Smoke from multiple fires drifted in clumps, the air heavy with the acrid stench of burning mixed with noxious fumes from chemical retardants, the station’s ventilation system straining to cope.
Figures darted here and there, some wearing firefighter gear, others the uniform of IC militia, but few regular inhabitants ventured into the corridors. Grady assumed anyone not part of emergency support, or the security services, had chosen to shelter at home or a safe area to wait out the fighting, no doubt hoping the rebels would emerge victorious. Anyone caught in the open by the imperials was likely to be targeted, and either taken prisoner or shot on sight.
He’d been tempted to deviate from his original intention and make straight for the headquarters of station security as the quickest way to find medical help for Zoe. But that assumed it hadn’t already been overrun by the well-armed intruders.
He was certain Cassandra had planned this violent takeover far in advance. A viper in the nest, betraying secret intel, maybe even organizing acts of sabotage. Biding her time, suborning less committed rebels to defect to her cause, while facilitating the infiltration of agents loyal to what was now the Eternal Empire.
It must have been she who leaked plans to seize New Heb, in this reality. Enemy troops came close to crushing the insurgency before it even began, but failed, underestimating the strength of the rebel forces. Now they had arrived to take back what the mother planet had so ignominiously lost.
Cassandra’s treachery meant he had no way of determining who was loyal to the Interstellar Coalition and who was working to destroy it. He realized he could trust no one other than his own people. He even wondered about Kotov and Prentice. The major, he told himself, was committed to the rebellion. What if Prentice had been bribed or otherwise coerced to favor the imperials? He dismissed the worrying thought. She didn’t strike him as a turncoat.
He wondered how Phil was faring. Was his squadron engaged in a desperate battle to prevent the incoming imperial ships from reaching New Heb? And what about Phil’s wife, Anna, and daughter, Beatrice? In this reality, Phil had told him they were safe on an asteroid in an outlying rebel held outpost. But how long before it too came under attack?
New Heb and all the remaining rebel strongholds in this sector are under threat from the enemy fleet, he thought. Nothing I can do about that right now. First things first. Get Zoe to Doc Hawthorne, then deal with the hostiles holding the ops center and help save New Heb.
So, he kept them to less well-used passages, stalking a few paces ahead, alert for danger, Mbeki’s weapon braced and ready. The sergeant carried Zoe across his shoulders. Sweat streaked his brow and rippled down his temples, but he pressed doggedly on, gritty determination stamped on his countenance.
“Problem?” the sergeant whispered, his voice hoarse from the vapors tainting the air.
Grady risked a hurried peek over the corner of the damaged electric buggy, then settled lower and murmured. “We have to cross the reception hall to reach the corridors leading to the docks where Adventurer is berthed. It’s a wide-open area. I count seven bodies and signs of a recent firefight. But no one moving around, as far as I can see.”
Mbeki hesitated, narrowing his eyes, then brushed the back of his hand across his forehead. “You suspect a trap?”
“It’s the perfect choke point,” Grady whispered, nodding his head. “Several passages converge here from various points in the station. It’s the main access point to the docking zone in this section.”
Shouts, and the angry rasp of weapons fire, echoed from the distance. There was the muted crump of a detonation. An alarm shrilled, then was abruptly stilled.
“Is there another way?”
Grady flicked his gaze to Zoe and back to the trooper. “Yes. But it involves a long detour. I’m not sure how much time she has left.”
“And we’ve been lucky so far in avoiding trouble,” Mbeki said. “But that can’t last, I fear.”
“I suspect the intruders are focused on securing key facilities. They may not have sufficient boots on the ground to seize the entire station and are digging in, waiting for reinforcements to arrive on the ships Mal detected,” Grady said. He paused, gazing back at the corridor from which they had just emerged. “Still, I’ve been wondering where that last cyborg is. Hopefully, we gave him the slip.”
“Or he’s smarter than we think and is waiting for us. The enemy may have deduced that we would fall back to our ship and set up an ambush.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Grady said. “There are a lot of hiding places before we reach Adventurer’s docking slot.” Grady took another swift glance over the edge of the mangled vehicle. “It’s too damn quiet here. Either the fighting has moved on, or—”
A thunderous explosion resounded from deeper into the station, and the lights went out. “Sounds like the power plant has been hit,” Grady whispered. He wondered if the rebels had blown it up themselves, to slow the attackers’ progress, or if hostiles had destroyed it to make life more difficult for the defenders. Backup lights trickled on, faint white splotches amid the inky murk, far fewer than he would have expected.
He turned to Mbeki. “This might work in our favor, make us less visible. We can’t delay any longer. Are you ready?” He glimpsed the sergeant’s confirming nod and rose into a crouch, nestling the stock of the laser rifle against his shoulder as he scanned the silent reception area. A grunt told him Mbeki had hoisted Zoe onto his back again.
Grady’s ear-mic vibrated as he was about to step from behind the vehicle. He grasped the rifle with his right hand and shifted his left to tap the device. “Bro, where are you guys?” came Tara’s voice, sounding agitated. At least point-to-point voice comms from Adventurer remained operational and weren’t being jammed. Yet.
“Can’t talk now,” Grady murmured. “We’re about to enter the docking area.”
“Good, because the incoming vessels are getting closer. Looks like there’s a running firefight and both sides are taking casualties.”
Grady tapped twice to indicate he’d heard and understood, then toggled the ear-mic off. “Let’s move out,” he whispered. He motioned for Mbeki to follow him as he headed down the main aisle, the shortest route to the docks. Rows of empty seats on either side offered a place to hide and a degree of protection, however scanty, if they came under attack.
Rifle barrel leading the way, Grady stepped around another prone figure—no more than a dark mound on the floor—and wished he had time to check each one in case some were still alive and needed help. But he sensed they were already pushing their luck and didn’t want to delay, with Zoe requiring immediate care.
And what of the incoming enemy fleet? How long could Phil and his outgunned squadron hold out? Was there still enough time to implement Kotov’s plan to neutralize the enemy held ops center before Cassandra and her imperial sympathizers received significant reinforcements?
Grady was itching to join the battle in space, where he and Adventurer belonged. However, if New Heb fell, the rebellion would suffer a grievous, perhaps fatal, blow. He couldn’t leave without doing everything possible to prevent that.
They reached the middle of the reception area, hearing nothing but the occasional, far-off sizzle of laser fire and the muted thump of another explosion. Grenade, Grady’s mind recognized, even as his eyes probed the dimly lit surroundings, alert for any sign of activity.
The entrance to the hallway leading to where Adventurer was docked had just come into view when the thud of booted feet echoed from behind them.
Grady whirled, squinting in the half light. Several figures—their clothing difficult to make out—materialized from a side corridor. He caught the glint of emergency lighting off the weapon each person carried. Were they friendly militia or enemy commandos?
One was taller than the rest, and as Grady gestured for Mbeki to get behind him, a thin red light speared from the person’s head. It was the remaining cyborg.
Grady didn’t hesitate and opened fire, shouting, “Go! I’ll cover you. Get to the ship.” He ducked as a laser bolt sizzled past his head and glanced over his shoulder to see Mbeki scuttle forward, Zoe draped over his back.
The attackers fanned out to each side of the spacious reception area, taking cover behind the rows of seating. All except one. The cyborg roared and charged straight at Grady. “You killed my sister!”
Sister? An image of the female cyborg who had attacked him on Cavalier outpost flashed across the screen of Grady’s mind. With no time to process the fact that the cyborg assassins were related—a family business?—he backpedaled in a crouch, firing as he moved.
A bolt sliced into the cyborg’s armored chest. He shrugged it off but slowed, and raised what Grady realized was a machine laser, hefting it in two heavily muscled arms. The man’s sister had used a similar weapon to deadly effect.
How did this cyborg even know Grady and Mbeki were responsible for his sister’s death? Cassandra. Grady had briefed her and the other New Heb council members on the attack at Cavalier outpost. She must have leaked the intel to imperial forces when finalizing plans for the assault on the station.
With a groan, Grady dropped to his knees behind a line of seats. Though the wound he received during the encounter with the female cyborg was much improved thanks to the healing nanites, a sharp stab of pain lanced up his leg. The limb was still weaker than normal. The exertion of clambering down the maintenance shaft and hurrying through the corridors wasn’t helping his recovery.
As the cyborg took aim, Grady cursed and flung himself to the floor. He landed hard, ignoring the pulsating agony from his leg. He rolled twice before crawling under the seats, sliding on his belly to put more distance between himself and his determined assailant.
