by Gun Brooke
At first, the woman firing on them didn’t change her stance. Beaux then heard the sound of the powerful wings, and so, apparently, did the Ilienta guard. She gazed at the sky over her shoulder, and then her knees seemed to buckle. Raising her weapon, she tried to aim at the creature.
“That’ll only make it worse,” Beaux said and took the weapon out of the guard’s hands. “Head south, take cover by the scuttles. Do you understand?”
The young woman seemed unable to take her eyes off the darragons and remained as if frozen. Beaux didn’t have time to be gentle. Shaking the woman by her arms, she dug her fingers into her flesh. “Don’t stand there. Run!”
Whimpering, the guard stared at Beaux and then at Moon. “What are they?”
“Fucking darragons!” Nia shoved the woman toward the slope. “Now run!”
Beaux had already started running into the drill site. To her left, tents stood in rows of ten. She rounded the first one and ran into a tall, muscular man.
“What the—Captain?” The familiar man gaped at her. “What’s with the shouting and—what the hell’s that?” Emar, the miner she’d come across after the explosion, stared at the sky.
“Listen. Gather your people and make them move south. We have scuttles standing by, and Veyar is on his way with a shuttle to evacuate you.”
“But shouldn’t we—”
“Trust me, Emar.” Beaux spoke firmly. “Right now, evacuating and getting the hell back to the Empress is your only chance.”
“She’s right.” Tracks came up to them. “You’ve lost too many people back at the camp already. Everyone up there has already returned to the ship.”
Emar tossed the rope he was carrying over his head and across his chest. Pulling out a small device, he pressed a series of tones. “This’ll tell the guys to return to me, no matter what they’re doing or where they are. A miner’s thing.”
“Good. Remember. Due south, and look for the scuttles.”
“Got it, Captain.” Emar hurried toward the miners who were pouring out of the tents and from the drilling equipment.
“Wait,” Moon said, tugging at Beaux’s sleeve. “We can’t let them all go. They have to stop the machines, or Haven will escalate its defense.”
Beaux pivoted and grabbed Emar as he was about to run past them. “How do we turn off the drills?”
Emar stopped. “What? The drills?”
“We have to stop them before this situation becomes even worse.” Beaux motioned for Somas to join them.
“They’re fully automated. You need to go to the large tent over there.” Emar pointed at a blue-gray striped tent at the far end of the drill structures. “Cut the power.”
“All right.” Beaux would have liked for him to join them, but as they were armed and he wasn’t, she knew it was up to her teams. “Get to safety now.” Running before she even stopped talking to Emar, Beaux made sure she wasn’t colliding with the fleeing miners who were, thankfully, heeding Emar’s warnings. She turned her head to make sure Moon was with her. When she couldn’t see her, she lost some of her breath, but she couldn’t slow down. Farther up, Beaux saw Dancer chase a few young people who looked like maintenance staff. He nipped at their heels, and she could tell he was making sure the startled people were heading south.
Beaux rounded another row of small tents and stopped abruptly when she finally saw Moon. Behind her stood Kragh and Drak, the former holding a sidearm at Moon’s neck.
Chapter Nineteen
This was not Moon’s world anymore, not the Haven she knew. Above them, darragons soared, making their majestic sound as they moved air with their wings and shrieking, which usually meant they were breathing fire. Moon bent forward as she ran, feeling the heat from above.
Then she saw black boots, white trouser-clad legs, a hand holding a sidearm, and, finally, a pale face and colorless eyes. The man used her momentum against her, pulling her close to his chest and pressing the weapon against her head. He plucked her weapon from her hand and tossed it aside. Moon realized that he hadn’t spotted the half-concealed gun she carried in the pouch around her neck.
“And who might you be?” the man asked softly. “You’re wearing an officer’s uniform, but I know the faces of all the officers on the Empress, simply because I made it my business to do so.”
Moon didn’t respond but sent a sharp elbow back into to his stomach. The man grunted, but his grip on her was firm.
“Feisty. Hm. And quite striking,” he said. “Where did Lestarion hide you—and why?” He pushed the muzzle of the weapon harder against her.
“Let me go,” Moon said calmly, resorting to the tone she had once found placated the most demanding passenger aboard the cruise ship. “I’m nobody. Just a crewman. My uniform was destroyed, and this was all that was available.”
“And why does that sound like a blatant lie?” Chuckling, the pale man tugged her around the corner, out of view from most of Beaux’s crew.
Moon tried to turn her head away from the sidearm, but the man easily followed. Where was Dancer? Busy saving people, no doubt, her beloved little man.
Then quick steps approached, and Moon tensed, wondering if help was coming or if some other member of the Ilienta brass was about to join them. She tried to slump against the man and keep him off balance, but he moved his arm up until it was firmly around her neck instead.
Another pale man appeared and stopped in front of them, taking in the situation. “I see you found someone that can be useful. That’s the woman Lestarion has been flaunting the last day or so.”
“Yes, Drak,” the first man said. “Our mystery girl.”
“What’s your name?” the man called Drak asked, sticking his face close to hers. Where the man behind her sounded all cold and silky, this one seemed to have only volatile cells in his body.
Moon thought fast. She needed to buy time. If she could keep them talking, sooner or later, Beaux would miss her—and so would Dancer. “I’m Moon de Cruz.”
“Oh, really? That’s a glamourous name for a, what did you say, crewman?” The man holding her squeezed harder around her neck and slid the weapon’s muzzle from her temple down to behind her ear. “I think there’s more, and you’re going to tell us.”
“I will, but we’re all in danger. Haven’t you seen the creatures?” Moon tried reasoning with them, because surely they weren’t stupid enough not to realize the precarious situation they all were in. “We need to get out of here.”
“Not until our mission is fulfilled.” Drak poked her in the chest, just below her left clavicle. It hurt, but she didn’t let her pain show.
“Please,” she said, trying for a helpless tone. “I don’t want to die.”
“Then you shouldn’t have joined Lestarion’s crew and screwed us over.” Drak spat the words, and Moon found him revolting.
“No matter how much you think you might lose, it’s not worth dying over,” Moon said harshly. She couldn’t help that her anger showed. These men were in a way similar to the passengers aboard the cruise ship who sat around in their quarters waiting to be saved and not lifting a finger to help themselves. Were these men so blinded by wealth and power that they had lost all common sense?
“Hey, Kragh,” Drak said and pulled his sidearm. “Someone’s coming.”
Moon could hear it too, and she let her body go limp in case it was one of the crew. If Kragh had his hands full with a nearly fainted Moon, then the person approaching might have a chance to duck out of the way.
Beaux rounded the corner and stopped so fast, she nearly toppled over. Her blue eyes grew stormy gray in an instant. “Moon!”
Moon knew she was scaring Beaux even worse, as she probably looked half-dead or unconscious.
“Good of you to join us, Captain.” Kragh said. He hoisted Moon up, but she made sure to keep slipping.
“What have you done to her?” Fury, tinged with fear, laced Beaux’s voice. “Let her go.”
“And have you take off from this world withou
t us, not fulfilling your contract? Truly you must realize how impossible that sounds.”
A shriek came from right above them, and a darragon swooped down and set fire to the row of tents behind Beaux. Drak swore and fired at the large beast.
“What the hell?” Even Kragh cursed and dragged Moon to the side with him. He squeezed her neck so hard with his forearm she couldn’t breathe.
“You’re choking her!” Beaux yelled. “Let her go.”
Moon could see that Beaux had raised her rifle at Kragh.
“Drop that weapon, or I’ll shoot, and that will take her entire beautiful head off.”
Beaux snarled but hesitated.
Don’t do it. Don’t drop your weapon. Shoot them. Moon tried to convey her thoughts to Beaux but saw her begin to lower her rifle to the ground. As Beaux was crouching to put the rifle down between her and Kragh, a shadow flew past them and landed with four strong paws on Drak’s chest, who then tumbled into Kragh. Kragh lost his grip on Moon, who rolled to the side, pulled the gun from her pouch in a practiced move, and aimed it at the staggering men.
Grabbing her rifle, Beaux did the same. “Tell me one good reason for me not to drop you on the spot,” she growled. “People are fleeing for their lives because of your greed.”
Another darragon flew over them, and fire erupted between Beaux and the men. Moon threw herself under a metal table full of metal tubes and computer tablets and felt the searing heat as the creature sprayed its fire across it.
“Moon!” It was Beaux’s voice.
“Here. I’m all right.” Moon couldn’t move out from under the table until Beaux turned it over so she could jump the ring of flames in the grass. “Where are Kragh and Drak?”
“They took off. Not sure what they’re up to, but you and I must enter that tent. The blue and gray one.” Beaux pointed.
“Where’s Dancer?” Moon looked around and then saw her friend just behind Beaux, the fur on his back smoldering. “Dancer!” Patting him down, she managed to extinguish the small flames. “Are you hurt?”
“Fft.” Dancer blew up his cheeks and began trotting in the direction Beaux had just pointed.
“Clearly not,” Beaux said. “Come on. We have to hurry. If we can turn the power off, we might stop the attack of these, um, darragons.”
Moon looked around for her other sidearm but couldn’t see it. She tucked the one she had into her holster as she ran next to Beaux. They reached the tent and found the doors locked.
“I don’t have time for this.” Beaux took aim with her rifle and sent a steady stream against the locking mechanism. It turned red from the energy blast, but it held. “Damn. I’m going to check the other side.” Beaux ran along the side of the tent and disappeared. Within half a minute, she was back. “No other entrance. I can’t see where the cables exit either. They must’ve mounted them underground.”
“I want to try something.” Moon ran to the side of the tent and snatched her knife from her belt. She raised it over her head and drove it into the wall. Her shoulder felt as if it was about to dislocate. Groaning, she pressed on, digging the tip of the blade into the material that seemed deceptively thin. Beaux joined her, pushed her rifle onto her back, and placed both her hands around Moon’s. Together they leaned into the knife, Moon digging her feet into the ground, trying to not fall.
“Keep going!” Beaux yelled as the telltale sound of an approaching darragon filled the air. “We don’t have much time.”
The fortified tent canvas gave in so suddenly, they fell into the expanding gap just as fire erupted outside the tent. Inside, heat filled the space, but the tent seemed prepared to withstand fire.
“Scorch resilient.” Beaux moaned as she got up. “Now, look for the main cord.”
Moon stayed on the ground, searching along the walls and under tables. Wires ran in every which way, in a sort of organized chaos. At the far corner, eight large boxes sat next to each other, and a massive cable ran from them to the different equipment on the tables. “Beaux! Over here!” Moon coughed as the darragon struck again, this time sending more heat and smoke into the tent.
Beaux was on the ground too. She coughed and kept her lips against the floor as she crawled up to Moon. “Good.” She tugged at the main cable, but it didn’t move. Moon helped her pull, but then saw through the smoke that the plugs were locked into place.
“They’re metal. And locked,” Moon said and coughed.
“I have no idea how to open them.” Beaux slammed her fist into the ground.
A furry face came into view between them. Dancer bumped his forehead into Moon’s and then Beaux’s. His eyes were running from the smoke, and he was wheezing.
“No, Dancer. Get out of here.” Moon tugged at the skin behind his head.
Dancer shook her off and crawled in under the table. He bit down on the large cable and began to back up, using his powerful hind legs to drag the boxes with him.
“Help him!” Moon began to pull at the cable as well, thinking they had no other option. Dancer might just have an idea.
Beaux bent over, coughing, and then grabbed the cable as well. Together they dragged the eight boxes toward the opening. Outside they heard a voice calling out and the swooping sound of majestic wings. Moon started to see what Dancer meant to do and knew that this might be their only choice. They reached the slashed hole that was now scorched enough to have burned off the protective membrane on the canvas. “I don’t think it can withstand more than one or two darragon attacks,” Moon said, wiping at her tears. The smoke was irritating her eyes, making it hard to see.
“You’re right. If they swoop down again, we just run, all right? That means you too, Dancer.” Beaux pulled hard on the cable. “No matter what, we’ll have given this our best.”
“No matter what.” Moon started to taste iron as she gave every ounce of her strength while dragging the cable. She saw Dancer bleeding from the gums, and Beaux was coughing excessively.
Then they were outside. The grass around the tent was black and smoldering in places. Using her last strength, Moon helped drag the cable and the eight boxes through the hole. Yes, the protective membrane was wearing off, but they still needed the boxes outside for the next darragon to attack.
“See any of them?” Beaux asked, gasping between every word.
Moon looked around them, squinting through the smoke, and then felt her mouth fall open. “Yes. Several. No. All of them. Run!” She grabbed Beaux’s arm and began pulling at her, no matter how her joints screamed in pain. “We have to go!”
Moon’s heart raced and she looked frantically for Dancer, but she couldn’t see him. “Dancer!” She wasn’t sure if they were running in the right direction or if they’d be able to make it to a safe distance. All she could think about was moving far enough away from the mayhem following the darragons. Not even Moon, who had lived on this planet for years, could have guessed the vengefulness of this reaction. “Please, don’t kill us, Haven. We’re trying to help.” She whispered the husky words as she stumbled, more than ran, with Beaux. When she felt fresh grass under her feet, Moon’s knees started to give in. She wanted to run farther. Find a better place to hide. Keep Beaux safe with her. Find Dancer. Each thought hammered at the pace of her beating heart as she pulled Beaux into her, covering her with her body. “Beaux.”
“Moon.” Beaux’s arms wrapped around her. “Remember what we said. We did our best. No matter what.” Beaux wheezed in Moon’s ear.
“No matter what.” Moon pressed her lips to Beaux’s temple as fire erupted behind them.
Chapter Twenty
Beaux moaned and pried her eyes open. Around them, the turbulence of the enormous winged creatures fanned the fire toward them. She squinted at the bright flames, her stinging corneas making the outlines blurry. Moon wasn’t on top of her anymore. Beaux had rolled them in the grass, allowing them to go sideways, downhill. Sitting up, she shielded her eyes with her one hand and pulled the rifle to her with the other. The spot where they’d
left the cables and the power boxes was nothing but charred remains.
“Moon!” Beaux stood on unsteady legs.
“Here.” Moon’s voice came from behind.
Turning, Beaux saw Moon sitting up and, oddly, feeling down her ponytail. Beaux hurried over to her and crouched. “You all right?”
“Yes.” Moon looked around and then smiled faintly. “And so is he.”
Beaux saw Dancer standing over by the edge of the forest, his steadfast glance aimed at them. “I think he wants us to join him,” Beaux said. “And we need to hide from the darragons.”
“Wait. What about the cables?” Moon stood, grimacing.
“Gone. We did it.”
“Then why aren’t the darragons retreating? It doesn’t make sense.” Coughing, Moon began walking toward Dancer.
“No clue.” Beaux checked the sky above them, but the darragons were still congregating in the sky above the former drilling camp. “If you don’t understand how this place works, then I’m at a loss.”
Dancer stood on his hind legs and placed gentle paws on Moon’s shoulders, nudging her forehead with his nose. When he insisted on doing the same with Beaux, she felt him breathe soft air against her skin and give a faint “sst.”
“Likewise,” Beaux said. Something about Dancer’s presence calmed the remnants of fear of losing her life—and losing Moon. “Let’s go farther into the forest.” Beaux tugged at her communicator as they made their way in between the trees. “Lestarion to any senior officers.”
A static hiss was all that came through, and Beaux examined the device. “Damn. Not again.” The back of the shell hung loose, and from what she could see, some parts were missing. “Stop. I need to dig out my long-range communicator.” She pulled her backpack off, praying the device was all right. When she saw the scorched material protecting her gear, she didn’t hold out much hope. The long-range communicator was cracked. She pressed the sensors, but then a fluid began to drip out of the bottom part, and she realized the energy cells were leaking. “Keep watch. I’ll see if I can make repairs.” Perhaps she could make the power source from the regular communicator boost the other one. Beaux used the tool kit she kept in one of the small pockets on her trousers, opening the communicators. Moon kept turning in a slow circle, both her hands around her sidearm.