Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series

by Ruby Lionsdrake

  “Tell him to stand down,” Makkon said, “and let us disarm the explosives.”

  “I’m not on your side, asshole,” Tamryn said.

  The gray-haired man smirked, though it held no humor. It was more of a smug I-was-right smirk. Tamryn instantly disliked him. She almost wanted to work with Makkon to make the man eat that smirk.

  “If the explosives go off, we all die,” Makkon said calmly, not showing any annoyance at her statement.

  Tamryn wanted to say something flippant, like then we all die, but she didn’t truly want that. The sergeant had guts for rigging this, but this wasn’t a military installation guarding military secrets. This was a civilian installation, guarding secrets that went beyond the military. They were here to protect those scientists and secrets, not blow them up. Beyond that... she wasn’t ready to die. She’d barely had a career, a life.

  Swallowing, she looked in Gruzinsky’s eyes, trying to gauge whether he truly intended to blow everybody up, or if he was bluffing. Unfortunately, she didn’t know him that well. His eyes seemed sharp, despite the paleness of his face and the blood pooled on the deck below him, the crimson puddle growing larger with each passing minute.

  She had to assume that he already would have blown up the station if that was what he really wanted. Still, would he stand down if she ordered it? She doubted it. Her rank might say that she was his superior officer, but she had been here three weeks and barely knew any of the men. She did not think he would obey an order she gave if she uttered it while standing next to their enemies, especially when one of those enemies had a hand on her shoulder.

  Tamryn shrugged away from Makkon’s grip, not wanting Gruzinsky to think she was willingly helping them. His hand twitched toward her, like he might reclaim his hold, but he ultimately dropped his arm. Maybe he had realized everything she was thinking.

  “What’s the plan, Sergeant?” she asked, hoping the man had a plan.

  “All the pirates off the station,” he rasped, his voice weak. “In their ship and their ship gone. That happens, and I’ll try to disarm myself without blowing us up.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Makkon said.

  “Then we all die.” Gruzinsky smiled, showing teeth stained red with blood.

  Tamryn didn’t know who had gotten to him before he’d managed to rig this, but she hoped the bastard was dead in a corner somewhere.

  The gray-haired man grabbed Tamryn’s arm, moving too quickly for her to think of dodging. She had scarcely registered his attack before she found herself pressed against his chest, the muzzle of a pistol pressed against her temple. A fresh wave of fear slammed into her, but she kept from showing her terror. She glowered at Makkon, letting him know she was displeased at being dragged up here and threatened. Not that he would care, but it made her feel slightly better. For his part, he looked surprised.

  “What are you doing, Brax?” he asked.

  “Listen, Sergeant,” Brax said, ignoring Makkon and staring hard at Gruzinsky. “You disarm yourself right now, or I blow her head off.”

  Though it was hard to think with the cold muzzle pressed against her temple, Tamryn forced herself to put on a brave front. “He’s about to sacrifice all of us, you fool,” she growled. “I die in that situation anyway.”

  Makkon watched her, his face difficult to read. She thought he might be displeased by Brax’s tactic, but he didn’t step in to do anything about it. Just like Zar down below. Not in charge, his stance said.

  “It’s harder to watch a pretty woman die than it is to blow yourself up,” Brax said. “And there are worse things than death that can happen to pretty women.” He kept the pistol pressed to her head, but his other arm lowered. It still wrapped around her to restrain her, but his thumb hooked into her belt, his meaning clear.

  This time, Makkon did take a step forward, his eyes cold. “Brax,” he growled, a warning in his tone.

  Tamryn was more concerned about Gruzinsky, because his eyes had widened at this threat. For the first time, uncertainty mingled with pain on his face.

  “Shit, Gray-Hair,” Tamryn said, knowing she had to find a way to tell Gruzinsky not to budge, not for this. “If you can get it up while standing next to a hundred pounds of explosives, then maybe you deserve to rule this station.”

  Makkon snorted. Gruzinsky still looked concerned, but the faintest of smiles stretched his lips.

  Judging by the tension in Brax’s arms, he was far more annoyed than amused.

  “You better consider his deal,” Tamryn said, looking at Makkon since she couldn’t look Brax in the eyes. “He’s offering you and your people a chance to take your ship and get away. You think Fleet will give you that chance? They’ll blow your ship all the way across the system so that it burns up in the sun, and they’ll bring a thousand-man boarding party to take care of you all. Maybe you caught us by surprise, but you’re idiots if you can think you can stand up against all of their might.”

  While she was talking, Gruzinsky’s eyes closed. He opened them again, but it appeared to be a struggle. She would have to end this negotiation quickly, lest he pass out and kill them all by accident.

  Brax grunted. “The government’s not going to send thousands of men to collect a few scientists. We’ll be lucky if they think you all are worth what we’re asking for.”

  “The scientists aren’t why we’re stationed out here,” Tamryn said. As soon as Makkon’s look sharpened, she knew she had made a mistake. Powell had told her they didn’t know about the artifacts, and here she was blathering to them, giving up intel that would only make their stance stronger when they bargained with the government. Now who was the fool?

  “Is that right?” Brax murmured.

  “None if it will matter if you don’t make a decision before Gruzinsky passes out,” Tamryn said, trying to salvage the situation, though it was such a mess that she doubted that was possible. Sweat dribbled down the side of her face and dripped onto her collar.

  “What do you think, Makk?” Brax asked.

  That he was asking Makkon surprised Tamryn. She found his uncertainty heartening, as well as the fact that his hand hadn’t done anything else to her belt.

  Makkon took a deep breath and stared at Gruzinsky for a long moment. Gruzinsky had his eyes closed and wasn’t giving away anything.

  “I think... he’s bluffing,” Makkon said.

  Tamryn closed her eyes, the wave of defeat that washed over her almost taking away her will to fight entirely. She wasn’t sure she would be willing to risk everyone’s life on it, but she thought he was right.

  Makkon walked slowly forward.

  Gruzinsky’s eyes popped open. “I’m not bluffing.” He lifted his hand, his thumb probably cramping from holding the button down by now.

  “You’re going to kill all those people you were assigned to protect?” Makkon asked softly, none of his usual fierceness in his expression or in his voice. He crouched down at the sergeant’s boots and gazed calmly into his eyes. “And destroy this secret that’s apparently worth a great deal? I don’t think your superiors would want that, do you?”

  Gruzinsky looked at Tamryn, and her heart lurched. There was a question in that look. A do I or don’t I? The idea of having this decision in her hands made her weak-kneed.

  “Better than giving everything to you,” Gruzinsky growled at Makkon. “Fleet doesn’t negotiate with pirates.”

  “We’re not pirates. We’re the last of our people. Thanks to your government, your Fleet.”

  Gruzinsky curled a lip. “Fleet doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, either.”

  That, Tamryn realized numbly, might be a more accurate word for what these people were. The last of their people statement confused her, but she could dwell on that later. She was too busy watching Gruzinsky’s thumb, wondering what decision he would come to, since she hadn’t given him a nod or a head shake. She could have told him no, in that second when he had looked, and she probably should have, but if she gave up their one chance
to destroy these people, wouldn’t it be an act of cowardice? She had no idea what their plans were. What if this station was a starting point, rather than a final destination? What if thousands might die because of their actions? And her choices?

  “Give me the detonator.” Makkon extended his hand, palm up.

  Gruzinsky’s jaw tightened, and in that instant, Tamryn saw the decision in his eyes. He was going to do it. Sheer terror flooded her, and she opened her mouth to cry no. But Makkon acted more quickly. His hands a blur of movement, he clamped down on Gruzinsky’s hand, forcing the thumb to stay pressed down as he jammed his elbow into the sergeant’s solar plexus. It wasn’t a hard blow, but it distracted Gruzinsky, keeping him from fighting back. Not that he could have managed much of a fight with those injuries.

  Tamryn doubted more than a half a second had passed before Makkon crouched at his side, the detonator now in his hand, with his thumb depressing the button.

  She felt a fool and was glad she hadn’t had time to cry out. She’d forgotten about his amazing speed. As soon as he had crouched by Gruzinsky’s feet, she should have known it was over.

  The sergeant slumped, all of the fight gone out of him. His chin drooped to his chest, and he avoided looking her in the eyes. As if she could be disappointed. In the end, she’d seen how bravely she would have faced death. She was surprised she hadn’t wet herself.

  Brax pushed her away from him. At first, she was relieved not to have that pistol jammed against her head anymore, but then she realized why he had done it. He was aiming at Gruzinsky.

  “Get those explosives away from him, so I can shoot the bastard,” Brax ordered.

  “There’s no point to shooting him now,” Makkon said. “We’ll take him down, tie him with the others. One more hostage to negotiate with.”

  “Don’t be sentimental, Makk. It’s a mistake to let any of these soldiers live. Look how much blasted trouble they’re making.” Brax eyed her, as well as Gruzinsky. “Trouble we might regret later.”

  Tamryn propped a fist on her hip. If he thought her efforts here constituted trouble, he better watch out.

  “I’m not shooting anyone in cold blood,” Makkon said, barely looking at Brax. He was untangling and disconnecting the wires. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—he seemed to know what he was doing.

  “I’ll shoot him then. My blood’s plenty hot right now.”

  Someone’s comm chimed. Brax grumbled to himself and stuffed his pistol back in its holster. Tamryn didn’t know whether to be relieved over the interruption or not. What if his people had found Porter?

  “What is it?” Brax asked.

  “Dornic here, sir. The comm station is operational again. All you’ll need is the passcode and appropriate retina scan to get in.”

  As one, Brax and Makkon looked at Tamryn. She ignored both of them, not that she thought that would do any good.

  “Good work, Dornic,” Brax said.

  “Anything else, sir?” The man on the other end sounded tired. Tamryn hoped these people would have to sleep soon, remembering her thoughts that there might be more opportunities then.

  “No,” Brax said, but Makkon said, “Yes. Someone was trying to chat with our communications officer earlier. See if you can figure out how to work the internal sensors, Dornic. I want a team to check out any life forms in the station that aren’t in the lounge.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Weary from all the defeats her people had suffered thus far, Tamryn might have dropped to the ground there, all of the energy sapped from her limbs. But Gruzinsky appeared on the verge of passing out again, his face ashen. Makkon had moved the explosives away from him and was continuing to disarm them. Tamryn walked over to kneel by the injured man. Brax stirred, as if he might stop her, but he must have decided that what she could do didn’t matter. Unfortunately, he might be right. She wished she had the medical kit, though even that might not be enough to save the sergeant’s life.

  She lifted his shirt, grimacing at the grisly wound, the intestines exposed. He looked like he had been mauled by someone with a sword or an axe, rather than something reasonable, like a laser rifle. Since his shirt was saturated, Tamryn unfastened her fatigue jacket. The coarse material wouldn’t feel good, but if the bleeding wasn’t stopped, all of his other problems wouldn’t matter. She folded it and pressed it against the wound, the best they could do until she found a first-aid kit.

  “That’s the last of them,” Makkon said a couple of minutes later. He knelt back from the explosives and wiped sweat from his brow.

  “Good,” Brax said. “Since you insisted on keeping him alive, you can carry your new hostage down to the lounge. Then you and I and your girlfriend have a message to send.”

  Chapter 6

  Makkon wanted a shower, something to eat, and someone to fix his leg. They were barely two hours into this mission, and he felt as if it had been two days. He watched Pavlenko’s back as she walked ahead of them. They had dropped off her soldier and were finally on the way to the communications room. He wondered if he’d have to hold a gun to her head to get her to apply her first-aid ministrations to him. Not that holding guns on her seemed to faze her. He grinned as he thought of her responses to Brax’s threats, especially that last one.

  His grin quickly faded, both because Brax was walking behind him and because his co-commander had almost put him in an awkward situation. He did not know if Brax had been bluffing back there, but there was no way Makkon would have stood by while he raped Pavlenko. Makkon wouldn’t stand by for him to rape anyone. Their mission might have forced them to kill, and that soldier might have been right in calling him a terrorist, but they did not need to be monsters. If Brax pushed him into a situation where they had to fight one another, or one of them had to establish dominance, it could jeopardize the whole mission. The men needed to see them united, as did their enemies. Makkon vowed to talk to Brax later when they had a moment alone, to make sure he knew that Pavlenko was his prisoner and that he had given his word to keep her alive if she helped.

  Not that she had helped yet. On the one hand, he almost couldn’t believe she had been willing to let that sergeant blow them up. On the other, he could. She’d been nothing but tough so far, and that only made him admire her more. Brax was right in that she was trouble and would continue to be trouble if they left her alive, but all he could do was go back to wondering if he might win her trust, make her sympathetic. Would it matter at all to her that he had kept Brax from killing that sergeant? He almost hadn’t stepped in, because he was fairly certain the man would die from his wounds, regardless; it might have been more of a mercy to kill him there. But he’d wanted Pavlenko to think he wasn’t an asshole—despite her insistence in calling him that often. He didn’t think he was an asshole, but he also understood why she couldn’t see him any other way.

  You’ll just have to seduce her.

  For once, he wanted to agree with that sarcastic internal voice. He certainly wouldn’t mind trying, especially now that she had taken that jacket off, leaving only a black T-shirt tucked into her trousers. From his position behind and to the side of her, he could admire her slim waist and the full breasts that pressed against the fabric. He could feel the smooth warmth of her bare flesh as he guided her down the corridors, his hand clasped about her triceps. It was difficult to resist the urge to stroke her arm, if only with his thumb. If they had met in other circumstances, in some place far from here, would he be someone she would find attractive? Or would she only see some over-muscled thug with tattoos?

  They turned the corner, and the comm station door came into view. Makkon forced himself to end the speculation. Surely whether Pavlenko found him handsome or not had no bearing on the outcome of his mission—unless it allowed him to sway her to their side.

  She looked down at the dried blood in front of the door, then glared back at him.

  So much for sway.

  He almost blurted out that he hadn’t been the one to kill her sergeant, but
Brax’s presence behind him kept his tongue silent. He didn’t want Brax to think he was trying to curry favor with her or that he was unprofessionally attached. They had enough to argue about already.

  “Inside,” he said, keeping his tone more curt than he would have if they had been alone. “Unlock the comm.”

  Though she didn’t rush to comply, she didn’t fight him, either. He’d thought she might have, that he would have to wrestle her over to the console and force her to stand where the retina scanner could catch her eye. The memory of their last skirmish flashed into his mind—her body writhing against his, twisting and bumping him as she tried to escape. To find a prisoner trying to escape arousing was despicable, and he told himself as much, but that didn’t keep his body from flushing with heat and his groin from tightening.

  Maybe it was a good thing that Brax was there, or he might have been moved to try something truly stupid.

  “Who am I sending this message to?” Pavlenko asked, her voice emotionless now, giving away little.

  Brax took out his personal computer, the cracked display seeming archaic next to the sleek, folding devices everyone around the station carried, with holographic displays that hovered above the controls.

  Makkon stood close to Pavlenko, so he could watch over her shoulder, wanting to make sure she didn’t try some sabotage that would keep them from getting their message out. If they couldn’t talk to the government and offer their deal, what a waste all of this would have been.

  “Councilman Bowler,” Brax said, reading the information from his device, “and Vice Admiral Bo-Jian Han.”

  “You have the contact information?” Pavlenko asked.

  Brax held out his computer so she could see the screen. She sighed. She probably hadn’t wanted him to have the contact information. But she waved a keyboard into existence, and typed in the air above the console.

  Makkon did not know how Brax had come by the information. The president or Commodore Arkt had given it to him presumably, but it disturbed Makkon that he hadn’t been given a copy. Their leaders might have told him that he and Brax were co-commanders, but was that as true as Makkon had believed? Or had he been made something of a figurehead, to ensure the hunters from the tunnels would come along willingly?