by Lia Black
Since they’d all ready spotted him, Sean raised his arms to let them know he’d seen them, and that he wasn’t armed.
Relief turned to hot-white shock when something tore through his shoulder, knocking him to the ground.
“Jesus fuck...!” Pain rushed in as the blood rushed out, the nerves in his neck and down through his arm were on fire. He’d been shot. The projectile had gone right through his left shoulder and come out the other side. It buzzed as it buried itself in the sand, the razor-like fins spinning as it drilled deeper. An armor-piercing bolt. Someone was not messing around.
Sean skittered back on his behind, feet sliding through clumps of sand, as he struggled to get up and run. He thought he heard voices, their shouts muffled by his heart thundering and one deafened ear. The ground vibrated as the crawler came closer, then stopped several yards away. His vision was too sharp, the colors and angles all wrong as he managed to get to his feet, turn around, and start running. He stumbled, nauseous, as the ground tilted and spun beneath him, as he tried to get away.
Something came flying towards him, and he only knew this because he could feel the movement of the air a second before a set of bolas wrapped themselves around his shins. The solid weights slammed against his legs and took him hard, face-first, to the dirt.
Sean bit his bottom lip as he landed. Streamers of spit and blood threaded out from his mouth. He gasped for breath and his eyes stung from the fine particles of sand flying up into his face. His ears were plugged with the roar of blood surging through his skull and the high, crackling sound he only got just moments before he lost consciousness. He watched the dark pool of blood from his shoulder soaking into the sand near his face, then focused on the toes of dusty black boots coming to a stop beside him.
“He dead?” A male voice—human—though tinny and muffled, coming through the speakers in a helmet.
Sean gasped, coughing as he was nudged and rolled onto his back by the man’s boot. Shredding pain radiated from what remained of his left shoulder, like metal claws, icy and burning, cutting across him on both sides from the wound.
“Negative.”
Sean squinted into the glare of sunlight. It was blocked by the arrival of another man’s head. The second man pulled off his helmet and crouched, looking down into Sean’s face. Human. Probably mid-fifties. His face was pock-marked and scarred, one eye was a shiny gray ocular implant from an old wound that had taken the original. He was wearing the black and red uniform of a mercenary company that Sean had tangled with before: Red Salamander. Great. These guys didn’t come cheap, and they stood out among other guilds for their ruthlessness. The man’s age and the red stripes down both arms of his uniform set him apart as a general.
“Where is he?” the general growled.
Sean swallowed. Grains of sand scraped like glass against the lining of his dry throat. “Who?” He let out a yelp as the man punched him in the meaty mess of his wounded shoulder. Sean’s body jerked, as the muscles responded to the overload of pain signals from his nerves. Black spots burst at the edges of his vision, spreading like ink. The muzzle of a gun, held by the first man, was just inches from his face.
The general pushed it away and Sean guessed he must have sent the man back to the vehicle as he felt the extra presence fade away.
“Let me try it again.” The general’s voice was soft and he offered a thin smile. It stretched the tight skin across his face, pulling the craters wider. “Where is that freak, Mercury Fie? He’s worth more money than a mid-sized planet, and I think you’re worth something to him.”
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that there were mercenaries coming after Mercury. With wanted posters taking up billboards on Earth, it was no secret that there was a lot of money to be made by bringing him in. Not to mention, he’d pissed off a lot of bad people during his reign. Sean couldn’t answer, because he’d only tell them something they didn’t want to hear and wouldn’t believe—that he meant nothing to the man they were hunting. He swallowed back a sob. Pain and exhaustion were overwhelming and tears ran down his face. He was going to die. So be it. Though his mind screamed out for help out of instinct, desperation, Sean remained mute.
“That’s okay. We can wait as long as it takes. But the longer you hold out, the less pieces you’ll have by the time we find him.”
Bile burned up Sean’s throat. This was not an idle threat. Red Salamander started, of course, with fingers, taking a knuckle at a time. Sean had seen the grisly evidence that was often mailed in demands for ransom when this particular group was involved. Sometimes the evidence contained the footage of the parts being removed. If they did anything like that to him, it would be sent to his family—his mother. Sean prayed he’d bleed out before they had the chance.
“Sir,” one of the men closest to the armored crawler called out. “Frequency error...could it be the target?”
So they knew about Mercury’s ability—something only the police and Sol Labs would know. One or the other must have hired them. At this point, it didn’t matter which.
The general raised his head, squinting as he looked from horizon to horizon. With his neck stretched, Sean could see ugly scars left behind by battle wounds from his years of service to this group.
There was no sound, save for the ticking of the crawler’s engine, and the pounding of Sean’s heart in his head. He was starting to feel cold as a dim veil settled over his vision. Shock was setting in.
It seemed to take hours before the lookout spoke again. “No, I guess it’s noth—”
Sean heard the wet buzz of an energy weapon finding its target, and smelled the scent of burning flesh, bone and synthetics.
“Fuck!” The general snatched Sean up, holding him against his body like a shield. Sean was on the verge of losing consciousness. He was barely aware of what was happening, seeing everything as though it were part of a dream. Several yards away, nearly centered between them and the crawler, was a man’s body, minus a head. Lumps of red, charred and smoking in the bloody sand, were probably what was left of his skull. Sean’s mind was having a difficult time grasping what had happened as it kept trying to examine what was wrong with that picture.
The hard ceramic composite of the barrel of the general’s pistol pressed up against Sean’s jaw, stretching his neck until it ached. At the lower portion of his vision, he saw two more men come out of the crawler. They crouched along the side of the vehicle, weapons drawn. Another man remained in the driver’s seat, keeping his helmet on and head low.
“Where is he?” The general’s voice was loud enough in his ear to get through the buzzing, leaving behind a mist of spit.
“Can’t see anything!” one of the two crouching near the crawler called back. He sounded nervous, his voice a higher vibrato than his size would suggest.
The general was breathing hard against Sean’s cheek. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging at the corner of Sean’s eye. It was funny, the thought of someone using him as a negotiating tool to trap a sociopathic killer like Mercury Fie. Sean began to giggle, his terror and blood loss making him feel drunk.
“What the fuck is so funny?” The general growled, drilling his gun deeper against the underside of Sean’s jaw.
“He’ll go right through me to get to you,” Sean croaked and began something that was halfway between hysterical giggling and crying. Damn, he was losing a lot of blood. The world around him was flickering in and out of focus.
“No need for that.”
Sean recognized Mercury’s voice behind him a heartbeat before something hot and wet exploded against the side of his head. He jerked, instinctively turning away and into the solidness of Mercury’s chest. He felt a protective arm wrap around him and heard the weapon discharge twice more in rapid succession.
“D-driver...” Sean rasped. He choked back a sound when Mercury scooped him up.
“Thank you, Precious.” Mercury breathed a dry kiss to his forehead.
They were walking, Sean felt the sure stride
s as he bobbed along, being held like a three-year old with his head resting on Mercury’s shoulder. He flinched when he heard the babbling of the driver’s panicked negotiation, for only a second, before the final shot. If he hadn’t been in such a bad state, Sean may have had some thoughts about Mercury’s lack of empathy; but he appreciated the fact that he was taking importance over the group of men who’d put him into this state.
“It’s all right, I’m here now,” Mercury said. His voice soothed, even through the violence and imminent threat of death.
Mercury carried Sean around to the passenger side of the vehicle and set him into the seat. Sean glanced at the dead driver slumped over the wheel. There was a hole smoking through his helmet and the back of the seat was covered with blood and bits of brain.
Mercury appeared at the driver’s side door and he pulled out the body, then climbed in, ignoring the gore. He frowned at the damage to Sean’s shoulder, then he began feeling around under the seats and opening containers in the console. He pulled a first-aid kit out of one, military issue, and began rummaging through.
Sean watched him, the time between blinks increasing as his vision became clouded, and colors faded to washed-out pastels.
“Don’t, Precious...don’t die on me...I’ll be so lonely if you do...”
Mercury’s words came through with a roar of blood through Sean’s ears as he closed his eyes. He was cold and tired, his head filling with clay. Something pressing against his shoulder probably hurt like a bitch, but those receptors were blocked by his brain trying to preserve what functions it could handle. Sean was vaguely aware of a hard pinch on his elbow, but too lethargic to react. Intraosseous infusion—right into the bone. That was going to ache if he managed to survive this. He cracked his eyes open to see Mercury withdrawing the injection gun, and briefly met his gaze. Glistening streams of amethyst flowed from his eyes. Was he crying? Sean sighed and the pounding in his head began to quiet as the medication reached his heart and coaxed it back to a more normal rhythm. He closed his eyes.
23
Mercury had set out that morning, determined to complete his personal quest. He was going to go back to the crashed shuttle, assuming it was still there, and either see if there was any way to salvage parts or something left behind by the first wave of hunters. As he moved back through the forest, he was sorry to have to leave Sean, but where Mercury was going, there would be no coming back, and Sean didn’t deserve to die. Not after being so kind. He would send help for him, reach Sean’s people to come take him home. He thought now he understood what Sean had felt to let Evan go, but maybe worse, because they had started out fighting and ended with what felt, to him, very much like love. It felt like he was leaving his insides behind, still connected at his heart.
Mercury felt a shudder through his chest and stopped in his tracks. Kindness. That’s what Forest Green Flutterby had been talking about when she helped the injured Nanny Squirrel carry her nuts back to her nest. Well, Sean had carried him and the supplies to the abandoned ship. Had Mercury thanked him? He supposed he had because Sean helped him again when he’d hurt his head. Somehow, it didn’t feel like he’d thanked him enough.
As he walked, the ripping pains in his chest got worse. He’d hoped putting some distance between them would make it easier, bonds would stretch and break. But these weren’t breaking, and the stretch hurt the further away he got. What if Sol Labs had discovered the downed freight carrier? What if they hurt his Pretty?
Sean was a cop. He could handle himself. Yet logic and rationale weren’t winning this time. Each footstep became harder to take, like the ground was pulling him in, the earth and trees building a wall in front of him. None of the men he had been with before had cared about him. None of them had held him when he was cold, or coddled him when he was frightened. While Sean had not always been as nice as Forest Green Flutterby, Mercury had been no Nanny Squirrel, either. And yet…
Mercury stopped and let out a long sigh. His body felt tugged backwards, as if there was a great magnet shoved into his heart, attracted by the trace minerals in Sean’s blood.
“I’m just going to check,” Mercury told the trees. They hummed, turning their giant tops towards the desert. Well, that settled it. They agreed. He should go back, just to be certain. He turned on his heel and began striding back towards the shuttle.
When he arrived, he found that Sean was not there. But worse than that, it appeared that someone else had been. There were vehicle tracks that had gone past the ship, and several sets of unfamiliar footprints. Not the regular sun-pattern of Sol Lab’s militia’s boots. This was a hodge-podge of varying size and texture— at least two people. From the size and depth, Mercury assumed they were human males. Scavengers or mercenaries, most likely.
His stomach lurched; he felt sick and twitchy. His nerves were jumpy and his muscles went tight, making him want to run until he burned himself out.
“Damn,” Mercury chewed on a thumbnail, then stopped himself before he tore it off. He could just pretend that it was Sean’s people come to take him home, or assume late-coming scavengers looking for cargo left behind, but it didn’t feel like either one of those things.
“I’m only checking…” Mercury muttered, pacing. He combed his fingers through his long hair, getting them stuck in knots. He stopped and yanked out his hand, staring at it. When was the last time someone had brushed his hair?
“Yes. That’s why. That’s why I need him.” He whispered the words like a chant. He understood now. He had a plan. He needed Sean to see to his needs, to keep him from becoming bored until he was ready to leave for Sol Labs’ floating space station. That absolutely made sense.
He began to walk with purpose, then jog, keeping his body low as he followed the vehicle tracks. He could feel it in the center of his spine, that cold, drilling sensation that meant trouble. He charged up his weapons.
In the distance, Mercury saw the vehicle as it rolled to a stop. An old military transport. Its weather-beaten black finish bore a crudely painted emblem of some kind of sharp-toothed reptile. Mercury crouched, raising the rifle-scope to his eye to verify what he was seeing. Red Salamander. He knew them well. He’d hired them to track someone down for him once. They’d done a miserable job and killed a lot of innocent people in the process, so in return he’d withheld their pay and shot the general in the face. Apparently, they’d gotten themselves a new one. He doubted Sol Labs would need to scrape the bottom of the barrel like this to find him, but unless Red Salamander had resorted to the slave trade lately—which wouldn’t have been surprising—there could be no other explanation for them being here.
Mercury’s scope followed the man, the group’s new general, walking purposefully towards something on the ground. He swung the scope around to see what it was. Sean. Even from this distance he could see the blood. He was moving, struggling backwards as the man stepped closer. Mercury’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to cry out—draw attention away from Sean so he could get away, but it wouldn’t be enough. Mercury took a breath, the weight of the rifle suddenly too heavy. There was a moment where his brain went completely, painfully silent. Normally he would have come in firing, heedless of what or whom his deadly bursts struck, but he was here for Sean, and it was time to resort to the stealth he knew he’d been bred for.
Moving away from Sean’s location, but mindful of his position, Mercury raised the rifle, peering through the scope to locate the nearest distraction. He could feel the buzz of their active communications, and noticed the way those near the crawler began to look around, weapons readied. They had sensed something. No time for artistry, then. Mercury aimed and shot at the man walking back towards the crawler carrying a rifle—the one that had shot his Sean.
With the distraction complete, his entire focus became Sean. He ignored the panicked sweeps of movement from the rest of the group, stepping in his way that nearly slowed time, moving swiftly and silently, using the tricks he knew of land and of line of sight to make himself in
visible. He smelled the blood as he crept closer to his Pretty, and the pain in his chest nearly crushed him. He was alive, though badly injured, and this toad-faced brute was touching him. Holding him against his body like Sean had held him, as though he had a right. But this man had a gun pressed into his precious one’s chin.
The tendons in the General’s neck twitched when Mercury tapped the back of his head with his pistol. While it would have been nice to let him see who was about to kill him, there was no time, and he wasn’t worth the theatrics. Mercury fired immediately, pulling Sean back, in case the shock of death caused the general’s muscles to clench and he managed to pull the trigger. Sean twisted and clutched at him, gasping for breath, choking on panicked sobs. Mercury felt his heart begin beating again. His precious one. He had him. He could make everything all right.
The remaining mercenaries were easily dealt with. Two blasts. One of them tried to run, but Mercury shot him in the back. He had no compunction or pity for anyone who was a party to hurting his Precious. Sean, barely conscious, warned him about the driver. Such teamwork. The driver babbled something about mercy; he must have been a rookie, anyone who knew Mercury knew the words were wasted.
His Pretty was badly injured. Mercury set him down gently and searched for a med kit, trying to keep his mind and eyes focused so he wouldn’t miss it if he saw it. He’d never had to save anyone before. He’d never cared. He always walked away from the carnage, letting his recon team or the police handle what was left.
Finding what he needed, Mercury thanked all of the magic in Flutterby Forest that the med kit had been marked with a big red plus-symbol.
By the time he delivered the medication that might keep Sean alive, Mercury felt broken inside. There was a measurable sense of relief that he’d done everything he could do for now, but the pain in his chest was still sharp. Why should he hurt so much? In the past when Mercury had lost someone, he replaced them quickly. But this man, his Pretty, his precious one, it seemed could not be replaced.
