Betrayal: Starship Renegades, #3

by S. J. Bryant

  Wren frowned at the top step.

  Shrouded in shadows except for the faintest of red lights.

  She crept up the staircase, careful not to let it creak or shudder, despite the fact that it looked older than the house itself.

  She stopped just short of the top step and leaned down, peering over the side of the steps to the underside.

  A tiny metallic device blinked away beneath the top stair. A pressure sensitive explosive.

  Wren raised an eyebrow. Kari was good. If it had still been daylight, Wren probably wouldn't have noticed it. She would have crept up the steps and been blown apart before she even got close to Kari's room.

  But the bomb hadn't been there earlier. What did that mean? It meant that Kari had decided she wanted to live.

  Wren stepped over the top stair and stopped in the hallway.

  If Kari had decided to live, then she wouldn't put it all down to one tiny pressure-sensitive explosive. No, she'd have contingencies, probably contingencies within contingencies.

  Wren crouched and pulled her knife out of her belt. There were three doorways along the hallway. Kari's room was at the end. But what if she'd moved?

  Wren slowed her breathing and listened. She'd spent a lifetime training her senses until she could hear a cockroach moving in the walls of the next room.

  If there'd been someone in the two closest rooms, she would have heard them breathing, might even have heard their hearts beating.

  Empty.

  Wren moved her attention to the final room. It was further away, but still, she just caught the sound of breathing. It had to be Kari. Wren would recognize the determined wheeze anywhere.

  So, Kari was alone and still in her room. What did that mean?

  That she wanted Wren to go there. It had to. Kari was careful, she was clever.

  Wren inched forward, eyes scanning the walls, floor, ceiling.

  Now that she was looking, it wasn't hard to spot the motion sensor on the wall. But what to do about it? She could have tossed something in front of it to make Kari think that she'd been caught in the blast. But she couldn't be sure how far the shrapnel would go. She didn't want to do something stupid and then be cut down by a piece of wall. No. Easier to disarm it.

  Wren crept further up the hallway, keeping her boots on the carpet and scanning for other explosives. She stopped just short of the motion sensor and reached for the back, careful to keep her hand out of the field of activation. A quick flick turned the device off.

  There had been the small chance that Kari had tampered with the disarming circuit, but Wren had weighed up the chances and found them slim. Perhaps if Atticus had been with her… but not Kari on her own, and not in so little time.

  Wren paused, ears straining, but Kari's breathing hadn't changed.

  This was more like it. This was the hunt that Wren enjoyed. She should have been focusing on this, rather than overthinking things and letting Hong get into her head. As soon as she finished here, she'd call the Guild and let them know about Hong. That would teach her.

  She edged toward the door.

  A slight pressure against her right ankle and she froze, looked down.

  She'd expected to see some kind of wire-rigged grenade, but no, it was just a basic tripwire. Did Kari expect her to come sprinting down the hallway? A desperate move.

  Wren stepped over the wire so that she stood inches from the door. This was it.

  She'd already got a feel of the lock, so it would only take a few seconds for her to pick it and get inside.

  Then she would end it.

  CHAPTER 29

  Wren eased the long, metal rod into the lock a half inch. She paused, listening. What if Kari had set up an explosive, hooked to the lock? But no, she was inside the room, and an explosion at this proximity would probably be more dangerous for her, inside the room, than for Wren on the other side of the door.

  Wren turned the rod to the right. A barely audible click sounded from within the mechanism.

  She paused again. Had Kari heard? But there was no change in the breathing on the other side. If Kari had sensed it then she was doing a very good job of disguising her reaction. And that wasn't Kari. One thing Wren knew. Kari might try to hide her thoughts but they were written in her movements and her face as clearly as if she yelled them at the top of her lungs.

  Wren drew a deep breath. This was it. Kari would be ready. As soon as she saw the door move, she'd start firing. Wren had to be quick.

  Where would Kari be? Earlier that morning she'd been to the left of the door, probably hiding behind whatever furniture the small room had. Would she be in the same place?

  Wren took out her gun—mostly unused. She preferred the personal approach of her short knife, but this was no time to be clever. She placed the barrel of the gun against the door and angled it to the left, so that it pointed where she guessed Kari had been that morning.

  She could fire now and hope to take Kari completely by surprise. But what if Kari had moved? And if she was clever, she would have.

  Wren placed her ear against the cool metal of the door and held her breath. She could still hear her own heartbeat in her ears, but she let that fade into the background and instead focused on Kari's breathing. No, it wasn't coming from the left, it was coming from directly in front of the door.

  Kari had moved, that was smart. But right in front of the door? Perhaps she was listening for Wren's approach? But no, it would be too risky. Wren could shoot through the door and kill her instantly. But Kari would know that. So, she would have set up some kind of defense.

  Wren pulled away from the door to study the dull metal. She wouldn't have much time, and Kari wouldn't give her room for mistakes. Whatever she did in the next few seconds could mean the difference between life and death… for either her or Kari.

  Kari.

  Wren could picture her on the other side of the door. She'd be scared, but she'd be trying not to show it. She'd—

  Wren shook her head. No! She refused to think about Kari. It was just another job, and she would do it without overthinking it.

  Wren braced her free hand against the door and held her gun in front of her, aimed at about where she thought the breathing was coming from.

  Three.

  Two.

  One.

  She shoved the door open and dived through, keeping low.

  A plasma blast screamed over her head, slamming into the hallway wall behind where she'd been standing. Blistering heat washed over her back, singeing her neck.

  Wren dove deeper into the room, firing at where the plasma blasts had come from. But instead of Kari, she found herself confronted with a broad bed and a thick mattress that smoldered from the shots she'd already fired into it.

  Small flames licked at the soft stuffing and black smoke drifted toward the ceiling.

  Wren hit the ground and kept rolling, firing at the mattress. The plasma blasts shot through, leaving holes that revealed the wall beyond.

  A flash of brown jacket—Kari's—dashed past one of the holes.

  Wren fired again but the jacket was gone and then a stream of red plasma blasts came over the top of the mattress like a burst of fireworks. They careened into the ground around Wren, carrying searing heat and sending bright sparks that burned Wren's exposed flesh.

  She rolled sideways, away from the flames.

  Kari was more prepared than she'd expected.

  Kari's hand appeared briefly at the top of the mattress but before Wren could shoot, it threw a small sphere and was gone.

  The dull, brown-colored sphere hit the floor not far from Wren and rolled.

  Explosive.

  Wren leapt to her feet and sprinted away from the grenade, to the other side of the room.

  A loud bang reverberated off the solid walls. It rang in Wren's ears, followed seconds later by the force of the explosion which knocked her off her feet.

  She careened into the wall, shrapnel piercing her back. She spun to see that the blast ha
d taken out part of the floor so that it opened up onto the level below. Flames licked across the floorboards. The worst of the shrapnel protruded from the smoldering mattress.

  Wren bared her teeth. Risky of Kari to use an explosive in a small room. She was desperate, but of course she would be.

  Warmth dribbled down Wren's back from the shrapnel embedded in her spine, but she ignored the sharp points of pain. This had to end.

  Why hadn't Kari fired? If she'd been quick, she could have caught Wren in the back of the head when she'd been thrown against the wall.

  Wren held out her gun as she edged toward the overturned mattress. Black smoke poured out of it and gathered near the ceiling, giving off an acrid stench that stung Wren's eyes.

  She eased around the side of the mattress, preparing to fire.

  Kari lay on the floor, clutching her chest with one hand and her gun with the other. She strained to lift it toward Wren but her arm gave out. Blood soaked her shirt and dribbled down her arm, soaking her hand and the floor around her. Bloody grazes stood out on her cheeks and arms and part of her jacket had been torn to shreds.

  Apparently the mattress hadn't stopped all the shrapnel.

  Kari grimaced up at Wren, her face a twisted and contorted mess—barely recognizable. "Wren," she said, voice rough. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth.

  Wren's hand trembled, the barrel of the gun wavering. What the hell was wrong with her? She'd decided to come here and finish the job. She'd been on track! So why couldn't she pull the trigger now?

  She focused all her will on her index finger and the trigger of her pistol, but it was like some other force pushed in the other direction, preventing her from squeezing.

  She wanted to kill Kari, wanted to finish the job. But Kari was lying there, covered in blood. A piece of shrapnel had pierced her chest, beneath her right arm. Judging by the amount of blood, she'd be dead soon.

  Wren drew a deep breath and it shook, threatening to break into tears. How many years had it been since she cried? She couldn't even remember the last time.

  This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

  Flames licked across the mattress. The room was on fire, and soon the whole building would come down. The smoke grew thicker, making it hard to breathe and burning Wren's throat.

  She had to leave.

  There was no way Kari would make it out of the building with her wound. If the blood loss didn't get her, the flames would.

  That was the answer. If Wren was too much a coward to actually pull the trigger, then all she had to do was walk away.

  She shoved her gun into the holster at her hip.

  Kari still hadn't looked away. She stared into Wren's eyes as if judging, weighing.

  Wren's knees trembled. Just walk away. Don't look back.

  Why weren't her legs working?

  Blood oozed between Kari's fingers. Not much longer now.

  Wren stared deep into Kari's eyes. The least she could do was sit with Kari for her final moments. Wren would be able to get out of the building even if it was falling down around her head. Now that the end had come, and Kari would die, she could at least be there with her.

  Wren dropped to her knees by Kari's side.

  With her free hand, Kari clutched for Wren's arm and squeezed it tight. She left a red handprint around Wren's wrist.

  Wren stared at the crimson mark, transfixed. Didn't that sum up everything? Her hands were stained in blood. Both literally and figuratively. How many people had she killed? How many had deserved it? Some, to be sure. But not all.

  And now Kari.

  Wren blinked and found herself reaching into one of her jacket pockets and pulling out a thick bandage which she pressed against the wound in Kari's side. Red stained the fabric.

  This couldn't happen.

  Kari had been by Wren's side for too long. They'd been companions—almost friends if Wren had been capable of that. How many times had Kari helped her? More than she deserved. And now Wren had killed her. And for what? Because the Imperium ordered it. Wren wasn't stupid. She knew that this kill order had come from them. It wasn't the Guild's orders. They were just working for the Imperium and wasn't that the worst betrayal of all?

  That wasn't what the Guild was supposed to stand for. They were supposed to be independent.

  Anger filled Wren's chest. She might have been able to finish the kill if she'd known it was the Guild's will, but it wasn't.

  Before she could think too much further, Wren scooped her arms under Kari's curled body, and hoisted her off the floor.

  She turned and hurried for the door. Compared to some of the weights Wren had carried, Kari barely registered. She stepped over the tripwire and skipped the top step as she bore Kari away from the hungry flames.

  Heat singed Wren's arms but for the first time since she'd got the job, she had no doubts. For the first time, she knew she was doing the right thing.

  Atoms to atoms perhaps. But not today.

  CHAPTER 30

  Pain like fire coursed through Kari's side, originating somewhere beneath her right arm and spreading down her side, around her chest. Each time she breathed, a sharp pain stabbed her chest and no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get enough air. And when she did breathe, it tasted acrid and toxic and burned her throat and eyes.

  She blinked away stinging tears as she stared up at Wren's face. Wren, who'd come to kill her. If only she'd hurry up about it because lying on the floor with the pain in her side and the flames licking the floor near her head was a living hell.

  Wren knelt. Kari expected her to pull the familiar blade. She expected Wren to slide the knife between her ribs and end it. But instead, Wren tucked her arms beneath Kari's body and hoisted her up.

  The movement sent a shock of pain through Kari and she lost consciousness. When she opened her eyes again they were out of the room, going down the rickety staircase. In the back of her mind, Kari wondered that it didn't collapse under the weight of both of them.

  Wren's muscles bulged like taut chords as she carried Kari down the stairs. Over Wren's shoulder, Kari could see flames dancing out of the open doorway of the room she'd been hiding in. Soon the whole building would go up.

  Distant sirens wailed and a loud voice yelled from outside—probably Al, the landlord. What would he charge her for getting his whole building burned down? Somehow, she doubted their contract covered fire. Blood stains, yes. Fires, no.

  A raw chuckle escaped Kari's lips, accompanied by a series of sharp stabbing pains to her side which cut her laughter short. Wren's movement down the stairs jolted the wound. Kari's grip on consciousness faded.

  She didn't need to look to know the wound was bad. The pain was enough, and combined with the warm, wet feeling of blood on her shirt, she knew she didn't have long.

  Wren lashed out with a sharp kick and the kitchen door flew off its hinges, letting in a bright streak of evening sunlight which bathed the kitchen in bright pinks and reds, much like the fire that raged upstairs. Fresh air. Kari drew a deep breath. Sweet oxygen filled her starved lungs and though her side ached, at least she could breathe.

  Wren set her down on hard gravel at the other side of the street. People crowded around the burning building. Some of them gathered hoses and buckets of water, but most of them stood and stared, filming the wreckage with their communicators.

  The landlord hadn't seen Kari and Wren come out, too busy yelling at people to get out of the way as he hauled a massive hose across the road.

  Tiny pebbles dug into Kari's back. Who knew dying could be so damn uncomfortable? And confusing. Wren had tried to kill Kari, so what the hell was happening now?

  Wren probed Kari's injuries, bringing new flashes of pain.

  Kari squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stifle a scream. Was Wren trying to kill her after all? But why would she bother carrying Kari all the way out of the building if she just wanted to see her dead?

  A tugging pain and Kari risked a
glance at her side.

  Wren withdrew a long, wooden spike out of the flesh beneath Kari's arm—shrapnel from the bomb. Blood soaked the timber, turning it a dark, brooding red.

  Warmth and pain followed the spike, but Wren pressed another thick bandage against the flow.

  Kari's head spun. The spike had been several inches long. How far into her body had it gone? It must have punctured her vital organs… and yet, she could still breathe. Warmth soaked her side and stars flashed in front of her eyes. So much blood.

  Wren's face appeared above her. She shoved something beneath Kari's nose.

  Kari frowned, tried to pull away, but Wren held her head in place. A strong smell, like mint but with something else mixed in, assaulted her nostrils; the clouds in her head faded.

  "Wren," she said, voice straining.

  "Shh," Wren said, expressionless.

  "You didn't kill me."

  "Yet."

  Kari tried to say more but Wren placed a hand over her mouth.

  "If you keep talking I might change my mind and strangle you. Be still. You've lost a lot of blood."

  Kari did as she was told. She couldn't be sure exactly what had happened. She and Wren had been locked in a battle to the death, and now… What did it mean?

  The next few hours passed in a blur, interspersed with sharp stabs of pain. Wren had wheeled Kari on some kind of trolley through the city streets, away from the flames and the growing crowd. The gravel of the parking area made the cart bounce and jolt, bringing new levels of agony to Kari's side. She gritted her teeth, recognizing the dull gray of Ghost's hull.

  She didn't have the strength to move, but from the corner of her eye she saw Wren remove a series of triggers and explosives from around the door and even inside the ship. A good thing she and the others hadn't come back to Ghost for shelter then. Kari supposed Wren wasn't completely unpredictable, although what the hell was happening now, she had no idea.

  Wren wheeled Kari up the ramp, onto Ghost, then through to the dining area. The next half an hour, Wren spent stitching, spraying, and examining Kari's side. By the end of it, the pain was gone and Kari's head had returned to some kind of equilibrium.