by Rachel Aukes
Throttle nodded to her arm. “Were you shot?”
Sylvian looked down. “Oh, this? I slipped and fell in a puddle of blood. That’s where all this came from. It’s not even mine. I wasn’t watching where I was running.”
Finn glared at Punch, who seemed to be watching him with humor. Embracing Sylvian was the only reason Throttle could sense that was keeping Finn from tackling the errant marshal. “I’m going to kill him,” Finn muttered under his breath.
“He protected me,” Sylvian said. “He kept me behind him the entire time.” She shot a hard look at Punch. “Even though I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know you are,” Finn said. “It doesn’t mean I wasn’t still worried. When I couldn’t get a hold of you on your comm-chip…”
“Oh, I forgot to unmute it.” She tapped the chip and smiled. “I’m fine, and I don’t want you to kill Punch. Not on my account.”
Finn scowled.
Chief spun around in his chair to face the marshals. “The lockdown has been deactivated. But we’re still blind with no video feeds and no Atlas.”
A specialist with a broken nose spoke. “Chief, East blew the Atlas control center. We aren’t going to be able to bring Atlas back up. But we should be able to get video feeds up and going. I just need a couple of minutes.”
“Thank you, Meghan.”
“Chief,” Sylvian began, “we were watching the feeds from the Atlas server room after we brought it back online. We saw them place the explosives, but we couldn’t get up here in time to stop them. Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for, Specialist Salazar-Martin,” Chief said. “We can operate without Atlas, though it’ll be more difficult without being able to communicate with our teams. Our people are spread out, fighting, and I can’t see who needs help.”
“Get the feeds up, and we’ll serve as runners,” Detroit said. “We can see which areas are safe, and we’ll move teams into the areas that still need help.”
“You’re assuming we’ve beaten back the pirates in any areas,” Munny said.
“Of course we have. We’re marshals, you putz,” Detroit countered.
“Enough,” Chief said. “We still have much work to do.”
“The feeds are coming up now,” the specialist said.
“Good. Thank you once again, Meghan.”
“Do you see East on any of them?” Throttle asked as she walked over to look at the screens as well. On nearly every screen, Peacekeepers fought against pirates. There was a breach on level seven that had left an entire hallway empty. In some cases, the marshals had won or were clearly winning. In other instances, pirates were running free, with dead Peacekeepers on the floor behind them. There was no clear victor yet.
“I see my people fighting and needing support.” Chief looked at the feeds while he spoke. “I need to coordinate with my people on Free Station. East isn’t here, which means we have to chase her down.”
Throttle spoke. “I’ll go after East from outside. If she makes it onto the Bendix, the Javelin is the only thing standing between her and escape.”
He nodded. “Good. I need everyone else here. I know I’m no good out there in my current condition. I’ll stay here and coordinate movement by using you all as runners, except for you, Sylvian. You’re injured and will stay here.”
Throttle nodded to her two crew members and started to head out of the room. “I’ll see you soon.”
“We’re receiving an incoming ping, Chief,” a specialist said. “It’s encoded with the Red Dynasty credentials.”
“Broadcast an official Peacekeeper greeting,” Chief said. “Hold up, Throttle.”
She turned back around. On one of the external video feeds, she saw a massive ship approach the station. It was easily three times as large as the Wu Zetian, but it carried a full complement of weapons.
“That looks more like a warship than a reclamation ship,” she said.
“I’d forgotten about them,” Sylvian said.
“If you’d come face-to-face with them before, you would not find them easy to forget,” Chief said.
A specialist spoke. “The Red ship received our greeting, and they responded with the following: We have arrived as part of a sanctioned operation for the Red Dynasty. We have come to reclaim the property of the Red Dynasty and to see evidence of justice against those responsible for its damage. Respond with proof of full compliance, and we may provide assistance with your current needs.
“How do you want to respond?” the specialist asked.
“Don’t respond yet,” Chief said as he scoured the screens before him. “As long as I can’t prove compliance, we’re in more danger from them than we are from the Jaders. Damn it, where is East?”
A response came a minute later, and the specialist translated the message. “They said: If you have failed to meet all obligations under our agreement, you are in breach of contract. Not fulfilling signed contracts is a breach of the peace treaty. Respond with proof of full compliance.”
Chief sighed. “Tell them that the Wu Zetian is ready to be transferred to them. And that we have the ship responsible in our docking bay and that we’re in progress of—wait.” He pushed to his feet and focused on a screen.
Throttle saw it, too. The Bendix was pulling out of the docking bay. She’d never get to the Javelin in time.
Chief retook his seat. “Tell them the Wu Zetian is ready to be transferred to them, and that the ship and crew that attacked their seed ship has just pulled out of the docking bay. Tell them we left the honor of punishment to them.”
“Sent, Chief,” the specialist said.
“Chief, I should get to the Javelin in case they let East get away,” Throttle said.
“They won’t,” he said. “I just hope they don’t destroy us in the process.” He glanced around the room. “You’d better all grab on to something.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Anna East grabbed onto Yank as she stood on the bridge of the Bendix. The pirate ship had cleared the docking bay and was moving at full sub-speed when their viewscreen was filled by a gargantuan of a vessel.
“What is that?” she asked, fear snagging the air in her throat.
Yank didn’t move, but the arm she held had become as hard as iron. “It’s the Reds.”
Her jaw slackened even more as she realized the force they faced. She stepped away and shoved him. “Do something, you idiot. Fly around them. Get us out of here!”
He pointed. “It’s too late.”
She turned back to the viewscreen. Massive photon cannons protruded from open panels in the hull of the Red ship.
She took a step forward and clutched the fabric over her chest. “No.”
Bright flashes of light were the last things Anna East ever saw.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The Chinese ship had fired not one, but three photon cannons. A flash of light as bright as a star blinded the black sky as it shot toward the small pirate ship. All three were direct hits. The Bendix exploded. The batteries of all the stolen weaponry in its cargo bay blew up with it, creating a starburst of what promised to be a brilliant light show, only to be all too quickly snuffed out by the vacuum of space.
Throttle stood and stared. East was dead. Throttle had long envisioned how she’d kill the person who’d ordered the deaths of half of her crew. She’d never envisioned seeing East impersonally killed from a distance. It was…anticlimactic.
The entire room was silent until a specialist spoke. “They’ve responded with the following: We consider the terms of the contract fulfilled. Your obligation is complete. We will depart once we have reclaimed our property.”
Chief let out a breath. “Tell them that they are our guests and welcome to stay as long as they desire while they collect their property.” He stared at the screens for a moment before turning to the third specialist. “Wael, broadcast me through the emergency system.”
After a couple of seconds, the specialist turned back to
him. “It’s ready, Chief.”
Chief nodded and pressed something on his screen. “Attention, everyone on Free Station. This is Chief Roux in the command center. We have reclaimed Free Station, and Anna East is dead. All Jaders who came here under Anna East’s employment are ordered to surrender immediately to the nearest Peacekeeper. Surrender now and you will live. Continue fighting and you will die. Try to escape, and your ship will be blown out of the sky. The Chinese are outside now and will see to that.”
“Chief!” a specialist said. “Look. Peacekeeper ships are arriving. Most look to be coming in from Hiraeth.”
“That’s because they’re the nearest,” Chief said. “More will come now that Atlas doesn’t have their ships locked down.”
Punch sneered. “You’re welcome.”
“For what?” Hank asked.
“For bringing Atlas back online, of course,” Punch answered.
Detroit glared. “You nearly got us all killed. East set off a timer to blow Free Station when you did that.”
“Well, good thing it didn’t blow, then,” Punch answered.
“We still have work to do.” Chief turned to everyone in the room. “There are still people fighting who need our help.”
“That ‘surrender or die’ offer didn’t work before either,” Punch said.
“That was before our friends showed up,” Chief said.
Punch’s brow lifted. “I wouldn’t call the Red Dynasty friends unless you believe in that ‘enemy of my enemy’ crap.”
“I call them friends in the same way I call you a friend,” Chief said.
Punch quieted; then his gaze narrowed on one of the screens. He walked closer.
Throttle’s gaze narrowed on the figure who was standing in the docking bay, busily working at the dock controls of the ship she’d carried back in the Javelin’s cargo hold. “Is that Pete Antonov?”
Punch straightened, spun around, and eyed Chief. “I’ll be back.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Punch strode through the docking bay. There were fewer bodies than he’d expected, but there were dozens down from each side. As he walked, he noticed a heavily armed pirate with a blaster shot through his gut. Punch knew from experience that those were the most painful shots to have.
He knelt by the pirate. The Jader was older than most, looking to be near seventy, which could explain why he carried two strings of grenades—he used explosives to make up for physical weakness. Punch reached out and tugged a grenade off the body. The pirate groaned. In a flash of movement, Punch pulled out his knife and stuck it into the man’s neck. Blood poured from the man’s jugular, and he made a choking sound. Punch wiped his blade on the pirate’s dirty jacket and sheathed the blade. The choking stopped, and the pirate’s mouth and lifeless eyes remained open.
Punch stood, tossed the grenade lightly, caught it in his palm, and continued walking forward. He heard moaning as he walked through the aftermath of the battle. He ignored the sound and continued, focused on his objective.
He found what he was looking for midway through the docking bay.
Marshal Pete Antonov, also known as Skully Pete, was hunched over a dock-control panel, frantically swiping through screens. Punch crept slowly forward, careful not to make a sound. Somehow, as though he had a sixth sense, Pete looked over his shoulder. They made eye contact for the briefest instant. Punch fired as both men spun out of each other’s way. Pete pulled a pistol and was firing back before he hit the floor.
Punch used a box of hardware as cover. As he knelt behind it, he saw an open section in the wall—the panel that’d been cut now stood propped against the wall. The interior of the wall revealed vertical rows of cables, several of which had been tapped into from what looked like a hacker’s kit. He realized it was likely the hardline Pete had used to attach to Atlas. He chuckled, realizing how easily he could’ve taken down the hardline from that spot if he’d only waited. But he’d never been known for his patience, and that character flaw had seen him nearly killed on more than one occasion.
He peeked around the edge of the hardware and was nearly taken out by a blaster shot.
“That you, Durand?” Pete asked.
Punch grinned, knowing he’d made a clean hit with his first shot. “Sure am. How’s the leg?”
“I thought you’d be a better shot. You’re going to regret that you didn’t kill me when you had the chance.”
“Nah. I was aiming for your leg,” Punch said.
The pirate said nothing.
“Let me guess. Still trying to get that restraining cable off your piece-of-shit ship?” Punch asked.
Pete still said nothing.
“Thought so.” He heard movement and swung out to see Pete rushing him with a heavy limp. Punch rolled and fired the instant he came to his knee. The pirate raised his pistol and shot a spray of blasts. The combination of shooting while both running and injured made Pete’s shots fly high and wide.
Punch’s shot didn’t miss. The blast hit the pirate in the calf of his other leg, and Pete went down. Punch came to his feet. Pete pulled up his pistol to fire again, but his opponent shot first and burned a hole through the pirate’s hand. Pete, unable to keep a grip, dropped his weapon.
Punch strolled toward him. Pete reached for another pistol with his uninjured hand, and Punch shot a hole through that palm as well.
The pirate, grimacing, tried to crawl to cover. Punch shot him in the ass. The pirate cried out but kept trying to crawl to safety. Punch cocked his head as he considered his options and fired into Pete’s shoulder. The pirate collapsed and tried to pull himself back up, but Punch had reached him and kicked him back down.
Punch cast an ominous shadow over the pirate. “You were none too kind to me. I owe you some payback.”
“I’ve got credits,” Pete gritted out. “More than you could ever use in a lifetime.”
“More than you’ll use in your lifetime, I’d wager,” Punch corrected and shot Pete in his other shoulder.
Pete cried out in pain. “What do you want? Anything, you name it. I can make sure you get it.”
Punch chuckled with no hint of humor. “You can’t help me with what I want.”
He was about to take another shot when Pete collapsed fully on the floor. Some of the pain left his expression as the pirate seemed to surrender to his fate.
A calm came over Punch. Pete had nearly broken him; Punch had been hell-bent on fully breaking Pete, and he’d succeeded. He looked down at the pirate. “You should’ve made sure I was dead. I won’t make the same mistake.”
Punch turned and left the pirate lying on the ground. Once he made it about ten feet away, he pulled the pin on the grenade and rolled it across the floor to where it bumped into Pete. Punch made it behind the hardware when the blast went off, followed by a horrible wind.
He grabbed onto the hardline cable still connected to the cable in the wall. “Shit,” he muttered as he held on to keep from sliding toward the hull breach he’d created.
The panel that’d been propped against the wall flew, nearly decapitating him as it sliced through the air. It hit the hole with a shudder, though it blocked nearly the entire hole. But it wasn’t going to hold. The panel shook as though shivering from the frozen space outside.
Near the panel, he saw an emergency repair canister. He grabbed the red tube before letting go of the hardline. He scraped across the floor as the pressure continued to try to suck him out of the station. As he was pulled across the floor, he grabbed the handle on the canister. The distance between him and the hole was closing fast. Pete’s body—whatever was left of it from the blast—was gone, and Punch was about to follow the pirate into the abyss.
He squeezed the canister’s handle. A thick orange foam shot out. The foam expanded rapidly, forming a seal between the breach and the wall panel covering much of it. When no more wind pulled at him, he ran over and grabbed two more canisters and thoroughly covered the entire breach and wall panel.
Finis
hed, he exhaled, and his breath seemed to exhale much of his remaining energy. He dropped the canisters and stood limply staring at the foam-filled breach.
He’d really thought that Free Station’s docking bay walls would’ve been reinforced to handle a ship bumping into its walls. Once he caught his breath, he dusted himself off and strode away from the breach. He was going to make a stern recommendation to Chief about the docking bay’s walls.
As he walked back through the docking bay from the direction he’d come, he still heard the moaning. He paused this time to see a young specialist propped against a wall. The man was holding a blaster wound in his hip.
Punch strode over to the Peacekeeper and bent down to pull the man up and over his shoulders. “Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Throttle stood in Free Station’s docking bay and looked out the window to watch the Javelin undergo repairs. When the Chinese reclamation ship destroyed the Bendix, debris had shot out in all directions. Fortunately, the intensity of the blast had turned most of the debris into objects no bigger than a grain of sand, but there were a few larger pieces that wreaked havoc on anything they hit. The Javelin had only been pelted by the grain-sized debris, causing small dents across the hull. Most of the damage was cosmetic, which Throttle didn’t worry about, but some caused problems with the ship’s sensors and movable parts.
“It’s still the prettiest ship here, even with the new dings,” Sylvian said.
“Yes, it sure is,” Throttle answered. She took in a breath and turned to her crew. Finn and Sylvian stood to her left. The specialist wore a brace on her broken arm. Otherwise, the pair looked in perfect health. Beyond them, Eddy wore a permanent pout. He’d spoken only to Sylvian since returning to the crew, blaming Throttle and Finn for abandoning him on the station when they took the Javelin up to level eight.