Alisa tried to skirt her men, scooting along a counter full of tools and mechanical parts, so she could find a better shot. She had seen Leonidas handle androids often enough—and these white-clad females did not look like combat specialists—but Abelardus might have more trouble. He couldn’t attack an android’s mind. He had deflected his opponent twice now, but she moved with blinding speed, and if all he did was defend himself, he wouldn’t be able to deactivate her—or keep her from calling for backup.
After the android tried a third time to get to Abelardus and failed, Alisa found the opening she wanted. She fired at the side of her head, careful to watch Abelardus in her peripheral vision, not wanting to risk hitting him if the android moved. And she did. As soon as Alisa’s blazer beam bit into her head, she spun and raced toward her like a bullet. Even with the help of her armor’s servos, Alisa didn’t spring aside quickly enough. The android clipped her arm and shoulder, and they struck the counter together with a crash. Cabinet doors flung open, and tools and equipment spilled onto the deck.
Ignoring it all, Alisa threw a block up to avoid grasping fingers. She struck the android’s arm away, then slammed her helmet into her opponent’s face. Something crunched beneath the blow, but that didn’t keep the android from shoving her backward. Alisa flung out a kick as she stumbled away, hoping to get lucky. The android was lunging after her, so the move paid off. She clipped her under the chin, knocking her head back. She found her balance and jumped in, kicking again. This time her armored heel slammed into the android’s stomach, and she flew so far back that she struck the counter again.
Abelardus lunged in from the android’s side, bringing his staff down on her shoulder. Electricity seemed to spring from his weapon, and it engulfed the android like a lightning strike. Alisa squinted as the brightness flared in her night-vision display, hurting her eyes. Still, she forced herself not to look away. She had managed to keep hold of her rifle, and she fired now, straight at their foe’s chest. Abelardus must have been holding the android there somehow, because she stood and took it. He finished her with a strike from the staff, and she tumbled sideways, body jerky, hitting the counter again.
Something near Alisa’s end tumbled off and rolled to her feet. She looked down, then dropped her rifle and screamed.
It was Thorian’s head.
Chapter 24
“Alisa,” Leonidas said, racing toward her.
Alisa clamped her hand to her faceplate, as if she could cover her mouth. Aware of her scream and that people might hear it, she cut it off. But she couldn’t get past her shock and horror.
“What is it?” Leonidas gripped her shoulder. His dismantled android lay crumpled in the corner behind him.
She pointed down at the decapitated head. It had rolled onto its face, its short dark hair now turned toward them. But she knew what she had seen.
“Thorian,” she croaked, but as she had more time to look at the head—she couldn’t look away—she realized the neck seemed strange. It wasn’t a bloody stump. It was…
Leonidas bent and picked it up, turning it over as if he were examining a piece of fruit for ripeness. “I saw the rest of the body over on the table while I was fighting.” He waved toward the opposite side of the room as Abelardus walked over to join them.
“It’s not real,” Alisa said slowly, numbly. Her heart resumed beating in a normal, non-erratic manner as the realization sank in.
“No.” Leonidas squeezed her shoulder, probably realizing why she had screamed. “But it’s an exact replica.”
Abelardus pushed some of his braids of hair back over his shoulder. “I don’t get it. They’re making an android Prince Thorian?”
“A very life-like one,” Alisa said. “Maybe they thought they could pass an android off as the real thing? And use him to cement their right to lead? To remake the empire?”
“You don’t think someone would notice when he never aged?”
“Maybe they were going to make new ones every year. Or maybe they didn’t plan on needing him alive—or to appear alive—for that long.” Alisa cringed at the idea of someone killing Thorian—of Tymoteusz killing Thorian. And that’s what he had admitted he planned to do, wasn’t it? Once the replica was built for Henneberry or whoever had come up with the plan, he could have gotten rid of the real boy.
Leonidas released her shoulder and squeezed the android head between his hands hard enough to crush it.
Alisa jumped. “What are you doing?”
“Destroying their plans.” He dropped the dented head.
“Tymoteusz is definitely going to kill you the next time he sees you,” Abelardus remarked.
“He can try.”
Alisa spun slowly around the room—the laboratory. “So, where’s the real Thorian? Abelardus, this isn’t what led you in this direction, is it?” She pointed at the broken head.
“Not at all. I can’t sense androids.” Abelardus pointed toward the back bulkhead. “Thorian isn’t far. A few meters behind there, I believe.”
“Have you been able to contact him?” Alisa asked as Leonidas strode toward the bulkhead.
“I’ve tried,” Abelardus said. “I can sense he’s awake, but he hasn’t responded. It’s almost as if something is blocking our ability to communicate.”
Leonidas punched a hole in the bulkhead.
“Nothing blocks his ability to communicate,” Abelardus said.
“Not for long,” Alisa agreed.
Another distant boom sounded, and the deck jerked.
Alisa commed Mica. “Any progress, Mica? Are we going to be able to leave once we show up with Thorian?”
She received a growl in response. Beck was the one to speak more articulately over the comm.
“She’s trying a bunch of things with this energy device, Captain, but have you seen the monitors?”
“No. This lab doesn’t include a viewing station.”
“What was that?” Beck asked. “I couldn’t hear you over whatever crashing is going on where you are. Are you in battle?”
“Leonidas is knocking down a wall.”
“In a battle?”
“Just because it’s in his way. Tell me what’s on the monitors, Beck.”
“The mining ship is launching hooks at the space station while the mafia ships keep the Alliance ships busy.” Another boom sounded in the distance. “Mostly busy.”
“Hooks?”
“I don’t know what else to call them. They look like they’re on some kind of energy chains. Mica thought we might even be supplying the energy for them. Unwillingly of course. The ship is hooking them to the station. Remember how we thought it was going to fly into the rift? It looks like maybe Terrible Tym wants to drag the station out of it so that it stays in our dimension.”
“Where it will irradiate anyone who flies close to it indefinitely? What is that crazy man thinking?”
“He’s your uncle. Shouldn’t you know?”
“Why would I know?” Alisa asked.
“You’ve got the same genes. And you get your crazy moments too.”
“Not the kind where I think it’s a good idea to take over the system and turn people into mindless minions.”
“Captain?” Mica broke in.
“How are my solutions coming, Mica?”
“We’ve got the grab beam disabled. I haven’t been able to find a way to stop that energy sucker from depleting us yet, but I’ve planted explosives all around the ceiling where the tendrils are originating. I’m ready to blow it as soon as you get back.”
“We’ll hurry,” Alisa said over the squeal of warping metal. Leonidas had pulled down a panel and made a hole through to the other side of the bulkhead.
Expecting more trouble in whatever room held Thorian, Alisa gripped her rifle and strode over.
“You better,” Mica said. “We’re down to thirty-five percent power. If we don’t have at least fifteen percent left, we’re not going to be able to take off.”
“Understood.”<
br />
Alisa closed the comm and stopped behind Leonidas. He was crouching in front of his hole, taking a long look inside before sticking his foot through this time.
“I can’t hear anyone breathing,” he whispered, and glanced at Abelardus.
“He’s in there,” Abelardus said, “and I don’t sense any other people in the room, but there could be more androids.”
“Going in.” Leonidas sprang through the hole with his rifle at the ready.
“Wait,” Abelardus whispered as Alisa started to follow. He squinted toward the ceiling. “Someone’s coming. They’re on the level above, but it might not take them long to get here. They may have figured out we’ve been mucking up their lab.”
“All the more reason to hurry,” Alisa said and stepped through the hole after Leonidas.
She almost bumped into him. They were in a small, tight room that felt more like a brig cell than someone’s quarters. There was no lighting so she had to rely on her night vision again. The only furnishing or object of any kind in the square place was a waist-high box in one corner.
“Door up there.” Leonidas pointed his rifle toward the ceiling.
Alisa swallowed. Whoever had said oubliette might have been correct.
“He’s in there,” Abelardus said, stepping into the room. He pointed at the box.
“You’re sure?” Alisa asked. “That’s not big enough to stand or lie down or anything. Is there even enough air? What kind of ass—”
In the tight space, Leonidas bumped her as he moved toward the box. He reached toward a dark control panel that seemed part of a locking mechanism.
“Wait,” Abelardus blurted. “It’s a Starseer tool. Or at least, that box has been imbued with power, like our staffs. That’s probably why I can’t communicate with him through it.”
Leonidas reached for the box, regardless, looking like he wanted to tear that lid off and hurl it across the room—or the galaxy. But as soon as he touched it, a spark of green light flashed, and he staggered back, grabbing his hand.
“Booby trapped,” he snarled.
A creak came from above, and light slashed into the dark room. Alisa whipped her rifle toward the trapdoor. It had opened a couple of inches, enough to reveal the black hem of a robe, but it hadn’t yet opened all the way. She held her fire.
Abelardus pointed to Leonidas, then toward the trapdoor. “I’ll work on that,” he mouthed, heading for the box.
Alisa felt something probing her mind, that creepy-crawly feeling of fingernails scraping over her brain. Whoever was up there knew they were down here. Afraid to give them time to formulate a plan, she fired through the trapdoor opening.
She had a second to feel satisfied as her blazer beam sliced into the hem of that robe, hopefully cutting into someone’s shin, before a huge weight seemed to push down onto her shoulders. It crushed her, driving her to her knees. Her mind flashed back to the asteroid base, to the tons and tons of rock coming down on her armor—on her.
It forced her down, flattening her to her stomach. She gasped for air, feeling like she couldn’t get enough. Had the floors above come down on this one? She would be smothered all over again.
“No,” she panted, trying to clear her mind, trying to push away the panic and reason with herself. The chasadski had to be doing something to her. Maybe they couldn’t affect her mind through the drug, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t attack her body.
“Abelardus, get out of here,” Leonidas yelled from somewhere nearby.
Was Leonidas still standing? If he could do it, so could Alisa.
She pressed her hands to the deck, pushing with all her strength to raise her body. Before she had gotten more than her head a few inches up, red armor flew past her, a boot nearly clipping her on the chin. Leonidas slammed into the bulkhead near where Abelardus was fiddling with the box.
“Get out of here, Abelardus,” Leonidas growled again, his hands gripping one of his rifles. No, that was the canister launcher. He meant to unleash some of Tiang’s concoction.
Alisa’s armor would protect her, but Abelardus would be as vulnerable as the two chasadski who had just jumped down into the room beside her. She got her feet under her and flung herself at them, her arms outstretched, trying to hook both of them.
Energy crackled in the air. Another chasadski attack, she thought, but no. That was a fluidwrap. The crackling net flew around the chasadski and also caught Alisa, fine strands of energy grasping her armor with the stickiness of a spider web. Her arms were planted on the chests of her opponents, not because they were doing anything effective there but because all three of them were tangled in the strands now. Her foes seemed startled, and she did the only thing she could think of. She shoved off with her feet and drove them backward. She had the satisfaction of smashing their backs into a bulkhead before something slammed into the side of her helmet so hard it would have ripped her head off if she hadn’t been armored.
Her head rang like a bell. Damn it, was there a third one in here? The fluidwrap made it hard to see anything.
Someone jabbed a knee into her stomach. She barely felt it through the armor, but another attack came from behind, striking her back so hard that it knocked her helmet into the face of one of the men tangled up with her. He cried out in pain. She would have felt satisfaction if she hadn’t been in pain herself.
Then one of the men started thrashing, as if he had suddenly grown claustrophobic and knew he had to escape at any price. Again, the armor protected her from his flailing body, but the second man—or the one behind her—still had his sanity and was attacking.
A force tightened around her throat like a vice. This time, the armor did not protect her. It was as if a cyborg’s strong hands were somehow inside of her neckpiece, cutting off her airway. She tried to gasp in air, but couldn’t get a single oxygen molecule. And the force kept pressing tighter. Any second, cartilage and bone would crunch, and her windpipe would close forever.
“Leonidas,” she tried to cry, wanting to tell him to shoot that canister, but nothing came out.
She kicked back with all her strength, hoping for luck, to connect with someone’s chest. She clipped something, but the fluidwrap hampered her movements, and she couldn’t tell if she struck friend or foe, human or bulkhead.
Abruptly, the force around her throat disappeared. She gasped in air, but struggled to recover. One of the men tangled up with her was still thrashing, and his wild movements tripped her, and she fell to the ground. All three of them fell, the two chasadski landing atop her. She managed to roll onto her back and shove the thrashing one off her, but there wasn’t room to escape him completely. Finally, he stopped flailing. She realized the second one tangled in the net wasn’t moving—and hadn’t for a while.
The small room had grown quiet.
“Leonidas?” she rasped, her throat sore and tight after the attack.
She rotated her head as much as she could, but sharp stabs of pain came from her neck. The trapdoor was open above her, bright light coming through, and the two chasadski lay to either side of her. Several strands of the fluidwrap were plastered over her faceplate, and it wasn’t until Leonidas’s red helmet came into view above her that she spotted him.
“You weren’t supposed to fling yourself at them at the same time as I threw the net,” he said, cutting away the strands from her faceplate.
“I wasn’t? You should have mentioned that during our pre-mission planning meeting.” Talking hurt, and she cut her commentary short, reaching up for her neck. It needed a good massage, but sadly, she couldn’t access it through her armor.
“There was a meeting?”
“Were you not invited? Clearly an oversight.”
“Clearly.” Leonidas hauled her to her feet, holding her in a hug for a long moment.
She gripped him back, looking around the small room as she did so. Four black-robed men crowded the floor around them, the two tangled in the netting and two others. No wonder she’d had trouble. Three weren�
��t moving, but a fourth’s arms and legs were twitching. A shattered canister lay next to him. Tiang’s drug.
“Abelardus,” Alisa blurted, stepping back. She looked toward the box, expecting to find him also twitching on the deck—or worse.
But he wasn’t in the room. He must have climbed out before Leonidas fired the canister.
Concern for Thorian flooded her—he wouldn’t have armor either—and she strode toward the box. Would it have protected him? Was it airtight? Or did it filter air?
Leonidas shot the twitching chasadski in the forehead, startling Alisa. She gaped at him as the man stopped moving, his eyes freezing over in death as they stared at the ceiling.
“They made their choice when they sided with Tymoteusz,” he said, no remorse in his tone. “I’m not letting them live to continue to terrorize the system.”
He strode to another one, his intent clear.
Alisa wanted to object to the cold-hearted murder, but was he wrong? These people had been with Tymoteusz at Arkadius, where that earthquake had killed thousands, if not tens of thousands. They had made their choice. Unless Tymoteusz had been controlling them somehow, they’d chosen to work with him to try to take over the system, and their intent hadn’t been nearly as noble as the Alliance’s when it had worked to overthrow the empire. Alisa winced when Leonidas fired again, but she didn’t try to stop him.
She forced herself to look at the control panel on the box. An indicator flashed red. Had it been doing that before? She hoped that didn’t mean a seal had been broken and that Thorian had been exposed to the drug.
Booms sounded in the distance, and when the deck shook this time, something crashed down in a nearby room or corridor. Alisa paid it no heed.
“This one’s already dead,” Leonidas said, standing over one of the men still tangled in the net. “Nose smashed and neck broken—that’s what got him.”
Alisa looked over, realizing he was talking about the one she had head-butted with her helmet. She was horrified to realize that her desperate attack had killed a man, that combat armor could make even flailing deadly. By the suns, maybe she would bury it in her case and shove it into storage when she returned to the Nomad. As a pilot, she had fired at ships and even blown some up in space, but killing up close was so personal. So disturbing. She was ready to retire from being a fighter.
End Game Page 33
