A drink—any drink at this point—would go a long way to soothing his nerves, but he doubted he could actually swallow a drop of alcohol, even if he’d brought a bottle with him. Not after having been called out by Ryce on his developing habit, and not after having gotten on Ryce’s back about the stims. They all had different ways of handling high stress, but some ways were undoubtedly more destructive than others.
The yacht came alive at about 05:30. They were too far away from the bustle to hear any voices, but some of the louder noises filtered through—doors opening and closing, the sounds of footsteps on the above deck. The race was scheduled for 07:00, and it would take about an hour to get from the Freeport to the lower planetary orbit at a leisurely speed. The yacht would have to get there a bit earlier, taking a position that would allow the cameras to zoom in on the canyon. The race itself would only last a few minutes. It wasn’t much of a window of opportunity, but they’d have to make their move then, banking in on the crew’s attention being directed elsewhere.
Finally, the engine revved to life, its roar palpable in the close quarters. Matt didn’t spend much time in the engine room anymore, more than happy to rely on Val’s expertise for everything needed there, and now he appreciated the man’s dedication to working under such rough conditions. Still, even if he wasn’t a trained engineer, Matt had at least some idea of how things worked in there, and he was about to put that knowledge to the test.
The ship trembled, setting into motion. Matt imagined it gliding out of the dock, taking a turn around the station, and speeding off into space. Tony shifted by his side, looking as uneasy as he felt.
After about an hour, Matt tapped his commlink for the hundredth time. He was waiting for it, but when the encrypted channel for the broadcast of the race came live, showing static and a countdown instead of a blank screen, it took him by surprise.
“T minus ten minutes. That means the ship is already positioned in orbit.”
“Let’s get moving.” Tony sprang lightly to her feet, weapon already in hand, squaring for action after the tedious hours of waiting. “Now’s your shining moment, Captain.”
“No pressure.”
Matt peered out of the door, but the service corridor was dim and empty. Thankfully, the adjacent engine room was left wide open, so they didn’t have to waste time fiddling with the control panel. When inside, Matt made a beeline toward the engine capsule. The huge mechanism was humming loudly, the sound almost deafening this close, but he had no extra time to bother with protective gear. He took an electric screwdriver out of his pocket and removed the main maintenance panel, exposing the delicate wiring underneath.
“Can you disable it permanently?” Tony asked. She remained close to the door, watching the entrance. Matt strained to hear her above the noise.
“Not in two minutes,” he shouted back. “But this should be enough to slow them down for a while.”
He replaced the screwdriver with a cutter and ripped into the wires.
Fixing a broken engine was a challenge that called for expertise and finesse, but wrecking it required nothing more than a basic understanding of its inner workings and the willingness to inflict damage—neither of which Matt lacked. He dug deeper into the engine’s exposed guts, cutting and tearing out the connections he knew were the most crucial. As he’d told Tony, he couldn’t really break the engine itself—not to the extent that Lady Lisa’s was broken, for example—but mending the now-tattered electrical system would take quite a lot of work in itself.
The engine shuddered, faltering, and made keening noises that reminded Matt of death rattles. Sparks flew from the open panel, and Matt took a step back, shielding his eyes. The engine gave a final shake and died down.
The sudden silence was as deafening as the earlier noise. Matt drew his handgun, set on low impact to incapacitate rather than kill, and joined Tony by the door, both of them with their backs plastered to the wall on either side of the opening.
His gamble paid off. After a few long, tense minutes, they heard footsteps and voices approaching from the service corridor, and two crew members came in. One guy’s grease-stained fatigues marked him the mechanic, while the other’s uniform was crisp and clean, and there was a holster strapped to his hip.
“Let’s see what the problem is—”
The mechanic stopped midsentence as Tony and Matt moved in unison, shutting the engine room door behind them with their guns trained on each man.
“Hands up,” Matt ordered.
The mechanic complied immediately, but his buddy—probably a security guard—hesitated, his hand fluttering uncertainly above his own weapon.
“Don’t even think about it,” Tony said.
The guard must have gauged her scowl correctly because he raised his hands while Matt divested him of his blaster gun and both their commlinks.
“Hey, man, that’s mine!” the mechanic protested.
“Sorry, gents. Can’t have you tattling to your boss just yet.”
Matt held them both at gunpoint while Tony tied their hands behind their backs with the zip ties she’d brought with her—starting with the sour-faced guard.
“Now I need your access code,” Matt told the mechanic after both of them sat on the floor, huddling in the corner by the hamstrung engine.
“I’ll get fired,” the man whined.
“Well, I ain’t got much time, so it’s either your job or your kneecaps,” Matt said, hoping he was convincing enough. He’d never actually shot anyone in the kneecaps, and he wasn’t about to start now, but the other man didn’t have to know that. “Your choice.”
Thankfully, his battered face must have lent him the necessary credibility to go along with his weapon.
“157 dash 143,” the mechanic said sullenly. The guy beside him muttered something unflattering under his breath, which Matt ignored. None of it mattered anymore—with the universal code which gave the engineer instant access to even the most security-sensitive areas, they could now gain entrance to any part of the ship.
“Where do they keep the prisoner?” he asked the guard. He was sure the man knew exactly what he was talking about—he didn’t even appear startled by the question. In fact, Matt was more surprised their guess about Val’s whereabouts proved correct, and they hadn’t pulled this elaborate scheme for nothing. “And by the way, same deal goes for your kneecaps too.”
“Upper deck, guest accommodations. Cabin 3,” the guard said reluctantly and glared at the mechanic, as if it was all his fault.
“Classy. I’m sure Val is a valued guest. Let’s go,” Matt told Tony, and they stepped out into the corridor, using the access code to lock the engine room door. Matt only paused to toss the crewmen’s commlinks into the storage compartment where they’d been hiding.
MATT AND TONY hurried toward the staircases leading to the upper deck. Matt checked his watch as they ran; it was now 07:02. The race must have begun already. He itched to check its progress on his comm, but there was simply no time. The next few minutes were crucial and would determine the success or failure of their “Crime and Punishment” mission, regardless of what was happening in the Pit.
They didn’t encounter any of the crew or staff in the living quarters. If Matt had to venture a guess, he’d say there were currently no guests staying aboard the yacht, and the owner was probably watching the race on the bridge, enjoying the view on the big panoramic screen. That’s what they were counting on, at least, as they turned toward the row of cabins.
These were suites, really, nothing like the cramped little rooms they’d grown used to on the Lisa, so there were fewer of them. As they were about to turn the corner, Matt spotted a guard stationed outside the far cabin on the left. This one wasn’t wearing any sort of uniform, and by his rugged looks, he wasn’t part of the yacht’s professional crew. He also appeared bored, which was completely understandable. No one wanted to be stuck on a posh cruise ship just hanging out in an empty hallway doing absolutely nothing.
“D
istract him,” Matt whispered in Tony’s ear, and she nodded. She handed him her weapon and walked purposefully toward the cabin door. Matt hid behind the corner, peering out ever so cautiously, Tony’s gun in hand and his own tucked under his waistband.
The guard drew himself up at Tony’s approach and adjusted his grip on his plasma rifle, but her blue uniform and her deceptively nonthreatening appearance gave him pause.
“What is it?” he inquired roughly.
“I was sent to check on the prisoner,” Tony said. Matt couldn’t see her face, but he bet she was wearing a sweet smile to match her voice.
The guard, however, wasn’t falling for it.
“I’ve got my orders. Nobody’s allowed in.”
“But he might be hungry,” Tony insisted. “I’m sure nobody remembered to feed him this morning.”
“Who are you again?” he asked suspiciously. “I ain’t seen you around before.”
“I’m new. Only started two days ago.”
“Let me check in with the bridge,” the guard said, reaching for his commlink.
That was their cue. Tony stepped aside in a smooth motion, and Matt threw himself into the corridor, taking aim and firing before the guy had the chance to raise his weapon. The charge hit him square in the chest, and he toppled silently, the comm clattering out of his hand. Tony caught his rifle before it could discharge and poked at the unconscious guard with the tip of her foot to make sure he was well and truly out of it.
“Nice shot,” she told Matt when he joined her by the door. “I thought for sure I’d have to tackle him.”
“Why is everybody always so surprised I can use a gun?” Matt asked, addressing the universe at large. “I was trained at the Fleet Academy, you know.”
“Must be your mellow disposition, Captain. Can we open the door now, please?”
Matt scoffed and punched the mechanic’s code in the entrance control panel. The door slid open without so much as a hiss.
Tony moved in first, rifle at the ready, and Matt followed her, glancing behind to make sure nobody was sneaking up on them from the corridor.
The cabin must have been intended as guest accommodations in the past, much like the others, but now it was stripped of any luxury furnishings. The spacious room was bare of carpeting, and the oval screen window was dark. Only the built-in cupboards and the en suite bathroom remained untouched. An old mattress was tucked into one corner, occupied by a large man who was just pushing himself into an upright position, his hands tied behind his back.
“Val!” Tony strapped the rifle behind her back and rushed to his side.
Matt allowed himself a sigh of relief. Up until this very moment, he hadn’t been sure they were going to find Val in any kind of shape—or indeed alive. The odds had rarely been stacked in their favor, but it seemed they’d finally caught a break. Val was here, and while it looked like he’d taken a beating or two, his condition wasn’t as dire as Matt had feared. His eyes had lost none of their sharpness, and he appeared anything but defeated.
“How are you feeling?” Tony asked, gently untying Val’s hands. The left one was bandaged, clearly missing the index finger. Matt winced and busied himself with dragging the guard’s limp body inside, where he wouldn’t be spotted so easily.
“I’m all right.” Val’s voice was rough with disuse, or perhaps screaming. “How did you get here? And what happened to your face?”
“Long story,” Matt said. “We should get a move on before they send a search party to the engine room and then here. Can you walk?”
“I can walk.” Val proved his words by rising to his feet and hobbling toward the door. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
They spilled out into the corridor, locking the door behind them. Tony took the lead while Matt helped Val along. He glimpsed the time on his watch—07:11. Was the race over already? He couldn’t pause to take out his comm, not even for a second, not when they were on the move. Once the race was over, Griggs’s attention would shift to the next urgent matter—namely why his ship’s engine was still shut down. Resisting the urge to check that channel or send out a quick message was one of the hardest things he’d done in his entire life. Please, let Ryce be safe. Let him be alive.
The two lifeboats were nestled on the sail, so, fortunately, they wouldn’t have to go anywhere near the bridge and the lower deck again. They hurried toward the escape ladder leading upward from the end of the corridor. It was hidden behind a decorative panel that slid aside easily when Tony touched it.
“Go, go!” Matt let Val climb the ladder first, giving him a push to compensate for the impaired grip in his mangled hand.
“Hold it,” a vaguely familiar male voice said behind them. It wasn’t a shout, but there was something grating and unpleasant about the timbre, and it carried in the confined empty space.
They turned to the newcomer, Val still poised with his leg on the lower rung and Tony with her finger on the trigger of the rifle. They all froze, staring at Eddie Ander and two guards, aiming their weapons at them.
Chapter Twenty
“I HAVE THEM,” Ander said into the commlink he was holding in one hand, never taking his eyes off Matt and the others. He had a handgun in the other, trained in their general direction, but with the guards’ plasma rifles it seemed a bit redundant. “Surprise, bitches. Now, drop your weapons.”
Matt complied, bending to lay Tony’s gun, which he was still holding, on the floor, and taking out his second one as well. There was nowhere to hide, and a shootout in a narrow hallway wasn’t going to end well for any of them. A split second later, Tony followed suit, putting down the rifle. Behind them, Val hopped off the ladder and came to stand between them. Even without looking, Matt could feel waves of tension rolling off his body. Matt’s own heart was trying to claw out of his chest like a frightened animal in a cage.
“Good,” Ander said when they were done. His snow-white hair stood up in tufts that would have been comical on anyone else. “Hands up, and get your asses over here. Slowly.”
The three of them did as they were told, slowly crossing the corridor with their hands in the air. It was so unfair, Matt thought bitterly. They were so close to making a clean escape, just a step away from the lifeboats, exactly on time. Who knew Ander would be on the Medusa and that his hunches would be right on the money?
Every step away from the ladder brought them closer to their deaths—not just them, but Ryce as well. If they allowed themselves to be taken now, it would be well and truly over for them. The only possible reason they were still alive at this point was because Griggs probably wanted to question them on how they slipped aboard his precious yacht before pushing them out of the airlock. Matt was aware that if he so much as glanced at either Tony or Val, let alone whispered something, he’d be shot on the spot.
But they were his crew. They’d been together for years, as friends, as family. And close-knit family didn’t always need to communicate verbally to understand each other. He’d just have to trust them to play along, even if that meant staking all of their lives on it.
“Close enough,” Ander said when they were only a few steps away. “Boys, take them in.”
The guard on the right shouldered his rifle and moved to cuff them, taking plastic ties out of his pocket.
One less rifle pointed their way was in no way evening out the odds—not even at this close range that made this specific weapon more cumbersome to use. But it was the best they could hope for, and Matt was going to take what he could get. It was now or never.
When the guard reached to grab his hands, Matt went with the motion, dropping to the floor while yanking the guard’s outstretched arm so the man lost his balance and fell on top of him with a strangled curse. Matt didn’t pause to check what the others were doing, even though, judging by the sudden eruption of shouting and the sound of bodies colliding with brutal force, all hell had broken loose. A gunshot resonated through the corridor, the charge emitting a familiar heat wave, but Matt didn’t
dare look at who or what might have been the intended target. He might have been only slightly better than absolutely useless in their wretched tussle with Stahl’s thugs, but now, sheer desperation spurred him into action. He didn’t let go of the guard’s arm, instead, rolling over, pinning him to the floor with his weight, and punching him in the face with all the force of his frustration. Pain spread from Matt’s knuckles up to his elbow, but he ignored it, punching again and again until the man went limp in his hold, his head lolling from side to side. With a grunt, Matt heaved him aside and pulled a handgun out of the guard’s hip holster, opting for a lighter weapon rather than the rifle. Only then did he look up from where he was crouching on the floor.
It seemed the only reason he hadn’t been shot in the head in the middle of his desperate struggle was because their other opponents were too busy trying to contain his crew members, who, indeed, had followed his lead, driven by the same incentive. Tony was still struggling with the second guard, both of them clutching his rifle—which was now swinging in a wide arc, pointing at the ceiling. Tony was petite, but she’d had bodyguard training a few years ago when she was searching for a job in spacecraft security and, when she wanted to, could boast the tenacity of an attack dog.
Val, unsurprisingly, had gone for Ander. Ander’s gun was the one that had gone off, but the high-intensity blast had strayed, charring the pristine silver wall. Apparently, close combat sometimes had advantages over the use of longer-range firearms—that, and sheer luck. After a long bad streak, it favored Val again, because the larger man was crowding his enemy, pushing him back toward the mouth of the corridor, their hands locked on the butt of the gun.
There were far too many weapons ready to discharge in unpredictable trajectories for Matt’s liking.
“Tony, duck!” he yelled, and she did, abruptly releasing her grip on the guard’s rifle and dropping to the floor without so much as a backward glance. The man stumbled, and Matt took the opportunity of his momentary confusion to shoot him. This time, his aim was somewhat shaky, and the charge only grazed his side rather than hitting him front and center, but it was enough to bring him to his knees as he cried out in pain. With a sharp kick to his face from her squat, Tony sent him sprawling, hopefully unconscious for the next few minutes. Matt winced in instinctive sympathy—that kick must have hurt.
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