Relaunch Mission

by Robyn Bachar

  “We take the ship with only two strike teams?” Gabriel sounded skeptical, and Lindana chuckled darkly.

  “No, Red Raiya is going to take the ship with only two strike teams. Stealing ships is her specialty. You better hope you’re right about her wanting to defect. And being alive.”

  “I am right about her being alive. The file said she wished to defect.” Gabriel put his hands on Lindana’s waist and boosted her toward the open hatch. “After you, Captain.”

  “Why thank you, Lieutenant.” Lindana climbed atop the stalled lift and then helped Gabriel do the same. She hustled up the emergency access ladder.

  “Only two levels to go,” she said.

  “The view is quite lovely,” Gabriel commented from below. Lindana snorted—of course he was checking out her ass.

  “Careful. I could shoot you and claim that the pirates did it.”

  “That hardly seems sporting of you.”

  “I’m not in a sporting mood right now.”

  They reached the detention level and paused outside the sealed door. “You hit the manual override. I’ll cover you.” Lindana pressed herself against the wall with her weapon drawn, refusing to look up or down. The ledge they perched on was narrow, and an attack of vertigo would send her tumbling in a bone-breaking fall.

  “Got it. In three, two, one.”

  Gabriel pulled the release and the door groaned open. Lindana peeked around the corner and fired on a startled guard. The stun blast hit the man in the chest and dropped him. His partner was faster and a bullet zinged between Lindana and Gabriel. Lindana fired and hit the second guard, and then she and Gabriel stepped into the room and cleared the area. Lindana covered Gabriel as he checked the data terminal the guards had been working at.

  “The Mombasa is engaging the Blackjack,” he said. “But the Blackjack has launched a boarding shuttle. They should be docking shortly.”

  “Then we better move fast. What cell is Raiya in?”

  “Number ten. Second corridor on the right.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The area was eerily abandoned; the rest of the guards must have been ordered to the docking bay to fight the pirate incursion. Kowalczyk’s men were vicious, known for only sparing those they could ransom. Aside from Raiya, Lindana doubted that anyone on the Novosibirsk would be worth Kowalczyk’s time.

  “Could Kowalczyk be here for Raiya?” Lindana asked. “Who else knows she’s alive?”

  “A few people in Alliance Intelligence. Presumably the same is true for the KGB and the C3’s intel agency.”

  Lindana cursed long and loud. “Damn it, Gabriel. If the Alliance is interested in her defection, there must be Soviets invested in her death. Just as the Alliance sent privateers to find her, the Soviets probably hired pirates to kill her to prevent that from happening.”

  Gabriel paused, his weapon wavering. “You may be right.”

  “You are so very fired, and I am kicking your ass after this,” Lindana grumbled. “It will be painful. You will not enjoy it.”

  “Understood.”

  They reached the cell and tried to key it open, but it remained locked. “I can splice the lock. Keep me covered.”

  Lindana yanked her gloves off and pulled the multitool from her belt. She pried open the access panel and cursed at the tangle of wires within, like a bowlful of rainbow ramen noodles. She cursed in nonstop Swahili as she pulled wires free and stripped the ends, looking for the right combination to short the lock. She sparked a red and blue wire, and the lights went out overhead.

  “Try another one,” Gabriel advised.

  “Not helping,” she growled between gritted teeth. A dozen combinations later and the door finally whooshed open. “Got it!” Lindana crowed.

  A blur of bald fury streaked from the room and barreled into Gabriel. He crashed to the deck with the prisoner straddled atop him like a schoolyard bully about to unleash a world of pain.

  “Raiya?” Lindana asked.

  The bruised, battered form before her was a shadow of the Raiya she had known, but the woman paused midswing. She glanced back warily. “Lindana?”

  Gabriel wisely remained still and silent.

  “In the flesh,” Lindana said. Relief and astonishment warred within her, and she shoved them aside as she struggled to refocus on the mission. “Stand down. You can pummel him later. Right now I need your help.”

  “Why are you here?” Raiya asked.

  “I thought you were an atmosphere generator. Boy, was I surprised.” Lindana held out a hand to help Raiya up, and Raiya clasped it and let Lindana pull her to her feet. “You look like hell. I like the hair, though.”

  “You would. I would kiss you, but I have dragon breath.” Raiya embraced Lindana and grinned—she was newly missing two front teeth, and her face was a landscape of bruises in various stages of development. She looked about twenty pounds lighter and a hell of a lot angrier than she had been when Lindana last saw her.

  “Kowalczyk is here to kill you. I’m here to recruit you. I also need you to take control of this ship. Interested?” Lindana asked. She helped Gabriel up, and he stood behind her, still quiet.

  “Very.” She looked up and down the deserted corridor. “What, no equipment?”

  “Who do you think I am? Father Christmas?” Lindana retorted. “You can loot the unconscious bastards we stunned for their stuff.”

  Raiya smirked. “You always show me the best time.”

  “Again, you’re welcome. Besides, this is a job, not a date. I’m putting all of this on your bill. Let’s move out.”

  * * *

  You can’t trust a Russkie. Or so his mentor, a hard-nosed woman aptly named Prudence, had hammered into Gabriel’s head during his basic training for the special tactics division. The Russkies—a blanket term she used to refer to any member of the Soviet Union, regardless of national origin—would always turn on you in the end. Sure, you could bribe a party official here and there with a promise of black market liquor, cigarettes or other hard-to-get luxury items, but ultimately the intel they’d give you would prove to be near worthless. Deep down, a Russkie never turned. Deep down, they would always serve the Motherland first. For some it was a matter of honor, for others it was fear at what would happen to their friends and family if they were caught. Mother Russia had a long history of being a vindictive bitch.

  Gabriel studied the infamous Red Raiya as she rifled through the pockets of an unconscious guard. The woman had clearly been through hell—Gabriel recognized the work of a KGB interrogator when he saw it—but had she been broken? Intel’s files on her had been thorough in some places and thin in others. Raiya had once been Svetlana Grinkov, a decorated if occasionally insubordinate fighter pilot credited with numerous kills during the war. Even after she had gone rogue she still remained loyal to the party, choosing to pirate the enemies of the Soviet Union. Where would her loyalties lie now?

  And why, for the love of all that was holy, had Command failed to mention the personal relationship that was plain to see between Raiya and Lindy? Damn it all, he hadn’t even known that Lindana enjoyed the company of women. I would kiss you, Raiya had said to Lindana. Could he interrogate and eliminate Lindy’s lover? His stomach twisted at the thought. No, of course not. Lindy was already furious with him, and she would never forgive him for that.

  “These men are too tall.” Raiya chucked a piece of armor to the ground in disgust. She moved to the next unconscious figure and resumed her search for equipment.

  “Or you’re too short,” Lindana said.

  “We are nearly the same height.”

  “Which my brother assures me is too short.”

  Raiya snorted. “Your brother has a large mouth.”

  “Understatement,” Lindy mumbled. Gabriel resisted the urge to nod in agreement.


  “You are staring at me,” Raiya informed him. Her English was accented, which was not aided by her missing teeth and abused mouth.

  “Yes.” He straightened and shrugged at Lindana when she shot him an accusing glare.

  “Why?” Raiya liberated a keycard from the guard and eyed it speculatively before slipping it into the pocket of her prisoner’s coveralls.

  “That’s his job,” Lindana said. “He’s our new intel officer. Or he was, before I fired him.”

  Raiya rose and studied him with a contemplative tilt to her head, and then she frowned. “Is for the best. I liked Erik better. This one is too pretty.”

  “Too pretty?” Gabriel blurted out.

  Lindana chuckled. “Damn right,” she agreed mirthlessly. “Pretty rotten is what he is.”

  “Let him take point, then,” Raiya suggested. “If his pretty face doesn’t distract them, he’ll be the one to suffer for it.”

  Gabriel sighed but didn’t argue, for there was truth to her words. His looks had been one of the many reasons he had been recruited to join Intelligence, and they had often served as a weapon. He looked to his captain to confirm the order, and she nodded.

  “After you,” Lindana said.

  Gabriel started up the ladder, following the Cyrillic letters directing them up the lift shaft toward the bridge. He hated Russian. It wasn’t his least favorite language—Welsh still held that dubious honor—but there was something sinister in the Cyrillic font, as though the letters had been twisted to some nefarious purpose.

  You can’t trust a Russkie.

  And yet here he was with a Russian—no, Ukrainian, according to her file—pirate at his back, whom he was about to aid in stealing this starship. He was right and proper fucked on this mission. First, by not ignoring orders and informing Lindy of the truth of the situation, and now by the existence of a personal relationship between Raiya and Lindana. Command had ordered him to acquire, interrogate and eliminate Red Raiya, and he doubted that Lindana would approve of those orders.

  The entire ship would be proper fucked if those orders were ignored. If the Mombasa lost its marque it would be considered a pirate, no longer under the protection of the Alliance navy and left to fend for itself to find work. And of course there was the added problem that whatever reason the Alliance had to acquire Raiya would still exist, and they would keep coming for her until they got what they wanted.

  This mission worsened at every turn. At this rate Lindana might very well make good on her threat to jettison him into space, and if this continued, he might well thank her for it.

  * * *

  The sounds of combat greeted them when they reached the command level.

  “Where are we on the map?” Lindana asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Gabriel admitted.

  Raiya cocked her head to the side. “Whoever they are, they’re on either side of us. There’s still a lot of distance between us and the bridge.”

  “Could be Ryder’s team,” Lindana said. “They would move on the bridge after the Mombasa separated from the ship.”

  “If they weren’t on the Mombasa when they separated,” Gabriel said.

  “We need to take a peek,” Raiya said. “Let’s crack open those doors.”

  With a bit of grunting and elbow grease they coaxed the lift doors open an inch, though the view was less than helpful. The lift opened into a T-junction, and without sticking their heads out all they could see was the opposite wall.

  “Is the bridge left or right?” Lindana asked.

  “Left,” Gabriel said.

  “Right,” Raiya said.

  Lindana smiled tightly. “I’m going with the Russian on this one.”

  “Ukrainian,” Raiya corrected. “The bridge is right, then left. There will be no cover in these corridors. Only doorways and junctions.”

  “Good to know.” Lindana raised her pistol. “I’ll take point. Steele, you’ve got rear guard.”

  Lindana crouched low and advanced. It had been longer than a few weeks since her last firefight—she hadn’t been in anything more strenuous than a bar brawl since the war. Most of the combat she’d seen during the war was from the bridge of an Alliance ship, but there were a few ground battles she’d participated in, the memories of which still haunted her nightmares.

  Lindana flinched at the sight of a Soviet crewwoman in the hallway, but she fired nonetheless. The stun blast hit the woman in the midsection, and her expression blanked as she fell in a limp heap to the deck. An energy blast zinged past her helmet—so close she could’ve sworn it singed her armor—and a second Soviet defender fell.

  Lindana’s jaw clenched as she fought the urge to glare at Gabriel, and her group moved on.

  They exchanged fire with the Novosibirsk’s crew and gained slow ground. Lindana’s pistol began to flash yellow, warning of imminent overheating, and she cursed.

  “I’m running hot,” she warned her companions.

  “Shitty Alliance tech,” Raiya sneered. “What will you do? Curse them into unconsciousness?”

  “Hey, I’m not—” Lindana began, but Gabriel interrupted.

  “Behind!” he exclaimed.

  Lindana whirled just in time to see Gabriel hurl himself in front of her, shielding her from the headshot that would have pierced her visor and killed her instantly. Lindana felt the thump of Gabriel’s body hitting the floor through the soles of her boots.

  “Cover me!” she barked at Raiya.

  Lindana holstered her weapon, grabbed Gabriel beneath the arms and hauled him into the nearest open doorway. The office still held the body of the fallen Soviet crew member who had perished in it. Lindana opened her mouth to ask Gabriel where he had been hit, and she sucked in an anguished gasp. A hole punched through his armor, the edges smoking and singed. The smell of burnt skin and blood assaulted her.

  “It’s not bad,” Gabriel said.

  “Shut up,” Lindana snapped. “Try not to move.”

  “You need to get to the bridge. I’ll hold them off.”

  Lindana scowled. “You’re in no condition to hold anyone off.” She glanced back at Raiya. “He needs a medic.”

  “I knew I forgot to bring something important,” she said dryly.

  “I can cover you,” Gabriel assured them. He tried to rise but flopped back with a pained hiss.

  Lindana examined the wound and her stomach rolled. It was bad—very bad.

  “Lindy,” he murmured. “It’s all right.”

  “No it’s not.” She met his eyes and swallowed hard.

  Gabriel smiled weakly. “Now you can send me back in a box after all.”

  Lindana flinched, horrified at the grim image of sealing Gabriel into a flag-draped coffin. “That’s not funny. You’re going to be fine. I’m ordering you to live.”

  She wasn’t ready to lose him again—she still needed to tan his hide for withholding information. But aside from that, she was tangled into knots at the thought of watching him die and being helpless to stop it.

  “Can’t order me. I’m fired.”

  “You’re un-fired. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She drew her machete, and Raiya cocked an eyebrow.

  “Wait until I give the signal,” Lindana said.

  “What signal?”

  “You’ll know.”

  Lindana planted her feet and shouted the beginning call of Ryder’s favorite haka—one used by his favorite Earther rugby team, the New Zealand All Blacks. Raiya flinched at the sudden outburst, but Lindana continued. The sound of gunfire slowed as the pirates paused to figure out what the hell was going on. The pause was just long enough that Lindana heard the answering response in the distance, and then she charged.

  Raiya laid down covering fire as Lindana barreled toward the nearest pirates like a grinning
madwoman. A bullet hit her point-blank and lodged in her armor, but she hardly noticed. She cut the pirates down and gained bloody ground until Ryder met her in the middle.

  “Where’s Tomas?” she asked.

  “He went after Maria when the comms went down,” Ryder said. “Why?”

  “Give me your med kit.”

  Ryder motioned one of his team forward and the man unslung his pack. Lindana snatched it up, her heart racing. “Ryder, go with Raiya and take the bridge. Give me one of your team to watch my back.”

  “Got it. Diesel, you’re with the captain,” Ryder said.

  Lindana was silently grateful that Ryder never asked questions—Ryder and Jiang followed orders without hesitation. Med kit in hand, Lindana hurried to Gabriel’s side. His face was an alarming shade of gray but he was still conscious, and Lindana steadied herself.

  “Watch the corridor,” she ordered Diesel, who grunted in reply.

  Lindana pulled Gabriel’s helmet off and he managed a watery smile. “Stripping me during a mission. What will the others say?”

  “I guess you just bring that out in me,” she muttered. “No dirty talk in front of the crew.”

  “Don’t stop on my account,” Diesel said. Lindana burbled a short chuckle.

  She removed Gabriel’s chest plate and grimaced. He’d need an actual surgeon, but she knew enough field medicine to stabilize him—Lindana had encountered more than a few gunshot wounds. This had the spread and trauma of a shotgun blast, which explained why Gabriel’s light armor hadn’t soaked the damage. Bloody pirates.

  Lindana slapped a painkiller patch on the side of Gabriel’s neck, and then she shook the can of aerosolized bandages. “Hold your breath,” she ordered. She sprayed the sealant over his side in a thick coat, essentially gluing everything in place until Tomas could fix it. The bandages were useful for external wounds, but he had to have internal bleeding. She added an antibiotic patch for good measure.

  “All hands brace for hyperdrive,” the ship’s intercom advised. “One minute to hyperdrive engage.”

  “Shit,” Diesel said.

  “Help me move him. He’s stable. More or less,” Lindana said.