Mack 'n' Me: The Wolves of Alpha 9

by C. M. Simpson

  As the first burst hit my chest, Mack let go with one hand, drew his own gun, and fired. He was fast, but whoever these guys were, they were faster. Mack left a line of scorch marks in the rear armor of the shuttle, and the shooter disappeared.

  After that, it didn’t matter, because we’d hit the shuttle door, and Targil and the four guards he had with him, dragged me out of his arms as they hauled us inside. I really hoped Case was right as Targil set me on my feet, and smoothed my skirts down over my boots. There wasn’t a hope in Hades Belt that he hadn’t seen my leggings and footwear.

  He said nothing about them, but reached out to grab Mack’s gun and redirect it as he guided the big guy inside. By that stage, the shuttle was already lifting into the air with no regard for my apparent fear of heights.

  Not that I cared.

  The corset might have done its job in protecting my vitals, but my back and side felt like I’d taken Mack on when he’d been having a bad day and didn’t care if I’d need tank time after.

  Not true, girl, he said, but the voice in my implant sounded like it had been dipped in gravel.

  “You hit?” I asked, surprised to hear my voice break the otherwise quiet cabin.

  I hadn’t realized.

  “Got me in the back,” he said, answering out where it could be heard. “Dry cleaners are going to have trouble with repairs.”

  “Any penetration?” Targil demanded, and Mack shook his head.

  “No. Sweetling?”

  And there he went again. I hid the look on my face by twisting my head to check my side. When I saw the damage, I remembered my persona, and managed a credible wail.

  “My dress is ruined!”

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and turned me, making a show of inspecting the damage.

  “I’ll get you another one. From that little place on Beta Zee.”

  Beta Zee? I could only hope there really was such a place, because I’d never been there.

  “Play along,” came through the implant, and I sniffed.

  “You don’t understand,” I whined. “I can’t go out looking like this! You’ll have to take me back to the ship.”

  Targil cleared his throat, but Mack had an answer.

  “We can’t go back there,” he said. “We’ll be late—and we can’t have that, now, can we?”

  I glared at him, letting my bottom lip quiver.

  “But... but... I can’t,” I protested, letting my whine grow into a wail. “You can’t be seen with me looking like this. It wouldn’t be right. You’ll be upset.”

  And I made that sound like the worst thing in the world.

  The look on Mack’s face was priceless. I don’t think he’d ever been accused of being that kind of man, before, but given where we were, it seemed like a fair call. Fortunately, he got it.

  “And I don’t like you making a fuss,” he added, in a voice so stern that I flinched.

  I turned the flinch into a gasp, and closed my mouth with a snap, turning myself so I could lay a hand on his chest, and raising a beseeching face to his.

  “Please don’t be mad,” I whimpered.

  He looked down at me, and then stroked my hair with his other hand.

  “I could never be mad at you, dearheart,” he managed, and somehow we both managed to ignore the howls of laughter echoing inside our heads; Tens and Case were beside themselves.

  I could only hope they hadn’t thought to record this.

  “They’d better not have,” Mack muttered, and we both realized that they’d have had to, since we knew we’d need to review the footage when we got back to gather as much data as we could.

  Well, that was embarrassing.

  “How about I see what’s available locally, and we find you somewhere to change privately before we meet his lordship.” He looked up at Targil. “That can be arranged, can’t it?”

  I followed Mack’s gaze, making myself look hopeful, but still on the verge of tears. Targil looked from Mack’s face to mine, and didn’t quite manage to hide his feelings of distaste.

  “I’ll see what can be done,” he said. “I’m sure one of his costumers will have something that will fit your lady.”

  It made me remember what Case’s files had said about Barangail: the man was yet to marry, but he had a half dozen concubines. The idea of wearing something he’d had commissioned for one of them made me feel sick to the stomach, and I protested.

  “I couldn’t possibly wear something meant for someone else!” I said. “It wouldn’t be right!”

  A flash of anger crossed Targil’s face, but he quickly smoothed it away.

  “The costumers are allowed to create their own designs. I would never dare to offer something my lord had commissioned for one of his ladies. I am merely suggesting that there will be something in your size, and it could be waiting when we arrived, instead of having to be brought in from the city, and delaying your arrival further.”

  Not to mention all the security risks that such a delivery would entail, although I was sure he expected Mack to understand. Mack did. He nodded, and played the high-handed husband card, once again.

  “Then we are settled,” he said. “I’m sure my lady would be honored to wear something by Lord Barangail’s costumers. I hear they are among the most talented in the system.”

  “Really?” I quavered, and wished the shooter had been firing something with the power to get through my armor.

  “You’re doing fine,” Mack assured me.

  Targil relaxed. He even managed a smile.

  “Then I will call ahead, on your behalf,” he said, “and we will have the appropriate privacy screens in place while your lady changes.”

  I managed a reproachful look at Mack, before forcing a gracious smile of my own.

  “Thank you, Captain. I appreciate the effort.”

  My tone said I was trying to be grateful, but did not feel as appreciative as I said, and Mack gave me a look laced with anger. I gave him a slightly worried frown, and then looked away, doing my best to ignore him as any thwarted wife might do.

  Muted laughter rattled through my head.

  “This is better than a soap opera,” Case said.

  Mack was, as always, unamused.

  “I need your eyes open and alert,” he growled. “I get my ass shot one more time without warning, and I’ll space the pair of you.”

  He patted my knee, timing it just right to disrupt the wide-eyed stare I’d been about to give him.

  “You okay?” came in a softer tone, and it would have been better if he hadn’t asked.

  Now I had nothing more to distract myself with, the pain was making itself known—and I figured a lady might just feel ashamed by the need to mention it.

  “I hurt,” I whispered, casting a furtive glance at Targil and his men.

  I didn’t miss the look the captain cast towards my bodice, nor the slight widening of his eyes when he saw the slug marks in the corset now showing through the dress. Even so, it was Mack he looked to, first.

  “Your lady has been hit,” he said, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  Well, really? Like Mack couldn’t actually see that for himself. I wondered where this was leading—and how, exactly, Mack was going to respond.

  “Nicely played,” echoed in my head, as Mack said out loud, “I’m sure she will survive, given that today she actually did as I suggested, and put fashion aside for security.”

  I did not have to feign the shocked look I turned on him, raising both eyebrows and looking askance at his cavalier attitude. Targil’s expression was twice as entertaining. The poor man didn’t know where to look, or how to school his expression.

  His mouth dropped open, and he closed it—and then he opened it again as though he was about to say something, only to close it as he thought better of it.

  I was torn between laughing at his consternation or being sympathetic. In the end I decided on sympathy. Besides, the man already had the wrong impression of me. I might as well
build on it. Before Mack could stop me, I reached out and patted Targil’s hand.

  “It’s all right, Captain. If my husband says I will survive, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”

  I even managed to put a quaver in my voice, as I sat back in my seat, giving Mack a quick and dutiful glance as I did so. His face gave nothing away, even as he spoke through the implant.

  “Seriously?” he asked. “What did I do to deserve that?”

  “You want a list?”

  “No. It’s good,” Case told him. “It’s just the right amount of bastard.”

  She paused, and then added. “You carrying a stim pack, boss?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’d suggest you slap her with one at your earliest.”

  I closed my eyes, with a groan—which Targil misread entirely.

  He went from trying to remain aloof and unfeeling to all anxiety and nerves.

  “Captain, are you sure she’s all right?” he asked. “We have pain killers in the onboard first... aid... kit.”

  He let his words trail off

  “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to be forward.”

  I opened my eyes, just as Mack scooped me off the seat and into his lap, pinning me against his chest.

  “She doesn’t like needles,” he said, “but I think a pain killer would be in order. Anything that doesn’t make her sleepy.”

  I glared at him, since he’d stopped just short of asking if they had stim packs on board, but Targil took it in his stride.

  “We do have stim packs...” he began, his voice uncertain. “They’re a little more than pain killers, but...”

  “Fine,” Mack said, dismissing Targil’s explanation. “As long as it works long enough for her to manage the evening in good order and return to the ship. I’ll have a medical team on stand-by to look her over, then.”

  I just bowed my head. ‘Look her over’—like I was some kind of recalcitrant beast.

  “If the boot fits,” murmured through my head, mocking me.

  No fair, Mack.

  “All’s fair...” he muttered, but he didn’t finish that saying, and I was glad.

  ‘In love and war’ seemed just a tad too personal.

  “I’m sure Lord Barangail could have his doctors on stand-by,” Targil added. “I notice the lady was not the only one...”

  Mack held up his hand, and Targil stopped as though Mack had pressed a button.

  “If it would be possible not to inconvenience your lord over this, I would appreciate it. Access to one of the costumers for my lady, and whatever stim pack would be best for her, will be sufficient.”

  I heard what he didn’t say: that he would rather Barangail didn’t know just how badly either of us had been hurt, that he was independent and more than able to take care of his people, that he didn’t want to be held vulnerable under the ministrations of another man’s medical carers, who might have agendas of their own. I don’t know how much of the sub-text Targil caught, but he bowed his head, and nodded towards one of his men.

  “If it’s not too impolite,” he said, and the blush coloring his cheeks suggested he thought it might be. “I... Might I ask what the lady weighs?”

  “For the pack?” Mack asked, and Targil gave a nervous jerk of his head.

  Mack told him, and I felt my cheeks heat. Who knew the man had been paying attention that closely?

  “I had to make sure Doc put together the right amounts,” he said, and I knew he was referring to the packs he was carrying.

  The soldier opened a cabinet set into the wall separating the passenger compartment from the cockpit, and pulled out an auto-injector. I whimpered at the sight of it and buried my face against Mack’s shirt. It was an improvement on what my reaction had been a year ago.

  Back then, I’d have been running before I’d realized I’d left my seat. Guess I was finally starting to get used these things. The Stars knew I’d had enough of them applied. Given none of them had killed me, yet, and most of them had made me feel better, it beat the Hell out of me as to why they still scared me shitless.

  A slight pressure along the gown’s shoulder seam was followed by the sound of material tearing, and I tried to punch Mack on the chest.

  “That dress was new!” came out muffled, and ended in a yelp as the auto-injector was set against newly bared skin and activated.

  “There. All done,” Targil said, and he might have been addressing a child.

  Man, I was just giving folk all kinds of bad impressions, today. As the cold burn of the stim raced through my system, I hoped those impressions weren’t going to get worse. Last time I’d had an unknown stim had been...interesting.

  “You’ll be fine.” But Mack’s reassurance was more command than a comfort, and I could only hope for the best.

  6—Unmasked

  Barangail’s mansion was more of a small fortress than a house. He’d set it overlooking the Carafakt, several klicks out of the city, which explained some of the reluctance we’d had from the hire-car company when we’d first approached them—and also why our host had sent his own transport, although the hit at the beanstalk’s base explained that more.

  Case hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d hinted at change coming to Alpha Nine. She just hadn’t said how bloody and violent it was probably gonna be. I sat beside Mack, appropriately harnessed, with the big lug’s arm around my shoulders. Once we’d left the city, Targil had lowered the extra shielding on the plassteel windows, and we could see the terrain as we passed.

  The window shields made me wonder if we should have been expecting more than just small arms in town—and why Barangail would rate that much attention. The barren landscape made me wonder where in the Stars the Alpha Niners got their food. There wasn’t a crop in sight.

  Mack must have been wondering, too, because he quietly surveyed the landscape for the first few miles, and then turned to Targil.

  “I don’t see any crops,” he said, and the statement demanded an explanation.

  “Not at this elevation,” Targil told him. “My lord has estates in the lowlands, and a fully-equipped bio-dome in the caverns below.”

  There were caverns substantial enough for bio-domes?

  “And the city?” Mack prodded. “Who serves their needs?”

  I huffed a sigh, pretending disinterest as any space-borne lady might, and looked past Targil and out the window. He looked at Mack.

  “The city is supplied by the lords,” he said, his words sending a chill through me, but he wasn’t finished, “and we have a guild that provides for visiting ships.”

  ‘At a price’ hung, unspoken, in the air between us.

  One of the soldiers shifted restlessly, and I resisted the urge to look towards him. Instead, I turned to look through the window past Mack, and caught sight of the edge of the gorge. Fortunately, we were travelling far enough away that I couldn’t see over it. I pretended discomfort, anyway, leaning into Mack and closing my eyes.

  At the same time, I sent him what I’d seen in the land beyond. He caught sight of the subtle movement along the cliffs rising a few meters above us on the opposite side of the gorge.

  “Those resurgents,” he said, making a point of looking through the windows on both sides, and then pausing and looking more closely at the cliffs, “do they operate outside the city?”

  Targil started to shake his head, and then frowned, catching the direction of Mack’s gaze. At the same time, one of the soldiers spoke.

  “Incoming.”

  And the shields went back up over the windows.

  The shuttle slewed sideways, spinning full circle, and then accelerating away. An explosion occurred shortly afterwards and the armored craft shuddered, but didn’t stop. I kept my eyes closed, and pressed closer to Mack’s chest. Hopefully our hosts would take that as the reaction of a frightened woman, and not the action of someone acting as a conduit between Mack and the ship above.

  “Well, fuck me,” Tens said, and I watched the scans go from sho
wing empty countryside to showing life on both sides of the road. “I want what they’ve got.”

  “I want to kill what they’ve got,” Case said, showing what lay ahead of the shuttle.

  Mack gave a startled oath, unbuckled his harness and leapt for the cockpit. I kept my eyes closed, and heard him stop, the picture I was feeding him fragmenting, as I emerged from my skull.

  “Cutter!” Mack roared through the implant, even as he yelled at Targil, “Let me through!”

  I sank back into my implant, and hit the comms to the ship.

  “Tens, Case needs control,” I sent, and wondered if I needed to break out of my role and get ready to go to war.

  “Nah, we got this,” Tens said. “Just sit tight.”

  So, I sat, and focused on feeding Mack the ship’s scans and updates on what Case and Tens were doing as they hacked the shuttle controls and took over. In the meantime, he was arguing with Targil.

  “You need to sit down, Captain,” Targil said, and his words were just short of an order.

  “But...” Mack said, although he was already taking a step back towards his seat.

  “Now, sir!” Targil insisted, and Mack hit the seat beside me.

  “Sir, someone’s taken control of the shuttle!”

  Mack buckled in, his hands moving slightly faster over the straps than they had before.

  “I hope you have an explanation for this!” he snapped, but Targil ignored him.

  “What do you mean ‘someone’s taken over the shuttle’?”

  “You can come out, now,” Mack advised, over our internal comms. “Might be time to play the lady, again.”

  And he draped his arm back over my shoulders, which is not what either of us wanted. Me, because I wanted to be out in the thick of it, taking out the threat, and him because he wanted to be right there with me. We wanted to wreak some havoc, and neither of us could. We had to sit tight, and be the helpless house guests, without showing a single sign of just how much that bothered us.

  “Almost through,” Tens said, and the shuttle gained sudden height, the floor tilting enough to topple Targil and the other soldiers still standing.

  I could sense Mack resisting the urge to shout ‘evasive maneuvers’, even as the craft went vertical, rolled sideways, and then dropped. Personally, I didn’t think it was designed to do that, and hoped the damn thing would hold together.