A barrage of crimson laser bolts sparkled in the gloom, shredding the row of seats behind Grady in a cacophony of bangs and crashes. Can’t stay here, he desperately thought to himself, eyeing the distance to the hallway leading to the docking area. Could he sprint the remaining gap before the cyborg nailed him? Would his injured leg buckle if he attempted to run? If it did, and he fell in full view of his opponent, the outcome would be a foregone conclusion: sudden, painful death.
At least Mbeki was nowhere to be seen. Despite the imminent danger, Grady gave a relieved sigh that the sergeant had made it and hoped it would be in time to save Zoe.
He gritted his teeth at the pain and readied himself to rise into a crouch and dash for the corridor, willing his leg not to give out. A figure appeared inside the entrance to the docking zone, followed by a second one. They flattened themselves against the walls on either side of the doorway, furtive, seemingly aware of the vicious struggle unfolding in front of them.
Grady swore under his breath. Was he cut off? Had imperial commandos, or more cyborgs—family members or not—infiltrated the docks and blocked his escape? Was that why the reception area was empty when they arrived, except for the corpses, the intruders passing through on their way to secure the docking bays?
Worse, had Mbeki stumbled into a trap and been taken out, lying dead on the blood-slicked floor along with Zoe? He dismissed the distressing thought and slid his gaze to the laser rifle gripped in his hands. Plenty of charge left. If I’m going down, I’m taking as many of you bastards with me as I can.
He bobbed low again, slithering further forward on his stomach to get as close as possible to the docks before having to make a break for it. A woman’s voice, familiar yet unexpected, came to his ears: “Jack, over here!” Chalmers. What was she doing in the middle of a gun battle?
A second female voice, more high-pitched and equally well-known to him, added, “Captain, hurry!” It was Lian. He peered toward the hallway and recognized their silhouettes visible in the glow cast by the reserve lighting. Chalmers, cradling a laser carbine, leaned out and fired at a commando who was creeping along the edge of the room, forcing him to seek shelter behind the seats.
Despite the gravity of his situation, Grady couldn’t help but chuckle. “Warrior archeologist, indeed!” he murmured. I’m sure weapons training isn’t part of the typical academic curriculum, Professor. Just who the hell are you, really?
A laser bolt dinged a seat near him, sending plastiform chunks scything overhead. Time to go! Grady heaved himself into a crouch, clenching his jaw against the spike of pain from his injury. He snapped off a short burst at the cyborg, who was wrestling with the machine laser—which appeared to have jammed—then turned and urged himself into as much of a tottering rush as his legs could muster. Chalmers leaned out again, sending a flurry of energy bolts across the room to keep the attackers at bay.
With an enraged bellow, the cyborg tossed his inoperable weapon aside and thundered toward Grady, not even bothering to pause and draw the pistol holstered at his hip. As he drew near, a hidden laser barrel popped up from a recess built into his arm, and he raised his hand, preparing to fire.
“Captain, duck!” Lian shouted. She took a half step forward and raised a bulky apparatus. A pale blue flame danced at the tip of a rounded nozzle, a tube stretching behind her back. Grady threw himself at the entrance, conscious of the crash of booted feet hard on his heels and expecting to be shot in the back at any second.
A gout of searing yellow-orange fire shot from the makeshift flame thrower Lian held, enveloping the charging cyborg. Head down, eyes fixed on Grady, he’d failed to notice the slim shape standing within the shadows blanketing the entrance.
The attacker screamed in pain and fury, his head and torso alight. He stumbled over the mangled remains of the seats he had already blasted and toppled to the ground, rolling in an effort to douse the blaze.
With a loud grunt, Grady dove through the open doorway, his injured leg almost crumpling beneath him. He skidded to a stop and turned, brought his rifle up, and let loose at the commandos. Chalmers and Lian backed away. The engineer wore a broad grin as she took her hand from the trigger and the flames died. “Good to see you again, Skipper,” she said. “I knew this would come in handy someday.”
Grady stepped back, still firing into the reception area. “Thank you both. Now, we just need to stay alive long enough to make it back to Adventurer in one piece.”
All three ducked as a bolt shot past their heads. Lian waved at the entrance. “Don’t worry, I got this.” She thumbed a large red button on a control panel beside the doorway. A thick blast door slammed down with a piercing thump, sealing the entrance. “I used the access codes we were given to override the security settings. The only way they can open that door now is to blow a hole in it. Should buy us a few minutes at least.”
She wheeled, gave Grady a sunny grin, and added, “Tara has the engines primed and ready. Mal’s all set to fire a torpedo at the station’s op center once we’re in position. It’s payback time!”
33
“Since when do we have a flame thrower in our armory?” Grady said between breaths as they charged down the slanting corridor leading to the gunship’s airlock. Once Lian and Chalmers assured him this section of the docking bay hadn’t yet been infiltrated, he switched to using the laser rifle as a crutch, after first engaging its safety. “Not that I’m not grateful for the timely assist, mind you.”
“We don’t,” Lian replied, still grinning. Her fingers were curled around the thick synthetic tube connecting the nozzle to what looked like a bulky hiking pack strapped tight to her back. “Or didn’t. It began life as a portable plasma torch before I tinkered with it. After your run-in with the cyborg assassin on Cavalier outpost, I figured we might need some additional firepower.” She tapped the tube, careful to avoid touching the still smoking metallic nozzle. “Emphasis on the fire.”
Grady groaned at the pun, but offered her a thumbs up. “No argument here. The cyborg you just fricasseed might have crunched my bones if not for your intervention.”
As they rounded a corner and the familiar airlock came into view, Grady slid his gaze to Chalmers as she jogged along beside him. “And what about you, Profess…eh, Monika? What’s with diving headfirst into a hot zone?”
“Like I told you before—and demonstrated on Yerconam—I can take care of myself,” Chalmers said. She gave him a considering look and added, “With Zoe and Mbeki both off the ship, I thought Lian would appreciate backup when she told us she was going to help you.” She smirked, adding, “After all, what would Adventurer be without its fearless leader?”
“Self-defense is one thing,” Grady said, gripping the upturned rifle by its barrel. “But you willingly put yourself in harm’s way and, from what I saw, know how to handle a carbine.” He looked her in the eye. “Unless archeological digs are a heck of a lot more dangerous than I’ve been led to believe, it seems there’s more to your skill set than happenstance would account for. We need to have a chat when all this is over.”
Chalmers frowned, seemingly at a loss for words. Before she was able to frame an answer, they reached the airlock to find Mbeki pushing through the short tunnel from the ship, a spare laser rifle clutched in his arms. He pulled up short when he saw them careen down the hallway and enter the airlock antechamber, and said, “Captain. I am very glad you made it.”
“Thanks. So am I,” Grady said with a grin, catching his breath as he motioned for Chalmers and Lian to precede the two men into the airlock tube. “How’s Zoe?”
“The doctor is tending to her now. He almost pushed me out of the medbay after I placed Zoe on the operating table, so I cannot say what her condition is.” Mbeki’s expression grew grim. “Other than to state that it is obviously serious. She lost a lot of blood on the way here.”
Grady opened his mouth to reply, when a loud thud and a crack resounded from farther back in the hallway. He glanced behind him and said, “Uh-oh, sounds like some disagreeable guests are trying to crash the party. Time we were gone.”
The pair scurried across to Adventurer and Mbeki immediately began to make his way forward. As soon as the heavy airlock hatch was shut tight behind him, Grady keyed the control pad on the wall. “Disengage docking connectors,” he called, “and prepare to get underway.”
“Ready and waiting, Bro,” Tara said. “What kept you? I was running out of old-fashioned quarters to feed the meter.”
“Ha-ha. Nothing much. Just your average homicidal semi-mechanical man bent on my demise.”
“Tsk-tsk, big brother,” Tara scoffed. “You have a strange way of making friends.”
After checking to make sure the docking clamps were all released and the airlock tunnel retracted, Grady turned and, with the aid of his makeshift crutch, stumped down the central passage, making for the cockpit. He gingerly slid into his seat, favoring his throbbing leg, and glanced at the ceiling. “Mal, emergency power to the shields. Sound battle stations.”
As the alert wailed throughout the ship, Grady motioned to Tara, “You’ve got the con, Sis. Head for the coordinates Kotov provided and line us up to take the shot.”
“You don’t want the satisfaction?”
Grady rubbed his leg and grimaced. “No, it’s all yours. I’m going to ride shotgun on this one.”
“Speaking of which, weapons and shields are active, Captain,” came a rumbling bass voice. Grady acknowledged Mbeki with a quick glance over his shoulder. The sight of the sergeant occupying the weapons station—where he normally expected to see Zoe—made the breath hitch in his throat. Would she survive or succumb to her wounds? He was confident Doc Hawthorne would do everything possible to save her life. But were the medical facilities Adventurer offered up to the task?
While not as well equipped as the operating theater in a major hospital or medical center, he reminded himself the ship’s medbay had been outfitted with the latest essential tech and instruments, much of it paid for by the IC. The intent was for Adventurer to be equipped to offer life-saving care to supplement the often inadequate facilities found on the remote stations, colonies, and mining operations along its far-flung patrol route.
“We’re not going to request departure clearance?” Tara asked. “We didn’t bother filing a flight plan. Could mean serious trouble later.” Her face broke into a broad grin. “For you, that is, Captain Bro.”
