Cyrus and Olaf took tentative steps forward, weapons ready.
Scott turned the other way.
Steph grabbed his arm. “Where are you going? It’s this way.”
“I’m going to get Miranda.”
“Are you crazy?” said Olaf as he moved back over to Scott. “You don’t stand a chance of pulling that off. They’ll see you coming, and they’ll know we’ve escaped. We’ll never get to the shuttle.”
“Olaf is right,” said Cyrus. “All you’ll do is alert them to our escape.”
“Go. I’ll give you five minutes, then I’m going to find her.”
Cyrus gave a deep sigh. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re the only one who can operate that shuttle. You have to go. Go now.”
“I can find her,” said Steph. “I know how to get to the medbay without being spotted.”
“No Steph, I can’t let you do that. Look, I got her into this mess, so I’m going to get her out.”
“Would you guys hurry up and decide? We need to go.” Olaf was checking his newly acquired plasma weapon.
“Even if you do find her, how do you propose getting off the station?” said Steph.
“I’ll think of something.” Scott turned to go.
“Wait, I’ve got an idea.” Cyrus grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the room. He reached down and extracted a comms unit from the ear of one of the guards. At the same time, he tapped the side of his visor and removed a tiny tool not unlike a watchmaker’s screwdriver and proceeded to tinker with the earpiece.
“Hey guys, can we get going?”
“Put a sock in it.” Steph stuck her face in Olaf’s. “Those guys are the only reason you’re getting out of here with a chance of staying alive.”
Cyrus fiddled with his visor while tapping a finger on the earpiece. He handed it to Scott. “Okay, we’ve got comms. Stick this in your ear. It’s short-range and not secure, so use it sparingly.”
Scott took it, wiping it on his sleeve a few times before fitting it in place.
“Okay, assuming we make it to the shuttle,” said Cyrus, “I’ll bring it around to the underside of the station. We might be able to hold there for a while. You try and get to the emergency airlock, Cargo B. This is a standard mining-class station, so it should have one in the usual location. Try and get to that, okay?”
Scott nodded. “Okay. I’ll give you five minutes before I leave here, just in case I’m spotted sooner than I’d planned.”
Cyrus turned to go. He raised five fingers in the air. “Five minutes is all we need.”
Steph placed a hand on his arm. “Here, take this.” She handed him another micro syringe.
“What’s this?” Scott took the packet.
“It’s synthetic adrenaline. If you find Miranda… unresponsive… this might start her up again.”
“Okay, now go. Go.”
She moved off. “Good luck.”
Scott nodded. “Thanks.”
He watched them leave, working their way down the corridor. He went back into the room where the three guards were piled up on the floor, and started to strip the clothes off one of them, thinking it might help him blend in better with the locals. He was done inside the five minutes and, so far, all was quiet. When he finally moved out of the room, Scott looked like every other scratcher he had met in his life.
He slung the plasma weapon over his shoulder along with a smaller one he’d tucked inside his belt at the base of his spine. He’d also scavenged a short knife and a flash grenade—a particularly useful device for fighting in confined spaces. It didn’t do a lot of damage, but would disorient anyone within a short radius. It was also very useful for starting fires.
He kept close to the wall as he crept along, listening intently for any sound, his eyes focused on the slowly unfolding horizon of the curved station floor. He had a pretty good idea of where he was going and where the medbay was. This station was a standard design miners’ hotel; there were a few hundred others just like it dotted throughout the Belt. Built to a tried-and-tested, low-cost design, it had two main decks: an outer one for day-to-day operations, and an inner one for accommodations. There was also technically a third, but it was for services, water, and waste tanks and storage. This was the innermost ring, where the artificial gravity was weakest save for the backbone of the station, where it was zero.
Scott was on the accommodation deck, which was good, as this would have fewer people. The gravity here varied in intensity between your feet and your head. It was not a problem when lying down, but could cause mild dizziness in some people if they spent too long upright. So, most preferred to migrate to the operations deck as soon as they woke up.
After a few minutes, Scott found what he was looking for: a stairway leading down to the outer deck. He kept his back to the wall, listened, and when he heard nothing, started moving down. He poked his head out from the stairway alcove and scanned the corridor. On his left, two mercenaries were walking away. He caught snippets of their conversation, but couldn’t catch the context. The sound of their voices drifted off, and he ventured out of the stairway, heading right to where Miranda should be.
Again, he heard voices, but this time coming from inside the medbay. He froze, back tight against the outside corridor wall. He listened. There were at least two or three in there—too many for him to tackle on his own, even with the element of surprise. One or maybe two he could take on, but three? Too risky, he thought. His fingers touched the flash grenade and he considered the possibility of using it.
The voices from inside the medbay rose; they were moving closer. Shit. Scott looked around for somewhere to hide. He moved back down the corridor, dodging into a cluttered storage room. He stuck his ear to the door and could hear them moving past. They were in a hurry, their voices animated. Something was up. Scott wondered if Cyrus and the others had been discovered. He reached up to tap the comms unit, but decided to wait. He would get Miranda out first, then try to contact Cyrus.
He opened the door a crack and scanned up and down. All was clear, so he made his way back to the medbay, checking his weapon on the way. He walked straight in, to the surprise of a mercenary sitting at a desk with his feet up, dozing. He opened his eyes and gave Scott a startled look. For a moment, Scott could see him trying to place this crew member. It was enough time for Scott to shoot him square in the chest. He fell back and landed in a heap on the floor, a thin filament of smoke corkscrewing from his charred torso.
The whomp from the weapon was louder than Scott would have liked, and he froze for a split-second, listening for any reaction from the medbay or the corridor. But all was quiet. He moved into the operating theater. The room was dim, and there was a strong smell of industrial chemicals with an acrid tang that he could taste.
Miranda was lying on a table. She had been strapped down, her flight suit torn and tattered, exposing congealed blood and bruises. Her face was a landscape of pain. Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t move.
Scott feared she was dead, and raced to feel for a pulse. Her skin was warm, and he could see the faint rise and fall of her chest. “Miranda?” he whispered, cradling her head in his hand. No response. “Miranda?” he tried again, a little louder this time. Still nothing registered on her face.
He fished out the syringe Steph had given him, flicked off the cap with his thumb, and jabbed it into her arm. The effect was almost instantaneous. Her body jerked, her eyes burst open, and she gave a sharp intake of breath. “Miranda—it’s me, Scott.”
Her head turned in his direction and her pupils began to focus. “Sco…” Her voice trailed off.
“I’m here to get you out.” He started to undo the straps and helped her sit up. He put her arm around his shoulder. “Can you walk?”
She tried to answer, but her voice was a whisper. “Wa…”
Scott held her up as she slid off the table. Her legs buckled, and Scott grabbed her around the waist to support her.
“Wa…” she
whispered again.
“We gotta get moving.”
She reached up and grabbed the lapel of his grubby flight suit. “Wa… ter.” Her whisper had more force now.
“Water? Sure, wait.” He eased her down again on the edge of the table, fishing a flask from his pocket. “Here.”
She took a few sips and seemed to revive a bit.
“We gotta go,” Scott said.
She nodded, and Scott put the flask back to help her up again. They hobbled their way out of the medbay and back to the stairway. Scott could feel Miranda getting stronger, supporting herself more. Nonetheless, he still had to help her up the stairs to the inner accommodation deck. He found an empty pod, sat her on the bed, and closed the door behind them. It was obvious that it was not in use: there were no coverings on the bunks, and the room was devoid of any personal trash. He handed the flask again to Miranda. “Cyrus and the others are making their way to your shuttle. We’ve got to get to the emergency airlock in the cargo sector. They’ll pick us up there.”
Miranda nodded. “I… thought I was going to die in there. As soon as we get out of here, I’m going to blow this station into oblivion.”
“We’re not there yet.” Scott tapped the comms unit. “Cyrus?” No reply. “Cyrus, can you hear me?”
A cacophony of mayhem erupted in his ear. “Shit… Cyrus, what the…”
“Scott, trouble. We’re pinned down in the docking bay… internal fight, crazy shit…” The voice was cut off.
“Cyrus? Cyrus, talk to me.”
The mayhem again erupted in his ear. “I’ve hacked elevators… Stopped them working, except number three, the one we came down. Take that and…”
“Cyrus? Cyrus?” But this time the comms was dead. “Damn.”
Miranda looked up at him. “Trouble?”
“When is it not?” Scott thumped the wall. “They’re trapped in the docking bay. Sounds like a battle is going on, but it might actually be between Tiber’s men and the smugglers.”
“No honor among thieves, then?”
“Cyrus, clever bastard that he is, has hacked the elevators. Except for one, which we can take.”
Miranda stood up and stretched her body, feeling her shoulder as she did. “So, we’d better get there before it’s too late.”
Scott reached behind him and pulled out the plasma weapon. “You’re gonna need this.”
She took it and checked it with practiced ease. Scott could see she was now in her element, all fired up and ready for action. Scott wondered for a moment how this Valkyrie, risen from the dead not ten minutes ago, had now transformed herself into a fighting machine. “I’m so glad you’re on our side, Miranda.”
She gave him a quizzical look, then a slow smile cracked her lips. She reached around his neck and kissed him like it would be for the very last time. When they broke apart, she whispered in his ear, “Okay, then. Let’s go kill these scumbags.”
21
Battle for the Dock
Miranda’s enthusiasm for killing was short-lived. As they moved through the accommodation deck back to where Steph and the others had been incarcerated, she was visibly fading, her stride less sure, her hands reaching out for balance. Whatever it was that Scott had jabbed into her was wearing off, and Miranda was slowing down.
By the time they got to the elevator, he had her arm around his shoulder, supporting her. Thankfully, the area was clear of any crew, but that situation might change very quickly. He propped her up against the wall of the elevator shaft and checked the access panel. It was flashing a red malfunction alert. Scott tapped the earpiece comms unit. “Cyrus, can you hear me?”
Violence erupted in his ear. “Scott, where are you?”
“At elevator three.”
“Wait…” Scott could hear the whomp, whomp of plasma weapons in the background. The malfunction alert on the access panel disappeared. He glanced over at Miranda. She had slid down the wall and was sitting on the floor. “Time to go. You ready?” He started to help her up.
“Yeah, just a bit shaky. I’ll be okay when we get to zero-gee.”
“It sounds like a shitstorm up there. Better get locked and loaded.”
The elevator door snapped open. They stepped in, strapped on, and started up toward the center of the station to the docking bay.
As they approached, gravity evaporated and they began floating off the platform. They adjusted their orientation and readied their weapons. The door opened, and a plasma blast crackled overhead. The docking bay was filled with smoke, and the tang of ozone permeated their senses. Scott ducked down, floated out, and was assailed by a cacophony of weapons fire coming from the far end of the bay where it split into tunnels for each of the four docking ports. In front of him, he spotted Cyrus and Olaf crouched behind a makeshift barricade of several storage containers strapped together. Cyrus signaled for them to come over and keep their heads down. Beside him, Steph was treating two people with injuries. Godchild cowered beside her.
“Goddamn mess.” Cyrus was breathing heavily, and Scott could see he had been hit in the left shoulder. “They’ve got us pinned here.”
Miranda floated in beside them. “How many are up there?”
“I don’t know. Five, ten. I expect there will be loads more coming in from the elevator shafts just as soon as they figure out how to bypass my hack.”
“We don’t have much time, then.” Miranda stuck her head above the barricade for a split second, only to be met with a barrage of weapons fire. She ducked down again just in time. “Can’t see shit. But there can’t be that many, or they would have rushed you by now.”
Scott pulled the flash grenade from his pocket and handed it to her. “Would this help?”
She took it from him, examined it monetarily, and smiled. “That will do nicely, thank you.”
Steph floated over. “Bezzio is hit bad. We’ll need to get him to a decent medbay soon. I’ve done all I can for the moment.” She turned to Miranda. “How are you holding up?”
“Just peachy. Got any more of that stuff Scott jabbed into me?”
Steph shock her head. “Nope, all gone.”
“Pity. I could get to really like it.”
“Anyone got a plan?” Cyrus was checking his weapon. “I’ve only a few shots left.”
“We need to move in closer, and then hit them with everything we’ve got.” She hefted the flash grenade. “So, here’s what we do.” Miranda shifted her weight around to face the barricade. “We need to push this entire structure closer to the entrance to the docking tunnels. It should protect us from their weapons. Once we’ve halved the distance, then we deliver this baby.” She held up the flash grenade.
Scott nodded. “And then what?”
“That should disorient them enough for us to charge them.”
“A full-frontal assault?” said Cyrus.
“Got a better plan?” Miranda looked from one to the other.
Scott glanced at the barricade. “Nope.”
“Steph?”
“Whatever we’re going to do, Miranda, we need to do it soon.”
“Game on, then.”
It took them another minute to get everyone organized and up to speed on the plan. When they were all ready, they started to walk the barricade down the docking bay area. A difficult process to get started in zero-gee, but once they got some traction it gained its own momentum and made the process easier. That is, until they were hit by a barrage of plasma fire and the containers started to disintegrate.
“Miranda, you gotta throw that now! We’re coming apart,” shouted Scott over the whomp, whomp of the weapons.
“No, not yet. A bit further.”
The straps binding the shield of containers snapped. They started to float apart, exposing them to oncoming fire. Steph shrieked as a bolt hit her in the upper thigh. She spun uncontrollably.
“Steph!” Scott reach out and grabbed her back in behind a container just as another bolt shot past him.
“Miranda, ju
st do it!” he shouted.
She pulled the pin and flung it down the docking bay. It tumbled through the air and Scott felt time stand still. For a moment, there was nothing. Then there was light.
An incandescent fury ignited in the docking bay like a new universe being born. Smoke filed the space, and the station went into cardiac arrest as fire klaxons blared and an automatic fire system spewed out foam like an angry snowstorm.
After a few seconds, it stopped. The bay was quiet.
Scott barely had time to orient himself before Miranda launched herself down the remaining few meters like a feral cat, firing several shots in quick succession. He signaled to Cyrus that it was time to be a hero. They both sprang forward after her as two plasma bolts exploded from the fog, just missing them. Scott fired once, twice, three times. He heard a yell, followed by a thump.
Miranda slowed herself down and stopped by the entrance to the docking tunnels. Scott and Cyrus followed her lead, coming to rest beside her. The fog was clearing. The station’s ventilation system was working hard to recycle the contamination; they could hear it ramping up.
At this point, four short tunnels intersected, one for each docking port. One was derelict and sealed off, which left three others. A body floated out from the one directly above them.
Miranda signaled for each of them to take an entrance. When they were in position, she silently counted to three and they moved in, firing as they went. A bolt ripped past Scott, but he now had its direction. He fired and heard a scream. A moment later, another body floated past him. There was another one farther in, where the tunnel ended at the airlock door.
He heard Miranda shouting an all clear, followed by Cyrus. He breathed a sigh of relief and moved back down the tunnel to the intersection.
Several of the mercenaries’ bodies floated around the space, and Scott thought he recognized one or two from Dogg’s crew. Miranda pushed one aside as she made her way over. “Let’s get everybody into the shuttle and get the hell out of here.” She gripped a handle on the wall of the docking bay and steadied herself—or maybe she was taking a breather. She looked pale, and her breathing was labored. He wanted to reach out and ask if she was okay, but there were others in worse shape. They needed his help now. He floated over to Steph, who held her left thigh. “I’m okay. Help the others.”
The Belt: The Complete Trilogy Page 32
