Wild Nines (Mercenaries Book 1)

by A. R. Knight

“We’re off.”

  “Good. Found them.”

  “How?”

  “Mace. Weapon dealer. They were taken.”

  “Taken? By who?”

  “Be ready. Level Eleven. Will call.”

  “Thanks for not answering my question.”

  Mox didn’t reply. cutting the comm. Phyla, moving the Jumper down to undercut a long chain of containers being towed by what amounted to a large engine and little else, pulled up the Miner Prime directory. Eleven. Two words in the description. Prison and Containment.

  48

  Jailed

  The lifts took Mox right up there and deposited him into an austere lobby. Chairs were there, a few token plants, and a pair of desks behind glass with security officers staring out at the waiting room. Several people milled about, some sitting and staring at nothing, others on their comms, while more were in line waiting for those officers. Mox estimated twenty. Too much collateral damage.

  There was a door to the right of the officers, the only other one leading from the lobby. Assumed that to be the entrance to the actual prison. Possibility of breaking through door, with the suit, was high. Possibility of survival past it, low. Mox needed a distraction.

  Mox walked up to the last person in the line. Shabby man. Old, tired.

  “Why are you here?” Mox asked, forcing himself to use more words.

  “Friend’s been couped up in there for days,” the man replied. “He meant to pay the tab, you know, but didn’t have the money. I’ve got it now. Hoping they’ll let him go.”

  “Optimistic?”

  The man laughed. It was weak, wheezy. Not a threat.

  “You look around here, you see any reason to hope?”

  Mox shook his head. He had to get inside the prison. No way to force. If he was let in… Mox moved away from the line, towards a few empty chairs. Picked one up. The people in the lines scattered while the officers behind the desks pointed and shouted. Good. Mox threw the first chair at the prison door where it bounced. Plastic. No help. Mox picked up the second chair, threw it towards the officer desk. Aimed high, so it ricocheted off the wall.

  The prison door opened and five security officers came running out, pointing blue-tinted jigs at Mox. Stunners. Mox didn’t pick up the third chair, but glared at the security officers.

  “You gone crazy, man?” one of them asked as the five fanned out in a circle around Mox.

  “Friends inside. Want to see.”

  “Good, cause that’s where you’re going,” the officer said, gesturing for another to move behind Mox with a pair of stun cuffs. “Don’t try anything or we’ll knock you out so hard you won’t wake for days.”

  Mox just nodded. The rest of the crowd stared at him, a few using their devices to take videos. Mox would be famous. Funny. The stun cuffs snapped around Mox’s wrists and he felt his arms go numb. Didn’t matter. He was getting inside.

  49

  Reconnect

  Puk, where it could feel anything, felt tired. Its power level was running low. It’d been zipping around Level Five, then in the lifts around a few other levels hunting for signs of Viola and finding none. It’d gone back to the Whiskey Jumper’s bay to find it empty, a bunch of security officers standing around picking themselves up. From there, back to Level Five and still nobody. Like the Wild Nines had disappeared.

  Miner Prime’s shopping district was shifting into evening mode, the false sky overhead darkening in an approximation of a spectacular twilight. Lights popped on outside of restaurants, neons over most, with a pair of themed eateries sporting the more mellowed yellows of earlier centuries. Crowds changed complexion, from buyers of goods to purveyors of experiences. Bots like Puk flitted through the air, sometimes stopping to project ads.

  “Puk?” came a message over Puk’s comm.

  The message came from Cadge’s comm, but the vocal register was consistent with Viola’s. Odd. Comms weren’t things people parted with. And heir relative abilities generated unlikely odds that Viola could have taken the comm by force. There was room for random chance, however, and Viola was nothing if not capable.

  “Where are you?” Puk replied, lowering power to its inflection and accent systems to conserve juice, causing the remark to sound toneless, metallic.

  “You’ve got to be low on power. Are you still on Level Five?”

  “Yes,” Puk replied.

  Low was an understatement. Puk had shut down most of its systems. Like a human falling asleep, Puk only had its camera and comm up and running now. And the jets. Movement was still necessary.

  “Go near the lifts. I’ll find you,” Viola said.

  Puk did so, sinking to the ground. Within a few yards of the lifts, Puk gave itself a boost and then shut off its tiny engine, hitting the ground with a clang and rolling forward. There were people around who noticed, but nobody cared enough to investigate. Why get involved in something else's problem? So Puk rolled to a stop near the lifts and waited. Its camera went dark. Comm only.

  “This is the one?” said a voice after a few minutes, one Puk didn’t recognize.

  “It’s Puk.”

  “The bot’s not a target.”

  “I never said it was,” Viola’s voice.

  “The captain’s not here.”

  “Apparently. Davin might already be up there.”

  “Then we follow.”

  “Sure.”

  As Puk heard the lift doors close, its battery dwindled and the little bot went dark.

  50

  Cell Game

  They put Opal and Merc together in the same large cell, owing to questions of how long they’d be there. The space occupied by a pair of metal slats sticking out from the wall, covered with the thinnest of pads. A single sheet sat on each one. The back of the cell served as a bathroom, a small curtain conveniently placed. A built-in screen on one wall shuffled through feeds from Earth, from Miner Prime’s other levels. As though taunting them with what they were missing.

  From the tone in the officer’s voice, Opal figured they would be ejected into space before too long. Merc might not even make it that far. He lied on his slat, passed out and breathing softly. The man shouldn’t have left the Jumper, but Merc had insisted. Claimed that he’d lose his mind if he didn’t get to see something other than the ship’s walls.

  “Get him back here within four hours,” Erick had said.

  “I’ll have him back in three,” Opal had replied.

  And now they were here.

  Injured comrades were part of the way of things back when she’d fought with Earth, with the corporations to put down the Red Voice on Mars. Blazing over the martian regolith, covered in its red dust, taking and giving fire against moving targets. If she took a shot there, she’d likely wind up in a room not much better than this, a harried bot taking care of her. Thing was then, when Opal was ready, they let her leave.

  Merc shifted and his sheet slid down. It wasn’t cold in the cell, but the pilot shivered. Opal tore the sheet off of her slat, went over to Merc and covered him with it. His mouth was tight, eyes closed. Still hurting, even though he was asleep. That wasn’t good.

  When had she cared so much about Merc? They’d only been working together in the Nines for the last year, but something between them had clicked. The pilot’s lighter touch on life pulling Opal away from the past. Days spent touching up the Viper, playing war games in the Jumper’s pair of simulators. That’d been the start of it. Now, looking at the pilot sleeping there on the slat, it was something else.

  She was going to get Merc out of here. She owed him that.

  The door to the cell block opened behind her, a thick whooshing noise. It’d been happening in the few hours they’d been here. Miner Prime shuttled people in and out of this prison so quickly, so many for minor offenses that cleared up with a few coin changing hands. The footfalls in the hallway were loud this time. A large group and at least one of them was a big ticket.

  Opal moved herself over to the laser-gate, care
ful to stay back from the bright blue beams. One touch numbed the arm or leg. Keep it there and it’d paralyze her nervous system . She’d already seen one person, too drunk to care, make a running jump at the beams. They went right through, sure, but collapsed on the other side. The guards simply shoved the drunk back in, where he still laid, unmoving. Stunned for hours and hours? No thanks.

  The new prisoner moved into view, at least four officers walking with him. Opal saw Mox, saw the exoskeleton, and didn’t say a word. Didn’t give the mana passing glance. Mox would’ve seen her too. Him coming in here with those cuffs on spoke volumes. The big man wouldn’t let himself get captured easily. If Mox was going in a cell, he was going to be shot up a dozen times before falling over. So that he was here all calm told Opal all she needed to know. Time to get Merc ready to go.

  51

  Standoff

  The number over Mox’s cell read 27, and the one shared by Opal and Merc back there was 22. The laser gate to his cell opened and a pair of guards walked him inside, while two more stayed in the hall, guns pointed at Mox. As soon as all three of them crossed the threshold, the laser gate reignited. Then the stun cuffs came off.

  “We’ll need the comm,” a guard pointed at Mox’s wrist.

  Mox raised the comm, gripped it as though about to rip it off.

  “Cell 22. Go big,” Mox said.

  “Now!” the guard replied, trying to pull Mox’s wrist away.

  Mox let the guard grab the comm, the man’s little fingers digging for the release, then Mox, exoskeleton surging with power, grabbed the guard’s back with his right hand and launched him through the laser gate into one waiting in the hallway. Before the second guard in the cell could react, Mox had him by the throat, holding him up and staring at the remaining guard in the hall.

  “Open, or he goes,” Mox said.

  The guard in Mox’s hand tried to say something, but only gurgles came out. In the hallway, the other guard stared at Mox, stun gun raised. Debating.

  “Put him down, or I’ll shoot,” the guard said.

  “I hope you aim well,” Mox replied.

  Either way, Phyla needed to hurry, or this prison break was over.

  52

  Negotiations

  The security level was barren, only a few souls still shifting past the Miner Prime government buildings this late. A skeleton crew handling the evening shift. Davin and Lina, leaving the mechanic cuffed in the maintenance building, walked through the low-lit concourse to the dominating headquarters.

  Unlike Level Five, or even Vagrant’s Hollow, the security center was austere. Administrative buildings decorated with flat signs detailing their purpose in block letters. Not even a false sky, just the gray ceiling. Never had a reason to come up here as a kid, and Davin hadn’t missed anything.

  The security headquarters turned out to be the only building with flair. A series of concave circles on the outer walls painted with happy murals, scenes of ribbon-cuttings, peacekeepers interacting with the community, a long line of ships waiting to land at the station. The Miner Prime station logo, a whirling asteroid with a pickaxe and an olive branch hung above the main doors.

  “This is… different,” Davin said. “Never came up here. The way those peacekeepers act, I expected something more brutal.”

  “Our perspective is a little skewed,” Lina replied.

  “Guess so.”

  Getting into the actual building was easy. Walking up to the door and swinging it wide. A security officer sat behind a reception desk, caught twirling a pen between his fingers and staring at the ceiling. He started as they walked in, the pen clattering to the floor.

  “Ah, we’re closed unless you’ve got emergency business,” the guard said.

  “Here to see Bosser,” Lina said. “He’ll want to talk to us.”

  The guard gave them a closer look and then, keeping his eyes on them, touched the comm unit on his desk.

  “Sir, a couple people just walked in. Say they’re here to see you.”

  There was silence for a few seconds. A chill crawled up Davin’s skin, that telltale sign someone was watching him. Which Bosser probably was. Security cameras lurking in every nook around this place. Should he wave?

  “He’s ready for you,” the guard said, surprised at the words coming out of his mouth. “Before you go in, though, I’ll have to frisk you. No weapons, you know.”

  “Fine,” Lina said, again before Davin could get a word in.

  It was as though Lina didn’t want him talking. Probably didn’t trust the words that would come out of Davin’s mouth. Which, all things considered, was fair.

  The guard took away Davin’s gun, and Lina’s weapon she’d taken from the incapacitated maintenance guard. Both dropped in a box that they could reclaim on their way out. Then the guard led them back through a cafeteria. Up stairs to a private apartment.

  “Guy’s got himself a nice place,” Davin said as they walked up to the door.

  “He works all the time,” the guard said. “Why live anywhere else?”

  The guard pushed a buzzer, and a second later the light turned green, the door unlocking. The guard ushered the two of them into Bosser’s sitting room. A couch and pair of chairs sat around a circular coffee table that appeared to show a constantly changing display of ships in orbit around Miner Prime. Bosser himself strode in a moment later from an open doorway, a bottle of wine and several glasses in his hand.

  “Please, sit in those chairs. You,” Bosser said, looking at the guard. “Can leave us alone. I’ll be fine.”

  The guard gave a swift nod and excited, shutting the door behind him.

  “You’ll be fine?” Davin said, making no move towards the chairs. “Bold statement, seeing as you’re talking to a murderer.”

  “You hurting me won’t bring you anything you want,” Bosser said.

  “Wrong. You sent an android after me and my crew. Sending a fist into your face would be all kinds of satisfying.”

  “Short-term gains over long-term goals, Davin Masters,” Bosser said. “One could see it as an explanation for why I’m here and you are there.”

  “It better not be the only explanation.”

  “Davin,” Lina said, putting a hand on his arm. “Focus.”

  Bosser took the cue, gestured towards the chairs and poured the wine.

  “Please, sit,” Bosser said.

  Lina lead the way, taking a seat across from Bosser. Davin waited another moment, a token show of defiance, then sat. The wine, and Davin had to credit Bosser on this one, tasted dry and fruity, a march of flavors that worked their way around the citrus circle and ending on a spicy note. For a second, Davin placed himself in the glass and forgot where they were.

  “It’s one of my favorites,” Bosser said, breaking the spell. “Every time I see Earth, I make sure to purchase a case or two.”

  “You know what I like to do while my friends are in danger? Talk wine,” Davin said, putting the glass on the table.

  “What Davin’s really saying,” Lina said. “Is that you should talk before we chalk this up to a loss and shoot you for the fun of it.”

  “Fine,” Bosser said, spreading his hands. “I don’t think you and your band killed those inspectors.”

  “You’re just going to come right out and say it?” Davin said.

  “Why not?” Bosser took another drink from the glass. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah, but then what’s all this about?” Davin replied.

  “I’m hoping you can tell me. Have you seen the video?”

  “Haven’t carved out time for it,” Davin said.

  “It’s quite good,” Bosser said, flipping on the large screen on the wall.

  It hummed to life and, with a few spoken commands from Bosser, played a black and white recording. In it, the two inspectors entered the bay, Davin and the others behind them. Just like what’d happened, jeez, over a week ago already. Both of the inspectors spoke for a minute, then walked towards the ship. D
avin, it looked like, pulled out his gun and shot them in the back. Bosser paused the footage.

  “I’m guessing that isn't how it went?” Bosser said.

  “Yeah, cause I’m the type to shoot people for kicks and giggles,” Davin said. “No, that’s not even close.”

  “Then tell me what occurred. Prove your innocence.”

  So Davin launched into the story. Clare and Ward, requesting private escort and sounding very suspicious of some sort of conspiracy. The ambushed landing in the other bay, the engine splash. The arrival of the new security forces just in time to blow up the only people who knew why the whole thing happened.

  “So a doctored video gets the charges pressed,” Davin said. “But here’s the thing I don’t understand. The android that’s after us. It came from Earth, and there’s no way it had the time to come out to Europa after the inspectors died. It was less than a day!”

  “Fournine was already in the area,” Bosser said. “Eden had the android sent to Jupiter’s orbit so it would be ready.”

  “For what?” Lina said.

  “Those inspectors weren’t sent randomly,” Bosser said. “Marl is hiding something on Europa, and Eden sent the inspectors to find out what. A settlement like that one is vulnerable. Eden wanted to make sure Marl wouldn’t have time to destroy their investment. I’m hoping you can tell me her secret.”

  “Sorry, fresh out of secrets,” Davin said. “Marl always kept us at a distance. You ever meet her, you wouldn’t argue with that arrangement.”

  “If you truly have nothing to say, then I’m sorry,” Bosser said. “Eden won’t remove your charge, and Marl, the only other one who could certainly won’t.”

  Bosser took a slow sip of the wine.

  “But you could convince them,” Lina said.