“Stay behind me,” he said, hopping out onto the field, a blazer rifle in his arms, though he was careful to point it at the ground for now.
McCall, her stun gun in one hand and the comm unit in the other, hopped out after him.
Six hulking men ran toward them, blazer rifles of their own in hand.
One cyborg was missing an arm, one ran with a limp, and one had burn marks covering half his face with a small device flashing green embedded in his temple. The two men in the lead, one white-haired and one gray, appeared to be hale retirees, but McCall abruptly had the feeling she would be picking on these people if she set her androids on them. Yes, they had fired on the ship earlier, but the ship had also been snooping. If she could figure out a way to get Axton out without a fight, she would.
Dash stepped forward. He was the one who had to do the talking if they stuck with her ruse.
“Good evening, veterans,” he said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and lifting his hands, not shrinking back even though the cyborgs fondling their weapons looked anything but friendly. “I’m Deputy Arjun Deshmukh. Feel free to call me Dash. I apologize for intruding on your community, but a cyborg who recently joined you has stolen a ship and faked his own death, apparently believing the law enforcers wouldn’t figure out what happened and come after him.”
“Axton told us about you,” one of the leaders said, the gray-haired man. He had a stony face and cold dark eyes. “He said you’re the criminal.”
“That’s incorrect. I am—”
“You were his pilot and betrayed him to the Alliance.”
The hulking cyborgs stepped closer. McCall didn’t need to be an expert at reading people to know she and Dash were in trouble.
Should she jump into the conversation and try to help him? Or trust that he was better at influencing people? She couldn’t tell if he was attempting to sway the leader, but he was gazing straight into the big man’s eyes.
“I did make mistakes and allow myself to be swayed by anti-imperial sentiment,” Dash said, speaking intently to the leader and not glancing at the others, “but I was shown the error of my ways. I understand now that the empire is here for the good of us all and that only a fool would fight against it.”
Someone in the back snorted, making McCall wonder if these cyborgs, who had chosen to live here in isolation, were truly imperial loyalists. Maybe twenty years of fighting in the Cyborg Corps and dealing with the side effects of their surgeries had left them bitter and estranged.
The one-armed man looked at McCall.
“I’m just here for my ship,” she told him, in case discussing the facts would appeal more to them than talk of patriotism. “Honestly, I don’t care about the rest. I’m a skip tracer by trade, but I’d be happy to forget I know Axton lives here now, should anyone ever come looking for information on him.”
Dash frowned at her. “I am a deputy law enforcer. I can’t simply forget I saw a criminal who betrayed his own organization as well as the empire.”
She knew he was playing the part she’d come up with for him but didn’t know if the cyborgs cared about it and wondered if it might be time to abandon the ruse.
“What if I paid you to forget?” she asked Dash, raising her eyebrows.
Maybe the cyborgs would find them less threatening if they seemed to be at odds with each other. Not that they appeared particularly threatened now…
“I am an honorable and duty-bound imperial law enforcer,” Dash said. “Er, how much?”
“We can discuss that later.” McCall faced the leader. “We just want to talk to Axton and find out what he did with my ship.”
“It’s not his,” Dash added, locking eyes with the leader again. “He can have his life here but not with money taken from the sale of a ship that doesn’t belong to him.”
McCall almost asked what Axton needed the money for, anyway, when this community didn’t look like it made many purchases from the outside world. But the leader appeared slightly glassy-eyed as he stared back at Dash.
“Starak,” he said slowly to the other older man at his side. “Go see if—”
A blazer rifle squealed, and crimson light flashed as a bolt slammed into Dash.
McCall screamed. Dash tumbled back against the hull of the ship, gasped, and flung a hand across his chest.
“Get that traitor out of here,” Axton roared, stomping out the doorway of one of the houses with his rifle ready to fire again.
“Need backup,” McCall bellowed toward the open hatch of the ship as she sprinted toward Dash.
Fear clutched her heart like a cyborg’s fist. Three suns, had that been a killing blow? She couldn’t lose Dash. She’d just found him, damn it.
The androids stormed out and sprang at the cyborgs with impressive speed. But the cyborgs had impressive speed, too, and they leaped into action immediately.
Dash dropped to his knees as he sucked in pained breaths, his eyes squinted shut. McCall gripped him, wishing her support could help him. His hand shifted to clasp hers, and she saw the scorch hole in his uniform and knew the bolt had burned straight into his shoulder.
Not a killing blow, she told herself, struggling to focus on the danger they were still in instead of his injury. At least for now. Would he be able to fight?
“I’m fine,” he bit out even though he clearly wasn’t. “We have to get Axton.”
McCall hesitated. The idea of chasing after a trained cyborg with only her stun gun sounded ludicrous, but if he ran off into the jungle, she would never see her ship again. Or Junkyard or Scipio.
“I’ll get him.” She jumped up.
Before she’d taken a step, an android was hurled ten feet and slammed into the hull of the ship less than two feet from her. The blow left a dent in the hull—and in the android.
Utter chaos had broken out, and an android threw his foe in another direction, the cyborg roaring as he sailed into a compost pile.
Dash forced himself to his feet and gripped McCall’s arm. His eyes were still tight with pain, but he said, “We’ll get him.”
Skirting the fight, Dash ran toward the building Axton had come out of. McCall hurried after him. His left arm hung limp as he ran, but he retained his grip on his blazer rifle, and his stride was as determined as McCall’s.
Axton no longer stood in the doorway. Had he run off into the jungle or to some other building? Or was he waiting inside that one to snipe them as they came into view?
“Should we try a back entrance?” McCall asked as they drew near.
Behind them, more cyborgs were streaming out of buildings. Blazer rifles squealed as men yelled and cursed, and McCall feared her androids would soon be pummeled into thousands of worthless pieces.
Not answering, Dash sprinted to the front doorway. He dove through, rolling across the floorboards and out of McCall’s sight.
Crimson bolts lit up the darkening night as they zipped out through the doorway. Some must have hit the wall inside because wood exploded outward.
Dash roared, and McCall, crouching outside, heard him returning fire. Not seeing herself duplicating his dive, she ran around the corner of the building. She would look for a back entrance.
A crash sounded inside, and she hoped she would have time to find it. Dash wasn’t a cyborg or an android. Just a normal human being with a few mental talents, now in a fight against someone with the strength of a tank.
McCall found a back door. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked. Not that someone would be insane enough to break into a cyborg’s home to steal something.
She slipped into a dark kitchen and had no trouble hearing the crashes and shouts coming from the front of the building. She patted her way toward a hallway she could barely make out in the gloom.
“What did you do with her ship, thief?” Dash yelled.
“You dare question my honor, you Alliance traitor!” Axton yelled back.
At least McCall knew Axton was indeed the one they were fighting.
“Leaving the empire
isn’t dishonorable. Stealing from an innocent person is. Did you already sell it? What did you do with it?”
“Screw you.” A thunderous crash followed Axton’s words. It sounded like an entire wall had been knocked down.
McCall rushed down the hallway, fingers tight around the grip of her stun gun. Axton wasn’t in combat armor. The weapon should be enough to take him down.
She reached a large gaming room and spotted a giant hole in a side wall. Dash lay on his back, his hands up, his rifle nowhere in sight. Axton stood above him, prepared to smash a table down onto his chest.
McCall fired. Her stun bolt struck Axton in the back as he hurled the table down, and she cried out, terrified she was too late.
But Dash rolled to the side as the heavy piece descended. It clipped him in his already-wounded shoulder, and he cursed in pain, but most of the table smashed against the floorboards. Wood shattered into dozens of pieces. The stun worked, and Axton pitched forward, landing amid the carnage.
Panting, Dash collapsed on his back, grabbing his shoulder again.
McCall ran to him, pausing only long enough to make sure Axton truly was unconscious, then dropped to her knees beside Dash.
“Good,” Dash said. “It worked.”
“What?” She glanced at his wounded shoulder.
“Me distracting him while you sneaked up from behind and stunned him.”
“Did you know that’s what I was going to do?”
“I was hoping for something along those lines.”
She patted him on the chest. “I’m glad it worked.”
“No kiss for a wounded warrior?” Dash asked.
She couldn’t believe he truly had that in mind. Who wanted lips all over them when they were in excruciating pain?
“We still have to figure out how to get the location of the Star Surfer from him.” McCall eyed the large unconscious man, wondering if she and Dash were strong enough to carry him back to the ship. And could they get past the battle raging outside to reach it? Her poor androids were still engaged with the cyborgs, but she dared not call them off. She couldn’t let the cyborgs race over and carry Axton away before she could—
“Once we know that, then do I get a kiss?” Dash asked.
“Yes. I won’t even make you rub my scalp for it.”
He puffed a laugh. “I do that because you enjoy it, not because you make me. Also, your hair is soft and tickles my hand.”
“I’m glad your flesh finds my hair appealing, but this isn’t the time to discuss it. Can you get up?” She knelt back, offering her hand.
“Yes, but I thought I’d first tell you that your ship is at Gregor’s Active Paint not three miles from the android factory we visited.”
“He told you?” McCall gaped at him, uncertainty mingling with hope in her heart. Was that truly where the Star Surfer was?
“The location flashed in his mind while I was questioning him. And I’ll have you know it’s extremely difficult to use your telepathic skills while a cyborg is hurling furniture at you.”
“I… You’re wonderful.” She bent down and kissed him.
His mouth tasted of wood dust, and his lip was swollen, but he grinned and returned the kiss, gently brushing her cheek with his fingers.
“Much better,” he whispered, appearing content as she drew back.
“You’re a strange man, Dash.”
“And you’re a strange woman.”
“Yes, I am.”
“That I adore.” He beamed another grin at her, but it turned into a wince as he rolled over and pushed himself to his feet. He had to grip the wall to keep from toppling back down again.
McCall stood close and offered her shoulder. “Do we leave him here?”
Dash frowned down at Axton. “I’m not truly a law enforcer anymore, or I won’t be when they figure out everything I’ve done these last couple of weeks, so it’s not my job to arrest him. He may be less bitter and less likely to come after us if we leave him here. Unless you feel some need for revenge?”
“No, I do feel a need to retreat while some of my androids remain in one piece.” McCall grimaced at the torn-up ground near the ship, the men and androids still battling.
None of the cyborgs were glancing in this direction. Did they know Axton was down? That they didn’t need to defend him any longer? They kept cursing and leaping into battle, like Old Earth berserkers that didn’t know or care if they were winning or losing.
“Let’s go then,” Dash said. “Get on the ship before calling the androids back. We’ll see if we can slip away without losing them.”
McCall let Dash lead again, following him toward the ship and again taking a circuitous route so the combatants wouldn’t notice them. She hoped.
McCall did pause when she had a clear shot at a cyborg. She fired her stun gun, clipping him on the leg. He whirled toward her with fury in his eyes, and she feared she’d made a mistake, that the glancing blow wouldn’t be enough to knock him out.
The cyborg snarled and ran three steps toward them, but then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he tumbled to the ground.
“Hurry,” Dash urged, pausing to look back. “They lowered the shields to let the androids out, and it doesn’t look like they raised them again, so the hull has taken some damage. We need to get inside before it takes more.”
Despite his words, he waited for McCall to catch up with him before running toward the hatch. She sprinted into the ship, glad to escape the sounds of blazers firing and flesh smacking against synthetic flesh. Someone cried out in pain—a cyborg, since androids felt no pain—and she winced, regretting that they hadn’t been able to get to Axton without starting a battle.
“Did you find him?” Rose asked as Dash charged past her on the way to navigation.
“We got what we came for.” Dash sprang into the pilot’s seat. “McCall, call your androids in and be poised to close the hatch on any cyborgs that try to follow.”
“On it.” McCall raised her voice, hoping the androids with their better-than-human hearing would hear her order over the fighting. “Androids, back to the ship!”
They obeyed instantly, turning from their battles to sprint for the hatch. Unfortunately, the cyborgs reacted quickly too. By now, they were riled and angry, and a few faces contorted with rage locked onto McCall as she stood inside the hatchway, fingers hovering over the controls.
Three androids raced past her, jumping into the ship. But a cyborg with a hatchet came after that. She fired her stun gun twice. He dodged so fast the white bolts almost zipped past him, but one caught his arm, the nimbus flaring up it and across his torso. His steps stuttered, but he hefted the hatchet to throw. McCall fired again, then jerked herself behind the protection of the hull.
The hatchet spun through the hatchway and slammed into the ceiling, embedding itself in the tiles.
Her heart pounding, McCall eased one eye and her stun gun out in case she needed to fire again. But her third shot must have hit the cyborg more fully. He lay on ground churned from dirt and grass to mud in the battle.
More androids jumped over the fallen cyborg, some carrying their comrades. One carried an android over his shoulder and the same android’s arm in his hand.
A cyborg fired a blazer at the rearmost android’s back, but he was still able to spring inside. He collapsed on the deck beside McCall, a smoking hole in his back.
A cyborg outside lifted a rifle at the hatchway, at her, but as she jumped to the side again, he lowered it without firing. It was the gray-haired leader. His expression was one of disgust, but he seemed to realize there was no point in continuing to fight. The intruders were leaving.
The android on the deck was the last one. McCall hit a button, swinging the hatch down before any cyborgs could spring inside after her.
“Go, Dash!” she called.
From the way the ship lurched into the air, she knew he’d been waiting for that command for ages. Or at least fifteen seconds.
“Shields are up,”
Dash announced as they soared toward the sky. “But they’re not firing.”
“Good.” McCall sank to the deck, her shoulder against the hull. She was mentally exhausted and wanted nothing more than to find her ship, hug her friends, and then hole up in her cabin for days to read and paint without interacting with any other human beings. “Good,” she murmured again.
Even though Dash assured her he’d seen the truth in Axton’s mind, trepidation filled McCall as she walked up to the front of the hangar-sized paint shop. What if her ship wasn’t here? What if the painter had decided to betray Axton and sell it? What if—her lips twisted in distaste—it had already been painted and was beige or gray or something hideously boring?
She supposed she could handle that scenario, assuming she could scrounge up the money to have it repainted again after she had spent almost everything she had on androids. Dear suns, what was she going to do with those androids now? Dented and scorched, they were waiting in an alley near where Dash had dropped them all off. She would lose half her investment if she tried to sell used and damaged androids back to the factory.
Shaking her head, McCall pressed the buzzer for the door. Would anybody be in this late at night? Dash had suggested she wait until morning and the shop’s regular business hours, but she couldn’t risk delaying any longer. Besides, he and that ship full of Alliance people were all in danger as long as they were here in the city. Someone would inevitably find the vessel again and send more than a handful of officers to recover it.
A twenty-something, groggy-looking man with hair like an untrimmed shrub answered.
“I’m McCall Richter, the rightful owner of the purple Comet Cruiser 559 that a criminal brought in to have painted,” she blurted, trying to peer past his shoulder as she spoke. Was it in the bay? Had he started painting it yet?
A thunderous ah-roo ah-roo rang out from behind the man.
McCall’s mouth dropped open. She knew that canine sound.
“Junkyard?”
The young man opened his mouth to speak, but a large mongrel dog ran past, knocking him out of the doorway. Junkyard collided with McCall, and she flung her arms around him to keep from falling. It didn’t work, and they went down in a heap on the walkway. Junkyard wagged like a can in a paint mixer, smothering her as he slathered her with his tongue.
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