Hot Target

by Nathalie Gray

  “We’ve been over this ten times—”

  “Actually, eight times, but go on.”

  “Fuck, Kim, would you let me finish,” Titan snapped, took a deep breath and stared hard. She felt the weight of his gaze all the way from his ship, up the vidcaptor, through space and down from her viewscreen. She probably would’ve squirmed had he been standing right there. “Collins thinks I’m limping back here to hide, let him think that. Since everyone knows by now Drokesh blew up my home, he’s gonna want to make good with the Yithians. It’s a perfect plan, Kim. You’re just too damn stubborn to see it.”

  Just too damn stubborn to see it, she mentally parroted. “What if Collins’ men find you first, huh? I can’t help you if I’m stuck on my ship.”

  “You’re not ‘stuck on your ship’, you’re waiting for Drokesh to show up and disable his ship while I take care of his kneecaps.”

  She didn’t like the thought of Titan going alone to Land’s End, especially after the incident with Drokesh. What if more than just Collins’ men wanted to look good with the Yithians? What if someone else decided Titan’s head would make a nice trophy?

  “I don’t like your plan, and that’s the end of it.”

  Kim flicked the vidcaptor off and switched the settings to exterior sensor so she’d have one more angle to fly her ship. She didn’t have to like the idea of letting someone she cared about setting himself up as bait so she could get a good shot. Intellectually, she knew Titan could take care of himself. She trusted in his instincts and abilities. She just didn’t want him getting hurt…or worse. The thought of losing him twisted her gut.

  So she followed his progress on her screens, cringing every time he overcompensated and sheered too far or banked and rolled, probably not realizing he was moving.

  The Femme Metal followed a few kilometers behind, providing silent guard to the erratic ship, with her systems quasi-dormant so no sensors would pick her up either from the nearby station or incoming ships. This, according to Titan, would make sure the Yithians running for him wouldn’t see her on their way in. But to her, all it did was render Titan very, very vulnerable.

  The worst part was she couldn’t even rely on Carmela anymore to fly the ship while she went ashore. Kim felt herself blush. Other than Titan swearing up and down the woman was fine, Kim hadn’t even thought about her favorite Spaniard and her Flamenco Stare of Doom. How gross was that!

  “Totally gross.”

  The comms console blinked. Titan was nearing the illuminated station and would need to be cleared for landing soon. They had to keep the comms link free. It was time. Kim flicked it on and couldn’t suppress a grin at the sight of Titan standing and patting his guns. He leaned into the vidcaptor and smiled.

  “See you in a bit, baby. Have fun.”

  “Titan,” Kim replied, stopped and forced a smile on. “Be careful. Aim high, okay, don’t make it last.”

  His gray eyes grew cold and hard. “Sure, no problem.”

  “Liar.”

  Titan reached out toward his vidcaptor, his hand growing much too large for the rest of him, and the screen flickered then returned to its dull slate-gray.

  Kim could only watch as his ship became too small to follow on visuals alone. She switched to sensors as he maneuvered his larger ship within the station’s air space, monitored his comms links when clearance was granted and cringed the entire time he pulled along the docking stations. Good god, he had the finesse of a bulldozer.

  She powered down most of her systems, knowing that beyond the station’s lights, no one would be able to see the Femme Metal in the immensity of space, and leaned back in her seat. Now all she had to do was wait for Yithian cruisers to come slicing in, and while they landed—and Titan did his deed—she was to creep up to them and disable the minimum-crewed ships discreetly. She could do that, no problem. Unless there were more than two to take care of. In which case, she’d have to resort to opening their cans, make one hell of a light show and create all kinds of unpleasantness in supposedly neutral space.

  Her only link to Titan was the decoder she’d forced him to wear under his sleeve. She’d found the smallest she could so it wouldn’t show, Titan’s argument being that if someone spotted it, they’d wonder why he was linked to a ship when everyone knew he worked alone. That Titan appeared alone was paramount in his plan, and since Yithians were particularly good at anything sneaky, he hadn’t wanted to wear the decoder at first. He’d given up with much muttering and cursing.

  With a sigh, Kim watched her console. She hated waiting.

  * * * * *

  Titan banged his ship pretty good along the docking ports. It took station personnel three tries to finally get the mooring clamps attached to his. After patting his various guns, Titan adjusted his tie—Yithian blue for the occasion—and marched for the exterior hatch. When it opened and station light flooded the airlock, Titan stepped outside and immediately went into alert mode. Station personnel watched him out of the corner of their eyes, crews from other ships openly stared until he pretended to adjust his belt and let the grip of his SIG poke out. They left him alone after that.

  The vultures are already circling.

  Word had reached Land’s End by now about his little tête-à-tête with Drokesh. It had to have, for people usually avoided him. They still left plenty of room for him to walk but he could feel the weight of their stares between his shoulder blades. He fought the urge to check behind him. That’d only show weakness. He was many things—caveman, killer and fashion slave—but he wasn’t weak.

  Titan strode toward the lowliest, rowdiest club he knew. Smells from cheap perfume, multi-species sweat and an assortment of others he couldn’t identify hit him like a brick wall. After swiping his ID at the bar for credit status, he found a table in a corner and sat. Strangely, he didn’t feel the usual comfort of sitting alone in a bar and watching, dissecting, the other patrons.

  For example, the woman near the meds vending machine would’ve drawn his attention right away. A plunging neckline always did the trick with him. Not today. He barely noticed her when she tipped her head at him and just ignored the lascivious smile. Everything was just…well, boring. Titan sat up with the realization. Without Kim around, everything was just plain boring. Ha.

  The stupid decoder she’d forced him to wear itched his arm. He didn’t know how she could walk around with its big brother strapped to her arm all day long. She took it off to sleep and that was it. And to screw. He fought the grin down. He couldn’t let that show, wouldn’t be good for his reputation, him grinning alone like a fool.

  After he’d made sure everyone had seen him, he changed bars, had a meal at a cook shop in some rancid-smelling alley. He was slurping the fake veggies in when he spotted trouble. A foursome of human males, dressed in fake leather Titan could smell from there and metal loops and chains that made no fucking sense whatsoever, swaggered down the alley. One of them wore a comms link attached to his throat. So there were more where this came from. Morons. Armed morons though.

  Titan subtly shifted on his stool as he kept his eye on the group. Two approached the counter and ordered what he was eating.

  “Is it any good, that crap?” the man asked Titan, eyeing the bowl in his white-knuckled hand.

  “Fuck off.”

  “I told him he talks too much,” his companion said, laughing.

  Titan served Moron Number Two with a long stare. “So do you, asshole.”

  Both faces sagged. “You’re not very friendly, from what I can see,” Moron Number One replied. He put a bear paw of a hand on the counter near Titan’s bowl.

  Titan could see needle marks in between the fingers and curled his lip disdainfully. He may have overindulged in painkillers in his time but he’d never stuck any needles in himself. Nothing was more fucking disgusting than a druggy. “Keep that thing away from my food.”

  He pointed at the hand with his chopsticks.

  “I heard,” Moron Number Two said, “that you got y
our ass kicked by Drokesh and his boys.” He laughed, showed too-perfect teeth.

  Must have been ceramic implants.

  Titan studied the pair, noted how the one with his hand on the counter had subtly shifted his left foot forward, which meant to Titan’s practiced eye, the man was a right-hander and would be attacking with that hand first. His buddy, the one with the teeth, threw a quick glance over Titan’s shoulder. Did they think he’d suddenly become an ass because Drokesh had pushed him around?

  Morons. Dead morons soon.

  Titan barely had time to bunch the chopsticks in his fist that the other pair of guys joined the first and all four charged him at once.

  Gritting his teeth, Titan planted his bunched chopsticks in the first guy’s eye, who stumbled away, howling. He then sent his steaming bowl into the next man’s face, the one with the comms link to his throat, who started patting his neck hurriedly, yelling curses. That left the last two to tackle Titan down from his stool. They went tumbling between chairs in a tangle of limbs. Other patrons rushed out of the cook shop.

  “Get his gun,” one of the men snarled.

  Titan felt a hand grope at his belt and try to find the grip to his gun. With a solid upward elbow, he broke the man’s arm with a satisfying crunch and pushed him off. The sound of a stunner charging froze him then blinding pain hit his back.

  Titan snapped backward as electricity coursed through him. He hit his head against the ground and bit his tongue. Hands grabbed him roughly and began to tug him back toward the alley where Comms Link waited, bent in half and panting.

  “You fucking bitch,” he sneered, aiming a kick at Titan’s leg.

  Titan barely had time to twitch his knee up to avoid spending the rest of his life drawing invalidity checks then aimed a kick of his own. He’d always had a fair tolerance to stunners because he’d been shot enough times to expect the jolt, the temporary but blinding pain then the spasms. So he knew what he could do following a stunner shot. And he could kick.

  The muffled sound of bones breaking rewarded his efforts and Comms Link collapsed onto one knee. He snarled something under his voice. Great, more morons would be coming soon. Titan had his Glock in his fist by the time the others realized pain was knocking down their door.

  Boom. Comms Link went sprawling back, a hole oozing blood right between the eyes.

  Boom-boom. Moron Number Two cried out and jerked with two shots to the legs. He too fell down hard. Seven rounds left each in his Glock and SIG. He had to keep at least four for Drokesh The Pig.

  When Titan climbed slowly to his feet, his gun pointed at the lone remaining thug—except for Chopsticks, who was otherwise occupied—the man backed away several steps while he cradled his broken arm.

  “I always let one get away,” Titan said, angling his body so he could have his back to the wall but still keep an eye on Chopsticks and The One Who Got Away.

  “It wasn’t my idea, man, I know who you are,” the guy stammered. “I swear it wasn’t my idea.”

  “Shut the hell up and listen.” Titan left the wall and drew near, until the barrel of his gun pressed against the thug’s forehead. “You tell your boss that I’m looking for Collins. You hear?”

  Titan let the guy turn around and sprint down the alley, hurriedly retrieving Chopsticks on his way.

  “You see, hombre, I never let one get away.”

  Titan turned to see Kim’s bodyguard standing behind him dressed all in clinging black leather, black hair coiled around her head in a spiky crown, lips painted a luscious shade of killer red and one big shiny kinetic gun pointed at him.

  Shit.

  * * * * *

  A small light blinked on her navigational console. Kim sat up and leaned on her viewscreen. A dot appeared on the grid, followed by another. She waited with bated breath and finally sighed when only two showed up. After she consulted her illegally obtained chart, she confirmed those two ships’ signature registered as Yithian cruisers.

  Maintaining total radio and systems silence, she monitored the two ships’ approach with her sensors, noted how one kept slightly behind the other. Drokesh’s ship maybe? While she kept an eye on the viewscreen, she tapped on her custom computer and hacked into the station’s control tower, waiting for the ships’ clearance. She’d know who it was then. When clearance was granted, Kim gritted her teeth. Drokesh and another name that sounded like “Kedge”.

  Both ships maneuvered with perfect timing along the docking stations. Kim waited until their thrusters had darkened to fire her attitude jets, each in turn, moving the Femme Metal a few feet at a time, letting her float forward, silently creeping up underneath the station. When she judged she was close enough, Kim fired the foremost jet once, a tiny burst, just enough to stop the ship’s momentum and remain immobile.

  She wiped her sweaty palms on her lap. Now for the fun part.

  Making sure all systems were dormant but ready to fire up at a second’s notice, Kim left the bridge and ran to the landing bay where she pulled on her atmospheric suit, checked for leaks or other defects. Finding none—Titan had cleared it twice for her already—Kim retrieved a booster pack from the locker and strapped it on as well. She felt like a whale with all the gear on. The bag containing her tools and an extra booster pack weighed a ton. She dragged it toward the airlock and pushed it beyond the ledge with her feet.

  Both the main rebreather and an extra set in hand—all checked and rechecked by Titan—she waddled inside the airlock, closed it and put the helmet on. Through the suit, she activated the decoder and remote-controlled the hatch. It hissed open. Kim grabbed the wire from the retrieval winch, clasped it to her belt and leaped out of the ship.

  The immensity of space loomed on all sides except one—the station. She aimed for the Yithian ship’s smooth underbelly, which looked like a pair of gray butt cheeks. They’d always reminded her of Old Earth’s mid Twentieth Century submarines, except wider of body and bristling with antennas.

  Grinning in her a-suit, she fired the pack only once, taking good aim. She didn’t want to waste its precious battery nor did she want someone from the station to spot the tiny jet of heat.

  The inside of her a-suit became cold and humid. Piece of junk. And she had the best thing on the market too. Well, the legal market. Kim resolved to look for a decent one on the black market where it seemed everything was either better or shinier. Perhaps because it was illegal.

  She felt like a flea when she finally touched down—or up, more appropriately—against the first Yithian ship and activated the magnetic soles on her boots. With about six hundred feet of wire hanging behind her, Kim headed for the stern. The thick cord linking ground power to the ship looked almost as thick as her leg as she neared it. Station personnel had already come by and turned it on.

  Bag in one hand—hurray for zero-g—she rummaged through it and pulled out a pair of long-nosed pliers, some screwdrivers and set to work on the access panel near the coupling. Within minutes, she had the thing open and was already splicing wires so the electricity would still flow and not alert the station while in fact no power passed through to the ship, which would drain its main batteries trying to charge every single system on its own. The cruiser would be dead in space within an hour. Simple, ugly, barbaric. And it worked.

  Kim was halfway to the second ship when a deep shudder quivered along the ship’s underbelly. A low groan like metal rubbing against metal resounded all around her. Movement under her feet caused her to arch back. She deactivated the magnetic soles and pushed out. The ship was leaving the station!

  “Shit, shit, shit.” Her voice sounded small and shrill in her a-suit.

  Her pack angled outward behind her butt so she’d go down fast, Kim fired it to the maximum, leaving it on and not giving a damn about who saw her. If she didn’t get clear of the ship when it powered up, she’d look like a tiny speck of ash floating in space. Not a nice end.

  “Come oooonnn,” she urged her pack faster.

  Above her now, as s
he’d completed a full rotation on herself so she faced “up”, the ship started to move back at an alarming rate. Armor plates and rivets passed by overhead, always faster. She cursed when an array of antennas came her way, gaining speed, looking like a thick bramble of thorny bushes. With a cry of desperation, Kim pedaled in midair and tugged on her cord, even managed to twist out of the way of most, but one antenna caught her, snagged in her cord. The sudden momentum carried her several feet away as she struggled to get free.

  Kim had to cut the cord and float in space with only the lone remaining pack to bring her back, or take her chances and try to push her way out of the antennas. But if one tore her atmospheric suit, she’d be dead within seconds.

  With a curse, Kim dug her pliers out of the bag and cut the wire.

  It gave with a sudden jerk that sent her around and around, bouncing against the hull, head, back, knees hitting the merciless metal craft as it sped away, leaving her tumbling in space. The bag flew out of her hand. Something hit her between the shoulder blades and everything went black.

  Her last thought was to let Titan know she’d been right…his plan was bad.

  Chapter Ten

  Titan slowly lowered his gun. He had an assortment of smart-ass remarks to make but kept his mouth shut. This wasn’t the kind of woman to be mouthing-off at.

  “I must admit I hadn’t expected you to come back here so soon,” the woman said, her accent making the word “here” sound delicious and naughty.

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  “Where is Kim?”

  “On her ship.”

  The woman arched a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at him. “You must think me a fool.”

  Titan cursed. “I’m telling you, woman, she’s on her ship, getting ready…”

  Could he trust her with their plan? Would she turn on him and try to make good with Drokesh? The way she held that gun told him he was looking at a professional, not just some hired muscle, so who knew if she felt any sense of loyalty toward Kim.