Liberate: Starship Renegades, #2

by S. J. Bryant

  The agent gave a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course."

  "Are you done here?" Kari said.

  The agents shared a look and it seemed that more passed between them than a simple glance.

  "We're on our way now," said one. "But I'm sure we'll be seeing you again soon."

  "I hope not," Kari said.

  The agents sauntered out of the engine room, down the hall and out of the main entrance, taking the time to peer into the dining room and each sleeping pod as they went. As soon as they stepped outside, Kari forced the door shut and then leaned against it, breathing hard.

  They knew. Damn them all to hell. They knew.

  CHAPTER 13

  "Where are they?" Kari said, running into the dining room.

  "Floor," Atticus said, voice low.

  "How did you know?"

  "I didn't. Piper knew it was there."

  Kari ached to wrench off the tile and pull Piper into a tight hug, but she didn't dare risk it. The agents could be back at any moment.

  "We've got to leave," Ryker said.

  "I'm not leaving Piper here alone. What if those agents come back?" Kari said. She paced back and forth across the dining room, mind racing.

  "If we stay here, they'll know for sure that something is up and they'll tear the ship apart."

  "So we fly away."

  "You know as well as I do that they'd shoot us out of the sky. As soon as we're out of sight of all these people, they'll use full force."

  "Then what do we do?" Kari said.

  "Act normal. We go out, hit the bars same as always. Plus, we might get a job, or at least some information on what the hell this splinter group is doing."

  Kari stopped pacing and rolled her eyes. "It's not a splinter group. It's the whole damned Imperium, like I've been telling you for the last five years."

  "Agree to disagree," Ryker said. "Right now we've got bigger problems."

  Kari glanced at the floor. Her heart ached at the thought of Piper huddling inside the hidden compartment, probably squished against the hard walls. Was she scared?

  "We'll go to the Broken Bottle," Kari said. "But only for a few minutes. I don't want to be gone too long."

  "We'll lock up," Ryker said. "And Atticus will be here to fight the agents off if they come back."

  The thought of Atticus trying to fight two Imperium agents didn't fill Kari with confidence, but she followed Ryker through the ship and into the bustling market.

  People elbowed and shouldered her as they moved through the crowd, all of them fighting to get to the stalls and buy food before the supplies ran out. Kari's neck tingled and she could sense eyes watching her. She couldn't see the agents, but they were there, either watching her through camera lenses or from the shadows of one of the ships.

  She hurried faster, through the crowd and then into the tunnel, into the heart of Zenith. The feeling of being watched didn't go away, but she tried not to let it show on her face. She probably looked like an NRG addict, twitchy and always looking over her shoulder.

  Ryker sauntered at her side, his beefy arms going some way to keeping the milling crowd away. A shotgun hung from his belt and a half dozen smaller guns sprouted from holsters across his body. Kari had no doubt he'd have explosives hidden somewhere on him as well, probably hooked inside the deep pockets of his pants.

  "Do you remember at the end of the rebellion, we did that extraction?" Kari said, breaking the silence. A thought had been nagging her ever since the facility.

  Ryker's face darkened. "Yes."

  "Do you remember what General Klaxis said? If he'd found the boy, then maybe the rebellion wouldn't have ended?"

  "Next-gen. He was talking crap."

  "Was he?" Kari said, turning to look at him as they walked. "After what we've seen, that spider thing, and the facility. I don't think we can deny that next-gens exist."

  Ryker rubbed his chin. "You think the general—and we—were sent to extract one?"

  "Yes. But the Imperium got there first."

  "We don't know that."

  "I do."

  "How?"

  "The records." Kari glanced up at him. "I looked through the rest of the records, the ones with Piper's name."

  Ryker slowed. "What did you find?"

  "It mentioned a boy. The dates and coordinates match." Kari had been trying to find the right time to mention what she'd discovered to Ryker. Now probably wasn't it, but she couldn't stop. "They took him."

  "What happened to him?"

  Kari's gaze dropped to the dirty floor. "He died."

  Ryker stiffened. "How?"

  "It doesn't say."

  "We don't know what happened."

  Kari wanted to scream. How could Ryker not see? They'd been sent on that mission—and good friends had died—to save a boy, and the Imperium had killed him. But she didn't want to argue, couldn't afford to, so she kept her mouth shut. But inside, she seethed. The Imperium had taken that boy and killed hundreds of people to do it. It had cost the rebellion. If only the Renegades had found the boy first, they might have been able to protect him. A dozen other rescue missions suddenly made sense; they weren't just saving civs, they were saving next-gens.

  After fifteen minutes, they stopped in front of a door with a buzzing neon sign that read Broken Bottle They pushed inside and the loud noise of the bar flowed into the passage and embraced them.

  Kari stepped inside and had a strange sense of coming home. The Broken Bottle was her favorite spot on this side of Zenith, and she'd spent more nights there than she cared to count. The dirt floor scuffed under her boots, stained with puddles of spilled drinks and the charred ends of smoked cigarettes. Oil drums, too rusted to hold anything, served as tables, while crates and other discarded waste acted as chairs and stools for the rowdy patrons. Most of them were transporters like Kari, and even more of them were sympathizers—if not outright members—of the rebellion.

  Ryker usually didn't come to the Broken Bottle; he didn't approve of being associated with so many rebels. But given their current situation, Kari was glad he could put his prejudices aside.

  They shouldered through the crowd to the bar and Kari ordered them both a standard beer. As she handed over two tokens, she tried not to think about how few she had left.

  They sat on stools in front of the bar. Kari lifted the glass to her lips and took a long drink. The beer tasted slightly stale—the way it always did—but she enjoyed it all the same. She wished she were here under different circumstances, that she could have Piper by her side and share a drink with her little sister—get to know the woman she'd become.

  "Kari! Long time!"

  A young man with a rugged face grinned at Kari's side. A scar ran from just under his ear to his chin.

  "Alec," she said.

  Alec ordered a beer and took the seat beside her. "You must be Ryker. I've heard all about you."

  "I'm sure most of it's lies," Ryker said. He spared a brief smile for Alec but then his gaze returned to roving about the bar.

  Alec leaned in close to Kari. "Is it true?"

  She stiffened. "Is what true?"

  Alec raised an eyebrow. "You know." He leaned in even closer so his breath brushed against Kari's cheek. "Do you have any idea the kind of rumors that are going around right now? About some facility, and about you. Kari, you're in real danger."

  Kari snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."

  "So it is true?"

  Kari looked at Alec out of the corner of her eye. She'd known Alec for a few years. He used to be a simple delivery boy for the rebellion, but he'd moved up the ranks since then, was just about running things in this section of Zenith last Kari heard. "Yeah. It's true."

  Alec gave a low whistle and swallowed half his drink in one go. "I can't believe they didn't shoot you as soon as you landed!"

  Kari shrugged, but on the inside she agreed. She suspected that the only reason they hadn't blown them all up by now—other than the public display—w
as that they were still looking for Piper and Ray. They were valuable assets to lose.

  "You've got to get out of here," Alec said. "If you stay on Zenith, it's only a matter of time before they publicly execute you for one thing or another."

  "We can't leave either," Kari said. "As soon as we're out of sight, they'll tail us and either board or destroy us."

  "You've got to get away." Alec looked furtively around the room. "They've got ears and eyes everywhere and from what I hear, they want you dead."

  "We'll lift off when we can."

  "No, you don't understand. Going to Albion or something isn't going to be enough. Hell, even going over to the next system might not be enough."

  Kari hesitated, her glass halfway to her mouth. It cost a small fortune to buy enough katium crystals to fly to the next system. She'd never be able to afford it, but if she did, surely the Imperium wouldn't bother following?

  "Look, Kari," Alec said. "You've done a lot for us over the years."

  Ryker scowled. "Stirring up violence and rebellion."

  Alec spared him a glance then turned back to Kari. "We owe you. Let me pay you back now. My people and I will create a distraction so that you can leave Zenith. Once you're out there, just keep flying. Even if you have to try and get to the Semiramis System without katium crystals, it's better than staying here. Hell, you might run into a transporter or something that will give you a lift."

  Kari's chest tightened. Alec's plan amounted to little more than suicide. In the time it would take them to get to Semiramis without katium, they'd starve to death half a hundred times over. Not to mention that the Imperium would catch up with them. But if what he said was true, then they wouldn't live for very long on Zenith either.

  Dammit! Why couldn't the Imperium just let her live in peace? Let her enjoy her time with Piper?

  "One hour," Alec said. "Be ready."

  "It'll be risky for you," Ryker said.

  Alec nodded. "Like I said, we owe you. For the donations you've made over the years and for revealing the facility. A few of my people had relatives taken, assumed dead. Now they have hope."

  Kari finished her drink and clunked her glass to the bar. "You'll be okay, though?"

  Alec grinned. "Of course, I'm always okay."

  Kari gripped his hand and looked into his eyes. "Thank you."

  "I'll see you again," he said. "Sometime."

  Kari doubted it. If she had to run to the next system then there was no chance that Alec would find her there. The rebellion couldn't afford katium. Hell, no one except the best crystal hunters could, and the Imperium of course.

  Ryker nodded to Alec—the most respect he'd ever shown to a known renegade since the rebellion officially ended—and he and Kari turned for the door.

  They were almost out when Kari noticed a familiar face in the crowd: Wren. She staggered to a stop. "What are you doing here?"

  "My job," Wren said.

  Kari's eyes narrowed. "Who's your target?"

  "My business."

  "I can't believe you're still doing this," Kari said. "Do you know how much trouble we're in?"

  Wren's face was half hidden in shadows but she leaned forward so that Kari could see her eyes. "Loyalty to the Guild."

  "Yeah, well if you're not back on the ship in thirty minutes we leave without you."

  Wren shrugged and slouched back in her chair so the shadows hid her face.

  Kari scowled and dragged Ryker out of the bar. Whatever Wren was up to, she wanted no part of it. And she wasn't exaggerating, either Wren was on the ship when the distraction happened, or they left without her.

  CHAPTER 14

  Wren didn't both turning to watch Kari and Ryker leave; the flicker of their shadows on the far wall were enough and she didn't want to take her eyes off the target. Alec looked shorter than he had in the video she'd seen, but he had the same careless swagger. Wren couldn't hear him from across the bar, but she'd been able to lip read his conversation with Kari.

  Nice of him to warn her and offer to create a distraction. Stupid though, and dangerous, not that it would make much difference to the way his night ended.

  Wren did her best to ignore the tiny seed of doubt that kept trying to take hold in her gut. Alec had gone out of his way to help Kari—and by extension Wren—and what did he get in return? A target on his back. She frowned, angry at herself for even entertaining such emotions. His atoms would return to the Universe. Atoms to atoms. There was no reason for her to feel bad.

  Smoke made a cloudy haze near the ceiling, but it didn't quite cloak the scent of sweat that leaked off of every person inside the room. Wren could have identified any one of them from the smell of their sweat alone. They spoke in loud, careless voices that gave away far more than they suspected.

  Wren saw the way one man laughed too loud—hiding something. And the way a woman near the corner kept her thick, black glasses on, even in the darkness of the bar—crying. Wren saw all this, noted it, filed it away, but her real focus stayed on Alec.

  He pulled his communicator out and held it close to his face. Wren's gaze locked on his lips—he may as well have been speaking into her ear.

  "Hey, Rob. I need a distraction. Main market. One hour."

  Alec's lips fell still and he tilted his head, listening to the person on the other end.

  "Yeah, but be careful. There'll be agents."

  He returned his communicator to his belt and took a long swig from his glass, finishing his drink.

  Wren wondered if he could feel her eyes on him. She knew she would if she was in his position, but Alec wasn't that aware. He shared a few nods with others in the bar before turning to leave.

  Wren lifted her glass to hide her face as he went past, waited a few seconds, and then followed him out into the passage beyond.

  People milled about, creating a pressing crowd in both directions. The smell of smoke was replaced by the dry, dirt smell of the passage and the people huddled there.

  Alec made good time through the press of bodies, weaving and side-stepping. He'd obviously grown up in the tunnels of Zenith.

  Wren kept pace. She could move through a crowd like water between rocks. She stayed a dozen paces behind him and was careful to look just to the side of him, so he was always in her view, but if he should glance back, it would look as though she were studying something just to his right.

  He didn't look back.

  Wren sighed. What sort of person rose high in the rebellion without learning to watch their tail? He'd offered his help to Kari and actually followed through on it instead of selling her out to the Imperium, so he wasn't a bad person, but he had a lot to learn about self-preservation. A shame he'd never get the time.

  A sudden flurry of movement in the passage ahead caught Wren's attention. The people at the far end of the tunnel pressed themselves against the walls, squishing against each other like rats inside a cage.

  Wren kept her face emotionless but inside she cursed; of course there'd be a crystal hunter here. Didn't they have somewhere better to be?

  The crowd around her seethed and surged against the passage walls, taking her with it. She eased sideways to avoid being pressed against the wall and wormed her way to the front of the crowd. She didn't fear the crystal hunters—glorified miners with fancy suits—but she wasn't stupid enough to stand in their way either.

  She glared down the tunnel but couldn't see Alec in the crowd. Then the crystal hunter's huge suit blocked her view and she had to push back against the man behind her to avoid being hit by the hunter's arm.

  As soon as the hunter passed, she slipped into the center of the tunnel and studied the ground. There: a boot print with a worn section on the front left. She hurried down the tunnel, following the trail of Alec's footprints.

  The Guild had taught her many skills, and when it came to tracking she'd been drilled with a vital rule—always track using at least two methods. She could probably have followed Alec by his smell alone, not as sweaty as most, with
the faint hint of a cheap Zenith cologne, but footprints were easier.

  She followed the trail down several turns until the crowd thinned and she could see Alec in the passage ahead. A small part of her almost wished that he'd gotten away, that he might have lived to see another day. But of course that was foolish. Alec was too poor at surviving to lose her, even if he knew she was there. And she could never let him get away. The Guild had demanded that she kill him, and she would. And if Kari really did intend to leave within the hour, then Wren had to kill him soon.

  Usually she liked to savor the kill. She liked to study the target, learn their habits and their motives. She liked to get inside their very skin until she could have imitated them perfectly. It was all part of the kill. But she didn't have time for that now, and if she were being honest with herself, she didn't have the inclination either. This would be a quick and simple kill. Industrial. Efficient.

  Alec turned down a darker passage and Wren quickened her pace. This would be it; he'd made the mistake of taking a shortcut and it would be the last mistake he ever made. His steps echoed in the narrow tunnel and his body made a silhouette against the brighter light at the end of the corridor.

  Wren darted forward on silent feet, drawing her knife from her belt. It felt cold against her palm.

  She plunged the blade into Alec's back. It slid between his ribs, into his lungs, while her other hand snaked around and clamped over his mouth.

  His eyes opened wide and he gave a muffled cry of protest but it was too late.

  Blood spurted out of his back, coating Wren's hands in a warm stickiness.

  She held them both frozen in the middle of the passage as his life drained away.

  His eyes glazed over, and his struggled protests eased until he became a dead weight in Wren's arms.

  She dragged him sideways, to the wall of the corridor, and eased him down. Blood soaked the floor and the tang of it filled the air, bringing sweet memories back to Wren of the many kills she'd made. That iron taste always had the same effect on her. She imagined that others got the same from baking cookies or something equally incomprehensible, but to her, the metal scent on the air soothed her heart and brought a calm. It meant the job was finished—she'd done well.