The man saw him immediately. “Yeah, you were the one I wanted to see.”
He didn’t sound sarcastic, which gave Tristan pause. “What did you want to see me about? And put that damn cigarette out.”
“Not a chance in hell, cap. I need this.”
Mila, finally intrigued by events, had reached his side.
“What did you have to say, then?”
“We got trouble. Found a body. And space suits.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Chaos erupted as everyone panicked around them, a cacophony filling the room. Tristan barked some word made undecipherable as it echoed off the walls. Everyone quieted, stilled.
“That’s better. You, you, and you.” He pointed to several people about the room, including Mila. “Come with me. The rest of you, lock this room down. Solder that door shut if you have to. No one gets in until the situation is settled. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, captain.” The response rattled off the walls.
Tristan turned and ran.
“Where’re we going?”
“Security offices. We need guns.”
Mila prayed the entire time, even though her faith had always been a bit lacking. Not really an atheist, her faith had evaporated from disuse. But she prayed now.
There were men on board. Mila imagined them in full body armor and carrying massive assault rifles. She imagined them shooting everyone on sight.
She shook her head and tried to keep up with Tristan and the rest of them, but she fell behind.
No wonder. Their legs are like a foot longer than mine.
She pushed herself a little harder, wishing she could just add some height or muscle and be done with it, but no. That would probably get her killed. Not worth the risk.
They reached the security offices and she skidded to a halt, slamming into the back of the guy before her.
“Watch it,” he growled.
“So-rry,” she said under her breath.
She waited to enter, looking in all directions around her, expecting bad guys to jump from the shadows. But there was no one. Odd. The others slipped in, allowing her to do so as well. She closed the door with relief.
“Arm up, everyone. Avery. Where’s Avery?”
“Here, captain,” the head of security said from his office door.
“Set the alarm.”
“What for, captain?”
“Intruders. We’re under attack.”
He nodded and disappeared into his office. After a moment, the alarm went off. A single klaxon repeated over and over again.
“Will everyone know what to do?” she asked, wanting to smack herself for her own stupidity. Of course, they wouldn’t. She didn’t know. How the hell could anyone else?
“No, but the people who need to will. Let’s move out,” he said, handing a rifle to Mila.
She looked down at it, wrapping her fingers around the stock.
“You know how to use this?”
Mila shrugged. “Yes and no.”
He glared at her. “That’s not an answer.”
She glared back. “It’s not rocket science, Tristan. Sure, I’ve never used a gun before. Doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”
“Just don’t shoot any of my men.”
“Scout’s honor. I’ll only shoot you. How’s that?”
They marched through the ship, directing everyone they saw to the canteen. It only had one entrance. Large and easily defensible. For now, they had to lock down anywhere the intruders could permanently damage the ship.
“But what if they have explosives?” Mila whispered, keeping time with Tristan’s steps beside her. He’d elected to take up the rear with Mila.
“Then we’re screwed. Most of our security force is spread out around the ship investigating. Our forces are too thin and my first priority is getting my people safe, getting this ship safe.”
The three most vital areas on the ship were the engine room, generator/life support room, and the bridge. They’d split into two groups, each responsible for sealing one of the remaining rooms. Tristan’s group was heading to the bridge.
They reached their destination without resistance. Mila let out a relieved breath as Tristan busied himself with locking the controls and the others guarded the door.
“Done!”
He stood and they headed out. All of them exited and Tristan sealed the door.
“Will that stop them?” she asked.
“No, but it’ll slow them down. The lock on the consoles should stop them, hopefully. Unless they have a better-than-average code breaker.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Retreat to the mess hall and form one.”
The room had an air of panic, fear, and pain. Relegated to the fringes, Mila sat back and observed as Tristan, Avery, and Braddock put their heads together to formulate a plan. Her heart thumped in her chest as her senses, heightened from adrenal responses, pulled in every little detail. The tang of nervous sweat, the sharp smell of blood, the wide, shocked eyes, people pacing to keep from going mad, people too afraid to pace.
Chaos. Chaos reigned around her and she looked on it with a morbid fascination. Her surroundings cast a surreal landscape of human panic, distracting her from what lay out there.
She looked back at Tristan, who gave her a smile that couldn’t mask the grimace beneath. He went back to his planning, leaving her to her thoughts.
How many are out there?
How many are dead?
Have they gotten into the engine room, the bridge, the generator room?
Can we stop them?
Will we complete our mission?
Will we make it out alive?
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Tango four, what’s your status?” he called over the radio.
“Engine room still secure, sir.”
“Well, bust it down, damn it!” he yelled, his voice echoing off the walls. This was taking too damn long.
“We’ve tried, sir. The doors are soldered shut.”
“Well, find something to cut it down.”
“On it, sir.”
“Tango nine, what’s your status?”
“We’ve breached the bridge, but the controls are locked, sir. We need a hacker.”
“Tango eight, report to the bridge.” Too damned long. Should have been in and out. Covert infiltration. How the hell did they get spooked?
“Yes, sir.”
“Tango twelve, have you found the rest of them?”
“No, sir. Still looking.”
“Pick up the pace.” He looked up and walked to one of his men kneeling on the floor. “What’s the prognosis?”
“No go, sir. We need a cutting tool on this door as well.”
“It doesn’t look soldered.” He looked closer, but saw no evidence of melted metal at the seams.
“It’s not, sir. Historically, life support is the most secure room on a ship. Can’t risk losing life support and, with it, the entire crew. Door’s locked, and from what I remember of this model, there are forty-six bolts holding this door into a reinforced steel frame. It would be easier to go through the wall.”
“Well, can we? Is that a feasible option?”
“It would take hours to cut through the wall, sir.”
“And the locks can’t be hacked?”
The man shook his head. “Once the door bolts are in place, the door can only be opened from the inside. Those locks have no external controls.”
He turned and walked away, refusing to vent his bad mood on his men. This was taking too damned long.
“Ready?” Tristan looked out at his men, every security person who made it back, plus Mila and Braddock. He hoped this was the right choice. When discussing it with his men, it seemed logical, smart, essential. But the idea of sending them out against an unknown enemy, with unknown weaponry, training, and numbers, made him ill at ease.
And bringing Mila with them made him even more so, though he suspected Mila would have verbally handed
him his balls if he’d suggested she stay behind. She gave him a reassuring smile and cocked her rifle, angling it in her grip like a pro before winking at him with a smirk. He shook his head.
I hope I’m doing the right thing. “Move out.”
Avery unlocked the door and men filed out in pairs, taking off in each direction as quiet as mice. Tristan and Mila left last.
“Lock it tight. Don’t let anyone in.”
The person nodded and he turned to Mila, motioning her to follow him. The door banged shut and she winked at him again before closing her eyes.
“Mila?” he whispered. He wondered why the hell she would close her eyes at a time like this, but then his mouth gaped as she changed. Her musculature got more pronounced and claws extended from her fingers. And he suspected that was only the tip of the iceberg.
She opened her eyes and smirked. Light reflected back and he furrowed his brow.
“Tapetum,” she whispered.
“Huh?”
She smiled. “A mirror-like structure at the back of the eye. Reflects light. Boosts night vision.”
“Oh. Preparing for battle?”
“You betcha.”
“What if someone else sees you?”
“What are they going to see? Only the claws are unequivocal. All the rest? A person could kid themselves into thinking they remembered wrong.”
“And you thought it was a risk for me to call you Mila.”
“It is a risk. So is this. But I’ll risk the possibility of being exposed over the possibility of being dead.”
“Of course.”
“Now, let’s go. We’ve got some bad guys to beat.”
“Don’t worry. Everything’ll be fine,” he said, trying to reassure the woman beside him. He’d never seen her before, but many people here had never met before. Well, they said crises were bonding experiences…
“Don’t worry? Everything’ll be fine?” Her voice escalated on each sentence. “Are you fucking nuts?”
Her voice reached a shrill resonance that made him cover his ears. “Easy, woman. Easy.”
“I will not take it easy. We are in shit here. Deep shit. There’s a good chance we’re never going back home.” She burst into tears, mumbling things he couldn’t quite understand.
“Do you have family back home?”
She nodded.
“Me too. Two girls.” He pulled a photo from a pocket of his uniform to show her. “Couple of hell raisers. Both in college. Costing me a fortune.”
She laughed, her tears of a moment ago giving a fragile character to the expression.
“What about you?”
“Newly married,” she whispered, her voice so soft he could barely hear.
“That’s nice. Wonderful.”
She nodded, her eyes cast down at the photograph in his hand as she sniffed. “I’m Tira Santos.”
“Nice to meet you, Tira.”
Bam.
The room quieted, hearing something slam against the door, metal on metal. All motion ceased as they waited, but for what he had no clue. He imagined not a person breathed in those moments. Tira tensed, staring at the door, ready to bolt.
Bam.
They jumped, the second rap taking them out of their shock. People looked at one another, renewed panic in their eyes.
Bam.
This couldn’t be good.
Mila moved like a jungle cat. Graceful, quiet, deadly. Tristan had a hard time pulling his eyes from her as they stalked down the hallways. And so, he kept behind her.
She lifted her hand and they both stopped. Her body slipped to the side in a fluid wave, hugging up to the wall like a cat begging for attention. She slinked against the wall, soundless, coming to the intersection, rifle strapped across her body.
Her hand whipped out around the corner and spun a male form into view. Large red gouges crossed the enemy’s face as she lowered him to the ground, dead. She pointed toward the corner, then signaled with three fingers. There were three more.
He nodded, waiting to follow her, rifle at the ready. She turned the corner right before him and flew at the intruders, slamming them up against the wall and onto the floor with speed and precision. He tracked every man she wasn’t engaging with his rifle, ready to take him down if he thought for a second he was a danger to her.
He didn’t like these tactics, but he understood them. The longer they went without the enemy knowing they were hunting them, the better.
When the last of them lay bleeding on the floor, he dropped his rifle to his side and grabbed a body, dragging it to the nearest doorway. He opened the door and dumped it inside.
“Here,” Mila whispered.
He turned and took the radio from her hand. “Good idea.” He clipped it to his belt and grabbed the next body.
When they had stowed the last body, Tristan motioned Mila toward a room to the right. She nodded, and they went inside, closing themselves into the darkness.
“Why are we hiding?”
“Because I want to listen to their radio and I don’t want to do it while we’re hunting. The last thing we need is them tipped off when the radio kicks on.”
“But wouldn’t they just think it was another of their guys?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I’d rather not take the chance.”
They waited in silence. After a while, Tristan started counting the number of times Mila sighed while waiting.
Thirty-six.
Maybe the team was operating under radio silence. Had they stopped using the radios once they arrived on board, afraid the signals would be tracked, intercepted? If the enemy was smart, they would.
Thirty-seven.
But then, if they had any inkling how badly damaged the Orleans truly was, they would know it wouldn’t matter anyway. Right that moment, they couldn’t track shit.
Thirty-eight.
He chuckled to himself and thought Mila might kick his ass if she knew he was laughing at her. But he thought it was cute. She wasn’t a patient person.
Thirty-nine.
The radio came to life, a distorted voice echoing off the walls after the dead silence. “Tango leader, this is Tango twelve. We’ve found the stragglers.”
Mila’s hand grabbed onto his thigh, holding on for dear life. He tried to look at her in the darkness, but saw nothing. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and squeezed gently.
“Tango twelve, how many have you got?”
“Unclear, sir. They’re holed up in what we assume is the mess hall. Door’s locked, but we think we can breach.”
Mila’s grip tightened, this time claws digging into his leg. He patted her hand, trying to signal her to loosen up, to let go.
“Good.”
Tristan crossed his fingers, hoping to hear more as he grimaced under Mila’s herculean grip.
“Teams, report in with a status update.”
Yes!
“Tango four. We’ve found a cutting tool. Working on the engine room now.”
“ETA?”
“Unclear, sir.”
Where the hell did they find a cutting tool? All the tools should have been in the engine room.
“Tango nine?”
“We’re working on the data encryption, but Tango eight says the encryptions are much newer than this ship. It’ll take a while.”
They waited in silence, but no other news came through.
“I guess they haven’t found the life support room,” Mila said.
“Or their leader is overseeing that part of the operation and doesn’t need an update.”
Forty.
“Care to let go of my leg, love?”
“Sorry!” she squeaked, releasing her death grip.
His leg started to throb around the sharp pain of the punctures. “Come on. Let’s go.”
They left the room and Mila sucked in a breath as soon as they had better lighting. “Oh, I’m so sorry. How bad does it hurt?”
Tristan smiled. “Not so bad.” He rubbed the spot, eyeing the small
red dots that speckled his uniform leg. At least they weren’t bleeding.
“Where to first?”
He tapped his fingers against his leg, thinking. It would take hours for them to breach the engine room or break the encryptions on the bridge. The door to the life support room was the most secure. “Back to the mess hall.”
Mila nodded and they retraced their steps back the way they’d come.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The sounds outside the door only grew worse, the people inside nervously staring the door down or cowering in corners. Many of them weren’t combat trained. None of them had weapons.
Then the noises outside the door grew to a frenzy, pounding, slamming, cracks of gunfire, screams. Silence.
A collective stillness overcame the room. Was it over? Were they safe? What happened to the men outside the room?
And what made them scream like that?
“Where to next?” Mila asked as she dragged the last body out of sight. She scanned the hallway, but she couldn’t wipe away all traces of what had occurred with nothing more than a dragged body. Blood smeared the walls, the floor. Droplets of the red fluid hung in the air, creating an eerie tableau, playing silent tribute to the carnage.
Mila found herself oddly fascinated by the drops, wanting to touch them like she had bubbles as a kid. She raised her hand to it, but resisted the urge to touch.
“Engine room.”
She turned and nodded, giving one final, mournful glance at the spectacle behind her. “Coming.”
Progress was slow through the halls. They couldn’t afford to be detected. At each intersection, Mila slowed, listened. With how much she’d heightened her senses, she could pick up a heartbeat at a hundred yards. Still, sound carried on the ship and their shoes weren’t designed for stealth.
She waved him through yet another intersection. Tristan followed, obeying her every order. Mila smiled to herself, enjoying the reversal of roles. She held her hand up, signaling to stop. Listened, counted. She wiggled five fingers in the air. Five combatants.
Mila's Shift Page 13
