by Rhonda Mason
He uncocked the gun and flicked his wrist, sending it spinning across the floor and underneath an abandoned pallet. “Just for you, Princess.”
Thank the stars. One shot would have blown her wide open, kris or no kris.
He drew a second knife from his other boot sheath. “Let’s do this.”
She pulled her kris. The adrenaline that had been on a slow burn since getting Parrel’s message spiked. When he started to circle her, dropping into predatory mode, her sweat turned icy. Their previous fights flashed into her mind as she matched his steps. Him, choking her to near unconsciousness. Him, beating the shit out of her in the lift… It wasn’t pretty, and it certainly wasn’t inspiring.
His augmentations were his strength, but also his weakness, as he relied so heavily on them. Time to see what flawless ro’haar skill could do against brute force.
He closed in on her like an over-ardent lover, unable to wait another second.
Typical male.
Siño’s left hand flashed forward, driving the blade toward her face. Kayla dipped and came up with a high-rising block under his wrist, guiding the hand over her head. She side-stepped right at the same time and let his momentum carry him forward past her. She scored a hit on his hip—a weak attack—and then he went for her again.
This time he led with an upward attack aimed at her armpit. She deflected the blow and barely stopped his other knife from punching through her gut. She stepped into him before he could swing again and sliced his arm above his elbow, hoping to sever a ligament. Her blade skipped over metal, his augmentations shielding his ligaments.
Damnit. That strike would have left a normal person with one useless arm. She backed out in time to turn his strike for her neck into a cut across her ear. As they traded blows, it quickly became evident that he wasn’t as proficient with knives as he thought he was. His strength more than made up for it, and every block she made square on instead of deflecting hit like a hammer blow. He was going to beat her down.
She needed to end this. While she could deflect and dodge for a while, he could maintain this force and pace all night thanks to his augs.
I need to get in close.
Considering his extra strength and superior grappling ability, close was the last place she wanted to be. But if she couldn’t get a vital strike in soon, she and Malkor were dead.
Kayla ducked Siño’s lead arm and guided his second attack off-center, opening his defense for a split-second. She struck, aiming for his carotid artery. A drop step saved him. Her kris penetrated his chest below the collar bone. Her cross guard slammed into the bone and cracked it as her blade finished its upward track and punched through the muscle to appear out the other side.
Siño roared with fury, dropping his off-knife and clutching at the wound, trapping her kris there. She let it go and danced out of range, but not before his lead knife came down, carving a deep furrow in her right arm. Only a lifetime of intense training kept her grip on her one remaining kris as part of her muscle flayed and blood poured down her arm.
Yup. That’d kill her soon enough.
Kayla took a double-step back to gain distance and quickly switch her kris to her good hand. She didn’t take her eyes off Siño as he lunged for her, free hand grasping like a claw. If he got a hold of her it was all over. That augmented grip would never release her no matter what she did.
Footwork, Kayla, footwork.
She couldn’t stand in an open front stance and take blows head-on like a target dummy. The predicable shifting of L-stances forward and back wouldn’t get her where she needed to be. If she wanted to get in close enough to get a mortal strike she had one shot at this. One shot, and if she missed he’d pummel the life out of her in about five seconds. Maybe less.
She switched to the ginga style, a constantly moving flow that used a triangle pattern to keep an opponent off-balance. Start low, deep step back with one leg, keeping the opposite arm raised for protection, then a step forward and out to the side, and repeating the pattern with the opposite leg dropping back. She could move in a circle, covering plenty of ground.
Siño hesitated, tried to track her movements as he lost focus on her centerline.
Keep it low and fluid, she heard her mentor say in her head. Be ready for your moment, use the step’s inherent torque to your advantage.
Siño double-stepped in, coming on like a maglev train. Kayla fell backward in a queda de quarto, feet planted, catching her weight on her hands like an inverted crab. Siño’s strike soared over her prone body. She dropped to her back and brought her feet up, catching him low in the stomach and launching him over her head with his own momentum. She flipped to her feet in time to see him tumbling away. His augs made him quick, though, and he was standing in no time, coming for her with murder in his eyes and blood running down his chest.
Kayla’s right arm was numb and her blood made the floor slick in spots. She’d already slid on a smear once. With his augs it was nearly impossible to incapacitate any of Siño’s limbs or reach his vital organs, plus he protected his head well, like a bare-knuckle brawler.
The injury to his collarbone only seemed to make him fiercer, faster, while Kayla’s own was threatening to black her out. He had enough meat to sustain the blood loss so far, whereas her injury was worse and she weighed less.
Down to my last shot.
A man might let a doctor augment a lot of things, run wires and metal bracing and tubes throughout most of his systems in the name of better defense and offense. But there was one area most guys would refuse to let a doctor use like a wiring panel: his groin. Biocybes who allowed it have suffered from impotence. Siño seemed to have a raging libido tied permanently to his bloodlust, so that was the sweet spot—his weakest area and her last hope.
Great, now she was staking her life on a man’s love of his own dick.
Kayla swung back and forth in ginga, waiting, waiting, waiting. She needed the perfect attack on his part. Weakened by the constant movement, Kayla realized she was going to have to lure him into it. She waited until he faced her in an opposing L-stance, then faked a slip and went down into a split. Siño shifted forward in his L-stance, the quickest way to close the distance, allowing her the opening she needed. Just as he grabbed her ponytail to yank her to her feet she slammed her kris into his groin—cutting through his testicles she’d guess, based on the sound he made.
She completed the movement, slashing her dagger to the side and severing his femoral artery. Siño screamed like a dying horse. Blood spurted everywhere. He fell to his knees, his rapidly draining brain unable to decide if his hands should be gripping his ruined privates or his mortal injury. He fell on top of her, his weight threatening to crush her, his blood hot on her, soaking her.
One of his hands struggled for her throat but she beat him off with her good arm.
“Shoulda. Got that. Augmented,” she coughed out, light-headed. He fought feebly for a minute. She wrestled her leg around and kneed him in the groin, putting an end to that.
Kayla lay on the floor, staring at the warehouse ceiling, so cold against Siño’s lifeblood. Shock, she knew. Blood loss. She was going to need help.
Siño shuddered out his last breath and she tried to heave him off.
No luck.
It was nice here, she thought. Quiet. I’ll only rest a minute. Get my strength back.
She closed her eyes.
“Kayla!”
“Kayla, get up!”
Kayla. Kayla. Kayla.
Shhhh.
“Kayla! For the frutting love of the frutting void, get the frutt up!”
The sound followed her, echoed back at her in the warehouse. It was a roar. Then epithets. Fantastic epithets. Even she was impressed.
“Get up, Kayla. Now. You need help. Get me loose!”
She groaned. Ugh. That voice was pissing her off.
“I swear by all the gods, if you don’t get up…”
Angry, angry voice. Fear. It held so much fear. Odd; she
felt fine. Cold, really, but Siño’s blood was helping that.
“I’m fine,” she croaked. “Leave me alone.” She closed her eyes tighter. So nice here, with her Siño blanket.
“You’re not fine. Get your ass up right now. Now, Kayla.”
She grumbled, opened an eye. Now that she thought about it, she was pretty uncomfortable. One leg was fully extended in the split still, and one awkwardly crushed beneath Siño. Her hand, still gripping the kris, was trapped between them. Something—the cross-guard?—dug into her index finger and thumb.
Ugh. She groaned again.
“Get up, Kayla! Get me the void out of these cuffs so I can help you. Do it!”
Why did that voice sound so sweet while it was pissing her off?
“Kayla—”
“Fine!” She tried to move her right arm and grunted at the pain. “Fine. Just. Quit.” She took several deep breaths. “Nagging. Me.” She couldn’t push the biocybe off. Instead she rolled under him, left her kris embedded in his crotch, and dragged herself free of his weight with her good arm. She finally made it loose and sat up.
“Sweet holy frutt. My arm is bleeding,” she said, looking down at the ruined thing.
Someone laughed at her. Half-relieved, half-maniacal. “Yes, yes it is. Now get the magcuff key and get me out of here so I can help you.”
That someone was handsome. And crying, his cheeks wet with tears. And laughing. And still shouting while she stared.
“Malkor.”
“Yes. Yes, Kayla love. Now get the key. Hurry.”
She flopped like a dead fish over Siño’s body, searching pockets, dragging her useless arm. When she got to her knees and pulled off his belt, the cuff controller fell to the floor. Kayla stared at it a moment. Malkor was shouting something again. That was Malkor, wasn’t it? She’d been here to save him?
“Yes! Push the button, push it.” More swearing. She leaned forward, pushed the de-mag button on the controller, and fell on her face.
The last thing she was aware of was Malkor running toward her, ripping his shirt off and pressing it to her arm.
* * *
Vega finally nodded her head. “Looks like we’re good here.”
Shit, Hekkar thought. They were out of time. Kayla, you better be as good as I think you are.
Vega shut down the complink and put the chip into the carrying case she’d brought. As she and her agents headed for the door, Hekkar couldn’t think of a single way to stall her that wouldn’t be suspicious. Vega turned back halfway there. “Agent Rua’s at Alvano’s warehouse. Judging by your expression and the silence of our comms, you already knew that.”
She gave him a serious look. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I really would have met my end of the deal if you hadn’t interfered.” Then she shrugged. “His death is on you.”
The second she left, Trinan and Vid lunged for the rear exit, and Rigger and Hekkar followed them out as they sprinted to Alvano’s, only to find that Kayla really was every bit as good as he’d hoped she was.
33
THE YARI, MINE FIELD
It had taken some time after the carnage in the engine room to get all of the wounded and dead transported to the medical triage center one deck below the command room. The triage area was one of dozens strategically placed throughout the ship. Vayne asked about going to the main medical floor but Ida told him it wasn’t secure.
Ida had ordered Vayne’s uncle to stay in crew quarters where it was safe, and Tanet and Ariel still guarded the command center. Everyone else packed into triage. At the far end of the room the bodies of Gintoc, Itsy, Luliana and Joffar lay under sheets. Vayne hadn’t expected their deaths to hit him so hard. He’d lost so many family members and friends over the last five years—he’d thought he was finally away from all that.
Now these brutal deaths, one at his own hands, rocked him.
Corinth sat on a chair, knees to chest, arms wrapped around his legs, weeping in that silent way of his. Tia’tan sat beside Noar on a gurney. Noar’s head was wrapped for the moment to staunch the bleeding. Itsy had surprised them all in the engine room and bludgeoned Noar with enough force to knock him out and give him a concussion. He was alert now, if a little unsteady. Tia’tan had her head close to his, speaking softly. It didn’t look like a gentle conversation. Her lips moved rapidly, her fingers twitching now and then as if to drive home a point, and she had the look of someone struggling to control her rage.
Larsa, Gintoc’s engineering assistant, lay on her stomach while Benny tended to her two plasma burns. She’d been able to dive out of the way when Itsy had commandeered a bullpup from the rack, so Larsa’s burns were luckily shallow.
Ida sat at the back of the room beside Gintoc’s body. A sheet covered his ruined head, but his arm hung off the edge of the bed. Ida held his hand, patting it. She hadn’t spoken to anyone since they’d arrived in triage with his body.
Vayne couldn’t bear to sit, not with all that had happened. He paced, going over and over the scene in the engine room, trying to see if there was anything else he could have done. Nothing came to him, though. He played it in slow motion again and again and knew he had taken the shot he’d needed to take.
And if the rest of them didn’t agree, so be it.
“Larsa,” Natali said, from where she stood in the doorway. “Are you capable of completing the hyperstream drive?”
Vayne whirled on her. “How can that be your first question? Four people are dead. And who knows how many others might have died. How can you even think of the engine right now?”
Natali acted as if he didn’t exist. “Larsa, can you?”
“Is doubtful.”
Larsa should be sedated, doped up on pain meds, not answering questions.
“With Corinth and Noar’s help?” Natali’s cold voice held no hint of sympathy, only purpose.
Larsa gasped as Benny dabbed at her wound. When she had her breathing under control again she said, “Unlikely. Needed Gintoc. He sings the language of engines.”
Natali looked like she would change the answer through sheer force of will. “Try. The others will help. After you’re feeling better, of course.” She added that last grudgingly, then left triage.
Everyone in the room seemed to exhale when she left. Natali had taken the most volatile currents of tension with her.
“To the void with the drive,” Vayne said. “We need to talk about our safety. How many other stepa at es are loose on the ship?” No one answered him. He hated to interrupt Ida, who looked devastated by Gintoc’s loss, but he needed answers. “Ida? How many?”
She spoke without turning around. “Numbers to be uncertain. Thirteen of my crew unaccounting.”
Shit. Thirteen crazy people running around on the ship?
“Some we had contained,” Benny added.
Obviously, that had failed. “What happened to the rest of the crew?”
Ida sighed, her shoulders falling as with great weight. “Twenty-two locked in cryosleep. Not to survive awakening. Forty-two the malfunctions in cryo have killed. Twenty-one of our crew we have killed, they being stepa at es. And we awake are six.” She swallowed convulsively. “We are five, now.”
He could tell by her broken posture that she felt every one of those deaths as if they were her fault. She squeezed Gintoc’s dead hand tightly and kissed the back of it.
“Gintoc’s turning has been coming, Captain,” Benny said. His eyes were full of sorrow. “We have all ignored. And hoped.”
Ida nodded, still not looking their way.
“The cryo damages create paranoia,” Benny explained. “They forget. They fight our old war in their minds.”
Which explained why Itsy destroyed a ship of Ilmenan design and Gintoc killed Luliana and Joffar. Thank the stars Gintoc saw Noar as part of his “engineering crew” or he would have been another casualty.
“So,” Vayne said, trying to wrap his mind around how much danger they were really in. “Thirteen stepa at es.”
“Hide mostly,” Ida said. “Burrow, carve out dens in the walls. Stockpile. Wait.”
Like soldiers trapped behind enemy lines, living in fear of capture. It was that “mostly” part, though, that set him on edge.
“When Kayla gets here, we can get you off the ship.”
Ida shook her head before he finished speaking. “I not to abandon mine.”
“Nor me,” Benny seconded.
It was a fight for another time, when things weren’t so raw.
“Have you heard from Kayla?” Tia’tan asked. She had an arm around Noar, supporting him while he slumped, glassy-eyed, against her.
“I haven’t.” And he was trying not to worry about that. He had no idea if she’d managed to procure a ship, if she was on her way right now, or if she was still tied to the planet.
::We’ve sent two messages with no response:: Corinth said to the room. The worry in his mind voice hit everyone. Vayne had been hoping to keep Kayla’s comm silence between the two of them.
“So for now,” Tia’tan said, “we’re stuck on a ship that’s unlikely to ever fly out of here, counting on a rescue from someone we’ve lost contact with, and the Yari’s crew is trying to kill us.”
::We could go through the Tear:: Corinth said.
Vayne slashed the air with a hand. “Absolutely not. I am not getting stuck in the middle of the war on Ordoch with no way off the planet. And you,” he said to Corinth, “are not going either.”
“We just wait, then?” Tia’tan asked. He could tell waiting wasn’t in her blood.
Waiting. Again. He’d spent the last five years waiting for a rescue that he thought would never come.
In the end, Kayla had come.
How long would the wait be this time? And would anyone still be alive when she finally got here?
* * *
ORDOCH
Cinni waited in the dark of Mishe’s room for him to return from visiting Aarush. She sat on his bed, back against the wall, legs crossed in front of her, a canteen of oblivion in her lap. Mishe was a better person than her, making daily trips to the infirmary. She still hadn’t gone to see Aarush.