Recon Marines II: Marine's Heiress, The

by Susan Kelley

  Putting the remote in his pocket, Vin pulled a knife from his boot. Only two men. Should he question them or just kill them?

  Chapter Six

  Emma woke to pounding on her door for the second night in a row. She glanced at the old style solar-powered clock beside her bed. She hadn’t been abed more than half an hour having fallen asleep in the middle of planning a course of treatment for Vin.

  She pulled a pseudo wool robe over her night shirt, tying it as she hurried down the stairs. She slid aside the little metal bar that served as her lock and tugged the door open.

  A disheveled Moe stood in the starlight, dressed in baggy sleeping pants and a too tight shirt. He rubbed his hand over his face. “We need you, lass. Bring your doctoring bag over to Vin’s shop.”

  She rushed to grab the leather bag she kept prepared for emergencies. Her heart thumped with more fear than adrenaline. Vin was hurt, bad enough for Moe to look rattled. She followed Moe to the shop where he held the door for her. Dim light spilled out onto the boardwalk, and Moe closed the door behind them as they entered the work room.

  Vannie leaned against a work bench, his arms folded across his chest. Two men sat in front of him, bound to metal chairs. Blood dribbled down the side of one’s face, and the other’s chin rested on his chest. Both men appeared to be young, strapping roughs and wore dark clothing.

  Emma peered around the shadowed room but couldn’t spot Vin. “Is Vin all right?”

  The conscious prisoner glared at Moe and then swept his hard gaze over her. His lips curled into a leer. “This is more like it. Does she serve drinks and dance? Because our welcome to this pitiful slum hasn’t been very friendly.”

  “Sneaking over the fence isn’t friendly either,” Vannie said.

  “What’s she doing here?” Vin walked down the steps from his loft, pulling a black shirt over his head. For a moment, his bare chest, rippling with muscle distracted Emma from the man bleeding helplessly in the chair.

  “I brought her to close up the cut on this guy’s head and see if she can wake the other one up.” Moe turned on another lamp and exposed a thick gash along the man’s hairline.

  Vin stepped into the circle of light. “Why fix them up when they’re going to bleed a lot more before we’re done with them? The doctor shouldn’t waste her supplies on the enemy.”

  “Enemy?” The bleeding man laughed but it sounded forced. “We’re just two miners looking for work.”

  “Your lies are only going to bring you more pain.” Vin crossed to one of his work benches and picked up a tool. He flipped a switch, and the tool whined. He selected a long auger-like piece from his bench and turned the device off to attach it. When he carried it back toward the prisoners, the bleeding man lost all semblance of calm.

  “Keep that crazy bastard away from me!” He struggled against his restraints.

  Emma started forward but Moe caught her arm. “Vin is right. I shouldn’t have woke you.”

  “These men are injured.” Emma shook off Moe’s hand, but Vin’s steely stare stopped her.

  “Please leave, Doctor Emma.” Vin gestured toward the tool he carried. “You shouldn’t see this interrogation.”

  Emma felt light-headed for a moment. “You’re going to torture them?”

  “We’re going to question them with proper motivation to tell the truth,” Vannie answered. “Go back to bed, Emma.”

  Emma looked at Moe, but he shrugged and looked away. Fury burned through her so her entire body overheated. “The three of you are going to hurt these helpless men? And you expect me to turn away and go back to sleep?”

  “I think I’m the only one who is going to hurt them.” Vin wore his confused look again, but it didn’t touch Emma’s sympathy this time.

  “You will do no such thing.” She tried to walk past Vin, but he grasped her arm above the elbow. Unlike the way Moe held her, she sensed no give in Vin’s grip.

  “Stay back from them. They’re only helpless because I made them so.” Vin gestured with a tilt of his head to the bench Vannie leaned on. A number of guns and knives sat on the spotless surface. “They’re dangerous, cowardly men and perhaps the ones who set the trap for Russ.”

  “And opened the gates last night. These bastards have disturbed my sleep two nights in a row.” Vannie sounded as hard as Vin.

  “They’re probably right,” Moe said. “Come on, Emma, I’ll walk you back to your place.”

  “No! Stay here. Don’t leave us with that madman.” The prisoner rocked his chair, but Vannie set his big foot on a rung and held it in place.

  Vin flicked the switch so the tool in his hand whined again. It sounded worse up close.

  Emma couldn’t let this happen though the grim-faced men in the room clearly had their minds set.

  Vin gently forced her back a few steps. “Do not interfere.” He turned back and took a step toward the prisoners.

  “All right!” the man screamed. “We came to rob you all. We heard you had a cruiser full of silver hidden away.”

  “You needed all those weapons for that?” Vin turned on his torture device so it filled the room with its eerie howl.

  “We only brought them along to scare people. We didn’t even expect anyone to know we were here. No one told us about any guards,” the man blubbered.

  Vin turned off the tool and ran the auger along the man’s cheek, stopping with it pressed against the lower lid of one of the prisoner’s eyes. “But who told you about the silver?”

  “Underboss Lee Caoca,” the other man mumbled. He didn’t lift his head to speak, only rolled it side to side.

  “Holy hell,” Vannie cursed. “Why would Hadrason Mining want to steal from us?”

  “What is an underboss?” Vin lifted the second prisoner’s head by grabbing his hair.

  Emma hurried forward and knelt in front of the poor man. His eyes rolled back, exposing the whites as he lost consciousness again. She pushed at Vin, and he allowed it. “I need to get this man into a bed.”

  “The Underboss runs the entire operation. He answers only to the owners of the mine,” Moe explained.

  Emma sensed Vin tensing beside her, but his voice didn’t change. “Hadrason is in prison.”

  “So we’ve heard,” Vannie said. “But he has others in business with him. I guess they’re running things now unless they allow Hadrason to conduct his affairs from prison.”

  “So the orders of the Underboss comes from the owner or these others?” Vin asked.

  Vannie shrugged. “Could be this Lee Cacoa acts on his own unless this gentlemen can tell us more.”

  “That’s all we know,” the awake robber cried. “He told us the silver was in the basement of the café with only two, old fat men to guard it. We expected to get in and out without anyone knowing we were here. He told us to get off planet by daylight.”

  “How did you get to Hovel Port from the mine?” Vin asked.

  The man leaned away from Vin though he hadn’t moved closer. “We have a jet hopper parked a mile north right on the road. We’re going to catch one of the cargo ships that leave thrice a day. Let us go, and we’ll fly away. You’ll never hear from us again.”

  “Can you guard these two men?” Vin set his torture device down.

  “Where are you going?” Vannie asked.

  “To get their hopper.”

  Emma felt the unconscious man’s head, finding no obvious signs of a skull fracture. His breathing seemed normal as did his color. She found the pulse on the side of his neck, rapid but not alarming. Why wasn’t he awake?

  “What are you going to do with it?” Moe asked.

  Vin touched Emma’s shoulder. “I don’t want you around them.”

  She turned and faced him. “I need this man carried to my surgery where I have better light to examine him. What did you do to make him unconscious?”

  “These men need nothing except to stay right here. Go back to your home and forget you saw them.”

  “Forget I saw them?”


  Vin ignored her strident question. He crossed the room and climbed the stairs to his loft. When Emma looked at Moe and Vannie, they only shrugged. She shook her head at them and walked behind the prisoners. A complicated webbing of chains and bolts secured the men to their chairs and the chairs to the heavy metal work bench a few steps away. Freeing the injured man without Vin’s held looked hopeless until she noticed a long bolt joining the bonds into one thick loop. A nut the size of her fist kept the links from sliding off the bolt. She knelt beside it and wrapped both hands around the hexagonal metal piece. Months of kneading bread paid off when the nut gave way to her strong grip.

  “I’m not sure you should do that, lass,” Vannie said. “Let’s listen to Vin on this.”

  Emma pulled free the chain links connected to the unconscious man and then redid the nut to hold the other man in his place. Once the chains were free, she saw the clever way Vin had woven them to keep the bounds tight. Not that restraints were needed on the injured man. Her concern of a serious head injury grew with his continuing unconsciousness. Nothing in her surgery could treat a cerebral blood clot or any type of brain swelling.

  Worried that he might tumble from the chair, Emma braced his shoulder with her one hand while she unwound the chain that circled his chest and waist. Before she could set the chain aside, the man exploded from his chair. He swung his arm and caught her full in the chest. The blow threw her back against the heavy metal workbench. Pain shot through her hip as she slammed into the edge and then careened off it to land on the floor.

  “Son of a bitch!” Vannie shouted. But he and Moe closed in quickly on the thickly muscled thief while the other prisoner begged his friend to free him.

  The escapee drove his shoulder into Moe’s middle so the both of them tumbled to the floor. Before Vannie could reach out and grab him, the man rolled free of Moe and ran for the door. With a maniacal laugh he threw it open and plunged into the night.

  Emma tried to catch her breath around the pain shooting from her bruised hip. She needed to check on Moe. Before she could push herself from the floor, Vin was there and offered her a hand. She expected to see anger, but instead he looked at her in that even, careful way he had. His warm fingers gripped hers firmly, an aura of calm and control emanating from him to surround her.

  Her racing heart slowed, and the fine tremors of fear in her muscles stilled.

  “Are you injured?” His gaze swept over her, and when it lifted to hers again warmth darkened it.

  The cool breeze sneaking in the open doorway stirred her thin night shirt and alerted Emma that her robe had been knocked open during her tumble. Vin still held her hand, but it wasn’t his grasp keeping her so close to him. So close she could feel his heat along the length of her body. All she needed to do was rise slightly on her toes and touch her lips….

  “Did he hurt you, Emma?” Moe’s big hand landed on her shoulder. She hadn’t even noticed he’d regained his feet.

  Vin dropped her hand and walked behind the cursing prisoner where he checked the integrity of the restraints.

  “I’m fine.” Emma retied her robe. “I’m so sorry, Vin. You tried to tell me.”

  Vin checked the gun and knife hanging from his belt. More packets had joined the weapons, explaining his reasons for going to the loft.

  “What do we do now?” Vannie asked. “If he reports back to the Underboss that we know he was behind this, he might send enough men to keep us quiet. All these incidents must track back to him.”

  “The robber won’t get back to the Underboss.” Vin strode toward the door. “I’ll bring him back.”

  They hurried after him out onto the street. All the lights except the one spilling from Vin’s open doorway were out, leaving the long nearly straight street silvery with starlight. The escaped robber struggled with the bar on the north gate. Even from over a hundred yards away, Emma could hear his desperate curses.

  Vannie snorted. “Vin set a bolt into it today. It’s not so easily lifted as last time.”

  “Let’s go get him.” Moe started down the street.

  The man looked over his shoulder at them and then started to scramble up the gate. Somehow he found handholds and pulled himself over the top.

  “Let him go,” Vin said. “I’ll follow him to their hopper.”

  “The guy inside said it was on the road,” Vannie said.

  “Pretty sure that was one of two lies.”

  “What was the other lie?” Emma had only noticed arrogance and then fear.

  Vin looked at her. “They were going to kill Vannie and Moe when they stole the silver. Who knows how many others when they didn’t find a cache of riches in the basement?”

  Emma felt even more the fool for letting the man escape. “He might ambush you, Vin. Let him go.”

  “We could use that hopper,” Moe said. “We could fly up to the landing field at Hadrason Mining and see why we haven’t received any shipments. If these guys were intending to fly out on the next run that means ships are coming in too. Someone up there is holding our supplies.”

  “I’ll get it.” Vin started running. He picked up speed, moving fast, too fast and then faster still. It seemed between one blink and the next he neared the gate. From a half dozen paces away from the barrier he leaped upward. One foot briefly touched a spot more than halfway up and then his hands grabbed the top. He vaulted over, lost to sight on the other side.

  Emma stared at the empty road, replaying the physical feat she’d witnessed. She wanted to call him back and ask him to do it again. Such speed, grace and strength combined into a humanly impossible performance astonished her. Nothing she’d observed in any ballet, athletic event or other skilled art compared to what Vin had done. She looked to Moe and Vannie, but they still stared at the gate with mouths agape.

  “How did he do that?” Emma knew of mechanical exoskeletons that allowed soldiers, miners and explorers to carry heavy loads and keeping moving in hostile climates beyond the limits of their bodies. But she’d treated the wounds on Vin’s very human legs, nothing about his sleek muscles hinting at superhuman abilities. His limbs had been his parts not some kind of cyber-enhancement. Her mental search snagged on enhancement. She’d studied and seen a few video lessons on another type of improvement wrought by science on the human physique.

  “If the two of you weren’t with me as witness, I wouldn’t believe I’d seen that.” Moe said. “Did you just see a man run like he had jets in his boots and then leap higher than my best ladder can reach?”

  “No one can do what he did,” Vannie said.

  Emma had heard of one group of humans who could do what Vin had done. Though some in the medical and psychological fields of science didn’t count soldiers like Vin as members of the human species. They’d didn’t receive intergalactic news in Hovel Port but not long before she’d fled here, she’d heard that the Recon Marines had been arrested and charged with treason. Yet she was positive one had them had just leaped the gate.

  * * * *

  Vin slowed to an easy jog he could keep up for hours though he wouldn’t have to. The running thief panted so heavily Vin could hear him from two hundred yards back. After a little over half a mile, the man crashed into the lush greenery growing tight against the road.

  Before he’d entered Hovel Port the first time, Vin had explored the surrounding jungle. A recent lightning strike had burned a patch of the dense growth and left an acre wide clearing where the foliage had yet to completely reclaim. Vin ran faster, calculating so he would close the distance between them at the exact moment his prey reached the hopper.

  The two thieves had beaten a path to the road from their craft. The frightened escapee knocked down even more obstacles, making it easier for Vin to leap and dodge anything that might make noise and give away his pursuit. The man fell a few times, cursing and sobbing, but eventually he stumbled into the clearing.

  The bulky hopper had an old style open cargo area and a small crew area built for two people. The robb
er took the steps two at a time and then nearly fell backward when he jerked the door open. He recovered and started to dive into the pilot’s seat.

  Vin caught his belt and with only a slight tug, threw him backward off the steps. The robber screamed as if he’d been shot.

  The man scrambled backward on his hands and butt, blubbering curses. Vin caught him and flipped him over on his stomach. After putting his knee in the center of the man’s back, Vin jerked his arms together and wrapped the organic wire around them. He touched it with a tiny ionizing rod that hardened the rubbery substance to steel. It would hold until he neutralized the charge. He should have used it in the shop but hadn’t wanted more questions about where his weapons came from. His secrets weren’t worth Emma getting hurt, and he wished he’d used it in the first place. He hauled the man to his feet and flung him into the cargo area.

  The man grunted and then screeched a cry for help. Vin hopped up into the cab and searched around the messy interior, finding a broken toolbox. He rummaged inside and found a roll of wide utility tape. He swung out the door and into the cargo bed. There he used the tape to end the wailing of his prisoner and also covered his ears and eyes.

  Vin reentered the cab and started the hopper. Its old engine coughed and caught. The not unpleasant odor of burning crystallized iron replaced the green smell of the jungle. A small bit of iron would power this small hopper for years, efficient, but an iron-powered engine was expensive. Was it stealing to take it from Hadrason Mining in exchange for the trouble they’d caused Hovel Port?

  The hopper lifted off, the engine quieting as it left the ground. Instead of turning toward Hovel Port, Vin turned toward the west where he’d parked his ship. He needed to retrieve a few things.

  * * * *

  Emma left her friends to guard and further question the prisoner after she applied a small dressing to the abrasion on his head. The thief seemed less inclined to talk now that Vin had left. She returned to her surgery and opened the closet behind her small office desk.

  The closet held nothing but info disks. Though they’d been filed in order by subject, it took a moment for her to remember where to search. A clear image came to her of hearing about the Recon Marines for the first time during her final year of psychiatry. Much about them had been classified at the time, and the doctors teaching the class had never met or examined any of the marines. They’d admitted adding a lot of speculation to their physical and mental evaluations of the genetically enhanced soldiers.