Boneyards (33 page)

T
he bay is smaller than any we have anywhere in Lost Souls. This place truly is for medical or emergency access only. Maybe six medium-size ships can function here, with its low ceiling and its narrow landing docks.

Doors in front of us burst open and people pour in, most wearing uniforms that I don't recognize. Security guards? Military personnel in a newer uniform? I can't tell and it doesn't matter.

Shärf and Ahidjo shoot them as they appear. The weapons are as powerful as Yash said; the guards (if that's what they are) fall backward or tumble sideways or simply collapse, and not a one of them even utters a sound.

I'm shaking now. I've shot at people myself, but I have never done so like this. They've always shot first.

We rush past them—over them, really—and into a corridor. On the faceplate of my helmet, the map of the station appears, the path we're to take to Squishy outlined in red.

She appears as a tiny blue dot. Theoretically, the scanners on our suits can read her as easily as the
Ivoire
can.

I hope so.

We run up a ramp and then veer to the left. The corridors are wide, allowing us to remain two abreast. There are doors on all sides, big doors.

Everything matches Turtle's map, and somewhere inside, I'm relieved at that. Because we would be fucked if it didn't, no matter how much firepower the Dignity Vessels have.

We keep up a good pace, and I'm already getting winded. I'm not made for exercise like this in full gravity, particularly when I'm wearing extra weight. Sweat pours down my face, and I struggle to keep up.

As we round corners, Shärf and Ahidjo shoot whenever someone appears or opens a door. When it becomes clear that they've shot a few civilians, Rossetti starts yelling, “Stay back! Stay back!”

I'm not sure why she's doing this, particularly when we're going to blow the base, but I'm not going to question it. I run, hoping that I can make it the entire distance of this map without passing out.

Damn gids. I have to remind myself to breathe.

Once I do that, I'm breathing too hard, deep gulping breaths that actually hurt.

I glance over my shoulder. Fennimore and Winsor are running backward, shooting guards as they approach us. I make myself focus on the running backward, not the shooting. Because if I think about how in shape Fennimore and Winsor are and how out of shape I am, at least for this kind of thing, then I'm not thinking about all the people dying around me.

People dying because I didn't abort.

It's one thing to have an abstract mission, particularly one you believe in.

It's another to see the mission happen around you, to understand that the loss of life you agreed to in theory actually meant that people—people you didn't know and would never know—die.

We go up another ramp and this time veer to the left. The administrative wing, or so it said on the original map. Squishy's not being held in a cell; she's in some kind of office, which confuses me.

But we run to it, and when we reach it, Shärf and Ahidjo slaughter two guards in full body armor. I recognize that armor: imperial military. Only the shots go through the armor as if they're not wearing anything at all.

They slump against the wall.

Shärf turns toward Rossetti, one hand on the door.

She nods.

And we go in.

T
he room is huge. It seems even bigger because of its expansive views. The other rings are visible above us as well as in front of us. Through one set of similar windows, I can see laser weapons' fire.

There are several different seating areas, and a large desk. I only make out three people: a man with tiny marks all over his face, Squishy who looks thinner than I expect, and my father.

My breath catches. That can't be my father. He died years ago in the explosion of that science lab ship. Although the cockpit did detach and fly away.

I thought he was too far away to get there, too invested in saving his experiment to try.

I should never have underestimated his powers of survival.

Squishy looks terrified, and I realize she has no idea who we are. No one does.

I pull off my helmet with my left hand. My right still clutches my laser pistol. My laser rifle remains lashed across my back. I haven't used the damn thing, and I won't unless I'm cornered.

“Squishy,” I say. “Get over here.”

Her mouth drops open. “I told you not to come.”

“My daughter doesn't listen to anyone,” my father says.

I am suddenly furious. Furious that this man survived all these years. Furious that he's standing here, with Squishy. Proof that he's taking more lives with his damn stealth-tech experiments.

I have never hated anyone before.

I hate him.

But I'm not going to let him bait me. I'll deal with him in a moment. After Squishy is secure. I keep my gaze on hers.

“Squishy, come over here now,” I say.

She stands.

The man with the marks on his face watches everything. “This is the famous Boss?” he asks.

No one answers him. Squishy walks toward me. She stops beside me.

“I told you not to come,” she says.

“My father's right on this one point,” I say as I move her beside me. “I make my own decisions.”

“I don't know if I should applaud your independence or take you to task for the lives you've cost today,” my father says.

He looks no older, as if time can't touch him. His white hair is just as thick, his face just as lined.

“You have no right to take me to task for costing lives,” I say. “You've cost hundreds, maybe thousands, starting with my mother.”

“You have no reason to be sanctimonious,” my father says. “You don't understand how important my work is.”

I raise my laser pistol. I've had enough of him. He deliberately watched as dozens of people died in his “tests” at the Room of Lost Souls. He murdered my mother for his work; he murdered Karl.

My father smirks at me. He looks at the laser pistol as if it means nothing. I suppose it does mean nothing to him. After all, he hasn't died while people all around him have died in explosions, in stealth tech, in his own damn experiments.

“Move,” I say quietly to Shärf.

He does, and without a second thought, I shoot.

The shot hits my father squarely. He vibrates for a moment, his entire torso turning red. Then he collapses.

His body sprawls on the floor, his eyes open. He's dead.

Finally, my father is dead.

And I am relieved.

The man with the marks on his face steps forward. “You bitch!” he says, sounding shocked.

I turn. He has a laser pistol.

He shoots—

And at that same moment, someone shoves me sideways. I tumble into Winsor, who stumbles as well. There's a grunt, and a thud.

The man looks startled, but only for a moment.

Because Rossetti shoots him. He slams into the wall, and then down. He has no armor at all. He's dead before he hits the floor.

Rossetti turns toward me, and I get the sense she's glaring, even though I can't see her eyes.

“This is exactly why you don't bring civilians on military missions,” she says.

I don't know what she means until I stand.

Then I see who shoved me out of the way. Who took the shot intended for me.

Squishy.

She's lying there, and not moving, her body twisted wrong.

“No,” I say, crouching beside her. “Please. No.”

I
pick Squishy up and carry her out of the room, even though I'm exhausted, even though I stagger under her weight. Shärf tries to take her from me, but I won't let him.

We don't run. We walk. I don't see any more guards—at least, not standing.

As we head down the corridor, Rossetti hits a wall panel, starting the mass evacuation just like we planned. Supposedly—and I hope she checked, but I'm no longer wearing my helmet so I can't hear—we have people stationed at the exits now, people who will prevent the residents of the science station from carrying their research with them as they leave.

Suddenly sirens blare overhead:
Emergency evacuation under way. Proceed to your designated evac area. If that evac area is sealed off, proceed to your secondary evac area. Do not finish your work. Do not bring your work. Once life tags move out of an area, that area will seal off. If sealed inside, no one will rescue you. Do not double back. Go directly to your designated evac area. The station will shut down entirely in…sixty…minutes.

Some of that probably isn't true. I doubt we'll wait sixty minutes, but I don't know. I'm not in charge. I doubt the station will shut down either.

We walk, and I can barely remain upright. Squishy doesn't move.

She didn't want me here. The last thing she said to me was
I told you not to come
, and I gave her a flip answer, one aimed at my father, not at her.

I make my own decisions.

I would have explained that decision. By the time we reached the
Ivoire
or maybe once we were on the
Ivoire
, she would have understood. She would have realized there was logic in coming for her.

Instead, she probably thought it was a suicide mission.

Just like our code said it was.

And she knew I got the code: I wasn't surprised when she said
I told you not to come.

I wasn't surprised, but she was. She really didn't expect rescue.

Halfway back to the transport, my knees buckle. Winsor takes Squishy from me and I don't fight. I let her carry my friend the rest of the way.

Around us, the sirens continue. People I don't recognize, people from the Empire, start down our corridor, see us, and then divert as if they expect us to shoot them.

We're not shooting anymore. We have no reason to shoot unless someone threatens us. And everyone is avoiding us.

I don't know what's happening with the other teams, but I know what's happening on the
Ivoire.

Coop is waiting.

Once we all get off the station, he will destroy it.

With the station gone, and my father truly dead, stealth tech will get set back just like Squishy wanted. The Empire will lose all of its research.

At a cost I hadn't imagined days ago.

At a cost I never ever expected.