“What?” I asked, when he appeared beside me in a shadier-than-advisable auction room.
“Training,” he said. “You’re late.”
“Lost track of the time.”
In truth some of the spaces I’d found in the Underweb had been downright interesting, and some of the prices being offered for leads on Wolf artefacts explained why we were going to chase this rumor to its roots. It also meant that places where such artefacts were found were always on the hunt for leads to more.
It was good to see Tens materialize right beside us—not so good to see him roll his eyes, as he laid a digital hand on our net constructs.
“You’re both a pair of idiots,” he said, and yanked us right back to the ship, his real-time body yanking the connection as soon as Mack and I had arrived back in our heads.
He turned to me.
“You are banned from the Underweb unless Rohan or I are riding shotgun,” and then he’d stalked back out of the booth. “Rohan!”
From the sounds of it, the boy was in for a pretty tough training session. I hope he didn’t hold it against me. I looked at Mack, suddenly aware of just how close he was standing—not like he could avoid it; the booth was pretty damn small. Still, I could feel the heat of him, and it was a bother.
“A bother, huh?”
The man was not amused. He reached out and grabbed my earlobe.
“Let’s go see how much of a bother I can be on the training mats.”
“Why wait for the mats?” I asked, and drove my elbow hard and fast into his ribs.
Grab my ear, would he? Well, I wasn’t having that. I twisted out of his grip, hooked a foot around his ankle and shoved him, hard, in the chest. He went down on his ass, trapped between the computer console and the wall. I spun, lashing out a back kick, and found myself grabbed and hauled out of the booth before the kick could connect.
The drag became a throw and I ended up getting way too close and personal with the wall opposite.
“Ow!”
I looked up, and found Tens glaring down at me.
“Three rounds,” he snapped, and pulled me to my feet. “Now!”
Well, hot damn!
“Rohan, you’re with Mack, this afternoon.”
I glanced around, looking for Mack, and found him standing in the doorway of the booth, looking slightly bemused. He caught my glance, and shrugged, indicating I should follow Tens.
Yeah, whatever, Mack.
I looked back at where Tens was making his way across the rec room.
Might as well get it over with.
I didn’t look back, as I followed Tens out the door—and I tried to ignore the slow trickle of crew that followed. Trust them to sense a serious fight in the air. I could hear their low mutters as they walked behind us, and figured bets were already being placed and credits changing hands.
It didn’t bother me; they’d done it plenty of times before. Usually, it was on a post-mission tussle between Mack and me. And it was rare for Tens to take anything to the mats. He had other ways of imposing his will. For him to be taking these measures, meant he needed to set an example.
Well, dammit all to the Stars and back! A simple ‘no fighting near the data beasts’ would have done it.
“No, it really wouldn’t,” Tens said, but in my head where only I could hear it. “Trust me. Number of fights I would have had to break up in the rec room after that little ass dumping would have been expensive.”
Fine, whatever.
“Is that really all that’s up your britches?”
I’d asked it just as we reached the gym, and he turned his head as he went through the door.
“Hells, no, Cutter. I’ve been wanting an excuse to kick your ass for months. This was the best one I’ve had.”
Ass!
He ignored me, putting a bit of a swagger into his stride as he crossed to the mats, and then crossed over them, before turning to face me. Spreading his arms, he leant on the wall and pulled off his boots.
I walked to the edge of the mats, and stopped to pull my own footgear off before stepping onto them. By the time I was done, he was loosening up two meters in off the wall. I decided I wasn’t going to wait. I walked over, doing my own shrug and jiggle routine until I was in close enough to lash out with a snap kick.
I put a bit of a spin on it, but he laughed, stepped around it, and slammed me hard in the chest. I might have gone down like a sack, but I’d been practicing. I turned the backwards momentum into a tuck and roll and flipped back to my feet—just in time to avoid the two fist strikes coming at my torso.
Damn! He’d been watching me spar with Mack.
Time to change out the routine.
I moved from the more formal style I’d been using and into something based more on balance, grabbing one of his arms as I stepped out of the way of the blow it was supposed to deliver. It was a simple hold, and one that was never going to keep him, but it would cost him time to get out of, and give me a slight edge.
I slung a leg around behind his nearest one, and then reversed the pressure on his arm, using it as a lever to push him back. He went down, and then followed it with something similar to my own tuck and roll routine. Things got complicated after that, but I held him off for the duration of the round, and we both went momentarily to our corners.
By that stage, more of the crew had gathered. We were probably the most entertaining thing to have happened in a while, and word had gotten around. I drew first blood on the next round, splitting Tens’s lip, and snapping his head back as I slammed my other fist into his ribs. He spun out of range, and stepped in a wary circle around me.
I tried another couple of kicks, and he blocked both. It was when I stepped in close and tried to plant him on the mat that he started laughing. Well, crap.
I’d fought with him enough to know that was a bad sign.
This time, when we broke apart, I matched his wary stepping, and we circled, each trying for an advantage. When the audience started a slow clap, we both knew we were in danger of the timer being extended.
House rule: if the opponents failed to get back in the fight within fifteen seconds, the clock got extended. Clapping started at the ten second mark.
We both moved in at the same time. Him with a combination of hand and footwork that made me a little dizzy. I stopped trying to follow them, and just let my subconscious track them. Somehow it made more sense that way—especially if I let my body respond to any obvious threats. It also put me on the defensive, which I hated.
It took me a second to adjust and come back at him. Feet were one of my strengths, but he knew that, and it was obvious I couldn’t block everything if I was going to get a good hit in on my own. Fighting with Mack had made me wary of getting in close.
Mack had height, weight and reach on me—and the man hit like a heavy freighter. Tens fought lighter, darting in to land a few solid shots, and then coming back out, wearing his opponent down while trying to take as little damage as he could.
I guess he’d fought a lot with Mack, too, because those were the tactics I used. There weren’t many others who could match him. I wondered who he’d been fighting with in order to keep his edge, because it sure as shit wasn’t Rohan.
That bit of inattention cost me dearly.
Tens got in close, slamming me back over the calf he’d hooked around my legs, and trying to pile-drive his heel into my mid-section as I went down. I hit the mat, hard, and rolled enough to my side to avoid his foot, lashing out with a hand to grab his supporting leg and pull it out from under him.
This was usually where I bounced back to my feet, and out of Mack’s reach—but I wasn’t fighting Mack; I was fighting Tens. He still hit hard, but wasn’t quite as likely to wrap my spleen around my spine. This time, when the timer went to end the round, neither of us backed away.
Instead of going back to my feet, I dived on top of Tens’s chest and tried to pin him down with an elbow across the throat. That didn’t work out so well for me, as
Tens gut-punched me twice for leaving too much room between us.
That. Hurt.
I tried to return the favor, but he wrapped his free hand around the pressure point above my supporting elbow and the arm went numb. That round finished pretty quickly with me seeing stars as the crewman that had volunteered to referee the fight called an end to the round—and the fight.
Seeing as we’d drawn the first round, and fought past the end of the second, the third round was the decider. Two draws and a win, with me pretty much coming out the loser. I just lay on the mat and sucked air, wondering how mad Doc was going to be with me for cracking another couple of ribs.
It was little comfort that Tens was in the same boat, judging from the way he was pressing his hand to his side as he tried to stand up straight. Around the edge of the mats, cred sticks passed between hands, and people gloated or commiserated as needed. I rolled slowly onto my butt, and pushed up onto my feet, wary as Tens moved towards me.
“Not bad,” he said, offering me a hand up. “You’ve come a long way since the first time we did this.”
He was right. I had. I hadn’t lasted a round the first time. Come to think of it, that had been about computers, too. In fact, I think I’d borrowed his system, and he was explaining just how much he hated it when I hacked through his passcodes.
“Yeah, that’d be it,” he told me, and even his mind voice sounded breathless.
Breathless, huh? I’d done better than I’d thought I could—and I wasn’t even juiced.
It wasn’t exactly a surprise to find Mack standing at the edge of the arena, Rohan by his side. My guess was Mack had decided the fight would be more educational than any fitness drill or sparring match he could devise... either that, or they were about to get started.
Tens wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and leant on me like he needed the support. Come to think of it, so did I. I returned the gesture, and we helped each other off the mats. Neither of us bothered putting out boots back on.
“See you in the caf when you’re done,” Tens told Mack, as we passed. “I’ve found us a job.”
I caught Mack’s nod, and the expression of interest that flitted across his face too fast for him to hide, and then Tens and I stumbled past, heading for Medical. Doc was probably not gonna be happy to see us.
3—Pre-Ops
I was right, which wasn’t exactly a good thing.
Doc wasn’t happy to see us. In fact, he was downright annoyed.
“I ought to put you both in tanks and leave you there until you learn some common sense,” he growled, and I figured he couldn’t mean it.
The Shady Marie had only one tank. There was no way he could put us both in a tank and leave us there. Most tanks only took the one patient—this one included, if what I knew of tanks was right.
“I could have fun tryin’,” Doc muttered, picking the thought right out of my head, because, of course, he had as much access as both Mack and Tens. There was no way I was getting any privacy, any time soon.
He strapped Tens’s ribs, and then strapped mine, and then he looked at where Tens was sitting beside me, and dipped his head in a single nod. I was moving before he was done, but I was never going to be moving fast enough. Even a sore Tens was fast, and he’d been expecting the good Doc’s signal.
He had me wrapped in his arms and pinned at about the same time as Doc came up and stood beside me.
“You really need to get the Hell over this,” Doc scolded, and slid the needle through the bandages, and into my skin.
My legs were moving as the cold burn of nanites flowed over my ribs, and Doc slid the needle back out. I felt it withdraw, and watched as Doc went back over to the medical cabinet. He discarded the used needle and picked up a second one, but he didn’t turn around.
“You can go wait outside, Cutter,” he said. “Tens will join you in a minute.”
I could, and I did, and I waited, tense and hurting, until Tens came out of the medical center.
“You okay?” he asked, when he saw me, standing up against the wall. “Only you look like you’re waiting for a firing squad, and I don’t have one with me.”
“I’m fine,” I told him, and came off the wall to walk with him down the corridor.
“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”
Well, we both knew that. I nodded, the fear leaching out of me.
“Yup.”
Mack was waiting in the small room that served as an officer’s mess in the caf. He’d already ordered a light meal, and was busy glaring at Rohan’s dog when we came in. Cascade was meeting his gaze and looking far too pleased with himself, his lolling tongue and happy grin a sure sign he’d scored something he shouldn’t have.
“If you weren’t such a useful mutt,” Mack was growling, “I’d have you spaced with your useless master.”
Rohan was sitting very still, and looking very worried. He looked at Tens, asking for help with his eyes.
Tens sighed. “What’s the damn dog done, this time?”
“He ate my pie,” Mack grumbled, and I watched as Tens pressed his lips together, in an attempt not to laugh. Rohan still looked anxious
“I ordered you another one,” he said, but Mack continued to glare at Cascade.
“And what’s to stop this monster from eating that, as well, when it gets here.”
“I ordered him one, too,” Rohan told him, and Mack rolled his eyes.
“Like that’s going to work.”
He sputtered as Cascade took the opportunity to stretch up and lick him on the mouth. I couldn’t help smiling, as Mack pushed the big creature away, and turned his attention to Rohan.
“And how many times have I told you that you need to keep him under control?”
Cascade stopped trying to wash Mack’s face and looked suddenly towards Rohan. He whined, and cocked his head to one side, before getting up and padding over to lie down on the floor beside Rohan’s chair. Mack frowned at the boy and his dog, and then turned his attention to Tens.
“What have you got?” he asked.
“I put the word out you wanted to do some military exercises,” Tens said, and held up a hand to still Mack’s protest. “It seemed the best way to establish why you wanted to be here, as well as hide the fact we needed work.”
Mack grunted, and waved for Tens to continue.
Which the man did, after he’d worked his way around the table to take a seat between Mack and his apprentice. I took the opposite way around, avoiding the young man and his dog, and taking my place at the seat on Mack’s right. Tens ignored me, continuing with his report.
“I put the word out that you’d really like to use Carafakt Gorge since it’s the only chasm of its type anywhere near civilization, and you’d be interested in putting the rest of the crew down for a bit of shore leave while the training went on. There was a bit of resistance from the local lords so I gave them the impression you’d consider trading services for a good word, permission and, or, access.”
Mack had leant forward, listening intently as Tens spun his tale, and I couldn’t help being impressed. Tens had made us a way in, and managed to hide the real reason we were here, which, given the reception I’d found in the Underweb, was all to the good.
“So, I’ve set up a meeting, and Lord Nikodemus Barangail wants to see you for an evening meal and private dinner meeting two days from now.” He glanced at me. “Companions optional, but there’s usually dancing, and you should probably take your own partner. No offense, Cutter.”
“None taken,” I managed, blushing red to the roots of my hair.
Dancing huh? I knew dancing. Abs had... I shut that thought down fast, and was glad when Mack ignored it.
“Two days from now? We’re that close?” Mack looked surprised.
Tens looked smug.
“I had Case plot in a new course,” he said. “Told her you wanted to be on Alpha Nine sooner rather than later. She said to ask you if she could chase down a contract she’d seen out this way. Very lucrat
ive hit on a very bad man. She said she and Steppy needed to, and I quote: ‘keep our hands in’.”
Mack gave him a long and careful stare, and I watched the shadows of his thoughts move behind his eyes. Mack gave the two assassins a home, and they didn’t take any contracts that might give him grief—or come after him, for that matter—but, just occasionally he had to let them go do what they did best. And he didn’t like it.
“Dinner, I’m happy with,” he said. “Tell Case to get back to me with files on who, and just how bad, and I’ll think about it. I also expect her research to be impeccable, if she and Step don’t want to spend this trip locked down in stasis.”
Tens’s eyebrows rose, but the kitchen staff arrived with food, and he bit back whatever he’d been going to say. He also didn’t try to break the silence that followed, as we ate—including the dog, who’d been given his own bowl. I wondered why that hadn’t been done the first time, given we’d had him long enough to know.
The feel of Mack’s fingertips resting on my arm, brought me out of my head and back to the present.
“What?”
Tens was smirking. Rohan was looking embarrassed, and Mack? Mack was his usual frowny self.
“You need to do some research on Barangail,” he said, and I got the impression it wasn’t for first time he’d said it.
“Sure thing, Mack.”
I cleaned up what was left on my plate, and looked around the table.
“Are we done?”
It wasn’t the politest way to ask if I could leave, but it was all I felt like doing. I was sore as Hell from where Tens had slugged me, and I probably needed to sleep so those nanites could take effect, but I also needed to make sure we didn’t get sideswiped by the next clown we worked for...or, at least try to make sure we didn’t get sideswiped, and, if we did, that it wasn’t as bad as usual.
“Hey!”
That came from both Tens and Mack, but I didn’t respond straight away. I pushed back my chair and gathered up my plates, sticking my cutlery in the empty coffee cup on top of the pile.
“If the boot fits, boys,” I said, heading out into the café proper.
Mack 'n' Me: The Wolves of Alpha 9 Page 2
