Wild Nines (Mercenaries Book 1)

by A. R. Knight

  “It looked bad. You OK?”

  “I’ll feel it tomorrow,” Davin said, moving up to a crouch and picking up his gun from the floor. “For now, though, I’ve got someone to pay back.”

  As Davin raised up his gun, the man stepped into the open doorway again. At the same time, a whoosh from behind signaled the closed door opening. Phyla, looking that way, pulled the trigger. Davin did the same, but realized Ferro was unarmed. Ferro raised his hands. Surrendering. Davin aimed Melody at the man’s chest.

  “There’s nobody there,” Phyla said, not looking away from the other door.

  “We’ve got a friend,” Davin said. “Should I shoot him?”

  Phyla risked a quick glance back, saw Ferro. Saw the man take a slow step forward.

  “Don’t shoot me,” Ferro said, his voice liquid lead. “I’d like to make a trade.”

  “Stay there and speak,” Davin replied.

  “There is more behind this conflict than you know,” Ferro said, keeping his hands raised. “Framing you was a mistake. A coward’s path. But for the lives of my brothers and sisters, I ask that you allow me this.”

  “No idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You and I, Davin Masters. A duel, like the old ways,” Ferro said. “I win, Marl will tell Eden to drop the rest of your crew from the charges. The rest of my men live. Eden Prime continues.”

  “And if I win, what, we all die?”

  “No. You will live. At least for now,”

  “Sounds like good terms to me,” Davin said, setting Melody down. “Let’s brawl.”

  82

  Outclassed

  The short android hit the ground right in front of Viola’s face, fist swinging at her eyes way too fast to dodge. Viola fell back, catching the strike on her chin instead of her face, the blow sending her sprawling back on the ground. The android looked at her for a second, eyes scanning up and down her body.

  “You’re not on the list,” the short android said. “Explicitly noted as do not kill. However, be aware that should you engage again, I may render you harmless.”

  The android turned back to the endless series of sword strikes between Fournine and the tall android. That was when Puk struck, the little bot spitting its small laser at the android. It burned a hole in the short android’s neck, precisely where the neural connection to the android’s body should have been.

  Only instead of collapsing to the ground in a twitching heap, the short android turned and triggered a shot from a sidearm that appeared in its hand as if by magic. The bolt caught Puk and knocked the sphere to the floor.

  Viola lanced another few shots from her squat rifle, but her aim wasn’t anywhere near what it needed to be. The android watched the bolts zip by, then propelled towards Viola with its hand raised. Viola closed her eyes, expecting the hit, only it didn’t fall. She heard, then saw Fournine tackling the short android and driving it into the inside wall of the promenade.

  Fournine’s fists worked magic against the short android’s desperate defense, punching holes in the plaskin and causing sparks to fly out whenever a good shot hit. But where was the other one?

  Viola looked at where the two had been fighting in time to see the tall android pull Fournine’s knives from its stomach. Apparently the stabbing missed anything vital, because the android barely paused before taking a running start at the scrambling pair. Viola fired again, the spray glancing around the android. One bolt grazed a shoulder, but the bot didn’t break stride.

  “Behind!” Viola yelled and Fournine ducked.

  The short android followed suit, both of them dropping to the floor as the tall android’s swings swept over their heads. Fournine kicked out behind him with his foot, knocking out the tall android’s knee. That moment gave the short android an opening, allowing the bot to grab Fournine’s neck and slam the android into the ground.

  “Get out of here!” Fournine yelled, struggling as both of the other android’s pummeled him. “I’ve got one trick left, and you’re not gonna like it!”

  Viola didn’t hesitate, scooping up Puk and dashing back towards the bay doors. A moment later she heard Fournine’s crazed cackle, distorted and rambling up and down pitches as its vocal processing took a punch or two from the androids.

  Then Viola flew through the air, bounced off of the floor. A split second later the rumbling roar of an explosion rolled over her. Looking at the floor, wheezing air through bruised lungs, Viola could only hope things were going better for the captain.

  83

  Duel

  Davin struck first, launching into a right-handed swing towards Ferro’s kneecap. The stocky soldier shifted back and moved down the steps.

  “Giving up the high ground?” Davin said. “Dangerous gambit.”

  “Life is a series of risks,” Ferro replied.

  “Better hope this one pays off,” Davin said.

  Ferro had him on reach and size, but Davin figured he was quicker. And he doubted Ferro could equal his drunken brawling experience. When Davin noticed Ferro crouch, when they were only a couple steps apart, instead of kicking or trying to throw a wild swing, Davin jumped at Ferro in a tackle. He hit the trooper commander in the upper chest, driving both of them down the stairs in the tumble. Davin felt the steps, the railing, Ferro’s body bouncing into him as they rolled towards the lobby.

  Davin hit the floor first on his back and used the momentum to throw Ferro off of him, the big man rolling a few feet further but coming up on his knees.

  “A fun style, but risky,” Ferro said. “Do you win many of these?”

  “Not dead yet, am I?” Davin said.

  Now, though, Davin didn’t have an obvious trick to pull. At the foot of the stairs, everything was flat. So Davin pulled himself up straight and looked dead at Ferro, who was doing the same. Ferro brushed at his clothes for a second then walked quickly towards Davin.

  A stride away, Ferro stepped into a right-hook. Davin ducked into the swing, using his left shoulder to push Ferro’s punch wide. That should’ve cleared room for a jab into Ferro’s stomach, but the big man’s left fist hit Davin’s side first. Like an exploding bruise, Davin felt his right side crumple with the hit. Taking every ounce of concentration to stay upright, Davin moved a few feet away from Ferro and tried to breathe.

  “Straightforward,” Ferro said, taking another step towards Davin. “No finesse.”

  Again with the right hook, only this time Davin pivoted to the left, allowing Ferro’s swing to go to Davin’s right and miss his head by inches. Davin grabbed the arm and pulled forward, sticking his leg out. Ferro went forward and Davin felt the contact, then pushed as Ferro slipped the front part of his right foot beneath Davin’s shin.

  Ferro, falling, twisted with the motion and pulled his arm. Davin, still grappled with the limb, fell across Ferro’s body and flipped onto the ground. Both of them were lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

  Davin got up, jumping his feet beneath him, only to fall back again as Ferro whipped his legs around to knock Davin’s out from under him. As soon as Davin hit the floor, he rolled. Anything to get space. Ferro had better technique, so Davin had to find another way. Break the rules.

  In the hallway to the right of the lobby were the disoriented soldiers Davin knocked out with his shock grenade. While one was sitting up, the other two were still lying on the floor. Davin broken into a run towards the trio, towards their guns.

  “Too scared?” Ferro called. “Running already?”

  Davin ignored him, dove for the rifles on the hallway floor. The one sitting guard stared at Davin with little comprehension, shaking his head. Davin grabbed a rifle, turned and pressed his finger to the trigger. Only to see Ferro pull a sidearm from beneath his shirt. The two of them pointed their weapons at each other, only two meters apart. Neither would be likely to miss.

  “You can drop it now,” Phyla yelled from upstairs.

  Ferro glanced in her direction.

  “I thought this was a duel?�
�� Ferro said.

  “If you think I will risk it all in some showcase of bravado, you’re wrong,” Davin said. “We have a crew to protect. So talk, or she liquefies you.”

  Ferro hesitated, then dropped his gun. It hit the floor with a hollow thunk and bounced away.

  “If you want to find Marl, she’s at the terramorpher,” Ferro said. “Waiting for her shuttle to come and carry her away.”

  “She’s running? No faith in your protection?”

  “Marl does what she needs to survive,” Ferro said. “As we all do.”

  That was enough. Davin raised the stolen gun, swiped his index finger along the power setting, took a shot and hit Ferro in the knee. The low-powered bolt knocked Ferro into a crouch, but the man didn’t make a noise, just looked at Davin hard.

  “In the future, let’s do this again. Without interruptions,” Ferro said as Davin went by him.

  “Yeah, I’ll put that on my list. Way down at the bottom,” Davin replied.

  The skiffs, designed for those on-world showcase cruises, were docked nearby. Of the three Eden Prime maintained in the flat expanse used as a docking bay, one was missing. The other two, though, sat on their respective gray landing pads.

  “Just waiting for us,” Phyla commented as the two of them climbed the boarding stairs.

  Because the skiffs were single-deck floating barges, there wasn’t a ramp. A ladder, useful in emergencies or unscheduled landings, could be lowered from one of the sides. Otherwise, rolling stairs on the landing pads facilitated on and off-loading. Beyond that, the skiffs consisted of rails, a smattering of benches, and a pilot’s console.

  The things were so slow, security measures were non-existent. You get in a fight on a skiff, you were going to lose. Unless your opponent was another skiff, in which case Davin figured it would play out like an old pirate movie, both sides banging into each other and taking pot shots until one or the other called it quits.

  Phyla triggered the jets, small-scale engines that turned on the movement of air rather than any propellant. The whole concept gave the skiff endless amounts of flight time, but its max speed barely beat out a jog. Not that this was a problem when you were using it to sell a moon. Marl had plenty of time to craft sales pitches, while the company reps could take a view of the place and run numbers to have a decision in hand by the time the skiff landed. They were purposefully boring.

  “The computer says it’ll take an hour,” Phyla said. “These things are so slow.”

  “And you said you were jealous when I’d escort meetings on these things.”

  “Yeah, well, not anymore.”

  84

  The Terramorpher

  The machine filled the horizon. A massive metallic line painted over in parts with sold advertising, Eden Prime logos, and marred pieces where an unexpected piece of falling debris tore the color away. A ragged rainbow. Made in pieces on Earth and in space, then sent to Europa in a series of rocket-boosted boxes, contracted engineers and robots assembled the machine into the churning line of planetary remodeling it was now.

  “Always forget how big these things are,” Phyla said, staring.

  “Too impatient to go any smaller,” Davin replied.

  The terramorpher would not win a race, but it churned over the ice and deposited plants engineered to build an atmosphere, to warm up the moon. To melt that icy surface. Eventually Europa would be a rock ball with oceans, and from there the road to a new paradise wasn't long.

  “We’ve found Merc,” Opal’s voice came in over the comm. “They had a couple guys watching him. Took one look at Mox and ran. We’re on our way back to the ship.”

  “Viola?” Davin asked. “You take care of those androids yet?”

  “Fournine did,” Viola replied a second later. “Blew them both up. And itself.”

  A pause. Viola sounded sad, but the turned bot had done better than it should have. A two for one android trade? He’d take that every time.

  “Sorry to hear that,” Davin said, unsure what else to say.

  “Don’t worry about it. I copied Fournine’s data while it was turned off. We get a new body, I can bring it back.”

  “I’ll put it on the shopping list,” Davin said. “We’re on our way to find Marl. Get the cargo hauler ready to go. We might need a pick-up.”

  Affirmatives were thrown around and a minute later Phyla guided the skiff into the docking bay on the terramorpher. Despite the size of the machine, actual room for people was minimal. The bay had room for two skiffs, one of which was already taken. From there a wide scaffolding stair led up to an observation deck and control panels. Only the bare essentials. Unlike the spectacular exterior, this part was a drab gray. Tourists didn’t make it this far, so Eden Prime didn’t bother sprucing things up.

  Climbing off the skiff, Phyla and Davin drew their weapons again, edging up the stairs with Davin in the lead.

  “How much you want to bet Marl’s favorite flunky, Castor is here?” Davin said.

  “All I’ve got,” Phyla said, double-checking the energy on her rifle. “You know much about about him?”

  “Only seen him spinning the words to gawking tourists. Our luck, the man’s secretly a living weapon whose gonna take us both out before we know what’s happening,”

  “Seems like a good assumption,” Phyla said.

  The one landing before the observation deck, a platform there to give room for a stabilizing steel beam jutting through the terramorpher, held no answers in its empty flatness. Above, the observation deck hid behind the steep stairs and the plated inside of the big machine. The noise here, fifty feet above the ground, sounded like a grumbling stomach tied to an amplifier. Cracking ice.

  “Here we go,” Davin said, taking a breath and getting ready for a mad dash up the stairs.

  He expected an OK from Phyla, a grunt of acknowledgment. What Davin heard instead was a stifled yell and the sound of a body hitting the platform behind him. Davin whirled around, bringing Melody up to fire, and caught Castor’s kick in the jaw.

  Davin bounced back into the stairs, splaying out against the metal steps, but hung on to the shotgun. Castor, holding his own gun in his left hand, gave Davin a leveling look, then pulled the trigger.

  A green bolt lanced out, hit Davin’s knee, and spreading around his leg like burning fire. A stun shot, meant to overload the nerves and trigger shock. Davin recognized the sensation - enough bar fights and he got pretty used to it - and swung the shotgun around, firing a round. Castor dove to the side, catching himself on the railing. Phyla brought herself back up to a crouch, reaching for her assault rifle.

  “Two on one, Castor,” Davin rasped as his left leg fell numb, the burning sensation rising through his stomach and spreading to his right side. “Drop the stunner and we won’t kill you.”

  “You won’t kill me anyway,” Castor said, rolling to a crouch. “You’re not a murderer.”

  “Then why is your boss claiming we are?”

  Davin enunciated the last word with a blast from Melody. Castor anticipated it again, rolling out of the way, but came up right into a shot from Phyla’s assault rifle. The white-hot bolt splashed into Castor’s chest and fizzled out, a shower of sparks and then nothing. A personal shield. Damn things were expensive, finicky, and tended to let through the shots you really needed them to stop, but of course this guy had a working one.

  Davin, now sitting on the steps and feeling his arm losing its ability to pull the trigger, popped off another round. It was nowhere near accurate, but Castor dove anyway. He was on the far side of the landing now.

  Castor raised the stunner and squeezed off a second bolt. The green fire hit Davin in the chest and drove him back against the stairs. While stunners didn't interfere by design with the heart and lungs, Davin couldn’t feel anymore if he was breathing or not.

  “Leave him alone,” Phyla said.

  Another white bolt from Phyla’s assault rifle hit Castor’s shield, breaking apart. Then another, and a third. Phyla p
ressed harder on the trigger as she walked forward, sending dozens of shots at close range into Castor. He tried to move, tried to roll away, but he was too close.

  A few seconds into the barrage, Castor’s shield overloaded with a loud bang and the bodyguard took a couple unimpeded shots before Phyla lifted her hand from the trigger. Castor laid there on the landing, smoking and curled up on the metal floor.

  “Come on,” Phyla said, throwing Davin’s arm over her shoulders. “Let’s pay Marl a visit.”

  Davin would’ve nodded, but he seemed to have stopped working. Instead Davin let Phyla drag his numb body up the stairs and onto the open observation deck, where the frozen waters of Europa sat front and center.

  85

  Pain

  The evening blaze of Jupiter splashed through the wide windows of the terramorpher’s observation deck. It sat atop the long series of stairs, and Phyla was glad to see it. Davin wasn’t exactly a light load. Draped over her shoulder and hanging limp, Phyla checked again to make sure the captain’s eyes were still open. They were, and staring at the dark silhouette planted against the light.

  “I always knew you were good, Davin, but I never realized just how good,” Marl said, not bothering to turn around.

  The flat floor of the observation deck ended with the window on one end and, on the sides, railings giving view to the churning inner workings of the terramorpher. Pistons pumped, conveyors shifted materials to chutes that would carry them to deposit points. The mechanical motions would have been hypnotizing in a calmer situation.

  “Marl,” Phyla said. “It’s over. Drop the charges.”

  Marl glanced back, eyes wide. Not the voice she was expecting. Phyla hadn’t met Marl. Only heard the woman over the Jumper’s comm every now and again. Seeing Marl now, in similar combat gear to Castor, the woman’s backbone was clear. The straight-up shoulders, crossed arms, set mouth. Phyla had seen enough dealers in Vagrant’s Hollow to know what someone looked like when they were certain.