As he gently pulled her upward, Zoe groaned, her teeth gritted, and tried to force her way past him. “I’ve got to go to her!”
Grady flicked his eyes to Rosie’s body, her eyes open and unmoving, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, but she’s gone.”
“No,” Zoe growled. “She can’t be.” With a sudden reserve of strength, she wrenched from his grasp and tottered forward, reaching the base of the oak tree before he caught up with her.
He’d witnessed enough corpses to know at a glance that the rebel leader was dead, her chest and stomach a gory, pulped mass, but Zoe flung herself down and placed two fingers against Rosie’s carotid artery.
An explosion followed by a bellow of rage made Grady spin around, his hand going for his pistol as the ground heaved. One cyborg was down, smoke wafting from his chest; evidence, he surmised, of a grenade impact. The second was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a rebel in combat armor, as reinforcements arrived.
But figures in black combat gear appeared from among the trees—whether mercenaries or Earth Galactic commandos, he didn’t know—and began to engage the militia members.
His heart clenched when he spotted one of the Mbekis lying below the holo image with his head turned to the side. The top part of his skull was gone, sheared off. From the man’s blank expression, his eyes wide but seeing nothing, there was no doubt he was dead.
It took a moment for the man’s blood-spattered goatee to register and for Grady to recognize alternate Mbeki. Mingled grief and guilt warred in his chest. While regretting the death, was he wrong to feel thankful that the casualty wasn’t the lookalike marine who’d joined his crew?
A wail brought his gaze to the floor at his feet. Zoe threw her head back and let out a feral screech. “No!”
Once again, Grady holstered his weapon and, this time, was able to help Zoe up without any resistance. “I’m truly sorry, but we’ll be joining her if we don’t get the hell out of here.”
“Captain,” called a familiar voice. “We must move out. This position is untenable.” Grady nodded, almost sighing with relief when Sergeant Mbeki took Zoe’s other arm. His forehead was smeared with blood, and he gripped his laser rifle with one hand.
“Are you wounded?” Grady asked.
“Nothing serious,” came the soldier’s reply. “Unlike my counterpart.”
Grady nodded, his countenance bleak, and scanned their surroundings. More black-clad figures had arrived, outnumbering the few rebel soldiers who remained standing. How many attackers had Cassandra managed to sneak onto the station without being noticed? She must have been planning this attack for weeks, if not months.
The fight, at least in this section of New Heb, would soon be lost. Growing anxious about Zoe’s condition, Grady spotted a narrow trail behind the oak tree leading off into the thick undergrowth. “This way,” he said, motioning with his hand.
As they reached the first of the trees, the sound of combat drawing closer, Grady cast a despondent glance over his shoulder at Rosie’s forlorn corpse. Though she was not the same person as the Rosie he knew, liked, and respected, he couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of loss at her violent death.
What promised to be a positive meeting, with news of a potential alliance to boost the insurgency, had degenerated into a bloodbath. The rebellion had been betrayed.
31
The trail snaked through the heavy brush. Even as he worried about being detected, Grady marveled at the ingenuity of the park deck’s designers. It would have been easy to forget that this was anything but a thriving, natural wood somewhere on Earth—in an area of the planet not yet ravaged by climate change—or a fecund enclave within a terraformed colony.
The trees and intertwining vegetation reminded him so much of growing up on New Ireland, with its abundant flora transplanted from Earth, that he experienced a momentary stab of nostalgia.
Another explosion and the sizzle of laser fire—interspersed with yells and shrieks of pain—shattered his cozy imaginings, reminding him they were in grave danger. The dense undergrowth had so far shielded them from being spotted, while any noise they made—such as the snapping of a twig underfoot or a moan of agony from Zoe—was drowned out by the din of combat from nearby.
They reached a fork in the trail, and Grady signaled a halt. They were deep enough in the brush that he decided he could risk a hurried comm to Adventurer. He needed to know if the ship remained secure or was under attack.
“Grady to Adventurer,” he whispered, moving to stand behind a thick tree—its verdant canopy arching above his head. Mbeki stayed at Zoe’s side, helping her to remain upright as he offered her a drink of water from his canteen.
“Jack,” came Tara’s voice, higher pitched than normal and sounding worried. “I’ve been trying to reach you. Are you guys okay?”
“Sorry, I turned off my comms for Rosie’s speech,” Grady said, eyeing the path behind him. “We’re alive, but Zoe’s hurt, not sure how bad. What’s your situation?”
“Mal detected multiple detonations in various sections of New Heb,” Tara said. “The station’s main shield is down. Our ship is safe, for now. But long-range sensors show a large body of vessels just dropped out of FTL and are headed our way from the direction of the Badlands. They’re too distant to get a fix on their identity, but I’m betting they’re not friendlies.”
Grady grimaced and bit back a curse. “That settles it. I thought the blockade was under-strength, and we broke through too easily. I’m beginning to suspect they wanted the rebels from the Badlands to escape to New Heb. Gather all the insurgents from this sector in one place. It was a trap, and we fell for it.”
“They?”
“The new Eternal Empire, formerly Earth Galactic. Council member Cassandra has declared herself to be governor of this station, appointed by self-styled Emperor Zhang. Enemy shock troops have gained entry—numbers unknown—doubtless with the help of Cassandra and whoever else is working with her. Rosie’s counterpart is dead, assassinated before we could intervene, and intense fighting has broken out.”
Tara swore and asked, her tone bleak, “What are your orders?”
A groan attracted Grady’s attention. “Zoe needs urgent medical help. Tell Doc to be ready. We’re bringing her back to the ship instead of risking the station’s hospital, in case it’s been compromised or we can’t reach it in time if we have to fight our way through. I’m uncertain how long Zoe has.”
Tara gave another curse. “Understood. Will you be able to make it to the docking bay without further incident?”
Grady exchanged a look with Mbeki. “We’ll get there, don’t worry. Meanwhile, sound battle stations and keep my ship safe.” He was about to tap off when Mal cut in. “Sorry to interrupt, Captain, but I am receiving an urgent comm on a secure channel, asking to be put through to you. Source is within the station.”
“From?”
“It appears to be from Major Kotov.”
Grady hesitated. What if it was Cassandra or one of her co-conspirators, hoping to trick Grady into giving away his location? On the other hand, if the caller was Kotov, he wanted to do all he could to help protect the station and its thousands of innocent inhabitants, after first ensuring Zoe received proper care. “Put him through.”
His ear-mic crackled, then Kotov’s voice cut through the distortion. “Captain, I need your assistance,” he said without preamble, his tone composed but with an underlying hint of agitation. “Cassandra and an undetermined number of defectors have captured central control room and sealed themselves behind blast doors. It’s a secure, self-contained area, designed to protect those inside should station be breached. They’ve gained access to automated defense grid and are threatening to destroy any ship that attempts to leave to intercept the incoming imperial vessels.”
“What about Commander Lorcan and his patrol?”
“Status unknown, I regret to say. External comms have been disabled—voice and data—and I can’t raise them. We managed to reroute control over internal comms before the ops center was lost.” Kotov’s voice sounded bitter as he went on. “We have been stabbed in back by one of our own. Cassandra has much to answer for.”
