Drifters' Alliance, Book 2 (16 page)

He takes another step in my direction putting himself at the midway point in the airlock between our ships.

My right hand reaches up and joins the other, grabbing the small lip of metal above me that would normally seal the portal into position. My broken finger is screaming in pain, so I do my best to keep it straight while the others bend and hold the portal frame with as much force as possible. I’m probably going to die in the next sixty seconds, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to go down without a fight.

“You … bitch…” He’s having a hard time with the whole breathing thing, much like I am, or so it seems. But he’s still coming for me. It makes no sense that he could still be walking, unless he’s got some robo parts inside him. Some really screwed up individuals actually do that — enhance what they have with parts from compubots. It makes sense that this guy would be a franken-pirate. Now I don’t feel as bad about smashing his arteries. I do, however, feel like a class-one asshole for allowing my friends to go after him.

My chest heaves in fear as he takes another two steps in my direction. Knowing that he’s probably part machine makes him ten times more dangerous and that much harder to kill. It doesn’t seem fair that a guy already that big can just go and enhance himself like that. There should be a rule against making fights so one-sided.

“They told me to kill you first chance … I got.” He drools out the last word, leaving more shrapnel in his beard. “But I didn’t listen.” More vomit comes out. And this time, I see shiny metal pieces mixed in with his last meal.

Oh, Jesus. What’s worse than vomit? Robo-vomit, that’s what. Pleeeease don’t let me throw up on myself.
I swallow over and over, trying to keep the bile down.

“No, I didn’t listen. Not then. But now … I’m listening.” He’s close enough that I can see red in his eyes where there should be white. The blows I delivered to his chest and neck that should have killed him almost did, or they’re in the process of killing him now and he just won’t admit it to himself.

I shake my head, trying to convince myself that what I’m hearing and seeing cannot possibly be real, but he just keeps coming. This is no nightmare; this is real life.

Sounds come from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, I see a flash of movement. It’s Baebong, and he’s covered in blood. Hope nearly drowns me in joy. “Baaaaah!” I try to scream, but it comes out as a soggy, sad whisper.

“Cass!” he yells.

The pirate reaches for me with both arms out. He’s just two steps away.

“Float him!” Baebong yells, right before he shuts the airlock on the Anarchy’s side.

I grab the door jamb above me and lift my body up with my arm, back, and bicep muscles, swinging my legs out a bit forward, bent at the waist and knees. One arching swing back and then forward again, and I’m unleashing the last weapon I have at my disposal: an almighty pendulum kick, delivered right into the middle of the stupid franken-pirate’s face.

My boots make contact with his nose, cracking it and whiplashing his head. He stands perfectly still for the few seconds it takes my legs to return to a spot under me. Then, as I drop to the floor, he falls over backward in slow motion, his body as stiff as a door. The entire airlock shakes with the force of his weight hitting the floor.

I limp over the threshold in reverse and slam my hand on the keypad by the door, shutting the portal to the PC.
Safe! I’m safe!
He can’t get in anymore now that I’m the captain of this hunk of junk.

I have to hop on one leg over to the captain’s chair because my broken toes aren’t usable anymore. Falling into the seat, I bring up comm with the Anarchy including a visual link. Jeffers’ face is there, and he looks as stern as I’ve ever seen him.

I wave weakly. “Hah!”

“Hello, Captain.”

I stare and stare at him, trying to understand what’s happening. It seems almost unreal to me that I’m on this tiny PC, and this man is sitting in my chair, casting judgment on me. I won’t be surprised if he cuts off the comm and leaves this position and me to rot out here alone.

A voice comes over Jeffers’ comm, and mine picks it up.

“Jeffers, this is Baebong! He’s inside the airlock, but he’s getting up again. The guy’s a fucking monster. Gotta have some AI in him or something. I’m floating him with your permission. I can’t reach Captain Cass.”

“She’s here, Baebong. Transmitting from the Mahalo.” He shifts his focus to me. “What’s the order, Captain? Are we floating the pirate or taking him prisoner?”

Both panic and happiness well up in me.
They’re not going to abandon me! They still recognize me as captain!
Then tears come to join the party. I thought I’d killed that goddamned pirate before, and I was okay with that because it was in self-defense, but now that he’s safely locked away, it’s not so simple. He’s alive, and I have to choose whether to kill him again or let him live.

“Tam?” I whisper. “Gus?”

Jeffers shakes his head slowly. “Tam was stabbed in the abdomen with your knife. He’s not dead, but I don’t know what I can do for him. Gus is okay.”

My blood turns cold. I literally break out in goosebumps all over my body as the last bit of warmth leaves me.

I have to speak very slowly and carefully to be understood. “Floaaaat hiiim.” Tears begin to pour down my face in earnest as Jeffers nods.

He transmits to Baebong without breaking eye contact with me. “Captain Cass orders you to float Captain Bob for crimes committed against her crew.”

My entire face is trembling with sadness, regret, and I don’t even know what else. This is all too much. Too crazy.
Tam is dying?
I nod my assent to Jeffers’ transmission because it’s all I’m capable of doing right now.

My body jerks a little to the left and then the right as the airlock tethering the PC to the Anarchy is broken off by Baebong on the other side. I’m cast adrift, and about a minute after being released, I see the body of Captain Bob floating by the clearpanels, already puffing up and turning blue. I crumple in my seat, laying my head in my arms. Sobs wrack my body as I shut off all communications with the DS Anarchy.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“CASS.” THE VOICE IS FAINT. A woman is calling me.

Mom?

I lift my head and squint at the clearpanel before me. It’s black. I’m looking out into the Dark.
Where in the hell am I?
I scan the space around me, and it starts to come back — the memory of how I got where I am. I feel sick.

“Cass. You need to respond. We’re starting to get worried over here.” This voice is anything but worried. I’m not that out of it that I can’t recognize the tone as annoyed.

I open my mouth, but when I try to send a word out, it won’t work. My throat is killing me. I realize then that I’m wheezing just trying to breathe, but my lungs feel fine.

“Listen, I’m too busy to be worrying about you. Could you please respond?”

Now I recognize the voice more fully. It’s Lucinda.

I press the blinking reach button on the console and wipe away the sleep-drool I left on the metal surface as the comm screen comes to life. Lucinda’s face is taking up the whole thing.

“There you are,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I told you she was there.”

Baebong shares the screen with her. “Where’ve you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for an hour.” He leans in closer. “I thought that fucking pirate had somehow gotten to you.”

I shake my head and flutter my fingers from right to left, indicating I saw him dying as he went by my clearpanels.

“Yeah, we floated his sorry ass. You ready to come home yet?”

Home
. The word makes me want to cry. But instead, I nod.

“Good.” He grins way too hard. “Gus! We’re a go!”

“Go?” I whisper.

Lucinda shakes her head. “You don’t want to know. Just strap in.” She gets up and leaves the area. Now all I see is the empty captain’s chair where I should be sitting.

Baebong returns a few seconds later. “Okay, so we’re going to lasso that PC you’re in and bring you back.”

I frown.

“Remember when you told Gus and Tam to disable the PC? Yeah, well, they did a really good job of it. You can’t fly the thing back over, so we need to grab you.”

I slap myself on the forehead and lean back in the chair.

“Hey, don’t worry! We’ve got it covered. Coming up in ten seconds. Nine … eight…”

I grab the buckles and straps that’ll hold me in my seat. It’ll really suck if I die from this ridiculousness after evading death at the hands of a deranged franken-pirate. I sit back and close my eyes, waiting for fate to deal me my next hand.

My entire body jerks with the ship when they finally make contact. It feels like we’ve been slammed into the side of a warship.

“Booyah!” Baebong yells. “Bring it in now, bring it in!” He leans in toward me. “Did you feel anything?”

I nod, then roll my eyes.

“Not too much, I hope.” His attention lifts to a screen above him. “No, no, no! Not like that! Careful!”

He leans in and lowers his voice. “Fucking ginger. Don’t ever let him fly any of your rigs, okay? He’s seriously dangerous.”

He looks up again. “Easy! Jesus, man, I told you that shit is hard to procure. If you break it, you have to find me another one. I’m not kidding. And you’re gonna have to pay with your left nut, too, trust me.”

My body jerks again, and I hear a loud scraping on the hull of the PC. My hands go up and grab the console to steady my chair that keeps bucking with the movement of the ship. I hiss with the pain it causes my finger.

“Guess we’re going to need a little hull work when we pull into the next station, eh?” Baebong tries to laugh his joke off, but it’s not working. He grimaces as another squeal of metalloid on metalloid rings out on both ships.

Finally, the movement stops, and I hear the banging that can only mean an airlock is being set up just beyond the door to my right.

“We good?” he shouts to someone.

“Yes, airlock in place,” says Lucinda.

Baebong grins at me. “We’re docked. Come to papa.”

I shut off the comm and turn my seat to face the door. I have to take a few deep breaths before I can work up the courage to actually stand and hobble over to the portal.

Everyone on the other side of this thing knows I gave the order to float a man. They also include a guy who took a knife to the gut —my knife— who might not live to see the end of this day. Just the idea of Tam lying there bleeding out has me moving faster. I need to talk to him. I need to tell him I’m sorry.

I open the door and see Baebong through the small window at the other end of the airlock on his side. Once the systems between us indicate all is safe, we open each end of the dock and Baebong comes striding through.

“Come on,” he says, jamming his shoulder up into my armpit and turning around to face the Anarchy. “We need to go see Tam.”

I nod, hopping on my good foot along next to him. I hold my broken finger out in front of me to keep from bumping it on anything. It’s swollen to twice its normal size, and I’m guessing so are my bad toes. My boot is tighter than it should be, and my entire foot is killing me.

“Got your ass kicked, didn’t ya?” Baebong asks. There’s a slight note of humor to his question, but I get it. He’s never seen anyone get the better of me before, and he’s cleaned up plenty of my messes, made apologies for me, warned people not to try and get revenge for being shown up by a girl. He probably thinks it’s about time I got something broken.

“You could say that. How’s Tam?” My voice is scratchy but better, my throat burning with the effort of trying to talk above a whisper.

“Not good. His brother’s freaking out.”

“You think he’s … going to make it?”

“Not without better MI than we have on this boat, that’s for sure.”

I hop faster.

“Here.” Baebong stops and picks me up like a baby.

“Put me down, asshole.”

“No, you’re too damn slow.” He starts to jog, making my hand and foot ache with the percussions. But I don’t say a word. I’m still alive and kicking, unlike my engineer.

We get to the infirmary, and I can instantly see why everyone is so worried, even though we aren’t even through the doorway yet. Tam’s face is white. He’s in shock, and probably sitting on Death’s doorstep.

Baebong drops my legs, and I limp forward to claim a position on the other side of the bed, opposite Gus. Taking Tam’s hand, I squeeze it. “Hey, man,” I whisper as loud as I can.

“He’s not talking anymore,” Gus says. He’s been crying, his voice hoarse from it.

I look over my shoulder at Jeffers. My whispers are getting clearer, but not any louder. “What did you do?”

Jeffers joins me at my side. “Did my best to stop the bleeding.” He looks over at the silver tray nearby. On it rests my knife. “It’s a wicked blade, though. It did some damage internally that I can’t do anything about with what I have here.”

I nod and look down at the patient’s complexion. His spots stand out on his face like someone drew them or tattooed them on. His eyes are closed, but he’s breathing. Unfortunately his respirations are shallow and not very inspiring. I keep thinking the next one will be his last.

“Tam, we’re going to fix this. I promise, we’re going to fix this.”

Baebong nudges me, probably telling me to shut up, but I ignore him.
I will fix this.

“What are you going to do?” Gus asks, looking up at me. His voice is so full of hope, I nearly gag with it. I’ve not just made a promise to a dying man, I’ve made it to his twin brother.

“Come on,” I whisper to Baebong. “Pick me up. Bring me to the flightdeck.”

Baebong doesn’t argue, he just grabs me, throws me over his shoulder, and starts running.

“Not like this!” I try to yell, but he doesn’t listen. He probably can’t even hear me over the sound of his boots banging on the grates below us.

“Corridors are too narrow. This is faster.” The pounding of every step sends his big shoulder into my guts. I almost make it all the way to our destination before vomiting.

“Ah, man! Did you have to?” he asks, dropping me back on my feet.

“Soh ah ah bish!” I try to yell, but it comes out like a horror show screech.