Havoc (26 page)

"Don't frighten her,” Elion said. “Everything'll go fine."

"Just in case,” Kels repeated. They'd never had anyone else to worry about on the ship, not doing a drop like this. If something did go wrong, Sayal would be stranded or worse. Now, as he returned to his place, he wished he'd shown her at least the basics of flying, so she'd be able to leave atmosphere and send out a distress beacon. Well, something to consider once they were under way. Although, then again, their next stop would be their last. Made him sad to think on it.

The com beeped out a tone, and Elion responded back with the sequence that was the code between them and Corsair. Adrenaline flushed through Kels as the moon loomed in the viewport like a bloodshot eye. Within a minute Elion was taking them through the fierce fire of the upper stratosphere into the red, gritty atmosphere, then plunging toward their meeting point.

Winds buffeted the
Nova's
sides, and already the temperature inside dropped. Kels reached for his headgear and pulled on his gloves. With a hiss and a crunch, the
Nova
set down in the grainy soil. Though this unnamed moon was uninhabited, there was just enough oxygen in the atmosphere to sustain human life, though not well and not for long. That was all right; it shouldn't take more than half an hour to unload their cargo and finish up.

The ship's engines continued to purr. Elion had apparently considered keeping Sayal warm. That was fine. Didn't take much fuel. Kels stood and strapped on his headgear, buckling the weatherproof, woolly hat low on his brow. The steel and canvas face mask dangled. Sayal left her seat to watch their doings with her arms crossed over her chest. Perhaps she was cold.

"Sayal, luv, there's an extra set of gear. Did you see where Elion got his?"

She nodded.

"If you get chilly, grab a coat, all right? We won't be more than half an hour, but listen.” He took her arm in his gloved hand and pulled her closer. “They don't know you're in here, and they shouldn't. They mustn't. This is a cutthroat gang, not to be trusted in any way.” He pointed to the viewport. “They won't be able to see you through the solar shield, so it's all right if you want to look out, but no lowering the ramp or coming for a visit. Understand?"

"Of course,” she said, frowning as she surveyed their gear.

"The commands to the ramp and the ship are encrypted. Only El and me know the codes, so no worries about them getting in uninvited. Just sit tight, and we'll come right back to you."

Elion's blue eyes disappeared behind his coated goggles, which would protect them from the radiation pouring through the thin atmosphere. “I've signaled them that we're ready for transfer.” He turned to Sayal. “You'll feel a blast of cold when we extend the ramp, but I've left the engines idling, and it'll warm up again fast.” He angled his head toward Kels. “Ready?"

"Yeah."

"Give us a kiss."

Nobody moved, and Kels barked out a laugh. “Which one of us are you referring to, mate?"

Elion laughed too. “Either. Both."

Sayal smiled and tilted her face to meet his lips. Kels leaned down and bumped goggles with El as they pecked. Sayal pressed her fingers over her smile, then kissed Kels too.

"All right. Now that there's love all round, do let's engage in some criminal activity.” Kels slapped his gloved hands together, and he and Elion walked toward the ramp.

Out of hearing of Sayal, Elion said, “That was quite a romp we had last night, Captain."

"Was it?"

"Please tell me you remember. You were quite cranked."

"Yeah, I remember.” He grinned over at his mate, though the mask hid his face. “I remembered I had to do the fucking laundry."

Elion snickered, and Kels slapped his shoulder. Yeah, maybe things were going to be all right after all.

Even bundled head to foot in bristling black and silver ortis fur, Jalanna Corsair stood out from the rest of her mangy crew. All were armed with illegal pulsars, all of them aimed their way, but the short, squat form that swaggered toward Kels could only be the infamous smuggler queen. Elion watched her approach, his plasma rifle a reassuring weight in his hands. Kels stepped forward to meet her, and the two circled like hostile dogs sizing each other up before Jalanna stopped and growled, “Havoc, you rotten fuck."

"Jalanna.” He slapped palms with her and said, his voice distorted by the mask, “Still living the high life, I see."

"Yeah. Gettin’ harder every day, what with the Conflicts movin’ off."

"Shame, that. Nothing like a good war in the backyard to bring in the iron."

"Got that right.” She lifted a hand, and three of her crew came to her. Not a one could be distinguished. The thick fur of their gear made them look like aliens, and they might very well be.

Elion lowered his rifle a notch, and as if by an invisible signal, the remaining members of Jalanna's gang eased off their weapons as well.

"We gots hool and cigs,” she said, her voice gravelly. “Ain't that right?"

"Yeah.” Kels took a battered digipad from her, plugged it into his own, and worked the iron transfer. “All good. El, be a dear and open the cargo doors."

Keeping one eye on the three gangers who followed him, Elion walked around to the back side of the
Nova
and remotely opened the doors. They slid aside as a short ramp extended to the gritty soil. Already the frigid atmosphere wormed its way through his heavy clothing, and he shivered as an all-terrain armored vehicle, blotched muted red with the moon's dust, rolled up. Three more gangers hopped out. That made ten in total, including Corsair, a lot for this small operation. He decided to keep his rifle handy.

While Kels jawed with Corsair, the gangers formed a chain, unloading the crates and handing them down the line into the waiting truck. If any of them thought it was odd Elion kept his rifle trained on them, none complained. He supposed it might be the pulsars they carried. Gave them a sense of security for certain. Where in the seven hells had they come across those? A plasma rifle could put a good hole in you, but a pulsar would vaporize a man where he stood. Corsair must have hit the big-time. Although if she had, why was she still on this farkin’ moon?

He noticed something else as well; that the other gangers still hovered in a semicircle around their leader and around Kels. Now where else they might go, he wasn't sure, but something about the whole setup had his nerves twitching. Maybe it was because Sayal waited alone inside. If he and Kels were killed, she'd be good as dead too.

His thoughts tugged toward her, her beautiful eyes and talented mouth and hands and lips... Of her eagerness to explore even this sorry moon, and her pretty smile and her cooking—Saints, she knew how to turn an egg.

Just when Elion thought he'd become too jaded to find any joy or surprises left in the SenVerse, Sayal had come along to prove him wrong. Seeing things through her eyes was like viewing it all anew, like when he was a much younger man shipping out on his first deep-space flight, watching through the star port, wondering at the infinite possibilities that lay ahead.

She made him feel alive again.

A ganger shuffled toward him, and his mind snapped back to the moment. He twitched up the nose of his rifle, and the ganger moved back in line without a word. The skin on his nape prickled. Yeah, something was off here, and fuck him for letting his head wander. When he looked over at Kels, he saw three of the six gangers had moved off. Where to?

He glanced over his shoulder to check the aft side of the ship.

A thud to his skull staggered him. Pain flared behind his eyes. Elion swung his rifle around and fired. A dark shape morphed into flame, blazing, then dying in the oxygen-thin air. It fell in a charred heap. He shouted to Kels, but all was in motion, gangers surrounding him, pulsars leveled. “Fuck!"

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and he worked to slow his breathing and control the shakes. Three shapes moved behind him—the missing gangers, and the five surrounded him.

They herded him over to where Kels already knelt, hands linked behind his head. Corsair stood before him with a pulsar leveled at his chest. The smuggler said, “Weapons down, mate."

Elion flexed his fingers on the rifle, but Kels barely nodded, and he slung the strap off his shoulder and let the rifle fall to the ground, then his belt too.

"On your knees,” Corsair growled. “Sure that's not an unfamiliar position, eh, Andervaars?"

He wished she could have seen his sneer. His moment's hesitation earned him a jab to the kidney from the nearest ganger. His heavy gear protected him, but it showed how fucking serious they were. Still, if they'd wanted to kill them...

One of the gangers picked up Elion's belt and handed it to Corsair. She plucked off the remote com. Fuck the saints, they were taking the ship. A chill far colder than the moon bit at Elion's nerves.
Sayal...

"What's this about, Jalanna?” Kels asked, his tone cool.

"Sorry, Havoc. Well, not really, but it's nice to say so. A better offer's come along. We need to collect another bit of cargo you're carryin'."

The chill turned into an ice pick between his eyes. Elion forced his mind to calm. She was already dead. They all were. Therefore, there was nothing to lose. Believing that was the only way he'd be able to concentrate on getting them out of this bind. Breathing in and out, slow and steady, he made note of the positions of each ganger, of their weapons, of the distance to the all-terrain, which they'd finished loading and now brought to a halt just behind Corsair. Two in the driving seats. Four behind Corsair. Two on his left, one on Kels's right.

"What?” Kels was asking. “My porn collection?"

Corsair grunted. “Not hardly. The girl. I know she's with you. Either you can call her out, or we'll go in and get her. Your choice, but consider which one would go easier on her and on your ship."

Sayal would be watching out the viewport. She wouldn't see them here at the
Nova's
side.

"There's no girl on my ship,” Kels said. “El and I got each other, and that's all we need. Right, mate?"

Elion nodded, even though he knew Kels knew this could go on for only so long.

Sure enough, Corsair held out the com from Elion's belt. Nothing on it would work without the encrypted code he and Kels shared. “Call her out, or we go in blazin'."

"You won't,” he said. “You want her alive, or you wouldn't be bothering with all the chatter."

Corsair brought up her pulsar, and Elion's breath caught when he thought Kels would be vaporized for his cheek. “I should cook you, Captain. I was given the option, you know. But after this load, I'll be able to haul my tired ass off to some pleasant water planet and retire, so I'd rather go out with a clean conscience, such as it is. We do go back a ways."

Saints, had Kels fucked her too at some point? Maybe for once his adventurous cock really would save the day.

Kels sat back on his heels, hands still laced behind his head, his face covered and unreadable. “Yeah, seems to me you do owe me, Jalanna. Remember Katanu."

"Ancient history,” Jalanna said with a snarl in her tone.

"Your life then for the girl's now. Plus the take from the haul, and I've got ten thousand iron I'll transfer over right now."

"Not even touchin’ my price."

"My mate'll throw in another twenty."

"Crack and ruin, who is this bird?” Corsair shifted her boots in the loose sand, and Elion got the distinct impression she studied Kels sidelong.

"Just a girl. An innocent. Ain't too many of ‘em left."

"Innocent?” Corsair hissed a nasty laugh. “Around you? Not for long, no how.” She stepped back, straightening, all business again. Kels's gamble had failed. Elion barely kept his mind from tumbling into panic mode, instead working mathematics, potentials, outcomes.

Corsair held up the com. “What's the code? Either you spill, or we cut our way in. Last chance."

He gave it to her. Disbelief screwed into Elion's calculations for a moment; then he shoved it out again. What choice did Kels have? The
Ash Nova
was everything. Without her, they'd be stranded and dead on this moon. They were dead already. He iced his traveling thoughts and focused on calculating.

The smuggler tapped in the code, and the ramp descended silently. “Wimbo, Viss, go get her. No harm done to her, you understand. She's alive, or we don't get paid."

The two gangers jogged off, and Kels said, “Who's paying you, Jalanna? At least tell me that."

"Now that's no way to do business. You know better."

Despite the numbers flying through his head, Elion couldn't resist looking past Kels to the ramp. The two gangers moved up it. Sayal would be caught completely unawares She'd think it was him and Kels coming back.

A bright ball of light issued from the
Nova
, the flash of a disruptor. One ganger tumbled backward, thudding and rolling down the ramp. The second ganger made it into the ship and dragged out Sayal wearing the spare gear. Elion didn't see the weapon discharge, but a heartbeat later the ganger followed his mate, tumbling down into a lifeless tangle on the soil, the pulsar still in his hands. Corsair ran to her gangers’ aid.

In that same fraction of a second, Kels leaped to his feet. Propelled by adrenaline and instinct, Elion pushed up off the sand toward the farthest ganger. Equations fell neatly into place as he acted out his calculations. One, he grabbed his rifle from stunned hands; two, he shot the all-terrain, the hool exploding in a violet ball; three, to the left. One after another he took down the gangers, dodging frantic fire, hearing the distinct hum-
voop
of a pulsar as Kels disintegrated the three enemies on his side, and within a few breaths, as if he'd drawn a line and summed it, the equation played out, and the fried gangers lay in piles around him.

But Sayal... She stood at the side of the ramp, on the soil. At her feet lay the body of Corsair. Kels ran to her, crouched briefly over Corsair, then grabbed the girl's arm to haul her up the ramp.

Elion sprinted after them, swinging his rifle around to catch any stragglers, but as expected, there were none, though more might be just over the horizon, wondering where their leader had got to. He had a quick view of Corsair's dead face, for Kels had torn off her mask. Weathered, creased with wrinkles, framed with iron gray hair; an openmouthed, wide-eyed expression of shock. Then he was into the ship and in his seat, drawing up the ramp and getting them the hells off this moon.