looking for killer cyborgs.”
Mark scanned the crowd, checking if anyone had overheard Scarlett’s comment. As the band started to play a slow song, he seized her arm, propelling her out into the least congested area of the dance floor.
“How the hell do you know about cyborgs?”
“I’m an intelligence officer,” Scarlett said, dripping with conceit.
“You’re a spook?” He damn near spat the word out, remembering his run in with the ‘spook’ back at his house in Portland. Mark had threatened to hit him—if Axel hadn’t stepped in, he would have been court-martialed for it.
“Oh, don’t play dumb, Mark. Or do you prefer Mr. Mavrek Enterprises? You’re all muscled up, carrying some heavyweight hand cannons, and came to Mars with two TMD warships.”
Mark yielded a little to see how much she knew. “Where’d you get all this information?”
“When I enlisted in the TMD, my first choice was Intelligence. But my step-father didn’t agree. He had pull, so it never happened. Since his retirement, my parents moved to Key West. They bought a boat rental business. I called in a few favors of my own, managed to get transferred into Intelligence.”
“You need to leave before you get hurt. A Martian undercover agent was murdered by a cyborg this morning.”
“I’m not on some weekend trip, Mark." Scarlett's tone became belligerent. "This is my job. Like it or not, I’m here.” She tried to break away
.
Mark pulled her closer, remembering how well they fit together, and that redheads had fiery personalities. His mind raced, along with his libido. He’d met Scarlett the second day after he’d been transferred to Luna. She’d been like an aphrodisiac from the moment he’d seen her. They’d played a sexy catch-me-if-you-can game, which was consummated the last afternoon before he’d been recalled to Terra. He’d like more, but not here, not now.
“When they did my background check, they discovered we had history,” Scarlett said. “My CO thought it would be a shame if I didn’t use it to keep track of you, so here I am. It’s amazing how you seem to attract cyborgs and clones like a magnet.”
Mark led her off the dance floor to an empty table. “You’re in way over your head, Scarlett. Even Axel and I came close to getting killed—more than once.”
“I know,” Scarlett said.
“What?”
“Everything.”
“About?
“You. All of you.”
“My father? Kamryn? Axel? Coulter?”
“Yes.” She reached out to take Mark’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice was drenched in syrupy sweetness.
Mark’s anger sparked to life and grew like a wildfire he could barely control. “Do you remember what I said back on Luna about being monitored twenty-four/seven, spied on constantly, chipped, with no privacy? I felt like a bug in a petri dish. The TMD owned me then. I had no recourse.
“Well, I’m not in the military anymore, but they’re still trying to exert the same kind of control over me. Now you’ve decided to use our single sexual encounter to boost your new career. You know what, Scarlett? You can take your ‘sorry’ and stuff it. Quit following me. Leave me alone. I will not be responsible for your death.” Mark stood, fished in his pocket for a crisp Terran one hundred-dollar bill. He smacked it on the table. “Here, buy yourself a drink. We’re done.”
Incensed by his own stupidity, Mark’s hands balled into fists as he skirted around couples on the dance floor. Back at the bar, he slid in between Axel and Kamryn, signaling for the bartender.
“Blue Agave Tequila. A double. Keep 'em coming.”
They both twisted around to face Mark. Axel leaned his elbow on the bar. “Didn’t go according to plan?”
Mark growled under his breath, “She’s Military Intelligence. A spook. Been following me—us—for months.” Mark downed the double shot. “And don’t say it.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You knew she was trouble.”
Axel shrugged, motioning for the bartender to bring three more doubles. Kamryn muttered some vicious obscenities pertaining to redheads.
“They told her all of it. Everything.” Mark downed another glass.
Axel shook his head, frowning. “She’s going to get herself killed.”
“Exactly what I told her.” Mark kicked himself for ever getting mixed up with Scarlett. He slumped on the bar until his next drink arrived. It was gone in one gulp.
Kamryn downed her tequila. “What you need to do is get drunk and kick some ass.”
“No.” Axel glared at Kamryn. “Definitely not. We’re on a recon mission for intel only.” Axel emptied his glass.
Sorayne returned from the ladies’ room. “Don’t look now, but I spotted metal by the door.” She moved in front of Axel. “Can you see them over my shoulder?”
“Yeah. A pair. Same ones Griffin saw.”
Sorayne then moved in front of Mark, who did a turkey peek around her neck. “Axel, my friend, we have twofers.”
“Kamryn, can you see them in the mirror behind the bar?” Sorayne asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I spotted them the minute you mentioned it. One on each side of the front door. Like bouncers.”
“We need to leave before either one of them ID’s us.” Maeve signaled for the tab. “The TMD is buying tonight.”
One by one, they blended into the crowd, moving toward the rear exit.
***
Damn. As if two cyborgs weren’t enough, Axel spotted two more occupying separate benches in the middle of the mall. This changed things. Where there were four, there might be more. Maybe the bar was their clubhouse. He commed the others with the information before teaming up with Maeve on the left side. Pretending to window shop, Maeve, in turn, commed her second-in-command, Major Lino Essex, ordering him to send a dozen heavily armed undercover reinforcements down to Deck 2.
Axel kept an eye on the alleyway, watching as Mark emerged to join Kamryn on the mall. They walked along, acting like a normal couple taking in the sights. Confident things were going as planned, Axel turned around in time to see Scarlett McDonnell leaving by way of the Galaxy’s front door. The redhead spotted Mark, maneuvering around people to follow him without a backward glance.
Shit. Axel turned Maeve around toward Scarlett. “See the redhead over there? She’s about to derail our plans.” He skimmed over the Mark-Scarlett situation, hitting the high points.
“No, she won’t. Leave it to me.”
Maeve looked through the cliques of people until she recognized two of her troops. They looked in their mid-twenties, wore faded blue dockworker uniforms, ribbed skullcaps, gloves, and looked unisex from across the mall. With skilled sleight of hand movements, she beckoned them. When they arrived, Sorayne slipped the comm unit off her ear. Both women did as well.
“This is an off the books intervention. We’ve identified a TMD Intelligence agent whose ineptitude will get one of us killed. A ginger-haired woman, 50 feet away on the far side. DT-RCnR, do you understand?”
The two women exchanged knowing looks.
Sorayne cautioned, “If you’re ID’d, there will be heavy blowback.”
They gave her a subtle nod before shuffling off in the general direction of their target.
“I’m unfamiliar with that acronym,” Axel said as they monitored the two trackers.
“Detain Trespasser-Remove Comms and Restrain.”
“Never heard it before. I’ve only been out of the military four months. Already I’m obsolete.”
While they resumed walking, Sorayne reattached her comm unit. “Handsome men are never obsolete.”
Axel started to reply, then stopped himself. Scarlett had disappeared. He scanned the thinning crowd. Nothing. Meanwhile, another cyborg advanced from the opposite direction. It collected the two on benches. They entered the Club, followed by four people who didn’t look old enough to drink.
Axel broadcast over his comm, “I hate to say this, but it looks like five cyborgs and four clones are getting ready to have a meeting in the Galaxy Club.”
“My question is, who’s conducting the meeting?” Sorayne asked. “From what we know, cyborgs don’t speak and clones seem intellectually limited, so who’s in charge?”
“My guess is the Parkers—Königs. At least one of them, anyway. A decision needs to be made. Is this a recon mission, or are we going to take them down? If we do and Mars finds out, there will be hell to pay. I’ll be behind bars. You could get court-martialed. We’re in their space—on their Station. Plus, we haven’t even made it planetside yet to see what might be hiding down there.”
“I agree, except I’m not leaving these simple-minded teenagers under the control of metal mercenaries, or the Parkers.”
Axel’s tablet vibrated, as did the others, with a broadcast message from Petra: “Stand Down. Direct orders from General Dimitrios. All personnel are recalled to your ships.”
“Petra,” Axel snapped, “inform the general we have confirmed visuals on five cyborgs and four clones in a bar called the Galaxy Club on Deck 2 of the space station.”
In less than thirty seconds, Sorayne received a message from Major Essex with orders from Dimitrios to assign troops for recon, but she’d been ordered back to her ship. “Balls,” she muttered. “Get your people back to the ship. I’ll take care of things here before I leave. No doubt Dimitrios wants a vid conference.”
***
Three Terrans entered the
MAVREK-II in a rotten mood, grumbling about the lost opportunity to at least monitor the cyborg’s movements, if not capture the entire group, including the Parkers.
Mark rushed through the ship to the conference room. “Petra?”
Her head snapped up, as if she’d been dozing. “Sir?”
“Is there any way we can view what the Station surveillance has on Deck Two?” Mark asked, sliding into the captain’s chair at the head of the table.
“You mean can I hack into the Martian Space Station’s Secure Surveillance System?”
“No, I just thought you could ask it to please share what it’s looking at with us.”
Petra stifled a yawn, lowered her head behind the large screen, and tapped at an increasing pace. Ohashi appeared with a fresh carafe of coffee. She walked behind Petra, bending over to watch for a couple seconds, then went to her screen to join the project. Kamryn brought in a tray with a mound of chocolate chip cookies. They congregated at the table for coffee and cookies while the cybers invaded the station’s security systems.
The quiet was shattered by the pinging of everyone’s tablets.
A dispatch from Major Essex stated Colonel Sorayne hadn’t returned to her ship. She, along with Nelson and Wong, two sergeants on the recon detail, were missing. Also, none of their geolocator chips were responding. His message ended with a warning that under no circumstances would any civilian involvement be tolerated in the search for their TMD personnel.
When Axel made a run for the entry hatch, Mark followed on his heels in the hopes he could stop him from making a stupid move. The three soldiers who’d performed escort duty earlier in the day were standing guard inside, their backs to the hatch, their guns drawn.
Griffin stood as point man, in front of the others. “Sir, I know your reputation. I’ve also heard what you’re capable of. But I’m not going to wind up in the stockade because I failed to shoot you when you disobeyed a direct order from Major Essex.”
Mark approached Axel from the side, careful not to make any sudden moves. “Axel, remember Portland? You stopped me when I damn near decked the spy. I’m here to do the same for you.”